SALAMU'LEKUM

Idalis: Thursday, August 28, 2008; 9:51 PM

After a so, so time in Rabat, Kevin and I were anxiously awaiting our departure. We had expected in Rabat, as Kevin so eloquently put it, a more Epcot version of Morocco. Where were the zelij tiles? The kasbahs? The famous hookah pipes? When we didn't experience these things, we were a bit disappointed and were excited to go to a place we felt (after reading our Lonely Planet guidebook about 20 times) would fit this description better.

Our train ride from Rabat was quite comfortable, by Moroccan standards. We accidentally got into the second class compartment, although after being advised by a friendly Moroccan, we had purchased (for a mere 4 dollars more) first class seats. What a great tip that turned out to be! Trying to walk through the second class compartment was an adventure in and of itself! There were people and bags everywhere spilling out into the aisles. Making our way through the tiny, hot, congested aisles with our heavy backpacks was not easy. Not to mention the smell of sweat that permeated the air! When we finally reached the first class compartment, the conductor was locking the doors to enter. I tried knocking on the glass, but my huge bag had gotten caught behind me and I couldn't quite reach the door. I stretched my arm forward, but missed the window by only a few inches! How frustrating! Kevin finally pushed me forward, I was able to knock, the conductor opened the doors, checked our tickets, and we were able to (thankfully!) find our seats in the first class compartment. After stowing our bags and settling down, Kevin and I were grateful for the 4 ½ hour train ride that lay ahead, since our seats were comfortable and no one in our compartment seemed to be carrying any live animals. Although the promised “air conditioning” wasn't quite working, we passed the time reading, listening to the ipod, or just staring out the window. I was amazed to see such poor living conditions. Shacks made of discarded material whizzed by my window, but I noted how most of them had satellite dishes beside the waving clothes lines. Kevin struck up a conversation with a young, well-spoken Moroccan man sitting next to him, Faicel, who gave us great tips about Moroccan food and culture, and even offered to host us in Casablanca. If you read this: Thank you, Faicel, for your kindness! We then arrived in Marrakesh: the REAL greatest show on Earth!

We took a “petit taxi” to our hotel, opting to pay the three dollars it would cost instead of wandering through a new, strange city, and the friendly driver pointed out some places of interest we could visit during our stay in Marrakesh. We walked into Hotel Gallia and felt like we were coming upon an oasis after many parched days in the desert. The spacious, clean rooms overlook a beautiful courtyard with lemon trees. We have our own bathroom, a REAL toilet (no squatting necessary), and best yet: a bathtub! And breakfast is included! Kevin and I immediately looked at each other and smiled. We were both thinking the same thing: Maybe we'll spend a few extra days in Marrakesh :) After getting settled in and admiring all the little conveniences (look: air conditioning!), Kevin and I headed out to explore the city.

We walked just a few blocks to the heart of Marrakesh: Djemaa el-Fna, a huge square in the medina and the city's focal point. Finally, azuleji tiles, couscous, and hookah pipes galore! Most of what your mind conjures up when you think of Morocco probably comes from here. There are stands and shops everywhere, selling everything conceivable to man: shoes, jewelry, plastic toys, clothes, lamps, rugs, spices, nuts, and even toilet paper! It's a complete assault on the senses. We walked around the twisting alleys, gazing into all the shops, and trying to ignore the hawkers and aggressive vendors that make their living this way.

My favorite part, and the thing I had been waiting for the most, were the food stalls in the middle of the market, where all kinds of food is for sale: couscous, tajine, stew, steamed snails, goat's head, grilled meat, fresh-squeezed orange juice, rotisserie chicken, vegetables, and a million other things that I couldn't identify. I felt like Anthony Bourdain, walking through the aisles and enjoying the sights and smells, while poor Kevin had to contend with the (again) aggressive hawkers, vendors, and waiters that beg you to eat at their stall. None have names, but rather numbers. After walking through several times (sorry, Amor!) we settled on stall #41, and what a wise choice! For 100 dirham (about 11 US dollars) Kevin and I feasted on bread, olives, spicy red pepper paste, tomato relish, grilled sausage, chicken, steak, and vegetables, in addition to a colorful salad with beets, rice, cucumber, and red onion, and the most delicious grilled eggplant known to man. We washed it all down with sweet mint tea (on the house!) and felt so thankful to be in such a colorful, vibrant city. Afterwards, we walked around the lit square, joining the thousands of other people to watch the spectacle before us: musicians, (male) belly dancers, fortune tellers, performers, storytellers, and henna tatooers. It was like going to Key West and seeing Mallory Square (times one hundred) turned upside down and dropped in Northern Africa. The greatest circus show on Earth, and no tickets necessary!

SQUATTING IN MOROCCO

It is quite amazing how two lands so close together geographically could be so far apart. On the north side of the Straits of Gibraltar lies Spain, the land of rich wines, pork in every conceivable form and pure opulence. Thirty five minutes, by sea ferry, to the south side and you enter Morocco, a Muslim territory completely devoid of spirits, strict in traditional practice and visibly oppressed. We arrived in Tangier, by sea ferry, at approximately 2:00 PM. To be completely honest, I was expecting far more chaos. There was still intense bidding for your interest, or more accurately your Dirham, a host of self appointed guides at your service, and nothing short of a wall street floor atmosphere at the local cafes where hosts nearly blocked your person to insist that you dine at their establishment. However, even in spite of all of that, I somehow expected far worse. It seems as if the government has recently taken steps to attempt to tone down the reputation that Tangier has worked so hard and through many generations to perfect.

We immediately realized that communication was going to be a challenge, so we vowed to do our best to be proficient in sign language, facial gestures and hand signs. We managed to locate the local bus station and purchase two outbound tickets to our first destination, the capital city of Rabat. With three hours to burn, we selected a small cafe, or in fact, it selected us, and then we proceeded to an internet cafe where we were actually able to make a reservation at the Hotel al Maghrib al Jadid. Making the reservation turned out to be a far easier task then actually locating the place, but that we shall get into later. We proceeded to check our emails and download the insurance form that we will need to attempt to procure a reimbursement from our insurance company for Idalis' brush with the European health care system. Before long, it was time to board a bus headed for our first destination. I should have known how the ride was going to go once I realized that my seat did not recline. Then, the air conditioning stopped working, well, not really, it actually started to just blow hot air. Then, I realized that the curtain was stuck and I was not able to block the sun that was beaming directly into our side of the bus. Then, yes another then, we realized that diesel exhaust from the exterior was working its way into the roof of the bus directly above our heads. We could not wait for the four hour ride to come to an end, at least that was until it did. Against our original intentions, we were not able to arrive in Rabat during day light to assess our situation and give us the ever so slightest advantage in getting our bearings established. Thanks to the help of some English speaking African mates, we were able to deliver the address of our hotel to our Petit Taxi driver. At first, he had no idea where it was, but after a few short conversations with his compatriots, 30 dirham and about fifteen minutes, we were dropped off right in the middle of a busy intersection, connecting four streets all thriving with an evening market with wares ranging from replica Burberry shirts to steamed snails. It was an incredible overload to every sensory organ you are blessed with as a human, and even a couple that I did not know existed. We had arrived in the heart of Morocco, the greatest show on Earth.

