Chasing Ideals

You like me may have entertained the sterling question, "What's the craic." This chap who has penned his fair share of words over the past year suddenly has a place, a measure of time, and a reliable connection and yet the infrequency of posting remains. 'Tis a relief for yours truly to know that responsible agents are not breathing down this neck begging for new material or the dreaded three volume novel. In the midst of something close to normal and consistent living this chap is finding it difficult to find balance in my desire to stay connected through emails and updates. I am one that lives so deeply in relationship that to be unable to see your faces, experience the mystery and joy of all levels of communication as opposed to words on a page, therein lies the challenge. Life on the road robbed me of my grounding and in that time my writings and my connectedness to people thousands of miles away was everything. Now I spend my days with the same wonderful people, spend many of my hours expending myself to the goal of home production, and suddenly I am grounded in a different sphere. It it not that I do not care for those relationships that held me through long periods of change but now I must learn to live fully where I am and at the same time balance moments for maintaining those relationships in as full a sense as possible. I can see myself in writing this that a level of confusion may result so in future additions hopefully more clarity can be attained.

On the lighter side of life production of said house progresses at markable rate. I have added two new albums to Lovable Quirks displaying the finished work of our variably slanted roof. The experience was one I enjoyed immensely in the problem solving, adapatational, excitement rendering, swift knowledge building nature of the work. I have never so fully enjoyed a project experience. Whether 'twas hammering nail after nail, numbering in the thousands and resulting in only one sheepish blood blister despite; sitting atop a sharply angled roof as one might straddle a horse and wondering if my back end would come through unharmed; attaching beam after beam of wood as one might for a massive jigsaw except that here there was almost no consistency in size, shape, color, straightness, or any other ease bearing quality; continuing my exploration of the humorous side of the Polish language for the sake of chuckles from "el jefe" Mister Goose (known to me now as majster or piura gonski (goose feathers you may remember)); and the unquestioned independance I was afforded to make decisions about how the work was to be accomplished (our second carpenter Andrzej is on hiatus to Singapore for shipyard carpentry thereby leaving us tag alongs to make more decisions). The next stage now is to finish closing off the house in preparation for winter and then beginning the next enjoyable stage of floor production.

The only major difficulty in the midst of the joy of hammering nails and using a strug (don't know the name in English strangely enough) to shave off uneven bits of wood is the part of me that for a year got used to non stop travels. There are families about Poland that I wish to see and I'm not used to anything being in the way of that. The other day I recognized my impatience at thinking it could be weeks before we are at a place with the house that I can vamoose and my travel bug spot was fumin'. It revealed to me the necessity of this period in time here. I wish to forever have travel and the experience of a variety of people as a part of life but my desire for family and home in the future is one rooted in place. The great joys of life on the road do not outweigh my desire to know where home is and who home is with. I needed this project and time here with this wonderful family to readjust and be committed to life in one place. I can see that now and have had to give the travel bug inside me a good lickin' (no foul thoughts, it means rough it up a bit). When the time comes I will travel especially as Darek and Asia's baby was born only a week ago and my excitement is at the tremendous level to visit and have time with the baby as well as the family in this transition time. A side note on that level is that a baby could not be born into a more loving home. Darek and Asia are so genuine in their love and their desire to make their home a place of piece and welcoming that it gives me great joy to know that this gift straight from God's heart has come to them. For now I am here and I am committed to this project that will in the future provide a place to call home for many a family and perhaps a few needing missionaries (who dares remember ten marvelous Brazilians that God once sent this way).

Ok that will do it for now. I hope to be able to have greater consistency in doing this now. I am thinking of how to adapt it to being in one place as I haven't exciting travel stories to share but those from truly living as part of family.

Read the post below as there is plenty more to it than this one. Yesterday myself, Nihal's mother, and Nihal's two sisters went to visit ancient Troy. I have added pictures to Lovable Quirks of the occasion. It was the first I saw of other tourists in the region and there were many. It is amazing to see none others in one area and seven tour bus loads in another. I was glad to have the chance to visit somewhere but it reminded me of the size of this nation. The journey to Troy was nearly two hours each way though it hadn't seemed all that far on the map.

Tomorrow our hero heads to Kusadasi which is further south along the coast. I will be hosted there by a relative of Nihal and get to visit Izmir and the ancient city of Efes. I'm going to leave the faithful Citroen here in Can and make use of the cheap buses. Not sure if posting will be an option but if not I shall return to Can in no more than a week I think.

