why I like voicemail.

Today I got reemed out on the phone by an athiest woman. Afterwards, I hung up and attempted to hold it together for the UPS man waiting in front of my desk but I was losing it fast, so quickly tried to avoid eye contact, sign the bill and make him go away so I could cry. And cry I did. I don't know what upset me the most. Maybe it was the pure animosity that resounded from her words. Never have I been so forwardly mocked. I was personally mocked. My church and place of work were mocked. And my God. But I think, more than anything, it was the hatred I felt from her. Conflicts in relationships, especially ones of betrayal can be incomprehensibly painful, but this was different. This woman did not know me, nor did she care to. I was just her target of hatred. It was a knife being flung at me through the phone...or at least thats what it felt like. I was stumbling over my words and saying "excuse me" over and over again to try to remain calm but get through the phone call with a little bit of dignity, to try to make her stop raging at me. I would volley between bouts of defensiveness and peace-offerings. It was horrible. I wonder why that woman hates Christians so much and the church. I know sometimes we are terrible faces to this whole thing. But thats whats beautiful about it...is the grace thats involved. If I could go back in the conversation I would apologize to her and tell her that it was a shame that our church has not, in her eyes and probably many others been an asset to the community regardless of our weekend meetings. I would tell her that if we have not reached out enough to the poor or the oppressed that we have not done our part. That I personally have not done my part. And for that I am sorry.

I guess for thousands of years there have always been people who downright hate Jesus, the peace-maker, justice-seeker, social worker, radical, anti-religion and anti-routines leader who taught messages of love and hope and redemption. How does the church represent him? I know that I am much more drawn to the man than the institution, but in the latter lies community, the ugly and the thick, thin, skinny, tall and beauty wrapped up into one..

brushstroke

Like a canvas waiting to be painted, with the painter staring at the ticking clock, worried about running out of time, but ever anxious to pick up the paintbrush again. Unsure how. Unsure of the means, but ready for the painting to begin. Masterpiece detail or jackson polluck freedom, it did not matter. Created to paint. But didn't know how.

Thus is the state I am in.

Always in a waiting state, going all the while, and always glancing at the clock.

The quiet is coveted. The noise is everywhere, and the art is untouched. Such is life.

But I can't help but think, there must be another option. And I wonder how. where. and when will I grasp and not come up empty-handed. And I realize I'm not talking about painting anymore.

gelato

Who knew that gelato could have such an effect on a person? Tonight as I was walking through the mall, I walked by a little gelato stand and scanned the titles to see if there was stratiacello, my favorite flavor in Europe. It is similar to cookies and cream, but much richer. Suddenly, and deeply, I had a pang of..."travel sickness"....? I missed Italy. I missed Spain. I missed the many times we ate the deliciously creamy gelato and also just strolling down the streets passing gelato cafes down every turn and twist. I missed everything about my trip. The sitting and soaking in. The running around from place to place. The observing and drinking in of experience. The wonderful people we met. The ones I fell in love with. And the ones who might not have been lovable but were still memorable. And now I'm back home. And I don't know what to do with that. I don't know how to quench my restlessness. Maybe I need to sit a while longer and process. My dad said its like I'm thirsty and trying to drink out of a fire hydrant. From California to Pennsylvania to London and the Mediterranean, this has been a summer of wandering, and I have fallen in love with adventure and beauty in landscapes and roadtrips and new places. And that gelato was a reminder of everything, and I miss it so deeply.

tired in rome.

Yesterday we arrived into Civitavecchia, a port closest to la city of Roma! After starting off the day with a small cappucinno, we hopped on the hour long train ride to Rome, enjoying the scenery of Italian countryside in the morning. Our day consisted of heat, sweat, crowds, pushiness and sun. Get the picture? We visited St. Peter's Basilica which is in Vatican City. Artists like Michaelangelo, Raphael and Bernini decorated the adorned walls with their paintings and sculptures. Michaelangelo's sculpture of Mary holding Jesus' limp body was incredible moving. It is amazing, how an image can evoke so much feeling. I felt the same kind of pull that I experienced at the La Sagradia in Barcelona looking at the chiseled face of Peter after he had denyed Jesus three times. They have a way of connecting with the onlooker. The sculptors have a vivid perception of how to take a chunk of marble or stone and create a story from it. Although the tossing and weaving through masses of tourists had a way of lessening the grandeur experience, the church was still fantastic.

Trevi Fountain was our next destination, so we wandered through streets until we found ourselves before the Spanish Steps which lead us down towards the Trevi Fountain. Rumor has it that those who throw a coin into the fountain are sure to return to Rome. I closed my eyes and made a wish, which I cannot reveal, and can also hope I will return someday. We feasted our eyes on the Colosseum for a total of five minutes tops before practically collapsing back onto the train. We were fed up with crowds and heat, and worried about our all aboard at 6:45 pm. I did not hate Rome but I did not love it either. I am willing to give it another chance though, even if only for the gelato!

Today we are headed to Pisa to gaze upon the leaning tower. Our bus leaves in 10 minutes so Ciao for now!

the amalfi coast.