Once again, and by the grace of Allah, we were able to navigate down a couple of winding narrow streets, full of peering curious eyes, to eventually run directly into our small, real small, hotel. After checking in and then being relocated to a different hotel adjacent to the original one, belonging to the same owner, we attempted to pay. It was at this point that I almost lost all faculties and went into shock overload. I went to reach for my wallet, that would be the wallet with our ATM card, our credit card, our cash, licenses, etc., and it was not there. Not in the pocket, not in the front pouch of the bag, not in my waste line, nowhere. Can you say coronary? Well after some frantic and chaotic searching, I finally found it in the big pocket of the bag, not a place that I had ever placed it before. I am still not sure how it got there, but I credited it to a subconscious motion that must have taken place as my on board sensory circuits were on full tilt. Whew! Paid for the room found out the shower was not working, bathed in the sink and went to sleep with the equivalent of thirty cents left to our names. That is, at least until five in the morning, which is when the call to prayer begins! Melodically beautiful, yet strangely haunting, this was a reminder of exactly where we were.

The next day, even with day light, proved to still be a bit challenging. I asked Idalis if we could walk around the town a bit so that I may get my bearings, as I usually like to do in any foreign atmosphere. I quickly assessed the lay of the land and we proceeded to find some of the points of interest identified on the map. First, the main mosque, closed to the non-Muslim public. Next, the Royal Palace, where we were promptly stopped in our tracks and turned around. Finally, the Royal Medina, where the large solid wood door was closed and locked. This little experience and the ones which had occurred since our arrival in Morocco began to give me a staunch understanding and education in what we were dealing with. Not only is Morocco a thirty-five minute boat ride from Spain, it is also just across the Atlantic ocean from the US. Not a considerable distance by transit, but on overwhelming distance in all other senses. This may be the most distant civilization that I have ever encountered. Located in the northwest corner of Africa and part of a history that spans back to the origin of recorded civilization, Morocco has been in existence, well, practically forever. Even though it may not have always been called Morocco, its traditions, heritage, culture, have all existed far longer than the land where I come from. I found Morocco to be the most difficult of our destinations yet.

After our tourist outing proved to be futile, we retired to the back corner of yet another internet cafe where we managed to update the blog, check our emails, research the train and attempt to make reservations for our next destination, Marrakesh. After our computing, we decided we needed to go to the beach, the main reason that I even wanted to visit Rabat. A chance to surf! We worked our way through the medina, where we were staying, to the far back corner where we finally laid our eyes upon the Atlantic ocean and the Oudayas Surf Club. The current reigning leader of Morocco, Muhammed V, seems to have taken a liking to surfing and bodyboarding, and so have the youth or Rabat. So much so, that he constructed a posh surf club immediately in front of the local surf break. I could hardly control myself as I dragged Idalis by the hand at a break neck pace to the front door, to find that it was closed and locked! Desperate to surf, I decided to knock. An older and very tired gentleman opened the door. I did my very best body language interpretation in attempt to rent a surf board. He answered, “WE CLOSED, NO RENT!”, and proceeded to close the door in my face. In absolute defeat, I moseyed down to the sand where I ran into a dread on the beach who had earlier given me directions to the surf club. His name was Bocal and he was apparently the local ripper. I asked him about the surf club and he advised me that with Rhammadan only six days away, businesses were closing down and people would not be working. I asked if he knew anywhere that I could rent a board. To my amazement, he offered to loan me his. He asked where I was from. I said, “Miami”, he said, “Oh, Kelly Slater!”. Go figure, never would I have thought that Kelly Slater would come in handy on my trip. He walked me down to the break, showed me where to get in, where to sit and how to get back out when i was done. He also told me I could drop in on anybody that I wanted. I didn't! For one divine hour, I surfed Rabat and satisfied the intense craving I had to get into the ocean and to enjoy some waves in a foreign land. The line up was similar to home with a mass at the point, a lot of hooting and hollering, only in Arabic, and an all around good vibe. I returned to the shore, gave Bocal his board back and told him how much it meant and that he made the whole trip to Rabat worthwhile. We then decided to walk over to the “kiddie” beach, where the waves were a steady waist to chest high and hundreds of people were crowding the faces with boards, buoys or anything that floated. It was incredibly crowded and everyone was battling to catch a wave in any manner possible. I will not be surprised at all to see young Moroccans begin to make a showing in the competitive surf world. I believe the phenomenon to be relatively new and maybe a result of the King's affinity for the sport. I was also rather shocked to see that the ocean front property in Rabat was occupied by graves of the deceased. An indication to me that perhaps past sentiments did not include a reverence for the ocean or its power? Idalis decided to jump in as well. We saw very few women in the water, and those that were had clothing covering most of their bodies. So out of respect, Idalis decided to get in fully clothed.

I think that though both of us have been somewhat shocked and educated by our experience in Morocco thus far, Idalis is the one that has had the brunt of both. This is a very harsh land with very harsh and oppressive practices, from a Westerner's perspective. In most instances, it was me that had to ask for directions, place orders or communicate, as the men would generally not interact with her. She has also been clad in dark clothing that covers most of her body. I think she has had it rough and has a much better understanding of what the women of this culture may endure on a daily basis. We are definitely strangers in a strange land! As I write this, we are sitting in a first class berth on a train headed to Marrakesh. The ticket costs us about 170 dirham each, which is the equivalent to about twenty dollars US. We had to walk through second class to get to these seats and the expense for first class was definitely worth it! Thanks to the gentleman we met on the bus from Tangier to Rabat, whose name I cannot remember, for the tip! If you read this blog, we appreciate all the information you gave us and we hope you enjoy the rest of your holiday before you return to Holland!