Time for a tale as juicy as your average tangerine. I spent Saturday morning shopping with Nihal and Emre in a nearby village and on our return we dropped off Nihal's mother at her friend's house. A short time later Nihal got a call to say I was invited to return to the friend's house for a Turkish meal. Some I've met have said I'm the first foreigner they have seen in the area so I guess am quite the novelty. It should be mentioned here that the majority of older women in Turkey wear a shawl to cover their hair. Some younger women also but very few. Anyhows I showed up to the house alone and was greeted by the lady of the house. She seemed to me to indicate that I enter the house but I think now that no such indication was made. I waltzed in and was greeted with the surprised stares of 10- 15 of Turkey's finest. None of the women were wearing their shawls and all looked as though they were caught in the act. Plenty of cheeks suddenly blushed and mine more than all others. Nihal's mother who was quickly refitting her own made a swift indication for me to return outside. The moment I got out the door an eruption of laughter emerged from within. I was led up stairs to the second floor where I was to enjoy my meal and the laughter below continued for at least ten minutes. Having a young foreign lad view them in that compromised state caused quite a stir I guess. Glad to be able to provide small thrills for the old birds.

That same evening I made a well needed discovery. I have been staying in a hotel for the last two nights and in the time been thoroughly confused by the plumbing. The only device I found to perform the necessary flushes is a small metal hose attached to the lip of the toilet bowel. The water pressure one can achieve with the hose while considerable is inadequate to actually flush anything down and the knob for turning on the water keeps falling off. For some time I tried to figure the correct angle to aim the hose but my efforts were in vain. Instead I have had to spend the last day and a half using the shower head as a psuedo toilet flusher. Sadly it leaks at the faucet and shower head connection so each time I leave the toilet looking like a monsoon victim. Having to leave the hotel looking soiled in small town Turkey is no fun let me tell you. Well now to the discovery. I must take my toilet time far too seriously because I had neglected to take a look around and notice the large flushing device high on the wall behind the toilet bowel. One pull of that flusher and a river pours that could flush an Indian elephant down. What joy and relief was mine. Since then I have found any and all opportunities to pull the chain on that monster flusher. Further thought (scary I know) and I have realized that the delightful metal hose is for those bark chewing tree huggers. Why use toilet paper when your left hand is sitting idle? I imagine the cold water from that hose and the five digit special is quite a thrill come Winter. If there was any uncertainty about the intelligence of yours truly this situation should clear up the matter. Put the flusher in an odd location and this mo will be scooping water from the sink to try to flush whatever necessary.

You may have noticed but I finally added an Archive link to your left. Those of you latecomers can take a look when time allows at the early stages of this fanciful journey.

Another birthday, another member of the fam to celebrate. Today is my mother's birthday and how I wish I could be there with her. In addition to her greatest accomplishment, i.e. my birth, she has lived an inspiring life. She has sacrificed more than thirty years to her family in the midst of tremendous obstacles and major life changes. From the rigorous country life in Ireland to the madness of city life in Phoenix my mother has braved it all. She has raised five marvelous children who are better prepared for this life because of her influence and her great love for us. In my life she has always shown such great care for me. I know that so much of the security I felt in my childhood rested in that knowledge. Even now she looks for small ways to remind me of that love and her thought for me.

How has her love and life influenced yours one might ask? I am a more caring and loving man as result of her influence. I am better prepared for marriage and fatherhood. She showed me what it means to make a home a home where others are welcomed and can find rest. So few people understand anymore how to make there home a place of welcome and care but I have seen that I appreciate this and cherish the opportunity to create that environment. There is something so refreshing in arriving at a home where preparations are always made to refresh the guest. My mother is very affectionate also and I have certainly followed in the footsteps. I have seen time and time again the power behind displaying affection to those that I love. Individuals in society today are starved of that language of love and I know that I am blessed to understand its necessity.

All that I want in the future comes with sacrifice and the example of my mother is an inspiration towards that end. She has given so much of herself to my father and to the lives of myself and my siblings. It is a gift of God that I need not search for such an example. Even now the work that she has chosen as a medical assistant is a testament to the care she has for others and the conscientious attitude with which she approaches her work. Happy Birthday to one whose life has meant so much for mine. Click on the picture to see some more and do not forget to read Turkish Delights Part 2 below.

Before going any further I should give the names of my gracious hosts. They are Emre and Nihal Tasci and have a 40 day old son whose name I won't yet attempt to spell. Day two of my Turkish exploits was spent with Emre's older brother Cahit. He offered to take me to the coast and fishing in his boat. It was a first for me out on the Mediterranean and a relaxing way to spend an afternoon. It also further inspired me to one day have a boat and be able to do the same. Cahit speaks a fair amount of English as well and so I had the chance to learn a bit about the country I find myself in. This may be no suprise to some but the memorable moment of the day came with an uncomfortable crotch reference. Displays the beauty of the language barrier. I had said to Cahit I needed that to use the loo and he asked, "little or." I looked at him confusedly and said "what." He then pointed to my crotch and said "little." A lesser chap may have gone to blows at the comment but understanding came quickly. A few moments later I realized why he had asked as the toilet looked like a post Cinco de Mayo nightmare. The place wasn't fit for anything more than "little." Another development is that my name in Turkey has become Scaler. Cahit was the first to adjust the sound and subsequent others now say the same. I have become no stranger to this so have no trouble with it now.

