tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62444542011-11-27T15:39:12.942-08:00Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.comBlogger3231100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-33520384448878589902011-08-29T21:07:00.000-07:002011-08-29T21:07:23.411-07:00

We've been in Tucson about a month now and still haven't adjusted to the temperatures, though it's wonderful to be close to my sis. Yesterday morning we strolled out for our morning walk (you have to go early, otherwise it's truly just too hot, a high of 106, and in the upper 90s by 9-ish). There before us on the sidewalk, we spied this tarantula. He was out and about as well, and he was huge. It

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-3154925747608845812011-03-01T08:59:00.000-08:002011-03-01T09:16:16.203-08:00

We're in Santa Fe, New Mexico, the home of Georgia O'Keefe's museum, a small brown adobe building near the central Plaza. We spent 2-1/2 hours here in this little museum, admiring once again the purity of her lines, the vibrant colors, the passionate love of nature in her paintings. Wikipedia has images and an overview of her life well worth pursuing as her images remain copywritten. Then we

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-35593399178734740502011-02-26T17:31:00.000-08:002011-02-26T17:57:25.167-08:00

Pictures do not do justice to the Chiricahua National Monument in Arizona. Apaches called this the "land of standing up rocks". We hiked 4.5 miles through this "sky island," meandering trails down into Echo Canyon, and appreciated the vista at every turn. Towering pinnacles and crevices reminded us both of the movie "127 Hours." We were not so adventurous in this land once dominated by fierce

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-17321852763153257252011-02-22T05:06:00.001-08:002011-02-22T05:48:42.661-08:00

How close to the Mexican border is the Buenos Aires National Wildlife Refuge? Our hike into this wildlife refuge was shaped by politics as the refuge (about 118,000 acres) actually runs adjacent to the US-Mexican border. Roughly three miles of the refuge closest to the border is closed to the public. In our early morning drive down to park headquarters and then on to Arivaca, we could not avoid

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-44509252953921908962011-02-20T04:09:00.000-08:002011-02-20T04:19:02.871-08:00

Last night in the shower, I reached for the soap and screamed. There, nibbling on the soap was the biggest dark brown blob I have ever seen. I got out of the shower, put on my glasses, and looked at him. He looked at me. This American cockroach was so big, about 2 inches, he should have had a name. But all is well. We're packed and ready to drive south to the Buenos Aires National Wildlife

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-86717427095397470742011-02-09T09:14:00.000-08:002011-02-09T09:39:20.055-08:00

Tuesday, we headed out to Sabino Canyon early for a nice hike on the Phoneline Trail, some 5 miles along the ridge line above the canyon floor. We weren't sure we could take on this big a hike, but we were ready to try.Just by the visitor center we spotted this beautiful and unusual bird, a Pyrrhuloxia, a kind of cardinal, but red and gray, and unique to the Southwest and Mexico. I'm always

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-76493596592462363232011-02-05T06:22:00.000-08:002011-02-05T06:44:28.549-08:00

Last week, I was innocently making breakfast in this mansion above the Tucson valley, happily scrambling eggs and burning toast. Yes, there was a little smidgen of bread stuck down in the toaster that I forgot about. I could smell it burning and was just about to get it out after the toast popped up when the klaxons went off. I'm not talking about a smoke alarm. I'm talking about a

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-27127578922437307912011-01-17T07:44:00.000-08:002011-01-17T08:28:14.570-08:00

As I struggle with my writing, every morning begins anew. The words don't come, so I walk out on the patio high above Tucson, the sun just lifting over the mountain, blue sky above, birds calling, bright morning everywhere. And then she comes, as if I were invisible, a small green hummingbird. I stand still. She flits from branch to branch, then settles for long moments, tiny green in the brush.

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-13098546165805332002011-01-15T11:12:00.000-08:002011-01-15T11:34:18.689-08:00

Yesterday we walked through Tohono Chul Park, rather small at under 50 acres, but a delightful meandering through desert plantings, particularly the Saguaro cactus, pronounced Sa-hwa-ro), considered a person by the O'Odham tribe. It's a little early for the wild flowers, but the sun was warm enough that we didn't need sweaters. I was buzzed by a bright green hummingbird, maybe because my hat had

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-2573710933075512792011-01-14T07:47:00.000-08:002011-01-14T07:53:00.272-08:00

Wednesday night we slept for the first time in this modern, very formal adobe mansion, high enough for a sweeping view of Tucson, yet snuggled against the Santa Catalina mountains. This four-bedroom, four-bathroom house is designed almost concentrically, enfolding circles on itself, so that surprising nooks and crannies abound. We counted (in addition to the living room, and excluding the master

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-80179857734573086102011-01-02T05:30:00.000-08:002011-01-02T05:41:06.682-08:00

Philadelphia, January 2011. A city of crowded expressways (not freeways), downtown skyscrapers lit with holiday lights, Boathouse Row twinkles by the Museum, its columns all golden at night. Drivers don’t hesitate at stop signs or narrow streets. The city is a constant stream of people, cell phones pressed to their ears, lights, motion, the jazz drummer on the corner playing frenetically, no

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-52955495326862230142010-12-05T16:12:00.000-08:002010-12-05T16:25:04.150-08:00

If we had gotten Spokane's 24.6 inches of snow that fell here in the month of November when we lived in Corvallis, everything would have closed down. Here, the city throws snow plows out on arterials (main roads) 24-7 in staged alerts. We watch the weather channel and plan quick trips to the store. The shelves are stocked, and I have driven on sheer sheets of washboard ice. More snow comes

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-67793282933942085212010-11-23T16:26:00.000-08:002010-11-23T16:38:40.002-08:00

