A Transatlantic Dialogue

 

When you look out at the ocean, do you ever wonder who is on the other side?  I do! So when we were at the beach in South Carolina, I felt compelled to look it up.  Turns out that Morocco is directly across the Atlantic from South Carolina.  I had recently been to Morocco, so I could vividly picture what was on the ocean as I walked along the shore.

For this week’s Photo Challenge: Dialogue, we are asked to bring  two photos into dialogue.  The first photo, taken on Sullivan’s Island, South Carolina, looks directly east across the Atlantic Ocean towards Morocco.  The second photo, taken in Rabat, looks directly west towards South Carolina.  The photographic dialogue even reflects the time difference; the first photo was taken in the early morning, which is afternoon in Morocco.

Sometimes we need a reminder that our beautiful world is really not so big after all. And that often our connections can be greater than our differences.

 

What to find out what’s on the other side of the ocean from where you are?  The Washington Post published a quick reference – check it out here!

Weekly Photo Challenge: Object

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On this particular morning in Casablanca, I arrived early for a meeting with a women’s rights association.  This pigeon, basking in the sun high above the bustle of Casablanca,  kept me company while I waited for the others to arrive.   When the meeting ended, I looked  to see if my friend was still on the ledge outside the window.  The pigeon had moved on.  And so must I.

This post is a response to the Weekly Photo Challenge: Object.   To see other responses, click here. 

Window on the World: Rabat, Morocco

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A window in a wall inside the Kasbah in Rabat, Morocco.

More photos in this Window on the World series:

Sankhu village in Nepal

Charleston, South Carolina 

Gvarv in Telemark, Norway

For more interpretations on the Weekly Photo Challenge theme: Window, click here.

Window on the World: Sankhu, Nepal

Sanku village, Kathmandu Valley, Nepal

A woman watches the world go by from her window in the village of Sankhu in Nepal.

For more interpretations on the Weekly Photo Challenge theme: Window, click here.

More in this Window on the World photo series:

Charleston, South Carolina

Rabat, Morocco

Gvarv in Telemark, Norway

Weekly Photo Challenge: Beginning

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“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language

And next year’s words await another voice.

And to make an end is to make a beginning.”

                                                                              ~T.S. Eliot

From Little Gidding (1942), the final poem in T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets

 

Landfall on Sullivan’s Island, South Carolina.

See more Weekly Photo Challenge photos here.

The Festival Lights of Indra Jatra

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Photos from Indra Jatraa festival in Nepal that fell this year on September 18.   During Indra Jatra, thousands of people in Kathmandu pay homage to the Kumari Devi (Living Goddess).

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Offerings of thanks. (The swastika is an ancient Hindu symbol used to signify good fortune. The name comes the Sanskrit word svasti (sv = well; asti = is), meaning good fortune, luck and well-being.)

Some say that Indra Jatra is the day to give thanks to the lord Indra for the rain.  Or, depending on who you ask, it is a day to give thanks to the lord Indra for the end of the rainy season.

Ceremonial rice wine dispenser. Can you see the full moon in the background?

According to others, the festival is celebrated in the honor of Bahirab, who is Shiva‘s manifestation and is believed to destroy evil.

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No matter how you interpret the meaning of the festival, it is a beautiful celebration of traditional Nepali dance, music, and food.  The festival lights of Indra Jatra lit up the dark Kathmandu night!

This post is a response to the Weekly Photo Challenge: Let There Be Light!

Les Fantômes de Montréal (The Ghosts of Montreal)

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Rue Saint-Paul in Vieux-Montréal

Growing up in south Louisiana, I couldn’t help but develop a healthy respect for the paranormal.  So when I landed in Montréal last week on the Day of The Dead, my thoughts naturally turned to the eerie possibility of fantômes ( French for ghosts).   The early November weather was grey and damp and chilly, making it seem even more plausible that there were haunted souls lurking in this old city.

A little research proved that Montreal is indeed a city with an ample supply of ghost stories.  Tourists can even go on a tour of haunted places in Vieux-Montréal (Old Montreal) with tour guides dressed as famous fantômes.   I didn’t go on the tour, but in my three days of rambling around the city I did pass by several of the places where fantômes are frequently  sighted. 