Day three, Sunday, I again spent time with Cahit and some of his chums. It was the day before the beginning of Bayran Ramadam and items must be purchased for the festivities that have gone on Monday to today. Bayran is one of the major holidays of the Islamic people. It is a time to be together with family and friends. For the month previous to Bayran no sweet foods are to be eaten so then during the three days of Bayran many types of sweets things are prepared. Tasty time for yours truly to show up in the area. A honey drenched slab of baklava is hard to pass up at the worst of times. Spending the day with the old fellas was a good experience. I understood not a word of what was said but nontheless enjoyed wandering around with them to bakers, sweet makers, and smelly fish sellers. The last bunch were slightly less appealing. At least in Can people seem to be well connected with each other and especially when with Cahit many stops are made to say hello to various individuals. There is much more of an emphasis on maintaining close contact with one's family also.

On Monday morning before visits to the families of Emre and Nihal and the consumption of mass amounts of sweets I was invited to attend a prayer service at the mosque. Upon entrance to the mosque a first shocker was seeing a chap who looked more Irish than I. Red hair and freckles are the classic signs and unexpected in these parts. He may have been a foreigner like myself but I have my doubts as there are few in this area. I have been suprised by the variation in the look of the Turkish people. While there are many with features that one might expect many others look more like Western Europeans. The result of centuries of mixing and conquests no doubt. The service consisted first of a sermon and then a short time of prayer. I must say that for me it was very conformist. In the same manner as many Christian services there is no participation from the congregation. Old rituals are performed, some of which are in the Arabic language which many of the Turkish people I have asked don't even speak. The holiday also brings many to the service that normally do not attend. Christianity has its CEO (Christmas, Easter only) Christians and it seems perhaps Islam has the same. I understand that I base these notations on a first impression but I hate the dynamic of conformity in organized religion.

In homes and especially at the mosque all persons remove their shoes and this still poses a problem for me. When Emre and I (it was a service for men only) were exiting the mosque we grabbed our shoes and I immediately tossed mine down and started to put them on. This still ten to twenty paces inside the door. A few gasps went up in the relative surroundings. If it wasn't for Emre quickly giving me the nudge to hold back I may have caused quite a stir.

Since the occasion as I said I have spent the days visiting the families and friends of my hosts. All have been welcoming and interested in my travels and plans for Turkey. It has been great for me to just relax and enjoy people and events. I mentioned that I arrived in Turkey feeling exhausted after months of travel and so I need this time. I am physically tired from time on the road and emotionally tired with constantly saying goodbye and traveling to strange environments. I need time in the same place for at least a week or two. My hosts are often worried that I am bored but I have tried to reassure that it is a need for rest and not boredom that I am experiencing.

How many can say they have seen the broader side of a Turk and come out smiling? I arrived in this nation with little fanfare and have spent the last days resting my weary appendages. No excitement can I recall from the border experience apart from seeing young military types carrying man sized machine guns and eyeing me like an oatmeal cream. It was the first time I had to purchase a visa for entry. Ten euro for a stamp sized sticker that gives ninety day access to the Turkish delights.

I had my route carefully and oh so meticulously planned to the house of my hosts. Unfortunately my famed careful planning really only consisted of "This looks like the shortest route." From the border to Canakkale I was riding high on marvelous asphalt. Canakkale to Can however had me longing for some of Albania's finest. I was informed later that attempts have been made to fix this road but so far all have failed. Along the road one can see the remnants of those bowel bashing attempts at repair. The crowning experience here was my first over water shimmy. I like to think of it as a proverbial crossing of the Mississippi but truth be told it was more similar to a child's paddling pool. The sight of a motorcycle crossing before me quelled any fears of being struck down river and having to abandon ship at waterfall's edge. I was met with many snickers and general giggling later when I told others of my route choice. Apparently it is an route only for the hapless and unguided tourist.

One tries to keep a level head but upon arrival in a new place there are certain experiences one hopes to avoid. Night one in the area I was warmly greeted by a mild earthquake. Now this wasn't the type where women run screaming and the chubbier bits of infants begin to wriggle with frequency but was still my first. I was sitting on a couch at the time and was convinced for some moments that the person next to me had a major itch on the hind quarters and was using the couch as a scratching post. It wasn't until my host Nihal asked me if I was feeling the earthquake that I was clued in. The quake lasted no more than twenty seconds but left an eerie feeling in the lower intestine. Experiencing the earth move beneath you changes one's perception of physical stability in a way that nothing else could. I asked if it happens often and was told that damage causing quakes don't. Certainly reassuring.

Hopefully my companions take no offense to this but we had what seemed a comical drive from Nafpolio to Meteora. Wiesieck was at the wheel and Andrej his navigator. We covered what seemed not too far a distance in what seemed an excessive number of hours. I was in back with the kiddies watching movies on the laptop but noticing navigational difficulties all the while. I myself have experienced problems in attempting to decipher Greek signposts but their troubles seemed to me to border the ridiculous. I won't go on about it but must say that this was not the finest hour of the old boys. Our friend Georg might have given us a run for our money on his bicycle if he'd had the opp.

