A "New" Instrument

Call me a dork, but I'm always intrigued by how instruments change over time and across cultures. Last summer while in Heidelberg, Germany, we heard a mesmerizing "new" instrument.

The instrument originated in the Caribbean, where it was a steel drum. The Swiss inverted the shape, made some adjustments, and created the Hang.



If you've never seen Steel Drums, check out this video I found on YouTube:

Rooting for the Bulls!

Last summer’s European road trip took us to Arles, France, which is a dumpy little town on the Mediterranean coast of France that houses quite an impressive array of Roman ruins. The town’s tradition twice each week is the Bull Races, housed in a Roman-era coliseum. 

From Bull Races

The coliseum is much smaller than the coliseum, but almost more delightful because one can wander the levels and the circular network of paths intended to facilitate the safe movement of thousands of spectators.

From Bull Races

And of course, one can sit on the old stone seats to take in the show.

From Bull Races

I was apprehensive about going to Bull Races, for I didn’t want to see animals being harmed. Apparently, though, this kind of race is different. The bull appears, a bit riled up, and 9 young men must get close enough to remove a small bow from the antlers of the bull. If the bull does something exciting, he wins the sounding of Carmen. Excitement builds when the men jump high, when the bull jumps the protective inner ring, or when the bull rips apart the fence. We found ourselves rooting for the bulls, over and over again.

From Bull Races

Chefchaouen

We visited a little town called Chefchaouen. It’s nestled in the Rif Mountains of Morocco. 

We went there during Ramadan, which is a month-long holiday in Islam in which people fast all day (no food and no water) and feast at sundown. This helps people to remember to be thankful for what they have, and empathetic toward people who have less. 

Here’s a photo of people waking early to buy all the food they need for the nights’ feast. Notice the people crowded on the right- they’re buying onions, peppers, and all kinds of other vegetables and fruits. The woman carrying the buckets is dressed differently than people in a big city like Casablanca; her straw hat is especially regional. Notice little blue poofs on it. 

  

From Chefchaouen

Not everyone in Chefchaouen has an oven in their home. A friendly host took us to this public oven, which was busy with hand-prepared food from all over town. 

From Chefchaouen

In the old part of the city, called the medina, you can wander around a maze of little streets, all blue. Some blues were so bright it hurt my eyes!

From Chefchaouen

People are friendly- they greet you, invite you over for an evening of Gnawa music, or let you just shop without hassling you too much.

I couldn’t get over how beautiful it was!

From Chefchaouen

From Chefchaouen

-Karissa

Flamenco music in Granada, Spain

Jim, LuAnn, Tom, and I pay 6 Euros each to  cram into the small space of "Le Chien Andalou." We order some tapas and drinks, and wait. 

From Flamenco The guitarist begins, playing a a mesmerizing melody with punctuated chords. His posture and passion makes me think of Picasso's Blue Guitarist.

From Flamenco

The singer begins, his voice melismatic and powerful, his eyes passionate. The singer and guitarist exchange musical conversation, weaving their music expertly and beautifully. The song ends with intensity so great the singer must stand, clap, and stomp with a flurry.

From Flamenco A new song invites the dancer, who adds rhythmic intensity with the complex rhythms of her feet on the wood floor and her hands snapping and clapping. The dancer also plays the role of musician and actor.

From Flamenco

A fraction of the music and dance we saw: 

Montée la montagne

I love the French translation for climb the mountain. To my ears, montée sounds so similar to montagne; the words belong together!

La montagne Aaron, Allison, and I intend to climb is Mt. Toubkal, the tallest peak in North Africa (13671ft/4167m). We meet our guide, Hassan, and two mules in the tiny town of Imlil. We load our heavier packs of food and tents on to the mules, and begin hiking from an elevation of 5905 feet (1800 m). 

Aaron, Allison, and Hassan hike past Armd.

From Toubkal Our mules pass us. We see them again at base camp.

