Most of my girls and a dear friend visited the Idaho Botanical Garden with me on Melody’s birthday this year.  I had never been there before, always wanting to, but never able to drag myself away from my own garden on a sunny day.  This year I bought a year long family pass.  I hope to visit regularly throughout the season as part of my gardening.  That is, I see it’s potential as a source of ideas, as well as a nice place to stroll.

This particular day was crisp and cool.  Not much was blooming, but I found much enjoyment in the bare bones design that can make or break a garden this time of year.  Everything was organized, but without rigidity.  The staff was friendly and the layout was flowing.  (However, the map we were given still has us puzzled.)  We discovered plants we had never seen before.  The ubiquitous sage brush of arid Idaho deserts was used tastefully throughout, in some places being pruned in a way that lent it a stature in landscaping hitherto unimagined.  Of course, being on site of the old penitentiary had it’s effect, too.  Here are a few photos of the beauty, fun, and creativity.

(The wisteria arches)

(“Guard Dogs On Duty”)

(Prison walls)

(winter jasmine)

(box elder beetles, I’m told)

(comparative grasses)

(mountain kittentails!)

(had the word “spider” in the name somewhere….)

The first three hours on the cruise ship I felt fine. Not that I hadn’t come prepared. In spite of several friends claiming that the cruise ships are so large that movement is barely detectable, I had three alternate motion sickness remedies in my purse. I hadn’t resorted to any yet. With a long history of strange and magnified reactions to medication, I had decided to begin the adventure unmodified.

Then the ship finally left the port …  and I could immediately feel the difference. As Greg and I walked up a couple flights of stairs and through the grandiose center of the vessel toward the dining room, I wobbled like a happy sailor. Greg maintained that he did not notice the motion, except that my inability to walk steadily amplified it. I surveyed the other passengers for similar problems, in hope of the comfort of comradery. Not a misstep did I see, but our newly met dining mates assured me that they felt it, too.

It wasn’t until after dinner that I really began to feel sick. Greg and I were planning on dancing, so fashion concerns dictated that I pass by the pressure point wrist bands of thick polyester knit. The aromatic oil behind the ears was the next choice. I may have over-applied it in my desperation, but obtained only short lived relief. The fragrance, which included mint and myrrh, faded rather quickly, but not before I participated in karaoke and made it to the dance floor.

We were amazed to find the circular marble-like dance area unpopulated. (photo below taken the night before we left)

There may have been a handful of people in the surrounding seating that could accommodate close to two hundred people. The flow of disco and rock and roll favorites suited us well. We used the WHOLE dance floor. Here, I could still sense the power of the waves, but found that as long as I kept dancing I felt fine. All of my BBP and MTT paid off as I was able to dance with delighted energy in my Five Finger dance shoes. (Prior training highly recommended.)  After a few songs, though, my legs would become fatigued or I would require fluids.  Then I would have to lay my head on the cocktail table and gingerly sip 7-UP until I was able to dance again, usually within one song.  Greg, naturally, showed no signs of being tired.  He was my enchanted prince and I was …. the princess who was cursed with a spell to dance unceasingly!

More dancers came in after about an hour, but it was never crowded.  We danced until midnight, apparently the oldest by far.  Certainly we were the least self-conscious and having the most pure fun.

The next morning, with a good night’s sleep behind me, we disembarked to our first island, the cruise line owned Cococay.

It was quite pleasant with a slight breeze, warm sun, and the clear water protected inlets.  Snorkeling was on the agenda.  Greg explored first, then came back for me.  The little fishies were colorful and inquisitive, often swimming right up to me to “take a look.”

The occasional translucent powder pink jelly fish that appeared right in front of my face were startling, but I avoided being stung.

Greg was impressed when I spotted a 3 – 4 foot barracuda.  I swam away quickly, but he went closer and saw it’s teeth.

In an effort to conserve strength, I tried to not kick as much as usual, but instead float more as Greg suggested.  This was not good.  The key to my survival in a water environment seems to be constant self-generated movement.  Between that and the nausea, weight gain was not going to be an issue on this trip.  I gave Greg notice that I was feeling green around the gills and he towed me back to shore, followed by helping me back to my tanning station and a small bite of lunch.