If anything though their lackluster performance behind the wheel was made up for by the fabulous fish dinner we consumed with glee at roadside. Andrej did the honors of purchasing the marvelous gill breathers along the way and we later stopped and cooked the blighters. They were some fine and juicy fish and well worth the search for them. We had been promising ourselves the acquistion of a few of the Mediterranean's finest and that day turned out to be the day for it. Unquestionably the finest fish that have passed these lips I might add. Wiesieck did the honors of chefing it for the occasion and a fine job he did. We ate our fill and continued on.

Meteora was reached after the sun had long set. We meandered up a steep mountain road in search of a place to spread our tents and after some time found the spot. No indication of whether we could camp there but at that hour it hardly mattered. We set up quickly and hit the proverbial hay on a cold and wet night. Cold and wet has been the story of the last few and it became increasingly difficult to avoid a soiled feeling come morning. Sleeping horizontally in a tent is always preferable to the contortions that car sleeping requires so all in all was a good night. Only come morning were we made aware that free camping in the area was a no no. The police came by and told us to skidaddle. Not rudely but directly and so we packed up and headed for Meteora.

We had been unsure of what this Meteora place had to offer but I think that none of us left dissapointed. Many of you have already seen the pictures of this incredible place but if not then take a gander. Many centuries ago the first monks and nuns scaled these rock formations and brick by brick built their monasteries atop them. While I disagree with their idea that one can reach God through solitude I admire their dedication to the task at hand. The monasteries were built with naught less than sweat and toil. Paths to the tops now forged for tourists did not exist in times past and many a pilgrim was hoisted to the summits of these formations by pully and in basket. It is a marvelous feeling to be witness to an achievement that modern developers cannot understand. Even today it is not known how these structures were built in the sense of how all of the supplies were raised to where the stone buildings now stand.

Beyond exploration of this breathtaking place we piled in and made the return voyage to Thessaloniki. We pitched our tents one last time and settled in for the night. Come morning we had our brekers and set about exploring the beach for rocks and other goodies to take to our respective homes. Then after a repacking of car and van the gang set out for Poland. This not before sweet goodbyes and tight squeezes round the neck. This journey of mine has been one full of relationship, the joy of new friendships and at least for now the sadness of goodbyes. I am blessed to be joined along my way and my friends can return to Poland refreshed as result of their time of travel. How like God that two months ago I knew not the existence of these people and have now had the opportunity to share in my journey with them. I am on the road now to country number 14 of this journey, Turkey. New friendships await me and gracious hosts to meet and know. Take a look at the two new photo albums I added to Lovable Quirks.

Where did we leave off? Athens finest, Poles in Greece, temps that make the unmentionables run for cover. In the last week I have eaten like a king whose really let himself go, camped on breezy islands and meteora peaks, and huffed a 999 step ascent to an electorally closed castle. Mis companeros have departed for Poland and I am planning a mad dash for Turkish delights. After departing Athens one of our new friends from the Polish church directed us to the island of Salamino. He took the afternoon off from work to show us exactly how to get there. We spent two days camping au natural (for free) and exploring the little villages and coastline. For the kids it was a welcome change from the confines of the city. Their explorative juices were flowing freely and they were collecting an assortment of objects and sea creatures. It was marvelous to see their enthusiasm. Twas the type that the childhood wonder is designed for. For me it was a welcome change to be with those for whom the countryside is home. We picked and ate fruits growing wild and wandered through neighborhoods old and new. Day two we met a man named Georg from Germany who like myself is searching for his local in this world. He shared breakfast with us and told us of his living in South America in the past and his disallusionment with the state of Europe. Like myself he has been on the road for four months but unlike myself has been bicycling it. It was no coincidence that we crossed his path in an empty campground on a little known Greek island. He has a daughter that he has not seen in years though in her early years he had been with her almost every minute. His last years have been a string of bad decisions and of giving up what was most important in his life. He had a vague and uncommitting attitude toward God but like so many had no understanding of God's desire for personal relationship with him. I felt so priveleged in the moments I shared with him that I could tell him of a God who gave everything so that we could be reunited with him. A God who will go to any length, any corner of the earth to knock at the door of our heart. I don't know what if anything changed in Georg's heart but I know that he heard about God's heart in a way that he has never before. The author of love wishes for Georg to know him and wishes that his life could be healed. An incredible reminder for me of the love of my savior.

Should mention that colder weather is certainly upon me. My years in scorching heat have certainly lowered the tolerance of such temps. I find myself piling on the layers until I can hardly lower my arms while my Polish companions are all smiles in their shorts and t's. However brutal I long for the necessary body chemistry adjustment so those smiles can be mine as well.

