high command

It is not possible to fully appreciate two of the world's greatest cities in one day, but I tried. I woke up in Paris, toured the Sacre Coeur church, caught a train to London, bought an all-day subway pass and spent a mapless evening popping out of stations to see what I could find (Trafalgar Sqaure and a Cornish Pasty dinner were backpacker goldmines).

On my last night in Europe, I passed multiple London newsstands, the headline boards drenched in black marker and all caps announcing, "TERROR PANIC ON PLANE," "AIRPORTS AT CRISIS POINT," the fallout of recent terror plots unmasked in this city.

Tomorrow I will arrive at Heathrow in the early hours with my Bible, ipod, wallet and passport stuffed into my pockets, to wade through an unprecedented sea of security in hopes of reaching the U.S. by nightfall.

While depressing, terrorists will not prevent me from flying across oceans, nor can they steal my freedom or force me to live in fear. And I wonder, in this messy global climate (politics, war, government), but more importantly, in the areas we can control (our individual actions), how we can live out the high command to overcome evil with good.

paris (without you)

i'll take you here
(whoever you are)

there'll be
no trains
or planes
to catch

only time, only us

the louve
moulin rouge
eiffel tower
and sacre coeur

we'll walk these
romantic streets
and discover
hidden rhythms

this city without you
is just another city

but history
will write
you and i

and

together this city
will come alive

big rapids

"The only guarentees in life are death and taxes," the Aussie guide joked, as we prepared to feed our raft into the glacier fed white-water of Interlaken, Switzerland. After learning a few basic commands (forward, backward, down, hold on, what to do if you fell in, etc.), we were off.

The ride pasted a continuous smile acrosss my face--it was my first white-water rafting experience--though with the cooler temperatures the river was running at a slower speed than normal. Unfortunately, none of us landed in the frosty drink, but were blessed with 600 meters of intense rapids, after getting out of river before a level VI rapid (a 4,500 Franc fine for attempting to ride it; the guide assured certain death, that only a well-trained team of professionals could hope to make it out alive).

At the end of the rapids, we plunked into the river, floating on our backs in the Swiss Alps, staring at the mountainous peaks, hoping our body heat would warm the water in the wetsuit, wishing this could last forever.

swiss watch

Trekking through the rain-soaked streets of Interlaken, Switzerland, spinning my head around like an owl, straining to catch just one glimpse of the mountains hidden by fog blankets, I located a walking path leading to one of the lakes.

Grabbing a fistful of moist grass, I breathed in deeply the scents of nature instead of exhaust, mountain air instead of the metro. Sitting on the edge of the water, the sky opened for an instant, the sun made its appearance, revealing the barricade of mountains I came to see.

I got what I asked for.

As the next storm came in, I watched the gray clouds swallow the last remaining blue sky. As I walked away, thankful for the glimpse, graffitti on the side of a boat launch appropriately read, "Keep the faith."

An old hymn came to mind, summarizing the moment and this adventure in Europe:

Oh, Lord my God

When I in awesome wonder

Consider all the world thy hands hath made

I see the stars

I hear the rolling thunder

Thy power throughout

The universe displayed

Then sings my soul

My saviour God to me

How great thou art

How great thou art

sometimes it rains

I never got the memo that it was winter in Switzerland, showing up in flip flops and shorts to the 14 degree (C) rainy atmosphere. The fog is blocking the view of the mountains, but the white water rafting brochure promises adventure, especially in "bad weather."

hvuala, ms. slovenia

i thought i lost you
on the world´s livliest street

seconds, minutes pass,
dissolving hope

of a proper farewell,
but there you were,

big sunglasses,
bigger smile

beautiful, really,
you are, no lies

you promised,
to send a memory
of the dancing fountains

i promise,
to send my best
when i reach these mountains

sorrow

In the midst of this vibrant city, an email informs me that a friend was the victim of a hit-and-run motorcycle accident. Aaron is alert, alive and hospitalized, but had to have one of his legs amputated below the knee. I think of our greatest memory, an amazing ski trip to Whistler, British Columbia in college.

