I am back with you at 130 km/hr. You might have guessed that I have been busy. What with the noticeable absence of blogs, along with the obvious importance of who I am, and then there is that little fact of being on vacation in Italy. Have I mentioned that I am on vacation in Italy? At various times throughout the day, I smile, hop up and down, and remind my traveling partners that we are in… (fill in where we are.) Today it was Cinque Terre.
It first started in Venice, the hopping thing that is. I was so excited to be in Venice with Jim, Mandy, Juliana, and the rest of the crew. (Like how I threw that in? Inside joke.) I still can’t believe how wonderful this vacation has been. At times, I just get so giggly and start acting like a kid in a candy store. I know giggly isn’t a very manly way to be, but I proved my manliness today so I can afford to be a little giggly. Giggly yet manly at the same time all because of this glorious vacation.
The glory of this whole adventure was made particularly evident this afternoon while waiting for train to take Jordan and I from the fourth of five CT cities back to city two. Sitting next to Jordan and I at the train station were three co-eds. They were just finishing what appeared to be a “discussion” about their travels together when I sat down. One of the girls, the apparent leader, was trying to explain that this is the way college students travel. She made some comments about how you have to put up with things like this. (Being a late entry into the “discussion, I didn’t feel it was appropriate to butt in and ask what those “things” were.) “You can’t have that kind of vacation until you are older and traveling with your husband.” (Again, I didn’t know what “that kind” was.) The two went back and forth; the third more passive girl didn’t say anything except that she wanted to stay out of the “discussion”. The “discussion” ended well though. I have never understood this about girls. They argue and argue and then make up. A “discussion” always ends with affirmation of their friendship and that they still love each other. All this without a resolution. Those two just stopped arguing, said they weren’t mad, and that was the end. Girls are weird. Guys would never do that. A man’s “discussion” either ends in one of the guys submitting and agreeing with the other, or death. It is usually death. Wars are started because of men’s “discussions”. These girls’s “discussion” reminded me that the five of us are doing great.
We are doing great, not perfect, but great. In the car today, we had a little bit of a “discussion”. It ended like a girl’s argument and I am not going into details. Let’s see. It is Friday so we have been together for a week, seven complete days. Seven days and only one “discussion”, that is awesome. In my family, if all six of us are together, we last about that same amount of time, seven days. No wait, sorry, did I say days, I meant hours. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family. They love me and each other. It is just that four out of the six have very… strong personalities. When you put all of us together, things go smoothly until there is a decision to be made and then the “discussion” begins. Tiffany usually wins out these days, but that is a whole other blog. Back to Italy.
So things are going great. Cinque Terre, which means five cities if you don’t know Italian, is made up of… you guessed it, five cities on the west coast of Italy. They are nestled into the mountain sides right on the coast and are amazing. You can walk between each one; they are all about 2 miles apart, or you can take the train. We mostly just walked around and enjoyed the beauty. Jordan and I also exerted our manliness and jumped from the cliffs into the not so warm Mediterranean. (So I have now been in the Pacific, Atlantic, Mediterranean, Persian Gulf, and Gulf of Mexico, only 1372 major bodies of water to go. Go me!)
There was one small dilemma today. It doesn’t rate the same exciting tale as mine with the Carabinieri. (By the way, I misspelled it on the last blog, consider this is my retraction.) Today, we parked the car a short walk from one of the cities. The plan was for everyone to meet up back at the car at the end of the day,assuming we separated. After walking down to the city, the moms decided that they didn’t want to walk back up so the plan changed to Jordan and I going back to the car at the end of the day and driving to pick up the girls at the train station, about 30 km away. The dilemma came when at the end of the day we, meaning Jordan, realized that we, meaning Jordan, had given mom the key to the car and forgot to get it back. That happened because of plan one, but when we activated plan two, we forgot to redistribute the resources.
Jordan and I then had to find the girls before they took the long train ride to the pick-up point. Jordan and I split up. I ended up finding the girls short of the pick-up point. But then to get back to Jordan, I would have had to wait almost an hour for the next train. I decided instead to run the 2 miles back. (OK, so maybe it wasn’t 2 miles, maybe it was only half a mile, but it felt like 2 miles.) I got back to where I thought Jordan was; couldn’t find him. I used my incredible powers of deduction to think of where I would be if I was Jordan and so I slowly made my way back to the car. On the way, I stopped for some wonderful Italian ice cream, Chocolate and Mint Gelato (my new favorite), and some post cards. Jordan was right were I would have been. We jumped in the car, picked up the girls and that brings me to now, 130 km/hr on our way to dinner.
Woops, I had intended to blog the last few days, but just got carried away with all the fun of today. I will try again next time to talk about Pompei and Naples, and the third day in Rome. In fact, I haven’t even talked about the second day in Rome. Oh, I am so behind.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
Friday, April 29, 2005
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Day 48: Breaking the Law because I am stupid.
Image you find a cell phone on a street in Rome. You decide to pull a Good Samaritan and turn it into the local police. Well, listen to this story before you consider that “good turn.”
So there I was walking to the Museum of Bones near the US Embassy. (Side note, earlier I was inside the Embassy for a behind the scene tour.) At the corner of the Embassy I see a cell phone lying in the street. I pick it up. (Mistake #1) My first thought is IDE (Improved Explosive Device) so using good force protection I learned while in Iraq, I immediately try to turn it on to ensure it isn’t a bomb. (Mistake #2) It wasn’t a bomb and with that fear averted, I proceeded with Stephanie’s help to the nearest Policia to give them the phone. They wanted nothing to do with it but directed me to the police station a couple blocks away.
Candy, Shelly, Jordan, Noelani, Steph, and I were all on the way to the Bone Museum and so I am not in the mood to waste time. I am faced with a dilemma. I don’t want to go all the way back to the Police station just to turn in this phone, but I also want to do the “Christian” thing. Christ wins out and I decide to turn in the phone. To expedite the turn in, I give my coat to Steph and with the directions to the station, head out running. Half way there, I realize that all my identification is located with Steph and my coat. Do I turn around? No! (Mistake #3)
Continuing on, I get lost and can not find the police station. The directions were to go two blocks and turn left on Via Toscana. I went two blocks, but the street sign read “Senso Unico” (I later learn it means “One Way”) so I drive on for a few more blocks. I come to a sign reading “Carbinieri.” I could swear that I saw a police looking car with that on the side so I venture forward and go to the door. It’s locked. I didn’t notice the button which rings the office. (Mistake #4) I start to walk away and then arguably make the stupidest decision I could have made. I throw the phone onto the steps at the base of the door. (Huge Mistake #5, Climaxal Mistake, Mistake of all Mistakes) Noticing that the phone had landed behind the door and realizing that I shouldn’t have thrown the phone, or anything for that matter, at a door of a police station in the first place, I go back to pick it up. Retrieving the phone, I decide to place it at the base of the door. (Mistake #6) I doubt that decision also, but it didn’t matter, the police watching me on the closed circuit video are already bearing down to detain me. (Let me remind you that this is a completely true story, nothing is made up or exaggerated.)
They burst through the door and grab me, they, meaning two guys, who weren’t to big so I could have taken them. They pull me in the station and start yelling in Italian. This is probably a good time to mention that I don’t speak any Italian creating a definite communications barrier. The first thing they ask for is what I knew they were going to ask for, my documents. Remember, all of those things were back with my coat, being held at the corner of the Embassy. In my possession was: a spare battery for my camera, my bus ticket, my ear buds from the bus tour, and my emergency contact card provided by my wonderful, and now I realize brilliant, host Heather Chang. I try to explain to them the situation, but remember the barrier.
By this time I am inside the station and they have begun to search me, asking in Italian what I was doing. They find all the things I have, which was nothing. The whole time I am trying to explain what I was doing. “I am trying to give the phone back.” “Why did I throw it? I don’t know; I am stupid. Stupido, yes, me Stupido” “Call my friend, she works for the Embassy.” “What’s her name, I don’t know. Heather something. Heather Chang, I think it is Heather Chang.”
We are sitting in the station, they have patted me down and tensions are beginning to subside. The officers have my emergency contact card, thank you Heather, and are starting to call her cell. She doesn’t answer. We try the embassy; they don’t have her on record as working there. Things aren’t looking good for Jason. I am having flashes of dark Italian Prisons. The Apostle Paul comes to mind.
“I, Jason, called by God, slave of Jesus, to the Church in America, blessings and peace to you all.”
That is how my letter to the churches would have started.
Eventually they get a hold of Heather at the Embassy. After she stops laughing, she gets a hold of Stephanie with my coat and directs her to where she thinks I am. I think I mentioned that I couldn’t find the police station. Carbinieri are actually the State Troopers of Italy. They are not used to dealing with tourists, and don’t very much like us anyway. So Stephanie, having been informed of my situation, goes to the police station she thinks I am at and asks for me. She doesn’t find me, but with some persistence learns of the other cops around the corner. After only an hour and a half, Steph shows up with my passport. By that time most of the tension had left. The cops realized that they were dealing with a stupido American and now they just wanted me to leave. They look at my passport, probably copy it, give it back, and I leave. Walking out the door I shook the officer’s hand; he smiled and shook his head. I did my best to look sorry, but since things worked out, I wasn’t that sorry.