From Toubkal

Along the way, we stop for refreshments in a makeshift shack. Our drinks are chilled by fresh mountain water. 

From Toubkal

I admire vegetation I've never seen before.

From Toubkal We reach base camp after 5-6 hours of hiking on the first day. Aaron digs out the spaghetti he made, and we dive in enthusiastically.

From Toubkal

At our base camp: sunset followed by a stunning starry sky. 

From Toubkal We wake on the second day at 6:00, before sunrise. Our big day, the forecasted 3-hour hike to the summit. My legs are exhausted from the day before. Another French phrase: j'ai fatigue. Literally translated: I have tired. Fatigue sounds so much more truthful at this point. As we hike up the scree (loose rocks), I had to remind my sleepy mind and tired body to keep going. I will do this. Berber guides stop and ask us how we are; I tell them in French and English that I am tired, but happy. I allow myself time to rest and breathe. A view of the summit gives me new motivation and energy.

From Toubkal From Toubkal After the false summit (see above), we reach the real summit, marked by people who've celebrated before us.  From Toubkal From Toubkal I love the view, the fresh air, the cold wind and the warm sun.  From Toubkal The descent is difficult, trying to maintain balance on sliding dirt and rocks while caring for my knees. We turn around and hike the whole way down, resulting in about 9 hours of hiking in one day. I lag behind, being careful, and make occasional small-talk with Hassan.  For me, hiking this far brings me back to the basics of thinking, listening, and moving forward one step at a time. I celebrate where I've been and where I'm going to. I look backward and admire, forward with excitement and anxiety. I listen to my body. Sometimes it has energy, other times I have to push myself to keep going.  J'ai fatigue, mais je suis happy.  -Karissa

Bavarians

Driving across Europe with Jim and LuAnn, Bavaria (Southern Germany) is exquisite. I don't know how they manage to keep the quaint features in a modern world. One hears bells on the cows while looking at old homes with windowboxes (this scene continues through Austria). This part of Germany is more hilly, preparing us for the Alps.

We visited Munich's Hofbrauhaus. Founded in 1589, the brewhouse follows the brewing laws of 1516, regulating the ingredients allowed in beer. The sight upon entering the "beerpalace" (which was built in 1897) is delightfully overwhelming. An oom-pah band plays in the corner. Women in traditional Bavarian dress carry around monstrous pretzels, and men in leiderhosen bring litres of beer and traditional wursts to tables filled with tourists. We snatch a table as others leave (including Olga, who is in her 70's obviously drunk, and who we later saw dancing with a leiderhosen-clad man) and are soon joined by a family of Spaniards. Occasionally, the guests break into song, and all we know how to do is thump our beers on the table and smile.

1 Litre was the only option!

A new view of the world

Upon arrival at our Swiss campground in Interlaken, we knew we had to spend a couple of days here. A white glacier greeted us as we walked down the street, lush mountains more beautiful than I could imagine beckoned me. I intended to explore them, to leave a footprint or a mountain bike track.

We noticed colorful parachutes above all day long, so I did a little investigating. Tom made a phone call, and in 45 minutes we were picked up in a van to go Paragliding, driving up and up a hill...

I was pretty nervous. What did I get myself into? And then, Wouldn't it be amazing if I can actually have the guts to follow through on this?


We got to the top, the glacier still prevailing in the landscape. The crew of paragliding experts immediately began laying out the parachutes on a grassy hillside.

From Paragliding over Interlaken, Switzerland

Robert, my assigned tandem expert, began strapping me in and providing comforting words like, "You won't have to run off a cliff. Just run down that hill."

From Paragliding over Interlaken, Switzerland With my faith in a parachute and a person I've never met strapped behind me, I ran.

From Paragliding over Interlaken, Switzerland

And it was glorious!

From Paragliding over Interlaken, Switzerland

From Paragliding over Interlaken, Switzerland After two safe landings with no falls, we enjoyed a Swiss beer and walked home, smiling and excited about our adventure.

From Paragliding over Interlaken, Switzerland