From the island we headed to the town of Nafpolio in the Peloponese region. This not without crossing over the Corinth canal. A marvel to behold as it was dug through rock and though begun in the time of Nero was not completed until around 100 years ago. Our journey to Nafpolio led us through spectacular mountains and along beautiful coastline. Slow going but worth the venture. Upon arrival in Nafpolio we were unsure of where to lay our heads and free camping was not presenting itself. Stout fellow that he is, Wiesieck had me stop at a house with land in the front and gained permission from the owner for us to pitch there. I had never had the fortitude to attempt this but will certainly consider it in future. Was the perfect spot for morning(Wiesieck and Andrej- old chaps must have fewer nerve endings) or afternoon (everyone else) swims as well as exploration of the town. The towns claim to is a huge castle atop the mountain overlooking it. This was the occasion for the huffing exercise of the 999 step variety. With the end reached the rebuff was that all was closed thereafter because of the current elections. Strange because this was a Sunday but who knows how the Greeks handle such things. Wandering around the city did not disappoint as twas of similar style to those of Croatia's coast. Narrow stone streets and hanging flowers tantalized the eyes and inspired exploration. Our time in this area was well spent and once again large quantities of fruit was picked and consumed. At the slight taste of some mangerines we discovered only discretion held me back from hacking down the tree and dragging its contents with us. Instead Wiesieck and I filled our britches with the little beauties and had to return to the car looking as if we had taken the lethal dose of Viagara. It was hard to adjust to hauling such a load down low but the tangerine feast made the discomfort worth the while. Speaking of feast I should again note the marvelous prepartions of Nancy. In the mix we had homemade peanut butter and homemade spaghetti sauces. To be camping but to eat so well was like a dream. We always had more than enough for each meal and for me that is a reminder of home and of being cared for. Wonderful stuff. When my companions departed today they left with me a plethora of culinary delights and had still plenty for their own return voyage.

More to come in the next post but I wish to briefly mention some of the dynamics I experienced in the adjustment to having companions. It was marvelous as I stated before to have others to share this time with and to share the burden of travel (living on the road is difficult especially when situations occur where you must seek help from strangers who speak strange tongues). I was aware however of how long I have traveled alone. I was able to adjust to the consideration of my friends but could tell that part of me was fighting it. In my four months of travel all decision making had been mine and I hadn't the luxury of asking another to take that burden for a short period. This sense is very uncharacteristic in my life but then I have not for some years experienced such long periods alone. There were times I found myself acting and feeling as if I was alone though surrounded by my companions. Times I became annoyed at having to be considerate of their hunger or their desires in travel. Rarely do I consider my hunger on the road because it is mine alone and I have had only to think of what places I wished to see. I was angry at myself for such thoughts and had to remind myself that it was the effect of especially these last weeks of travel. Time alone develops strange tendencies within me and I was in need of this time with constant companionship in the midst of travel. I have stayed on this journey with many people but this was a first of having companions while on the road. My heart's desire is relationships and I can see that too long a period of being alone will develop unwanted ways and habits within me.

Take a look at the two new albums I have added to Lovable Quirks.

Tonight I am going to have a few words with myself and hunker down to some serious writing. I have plenty to tell about the last days of travel. My companions left today to return to Poland, a little earlier than expected but the time together was wonderful. Take a look at the pictures I added to Lovable Quirks and check the site tomorrow. Love to all

No contact with Polak, soggy tents and selves, hour getting late. We decided that making the inside of the van our bed was our best option. Athens is infamous for some horrendous traffic and so entering the city in daytime seemed less preferable to night entry. We wandered around the city upon arrival in an attempt to locate the vicinity of the Polish contact's neighborhood. This city brought my first experience of having someone offer directions for just a short distance and telling you that at that point to ask again. The person might say for instance go straight on this street and at such and such spot stop again. Seemed strange until one attempted just the short term directions and found oneself in a maze of streets. Makes we wish we had convinced someone to hop in and lead the way. After asking 10 odd people and making the short ventures we were confident of having reached the area. We ended up on a quiet residential street parked in front of a school.

Chaps of my size are definitely not meant for the van sleeps. I was contorted in ways that few men could be without seriously damaging something. I awoke after what seemed a few short hours to the sight of old ladies staring at me in horror as they walked their young ones to the school. Some of their horror subsided when they saw our young ones sleeping peacefully in the back thankfully. I guess the sight of burly lads contorted in God awful ways is not reassuring when the location is the local primary. If it wasn't for our young ones I'm sure the police would have been on us like southerners on a plate of golden fried. Once school began the lot of us emerged from our lair and began preparing our breakfast. The locals were certainly curious of all of these strangeties but we paid no note as we gobbled our muesli and drank our tea. Success was reached after breakfast when we made contact with our Polish friend and organized to meet them later in the day.