I remember walking in Manito Park earlier early this November. How quickly the leaves have fallen. Two weeks ago, I flew to Portland and saw this from above, concentric circles of yellow around each tree, denuded of leaves, surrounded by tall pine trees and undulating hills of green. Now all is covered with white. This week, winter truly began with a blizzard. We can feel the cold down to our

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-28613132930102891592010-10-06T19:33:00.000-07:002010-10-06T19:45:59.074-07:00

Today felt like one of those end-of-summer days. Just 74 degrees, yet we could feel a twist of cold when the wind blew. We drove out along City View to discover a hiking trail that cuts straight down the hill. A kindly mountain biker said we could hike along the fairly ambitious trail for many miles. We took the shorter, simpler loop, meandered under pine trees, spotted two magpies, and were

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-4998946554673268002010-09-25T16:56:00.000-07:002010-09-25T17:09:38.047-07:00

It's Saturday noon at the Brooklyn Deli, downtown Spokane, a cool 78 degrees, sunny, with Bob Dylan's raspy voice singing, "I'm walking down the highway, my suitcase in my hand." I could be in Brooklyn. I'm looking up at an elevated train splashed with graffiti, rolling by as fast as the traffic, cars and a bright yellow van. City traffic outside. I'm eating Thai chicken soup hot enough to

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-78836136275865476172010-09-01T07:28:00.001-07:002010-09-01T07:38:32.144-07:00

They reappeared this morning. Two does grazing in the field, just along the pines. Their long necks stretched out in the high grasses, their shaggy red flanks predicting winter. I hadn't spotted them all summer and wondered where the fawns of early spring had gone. But they came back to this copse of pines next to our apartment building, maybe remembering home.I ran for the camera and when I

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-7049763190270779242010-07-30T06:13:00.000-07:002010-07-30T06:56:35.012-07:00

Our three-day trip to Seattle led us to a Mariners/Red Sox game (a friend came by free tickets and gave them to us), the awards dinner at the Pacific Northwest Writers Association, and a visit to the Seattle Art Museum. The sun shone, the sky was impossibly blue, and like any rare Pacific Northwest summer day, no humidity and no rain.The Mariners game introduced me to the beloved Ichiro, the

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-51226749158198829062010-07-17T06:57:00.000-07:002010-07-17T07:55:58.973-07:00

Last weekend we trekked south to Redmond, Oregon, to visit Jamie and Henry. What a visit! We rode a summer ski lift (with legs dangling over the side), up to nearly the top of Mt. Batchelor (some 8,000 feet high) with amazing views of snow-covered mountains.A thunderstorm chased us down, and then Henry drove us on a loop route around part of the Cascade Lakes Recreation Area for different views

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-50514125316785208582010-06-06T06:24:00.001-07:002010-06-06T06:28:31.556-07:00

This morning I woke up thinking of round river rocks. Spring is beginning to soften to summer, time to hike again. Here is eastern Washington, the sky is so different, clouds move quickly, changing colors, shifting shapes, then the unadorned sky remains, that unforgettable sky blue, the color of the gods, protection. I never see a turquoise without feeling warmed by these stones.Round river

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-84908435565300514962010-05-09T13:10:00.000-07:002010-05-09T13:22:09.817-07:00

Yesterday we hiked through the Turnbull National Wildlife Refuge with members of the Spokane Audubon Association, who were more than generous with their spotting scopes. We saw the elusive and rare Trumpeter swans in flight; our favorites, Yellow-headed Blackbirds perched on cattails, Ruddy Ducks with brilliant blue beaks, and a Great Horned Owl with two little owlets.Best of all, we hiked

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-76082596826796644502010-04-20T10:43:00.001-07:002010-04-20T11:10:11.482-07:00

Spring has sprung here in Spokane. The air is filled with the sharp sweet smell of cherry blossoms. Sparrows, crows, robins, chickadees, and sneaker hummingbirds all chirp almost hysterically. Some 75 degrees today. Time to pack away those sweaters, though Rachel tells me it once snowed here in June.The Dirty Dozen Band, featured on NPR, had a special song for Allen as his plantar fasciatis

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-76363508783049685632010-04-05T19:50:00.000-07:002010-04-05T20:24:55.020-07:00

This morning it snowed. I was up early, about 6 am, and saw three deer in the field next to our apartment. My grandfather would have gotten the gun and talked about the wonderful flavor of venison, but I just watched them graze, their brown bodies nearly hidden in the gusting snow, the grasses still brown and yellow from winter. Every so often, one would lift its head and peer around. Allen

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-5852284206706771582010-03-13T16:04:00.000-08:002010-03-13T16:22:33.118-08:00

The Waterford Quilters opened their annual show today, this sunny Saturday in Spokane. Nearly 150 quilts were on display, and the show featured Georgie Gerl, an accomplished quilter who specializes in stunning quilt designs. Many of her quilts are featured in Asian Fabric, a magazine for passionate quilters. My two-sided African quilt was on display with the rest -- the slide show has just a

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-57815224430862042252010-02-26T21:03:00.000-08:002010-02-26T21:41:04.191-08:00

I haven't been writing. Maybe nobody noticed. Since Allen's stroke, which was mild, our life has changed dramatically. After the flurry of moving into a new apartment, unpacking, and finding doctors, food, and library, we're finally at home. At home enough to think about traveling south to visit friends. The docs say it will be ok. On the seven-and-a-half drive, we'll need to take a stretch

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-16950260068295986842010-02-13T11:26:00.000-08:002010-02-13T15:05:35.349-08:00

I should be grateful for ordinary days. The morning begins sunny and bright here in Spokane, a high of 44 today. This would be a respite for family and friends on the east coast, struggling with snow drifts nearly as high as the cars they've dug out, with another, hopefully smaller storm coming in next week.Our life seems more normal every day. Ordinary. We've been in Spokane under a month

