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Large old-fashioned snowshoes and a double saw hung on the walls and the curtains had Adirondack scenes similar to the plates. On Thursday, we drove to Essex on Lake Champlain. At Natural Goods and Finery, I inhaled the soaps and bath and body goods and was tempted by the jewelry.

We went on a tourboat cruise of Lake Placid, 16 miles around the perimeter of the lake. The summer homes along the shore were called camps. When the U. Most of the camps were boat accessible only, but they did have phone service and electricity. We boated past Whiteface, the fifth largest mountain in New York.

The lake is in an H shape, with the water between the islands like the rungs of a ladder. Most of the lake is 45 feet deep except next to Pulpit Rocks, where it is feet to the bottom. Lake Placid freezes in the winter feet thick. Cars and trucks drive across the lake to take supplies to camps and to check on roofs, etc. Snowmobilers also drive across and cross-country skiers slide across.

Ice fishing is prohibited because the Lake Trout are voracious eaters in winter and could be entirely wiped out in seasons. It was Mabel Smith Douglas, an educator; her death was first ruled a suicide. Later, people thought it was suspicious and promoted the idea of foul play and murder. While eating ice cream from Mountain Mist Custard in our raincoats during a torrential rainfall, we dripped ice cream all over the van. Later, we played Chinese checkers and Mike won, as usual, even though it looked like I might win at first. It rained all night long, metallic flower petals clicking on the roof, threads and shreds of drizzle, rain, downpour, and a thick breeze blew over us through the screen and blew thick over us as we slept, tossing and turning, listening for the night to finish its incessant falling.

I did when I first woke, but they dissipated into the drizzling night. Birchbark or spruce bookcases, heavy quilts with bears, fleecy blankets with moose silhouettes, metal picture frames with bears or pine trees attached to one side, miniature Adirondack twig chairs, mirrors framed in birchbark, a canoe coffee table with a glass top over the opening, sofas with hunting and fishing scenes, canoe or fishing basket, or fishing lure Christmas ornaments, soft leather journals filled with parchment, a jewelry box with butterflies and flowers on it, red and green Adirondack rockers, Mission style bookcases and dressers and even picture frames, handmade paper, leather bags, sweaters and fleece jackets, a glass coffee table held up by a wood carved bear sitting on his behind, arms in the air.

We played a final game of Yahtzee on our last night. Mike won, as usual, I came in second, and Adam lost. As we drove out, the mountains clutched gray clouds like mink stoles around them. We stopped at the taxidermy shop to take photos of the boys next to a big stuffed black bear and a wolf. Many of the birch trees in the forest appeared to be either broken off at the top or simply leafless. I wondered what accounted for their bare, broken condition. We rolled past fields of goldenrod and white flowers with a backdrop of gray-green peaks, bubbles of clouds congregating near the peaks.

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Concentrate on any intention you set for your prose. In this case, I kept a travel journal where I attempted to use my five senses and to record details of our family trip. This essay is from that journal. This page is a work in process. You can also include photos, of course. Include the link in the comments below by Monday, May 13 at p. I invite you all to settle in and read a few posts from our wandering community.

Thanks to all of you who wrote prosaic posts following intentions you set for yourself.

Poetry for the Camino

I am traveling from April 4 to May If I cannot respond to or add your links due to wi-fi problems or time constraints, please feel free to add your links in both this post and my next scheduled post. Thanks for your understanding! After being deposited on the top deck of the bridge, shared by pedestrians and the yellow metro line, we admired views of the Rio Douro and the Ribeira district on the north shore, as well as Vila Nova de Gaia on the south. Honeyed coral light poured over bell towers, baroque churches, and beaux-arts buildings cascading down the hills. We wound our way west through convoluted streets and colorful tile-covered buildings to the azulejo-faced Igreja do Carmo , where we wandered inside and out.

The magnificent azulejo panel on the side of rococo Igreja do Carmo illustrates the founding of the Carmelite order. We enjoyed more views as we took the cable car down to Vila Nova de Gaia on the south side of the Rio Douro. The cable car people gave us a ticket to a free wine tasting, so after sipping red wine at the winery, we wandered the streets and came face-to-face with huge rabbit made of trash.

