Milos, The Warrior Island

The recent darling of the Cyclades islands of Greece is Milos. All these years that the show ponies, Santorini and Mykonos pranced and galloped for all the tourists to see, there was Milos quietly reveling in her volcanic ash and obsidian glory.

To personify this island, Milos is both a goddess and a warrior. She’s Aphrodite and Athena rolled into one. Ironically, the Venus de Milo (the Roman version of Aphrodite) is said to have emerged from the frothy, foamy seas of this very island. Looking at her, she boasts the same cobalt waters and white washed villages but underneath her soil is a rugged, earthy, rocky mass. Unorganized and still somewhat untouched by excessive tourism, she’s a virginal island. You have to go through somewhat treacherous measures to reach her stunning beaches. No boardwalks or even trails or footpaths leading to the openings of stunning caves and coves leave you compromised. You park your rental car and start the descent through paths of rocks and pebbles which can “avalanche” at any time. We had the bruises to prove it as well as the scrapes with a dusty volcanic ash to wear like a badge (the first time we went) . It made it more exciting to reach the beaches and openings to absolute splendor. Some tourists used walking sticks which is smart. Some Milos beaches taunt you with their “come look at me, come find me….but I will cut you up in the process. Come here if you dare. Ha, ha! You slipped, tripped or fell.” Persevere though because it’s worth it.

One particular beach, Tsigrado, had a dusty, earthen slope to maneuver (on our butts) to break any chance of sliding further. After the slope, there’s a rope and ladder nestled between a crevasse. Beachgoers wait in line both at the top and bottom to use the ladder and rope. Down at the mouth of the cove is a small “beach” area with  enough room for sunbathers as others dip in and out of the blue-green water. A few beaches have umbrellas, chairs and even one food truck but many of the Milos beaches are so raw and primitive, the tourists bring their own equipment.

Papafragos, Firiplaka, Firopotamos, are all impressive. Kleftiko is so popular, there are boat tours focused on it. However, if the weather is too windy, the tours won’t happen those days. Paleochori is unique with its red stained rocks. Many parts of Milos have streams of pink in the mountains reminiscent of a Sedona vista. A few boulders towering in the sea have taken on the formations of rabbits and bears which is fun for the boat passengers to see as you tour the various beaches. Basalt rocks and caves are part of the beautiful variety of landscapes. Whether it’s a seaside village of syrmata (brightly painted boat garages) or unique beaches, there are surprises at every stop. Throw in the anchor, grab a noodle, and jump in to these glorious waters. The breakfast, lunch and beverages make this approximately 5 hour boat tour a comfortable excursion.

While most of the restaurants are fabulous, a particularly famous restaurant in Milos is called O Hamos. It was recommended to us by friends and it’s also listed in many travel articles. O Hamos is beyond unique. There are no reservations so you put your name on a waiting list and lounge on the beach lounge chairs across the street where you can order drinks and enjoy the views. Dinner under a massive grapevine is a cozy experience with cats skulking around the tables greeting you at your feet. The menu is handwritten in various languages inside a book. Enchanting! You might even be seated at a table with others like we did. It was a delightful way to meet strangers on vacation. O Hamos was so worth it, we dined there again that week.

Pollonia and Plaka villages were distinctly different experiences. In Pollonia, we stayed on a vineyard and walked to the port everyday. In Plaka, we were perched up high in the steep village. The boutiques and restaurants were very chic and a particular photo gallery was the highlight of our stay for me. By far, Sarakiniko beach and the boat tours were the best part of the Milos experience. A ferry ride over to Kimolos will be a separate blog as well as one on Sarakiniko beach. Named for the Saracen pirates, the “moon beach” as it’s called is too stunning and unique to not warrant its own blog!

Put Milos on your list. You can take the ferry or fly from Athens. A rental car is recommended  although there is a bus system if you don’t mind waiting. We found the rental car to be the easiest for us. Pack accordingly …and consider walking sticks or at the very least, good walking shoes with tread!

For a fee, you can contact me for recommendations for lodging, restaurants, shopping, wineries, boat tour operators, personal tour guides and trip itinerary consultations.

© Gina Michalopulos Kingsley

When you ask empty-nesters THAT Question…

You know the question… “What are you going to do now that you are empty nesters??!!” This question is almost as trying as the one I was asked after having an all-boy family; “are you going to try for a girl??!!” (As if a family can’t possiby be full or happy because they’ve had children of all one gender.) I’m sure all-girl family parents got this question, too, about trying for a boy. But the empty nester question is the mid-life question you have to use your best etiquette to answer, whereas, the “try for a girl or boy” question is typically in your twenties or thirties. Here’s why I think people shouldn’t bombard empty nesters with that question posed in that exact way but maybe tweaked instead….

from the internet

Empty-nester parents are filled with emotions already as well as taking on their teens’ emotions for going away to college. They are overwhelmed with military-style schedules of senior year ceremonies, college testing expectations, deadlines, theses, career internships, senior portraits, graduation ceremonies, invitations, rsvps, graduation party themes and details, spring break trip logistics, sports and Scouts obligations and milestones, extra-curricular, fraternity, sorority or dorm and roommate selection pressures, college orientation and enrollment and countless other details. While the children prepare to detach confidently from their parents and attach confidently to their new college environments and lodging constellations and groups, the parents are hit with the “hurricane years”. The hurricane years are the years in which you are sandwiched between young adult children who are still dependents but also aging parents who have major needs.