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-71477255144703161532010-02-03T08:33:00.000-08:002010-02-03T22:12:16.596-08:00

The new header shows the view out our front window overlooking a stand of brushy pines -- maybe pitch pines, Ponderosa pines, or scrub pines. Yesterday mid-morning, Allen spotted this young deer calmly grazing under the pines in the field by our apartment. Not a bad view at all. This morning, under blue sky and a little fog, a cat stalked through marsh grasses toward the pines. Allen's doing well

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-35518392065528274812010-01-30T07:58:00.000-08:002010-01-30T08:11:05.903-08:00

We are settling into our new home in Spokane, somewhat in the suburbs to the south of the city, an apartment complex with views of pine trees and a winter landscape. Each day we stroll past a pond just now covered partly by ice to see if the mallard ducks are at home. The houses are all gray, the sky is gray, the trees are bare. They say spring comes in late March. Some mornings the fields

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-75348612868166270622010-01-02T06:03:00.001-08:002010-01-02T06:11:32.349-08:00

I'm remembering how we felt when our laptop was stolen so many months ago in southern Peru, just after crossing the border. A sense of violation, of things taken apart and not easily patched back together. Distrust in the most common situations. I'm feeling that way again, only this time, I can't just run to the computer store and replace a laptop.So I'm not driving in the dead of winter 4,000

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-3981197857032093362009-12-29T18:38:00.000-08:002009-12-29T18:58:55.764-08:00

This year has been phenomenally beautiful, six months travelling in South America and another two months in Scotland. I'm remembering a world of colorful places, people, tantalizing art and food, ancient and modern histories, and natural wonders -- from waterfalls larger than Niagara, to curious coatimundis scampering in the jungle. We were ready for more, but two weeks ago this Friday,

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-51125833752331052662009-12-22T05:41:00.001-08:002009-12-22T06:00:40.729-08:00

Last Friday, everything changed. Allen woke up feeling not himself. We took a taxi to the Hospital San Vincent in Heredia, Costa Rica, where he was diagnosed with a stroke. The next 24 hours still seem a blur. The staff in Costa Rica were caring, but we knew the best decision for us was simply to come home. American Airlines will forever be my first choice for their outstanding care for us,

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-45667637426206044312009-12-11T18:45:00.000-08:002009-12-11T20:11:39.549-08:00

Today we took two busses down from the hills of San Francisco de Heredia to the capital of Costa Rica, the crowded, much maligned city of San Jose. I'm taller than the average Costa Rican, so I sit a little sideways in most busses. As we walked down narrow and crowded sidewalks, acid rock blared from tiny shops to entice us in to buy T-shirts, colorful socks, or other intimate apparel. We

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-31329123153204452322009-12-02T19:25:00.001-08:002009-12-02T19:47:38.743-08:00

We flew in to Costa Rica late last night, landing in San Jose, Costa Rica, in the highlands after a five hour wait with connecting flights in Miami. Street lights marked neighborhoods and busy intersections, and so we came to our hotel, the Hotel Hojarascas, our home for the next three days. Think 80 degrees, air conditioning, Spanish all around us, and fresh papaya, pineapple, and mango for

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-38663844386568854052009-11-05T14:38:00.001-08:002009-11-05T14:57:47.942-08:00

First day in Philly and home, sweet home! Gordy and Lynda picked us up at the airport, we safey negotiated all that traffic traveling on the opposite side of the street, and Philadelphia looked her best on a clear, cold November night, full moon, lights twinkling on skyscrapers and the boathouses along the Schuylkill River. Greeted by home-made barley soup with chunks of beef, savory brisket

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-12602544887887190692009-11-01T03:42:00.001-08:002009-11-01T04:40:25.973-08:00

It's raining today, a perfect stay-at-home day for packing, organzing and trying to remember the last details of what needs to be done. We've stayed long enough to feel at home, but not long enough to explore every nook and cranny of this beautiful city. We both hope to return one day.Allen has decided we will go to a Michelin star restaurant on Tuesday, our very last day in Edinburgh.

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-70530476128065071292009-10-29T15:42:00.001-07:002009-10-29T16:56:01.632-07:00

Just an hour's bus ride from Edinburgh, so we went for the day, a long day, past flat green fields, rolling hills, then up to Stirling proper, right up the hill to the Castle. The views from the top shimmered in autumn haze, as we wallowed in history, plugged in the audio guides and gave ourselves over to the stories of James IV, V and ever after. Historic Scotland has made immense progress

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-54818873323717499462009-10-25T04:58:00.000-07:002009-10-25T14:10:41.156-07:00

As we wind down the last week here in Edinburgh, I wanted to talk a little about some Scottish comforts -- those little surprises that challenge and delight. I'll start with the kitchen. I think the Scots are way ahead of us in conserving energy, for each outlet has its own on/off button. Beware the maker of tea who does not recognize the switch is turned off! I did bake a pizza in the oven.

