Category Archives: Vacations

70’s Road Trips – Soaking Up America in a VW Bus

Blog - Road Trip - DebbieBlog - Road Trip - Wade

In those days, we weren’t afraid of anything. The war in Vietnam was finally winding down, and our futures loomed bright before us. I had finished graduate school and my youngest brother, Wade, had just graduated from high school. We thought it would be a great adventure to travel across the US together, celebrating both our graduations. My friend, Teresa, was planning a visit to her sister in California, so we invited her along.

BLog - Roadtrip - VW Van - 1968-Volkswagon-Bus-5-e1402496060871-1024x643My parents and siblings helped me “convert” my baby blue Volkswagen van into a camper. We extended the cargo space by pulling out the back seat. Mom made curtains for the windows, and Dad installed carpet throughout. I regret not having many pictures from those days (long before digital cameras) – just a handful of faded snapshots of Yosemite and the deserts of the Southwest. No pictures of us. So unlike now.

It’s amazing that my folks let us go on this trip, but they did. No cell phones, no GPS system, no internet (hard to imagine, I know). We did have a AAA Triptik to help us plan our travel days and when/where to stop for the night. This was a very good thing, because my head was full of the romance of the road, not the “what if’s” that could happen along the way.

[I recently found an old book (Explore America) at an estate sale. It reminded me of our trip planning back then. You can see on the map page that straight-line Interstate Highway 40 route East-West across the Southwest. So much fun.]Blog - Road Trip - Explore America BookBlog - Road Trip - AAA Road Trip Book

Traveling the interstates in the summer in those days was amazing in itself. We got lost the first time before we ever left our home county. Once we found I-40, it was clear sailing. We were surrounded by truckers and large RV’s. I had been living away from home for quite awhile, but traveling for days in that van felt more grown up than anything else I’d experienced. [This was years before any overseas travel.]

Wade and I talked recently about the trip. This is a short summary of our memories. We stayed in KOA campgrounds mostly, but every 3rd night, we “shook off the dust of the road” in economy hotels. While Teresa and I tried new food along the way, Wade ate hamburgers at least once every day. His favorite food remained unchanged. Staying at campgrounds was fascinating as the culture lent itself to conversations with strangers and making “new friends” (at least until summer’s end).

Driving through the desert was captivating. You would think it was a visually barren experience, but there is so much life and diversity in the desert. With long stretches of road, we wouldn’t always have words, just listened to the radio (rocking along to the tunes of the 70’s). Then we reached the Grand Canyon. If you’ve been, you know that words (or even pictures) can’t do justice to the beauty and expanse of that “river bed“.  We entered Las Vegas, Nevada, at night, and the bright skyline was beyond dazzling against the dark desert sky. We parked in the RV Lot of the Stardust Hotel, and between us, Wade and I lost about a dollar gambling that night. [We learned our lesson.]

To go from the heat of the Nevada desert to the snowy remains of winter in Yosemite, California was a crazy experience. Such a beautiful place. Then we pushed on to San Diego, leaving Interstate 40 for the great North-South I-5 Corridor. California is such a beautiful and funky state (then and now). So much to see and experience, and we did our best over those few days. The San Diego Zoo was so much fun. The downer of the whole road trip was also part of our time there. After our zoo visit, we returned to the van to find it vandalized. All our suitcases were gone. Sigh…

We called home. In those days, a phone booth gave privacy to the tears, and we got the counsel and confidence we needed to take the next steps. The police were kind though apologetically not helpful. We would not retrieve our belongings, as was the case for many other travelers that way. Before this trip, I may have used my Sears & Roebuck credit card once or twice. That day, after the shock of all the loss, it was like Christmas, with the refurbishing of our wardrobes with the best of California-stylized Sears duds.

On to Los Angeles, we did the Universal Studios Tour. During the tour, the friendly guide surveyed our group for where we called home. There in that sea of strangers was a couple who lived near us (in the Pleasant Hill Trailer Park, which is now a mall, a few miles from our home in Georgia). Those surprise encounters are a new anticipated part of travel.