And, oh yes, this post would not be complete without a description of the title, “Squatting In Morocco”. In addition to all of our other experiences, there is one that I shall always treasure. I had read about it, been warned about it and heard horror stories about it. If you guessed squat toilet, you would be correct. It may sound a bit strange, but I started to become disappointed when the 'urge' did not seem to be present. But low and behold, on the final day of our stay in Hotel Marrakesh, which was actually located in Rabat, I finally got my chance. With enthusiasm and childlike curiosity, I stepped into the stall and proceeded to conduct my business, Moroccan style. It really was no big deal. In fact, I was explaining to Idalis that I think it might actually be a healthier way to go. It is a much more natural position than sitting and almost induces a much quicker and efficient movement. Without running the risk of losing readers, I will leave it at that and just say that I am delighted to have checked that activity of off the 'to do' list!

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!

We have officially been on the road for two weeks now. So, we wanted to do an anniversary addition of the blog. In this post, we hope to entertain you with twenty of the most famous quotes that have blessed our dialogue during our travels. Without further ado and in no particular order, we present, our top twenty travel quotes...

1. “According to the map (insert historical monument) should be right here”
2. “Do you think I can wear this shirt one more time?”
3. “How much money do we have?”
4. “Do these seats recline?”
5. “How much do they actually recline?”
6. “Where are we again?”
7. “What is that smell? Oh, it's me!”
8. “Does this place have WiFi?”
9. “Are you supposed to eat that part?”
10. “Where is the WC (bathroom, head, servicio)?”
11. “Oh, pretty, pretty!”
12. “Do we have to pay extra for that?”
13. “Look, more ham!”
14. “Voce fala Ingles?”
15. “Muchas Gracias!” “Muito Obrigado!” “Grazie!” “Thank you!”
16. “Amor, take a picture of that.”
17. “Mum, move out of the way so I can take the picture.”
18. “How far do you think we walked today?”
19. “Why doesn't the computer work?”
20. “Did you see how small that shower is?”

Well, that is a brief glimpse into our world the last couple of weeks. Things are going well and we still feel strong. We have had a few trying days, but nothing that we were not able to overcome. Communication has been a bit challenging due to issues of time and access. As mentioned in quote number 19, the wonderful computer we purchased only seems to work with WiFi part of the time. Two calls to customer support have not gotten us any closer to resolving the problem. The phone can sometimes be a challenge. We had free international calls at the last hostel, but the hours of access made it hard to call anyone in the states at a reasonable hour, considering the six hour difference. We also understand that the City of Miami Beach has blocked access to our blog. So those of you who I used to work with may now have some difficulty checking in on us. We really hope you try as we would love to hear from you. So far, not many of you have posted and there isn't really a way to see if you are viewing in. As I write this, we are on a bus to Tarifa, Spain, in order to catch a ferry to Tangiers, Morocco, on our way to Rabat, where we hope to get a couple of days of rest by the beach and perhaps a chance to squeeze in some surfing. Yesterday, it was five feet at seven seconds, for those of you who understand surf talk. We miss you all and hope you are doing well. Please stay tuned, as I estimate our Morocco adventures to be the most interesting yet!

SALUDOS SONAMBULOS DE SEVILLA

When people normally think of Spain, several things come to mind: seductive flamenco, fruity sangria, and orange-scented citrus trees. What they are actually envisioning is the city of Sevilla. Much of our “typical” view of Spain comes from here. Sevilla, and the entire region of sunny Andalucia in the south, has the most Arab influence than any other area of Spain, since the Moors were driven out of here last, in 1492. Their influence lingers in the food, culture, music, and even language.

This sunny, orange-scented picture of Sevilla, though, was not our first! As has grown to be typical Kevin and Idalis fashion, we tend to sneak into cities while they are still asleep (for a refresher, read about the Porrino train station). We took an overnight bus on Saturday night from Lisbon, after our “Host with the Most,” Joao, dropped us off at the bus station. The bus ride must have been another one of those “turismo” specials, for Kevin and I spent the night tossing and turning, unsuccessfully trying different positions (leg up, knee down, seat reclined, seat up-right, with sweater-pillow, without) to get comfortable. So, after maybe 30 minutes of sleep total (we're being generous) and two stiff necks, we arrived in Sevilla Sunday morning even earlier than scheduled (great!) at 5:10 AM, disoriented and in the dark. After wiping the sleep drool from our chins, we quickly gathered our things and grabbed our heavy backpacks. We planned to (covertly) stay at the bus station until it became light out and then search for our hostel. But, our first welcome to the city was from a bus station attendant, who basically told us, as they do after last calls in bars, “You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here!” Kevin and I reluctantly left the relative warmth of the bus station while it was still dark.

With our tiny Lonely Planet map and compass in hand, Kevin and I stepped into the darkness to search out Hostal Nuevo Suizo. At about 6:30 AM, after one hour, 42 winding alleys, 12 mismarked streets, and 17 stray cats, Kevin and I arrived at our oasis, only to find out that check-in wasn't until 2:00 PM! The hostel attendant was nice enough to give us a new map and point out some places of interest. We half-heartedly left our bags locked in the luggage room, and set out to begin seeing the sights.

This is where our head lamps (buried at the bottom of our locked bags) would have come in handy :) We wandered, still in relative darkness, down Calle Serpia, looking into the windows of shops advertising “Rebajas” and trying not to step in the horse manure. We were SOOOO tired, and more than anything, just wanted to rest our heads, but continued to trudge along, hence the title of this latest post, “Saludos sonambulos de Sevilla,” or “Sleepwalking greetings from Seville.” On a positive note, we did get a first-hand look (and nice pictures without Italian tourists) of Sevilla's famous cathedral, and sat down on a cold bench to eventually wait for sunrise. We thought we could be the first ones into the church, but alas, it seems that even the priest went out for tapas last night, and it did not open early. We walked around the perimeter of the Alcazar, an old fortress, and made a mental note to come back. While admiring the cathedral's magnificence from a distance, we were serenaded by an inebriated American girl singing Bette Midler's “The Rose.” Why not? As the saying goes, truth is often stranger than fiction.

We walked along the riverbank and came upon the Torre de Oro, or Tower of Gold, which seemed to illuminate from within on this early morning. We circled around the Plaza de Torros de la Real Maestranza, hoping to find a schedule for the days bullfight. Eventually, our stomachs started rumbling, and we stumbled upon Horno de San Buenaventura, where we gratefully went in to drink cafe con leche and fill our bellies with a chocolate-filled pastry (yum!) and tortilla espanola. With slightly more resolve (and caffeine in our blood), we decided to go back to the Alcazar to see one of the famous sights and kill some time.

