Monday, February 15, 2016
Sunday, February 14, 2016
a little weekend in the mountains
Living in the big city has its limits. We finally decided, on the spur of the moment, to spend a weekend in the mountain town where C and J have made a home. Ironically, we were asking some friends here if there was a good place to stay and they mentioned a place C and J had introduced them to several years ago. We found it to be friendly and just what we needed. Our two young friends came with us for one night.
Grand taxis drive between towns. They are white mercedes from the 60s-70s. No seat belts. About $3 for one person to travel one hour away from our city. They take 6 people plus the driver - sometimes those 6 people are 6 adults - pretty squished! Our party of 6 nicely fit in one, but when we went to leave the station, the taxi that pulled up was a very nice modern mid-size with extra seats! Our foreign-ness shows, I guess. Still only $3.50 for one of us.
The sun was shining as we swept through the olive farms outside our city. We quickly climbed into the mountains, passing donkeys and little country houses with laundry swinging out over the vast valley below. Trees appeared, soon there were forests and apple orchards satisfying our hungry eyes. Vast landscapes spread out before us, almost reminding us of the Shenandoah Valley.
The sun shone on the little town in the mountains where we planned to stay. Breeze kicked up the dust. A huge, beautifully decorated mosque welcomed us to the center of town. With a little help from locals we found our guesthouse. All was silent except for a kind hostess. We walked through a beautifully decorated sitting room where we would play games, chat and even enjoy a wood fire in the open fireplace in the chill evenings!
When we arrived, it was lunch time so we walked out to explore for food. About a 5-10 minute walk along our main road sat a little spot. We walked over and began reading the sign in the language most used here! We were all stunned and proud that we could not be tricked into more expensive prices:) Every Friday, almost everyone in the country eats couscous for lunch. We found the couscous to be hot and good. L loved the yogurt drinks in bright pink and yellow. The beef and chicken sandwiches were stuffed with rice, green olives, tomatoes, and a mayonnaise sauce. Mayonnaise and duck sauce also accompanied our fries instead of ketchup. We ended up coming back for supper (sharing the traditional, comforting soup, harira, and boiled eggs with the locals). We liked it so much we came back for lunch the next day and when we left with some leftovers the proprietor threw in extra fries, bread, and olives (L is getting very cutely adept at saying olives).
While the kids and I rested, P and our two friends hiked around the mountains, even getting invited into a house for tea, local honey and homemade bread!
We had a local breakfast of bread, laughing cow cheese, black, oil cured olives, apricot jam, tea and coffee at the guesthouse. More exploring and resting then our friends left and we spent another night as a family. That evening the guesthouse was packed out with a tour bus of people from this country.
After breakfast on Sunday, our host drove us to the grand taxi station because it was beginning to rain on a dry and thirsty land. The thing about grand taxis is that you sit and wait until it fills up before you go. S and I sat and sang in the taxi while the rain came down. P and L stood outside and talked to other waiting passengers going other places. After about a half hour two other women packed in and we were off. As we pulled out of the station, we all exclaimed as the sun shone out just for a moment, highlighting the mountains towering in front of us. One rocky edge framed a mountain side where terracotta, square houses were cupped in the rising mountains around. We drove through mist and rain and walked from the busy street a short walk to our house in rain. We are so thankful for all the blessings of rest and beauty, friendship and contemplation given us this weekend. C and J, you were missed and thought of much.
Grand taxis drive between towns. They are white mercedes from the 60s-70s. No seat belts. About $3 for one person to travel one hour away from our city. They take 6 people plus the driver - sometimes those 6 people are 6 adults - pretty squished! Our party of 6 nicely fit in one, but when we went to leave the station, the taxi that pulled up was a very nice modern mid-size with extra seats! Our foreign-ness shows, I guess. Still only $3.50 for one of us.
The sun was shining as we swept through the olive farms outside our city. We quickly climbed into the mountains, passing donkeys and little country houses with laundry swinging out over the vast valley below. Trees appeared, soon there were forests and apple orchards satisfying our hungry eyes. Vast landscapes spread out before us, almost reminding us of the Shenandoah Valley.
The sun shone on the little town in the mountains where we planned to stay. Breeze kicked up the dust. A huge, beautifully decorated mosque welcomed us to the center of town. With a little help from locals we found our guesthouse. All was silent except for a kind hostess. We walked through a beautifully decorated sitting room where we would play games, chat and even enjoy a wood fire in the open fireplace in the chill evenings!
When we arrived, it was lunch time so we walked out to explore for food. About a 5-10 minute walk along our main road sat a little spot. We walked over and began reading the sign in the language most used here! We were all stunned and proud that we could not be tricked into more expensive prices:) Every Friday, almost everyone in the country eats couscous for lunch. We found the couscous to be hot and good. L loved the yogurt drinks in bright pink and yellow. The beef and chicken sandwiches were stuffed with rice, green olives, tomatoes, and a mayonnaise sauce. Mayonnaise and duck sauce also accompanied our fries instead of ketchup. We ended up coming back for supper (sharing the traditional, comforting soup, harira, and boiled eggs with the locals). We liked it so much we came back for lunch the next day and when we left with some leftovers the proprietor threw in extra fries, bread, and olives (L is getting very cutely adept at saying olives).
