Category Archives: Travel essay

The 2012 Mayan Calendar: Out with the Old, In with the New

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A Mayan shaman on Lake Atitlán performing a ceremony for protection of travelers. © Laurel Kallenbach

December 21, 2012, marks the end of one Mayan calendar and the beginning of a new era. To celebrate, I wanted to share a few of my images from my 2008 trip to Guatemala, where I spent a week on Lake Atitlán, one of the spiritual centers of the Mayan world.

The Mayans call this deep lake, surrounded by mountains and the Atitlán volcano, “the umbilicus of the world.” It’s a source, a place of birth for them.

On the first morning after I arrived at Villa Sumaya,  a yoga retreat center on the shores of Lake Atitlán, a Mayan shaman came to perform a protection ceremony for all us gringos. After offering sugar, cinnamon, chocolate and taper candles to the gods, he entreated them to cleanse our spirits and keep us safe throughout our Guatemala journeys.

We could feel the love from the chocolate-sated deities every morning as we drank Mayan hot chocolate with breakfast. Rich cream, dark cacao, ginger, and a touch of chile: amazing and spirit-lifting.

These Mayan women brought their weaving to Villa Sumaya for our group to look at. I bought a gorgeous tablecloth. © Laurel Kallenbach

As I look ahead, to the new era, I’ll remember Guatemala’s colorfully clad Mayan women. These skilled seamstresses wove exotic birds, such as the quetzal, into their clothing designs. May that color and vibrancy lead us all into the next Mayan calendar.

On this Winter Solstice 2012, we all get a fresh start. My hope is that the new era will be characterized by peace, creativity, the end of materialism and global warming, and a renewed understanding of the wisdom of indigenous peoples worldwide.

—Laurel Kallenbach, writer, traveler, editor

Lake Atitlán, in Guatemala, is one of the spiritual centers of the Mayan world. © Laurel Kallenbach

 

 

Giving Thanks for the Bounty of Farmer’s Markets

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Japanese eggplant and peppers from Toohey & Sons farm Photo © Laurel Kallenbach

As we approach Thanksgiving, I want to express gratitude to the nation’s farmer’s markets for bringing locally-grown, fresh food to town.

Much of the food is produced organically, even if it’s not certified organic. Growing without pesticides  is vital for public health and for the environment.

Now that winter is upon us and the leaves are almost gone, there’s only one more chance to buy direct from the farmer in Boulder, Colorado, my home town. After the third Saturday in November, the Boulder County Farmer’s Market is closed for the season.

But oh, how warmly I remember the bounty of this summer. The heirloom tomatoes, the ears of Peaches-and-Cream sweet corn, the gladiolas and sunflowers, the multi-colored carrots, the cucumbers, the Western Slope peaches that we ate by the bushelful!

I thought I’d share a few photos from September’s colorful harvest at the Boulder Farmer’s Market, held in downtown Boulder (on Saturday mornings and Wednesday afternoons):

Windsor Dairy makes cheeses in the European tradition from raw, organic milk. Every cheese is a creamy treat! Photo ©Laurel Kallenbach

Thank you, farmers, for continuing to supply us with fresh, healthy food against the odds. And for reminding us what a variety of foods can be grown with a short distance of our homes—or even in our back yards. May your family farms prosper.

These scarlet turnips from Toohey & Sons were so pink, I thought they were beets. Photo ©Laurel Kallenbach

Renewed interest in local foods has coined the word “locavore”: someone who eats locally produced, in-season foods whenever possible. Why go to the extra effort to become a locavore and buy from farmer’s markets and eat local? FoodRoutes.org cites several important reasons.

Zesty jalapeños from Red Wagon Organic Farm   Photo © Laurel Kallenbach

1. Local food tastes better and fresher than food grown for shipping or long shelf life.

2. You support and preserve small family farms.

3. You know the farmers you buy from avoid chemicals, pesticides, hormones, antibiotics or genetically modified seed.

4. You protect the environment. Local food doesn’t travel far, thereby reducing carbon-dioxide emissions and packing materials.

I’m also grateful that farmer’s markets create community. I never go when I don’t bump into a friend—and we compare the goodies we tuck into our shopping bags. The whole market feels a little like a festival—complete with fresh-made local foods from local restaurants.

This Thanksgiving, may we remember where our food comes from, may we support sustainable agriculture, and may we work to end hunger in our own home towns.

—Laurel Kallenbach, freelance writer and editor

People share food and smiles at the Abbondanza Farm stand at the Boulder Farmer's Market. Photo © Laurel Kallenbach

Arise and Go to Innisfree Poetry Bookstore

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April is National Poetry Month, and with spring weather, creativity blooms. Boulder, Colo., my home town, is the fortunate home of Innisfree Poetry Bookstore & Café, located on The Hill near the CU-Boulder campus.

A reader at Innisfree Poetry Bookstore in Boulder, Colo.

Innisfree is the third poetry-only shop in the entire nation (the first two are Grolier’s in Cambridge, Mass., and Seattle’s Open Books). Innisfree just opened in January 2011, and this weekend it’s celebrating a second grand opening in honor of the poetic spirit that abides in all of us.

