Impressions of Tokyo

Rather than give you a minute-by-minute account of our visit here, it seems more appropriate to paint a big picture of our impressions of the city.

#1: It's big. There are over four million people who live here. You really feel that when you are crowded into a train car with no room to move. Or when you are waiting at a traffic signal and it turns green - a wall of people head your direction.

#2: We in America see the cosmopolitan face of Japan. We see the modernism, the advancement in high tech gizmos and the (to us) monolithic "Japan Inc" economy. Tokyo, at one level, is a city of neon lights that puts Las Vegas and Time Square to shame, amazing electronics shopping areas and Pachinko parlors (gambling with vertical pinball machines). But at a more basic level, it is a city of small neighborhoods with narrow winding streets and small businesses. It is the old woman running the gas station from her home, filling liters of gasoline cans to be delivered by pick-up truck. It is the woman riding with her two small children by bicycle to work. It is the person stopping by the neighborhood shrine to say a prayer before continuing on their day.

#3: The streets in Tokyo are almost impossible to navigate; even the locals can get lost. There are no street names and there is nothing that bears any resemblance to a grid system. The blocks are irregular shapes and the streets curve and dead-end. And we thought that driving in Boston was difficult! Since there are no grids and few streets that extend more than a few blocks before turning away or dead-ending, Tokyo is divided into named regions. Then, each region is further divided into named precincts. Within each precinct, there is a system of numbered areas, numbered blocks and house numbers. If you understand the system and can find a map on the street (there are many) you can find your way around. We were quite proud of ourselves when we found a new location by numbers only. But beware; don't stand on the corner scanning the map in your hand. You will have three people come up to ask you if they can help you find where you are going.

#4: Anderson’s bakery in Iketeburo Station is heavenly. Rod kids Fran that we are doing the fabric tour of the world (more about that later). But Andersons might be the beginning to the bread tour of the world (and we all know how much Rod loves bread!) The bakery is so popular that hundreds of people crowd in to pull items hot off the racks. Everything is fresh --often still too hot to touch. We had to make many visits during our stay to sample the varieties of pastries and breads. The top choice is cheese bread (we never learned the Japanese name) - a sourdough ball with a hole in the top filled with Gruyere chunks and melted cheddar. It is a fondue on a plate worth trying to re-create when we get back home, made of fresh sourdough and hot melted cheese straight out of the oven. Oh!

#5: The Tokyo International Quilt Show was (to Fran, at least) well worth the visit. Rod heard about the show from the woman sitting next to us on the airplane from LAX- she's the senior editor of Quilter's Newsletter (Sue later tells us that's near nobility!). The Japanese have really taken the art of quilting to another level. See some of the quilts and close ups of techniques in the photo section. (Unfortunately, we don't have the names of the artists to give them proper credit).

#6: Some of the architecture is really very modernistic and unlike anything we've seen. The Tokyo International Forum is a convention center in Central Tokyo. We have pictures of the lobby area in the photo section. Even better, check out the pictures on a website of the great buildings of the world: http://www.greatbuildings.com/buildings/Tokyo_International_Forum.html. The building looks like a huge, glass ship the height of at least six stories. Walking on the ramps from the bottom to the top makes you feel suspended in midair. The Tokyo Municipal Offices is a 50-story building with twin observation towers - you can see Mt. Fuji and all of Tokyo on a clear day. We weren't so fortunate when we visited, though. The walls are polished steel and granite, with lines etched into them so that they resemble computer chips. The architecture is quite unique, since the towers need to be earthquake proof.

#7: It is possible to find a quiet, contemplative spot in the midst of the traffic noise and crowds. After many days of neon lights, trains and a hectic pace, we needed to find a garden. We went to the Imperial Garden at the Palace and were disappointed. It was a great open space with trees, but had none of the delights of our idea of a Japanese strolling garden. Then we found the perfect garden - Koishikawa Korakuen. It has many winding paths with new discoveries around every corner. It even has a demonstration rice paddy that school children plant and harvest. It has high vantage points with structures to view the garden, creeks, waterfalls and ponds. It is everything we think of when we imagine a Japanese garden. We leave the garden feeling very restful.

#8: We meet Jizo, the patron guardian of children and travelers. As we wander through a new area on our way to the museum, we find a shrine with 84,000 statues of Jizo (yes, someone counted them). They are of all sizes and lined up, row upon endless row. We wonder at the eccentricity that leads one to create such a shrine!

