family

Searching for Home in Tibet

I was originally drawn to this book for two reasons. One, Tibet is on my bucket list and I am determined to go there. Second, the tag line, A Journey in Search of Home made me think it had something to do with being a Third Culture Kid. TCK’s never know where home is.

This book is not about Tibet or TCK’s. Haha. Laughs on me. However, it is an amazing book!

Several years ago I had explored taking a trip to the Upper Mustang Region of Nepal. It is a remote place on the Tibetan border. Upper Mustang was a restricted area and forbidden to outsiders until 1992. Even today one needs special permits to go there and there is a limit of 1000 permits per year. It was formerly known as the Kingdom of Lo and became a dependency of Nepal from 1795 to 2008, when it ceased to exist. The capital was the ancient walled city of Lo-Manthang. It is known for its rich Tibetan culture and history.

Rose Lane, an Australian, discovered her family home was going to be sold. She hadn’t lived there in years but when she heard this it hit her hard. She felt loss and grief. As she travels on horseback through this very remote area, she reflects on what that house meant to her and the important moments she lived through growing up in that house.

It is a journey of self discovery but also a real journey. She carries with her a copy of Michael Piessel’s book, Mustang: A Lost Tibetan Kingdom, which was published in 1967. He was one of the first if not the first person from the West to travel to and write about the area. Rose notices garbage along the way, motorcycles, things he would not have seen. There is now a semblance of a road that allows people to travel on four-wheel drive jeeps to the area but mostly people still go as trekkers or on horseback. She imagined herself as Freya Stark or Alexandra David-Neel, a fearless woman explorer.

Rose takes us through vast areas of empty mountain deserts. I wished there were photos because it sounded like it was breathtaking. The trip was not easy, it was rugged. No hot water, squat toilet outhouses, milky tea and noodles, and very high altitudes but amazing sights. Monasteries, palaces, prayer flags. All worn and many destroyed from the recent earthquake.

I was enthralled by it all.

At one point she says she would like to go to Timbuktu but it is impossible to get there these days. She contacted a friend about going there and he told her that she could try stowing away in a boat and go up the river. And here is my favorite quote of the book:

“There’s fearless and then there’s stupid.”

Postcards from Fiji

February 1970

Dear K

We are having a great time here in Fiji. the beach and everything are just great. No waves for surfing but the water is just right. Why don’t you phone us some evening soon after we get home – or Va will call you.

Love, Bill

Elizabeth. Dressed in her Sunday best, Elizabeth finds pleasure in picking and displaying Hibiscus flowers.

July 1982

Dear Kathy

This is my fourth trip to Fiji and I expect to be back here one more time this year. So I must like it, which I do. On this trip I’ll visit the main parts I haven’t visited before.

See you soon.

Love, Bill

Vani – Portrait of an old Fijian lady from Moturiki Island, Fiji

July 1982

All goes well, some of us are off to Vanuatu and Taveuni tomorrow for a week. We have had rain every day so no tennis. We are hopeful that when we come together again o the 27th that the sun will appear.

Love, Bill

The Ratu – A Fijian chief in full traditional ceremonial dress made of masa (tapa cloth)

Treasure Island, Fiji

April, 1981

I did not get a chance to visit this island this trip but it is the one I visited by sailing ship in 1970.
Fiji is very nice! I would like to come back and spend a holiday here.

Love, Bill

16 km south west of Lautoka, Treasure Island is casual elegance in lush, tropical surroundings. Ultra-modern Fijian accommodation with private beach and lagoon view.

Indian Cake
My Grandmother at about age 20

Years ago we put together a family recipe book. Four different versions of the Indian Cake recipe were entered by four great cooks. Goes to show that even in a family the need to “tweak” a recipe exists. My cousin always thought the name of the recipe came from the fact that all ingredients were staples in every kitchen and a great use for leftover coffee, plus Grandma was born in the 1881, so it was probably a “prairie” recipe handed down by her mother. Unfortunately, most of the cooks have passed and we will probably never know for sure.`

This is my grandmother’s version of the cake.

