A Sense Of Adventure

We have always enjoyed our travels with a sense of adventure. The more you travel the more you realize that flexibility and tuning into the local customs can be quite delightful and actually allows you a glimpse of life outside your own. So with that in mind, when it was time to leave Israel, we decided to forgo getting a rental car and take the bus to the Southern most tip of Israel and walk over the border to Jordan. From there we would rent a car, visit the sites we wanted to see, drive up to and then fly out of the Northern part of Jordan. We had taken the ‘Arab’ bus to Palestine and the Jewish bus around Jerusalem so we felt fairly confident with our plans. We checked the visa and passport requirements and when we had that all in order we packed our stuff for departure. We said our goodbyes to Yossi and Vardi and set our alarm for 4:30 AM for a 7:00 A.M. departure from the Central Bus Station in Jerusalem. You have to go through a security check and customs so we decided to arrive a little early in preparation for this procedure. We arranged for a cab to deliver us and we arrived at the bus station at about 6:15 A.M. with out any hitches. It’s been along time since either one of us has ridden on a bus but when we saw the bus terminal we were amazed at its size.

It was four stories tall and a buzz with activity. People in a hurry to get …just about everywhere! There are guards with machine guns that usher you through each floor of the station. By the time we got to the ticket office the last ticket for the early bus departure had been sold. We purchased a ticket for the next bus, which left three hours later. With ticket in hand, we thought we would go to the bus platform and wait and see if there was any possibility we could get on the earlier bus. That’s where all the excitement begins. If you didn’t know there was a system, you might wonder about the commotion right outside the station on the platform. There is a man I called the “Bus Jockey”. I watched him for a few minutes and soon figured out he was the man to know. There were a few seats left on the bus and he was the man who could give them to you. What you do is hold a shekel (their money) in your hand, visible enough so he can see the denomination but not so blatant it looks as if you are paying him off. You wave your hand around as if you are pointing the direction you want to go so he is aware you are in the ‘bidding’ process. It is a fascinating system to watch. The Jewish culture is very sedate by nature but here, even they get into this process. And I am not talking about a few people, there must have been fifty people vying for these spots in a small crowded area. By the time I figured out the system and was ready to act on it, there was only one seat left. Needless to say the two of us didn’t take it.

We got on the 10:00 bus and enjoyed the drive through Palestine and then on through the desert. All the Palestinians said we would enjoy Jordan, as it is as beautiful as their land.

We drove through miles and miles of desert and wondered what they meant. Lush and green are two adjectives I associate with beautiful landscape and these were never to be seen. But, a funny thing began to happen. The more we drove the more beautiful it became. The immensity of it, the stillness all around elicits such a feeling of peace and respite. Miles of rolling sand, covertly changing colors until it had gone from a

pale white to a deep terra cotta and the observer never knowing quite sure when this happened.

Occasional oasis, which quickly disappear. The Dead Sea sits in the middle of nowhere, a beautiful turquoise body of water. We felt our self-drifting in out of deep thought brought on by this drive without distractions along the way. In the quite and the stillness it became a beautiful place to us.

By the time we reached Eliat, we were pretty pleased with our plan for travel. Quiet, restful, beautiful, and well within our budget. We needed to take a cab the short distance to the Jordanian border and cross over by foot. We explained to the cab driver our destination and even our plans while in Jordan. We drove for a while again lost in the landscape. He pointed out the Red Sea and explained why it was red. After what seemed like a rather long time, he dropped us off at the border. We walked through customs, excited to see the beautiful Red Sea in the background. When we went to change our money at the bank, we got the surprise of our life.

We weren’t in Jordan, we were in Egypt! Somehow, unknown to us, the cab driver had taken us to the wrong border. And once you’ve crossed, there is no such thing as turning around and going right back out. They did take pity on us and after awhile and with the help of the supervising Border Patrol agent, we did manage to leave.

When we got back in the car, we were very clear about were we needed to go this time. It was starting to get dark and without GPS we had hoped to be on the road during daylight hours. But this was not to be. There is no such thing as rushing through customs, especially in Jordan. We sat outside while they looked through our paperwork and chatted for a while with people employed at the customs office. This is really is a casual place, with young men and women who take their jobs very seriously. In the vast open desert we were able to see the most beautiful sunset and so, we sat and enjoyed it while we could.