   On top of the latter, the hurricane years are also when people are entering menopause , andropause, or experiencing career burnout as the couple tries to summit the mountain of successful parenting and family-raising. Hurricane years are filled with friends who might be divorcing and moving, other friends who are moving for job changes, and other friends who are downsizing and entertaining less. Everyone is worn out from all the go, go, go, spend, spend, spend and rightfully so, they are taking a break.

Where does that leave you? You really started to “empty nest” when your youngest child got their driver’s license, their wheels, their freedom with boundaries. You were not needed as much and that was fine because you have been taking up new hobbies, new creative outlets, and you liked being out of the grind of so much time in the car. Kind of. Because not being in the car with your kiddoes also means not having as many chances to converse with them, sing songs on the radio with them, and be in their presence. Once your kids started high school, your homeroom parent and volunteering roles, coaching, etc., decreased but especially upon graduation, they ceased. Suddenly. This was a much needed break, too, but still an adjustment. (It is euphoric, however, to realize that last summer before officially empty-nesting that you’ll never have to complete another back to school online form frenzy, schedule the appointment for physicals, sports physicals, camp physicals, etc. That was a happy dance with flowing champagne moment for me, mentally….but I want to do this physically, too…and soon.) 

What I find difficult about the “what are you going to do now that you are an empty nester?” question was that when I answered honestly with my  list of goals and projects I had for myself or as a couple, I was met sometimes with puzzled looks from the people asking me the question. It was like they couldn’t accept my satisfied and enthusiastic response. Do they want me to be sad, despondent, lonely? Or maybe it’s because they are processing it because it’s coming up for them someday soon, too. And others are processing it because they are reflecting back to their own emotions when they were entering that time. How interesting it is to me that expectant parents are celebrated in their flurry to register for nursery gifts, fluff up their nest, take Lamaze classes and prepare excitedly for the new phase of parenting, but if they do so for the empty nest, they are met with a neutral glare. Is it a neutral glare or am I reading this wrong? Maybe people are just asking us this endless question because they ARE celebrating and encouraging this new chapter for us just like they did when they witnessed us preparing for babyhood.

from the internet

When empty nester parents plan on ways to repurpose rooms in their houses, they are confronted with the comments, “You shouldn’t change the environment too much—your kids are going to want familiarity to come home to on their breaks. Don’t change their bedroom, yet, etc.” The latter statement has a lot of merit and validity and I take it to heart. Yet, people need to realize the empty-nester couple is also transitioning and needs ways to re-fluff THIS nest. (This nest that has been so well loved and well worn by the decades of providing shelter for your kids, their friends, the wear and tear that full lives bring to that shelter.) They need ways to literally fill that void or gain back some space and independence from the full nest. It is said mother eagles actually make their nests less comfortable on purpose so that their baby eagles will not get too comfortable and will seek and soar to to their new lives. Of course, eagles and humans are not on the same pace of development but I understand the metaphor; baby birds need that push.

from the internet

Spouses don’t have to define themselves only being co-parents. We were a couple for five years purposely before our first child was born and our family years started. We know we are fun together with or without kids. Our sons are the essence of our life but we also have identities outside of parenting. I’d be scared if we didn’t. We didn’t get married only to have kids nor was our marriage only about procreating and being a family. Why would we? You are going to have more years, decades even, without your kids than with your kids so why would you want to succumb to that transition and void?  After years of people only asking you first about your kids, what your kids are doing, and rarely about you, personally, who also had vocations, interests and projects, now, they are asking you what you’re going to do without your kids in this new phase. It’s as if your identity is only wrapped up in being someone’s mom or dad. Of course, that is most parents’ favorite identity but…….it’s not their only identity. The question is as if they are asking you for a resume.

Interestingly, when you give it to them, they might look at  you quizzically. After decades of politely answering their questions about your kids , are you “permitted” to celebrate your independent identity? Are the people asking the question okay with you moving on with your life and goals? That’s what I’m trying to figure out when they ask me.

from the internet

The goal was to raise kids to be independent and have flourishing lives.  Your quantity time filled your hearts and hands with a plethora of roles. Togetherness was a concept you ate, slept, and breathed. The years did not go by in the blink of an eye. Thank God! They went by at a perfect pace and one in which you cherished each stage. So when you reach the summit of parenting and child-rearing, you mentally do the Rocky Balboa arms in the air pump because it is a celebration, a victory.

When I reflect on what would be the perfect answer when so many people ask me What are you going to do now that you’re an empty nester?”, I have to first ask myself,what is it about the question that provokes me?” Many parents have not lived in other cities, backpacked across countries, or have had certain adventures when they were having the adventure of starting a family. They might be ready to raise themselves now! They might’ve sought careers and lives that were conducive to family rearing. But now, they might be pulled towards more creative vocations or unconventional lives with their newfound freedom. I was pleasantly surprised recently to discover that one of my best friends and I discussed both having had an interest during college to join the Peace Corps. We didn’t do it then because our lives were on another track. However, we did do a version of this when we took a voluntourism girls trip together to Guatemala with a company founded by a former Peace Corps volunteer. We fulfilled a bucket list item together by branching out…..outside of our almost empty nest.