(I’m slightly right of middle, the most reclined.)

For the rest of the afternoon, I kept vigil on the lounge chair while Greg went for a run, visited some sting rays, and practiced open water swimming.

By the time we returned to the ship, around 3 PM, I was almost completely recovered, but deemed it wise to take a dose of Bonine.   Whether due to physical exhaustion or drug side effects, we went to bed early that night.  The island of Nassau would be outside our window in the morning.

Nassau must be made of jello, because I could feel it wiggle.

Walking was not enough to quell the feeling, so I soon took another pill and was faithful with this for the remainder of the trip.  Greg managed my drowsiness by timing my sleeping with the dining and dancing schedule.  I slept two hours.  We dressed for dinner in five minutes (literally), then ate in the formal dining room.  I slept two more hours, until I was awakened at 11:30 PM to go dancing for three hours.

That night we began our dance circuit at the poolside party.  When that area became congested, we proceeded to the original location.  It was completely empty, but the music was playing and the disco lights were shining and swirling.  We danced with enthusiasm, using the full circle for impromptu choreography.  Just before 3 AM I begged Greg to take me to our stateroom before he had to carry me.  I slept again.

The final day was filled with relaxing by the pool, eating, and watching a juggling-comedy show.  We bid a final farewell to the other two couples in our dining group, then packed our suitcases.  The rest of the evening was spent taking last minute photos of the ship and making sure we had seen every corner of it.

When we went ashore yesterday morning, I began to suspect that the entire world had turned to jello.  I made observations in Florida and Kansas.  There was not any stable ground.  As I sit here in Nampa today, the ground continues to oscillate.  Other than needing to focus on the moving computer screen or walk with a definite planting of my feet, I am not bothered.  Perception is a strong force and for me there is currently only terra jella.  Next time you hear that someone is “afraid of heights” consider that if they got too close to the edge they might actually fall over it simply because the earth rocks a different way for them.

Recent wanderings in Victoria, BC, resulted in the deliciously satisfying discovery of Chocolat, Chocolatiere de Victoria.  Everything about the shop drew me in, from it’s mouthwatering sign to the chocolates displays I could see just three feet beyond the windows.  While it’s true that tasting is the test of substance, it is also true that one can determine a lot about quality and taste just from looking.  I was very hopeful looking at these chocolates.

The shop, at 703 Fort Street, on the south side just east of  Douglas Street, in downtown Victoria, is apparently owned and run by chocolatiere Helene Pappas, a renowned chocolate chef.  There is some seating inside that invites indulging in the already desirable fare.  On one side is a bar with stools where one can casually watch the passersby while they watch you with envy as you savor each bite.  Or there is a cozy corner couch where you can meet with a friend or two and attempt to verbalize the indescribable flavors.

I chose five pieces to share with a friend on that Tuesday of my travels.  It was difficult to choose.   To my surprise, even the chilis in dark chocolate were appealing.  However, the bag ended up containing one each of:  a Chocolate in the Raw (see two pictures up), a Cinnamon Swirl (not pictured, but looks similar to the chili chocolates), a Butterscotch Pecan, a Maple Cream in dark, and a Coco Truffle.  Keep in mind that each of these are absolutely chocolate, somehow blended with the flavors of the other foods to create distinct, yet subtle masterpieces.

Deciding to save our chocolates until after dinner, I stashed them safely in a loose, outside pocket until we made it back to the hotel.  Once there, I cut all but the Maple Cream in half, having already been advised by the kind gentleman manning the counter that the filling of that one would ooze out quickly.  As I tried to eat each selection as slowly as I could, all I could say was, “OH…  THAT’s good” followed by “OH! THAT one is really good, too!” and so on.  My friend would then proceed to try them and say, “Oh!  That IS good!”

I immediately determined that I needed to tell the world about this shop.  Having neglected to carry my camera when out that evening, I needed to go back for pictures the next morning, but our flight was going leave shortly after noon and the chocolate shop didn’t open again until 9:30 AM.  We worked out a plausible itinerary for breakfast at a cafe across the street and planned to wait until Chocolat was open, then make a mad dash for the airport.

