Giving and Receiving in Life and Travel

“Why worry? What is meant for you is always meant to find you.” – Indian poet-saint Lalleshwari

One of the challenges of getting started on a grand adventure, or feeling ‘settled’ or ‘comfortable’ in every day life, is money, and worry.

Everyone I know always has something to say about money. I need it, I want it, I don’t have it, I spend it, it was given to me, etc. Everyone has some kind of feeling about the precious dollar bill.

Although I have always had what I needed, and then some, I have always worried about money. Having enough, making enough, not making any so making sure that I save enough.

Enough for…? Well, to make my wildest dreams come true of course! For my babies that I don’t have, my house that I don’t currently want, my furthering education that I haven’t yet decided on, and the big move that I know I will some day make.

A finite truth, in this life, is that money is freedom. A common misconception, in my opinion, is that money is power. Debate that as you wish, but one thing for sure is that nothing has power in one’s life unless one gives it the power. And what that means, is that when a person gives power to their fears or worries, it becomes the rule of their life. It’s true for anything or anyone in life. For a long time, my holding, saving, and carefully spending, was my way of giving money the power. I hoarded it for myself to rid myself of negative feelings that came from the possibility of lack. Money had the power to make me worry, fear, and sometimes to miss out on what I wanted. When I gave gifts I felt immense join, but always accompanied by worry for the shortage that might come afterwards.

But there never was a shortage. The more I gave of my time, and my money, the more I received those things from others tenfold. The more I said I would have no money, the truer it became. The more I lived as if there wouldn’t be a shortage, the more plentifully I received in the exact way that I wanted or needed.

The less I worried and feared, the less I would encounter things that I had previously worried and feared about.

The trick has become thus; trust in the Universe - trust in the Lord, trust in God – and the supply of the Divine will be endless. God is a bottomless pit of goodness, rightness, wealth, health, and happiness and He/She gives it out freely. All I have to do is ask. In fact, all I have to do is say what I want to be true and give love and gratitude to the world around me while expecting nothing in return. “Fake it till you make it.” (Pretend to be healthy, full of love, happy, abundant, and eventually your life will be made into that. It is tricking the ego into not worrying or fearing by convincing deepest desires – the ego – that it is satisfied. And so satisfaction will be thus.) At least, that’s the method I’ve been trying, and so far, God’s supply has never been short for my Path of Life’s demand. “Knock and the door shall be opened unto ye. Seek and ye shall find” – Bible, Matthew 7:7.

But, “When you knock, [make sure to] ask to see God… not any of the self-appointed intermediaries.” – Henry David Thoreau

The Bible says, “Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap” – Bible, Galatians 6:7. Meaning, whatever one says, or does in this life will return to them. (Karma.)

The message, when it comes to worry and fear, is to live as if it doesn’t exist. Concern for worries or fears attracts or brings on more worry or fears. Instead, I try to take all the power away from it. My concern has always been money, and so to get rid of that concern, I must live as if I am rich! Giving to people left and right, buying what my heart says is needed or desired (with goodness and cheerfulness), and trusting in God to provide me with what is right and good in His time and according to His Perfect Goodness. Then I will be rich, always having what I need or want because, through the Grace of God, there is no alternative other than happiness and abundance. With no worry or fear, that’s what ya get.

In the Orthodox Christian Church we pray at a funeral or memorial for the reposed to live in a place where there is no “pain, sorrow, or suffering.” In this life, none of those things can exist if I give the power to God and not fear or worry. Evil is the word for fear, negativity, and worry. There’s no evil, if I don’t give those things the power over my feelings, my behavior, or my beliefs. Instead I have begun to try hard to hand over all of the power to the Will of God, and the Divine Plan. You cannot serve God (Perfect Goodness) and evil (worry/fear) at the same time. “Ye cannot serve two masters.” - Matthew 6:24

And so, I have begun to throw all caution to the wind. My life is blossoming with love, and fullness. I pray for God to open the way for great abundance, health, and happiness, and give me what is good and right that belongs to me according to His Will. Sometimes I pray for peace and patience, and for God to give me a sign that will help me relieve negative energy so that I can be filled with light.

The funny thing is, that it works. Prayer works, and not because I feel light and pretty afterwards. God literally gives answers that are tangible and solution based – that give me the exact sign or message I need at the exact right time to bring me what is perfectly good and right. Its not really what I think of or what I want, but it is always good and always what God demands I need.