I realize the best answer to give people without giving away too much personal background and analysis that they are not ready for is this, “It will be an adjustment… like everything else in life. Each stage is an adjustment.” Then, I’ll be quiet. I’ll hope that people just send positive energy and a hug for this new adjustment phase. I might add, “In that adjustment period, I have a list of goals, projects and experiences to accomplish. It’s all good. I see my kids regularly, they come home for breaks, and my husband and I are celebrating a parenting victory of seeing our sons become educated and independent.”

I hope this will suffice. I also hope it suffices for other parents going through the same situation. Most of them are all grappling with their emotions about this. I see friends who have been forewarned by their own parents to have a back up plan for this period because their parents had the rug pulled out from underneath them during this transition. Some transitions included starting over in their personal lives, some are filling a huge void from not being professional volunteers in their children’s schools or their communities. Many parents faced this transition not knowing their purpose. Some parents are are faced with the reality that they don’t have the same involvement and influence now in their kids’ college lives. Their kids are on their own for the most part….starting at ground zero or reinventing themselves. They have to prove themselves and ascend their own ranks of social hierarchy. I’ve noticed it leaves some moms in a vulnerable state.

Some parents will cry during this college drop off transition. Some will cocoon. Some will binge watch television movies. Others will redecorate and repurpose the house. Some will enter the work force again in some capacity to fill up their days. Others will become professional volunteers and activists. Some will start traveling. Others will learn new hobbies. Many will focus on their elderly parents’ needs. Whatever it will be, it will be a transition for everyone. Kids will look at their parents differently during this college time. They’ll seek them out as consultants instead of managers. My cousin told me this expression and she was right. It will be an adjustment every time the kids return to the nest. All parents confirm this. The bottom line is things change. They’ll keep changing.

from the internet

Maybe consider to not ask the question in that way and tweak it instead to say, “I am thinking of you and sending you positive thoughts as you transition to the empty nester phase. I am sure you have many emotions as well as many exciting adventures to experience. I hope you feel my encouragement for every step of the way in this phase.” Or….at least think these thoughts in your head next time you converse with a brand new empty-nester. Be part of their metamorphosis and be ready to listen to their goals with positivity and good vibes. They’ve just completed a marathon of emotions, swam through an ocean of tasks and milestones , and summitted a mountain of challenges all at once. This triathlon of parenting has left their wings weary and their hearts full. Let them rest and catch a break and don’t bombard them with that question. After all, the break is needed….before the grandparent stage happens which is inevitably around the corner!

© Gina Michalopulos Kingsley

A Morning with the Garifuna

Drumming, dancing, medicinal gardens, kayaking and homemade rum comprised the excursion waiting for us with the Garifuna in Belize.
We had already hiked up the Maya temples in Xunatunich. We ate the street side barbecue and drank fresh lime juice in San Ignacio. We laid out at the beach, read books, kayaked, and swung in the hammock at our resort in Hopkins Bay. We hopped on the resort bikes and rode into the village of Hopkins to experience local life. We scheduled our bioluminescence tour for Anderson’s Lagoon but we had yet to do our excursion at a Garifuna lodge.

That morning, a driver took us to the entrance of Palmento Grove. Just around the corner from our resort, in fact, was the portal to a distinct encounter. The driver dropped us off and our tour guide appeared in the trail of the mangrove bushes on the edge of Fresh Water Creek Lagoon. We followed her through the trail within tall hedges of the mangrove with a dog scampering alongside us. I looked back at my husband with the facial expression of “how cool is this??!!” The tall hedges were a perfect screen or shield to separate us from our previous environment and led us into the next. Of the few, special times I’ve felt like Lucy in The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe exiting the wardrobe and entering Narnia, this definitely felt like that, too. Our guide showed us the kayaks we used to travel across the inlet to the private island retreat. My husband and I rowed one kayak and our guide rode another. Her dog swam alongside us in this ultra-natural setting and experience. I was in love with this experience before it even got started!

The kayak ride was short but exciting.  We arrived to the Palmento Grove Garifuna Eco Cultural and Fishing Institute. Its own private island and inland lodge was designed to represent the authenticity of a traditional Garifuna village. Who are the Garifuna? They are the Afro-Caribbean people who are indigenous to Belize. Garifuna descend from the Western Africans and Arawak Indians which make their traditions so fascinating. We walked the footpaths of this isolated sanctuary  to learn about the sustainable farming practices. Our guide identified medicinal plants and herbs that are used to treat cancer. Soursap, Spanish oregano and the famous cassava were among the plants we studied. Spanish oregano is used to treat sandfly bites and cassava is made into a 10 year old bread as well as cassava fries (which are more delicious than French fries, in my opinion.)

Our guide uprooted a cassava plant and told us how the volume of it can feed a hundred people. We saw huge palm leaves drying in the sun. They’re used as shade covers. We saw coconut husks piled up in the corner of a kitchen hut where cooking classes happen. Guests can cook fish stews made with coconuts, plantains, and vegetables with the fresh fish they’ve caught. Reportedly, cooking classes are accompanied by the sounds Garifuna drumming. All of this lends to the  therapeutic and holistic healing environment of the institute. While we were there for dance lessons and to enjoy the drumming, we walked past the lodging that’s available for guests who stay there and enjoy organized tours of scuba, snorkeling and trips to ancient Maya sites. Imagine awaking at this sanctuary and overlooking the Caribbean. Very unique!