Tokyo Train System

We have our first real experience with the Japanese train system. Our plans are to explore Tokyo and use an all-day train pass to get around. While Rod had experienced it before, Fran was not quite prepared for what she saw - rush hour in Ikebukuro, the second busiest station in Japan. Imagine yourself in a foreign country where you can't read many of the signs and you're looking for the direction of your train platform. All of a sudden a train empties and a thousand people in mass rush in your direction as they head for the exit gates. Fran learned, quite soon, to go with the flow of the crowd!

A word about the Tokyo train/subway system. The crowds are amazing - around 800,000 people pass through Tokyo station every day. From Tokyo station there radiates a complex web of subways, above ground trains, long distance trains and Shinkansen (bullet trains) that allow you to travel anywhere from a small neighborhood in the city to the ends of the northern or southern islands. The system is incredibly efficient; there is never any waiting for a local train: just walk up to the platform and step into the car. Trains roll onto the platforms every few minutes. There is a longer wait for long distance trains, but they ALWAYS run on time.

The tunnels which connect the subways and the trains stretch for miles - it's really like another city underground. There is everything that the traveler could want: restaurants, supermarkets, clothes shops, convenience stores. Many department stores connect to the tunnels by escalator. It's possible to navigate great distances through the maze of underground tunnels (as we did one day to get out of the rain for 1/2 hour to get from one station to another).

Tokyo, January 19-20, 2002

We have been preparing for this day for two years - reading travel books, selling possessions, resigning from Boy Scout commitments, watching our sons get married and generally letting go of our lives in Oregon. This is the much-anticipated first day of our 18-month journey around the world: our adventure.

We awake early with images of masses of people and endlessly long lines to wait through in the international airport at LAX. We expect customs hassles and baggage inspections. We plan in plenty of extra time. Nothing could have prepared us for what we saw as we arrived off the LAX shuttle bus at 7 am: emptiness, sheer emptiness. There was no one there to check us in. We sat and enjoyed a coffee. The lines eventually started forming, but we sailed through without having to open our overstuffed and all-too-heavy bags.

After a long flight with excellent service we arrive at Tokyo International Airport. We're finally in the country that Fran has dreamed of visiting since studying Japanese in college. We gather information at the tourist center and then board the first of many trains in Japan, heading for Ikebukuro station. At our destination we surface on a Tokyo street. Ah, the cars, the neon lights, the action, the people.... and the confused looks on our faces as we search for the direction to walk for our hotel. A young man approaches within a minute, motions to look at our map, scans it for a moment, and then motions for us to follow. We do, wondering if this is such a good idea on a dark and winding street in an unknown city. He leads us, though, all the many blocks to the door of our hotel! Then he disappears in the night. (We will find in the days to come that this friendliness and helpfulness will be repeated many times).

We are staying the next four nights in a ryokan, a Japanese style inn. We take our shoes off at the door; receive our room key, neatly stacked face towel, Yukata (cotton robe) & sash, then head for our room. The room is simple but practical with tatami (straw rug mats), futon and heavy quilts on the floor, a bench and closet. The communal sinks and showers are just outside the room. There is a Japanese soaking tub down the hall and Fran opts for a soak to wash off the travel weariness. Bliss!

Before Arriving in Japan

For two years we planned to start our trip in a sunny location. At the last minute, we switched it to Japan, since that routing saved us $800.

 It will be cold! The temperature is unlikely to get above freezing, even during the day. We will stay in inexpensive hotels and hostels --no tent camping in this weather!

The exciting part is that we will visit the Sapporo Snow Festival. That is an amazing festival that attracts two million people from all over the world to see ice sculptures, including statuary and even buildings!

It is really too cold in January and February to camp in Japan. Too bad --it is a wonderful area. Check out the National Camping Association of Japan, www.camping.or.jp (link expired). Rod sent them email, and they said it is possible to camp in southern Honshu below 1,000 meters, but above that is snow. We will see if Fran agrees to that!

Trains are amazing. To get an idea, look at www.japanrail.com link expired). We anticipate making extensive use of the trains. Rod spent an inordinate amount of time figuring out the potential costs of the trains, and the Japan Rail pass is both expensive and a great deal. We bought them, and are on our way!

USA

We have to start somewhere! Actually, we wanted a trial, "tune-up" destination to check and make sure that our gear is completely ready.