“All things whatsoever ye ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive” – Matthew 21:22

“I tell you, you can pray for anything, and if you believe that you've received it, it will be yours.” - Matthew 11:24

In order to go on my around-the-world adventure, I had to completely release my hold on money. After all, I am going to spend all that I have, and probably more than I currently have, with no intention to work for money along the way.  I’ll volunteer in exchange for housing and food, but I haven’t considered working for money. I want to give of myself as much as I can, and having a job doesn’t feel like Divine Will, it feels like work for money. Its possible that having a job would be Divine Will but I am not seeking one. The right income will find me at the right time.

When I began my trip and people asked me why I would do it, one of their concerns was the money I would be spending. “Don’t you want to spend it on a house? Or save it for your wedding? Or your children?” As I said before, these were reasons I had always saved and attempted at frugality for. And isn't it selfish not to save for my children and their future? But, for some Divine reason, whenever someone asked me these questions, my automatic response was, ‘why worry? I have plenty of time to make it all back.’ Now if someone were to ask I would say the same thing, but I wouldn’t wonder at all why that was my automatic response. Worry is irrelevant. God will supply.

And, “There is a supply for every demand.” – Florence Scovel Shinn

In order to start my journey I had to release my hold on whatever was in my bank account. Seeing the number get bigger over years of odd jobs always made me happy. But now, seeing the number get smaller makes me feel like I haven’t wasted anything, I feel fulfilled and open to the Divine Plan. I haven’t hoarded any goodness. I’m sharing it with the world – and I believe that money is just as much a representation of the flow of goodness as tangible acts of kindness. Keeping, saving, hoarding, or not distributing money in some way feels vain or selfish now. Even saving for my (not yet existing) children feels that way. Of course they will have the right amount at the right time. I’m not the one who makes or breaks their future and neither is money. How can God supply if I don't always trust That He/She will?

But I’m finding also that, just as willingness to spend and keep the circulation of money and goodness flowing in the world can benefit my soul, so can receiving. I am a really bad receiver. I can't take a compliment, and I almost instantly refuse any and all spontaneous gifts offered to me. 'No, no, you keep it.' Or 'Let's split it.' Instead of, 'thank you, that's really sweet.'

“Never turn down a free meal.” – Nasser

A friend I made in Norway gave me the wise advice to never turn down a free meal, and I am taking it one step further. Just as I am meant to give, I am also meant to receive. Even when a poor man gives, I must imagine him prosperous and receiving tenfold, and that is how I can receive with gratitude and humility. Refusing a gift, for whatever negative reason (which it always is) blocks the Divine flow of goodness and leaves the person lacking even more than the gift they originally refused to recieve. Turning down a gift may be the same as ignoring God’s Will outright. How insulting! I think that, maybe, we are meant to receive because we are meant to be grateful, and how can one be grateful if one never accepts anything they are meant to receive? A humble and grateful heart will always receive as much as he/she gives – and so the pattern continues.

Traveling has opened my life to the cycle of giving and receiving – and in doing so I give up my hold on my life and my money. I try to surrender to the Lord, as one might say. And the only thing that I can absolutely expect without a doubt, is that whatever comes to pass will be good and right for me.

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An interesting anecdote occurred in my life after I had finished writing this blog entry. My mom and I arrived in Milan via train from Venice. After exiting the train station we walked to the taxi stand because we didn’t want to walk with our luggage in the rain. While in line, a man who was hard of hearing, was begging for money with a sad little dog that he kept in his carriage. I gave him some of my change thinking I need to give more and not hold onto goodness. A few minutes later I asked if I could pet the dog and he said a lot of things in Italian from which I gathered was something like “you have to pay me 2 Euro to pet me dog.” The gall on this guy, I thought. Annoyed with the man, at charging to pet his sad dog, and because I already paid him, I decided to just fain ignorance saying “I don’t speak Italian, I don’t understand” and move on. Shortly down the line (it was a rather long taxi line) I saw a woman in raggedy clothes begging for money. I thought, I already gave all my change to that guy and he turned out to give me a bad feeling... But I have to have faith that God provides. I have a few Euros, and why would I hold onto it if I know God will provide? So I gave the lady a Euro. To my delight and surprise she was extraordinarily grateful. She lit up like a Christmas tree, thanking me profusely. All I could say was, dios te bendiga in Spanish, which means “God bless you.” As I turned away to rejoin my mom, I thought: she was so grateful, I should go back and give her 20 Euro. I wonder what effect that has on someone begging, to receive 20 Euro. Will she beg more thinking “oh this works” or will she see that it is a sign from God? Nonetheless we were rushed into a taxi a moment later and because I didn’t get to give the woman more money I said a prayer under my breath, ‘God I trust that you will provide what is good and right in abundance for that woman and for me to continue to share Your goodness.’