After our tour of the medicinal garden, we donned tribal tunics and entered the hut where the dance lessons took place. The vibrant teenage girl danced barefoot across the hut to the drum beats of the musicians. Four generations were present that day from great-grandfather, to grandmother, to mother (the dancer) and even her infant daughter. We breathlessly followed her steps which are much more difficult to do than they looked! The homemade rum punch and wine offered at the end of the lessons was a welcome treat. Although it was still midmorning, the rum punch was needed to quench our thirst. We talked with our guide about more thoughts of the Garifuna experience and journey. It was epiphanic to me to understand how the oppressed prevail and maintain their identity. It was explained to me that the Garifuna were looked upon as the lowest ranking of discriminated ethnic groups in their area but they choose a life of positivity and optimism. I   understood that to mean that it’s the oppressors who live mired in their negativity and toxic feelings while the oppressed rise above it and claim their identity and life values.

We boarded our little kayak to follow the guide back to the Hopkins Bay beach, said our good-byes and walked the shore back to our resort. This short excursion packed in so much knowledge and experiential learning.  It sounds cliche to say it, but in a sense, while we haven’t walked in other peoples’ shoes to experience their same feelings, we did “walk with them” in the path of a mangrove into their recreated world. We opened ourselves to their teaching, traditions, practices, and entertainment. We listened and reflected about their feelings and experiences. Awareness is so critical to growth. As I walked the shore back to the resort, I felt fulfilled in realizing that we are still growing. In our fifties, my husband and I find each trip more meaningful when we immerse in the culture. The adventure excursions have their merit and they require physical stamina but the cultural excursions require mental fitness, mental daring, and a deeper connection.

©Gina Michalopulos Kingsley

photos by Gina Kingsley

 

Bioluminescence; A Night on a Lagoon.

A sparkling spectacle of light emissions (and other surprises along the way) transpired on a bioluminescence tour.
We signed up for a tour to experience this chemical reaction of marine life but had no idea that the other details of the tour would eclipse the actual bioluminescence itself!

An 8:00 p.m. tour of Anderson’s Lagoon in Hopkins, Belize revealed such a different side of our Caribbean and Central American vacation destination. While we had been used to the beach horizon with perfect clouds, seabirds, and soft sands, the lagoon tour gave us quite an experience on the Sitee River and adjacent mangroves. Instead of seabirds from the beach, these bodies of water included many nocturnal animals. Finding them isn’t as easy as it sounds. Embarking the small boat with other passengers, we were handed flashlights which would become our only controlled light source in the black of night. Our expert guide told us where to hold  and place the flashlights to look for the eye-shine of the nocturnal animals that would lurk among the trees and banks of the river. Many of us had never heard the word “eye-shine” before. Looking for the eye-shine of these animals was challenging. I felt frustrated that I could not spot the animals’ eye-shine unless the guide pointed them out with his laser. It felt a lot like the times I had ultrasounds for my pregnancies and could not see the details on my babies that my husband and doctor could see.

I relaxed and enjoyed floating down the river, trusting the guide to identify the animals. Night herons, owls, iguanas, crocodiles, and jaguars were among the animals that live among the treetops and banks of the Sitee River and its mangroves. We saw all of those animals except the jaguars. Since I couldn’t take photos due to the darkness, I relinquished myself into the passiveness of the night tour. There was a duality of both trust and fear (or more nervousness than fear) in my feelings that night. I don’t care for pitch dark but it added to the mystique of this excursion. For 45 minutes, we glided through the river with the mangrove hedges hugging each side of the narrow river. Curtains of folded palm trees dangled over onto the water. I wondered which of us are the spectators here? The passengers or the animals? I felt like we were the uninvited guests into the animals’ sanctuary. On the other hand, maybe it was an interaction between us all; a communication or dynamic that was meant to occur.

A perfect foreshadowing of how much more exciting the night would become awaited us around the corner. Still glowing from a recent fire, embers from a burning tree spit into the dark sky with a slow, rhythmic spark. The crackling, smoldering embers dramatically reminded me how nature evolves, reacts, and adapts. It was a perfect finale to the river portion of this experience. Then, our boat entered the lagoon where we were the sole boat in the middle of Anderson’s Lagoon. That part of the tour lasted another hour, approximately. The dark, snug sky was illuminated by starlight, shooting stars, and moonlight. It was like looking at a ceiling of diamonds. Due to the lack of light pollution from a city, the sky clarity was mesmerizing. Anyone who has experienced a star gazing tour knows the sensation of an intensely bright sky. I was grateful for the light because the water was still, quiet, and dark. Far away from the marina (it felt like), I had to have complete trust that we were safe. It was a soul rescue for me. I needed this. Humans crave being in control and in charge but I was propelled towards this direction of dependence….depending and trusting our guide. We studied the constellations and dove into conversations of astrology and astronomy. I noted how the sky mirrored the lagoon as our moving boat and waving hands in the water activated the bioluminescence. Glow in the dark had its ultimate meaning that night.

