TGAGAi n Banff - Day 2 - After the Deluge!

"Have your bags outside your door by 6:30," didn't sound much like vacation talk to me.  Nevertheless, I managed to comply with minimal effort since I awoke at 4:00 am, still tired from the trip, but no longer able to sleep.  Breakfast buffet in the dining room was what might be expected at a Best Western Hotel, and despite a delay actually getting the bags to the bus, we were well underway by 8:30, only half an hour late.  Withing 15 minutes, we were seeing the foothills of the Rockies and with a little effort and imagination could barely discern the silhouette of the approaching mountains.

Then came the deluge!  Making out way up the ever steeper and curvier road, the ominous skies opened up and dumped torrents of rain on our distraught company of Bears.  Our first stop was to be Johnston Canyon and its renown waterfalls.  The very idea of stepping outside in such weather seemed impossible, let along navigating narrow mountain trails in search of natural wonders.  A quizzical silence replaced mindless chatter, and we all watched as the view became more and more obscured by the rain and fog.

Gloom and doom were, in this case, premature.  By the time we actually reached Johnston Canyon, the rain had just stopped, the sky was lightening, and new adventures awaited.  When I saw the trail, my anxiety level immediately rose.  The trail to the falls was over half a mile long and looked to be a fairly steep incline.  The trail to the upper falls was a mile and a half!  I decided instantaneously that I had nothing to prove, and the lighter challenge would adequately meet my curiosity quotient.  The trail, though wet and puddle-filled was do-able and the rewards commensurate with my enthusiasm.  I don't know what those more adventurous souls witnessed, but I left satisfied and returned to the departure area with enough time to go into the gift shop and purchase two numbered prints that I think will eventually find a home on my walls.  By the time we left for the final leg to Banff, the sun was making occasional forays into the half spent day.

Arrival at Banff and more particularly the Banff Center for Arts and Creativity, where we will be staying for the rest of the week, was an eye-opener.  Not because of the spectacular mountain scenery, which is certainly abundant and compelling, but because at lunch, the entire tours group was together at the same time.  One hundred and fifteen. Yikes.  Way too much society for me!  My social comfort level is definitely going to feel the strain!  The fourth group are wolves, not moose, BTW.

The afternoon was spent in "orientation" and lectures of a rather esoteric nature.  The first on the history and glories of the Elderhostle/Road Scholar organization, the second on the entire history of the Banff Center for Arts, etc. and its current programs.  The next by cute geologist on the formation of mountain ranges, and particularly the Canadian Rockies.  It contained so much geological jargon that I ended up wondering what I had spent a hour hearing.  Then there was a get-acquainted tour of the Banff Center campus, and finally we got our room assignments, just in time to high-tail it back to the dinning room for dinner, followed by another lecture on Rocks, Ridges and Rivers, by another expert whom, I'm positive, has no self-esteem issues.  He was actually hawking his new book.  Maybe he sold some.  He only managed to put me to sleep, but maybe the accent to the falls had something to do with that, too.

I am here, now, and grateful to be done packing and repacking for a few days.  I still have grave concerns about my ability to keep the pace with this trip, but I see some others who look as decrepit  as I.  Maybe we can find a place in the sun and swap lies while the others exhaust themselves proving how fit they are at their age.

The Great American Get-together in Banff - Day 1

The original idea was to spend a little bit of time in the Canadian Rockies during the hot season in Chicago.  A brief respite from the normal summer in the city discomfort.  As it has happened, We've had practically no hot weather and the humidity has come in the form of cold, uncomfortable rain, fog and wind.  Nevertheless, Banff is supposed to be spectacularly beautiful and inspiring at any time, so I am looking forward to another adventure with my favorite touring company, Road Scholar, with whom I saw China and Southeast Asia.