Indian Cake

2 cups sugar
1/2 cup shortening
1/4 cup cocoa powder
1/2 cup coffee
2 cups flour
1 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 eggs
1 cup hot water
1 clove coffee, heated

Mix all ingredients together, stirring in hot coffee last.
Bake at 350 degrees until done.

You can see that this is kind of vague and might need some additional “tweaks”. I don’t know what a “1 clove coffee” is.

One of my aunts increased the cocoa by a quarter cup and took out the baking powder, vanilla extract, salt, and clove coffee. This makes no sense to me, it would be pretty bland, I would think.

Another aunt increased the cocoa by a quarter cup and added cream of tartar.

A third aunt provided the last variation and it is the most detailed:

2 cups flour
1/2 cup cocoa
1 Teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup butter
2 cups sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup coffee, cold
1 cup water, boiling, minus 1 teaspoon

Sift together: flour, cocoa, soda, and salt and set aside. Cream 1/2 cup butter into the sugar. Add beaten eggs and blend slowly. Add vanilla. Add into sugar and butter mixture, some of the flour and mix well, then add some of the cold coffee and mix them alternating, continue until all is in but mix in the flour last. Stir in the hot water (minus 1 teaspoon) and mix well. Bake in preheated 350 degree oven for about 1 hour. Test with toothpick until it comes out dry from the center of the cake.

I’m not 100% convinced on this one. One hour seems way too long. But I haven’t tried it and don’t know what kind of a pan she used.

I have made the original recipe minus the clove thing but I might have put some clove spice in it. I think I cooked it for 30 minutes in a 9 X 9 and it turned out pretty good.

Try your hand at it and see what happens!

Friday Before the Holiday

My relatives.. This is actually a postcard dated 1912. Apparently it was all the rage at the time to make your photographs into postcards. It is addressed to my grandfather and just says “My Latest”.

We are back in the deep freeze. Seven new inches of snow and temperatures well below zero F. with strong winds. Blizzard conditions. But, hey, this is Minnesota. We trudge on.

It is the first of two holiday weekends. Family, Festivities, Fun, Food. I’m making a Hazelnut Torte to take to the Xmas eve get-together. Then I will take my father to a nice restaurant for Xmas day. And it will be cold. I lived in Mexico City growing up. Our tradition was to get up the day after Xmas and load up the car and drive to Acapulco for a week. Now, that was way more fun than any other Xmas stuff. My holidays were always related to travel. Either traveling home from boarding school or traveling to the beach or, one year, we traveled to Kenya and Tanzania to see the game parks. I might need to revive that traveling tradition.

I became interested in the show Yellowstone because a new prequel just came out with Helen Mirren and Harrison Ford called 1923. So, thinking the whole show was on Paramount Plus, I signed on. I then saw there was another prequel called 1883. I have been binge watching 1883. I figured I would start at the beginning. Then I discovered the actual show isn’t on Paramount Plus, they sold it to Peacock. So if I want to watch the actual show I have to sign up with them. This is getting to be very confusing. And expensive. Maybe I can find it at the library…

Anyway, 1883 is about the Dutton family’s trek from Fort Worth Texas to Montana by covered wagon. They are traveling with a group of Eastern European immigrants. Within the first few weeks, half the people died in one way or another. Disaster after disaster. The narrator is a teenage girl who goes from despair to elation about love and nature and god’s hand in nature and the beauty of the land and the cruelty of it as well.

It made me think about my family and their trek across the sea and then half way across America. They must have traveled the same way. Covered wagons, horses. On my father’s side my ancestor came from Ireland in 1811, and bought land in Pennsylvania. They didn’t stay long. His son was born in Ohio in 1818 and they later moved to Missouri. When he found he was on the wrong side slavery, he moved his farm and family north to Illinois. After he died in 1858, the family moved to western Iowa where they had kin. My grandfather was born in Iowa in 1880. He dug in a farm and stayed there.

On my grandmother’s side, her family sailed from England to Connecticut in 1641. The family stayed there until the mid 1700’s when their house was destroyed by fire.