Beyond the science of this night, I also felt the romance of it. Since there were three other passengers onboard who we didn’t know, I reserved my usual public displays of affection for my husband. I laid my head on his shoulder for a bit because I wanted to celebrate and remember the romance of this moment. How the darkness and sheer silence encapsulated the entire experience of nature, drama, surprise, unexpectedness and adventure! We are in our fifties. How much more adventure awaits us? Noone knows or is promised a timeline of  experiences. We have to find them and harness them.

© Gina Michalopulos Kingsley

(photos from internet except for the 2 photos of us)

 

Church on the Beach.

I once heard a man say that fishing was his method of “attending church.” I thought it sounded trite and so different from the traditional style of worship. What did it mean? Years later, I understood the metaphor. It was during the 2-22-22 “milestone.”

I didn’t experience it while fishing but rather watching a sunrise at the beach. I refer to it as “church at the beach.” This is how my church at the beach transpired. A choir of birds awakened me in time for a church service called sunrise. Completely metaphorical and not intended at all to be sarcastic, it’s a contemplation and meditation of how I analyze this morning on the beach to equate to the worship that takes place in a church. My morning “church service” looks like this….The chapel is a beach in the Caribbean/Central America. When they say “God is in the details,” this is what they’re talking about, especially if you listen and feel closely. No extra grooming required. (I was in my pajamas).  No stewardship, except for the ultimate stewardship to the Earth. No committee details, either. You are in the presence of God’s nature. The dome of this church is the sky of clouds. There are no icons except for the Central American clouds which are the best in the world (in my opinion). “Ekklesia”, the Greek word for church, means assembly. I love my church assembly back home. On this day, I realized that some people have to disassemble, though. In solitude, free from distraction, every prayer that has resided in my heart has emerged this morning just as the sun rises and lifts higher on the horizon. The rays extend to lift the orb. The sun and earth are synchronous;  like life, like relationships. The sea breezes softly push me and keep me in my chaise lounge. The chaises are the church pews.  Now the gulls have started to attend this church. My coffee is my communion and fryjacks are the communion bread. The ocean waves are the pounding chords of the church organ and the gulls are the chanters. The locals walking their dogs are the ushers and altar boys. The hymnal is my spiral where I’m recording this sermonette.

This time was spent giving  thanks and praise to God for health, life, this trip, and this moment. Prayers and reflections were given for my husband, sons, family, parents in Heaven, and friends. I prayed for the recently departed loved ones and others who are fighting disease. My prayers were dedicated to them  during this morning sunrise. I paused to give a moment to epiphanies and irony. Certain experiences in life are burgeoning while other things are fading. We evolve and adapt by accepting some changes while working harder through others. The hammock nearby cradled and rocked me with the safety of a confessional. The kayak carried me out onto the seawater like being bobbed and lowered into a baptismal font.

“Resort” means to go frequently. Getaways are the psyche’s way of therapy and healing when we’ve had enough or too much or too little. Back home, a house exterior restoration project was reaching completion at seven months. Ironically, I was receiving interior restoration on this trip. Riding bikes with my husband  through the village cemetery made me feel like a kid again. We flew countries away to be at a resort near a fishing village with simple shacks and dogs and chickens in the street but somehow we’ve luxuriated. The children played and smiled all the day long. On the tombstones of the cemetery, the etchings say Sunrise for the date of birth and Sunset for the date of death. The village people were the missionaries and the message there was not lost on me. The night sky full of stars were  the candles lit all around us in this church. The shooting stars were the lanterns and chanters. It will all start over again tomorrow. Let us pray. Amen. I prefer my house of worship style but it’s always nice to find “God in the details” everywhere.

© Gina Michalopulos Kingsley

The DABDAR of a Dying Piano

I received news today that I never expected to hear. Faithfully, every year or so, I’ve had my heirloom piano tuned for its posterity and longevity. Knowing one day I’d pass the piano on to one of our three sons, we invested in it yearly by having it tuned. She’s the centerpiece of our living room and the heartbeat of our house. She takes up a big space in our living room where a couch could be instead. I realize this sounds dramatic but I’m very nostalgic about our piano.

The piano tuner diligently worked on her but told me at the end of his appointment that he had bad news for me. He told me the piano was soon reaching the end of its life. My heart sank. I was in shock. He said the piano was built in 1942 during a time when quality parts were not available. He admired its unique rolltop feature and the design details of it. Wurlitzer was a brand that was somewhere in the middle back then. They didn’t design again until 1946. I assume that this was because of WWII and all that was going on in the world. I asked him if I should continue to have it tuned and other questions that might give it more longevity. He was honest with me that it would not be worth investing in anymore.  My mind raced with so many thoughts as I tried not to cry in front of this man. Denial. I scheduled the appointment during my youngest son’s college Spring Break so he could be here again this year to watch this process. My son was out on a run and I was relieved that I’d have time to gather my thoughts before breaking the news to him.

The kind piano tuner told me there was hardly any life left in the piano. While that’s true, here’s what ELSE I know to be true.

