This week has been all about the vacationing for me, a final pause before scurrying home to begin my school year 2024-2025. And it’s been a wonderful pause that refreshes, in no small part because water has played a significant supporting role.
Even before I crossed the Peace Bridge and entered Canadian jurisdiction, there was swimming and frolicking in water. Yes, it was a hotel pool, and yes, it was Saturday night in Rochester New York (which turns out to have some lovely and interesting neighborhoods and parks). My friend Norah and I shared a hotel room, a meal and then a swim in their modest but thoroughly enjoyable pool.
The pool area was friendlier than it looks here, and we got a chance to recover from our respective long drives and relax.
Once in Guelph visiting Samantha, Sarah, Kathleen, Jeff, and a slew of animals, I enjoyed a mix of relaxing outdoor activities. My favorite one was a Wednesday swim with Sam in the Elora quarry, about a half hour from Guelph. The town of Elora looked very charming, and the quarry swim was super fun. The water felt cold at first, but once we were in, it was great.
The rain held off but I think the clouds scared away a bunch of folks. We shared the water with only a few other people.
Thursday I woke up in Goderich, Ontario, having driven the very remote back roads from Guelph to get there Wednesday night. I joined Norah and her daughter and son-in-law, who are at a lovely cottage near Lake Huron. On Thursday we had multi-mode fun: we cycled the Goderich-to-Guelph rail trail, and then visited Rotary Cove beach for swimming and sunning.
Not many visitors on a bright sunny late August day. This is where we went in. The water was, uh, rather chilly. But also fun for swimming.After all that activity, a short snooze in the sun seemed in order.
Friday we’re headed to Black’s Point beach, an even quieter (and I think even colder-water) location. But I’m looking forward to it.
After a Saturday celebration at Sam’s place, Norah and I are once again headed for a hotel pool before I drive back to Boston. This one, in Guelph, has a pool, hot tub, and spiral sliding board. Oh yeah.
A hotel pool with blue water, a hot tub, and a bright green spiral sliding board. Am definitely trying it out.
Hey readers, are you taking any last-minute dips before the month of fall is finally upon us? Let me know. I also love tips on interesting hotel or public pools and beaches.
This week I’m exercising my summer right to a last hurrah before school starts: I’m in transit to Ontario, where I’ll be engaging in many fun activities with Samantha, Sarah, their families, and dogs (and cats, although I’m not sure of their commitments). Also, I’ll be dipping into life at Lake Huron with my friend Norah and her family– swimming, biking, and exploring. Yay!
At the end of this last-hurrah-week, I’ll roar back down the New York State Thruway to Boston to begin the school year Sept 3.
A full report on the week’s festivities will be arriving at your inboxes next Sunday.
During yesterday’s almost-7-hour drive, I passed the time listening to a variety of podcasts, which is super fun– I can indulge my idle curiosity about anything from Archery to Zen Buddhism, absolutely free, unfettered by anything other than the need to stay on my side of the road (that went well, by the way).
My favorite podcast of the drive was one by the Washington Post called Field Trip— a five-part series on the complicated past and present of some national parks. Reporter Lillian Cunningham gathers a variety of perspectives from rangers, indigenous residents and scientists, outdoor guides, engineers and politicians. I highly recommend the series, which focuses on five parks: Yosemite, Glacier, Everglades, White Sands, and Gates of the Arctic National Parks.
Yesterday, while driving through the farmland of western New York, passing grazing cows and barns and silos, my attention was drawn to Florida wetlands, saw grasses, and the roseate spoonbill. What’s that, you might ask? No problem– take a look:
The roseate spoonbill in the Everglades.The spoonbill showing off its wildly pink plumage. Take that, Barbie!
I won’t issue any spoilers here, but these birds are a bit squeezed for habitat these days for the obvious reasons: development, very bad decisions 70 years ago by the Army Corps of Engineers, and of course climate change. Listen for all the details and plans to fix the messes we made.
