Posted tagged ‘museums’

“It isn’t how much time you spend somewhere that makes it memorable: it’s how you spend the time.”

July 13, 2017

The weather is crazy. It is sunny then cloudy then sunny again. The humidity is so thick you can cut it with a knife (my father loved that old saw. The wording is repetitive, I know,  but what the heck). It is supposed to rain later today and again tomorrow. I have nowhere to go so I’m just fine with rain.

When I was a kid, I loved summer rains. We used to stay outside and get wet, even soaked. The stronger the rain, the more the fun. We’d splash at each other with the rainwater running down the gutters in the street. Sometimes the water ran so strongly it resembled a river with white rapids, or at least it seemed that way to us. Paper boats never had much of a chance. I think my love of the rain came from the joy we felt during summer storms.

We didn’t always go on vacation when I was a kid. Mostly we stayed home and did day trips, what they call a staycation now. I think my family invented that. We kids didn’t care. My mother and father planned great excursions. We did beach days. I remember swimming in water left by low tide and surrounded by sand bars. The sandwiches always had a bit of grit. We’d walk the beach and collect shells. By the end of the summer, I’d have quite a collection.

I remember the museums. They weren’t air conditioned in those days, but they always felt cool, the way my hometown library and post office did. I have two vivid memories of stuff at museums. At the Museum of Fine Arts, I remember the sarcophagi. They were in one giant room and they looked enormous to me. I was impressed and amazed they once all held mummies. At the Peabody Museum at Harvard I remember the outrigger hanging from the ceiling and the ape heads in jars. For some reason those heads fascinated me. They were in rows, jar after jar.

We went to the drive-in often as my grandfather had a pass so our car got in free. Bringing bug juice and popped corn from home and candy from the store made it a fairly inexpensive evening. There were always two movies and an intermission. The first movie was for kids and the second for adults as kids were expected to have fallen asleep by then or why the pajamas?

We’d go out to dinner one night during our stay at home vacation which was such a treat as we seldom went out to dinner. We’d go to Kitty’s in the next town over. It was always busy and cheap enough. I remember the waitresses carrying huge trays with several plates of foods on them. I watched kind of hoping to see plates hit the floor. They didn’t.

It never occurred to me we stayed home because we didn’t have the money for an away vacation. All the wonderful day trips are what I remember the most. I love museums thanks to those trips. I have seashells on display in the kitchen. Our Saturday outside movie nights are like the drive-in without the car but not without the candy.

“No matter what happens, travel gives you a story to tell.”

May 12, 2014

Today is already warm, and the cats have found the sun streaming through the door and are stretched out on the mat. Gracie is having her morning nap and is noisily snoring. As with Pippa Passing, “All is right with the world.”

I fell when I was in New Hampshire. The soles of my shoes grabbed the stair rugs, and I was most careful until I wasn’t. My left foot stepped down but my right foot stayed put. As it was unexpected, I went down hard, hit the door jamb with my face, scrapped my foot and wrist and slammed both of my knees. My glasses flew off and one lens went into hiding. The glasses saved most of my face but the left cheek and over my eyebrow hit the wood. Today, two days later, my knees, especially my left, are still painful. Getting up from a sitting position is the worst, and I do yowl a bit but I’ll survive.

Falling isn’t new for me. I started when I was around four or five with a fractured wrist, got a sprained ankle when I was a bit older, fractured my shoulder, fell down the inside stairs and the outside, knocking myself out both times and badly sprained my ankle again on the mat by the front door. There are probably more, but those are the highlights.

I had a wonderful time in New Hampshire, but I was glad to get home.

When I was a kid, we went on very few stay-away vacations. I remember Vermont and the huge white house with the porch. It was across a rural highway from a lake. We had to be watched when we went swimming as there was a drop off to deep water not that far from the shore, but there was plenty to keep a kid busy in the woods and in the stream running by the house. I remember the time in Maine, in Ogunquit, at the smallest cabin in a host of cabins. I remember seeing naked people sleeping on a blanket in the dunes, how cold the water was and how boring the vacations were. The vacation to beat all vacations was to Niagara Falls. That was the first and only time we stayed in motels. I remember it all: the falls, the Eisenhower Locks, Lake Ontario, Madam Tussaud’s and eating at McDonald’s.