The father and two elder sons went into the wilderness to clear some land and left the wife and baby in a white settlement. The father and eldest son were killed by Indians. The second son, Isaac, was fourteen when he was captured by the Genesee Indians. Several years later he managed to escape but it wasn’t until he was 70 years old when he found his baby brother who had been left behind with his mother. By that time he was living in Ulster County, New York. The family stayed in New York until about 1880, when they up and moved to western Iowa. My grandmother was born there in 1881.

You can see why 1883 draws me in.

I hope you have a super duper holiday weekend!

Hazelnut Torte

½ lb shelled hazelnuts
8 eggs, separated
1 ½ cups sugar
½ cup breadcrumbs
Grated rind of 1 lemon
Juice of ½ lemon
1 tsp vanilla extract
½ cup whipped cream
1 cup tart jelly (I like raspberry)

Grind the unblanched hazelnuts very fine. Put 2 tablespoons of the ground nuts aside for the outside of the cake.

Beat the egg yolks with the sugar till very light. Add the breadcrumbs, lemon rind, lemon juice, vanilla and ground nuts. Fold in the egg whites whipped very stiff but not dry.

Bake in 2 layers, 30 minutes at 325 degree F. Cool in the pans.

Take out and put together with whipped cream and a little jelly spread between the layers. Whip the rest o f the jelly with a fork and spread it over the top and sides of the cake. Powder with unused 2 tablespoons of ground nuts. Decorate the top of the cake with a swirl of whipped cream. Chill before serving.

Maybe I’ll have a picture next week.

Looking Back
Photo by Callam Barnes on Pexels.com

As you may or may not know I am interested in my genealogy. I spend hours down the rabbit hole at Ancestry.com finding tidbits. My current obsession involves my mother’s great grandmother who came from Perthshire, Scotland. I am planning a trip to visit the place next year so it is kind of cool to read about the farms they owned and rented over the years. A bunch of them were ministers so they worked in different parishes around the area. Mostly I just want to go to soak up the atmosphere and imagine what it was like back in those days.

A very old small photo of my great great grandmother (on the left)

On another note… I found this recently and am pretty amazed by the detail. My great grandfather (this one came from Ireland) was born in Ohio on March 2, 1841. In 1861 he was teaching district school in Monmouth, Illinois. At the breakout of the Civil War he enlisted in Company C, Thirty-sixth Illinois Infantry, and was sent to Missouri. The first battle in which he participated was at Pea Ridge. He helped to save Missouri to the Union. He was transferred to the Army of the Tennessee, and was at the siege of Corinth. In September, 1862, he was transferred to the Army of the Cumberland, and took part in the battle of Perryville and in the campaign of Stone River. The following spring he was in the Tullahoma campaign, then went to Bridgeport and through Georgia, and took part in the battle of Chickamauga, where he was wounded, being shot through the cheek, the ball coming out the back of the neck. He was then sent to the hospital at Nashville, Tennessee, remaining there till the expiration of his term of service, when he was mustered out in September 1864.

My Great-grandfather

After that he taught for six more years, got married, had four children, farmed for a couple of years, and ended up in Iowa in the grocery business. He died at 66.

I actually have his discharge papers from the Army. When he died in 1907, his wife started to collect a pension of twelve dollars a month. In 1916 an Act of Congress approved by the President granted “increase of pension of a widow who was the wife of a soldier, sailor or marine during the period of his service in the Civil War, or who is the widow of a soldier, sailor or marine who served in the Civil War, the War with Mexico, or the War of 1812, and who has reached the age of 70 years”. The pension was increased to $20 per month. And then in 1917, it was again increased to $25 per month. I don’t know what happened after that. She died in 1923.

My Great-grandmother

Anyway I have tons of info. I hope to put it all together at some point. Like I said, I have no shortage of projects.