San Francisco was a magical place. Cool weather with flower gardens and sea views at every turn. Wade doesn’t remember this but he pulled onto a one-way street the wrong way. It took a bit of maneuvering to get through that “hillbillies in the city” experience. I wasn’t very kind to him over that unfortunately (now I know that very experience myself…demands lots of grace from spectators).

We ate at Fisherman’s Wharf. A mixed seafood platter there became quite a different experience (my first taste of squid). Sitting along the Bay, we watched all the sailboats, white sails drawing the breeze, in that deep blue water. Lombard Street was a sweet find (for those of you who saw the classic car chase scene from the 1968 film Bullitt, you see a bit of this street at 2:20 of this YouTube video. The rest of the video is a gift – you can almost smell the burning rubber).Blog - Road Trip - Lombard St. San Francisco, Wikimedia.orgLombard Street, San Francisco – World’s Crookedest Street

Our friend, Teresa, left us soon after our San Francisco exploration. Then for Wade and me, the trip was on the downside. We were making a dash for home. This time, we traveled Interstate 80 into the Midwest, and then our memories blur on how exactly we got home. We did stop in to see the Mormon Tabernacle as we crossed Utah. In those days, we discovered, if you sign the visitors’ book and leave any kind of contact information, you could be assured of a visit from one of those young, missionary duos when you returned home.

The VW bus was a fine vehicle for that trip. We burned out quite a few fuses, but we became quite adept at changing out good fuses from equipment we needed less to replace bad fuses of that which we needed more. For instance, at night we needed that interior light. Unfortunately, as our fuses blew, we discovered on the trip back, we had miscalculated one fuse exchange. During the beginning of a huge rainstorm, on a rural stretch of highway, our windshield wipers went out. That and another coincidental mechanical issue sent us searching for a mechanic on a Sunday. Not a good situation.

There on that highway, in the middle of nowhere, a truckstop loomed ahead. We pulled in, and there was this tall, lanky young mechanic, all grease and grin. He had the fuses (for that little VW bus, of all things) and fixed our other problem, and back on the road we went. To this day, I’m thinking he could have been an angel from God – coming to our aid in that distant place.

My brother, Wade, and I were always close. We had our share of fighting on the road that trip, and finally learned to reach peaceful resolutions of our differences. Seeing him through others’ experiencing him opened my eyes to so many gifts he had that I had missed along the way. I also let up on the “big sister” bit, and he just seemed to grow up across that two-week time span…or maybe I did.

I wonder what a road trip would be like today. It would be so fascinating to do it again…if only. When our kids were teenagers and we’d be in the States on vacation, we would occasionally ask them to pull out their earbuds and listen all together to something on our car sound system. What a concept! Or weirder…to talk awhile together about something. I miss those road trips. So thankful that, at least for Wade and me, we had those days on the road before our futures swept us fully into our grownup lives.Blog - Road Trip - Wade & MomBlog - Road Trip - Debbie (2)

Journey – Interstate 40 Roadtrip

RoadTrip America

These maps show the optimal road trips across every state in the contiguous US

According To Science, This Is The Perfect And Best Road Trip You Can Possibly Take

Roadtrippers – Maps Built for Travelers

Soundtrack – Summer of the 70’s Road Trip List

TripAdvisor’s Hidden Gems: 19 Towns that are Diamonds in the Rough

Explore America [AAA – Tours of Discovery through Our Magnificent Country)

Daniel Norris – MLB’s Van Man

Classical Car Chase Scene Locations, in San Francisco, from film Bullitt

Photo Credits:    Map of US by www.roadtrippers.com and  VW Van by www.dustycars.com. Lombard Street, San Francisco, CA from www.wikimedia.org.   Graduation picture by Olan Mills Photography. Other photos are mine.

Blog - Road Trip - Debbie & Wade April 2015

Malta – a Tiny Mediterranean Country with a Huge Holy Week Celebration

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 While living in Tunisia, and as part of the process of establishing residence, we needed to do an exit/re-entry trip. The closest, cheapest option was a quick trip to Malta. It was a surprising cultural experience, a very different one after our first months as foreigners living in North Africa.