The next morning after breakfast we still had nearly an hour to wait.  We took a few photos of the outside, then peered in the window wishing it would open.  A different man showed up to knock on the door like he was coming to work.  I ventured to ask him if that was the case, but he said, no, he was not an employee, but was there to work on a machine.  As the kind man from the day before opened the door to let him in, I tentatively and quickly explained why I was there and asked if it would be acceptable for me to go in and take a few pictures for my blog before they opened since we needed to go catch a plane.  With old world graciousness and charm (I don’t know why it’s called ‘old world’, but that seems like the appropriate description) he invited us in.  The owner was not available because she was in the back dipping chocolates.

The pictures don’t do the chocolates justice.  I am, after all, an amateur photographer.  Hopefully you can still get a sense of the perfect tempering, elegant design, and marvelous taste.  After eating them, I was left with feeling both complete satisfaction with what I had just partaken and hope that I would have a chance to eat some another day.  If I had had the option with my luggage situation, I would have purchased more and had them packed in one of the stacks of boxes.  But, alas, I only had carry-on luggage and it was full to capacity.  I have never taken a trip centered around chocolate, but these candies are a strong motivation to consider just that.

(Phone number is:  250-381-0131, Canada)

There is a completely unexpected place of unique beauty deeply hidden in an obscure  small canyon of the Owyhee foothills.  I know, because I was there Sunday.  It will remain hidden, or, at least, you won’t find out it’s location from me, as I was crocheting contentedly during most of the drive.  That peaceful pastime had to be abandoned when we arrived at the heavily rutted, winding, roller coaster, very rocky dirt road.

Greg travels out into these regions often, usually to run for somewhere between 15 to 20 miles for fun and to unwind from his desk job.  It is as much an exercise of exploration as a bodily discipline.  Last year we bought him a GPS watch for Father’s Day, so now he can come home and look up on maps exactly where he has been.  The watch is just a  validation, though, since he seems to have internal GPS.  It was on one of these runs that he happened upon this setting.

The Suburban was full of all the kids who still reside at our home, that is to say, it was pretty full with seven of us.  The “kids”, ages 13-19, had as much fun giggling at my exclamations and groans as in the thrill of the ride.  Greg has a refined sense of physics and what the vehicle can accomplish, as well as a definite lack of desire to go any slower than absolutely necessary.  I figure that he’s the one who works to pay for the damages that might ensue; also, he would be the one most impacted by us being stranded from a gutted under belly or flat tire.  Furthermore, he has an excellent track record of avoiding difficulties, so I don’t have any thing to hold against him, if I am tempted to do so.

There were a few random people out in the sage brush that day, who stared at us curiously as they passed in their ATVs or dirt bikes.  However, none of them took the final turn we did and there was no one else along the section of creek that Greg said to get out and walk along.  The creek, usually  three feet wide and about one inch deep, managed to play a bell-like melody which was punctuated by lower tones when it had to pour over an occasional larger rock.  If there was a path, it appeared to be accidental and sporadic, most likely from wild life coming to quench their thirst or eat the fluffy grasses growing creek side.  The creek bed meandered so that we could never see too far ahead.  Our group spread out loosely, some collecting colorful and quartz filled rocks for Greg’s future cement projects.

I intermittently crossed the stream, pondering the fact that it was Melody’s birthday and this would certainly have been fun for her.   The coarse sand on the creek banks was generally firm enough so that foot prints would quickly disappear.  A few strategic rocks served as the traditional stepping stones in the middle of the water.  When I walked a little further inland, the stickers and thorns from weeds were held off by careful choices and the soles of my Vibrams.  My guide casually urged me forward if my strolling pace suggested I might stop.

Thinking the goal was simply to enjoy the fresh air and freedom, I continued around bend after bend and soon entered a narrow canyon just behind the kids.  The rock walls were closing in on the stream, displaying patterns that artists try to mimic.  The edges were predominantly jagged, rising like ancient red-brown castle walls, taunting visitors.  Then, suddenly, the large formations became smooth stones and I felt I was stepping into a portal.