There are no simple answers, no cliches that satisfy, only heavy hearts and prayer.

lady in red

The red blur is a stunning Spanish flamingo dancer, clicking and spinning her way across stage, motivated in motion by the wild sounds of her band--a violinist, guitarist, vocalist, bassist and percussionist--equally impressive in rhythm and sound, each counting on one another to create this feast for eyes and ears.

julia

4:30 a.m.,
still awake,
eyes perked,
too tired to sleep,
too confused to rest,

moving trains,
trading glances,
seat shuffling olympics,

argentina,
russia,
italia,
usa,

smile and nod,
she's talking about you,
but you can´t understand,

a miracle guitar,
the bossonova,
harmony,

a sign?

i wonder if she´ll write,
three days, four nights,

beinvendidos,
a la barcelona.

jehovah jireh

My stomach is still recovering from this ride.

After a oddly spiritual "wonderful disaster" the past 40 hours, I just arrived near San Sebastian, Spain, ready to ride an overnight train to Barcelona. (I had to cancel Barcelona reservations yesterday and my travel partner and I parted ways).

¨The train is full, completely booked, I´m sorry,¨the ticketmaster said, the words bouncing off my ears, piercing my heart, making me feel like I had to vomit.

Immediately, my mind starts brainstorming solutions, and...

The ticket-Master pulls some strings for the train (the best $32 Euro I ever spent), coupled with an encouraging (and strangley timely) email from a friend, assures me that we have a Provider, and that´s all I need to know.

this bordeaux is for you

On a train to find where I came from. Dad suggested I come here, who knew it would be like this. Plans change, anger burns, unutterable words uttered, with no reservation I jump on a train to anywhere but that station.

As I think to get off,

the train starts moving and I,

I will see where it is I come from,

and from what I am made of.

Arrive in what looks like a red light district; I am a green light for mugging. Wander around, ask a few people if they speak English; finally find two guys from Denmark sitting on a corner.

Across the street to ask for hotel rates, get hostel directions instead.

Bingo. $21 Euro for a night, including sheets. Praise God I’m not on the streets; he said the birds and flowers will make it okay--he was right.

“Do you care if we smoke?” the Denmark guys ask, (which is supposedly the “happiest country” in the world), to which I reply, “I don’t care; do what you want,” and that’s what they did.

The nightcap; talking to these smokers (not cigarettes), who win the award for the first people I’ve met who managed to get arrested in Europe (trying to purchase drugs in Paris). We talk about America, which smells sweeter as each day passes.

The Denmarkians stumble home at 5 a.m., waking this sleeping giant, discover this morning they nearly got jumped in these streets, but the guy dodged the bottle thrown at his head. And they ran. As fast as two intoxicated hash smokers can run.

Wandered to the train; stuck in Bordeaux for the afternoon. Found grace from two Californians who spoke English, felt refreshed and still alive, caught a subway and a museum.

Tonight’s dusk train leads to San Sebastian, the overnight ride to Barcelona; the city never sleeps.

Time ticks,

almost done,

reality beckons,

fairytale almost

wrapped up.

After ordering a Bic Mac meal at McDonalds somewhere in France, blogging about Bourdequx on my laptop with wi-fi; I know I’m American.

beauty is everywhere

There is so much beauty I've witnessed in the past four weeks, it's difficult to absorb it all, and easy to take for granted.

The four-hour hike through the five cities built on rock of the Cinque Terre National Park, Italy, overlooking steep cliffs and the sea. Sitting alone at midnight, watching the moon fade, listening to the waves crash and shift the pebbles on the beach. Walking through the French Rivera in Nice, absorbing the city lights and the tropical atmosphere.

At the same time, beauty is everywhere (though in different forms), and there is something about home...