Although still wishing for a bed, we were pleasantly surprised. Expecting to find more old paintings and dusty furniture, Kevin and I found ourselves wandering the gardens and staring at the intricate patterns found on the walls and ceilings. Originally a residence for both Christian and/or Muslim royalty (depending on who was in power at the time), Sevilla's Alcazar is a mixture of styles, including traditional Spanish azulejo ceramic tiles, Moroccan-like arches, and even Jewish influences with the Star of David. When our heavy eyes could not handle another fountain, Kevin and I found a bench in the gardens to rest on.

Eventually, 1:00 PM came around (it took so long!) and we made our way back to our hostel. We were informed by the friendly front-desk clerk that our room was ready. Thank goodness! Kevin and I wasted no time in settling into our room (twin beds again just like in “I Love Lucy”) and taking a nice, long, highly anticipated nap!

Monday morning found us embarking on a new adventure: sampling the socialized European healthcare system! I've had a nasty ear infection that I've been battling with since Portugal. My ears have felt clogged and full of fluid, and it was often hard to hear what Kevin was saying (I promise, Amor, that I wasn't feigning understanding!). After several Cipro antibiotics proved to be futile, we decided to seek medical attention. So, we made our way through the winding Seville streets to the local healthcare clinic, where we took a number, just like in the deli section of Publix. After about a half hour of waiting, our number was finally called. I explained my situation to the secretary, who told me I would have to deposit money into a bank (43.60 euros) before I could be seen by a doctor. Apparently, health care is free for European citizens who pay into the Social Security system, but not for foreigners. He gave us a copied paper with the address of the CajaSol bank and the account number, and told us to be back in 30 minutes for my scheduled appointment. Kevin lead the way, navigating the twists and turns, narrow alleys, and swarms of fanny pack-wearing tourists and miraculously found the bank, where we deposited the money, got a receipt, and rushed back to the clinic for my appointment. I gave the original secretary a copy of our deposit receipt, proof that we paid, and made our way to the second floor to see Dr. Maria Guisada. After several minutes in the waiting area, I was called in. The friendly doctor and her assistant asked me questions about my condition, checked my ears, and confirmed what we thought: ear infection. She gave me a prescription for some cough medicine and saline nose flush. We thanked her, left the clinic, and made our way through the winding streets once more in search of a pharmacy. We filled the prescription, paid the 6 euros for the medicine, and went on our way.

Thankfully, we didn't have to spend my whole birthday at the doctor's. In the afternoon, we wandered to the pretty Plaza de Espana, and then to the Parque de Maria Luisa, where we admired the fountains and found shade under an old tree. Boy was it a hot day!

That evening, we celebrated my birthday by going to see a flamenco show. Wow! The small setting was very intimate. We were so close you could see the sweat glistening on the dancer's brow! It was a wonderful performance. The singer's deep, rustic voice can only be accomplished from a smoking habit that surely involves three packs of Ducados cigarettes a day. The guitar player was amazing, Kevin noting that it was as if he was playing two guitars at the same time. The dancers were soulful and passionate. The woman, clad in the traditional flamenco dress with a rose in her hair, interpreted the dance so well – her hands moved gracefully, her feet complemented the music, and the rose eventually fell out of her hair when she got going! The male dancer seemed to have extra wooden castanuelas on his feet – it was shocking to see that all that movement and sound was simply coming from the heels of his shoes! Kevin and I were in awe – it was an amazing performance and a fitting end to our short stay in Sevilla!

MUITO OBRIGADO

Kevin: It is 22:47 and we just crossed the old suspension bridge out of Lisbon, on a bus headed to Sevilla, Spain. At the east end of the bridge was the enormous “Cristo do Rey” (I hope I spelled that right) statue. I have suddenly developed a lump in my throat, as it has hit me that we are leaving. Leaving behind five days of incredible places and even more incredible people. You see, at first, Portugal was not even on out list of places to visit. However, I had this secret fascination with a town I had never been to or didn't even really know much about. The name of the town is Lisbon, or Lisboa as known to the locals, in Portuguese. Somehow I suppose I was right and just did not know it. What an amazing place.

It all started as we arrived at the Lisboa Santa Apolonia train station after an incredibly beautiful ride through the Portuguese country side. It was on this train ride that I saw the Atlantic Ocean for the first time since leaving home. It was nice to see the same ocean that graced the shores of Miami Beach providing heaving ocean swells at least double overhead. A good sign. The evening then became exponentially better as we met, and were picked up by, someone who would soon become one of the most incredible people that Idalis or I had ever met, our Hospitality Club host, Joao B. My first impression of Joao B. was that he was a little older than I had expected. Not to mean that he looked old, because he did not. However, I had not had the opportunity to review Joao's profile before meeting him, unlike Idalis, so I had formulated a mental image in my mind. Regardless of my mental images, I was pleasantly surprised. I did not know this then, but Joao would prove to be one of the most hospitable, friendly, intelligent, positive, informative, accommodating, knowledgeable and all around best guys that I had ever met. With the help and guidance of Joao B., our stay in Lisboa would prove to hold memories that will last a life time.

Idalis: I had the pleasure of meeting Joao through Hospitality Club, when I started looking for accommodations in Lisbon. I had read Joao's profile, and even more important, the comments that his previous guests had written about him. I learned, right off the bat, that Joao was a very special person. Everyone who had stayed with him or crossed paths with him had only wonderful things to say. I contacted Joao, and much to our surprise, received a response almost immediately, offering to host us for (originally) three days in Lisbon. Joao picked us up at the train station and waited for us to arrive (our train was late), and took us out that same night to Parque dos Nacoes, the newer section of town, where we ate the most delicious “little French girls” ever! Joao is quite the Renaissance Man, kind of like the Michealangelo of Portugal. In the time we spent with him, we saw him (adeptly) wear many hats, including that of interpreter, tour guide, food conossuoir (delicious bacalhau!), sommolier (thank you for the Karlov and Ginja!), fish expert, historian, taxi driver, SAP extraordinaire, and most importantly, good friend. Kevin: Originally, we were scheduled to spend three nights with Joao B. We would have left for Sevilla on Thursday night. Well, thanks to an incredible and instant fascination with this city, and one small inconvenience, we would wind up extending our stay by two more days. My original idea was to highlight all the different things that we did and saw. However, after five days of intense touristing, I would be at a loss not only to remember the names of everything we visited, but also everything we did. As I have mentioned in this blog before about other cities, the city of Lisboa has a strong mix of historic and modern in their art, architecture and culture. However, in my opinion, Lisboa has the uncanny ability to meld the two together seamlessly, though I was informed that not all the locals necessarily see it that way.

