This blue marble

– and yet it spins

Category Archives: Travel


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In the mouth of the sleeping dragon

sleepydragon-1Once upon a time a giant dragon circled the mountain tops of Crete. It had come a long way and was exhausted to the core. But the valleys were crowded with noisy goats and crown of thorns, and the slopes were hot and uncomfortable. The dragon was sleepy, so sleepy, when it finally spotted a nice shallow sandy beach, like a warm bath. It landed, folded its wings, lay down its huge head, and fell into a deep sleep.

Today the dragon is still sleeping at the Agios Pavlos bay, head in the water, nostrils flared, and dorsal sail pointing towards the sky. If you are really quiet and on tiptoe, you can walk across its neck and enter its huge jaws. The daring ones are rewarded with a surprise: the dragon’s mouth is a vivid hue of purple.

sleepydragon-2Peering through the open jaws the view is magnificent: open ocean all the way to Libya somewhere in the far distance. The endless clucking of the waves makes even the curious guests drowsy. Stay too long and you will join the sleeping dragon in endless dreaming.

sleepydragon-3(Agios Pavlos, Crete, Greece; August 2014)


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Date with the fish

Crete-23When the sun is up and breakfast has settled, it is time for a date with the fish. The crystal water looks shallow when viewed from a rock; dive in and suddenly a world of blue depth opens. The shallowness is just an illusion of perfect clarity.

Among the rocky reef, green-and-blue-marbled ornate wrasses bustle like costumed dancers going to a samba carnival, while scorpion fishes stealthily hang onto the undersides of rock, blending into the shadows. Diving into a submerged cave, tarantula-like Sally Lightfoot crabs scuttle away between the boulders on long, yellow-striped legs. And in the sandy beach bottom, a flounder is completing the camouflage-transition to invisibility.

Floating among the shoals of little deep blue fish I cannot quite decide which kind of life would be better: the zestful, endless ocean exploration of sardines or the quiet, world-observing meditation of the starfish. In the end, which is preferred? To truly be content with simple and less; or to spend one’s life exploring and chasing dreams?

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(Agios Pavlos, Crete, Greece; August 2014)


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Touching base on Crete

Crete-7Dawn is the only hour of the day when the cicadas are quiet. It is also the hour when long, deep ujjayi-breaths slip out through the screen door of the yoga shala, mixing with wisps of incense. Inside, a room full of sweaty yogis move in meditation on the dark gray marble floor, each at his or her own pace. The air is electrified with immense concentration and infused with tranquility, a paradox that strikes me every morning as I enter the room.

Working through my poses I quietly ponder upon another paradox: there is nothing new under the sun and yet everything is always changing. Nothing is permanent and yet the patterns that form by change are always the same. We learn new things by making the same mistakes countless people have made before us. An ashtanga yoga sequence is identical from today to the next and yet it feels different every time I practice it.

Change is a sneaky little thing: we never catch it in action and only notice the effect. And so what is more valuable: development itself, or what happens to us when we become aware of how we have changed?

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(Agios Pavlos, Crete, Greece; August 2014)


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Timeout on the beach

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Starlit mornings devoted to ashtanga yoga. Afternoons spent listening to the rumbling ocean and reading summer books. Evenings passed enjoying Greek cuisine, the company of lovely yogis from around the world, and moments of afterthought.

I am taking a timeout on Crete. Sarveśām shāntir bhavatu. May there be peace in all.

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(Crete, Greece; August 2014)

(Triopetra beach image courtesy of http://www.cycladia.com)


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Once upon a time there was a monastery

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800 years ago she stood as a safe haven and retreat for those wishing to know God and themselves. She was created to bring the Christian God closer to the people, to open their hearts with the help of Dominican monks. She also had business sense: in the heydays she provided shelter to produce up to four kinds of beer for the good Blackfriars.

But the greatest wars on Earth are always about religion. Faith is another word for subjective truth. Congregations loyal to Rome were not in fashion when the Reform spread northward from Germany.

Reform in the 16th century meant also reform of the buildings of worship. And so she was dismantled, piece by piece. Some of her brick was incorporated into the great cathedrals of Tallinn. Other pieces were scattered into buildings and city infrastructure around the Old Town.

But the vault of Power remains. As I stood still in the center of the room I could hear my own rambling mind. Why, I think heard something else, quietly swirling by the tip of my ear. Centuries later, the echoes of the chanting monks still bounce off the walls. The worn stone floors invited for a moment of tranquility in this crazy hurried world.

And then a lady tourist in great awe of the ceilings kicked the candle on the floor. It flew a good meter, splashing stearine as it went.  No more echoes of monks and no more impressions of power in the air. Amidst minor confusion, apologies, and good intentions we relit the toppled candle with a miniature matchbox strangely enough provided by the lunch restaurant just an hour ago as a gift to all customers.

Coincidence, perhaps, or perhaps not? One thing is certain: regardless of temples of worship and candle-lit moments, tranquility is a state of mind.

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(Dominican monastery, Tallinn, Estonia; July 2014)


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And left behind was a red hotline telephone

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In 1991 the Soviet intelligence left Estonia in a hurry. Walls had come down, both in divided cities and in the minds of those who built them. Just a few weeks earlier, in some places the walls had had ears. And eyes, enhanced by wide-angle cameras. Ashtrays were bugged and 60 rooms of the one and only Viru Hotel in Tallinn were tapped. If you exclaimed aloud that you were out of toilet paper it was delivered to your door within 5 minutes. In-room breakfast was served when the hotel heard you were awake. The radio to KGB headquarters and Moscow was running hot.