After a few hours of wandering Piraeus it was time to find our friends. This gargantuan effort was one I will not forgot. Our contact could only have believed that we had the finest GPS on board for the finding. I think that in 2 hours of searching at least twenty-five people were summoned to help and all of the initials reassured us by saying that the "place is very difficult to find." They weren't blowing smoke from the hind quarters that is for sure. We navigated so many narrow streets and one of them was impassable in our van. Our main point of direction was that the location was behind an area prison. Stripping the britches from the backside of some boy in blue probably would have gotten us there far quicker and if we ever have need to return that may be necessary. Upon arrival we were greeted with warm smiles but I must admit that in moments of indiscretion I was ready to provide the compulsory headbutt to our host as I had been the driver in this effort. Such thoughts quickly vanished however and we were treated to a night of conversation and good food. In the late evening a friend of our hosts from their church arrived and we were told that we could make their church building our home for the evening. She also offered to take care of our laundry that had accumulated since the days of getting soiled. The traveler should never miss opportunities to gain contacts. Camping especially is weary life and to be treated to the home environment for any time at all is a gift. By nights end we were not only set up in the church building which had all the necessaries but were told that it was ours for as long as needed. I should mention that the majority of the night's proceedings conversation wise came to me second hand as almost all was spoken in Polish. I sat with my typical look of confusion that can only be compared to a high school graduate from the U.S. trying to write his/her name.

Today, Thursday, marks four nights and three days spent in this city. The friend of our host showed us around Athens on Tuesday with her grown daughters. Our church building home here turned out to be the perfect local for exploration as city center and historical center are only short jaunts in either direc. Yesterday we spent the afternoon wandering about the hill where the Acropolis stands and the surrounding area. From the pictures that are now up you can get some idea of the scale of these buildings and this place. It would have been a grand experience to waltz up to the top of the hill each morning and be surrounded by the enormous marble structures and the surrounding city. The construction was so well planned that two thousand years later my companions and I can stand beneath them in awe of the craftsmanship. Even the air was much fresher atop the hill in comparison to the smoggy city surrounding it. Makes me sad to realize that such thought went into the building of these temples but that they were built for the worship of gods that simply suited man's passions and desires. Markings of worship to the only one deserving were sorely lacking in this place.

The greatest joy in my experience was having so many to share it with. There is nothing like being able someday to say to someone "remember when" and having that person with their unique perspective relive the time with you. Really things as this must be shared because there are places I have seen that to tell of them all others could only try to imagine what it was like but could not experience it in memory as I might. Oh the joy of relationship that makes the experience of this world so dynamic! Take a look at the new pictures when time allows.

In the days since my last post I have been joined by my illustrious companions and together we have made the journey down to Athens where we currently reside. Joining me are Wiesieck, Hanna, Timothy, and David from Gdansk and a friend of their family named Andrej. The first two days we relaxed and enjoyed the pleasant weather around Thessaloniki. It gave them a good opportunity to rest after having driven from Poland here to Greece over three days. It has given me the opportunity to have a few quiet days of high feeding. Nancy sent along the ideal motherload of food for such a journey. The space in the van is at a minimum but it is worth it for such gain. I can spend the next three in the reveling of not having to eat at the camping lonesome bachelor standard (rough you can imagine). I am also gifted in the ability to plan meals and the quantity in our posession is making this a joy. Nancy is all the way in Chicago at the moment but muchos graciases are extended her way.

The rain came at the end of Day two and during that night our tents and some of our things were sufficiently soiled. A small but threatening lake had formed underneath my tent and I awoke to the feeling of lying in a huge puddle. Luckily this feeling was without the accompanying wetness as my tent had prevented its entry. Careful tent position planning is indeed an important aspect of the camper's repetoire that yours truly has yet to attain. That was the second of my lake experiences as some may remember the famed Berlin soiling. This change in weather led us to conclude that heading south was in our best interest and so we packed our soggy camp during the lulls in the rainfall and by early afternoon were ready for departure. We had a Polish contact in Athens but were unable to get through to the person but thought that in the worst case we could sleep in the car as the use of at least my tent that night would not be an option. We left the Citroen at the camp after I was assured by the wonderful camp manager that it was no problem and that the car would be safe (of which I had no fear).

Less than one hundred kilometers into our venture to Athens the van chugged its last on a steep incline. This not as the result of anything mechanical but rather a lack of the Middle East's finest. The fuel gauge reported having enough yet for some time but perhaps the incline demanded more than just a little. With some gifted gesticulating Wiesieck managed to wave down our Samaritans. Two old Greek fellas in a small pickup answered the call and I leapt into their little truck to go and get some fuel. Twas a blessed thing that I am of the heroine addict thinness variety because there no wealth of space. I was pressed against the door in a most unbecoming fashion but away we went and a station was quickly reached. The elder of my companions began asking then what seemed a wealth of questions of the station workers. He found eventually an English speaker who informed me that I would need to cross to the other side of the motorway to find someone to take me back to the van. I figured this was where our Samaritans would take their leave and yet I could see no bridge for crossing the motorway. I noticed then my elder companion was tightening his shoe laces. He led me over to the side of the motorway and prepared himself for the mad dash across lanes of traffic. I was concerned that I would soon have a greater emergency on my hands but the redness about the face of this chap indicated his perceived readiness. During the brief lulls in traffic we made our sprints and needless to say the old fella had some of the Olympic fury in him. Descendant of some hearty Greek stock no doubt. There on the other side he proceeded to ask of many if they would do the honors of returning me. One chap agreed, waited a moment, and took off. Perhaps the sight of my red beard and partially soiled trousers gave him seconds, I'm not sure. An alternative was quickly found however and then my new running partner gave my hand the compulsory shake and headed back to the motorway for sprint two. I have no idea of the outcome but heard no sound to the contrary of his success. Samaritan number two was a friendly chap who enjoyed jazz music and the occasional candy bar. He had a good command of the language and we chatted about my journey and his children. This made the return trip fly and we quickly reached the local of the van with my bottle of fuel in hand. I had to make another mad dash across the motorway and nearly destroyed my unmentionables leaping over the railing seperating the sides. No such universal disaster however and I was warmly received with a small lunch back at the van. The lunch consisted of the most intense tasting onions that have yet passed these lips but despite twas nice to have that awaiting me. Our saving fuel was juiced in and away we went to fill her up at the nearby station.