A few hours later, my mom and I went to a quaint local restaurant a short walk from our hotel. The food was divine and the waitress - who laughed, was patient, and enjoyed our complex language barrier interaction - was full of light. But that’s not part of my anecdote. Towards the end of dinner, a woman walked by our table, bent over and picked up a 20 Euro bill and asked if it was mine. I thought right away that it was, because my pocket was unzipped and had a 20 in it. So I took it. But when I counted the total I realized it was extra, and immediately (for some Divine reason) the image of the woman at the train station popped into my head and I felt her immense sense of gratitude. Foolishly ignoring the sign from God, I thought maybe that the waitress dropped a 20 from the check she just walked by with. I said to my mom, ‘It may be a gift from God, or maybe the waitress dropped it. I will know which it is based on whether the waitress takes it or not.’ The waitress said it wasn’t hers. I realized after some more reflection, that I had written this blog earlier in the day about giving and receiving. And even so, I didn’t claim what God gave me as my own, I tried to re-gift it to the waitress rather than be grateful for it. God was teaching me a lesson. He was thanking me for continuing to have faith after the man with the dog nearly made me doubt, and he was teaching me to recieve as graciously as I was willing to give. I immediately said a prayer, “God thank you for your abundance and for teaching me humility and gratitude. I will claim what belongs to me according to Your Will and trust that you will continue to grant me health, happiness and abundance in Your time and according to what is right in Your Perfect Goodness.”

And that was the end.

Saluti de Italia

Italy is more of a shopping haven, and an art history utopia than anything else. Since I am a big fan of both, it is probably one of the best places to vacation. Not for sports fanatics, unless you're checking out the Italian Alps, but definitely for chefs, fashionistas, and art nerds. I am the latter.

Venice

The roads, or rather, the waterways of Venice complete the absolute stigmatic movie version of what I imagined the city to be. I took water busses from place to place through the Venezian Laguna and the Grand Canal. I watched gondolas fill canals, the width of a mini-coupe, and I breathed in the highly sophisticated street music. Literally, street musicians playing classical music wearing tuxedos and bow ties. 

For the first time since I began my travels, I shopped plentifully for gifts and spent hours looking in shops at the highly advanced Murano glass, and masquerade stores.

On the island of Murano, one could roam the wide streets and canals with ease. Since it is not a part of the main tourist island - where the Galleria alla Academia, Piazza de San Marco, or the Rialto bridge are - there was no rush or congestion. But there were shops, full of locally blown glass that has been part of a tradition dating back to the 1700s. Murano is the pioneer for glass blowing and mails their art all over the world. I saw beautiful glass flower chandeliers, glass statues of peacocks and horses, glass clocks and tea sets - all with advanced decorative art and colors burned into the design. I even had the opportunity to watch glass blowers do their work as they gave me a quick educational breakdown.

And now I'll break it down for you, in case you're interested.

To become a Murano glass artist, one must train under a Master glass blower for 15 to 20 years. There are only 20ish masters in the world and they all work on the island of Murano. There are certainly more than that who are trained in the techniques, but they wouldn't be Murano Glass Masters. There are also plenty of apprentices who bowed out and never became Masters. But still having trained for 10 years or so before getting the master status, whose to say they aren't masters in their own right?

I came across one of the dropouts when I was near the Santa Maria Gloriosa de Frari Basilika (the Frari for short). He trained over 30 years ago as an apprentice in Murano glass blowing. Now, he and his wife own a small shop where he creates his very own Murano designs right in the shop. I was mesmerized for a little while, looking at all the long colorful sticks of glass that would later become birds, trees, earings, horses, and more.

The only thing about Murano glass that I found to be quite the turnoff, was that there is tons of waste from the artistic creations every day. And no recycling. This is art after all, who will use a piece of junk to remelt it and create somethigg new? Apparently no one. Not even to donate somewhere for the city to make drinking bottles. Nothing. Because it is a world renowned mass producing industry, I was more than a little disappointed to learn about the harm it is doing to the environment.

So we move on.

One of my favorite parts of Venice (other than the window shopping and leather browsing) was the Frari Basilika. I had studied Titian (Tiziano) in a couple different art history classes, and so standing in the splendor of the Frari I was in the presence of the tomb of Titian and over the altar was his masterpiece of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary. Since my mom had been to Venice before, I was excited to guide her through the streets to a place she hadn't seen. I was even more excited to see her look full of awe and curiosity when we entered.