This trip has not gotten off to a great start!  A kind friend got me to O'hare in plenty of time this morning and dropped me at the designated terminal.  Upon entering to check-in, I was told that this check-in station could not check baggage, but handled only passengers with carry-on.  To check baggage, I was directed to a different terminal, not to far away, by O'hare standards, but far enough!  Of course, there were no clerks, since everything is now self check-in, so, as usual, I struggled with the technology which I'm sure some expert has declared "intuitive" (I do not posses that intuition!), and with a little help from other friendly passengers, finally got my reservation confirmed and boarding pass issued, checked bag weighed, paid for and tagged, and dropped a the counter.  Then, I was directed back to the first terminal for loading and departure.  The gate was at the absolute end of the terminal, and the waiting room had no more than twenty chairs!  A two hour wait!

Once boarded, the flight was uneventful.  Our take-off was delayed by traffic ahead, but I assume that was already figured in the flight time, since our arrival in Calgary was very close to on time.  During the flight, we were treated to half a  soft drink and a small bag of pretzels.  Once again, United Airlines has demonstrated to me its absolute indifference to the comfort and convenience of its passengers.  Oh how I wish there were more and better alternatives.  I'd never darken their door, again!

I thought once we landed in Calgary, we'd get our first glimpse of the Rockies, but, not so.  The typography of Calgary is basically Great Plains, lush and green this time of year, but very flat.  Canadian customs was a breeze, but then the trouble started.  Our instructions were to call the Best Western Plus Hotel when ready to be picked up.  We were told that a shuttle had just left, and the next one would be there at 2:30 pm, another hour and a half wait, this time, also without chairs and outside.  Luckily it was a beautiful day, warm, not hot, and bright sunshine.  At 2:30, no shuttle.  3:00, no shuttle.  By this time the waiting group had grown to about 25 travelers, all tired and hungry and just a little impatient.  Finally, the shuttle showed up but it was clearly too small and was already full from a previous stop.  After a certain period of concern and consternation, the Indian driver told us that we would be transported the eleven minute distance to the hotel by taxis, which were, even at that moment, on the way, and he left.

Sure enough, taxis began to arrive, but none of the drivers knew where to take us.  So, each two or three of the party had to dig out the actual address of the hotel.  The trip was during rush hour, and there was an accident, and so, the trip went from being eleven minutes to half an hour, plus.  Of course, the hotel was not prepared to check-in 25 guests at one time, so there was another long wait-time with no chairs, no refreshments and only the most tepid of welcomes.

Eventually and inevitably, we got checked into our rooms, standard Best Western decor, and had about one hour to unpack and "freshen-up" before dinner was served in the dining room.  It was O.K.  We were divided up into four smaller groups for the tour.  I'm a bear.  There are also cougars, elk and moose, I think.  We had to eat with our group and then go to an orientation that lasted over an hour.  All in all, it was enough for one day.  I'm hopeful that now that we're all present and accounted for, the rest of the trip will be flawless, such as I've come to expect from Road Scholar.  Keeping my fingers crossed!

Update and Explanations!

In my last post, I spoke about my upcoming trip to Southeast Asia and promised to share the experience with whatever followers I had.  Good intentions do not always guarantee good results.  In this case, the best intentions were high jacked by equipment failure.  My trusty iPad, which had been the only vehicle for blogging I had, began acting erratically on the evening of my first day in Yangon.  As I was beginning my first post, the devise suddenly shut off and, after a short rest (?) began to reboot.  I was relieved to be back in control, until two minutes later when the same thing happened.  Even more distressing was the realization that with each shut-down and re-boot, all previous work disappeared, hence, blogging became impossible, and for the duration of the trip, only the briefest and most quickly composed or read emails were possible.  I am truly sorry that none of this adventure got recorded, because it was a trip full of beauty, meaningful cultural engagement and personal fulfillment.

The iPad debacle was not the only mechanical failure I experienced.  On the third day in Began, my trusty Cannon camera which I have used on all previous trips, suddenly refused to turn on.  The tour wrangler and I spent a very informative afternoon searching the streets of Bagan for a replacement, and ultimately found one with the aid of a knowledgeable taxi driver.  Three days later, my old camera suddenly began working again!  So, I now have a backup to take on future adventures.

The fifth day, in Mandalay, I got locked in the bathroom while doing morning clean-up.  Since I was traveling as a single, I hadn't bothered to close the door of the bathroom before, and had not noticed that the lock was on the outside of the door, set to lock.  (Who installs a lock on the outside of a bathroom door?)  I had to break open a sealed window and shout to the street for rescue.  Eventually, of course, the hotel staff came to the rescue, and the worst that happened was that I was a little late for breakfast.