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Conversations between hotel guests were listened to by bugged ashtrays and dinner plates. Oh, the fate and woes of the kitchen staff who by mistake put such a plate in the dishwasher!

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Spying on Western guests was not considered an offense but a pure business matter. Stealing from hotel guests was, however, quite another matter. Grabbing and opening this lovely red purse triggered a paint bomb: whoosh out came a puff of red powdery paint, in your face. Contact with water just made the paint stick better, so washing off your sin was not an option.

And then change arrived: a new world, and the old world was locked and left behind for decades to come. Papers scattered across the table. A few radios ripped off, others left where they once stood. The red telephone with no dial was deemed useless: nobody would ever pick up again at the KGB Tallinn headquarters.

Nothing lasts forever. And when it is time to go we show our true colors and single out those objects we wish to keep. The radios went with the spies but not the poor lonely red telephone. Yet 20 years later it is the center of the room and attention once again. The world turns in wild loops and we can only guess the fate of the once so important radios.

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(KGB Museum at Viru Hotel, Tallinn, Estonia; July 2014)


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Joining the Estonian madness

30secondstomarsShe only recently discovered them (“I’m slow to catch on” she admitted), and this experience junkie is always up for a good show and adventure. And so we chased 30 Seconds to Mars across the pond to Tallinn, Estonia. “Are you ready for a sing-along?” my sister asked. Yes, I was ready for some chanting of radio hits, but not this kind of sing-along. With mike or without mike. With band or with just a guitar. With fans on the stage and crazy giant balloon party in the audience.

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Tonight was not a concert from the band to the fans and audience. It was a concert with the band and fans and audience and an inspired, happy frenzy among Estonians, Finns, Russians, Latvians, Lithuanians, and a few other united nations gathered in Saku Suurhall.

The strangest thing happens when dark, moody lyrics are transformed by the spirit of a few thousand souls into a glowing ball of elated energy. It is a source of primeval core strength we rarely tap into in our sophisticated times. And colorful balloons are never wrong.

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(Saku Suurhall, Tallinn, Estonia; July 2014. Tour image courtesy of http://www.thirtysecondstomars.com)


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The last leg

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One last stop in Oslo before the summer break calls for a little luxury. Some sushi by the fjord, and a fantastic breakfast at the Grand Hotel café. Quality time at the office, and a little more sushi at the airport.

And then I could see my home from the air through the haze of a hot day over the sea and summer had truly arrived.

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(Oslo, Norway; and Helsinki, Finland; July 2014)


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From thick fog to brilliant blue

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In brilliant sunshine began a perilous voyage. As we cast off, little did we know that mother Nature had decided to let the sun bask on the market square while shrouding the archipelago in thick mist. Soon the sea smoke rolled in and wrapped our little boat in a blanket of nothingness. No sound, no horizon, no nothing except for white stillness.

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According to the charts, somewhere near us was a smattering of rocks breaking the waves. Perhaps starboard? Port? Who knows, even sufficiently deep under us fortunate souls? We wound down the engines and let the ship glide, hoping to discover our destination. Anguish, what does one do when the gadgets point to a few meters ahead but there is nothing but whiteness in sight? Hoooooonnnk the captain called with the horn, hoping for a yip, a yell, a hello, over here!

Indeed, over there it emerged from the shroud: Söderskär islet, all alone in the world between Finland and Estonia.

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Once upon a time not so long ago a mariner pilot, the lighthouse master, the lighthouse guard, and their families called Söderskär home. Tempests, swells, and scorching sunlight were the bountiful bonus on the job – and off the job. Life was rough and lonely until some years ago when the light was finally extinguished forever. What once swept the horizon with a bright beam turned into a dark tower looming in the moonlight, the ghost hand that waves homebound ships welcome.

And suddenly dark towers and a gray white world were wiped away by the June winds and all that was left was a brilliant blue. On a beautiful day even a lightless lighthouse can come to life.

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I stood by the lantern and looked over the cobalt vastness. Virgina Woolf’s poor heroine never made it to the lighthouse. Tove Jansson’s moomin family did complete the voyage, and spent a summer discovering themselves and the world beyond the known. At a lighthouse islet there is no escaping reality, no fleeing from the now whether it is sunshine, storm, or snow. Close your eyes and try to dream but the sea is always on the other side of your eyelids. Everything changes but the sea is constant.

“Moominpappa leaned forward and stared sternly at the fuming sea.  ‘There’s something you don’t seem to understand,’ he said.  ‘It’s your job to look after this island.  You should protect and comfort it instead of behaving as you do.  Do your understand?’

Moominpappa listened, but the sea made no answer.”

(From Tove Jansson’s Moominpappa at sea)

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(Söderskär, Porvoo archipelago, Finland; July 2014)


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While we spun around in the Ferris wheel…

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Helsinki looks quite different when one is hanging from the top limb of the Ferris wheel. Oh the beautiful roof terraces and detailed skylights and mansard roofs! The sun deck of the cruise liner beckons and the grass is always greener on the yacht club island. And then we look down and it is as if the sea is impossibly far below…

Fear of heights is really fear of falling. But when we are tucked safely into a cocoon like a Ferris wheel cabin, why are we afraid of falling unless we decide to open the door? Scientists claim a mild fear of falling is essential for survival and an evolutionary benefit. Guess that makes my sister the more advanced one of us two.

(Finnair SkyWheel, Helsinki, Finland; June 2014)