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Showing posts with label Travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Travel. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Music for the Masses

When Mike and I travel, we make it a point to find a Catholic Church wherever in the world we are and schedule Mass into our itinerary during our vacation.  'Cause, you know, we're Catholic.

As a couple, we've been to mass in France, England, Japan and Iceland so far.  We love seeing the little differences in each country - like how the Japanese bow to one another during the Sign of Peace, or how the French and Icelandic don't go up for Communion in any orderly fashion. Or how nowhere else but in the USA do people hold hands during the Lord's Prayer and how the Confiteor was said at every Mass we went to overseas, but almost never heard at any of the Masses we went to in the USA.  In our traveling around the US, it's kind of surprising how varied the settings can be from parish to parish. Unexpectedly, there have been times where we're more lost during a Mass in English than we were following along with a Mass in a foreign country.

It's the same overall though, so there's a comfortable familiarity in the Mass that makes you feel at home even when you're thousands of miles away from it.

In Japan, only about 0.5% of the population is Christian (which, from an American perspective, makes it incredible to think that Taro Aso, a  Catholic, was elected Prime Minister in '08. Could you imagine Americans voting for a president who practiced a religion that only comprised 0.5% of the American population? It would be like Americans electing a Hindi president... oh the hissey fits so many Americans would have if a real life non-Christian was in a position of power...but that's a blog for another time) so there aren't any massive cathedrals like you would see in Europe, but on our last trip there, we managed to find a tiny church in Suita that we stopped into for Mass on a Sunday.

The Catholic church in Suita, Japan

As soon as we walked in, the parishioners rushed to get us chairs (because all the pews were already filled), and booklets with both the Japanese words written out in Romaji and the English translations on the adjacent page. Obviously they could tell we were "gaijin" as we were the only non-Asians in the vicinity. After the Mass a few of the parishioners came up to us and wanted to tell us about their regular Mass hours and invite us back to the English service the following week, but I had to explain that we were just tourists making a stop for Mass before our 1 o'clock beer tour of the Asahi Brewery down the street.

Which was awesome.

Even if we were hungover from the previous night at karaoke.

Good times.  Yay Asahi!   Moving on.

Iceland is similar to Japan in that they both have, in their history, specific measures taken by the ruling forces to oust the Catholic Church from the country with relative success. In the mid-1800's there were only about 9 Catholics left in all of Iceland... and two of them were from France. Now, the country has a total population of about 300,000, and of that, about 8,000 consider themselves Catholic (the national church of Iceland is Evangelical Lutheran Church of Iceland.)


The Catholic church we attended in Reykjavik, Iceland.

There are 5 Catholic churches in Iceland and the nearest one to us while we were on the Eastern coast with my family was about a 5 hour drive away. We were able to attend a Sunday mass in Reykjavik when we got back to the West coast and while it was mostly filled with other tourists, it was a lovely service cantored by the parish priests who had lovely clear voices. The meditation after Communion was done in complete silence.  I had never thought that the "meditation music" after Communion was a distraction until I tried meditating in total silence. Everything felt uncomplicated and for that brief moment I understood how someone could be drawn to a cloistered monastic life. 

In France, where about 50% of the population is Catholic (although somewhere between 13-50% of those counted French "Catholics" say they don't believe in God... so... I don't know how that works) we found an incredible cathedral on what seemed like every corner. We went to an early morning Sunday mass at Notre Dame before the sun came up. It was my first time at Notre Dame, but if you're Catholic, I think that's the way to see it.

Notre Dame - from the riverside.


The Mass was (obviously) in French and seemed a little more formal than we were used to back home but it felt significant even if there were only about 30 local parishioners there for the morning service - mostly elderly Parisians who had walked from their nearby apartments and who promptly left after the service. By the time we got out, the sun had come up and the tourists and peddlers were starting their daily frenzy outside and we were on our way out with an experience at the cathedral that all the other tourists missed.