It turns out to be quite a challenge to get the gear for 18 months of travel down to just two backpacks. We are packing for both camping as well as more civilized life. The packs need to be suitable for multiple day treks, as well as for checking on planes and hauling around towns. We need to be ready for sub-freezing in northern Japan, as well as very hot in the tropics. There is lots of stuff that would be handy to take, but the art will be to take as little as possible.

Our shake-down trip was in California. We visited Death Valley, and camped in the San Bernardino Mountains near Big Bear. Death Valley is really quite beautiful. And quite dead. Much of the time it was overcast, which basically means you feel like you are in a gravel pit. But when the sun did come out, the rocks take on incredible colors! We got two sunny intervals, and were able to take in most of the sights.

We saw something quite bizarre. We were driving down the road at dusk, and saw something in the highway. We slowed down and then stopped. It was a fox! He began circling the car, just the way a pack of wolves will circle the prey before they attack. We figured that people must have been feeding the fox from their cars, and he had learned to beg for food. Since it would be unhealthy for him to eat our food, not to mention unhealthy to teach him to stand in the road at dusk, we chose to not feed him and slowly drove off.

We also made a bunch of minor adjustments to the gear. Fran made several specific ditty bags just the sizes we need. Rod made a cable for locking the packs. We figured out how to cook dinners with just a few minutes of fuel on the stove (we have wind screens and reflectors to aid in boiling the water in just four minutes, and then after we pour in the noodle, rice, or whatever, we bundle the pot up in Fran's polar fleece hood and it stays hot enough to cook without further fuel).

Pasadena

Simplify!

We lived the typical American middle class life. We were busy every day, every evening, and every weekend. We owned a huge house, full of every imaginable thing. We volunteered our time generously, and were quite fulfilled. We had it made.

But it was too much. Rod would drive home from a long day at work, planning for the Scout meeting that evening. Driving home, he would see that the lawn needed mowing and that the weeds needed pulling. And the trim needed paint. He’d park in the driveway, because the garage needed cleaning. With barely a minute to grab a bite, he'd make mental notes of all the chores that would not get done, and head out the door to the Scout meeting. Free time meant time to fix things, maintain things, buy things, and otherwise be possessed by the possessions.

We were quite satisfied that we had most of our priorities in order. After all, the majority of our time was spent either with family or volunteering, or working. But still, there was just too much. And with the kids now grown, we had the opportunity to make some changes

We made a decision to simplify. Radically. We figured that by taking two years to simplify, we could ease into it. Our goal was to leave on the trip with no worldly possessions other than our backpacks. And other than a few boxes of memories stored away, that's exactly what we did.

Pasadena

In August 2000, Rod got a call from his son Arlo to see if he wanted to join the company in Pasadena. Since we had already committed to our trip, we decided to use Pasadena as an intermediate step. It was a great idea.

Rod walked to work. Fran bicycled to the store. We rarely needed to drive. We rented a tiny one bedroom cottage. We owned very little, so didn’t need to spend our time fixing or buying things. We could be backpacking the San Gabriel Mountains in 17 minutes. We loved it. We were well on our way to the simpler life.

Los Angeles also became a great introduction to the rest of the world. With a tremendous immigrant population, Los Angeles seems to have every culture represented. We visited Thai Town and China Town. We went to a great Greek festival in a Hispanic neighborhood, combining the best of both. Rod heard the drums of the Vietnamese dragon parade. Fran listened to the Dalai Lama. In Los Angeles, you can visit virtually any place in the world.

The Great Giveaways!

We sold the house, two cars, 14 rooms full of furniture, appliances, tools, and the billiard table. Everything.

But there are some things we couldn’t sell. Fran inherited the baby grand piano from her mom. We sent it off to Fran’s sister, along with other family stuff. Some very special gifts that we had received over the years we returned to the original givers.

There were also plenty of people who could benefit from our simplification. Both of our sons were setting up households, so tonnage went their way. A Scout troop got several pickup trucks full of things for an auction. Relief organizations got tons of clothes, blankets, and shoes. Boots went to Guatemala.

As we gave things away a strange thing happened. At first there was just so much stuff, and it was hard to part with. But with each item we gave away, our load became lighter. And we saw the joy in the people who received it. It became easier and very satisfying. Giving away everything we own transitioned from a chore to a real joy.