I am forever thankful for the vacations when we stayed home. My parents took us to museums, and I am still attracted to museums wherever I travel. Beaches, learning to body surf from my father, my mother’s packed lunches, and learning to skip stones are some of the best memories of my childhood.

“Everything you can imagine is real.”

May 20, 2013

Last night it rained, not a furious rain falling in sheets but a steady drop by drop rain. I had my bedroom window opened, and I fell asleep to the sound of the drops. This morning when I woke up, the day was cloudy and damp. Since then the sun has taken over the sky and brightened the day. It’s a pretty morning.

The window view from here in the den is one of my favorites. The branches of the tall oak tree fill the window, and I get to watch the tree change every season. The leaves now are young and a bright green. Hanging off a couple of the branches are bird feeders, and I get to watch the birds zoom in and out or stay for a while at the suet feeder. The winter view through that window is bleak. I can see only bare branches and dead leaves fluttering in the wind. When the first buds appear, it’s time for a celebration as I know the tree will soon be full and beautiful. It’s almost there now.

Sometimes I ponder my life and every time I do, I realize how lucky I have been. First of all I had great parents though I didn’t always appreciate them, especially when I got sent to my room or yelled at or had a slipper thrown at me by my mother who had absolutely no aim. She never once got any of us. We always ducked if it came close. I got to wander my town and go to the zoo or the swamp or play in the woods. I had a bike which took me even as far as East Boston to see my grandparents which scared the bejesus out of my mother as we had to travel on Route 1A, a busy highway which didn’t always have sidewalks. That bike was one of my childhood joys. My parents took us to museums which developed in us all a love of museums. They let us dream our dreams. I went to college and had no debt when I graduated because my father thought it was is responsibility to pay for school. My parents once told me they never thought any of their kids would go to college as no one in our whole family had ever gone. They were thrilled one of us did and so was I as I had chosen well. I loved Merrimack. The Peace Corps was the defining moment in my life which gave me a love of teaching, two years living in Africa of all places and friends for life. 

I have traveled many places in the world and have filled my memory drawers with those adventures, those vistas, the bumpy roads and crowded busses, the tastes of unknown foods and the joy of seeing all those pictures from my geography books come to life. Every year I went somewhere foreign, somewhere to satisfy my wanderlust. I got to retire early and since then have been to Africa three times: once to Morocco and twice to Ghana. My retirement has been so much fun: greeting the sun on the first of spring, sloth days, game nights with my friends, sitting on the deck doing absolutely nothing, movie nights and on and on and on.

Every now and then, like today, I give thanks for the life I have been privileged to lead. I don’t ever want to forget that. 

“One does not go to Moscow to get fat.”

April 29, 2013

Today is making me believe that it might really be spring. The sun is out and it’s warm. The sky is a bit cloudy, but that’s a small complaint. I have to go out and about to do a couple of errands then I might just sit on the deck for a while and do nothing but watch the birds and grab a bit of sunlight.

Our last travelog had me arriving in Moscow, a city filled with smoke which our guide couldn’t see. Our bus wasn’t there. None of us were surprised. Since the evil guide had joined us, the tour had taken a turn for the worst. We waited over an hour before the bus arrived to take us to the hotel which was a bit out from the center of Moscow. The next morning the guide and a bus met us for our first day of touring. We went to a museum about the revolution. My favorite exhibit of all time was in that museum. In a small class case were two chunks of break: one tiny and one very much larger. The tiny bread was a portion from the time of the Tsar and the large chunk was from the time of Lenin. Oh the plenty the revolution brought! That day we also went to Lenin’s tomb on Red Square. No hand-holding the guide told the Italian married couple. The tomb was the coolest place in all of Moscow which was so hot that the Italians keep fanning themselves and saying caldo, caldo. We had found out the smoke came from the peat fields which had begun to smolder spontaneously from the heat. It was the hottest summer in a 100 years. I would have stayed in that tomb longer if I could have. Lenin looked waxed to me, a product of Madame Tussaud. One of our group started to whisper and was shushed immediately. Lenin’s tomb was a holy place. The next stop was the wonderful State Historical Museum facing Red Square. We got booties to put over our shoes. I figured it was a cheap way to keep the floors shiny. The museum housed many artifacts from the days of the Tsar including Fabergé eggs. There was a carriage that had belonged to Catherine the Great which was pulled by a large stuffed horse. The Frenchman wanted to know if that was the fateful horse (I’ll let you do the searching for this one). The guide ignored him, good move on her part. We also went to the church of the Assumption, a beautiful golden onion domed church. That’s where I scared the crowd of Muscovites. All over the city were Вода́ machines, pronounce vah-DAH, and meaning water. A small glass sat on one side, and you pushed down to wash it then inserted a couple of coins, köpeks, then moved the glass under the spout. You paid one for plain or two for colored water. I didn’t get either. The American in my tour who was standing next to me said to tap the glass front of the machine, like pounding a coffee machine that didn’t work. I did that. Nothing. I did it again. Nothing. The third time I did it I broke the glass with my hand. The crowd made such a sound of horror you’d think I kicked a grandmother a few times when she was down. The side of my hand was bleeding and had shards of glass stuck in the cut. The Argentina offered to help. He said he did cleaning of cuts and other wounds for himself when he was on the pampas. His arms were filled with scars. I politely declined. The American said he was a medical student and he’d do it. That man patiently took every piece of glass out of my hand using tweezers then took a band-aid and covered the wound. We did that a distance away from the broken machine. I kept looking for police. Later I thought about that machine and realized that the glass, a nice glass, just sat there not at all connected and was never stolen. By the reaction of the crowd to my mishap, I guessed why.