This gets me to the travel planning part. For years, I’ve been wanting to visit natural Florida– the Florida of springs, manatees, marshes, and everglades. Way back in 2005 I spent four days cycling on rail trails in Central Florida, and it was a blast. I hung out in small towns off the tourist circuit, ate at local diners, and even staying at a motel that offered secure, dedicated kayak and bike storage.
This time I want to go back for more aquatic adventures, exploring the Florida springs that host manatees in the winter and invite us to swim, snorkel, dive, and kayak in their clear water (which ranges from 66F/19C to 75F/24C). I can handle that.
Kayaking down a quiet river.The swampy lowlands of Central Florida.Manatees in one of the springs.
So I think I’m gonna do it. Early January is a great time to visit these places. The air temperatures are mild and the waters are invigorating but not super-cold. I’m now thinking about starting in Central Florida near Ocala, which isn’t far from Three Sisters Springs and also Homosassa Springs. There are so many springs (more than 100 in the state), so planning and research is a must. Unless I just want to meander and see what I encounter as I set out each day. We’ll see.
Then there’s Everglades National Park. A little more than a 4-hour drive from Ocala, it offers both biking and kayaking trails. I would love to do some of both.
So, the planning begins. Well, I’ll probably wait until I’m done with this trip to make any hotel or plane reservations. One adventure at a time…
I have to tell y’all something: I love me a good deal. And the best deal I’ve run into for quite some time has been my botanical garden member pass with its American Horticultural Society reciprocal agreement, permitting me (and a friend) entry into a whole bunch of other gardens (and some Frank Lloyd Wright houses, too) all over the US. So far I’ve taken friends to three botanical gardens and one Frank Lloyd Wright house. And the year isn’t even close to over.
On Friday, my friend Melanie and I went to Blithewold mansion and gardens in Bristol, Rhode Island. The mansion was closed for a private event (wedding, to which we weren’t invited, but that was okay– we weren’t dressed for it anyway), but our main interest was the gardens. And they didn’t disappoint. Here are some of the late-summer flowers:
A bee was interested in one of these white and yellow blooms.Peachiness and end-of-summer ripeness.Yellow flowers with stick-like petals.This orange beauty is still brilliant, even in mid-August.
The flowers and garden vegetables and all the flora were in their late summer profusion, a last hurrah before the fall.
There was also art, courtesy of artist Donna Dodson. We saw large-scale bamboo bird sculptures, one of which we could sit inside.
This very tall robin greeted us at the entrance.The peacock is bamboo with colored zip ties for plumage.Honestly, I don’t know what this bird is, but it’s cool.Owl with with seating, which Melanie and I enjoyed.
The gardens included flowers, big and small trees, vegetable and herb gardens, and of course water features (with a ceramic frog and lotus flowers).
A small water garden with a largish ceramic frog.Lotus flower and pod, enjoying the water.Pond of lily pads and other happy plants.
The gardens were right on the water.
Boats and old pier remains.A functional dock on the bay.
Of course, after all that strolling and photography and oohing and aahing, we needed some refreshment. So we went to a local seaside restaurant and found a bike path (to be explored next time).
Our table had a great view of the bar and the bay.And the East Bay bike path!
End of summer is, for academics, an often-stressful time; we’re trying to finish projects we began months ago, as well as getting materials prepped for teaching in September. But taking a break for an August outing was exactly what was ordered. The work will still be there on Monday.
Hi y’all– I’m still on my mid-summer vacation with Aunt Cathy at the Chautauqua Institution in western New York state. We’ve been here since Saturday and have walked tens of thousands of steps, seen upwards of three million blooming hydrangeas, and partaken of many musical, cultural and nature-al events. There are still three days to go, during which we plan to kayak (canceled Monday because of small craft warning and torrential rainstorm), ride bikes (delayed in part because of rain) and try English lawn bowling (details tba).
For now, I can show you a bit of what we’ve been seeing on foot here. Many of the houses have detailed lacy railings and other ornamental details.
Real gingerbread houses should be so pretty…
The gardens are very well tended. Some are neat and formal, while others let nature run wild.
I fully approve of this garden. It reminds me of my closet– all kinds of nice things everywhere.