When Mike and I got to London, we had originally intended to go to an early morning Mass near our hotel, but we accidentally slept in so we decided to do a little sight seeing and eventually wander over to the Westminster Cathedral (the Catholic one. Not to be confused with Westminster Abbey or St. Paul's which are both Anglican) for their noon service.

The front of Westminster Cathedral 
nestled between two very modern office type buildings.

And it was - without a doubt - THE most incredible Mass experience I've ever had in my life. 

The cathedral was completely filled with people - locals and tourists alike.  We didn't realize it when we walked in, but the noon service was a "Solemn Mass" sung by the choir.  Having been choir nerds, we were looking forward to what a big metropolitan church choir would bring to the service, but we had never been to a Solemn Mass before, so we were not sure what else we should expect.  Mike and I had been to a "Sung Mass" near our home (again, the result of us sleeping in too late) and while that wasn't a bad Mass experience, it was stiff and we often lost our place in the service so we never went back.

The solemn Mass at the Westminster Cathedral was a completely different beast.  Everything seemed important, worthy of reverence, and I remember feeling like I was completely unable to escape the massive mystery surrounding me. I wanted to open my eyes, my nose and my ears as wide as I possibly could to suck in every sensory experience and remember that feeling exactly.  It was impossible for my mind to wander like it normally does in a quiet comfortable space. I was blissfully captive.

The choir. O.M.G. Truly unbelievable.

I could listen to it all day... this video was actually taken a week before we were there.

I actually enjoy the music that is played at my parish. The morning choir is very good for a local church choir and they've sung some really beautiful pieces during the meditation.  The rest of the music is the standard, simple, sing-song stuff (albeit, sung by cantors with incredible voices) that's meant to be easy for the parishioners to sing along to. It's not the stuff that gets me into the God groove, but it's pleasant and I enjoy singing along. Anyway, it's not like I'd listen to those songs outside of church on CD.  But that's because I'm a snob. With really specific tastes.

Still, I would trade my well above average parish music ministry and maybe my left foot...AND I would offer to stand in the back for all eternity... in 4 inch stiletto pumps... for a weekly Mass like the one we stumbled into at the Cathedral.  I'd request an adjustment to my work schedule to attend a daily Mass like that. Seriously - never before in my life had I experienced anything like it.

And the even more surprising part?  The Archbishop's homily. 

I had mentally prepared myself for the moment the homily would come up and ruin my euphoric experience with a boring ...or worse... an angry, you're-a-bad-Catholic-and-you're-going-to-hell-for-fill-in-the-blank type of sermon, like some of the ones I've sat through in the past. In my previous experiences at Mass in the USA, I had come to connect the dots that Latin in the Mass or in its music more often than not meant an uptight, grim, grumpy, dull, uninspired sermon. Snooze.

I waited for that awkward homily to kill my buzz.

And it never arrived. Maybe it helped that he had a British accent that just made him seem like an actor hired to play a slick priest, but the Archbishop (who was saying the Mass) stood at the lectern and talked passionately about tolerance, social justice and about the God of forgiveness that loves all his creation - Catholics and non-Catholics alike. He talked about the importance of living our lives as an example of that love despite the everyday fears that would cause us to act otherwise.  I remember thinking that his homily would fit right in with the homilies I'm inspired by at my home parish. 

Wait, what?  Did I just get an hour of incredible music, a full dose of incense, a touch of Latin,  the Eucharist AND an inspiring compassionate homily followed by a massive grand pipe organ recessional?

Shut up.  I totally did. And I don't know if I'll ever be the same again. 

I get that not everyone gets to live in the area that the Parish that the Westminster Cathedral covers, and I do love my parish, but I want to experience that - or something like it - again. Are there any churches/cathedrals on the West Coast (or uh, America?) that that do the same? I can find what I'm looking for scattered at a number of different parishes, but nothing that combines it all into one package quite the way Westminster did. A reverent, sleek Mass that's comfortable but not casual. Rich in ritual and progressive in thought. A smart, compassionate and well spoken preacher. An impeccable choir singing incredible sacred choral music that you only get to hear in concert halls and an organ with actual air going through real pipes.