Venice was beautiful, and definitely unique. However, after the first day I felt somewhat exhausted by it all. The transportation by boat is far overpriced for a leisurely gondola ride, or a private water taxi, and the water bus system can take a really long time. So being on the water so much in the slow paced water busses - when I am already worn out from long days of walking and site seeing - it really just put me to sleep. I'm like a baby in my crib rocking back and forth. I felt very blessed to experience for myself the history and man-made beauty of the Laguna Venezia. I enjoyed navigating through the mazes of the city coming across piazza after piazza and plaza after plaza, and finding statues and monuments thousand of years old. I loved listening to Umberto Tizzo every morning on the radio playing in the lobby of our hotel, and I really liked that the place we were staying was on a totally separate island from the main island of Venice. However beautiful and fascinating it was, I felt just as grateful to move on to Milan for something different that my mom and I had both never experienced.

Milan

The capital of the northwest of Italy, is surprisingly not much to be desired. It may be the fashion capital, but only for reaaaaally wealthy people. My mom and I walked up and down the fashion district streets on our first day. The most fantastic part about it was the elevorate window decorations and displays. Some brands had mosaics in the windows, some had beautiful lanterns and chandeliers hanging, and a surprising amount of them currently have some kind of forrest design with trees. Some of it though, was a little appalling to me. In windows of countless high class Italian brands were leather for babies for thousands of dollars, leather pants for maternity, toddler manequins in tuxedos and minks. I wonder if for the maternity pants they would have to buy a new outfit for every trimester. How is a pregnant woman going to wear skinny-leather pants? And how is a baby going to not ruin a fur white dress?

It felt like such a waste. But it was a waste that was at the bud if the jokes my mom and I made for the rest of the day.

Aside from the phenomenal archetecture of the Duomo, and the amazing art created by names like Da Vinci, Titian, Crespo, Tiepolo, Bellini, Polo, and Caravaggio, my mom and I had the most amazing and intimate experience at a local restaurant. A place not very touristic, and with hardly any English speakers, my mom and I enjoyed a delicious homemade meal. The waitress, who i menioned in my previous blog entry, was so patient and full of light that I left her a note in Italian telling her just that. My mom and I enjoyed the experience so much that we returned to the restaurant the next night. The waitress, Maria, was not there. As it turned out though, her mother Teresa, and her uncle Antonio are the owners. Teresa and I had an interesting conversation in Italian and Spanish about the history of her restaurant and she told me that everyone who worked there was family! I told her how much I loved Maria the night before, and Teresa asked me if I was the one who wrote the note. Hold the phone, Maria was so equally-as-pumped about our positive interaction that she went home and told her mom about it? How amazing is that! I told Teresa how I hoped God would bless her family and her business because they are all so full of love. 

During the meal my mom and I had admired the Teateo alla Scala opera certificates that hung all over the restaurant. (Teatro alla Scala is a world renowned house of classical opera, and we couldnt get tickets because it is currently closed and only showing on Sundays.) Teresa must have overheard us admiring them, because when we paid and went to thank her before leaving, she insisted on giving me a certificate! She hugged and kissed us (something not usually done with tourists) and sent us on our way with a gift! How amazing! I really never cared about going there for the food, it just felt so warm and homie at the Da Cecco Ristorante Pizzeria.

The warmth of people is enough to make a fire.

The next day, mom and I created our own day trip to Lake Como. Where we got to ride the steepest funicular in Europe and hike a little in the Italian Alps.

It was a fantastic day full of views, and exploring. Unfortunately, we were unable to find George Clooney at his Bellaggio home on Lake Como. But we did see this

 

On our last day, after a few hours of additional Italian Renaissance art at the Pinoteca de San Ambrogia and the Pintocea de Brera, we were on our way to Rome! San Ambrogia had auch beautiful stained glass and a marble staircase with a mosaic wall that you can see below. And who can resist some Caravaggio and Crespo to end a visit? Well maybe my mom, but I couldnt. 

So now, we end in Rome and I will make some quick summaries from there. Italy, more or less, was full of friendly hospitality, however we encountered a lot of tourist haters as well. Particularly in Rome. I don't blame them, since Rome is so overpopulated and crowded with tourism, its probably easy to look at someone visiting as someone taking advantage of a culture. In Saint Peter's Basillica 25,000 tourists pass through Vatican City and the Basilica every day. Don't even bother trying to get a bite to eat over there because, as I've learned, where there are tourists there are exploitations of tourists - high prices, and fake authenticity (meaning, you get a veiled view of the culture the exploiters think you should see, or will make them more money). 

The first night we walked around eating gelato and Roman pizza. We passed the Trevi fountain, which was surrounded by tourists in mourning because the fountain is currently covered in scaffolding. All around were women crying saying things like, "I traveled around the world to come see this." Probably should have checked the internet, ay? Just like mom and I didn't think to reserve our tickets 2 months in advance to see da Vinci's "Last Supper" in Milan, so we missed out. 

