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lenora_roseSo, naturally enough, Colin and I have had some idle discussion of places to go for the honeymoon. (Also, how much holiday time we can scrape together for same)
I know what I want, or would if time and money were not considerations. I'm not as clear on what Colin wants, in part because he's easy-going and well travelled, so he's open to a lot as long as it isn't too blatantly touristy.
But here's a sort of wish list.
Ocean: A must. Wherever we go, even should it end up within Canada, should have access to the sea. This is a bit of a "duh", I suppose, considering my own past remarks.
It really also is a writing thing; why not help my story along with more and more fresh recollections of what it's like to be around ocean?
If Northern Hemisphere: The east side of the Atlantic. Probably Britain -- Wales and Scotland are my preferences, with Cornwall next, the rest of England after that. Although, with a name like Heikkinen and a vast love for some branches of their music, I'd be remiss in neglecting Finland, though Colin described Helsinki as the dreariest place he'd been, or words to that effect. I could be talked into the Mediterrainean, for the combinations of history and landscape, but my interests really are elsewhere.
If Equatorial or Southern Hemisphere: Pacific. Absolutely. Nothing obviously wrong with the Caribbean and all that, just that both my stories and my memories tend Westward. Almost any shore, though I'd rather not be on any continent. New Zealand and Fiji keep jumping out in my mind, but so does Bali. (These are the places I've been, is why these names.) I'm wary of Japan in general, in part because I am looking for something less...urban. Less populated. (Although the Ghibli Museum sounds like a load of fun.)
But: Read this. This might not have been posted by me, but I felt like crying amen. I didn't enjoy Waikiki beach half as much as the near empty little beach on Fiji. One of the easiest places to see god isn't church, it's a wild place, or a half wild place temporarily empty of people. It's walking on a path with no unnatural light, watching the fireflies. It's the shore, so full of people a few days or hours ago, now left to stone and wave.
So. No resorts. No spoon-fed beach experiences of the ocean, all easy and safe. Definitely no cruises.
Of course, this goes for much of the obvious tourist experience. I'm not against visiting historic sites, or oceanariums, or parks where you can watch tectonic activity -- all sound splendid -- but on my own time schedule, with my own room to wander.
I do find myself thinking that, if the Gulf Stream really is failing, now might be the time to do the Atlantic trip -- see Britain before it freezes. I think Colin's far less interested in poking around Scotland (Especially the Orkneys and the best of the castles etc.) or Wales (Which could be even more interesting if I brushed up on the language enough not to keep choking on anything harder than "Dw i ddim yn siarad Gymraeg.") In either case, I would like to get chances to end up on the less citified bits of coastline. I'm not a huge hiker, but a day-long walk is not beyond me by any means, if I'm pointed the right ways. (Colin may disagree)
But really, Gulf Stream aside, my first choice seems to be heading South-Pacific-wards. It may seem kind of a waste to go back to a place I've been, and see the same things again. but here's the reasoning: when I saw New Zealand, and Fiji, and Australia, and Singapore and Thailand and Bali, I was nine years old. What ytou remember is different then from now.
Hawai'i: We were in Honolulu and beside Waikiki Beach, and even when we left the city we didn't leave the island, so I may not be giving this place a fair chance by saying it felt far too touristy. Every place we went, though, had the feel that they were feeding us only what "We wanted", without any rough bits, any chances, any glimpses of what Hawai'i is like for those who live there instead of going by on vacation. Even at the time I noticed this, and I was addicted to aquariums and sea-shows, and I thought the cave we were shown was splendid, if a bit worrying. (I also thought it deeply silly that, at the start of that guided tour, I was given the same orchid as mom, to indicate I was single in what they said was an old Hawai'ian tradition. Sure, I was single, but that was a grown-up woman thing.)
I also remember air so thick you always felt wet. Even when it wasn't foggy, as it was at night.
Fiji: We spent most of our week-and-a-bit there on an island it took about ten minutes to walk around. Now, of course, I know it for a slightly different kind of resort; we were in nicish cabins, and among the wanderings on the set paths of the island, I did find a swimming pool, which befuddled me -- who wants a swimming pool with an ocean!? -- and there were a few trinket-sellers. Still, what I remember of Beachcomber islands were beaches covered in seashells, of which I collected the prettiest. There were a few sandy areas that extended out into the water, including one just outside our cabin that was just large enough for a decent swim - but in many places, the rocks climbed right onto the beach (Out in the sea, those rocks quickly turned into the underpinnings of coral reef. We did go out on a glass-bottomed boat to see the sea-creatures of the reef, too). My brother and I climbed the rocks a lot, where they jutted out of the water, and tried sometimes to get as far around the beach as we could without touching sand. It was impossible to get all the way around, but it was possible to start from a few stepping-stone sized bits and end up on the full formations, a few feet out past the water's edge, and still not wet. What made it trickier was, for me, the presence of many sea-snails. They clustered on the rocks, and I didn't like stepping on rocks where they were, even if there was lots of room for a foot. So sometimes I'd end up where the only safe place to go was back.