That is the end of the mishaps!  The rest of the trip was without incident of note.  There were a number of surprises, though.  I was sincerely moved by the depth and breadth of Buddhist influences.  The Myanmar experience proved the most revealing, in that visits in the innumerable temples, shrines and stupes do make up what is visible of the cultural history of a people long established in the region.  Evidence of the English colonial period are everywhere in the major cities, and Queen Victoria's presence is still palpable.  In the countryside, life regulated by the seasons of dry and monsoon are clearly discernible, and I'm sure that, except for the ubiquitous satellite dishes and cell phones, life has not changed a great deal for centuries.  I still find it jarring when I think of how many Buddhist monks I saw walking down the street, chatting away on smart phones, and/texting (?).

The high point of the Burma leg was the balloon ride over the temple complex in Bagan.  At one time there were over 10,000 active temples and shrines in the historic district and the ruins of many of them are still quite visible, today.  Several hundreds are still active and thriving, today, and many, which have been damaged by neglect or natural disasters, most notably earthquakes, are being lovingly and carefully restored, many with substantial international assistance.  Once again, I was awed by the extent and penetration of  the influence of Buddhism on the region and the people.

A river trip down the Mekong provided a couple of days of lighter travel demands.  We were there in the dry season, so the mighty Mekong was at a low ebb.  Only smaller boats can navigate the river in the dry season, and we were nicely accommodated in a shallow draft passenger boat during the day, and lavishly accommodated in excellent hotels and hostels at night.  There were several stops, each day to visit "local" villages peopled by various ethnic groups, but in actuality, these were barely disguised tourist stops, as every village had its wares on full display as we arrived.  Differences in house construction and cultural dress were noted.  But, it was the desire for the tourist dollar that motivated the warm welcomes we received.  One unexpected complication for me was that when the Mekong is low, the banks are very high and steep, meaning that each stop at a village or hotel, meant an arduous climb for an old guy who doesn't really do too well at climbing steep inclines.  I'm better on steps, but none appeared!  It was always dirt and sand, with an occasional bamboo handrail.

We stopped in the Golden Triangle, where three major rivers converge and which was at the heart of the Opium trade.  Today, there is an excellent museum in Thailand commemorating the opium industry and its troublesome history.  Due to intensive government efforts, most farmers have been directed to other cash crops, and the opium trade in this region is now mostly a matter of history.  We stayed overnight in a wonderful "tropical" hotel in Chang Rai, and we took a fascinating tour of a local market and had enough down time to relax and get a massage before the rest of the tour began in earnest.

Another border crossing and a bus trip took us to Luang Prabang, the old capitol city of Laos.  I admit to never having heard of this beautiful city and its beautiful people before, but I'm very glad to have had the opportunity to have my world expanded.  In addition to a great night market and excellent restaurants and hotels, Luang Prabang provides a contrast to the heavy handed British presence in Burma.  The French colonial hand was much lighter and far more charming.  Lovely well laid-out streets and modest buildings create a feeling of peace and security.  While there we were treated to a traditional storyteller, traditional dancing, a tour of a weaving cooperative where traditional Lao and upland fabrics are produced in time-honored fashion, and several trips to the night market which offered many opportunities to purchase these beautiful textiles.  One jarring note was the frequent reminders of the American bombing that took place in Laos, a non-combatant in the Vietnam war, and the immense task of locating and removing unexploded ordinance and shrapnel from large areas of the country which have been rendered unusable and unsafe.  This is an enormous task, and the United States who is exclusively responsible has been slow to respond to the call for help.

The last stop on the tour was Cambodia. It promised to be the high point of the trip, and it certainly lived up to expectations.  Engaging with the ancient Khmer Empire proved to be fascinating and eye-opening.  The cities were pictures of modern prosperity in South East Asia, but the countryside demonstrated ecological indifference, with trash and refuse of all types stacking up everywhere.  The tours of Angkor Wat, and Angkor Thom as well as the other sites, some restored and some not, will resonate with me for years to come.