Just before we departed, we had the final going away party. It was the party to make the last few things “go away”. Arlo nicknamed it the house-looting party. What remained was then donated to a local church. After storing a few boxes of memories with friends, we are down to just our backpacks.

Safety

We decided from the beginning to not risk personal safety. We spent a year researching every country, putting a push pin in every country on a huge wall map in our home. Red meant there was too must risk, yellow was marginal, and white was safe.

It was sad to realize how much of the world has turmoil. We were very conservative in our choices, bypassing many places that other travelers consider quite safe. But still, it was startling to see whole regions of the world, such as Africa and the Mid-East, embroiled in conflicts. Sadly, in many of these cases the historical causes are external influences from the developed world, either remnants of the colonialism or the cold war.

On September 11, our criteria for selecting destinations did not change. But the world available to us did shrink. We regret that two places in particular, Egypt and Indonesia, are no longer on our list. Egypt has incredible history, the pyramids, the Nile, and the Red Sea scuba diving. Indonesia is a land of so many things, from the beaches of Bali to the music, food and culture. Fran even used to play in a Javanese Gamelan (percussion orchestra). But these both are no longer on the list.

As we progress during the year, we will continue to monitor situations, and add or subtract as needed. For example, Nepal looked wonderful until a crazy prince assassinated most of the royal family, allowing rebels to reassert themselves and strike against tourists. Situations can change rapidly, but with the Internet and easy access to cyber cafes even in the most destitute places, we will be able to stay informed. The US and UK both have good resources, listed in the links section of this website.

Where do we go?

The world is a big place. Really big. India is a whole subcontinent itself, with many fascinating regions and peoples.

Our main desire is to see the peoples of the world. We have been very privileged in our lives. But we do not really know the full meaning of that. We also know just one way of life. So many other people experience differences, small or large, that will make us think and grow. We will not come back as the same people. We know that. In fact, that is the point. We do not know how we will change, but we know that we will. We look forward to meeting the new Fran and Rod. We hope you do too, when we return!

We also want to see the beautiful world around us. We will backpack in some of the most stupendous places on Earth. We will scuba in Thailand and in the Great Barrier Reef. We will hike Mt Kilimanjaro and the Himalayas.

Rather than try to visit all 200 countries of the world, and not really experience anything, we will visit relatively few. Our itinerary is flexible, so that we can spend several months in places that we really enjoy. Most of the time will be spent in the developing world. It is less expensive, allowing us to stay longer. But more importantly, it includes the most interesting people and cultures, and many of the most beautiful places on Earth.

Ready for a Change

Rod had always planned to retire early. For two decades, we tracked our financial affairs with the goal of retiring as soon as the kids were through college. Ambitious, yes. In fact, too ambitious. We didn’t make it.

But we were ready for a change. We loved the first 25 years of marriage, have two great sons, met a zillion great people through Scouting, and enjoyed a long career at Tektronix. Wonderful experiences, but we were ready for something new.

Fran had a long interest in the world, including Japanese study and a degree in International Affairs. Rod had traveled on business to most of Europe, as well as India and Japan. Our sons had traveled to Germany, Korea, Holland and Italy. But we really had never spent time traveling like we wanted to. Rod has many places that he has been, but never really experienced. Business travel is mostly business.

So we decided to pretend to be retired for a year and travel. We couldn’t retire forever, but that doesn’t matter. Both of our sons would soon be married, and the college bills are paid. We had lived for the future for most of our lives, and it was time to just live for the present. You never know how long your health will last, and if you don’t seize opportunities they may pass you by.

So, we were on our way!

January 9, 2000

Every journey has a beginning, however obvious or not.

This section tells you of the spark that led us to sell all our personal belongings don a backpack and set off for the unknown edges of the world. Read about that fateful Sunday morning in January and the newspaper article that inspired us, and follow the path we took to plan our adventure.

The article reprinted below appeared in the Oregonian on January 9, 2000. The decision we made was just as quick and matter of fact as the decision reported in this article.

Fran read the article in the Sunday Oregonian first. Rod read it next.

“Did you read about the couple that took a year to travel around the world?”

“Yeah, I saw that too. That’s really amazing.”

“It only cost them about $33,000. We spend more than that living here.”

“Yeah, let’s take a year and travel like that.”

“Okay, let’s do it.”

And that was it. In an instant, we committed to spending the year 2002 traveling around the world. And we haven’t looked back since. Could it have been the attraction of sunny places on that gray Oregon winter day? Sunshine certainly is attractive to an Oregonian! But as you read along, you will see that it was more than just that.