I was greeted by series of small jade green pools that flowed through curved openings in the rock wall, down idyllic tiny waterfalls ending in a larger quiet pool which held the water serenely until a small amount slipped over the edge and became the creek which we had been walking up.  Being ripe for emotion, I caught my breath and thanked my guide-husband for bringing me to such a place.  It is a part of creation that God made for us to enjoy; it is a delight that Greg chose to share with us; it was soothing to my soul.

Laura running a bit with Kiwi

Lake Cascade at the end of October is much like the Oregon Coast is most of the year.  The water level is low enough to offer long, wide expanses of light sand  beaches.  The wind is chill, but usually not enough to deter heat generating activity, such as playing frisbee or walking for a few miles.  The overcast sky gives excellent lighting for photography.  And not many other people are out there.  Let me offer proof in a few photos:

Ben “posing”

making good use of props  (Beth, Carlie, Greg, Ben, Jesse, Natalie, Amanda)

airsoft warrior ready for a battle in the dark twilight  (Greg)

brotherly love  (Jesse, Ben, and Ian, our exchange student from Taiwan)

all the”kids”  Wait!  Who’s that guy in the middle? (Natalie, Amanda, Ben, Carlie, ??, Heidi, Rich, Ian, and Beth)

Greg is the only one who just ran 10 miles, but we can all pretend….

piggyback races and stream crossings

I can recommend the cabin we stayed at for quality and comfort, despite disorderly cupboards and some inadequate cleaning after the owners’ children stayed there the previous weekend.  We were emphatically assured that the cabin would be much cleaner when we rent in the summer.  The owners (who live in Boise) were friendly and easy to communicate with.  If you want a look at it click here.  Please note that the pictures on the site seem to be taken around spring time, and it is at the end of a neighborhood.  The next door cabin is within 20 feet.  However, we never heard anything from any of them.  The cabin accommodated 11 of us, even with just one and a half bathrooms.  It was definitely in its favor that it had 3 private bedrooms for couples.   Now the only question is “do we want to consider a cabin of our own.”

It does not seem that my various mishaps here in Taiwan have made me apprehensive about exploring or taking risks.  I think this is a good thing.  For example, on a recent bike ride, I found construction blocking the bike path and signs that may or may not have meant “go this way to follow detour.”  I decided to risk it.

Before I go further, let me make it clear that NOTHING traumatic or terribly exciting happened!  The detour actually proceeded without a hitch on the way out.  None of the loose dogs even raised an eyebrow.  I soon found myself passing a trickle of other bike riders heading in the opposite direction, verifying my “interpretation” of the signs:

I would like to mention that these were NOT the only signs on the road, by far, so deciding which to follow was not as obvious as the picture might make it seem.    However, I have since learned that, roughly translated, it means “go this way by yourself.”

The detour was not the shortest distance between two points, having a variety of twists and turns, passing through back street workshop areas and then rice fields.  A few cars whizzed by, giving the impression that they were used to open roads back there.  Since time passes differently when I am not sure where I am or if I’m getting where I’m going, and I didn’t look at my watch, I don’t know how long the detour took, but I estimate 15 minutes.  Then, voila!  I was back at the bike path, cruising a section I had ridden on before.  I decided that I must take some photos on the way back, being amused by things like the taxi drivers fishing…

an refreshed by the lush green and vines in bloom -

When I reached Guandu Temple, I decided to head toward home.  That makes the ride just over an hour long.

This is a large temple, so it takes more than one photo to give a sense of it.  First is a picture of its center region:

Then looking right -

and left.

I pondered for a moment that the MRT station that Carlie and I got lost getting out of is near and named after this temple.  That possibly has metaphorical connotations….   The portion of bike path I crashed on is just north of here.  So, I began to get a sense of connecting dots.  “My” section of the city and region were growing.
There was a slight drizzle from the clouds obscuring the horizon, but when I turned around I could see the colorful tower.  It was comforting and familiar.

Some of the ramshackle buildings seemed strangely picturesque and wild so close to the city.  They also cause one to consider how quickly the jungle here could overtake the civilization.

Then I passed the horses.

The place below is also right next to the bike path, very close to city life.  It looked lived in.

Then it was time to try the detour on the way back -

I saw the same rice fields:

This garden was just across from the field -

After a little bit, I came to this beautiful yard:

Growing under a major overpass!