After an hour and a half they let us through. Believe it or not, I think they enjoyed our company.

We did not get the early start we had planned nor did we enter Jordan during daylight hours. They have a GPS in Jordan but somebody else was using it so we set out on our own. Driving was pretty easy as there really is a minimum of traffic and the signs are in both Arabic and English. We were feeling pretty comfortable about how we had managed all the unforeseen events of the day, when much to our surprise, we were being waved down by a Jordanian police officer who was standing on the roadside. Not quite sure what the problem could be, we pulled over a bit perplexed. He said is name was Masan and he was a “Jordanian/Bedouin/Police Officer”

and he needed a ride to his next station. So, what else can you do? We took him with us thinking that this was our first hitchhiker…ever (but not the last!) and it should be pretty safe…

Well, all that to say, we arrived at our hotel near Petra, starving, where the chef made us…well, we are not sure but it was tasty.

Off to bed we went with a thousand memories of our adventure tucked into our hearts.

Israel

Shalom. Peace be with you. We are here at the crossroads where religion, culture and history meet. The depth of this is apparent everywhere you go and with everything you do and experience.

This is a country seeped in traditions that date back before the birth of Christ and they are still adhering to these age-old customs today. And, some of them are so beautiful and sacred it makes you want to weep.

We arrived very early in the morning in Tel Aviv at the most beautiful airport we have seen. We took the shuttle to Jerusalem and arrived about 4 AM. The first thing we saw as we stepped out of the shuttle were the walls of the Old City (Jerusalem) and the Tower of David, all brightly lighted.

It was a sight that took our breath away and one we have enjoyed every day we have been here.

We are staying at a lovely place our friend Lisa told us about. For us, it is perfect.

It is a small apartment in a quaint old Jewish section of town near the Old City of Jerusalem. Our

apartment is actually three levels below the street and it is absolutely delightful.

Our hosts are Yossi and Varda Avissar and they are wonderful. In 1968 this street was actually considered no mans land; the Arab-Israeli border. Yossi recalls the barbed fences and war zone around his house. Today, it is rebuilt with the original cobblestones streets of Jerusalem stone.

Each night we sit out under a 150-year-old olive tree and enjoy a glass of wine and marvel at the beauty of this area.

We spend our days meandering through the Old City, amazed and in awe of the history we are walking on. There are no words to describe the beauty here.

At the end of each evening we feel as if we have lived a dream. It is incredible. We have learned so much and this has ignited a desire to learn and study more.

One evening our hosts took for a ‘private tour’ of the area.

He picked us up a kosher dinner; bagels, labhen (a thick yogurt), and hard-boiled eggs. He then proceeded to show us all the sacred Jewish places, all the sacred Christian places, and then all the sacred Arab places. He smiled when he found out that my roots were Lebanese in origin. “A Jew and an Arab sharing dinner”, he laughed. “Well, Shalom does mean peace and this is the city of brotherly love” so we drove around together for

hours enjoying our meal and seeing parts of the city we would not have otherwise seen.

We went to the Western Wall in the Old City of Jersualem during Shabbat. The Western Wall is the most sacred place for the Jewish people and they find it an honor to pray at this place.

It was a very powerful experience.

One day we decided to take the ‘Arab’ city bus to Bethlehem. We were told to take our passports with us, as we would be entering Palestine. According to the Palestinians, there is no country of Israel so we would have to go through their border. It was very fascinating and we enjoyed our day there.

We prayed on the Mount of Olives, walked through the Church of the Nativity, the place where many believe Jesus was born. We strolled through the Shepherds

Field where there is now a small church to mark where the shepherds of biblical times were reported to have been tending their sheep the night Jesus was born.

We went through the Damascus Gate of the Old City where there is still a very active market.

We would stop when invited and sit and enjoy a glass of tea with the locals. We meandered for days and know that we have lightly brushed the surface of this city.

We head off soon for Jordan where we will visit Petra and Wadi Rum. We have rented a car and will meander up to Amman where we will then fly to Turkey and spend the rest of the month. We will pass the Dead Sea on our way and look forward to the adventures the change of our location will bring.

The depth and beauty of this land has moved us in a way we never expected. The sights, the sounds, the smell, and the depth of its culture have changed us. We are returning home…we will just not be the same as when we left.