Curious about the article that changed our path so abruptly? Read it at you own risk!

  

 A Year in the World

The Oregonian January 9, 2000 Quit your job. Rent the house. Spend a year seeing the world. A rich person's dream? Not necessarily. My wife and I often speculated about the Grand Tour -- a trip around the world. The idea seemed to arise when we were on weekend trips or vacations, when our heads were clear and calm. Each time, however, we lacked the deep drive necessary to plan such an adventure. Other issues distracted us: finding the time, finding the money and what we would do about our jobs. Discussing such logistical matters always flattened our enthusiasm. Then, on a summer morning in 1997, Maggie walked abruptly into my office. Her eyes were bright, but her tone serious. She blurted directly: "How about if we stop what we're doing for a year and travel around the world?" My eyes widened with surprise. Her question was absent of idle speculation, and I knew it required an absolute answer. Any suggestion of "talking about it later" or discussing "how to" would only serve to shatter this sweet but definitive moment. She posed an once-in-a-lifetime question that begged an once-in-a-lifetime answer. I paused for perhaps 10 seconds before replying. "I've always dreamed of this kind of a great adventure," I said. "Why not, let's go." My answer stunned us both. I've not been known for quick declarations of certainty. Yet in that moment, I knew I had no other choice. We stared at each other for a few moments before I broke the silence. "I've got an appointment. I've got to go. Let's start planning tonight." All Maggie said was, "OK," and she left the room. That two-minute conversation set in motion an astounding chain of events that took us from the office of our banker to a language school in Spain to a Buddhist retreat in France to the Himalayas in Nepal and to a thousand places in between. For 12 months, from March 1, 1998, through February 26, 1999, we traveled around the world on a journey that proved to be as much of an adventure into our souls as it did an exploration of foreign lands. And, to cut to the chase: The total cost -- from airfare to souvenirs -- for our trip of a lifetime for two was $33,643. I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO Our lives had been comfortable and our careers moderately successful. We both worked out of offices in our home -- I'm a free-lance writer, Maggie is a conflict-resolution consultant. But while our lifestyle produced comfort, we admitted more to complacency than to satisfaction. Our kids (one of mine living with his mom, my first wife; one of hers now grown and on her own) were not an issue, but at ages 44 and 49, we were still a long, long way from retirement. There would be no better time; there would be no worse time. It was time, as Maggie said, "to go see things differently." Early that July evening, Maggie arrived home with a map of the world, and we began the rollicking task of preparing to be gone for 365 days. As we looked at the map, the awesomeness of a year of travel began to sink in: a year of hotel rooms, a year without income, a year void of traditional responsibilities. We began making notes. The result: a six-page jumble of ideas and questions and a haphazard list. After a couple of hours of writing, we were overwhelmed -- we knew we'd barely touched the surface. For six months, we continually revised the list, but we weren't finished with it until the hour we left the house. As we started telling friends about our plans, we were greeted with the same question: How do you plan something like this? There are, of course, loads of details, most of them mundane. But before attending to those, we posed this question to ourselves:  How do we want this journey to "feel"? Our intent was not to engage in rampant sightseeing or to visit as many countries as possible. Our intent was to move slowly, focus on the moment at hand and savor a full year immersed in foreign cultures. We shunned setting rigid schedules. The inner journey was to be equal in importance to the traveling adventure. After coming to that understanding, we began considering what we wanted to do and where we wanted to go. Most often, our conversations started with, "I've always wanted to ..." High on our agendas were outdoor activities, learning some Spanish and spiritual exploration. EUROPE AND BEYOND Our trip started on a soulful note with a visit to a spiritual center in the tiny village of Dornburg northwest of Frankfurt, Germany. There we sat in meditation each evening over the course of eight days with about 100 people from all over the world. During the day we made long walks in the idyllic countryside. The previous month had been a nerve-racking scramble of preparation. The quiet time during the first two weeks helped us remember our true purpose. After the quiet we were ready for our next stop: Paris. Certainly, there was no avoiding the art museums and the famous towers. Yet much more satisfying than moving with the tourist hordes was simply walking through the crazy labyrinth of streets. In neighborhood markets we bought fruit, cheese, baguettes and cheap wine, then consumed