Maybe the experience I had in London is the only one I'll ever have until I find my way back there?  The perfect storm of my ideal Mass.

I admit, I've had to listen to a bit of cheesy churchy-type music outside of a churchy setting lately (for reasons beyond my control) and I've reached a breaking point... so that's  probably why I've been longing for the non-cheese and reflecting on my favorite experiences inside a churchy setting.

Seriously. If anyone knows where I can experience a Mass that packs all the punches like that again in the US or abroad - let me know.   I'll want to add it to my travel list. My parish is awesome and often comes close, but there's no pipe organ (they've got an electric one... it's good, but it's just not the same.  A shame really because the organist is really really good.  I don't even know where there's a real pipe organ in use at a Catholic church around here.  Am I the only one that still likes that stuff? You can hear the wind moving through the pipes - it's awesome!  Vwhooooooom... that's the organ noise.)

In the meantime, anyone know anywhere I can hear a really awesome choir sing good  non-show-choir choral music?  As in not Glee? And free?  Ok, now I think I may be asking for too much.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Inspired By Iceland! (The Photo Recap)


I wrote a number of unpublished blogs and attempted to upload a number of videos whilst we were on our Icelandic excursion... but had issues with internet connectivity after the first few days and ended up not being able to upload more than photos to Facebook... and I uploaded A LOT.  So if you saw those, you pretty much have a good idea of what we did.

Now that we're back (and the internet is no longer working against me) I've been able to upload some of our original update videos which are not really relevant anymore. They cover the basic story.  I stuck them at the bottom of this blog... in case you're REALLY bored.  Yay.  

More importantly, back at my own fancy computer, I was able to go through my photos on a bigger screen and pick out some of my favorite non-people photos and get them into a blog so you can see some of the same incredible stuff we saw.  

Incredible.  

My camera and shoddy camera skills can't really even capture everything I saw.  Plus a good number of these photos were shot from a moving car...but. Still.

Námafjall - It looks like Mars and smells like rotten eggs smothered in moldy athlete's foot.

Námafjall - Bubbling Boiling Mud Pools

Námafjall - A Stinky Stinky Fumarole

Jökulsárlón - Glacial Lakes
 

Jökulsárlón - Blue Iceberg

Driving around Southern Iceland

Driving Around Southern Iceland

Vík í Mýrdal - Black Sand Beach - the Southernmost Tip of Iceland


Þingvellir - Continental Drifting

A touch of Lake Mývatn



Icelandic Moss - Actual Color!

The back side of  Eskifjördur - my dad's hometown.

Eskifjördur's waterfall (where we shot our travel update video #3!)

Some of us go to Húsavík for the whale watching... some of us go to Húsavík for a very unique museum... just sayin'.

Húsavík Church - a two minute walk from that extra special museum... just sayin'.

Icelandic Geese in Reykjavik

Icelandic Horses in Eskifjörður

Icelandic Sheep off to the side of a 4WD only road that we had to take to get to the waterfalls in North East Iceland.

Icelandic Spider... chillin near Skógafoss.

Jökulsárgljúfur National Park

Laki Lava Flow -  1783 the largest historic lava flow.

 Flowers Growing In Mountain Rocks.

Flowers Growing In Mountain Rocks.

Mýrdalsjökull Glacier

Driving around North Iceland to Akureyri. 

Reykjanes Fog

Planes over Reykjavik

Selfoss

Skogafoss

Þingeyrarkirkja - the church my great, great, great, great, great grandfather - Ásgeir Einarsson - built.

The inside of Þingeyrarkirkja

The altar at Þingeyrarkirkja

So, that's it for now.  There were a couple other photos I remember taking that I liked, but I couldn't find them in my late night stupor to get it uploaded here. Maybe I'll find them later.  Maybe I'll keep them just for me.  In any case it was an amazing trip - filled with incredible sights, great family and awesome adventures.  

We'll be back.

And for those of you with time to kill... I present Fast Movin' Fog

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Flailblog

The past few days I've been feeling a bit like this:




For no specific reason. Probably more because of a multitude of tiny reasons. 

