A big part of Overseas Adventure Travel (O.A.T.) is spending time with people as they go about their everyday lives. On this tour in Tuscany and Umbria, we spent a day at Podere Le Fornaci, an organic farm run by Amanda, Valentina and Nocolo. They raise goats and make goat cheese which is sold in local markets.
First, we met the goats and learned of the history of the farm and the people who work the farm. Then we learned about making goat cheese and helped make some cheese. We ended the day with a meal that incorporated varieties of goat cheese.
This is Liugi. On this small goat farm, every goat has a name. Liugi was the most rambunctious of the goats we met.
An introductioon to goat farming and the goatsOur Group Tour Leader GiacomoA lesson the varieties of goat cheese. I learned that goat cheese can be aged–for a bit at least. Our group making goat cheese.Ready for lunch
Our walking tour in Florence began on top of a hill outside the city.
We walked through the Rose Garden, and even though it was November, roses were still blooming. The garden is maintained by volunteers, and I imagine in summer it is full of color and scent.
Given my love for whimsy in the garden, I could not resist cozying up to the man on the bench (our tour guide said this man was known for bringing luck in love–still waiting).
Our Overseas Adventure Travel (O.A.T.) tour group posing with a whimsical suitcase photo frame.
From the Rose Garden, we walked down the path and through the gates into Florence.
After disembarking from the AmaKristina in Avignon, we went to Marseille for a couple of days. Marseille is a colorful and fairly hilly city, with lots to see and do near the Old Port.
Outdoor market in Marseille
Marseille Cathedral near the Old Port (not my picture)
Main door into the CathedralInterior of the CathedralPieta inside the Cathedral
Colorful shops and interesting decor are sprinkled throughout the City.
Lots of restaurant options and great seafood in Marseille. The first day, we had a fantastic lunch at La Brasserie de Joliette near the Old Port and the next day another excellent lunch at Nul Part Allieurs, also at the Old Port.
Goat cheese salad at La Brasserie de Joliette near the Old PortMussels at La Brasserie de JolietteTuna nicoise salad at Nul Part Ailleurs.
We did the Hop On/Hop Off bus to get a glimpse of the rest of the city and one of the most curious things we encountered was when our bus was attempting to turn right onto a narrow street, and a car was parked right at the corner so we could not get around it.
The bus driver honked several times, expecting someone to come out, but no one did. A few minutes and several honks of the horn later, a passerby saw our predicament and signaled for the bus driver to come to the car, where he pointed out a note on the front window. The bus driver read the note and called the number indicated on the note.
A few minutes later (and by now we have been sitting there for at least ten minutes), a woman sauntered to the car, casually took off her coat and got in, as though parking one’s car on a corner, blocking traffic and going about one’s business is what is done in Marseille–but the bus driver’s reaction clued us in that this was not what one usually does in Marseille. A lesson in French culture.
The most amazing excursion during the Amawaterways river cruise from Lyon to Avignon was to a limestone quarry in Provence which has been repurposed into an immersive art experience called CARRIÈRES DE LUMIÈRES.
The limestone quarrey (not my picture)
When we stepped inside the quarry, we entered Venice and were immersed in images of art and architecture. Haunting music enhanced the experience, and I was mesmerized.
My photos cannot capture the magnificence of this exhibit, so I encourage you to visit the site–and visit the place.
One of the scenes projected on the quarry walls (not my picture).
From there, we went to Les Baux-de-Provence, a 12th century village on top of a mountain.
Narrow street of Les BauxSaint Blaise Chapel, built in the 12th centuryTapestry inside the Chapel of St. Blaise in Les Baux
“Piano, piano,” our tour guide Giacomo advised our group of ten as we navigated the cobblestone streets of medieval towns in Tuscany and Umbria. “Piano, piano,” he repeated as we climbed stone steps that have been worn down by centuries of use and had no handrails to steady us.
Piano, piano means slowly, slowly in Italian.
Good advice, I thought. Not just for traversing medieval towns in Italy, but for me, good advice for daily life, because I tend to move too fast, rushing as though I was always running late.
Travel makes me slow down, because I am aware of how dangerous rushing across cobblestones can be.
Traveling with a group makes me slow down because I sometimes need to wait for those who can’t move as quickly as I do.
It is good for me to slow down, and every time I had to stop and wait for someone to catch up, I felt invited to look up and take in the sights around me (walking on cobblestones requires lots of looking down). Those moments of waiting were invitations to notice what was in front of me, like little carvings in walls or unique shapes of doorknockers.
Slowly, slowly invites me to appreciate the here and now.
Travel also shakes things up. It is like a snow globe where I am tossed around a bit and when the snow settles, everything looks different. The people, places and food are unfamiliar, and my equilibrium is off. I join Dorothy in saying, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.
A man at church recently toured the Holy Land. Before he left, he told me he had been nervous about traveling to such a potentially dangerous place until he learned they were staying in a Westin Hotel and then he thought, “If I didn’t know any different, I could still be at home.”
“Then what is the point of going?” I asked.
When I travel, I want to be shaken up and to experience what is different. I want to know how it is for people who live in that place and to have my assumptions and stereotypes challenged. I want to be changed by my experiences, to learn something about another people and place—and about myself.