This time, I didn't make the same mistake of doing things last minute. So, the first thing I did was go to the Santa Maria della Vittoria church to see Bernini's sculpture of The Ecstasy of Saint Theresa. It is one of my favorite sculptures because it is so authentic by being faithful, beautiful, and a little risque at the same time. Saint Theresa is being pierced by a happy little angel. The story that Bernini depicts is found written by saint Theresa in once of her journals of a vision she had.

Beside me, on the left, appeared an angel in bodily form.... He was not tall but short, and very beautiful; and his face was so aflame that he appeared to be one of the highest rank of angels, who seem to be all on fire.... In his hands I saw a great golden spear, and at the iron tip there appeared to be a point of fire. This he plunged into my heart several times so that it penetrated to my entrails. When he pulled it out I felt that he took them with it, and left me utterly consumed by the great love of God. The pain wasso severe that it made me utter several moans. The sweetness caused by this intense pain is so extreme that one cannot possibly wish it to cease, nor is one's soul content with anything but God. This is not a physical but a spiritual pain, though the body has some share in it—even a considerable share.

After Santa Maria della Vittoria, I went to San Luigi dei Francesca where 4 of Caravaggio's best known masterpieces are kept on permanent display. The church, like all 400 churchs in Rome, was art in and of itself. Beautiful.

Amazing as these were. The best part of Rome, aside from seeing La Traviata Opera, was our tour of Saint Peter's Basilica, and a cooking class that we left Rome for.

The Vatican, having been crowded and congested, was still such a gift to see. All over Rome and Vatican City I saw fountains and sculptures by Bernini, Barberini, and Michelangelo. Inside I saw frescos and oil paintings by Rafael, Michelangelo, Botichelli, Da Vinci, Giotto, Caravaggio, Bellini, Titian and many more. Enough beautiful, perfect, and gifted art pieces to make my eyes pop and water. A truly blessed feeling to be in the presence of magnificent brilliance and talent.

I even snapped a "selfie" in order to stealthily capture the famous "Gensis" fresco that covers the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. 

A "fresco" is a particularly difficult type of painting to do because it is plaster. Michelangelo took 4 years of his life to paint something he initially refused to do by insisting he was only a sculptor. For 4 years, he made square foot by square foot of the painting, permanently twisting his back and causing problems with his hands. To make a fresco, one must create a small wet section of the plaster, add color, and let dry. Once it is dry nothing can be changed, it is then part of the building wall. It must be a perfect design and perfectly executed.

It was breathtaking.

Walking into St Peter's Basilica was equally breathtaking. In the center over the alter is a 10 story tall bronze gazebo sculpture made by Bernini from the bronze roof shingles that used to be on the Pantheon. Romans were pretty upset with that Pope.

I don't have a picture, but its once of those things, like all of the art I saw, that cannot be justified through a lens other than the eyes. Inside the Basilica were small chapels to the sides of the center walkway where I was blessed to venerate San Papa Giovanni Paolo II (Saint Pope John Paul II) and San Papa Giovanni XXIII (Saint Pope John XXIII)'s bodies. They are on display in a tomb. I chose not to venerate the remains of Saint Peter in the burial area below the church, mainly because I was quite exhausted, but also because I don't need to stare a dead body in the face in order to venerate the life that it was once filled with.

This was our second to last day in Rome, and it was a quite long day of walking.

On our very last day we went to a village in Manzzano. Population: 50.

There we participated in a cooking class alongside a fantastic Argentine couple (Marta & Enrique). The bubbly local Italian woman who taught the class, Monica, struggled with her Spanish, and my mom was the only one who didn't speak any Spanish. Nonetheless, we all were able to communicate and my mom was able to understand most of the conversation. 

During the class we learned how to make traditional meat bruschetta, village pizza, different pastas and raviolis, and tiramisu.

It was a perfect ending to my time with my mom and in Italy.

Now, I admit I rushed through this blog a little bit towards the end. Reason being, I am now in Morocco with both of my parents traveling the country and taking in all of the new and interesting things. Everything is a hundred miles a minute and Italy feels like 600 years ago (but really 3 days ago, and that was a bad Renaissance joke since everything in Italy is from the 1400-1600s).

I am loving it and feeling so blessed and grateful to have this adventure and to be with my parents. There will be sooo much more to come so stayed tuned! 

Thanks for reading

cheers

Switzerland & The Alps

Being here, in this beautiful, diverse, mountainous nation, has brought me center and restored any faith that I had lost along the way.