Right when we entered the exit hall of the Malta airport, we saw an enormous sign with the word, “Jesus Saves”. Having grown up in the USA’s Bible Belt, we would see that sign all along the highways, but it was a breath-taking sight in an international airport.

During our few days in the tiny island nation of Malta, we stayed in a the lovely fishing village of Marsaxlokk (thanks to the recommendation of friends). The Maltese people were a blend of all the cultures who, over centuries, populated this strategic island in the Mediterranean Sea. The language is fascinating – a Semitic language (similar to Arabic and Hebrew), phonetically written in Latin script. We actually understood a lot of what was said as it was a mix of Arabic and Italian (we knew some of the Arabic, Italian not so much). English was the second language which made it really easy for us to find our way around.IMG_0004The kids loved it as much as we did. The bed-and-breakfast where we stayed had a hearty breakfast (ham and eggs, thick slices of homemade bread, and cornflakes as well). We spent all the days outside, exploring, visiting the street markets, and eating local food. The “food truck” hot dogs we devoured as we walked along the seawall were the best I remember. They may also remember that it was in Malta where we started their Playmobil collection – buying several little characters in one of the street markets. So much fun.IMG_0007

Malta is so small that we could visit any town easily via the public bus system. We spent a couple of days in the capital city of Valletta. I probably don’t remember this correctly, but it seemed all the streets flowed down to the sea. There were Catholic churches everywhere. We even found The Collegiate Parish Church of St Paul’s Shipwreck which was built sometime in the 1570s. It honors Jesus’ apostle Paul as Malta’s spiritual father. Paul first arrived there quite violently through a storm and shipwreck, as a prisoner of Rome. The story of this shipwreck is recounted in great detail in the Bible, including a description of the kindness of the Maltese people toward Paul and every single ship passenger miraculously saved.IMG_0008

The most intriguing events we encountered in our visit to Malta were the Good Friday processionals. There were parades, passion plays, and countless other displays memorializing the crucifixion of Christ. Church bells rang constantly across the island through that whole day. Every single church, it appeared, participated in some sort of ceremony marking the Via Dolorosa (Jesus’ “way of suffering”). We were watching a parade, and, quite remarkably by accident, found ourselves at the front of a huge cathedral where a processional had just begun. IMG_0013

Life-size statues depicting the fourteen stations of the Cross were being carried one by one, out of the cathedral, by several men dressed in white. These pall-bearers must have been members of the church and, by their faces and posture, took their role in this ceremony very seriously. Not being Catholic ourselves, we were still keenly aware of the spiritual import this had to those around us. We felt very privileged to have happened on such a large display of their reverence…especially to Jesus.Blog - Holy Week - Malta

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It was a Good Friday that I will never forget. We had long talks as a family over supper that day as the children had seen things they’d never seen before. What things we as Protestants and Catholics disagree on paled in comparison to what we agreed on, regarding that day. Holy God, the one God of the universe, made a way, on that day centuries before, for all of humanity, estranged in our sin, to be restored in relationship to Him. It was indeed a Good Friday.

Holy or Black Saturday (as it’s called depending on one’s tradition) was a quieter day for us. It’s the day between Good Friday and Easter (or Resurrection Sunday) – separating the sorrow of the death of Christ and the joy of the Christ risen from the dead. In Malta that weekend, my memory of the day was that it was more subdued. Our time away from Tunisia was winding down also.

On Easter Sunday, the church bells rang again. This time was different from the Good Friday bells, chiming darkly as a funeral dirge dark. This day, the bells rang out, all through the towns and villages, with a joyful noise, somehow full of expectancy. Right before we returned home to Tunis, we worshipped that Easter Sunday, in a very small Baptist church. After all the pageantry of the Catholic celebrations, our worship in this little Protestant church may have seemed meager in comparison. It was just right for our little family – on an Easter Sunday, far from our home church in the US and our new life in Tunisia. Worshipping together, in a language somewhat familiar, we celebrated God’s victory over death and the life He offers to us, through the risen Savior. Hallelujah!