The island was covered in teeny green lizards. Every time you walked on any of the paths off the beach, lizards would scatter away from your feet.
The sun really does set in 2 minutes, start to end. Fast enough to enrapture a 9 year old who thought the phases of sunset were pretty, but it was kind of hard to sit still for a whole one up north. Wooo.
I also remember reading most of Watership Down there (I had that and the Incredible Journey along as reading, the latter was definitely homework, but i'm not as sure about the former. I think it might have been a re-read.), and getting more of my correspondence homework done on Fiji than any place before or after, since it was a quiet place where, aside from meals, you were essentially left to your own devices. (I fell way behind on my correspondence homework, but it doesn't seem to have hurt my grade four performance).
And then there was Lavinia, an elderly Fijian, who worked on the island, who gave me a bag of shells when she saw how I collected them, and whom I grew rather attached to. I only remember one thing she said to me the whole time, though, towards the end. It was, in effect, that Someday, when I was eighteen or so, i'd go travelling again, and come back, and I'd ask about her, and they'd tell me she died. I think it was part of an admonition to remember her, but I don't even recall that for sure, just that, while the phrase seems melancholic, she wasn't unhappy saying it, but smiling.
The meals were a sort of buffet; each mealtime, they'd beat a hollowed-out tree trunk drum, to summon the people all around the island to eat. (As the cabin the farthest aorund the island, sometimes we heard it, sometimes we didn't, depnding on the wind). I remember devouring massive amounts of coconut and pineapple. I don't even remember what the rest of the food was. (Well, there was fish, but what was done with it, and what else?). I think they played music sometimes, but the only musician I remember was the lead of the band on the boat from the main island to Beachcomber, a crazy-haired fellow who, between songs, said often, "I love you all, but I don't know why."
We did wander the main island a bit, to look at lava flats and the like, but only for a day, so it buzzed out of memory.
New Zealand: We rented a car and bed-and-breakfasted our way across the North Island. I liked that, in that we got to meet a lot of the actual people of the island, In and out of towns and we were on our own schedule. We stayed on at least one sheep farm -- I remember being shown around too many animals to all be one place, but the only ones I can pinpoint for sure are angora rabbits - those are hellaciously cute - and an attempt to drive a herd of sheep into one corner of their pen so we could see the one black lamb, which attempt failed whent he sheep figured out the awkward looking 9 year old was the weak link, and swept right past me. I saw the lamb, just never up close.
The most common words heard in the car were "Lookit the view! Lookit the View!" which turned into a catch-phrase by the end. yes, it's as lovely a place as you've heard. Even mom's pictures (Some very nice, but not exactly postcard quality) make that very plain.
And our most common stopovers were to see all the fun boiling mud pools and geysers and the like. Mom was getting a bit worn on them, but Jeff and I were inexhaustible. Those things are COOL (except in the most literal sense). Mom did get us into a recreated Maori village, and some national parks where the attractions were more tree than tectonic, and one zoo with a nocturnal animal area. (She also lost one of the rolls of film of NZ, alas.)
There are a lot of things I felt like I missed that I might miss again going in May -- the weather was Springish (October-November), so not really as swimmable as the more northward, though we did end up on some beaches.
Bali: Bali and Singapore and Thailand blur together in parts for me. Bali I remember having the hotel I liked the most, though it's also where mom broke her toe. Singapore is where we looked at the fewest Buddhist temples, and where Jeff and I got the walkmen that lasted us for years. I think Thailand is where I lost the one My Little Pony that I'd taken on tour. (Around the same time, I was convinced I'd lost the fox figurine that it turned out got caught in the lining of the suitcase, and I found two years later. It guards my Computer backups now, but it's still there.) The problem was, this was the last leg of the trip, Jeff and I were restive, and less inclined to go we forth and appreciate cool stuff. Thus, fewer clear memories, some photos of temples with kids' hands deliberately in the way, more hotel time due to the sore mother. But Bali sticks in my mind as the one of those three I'd be most likely to want to revisit.
Then there are ALL the places I haven't been. And yes, some of them are in the running, too.