The tour continued. We visited St. Basil’s Cathedral and GUM Department Store, the largest in the world according to nasty guide. I bought a few scarves as souvenirs for people. We were done for the day and dropped off at our hotel. Dinner there was the worst so we took a streetcar into the city. The streetcars were on the honor system: put money in the slot and take a ticket. We put in dimes or quarters and I threw in some Finnish money and took my ticket. We took that streetcar often and never failed to put in money. Good thing too as a couple of times the streetcar was stopped, police got on and checked to see that everyone had a ticket.

One night we went into the city and had dinner in the Hotel Metropol, the grand dame of hotels. It was beautiful, majestic, ornate and one of my favorite stops in all of Moscow. We finished that evening by stopping at one of the foreign currency bars and having a nightcap before the trip back to our dismal hotel. At least the bed was comfortable and the bread with breakfast was fresh.

The last of my trip will be tomorrow, and I guarantee some excitement. That next day after dinner in the Metropol, we started, as did many of my travel mates, taking the tour bus into the city then ditching the tour and taking off on our own. That was the best part.

“One does not go to Moscow to get fat.”

April 29, 2013

Today is making me believe that it might really be spring. The sun is out and it’s warm. The sky is a bit cloudy, but that’s a small complaint. I have to go out and about to do a couple of errands then I might just sit on the deck for a while and do nothing but watch the birds and grab a bit of sunlight.

Our last travelog had me arriving in Moscow, a city filled with smoke which our guide couldn’t see. Our bus wasn’t there. None of us were surprised. Since the evil guide had joined us, the tour had taken a turn for the worst. We waited over an hour before the bus arrived to take us to the hotel which was a bit out from the center of Moscow. The next morning the guide and a bus met us for our first day of touring. We went to a museum about the revolution. My favorite exhibit of all time was in that museum. In a small class case were two chunks of break: one tiny and one very much larger. The tiny bread was a portion from the time of the Tsar and the large chunk was from the time of Lenin. Oh the plenty the revolution brought! That day we also went to Lenin’s tomb on Red Square. No hand-holding the guide told the Italian married couple. The tomb was the coolest place in all of Moscow which was so hot that the Italians keep fanning themselves and saying caldo, caldo. We had found out the smoke came from the peat fields which had begun to smolder spontaneously from the heat. It was the hottest summer in a 100 years. I would have stayed in that tomb longer if I could have. Lenin looked waxed to me, a product of Madame Tussaud. One of our group started to whisper and was shushed immediately. Lenin’s tomb was a holy place. The next stop was the wonderful State Historical Museum facing Red Square. We got booties to put over our shoes. I figured it was a cheap way to keep the floors shiny. The museum housed many artifacts from the days of the Tsar including Fabergé eggs. There was a carriage that had belonged to Catherine the Great which was pulled by a large stuffed horse. The Frenchman wanted to know if that was the fateful horse (I’ll let you do the searching for this one). The guide ignored him, good move on her part. We also went to the church of the Assumption, a beautiful golden onion domed church. That’s where I scared the crowd of Muscovites. All over the city were Вода́ machines, pronounce vah-DAH, and meaning water. A small glass sat on one side, and you pushed down to wash it then inserted a couple of coins, köpeks, then moved the glass under the spout. You paid one for plain or two for colored water. I didn’t get either. The American in my tour who was standing next to me said to tap the glass front of the machine, like pounding a coffee machine that didn’t work. I did that. Nothing. I did it again. Nothing. The third time I did it I broke the glass with my hand. The crowd made such a sound of horror you’d think I kicked a grandmother a few times when she was down. The side of my hand was bleeding and had shards of glass stuck in the cut. The Argentina offered to help. He said he did cleaning of cuts and other wounds for himself when he was on the pampas. His arms were filled with scars. I politely declined. The American said he was a medical student and he’d do it. That man patiently took every piece of glass out of my hand using tweezers then took a band-aid and covered the wound. We did that a distance away from the broken machine. I kept looking for police. Later I thought about that machine and realized that the glass, a nice glass, just sat there not at all connected and was never stolen. By the reaction of the crowd to my mishap, I guessed why.