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-85931784744554411312009-10-21T09:11:00.000-07:002009-10-21T09:24:45.672-07:00

Sing to me of raspberry, little pots of fresh raspberry and cream, two light scones fresh from the oven, and tea. We sat in Clarinda's this afternoon, surrounded by fine china, lace tablecloths, tiny bouquets of dried roses and heather at each table. We were wearied from walking along cobbled streets in Auld Reekie, a nickname for Edinburgh, no longer so sooty, a medieval city well guarded by

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-25035221222984066182009-10-17T13:05:00.000-07:002009-10-17T15:25:53.456-07:00

At the end of the day sometimes it hard to recognize how quickly the time passed by. And what did we do with these precious hours? Yesterday we walked for hours in the Royal Botanic Garden here in Edinburgh and we came away feeling somehow nurtured by this series of gardens, ten greenhouses (called glass houses here), one begun in 1670. I think their claim to fame is having the largest "glass

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-7641531020849351102009-10-14T00:49:00.000-07:002009-10-14T00:58:09.606-07:00

Yesterday we hiked over an hour to the top of Arthurs Seat, once a volcano, now a small park just by Holyrood Palace. My favorite part was the climb up steep rock stairs past Salisbury Craigs. We saved the steeper path for next time, built in 1820 by so-called radicals, but in reality, unemployed weavers. At each step another vista opened up, till we reached the very top, 823 feet above sea

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-16231606404421399612009-10-13T03:45:00.000-07:002009-10-13T04:09:09.876-07:00

Yesterday we hiked down High Street to Holyrood Palace, and like good tourists, were awed everywhere by the history and beauty of this still active royal retreat. The history is a bit gruesome, Mary, Queen of Scotts, saw her dear attendant, Rizzio, hauled away and murdered (with over 50 knife thrusts) by her husband, Lord Darnley. The interpretation varies from personal to political, depending

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-31813903367987512392009-10-10T15:29:00.000-07:002009-10-10T15:42:22.648-07:00

Today's photo shows the beginning of a celebration in honor of women's suffrage in Edinburgh. Hundreds of women (and their supporters) in turn of the century costume marched this afternoon through Old Town Edinburgh, many wearing purple, and many carrying banners and placards, beginning with: "A gude cause makes a strong arm." Even the statue of staid Scottish philospher David Hume wore a

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-48570023968146781702009-10-08T11:40:00.000-07:002009-10-08T12:35:17.175-07:00

We're exploring the Royal Mile these days, walking down from Edinburgh Castle,all two blocks down to St. Giles Cathedral, a stunning Episcopal Church, once Catholic, transformed to a Presbyterian church under the leadership of John Knox in the 16th Century. Our docent told us that Knox had the stained glass windows removed, replacing them with plain glass. By the 19th and 20th Century, these

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-62626282218350785322009-10-07T00:22:00.001-07:002009-10-07T00:26:38.435-07:00

It's early morning, Broadband is up and running, and that means we're back online -- SKYPE works, I can upload pictures once again, and access e-mail easily! Trust me, T-mobile is ina drawer. Ah, but now it's time to work, so here's a quick view out my window of the Writer's Museum, just across the courtyard here. We're looking at a building from 1622. Allen's taken over travel planning again

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-11795598113764426552009-10-05T22:28:00.000-07:002009-10-05T22:57:41.278-07:00

We're happily in Edinburgh, but the last week I've been fighting with Internet access issues and T-mobile. Suffice it to say I'm now the owner of a T-mobile "dongle" (something like a thumb drive that lets me access internet, derivation of the term unknown). But, using the dongle is a little like using dial-up once you're used to broadband, and the silly thing only works in the morning and

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-68643526008950089722009-09-27T14:17:00.000-07:002009-09-27T14:36:38.397-07:00

Today was supposed to be a quieter day. All we did was walk along the River Ness which runs right through Inverness, houses from the 17th and 18th Century on both sides of this shallow river that runs into Moray Firth and then to the North Sea. We walked out to the Ness Islands to find a forest bordering the river, cedar and pines and the first real changes of autumn, dappling leaves green and

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-21130054195489228522009-09-26T03:50:00.000-07:002009-09-26T04:01:26.780-07:00

There by the shores of Loch Ness, no monster in sight, we spent the afternoon, under cloudy skies and intermittant light, wandering around the ruins of Castle Urquhart, a romantic spot, even as the cold wind blew and the light changed constantly over the water, the rocks and this quiet place, far from ocean, but not protected from Viking raids or medieval politics. Once held by Robert the Bruce,

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-35149118176744925932009-09-25T03:17:00.001-07:002009-09-29T00:05:04.579-07:00

Earlier this week, we visited Culloden Moor, a World Heritage site, with a new visitor center, and I found it very hard to write about, for the visit challenged our long-held beliefs about which side we favored. We saw maps, read excerpts of documents from both sides, and then walked around this open field of battle, marked by stone walls and memorials, still echoing with the deaths of nearly

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-62379077056249023712009-09-19T02:37:00.000-07:002009-09-19T02:58:40.838-07:00

We crawled out of bed at 6am Friday morning to catch the Northlink Ferry from Stromness on Orkney, south across the Pentland Firth, an unreliable strait famous for treacherous tides and sudden storms, to Scrabster, a ride of about an hour and a half. this picture shows our last look at Stromness, by early morning light.But the sun came out, and except for mild swells which began at 4-6 feet and

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-84534663960115889492009-09-17T11:31:00.000-07:002009-09-17T11:43:23.383-07:00

I survived yesterday's challenge, driving a stick shift on the left side of the road. And the stick was located on my left side, not right. And I was sitting on the left side. And the traffic was coming right at me.We spent the next-to-last day in Orkney dashing all over, from the Kirbuster Crofter Museum (a 19th Century black house, so called for the smoke from the peat fires that blackened

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-69500896699282483432009-09-15T14:07:00.000-07:002009-09-17T11:44:34.632-07:00

We're now in a youth hostel in Stromness, back in Orkney, right by the waterfront. We're sitting in the common kitchen with a group of kids and a tour guide, trying to catch up with the international flavor here at nearly 10:00 pm. This is my first time ever in a hostel, no locks on the doors anywhere, a common kitchen with shared food (and shared bathrooms). Someone is now telling a story

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-11739492446123936382009-09-12T12:42:00.000-07:002009-09-12T13:07:14.225-07:00