But the last of my criterion: I did tell Colin I want to avoid the worst of the Giant Bug countries, including Arachnids. He's with me on that.
I know what I want, or would if time and money were not considerations. I'm not as clear on what Colin wants, in part because he's easy-going and well travelled, so he's open to a lot as long as it isn't too blatantly touristy.
But here's a sort of wish list.
Ocean: A must. Wherever we go, even should it end up within Canada, should have access to the sea. This is a bit of a "duh", I suppose, considering my own past remarks.
It really also is a writing thing; why not help my story along with more and more fresh recollections of what it's like to be around ocean?
If Northern Hemisphere: The east side of the Atlantic. Probably Britain -- Wales and Scotland are my preferences, with Cornwall next, the rest of England after that. Although, with a name like Heikkinen and a vast love for some branches of their music, I'd be remiss in neglecting Finland, though Colin described Helsinki as the dreariest place he'd been, or words to that effect. I could be talked into the Mediterrainean, for the combinations of history and landscape, but my interests really are elsewhere.
If Equatorial or Southern Hemisphere: Pacific. Absolutely. Nothing obviously wrong with the Caribbean and all that, just that both my stories and my memories tend Westward. Almost any shore, though I'd rather not be on any continent. New Zealand and Fiji keep jumping out in my mind, but so does Bali. (These are the places I've been, is why these names.) I'm wary of Japan in general, in part because I am looking for something less...urban. Less populated. (Although the Ghibli Museum sounds like a load of fun.)
But: Read this. This might not have been posted by me, but I felt like crying amen. I didn't enjoy Waikiki beach half as much as the near empty little beach on Fiji. One of the easiest places to see god isn't church, it's a wild place, or a half wild place temporarily empty of people. It's walking on a path with no unnatural light, watching the fireflies. It's the shore, so full of people a few days or hours ago, now left to stone and wave.
So. No resorts. No spoon-fed beach experiences of the ocean, all easy and safe. Definitely no cruises.
Of course, this goes for much of the obvious tourist experience. I'm not against visiting historic sites, or oceanariums, or parks where you can watch tectonic activity -- all sound splendid -- but on my own time schedule, with my own room to wander.
I do find myself thinking that, if the Gulf Stream really is failing, now might be the time to do the Atlantic trip -- see Britain before it freezes. I think Colin's far less interested in poking around Scotland (Especially the Orkneys and the best of the castles etc.) or Wales (Which could be even more interesting if I brushed up on the language enough not to keep choking on anything harder than "Dw i ddim yn siarad Gymraeg.") In either case, I would like to get chances to end up on the less citified bits of coastline. I'm not a huge hiker, but a day-long walk is not beyond me by any means, if I'm pointed the right ways. (Colin may disagree)
But really, Gulf Stream aside, my first choice seems to be heading South-Pacific-wards. It may seem kind of a waste to go back to a place I've been, and see the same things again. but here's the reasoning: when I saw New Zealand, and Fiji, and Australia, and Singapore and Thailand and Bali, I was nine years old. What ytou remember is different then from now.
Hawai'i: We were in Honolulu and beside Waikiki Beach, and even when we left the city we didn't leave the island, so I may not be giving this place a fair chance by saying it felt far too touristy. Every place we went, though, had the feel that they were feeding us only what "We wanted", without any rough bits, any chances, any glimpses of what Hawai'i is like for those who live there instead of going by on vacation. Even at the time I noticed this, and I was addicted to aquariums and sea-shows, and I thought the cave we were shown was splendid, if a bit worrying. (I also thought it deeply silly that, at the start of that guided tour, I was given the same orchid as mom, to indicate I was single in what they said was an old Hawai'ian tradition. Sure, I was single, but that was a grown-up woman thing.)
I also remember air so thick you always felt wet. Even when it wasn't foggy, as it was at night.
Fiji: We spent most of our week-and-a-bit there on an island it took about ten minutes to walk around. Now, of course, I know it for a slightly different kind of resort; we were in nicish cabins, and among the wanderings on the set paths of the island, I did find a swimming pool, which befuddled me -- who wants a swimming pool with an ocean!? -- and there were a few trinket-sellers. Still, what I remember of Beachcomber islands were beaches covered in seashells, of which I collected the prettiest. There were a few sandy areas that extended out into the water, including one just outside our cabin that was just large enough for a decent swim - but in many places, the rocks climbed right onto the beach (Out in the sea, those rocks quickly turned into the underpinnings of coral reef. We did go out on a glass-bottomed boat to see the sea-creatures of the reef, too). My brother and I climbed the rocks a lot, where they jutted out of the water, and tried sometimes to get as far around the beach as we could without touching sand. It was impossible to get all the way around, but it was possible to start from a few stepping-stone sized bits and end up on the full formations, a few feet out past the water's edge, and still not wet. What made it trickier was, for me, the presence of many sea-snails. They clustered on the rocks, and I didn't like stepping on rocks where they were, even if there was lots of room for a foot. So sometimes I'd end up where the only safe place to go was back.