She might not be a top of the line, high quality piano but she represents so much more to me. She’s exactly 80 years old. My grandfather bought her in the 1940’s for his elementary aged only child, my mother. The piano’s sentimental value is priceless.  Providing a gift like that during wartime (as an immigrant) for his first generation Greek-American daughter was significant. He even had piano books engraved for her with her name in gold lettering. My siblings and I all learned to play piano on this instrument. Mom and I played songs from the engraved, hardcover piano books each Christmas. My three sons learned to play piano on this piano and we, too, would play piano songs every Christmas. I think it only moved houses one time- from downtown Tulsa to Swan Lake but I’m not sure if it started off in Bristow. My nieces, Goddaughter, and I posed at the piano a few times in pictures I took on self-timer with a tripod.

When the boys returned from college each break time, they played so many songs on her. My cousins played on her during many holidays or parties when we’d have impromptu concerts and singalongs. My 6 year old cousin and I entertained the family one Christmas with carols. When the piano wasn’t being played, she was an excellent piece of furniture displaying favorite items: my camel lamp, a silver pomegranate gift from a dear aunt, a precious ceramic goat that my husband gifted me as a reminder of our time at a farm in Greece, my mother’s hardcover, engraved piano books, Christmas card photos I took of photography clients, and recently, a framed card from a friend.

How could I face that the piano’s life was over?” Depression”. I analyzed the situation with the piano tuner. Do I move her to another part of the living room and place a couch there instead? Do I ask the boys not to play her as much in order to  extend her life? The piano tuner replied that that would not help. Do I just let everyone play on her and ignore the declining sound quality? How would I break the news to my siblings? Would they care? Would this just be another family member who was reaching the end of life? I mused that the piano had reached the end of its productive life, like humans. Our youngest son has one more year of college. Was it meant to be that the piano’s life was ending around the time that he’ll graduate and not come home on breaks anymore to strum her keys and learn new songs?

I reached the  bargaining point in the steps of what Psychology calls DABDAR- Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance, and Recovery. (Technically, I was never angry about this. I skipped that step.) I know exactly what I’ll do. I’ll invite everyone over who ever played on the piano and we’ll have a good-bye concert. We won’t cry because it’s over. ..we’ll smile because it happened. What happened?….All of it--the lessons, the practices, the new discoveries, the singalongs, the parties, the Christmas mornings, the dusting, maintenance, tuning and decor of something so grand. 80 years is a marvelous run. Acceptance.  I wonder if my grandfather ever imagined that seven people would learn to play on the piano he proudly bought in the 1940’s. Today, with this news, I’m missing him, my mom, and my sons who have all grown up and away. The piano might not be productive anymore but she sure raised a few generations of us and taught us that music, posture, diligence, and practicing a talent are valuable things to learn in a lifetime. Her mechanics might not work much longer but her legacy is timeless. Recovery.

© Gina Michalopulos Kingsley

 

 

Snowed-in and stir-crazy? Things to do….

Remember all those days when you thought, “if only I had a few days off to get things done at home….” Well, now’s your chance. Your house might already be very edited, purged and organized due to the pandemic quarantine a couple of years ago. But if not, here’s some ideas:

Inventory your house repairs needs. Walk around with a notepad and jot down the things that need sprucing up when budget and time allows. Caulking? Painting? repairing hinges? door handles? replacing outdoor patio cushions? etc…

Freeze a few loaves of that beer bread recipe from 2020. You’ll need them for hostess gifts or checking on shut-ins, etc. When the time comes, put a cute gift wrap bag and ribbon…Voila!

Take a bubblebath in the middle of the day with Lavender Epsom Salts. Indulge.

Do your entire Yoga DVD. ( I have not done this. I’m good with 15 minutes but you should do the entire DVD. :))

Hop on that treadmill and sort through your phone photos. You have tons to delete.

Dust off your old piano books and see what you’re still able to play. Maybe you’ll discover that your piano needs tuning! (ideally, every 6 months)

Call someone while you’re walking on the treadmill. Catch up in real time with real conversation ….use your voice; not your texting.

Look in the backyard. What needs tossing out ? Make a list. Rehab it or recycle.

I’m not going to state the obvious–binge watch a show, clean out a drawer or closet, etc…..but I’m going to suggest you make a homemade alfredo sauce and stock up on it. Butter, parmesan, half and half. You’ll thank me later.

I don’t like to over-suggest housekeeping projects but…..roll up magazines into your boots. They need sturdy refreshing. I just did this. I’m not those gurus from the Home Edit team but I do like an organized shoe area.

Water your plants. Duh.

Make a list of your Bucket List dream trips.

Order my books: A Magic Carpet Ride and Vagabonderie. HA! ….to plan your next trip with a little inspiration from my interviewees and me.

 

Enjoy the winter hygge! We’lll weather the storm together.

For more ideas….read the blog below…

Quarantine….the Re-Hygge time. 20 project ideas.

 

 

 

 

 

…And The First Taste for Pachamama!

Driving along the sprawling expanse of the roads of Peru, our minds were swimming with revelations. The visual trance would have been enough to enjoy but the visuals were enhanced by the rituals of the villagers. The imagery of ladies pasturing sheep and donkeys in a huge field was intensified by the dust kicking up around them in a haze. The small tools and rocks in their hands piqued my curiosity. While I’m sure that’s not that dissimilar from farming practices back home, this was an opportunity for me to really ponder and observe the wonders of agricultural life.