During the entire situation, I was having a problem. The situation was not a laughing matter. I just couldn’t help but laugh. Every time I thought about what I had gotten myself into, I smiled. In fact, I was a bit excited because I knew that I had a great blog coming. Well, at least a great story that would hopefully be a great blog. Sitting in the police station, I knew then was not the time to mention my journal. I was working really hard on just getting through it without upsetting the nice police men anymore than I already had. I didn’t upset them and it all turned out well in the end and you all are the lucky recipients of my series of unfortunate events.
There was so much more that happened today, but I have said enough. It is late, the bars are closed and I should be in bed. I will have to tell you about the waving contest later.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
So there I was walking to the Museum of Bones near the US Embassy. (Side note, earlier I was inside the Embassy for a behind the scene tour.) At the corner of the Embassy I see a cell phone lying in the street. I pick it up. (Mistake #1) My first thought is IDE (Improved Explosive Device) so using good force protection I learned while in Iraq, I immediately try to turn it on to ensure it isn’t a bomb. (Mistake #2) It wasn’t a bomb and with that fear averted, I proceeded with Stephanie’s help to the nearest Policia to give them the phone. They wanted nothing to do with it but directed me to the police station a couple blocks away.
Candy, Shelly, Jordan, Noelani, Steph, and I were all on the way to the Bone Museum and so I am not in the mood to waste time. I am faced with a dilemma. I don’t want to go all the way back to the Police station just to turn in this phone, but I also want to do the “Christian” thing. Christ wins out and I decide to turn in the phone. To expedite the turn in, I give my coat to Steph and with the directions to the station, head out running. Half way there, I realize that all my identification is located with Steph and my coat. Do I turn around? No! (Mistake #3)
Continuing on, I get lost and can not find the police station. The directions were to go two blocks and turn left on Via Toscana. I went two blocks, but the street sign read “Senso Unico” (I later learn it means “One Way”) so I drive on for a few more blocks. I come to a sign reading “Carbinieri.” I could swear that I saw a police looking car with that on the side so I venture forward and go to the door. It’s locked. I didn’t notice the button which rings the office. (Mistake #4) I start to walk away and then arguably make the stupidest decision I could have made. I throw the phone onto the steps at the base of the door. (Huge Mistake #5, Climaxal Mistake, Mistake of all Mistakes) Noticing that the phone had landed behind the door and realizing that I shouldn’t have thrown the phone, or anything for that matter, at a door of a police station in the first place, I go back to pick it up. Retrieving the phone, I decide to place it at the base of the door. (Mistake #6) I doubt that decision also, but it didn’t matter, the police watching me on the closed circuit video are already bearing down to detain me. (Let me remind you that this is a completely true story, nothing is made up or exaggerated.)
They burst through the door and grab me, they, meaning two guys, who weren’t to big so I could have taken them. They pull me in the station and start yelling in Italian. This is probably a good time to mention that I don’t speak any Italian creating a definite communications barrier. The first thing they ask for is what I knew they were going to ask for, my documents. Remember, all of those things were back with my coat, being held at the corner of the Embassy. In my possession was: a spare battery for my camera, my bus ticket, my ear buds from the bus tour, and my emergency contact card provided by my wonderful, and now I realize brilliant, host Heather Chang. I try to explain to them the situation, but remember the barrier.
By this time I am inside the station and they have begun to search me, asking in Italian what I was doing. They find all the things I have, which was nothing. The whole time I am trying to explain what I was doing. “I am trying to give the phone back.” “Why did I throw it? I don’t know; I am stupid. Stupido, yes, me Stupido” “Call my friend, she works for the Embassy.” “What’s her name, I don’t know. Heather something. Heather Chang, I think it is Heather Chang.”
We are sitting in the station, they have patted me down and tensions are beginning to subside. The officers have my emergency contact card, thank you Heather, and are starting to call her cell. She doesn’t answer. We try the embassy; they don’t have her on record as working there. Things aren’t looking good for Jason. I am having flashes of dark Italian Prisons. The Apostle Paul comes to mind.
“I, Jason, called by God, slave of Jesus, to the Church in America, blessings and peace to you all.”
That is how my letter to the churches would have started.
Eventually they get a hold of Heather at the Embassy. After she stops laughing, she gets a hold of Stephanie with my coat and directs her to where she thinks I am. I think I mentioned that I couldn’t find the police station. Carbinieri are actually the State Troopers of Italy. They are not used to dealing with tourists, and don’t very much like us anyway. So Stephanie, having been informed of my situation, goes to the police station she thinks I am at and asks for me. She doesn’t find me, but with some persistence learns of the other cops around the corner. After only an hour and a half, Steph shows up with my passport. By that time most of the tension had left. The cops realized that they were dealing with a stupido American and now they just wanted me to leave. They look at my passport, probably copy it, give it back, and I leave. Walking out the door I shook the officer’s hand; he smiled and shook his head. I did my best to look sorry, but since things worked out, I wasn’t that sorry.
During the entire situation, I was having a problem. The situation was not a laughing matter. I just couldn’t help but laugh. Every time I thought about what I had gotten myself into, I smiled. In fact, I was a bit excited because I knew that I had a great blog coming. Well, at least a great story that would hopefully be a great blog. Sitting in the police station, I knew then was not the time to mention my journal. I was working really hard on just getting through it without upsetting the nice police men anymore than I already had. I didn’t upset them and it all turned out well in the end and you all are the lucky recipients of my series of unfortunate events.
There was so much more that happened today, but I have said enough. It is late, the bars are closed and I should be in bed. I will have to tell you about the waving contest later.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
Monday, April 25, 2005
Day 48: I miss Mexican food!
I am going broke and getting fat. I love Italy. I am just returning from dinner. We ate at this great Italian restaurant. Does anyone else find that funny? Of course we ate at an Italian restaurant, I am in Italy. No seriously, the restaurant could be considered the Chilies or TGIF’s of Italy. It was a little more than fast food, but certainly not a high class, expensive Ruth’s Chris. That didn’t matter though, the food was wonderful. I had pasta with a Gorgonzola and walnut sauce.
Dinner was family style. Everyone ordered what they wanted and then we all shared. It was just like in the movies. If you are wondering which movie, just pick any Italian one: Italian Job, Godfather, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, you get the idea.
That is all I really wanted to say. It is late. I will tell you all about Rome tomorrow. We are taking the open top bus tour.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
Dinner was family style. Everyone ordered what they wanted and then we all shared. It was just like in the movies. If you are wondering which movie, just pick any Italian one: Italian Job, Godfather, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, you get the idea.
That is all I really wanted to say. It is late. I will tell you all about Rome tomorrow. We are taking the open top bus tour.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
Sunday, April 24, 2005
Day 47b: When in Rome, write about Slovakia because you are way behind.
I am sorry everyone. I waited too long and now I can’t remember all the entertaining, funny, interesting parts of Slovakia. At this point, I can really only remember the important parts, like what Jesus was/is doing. But who wants to hear about that? Come on!
I am an American and am all about readership, volume sales, and market share. I know that people want to be happy. Wait, happiness isn’t good enough for my readers; they deserve a euphoric state of numbness. I know that, so I will not, regardless of what my conscience tells me, bore you with anything like truth, love, hope, or faith.
I am in Rome right at this exact time. When I say at this exact time, I mean this exact time now, not now your time of reading this now, but now my time of typing this now. Follow me? So, now, my time now, I am driving into Rome; home of the Romans, killers of Paul, protectors of Benny XVI, husband to a murdered wife, father to a murdered son, and I will have my revenge, in this life or the next. Sorry, off subject, way off subject. This blog is actually about Slovakia, which means I am about 1500 km off subject.
The fourth day in Slovakia was the best of times; it was the worst of times. (None of you will get that reference, but know it was funny.) Two events happened on Tuesday, as previously referenced, one was good, great in fact, one was bad, not terrible because everything turned out good in the end, well good for Christian, not so good for me. Just let me explain and you will understand my ramblings.
Tuesday was my small group’s assigned time to do VBS, Vicious Bubble Squeezing. Our part was the songs and games. Let me back up. Monday, the relational ministry girls, Beth and her mom Kathy, asked if my guys and I would like to do VBS the next day. She was selling it to me as being the shortest of the days because I had mentioned that neither I nor my guys were super interested in doing VBS at all. We jumped at the chance, half heartedly.
Tuesday, we got to do VBS for about an hour. Games and songs turned out to be the greatest thing that happened in Slovakia for me and my guys. Working with the young kids was amazing. The looks on their faces when we played musical chairs, the joy in their eyes after singing “Deep and Wide” made the week. If I had done nothing else it would have been worth coming to Europe.
That was the great thing. Now let’s talk about the not so great thing. After VBS and working at the site, we went to the water park that was co-located with our retreat site. The park was more like a natural hot springs. There were a few pools and some small structures to play on. One of those structures was a line of large lily pads big enough for a person to stand on. They were loosely tied to the bottom of the pool so walking across them was difficult. It was easier because of the rope strung across the pool.