I have added pictures to Lovable Quirks finally from Albania. More to come from Greece in a few days I hope.

Hello all. I have not forgotten my duties. The last few days since I have left the chaos and bushy eyebrows of Albania have been slightly less interesting. I am awaiting the arrival of my chums from Poland before beginning any major exploration. It is amazing to think that within days I will stand beneath the Acropolis and attempt to imagine life in another of the ancient cities of the West. At the moment I am parked down the coast a little ways from Thessaloniki at a campground on the beach. The afternoon weather here is still glorious and I took a dip in the Mediterranean and was suprised that all of my necessary appendages did not shrivel up. The water is still quite marvelous, rivalling San Diego's warmest in the summer. I had been told that Thessaloniki was not to be missed and when I remember who told me that I may strangle them. Thessaloniki from all appearances is a concrete jungle and an impossible place to park unless you wish to risk life and limb and double park anywhere and everywhere like the locals. The only draw I could see were bars and shops. There is nothing wrong with those things but hardly make venturing there worthwhile since those are the necessaries of any modern city.

I had the pleasure last evening of meeting up with an English chap who has been coming to the campground I'm staying at for years. He was in the past the producer of nature films for English television and now works on them independantly. I was fascinated not only with what he knew of animals but also of the myriad of places his profession has brought him to. The man has explored areas where no foreigners had set foot. I really admire meeting someone who has such passion and who has made that passion his life. He has encountered many obstacles but has continued to do what he loves to do and has gotten to see so much of the world in the process. I have met so many people in this life who's passion in their youth was neglected because the quest for the dollar overshadowed it. People who are convinced that they could not make money doing what they love to do so they give it up. What a tragedy that is? How different the world would look if even a decent percentage of us focused our lives on the passions God created us with and fought through the obstacles? T'would be a much richer place of that I am convinced. I understand that such idealism may not be possible in this moment but each of us should be striving toward it. It was a great encouragement for me to meet such a person at this time.

Saturday morning I skidaddled from Dubrovnik and am now in Greece. Coastal Montenegro turned out to be much like the coast of Croatia apart from being sign posted in Cyrillic letters. The scenery was certainly beautiful and the drive relaxing as I basked in awe of the surroundings. It wasn't until I headed up the mountian passes that the real fun began. The first sign of change was that I was oft sharing the road with livestock of various varieties. There were no herders about just cattle meandering on the steep and twisting roads. Sunlight at the coast turned to cool weather in the clouds atop the mountains. The climbing roads were trecherous but once the summit reached it was an easy drive toward the border with Albania. The final stretch of road leading to the border was littered with police officers strangely enough. The first I passed spoke to me briefly asking if I indeed wished to go to Albania. One other saluted me as I passed while the rest just smiled as if they knew something that I did not but would soon discover. With great courage I journeyed on despite the roads becoming progressively narrower and a pronounced absence of traffic. I'm not sure whether it is courage or stupidity but I like to think the former. The guidebook states that Albania is a place only for the adventerous and that to drive there you must have nerves of steel. I can honestly say that when I read such statements it doesn't deter me in the least.