Easter in Malta – A Quick Guide to Holy Week

Good Friday in Malta – Fourteen Stations of the Cross

The Fishing Village of Marsaxlokk, Malta

Live Cam from Marsaxlokk, Malta

The Maltese Islands – At a Glance

The Culture of Malta Explained

3 Important Influences in Maltese Culture

Language of Malta – Malti – a Semitic Language with Latin Script

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The Fruits of Summer…and Year-Round Deliciousness…Not to Be Taken For Granted

At our house, there are almost always apples and bananas. They are the go-to snack for my husband (when he’s trying to be healthy). Well, there is a brief period when he says, “Don’t buy any more apples. They’re out of season.” He’s talking about Honeycrisp and Pink Lady apples, his favorites. As the food shopper, I’m more aware of the seasons coming and going, not just here but other cultivated places (Chile, for instance). Fortunately, when these apple favorites are dwindling here in the Northern Hemisphere, the Southern Hemisphere orchards are bearing and apples will soon be shipped to us again.

Bananas are a different story altogether…seemingly always in season, thanks to being grown all around the world. For now, you can always find bananas, right? Inexpensive at $.49/lb, or a bit more for organic. Always there…dependable, affordable, delicious fruit. Our family did have a unique experience a few years ago, living in North Africa in 1990’s, when bananas weren’t a part of our household fruit supply. Not because there was a scarcity of them but because of the politics of the day. [See link below.] Bananas are the perfect imported fruit.

These fruits are not what we in the U.S. think of as summer fruits; they are more the old standards.

Summer fruit is a many-course feast of perfect deliciousness. Where we live, summer begins with strawberries. Then there’s the brief glorious seasons of cherries, blueberries, and blackberries. They make for handfuls of plump sweetness, and we all have our favorites.

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The berry season is followed by the melons – watermelon and cantaloupe – the perfect finish of every summer cookout.

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And last, for us, are the sun-bronzed peaches that drip sweet juice down your arm as you eat them over the kitchen sink or without a plate outdoors.

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Summer fruit can stand alone as clear evidence of a kind and loving Creator God.  So much goodness is fruit in season. The Bible is full of references to fruit as gifts from God and as the outcome of lives yielded to God (Psalm 1:1-6; Song of Solomon 2:3-5; Galatians 5:22-23; John 15:1-17; etc.)

I love all of these fruits, but my favorite is the cherry in its season. Cherries are completely perfect, right down to the seed pit which requires disposal, forcing us to slow down eating these lovelies, or we would eat them until they made us sick.

One of the leading national producers of cherries is Turkey, and we had the sweet opportunity of being there during cherry season one year. In the hotel where we stayed for a conference, the buffets offered huge bowls of cherries. We ate to our full every day that we were there, such that, just the memory of that culinary experience would be enough for us if it was all we would have of cherry season.

Still, at least once a summer in the US, I pay the big bucks to buy cherries trucked to us from Washington State or California. And I remember that there are places in the world, where “bad” or blemished cherries are transformed into indescribably lovely juice or cooked into pies for the pickers’ families who gathered them. Cherries are grown for those able to afford them…and at least once or twice in the season, we are among them.

Summer fruit is remarkable, really. Short growing seasons. Heat. Drought. Transport issues. We definitely should savor them (as we do) and not take them for granted.

The always-present fruit like bananas should cause us to be grateful as well. Bananas are not bound by a short season and they are enjoyed by most peoples of the world, not just the affluent. Still as I read about fruit, trying to raise this piece above just a love affair with food, I was struck by how the fruit that we just assume will always be in our supermarkets may actually not be. Not just related to drought, for instance, but also to disease. Bananas are no exception (see links below).

I am grateful for all these delicious fruits of someone’s summer – those we find locally, and those touched by hands across the globe to bring them to our market. I am thankful for the means to enjoy cherries and for those who did the work to bring these to our table.

Track Meet & Turkey Trip 04 & 05 027Our Kids in Turkey – not in Cherry Season.

 Why Do We Import Apples From Other Countries?