I got this bright idea to try and run across the pads. Well, not me personally run across the pads, but I was encouraging others to try. Teenage type of others. Their hearts weren’t into trying until I threw in 20 Euro. That got them going for a bit, but after a few failures they started giving up so I upped it to 50 Euro. That got them very interested.
When I first made the offer of 50 Euro for anyone that made it across the pads without touching the rope, I didn’t specify who it was for. I thought that only my guys would be trying. I stepped away for a few minutes and when I returned just about every guy at the pool was trying to run across the pads. I asked if they all knew of the offer and yes they did; my guys had spread the word. Thanks guys!
So after many attempts, on the last one, Christian, one of the guys from Bamberg, made it across and I was out 50 Euro. Unfortunately, Christian ended up in the hospital. As I said, on the LAST attempted, Christian made it across, but slammed into a pole in the process. He hit his head pretty hard and I am pretty sure had a concussion. He asked for his sister about 100 times and had no idea what had happened. I was really hoping that he would forget about the 50 Euro, but just my luck, he didn’t. It wouldn’t have mattered because everyone was reminding him anyway.
Christian spent two days in the hospital for observation and made it back to the work site on the next to last day. The worst day of the week ended just fine, except for the 50 Euro.
Many more things happened. I will try to remember more of them.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
I am an American and am all about readership, volume sales, and market share. I know that people want to be happy. Wait, happiness isn’t good enough for my readers; they deserve a euphoric state of numbness. I know that, so I will not, regardless of what my conscience tells me, bore you with anything like truth, love, hope, or faith.
I am in Rome right at this exact time. When I say at this exact time, I mean this exact time now, not now your time of reading this now, but now my time of typing this now. Follow me? So, now, my time now, I am driving into Rome; home of the Romans, killers of Paul, protectors of Benny XVI, husband to a murdered wife, father to a murdered son, and I will have my revenge, in this life or the next. Sorry, off subject, way off subject. This blog is actually about Slovakia, which means I am about 1500 km off subject.
The fourth day in Slovakia was the best of times; it was the worst of times. (None of you will get that reference, but know it was funny.) Two events happened on Tuesday, as previously referenced, one was good, great in fact, one was bad, not terrible because everything turned out good in the end, well good for Christian, not so good for me. Just let me explain and you will understand my ramblings.
Tuesday was my small group’s assigned time to do VBS, Vicious Bubble Squeezing. Our part was the songs and games. Let me back up. Monday, the relational ministry girls, Beth and her mom Kathy, asked if my guys and I would like to do VBS the next day. She was selling it to me as being the shortest of the days because I had mentioned that neither I nor my guys were super interested in doing VBS at all. We jumped at the chance, half heartedly.
Tuesday, we got to do VBS for about an hour. Games and songs turned out to be the greatest thing that happened in Slovakia for me and my guys. Working with the young kids was amazing. The looks on their faces when we played musical chairs, the joy in their eyes after singing “Deep and Wide” made the week. If I had done nothing else it would have been worth coming to Europe.
That was the great thing. Now let’s talk about the not so great thing. After VBS and working at the site, we went to the water park that was co-located with our retreat site. The park was more like a natural hot springs. There were a few pools and some small structures to play on. One of those structures was a line of large lily pads big enough for a person to stand on. They were loosely tied to the bottom of the pool so walking across them was difficult. It was easier because of the rope strung across the pool.
I got this bright idea to try and run across the pads. Well, not me personally run across the pads, but I was encouraging others to try. Teenage type of others. Their hearts weren’t into trying until I threw in 20 Euro. That got them going for a bit, but after a few failures they started giving up so I upped it to 50 Euro. That got them very interested.
When I first made the offer of 50 Euro for anyone that made it across the pads without touching the rope, I didn’t specify who it was for. I thought that only my guys would be trying. I stepped away for a few minutes and when I returned just about every guy at the pool was trying to run across the pads. I asked if they all knew of the offer and yes they did; my guys had spread the word. Thanks guys!
So after many attempts, on the last one, Christian, one of the guys from Bamberg, made it across and I was out 50 Euro. Unfortunately, Christian ended up in the hospital. As I said, on the LAST attempted, Christian made it across, but slammed into a pole in the process. He hit his head pretty hard and I am pretty sure had a concussion. He asked for his sister about 100 times and had no idea what had happened. I was really hoping that he would forget about the 50 Euro, but just my luck, he didn’t. It wouldn’t have mattered because everyone was reminding him anyway.
Christian spent two days in the hospital for observation and made it back to the work site on the next to last day. The worst day of the week ended just fine, except for the 50 Euro.
Many more things happened. I will try to remember more of them.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
Day 47: Under the Tuscan clouds and rain.
So I am driving through central Italy. I bought an adapter which turns 12V DC into 115V AC. The non-technical people may also need to be told that 12V DC is the standard voltage in a car and 115V AC or actually 110V is the standard in a house. Why am I telling you this? Because I want everyone to realize that this blog is being penned at 120 km/hr, and I am driving. OK, that isn’t completely true. It is more like 130 km/hr. The adapter is necessary to allow me to plug my computer in and not run off of battery.
We just left the Italian Province of Tuscany. “Under the Tuscan Sun”, “The English Patient” and other movies are set in this region. If you think of the classic Italian scene, the old lady on the second story window, shaking her rug out onto a narrow cobblestone alley, you think of Tuscany. Am I boring everyone with the repetitious descriptions? Beautiful, magnificent, marvelous, glorious, exquisite, wonderful, amazing, awesome, superb, breathtaking, spectacular, fabulous, brilliant, awe inspiring. Need I go on? That is Italy. Even now, I am torn between putting to words the emotions I am having and continuing to gaze out at the countryside.
Just now I stopped and took some pictures of the clouds. I know they will not turn out; car pictures never truly capture the full spectrum of the original. These clouds, beyond my vocabulary to describe, typify everything that is around me. Mom did a great job of describing the buildings. And I quote, “The reddish, dirt, stone, square bricky things.” Better than any of mine.
To my right, up on the hill top stands a collection of buildings. They are obviously abandoned and I couldn’t tell you for how long, but it is that mystery that is a part of making this land so, well mysterious. History has never been my strong point, so I won’t even begin to try to sound smarter than I am. (I read this this morning, Prov 17:28 – “Even a fool when he keeps silent is considered wise. When he closes his lips, he is considered prudent.” My translation is, “Remain silent and be thought a fool, speak and remove all doubt.”)
Here is the scene. It is a gray, drizzly Italian afternoon. Cruising along (A1) Autostrada del Sole, ancient stone “bricky things” dotted everywhere. Nora Jones serenading softly over the radio.
Come away with me in the night.
Come away with me and I will write you a song.
Come a way with me on a bus.
Come away where they can’t stand us with their lies
And I want to walk with you, on a cloudy day, in fields where the yellow grass grows knee high, so won’t you try to come.
Come away with me and well kiss on a mountain top.
Come away with me and I’ll never stop loving you.
And I want to wake up with the rain falling on a tin roof, while I am safe there in your arms so what I ask is for you to,
Come away with me in the night.
Come away with me.
I could die today and know that God is good.
I can see why His “Holy Catholic Church” set up shop here. Sorry Texas, sorry West Virginia, THIS is God’s country.
Well, I have buried my head long enough. If I keep this up, I will miss the drive into Roma. Also, I need to get back to Slovakia, though I have to admit that I have already forgotten a lot of what I was going to say. That is probably why I am not a writer.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
We just left the Italian Province of Tuscany. “Under the Tuscan Sun”, “The English Patient” and other movies are set in this region. If you think of the classic Italian scene, the old lady on the second story window, shaking her rug out onto a narrow cobblestone alley, you think of Tuscany. Am I boring everyone with the repetitious descriptions? Beautiful, magnificent, marvelous, glorious, exquisite, wonderful, amazing, awesome, superb, breathtaking, spectacular, fabulous, brilliant, awe inspiring. Need I go on? That is Italy. Even now, I am torn between putting to words the emotions I am having and continuing to gaze out at the countryside.
Just now I stopped and took some pictures of the clouds. I know they will not turn out; car pictures never truly capture the full spectrum of the original. These clouds, beyond my vocabulary to describe, typify everything that is around me. Mom did a great job of describing the buildings. And I quote, “The reddish, dirt, stone, square bricky things.” Better than any of mine.
To my right, up on the hill top stands a collection of buildings. They are obviously abandoned and I couldn’t tell you for how long, but it is that mystery that is a part of making this land so, well mysterious. History has never been my strong point, so I won’t even begin to try to sound smarter than I am. (I read this this morning, Prov 17:28 – “Even a fool when he keeps silent is considered wise. When he closes his lips, he is considered prudent.” My translation is, “Remain silent and be thought a fool, speak and remove all doubt.”)
Here is the scene. It is a gray, drizzly Italian afternoon. Cruising along (A1) Autostrada del Sole, ancient stone “bricky things” dotted everywhere. Nora Jones serenading softly over the radio.
Come away with me in the night.
Come away with me and I will write you a song.
Come a way with me on a bus.
Come away where they can’t stand us with their lies
And I want to walk with you, on a cloudy day, in fields where the yellow grass grows knee high, so won’t you try to come.