My newest house ornamental obsession is awnings.
My aunt Cathy likes the crisp classic look of black and white awnings and shades.But give me some color! Love the creamy yellow house with blue, white and yellow awnings.
And then were the individualists in the neighborhood. One family expressed their love for Barbie and Ken for all to see.
Barbie waves hello from an upper window.The front of the house sports its name– tranquility base– and a pic of Ken in the upper window.Closeup of Ken, framed as the Victorians intended.
Others opted for classic bathtub necessities, enlarged and relocated for all to enjoy.
Every side yard should have its own gigantic rubber ducky, don’t you think?
Bottom line: how often do we have time to just stroll around, gawk at other people’s houses and gardens, take pictures and then form opinions about them? Not very often! So, if you are taking some vacation or down time or an afternoon off, I suggest you find an interesting area and walk around. You never know what you might find…
This morning blog post finds me in western New York state, at a place called the Chautauqua Institution. This place is, according to Wikipedia, “a summer resort and non-profit education center” in western NY state, about 1.5 hours from Buffalo. I’m here with my beloved aunt Cathy, who’s been here before. It’s on Chautauqua Lake, which is big (17 miles wide and 2 miles long) and fun for all kinds of recreation. The Institution itself, according to Google,
encourages and studies the arts and treats them as integral to all of learning. With symphony, opera, theater, dance, visual arts and a renowned music school, Chautauqua produces an “eclectic mix” of programming that can be found nowhere else.
Well, that sounds nice, doesn’t it? And they totally deliver. This week (week 4 of their 9-week summer programming) features opera, orchestral music, dance, gallery shows, and pop music (Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons are playing here Friday night).
On the recreation front, they have guided kayak tours at all hours of the day, organized pickleball, tennis round robins, walking groups, English lawn bowling (I’m totally trying this, whatever it is), and goodness knows what else. Plus, of course, swimming in the lake. I brought my bike and am renting one for my aunt so we can toodle around.
Honestly, the array of options is astounding. They print out a weekly newspaper with the schedule. Take a look:
Can you read this fine print? Neither can I. More are circled than we can manage–an abundance of vacation riches.
One historical note: the term “chautauqua” might be familiar to some from the chautauqua movement; it is the self-same. Here’s some more info, courtesy of Google:
The Chautauqua movement was an organized series of educational and entertaining presentations in the 19th and early 20th centuries. Speakers included teachers, religious preachers, actors, industrial figures, musicians, and specialists in a wide variety of fields.
Some of these places were more specifically Christian, while others maintained a secular identity. This place– the Chautauqua Institution where I am– is what they call interfaith: programming by all of the big three religions (Christianity, Judaism, and Islam) is represented. But so far it the atmosphere seems more artsy and literary than anything else.
What I’m looking forward to is the combo of artsiness and gentle outdoorsiness that is the ambiance of this place. It’s cute in the extreme.
We’re not staying here. But look at the flowers!We aren’t staying here, either. But look at this paint job, and the hanging plants!
Our place for the week is a cozy condo with kitchen and balcony for eating and chilling out. Not that we’ll spend much time there. There are so many opportunities for activity and exploration and edification, we aren’t going to be lolling much. At least, I don’t think so. We’ll see…
My activity plans include kayaking with Cathy, biking, swimming, trying my hand at English lawn bowling, and maybe some pickleball. And lots and lots of walking. We parked our car in a far-away lot, as cars are mostly not allowed on the grounds. My step count was 7000+ yesterday, and we only arrived at 4:30pm.
You may be thinking to yourself, this seems familiar. Haven’t I seen a movie about such places? You’re thinking about Dirty Dancing, set at the fictional Kellerman’s resort in the 60s. Or Mrs. Maisel, the TV show.
Kellerman’s, which is a real resort in Virginia. They don’t have conga lessons here at Chautauqua, more’s the pity.
I think this place purports to meet a similar need– a beautiful place where every generation of the family can have fun and hang out together, experience nature in a gentle way, and feel like they’re learning sometime at the same time. This is a novel experience for me, and I’m looking forward to what the week will bring. I’ll report back in seven days’ time, and promise to document any conga lines that form.