In The Eye Of The Beholder

We are actually writing this post to you as we leave Lebanon. Most of the places we have been are not even aware there is such a thing as wireless Internet.We are, as we speak, heading toward Israel and then on to Jordan and Turkey for the rest of this month.

When we arrived in Lebanon, it was very early in the morning and we were told our hotel was only six minutes away. With eager anticipation to get to our hotel and rest, we set out to drive the mere six minutes. Suffice to say it took us 45 minutes to drive those six minutes. Even at 4:00 A.M. in the morning the traffic keeps you on your toes. It feels as if you are driving in the middle of unfamiliar Los Angeles traffic without any street signs to guide you.

The casual attitude of the Grecians was quickly replaced by a type of security reminiscent of a …war torn country.Everytime you slow down or stop you are scanned for bombs. At every intersection there are fully armed young men who look as if they take their jobs very seriously. There are no public garbage cans as this has the potential of being a bomb receptacle. All the elevators are glass so that everything is visible. It took us awhile to get used to this and realized this was not personal and actually was for our safety.

The drivers are outright scary. Everyone we see is driving as if they are the only person on the road. A two-lane road can accommodate five lines of traffic- somehow.

We are sure we are watching absolutely everyone trying to figure what he or she may want to do at any given time, and we are also sure that they are not watching anyone!

Combine that with the fact that ¾ of the signs do not have any street names on them and the other ¼ of the signs are written in a language that makes Greek look easy.

We always register with the state department when we travel and this time after reading the warnings and our first 45 minutes in the country we were feeling a little tense. To top it off, there was an extraordinary thunder and lightening storm the night we arrived.

As we sit here and try to put into words the way the events played out and the utter beauty of this country and the things have seen and experienced, we still know the words seem inadequate. We could scan a hundred pictures and not capture what we have seen or felt. It could be hard to find beauty in a war torn country that even after nearly twenty years has not rebuilt its infrastructure and the ruins are visible on nearly every street. The civil war in Lebanon had been the longest civil war in the history of the world and the city still clearly shows signs of this. We have been to some of the most beautiful cities in world and yet we see beauty here with a different eye, our hearts eye.

Let us tell you a story. A story not so much about what we have seen, but about the real beauty of this country, it’s heart and soul; it’s people.

For me it began many years ago, when I was a small child. My mother would tell us the story of my grandmother (Sithee in Arabic) and her youth in Baskinta, Lebanon. At times it seemed somewhat unbelievable; as a young girl (she was only 14 years of age) she was sent to the river to bring water for her family and was kidnapped and wed to a young man. In those days one did not protest these events but merely lived with them as this was the way things were done. It would have also been considered disgraceful for her to return to her family after being gone for even one day and that disgrace would have extended to the entire family. I have never been really sure of the dates and timelines for all this (no one is) but I know she had a son and both her husband and son died in the 1918 influenza epidemic. My Sithee then moved to the USA with another prearranged marriage to a distant relative. She willing left and never returned to her homeland.

The older I get the more I value this history and the culture of my family that has now inculcated into my own life. Going to Lebanon was something that began as a stirring in my heart many years ago; one of those things you say to yourself that you always hope to do. We talked about and planned for it and while in Greece we had the opportunity to fly there during one of the local airlines promotional flights.

I must admit I felt a little overwhelmed when we first arrived. The fast pace of Beirut, the fact that I had only a few tidbits of family history made the task of trying to locate my family’s birthplace a little overwhelming.

We met a young man while at the Coral Beach Resort of Beirut with whom we shared our plans to drive to Baskinta and walk the grounds of my forefathers. He was the only person in Lebanon we had told of this plan and the first thing he said was that his Aunt lived in Baskintha and that we would love it. “You will find the people are lovely and the countryside exquisitely beautiful”. He then told us about “ El Mokhtar” (he is the mayor and the record keeper of the area). For most of us needing information on births, deaths, and marriages etc. we go the hall of records and look this information up. Not so, even the 21^st century for Baskintha, Lebanon. He explained the process to us. El Mokhtar would look up the name Alam (our family name) and then be able to tell us if we had any relatives in the area. He may need to make a few calls but if they were there, he would know. He then called El Mokhtar and explained our situation.