The island was covered in teeny green lizards. Every time you walked on any of the paths off the beach, lizards would scatter away from your feet.
The sun really does set in 2 minutes, start to end. Fast enough to enrapture a 9 year old who thought the phases of sunset were pretty, but it was kind of hard to sit still for a whole one up north. Wooo.
I also remember reading most of Watership Down there (I had that and the Incredible Journey along as reading, the latter was definitely homework, but i'm not as sure about the former. I think it might have been a re-read.), and getting more of my correspondence homework done on Fiji than any place before or after, since it was a quiet place where, aside from meals, you were essentially left to your own devices. (I fell way behind on my correspondence homework, but it doesn't seem to have hurt my grade four performance).
And then there was Lavinia, an elderly Fijian, who worked on the island, who gave me a bag of shells when she saw how I collected them, and whom I grew rather attached to. I only remember one thing she said to me the whole time, though, towards the end. It was, in effect, that Someday, when I was eighteen or so, i'd go travelling again, and come back, and I'd ask about her, and they'd tell me she died. I think it was part of an admonition to remember her, but I don't even recall that for sure, just that, while the phrase seems melancholic, she wasn't unhappy saying it, but smiling.
The meals were a sort of buffet; each mealtime, they'd beat a hollowed-out tree trunk drum, to summon the people all around the island to eat. (As the cabin the farthest aorund the island, sometimes we heard it, sometimes we didn't, depnding on the wind). I remember devouring massive amounts of coconut and pineapple. I don't even remember what the rest of the food was. (Well, there was fish, but what was done with it, and what else?). I think they played music sometimes, but the only musician I remember was the lead of the band on the boat from the main island to Beachcomber, a crazy-haired fellow who, between songs, said often, "I love you all, but I don't know why."
We did wander the main island a bit, to look at lava flats and the like, but only for a day, so it buzzed out of memory.
New Zealand: We rented a car and bed-and-breakfasted our way across the North Island. I liked that, in that we got to meet a lot of the actual people of the island, In and out of towns and we were on our own schedule. We stayed on at least one sheep farm -- I remember being shown around too many animals to all be one place, but the only ones I can pinpoint for sure are angora rabbits - those are hellaciously cute - and an attempt to drive a herd of sheep into one corner of their pen so we could see the one black lamb, which attempt failed whent he sheep figured out the awkward looking 9 year old was the weak link, and swept right past me. I saw the lamb, just never up close.
The most common words heard in the car were "Lookit the view! Lookit the View!" which turned into a catch-phrase by the end. yes, it's as lovely a place as you've heard. Even mom's pictures (Some very nice, but not exactly postcard quality) make that very plain.
And our most common stopovers were to see all the fun boiling mud pools and geysers and the like. Mom was getting a bit worn on them, but Jeff and I were inexhaustible. Those things are COOL (except in the most literal sense). Mom did get us into a recreated Maori village, and some national parks where the attractions were more tree than tectonic, and one zoo with a nocturnal animal area. (She also lost one of the rolls of film of NZ, alas.)
There are a lot of things I felt like I missed that I might miss again going in May -- the weather was Springish (October-November), so not really as swimmable as the more northward, though we did end up on some beaches.
Bali: Bali and Singapore and Thailand blur together in parts for me. Bali I remember having the hotel I liked the most, though it's also where mom broke her toe. Singapore is where we looked at the fewest Buddhist temples, and where Jeff and I got the walkmen that lasted us for years. I think Thailand is where I lost the one My Little Pony that I'd taken on tour. (Around the same time, I was convinced I'd lost the fox figurine that it turned out got caught in the lining of the suitcase, and I found two years later. It guards my Computer backups now, but it's still there.) The problem was, this was the last leg of the trip, Jeff and I were restive, and less inclined to go we forth and appreciate cool stuff. Thus, fewer clear memories, some photos of temples with kids' hands deliberately in the way, more hotel time due to the sore mother. But Bali sticks in my mind as the one of those three I'd be most likely to want to revisit.
Then there are ALL the places I haven't been. And yes, some of them are in the running, too.
But the last of my criterion: I did tell Colin I want to avoid the worst of the Giant Bug countries, including Arachnids. He's with me on that.