Up this morning in a misty sort of rain, onto a bus, past rolling open fields mixed with shaggy sheep and equally shaggy island cattle, past the Highland Distillery, over Churchill Downs, built by Italian P.O.W.'s during World War II to prevent the Germans from entering Scapa Flow (where the British Navy took shelter), and finally to the Italian Chapel.We walked into a corrugated Quanset hut

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-63940555868899643862009-09-11T03:23:00.000-07:002009-09-11T03:43:38.146-07:00

Yesterday we took the car-ferry Eynhallow from Tingwall to Rousay to visit Trumland, an estate famous in Orkney for its singular clearances of tenant farmers in the 1840s and 1850s. The seas were moderate to rough in this small 25-minute crossing, and as we sat over steak and ale pie at the Pier restaurant, we could watch the "roost", a swift and dangerous tide running in this narrow strait

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-75508636545595762402009-09-08T03:25:00.001-07:002009-09-08T03:58:57.647-07:00

Maybe it's the clouds that remind me of Oregon, or the misty rain that comes now and then, but I feel absolutely at home in Kirkwall. The wind from the North Sea blows, at times fierce and constantly; today, we're told to expect near gale force winds but sun in the afternoon. Nothing stops the wind here. The land is mostly flat, neatly divided into fields. We can see, from our lovely second

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-70123518587037847172009-09-03T18:45:00.000-07:002009-09-03T19:08:47.504-07:00

We're here! Safely landed. Left Philadelphia in a haze of freeway traffic, summery blue skies, goodbye hugs, then on to Air France, a blast from the past with its bag of goodies for passengers (eye mask, really good earphones, ear plugs), and it wasn't so easy figuring out how to put on the earphones (they hook over your ears). We each had our own little individual TV screens with touch pads

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-11524958633479970822009-08-29T05:13:00.000-07:002009-08-29T05:35:24.943-07:00

We're here in Atlantic City for just 2 days. It's windy and cold, with off-shore storms bringing the rain that reminds me of Oregon, but we strolled along the famous boardwalk, saw Atlantic sea gulls gliding and turning everywhere, their large black-tipped wings almost a part of the sea and sky. People crowd the boardwalk, wearing shorts, hats, kids, and dodging push-carts full of end-of-summer

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-10137823859197513522009-08-06T07:38:00.000-07:002009-08-06T07:46:00.859-07:00

I’m still reeling from the pleasure of spending the afternoon with Ron and Heather here in Upper Michigan. We rode through the woods to the lake, hopping out of the car at for vistas of Lake Michigan, finally stopping at Sleeping Bear Dune National Lakeshore, to see summer hikers of all persuasions and ages struggling up its 450 foot incline. Later, we sat at a long table on their enclosed

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-29488405671035504422009-07-25T21:11:00.000-07:002009-07-25T21:23:24.407-07:00

Today, a slightly overcast warm summer day with lovely cummulus clouds building almost to rain, we visted the grounds of the International Crane Foundation, a complex designed to study, preserve and protect cranes all over the world.We quietly watched African cranes in a new exhibit, their dazzling colors red, black and white, with golden delicate crowns of feathers arcing in a floating circle

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-60099800758153297082009-07-24T20:11:00.000-07:002009-07-24T20:40:49.226-07:00

Yesterday we spent a pleasant afternoon, wandering around the open habitats of the Minnesota Zoo. We saw baboons, gibbons, flamingos, grizzlies, Mexican wolves, and a few mammals we'd never seen before -- takins, a sleepy Binturong, and a funny hedgehog. I've updated Webshots but here are some shots to enjoy.Minneapolis ZooThe real highlight of our visit to the Minneapolis area, though, was to

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-62734968602258833462009-07-23T07:38:00.000-07:002009-07-23T07:52:26.794-07:00

The new tent works great! After four days of thunderstorms, some a downpour, we're happy to report this new tent doesn't leak. And we can get it assembled in under 20 minues (a good improvement from the first 35 minute session).We're camped in the wilds of Minnesota, just outside Minneapolis, and will leave tomorrow for Wisconsin before heading to upper Michigan and the delights of Travers City

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-17448907030364049512009-07-14T23:30:00.000-07:002009-07-14T23:33:54.938-07:00

It's the middle of July. Today we hiked around the eastern half of Glacier National Park to find bright yellow Glacier Lillies poking out of the snow at Logan Pass. Even though it's mid-summer, lowering rain clouds rolled in, shifting and settling over the mountains. Beautiful.Glacier National Park

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-77316220844849428722009-07-14T06:26:00.000-07:002009-07-14T06:45:41.106-07:00

It appears we are going in circles. We left Spokane on Sunday morning early, well before breakfast, and headed north to Canada. Our maps were well organized and we had a clear plan to cross the continent to Philadelphia via Canada, starting with the Rockies, stopping in at Banff and Jasper, and then car camping across Canada's midwestern plains, revisiting Elk Island, where once a herd of elk

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-50944414223619556802009-07-05T07:47:00.000-07:002009-07-05T07:51:54.684-07:00

Still haven't quite come to ground, though we're in Spokane for another 10 days, preparing for three different trips (with lots of packing and unpacking). This video, Where the Hell is Matt, reminds me once again why I love traveling and what is truly human, regardless of country, time or place.It's funny, his blog is irreverent, and I begin to feel just a little more connected.