He wrote down his name and told us once we got into Baskintha go to the bookstore across the street from the Nuns school and he will be waiting for you. This had the familiar ring of a recent hike we had taken in Greece; slightly vague. We set off with some information that our brother in law Jeff Long had found for us. The names and dates he gave were unfamiliar to me. To say the least I was a bit skeptical but persevered knowing I may never have this chance again. We did manage to find a Lebanese GPS and ventured out on a clear and sunny day. As we left the city we began to relax and the countryside quickly changed. It was beautiful and old.

We marvel at how the pace of life had changed (not the speed of the traffic) and we began to savor our adventure. We did find Baskintha with few hitches and actually did find the school and subsequently the bookstore (which really looked like a hardware store to us). We arrived at lunchtime so El Mokhtar was gone for the next hour. Next door was a beautiful fruit stand and market so we asked where we might get a bite to eat ourselves. The young woman called after two young men in Arabic and they promptly came over.

They looked at us for a few seconds and then said, “Well come on, lets go get something to eat.” They drove us through town and took us to the only opened restaurant in Baskintha. We felt as if we were eating with family. Plates of hummus, tabouli, bread, chicken, meats, potatoes, nuts, cabbage salad, meat and cheese turnovers, and a relish plate! It was delicious! We then walked back to El Mokhtar’s store and he was waiting for us. He had been expecting us from the call he had gotten from the night before. We sat in his office and reiterated the information we had.

He made a few phone calls and two men appeared. Both men’s surnames were Alam. They drove us to meet their families. I was somewhat excited to meet someone whom we were probably somehow related to how and enjoyed the coffee and deserts they offered. They do speak a little English so we shared stories about our family.

They then said it was time to go and meet more family. We shrugged and got in their car and off we went. We pulled up to a beautiful house and the led us to the door. “Welcome to your family home” they said and knocked.

We looked at each other not sure what to expect. When the door opened I will never forget the amazement I felt when I looked in the eyes of my mothers cousin. I knew this woman Samiri from a visit she made in 1974. My recollection at that time was she was moving to Australia. She did, and lived there for 15 years before moving back to Baskintha.

We kissed and hugged and within a few minutes all the cousins I had never met were at our door, greeting each other’s as …long lost family! Of course we must stay with her the rest of our trip and of course she would make us dinner! We did and they made a beautiful birthday celebration for Tom.

She revealed as much family history as she could. We were staying in the house my Sithees father had built and had left to his only son. This was the house were she grew up, the very house she had slept in!

It was amazing to say the least. We felt loved and welcome by everyone. News soon got out to the rest of Baskinta and people came from everywhere asking us to come visit with them as we were welcome as the rest of the Alam family.

Our visit was not quite as we had expected.

To walk on Baskinthas ground would have been enough. But what actually unfolded by far surpassed anything we could have expected.

The kindness of so many strangers, the welcoming of so many family members is now forever imprinted upon our hearts. To describe this as beautiful seems as if I have forgotten to tell you of the depth of its richness. The words seem insufficient but it feels as if a large piece of a puzzle in my life has been found and I am enriched because of it.

Of course, this is not the end of the story… only the beginning of another. So until then, au revoir!

Universal Languages

Today we packed up our stuff and left our beloved retreat at Milia.

It felt as if we were leaving home and family all over again. Funny how relationships can evolve in just a matter of a week. People whom you have never known, let alone pronounce their names or even speak their language, are now forever imprinted upon your heart and soul. And from this point forward the thoughts and memories of them and the time you spent together will always bring a smile to your face and heart.

In preparation for this trip we have been taking the Rosetta Stone language courses. We also carry with us a little black satchel in which we have small language conversation books and "cheat-sheets" with pertinent phrases in a variety of languages. French, Italian, Arabic, Greek, Hebrew, and even Spanish. We know just enough words to get us in a little bit of trouble! They are slightly helpful and it does give us a sense of trying to participate in the language. And, the books did help us in Italy as we pointed out our request to take the car across the ferry so we continue to keep them with us and it gives us a very small sense of security.

So having practiced the standard beginners Greek; hello, good morning, good night, please, thank you, and this is very good we sat down to order our first dinner in the family run restaurant.

We were both a bit tired after our travels and getting moved in so we thought we would order a light supper of soup and salad. This request had the potential of being our demise. We had just committed one of the biggest faux paus and didn’t even know it. The manager of the place, who is also one of the cooks and a waiter looked at us in what can best be described as ‘disgust’ and said “You Americans, you eat like birds, not like the Greeks who really enjoy a good meal”. He genuinely looked offended and we were sure we could never redeem ourselves again. The next morning we worked on ‘mending our ways’.