Idalis: I would definitely agree with Kevin. You see beautiful, pastel,-colored, crumbling houses with clothes on lines, next to ultra-modern buildings. Delicious, traditional food and the most amazing coffee (we are officially addicts!), but also a wealth of new, interesting restaurants and cuisines at your fingertips. The Portuguese have a lot of well-deserved pride in their history and culture, but are very forward-thinking in terms of their care for the environment.
Kevin: Lisboa, or Portugal in general, is founded on a strong history of navigation, discovery, exploration and is for all intents and purposes, a sea fairing nation. This theme is evident in almost everything from its incredible monuments and sculptures, to its architecture and public spaces and even into its delicacies. A river runs right through the middle of Lisboa, Rio Tejo, and intercepts the Atlantic Ocean. Throughout history, Lisboa has always been a strategic location and port and has been occupied by at least five of history's major cultures, all of which who have left behind their mark. There is a rich sense of pride that runs deep in the people of Lisboa, and rightfully so. A local may complain about certain systems or structures, but they will almost always tell you how Portugal will always “go big”. A gross understatement, if you ask me, considering they just about discovered every frontier available by boat, and all in the fifteenth century. Royalty runs deep, and many heroes of Portuguese history have been named “Joao”, or “John”, and our Joao was no exception.

Idalis: We had the pleasure of visiting some beautiful monuments, especially in the historic center of the city. The “Torre de Belem” and the “Padrao dos Descobrimentos”, which pays homage to the first Portuguese explorers, were in the Belem section of town. In the Alfama district, we hiked all the way up to the Castelo de Sao Jorge (Lisboans love their hills!) and got an amazing view of the city. We went into the beautiful Mosteiro dos Jeronimos, and as has become our tradition when visiting a church, Kevin and I gave thanks for being able to experience this wonderful trip. In the new section of town, Kevin and I visited the Oceanarium and saw the gigantic sun fish! And in Sintra, outside of Lisbon, Kevin and I hiked (again!) to Quinta da Regaleira, a World Heritage sight, and three (steep!) kilometers up higher to the most amazing gardens at Palacio da Pena, where we sat in the clouds.
iKevin: I wanted to mention, in this post, a few things that maybe do not subscribe to any sort of order or logic. The first, and only because it came to me first, is that I think that everyone should very seriously consider putting Portugal, and more importantly Lisboa, on their list of places to visit. Between the area that was converted from an industrial park to a complex fit to host the 1998 World Expo, to the historic center of Lisboa, containing a castle, a renovated train station, a thriving cultural and social scene, and far too many architectural gems to mention, to the are of Belem (Bethlehem) with an ancient monastery tucked up against a modern cultural complex and “Confeitaria de Belem”, where we ate perhaps the best pastries known to man (Idalis: Like biting into a piece of custard heaven!), to the amazing city of Sintra, with palaces and castles galore, and the place where Idalis and I climbed the closest to heaven that we have ever been. Lisboa, and the surrounding areas, are simply breathtaking. The next is to thank all of the people of Portugal, whose paths we crossed, who did their best to speak English as we did our best to speak Portuguese (alguma coisa) while purchasing tickets, placing food orders, or trying to find our way back to Lindha a Velha when we were not quite as close as I had originally imagined! I would also be attacked if I did not mention how after three days of being hosted by Joao, he, unwisely, decided to allow us our own key to the condo and I would see fit to break one of the most complicated front door locking assemblies any man has ever designed. It took the locksmith three hours and several large pieces of machinery to make waste of the lock and allow us access to the interior. This is the small inconvenience mentioned previously. Again, Joao, in his most pleasant and patient of ways, helped to calm my incredible sense of disappointment and make a joke of the whole thing. (Joao, send me the bill!) The last thing I would like to mention, which is contained in the title of this post, is “Muito Obrigado” to all of our new friends in Portugal. To Miguel and Marta, to Luis, Joana and Raquel, to Pedro and Ana, to Luis, to Armando, to Alexandre, and most of all, to Joao B. We cannot thank you enough for “practicing your English” with us, answering all of our questions, toting us around town and for just being wonderful people who have opened our eyes to all this is wonderful about this world that we hope to discover. MUITO OBRIGADO, CIAO, HATE LOGO!!!!

Idalis: We thank the city of Lisbon for displaying a wonderful sense of balance: conserving the old but accepting the new, holding on to tradition while thinking of the future, and having pride in your culture while being open-hearted. To Joao and his friends: Know that you will always have friends and an (albeit small) place to call home in Miami. It has been a pleasure and a blessing meeting all of you, and we hope to see you again soon! We will not say goodbye, but only “Bon Viagem” when you plan your trip to Miami!

BEM-VINDO A PORTUGAL

We arrived in Porto, Portugal at approximately 11:00am on Sunday, Augu ast 17th, after a grueling train ride. Our first train originated in Madrid, Spain and left at about 10:30pm. Our car said “turismo”, which I now understand to mean "uncomfortable". We had seats that were in a group of four and faced each other. At first, the whole train was full with the exception of the seats directly in front of us. We began to get excited until at the last minute, a couple came lunging onto the car and claimed the seats in front of us. We did all we could to settle in and get comfortable for the seven and one half hour ride. About half way through, and to our surprise, the couple got out, leaving us the seats in front of us to stretch out on. A premature excitement overcame us, as even with the extra space, we each had an extremely restless night.

Right at 7:00am, as scheduled, the train stopped at its next station. The station was to be Porrino, our connecting station for our next train to Porto. It was dark outside, freezing cold, and the "train station" was essentially a piece of concrete along the tracks with a closed down, broken down building (shed) with no bathrooms, no attendants and no way to get inside. As we stopped, we asked people on the train if this was Porrino and they all said yes. Reluctantly, very reluctantly, we gathered our things and got off the train into the freezing air of this dark and lonely station. It was basically Idalis, me and this older, Spanish gentleman, just standing there, waiting for a train that we weren't sure was coming. However, much to our surprise, at 8:05am, exactly as scheduled, a train pulled up going in the opposite direction with an illuminated sign reading "Porto". We survived!

