by Krista | Feb 12, 2012 | Bootstrap Monday
Returning vicariously to Budva, Montenegro in this post last week was so inspiring, that I have to linger a bit longer today.
Visiting in the spring was perfect. Glorious weather and hardly any tourists allowed us to wander the Old Town of Budva at our leisure. We clambered up stone steps, stood atop ancient stone walls and gazed out to sea, basking in delicious sea breezes, blistering hot sunshine, and the dazzling turquoise waters of the Adriatic Sea.
Although this ancient city – believed to be the oldest settlement on the Adriatic Coast – was destroyed by a a devastating earthquake in 1979, it has been almost completely restored to its original form.
I loved wandering the narrow streets, stopping to peer in glistening shop windows, pausing to wonder why all the stones on one wall were numbered in red paint.
One of my favorite parts was the library, housed in the building below. Filled with tufted, red leather sofas, the walls are lined with glass cases full of books on Balkan history. I could’ve spent days there.
This doorway enchanted me. Hidden down a dark alley it led to a seaside restaurant that served up delectably fresh seafood under a shady awning.
My brother Ryan and I shared this enormous platter of goodness, and loved every last morsel.
The views from Budva are magnificent, taking in brilliant blue ocean, hazy green mountains, and rocky islands.
I’d love to return to Budva one day, and time to linger in that lovely old library, swim in the Adriatic, and explore nearby villages.
How about you, dear ones? Is there a place from your travels that you long to return to?
by Krista | Feb 6, 2012 | Bootstrap Monday
“The cure for anything is salt water – sweat, tears, or the sea.” – Isak Dinesen
Dear ones, thank you with all my heart for the kindness and support you’ve given me the last few days. Isn’t it strange how one moment you can be chipper and hopeful and then something – a loved one diagnosed with terrible cancer, losing someone precious, the shattering of an illusion – brings it all crashing down? It’s odd how sometimes you can bear one trauma after another, head held high, chin up, and others, well, you’re a puddle, feeling weak, insecure, and afraid.
Last week was a puddle time for me. It held the proverbial last straw and I crumpled. Thoroughly. It struck me anew that I’ve been bearing too much for too long, stuffing it in, letting it build until I couldn’t take anymore. I don’t like being in that place. I like feeling strong and brave, like being cheerful in the midst of pain, like having hope when things are dark.
I’m so glad the dark times don’t last.
The last three days I gave myself a break. Turned off my computer, stayed offline, and just lived.
I slept. I read. I drank lots of tea and coffee. And when Bear and our friend had to go to the coast for a meeting, I tagged along for the ride.
Driving through Queensland never fails to cheer me. The countryside is so beautiful, especially driving through Cunningham’s Gap through the mountains to the coast. We had such a good time, visiting happily and stopping for our very-favorite-fried-chicken-in-the-whole-wide-world. It felt so good to be with dear, trusted friends and see a bigger, more beautiful world than the little painful struggles in my heart.
The best part of the trip was after the meeting when Ann decided we couldn’t possibly drive all this way without going to the beach. I love that woman! 🙂
So over the bridge we went to Bribie Island.
After clambering out of the car, we made our way through a stand of trees, grinning as the cool sea breezes hit us.
For me there are few things more healing and rejuvenating than the beach. The fresh air, salty wind, and hot sun do wonders for the soul.
It didn’t take long for us to jump down into the soft sand, kick off our shoes and head for the water.
Although the ocean in this part of Australia is the Pacific, it is nothing like the Pacific I grew up with in Washington State. There’s no hint of cold northern waters, no beaches of smooth pebbles and craggy cliffs. Here the water is deliciously warm and the sand is feather soft, dotted with all sorts of interesting treasures.
We found twisty, weathered driftwood, vivid orange lava rock of some sort, and a whole swath of sand balls, made by a little crab who grabs mouthfuls of sand, swishes it around to sift out the edible bits, then spits it up on the surface in perfect little spheres.