them either in elegant parks or while sitting on benches along the Seine. The south of France is renowned for its rolling countryside and friendly farmers ready to sell jugs of their own red wine. But instead of visiting vineyards, we sampled life at the spartan Buddhist retreat of Plum Village. During the earliest days of spring, we sat in blooming plum orchards and took instruction about how to revel in the present moment -- the only time, Buddhists teach, that really matters. FOUR MONTHS IN SPAIN We arrived in Spain in early April, ready for a long stay. For three weeks we toured the pastoral Pyrenees mountains and the Basque country in the north, strolled Barcelona's wide thoroughfares and lounged on the beaches of the Mediterranean coast. Then it was time to get serious. In Salamanca we enrolled in language school for a month of Spanish lessons. After more travel through the rugged interior and the sensuous south, we moved to the province of Galicia. There on the northwest coast near the village of Muros, we rented a bay-front apartment, reveled in the village, made new friends and practiced our meager Spanish. HEADING EAST At the end of July we took a long train ride to southeastern France. For three weeks we hiked in the Alps near Grenoble and Chamonix and indulged in the local gastronomy. As the weather began to cool, we boarded ferry boats, crossed the Adriatic and the Aegean seas and wandered for eight weeks through Greece and Turkey. Because autumn is the best time for hiking in the Himalayas, we arranged our itinerary to arrive in Nepal in early October. For nearly a month we walked the trail that circles the Annapurna mountain range, reaching the geographical climax of our travels at 17,700 feet on the pass known as Thorung La. Our first stop in India was Varanasi, the ancient holy city on the Ganges River. By the thousands, Hindus go to the banks of the river every day to bathe, to pray and to burn their dead. The oppressively compact city teems with people, taxis, roaming cows and pigs -- and filth. The scene made us question our decision to travel on the subcontinent. Five weeks later, on Christmas Day in Calcutta, we wandered the city's Maidan Park and central market along with thousands of Indians. We watched men in whites playing cricket, marveled at the beautiful women in their brightly colored saris, and bargained for silk scarves. The shock upon our arrival had faded, and we humbly admitted that someday we'd return. In Thailand, we gagged in the polluted, sprawling concrete mass of hustler-filled Bangkok. The northern hill country, overrun with European tourists and sleazy local tour operators, offered little charm. We managed to redeem this segment with a 10-day silent retreat at a meditation center, followed by a week on the stunning remote island of Ko Chang. Our final stop, Bali in Indonesia, is an internationally known tourist destination. Fortunately, residents cling fiercely to their Hindu roots while allowing outsiders a glimpse of their exotic culture. NOTHING TO COMPARE In all the countries, the natural beauty was astounding and the historic relics intriguing. But most fascinating was to be drenched by the foreign cultures, to spend so much time with people from other lands. Parisians sit down in cafes to drink their coffee -- none of this running out with a paper cup. The Spanish close their businesses in the afternoon to take time for family and food and rest. The people who live in the mountains of northern Nepal have so little, but somehow they find so much to smile about. Every day served up a sensual feast; every day was a test. There were downtimes. Sometimes we longed for American conveniences. Occasionally I drifted into emotional panic about the money. But in those unsettling moments, I asked myself: "So how would it feel if you called off this adventure right now?" My spirit always moved swiftly to provide the answer: "That would not be possible. Nothing can compare with this." JOSEPH P. LEWANDOWSKI Special to The Oregonian Sunday, January 9, 2000 Joe Lewandowski and Maggie Carter live in Fort Collins, Colorado

2002-2003 World Travels

Follow along as Fran and Rod travel the World!



Please travel with us, at least in spirit!

Through our stories and photos you will come to know wondrous lands and peoples.

Why are we doing this crazy trip? Perhaps the following quote gives a clue:

"By detaching oneself from the routine and familiar surroundings of domestic life, striking out on the way, and submitting to hardship and uncertainty in a foreign land, the pilgrim is thrown into a state of intense introspection, reflection and prayer. The pilgrim progresses over a physical landscape, but it is the spiritual journey that counts.  It is the wayless way  'where the Sons of God lose themselves and, at the same time, find themselves'." (Nicholas Shrady, in Sacred Roads)

This site grows as we gather experiences, explore new countries and meet new friends.  We will add new journal entries as often as we can find our way into cyber cafes. Come back and visit often. Drop us a line by email or send a public note for all to read on the message board. We will answer as often as we can.

Happy Trails!