About three hours later, we arrived in Porto, otherwise known as O'Porto, the home of the popular, and incredibly expensive, Port wine. Port wine is a sweet wine, usually served after dinner, and is red in color and judged by its clarity. The clearest of the Port wines is usually in the neighborhood of 40 years old and is known as Port 'd Oro, or Port of Gold. Much like the wine, the City of Porto is also very fine and the people sweet. We arrived on a Sunday and aside from the tourists, there was not much going on. It was a bit shocking to see no local action. In fact, it was slightly depressing at first. Don't get me wrong, the city is incredibly impressive. After exploring, we realized that there were two parts of the city, one on either side of the river. There are five bridges that connect the two sides and the two sides are drastically different. It almost seems as if the river is equivalent to "the tracks". On one side, the historic, and slightly deteriorating, part of the city, 0n the other, the very posh and newly renovated and constructed part of the city with the large, rich Port wine dealers. I kept telling Idalis that it seemed as if the historic portion of Porto was the victim of a recent war. Despite the incredible beauty and breathtaking architecture, there is a large quantity of buildings that are deteriorating and in disrepair. There is also an underbelly of drugs and poverty. At no time did we feel unsafe, but it is very clear that there is a level of disparity in this city. We were more relieved on our following day, Monday, to find that the city had awakened and come alive. The sky was clear, the weather was beautiful and all the businesses were open and thriving and the locals and tourists were inhabiting the streets. It was a stark contrast from the day before and a perfect demonstration of the stark contrasts that comprise the city of Porto.

Next stop is Lisbon, Portugal. Please continue to follow along and please do not be afraid to post a comment, which can be done, anonimously if you wish, by clicking on the "comments" link below each post. It is always a great pleasure to hear from all of you and it usually makes our day!

OJALA (I HOPE)

Well, here we are on our fourth and final day in Madrid and it has been a true test of wits. What we thought would be a day of wandering the city to catch the last of the sights has turned to a day tucked into the back corner of an internet cafe trying to straighten out our travels. We sat here as we watched our daily allowance slip away between expensive phone calls to the States to have the hold on our credit card lifted, because someone at Capital One forgot to transfer the note that we would be traveling to an actual advisory. Also by trying to make reservations in the next town we will arrive in, Porto, Portugal. By trying to pay FPL and Verizon from abroad, impossible! And by trying to add money to our international cell phone. So far, we await success in any of those endeavors. However, we are not allowing it to dampen our spirits. We have decided to take whatever meager change is returned to us from the Internet Cafe´s personable Indian resident and purchase a Mahou beer...to share!

In summary, our observations of Madrid have concluded as such. It is a beautiful city that melds the historic with the modern. It is a city that has trouble, as do all major cities. We went through a rather seedy part of town to get to this internet cafe. However, this city also charges toward the future with a very comprehensive recycling program. Most inhabitants prefer to smash their wine bottles into the receptacle at 2:00am. They have an incredible transportation system, though many people walk. And, the boats in the lakes of their public parks are powered by solar cells. Very historic, yet very progressive. A pleasant mix and one that ¨I HOPE¨ my own country can adopt in an effor to preserve it´s past and protect it´s future.

This is the third post in three days. Please do not get used to this. We are just starting with a bang. Our next post should probably be tomorrow advising of our impressions of Porto. If not, we shall enter by Lisbon. We love and miss you all. Wish us luck as we try to work out the bugs in this traveling system.

LOS EUROS ESTAN COMIENDO NUESTROS DOLARES

Welcome back. Once again we have been confined to the use of an internet cafe, albeit we get to use our computer this time, which helps us feel slightly better about buying it. We just finished eating McDonald's, which we only did for the promise of free internet (wifi), only to find out that you had to order a value meal and not just a sundae and a cone, after we ordered, of course. Now I have an upset stomach and I am paying for internet service! Oh well, at least the readers will be entertained.

I must say, I have never walked so much in my entire life. Of course we could take the Metro everywhere, but then we couldn't eat, cause as the title of this blog states, these Euros are eating our dollars! Idalis sat down to do a budget as I slept and woke me to advise that we are way over budget! We are hoping that Portugal and Morocco help to offset our expenses. Without knowing it, we ate a meal last night that cost as much as our hostel! I suppose it was still better than trying to eat a mattress!

Today's activities found us wandering in the Parque del Buen Retiro, the Central Park of Madrid. Absolutely beautiful, with so much activity and so many things to do. We spent the day wandering around, lying in the sombra (shade) and photographing the many fuentes (fountains) that this city has to offer. Afterwards, we smuggled a bottle of wine, some jamon, cheese and bread into the Jardin Botanico (Botanical Garden) and had an impromptu picnic. It was the first taste of wine we have had since entering Spain and cost a mere 2,75 Euros! A deal at twice the price. It was marvelous! Tonight, we sit in a quiet, lonely, little internet cafe and plan on securing accommodations for Porto, Portugal. We purchased our one way train tickets yesterday at the magnificent train station, Atocha. It even has a mall inside!

We've seen the ducks, we've seen the lakes, we've seen the buildings and we've seen the many plazas and we've eaten the tapas, now it is time for us to go. We have one last day in Madrid and will spend it wandering around the shops of Puerta del Sol, packing and perhaps doing some laundry, though to be honest, we have only worn two outfits each in four day's time. They should be able to smell us in Porto before we arrive!

!Hasta Luego!

VENTE PA´MADRID

Greetings from Madrid, our first stop on what should prove to be a very long vacation! Well, we made it in safely at 7:00am on Wednesday morning after not having slept on the plane, as planned. As it turns out, the recline button on the US Airways jet planes is really just a cruel joke. We tried every combination of postures that two bodies can assume and had no luck. Even years of yoga training seemed fruitless! All in all, not a bad trip. Arriving in Madrid on the first day, we immediately headed to the hostal after a short Metro (tube) ride. As it would turn out, the line that we needed was down for repair so it required us to be flexible and look for alternatives. Kudos to the people of Madrid, as they are incredibly friendly and helpful!

Madrid is an incredible city. Part new, part old and constantly bustling! On our first real night of sleep, Wednesday night, I must tell you that the only time there seemed to be absolute silence was around four a.m. Other than that, this city and its people are in constant motion. The architecture is incredible, no surprise. The people of Madrid have the uncanny ability to meld the old and the new in seemless and flawless fashion. I must advise you, though, that I believe that the codes that apply to elevators and showers need some review as they all seem to be undersized. Our hostal is pretty nice, at least clean. After a short battle with the manager, Idalis straightened out our bill and saw that justice was served.

We originally considered buying a Metro pass, but have done pretty well and have seen a lot by foot. It is so nice to be able to walk amongst such incredible history. It has made me better understand the type of community planning and construction that I have been witness to in South and Central America, as this is where it originated. Around every corner is a new surprise, be it a street full of jovial patrons or a block tightly crowded with incredible buildings, walkways and a smattering of stores and cafes. It has made every meal a complete adventure and history lesson rolled into one.