Come away with me and well kiss on a mountain top.
Come away with me and I’ll never stop loving you.
And I want to wake up with the rain falling on a tin roof, while I am safe there in your arms so what I ask is for you to,
Come away with me in the night.
Come away with me.
I could die today and know that God is good.
I can see why His “Holy Catholic Church” set up shop here. Sorry Texas, sorry West Virginia, THIS is God’s country.
Well, I have buried my head long enough. If I keep this up, I will miss the drive into Roma. Also, I need to get back to Slovakia, though I have to admit that I have already forgotten a lot of what I was going to say. That is probably why I am not a writer.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
Saturday, April 23, 2005
Day 46: Italy, what more can I say!!
I love Europe. I love Germany, Austria, Czech, Slovakia, and now Italy. If I could put to words how awesome this place is and how much fun it is, I would sell millions of books and be able to live over here. There is just so much about this place that is awesome.
There is too much to say this evening and since I haven't even caught up with the Slovakia trip, I am going to keep this one short and hopefully spend a good amount of time on the computer tomorrow or the next day. It probably won't be tomorrow because we are heading to Venice for the day and so I will be uber busy floating down the canals, watching the glass blowing on Morano Island, and eating more delicious gelato ice cream. but that is tomorrow and I shouldn't be talking about what I haven't done when there is still so much to say about what I have done.
This morning, Jordan, Candice, Shelly, and I left Jordan's place at 0652, 22 minutes late. No big deal, we had planned in plenty of time to make it to the Munich Airport to pick up Noelani, Jordan's sister. Driving there we took the back roads and enjoyed the true heart of the Bavarian countryside. Europe to me is more beautiful the further South you go. Germany is amazing, Austria is breathtaking and Northern Italy is magnificent. There aren't enough superlatives to describe everything I am seeing. I can't wait to keep going South in the next few days and see Rome, Naples, and other sites.
Speaking of Rome, what about the new Pope. Benny the 16th, right? I haven't had time to read the news so I don't know where the world's opinion falls on this new guy. What I did hear was something about him being the front runner so it wasn't a big surprise, I guess.
Back to today. The drive to Vicenza was glorious, costly but glorious. Europeans have figured out that you can make money off the tourist without them even getting out of their cars. It cost us 16.40 Euros, which is like 20 bucks, just to drive our car in Austria. We didn't get out or even step foot in the country but with the tolls and permits required, cost that much. But it was worth it.
Remember "Sound of Music?" Doe a deer, a female deer. Ray a drop of golden sun. Me a name... You get the idea. Well the Von-trap family were from Austria and the movie portrayed the countryside beautifully. The mountains, the snow, the "hills are alive with the sound of music." Seriously, I could hear them singing to me. I am starting to scare myself because the thought crossed my mind that Europe is as good as the US. It isn't, but the thought was still there. Austria is great and the Italian Alps are even better, but they don't hold "a candle in the wind" to the Rockies, Cascades, or Olympics.
Driving to our final destination today took us along a curvy Italian mountain road. Just the driving in Italy is a completely separate story and adventure, but I haven't the time today. Along the road, we stopped at this small village on the side of the mountain. I forget the name, but have a post card with the name in the car. We stopped because Jordan and Mom had been there twice before. Once five years ago and then three years later. When they described this town and particularly the Pizzeria, the ladies there stood out. The owner of the pizzeria has three lovely daughters, two of them twins. Mom's description is best when she said, "Oh they are so cute, can we take one home?" (Hey, that reminds me. I learned my first and only Italian phrase. "Decidero sposare su a fila!" It means, "I want to marry your daughter!" I figured I would try it out on the owner, but he wasn't around and I was too intimidated by his beautiful girls to ask for him. I hope to be able to use that phrase at least once on this trip. Hey, maybe I will get lucky.)
Tonight, we met up with some of Noelani's friends here in Italy. We went back to their place and had wine, cheese, bread and pastries. This is the way to eat, unfortunately my belly is expanding because of that. After the food, we headed into town for dinner. Oh, did I mention that the wine was about $1.75 for a bottle. I know you are thinking, big deal. It was a big deal because this was great wine. Absolutely wonderful. We never made dinner, but we did stop for Italian Ice cream, known as gelato. Best ice cream in the world, it would be my favorite if they would discover peanut butter and add it to their chocolate.
Now I must say good night. It is past midnight and I have another huge day of sight seeing in Venice planned. No rest for the weary. I will return.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
There is too much to say this evening and since I haven't even caught up with the Slovakia trip, I am going to keep this one short and hopefully spend a good amount of time on the computer tomorrow or the next day. It probably won't be tomorrow because we are heading to Venice for the day and so I will be uber busy floating down the canals, watching the glass blowing on Morano Island, and eating more delicious gelato ice cream. but that is tomorrow and I shouldn't be talking about what I haven't done when there is still so much to say about what I have done.
This morning, Jordan, Candice, Shelly, and I left Jordan's place at 0652, 22 minutes late. No big deal, we had planned in plenty of time to make it to the Munich Airport to pick up Noelani, Jordan's sister. Driving there we took the back roads and enjoyed the true heart of the Bavarian countryside. Europe to me is more beautiful the further South you go. Germany is amazing, Austria is breathtaking and Northern Italy is magnificent. There aren't enough superlatives to describe everything I am seeing. I can't wait to keep going South in the next few days and see Rome, Naples, and other sites.
Speaking of Rome, what about the new Pope. Benny the 16th, right? I haven't had time to read the news so I don't know where the world's opinion falls on this new guy. What I did hear was something about him being the front runner so it wasn't a big surprise, I guess.
Back to today. The drive to Vicenza was glorious, costly but glorious. Europeans have figured out that you can make money off the tourist without them even getting out of their cars. It cost us 16.40 Euros, which is like 20 bucks, just to drive our car in Austria. We didn't get out or even step foot in the country but with the tolls and permits required, cost that much. But it was worth it.
Remember "Sound of Music?" Doe a deer, a female deer. Ray a drop of golden sun. Me a name... You get the idea. Well the Von-trap family were from Austria and the movie portrayed the countryside beautifully. The mountains, the snow, the "hills are alive with the sound of music." Seriously, I could hear them singing to me. I am starting to scare myself because the thought crossed my mind that Europe is as good as the US. It isn't, but the thought was still there. Austria is great and the Italian Alps are even better, but they don't hold "a candle in the wind" to the Rockies, Cascades, or Olympics.
Driving to our final destination today took us along a curvy Italian mountain road. Just the driving in Italy is a completely separate story and adventure, but I haven't the time today. Along the road, we stopped at this small village on the side of the mountain. I forget the name, but have a post card with the name in the car. We stopped because Jordan and Mom had been there twice before. Once five years ago and then three years later. When they described this town and particularly the Pizzeria, the ladies there stood out. The owner of the pizzeria has three lovely daughters, two of them twins. Mom's description is best when she said, "Oh they are so cute, can we take one home?" (Hey, that reminds me. I learned my first and only Italian phrase. "Decidero sposare su a fila!" It means, "I want to marry your daughter!" I figured I would try it out on the owner, but he wasn't around and I was too intimidated by his beautiful girls to ask for him. I hope to be able to use that phrase at least once on this trip. Hey, maybe I will get lucky.)
Tonight, we met up with some of Noelani's friends here in Italy. We went back to their place and had wine, cheese, bread and pastries. This is the way to eat, unfortunately my belly is expanding because of that. After the food, we headed into town for dinner. Oh, did I mention that the wine was about $1.75 for a bottle. I know you are thinking, big deal. It was a big deal because this was great wine. Absolutely wonderful. We never made dinner, but we did stop for Italian Ice cream, known as gelato. Best ice cream in the world, it would be my favorite if they would discover peanut butter and add it to their chocolate.
Now I must say good night. It is past midnight and I have another huge day of sight seeing in Venice planned. No rest for the weary. I will return.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Day 45b: Lunch is a good thing, probably the best of things
How do writers do it? Write that is. I am sitting here after spending almost two hours writing on the computer and I am basically out of words. There were so many emails to respond to and blogs to write that I just can’t think of writing any more. I will because I have to, but know that this blog is a burden to me. Don’t take offense though because it is not you it is me. I thought once, briefly, about being a writer. Wouldn’t that be a great job, sit at home and just put words on paper? If it came easy to me, it would be the best job in the world, but unfortunately, I become increasingly bored the longer I type so after a certain point, writing is work.
The third day of the service project, was the first real work day. We had already been to our school, so the plan was to get there in the morning and hit the ground running. Unfortunately the ground was muddy so running wasn’t an option. Instead, we hit the ground sliding, but not after a few hang-ups. The first was at breakfast; it wasn’t there. You may not remember my earlier description of the Slovak Republic so let me remind you that it is a former Communist country. Things do not exactly happen on a western, consumer based timeline. Our breakfast, which was supposed to be delivered the day before wasn’t. Tito, the head cook, was not dismayed and made due with the leftovers from Sunday. But that snafu along with first day bugs made just getting to the sites a trial. We did arrive and work was done.