It's mysterious and beautiful the way that the world opens up to a person whose heart is open. Between being sick, and alone, I had forgotten to be lovingly open, not just welcomingly open. There is a difference between inviting someone to be your friend, and loving someone whether or not they are invited. My ducks starting lining up in a row when I met my mom in Zurich.

After a day of train travel from Munich, I arrived at the bed and breakfast where my mom had been adjusting her clock for the last 24 hours. A wave of relief swept over me when the door to her hotel room opened and I saw that beautiful smiling face. During our reuniting and meaningful embrace we held on tightly and jumped up and down spinning in circles saying things like, "Weeeeeee," "We're in Switzerland!"

My mom and I will be "weeeeeeee"ing from here on out.

Zurich
A beautiful, atypical, tram-type European city, on the border of a lake with the Swiss Alps sitting happily in the distance. Since one night in Zurich was not really a love story of any kind, and I was lacking quite a bit of energy, our time was spent walking nearby the hotel and seeing the red carpet for the premiere of the annual Zurich International Film Festival. Ignoring the yoga pants and under armour, my mom and I strutted down the red carpet as if we were wearing diamonds and mink fur. And although we weren't staying in town long enough to see some of the well-known names that would come through during the festival, we were able to see Ally Sheedy with her family, and enjoy our own imaginary premiere. The grand debut, at the Zurich Film Festival, starring actresses Mama and Daughter in their award winning, "New England Girls take on the Swiss."

Lucerne (Luzern)
Entering into the lakeside town of Lucerne was an instant romance. The bridges connecting the East and Western parts of the city were adorned with red flowers, and Swiss flags. The buildings had uniquely cherry-topped steeples and were close to the water's edge where people sat on steps feeding gorgeous white swans. On the western side of the lake was a hill steep enough so that buildings and roads zigzagged alongside. Just off across the water from the train station, staring into the eyes of the Alps, was our hotel.

It has been such a blessing to be able to stay in a room with only my mama, and not a number of strangers who snore, and fart in their sleep, or don't sleep at all but move around their bags packing and unpacking all night - so loudly that earplugs dont make a bit of difference. Such a relief to be taken care of and loved by one of the biggest forces of love in my life. Such a blessing to have a shower with hot water, and for it to be my decision whether the lights are on or off for me.

The hotel was beautiful, and friendly and because of the steep hill, there was an elevator/tram that brought us from the hotel down to three other hotels, and down to the main street that follows along the lakes edge.

My mom was so happy to be with me and to be in Switzerland and to have all of these miraculous blessings, that she skipped down the hall, throwing her arms carelessly in the air as she gazelled her way from the stairs to the room like a school girl's first day of summer vacation. I wish I filmed it. Her happiness is radiating and contagious.

Mt Titlis
On our first full day in Lucerne, we left for a day trip to one of the nearby Alpine mountains called Mt. Titlis. The tour guide who was bringing us to the mountain, was introduced over the intercom - several times - as the "guide for the Titlis people," and the "Titlis guide."

Only my mom and I laughed. New England girls are trilingual in English, sarcasm, and dirty jokes.

I knew nothing about traveling up these mountains, other than - dress warm! First we took a bus to the base of a tram. Then, the tram took us at a steady incline up to another base. There we entered a line of Thai, Chinese and Indians waiting to go onto what looked like a ski lift. The lifts, however, were Ferris Wheel-like carriages that took up to 4 people several stops, higher and higher for thousands of feet. The white top of the mountain was close at hand! After zigzagging through the station where the ferris-ski-lift went through an array of turns and pully systems, we jumped off and entered another lift-carriage. This one, the size of a subway or tram car, squeezed in as many as 50 people into a rectangular space leaving only hanging wristlets to hold onto for balance. Afterwards, we went through one more station before getting onto a rapidly inclining, and rotating circular car, similar to the last.

Now we take a deep breath. We are at 3,238m (10,600ft)

We walked up the stairs and out to the plateau of snow on top of, what was now, a glacier. Making sure to move slowly, since at this altitude - and having ascended within only an hour - I felt my heart thumping and the need to catch my breath more frequently. 

Please note: My mother and I are both scared of heights.

But it was no time to be scared. I'm learning more and more through my travels, that there is no such thing as fear or evil. Since God/The Universe/Higher Power (whatever you call Her) is the Supreme Being, there cannot be any counter supremacy. Evil can only be created from fear, worry, stress, and negativity. We make it. Trust in God means, literally, nothing can go wrong because it is in the name of Perfect Goodness. And even wrong means that we have a plan or an idea of what is right rather than trusting in Gods plan or idea.

So, for the first time in my life, I trusted God to take care of me in a way that made all of my fears stop existing. And this is what I got in return.  