I was hungry and it all looked so inviting and romantic, people sitting at outdoor cafes overlooking the river. We always want to avoid the touristy places, and Cais da Ribeira is nothing if not touristy. Signs were posted for no photography but all the visitors were snapping away and there was no one telling them not to, so I joined in. After hopping off the bus, we stopped at at Igreja de San Nicolau , an 18th century Baroque and classic church with Rococo carvings.

Sadly, it was going through a major renovation and much of it was inaccessible. The only part we could see was the 14th-century Gothic cloisters with their azulejo-covered walls and some adjoining museum exhibits. The exterior blue and white ceramic tiles depict scenes from the lives of various saints, including the death of Saint Francis of Assisi and the Martyrdom of Santa Catarina.

Though the tiles mimic the 18th century classical style, they were actually created in the first half of the 20th century. On our way back uphill to our Airbnb, it started raining. We searched for a place to eat and finally ended up at Vaccarum, a cozy but expensive restaurant. We were happy to be out of the rain but I found my dinner of codfish topped with cornbread stuffing disappointing.

It had bones throughout, and every bite was torture to eat. I wanted so badly to trade meals with Mike. So decadent, but oh so delicious. Though he shared a couple of bites with me, I was left to struggle through my cod and its millions of tiny bones. On Tuesday, rain was forecast all day, so we escaped Porto to drive to Amarante. Rowling when she was writing Harry Potter.

After that wasted visit, we climbed back uphill to our Airbnb, stopping at a small wine shop for some cheese snacks, and then returned to our apartment. There we chopped broccoli and peppers, which we sauteed and served over pasta for dinner. We toasted each other with Kopke Douro wine. It was lovely to enjoy our last night in our Airbnb apartment, as we would leave Porto the next morning.

In this case, one of my intentions for my trip to Portugal was to pick five random verbs each day and use them in my travel essay: 1 chop , 2 hinder , 3 spare , 4 trade , 5 brake. Include the link in the comments below by Monday, April 22 at p. Or you can write about travel in general. Concentrate on any intention you set for your poetry. In this case I wrote 12 stanzas of non-rhyming couplets with 10 syllables per line. While couplets traditionally rhyme, not all do. Poems may use white space to mark out couplets if they do not rhyme. I was surprised that I won second place in a poetry writing contest at Northern Virginia Community College for this poem in spring of Include the link in the comments below by Thursday, May 2 at p.

This will be an ongoing invitation, on the first Friday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. Thanks to all of you who wrote poetic posts following intentions you set for yourself. The power and might of the country was on full display, with its uniformed officers and camouflaged soldiers, its tanks and full regalia. The military flexed its muscles, upheld its patriotism. We parked in a neighborhood far from the center because of the occupation, yielding to an urge to see the town without staying overnight. That somewhere else was Porto.

We wandered freely through the cavernous rooms, with gargantuan banquet tables and imposing chandeliers, 17th-century period furniture, 15th- and 16th-century weapons, a chapel with stained glass windows, and rich Flemish tapestries. The tapestries, reproductions of the originals, whispered of the Portuguese attempts to conquer North Africa, including the capture of Tangiers.

We dropped into the tiny Romanesque Church of St. Sadly the ramparts were closed to the public, so we missed what might have been amazing views. At Largo da Oliveira, we found a cozy restaurant, where we lingered over lunch. After, feeling sated, we admired the Gothic canopy of the Igreja de Nossa Senhora da Oliveira and then dipped inside. The church was packed with parishioners. We were bowled over by the beautiful azulejo tiles on the wall, but photography was forbidden during the service.

As we lingered outdoors, dusting off our disappointment, the congregation poured out of the church and we were in luck! The service was over. We ducked in for a few photos, not wavering in our determination to capture the interior of this gorgeous church. We were on our way to Porto. The palace was restored from , and brought back to its Norman-inspired Gothic glory.