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-45450040537798334192009-06-28T13:59:00.000-07:002009-06-28T14:12:45.897-07:00

Ok, we've been back now just over two weeks, and I must confess to some jet lag. Rachel sent me to the supermarket to buy some flour, and I couldn't bring myself to choose. Did she want bleached flour or unbleached, organic or whole wheat, another specialty flour or simply baking flour? Or was it bread flour? Three shelves and 20 minutes later, I left -- without buying flour. And we bought

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-19333988619717792322009-06-12T13:26:00.000-07:002009-06-12T13:39:28.468-07:00

Just learned that Air Canada moved our flight up by 3 hours. Phew! And we haven't packed, but I'm not too worried. When you travel for six months with 5 changes of clothing, there's really not that much to pack! Except for the books. And the brochures. And maybe a few gifts. I'm taking a chance that Air Canada will feed us. We're used to stewards and stewardesses on busses, trains and

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-27950227575688394792009-06-06T13:34:00.001-07:002009-06-06T14:16:04.974-07:00

We are happily back in Cusco, staying at Hotel Corihuasi with its winding stone stairways and rooms overlooking the city (and lots of hot water). Today we spent walking around the town with Al, Pam and Kayla, seeing the city anew through their eyes. We taught Kayla how to say no politely in Spanish to the many street vendors, yet it's difficult to say no to the beautiful crafts here -- weavings

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-75857675685871808552009-05-30T16:34:00.000-07:002009-05-31T07:38:49.609-07:00

Today was a double header. Two museums. Four and a half hours. Tired feet. But these two museums were the reason we came to northern Peru, the land of the Lords of Sipan.We visited the older museum first: Museo Arqueologico Nacional Bruning. Lots of pictures later . . . Then we stopped for lunch. Were served a hot drink called "Tiger's milk" at El Pacifico, a heady concoction of salty

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-49779903347037285602009-05-27T05:57:00.000-07:002009-05-27T17:08:36.892-07:00

We just got back from our first tour of Chimu ruins (thin 850-1470) near Trujillo. First we stopped at Huaca Arco Iris, a Chumu temple of the rainbow, so named for their love of the sea. Our visit started auspiciously with a sighting of two tiny yellow birds (almost canaries?) and two hairless dogs of Peru (later adopted by Frida Khalo). We walked into this high walled temple (adobe brick

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-86870865308164940622009-05-25T08:17:00.000-07:002009-05-25T08:38:04.684-07:00

We're just a few blocks away from Vista del Mar, here in Miraflores, Lima, Peru. This is the view from our favorite restaurant, a bird's eye view of the graveled beach below, which prompted this week's poem. Last night we watched surfers riding the waves to shore, one after the other, seemingly unending, the breakers rising out of the fog. We then popped into our first movie in a long time, a

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-14485988509037390912009-05-21T17:59:00.000-07:002009-05-21T18:47:41.063-07:00

Yesterday we visited the Museo de la Nacion here in Lima. First, our guide took us through the third floor's bewilderingly exhibition, organized not around cultures but around the common themes that cross all Andean indigenous peoples. No dates. No neat little cards naming the artifact, where it was found, or which culture it came from. But we did gain an understanding of the main themes that

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-4117779398692373212009-05-17T12:32:00.000-07:002009-05-17T13:07:01.442-07:00

Most of us are two or three generations from farming (if not more). As Nicko, our taxi driver took us from Cusco to Ollantaytambo, past jagged mountains, snow at the vry top, past steep hillsides, several small towns, kids racing to school in navy blue sweaters, the road curving up and down into deep valleys, we saw farming country. The people, descendants of Incans, worked to dry corn or clear

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-19754251765880895962009-05-14T13:52:00.000-07:002009-05-14T14:01:27.982-07:00

This iconic place is not overstated. We were up at 5 am to catch one of the first busses to Macchu Picchu and joined a crowd of some several hundred. A very efficient half hour later, we were on our way, up a single-lane road in a majestic tour bus, arriving just in time to stand in line to present our tickets. Luckily, Allen had purchased them the day before so we didn't have to stand in two

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-89474957896247425492009-05-09T04:45:00.000-07:002009-05-09T05:43:31.419-07:00

We traveled from Puno to Cusco by Inka Express, a ten hour bus ride punctuated by stops at 6 different sites, each one adding to our understanding of Incan culture and Peru. We passed through snow-covered Andes mountains to the lush green fields and trees, sycamores, eucalyptus and cypress, a welcome change from the very dry desert of the south. We entered the Sacred Valley and stopped at

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-89795971887849658222009-05-04T15:10:00.000-07:002009-05-04T15:24:28.452-07:00

We're resting this afternoon in Puno, Peru, after spending a half day exploring the floating islands of Lake Titicaca, the largest lake at the highest altitude, 12,628 feet. Our trip began on a boat to Jiska Chaulla, an island made entirely of reeds. Eight Aymara families live here, following a traditional life of fishing, sewing, and bartering in nearby towns on Market Days for such essentials

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-43749105671402933332009-05-01T18:44:00.000-07:002009-05-01T19:13:19.889-07:00

One of the most beautiful surprises was our visit to the small Chapel of San Ignacio at the Iglesia de la Campania here in Arequipa, Peru. The outside of the main church is stunning with its deeply carved ornamental facade completed in 1698. Dubbed the Vatican of South America, it's one of the richest in Peru with several altars decorated with gold. Walking inside and turning to the left, we

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-89403123182554516302009-05-01T15:37:00.000-07:002009-05-01T16:13:03.868-07:00

We've landed for five days of rest in Arequipa, Peru, after a most amazing bus journey of 17 hours in which my laptop was taken by thieves in a restaurant. I wish I could say the laptop was recovered, but it's most likely somewhere in a border town black market. Daybook, poems, and some photos all lost. Until my writing was recovered, I was a little shakey, but thanks to advice from several

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-42899091335332006072009-04-26T09:18:00.000-07:002009-04-26T09:25:34.187-07:00