I mentioned earlier that Josh Beautrin was the site leader where I was. I don’t know too much of his back ground. He has been on staff with MCYM for a number of years and is married to Alex. Why I mention Alex I don’t know except that she might come into this story so best to mention her now than later. At our school, there was an assigned classroom where we stored our extra stuff and clean shoes. (In Slovakia, they are very proud of their buildings; you were not allowed to wear your outside shoes inside. At the door we used, there was always a large pile of either clean shoes or dirty shoes, depending on whether the group was inside or out. This requirement worked out for me because I had not brought any extra shoes on this vacation, let alone to Slovakia, so Josh was truly generous and bought me not one but two pairs of shoes: one cool set of leather work boots and another Birkenstock knock-off.) We met there each morning and organized the day. We would have a snack, receive wonderful, biblical instruction from Josh, have nap time, sing songs, pray, and a whole mess of other awesome Jesus things.
After the first huddle, the group, 60+, headed out to the school “playground” to begin work. Playground is used loosely here because it consisted of nothing more than dirt and tree stumps. You can really begin to understand the state of these elementary children when you see that they had nothing, I mean absolutely nothing, to play on. Our goal, and the focus of the entire project, was to show Jesus’ love through our work and interaction. We built them a playground because of our love. We sang songs and taught them English because of our love. We played basketball and volleyball because of our love. We took out the stumps in the ground because we needed busy work to occupy the other 25 kids that couldn’t be showing their love through working on the playground, singing songs, or playing games.
The ground was broke that first day, holes were dug, and leveling strings strung. Jesus was seriously loving those Slovak kids. Lunch was next. Lunch is a long and glorious memory which I will dispense now… Some of it.
Lunch at our site was given to us by the local culinary school next door to the elementary school we worked at. Let me say that again, our lunch was prepared and served by the culinary students in school. I don’t think you could have paid large sums of money to receive an experience such as ours. The other sites were eating at a lumber mill cafeterias, the other local schools own cafeterias, or other such places. We were eating lunch at the culinary school next door. Four course meals, amazing soups, deserts, fruits, and teas made up the menu. Each day we had a choice of meals served to us by the beautiful wait staff. (I am not going into detail about the natural beauty of the Slovak people. I have already been warned about being too free in my admiration of teenage girls.) Lunch was a highlight of the day. We had it so good that it caused our fellow brothers and sisters stuck at other sites to fall into sins of jealousy and envy. You couldn’t talk about lunch with them because they would react with scorn after a description of our lunch. Doesn’t it say in the bible to rejoice with those that rejoice?
Many other things happened that first day of work, but I really, really have run out of words today. I will tell you of those other things… later!
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
The third day of the service project, was the first real work day. We had already been to our school, so the plan was to get there in the morning and hit the ground running. Unfortunately the ground was muddy so running wasn’t an option. Instead, we hit the ground sliding, but not after a few hang-ups. The first was at breakfast; it wasn’t there. You may not remember my earlier description of the Slovak Republic so let me remind you that it is a former Communist country. Things do not exactly happen on a western, consumer based timeline. Our breakfast, which was supposed to be delivered the day before wasn’t. Tito, the head cook, was not dismayed and made due with the leftovers from Sunday. But that snafu along with first day bugs made just getting to the sites a trial. We did arrive and work was done.
I mentioned earlier that Josh Beautrin was the site leader where I was. I don’t know too much of his back ground. He has been on staff with MCYM for a number of years and is married to Alex. Why I mention Alex I don’t know except that she might come into this story so best to mention her now than later. At our school, there was an assigned classroom where we stored our extra stuff and clean shoes. (In Slovakia, they are very proud of their buildings; you were not allowed to wear your outside shoes inside. At the door we used, there was always a large pile of either clean shoes or dirty shoes, depending on whether the group was inside or out. This requirement worked out for me because I had not brought any extra shoes on this vacation, let alone to Slovakia, so Josh was truly generous and bought me not one but two pairs of shoes: one cool set of leather work boots and another Birkenstock knock-off.) We met there each morning and organized the day. We would have a snack, receive wonderful, biblical instruction from Josh, have nap time, sing songs, pray, and a whole mess of other awesome Jesus things.
After the first huddle, the group, 60+, headed out to the school “playground” to begin work. Playground is used loosely here because it consisted of nothing more than dirt and tree stumps. You can really begin to understand the state of these elementary children when you see that they had nothing, I mean absolutely nothing, to play on. Our goal, and the focus of the entire project, was to show Jesus’ love through our work and interaction. We built them a playground because of our love. We sang songs and taught them English because of our love. We played basketball and volleyball because of our love. We took out the stumps in the ground because we needed busy work to occupy the other 25 kids that couldn’t be showing their love through working on the playground, singing songs, or playing games.
The ground was broke that first day, holes were dug, and leveling strings strung. Jesus was seriously loving those Slovak kids. Lunch was next. Lunch is a long and glorious memory which I will dispense now… Some of it.
Lunch at our site was given to us by the local culinary school next door to the elementary school we worked at. Let me say that again, our lunch was prepared and served by the culinary students in school. I don’t think you could have paid large sums of money to receive an experience such as ours. The other sites were eating at a lumber mill cafeterias, the other local schools own cafeterias, or other such places. We were eating lunch at the culinary school next door. Four course meals, amazing soups, deserts, fruits, and teas made up the menu. Each day we had a choice of meals served to us by the beautiful wait staff. (I am not going into detail about the natural beauty of the Slovak people. I have already been warned about being too free in my admiration of teenage girls.) Lunch was a highlight of the day. We had it so good that it caused our fellow brothers and sisters stuck at other sites to fall into sins of jealousy and envy. You couldn’t talk about lunch with them because they would react with scorn after a description of our lunch. Doesn’t it say in the bible to rejoice with those that rejoice?
Many other things happened that first day of work, but I really, really have run out of words today. I will tell you of those other things… later!
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
Day 45: Slovakia Part 2
Do you ever say things but don’t really mean them? I do that all the time. Take yesterday, I said that I would never get caught up, but I didn’t really mean it. I didn’t even believe it myself. I just said it because it seemed like a good opening line, something better than a reference to how long it had been since my last entry. So even in saying that I would never get caught up, I figured I would and couldn’t possibly fail at that, but then today I look and really thought about it. Even though I said something I didn’t believe was true, it will turn out to be true if I don’t do something about it. Which is why this blog is actually being written on my personal computer and will somehow, hopefully be transferred to a computer that has access to the Internet so that these words will make it to your desks and laptops. We will see…
The second day of the Service Project in Slovakia was more of an orientation day than a work day. It was Sunday so the mornings were occupied by the various church services. MCYM is an ecumenical organization so both Catholics and Protestors worship Jesus side-by-side. Mass and church were both held at 0900 hours, but the protestors had to go into town to attend a service with the local population. They loaded up the busses at 0830 and left. Since both services started at the same time, the Catholics had an extra 30 minutes to get ready or sleep in. I hadn’t had a chance to get to know all my guys very well at that point, but much to my surprise, they were all Catholics on Sunday. Being raised a good, moral, non-drinking Baptist, I fell into the protestor’s category, but since all my guys ended up being “Catholic”, I figured then was as good a time as any to attend my first mass.
Mass is very different from what I am used to. They did a whole bunch of things that I had never seen before. The dude up front, I think they called him the priest, did a great job of explaining most of what he did throughout the get-together. I really think he knew that there were a bunch of newly converted “Catholics” in attendance that morning.
One of the memorable things that the priest did was recite the baptismal vows. He would say things like, “Do you believe in God the Father?“ or “Do you reject Satan and all his empty promises and evil lies?” and then everyone else would say, “I do” after each of his lines. Because of my non-conformist attitude, I was unable to fall in line and repeat the “I do’s”. I did however agree with everything he said and couldn’t help but reply with affirming, “Yes’s”, “absolutely’s”, and “Right-on’s”. I think I even said “I do” a couple times on accident. Catholic Mass is awesome and if you haven’t been to one, you should try it out, and the best thing is that after you have been to one, you’ve been to them all. (Just kidding! I did go to mass on Monday at 0700. Again, I was surprised because all my guys reformed Sunday night and none of them were at mass with me. Monday mass wasn’t quite as exciting as Sunday’s, but it made up for the less excitement by being much shorter.)
After mass, we unreformed Christians, jumped on the busses, which had returned, and joined our enlightened brethren at their meeting. I say enlightened not in a spiritual sense, but practical one. See the protesters know how to attract a crowd, they served massive amounts of deserts after their get-together. After meeting up, we all headed out on our separate busses. MCYM had planned a journey into the terra-firma of the Slovak Republic. Near town was a large cave system. All of us were dragged there and forced to walk to thousands of steps up and down observing the numerous stalagmites and stalactites. Being a surface person myself, it wasn’t all that exciting for me. I couldn’t help but think about the billions and billions of tons of material that was gingerly placed over my head while I was under it. It reminded me of the US deficit, but I regress. What would have happened if an earthquake struck at that exact time and all of us were trapped, buried underground forever and ever. What would we have done? I wouldn’t have missed the sun because I am from Seattle, but I would have missed the fresh air. Even in the short hour that we were down there, I started to smell some of the less hygienically proficient high schoolers.