Saw-toothed agave plants and succulents paved the borders of the fields and blended perfectly with the terra cotta burnish which gleamed in across the hills. Peru is quite possibly the earthiest landscape I’ve encountered. We popped in and out of the villages of the Sacred Valley outside of Cusco for a most unforgettable day. As historically significant as each landmark was in Moray, Maras, and Chinchero, it was a moment in a simple, patio courtyard which resonated with us.

Outside of many earthen dwellings, there were sticks with red sacks tied to them in a balloon- type shape. A plastic, red “balloon” sticking off of huts of red tile roofs and stucco houses was peculiar. There were other symbolic emblems to look at on the rooftops; crosses, bulls, fertility symbols, pom pom strands, etc. Our guide pointed out the red sack and how it identified that a certain ritual occurred inside those homes and patios. So the guide parked the car and took us into the patio. The dirt ground underneath our feet, a chicken or two fluttering nearby and vining florals welcomed us into this inner sanctum of any villager. Why do I call it an inner sanctum? Because I know this particular feeling of inner sanctum. I grew up around this feeling. My childhood backyard was the sacred ground of my father, the urban farmer extraordinaire. He could grow things that never seemed possible on Oklahoma soil. The more eclectic the yard decorations were, the better. To this day, my own yard echoes those props of my past… wind chimes, hummingbird feeders, bird baths, etc.

This Peruvian villager had one thing in his courtyard that we had never seen before, however. It was a cauldron with an acrid scent of corn and yeast fermenting into what they call chicha beer. The homeowner walked outside to greet us and our guide told him we were ready to purchase some cups of this maize extracted concoction. There were three of us: me, my husband, and our tour guide but he ordered four cups. We raised our cups in the air for a salutation and he let a stream of the golden beer trickle out onto the earth as he said, “And the first taste for Pachamama.” The liquid pooled and absorbed into the earth and we looked quizzically at our tour guide and new friend. He explained that Pachamama is mother earth; earth mother. She is South America’s fertility goddess and symbol of so much more. In many instances, South Americans give back to Pachamama before they indulge themselves in the infinite pleasures of our Earth.

On a later trip to Ecuador, we learned even more about Pachamama and burial rituals. What was meaningful about this “first taste for Pachamama” ritual is that we saw it authentically enacted in a village of the Sacred Valley. We did not read about it on a museum display or art gallery. We shared in it and tasted it all while feeling the breezes off the Andes Mountains and smelling the fragrant scents of vining jasmines and florals while hearing clucking chickens. In global awareness discoveries, learning a new ritual or mantra of a people is often the emotional souvenir we bring home in our hearts. We repeat it in our own surroundings to shrink our world and to join our geography. We travel to learn new lifestyles and also to appreciate our own lifestyles. As we looked at each rooftop in the Sacred Valley district, learning symbolisms and emblems, it was the physical presence and visceral connections that lingered with us. The taste of chicha beer was not the main ingredient of this ritual. It was the love for the earth and the respect of the mythology and heritage that the South Americans celebrate which was so endearing.

When we left that steep village road, the sun peeked over the mountains through the colorful pompon strands hanging off the roofs of houses. Bulls and crosses on rooftops symbolized prosperity for each home and family. From the rooftops to the dirt floors of the patios, each home pulsed with hope and dappled light shining good fortune upon everyone. I’ll remember that chicha beer taste not as a delicious taste, per se, but a way of drinking in the spirit of Peruvians… and their golden spirit.

© Gina Michalopulos Kingsley

photos by Gina Michalopulos Kingsley

Stories like this can be found in the book Vagabonderie by Gina Michalopulos Kingsley. Published by Design Vault Press.

A Taste of Little Havana in Miami

I was not expecting to find “Little Havana” in Miami on a recent sightseeing bus tour but I was so happy that I did! Being a hop off/ hop on bus tour, I told my husband we should hop off and see what Little Havana was all about. Having been 4 years since I was in the real Havana, Cuba, this was a nostalgic opportunity to reminisce. My husband has not been to Cuba so I thought this might be a little taste of it for him.Also known as “Calle Ocho”, Miami (8th Street), Little Havana is the neighborhood/district to the Cuban exiles of the 1960’s, as well as immigrants from Central and South America. Originally, it was a neighborhood established approximately in the 1930’s of other local residents. Little Havana established itself when Cubans fled Castro’s regime in 1960 thinking they would set up a temporary residence until he was deposed. However, by 1970, it was roughly 85 % Cuban and it became a permanent settlement. It is the best known Cuban exile district in the world. Other Hispanic communities have settled there including Haitian, Dominican, Puerto Rican, Mexican as well as Central Americans. The murals are vibrant and expressive, representing the Cuban flavor so well. As you shop among Cigar shops, boutiques, Havanese menswear clothiers, cafes and taverns, you find yourself hoping to linger there longer than an hour or so before the tour bus circles back. Stroll, shop, watch the elderly play dominos in the patio of Old’s Havana restaurant and build up an appetite for a Cuban sandwich or any of the Cuban delicacies.

Boutique owners will tell you where the best cigars are rolled and sold. You’ll also discover where you will want to park yourself for authentic mojitos and tostones or patacones. We chose Old’s Havana where live music beckoned to us, especially since an elderly Cuban man was dancing outside of the restaurant for an hour. He parked his bike and did all the moves from his youth. Nearby, a friend of his shook a hand instrument to the beat of the Cuban music.