Laundry. Calendars. Things. Sleep.

Yes, I can flail like that.  And I do.

I'm looking forward to July and August and the vacation they bring.

Soon.

Thursday, December 31, 2009

London Calling

First... some photos from our last day in Paris.


(the honey and macarons that I talked about in my last blog)



(Stella - the cheap beer in Paris @ our hotel's lounge. Me & a Kir Royal for our final dinner in Paris. Mike and his nasty Desperado... tequilla flavored beer. Who would want tequilla flavored beer?)

We did it again.

We fell asleep. For 12 hours yesterday. This time in London.

We win.

We got off the Eurostar at 8:30 AM in London after a 2.5 hour train ride, so I guess maybe we were pooped. We walked into a cafe at the station to let whatever bit of rush hour traffic might be left on the Underground over the holidays pass. The place was packed and there was a bit of a line which is always a good sign. We got a table and shoved our luggage into the corner and placed our order. As soon as the server left our table we heard this honking sound outside the cafe. The servers all stopped what they were doing and stepped outside to listen as a voice came over the intercom, we couldn't understand what was being said, but the servers came back in and sort of just watched for a moment. Outside, we could see that people were picking up their bags and leaving. Everything quieted down in the cafe and we could hear the announcement the next time it came over the intercom "This is an emergency evacuation - please calmly leave the building." The servers rolled their eyes but asked everyone to exit the building and if they still hadn't paid their tabs to come back and pay after the evacuation was over.

We gathered our things and headed out towards the exit where a crowd of people were waiting. We stood out there for about 3 minutes before everyone was let back in. Apparently it was a test that no one was really expecting (we've since heard them testing the system at other stations a number of times preceded by a "this is a test, ignore the next announcement") so we head back to the cafe and queued up next to the door so we could get our table back right away. The station is a ghost town with cups and plates on every table at every restaurant - and inside our cafe are two women wandering around looking lost.

Immediately we thought - holy crap, they were locked in!

The staff of the restaurant came back a bit later and told us that it would be about 20 more minutes till they could re-open. So we waited. The two women who were inside stepped outside near us and we asked them if they were locked in. They weren't. They were actually on a train that got in after ours. The train docked and they unloaded in the time that everyone else was evacuated, so they walked into a totally empty station with half eaten sandwiches, plates, hot coffee and unlocked doors everywhere. They looked lost because they thought that they had stepped into the twilight zone (maybe the rapture?)

They were a mother and daughter who lived in Northern England and had taken the train to spend the day in London. They had specifically planned to eat breakfast at this cafe and the daughter told us that she was thrilled to only have to wait 20 minutes to dine.

I don't remember the name of the cafe, but it was incredible. It seemd like it may have been some sort of UK chain that's similar to Panera (fresh breads, organic, free range, etc.) Had the best scone and cream I've ever had in my life. I haven't had too many scones, but that's mostly because the ones I've had in the past were so dry and icky. These were major yum. Fantastic quiche and delish tea. Mike had a ham and gruyere croissant which he scarfed, so I think that was good too.

We checked into our hotel (the K+K George - which is awesome and quite a bit bigger than our Paris hotel) and then off to the Tower of London for some gruesome fun. We had a tour with a Yeoman Guard (Beefeater) which was a great way to see the place. The constant drizzle was obnoxious, but I guess that's London.


(The view from our UK hotel room - I don't know what that is. An acorn from outerspace is my guess.
Our tour guide - hilarious.)


(That's a real person guarding the Crown Jewels at the Tower of London.
Me in front of the London Tower Bridge.)


Speaking of drizzle, let's discuss my hair.

My kick ass flat iron from home heats up to a steamy 480 degrees Fahrenheit. I need that kind of control. My hair is not naturally straight, it's not naturally curly, it's not naturally wavy. It's naturally weird. The bottom layers curl. The left side waves a bit. The top is just frizzy and there are a couple of areas on my head where I have genuinely straight hair. But those are mixed in with areas that have genuinely not-straight hair. Blow drying does a good job of poofing all the mixes of hair into a nice fro. Damp drizzle does a good job of turning that fro into a sloppy mess with curls near the top. So. Pretty.