Fisherman dotted the shoreline and kids shrieked with laughter as they chased each other through the waves.
It was a glorious afternoon. The sun felt so good on bare shoulders and the water was pure bliss on our bare feet. The Glass House Mountains towered in the distance as pelicans swooped and boats bobbed leisurely along.
On such a day there is no other lunch to be had than fish and chips. We popped into a local shop on the pier and chose a type of fish called Sweet Lips to go with a mountain of golden fried chips. We found a shady spot under the trees where we could still see the beach and tucked in. Deeelicious!
At last, drowsy and full, we brushed the sand from our feet and bid farewell to the beach.
Where is your favorite place to escape to?
by Krista | Jan 29, 2012 | Bootstrap Monday
It’s been a rough few days.
Feeling stronger and braver last week I tentatively opened a door to my past and unwittingly let in a few malicious ghosts. Instead of sending them scurrying with some well aimed truth, I let them linger and cause non-stop mayhem. My hard fought peace was gone and fear ran rampant. Insomnia, illness and grief followed in short order and I’ve been struggling with anxiety ever since.
Blast and bother.
I hate it when this happens. Hate it when I let others snatch my peace away, let them trample my joy and smother me with fear.
At my worst moment I decided enough was enough. Even though it was raining I donned my favorite boots, called my dog Fletcher and headed for the woods. There’s nothing like a good tramp through the bush to sort things out.
Five minutes later I was back. I had neglected fly spray and the buggers were about to drive me mad. I thoroughly drenched myself then headed back to the woods, grinning as potential fly-bombers hove off at the first scent of the spray.
My tromp took me along the edge of the dam, lush with weeds and wildflowers. Fletcher ran about like mad, having the time of his life even as his fur got soaked and matted with stickers.
Just getting out into the fresh air did wonders. The falling rain relaxed my tense muscles and I felt myself starting to breathe deeply again. Funny how stress restricts the diaphragm and makes your breathing shallow, suppressing the deep, cleansing breaths that do no end of good.
I wended my way through chest high grasses, carefully avoiding the pretty but mean-spirited Scotch thistles, keeping a weather eye open for kangaroos I knew napped nearby. As I approached the bush I smiled, knowing exactly where my feet were taking me.
The Sacred Grove.
Bear and I discovered the Sacred Grove in December when we went on a sunny bush walk on Christmas Day. It’s comprised of a group of towering gum trees that somehow grew in a circle, their branches shading the meadow growing between their roots.
Stepping into the circle I closed my eyes, breathing deeply of the rain-washed air, luxuriating in the stillness. I opened my eyes and tipped my head back, delighted to see that the circle of tree trunks was reflected in the circle of branches above.
I don’t usually dance by myself in the woods, but on this day, I couldn’t help myself. I had to. After all the angst and pain of the last week, it was time to let it all go and celebrate the good things: true love, friendship, and real freedom.
I don’t actually know how to dance so I just started moving, a little jig here, a little shuffle there, so happy that only Fletcher was there to gaze at me in astonishment. Suddenly I was dancing like an Indian at a pow-wow, surely looking like a lunatic but it just felt right. The hopping-bowing-raising of the pow-pow dance led me around the grove. I felt grief leave me in a great sob, tears streaming down my cheeks, mingling with the rain. Then suddenly the dance changed and I was twirling, swirling, bobbing and weaving, grinning like a fool and feeling light and free. Fletcher came and sat at my feet, looking up at me in wonder, and I burst out laughing. Poor thing. He did not sign up for this!
I twirled a moment longer until suddenly I saw him, a bright orange and blue beetle scurrying along a yellow stalk. I was so startled by the tiny burst of color in a sea of green that all thoughts of dancing and twirling were gone as I knelt down to inspect his colorful little self.
The dancing had done its work. No longer consumed by pain I could celebrate life again, could find gorgeous little bits of beauty in snazzy bugs and perky flowers.
I am grateful.