The trip home was uneventful but miserable as all long distance plane travel has come to be.  It took several weeks before I was fully back in Central Standard Time, but I remain determined to see more of this culturally rich part of the world as health and finances allow.  On the future list: Tibet, Singapore, Hong Kong, Thailand.  India will have to wait for another lifetime.

Engaging with Ancient Asia

I'm re-engaging with my blog in anticipation of another travel adventure.  In less than two days, I will be wending my way to  Southeast Asia, via San Francisco, Hong Kong, Bangkok and Yangon (Rangoon).  This all began with a bucket-list desire to see the ancient Khmer site of Angkor Wat, followed by a search for a tour in which it was included.   Not surprisingly, I think, I found one in the Road (not Rhode) Scholar catalog, and decided to give them another turn since I was so elated with their tour of China.  If  you are not familiar with the company, it is a subsidiary of Elder Hostel, a name which says it all!  Geezers galore!  Perfect for me!  Preparations are in their final stages, and I am looking forward to engaging the ancient civilizations of Southeast Asia as well as the warm, tropical weather (high 70's and 80's) which is typical of this time of year.  That will be most welcome after the single digit and sub-zero temperatures we have been enduring in Chicago this December/January.

My greatest concern is the journey there.  Leaving Chicago at 5:30 pm, Sunday to San Francisco; leaving San Francisco at 10:30 pm for a 15 hour flight to Hong Kong; leaving Hong Kong at 9:00 am for a 3 hour flight to Bangkok; leaving Bangkok for at 1:45 pm for a 2 hour flight to Yangon, with a final arrival at the hotel at 4:00 pm two days later, thanks to the International Date Line.  My quick calculations tally this as 25 hours in the air and 8 hours of airport layover time (not counting the 2 hours at O'hare to begin). My preparation for this ordeal is: an inconsequential book, a new inflatable neck pillow and an ample supply of Melatonin.   Oh yea, and prayer!  Lots of prayer!

Blogging with the WiFi which most Asian hotels provide is an unpredictable process at best.  One never knows what the system will bear.  The travel company is less than reassuring about the availability and reliability of internet connections.  But, at least I should encounter no government interference this trip, so I'm hoping that my posts will be frequent and worth reading.  We shall see.  More, later.

Holy Saturday - Holy Fire - Holy Smoke!

We found out, Friday evening, that our permits for admission to the Holy Fire event in the Holy Sepulcher had been cancelled.  When all the details came to light, it turned out not to be a bad thing.  My assumption was that it took place at night, and the listing in the course outline, called for our presence at St. James Armenian Cathedral at 8:00 am in the morning.  It seemed probable to me that there were going to be two Holy Fire events, one with the Armenias, and one with the Greeks at the Holy Sepulcher.  I was wrong! The Holy Fire celebration nowadays takes place in the daytime for security reasons, and our rendezvous with the Armenias was to insure entry, as the Armenians have priority of ownership in the Holy Sepulcher.  As a result of some violence in the Old City the day before, the Israeli police and security establishment became anxious and withdrew many of the permits they had issued, including those for St. George's.  Some people from our group decided to try to get in anyway, and found the way completely closed and barred to them.  In retrospect, being locked into the Holy Sepulcher for five or six hours, standing, with nothing else to do except wait for the Greek Archbishop to emerge from the Edicule with a flaming torch doesn't sound like a particularly spiritually enriching experience.  So, any disappointment I had was short lived.

We were offered some alternate experiences: to go to the "Garden Tomb," a site beloved by protestant and evangelical types or take free time.  The Garden Tomb offers 1. A garden, and 2. A tomb from well before the 1st century A.D., but has no validity as "the tomb from which Jesus rose from the dead."  It came about because 19th century Protestant (romantics and pietists mostly, certainly not historians or archaeologists) didn't like the traditional site being in the hands of the Orthodox and Catholics.  So, they set about to find "the true location" of the tomb.  They found this tomb and some evidence of a garden, and imagined a nearby rock formation to look like a skull, and declared their findings to be the authentic site, rather than the one which tradition and archaeology have identified and venerated since the fourth century.  I will say this.  If you want to see a tomb that looks like the one pictured in your Sunday school books, The Garden Tomb is your best choice.  If you prefer authenticity, then the contents of the Holy Sepulcher take the prize.