Does sarcasm translate well here?

Moving on.

My awesome travel blow drier is dual voltage, so that was a win. My kick ass flat iron, is not - and it requires about as much power to work as a tv... or so I imagine.

Voltage converters and plug converters can't handle my flat iron because it's so awesome (Matt, we have to buy you a replacement voltage converter... I killed yours. Sorry.) There's only so much you can do to hide crazy hair and this morning I about lost it, so Michael went out in the morning and picked up a handy $30 Remington flat iron from the local Boots store. I am happy again. And so is my hair.

We checked out Portobello Market today and got our London souvenir. A wooden shoe horn with a duck head. We named him George. Tonight we're getting some kind of fancy pizza at a place that Mike had talked about for a while and spending New Years in a local lounge with drunk Brits (we had no desire to brave the crowds at Trafalger Square - we wouldn't want to go to Times Square, or Vegas on NYE, so why would we do it now?)

Happy New Year from the future! See you all next year!

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Macaron Mania

I’m writing this blog on a train crossing the Chunnel from Paris into London.

Yesterday was our last full day in Paris – we spent it wandering around the little streets and shops in the Left Bank and Latin Quarter areas surrounding our hotel. It might have been my favorite experience in Paris although it wasn’t without a couple of hitches here and there.

A while back I had sampled a few macarons from a Beverly Hills based macaron maker. My life was kind of changed and I would by lying if I said that part of my reason for wanting to visit Paris in the first place wasn’t about a macaron.

So, I had done my research and came across a blog all about macarons. Amazing. They reviewed every store from the big ones right down to the little ones and in the top spot was one of the biggest names in Parisian macarons, Lauduree. There just happened to be one in our area, so I planned ahead and knew I’d be buying a boatload of those precious little cookie-cake-jam-gooey-happiness things.

We get there and it’s very French. As in, everyone is speaking French. Apparently (and this is new to me) I don’t speak French. Ok, I knew that going in, but I was pretty sure I’d be fluent in French by day three in Paris – enough to order my macarons with no issues.

The little dude who helped me out spoke a bit of English, so that was cool but every time I’d say one, he’d say two. And every time I said two, he grabbed one. And when I said three, he’d pick two. And when I said five he’d grab three. So. I should have known that maybe there would be an issue here.

Meanwhile, the whole store (which is the size of my kitchen – very small) sounds like a henhouse. A French henhouse. People are coming up to the register and ringing things up, people are bustling around and I’m scared.

So the dude at the counter rings up my order. In French. I have no idea what he’s saying. I want my macarons. Let me sign the damn paper and let’s get out of here. The bill was steep. About $150 steep. Something seemed wrong, but I was already out of the store and macarons are expensive and I bought a couple gift sets. I felt a bit like crying, this was more than I had thought but whatever. I wanted my macarons.

We get back to the hotel and I look over the receipt and realize there’s a 2x in front of the most expensive gift set I picked up. I start to panic. I DON’T SPEAK FRENCH AND I WANT MY MONEY BACK!!!

Mike suggests we go downstairs to see if the front desk can help us. They do. They call up the store and explain to the Lauduree folk (in French) what happened. We hightail it back to the store and get our refund, problem solved. Phew.

We shop around a bit more and pick up some specialty Parisian honey. Incredible. I guess French bees are kind of a big deal. I had no idea.

We get back to the hotel and I check the condition of my macarons – a few have cracked. I’m worried about their ability to survive the rest of the trip. I look over the silly little French pamphlets and read the lines that will forever haunt me:

Macarons should be consumed within 3 days of purchase.

Damnit. I bought them as gifts.

I’m thinking this is just some fancy thing that they talk about “best by date” which really isn’t something we should take seriously. Right? I’ll keep them chilled and they’ll be fine, right? Right?

So.

Hopefully they’ll survive. If not, I hope you understand.