My mom and I went on a ski lift with our legs hanging at 10,000ft. We went on a panorama catwalk, wobbling and bouncing all the way. We had the time of our lives throwing snowballs and walking through the igloo caves inside the glacier!

We were fearless, and flawless. We were told by several engineers on the mountain that the sun was bright and strong for the first time in two months - a reflection of us. We are bright and strong... Particularly my mom.

Now that we were fearless, the dangling cars on lifts rapidly declining thousands of feet down the mountain became fun. We "weee'd" and "wooo'd" on every dip and dive until we finally reached the bottom.

I caught a cold from the elevation and contrasting climates, but nothing a little rest and Mother Daughter Time couldn't cure. Nothing I didn't automatically love just because I got to have this breathtaking experience and be where I was. 

Interlaken

The day after our Mt Titlis adventure, the itinerary was to move on to a town that literally is called "Between the Lakes" in German. I insisted to my mother before leaving Lucerne, that we had to hand feed the swans on the lake nearby the train station. So after an hour of hand feeding and petting swans (I was even bitten by one who thought my finger was bread) we headed to the quaint town between the lakes.

Interlaken was much like a seaside New England home. 5,000 inhabitants, and 5,000 tourists during their busy season. Full of Edelweiss themed shops, Swiss watches galore, and local Swiss foods. In case I didn't mention it before, edelweiss is a beautiful white flower that grows throughout the Alps in Austria, Germany, Switzerland, France, and Italy - and its also a song sung in the Sound of Music. 

The Swiss foods were interesting because of the farming, cheese, and survive-at-whatever-cost lifestyle/history in the Alps. I even sadly, but triumphantly, ate a horse meat stroganoff with rösti (hash browns). A bit gamey like buffalo or near-raw steak, but not like moose or deer.

I love horses. I even went to horseback-riding camp once as a kid. I think one taste is enough for a lifetime for me.

Jungfraujoch

On one of our days in Interlaken, mom and I journeyed our way up to the top of a mountain known as "the Top of Europe" at 3,591m (11,782ft). The name of the mountain was Jungefraujoch and is the only accessible climate research station year-round in Europe.

It was the highest altitude I had ever been to, and only 4,000ft shy of the highest mountain in Europe - Mont Blanc.

I hiked Mount Monadnock in New Hampshire this past summer - it took 6 hours and was 965m (3,166ft). The altitude of Interlaken between the Alpine Mountains was 1,300m (4,265ft). And from there was our starting point to Jungefraujoch.

Different from Titlis, the journey up to the JungeFrau (meaning Young Lady) was much smoother. The tracks originally took 20 years to build and were finished in 1911. We were taken on several different old fashioned trains along the mountain through remote ski towns. First changing trains at 7,000ft and then again at 9,000 ft. The ride made for breathtaking views and a relaxed atmosphere, with lots of photography.

At the top, mom and I breathed deeply and went to all of the decks where we could see the panoramic views around us.

It was a majestic view of something touched by the hand of God. It did not look like vanilla ice cream! Unless your vanilla ice cream is made with the breath of life and the flavor of heaven.

Afterward, I walked through what I called the 'Ice Zoo.' A long cave, or igloo, of ice with ice statues of bears, penguins, wolves, eagles, and a random overly sized carving of Sherlock Holmes. Afterward, with the little energy we had left, I guided my mom through the tunnels of the mountain to the "snow fun" area. By the time we hiked there I had lost most of my energy. Hiking a few miles at that elevation felt almost like the end of a day after climbing Mount Monadnock. I wanted a hot bath and a long nap.

Just over the entrance of the cave where we exited to see the plateau of snow sports on top of the mountain, there was a zipline from 11,000ft down to the tobogganing hill. My concern wasn't at all heights at this point, but I was feeling drained and out of breath (I also had a bald cold). So I encouraged my mom to enjoy zip-lining for the first time in her life. I would have deeply regretted the decicion to bow-out if it hadn't been for a previous zip-lining adventure two years ago in the Dominican Republic.

Mom was totally up for the challenge. She is fearless!

I videoed her wild ride, and cheered her on, as she screamed (with joy, not fear) down the wire. First, waving furiously at me, then screaming loudly and holding on tight as she sped up, and then sliding on her bottom through the snow at the end.

I was a proud daughter! I yelled, "Yeah, mama!" And the woman next to me turned and said, "That's your mother?"