Memories and Speeches

Lake Lugano

Lake Lugano

When I was sixteen I went off to boarding school in Switzerland. My parents were living in Nigeria. My roommate traveled from Tanzania. My best friend’s parents were living in Tokyo. Walking down the hall in my dorm there were people from Saudi Arabia, Germany and various US cities. In a couple of weeks I will be going back to stay in the new dorms of my old school for a big reunion. I will see several of my old dorm-mates. We will haunt the old stomping grounds reliving old memories and making new ones.

One of my tasks for this reunion is to write a speech. I am having trouble sitting myself down and focusing on this task. Do I draw on the memories of particular events from those days?

Duomo, Florence

Duomo, Florence

The time Kelly saved my life at the Duomo in Florence. I didn’t know I had vertigo but turns out I did and he took my hand and guided me through it. The trip to Dachau and how quiet everybody was on the bus home. Leaning to drink warm beer at the HofBrauHaus in Munich. The other great thing about Munich was we saw our first McDonald’s in Europe and became “American” for a weekend. In Venice we got around on water buses and discovered a small disco. Plus a pigeon landed on my head in St Mark’s Square. Hiking up the side of a mountain just to lie in the grass and stare at the sky. Instigating “all school skip day” that stuck as a tradition.

Traveling through Greece having to hear about every single ruin by the side of the road and never getting to listen to rock and roll music. Taking a cruise through the Greek Islands and being bombarded by wet toilet paper rockets in the hallway outside the girl’s cabin. Listening to boring lectures about the mosaics of Ravenna and Giotto’s Chapel. Wishing there were horses in the square in Siena.

Palio Di Diena

Palio Di Siena

 

Or do I talk about the overall experience of living with an exceptional group of people, teachers and students alike who influenced the rest of our lives.

We were taught to be independent, curious, adventurous, supportive and respectful. We were only 16 or 17 and we traveled the world on our own without thinking twice about it. We would seek out art and architecture wherever we went. We enjoyed each other’s company, had fun together and sometimes tolerated each other. We became a family.

And now many many years later, we are still family. We have a unifier that brings us all together. That time in Switzerland made us all different. We experienced something together that other people could never understand. It was our unique world and we came out of it as a unit. So when we meet each other now, even if we didn’t know each other then, we immediately have a connection. We have a common ground to work off of. In some cases it was a jumping off point to forge new relationships. Even now the family continues to grow.

Or do I just tell a story and thank everybody for coming. Of course all memories are subject to change and embellishment. I could probably make something up. But I won’t. I will keep it simple and short. Who wants to listen to a speech when you are sitting eating French food on one of the most beautiful lakes in the world?

008-Vista-Albergo-Posta-Morcote Svizzera-Ticino-Lago-Lugano

 

On another note, I am going bi-coastal.  My Baltimore Post Examiner blog, Eclectic Global Nomad has been picked up by the Los Angeles Post Examiner so you can find me in both.

70 years together

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I am re-posting this from my other blog – Eclectic Global Nomad.

My parents were married at 2:00 in the afternoon.  My father was on medical leave from the US Navy after having his appendix out.  The year was 1943.

My mother remembers driving with her father to the church. They lived in a small town in Iowa.  As they drove through downtown my mother noticed the bank clock said 1:55.  When she and her new husband drove back the same route to her house for a small reception, she again noticed the clock.  It now said 2:15.  The minister had married them under the wrong name.  Nobody mentioned it.

My father’s father ran the family farm so he had petrol coupons.  He filled the car with gas and gave them coupons so they could go to Kansas City for a two day honeymoon before my father returned to his post at Lakehurst, New Jersey.  He was training to fly blimps.  My mother was teaching school and had to finish out the year before joining him.

They were separated again when my father went to fly blimps off the coast of Brazil searching for German submarines.  He remembers Christmas Day, 1944.  He and his buddies drove through the Brazilian countryside on their way to find a beach to play volleyball.  It was the first time he had ever seen that kind of poverty.  He noticed the crops in the fields and decided that very day he could help people by teaching agriculture.

He had planned to be a vocational agriculture instructor when he returned to civilian life but this gave it a whole new dimension.  He wanted to work overseas.  His mother had always told him he could do what ever he wanted if he set his mind to it.

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