At the border all cars and drivers were given the full strip and cavity search. All but mine anyway assumedly because of my appearance of meekness. Should be noted for future reference when I'm desiring to trade in heavy weaponry with the locals. The moment I set out from there I noted a disturbing lack of asphalt maintenance. To say that the roads were poor would be an epic understatement as it gave one the feel of having arrived in Lebanon. The first villages of welcome were arrayed with frequent mounds of trash and the occasional stripped and burning vehicle. It was apparent also that Mercedes was the car of choice. All persons who did not own a stone age moped were driving Mercedes diesels from the late 80's. Upon arrival in the first actual city the Rhode Island sized potholes became so severe that I feared the worst for the old Citroen. Myself and the other drivers had to weave back and forth between lanes to avoid the worst. I swear there were children doing laps in some of them. Made one wonder why there was a 10 euro road tax payable at the border. One of the side roads even had a sign up apologizing for its condition. Miraculously I survived this initial onslaught and was amazed upon exiting this city to find a stellar motorway. Well paved but confusing as hell would best describe it. All side roads were outfitted with a stop sign but strangely the stop sign always faced the motorway. The first time I nearly stopped before realizing that upon doing so I would have citizens of Albania and their vehicles exploring my back end with gusto. The speed limit frequently plummeted to 40 km/h and once even dropped to 4.6 (what I don't know). Before every side road the limit was 40 but no drivers payed any attention to it so I assume they did that just for a laugh. At one point I passed a woman of about 4'10" yanking at the head of an obstinate cow. As she yanked away feverishly the cow simply continued to chew away at a patch of grass. This right at the side of the motorway. The woman was attired in some sort of bee costume hoping one would assume to entice the cow toward movement. I later reached an area lined with furniture stores. Stores with massive front windows that allowed one to view the entire contents of the store from considerable distance. I had yet to reach any city so was unsure how this particular spot became furniture central. A short time later el capital hoved into view. My hopes were high that this would be crown jewel of the area. Instead a cloud of pollution thick as molasses filled the lungs and the potholes returned though not to the level of the first town. The streets were filled with people crowding around tables of fresh mango and the like. One small group were standing around the carcass of a pig. I'm not sure what their intention was but the hour was late so one can only guess. The first hotel I saw became my resting place that night and the next. That first evening any person who entered the hotel and could speak some English was introduced to me and I was tossed a number of warm smiles. The smiles sadly came from the young lads who frequent the place wearing white jeans and bright colored t-shirts. The old chaps who came looked like ranchers in their get ups. Black jeans and colored button up shirts. All in sundry were very friendly though and the brother Blerjan of one of the waiters ended up chatting to me for much of the evening. I had planned only to stay one night but he offered to show me around the "beautiful city" of Tirane the next day and that sounded a nice change from wandering cities while having no knowledge of them.

Day 2 the gobshite arrived chronically late but he is my brother's age so what can you do. After a day of wandering the city and surroundings I could hardly share the "beautiful city" notion but it was nice to be shown around. He told me about what he knew of the city's history and we also looked around at the national history museum which I did find very interesting. The best part of the day was driving out of the city to the mountains and an overlook. The stiff regulations that all cars in Albania must produce upwards of one ton of pollution per year prevented us from seeing anything but the surrounding mountain landscape was nice. In the evening we returned to the hotel and he and a friend of his offered advice on the best way into Greece. Albania's definite appeal is that food and drink is dirt cheap making a pleasant change from other tourist stops. Every person I encountered was very friendly and helpful also. They will go out of there way if need be to offer you assistance.

Today I hit the road at about 10am into the monstrosity of traffic that is Monday morning Tirane. Thank God I asked after a short time how to find the road out of the city. The man I asked led me to the road with his car as I never could have found it myself. The first stretch through the country was up very very steep mountain passes on crap roads. At times the entire road was missing and in the process of being redone. Along the way I encountered herds of sheep, goats, turkeys and a plethora of dogs of one to three legs. The car I followed much of the way took the turns with such fury that the old female passengers in the back looked as if they were in a mosh pit. To watch their heads being tossed around I must admit brought much in the way of laughter. After the peaks were scaled and descended the roads were much flatter and much better. From the town of Elbasan onward was incredibly different. The roads were even signposted by some miracle.

In some manner of conclusion I must mention the final noteworthy and hilariously (for me) ironic event of the day. I said that the roads greatly improved and this was true until the point of Pegoradac. This point being only 50km from the border with Greece. The city had the worst of roads thus far and I made the mistake of heading down a dead end one. In an attempt to reverse out of it I ended up in a small but considerable ditch. I could not get out of it alone but with the help of a construction vehicle I was towed out. Unbeknowst to he and myself when he began to tow me a metal pipe sticking up from the ground smacked the underside of the car right in the spot where I have had repeated hydraulic leaks. My rescuer said "Oh no problem" and then proceeded to look under my car and find underneath a large piece of mangled tubing and hand it to me with a concerned eyebrow. I got in my car convinced that that pipe had done in the hydraulic system once and for all but you know something broke inside me there. I laughed so hard that in light of recent events this pipe didn't rip the bottom of the car off or at least all of the hydraulic lines. I laughed at the irony of having made it so far on roads in Albania not fit for a tank only to smack a big pipe near to the finish. God has brought me through so many situations and in this situation I no longer (excuse the language) gave a shit. I felt such a heady degree of freedom that if the car was toast a solution was around the corner with the stamp of heaven on it. My dependance that I had put on this car and my sense of panic truly fell away and I laughed all the way to the Greek border. I was fully confident the car was done in and I really and truly had no fear or doubt about what I would do. Upon arrival at the Greek border and again since I have given the cursory glance to the spot and you know what, there is no leak so far as I can tell.