Tucked between the palace and castle is the little Romanesque Church of St. The town square Largo da Oliveira is a beautiful square with many restaurants and outdoor cafe, although it was too cold to sit outdoors. Outside the church is a Gothic canopy and cross, supposedly marking the spot where Wamba the Visigoth — drove his spear into the ground beside an olive tree, refusing to reign unless a tree sprouted from the handle. Igreja de Nossa Senhora da Oliveira with its Gothic canopy and cross.

Francis of Assisi has a stunning interior of 18th century azulejos depicting the life of the saint. Penha is a wooded summit reached by driving 7km up a twisting, cobbled road. It also boasts the modern Santuario da Penha. A full late-October day in Braga, Portugal. A day switch-backing up a mountain with my husband in a rented MINI Clubman on narrow roads lined with colorful houses; a blue-sky day that refrained from raining. A day encountering statues with water gurgling out of eyes, ears, noses, and mouths on the lower Escadaria dos Cinco Sentidos Stairway of the Five Senses.

A day meandering through the park, hotels, tennis courts, flower gardens and lakes and then driving further up to the neo-classical sanctuary and Marian shrine of Nossa Senhora do Sameiro. A day admiring sweeping views of Braga and sitting on azulejo benches at Sameiro. A day finding satyrs and mermen holding up twin baroque organs and cloisters disclosing Gothic chapels.

A day, a moment really, paying homage at the tomb of the Infant D. Afonso, coated with gilded and silver copper. A day forgetting we were in Portugal as we mistakenly blurted Spanish words. A day marching around the elegant town center with its ancient buildings, narrow lanes and plazas, past the Fountain of the Castles, among candy-colored and azulejo-covered buildings. A day dipping into trim boutiques and buying scarves. Bom Jesus do Monte is a famous pilgrimage site outside of Braga.

It has a monumental, Baroque stairway that climbs meters feet.

It stands on a forested hill that offers grand views across the city. The new church built — was one of the first neoclassical churches of Portugal. Construction was begin in Their tombs were substituted in the early 16th century by new ones, with recumbent figures. In front of the high choir there are two gilt wood organs, carved in the s, heavily decorated with baroque and fantastic motifs. The central fountain is from Igreja do Hospital de San Marcos dates back to the 18th century. Life-size statues of the apostles define the upper rampart.

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On the same site, there was a church and hospital that Diogo de Sousa had built in the 16th century. The hospital provided relief to the poor, pilgrims and travelers staying in the city of Braga. The building is now home to university offices and the municipal library. In this case, one of my intentions for my trip to Portugal was to pick five random verbs each day and use them in my travel essay: reign , rain , disclose , attempt , march. Include the link in the comments below by Monday, March 25 at p.

Writing – Page 2 – ~ mudywehy.tke ~

Then we were to write a poem in five stanzas of three lines each. Each stanza was to be dedicated to one of the five senses sight, taste, touch, hearing, smell. The total syllable count of each stanza was not be more than 17 syllables. In this case, I managed to keep each stanza to 17 syllables or less, but my stanzas were not uniform. Include the link in the comments below by Thursday, April 4 at p.

I woke up in Hotel Langosteira after a restless night of post-nasal dripping, clearing my throat, and coughing. This cycle was on endless repeat, and the night was full of torment. I was happy when the sun finally rose and I could get up to eat the bread-heavy breakfast served by the hotel. I had nothing pressing to do all day except to walk 3. I set out under blue skies at a.

Cape Finisterre, called Cabo Fisterra in Galician, was believed to be the end of the known world in Roman times. For pilgrims who want to walk the whole of Spain, it is another day walk from Santiago. I encountered both pilgrims and tourists walking all over the promontory. I clambered around on the rocks, admired the views, and sat to contemplate my Camino.

Historically, pilgrims have burned their clothes at the end of the Camino in a symbolic and traditional act of purification in starting a new life. The first Christian pilgrims arrived in Fisterra in the Middle Ages. There were some hospitals for pilgrims who finished here. By noon, I was ready to head back down the road.