I grew up with the romantic trope of the adventurous, rangey 20-something backpacker who freely wanders the world for months at a time. I stayed home for grad school in my twenties: the only backpack I carried was with my library books or my groceries. Then, last year at 44, I bought my first travel backpack (a Tortuga 35L), and so far I’ve done two short overseas trips with it (and smaller local trips).
What I lack in experience with worldly backpacking I make up for by watching others. These small midlife backpacking ideas gained learned from my more well-travelled midlife friends have made this style of travel kind and supportive for me. I acknowledge I use them as a privileged, white English-speaking woman travelling to urban and semi-urban places as a foreigner and a guest.
My friend Marnie and her 40L pack, while we were about to leave our guest house in Istanbul.
Lightening the load
My first lessons of midlife backpacking were: pack light (if you wish to avoid luggage checks on planes) and be ready to carry what you pack.
Many travel backpacks today come with a few different clips—across the chest and across the stomach—to distribute the weight of the pack. On my recent trip I left my waist clips at home to reduce overall pack weight; however, I regretted it, as without them the full weight of the pack meant my shoulders got tired faster.
In my pre-travel preparation I saw for sale many funky and clever but bulky and expensive smaller bags and bottles for stuff within the pack. My more experienced travel buds showed me that ziploc bags and plastic water bottles were much lighter, had many different uses, and could be re-used multiple times.
Medicines and their containers
Last time I travelled abroad I got a cold, and it was miserable without the medicines I use. So I was not going to leave them at home again
On my recent trip I kept with me at all times a small key ring capsule with emergency over-the-counter meds, and in my pack I had a larger fold up storage pill container with enough for the whole trip. Some of my friends even travel with (doctor-prescribed) antibiotics and medicines for UTIs, just in case of an emergency.
It may be extra planning and cost, but it is worthwhile to me to bring a range of medicines that can make me feel better if I feel unwell, even if it is unlikely I will get sick.
A large and small pill holder
Foot care and hydration
This year I followed my friend Marnie’s lead and took extra care of my feet: I brought moisture-wicking hiking socks, KT blister prevention tape, moleskin, wound cleaning wipes, waterproof bandages, and foot cream for quick at-night foot massages. When I scraped my foot raw on the submerged rocks while swimming at the beach in Greece, I was able to care for my feet the days following.
As well, I brought a water bladder and water purification tablets. I used them first as a water station in the places we stayed; later I took them along on hikes in 37 degree Celsius weather. I also brought electrolyte tablets, using half of one at a time. As a result, I was never dehydrated and I felt really good at the end of the day. I didn’t need expensive water bottle purchases in remote locations, and it kept my hands free.
Elan at the Saklikent Gorge, Turkey, wearing a bucket hat, sunglasses, shorts, and a backpack with a bladder and hose for hydration.
Apps and digital tools
My friends showed me how to up my mobile game when traveling internationally.
Our trip planner, Kim, checks not only directions but also the Google satellite and street views of the places she is going. That way, she can marry written or oral instructions with visible paths and landmarks to confirm wayfinding.
Upon Kimi’s recommendation, I used the free version of the DeepL app for real time written and audio language translations. We used the app to chat with some local women on the train as we played cards, and it was a great way to pass the time and make new friends.
After I accidentally gave the wrong amount and currency to a store vendor, a Sheila suggested her free version of Units Plus, a currency exchange app that converts two currencies quickly. This app was helpful in places with multiple currencies to avoid overpaying.
I used to travel with print books, and I appreciate the serendipity of leaving or finding good books where backpackers stay. However, this time I used Apple Books for a novel, a library travel audio book, and podcasts to pass the time while traveling.
Every app saved pack weight and made the trip a little safer, easier, and morefun.
Give myself and others grace
My midlife-friendly learning on my recent backpacking trip: do what I need to be a little easier on myself and others. Stop and take the pack off. Invest in quick-dry underwear (that really does dry super quick on the line). Take a break for another coffee before I get tired and grumpy later in the day.