Notre Dame Basilica, Vieux-Montréal
Notre Dame Basilica, Vieux-Montréal

From what I read on Haunted North America, les fantômes de Montréal represent just about every era in the city’s rich history.  The area in the St. Lawrence valley known today as Montreal was  inhabited by the Algoquinto, Huron, and Iroquois peoples at least 2,000 years ago.  Since at least the 14th century, humans have lived in a population center near the modest (only 780 feet tall)  mountain with the grand name Mont-Royal.   Previously, it was called Hochelega by the Saint Lawrence Iroquoians who had established a good-sized village here at least two centuries before the French  explorer Jacques Cartier first visited  the area in 1535.  The city allegedly gained the name “Montreal”  in 1556, when geographer Giovanni Battista Ramusio wrote the Italian “Monte Real” instead of the French “Mont-Royal” on his map of Hochelaga.

In 1611, Samuel de Champlain established a fur trading post here and Montreal soon became a center for the fur trade and base for French exploration in North America .   Quebec was officially established as a French colony on May 17, 1642, with  Paul Chomedey de Maisonneuve as governor.

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Statues of French colonial leaders, Place d’Armes, Vieux-Montréal

Things were pretty rough in Nouvelle-France (New France) in those days.   Vieux-Montréal,  the oldest part of the city near the port,  was the scene of numerous human rights abuses, including public hangings and torture.  People have reported seeing numerous apparitions covered with burn and whip marks in this part of the city.   Along the cobblestoned Rue Saint-Paul, figures have been seen disappearing in upstairs windows.  There is another story of a blonde woman who was murdered and now wanders the streets. Sometimes people in the area report a general feeling of unease, a feeling of being watched – even in broad daylight.

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Place Vacquelin and Place Jacques-Cartier

On Saturday morning, we walked up Avenue du Parc from downtown on our way to the Plateau neighborhood in search of the infamous Montreal bagels.  We walked past Parc Jeanne-Mance, which is bordered on the east side by Avenue deL’Espanade.  I read later that the apparition of a  French soldier wearing a cape is often seen walking here.   Montreal saw a lot of military action in the 1750s and 60s during La guerre de la Conquête (“The War of Conquest”).  At least that is what most French Canadians call it; officially in Canada, it is the “Seven Years War” or the “Anglo-French rivalry” .  In United States history, however, the conflict is referred to as the “French and Indian War”.   Whatever you call it, this particular French soldier was likely a victim.  He reportedly has a limp (and some say they have seen him with a cane) as he walks down Ave de L’Esplanade from Rue Rachel towards Avenue Duluth.  Sometimes, he is seen entering a building across the street from the park.  On this particular drizzly Saturday morning, however, I saw nothing in the park more creepy than some kids playing football (American football, that is, not soccer.)

Twice we walked past the severe, grey stone Hôpital Royal Victoria.   France lost the war with England, of course, ceding control over all its territory east of the Mississippi River in the1763  Treaty of Paris.  Quebec was under British control until 1867, when all of Canada became a self-governing British colony.   “The Dominion of Canada” created a unified federation of the former British and French colonies.   Canada and England maintained close ties (Canada did not become an independent country until 1982!), so it is no surprise that the hospital built in 1893 was named after the British queen Victoria.  The “Royal Vic” definitely looks like the kind of place that would have its own fair share of ghosts.  Indeed, hospital patients, visitors and staff have reported seeing ghosts of former patients and hearing disembodied footsteps and voices.   Odd occurrences have also been reported, things  like buzzers and lights going on and off in empty rooms.

Mont-Royal Cemetery is one of the largest cemeteries in North America.   Divided into three sections (Mont-Royal, Cote-Des-Neiges and Notre Dame), several hundred thousand graves are in a beautiful, serene park.  The Mont-Royal section is said to be the most active, with ghosts (including a famous Algonquin warrior) reportedly wandering about in the cemetery.  There is a popular scenic overlook on the serpentine road near the top of Mont-Royal.   Many people have reported seeing ghostly apparitions  standing at the edge of the cemetery grounds on the high rock cliffs above the overlook.   Perhaps, like me and the other tourists,  they are just enjoying the view of  the city below.  No ghosts were in evidence, however, on the sunny Sunday morning that  I rode my bike past the cemetery on my way to the top of Mont-Royal.