Since then I’ve been able to work through those gutting things. To find forgiveness and peace again. Dear friends gave inestimable comfort and cheer and the advice I needed.
Today I read the following quotes and hope they shore up your resolve as they have mine.
“And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” Anais Nin
“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition.” Steve Jobs
“Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark, in the hopeless swamps of the approximate, the not-quite, the not-yet, the not-at-all. Do not let the hero in your soul perish, in lonely frustration for the life you deserved, but have never been able to reach. Check your road and the nature of your battle. The world you desired can be won. It exists, it is real, it is possible, it is yours.” Ayn Rand
by Krista | Jan 23, 2012 | Bootstrap Monday
It was a marvelously misty, dark and drizzling day and Bear and I decided it was the perfect day for a trek in the hills. So, armed with hats, water bottles, and rolls of peppermints, we hopped in the ute (Australian for pick-up) and drove out through Killarney, Queensland. We drove past lush green fields dotted with cows and under towering trees that dripped down onto the car roof.
We were in search of waterfalls.
Up, up along narrow winding roads we drove until a small sign bearing a drawing of a camera and the words “Daggs Falls” brought us to a skidding halt.
Donning our hats we walked down the hill to a small trail leading to a wooden boardwalk that jutted out over the edge of the cliff.
And this is what we saw.
I was stunned. Never in my wildest imaginings had I pictured waterfalls like this only an hour from my front door! I gazed in awe as the mist settled in a veil of droplets over my hair, patting my jittery stomach as I leaned out over the edge to see the water plummeting down to the valley floor far below.
Straightening up I glanced back over my shoulder through the canopy of gum trees, just able to catch a glimpse of emerald hills, soft and fuzzy in the rain.
Sighing with delight, I got back in the ute and we continued on our drive, stopping again at the trail head leading to Queen Mary Falls. It was drizzling again but the rain was warm so we headed for the woods, following the trail as it wended through the sodden bush.
How I love hiking in the woods! The deep stillness that seems so quiet at first but then dissolves into myriad little sounds: water dripping onto fallen leaves, lizard scurrying through the undergrowth, birds twittering unseen.
As we came around a bend in the trail, the sun broke through the mist for a moment, turning the deliciously eerie woods into a golden park.
At last we’d found the stream that gurgled peacefully between grassy banks, flowing steadily towards the cliff that would turn it from a placid creek into a glorious waterfall.
We stood on the bridge for a long time, soaking up the scent of loamy earth and rain-washed leaves, feeling all our little stresses wash away.
We took one last glance at the stream before plunging into the woods again, getting ever closer to the Queen Mary Falls I’d heard so much about.
And I’ll show you that tomorrow. 🙂
Where is your favorite place to go for a walk?
by Krista | Jan 16, 2012 | Bootstrap Monday
A dusky Autumn stroll, Lago Orta, Italy
by Krista | Jan 9, 2012 | Bootstrap Monday
His gloved hands gripped the steering wheel of the leased BMW as my brother Ryan drove along icy roads through a blizzard from Amsterdam to Maastricht in the Netherlands last Christmas.
He was determined to treat our family to an Andre Rieu Christmas concert just over the border in Belgium, and not even the wildest winter weather in recent memory could stop him.
As the afternoon darkened, we slid our way into old town Maastricht, plowing our way through snow drifts along winding streets to our room for the night. We got ready in a mad dash then headed back out into the storm. Miraculously we made it to the concert in time, and it was worth every white-knuckle moment.
Thoroughly inspired I slept like the dead that night, cozy and warm in my attic room as the storm continued to rage.
The next morning we were ravenous. Unwilling to drive unless we absolutely had to, we bundled up as warmly as we could and trudged through the snow to the town square in search of hot coffee.
Here are a few images from our Christmasy stroll.
It was a marvelous ramble, wicked cold but so beautiful and Christmasy. After warming up with coffee and breakfast we piled back in the car to brave the roads to Germany for our family Christmas at my brother Evan’s house.
Where is your favorite place to celebrate the holidays?