We went into the kitchen and thanked the cooks for the lovely meal last night and admired their kitchen. They began to warm up as we told them we would love to be able to prepare meals like they had for our family. “Tell us about your family” and so began a conversations that we could participate in, the language barrier irrelevant. We began talking about was near and dear to our hearts. Through hand language, pictures, and often times the wrong words over and over we began to get to know our friends at Milia.

Zorba has run the place for 10 years after leaving Serbia. He has been married for 5 months and hopes to own his own place soon. He sounds and looks just like the comedian Ray Ramono and was pleased to hear he reminded us of a movie star.

Jordan is married and has three children and he lives in the village 5 kilometers down the road. Working here is good steady work and he needs it, he often puts in 12-hour days. Evan has 2 babies under two and spots every baby that comes in the place. He will stop everything he is doing just to run over to play with them for a moment; I think he is getting his baby fix. George is the older man who sweeps our room and brings us firewood each day.

As the days went by, we would find that George would actually watch for our return and prepare the fire for us so our room would be warm when we entered it.

We were fully welcome ‘into the kitchen’ which really is the hub of all activities.

Tasting a little of this or a little of that became a treat and honor for us. If a baby fussed in the restraunt one of the ladies would tell a young mother that we were experienced parents and grandparents so we were given the honor of “Cretan grandparents”. Parents could rest their arms a while and we could fill ours.

Such a good deal. The inability to speak to each other became less an issue, as our ability to relate to each other on a nonverbal level increased.

Even though our Greek did not improve tremendously nor did their English become any better we developed a wonderful form of communication. Greeting each other with hugs and kisses, the cooks knowing Tom would enjoy a cold beer after our hikes (they would serve it with a freshly baked piece of wheat bread), the ladies saving pieces of chocolate for an occasional treat and just the wonderful excitement of seeing each other again became our routine.

We knew, as we got ready to leave it would be a hard for us. We had grown so very fond of them all. They packed us up with warm bread, fresh cheese, olives, fruit, homemade wine and beer, chocolate cakes, fried cheese pies with honey and George gave us a bulb from his garden. We would not leave hungry!

We said our goodbyes and drove to the big city of Kissamo where Tom was hoping to get his haircut. Much to our dismay all businesses close between 1:00 and 6:00 so we had missed our opportunity for the day. We sat down to have a cappuccino and who should stop his truck in the middle of the road to embrace us but our old friend Niko (he was one of the men who helped us the night we had our long walk-about). “What, you are leaving? Come; spend one more night with me. I have an empty house, my children are grown, my wife has passed and I will cook dinner for you! Come, stay my friends.”

We did spend a delightful day will him. We took pictures and made copies for each other and hugged and kissed as we parted.

We will never forget this time and the relationships we have enjoyed. Each one of us contributing just a thread of our lives and yet when all woven together, the beautiful tapestry of friendship was formed. Although our language skills improved very little, all the thoughts and feelings we shared amongst ourselves, were well known to each other.

So, onward we go. Lebanon is the next stop. And we are looking forward to the next set of adventures. Not sure of the wireless situation there but will write when we can.

A Day Hike Into The Night

We discussed whether we should write this blog but because we could write it, we decided we would write it.

We are still in our wonderful little place in the mountains known as Milia, on the island of Crete.

Yesterday, we decided to take a day hike through the gorge to the villages above us. It was a beautiful, sunny day with blue skies and the promise of being quite warm . In fact we questioned before we left whether or not to wear hiking shorts. We decided to continue in long pants with a layering of clothes on the top to adjust to the temperature.

We left at 11:00 after the usual breakfast which we previously described. We had our hand drawn map and the written instructions, also previously described. Our trail took us down into the valley, through several gates used to manage livestock and into a large olive grove. We took a lovely break under the olive trees before proceeding up the other side to a village called Lower Kalathenes.

We found a coffee shop there which was closed because it was afternoon (the Spaniards call it siesta – not sure what the Greeks call if but it means the same thing). We knew if we sat at one of the tables outside the café someone may come to open it; and sure enough a nice lady came and sold us some drinks and cookies. It was quite funny from our perspective as the man across the street looked out, went in and called a young man, who drove over and got the woman who owned the store to open up. We enjoyed our soft drinks marveling at how nice it felt to sit down and drink it!