After the cave, we ventured to our work sites for the first time and, again, received an orientation of the coming week. Our excitement began to grow. Josh B. lead our site and he is awesome, but also a whole other blog. Leaving the site, we returned to camp and received a final bit of instruction before dinner. (I also received STT #3 because two of my guys hadn’t mastered the art of going to the bathroom. I didn’t know this then and let them head, un-supervised, back to the cabin. Twenty minutes later and halfway through the final instructions, I tracked them down.)
The first full day was only the start to an amazing weekend and you will have to wait to here more. (Or maybe you won’t because I am not sure if I will get this to the web before penning another entry on my computer. In which case you have probably already read, out of order, what is next. What is next? You have to tell me because I don’t know; I haven’t written it.)
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
The second day of the Service Project in Slovakia was more of an orientation day than a work day. It was Sunday so the mornings were occupied by the various church services. MCYM is an ecumenical organization so both Catholics and Protestors worship Jesus side-by-side. Mass and church were both held at 0900 hours, but the protestors had to go into town to attend a service with the local population. They loaded up the busses at 0830 and left. Since both services started at the same time, the Catholics had an extra 30 minutes to get ready or sleep in. I hadn’t had a chance to get to know all my guys very well at that point, but much to my surprise, they were all Catholics on Sunday. Being raised a good, moral, non-drinking Baptist, I fell into the protestor’s category, but since all my guys ended up being “Catholic”, I figured then was as good a time as any to attend my first mass.
Mass is very different from what I am used to. They did a whole bunch of things that I had never seen before. The dude up front, I think they called him the priest, did a great job of explaining most of what he did throughout the get-together. I really think he knew that there were a bunch of newly converted “Catholics” in attendance that morning.
One of the memorable things that the priest did was recite the baptismal vows. He would say things like, “Do you believe in God the Father?“ or “Do you reject Satan and all his empty promises and evil lies?” and then everyone else would say, “I do” after each of his lines. Because of my non-conformist attitude, I was unable to fall in line and repeat the “I do’s”. I did however agree with everything he said and couldn’t help but reply with affirming, “Yes’s”, “absolutely’s”, and “Right-on’s”. I think I even said “I do” a couple times on accident. Catholic Mass is awesome and if you haven’t been to one, you should try it out, and the best thing is that after you have been to one, you’ve been to them all. (Just kidding! I did go to mass on Monday at 0700. Again, I was surprised because all my guys reformed Sunday night and none of them were at mass with me. Monday mass wasn’t quite as exciting as Sunday’s, but it made up for the less excitement by being much shorter.)
After mass, we unreformed Christians, jumped on the busses, which had returned, and joined our enlightened brethren at their meeting. I say enlightened not in a spiritual sense, but practical one. See the protesters know how to attract a crowd, they served massive amounts of deserts after their get-together. After meeting up, we all headed out on our separate busses. MCYM had planned a journey into the terra-firma of the Slovak Republic. Near town was a large cave system. All of us were dragged there and forced to walk to thousands of steps up and down observing the numerous stalagmites and stalactites. Being a surface person myself, it wasn’t all that exciting for me. I couldn’t help but think about the billions and billions of tons of material that was gingerly placed over my head while I was under it. It reminded me of the US deficit, but I regress. What would have happened if an earthquake struck at that exact time and all of us were trapped, buried underground forever and ever. What would we have done? I wouldn’t have missed the sun because I am from Seattle, but I would have missed the fresh air. Even in the short hour that we were down there, I started to smell some of the less hygienically proficient high schoolers.
After the cave, we ventured to our work sites for the first time and, again, received an orientation of the coming week. Our excitement began to grow. Josh B. lead our site and he is awesome, but also a whole other blog. Leaving the site, we returned to camp and received a final bit of instruction before dinner. (I also received STT #3 because two of my guys hadn’t mastered the art of going to the bathroom. I didn’t know this then and let them head, un-supervised, back to the cabin. Twenty minutes later and halfway through the final instructions, I tracked them down.)
The first full day was only the start to an amazing weekend and you will have to wait to here more. (Or maybe you won’t because I am not sure if I will get this to the web before penning another entry on my computer. In which case you have probably already read, out of order, what is next. What is next? You have to tell me because I don’t know; I haven’t written it.)
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Day 40 something: Back in the DRG
I will never catch up this time. After a week of playing with, ministering to, and loving on over 500 "Third Culture" kids from all over Europe, I have so much to say I will never catch up. As my last post previewed, this last week was spent in the Slovak Republic. With MCYM, over 500 American Service men and women along with dependents spent the week building playgrounds and showing Jesus's love to the town folk of Liptovsky Mikulás. It was great. In fact, great does not even come close to describing the breadth and width of the situation. It was stupendous; it was uber cool (uber is super in German, I think).
First, let me explain "Third Culture" kids. Dr Ruth Hill Useem, http://www.tckworld.com/, coined that phrase when describing children that grow up in military, missionary, preacher, foreign services or the other similar families. They are third culture because they do not have a culture of their own, or they are a culture of their own. They don't fit into the culture of their home country because they don't live there and they don't fit into the culture of their host country because they aren't from there. They are of a "third" culture, their own culture. I don't know that much about it. I only heard the term a few days ago, but it makes sense. I am sort of a "third culture" kid myself. When people ask me where I am from, I say, the United States of America, because that is the best way to describe it. Washington is the state that I hold a residence of, but I hold no address, so it is hard to say I am from there. I was born in TX, but I don't call myself a Texan, unless I am trying to piss a liberal off. (I met a guy, Jack Roberts, this last week. He is a lawyer in the Army stationed here in Germany. He is a year younger than I, but we were both born in the same city, Houston, the same suburb, Spring Branch, on the same street, Westview. So halfway across the world, I meet a guy that I could have been friends with if had I not moved away from Houston at 2 years of age. Small world) So I am not really from anywhere, I have no home. Or as they say, home is where the Army sends me.
Back to Slovakia. It was awesome. Me and the other 500 TCKs had a blast. I will have to go into more detail over the next few days, but just believe me when I say it was great. I will tell you a few stories to give you the picture of what the week was like.
Arriving the first day after a marathon bus ride is meant to impress the kids. They step off the bus to a sensory overload of music and cheering. Our bus was one of the last so the festivities had died down a bit for our arrival. The video camera rolled; the kids stammered off the bus and were directed to there home for the next six days. The leaders, myself being one, were pulled aside for a quick terrain orientation. Like the kids, I was in a daze and found it hard to pay attention to John, who turned out to be the head director dude. His briefing was where I received my first Stern Talking To (STT). You will see that a pattern was set early. The youth and I moved to our cabin. The plan was for the students to pick their living arrangements and the leaders would fall in on a group. I was initially given the key to the best cabin there, Little Pink. I decided that regardless of which kids picked it, I was not changing. It turned out that six of the guys wanted also to be in Little Pink so we squeezed seven guys into the room built for six.
That wasn't a problem because two of the guys sacrificed and slept on the floor all week. There were beds for six, as mentioned earlier, but all the guys wanted to be upstairs so I claimed the pull out double bed for myself and enjoyed relative peace all week. (I do believe I slept to best out of all the leaders. To my detriment though because more than one STT was delivered because of what my guys did after I had drifted into unconsciousness.) Seven guys in a cabin, one shower, one toilet. We lived like kings.
The first day ended with Club and cabin time. I discussed the rules, both mine and the camps. Camp rules were long and cumbersome. Things like, don't walk on the grass, be on time, and other stupid things like that. My rules are simple. I have only two and the second one is rarely enforced. 1. No dying. That includes both yourself and others. 2. Have fun. I told my guys that I will enforce all the rules placed on me by others. Their rules are non-negotiable. My rules too, are strickly enforced, well the first one at least. If anyone was to break rule #1, serious consequences would follow. With the rules established, we headed to bed, all of us. It had been a long day and everyone was tired. I fell asleep quickly and so did my guys, according to them. (STT #2 awaited me in the morning.)
My computer time is up so I will continue this another time.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
First, let me explain "Third Culture" kids. Dr Ruth Hill Useem, http://www.tckworld.com/, coined that phrase when describing children that grow up in military, missionary, preacher, foreign services or the other similar families. They are third culture because they do not have a culture of their own, or they are a culture of their own. They don't fit into the culture of their home country because they don't live there and they don't fit into the culture of their host country because they aren't from there. They are of a "third" culture, their own culture. I don't know that much about it. I only heard the term a few days ago, but it makes sense. I am sort of a "third culture" kid myself. When people ask me where I am from, I say, the United States of America, because that is the best way to describe it. Washington is the state that I hold a residence of, but I hold no address, so it is hard to say I am from there. I was born in TX, but I don't call myself a Texan, unless I am trying to piss a liberal off. (I met a guy, Jack Roberts, this last week. He is a lawyer in the Army stationed here in Germany. He is a year younger than I, but we were both born in the same city, Houston, the same suburb, Spring Branch, on the same street, Westview. So halfway across the world, I meet a guy that I could have been friends with if had I not moved away from Houston at 2 years of age. Small world) So I am not really from anywhere, I have no home. Or as they say, home is where the Army sends me.