One of the features of touring with Overseas Adventure Travel (O.A.T.) is that we visit people in their homes. On this tour, our group was split up among three homes in Carrera (after a tour of the nearby marble quarry). My small group had lunch with a couple and one of their sons.
Later in the tour, we visited Spello and were entertained by an Umbrian folk music group in the home of one of the musicians.
Massimo Liberatori & La Società dei Musici
During my two weeks in Italy, slowly, slowly became my go-to gear, and I pledged to myself that when I got home, I would try harder to stay in slow gear, to remind myself every day (and even multiple times a day), piano, piano.
Our Overseas Adventure Travel Group Tour Leader, Giacomo, aka Captain America
Our walking tour in Tournon-sur-Rhone included the old city, with the high walls, and a walk across the bridge for a wine tasting and a stop at a chocolate shop.
Part of the walls around the Old City
Many buildings throughout the parts of France I have visited have these nooks with statues, often of Mary or a patron saint of the town.
A door in the Old City
Pedestrian bridge across the Rhone, leading to the vineyards.
It seemed that most every town we visited had a beautiful church or cathedral. Some dated from medieval times and others were relatively new (19th century).
Eglise Notre Dame de la Persévérence (St. Mary of Perseverance), Barbizon, France
Bayeux Cathedral, built between the 12th and 16th centuries.
Stained glass window on the Bayeux Cathedral
St. Cecelia Cathedral in Albi was built in the 13th century. The outside looks more like a fort than a church, while the inside is full of ornate paintings, sculptures and carvings.
This week is the lead-up to Valentine’s Day, a very busy time for chocolatiers, florists and jewelers. Cards and candy hearts bearing expressions of love are flying off the shelves.
I remember this holiday from my childhood as one of dread because of the custom of giving Valentine’s Day cards in school. I worried that I would not receive any or many. I feared being excluded because I was not one of the popular kids. I feared the cards I gave out would be rejected or found wanting.
For me, this holiday was not a celebration of love, but just another way to touch my insecurities and make me anxious.
Even though I grew past those early feelings about this holiday, I have remained aware of the cultural expectation of it and of those who still may feel left out, those who may see it as a spotlight on their loneliness.
Several years ago, someone made a comment that reminded me of the impact Valentine’s Day can have on those who feel excluded. So, I decided to celebrate February as the month of love, and each day, I sent a little note to let someone know I was thinking of him or her.
Mostly I sent these notes to people who would not be getting Valentine’s Day cards or gifts, those people who look forward to February 15.
I so enjoyed writing those notes that I did it again the next year and every year since. It has become something that I look forward to, and it has helped me to be excited for the holiday.
Each day in February, I devote part of my prayer time to thinking of those in my life who may be particularly vulnerable or sad or lonely, and I send a note. The notes are usually just a few lines, expressing my gratitude for our friendship or my hope for their peace.
It is a small act, I know, but one that I hope brings a little light to someone’s life.
I think most of can relate to St. Paul’s “thorn” and have possibly even used the phrase “a thorn in my side” when referring to some troublesome person or situation.
It can be a family member, co-worker or friend who can get under my skin. Everyday situations and encounters—even a two-minute wait in line at the bank or grocery store—can feel like I am being pricked by a thorn.
When I am impatient, when I am reacting rather than acting or when I am rolling my eyes, I know I am having a thorn moment, that someone has done something that pushes my buttons.
What I find most helpful in those moments is to step back, take a few deep breaths and try to get some perspective.
Why is this particular person bugging me? What about a particular situation frustrates or upsets me? What is happening in my life that is unsettling me?I gained a deeper understanding of St. Paul’s letters to the Corinthians when I lived in l’Arche, where I lived very closely with people not of my choosing—people who came from different cultures and had different values. Clashes were bound to happen.
Facing disappointment after disappointment was disheartening, and it took me some time to see what was really happening—that that I was facing my unmet expectations. You are not in control, God seemed to be reminding me. Your way is not the only way. Those were tough truths to see and accept.
I learned many things in l’Arche, including the theory that when someone is pushing my buttons it is because they are revealing some part of me that I don’t particularly like and don’t want to see. Every time I was annoyed, I needed to stop looking at the other person and start examining myself.
The thorns in my life can reveal deeper truths about me, if I can be open and willing to face those truths.
The person I think is being stingy invites me to look at my own stinginess or lack of generosity. The one I see as needy invites me to look at my own insecurities.
The person who zips ahead of me in a line of cars reminds me that I, too, sometimes feel self-important. The person who exaggerates or even outright lies reminds me that I, too, sometimes may want to seem more accomplished than I am. The person who insists that her way is the right or only way to do something reminds me that I, too, like to have my way.
It can be easier to insist the problem is the situation or other person, but, I think, not very helpful.
With God’s grace—and lots of thorny experiences—I have come to see that every button-pushing experience, every thorn in my side, is really an invitation to growth in self-awareness and self-knowledge.
Accepting my weaknesses enables me to live in grace and to allow God to be in charge of my life.
I think most of can relate to St. Paul’s “thorn” and have possibly even used the phrase “a thorn in my side” when referring to some troublesome person or situation.
I gained a deeper understanding of St. Paul’s letters to the Corinthians when I lived in l’Arche, where I lived very closely with people not of my choosing—people who came from different cultures and had different values. Clashes were bound to happen.
Madeline Bialecki 