While the kids and I rested, P and our two friends hiked around the mountains, even getting invited into a house for tea, local honey and homemade bread!
We had a local breakfast of bread, laughing cow cheese, black, oil cured olives, apricot jam, tea and coffee at the guesthouse. More exploring and resting then our friends left and we spent another night as a family. That evening the guesthouse was packed out with a tour bus of people from this country.
After breakfast on Sunday, our host drove us to the grand taxi station because it was beginning to rain on a dry and thirsty land. The thing about grand taxis is that you sit and wait until it fills up before you go. S and I sat and sang in the taxi while the rain came down. P and L stood outside and talked to other waiting passengers going other places. After about a half hour two other women packed in and we were off. As we pulled out of the station, we all exclaimed as the sun shone out just for a moment, highlighting the mountains towering in front of us. One rocky edge framed a mountain side where terracotta, square houses were cupped in the rising mountains around. We drove through mist and rain and walked from the busy street a short walk to our house in rain. We are so thankful for all the blessings of rest and beauty, friendship and contemplation given us this weekend. C and J, you were missed and thought of much.
Thursday, February 4, 2016
S and L on the Move!
One day this week, I saw S walk 9 steps in a row, about half the length of our long room! Praises to God! -P
Wednesday, February 3, 2016
Sense
What do we sense right now?
- I feel the rest that comes with nights when the children sleep 11-12 hours a night.
-I hear the clicker on our little gas stove and that puff of gas as it lights.
-I smell fresh squeezed orange juice almost every morning.
-I feel the oranges under my hand as I squeeze and turn them around the juicer.
-I hear the man walk by with his cart of fish and yell 'hoot' (fish) and L and S try to copy him. They think he is funny.
-I look our our windows into the orange trees that surround our house. I also see the very tall, sprawling rose bush beside our front door, faithfully flourishing big, red roses in February.
-I feel the warm slipperyness of the leather house slippers we wear on the cold tile floors of our house.
-I hear the lock turn and the metal doors/gates clank as friends come and go from our house.
-I smell the wood smoke from the hammam in our block - the ash falls on our drying clothes in the courtyard.
-I feel the delicious sun on my face as I sit on the roof in the afternoon - smells and feels like late spring.
-I hear L's little voice as she says EVERYTHING and asks questions all the time.
-I hear S chuckle as he takes step after step, catching himself, surprising himself, falling and chuckling.
-I hear our language teacher putter up on her husband's motorcycle.
-I hear our doorbell sound like a scared, hurried bird.
-I hear the children ask for a 'bable tory' at bedtime.
-I hear P and the children singing every day.
-I feel the warmth and taste the sour of a hot cup of lemon/honey tea (real lemon, local honey).
-I feel queasy from the little baby coming.
-And again, I feel thankful for a day to sense, to live in this place.
B
- I feel the rest that comes with nights when the children sleep 11-12 hours a night.
-I hear the clicker on our little gas stove and that puff of gas as it lights.
-I smell fresh squeezed orange juice almost every morning.
-I feel the oranges under my hand as I squeeze and turn them around the juicer.
-I hear the man walk by with his cart of fish and yell 'hoot' (fish) and L and S try to copy him. They think he is funny.
-I look our our windows into the orange trees that surround our house. I also see the very tall, sprawling rose bush beside our front door, faithfully flourishing big, red roses in February.
-I feel the warm slipperyness of the leather house slippers we wear on the cold tile floors of our house.
-I hear the lock turn and the metal doors/gates clank as friends come and go from our house.
-I smell the wood smoke from the hammam in our block - the ash falls on our drying clothes in the courtyard.
-I feel the delicious sun on my face as I sit on the roof in the afternoon - smells and feels like late spring.
-I hear L's little voice as she says EVERYTHING and asks questions all the time.
-I hear S chuckle as he takes step after step, catching himself, surprising himself, falling and chuckling.
-I hear our language teacher putter up on her husband's motorcycle.
-I hear our doorbell sound like a scared, hurried bird.
-I hear the children ask for a 'bable tory' at bedtime.
-I hear P and the children singing every day.
-I feel the warmth and taste the sour of a hot cup of lemon/honey tea (real lemon, local honey).
-I feel queasy from the little baby coming.
-And again, I feel thankful for a day to sense, to live in this place.
B
From the past
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| L's first artichokes on Christmas eve |
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| Christmas, of course! |
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| LOVES this bunny and decided she should 'wear' it like mama |
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| A new friend and his birthday |
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| Granma comes to town! |
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| We loved it! |