After we left Lower Kalathenes, we walked up the road to Upper Kalathenes. These two villages were described as the most active in the area, although we hardly saw anybody and only an occasional vehicle. This was on the road that would eventually take us through another small settlement, Kioliana, where we would find a trail going through the mountains that would take us back to Milia. As we arrived in Upper Kalathenes, the skies began to darken and then it began to rain.

We sat on a log, using an olive tree as shelter; hoping this would just be a cloud that would soon pass. After a while, we surveyed the skies and decided this was not a temporary condition. We didn’t have an umbrella in our backpack but we did have two small “emergency ponchos” which we slipped on. We made the decision to continue on our planned course through Kioliana (about a mile and a half) to the trailhead. The ponchos worked well for the parts that they covered, so we walked in the rain through a beautiful area.

After a mile or so, a car approached, and Nancy stopped him to ask how much further to the trailhead. You understand that hand drawn maps are just that – hand drawn, with no particular scale and as we would later find out, no particular accuracy. The man driving the car was a very nice man who spoke some English. He was driving children home from school which is apparently one of his jobs. He dropped a child off and returned to drive us to the trailhead.

We started on the trail and were happy to see some landmarks that matched the map, plus Milia had an occasional paint mark on a rock to guide the way. It was still raining but we thought we were doing pretty good, until the paint marks and a bent sign took us to an absolute dead end. The only thing left was an “extreme rated” goat trail, which in the rain we decided was not wise. We backtracked and found a couple of more likely trails which turned out not to be good either. So we decided to return to Lower Kalathenes and take the trail home that we came on in the morning, knowing that was an easy and familiar trail.

When we were almost back to Upper Kalathenes, we saw in the distance, a small church and cemetery which were listed on the map as landmarks for the trail back to Milia. After two attempts to get to the church, we gave up and decided to continue on to Lower Kalathenes as originally planned. It was now after 5:00 and we knew we would lose light in about an hour. When we got to Upper Kalathenes, we ran into a small group of men. One was a young man named Yanni, who spoke English. He told us the fastest way back was by the church/cemetery and he and a friend took us there to show us the way. He said, “you see that mountain over there with the three big boulders on it, you want to go over that”. We were sure he was pointing to Turkey, it looked so far away! But on we went.

We estimated the light and knew if all went well we would arrive before total dark. Plus at that point it had stopped raining so we left confident that we would make it. Of course as we descended into the valley of olive groves, the light was began to slip fast. But we found the trail that we had been on that morning and headed for home, walking in the moonlight; which provided a modicum of light. We followed what looked like the main trail, but it took us through a gate that we didn’t recognize. We continued on because it was heading in the right direction. Then we came to another gate that was locked with a padlock which meant we were on the wrong road and couldn’t go on. The one thing we failed to bring in our backpack was a flashlight. Next time we will have one no matter what time we leave. We knew where we were and we even knew we were close but without light, we didn’t want to attempt to find the trail. So we made the decision to return to Upper Kalathenes and pay someone to drive us around the mountain to Milia. At no time were we in danger because we knew this trail going in that direction very well. As we returned, we sang songs, and had a good time.

After an hour, we made it back to Upper Kalathenes and with our very limited Greek, and the help of sign language, we were told we could find Yanni at the local café. When we approached the café much to our delight we could see him through the plate glass windows. He was sitting with all the men in the village enjoying conversation, cigarettes, and beverages. You should have seen the look on his face when we walked in.

He said “you are back, what happened?”. Actually you should have seen the look on all of their faces when we walked in because only men are there by tradition. Several of them came out with Yanni and we were treated very nice. He said they would call the local taxi (there is only one) and we could see if he would take us to Milia.

When the taxi came, the driver was none other than the man who gave us a ride earlier to the trailhead! After two o’clock, when he is done taking the school kids home, he runs a taxi service for the locals. He agreed to drive us to Mila for 17 Euros and we took him up on his offer.

We arrived at our place around 8:30, looking wet, tired, and very happy. We enjoyed a Greek salad and some wonderful, warm bean soup and bread. We had actually walked for over nine hours and had a wonderful adventure. We woke up this morning, feeling no worse for wear and have had a good laugh over the circumstances of the day before.

There's no place like home!