Always try to be patient and kind with others, especially those in the travel service industry. Take the time to ask a hotel owner about their family or a server about what they would recommend ordering on the menu.
I learned to embrace the fact I don’t have anything to prove on my backpack travels. Instead, I could exercise the self-understanding that I have acquired by midlife (compared to my much less self-aware self in my 20s). Being a midlife backpacker has helped me to be not only kinder to myself as a traveller but also to the locals who shoulder many burdens put upon them by travellers (most of which I do not ever see).
Elan’s legs and feet over a concrete walkway on our way to Fethiye, Turkey. We stopped for a break, so I used my pack to elevate my legs and give my feet a much-needed rest!
What small ideas or tips (for backpacking or otherwise) have you learned that make your travel journeys a little easier for you in midlife?
It’s summer. Convocation is past, and I’m in Europe attending an academic conference. It’s been a while since before the pandemic, that I’ve traveled to conferences overseas in the summer. I’ve written a bit about academics, conference travel, and exercise here.
More specifically right now, I’m in Rome, where I gave a keynote address at the Food, Family, and Justice at John Cabot University, an American university with a campus here.
Here’s my abstract:
“Eat Me, Drink Me”: Philosophical Reflections on Children, Food, and Good Parenting
In this talk, I want to explore three themes related to children, their relationship to food and the nature of good parenting.
First, I’m intrigued by the dichotomy of our perceptions of children as “natural eaters” and “out-of-control wanton eaters.”We often project our own ideas about childhood and our anxieties about food and appetites onto child-aged eaters. The fear of obesity drives us to control childhood eating, yet there’s a prevalent parenting notion that if we allow children to graze freely, they’ll instinctively make healthy choices and never become overweight. I argue that both these ideas are flawed, mere reflections of our own anxieties about eating and body size projected onto children as eaters.
Second, I examine the societal pressure that weighs on parents’ food choices. The realm of food is a vast one, offering parents a multitude of options. Yet, the decisions about what and when to feed their children can become a consuming task during the child’s early years. This is a domain where parents often find themselves under scrutiny, where their choices are open to critique from others.
Third, we focus on children and eating partly because children are the front line in the “war against obesity.” Why the public policy focus on children? The thought is that we can stop obesity either before it develops or in its early stages, and we can avoid the health problems associated with overweight and obesity. However, the effectiveness of these measures is questionable. While the adage “eat less, move more” seems like common sense, we still lack a comprehensive understanding of the causes of obesity. Moreover, we’re not entirely sure what strategies effectively combat childhood obesity. The anti-obesity measures aimed at children stem from various public policy contexts, each with its own moral complexities. When we factor in elements such as class, race, income, and physical or mental ability, it becomes evident how this approach might be dangerous.
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There were three days of terrific papers and some excellent conversation. It’s Rome so there was also excellent food. The conference also successfully blended in-person and some virtual presentations.
Sarah came with me, and we’re taking some vacation days after the conference, being tourists. I’ve never been here before. Rome is a great city for exploring neighborhoods, and we’re doing lots of that.
Here’s the sandals on the left I imagined wearing, with long flowy dresses. I love the way Italian women dress and I kind of wanted to blend in. But, no go. On the right are the sneakers I’ve ended up wearing most days with capris and yoga pants, looking very much like the North American tourist that I am.
Cobblestones make for tough walking.
How on earth do Italian women manage to walk so elegantly on cobblestones in stilettos? I’m amazed. I keep tripping, and I’m wearing running shoes.
After five days of averaging about 15k steps a day, my feet are incredibly sore, even wearing my beloved Hokas.
Mm
Here’s roughly where we are staying in Rome, post conference. John Cabot University, where the conference was held, is in Trastevere.
Mostly, it’s been pretty flat, but we did climb one very big hill, the Palatine Hill, which has a great view of the city and the Roman ruins. Here’s the view from the top.
Our view from Pallatine Hill.