I mentioned to Idalis, though maybe it is far too early to do so on this blog, that I see one of the lessons of our travels being to understand the contrast of mankind. It is amazing how you can see such incredible art and architecture, created by the hand of man, and then around a new corner witness atrocities of human kind, such as poverty, strife and violence. Not that we witnessed any violence first hand. However, the Spanish have a long history of war (guerra) and colonization. Just an illustration of extremes as expressed by a single culture.

Tapas and raciones are the systems of focd delivery as is the ´menu de dia´. The food is spicy and strong in flavor, similar to the inhabitants. Though Idalis swore that she would be drinking wine the entire time we were to spend in Spain, she has been confined to beer, by choice. However, that will change this afternoon when we stop to picnic in the Parque Retiro, where we will dine on jamon, queso and vino shortly after planting our flag in `Retired Park`! As I wrap up this post, we will proceed to investigate the cheapest transportation option to carry us to Porto, Portugal, a city that Idalis has heard a lot of gocd things about and one that we cannot wait to explore. Please continue to stay tuned and know that we are alive and kicking in Spain! Hasta luego, vale!

ARE YOU READY FOR THIS?

Here we are, on the eve of a huge transition in our lives and in the lives of those around us. All Idalis can keep saying is, "Are you ready for this?" Up until about five minutes ago, the answer was consistently, "No!" However, once this post is complete, I will lie down on my parent's long couch, and Idalis on the love seat, and I will hopefully fall asleep finally feeling ready. These last couple of months have been quite insane. I thought being retired meant you just sat around all day trying to invent things to do. However, I can't even remember the last time we just sat around.

Today went by very fast, but has felt long. We pretty much spent all day doing last minute errands. Aphrodite got her teeth cleaned, Nate got a key to the bike lock, Mario got the phone I borrowed back, I got one last visit with Mike, Josue and Laura (thanks for breakfast, Mike!), Goodwill got a healthy donation and most importantly, our bags got packed. Idalis did a stellar job of packing her 55 liter bag with room to spare. I, however, went over my target weight of 35 pounds by five pounds. It was amazing how much we started off with, how much we had to sacrifice and how little we actually wound up with. I can see us shedding even more as we move along. It really is impossible to be prepared for every ocassion, though that did not stop me from trying. I think we pretty much got it all. If we have forgotten something, I will be very surprised. However, if we had to leave something behind that we need, I would not be. Either way, it is far too late and we are far too tired to put any more effort into it. Doesn't really matter, cause we will just be asking Katie to bring anything we forget to India with her when she comes for her visit. I already gave my sister, ReAnne, a bag with three things to give her. We love you, Katie!!!

Over the course of this blog many of you have chimed in and it has brought us an immense amount of pleasure. It is always such a great surprise to see multiple comments in the comments section. However, now it is time to get serious, people! We played with our new mini-computer this afternoon and we think we are ready to go. Thanks to my sister for the crash course in computer technology! We have also heard many people say, "Enough is enough, would you guys please leave already?!" Oh, and, "Bring back an Indian baby," but that one is not as relevant. Anyways, your wishes and ours have come true. We leave tomorrow, for real this time! To the dismay of Idalis and I, there is not enough time for one last happy hour get together! Thanks to all of you who have continuously supported us, who have shown up to each of our functions and who have posted on this blog. We love and will miss you all! Grandma, don't be sad, we will be sure to write!

We will wake up tomorrow to a freshly made breakfast of pancakes (thanks, Mom!). After that, it is a caravan to the ariport for what is sure to be one big hot emotional mess! If we forgot to call you, could not make it to dinner (sorry Nicky D!), or didn't get to hang out with you one last time, we apologize. Please be assured that though you will not fit in our packs, as many of you have suggested, you will most definitely fit in our hearts! Please stay in touch, be vigilant in your blog entries and know that we will think of you often as we wander the globe. We cannot express enough how important each of you are to us and how much we love and are inspired by you ALL! Bonnnnn Voyaaaaaage!!!!

ONE LAST HOORAH!

It is 11:30 on Wednesday night. We had plans to go to dinner tonight with friends, but it was cancelled (feel better Montrez!). We just got done eating a dinner consisting of lobster that I caught with some friends the last time we went out on Shawn's boat. Since all of our kitchen utensils were packed, it made preparations very difficult and we had to eat it out of plastic Glad containers. Not befitting of a lobster dinner, but delicious none the less. This is actually the first evening that we have been able to just sit at home. I would like to say that we were able to do nothing, but I would be lying. Idalis went through a couple of boxes of historic memorabilia and cleaned out her files. We got to look at some old pictures and read articles about how awesome and talented she is. She also found a receipt for a Eurail pass she bought when she was nineteen. Suffice it to say that prices have risen dramatically. In fact, we went to our bank today to purchase some Euros to have for when we arrive in Spain. Five hundred Euros cost us about eight hundred bucks. Looks like PB&J sandwiches will be a staple throughout Europe!

We had a very interesting day Monday. So interesting, in fact, I have not gotten a chance to tell you about it until now. Anyways, we had a 10:30 appointment at the Dade County Health Department for our last round of vaccines. We arrived at the clinic, paid our seven bucks to park and went inside. We went to door number ten, as we have for six months now, and to our surprise, the door was locked and the lights were out. As we peaked inside to try to understand what was going on, the security guard advised us that the travel clinic was closed on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. "Impossible", I said. "No", he said. I told him that we had an appointment and we told him that was impossible. He did not believe us until I showed him our print out and then he was as mystified as us. He advised that we call the main number. We did. We spoke to a very kind lady who advised us, once again, that the downtown clinic was closed on M,W &F. I told her of our dilemna and how we had an appointment. She offered to call the director of the Little Haiti clinic to see if they would see us. After a few tense minutes, she called back and advised that although they would not honor our appointment, we were welcome to go down and pull a number. So, we did. After announcing our arrival and once again explaining our dilemna, we were asked to fill out some paperwork and have a seat. So, we did. After witnessing an outburst, listening to some strange conversations and drafting a three page letter to the Miami Dade County Health Department, our number was finally called. We had finally made it to the end of this six month process to become immunized against every modern disease known to man, or so we thought. After being called in, we were promptly advised that the clininc had no more Japanese Encephalitis vaccines available. We explained that this was our last shot and that it had to be given twenty-eight days after the first. They were neither moved nor concerned. So, we agreed to at least be administered our last series of Hepatitis A and B vaccines. After paying, we immediately ran home and began some intense research to locate two Japanese Encephalitis vaccines. After calling all of the remaining Dade County Health Department clinics, we then proceeded to contact the Broward clinics, where I spoke to the rudest government employee I have ever encountered in my entire life and I worked for the government for fifteen years! We then hit up several private travel/adult immunization clinics until we found our saviours at the Concentra Medical Center. It was 4:00pm and we had to be at dinner with my brother Mike and his girlfriend Amail at 6:00pm. So, we ran to the car, hauled you know what to Sunset and 64th and parked at a meter. I began to feed the parking meter and it would only give us eighteen minutes regardless of how many coins I fed it. I drafted a quick note to any looming enforcement officers and placed it in the windshield. We ran upstairs and much to our surprise, we were treated like real people, ushered through promptly, given shots that we barely felt and made it back down to the car before the eighteen minutes were up. All in all, the experience of acquiring immunizations through the public health clinic, though the cheapest option, has been a total nightmare. I would go so far to say that it was the most difficult of all the preparations and spans a period of six months. I told Idalis that this was practice for what we were sure to encounter in various locations around the globe. Should any of you plan to follow in our footsteps, please be sure to either spend the extra money and find a real good travel clininc or give yourself plenty of time to deal with the bureaucracy.