Later that day, we passed McGill University on our way to Montreal’s Musee des Beaux-Artes.   McGill reportedly has more than one ghost, including a young boy who has been known to interact with students.  Apparently, there is a bulletin board on campus where people can share information about where they have spotted the McGill University Ghost(s).

Although I did not experience any eerie paranormal activity during my recent visit, it was still fun to read about les fantômes de Montréal and to take a few creepy photos.   (This post is also a response to the Weekly Photo Challenge: Eerie.)

Beyond The Horizon

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Farmland near Nerstrand, Minnesota
October, 2013

Recently, our family took a daytrip down to visit some friends who live near the town of Nerstrand, MN about an hour outside of the Twin Cities.  When I first moved to Minnesota, I was struck by the fact that people here always give you directions in north, south, east or west – as in “Go two blocks north and then turn west”.  I had never before used the cardinal directions as a point of reference, so this was confusing to me at first.  But I soon discovered that it makes sense in a Plains state where you can actually see the horizon.  It becomes only natural to use the horizon and the sun’s relation to it as a frame of reference, a way of understanding the natural order of the world.  When I took this picture, for example, I knew that I was facing north because it was afternoon and the sun was clearly in the west.

We happened to visit the country on a glorious fall day.  The kids rode the horses (and pony) through the fields and down the road to an old graveyard that is populated by German and Norwegian immigrants to the area who settled here beginning in the 1850s.  Some of the gravestones were so old that the carved names and dates had been all but erased by the elements.  Others were propped against a birch tree. Having lost all connection to the graves that they once marked, they now appeared to gaze out beyond trees and fields and farms to whatever lies beyond the horizon.

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Gravestones in Wheeling (German) Evangelical Cemetary
Nerstrand, MN

It reminded me of the melancholy, nostalgic-sounding song Beyond The Horizon by Minnesota’s own Bob Dylan.

Beyond The Horizon

by Bob Dylan

Beyond the horizon, behind the sun
At the end of the rainbow life has only begun
In the long hours of twilight ‘neath the stardust above
Beyond the horizon it is easy to love

My wretched heart’s pounding
I felt an angel’s kiss
My memories are drowning
In mortal bliss

Beyond the horizon, in the Springtime or Fall
Love waits forever for one and for all

Beyond the horizon across the divide
‘Round about midnight, we’ll be on the same side
Down in the valley the water runs cold
Beyond the horizon someone prayed for your soul

I’m touched with desire
What don’t I do?
I’ll throw the logs on the fire
I’ll build my world around you

Beyond the horizon, at the end of the game
Every step that you take, I’m walking the same

Beyond the horizon the night winds blow
The theme of a melody from many moons ago
The bells of St. Mary, how sweetly they chime
Beyond the horizon I found you just in time

It’s dark and it’s dreary
I ponder in vain
I’m weakened, I’m weary
My repentance is plain

Beyond the horizon o’er the treacherous sea
I still can’t believe that you’ve set aside your love for me

Beyond the horizon, ‘neath crimson skies
In the soft light of morning I’ll follow you with my eyes
Through countries and kingdoms and temples of stone
Beyond the horizon right down to the bone

It’s late in the season
Never knew, never cared
Whatever the reason
Someone’s life has been spared

Beyond the horizon the sky is so blue
I’ve got more than a lifetime to live lovin’ you

(If you don’t know the tune, you can listen here)

This post is a response to Weekly Photo Challenge: Horizon.

 

The Hue of You: Choose a Job You Love

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Open family law case files at the Legal and Human Rights Centre in
Dar es Salaam, Tanzania

I’m sharing this photo of hundreds of open family law case files at  at the Legal and Human Rights Centre in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania in response to the Weekly Photo Challenge: The Hue of You.  Two LHRC attorneys are responsible for all of these open cases.

The work of a human rights warrior can be hard, but it is definitely ALWAYS interesting – and colorful!

“Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life.”

― Confucius