Did you know there are several varieties of mojitos? We didn’t! We usually get a classic Mojito but there are fruit-flavored ones, too. I opted for the Aged Rum Mojito. I have always loved how Cubans in Cuba use big springs of mint and not muddled slivers. However, I had never had a mojito with an actual sugar cane stick in it! Chomp on it to taste the sugar. Hold it in your hand to see the bright red streaks on it. Have fun with this sugar cane cigar!Old’s Havana is worth it. Not only does it have the live music and courtyard patio but it also had this unique dining table! A vintage car replica. What can beat that?!Little Havana was full of murals, too. Proud artwork defined the area.After some purchases and a very satisfying dining experience, we caught our bus to resume  our tour of Miami. This taste of Little Havana made me curious about the area. Here’s some factoids about Little Havana:

  • Viernes Culturales (Cultural Friday) occur during the last Friday of each month. There are outdoor musical performances on stages and sidewalks. Art exhibits, art galleries and food tastings take place.
  • Calle Ocho Street Festival attracts over 1 million visitors. It’s known for the world’s longest conga line, a world record breaking piñata, the world’s longest cigar, the most domino players, and the largest flag image ever created were reportedly records that took place at this festival over various years.

Little Havana might have originated as a temporary experience and settlement but it has definitely made a lasting impression of culture, art, entertainment, and cuisine. It’s an authentic, international experience in Miami.

© Gina Michalopulos Kingsley

photos by Gina Kingsley

Tall Grass Prairie…and Pawhuska!

Every year, I’ve looked forward to a road trip to see the Tall Grass Prairie near Pawhuska, Oklahoma. It’s been planned, postponed, rescheduled and put on the back burner but it was always on the horizon, no pun intended. Finally, in November 2021, I went with a dear friend, her mother, and her daughter. I call this particular friend my “crafty friend” because we almost always do something crafty and creative together from canning and pickling, to cooking, to silversmithing, to woodworking. This time, however, we were going to the prairie to experience Oklahoma’s nature conservancy, unique ecosystem, enjoy the Fall season glory, and visit the Mercantile in Pawhuska’s downtown.

Barely an hour outside of Tulsa, we passed bucolic pastures, barns, pecan groves, bridges, creeks, and the beauty of Barnsdall. Early November in Oklahoma is blazing Autumnal glory with a veil of shamrock, emerald, goldenrod and flaxen hues as well as scarlet, amber and russets. You have to just take it in and be in the moment when you drive through it all. I didn’t take photos of this part….I simply wanted to drink in this elixir that I call “Indian Summer.” Reaching Pawhuska’s downtown was charming, of course. Storefronts, antique stores, a theater, western stores and the glorious Mercantile (of the Pioneer Woman) were decorated for the upcoming Christmas season. Recently, this area was used for the making of the movie, Killers of the Flower Moon. However, when we visited, the town square was back to normal. Normal, per se, which means a still busy lunch crowd waiting to be seated. On a Thursday afternoon, we had a 1.5 hour wait time which left us time to shop first.

Lunch was as incredible as has been touted; comfort food to the extreme. We ordered many appetizers and enjoyed the ambience of the reclaimed wood furniture and other rustic decorations. After lunch, we headed to the Tall Grass Prairie Preserve. The vastness of the prairie with probably one other car on the roads was a very serene experience. We saw a couple of bison, a couple of deer, a creek, and acres upon acres of tall grass. Being unplugged for a day and out of my office chair was such a healthy thing to do in addition to enjoying this Oklahoma treasure. We took photos, chased the sun, and let us our eyes wander over the vivid sunset. My friend and I ran across the highway to shoot photos much to her daughter’s shock but time was of the essence. Feeling a sense of pride for this natural beauty right outside of our hometown, we were overcome with an urgency to sing the song OKLAHOMA! Probably my favorite memory of the day was this moment of a carload of adult women singing Oklahoma.

Before we left Pawhuska, we took a few more group photos in front of the large Christmas tree inside the Mercantile and peered outside at the square lit up in twinkle lights. The reflection of the ornaments in our building with the old architecture from across the street  encapsulated the holiday spirit and small town vibe. It was Veterans Day and the sight of American flags waving and even a veteran standing guard at a patriotic monument on the way into town was a perfect introduction to this road trip. The heart of America….and we live in it!

© Gina Michalopulos Kingsley

  • Factoids about the Tall Grass Prairie Preserve:
  • It used to span 14 states but now exists only in the Flint Hills of Oklahoma and Kansas.
  • It’s one of North America’s major ecosystems.
  • It consists of 40,000 acres of land.
  • The prairie ecosystem functions by using fire and bison. For example, controlled fires are reintroduced into the landscape at various times of the year such as original seasonal fires would occur. The ecosystem adapts to this method which clears dead vegetation. The bisons’ grazing also influences and sustains the tallgrass by affecting the vegetation’s composition.
  • Wildflowers bloom throughout the season with two peak periods; one in Spring and another in late summer.
  • The tall grasses, big bluestem, Indiangrass, and switchgrass can grow as tall as 8 feet.
  • Prairie chickens and other breeding birds can be found there.
  • Other animals on the preserve include: white-tailed deer, bobcats, armadillos, beavers, woodchucks, badgers. coyotes and other animals.

A MAGIC CARPET RIDE