Yesterday was our last day at sea. We have four more days at ports including today and then our cruise will come to an end. Although I knew it would be shortlived, 12 days has given me just enough time to get used to the routine of cruise ship living. I will be sad to go. The family we eat dinner with have become our cruise family, and they are our constant entertainment. All of the music groups on the ship, ranging from the Stingrays to the Acappella Group to Carl, the guitar soloist, constantly fill my time with their tunes. I have befriended one of the photographers, and have loved getting to know him and learn about the life of a cruise ship photographer. It definitely intrigues me, life on a cruise ship.

Although we have no luck in the jewelry raffles, more importantly, we have been lucky/blessed by the opportunities we encounter when we disembark at ports. When we arrived in Athens we were wary, after the many warnings we received about the dangers involving the government, theft or worse. So we were suspicious of the taxi driver with his plump tummy popping out under his shirt who bustled over to us trying to coax us into a trip to the acropolis over the half hour walk to the train station en route to the acropolis or a taxi tour for the day. The three of us would look at each other, discuss until we reached a price that appeased us all. We agreed on the ride to the Acropolis only, but not the tour for the day.

As we entered into small talk on the ride over he would point out parts of the city and share pieces of history. He told us about his family and his two girls about our age, and how he was thinking as he approached us, how can I get these girls to trust me like Im their father, because they look clueless and I want to help them. He was a chattery man with a sarcastic sense of humor and a genuinely caring persona; we started to like him. For an incredible price (about a quarter of what an excursion would have costed) we decided to have him serve as our escort for the day. He was incredible! George would tell us how to carry our purses and cameras, the type of people to avoid. He bought us water bottles for when we arrived back from our sightseeing to keep us hydrated. He gave us options to fit our time and interests, and lots of freedom. What was priceless though was how he gave us so many experiences we would have never known about on our own. George took us to the Greek palace to see the changing of the guards, arriving exactly on time for when it started, and after, he made sure we got a picture with the soldiers. For lunch he told us we could go to a restaurant in Plaka, the shopping tourist area, or he could take us to his uncles restaurant in a more local area. We chose the family restaurant where (for a huge discount) they practically fed us a buffet of greek food at our table with gyro meats, pitas, fries, kebabs, cucumber salad, etc! George let us by tickets for the acropolis and then took us to several other places where the tickets served for multiple admissions, like Zeus temple and the Bath houses in the middle of the city. The acropolis was unbelievable, as we circled the Pantheum and saw more ancient ruins. Since we did not have a tour guide and George waited at the taxi, we would shuffle up to other tour groups to catch pieces of information from their guides! George even took us to the stadium where the 1890 Olympics took place! Thank God for George! He kept saying how he was our father for the day, and he really did treat us like his princesses, or fittingly, like Greek goddesses!

Today, once again, we had no plans because the excursions with the cruise ship are very expensive. Our port was in Salerno, Italy which is Italian looking, but nothing extraordinary. However Jamie has been to the Amalfi Coast once before, and claimed it was her favorite spot in the world. We wanted to get there. Unfortunately, after taking the shuttle which was a half hour farther than the cruise director told us, we discovered the ferry to the Amalfi Coast was sold out. We were stuck, with very few options and another language barrier.

Fortunately there were other people in the same boat, or in other words, also in search of a boat so we collaborated efforts. The father of a family of five searched for a private boat to take us to the coast. He was determined. And just when we were losing hope, he approached us and said he had found a speed boat. The most unlikely crew, including us three, two honeymooners, a couple who was traveling the world not even from our ship, and the family of five decided to take the risk and go for the speedboat. It was the trip of a lifetime!!! We flew across the blue mediterranean waters, hair blowing everywhere, and the odd crew all glancing at each other occasionally with a knowing look, a bright sparkle in our eyes and a smile of unbelief. We all knew innately that the situation we had found and this place we were in was unexplainably special and magical. The cliffs and mountains edged with fog were majestic. Our boat driver took several stops, the first to Fiordo di Furope, a high bridge that we went under, leading us to a hidden alcove. It felt like another land, another world. We all stared around us in awe, snapping pictures and smiling. Our next exploration was a water cave. It was brilliant!! When we arrived to Positano, our destination, it was literally like reaching paradise. Our speedboat ride that took us to paradise. Thats what it felt like! We agreed that it is probably the most beautiful place in the whole world, and possibly one of the best moments of our life. A bold statement. I know.

greetings from turkey.