I stopped in one of the tourist shops to buy a scarf, a Finisterre magnet, and a coffee cup covered in sellos stamps. Then I made my way downhill, an easier trek than coming up. Kate lived in London but was originally from South Africa. We had lost track of each other after Sahagun, and I thought she had probably finished well ahead of me, as most people did. We added each other on Facebook. I was so happy to see her, and she seemed genuinely happy to see me too.

She had rented a car with some friends to see Finisterre and was heading back to Santiago that afternoon. We parted, hoping to meet up in Santiago. There, I enjoyed a vegetable curry. Then I found a restaurant near the marina was open, where I ate a light dinner of steamed mussels. It was built in , meters above the sea. It protects one of the most dangerous coasts.

The tower is made of quarried stone with an octagonal base and a cornice. In early times, the lighthouse worked with oil lamps. Later it worked with incandescent lamps. It flashes every 5 seconds with a range of 31 nautical miles. The annex building is the Siren, called The Cow in Fisterra. The Cow emits two sounds every one minute with a range of 25 miles. The following morning, on my 63rd birthday, I woke up early to catch the bus back to Santiago. The timetable given to me by Tourist Information the day before said the bus would leave Finisterre at , but the timetable plastered on a wooden board at the bus stop was different.

I got there early and simply waited till it came, which was close to We arrived back in Santiago at On the bus ride, we enjoyed views of the sea, the rocky coastline, mudflats and, inland, the hill towns of Galicia. They welcomed me back with a birthday greeting, a gift basket, and a reduced rate on my room! I loved that place, with its perfect location right next to the Cathedral and its welcoming receptionists. I asked the people at the hotel if I could leave some junk behind. I took everything out of my big backpack and my day pack and sorted through my stuff. I left some other ratty looking clothes in the red pack.

Then I went to meet Kate. We sat on the terrace of the Parador and enjoyed the setting sun. We talked about whether the Camino lived up to its hype or whether we found it fell short. I did enjoy walking alone, but I too wondered if it really met my expectations.

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  7. Arriving at the end in Santiago, we agreed, had felt a bit anticlimactic. The Igrexa de San Fructuoso was designed in the 18th century and is dominated by a magnificent half-orange dome. The hotel was built as a royal hospital in to accommodate pilgrims traveling to Santiago. It was a wonderful way to celebrate my birthday, even in solitude, but I was excited to meet up with Mike the next day in Braga, Portugal.

    But, true to my childlike way of seeking trinkets of sea glass or stones on a beach, I collected some important pieces along my camino. And so, friends, I leave you with these memories and one last haiku. The things I carried They all fit in my I'm at another point where I have few words to express what I am feeling. I hadn't realized how close everything is; I had considered just taking the bus to another town for the day, but my bike-shop buddy recommended I take a ride.

    This place is incredible! Such beauty, and a relaxed atmosphere despite all the tourists. I'm staying in a room in an apartment so I have the feeling of real life. I took It's what you might expect from a French town on the beach with the unexpected additions of inexplicably several British pubs and a carousel that really I wonder if my impression of Spain and, as an extended assumption western Europe in general as a relaxed, easy-going culture is actually due to my blissful ignorance in comprehending the Mercado De La Boqueria.

    More on that later. My morning began in the early hours at the Mercado de Boqueria, taking in the sights and smells. I could have spent all day eating and drinking my way through the While I feel my pilgrimage has ended at Finisterre, I'm not quite ready to sit still. The reward here was a breathtaking seaside Camino that again allowed a beach diversion. Changing landscapes, few people and the cheerful company of my Camino amigos has set this tone.

    Haiku Moments on the Camino: From France to Finisterre

    But today it was more about the Thanks Emma Kate Veader for posting this poem Day August 12 at San Roque. Last night, my Spanish Camino Amiga and I discussed which town to aim for today, as she was desiring a beach. And this morning as my Irish friend read the guidebook for what lay ahead he Day August 11 at Ponte Olveira.