Things are much calmer now. Thanks to Fernando at Beach Auto Tag, my sister ReAnne is now insured to drive our car while we are away. Thanks to Antoniette at HSBC we are now completely covered on all things relating to our travel account and thanks to Marshall's I know have the last few clothing items that I needed. The condo is a total mess and finding anything is pretty impossible as it is all packed away. One last trip to the warehouse this Saturday should take care of our remaining belongings and Saturday night will be the last evening we spend at home. Our take off is rapidly approaching, but I feel that we will make it out fully prepared and having covered all of our bases. Our tenants, Christine and Andres, will probably begin to move in shortly after we leave. Uncle Marty was kind enough to deliver the bike rack for the building this morning, my final duty as interim Condo Association Secretary, and everyone that is receiving our furniture has been scheduled for pick up. We have one last happy hour celebration at Monty's this Friday with all of our friends and a family party at Aunt Connie's house on Sunday. After that, one and a half tense and emotional days until take off. We made one last minute decision that may prove to be a life saver, if not just totally convenient. We purchased a compact computer, seven inches and less than two pounds, to carry around the world with us. At first we were committed to using internet cafes, and may still have to in some cases, but now, we are very happy with our decision as we believe it will make staying in contact much easier. I guess what this means is that there should be no excuse for not keeping this blog up to date. I just hope that you all enjoy it and follow along with us. There will soon be an advice and input option, so, if you have any ideas or things you would like to see, please let me know. After all, it was only a short while ago when all I knew how to do was to turn a computer on.

We hope to see you Friday at Monty's. If not there, we hope to see you at Aunt Connie's on Sunday. If not there, we are sorry that we missed you and send you our love!

UPGRADES

With all the chaos that is whirling around our heads these days, with only ten days until take off, it is hard to believe that we actually found the time to make modifications to our exteriors! However, we did. We took a 'Ferris Bueler's Day Off' and in between the various number of errands that we had been running, for several days in a row, we got tatted and pierced. Idalis had been wanting to get her nose pierced for some time. However, due to her obligations to the Dade County School Board, she never felt quite able to pull it off without appearing to become less responsible. Go figure! As for me, I have been shunning responsibility for some time now so I was a go for a new tattoo. I had taken my parents to a web site that gives exact coordinates for various locations throughout the globe. I asked them to point the cursor at the exact location where I had been born and thus the coordinates, latitude and longitude, have made their way onto my feet. It took me until the absolute last minute to decide exactly where to put them and I owe it all to the combined effort of Idalis and Katie. Idalis says that this way 'my feet will always guide me home.' I felt like it was more of a 'if lost, return to sender!'

Things are really cranking now and I think it is fair to say that Idalis and I are both a hot mess! Just after I was starting to feel like we were getting somewhere, I got some bad news. First, it looks like our little pug, Aphrodite, has osteo- arthritis in her two rear hips and 'grade-four' gum disease. Now, both of us will be taking glucosamine each morning and one of us will be getting a deep root cleaning. Aphrodite's next follow up appointment will be on Monday, August 11th. That will be the day before we leave, for those of you who are following along. The other bit of malinformation was delivered by our State Farm agent, with a smile I might add. Apparently after 22 years of consistent and timely insurance payments, on my behalf, they are completely unable to accomodate our request to cover my sister to drive our car and be insured while we are away. Therefore, we must now pay to transfer tag and title to my sister only to have to transfer it back to us again upon our return. Leave it to beaurocracy to tap one's wallet dry! I am glad I sold the Jeep (thanks Eddy, enjoy!) and don't have to give them another cent!

The apartment is close to empty and we have been sleeping on the couch bed, which will soon reside in our friend Rick's house, and spending the night on the floors and couches of friends and family, all the while living out of bags. Good practice, I suppose. Never in a million years would I have guessed how involved a process it is to disappear! Thanks to the complexities that modern man has bestowed upon himself, and us, the work to prepare never seems to end. At this point, I feel as if it will take a miracle to get us on that plane, but get on that plane we will. Believe it or not, we only recently secured a reservation for our first night in Madrid (thanks Mum!). Stick around folks, things are about to get interesting!

For those of you who have been following this blog, you are starting to realize that I have somehow become philisophical. So, let me continue, lest I disappoint the readership. The newest lesson is a lesson in clarity. I think it is safe now to say that we have pretty much become single track minded, in a good way. What I mean is that we have pretty much managed to dissolve all aspects of life that do not directly correlate to this trip. In doing so, a lot of the customary clutter in our lives has been eliminated. This, in turn, has allowed us to streamline thought, eliminate clutter and refine focus. You would be absolutely amazed at how receptive the mind becomes once it is devoid of distraction. Another way of putting it is that we have actually become kind of good at recognizing signs and listening to that little voice in our heads. When something is good and right and in line with the powers of the universe (What?), then things just fall into line. Such has been the case with this dream of ours. The more we just allow things to happen and follow our instincts, the less resistance we meet on our path. I assume this is the goal of meditation and the concept behind nirvana. I am fairly certain that it can be applied in all aspects of life or any goal or dream. I suppose the simplest way to put it is, practice not doing and everything will fall into place.