We are at 8,000 feet in San Pedro de Atacama, a small town of 5,000 people and perhaps as many trekkers in northern Chile. But the town is lovely, and it’s off season just a bit. The sun-filled narrow streets are lined with adobe-brick houses, open to the air with patios, restaurants, and shops selling colorful Andean artisan crafts. After our 24-hour bus-ride, we were hoping for a rest day,

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-1404051778328408422009-04-23T07:34:00.000-07:002009-04-23T07:40:55.540-07:00

Our bags are packed and we're headed out this morning for San Pedro de Atacama in northern Chile. I'm expecting to get cold (high of 50 degrees), probably have a reaction to high altitude (San Pedro at 8,000 feet and one week later, La Paz at 13,000 feet), but we are both excited to see the wild desert in northern Chile, visit some more preIncan ruins, and hike around in the Salar de Uyuni near

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-39897236183018059682009-04-22T18:34:00.003-07:002009-04-22T19:59:18.028-07:00

Tomorrow we leave for our 30-hour bus trip to San Pedro de Atacama, so tonight it's time to upload some pictures (finally) to webshots as I'm not sure when we'll next have internet. Even so, if you have broadband, appreciate it! I'm sitting in the lobby of the Hotel Vegas. Pictures from the Falklands and from graffiti art in Valparaiso are now uploaded in Webshots (see link to the right),

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-8064947008377170352009-04-21T18:36:00.000-07:002009-04-21T18:49:12.740-07:00

We just have two more days in Santiago, and we’re falling in love with this beautiful city. Today we took the Metro to the Bellavista neighborhood to visit Pablo Neruda’s house, La Chascona, so named for the unruly red hair of Matilde Urrutia, his longtime mistress and later his third wife. When the house was first built on the hills overlooking Bellavista, it was a poor neighborhood; today,

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-50119788627971821442009-04-20T18:05:00.000-07:002009-04-20T18:26:15.085-07:00

We’re in the heart of old town, Santiago, half a block down from the intersection of Paris and London Streets, those narrow, tree-lined, funky, cobblestoned bohemian streets populated by roving bands of students wearing long hair and dark glasses. At the little café next to our hotel, the Hotel Vegas, we can sit and sip cortados, demi-cups of strong coffee with milk, that first taste reminding

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-51827063645462286222009-04-15T15:31:00.000-07:002009-04-15T15:44:58.725-07:00

Now that we’ve left Valparaiso, Chile, for Vina del Mar, the weather has turned to pure autumn. We’re sleeping under feather comforters at Casa Genross, a lovely old bed and breakfast run by Canadian-Chileans Brian and Lea, just fifteen blocks from the sea. Their home is decorated with oriental art and Navajo weavings, the mellow parquet floor shines next to wooden book cases, and I’m listening

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-21622465974764749472009-03-29T04:05:00.000-07:002009-03-29T06:38:49.809-07:00

Just a note to say I'll be offline until April 15. We're leaving Buenos Aires in a few hours for that once-in-a-lifetime cruise around the horn and will land in Valparaiso, Chile, sometime around April 14. No computer access, and I'm not paying 40 cents a minute. But, I'll be busy trying to write a poem a day for April, National Poetry Month, and the challenge from NaPoWriMo. So, go ahead. Join

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-7929782519012997872009-03-26T05:17:00.000-07:002009-03-26T05:41:36.728-07:00

Midnight. A darkened café bar. A man crouched over a piano plays an offbeat tune. Bass and accordion add a thumping unforgettable beat. A violin slices through the music with an aching riff. It’s 1920. The height of tango in Buenos Aires. The people of Argentina have swarmed to the city, but without jobs, the young men formed gangs, and the young women became prostitutes. They met in

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-45931610546720245762009-03-21T07:39:00.000-07:002009-03-21T09:16:27.583-07:00

Yesterday we stopped at La Aripuca, a relatively new eco-tourism spot developed to preserve and showcase Guarani culture and crafts and to draw attention to the unique Aripuca tree, a giant that can live more than 1,000 years. At one time, the Guarani used a small collapsing wooden trap to catch birds. At this park, a very large "trap" has been constructed entirely out of logs from 40 different

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-4216226011925662942009-03-16T05:22:00.000-07:002009-03-16T05:42:20.886-07:00

Today was fairly hot and humid, in the low 90s. We walked through a lovely Japanese Garden in Palermo (and ate sushi that melted with freshness), saw the largest carp I have ever seen, strolled through Palermo’s large Rose Garden in the Parque 3 de Febrero.We saw birds everywhere, surprising in their diversity – squawking green parrots who chipped nests high under the fronds of palm trees and

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-77720449795153561472009-03-09T05:10:00.000-07:002009-03-09T05:46:35.971-07:00

It's Sunday afternoon and all of Buenos Aires can be found in these few blocks, strolling down cobblestoned streets, past street performers and musicians, open plazas crowded now with tents making a grand flea market with antique laces, clocks, china-head dolls, silverware with crests, porcelain Blue Willow plates, embroidered napkins, weather-worn license plates proclaim Argentina! We stepped

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-84397642380122476832009-03-07T16:35:00.000-08:002009-03-07T16:41:24.450-08:00

Yesterday was a walking tour to see the bears. These unique, hand-painted, fully life-sized bears, a project to benefit UNICEF, represent the cultures of some 140 countries. The bears are visiting Buenos Aires for only March and April. San Martin Plaza was crowded with people who simply came to see the bears, vibrant and sun-splashed. Buenos Aires BearsWhat a link to this week's Sunday

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-13057191356398699432009-03-04T05:33:00.000-08:002009-03-04T06:28:50.902-08:00

This morning it's raining in Buenos Aires. We feel more at home every day. The last three days we've spent exploring our neighborhood here in Recoleta, twice to the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes. Their online site is excellent, allowing users to search by theme or artist. Here we discovered Argentinian artists. Their regional and modern paintings dazzled us with vivid colors and fresh