I'm sitting at a little internet cafe in Turkey before boarding back on the cruise and cannot possibly email and blog in the 20 minute allotment given to me. I haven't written since Barcelona! Since then we have visited Mykonos, a small island in Greece and Sicily, Italy, with a couple days at sea situated in between, and then today, Turkey. For a quick summary which will not even adequately broadly touch on our journeys, the cruise has been extraordinary! The food has allowed us to eat our way through every food group imaginable, such as the barbequed frog legs or the escargot appetizers followed by course after course of exquisite delicacies. I am truly spoiled by the delicious and ample amount of food, and the beautiful people I have met on the ship. The workers on the ship, in total, come from a range of 52 nations, and their service is kind, prompt, and sociable. Our waiter's name is Joey, and he always takes our order asking enthusiastically, "My lady?" and then Ayhan, our busboy, is from Turkey and finally gets to see his wife and son this afternoon! I'm so happy for him. Today, we spent the hot morning strolling through the ruins of Ephesus. We stood in the theatre where lions executed prisoners and Christians as onlookers cheered, at the same place where gladiators fought. We walked through the excavated houses of councils and governments, learning about the history of the people and the gems that architects have uncovered. Also we visited the Virgin Mary's House which was such a unique experience; it was even difficult to grasp where we were. It is hard to soak in so much history and begin to fathom the events and the people that walked where I walked this morning.

I'm out of time at my internet cafe so this is all I have time for!!

hola amigos

The language barrier began as soon as we stepped off the airplane. I wasn't immediately fond of Spain as I was with England. The train ride was through grungy areas characterized by rags and graffiti. The poverty is evident through the glassy windows, passing by shacks for houses among run down streets and sad plots of land. The smell of urination surrounding the metro was putrid, and we got lost several times on the train and metro systems which is frustrating when it is difficult to even ask for help. I concluded that my two semesters of Spanish in college were worth squat, to say the least. Exhausted from transporting our heavy bags on and off trains and up and down stairs, we were relieved to step out of the underground and into the streets of Barcelona. The city quickly started to dissipate my dislike of Spain as we walked past markets, crowded streets mixed with entertainers, locals and tourists, and the little European alleyways. Tables chairs, and umbrellas spot the wide walkway in the middle of the street giving the area a largely street-cafe look. A big smile spread across my face! I'm learning that places have personalities, and Barcelona has a very loud personality! I like it's bohemian, artistic flair, and how it's teeming with diversity. Walking through the streets is like a swirl of languages and accents, and it is similar in other regards, with French boutiques beside Indian tourist shops or English pubs. It is difficult to even pinpoint what is Spanish. It is like the city of the world, or so it seems. Our hostel is right off of the main strip Las Ramblas, which is a straight shot to the ocean, several blocks down, the port city where our cruise ship sets off later today!

Our first night in Barcelona we met many interesting characters. Do you know those facebook ads that pop up on the right side of the screen? Well the British millionare who runs the small company in charge of the advertisements was hosting a fun holiday weekend in Barcelona for his employees, and we befriended him and almost the entire company. So we had a wonderful night of conversing with more British. They asked us about ourselves and America and vice versa; we learned a lot from each other I think. From the British perspective, we discovered that the majority of the Europe finds the American accent to be annoying, like we just took their language and tried to make it our own. It was humorous hearing them attempt to mimic us by accentuating long "e" sounds and giving us extremely whiney tones. Also, they mentioned how the tv series Friends revolutionized their speech by sprinkling in the word, "like" into every sentence. It was an amusing conversation. I received several Maggie Gyllenhaal comments, and one guy said they he literally thought I was her, which isn't the first time I've heard that. The curse even follows me to Europe!

At night it becomes quite the party city, where morals seems to go out the window, and the three of us have wondered about what it would be like to live in a place like this as a Christian. "Make friends for Jesus;" that's our commission. But what does that look like? Probably pretty simply, like love, and grace too. There were several signs in the city about not defecating or urinating in public, and it said " In Barcelona everyone is welcome but not everything is welcome." Sounds a lot like "love the sinner, hate the sin." So often I think I do away with both to make it easier, but in that way, I too would for sure be a goner.

Yesterday, I thoroughly enjoyed walking through the market boqueria, known as one of the best markets in Europe. The seafood stands had live lobsters and crabs still shifting around in the ice. The meat markets displayed entire heads of lambs and pigs, at points making us weak in the stomach. The colorful display of fruits and vegetables accentuated the lively bustle of the market place. Our hands were swatted if we tried to touch anything. Later by the ocean we weaved through Spanish antique markets where I was scolded for taking a picture without permission. Barcelona is full of bartering and pushiness. We spent the rest of the day sitting, browsing, walking and enjoying the people, the sea and the swirling metal designs accenting the sides of buildings.

When we had first arrived into the city it was the same time as Spain's FIFA game in the world cup, so you can imagine the hype and energy among the people. There is no comparison to the enthusiasm of Europeans when it comes to soccer. We made it a point to watch the USA game last night against Gana, which we watched at a restaurant among a few other cheering Americans. We ordered Paella, an odd tasting Spanish rice mixture with mussels, prawns, chicken, vegetables. We disliked the results of the game and the Paella; we just hoped that US would win to encourage Americans to care more about the World Cup. The energy of the game in Europe is contagious; every time their country's team plays its like the Super Bowl where whole cities pause, taking extra long lunch breaks and packing out bars or anyplace with a tv screen. Flags adorn cities, scores are posted everywhere. And they mock our American football.

Today we are renting bicycles to visit some of the sights out of walking distance, and then later we will be boarding our ship and heading out to sea.