I thought, “How strange that I would not have noticed such a lovely garden on my ride out.”  After a couple of admiring comments to the lady tending it, I headed up the road…  Within a few yards I was at a street that I KNEW I hadn’t crossed before.  It was a busy multi-lane highway.  Where had I gone wrong?

I turned around and spotted my tower again.  It wasn’t too far away.  The blue-green overpass (that you can see in the photo above) indicated I was near a section of the bike path.  To my relief, I only had to back track a couple of turns and a few hundred feet.  From this direction, the bike path was more obvious.  It heads right under the blue-green highway for a 1/4 mile.  That was basically the same location where I began to breathe more easily when walking Greg’s bike home.

If you look at the map below, the pink line indicates my bike ride of account today.  The purple line shows where I think I walked with Greg’s bike.  That walk took over 1 and 1/2 hours.  I’ve been plenty of other places in Taipei and Taiwan, some on the map, some beyond, but these lines all represent detours of some sort or another.

Today’s detour made me think.  I was quite glad that I had missed my turn and had opportunity to experience that beautiful garden.  The other “detours” were less painless, but they brought beauty of their own.  Our relationships and experiences are deeper because of them.  We have walked with God on paths that he knew were there and he has been quite able to get us where we are supposed to be going.

Sunday was a glorious day for a bike ride along the river, my first since my accident.  The breeze was just enough to keep one from getting to  warm when dressed down to a light sweater.  I didn’t take any chances, but didn’t ride like an invalid either.  Here I am after we are done, just to prove that I made it in one piece:

Don’t worry, I only took my helmet off when we were back at the apartment…

It wasn’t nearly enough exercise for Greg, though, as you may well guess.  A couple of hours later, he rode for about an hour straight up hill to meet a running group that he has been trying out recently.  Once there, he ran ‘chasing the rabbit’ for about an hour and a half.  The deal is that they rotate members of the group going ahead  with a couple bags of flour for marking the course.  An unpredictable and sometimes broken and mystery course.  These breaks are on purpose, to add to the fun and give the runners behind a chance to catch up.  What happens is that every so often the chalk mark ends with a big circled X.  Then the runners have to search within a given perimeter to pick up the scent again.  Those who find it usually leave directions for those behind them.
Greg’s first run with this group was a beach trip in the middle of December.  They left Taipei on a bus around 2 PM.  Greg hadn’t learned about ‘the rabbit’ yet, so he thought he’d be home much sooner.  He also didn’t know they hang out for a meal together afterwards.  And no one knew there would be an accident on the freeway resulting in an extra 2 hour detour for the bus ride home.  He finally returned home around 11:30 PM.  Here is a picture from near the end of the beach run.  The starting point was off in the horizon at the beach.  He said there were very challenging slick, steep muddy slopes and rocky river beds.

His second attempt to run with the group, last Wednesday, was a little scary to hear about.  It was an evening run from Taipei, but up into the muddy, largely isolated, stray dog inhabited, thickly green paths on a large hill near here.  He didn’t find the group, but he found the rabbit trail, so he ran by himself in the dark.  He accidentally passed them at their meal on the way home and learned how he had missed them and how to make connections next time.

To finish up, here are some photos the run this Sunday.  They let the women have a 10-15 minute head start.

And the men are off!  Greg stays to the back some, but he’s going to be about third out of about 40 to finish the course when he gets done being ‘social.’

Into the thick of it -

Runners  cooperatively looking for the rabbit trail:

Looking down at the starting point.

Yes, this is part of the route -

Go look in that dark hollow in the center of the picture for the trail….

Through the calla lily farms,

Here is a classic picture, unless you are picky about power lines:

Yes, go this way -

Don’t miss the view from the bridge!

Let me take your picture before I pass you.

Getting closer

The finish line.  The restaurant was expecting them.  Greg didn’t stay for dinner because he was getting cold and he wanted to get home before it got dark.

He’s on his bike, but not in the picture.

Time for a ride home in the damp, cold wind.

Greg likes to exercise the children.  This is how he did it today.  First, he took Ben and Jesse riding up Yangmingshan Mountain for about an hour – it took less time to get down.