I had a nice time reintroducing myself to the Garden Tomb, and I was amazed at the number of church groups who were there holding services.  As a rule, the Garden Tomb is pretty quiet and has smarmy quasi religious music piped in.  This day, the din from guitars and sound systems pretty well overpowered any peaceful thoughts or intentions.  Those evangelicals .... always so willing to share their enthusiasm.

Our supplemental afternoon activity turned out to be a real stroke of luck.  We were permitted to be at the Russian Orthodox Chapel when the Holy Fire arrived from the Holy Sepulcher after 2:00 pm.  There is a practice, here, of distributing the Holy Fire to as many churches as possible.  At the conclusion of the Holy Fire service in the Holy Sepulcher, runners head out in various directions, some even to the airport, to carry the Holy Fire to outlying locations where Orthodoxy predominates.  We arrived at the Russian Chapel at just the right moment.

While my Russian is not what it needed to be, it was fairly easy to follow the Bishop as he read some scripture and delivered an impassioned sermon that I'm sure had something to do with Easter and/or the resurrection.  The music, as always in the Russian church, was phenomononal ... celebratory without being gushy or sentimental.

We left the delivery of the Holy Fire service feeling like we had not missed anything, and had certainly avoided the much more uncomfortable Holy Fire service at the Holy Sepulcher.  Comfort, I believe, takes on a much higher priority with age and I am willing to say that I have arrive there.

The Easter Vigil service at the Cathedral of Saint George the Martyr was very familiar in form, being from the American Prayer Book.  Local variations included the usual bilingual acommodations and the service was much shorter than most of us are accustomed to.  Yet, the essentials were all there, and we closed out the day very much satisfied.  It was different than we had expected, but, in actuality better!

Friday - Goodness and Not so Goodness.

Every course at St. George's has a time set aside for doing the Stations of the Cross in situ, so to speak.  Inevitably, it is at 6:00 am, near the end of the course, and I have done it once, and never again!  The idea of getting an early start to avoid the distraction of crowds sounds good on paper.  But, all the stations are closed until the "owners" who are almost all Moslem, decide to open them, if they ever do, when it is convenient for them, usually around 9:00 or 10:00.  Additionally, some past professor or dean, wrote his/her own version of the Stations of the Cross.  If I had to guess, I would guess that he/she was a graduate of EDS because this version is all about contemporary issues like man's inhumanity to man, environmental concerns, world and local politics and what have you.  This is the version which gets used.  Personally, I've concluded that the placement of the traditional Stations of the Cross are wrong and their location has more to do with crowd management than replicating the path of our Lord on his way to the cross.  There are several traditional devotions, including traditional Anglican scripts, which seek to bring participants into a closer identification with Jesus and, I think they are the ones that are appropriate.  That is a long way of saying that I blew off Staions of the Cross in the old city, again, and slept in.  Otherwise, I was pretty well behaved through out the day.

The Good Friday service at Saint George's Cathedral was recognizably from the Prayer Book, with local variations.  All the essentials: Good Friday lections; sermons/meditations; Veneration of the Cross; 

Solemn Collects; Mass of the Presancttified; abrupt conclusion; all present and accounted for.  I thought that I was the only person to have remembered that Good Friday is a fast day, only to discover that several other people considered themsrelves "fasting" if they didn't eat meat, in other words, like it was any other Friday.  I call that abstinence.  I suppose that kind of thinking is far more wide spread than I would like to know.  For myself, I held true to the tradition of no food until after sundown, and feel self righteously proud for having done so in the presence of so many slackers!

The truly new experience of the day was attending another Armenian service observing the burial of Christ.  Held at St. James' Cathedral, it was another musical tour de force, this time with the entire seminary chorus in place.  In reflection, I would describe it as an extended Evensong with Good Firday elements such as a beautifully decorated "grave" as a focal point.  Looking at a translation of the texts, I noticed a continuing plea for peace as a dominant theme, and who would not applaud that.  However, two solid hours of Armenian liturgical music while standing, no matter how beautiful and executed, is still a lot!  Since I have no other pictures for the day, I'll include a few from this service.