This time after leaving the top of the Alps, I suggested we stop at 7,000ft to adjust for a little while and have dinner. There we ate really interesting food. One was a pizza made of thick Swiss cheese (the kind that tastes like creamy mild Swiss, not like the kind with holes in it) and instead of pizza on bread it was made on top of a rösti. A pancake of a hash brown made into pizza = röstizza. Better than any pizza I ever had. While mom ate that, I had good ol'Swiss mac and cheese with a few twists. For instance, someone of pure genius decided to throw in a dollop of sour cream, bacon, and warm applesauce.

From there, mom and I both developed a good amount of coughing and sinus fits before we moved on to Geneva. Altitude can really do a number on ya if youaren't  prepared. I have altitude medication for trekking in the Hamilayas, and in case I hike Macchu Picchu, but it never occurred to me that I might use it in the Alps.

Geneva

It was for that reason that, after spending a few hours of sightseeing in Geneva, that we would spend the rest of the time resting. So in between French food and fondue, we sipped tea, read, and rested to our hearts content.

It didn't take a lot of effort for me to fall in love with Geneva anyway. Its more of a melting pot than London, more of an internationally political powerhouse than Stockholm, and more of a humanitarian mecca than Oslo (where the Nobel Peace  Prize Center is). I got to see the home of one of the most famous U.N buildings, called "the U.N Palace" and cruise around Geneva at leisure, taking it all in.

Geneva is such a various combination of cultures that it solidifies Switzerland's place in my book of naturally beautiful, authentic, and adventurous cultures. They are one step ahead in humanitarianism, eco-friendly lifestyles, and new-wave politics (compared to the Europe I've seen so far).

I find that in some countries people are extra friendly with tourists, some are extra pushy with tourists, and some want to stay away from tourists all together. Switzerland seemed to be the latter. Of course, people working in tourism are usually friendly no matter the country, because in the end, they get paid because of you and poor hospitality management can ruin individual jobs or effect their city's overall economy. So where there are tourist attractions there are friendly locals, or so it went in Switzerland. Privately owned small shops are always the exception. But certainly the landscape and possibilities of sports adventures make the country comparable to Norway, or anywhere else with glaciers, alpines, or fjords. It really was breathtaking.

From what I saw, most of Switzerland has a Swiss-German culture. I encountered an Oktoberfest here and there, and lots of pride in traditional or local music. In the south, where the Swiss Alps turn into Italian and French, the culture becomes Swiss-French. In fact, some Swiss-Germans told me that they don't like the French influence. People understood German when I spoke it, but even when I said 'gezundheit' to someone who sneezed on the train, the response was "merci." For that reason, it was interesting to travel from one end of the country to another, and - without crossing boarders - to feel as though I passed through time zones on ancient railways, and through cultures without even batting an eye.

Although Geneva had a splendid mixture of French, Italian, Spanish and German, it was still thoroughly Swiss. On our final night of Swiss travel before heading to Lyon, France for a day, my mom and I enjoyed a traditional Swiss meal. We went to a hotel called Edelweiss. At the restaraunt we ate in a log-cabin-esque two story room complete with yodelers and talented musicians who played at least half a dozen authentic instruments. My mom and I even got to give an old-college-try at playing the alpinehorn during one of the songs. The alphorn is a hollow wooden instrument made of spruce and bound together by birch bark. It looks like a really long trumpet (10 to 13 ft) and is played by blowing into a single mouthpiece - the one all of the yodelers are pictured playing on Ricola boxes and in commercials. Originally it was used by shephards.

At the Edelweiss, we ate fondue with hot oil, which was fascinating. The raw steak, duck, and chicken came out on a thin stone slab that was ice cold in order to keep it fresh. Stabbing a small cube of meat at a time, we essentially fried our own food right at the table and then dipped it into one of the assortments of sauces. I only know of one fondue place in New England, and it's a chain restaurant called The Melting Pot. No oil fondue there. 

The food was great, but the Alps were definitely the highlight. Every day was perfect.

The song Edelweiss is slow and sweet, and sort of gives the feeling like we should all lock arms and sway side to side as we sing the chorus together... and thats what the Alps were like to me. Mountains on mountains, arm and arm, filled with towns of populations in the thousands, who live there year-round and just get it. They get the struggle of being the only resource for hours and miles in harsh weather (or any weather). They understand the honor of escorting a herd of bell-ringing cows down from the mountains before the winter months hit. They are proud of their instruments that they can make themselves from trees in the forrest, and the authentic music that comes with them. And they work hard at providing for the community no matter what it takes.

Among the Swiss are some tough-as-nails mountainous pioneers.

All in all, Switzerland was one of the most awe-inspiring regions I had ever seen, with the exception of Geneva (which I loved because of combing cultures, not landscape). Whether Geneva or the Alps, I would go back sooner than a yodelay-hee-hoo.