Back to Slovakia. It was awesome. Me and the other 500 TCKs had a blast. I will have to go into more detail over the next few days, but just believe me when I say it was great. I will tell you a few stories to give you the picture of what the week was like.
Arriving the first day after a marathon bus ride is meant to impress the kids. They step off the bus to a sensory overload of music and cheering. Our bus was one of the last so the festivities had died down a bit for our arrival. The video camera rolled; the kids stammered off the bus and were directed to there home for the next six days. The leaders, myself being one, were pulled aside for a quick terrain orientation. Like the kids, I was in a daze and found it hard to pay attention to John, who turned out to be the head director dude. His briefing was where I received my first Stern Talking To (STT). You will see that a pattern was set early. The youth and I moved to our cabin. The plan was for the students to pick their living arrangements and the leaders would fall in on a group. I was initially given the key to the best cabin there, Little Pink. I decided that regardless of which kids picked it, I was not changing. It turned out that six of the guys wanted also to be in Little Pink so we squeezed seven guys into the room built for six.
That wasn't a problem because two of the guys sacrificed and slept on the floor all week. There were beds for six, as mentioned earlier, but all the guys wanted to be upstairs so I claimed the pull out double bed for myself and enjoyed relative peace all week. (I do believe I slept to best out of all the leaders. To my detriment though because more than one STT was delivered because of what my guys did after I had drifted into unconsciousness.) Seven guys in a cabin, one shower, one toilet. We lived like kings.
The first day ended with Club and cabin time. I discussed the rules, both mine and the camps. Camp rules were long and cumbersome. Things like, don't walk on the grass, be on time, and other stupid things like that. My rules are simple. I have only two and the second one is rarely enforced. 1. No dying. That includes both yourself and others. 2. Have fun. I told my guys that I will enforce all the rules placed on me by others. Their rules are non-negotiable. My rules too, are strickly enforced, well the first one at least. If anyone was to break rule #1, serious consequences would follow. With the rules established, we headed to bed, all of us. It had been a long day and everyone was tired. I fell asleep quickly and so did my guys, according to them. (STT #2 awaited me in the morning.)
My computer time is up so I will continue this another time.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
Friday, April 8, 2005
Title: Day 34: Slovakia or Bust!
Title: Day 34: Slovakia or Bust!
How do you spell Slovakia? Is that right? I don't have a map in front of me so I will just have to cross my fingers. If you haven't guessed, my next stop is the country of Slovakia. I am heading there as a group leader for the MCYM, Military Community Youth Ministry, from Heidelberg. Young Life, known as Beyond, works through MCYM as the "contracted" organization that does youth ministry. Serving as a Christian in the military is interesting because it is not treated like a normal ministry. For the military it is just a funded project similar to something like a fishing club or the golf course. You can imagine with all the separation of church and state, a government authorized and funded "church" group is not exactly what you would expect. In that environment, YL does a great job and I tip my hat to them.
So with YL, I am heading to Slovakia for their annual service project. Some of you may be asking yourself, "Slovakia, I've never heard of Slovakia? There is some country named Checkenoslikavikiania or something like that, but Slovakia?" If that is what you are wondering, then 1. You are way old because Slovakia has been around for over 15 years, and 2. You are so completely out of touch with the world. I will give you a little credit because Slovakia came about without much global fanfare. Back in 1993 the people of The Czech Republic got together with those of The Slovak Republic and decided to undue almost 100 years of lousy decisions that were made for them by stupid third parties and break up. (They are still friends though and call each other often. The other day I even saw them sitting together at this romantic Italian cafe.) I would go into more detail, but I ain't got a clue as to what I am talking about and if I keep going then you too will know that. "Remain silent and be thought a fool, speak and remove all doubt." That's my motto. Well, it isn't really my motto, but it is a good quote and I am always up for a good quote, like, "There is nothing so useless as doing efficiently that which should not be done at all." Isn't that a great quote? I love that quote.
When I was in High School, I started collecting good quotes and wrote them down on this piece of paper that I kept folded in my wallet. I had at least 15 really great quotes on there. Over the years I would add to the list. The piece of paper became very fragile and thwarting my best efforts to ruin it over the years, throwing it in a lake or burning it, it stuck around. I had the paper until its idiot creator and owner decided to leave his wallet in the top of a Wal-Mart shopping cart in Enterprise, AL. He, the idiot that is, then proceeded to leave the cart unattended at the end of the isle while he walked down them to obtain his shopping needs. (See the idiot thought that he would be nice and not crowd the busy Wal-Mart as to be courteous to the other shoppers. Note that Wal-Mart is the only place to shop in Enterprise of UCLA so it is very busy, very busy. In fact it is the place to hang and pick up chicks.) Ironically, someone besides the idiot needed the list of quotes more than the creator and made off with it. The idiot owner was heart broken, not about the loss of money, credit cards, license, or military ID, but about the piece of paper and only the piece of paper. True Story.
The Velvet Revolution was its name. If you are scratching your head about how Slovakia came about, it was a bloodless overthrow of the government, hence The Velvet Revolution. Those of you in the US are thinking no big deal, we over throw our government every four years, and there is never any blood, at least there wasn't before "W" got involved! Now there is a little blood and a lot of sweat. Slovakia pulled a fast one on the world and scooted away from the Czech dudes, according to a Slovak. If you ask a Czech, and I have, Eva was her name; she would say that they, the Czechs, gave the boot to the less industrialized Slovaks. It would be similar to the States shoving to the corner the aforementioned dirty South. I doubt our forefathers foresaw the South remaining what it was and is and if they had they might not had put up as much effort into keeping them around. (Now to everyone reading this from the South, including my parent, I love you guys so don't send me hate mail, please, or if you do, send pictures!) We leave for Slovakia tomorrow around 2200. I am taking a train from Ansbach to Heidelberg to meet up with the guys from there and then it is a 20 hour bus ride. I am so excited to spend 20 hours cooped up with a bunch of teenagers I will not have met before then, but that is what serving is all about. Praise God!
I am guessing that there will be little or no access to the Internet and combined with the fact that I will be super busy, this will be my last post till we get back, 16 April. I know you all are pulling your hair out wondering how you will ever survive the scarcity, but pull yourselves together and get a life. I can't handle the burden of entertaining the world, I am not a superstar. I know what you Bible thumpers are saying, "But Galatians says..." I know, I know, but it is not talking about this type of burden. I promise to fill you in on all the details.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
How do you spell Slovakia? Is that right? I don't have a map in front of me so I will just have to cross my fingers. If you haven't guessed, my next stop is the country of Slovakia. I am heading there as a group leader for the MCYM, Military Community Youth Ministry, from Heidelberg. Young Life, known as Beyond, works through MCYM as the "contracted" organization that does youth ministry. Serving as a Christian in the military is interesting because it is not treated like a normal ministry. For the military it is just a funded project similar to something like a fishing club or the golf course. You can imagine with all the separation of church and state, a government authorized and funded "church" group is not exactly what you would expect. In that environment, YL does a great job and I tip my hat to them.
So with YL, I am heading to Slovakia for their annual service project. Some of you may be asking yourself, "Slovakia, I've never heard of Slovakia? There is some country named Checkenoslikavikiania or something like that, but Slovakia?" If that is what you are wondering, then 1. You are way old because Slovakia has been around for over 15 years, and 2. You are so completely out of touch with the world. I will give you a little credit because Slovakia came about without much global fanfare. Back in 1993 the people of The Czech Republic got together with those of The Slovak Republic and decided to undue almost 100 years of lousy decisions that were made for them by stupid third parties and break up. (They are still friends though and call each other often. The other day I even saw them sitting together at this romantic Italian cafe.) I would go into more detail, but I ain't got a clue as to what I am talking about and if I keep going then you too will know that. "Remain silent and be thought a fool, speak and remove all doubt." That's my motto. Well, it isn't really my motto, but it is a good quote and I am always up for a good quote, like, "There is nothing so useless as doing efficiently that which should not be done at all." Isn't that a great quote? I love that quote.
When I was in High School, I started collecting good quotes and wrote them down on this piece of paper that I kept folded in my wallet. I had at least 15 really great quotes on there. Over the years I would add to the list. The piece of paper became very fragile and thwarting my best efforts to ruin it over the years, throwing it in a lake or burning it, it stuck around. I had the paper until its idiot creator and owner decided to leave his wallet in the top of a Wal-Mart shopping cart in Enterprise, AL. He, the idiot that is, then proceeded to leave the cart unattended at the end of the isle while he walked down them to obtain his shopping needs. (See the idiot thought that he would be nice and not crowd the busy Wal-Mart as to be courteous to the other shoppers. Note that Wal-Mart is the only place to shop in Enterprise of UCLA so it is very busy, very busy. In fact it is the place to hang and pick up chicks.) Ironically, someone besides the idiot needed the list of quotes more than the creator and made off with it. The idiot owner was heart broken, not about the loss of money, credit cards, license, or military ID, but about the piece of paper and only the piece of paper. True Story.