I’m told this picture was taken about half way up.

This is higher:

Here’s Greg with Ben -

Here is a fairly level portion.

In case you were curious about the sign….

While they were gone, Natalie and Beth walked a couple of miles in town with me.

When they returned home, Greg took Ben, Natalie, and Amanda on a 10-12 mile bike/run.  They took turns sharing the 3 bikes.  Ben ran a mile, Natalie ran 3 miles, and Greg ran 7-8 miles.  Amanda got to have a bike the whole time.

Carlie and Beth went to swim laps at the local pool (sorry no pictures of them in the pool…), where Greg joined them later for a 10 (1/4 mile of) cool down laps and some time in the rather expansive hot tub.  He says he will want to sit on the couch when he gets home.

Greg BEFORE going in the pool:

Sign at the pool entrance:

I don’t think any one should give me too much trouble for the rest of the day.

Here are three disparate news bites from the last three days:

Sunday evening, Greg and the kids were apparently feeling a little apartment bound and started bouncing off of the walls.  More precisely, they were doing hand-stand push-ups.  No, Greg was doing them.  The kids were attempting to, but were spending more time learning how to fall.  It got so that I couldn’t stand (pardon the pun) to watch.

Jesse the Tripod (above)

Carlie temporarily balanced (below)

Natalie being coached (below)

More excitement followed when today at about 11:15 AM our time we experienced another earthquake.  In researching it I found this interesting site about earthquakes

Our quake is listed near the bottom as I write this, but it looks like they occur all over the world so frequently that it could be old news very soon.  Clicking on a particular earthquake took me to another page of interesting earthquake facts by the US Geological Society:

http://earthquake.usgs.gov/eqcenter/recenteqsww/Quakes/us2008acag.php

Finally, this evening I was out stretching my legs and getting some errands done when I was approached in a friendly manner by a college age girl with some papers in her hand.  The last time someone like that came up to me, it was for a school assignment in which they were supposed to practice English with foreigners.  This time I was amused to have her ask me if I wanted to work as a model for TV commercials.  I declined with a smile, wondering what the catch was.  Who asks a 47 year old lady passing on a street corner if she wants to be a model?!  She seemed puzzled at my lack of interest, asking again, “You’re not at all interested?”  Maybe its just that I’m taller than even most expatriate women around here.  Maybe its the good posture that Dad drilled into me.  Maybe it was my recent plastic surgery!  hee hee.

And that’s the news from here.

Last Thursday, the kids and I went on a guided tour of Yangmingshan National Forest.  They were the only kids in a group of about 18.  Jesse was the only gentleman and he acted like one.  We left at 9 AM and were done close to 2 PM, so we put in a good effort as tourists.  The other ladies were all very friendly.  We saw a couple of women I have visited with briefly on other occasions, plus met several new friends.  Many were from other countries, including Norway, Holland, and India.

Among our stops were:  the highest peak in the northern mountains, a park famous for butterflies which were unfortunately not ‘in season,’ an old sulfur mine with geysers, and a flower farm.  As usual, the signs, bugs and plants were fun and interesting.  We even saw a pond turtle.

Again, I’ll put the photos below and try to give them descriptive captions.  We had a wonderful time that the photos are very limited in capturing.

There are very nice paths around here.

hot springs public bath houses in the distance

a sulfur pond

scary suspension bridge

We didn’t see the sign untill after we had crossed.

lots of trees

The observation deck was being remodeled, so we stood on the bags…

Carlie and Natalie looking youthful -

just one of many views

a geyser at an old sulfur mine

]

a closer look

just us -

hmmm…  should we go on?

or should we stay in the vehicle?!

um..  I’d rather let the snakes burn…

looking off to the right

a more stable bridge over the turtle/fish pond

dyed with the indigao found in the Datun area

a small sample of the butterfly collection

park details for you, if you like

our apartment is down there somewhere, the guide said

rambling brook flowing through the flower farm

a picturesque walkway wound a long way through it

keep going, I’ll catch up

calla lily fields

a big red flower?

I had no idea how far we were going

a water garden

another view of the calla lilies – no wonder I have trouble growing them in Idaho!