Named for the popular W.B. Yeats poem, “The Lake Isle of Innisfree,” the bookstore/café is a community meeting place for writers and lovers of poetry. Like its namesake poem, the shop is also a place of respite and contemplation (In Yeats’ words about the Irish lake isle: “And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow”).

And indeed, a sense of peace and deep cultural richness envelops me when I walk into Innisfree. There’s a waft of espresso mixed with book-bound paper—a scent that has delighted me since I learned to read. Amid the rows of sleek wooden bookshelves that bulge with enticing volumes, I feel alive with the possibility of words.

I say hello to the works of dear friends: poets Mary Oliver, Rumi, Maya Angelou, Rilke, Neruda, Auden, T.S. Eliot, Sylvia Plath—and my own former teachers Tess Gallagher and Hayden Carruth. There’s a wonderful shelf filled with Colorado poets, including Boulder writers Marilyn Krysl, Anne Waldman and Jack Collom, and Colorado poet laureate David Mason.

Yeats and Kerouac are just two of the poets on the Innisfree shelves.

The shelves also teem with words translated into English from other languages; Japanese, African, Chinese, French, German, Indian and Arabic poets all reside here. And young readers will revel in the kid’s section with verse penned by the likes of Dr. Seuss and Shel Silverstein.

The Love of Language

Why would co-owners Brian Buckley and Kate Hunter, a married couple who have small children, open an all-poetry book shop in an era when brick-and-mortar stores are becoming relics? I can tell you: for the love of language and its power to transport us into the realm of the soul.

If you’re in Colorado, add Innisfree Poetry Bookstore to your itinerary. Sip on fair-trade, organic coffee or tea; nibble on local, organic baked goods while you browse. And by all means, buy a volume or two—and make it your practice to read a poem a day, on the road or at home.

Co-owner Brian Buckley reads poetry at Innisfree's January Grand Opening.

And join the Innisfree community: Tuesdays are Open Mic Nights, so bring your own scribblings. On Thursday nights you can catch a poetry reading by local and visiting poets.

At Boulder’s  Innisfree, there’s a whole world of wise words to be discovered.

—Laurel Kallenbach, poet, freelance writer and editor

Tell us about your favorite poem and how it changed your life. Just click on “Comments” below.

Sick with a Suitcase

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I spent last weekend nursing a painful sinus infection, and somehow the entire weekend slipped by without my achieving any of the things on my to-do list.

The good news, however, is that while I snorted through a box of tissues, I made excellent headway on a wonderful novel.

Sadly, it often takes illness or an accident to get me to slow down enough to read a good book—or just do nothing. And it’s gotten me thinking about times I’ve been under the weather while traveling.

Being ill away from home can be, at the least, scary and a huge inconvenience. At worst, it could be life-threatening. (An acquaintance was on a dream trip to Florence when her appendix burst. Fortunately, she’s fluent in Italian and received excellent medical care, even if the hospital environment left much to be desired.)

Tikal's temples by moonlight were so breathtaking that I momentarily forgot I was sick.

Tikal’s temples by moonlight were so breathtaking that I momentarily forgot that I was sick.

Most of the time being sick sucks. My trip to the Mayan ruins of Tikal in Guatemala was marred by a fever and digestive disorders. On my first day, I managed to hike through the ancient temples and witnessed a spectacular sunset over the jungle. After I staggered back to the hotel, I was down for the count.

All night I alternated between sweating in the heat and shivering with fever, but I kept telling myself I’d be ready for more archaeological explorations in the morning. It’s a measure of how lousy I felt that I couldn’t muster even an eyelash of energy to see some of the world’s most spectacular pyramids on my second day. Heartbreaking.

Another time, on a trip to Germany, I spent half the night steaming in the shower because my sinuses were so clogged from a raging head cold worsened by the dry air on the plane.

And there was that time I slipped and broke my ankle at the most gorgeous resort on Vancouver Island, Clayoquot Wilderness Resort. I dismissed it as a badly sprained ankle and managed to hobble around for the rest of the trip…but it wasn’t as fun.

Silver Lining?

Sometimes, though, there can be a wee silver lining to having a sniffle or a rash: enforced Slow Travel. I remember an absolutely divine (and rainy) day nestled under the featherbed in the Swiss-Alp village of Mürren. This charming town offers some of the most drop-dead-gorgeous mountain scenery on the planet, but I was nursing cramps and jet lag.

I broke my ankle while staying on Bedwell Sound in British Columbia. As you can see, staying in bed in this luxury tent wasn't exactly horrible! Photo courtesy Clayoquot Wilderness Resort.

My low mood and depleted energy level, plus the rain, were the perfect excuse not to go hiking, not to take photos, not to seek out restaurants. Instead, I washed out some dirty socks and underwear, hung them on the radiator to dry, and stayed in bed with a paperback and Toblerone bar. And when the clouds finally parted over the Eiger mountain, I was content to admire it through my lace-curtained window.

Looking back, I was glad for the day of rest and recuperation.

—Laurel Kallenbach, freelance writer and travel survivor

P.S. What sickness sagas can you share?