The Velvet Revolution was its name. If you are scratching your head about how Slovakia came about, it was a bloodless overthrow of the government, hence The Velvet Revolution. Those of you in the US are thinking no big deal, we over throw our government every four years, and there is never any blood, at least there wasn't before "W" got involved! Now there is a little blood and a lot of sweat. Slovakia pulled a fast one on the world and scooted away from the Czech dudes, according to a Slovak. If you ask a Czech, and I have, Eva was her name; she would say that they, the Czechs, gave the boot to the less industrialized Slovaks. It would be similar to the States shoving to the corner the aforementioned dirty South. I doubt our forefathers foresaw the South remaining what it was and is and if they had they might not had put up as much effort into keeping them around. (Now to everyone reading this from the South, including my parent, I love you guys so don't send me hate mail, please, or if you do, send pictures!) We leave for Slovakia tomorrow around 2200. I am taking a train from Ansbach to Heidelberg to meet up with the guys from there and then it is a 20 hour bus ride. I am so excited to spend 20 hours cooped up with a bunch of teenagers I will not have met before then, but that is what serving is all about. Praise God!
I am guessing that there will be little or no access to the Internet and combined with the fact that I will be super busy, this will be my last post till we get back, 16 April. I know you all are pulling your hair out wondering how you will ever survive the scarcity, but pull yourselves together and get a life. I can't handle the burden of entertaining the world, I am not a superstar. I know what you Bible thumpers are saying, "But Galatians says..." I know, I know, but it is not talking about this type of burden. I promise to fill you in on all the details.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
Wednesday, April 6, 2005
Day 31: UNTITLED
So I am back at the computer, but this time I don't really have anything exciting to talk about. I mean seriously, how much stuff can one person possibly do in a 24 hour period, especially stuff that other people would be interested in. It has always baffled me that a person can write an entire book. Hundreds of pages about the same thing. I can barely get a 500 word essay down on paper without becoming bored myself. In fact this lone paragraph has caused me to yawn extensively and my eyes are starting to cross. Focusing is hard.
I can't even think of a witty quote or quip to end with. (What is a quip anyway? You hear people talking about Quips and Quotes, but I don't know the former.) I leave you with this.
"The breakfast of champions is not a cereal. It is your opposition." - Some famous sporting coach.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
PS I wanted everyone (Erika and Dan) to know two things. First, I don't have an editor so when the spell check doesn't catch a word and it is close enough, (Come on, one letter???) give a guy a little slack. Second, I realize 13 is young and I don't go for that sort of thing, but I will try to be more cognizant next time, thanks for pointing it out. I was hoping it would just slide by as artistic license. Little does everyone know how much artistic license I take in the first place.
I can't even think of a witty quote or quip to end with. (What is a quip anyway? You hear people talking about Quips and Quotes, but I don't know the former.) I leave you with this.
"The breakfast of champions is not a cereal. It is your opposition." - Some famous sporting coach.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
PS I wanted everyone (Erika and Dan) to know two things. First, I don't have an editor so when the spell check doesn't catch a word and it is close enough, (Come on, one letter???) give a guy a little slack. Second, I realize 13 is young and I don't go for that sort of thing, but I will try to be more cognizant next time, thanks for pointing it out. I was hoping it would just slide by as artistic license. Little does everyone know how much artistic license I take in the first place.
Tuesday, April 5, 2005
Day 30: Catching up
OK, so my grand plan of updating my website while on the road has hit a small bump in the road. There just aren't that many places to hook up your personal computer for Internet access, at least I haven't found any yet. So anyone that keeps checking my where-abouts, no I am obviously not in Douglasville. I will let you all know if I do in fact update the site.
So many exciting things to talk about, where do I start. The first thing that comes to mind is the driving. There is something to be said about driving 195 km/hr, or 120mph for non-metric types, and do it completely legally. I can't say that I had never driven that fast before. There was a time that I borrowed Adam's dad's car for a dance and opened it up on I-95, but that was only for a brief moment. Here I was whizzing along at 120 mph and getting passed. Germany is amazing and they do it right here. It costs around $2000.00 to get your license and they will take it much quicker than in the States. This means that Germans know how to drive and drive well. I would say that I am enjoying driving over here, but if you know me, I am actually a very casual driver and driving here is work. Fun at times, but definitely work.
The second thing that is worth reporting about is Prague. I know I mentioned briefly before that it awesome, but that just doesn't relay fully the joy I experience there. First off, Jordan, Eric, and I stayed with Barb Iverson. She is on staff with Young Life International working with the youth there. She teaches English to some of the kids and is subversely building relationships and loving them as Jesus would. I say subversely in a good way because as a former Communist country, Czech youth know almost nothing of God, His Son, or His love. To reach them you have to start from a completely different place than a normal delinquent in the States. I am way impressed by what Barb is doing here and envy her in a small way.
Barb has been here a number of years, so she speaks decent Czech and knows the city almost like a local. Again, I had a $1000 experience on a $10 budget. We saw all the major sights, ate at the finest restaurant in Prague and danced the night away, literally. I have some great pictures of the city, the disco tech, and the Charles Bridge. (Remember the opening scene of Mission Impossible, the good one before Tom Cruise could defy the laws of physics? They were in Prague trying to pull off a sting to find a mole in the Agency. There was the scene that killed the cute chick when the car exploded, or you thought she was waxed, but it turned out she was in on the whole thing. The part when the dude who turns out to be the bad guy falls off the bridge just as Ethan Hunt is running up the stairs. And then the fence scene when the other cute chick is actually killed by the weird French guy that always plays some sort of mercenary, like in the Professional with a young but still hot Natalie Portman. Well, I was at all those places, I too ran up the stairs that Tom Cruise did, but unlike him, I saved the world right then and didn't have wait for the whole 2 hours just so people would pay lots of money for the entertainment.) I will post those pictures eventually. Whenever I get my computer on the Internet.
There is so much more to tell, but once again I am out of time. I have been using this computer a bit too long and am now starting to feel guilty. I will try to not do anything for the next few days so that I can catch up.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
So many exciting things to talk about, where do I start. The first thing that comes to mind is the driving. There is something to be said about driving 195 km/hr, or 120mph for non-metric types, and do it completely legally. I can't say that I had never driven that fast before. There was a time that I borrowed Adam's dad's car for a dance and opened it up on I-95, but that was only for a brief moment. Here I was whizzing along at 120 mph and getting passed. Germany is amazing and they do it right here. It costs around $2000.00 to get your license and they will take it much quicker than in the States. This means that Germans know how to drive and drive well. I would say that I am enjoying driving over here, but if you know me, I am actually a very casual driver and driving here is work. Fun at times, but definitely work.
The second thing that is worth reporting about is Prague. I know I mentioned briefly before that it awesome, but that just doesn't relay fully the joy I experience there. First off, Jordan, Eric, and I stayed with Barb Iverson. She is on staff with Young Life International working with the youth there. She teaches English to some of the kids and is subversely building relationships and loving them as Jesus would. I say subversely in a good way because as a former Communist country, Czech youth know almost nothing of God, His Son, or His love. To reach them you have to start from a completely different place than a normal delinquent in the States. I am way impressed by what Barb is doing here and envy her in a small way.
Barb has been here a number of years, so she speaks decent Czech and knows the city almost like a local. Again, I had a $1000 experience on a $10 budget. We saw all the major sights, ate at the finest restaurant in Prague and danced the night away, literally. I have some great pictures of the city, the disco tech, and the Charles Bridge. (Remember the opening scene of Mission Impossible, the good one before Tom Cruise could defy the laws of physics? They were in Prague trying to pull off a sting to find a mole in the Agency. There was the scene that killed the cute chick when the car exploded, or you thought she was waxed, but it turned out she was in on the whole thing. The part when the dude who turns out to be the bad guy falls off the bridge just as Ethan Hunt is running up the stairs. And then the fence scene when the other cute chick is actually killed by the weird French guy that always plays some sort of mercenary, like in the Professional with a young but still hot Natalie Portman. Well, I was at all those places, I too ran up the stairs that Tom Cruise did, but unlike him, I saved the world right then and didn't have wait for the whole 2 hours just so people would pay lots of money for the entertainment.) I will post those pictures eventually. Whenever I get my computer on the Internet.
There is so much more to tell, but once again I am out of time. I have been using this computer a bit too long and am now starting to feel guilty. I will try to not do anything for the next few days so that I can catch up.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
Sunday, April 3, 2005
Day Something: Prague or Praha for the locals
There is so much to say, but it is 0200, I am tired and I have to be up very early to drive to Munich, so this post will be short. I drove to Prague, Czech Republic for the weekend with Jordan and Eric. We arrived at about 2300 on Friday and our host, Barb, was out and about, when we finally reached her, she hoped on the Metro and brought us back into the heart of the city for a night of wild dancing and partying. When I say wild, I am talking good, Christian wild, which is more like poka dancing and long bits of silence. Just kidding. The evening, following day, and tonight have had more adventures than I could possible retail here and now. I promise to fill you all in in short notice, but tonight, I will just say this. I was at the very fence where Sarah Davies was killed when Franz Krieger was trying to obtain the NOC List. I had a most excellent time.
I will only have more exciting and adverturous tales to tale when I spend more of my valuable time in front of a computer.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
I will only have more exciting and adverturous tales to tale when I spend more of my valuable time in front of a computer.
Until then and tomorrow.
Jason
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