Anyway, yes, my feet are sore, but my new knees are holding up just great. I’m grinning from ear to ear at being able to do this again. I thought I might never be able to walk all day. It feels so good to explore a new city on foot.
So it’s weird to have sore feet, sore calves, and a bit of back pain and feel good about it all. But the thing is I’m out of walking shape. I haven’t been able to do this for years and yes, while everything hurts, it’s not my knees holding me back!
We’re setting out in the morning and walking around all day, coming home in the evening tired and happy. 😊
Truth be told, in the evenings, we’re watching Tour de France: Unchained Season 2, which isn’t available on Canadian Netflix. It’s good timing since the Tour de France 2024 starts in just two days, and it even begins in Italy.
I’m happily walking our days away, feeling joyful about my new knees and the ability to walk again.
On a recent sightseeing trip to northern, central, and western Turkey with 5 friends, I hiked the gorge in the Saklikent National Park. Numerous travel websites like this one describe (and warn) about what to expect:
The first one or two kilometers can be covered by everyone including the children. However, going deeper into the canyon, there are more and more obstructions. Further on, one has to climb up with the aid of ropes hanging on the walls at certain points. After a few kilometers it is almost impossible to go any further. […] While touring in Saklikent National Park, it is necessary to wade in hip-high waters from time to time. In other words, there is a price to pay for visiting such a beautiful location: Getting your clothes and shoes wet. It would be beneficial to take along flippers or rubber shoes for those wishing to go deeper into the canyon.
Photo by Kimi Maruoka. Me early in the hike, dry and sitting overconfidently on my rock throne. Things would shortly change.
This description is pretty accurate, except there were no ropes. Instead, there were Turkish guides (all young men) who hung out around the halfway mark of the gorge, waiting for intrepid hikers who might need help. Although we had come prepared with good shoes and dry bags, as six mid-life women-identifying Canadian tourists we were exactly those hikers. Ali did not offer to guide us: he just joined our group and started showing us the best ways to place our feet to hoist ourselves over and through each wet, rocky impasse. Near the end, Ali even used parts of his own body (upper leg, knee, even ankle) as our steps. But we were all treated at the end of the hike to a deliciously strong and cold rushing waterfall.
Our hiking group of 6 and our guide, Ali, at the end of what was passable without rock climbing gear. When Ali left us partway out, we paid what he thought was a good tip for his services.
Then, we turned around and went back the way we came. Climbing out, we were the very image of the soaked, happy hikers that had made us curious when we were first heading in. We stretched our bodies afterwards but were still pretty sore the next day. A few bruises came out. Although we remained on the gorge floor, my friend’s phone app said we climbed the equivalent of 23 flights of stairs.
Photo by Lisa Porter. Me at the back of the line as Ali helped each of us up over the wet rocks (then would run ahead to assist us with the next obstacle).
The steps count and the website description above fail to capture my experience hiking this gorge. It was astonishing to move through the deep caverns, see the shafts of light falling on the walls, hear the echoing rush of water. Early in the hike I thought about the many people who journeyed here before me and the thousands of years prior that led to the gorge’s formation. I was awestruck and, at one point, moved to some tears by its beauty.
Video by Lisa Porter (00:22). As Lisa pans the inside of the gorge, I’m making a comment to no one about how I’d noticed hard hats were available but optional at the entry turnstiles.
My pause for taking an emotional moment was necessary because I was otherwise fully absorbed: it took total focus to wade through pools of uncertain depths and scale slick boulders with and without Ali’s help. Every step and turn required careful foot and hand placement, as well as weight shifts, to avoid falling or getting hurt.
Photo by Lisa Porter. Me coming out of the hike, with a low stream of water on the gorge floor and high rock walls on either side.
So, to call it a workout, or even a hike, does not fully express the total engagement of my body, my mind, and my heart in this stunning and memorable natural environment. I think I want to find more of these places to hike: they make my muscles and my heart sing.
Photo by Lisa Porter. Me wet, muddied, and so happy.
FIFI readers, please share an activity or experience that moved not only your body but also your senses, your emotions, or your spirit. Where did you go, what did you do, and what was it like!?