It's All About Foot Washing.

Perhaps my focus has been directed toward a different understanding of the importance of Maundy Thursday, because I have always thought that the most important thing about the observances of this day was the Institution of the dominical sacrament of the Lord's Supper.  Of the three Holy Thursday services I attended today, only the Anglican one celebrated the Eucharist.  Of course, it also included foot washing as the focus, but at least it's wasn't the central act of worship!

The Maundy Thursday experience in Jerusalem began with a walking trip to the Ethiopian Orthodox Church foot washing ceremony on the roof of the Church of the Holy Sepulchur.  Our accompanying lecturer told of a time when the Ethiopians had a place within the church, but politics and luck turned against them, at some point, and they lost out to the Copts and were relegated to the roof.  I'm sure that was seen as a come down.  But from the perspective of worship space, the roof serves them very well.  There was a very large turn out for the celebration with many highly decorated clergy and four bishops, including the Archbishop in attendance.

Ethiopian services can be very hard to follow, and this was no exception.  The prominant figures sat up on a dias sort of thing, and the number of people seated there increased substantially through out the service.  It may have been an intended part of the service, but it looked more like dignitaries were seated as they arrived.  Liturgical time in many of the eastern churches is pretty flexible.  At one point there was even a kind of procession of additional chairs as the number of participants out grew the places for them to sit. 

Several different chants accompanied the service, and in Ethiopian fashion usually involved two or three singers, each contributing his own chant line, not necessarily the same one, and not necessarily even in the same key.  It is an unusual sound to the western ear.  At one point, a large book was brought in and passages were read, each with its own chant response.  Eventually something was blessed, and getting some of it, became the focus of all the gathered faithful.  It turns out to be a plant which is associated with cleanliness, and getting a piece of it brings the hint of spiritual purity.  At any rate, while I saw no foot washing, it was by far the most colorful and unpredictable service I have witnessed this trip.

We had arrived around 10:30 for a service which began sometime later.  When it actually began is open to some debate.  However, the two things which aren't debatable are the the service lasted until after 1:00, and forced us into literally eating a lunch on the run, so that we could make our next appointed service at the Armenian Cathedral of Saint James the Less and the unseasonable heat up on the roof which made such a long service uncomfortable and slightly dangerous for some people.

If the Ethiopians seem rather relaxed and casual, the Armenians, through past experience, are the exact opposite!  Decorum is strictly enforced.  No shorts, no sleeveless shirts, no crossing of legs, and I'm sure there are others which I am unlikely to violate, so I'm not aware of them.

The Armenian service was dignified and accompanied throughout by beautiful chanting, provided by a men's choir, made up in part from the students attending the seminary located in the complex.  At a predictable point in the service, after the reading, the bishop left the sanctuary and was reverted in "foot washing apparel" at which time he washed the feet of the other clergy who were with him, accompanied by more glorious chanting.  At the end, he returned to his episcopal splendor for a blessing and dismissal to the assembly.  A very different experience than with the Ethiopians.

The last service of the day was at Saint George's Cathedral, with the liturgy with which we are familiar, from the Book of Common Prayer.  As with nearly all services at St. George's, it was bilingual, some in English, some in Arabic, with the sermon in both.  At the conclusion of the service, however, rather than going to an altar of repose, we "processed" to the Garden of Gethsemane for a few scripture readings and  some reflective time.  It was a most intense feeling to actually be in the Garden of Gethsemane on Maundy Thursday, contemplating the events which took place there 2,100 years ago.

From the college, the route is entirely down hill.  While the rest of the participants seemed happy to remain a while, and to walk back (up hill all the way) I chose to take a taxi.  Had I attempted to walk, I afraid I'd have never made it.  I arrive back at the college relaxed with time for a cup of tea before bed.  In mature years, one should learn to take it easy at the end of a long day.  After all, there is nothing to prove any more to anyone but oneself.