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-28322985320056093862009-02-24T05:16:00.000-08:002009-02-24T05:27:13.524-08:00

Just a quick note to say all is well. We're in Colonia, a tree-lined small town of 22,000, just resting up after a 3 hour bus-ride from Montevideo. Allen's has mastered putting his own shoes on and can cut his own meat. Progress!We both are enjoying this small colonial town, once Spanish, then Portuguese, then Spanish again, control passing back and forth many times. We spent much of yesterday

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-48649725163055658022009-02-22T08:25:00.000-08:002009-02-22T08:49:13.353-08:00

Yesterday, our first day in Uruguay, we were walking in the Old Town (a historic district of Montevideo), a quiet and ordinary street with Saturday morning strollers. Suddenly, a mugger came up behind Allen and tried to pick his pocket at the same moment that he shoved Allen to the ground. I was slightly ahead, getting ready to take a picture, so until I heard the commotion, I didn't realize

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-399437886389741262009-02-19T17:33:00.000-08:002009-02-19T17:58:31.941-08:00

Maybe you saw the movie The Mission with Jeremy Irons and Robert de Niro. We visited the historical site of San Ignacio Mini, one of 30 missions established by the Jesuits to convert the native peoples to Christianity, back in the early 1600s when Portugal and Spain vied for control of South America. The movie did a good job of showing the political maneuvering between church and state (the

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-5350070880585514002009-02-16T06:18:00.001-08:002009-02-16T06:24:24.506-08:00

Just a quick note to say we are without internet for the next 24 hours. We're just in the bus station now, waiting for the 20-hour bus to Buenos Aires, with fond memories of Foz Iguassu and San Ignacio (more about that later). First Argentinian breakfast this morning -- cafe au lait with croissants! I'll be back either today or tomorrow . . . depending.

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-69755025553899712852009-02-13T11:52:00.000-08:002009-02-13T13:33:42.834-08:00

Eleanor Roosevelt said on seeing Iguassu Falls, "Poor Niagara." When I first heard this and remembered visiting Niagara Falls, I thought, how much bigger or grander could the falls at Iguassu be? From the Brazilian side, this video may give you a sense of the sweep of this World Heritage site: Brazil Iguacu2We spent all day hiking along the trails on the Brazilian side of Iguassu Falls, sometimes

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-58873571233758866912009-02-12T02:54:00.000-08:002009-02-12T03:00:28.510-08:00

Caught the bug that most people do so the last two days have been low energy, but our first day here in Iguassu Falls was a double header -- we visited the falls (no description captures this experience, though I will try), and we visited Bird Park. Suffice it to say I took about 400 pictures and thank goodness the battery on the camera went out. Go to webshots (see link on right) for bird pics

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-41631970997441926252009-02-09T14:19:00.000-08:002009-02-09T14:43:21.837-08:00

It’s our last morning at Pouso do Chico Rei. Today we take the omnibus along the Royal Way, a road built in the mid 1700s to haul gold to Portugal. Sometimes I look at these mountains surrounding this isolated town of Ouro Preto and wonder how the bandierantes, those intrepid Portuguese traders and explorers, found gold here, the mine’s location marked by the strange “finger of god” mountain (

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-50183690815182364072009-02-05T16:06:00.000-08:002009-02-05T16:49:51.447-08:00

The mystery is solved! Susie H. is now designated as the "Birder Queen" of my South American trip as she identified that little yellow bird as a Lesser Kiskadee.You can see additional pictures to decide for yourself at Arthur Grossett's Lesser Kiskadee site. We've seen this little kiskadee in Sao Paulo, Rio, Salvador, and now here in Ouro Preto. The song sounds much like its name: kis-ka-dee,

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-34623607566170146022009-02-04T14:48:00.000-08:002009-02-04T16:09:58.484-08:00

This week is passing too quickly. We're staying at Pouso do Chico Rei, a small 18th Century colonial inn where Pablo Neruda once slept, in a small town, once a gold mining center, now a tourist destination and national treasure. The first days here, I could hardly believe we truly were in the same place, the same room. I hear echoes of Neruda's poems and dream.We've wandered these cobblestoned

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-29771761083094766282009-01-31T03:00:00.001-08:002009-01-31T03:16:54.657-08:00

Yesterday we took a wild bus ride out to Pampulha in the suburbs of Belo Horizonte to visit the famous Igreja de Sao Francisco de Assis designed by the famous architect of Brazilia Neimeyer and with artwork by Portinari. Allen has long said this church was the highlight of his previous visit. I didn't know what to expect, but as we entered, I saw the altar by Portinari and was immediately moved

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-75837329222285908352009-01-26T05:16:00.000-08:002009-01-26T05:24:26.417-08:00

We’re in Salvador until Tuesday. It’s hot and humid (near 90 every day), but we have a lovely air conditioned room complete with hammock and view overlooking the Bay of All Saints (locals call it the Bay of All Saints and Most Sins). I feel sinfully lazy, swinging in the hammock and reading Jorge Amado’s Dona Flor and Her Two Husbands rich with details of life here in Salvador. Salvador was the

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6244454.post-36969857129367035352009-01-23T08:39:00.000-08:002009-01-23T08:46:17.145-08:00

Jan 21. The 27-hour bus ride went very quickly as we traveled north from Rio through the hinterlands of the Brazilian coast to Salvador. We stopped about every three hours to eat, visit the baneiros, change drivers, and stretch our legs. I’ve tasted three different kinds of flan already, but none so good as that made by Vera. I can recommend the grill, and we’ve seen small herds of cattle

Beth Camphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12682622561621269515noreply@blogger.com1