Michigan’s Cherry Festival

Turkey has Best Cherry Harvest of Last 20 Years – FreshPlaza: Global Fresh Produce and Banana News 

Best Blueberry Muffins ever from YaYa – “I also add one teaspoon of cinnamon & two teaspoons of vanilla and a few extra berries doesn’t hurt”

Import Duties, Internal Taxes, Local Production – Why We Had No Bananas in Tunisia in Early 1990’s

The Banana Trade War – Fruit, Economy, Society

How the Global Banana Industry is Killing the World’s Favorite Fruit

Yes, We Have No Bananas

 

Power Down & Reboot – Our Family Gets Out of the City For a Re-set of Life – Oualidia, Morocco

 Morocco Casablanca Grande MosqueSomehow, we raised a set of city kids. Over the course of nearly 20 years, we have lived in medium to large cities across two continents. They don’t require a lot of space to enjoy life…a cozy bit of couch for our daughter and her book; electronics for the boys; a movie shared with friends; games around a table. Our world can become small in the city…maybe as a defense against all the noise and craziness outside our door. Or maybe home, at the end of the day, is that place of respite for us…it’s all we need.

For the husband/dad in our family…a wider, less-peopled place is required, from time to time, to take that deep breath and remember a larger world out there, beyond the city. He has to get away from email and phone calls and appointments sometimes…just for a few days…and we all are the better off for it.

Ten years ago, while living in Casablanca, Morocco, we discovered a well-kept-secret, revealed to us by some of our local friends. Just a two-hour drive south of Casablanca is a tiny town by the name of Oualidia. It’s a fishing village, beside the Atlantic Ocean. Unique to Oualidia is a lagoon alongside the coast, protected by natural sea-walls. It provides a lovely space for families to picnic, swim, and play. Fishermen cast their lines off the rocky cliffs or take boats out into the open ocean. Young people gather for surfing or soccer, or in couples to properly court in this open public area. It is a magical place…Oualidia.

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These were the days before we had smart phones, and internet connectivity was spotty. Leaving the city, heading out into the countryside, slowed down our lives the farther we got from home. Getting outside the normal can be a bit unsettling, especially for 13- and 14-year-old boys. Surely, there would at least be satellite t.v. in the hotel rooms…or maybe not. I didn’t always know what they were thinking, as our eyes got used to a different view outside the car windows. Winter wheat fields now golden, the occasional sheep herd, and people walking along the desolate road…to who knows where.

It would take us a few hours  to recalibrate fun to a much more fundamental or even primitive level than what we were used to in town…with all our electronic supports removed, as well as our friends now more than just a phone call or taxi ride away.

As we settled into our shared hotel room (no t.v. after all), something  extraordinary began to happen. The simple beauty of Oualidia and even our hotel, L’Araignee Gourmande, began to settle us down like a gentle massage. Our communication/entertainment choices in the city would keep us attached to screens (email, internet, computer games, t.v., phones). We could do just fine for hours on end, not looking at each other or engaging the world. In Oualidia, there was no other option but. After an early awkwardness, we made peace with our situation and each other. It happened on the walk to the hotel restaurant and over dinner that first night.

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It was always fun for us to vacation in North Africa, especially not being tourists really. We lived there and we spoke the language. This always surprised the hotel staff and the servers in the restaurants and stores. We met kindness everywhere we went. And especially in this little hotel/restaurant. This tiny establishment was known for its fresh seafood brought in daily from fishermen just down the beach. And we ate like royalty – all types of fish, crab, mussels, oysters, and even sea urchins. Every meal was an adventure.

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For that long weekend (and others after it), we  let go of the city. In place of all our electronic devices and constant city friends, we found each other again. The boys played together, and with their sister. We took long walks on the beach and played for hours in the water, finding creatures in the tide pools we’d never seen before. We talked to strangers with abandon. We quietly soaked in the goodness of God through His creation of this beautiful spot and all its richness.

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Late each day, we watched the fishermen cleaning their nets on the shore (just like they must have in Bible days).

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Every evening the sun set into the Atlantic, with us watching, and we retired to our little hotel room to our books and thoughts. Apr 04 154

By the end of the weekend, we would giggle and be silly in the dark of the room with a daddy who had repaired from his city life, along with us.

In those days, we loved our lives in the city, and returned quickly to the routines of life there…but a few days in that little fishing village changed us…reset us again to what mattered most.

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