The tour continued. We visited St. Basil’s Cathedral and GUM Department Store, the largest in the world according to nasty guide. I bought a few scarves as souvenirs for people. We were done for the day and dropped off at our hotel. Dinner there was the worst so we took a streetcar into the city. The streetcars were on the honor system: put money in the slot and take a ticket. We put in dimes or quarters and I threw in some Finnish money and took my ticket. We took that streetcar often and never failed to put in money. Good thing too as a couple of times the streetcar was stopped, police got on and checked to see that everyone had a ticket.

One night we went into the city and had dinner in the Hotel Metropol, the grand dame of hotels. It was beautiful, majestic, ornate and one of my favorite stops in all of Moscow. We finished that evening by stopping at one of the foreign currency bars and having a nightcap before the trip back to our dismal hotel. At least the bed was comfortable and the bread with breakfast was fresh.

The last of my trip will be tomorrow, and I guarantee some excitement. That next day after dinner in the Metropol, we started, as did many of my travel mates, taking the tour bus into the city then ditching the tour and taking off on our own. That was the best part.

“I went to the museum where they had all the heads and arms from the statues that are in all the other museums.”

May 4, 2012

We’ll still in the damp, chilly day mode. It’s in the low 50’s and nothing outside my window looks inviting. Earlier, Gracie was frantically barking so I went outside to check. There it was, the rabbit, just sitting where Gracie could see it. That beast has been hanging around my yard for days and driving Gracie crazy. The dog keeps trying to jump the 6 foot fence, but she’s older now and far more muscular so when her paws reach the top of the fence, she can’t pull herself over any more. For that I’m thankful. As for the rabbit, I’m thinking a traditional paella.

I remember car rides with my family. My brother and I each had a back window, his behind my father, mine behind my mother, our sister Sheila was stuck between us, and Moe was in the front with my parents. Poor Sheila had to rest her feet on the big lump in the middle of the backseat floor. The car was always hot in the summer even with all the windows open. Back then, we never had sleek highways, but that was just fine with us. The roads my father took had stuff to look at. I remember seeing red barns and cows in the fields, and I’d yell and point so no one would miss them. The horses we’d see always seemed to have their heads down munching on grass. Once in a while we’d see a deer, and that was the most exciting of all. Usually the car was filled with suitcases and boxes of food as we headed to Maine for the week. We always went to Maine because my father’s friend had a cabin, and we could vacation cheaply. When I was young, I liked it there, but as I got older, I found it boring. By the time I was fourteen, I was begging my parents to leave me at home with friends. They never did.

My dad invented the staycation though he never received due credit. When I was young and money was especially tight, my father and mother planned something for us to do almost every day of my dad’s two-week vacation. We visited museums, went to the lake, the beach, zoos and into Boston to walk the Freedom Trail and ride on the swan boats. Once I remember going to Lexington and Concord. Those were my favorite vacations of all, and from them, I received the most wonderful gifts which have stayed with me all my life. I love museums and visit them everywhere I go. I can’t pass up a historical site and lots of times I stop the car to read the plaques on the rocks along the sides of the road.

On my first weekend in Accra, during training when we were in Koforidua, I went to the National Museum of Ghana. It seemed like the best place to start to learn about my new country.