travel

Summer Inspiration: Chihuly Garden and Glass

~ Alina ~ Leave a comment

Travel is one of my biggest sources of writing inspiration. I don’t always go as far or as often as I’d like, but inspiration can be found even in the most unexpected of places. Although I was generally collecting ideas for Book 4 this July, I didn’t realize I’d find them in Seattle when I visited relatives and college friends. In 2012, a new museum called Chihuly Garden and Glass opened (showcasing the work of glass artist Dale Chihuly), and knowing how much I love art and museums, it seemed like a good sightseeing option.

Boy, was that an underestimation.

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This was one of the most spectacular museums–no, places–I’ve ever been. I didn’t know what to expect from a museum full of glass artworks. It turned out to be transcendent.

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Words don’t do it justice. The glass itself was eye-popping, but the arrangements and lighting created perfect harmonies, like music, like poetry. There was an ocean-themed room, a Native American-themed room, and a garden of whimsical shapes that felt like something from Willy Wonka’s factory. I couldn’t take story notes fast enough.

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There were boats loaded with glass spheres that looked like planets, resting serenely on a black mirror that doubled their images.

20160710_153342There was a handmade glasshouse with a spiral of fiery glass flowers. It’s incredible how such a piece can weigh thousands of pounds, yet create the illusion of weightless fragility.
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You could see the Space Needle through the walls of the glasshouse!20160710_152759There was an outdoor garden where natural plants grew among glass pieces, the beds of flowers and glass grouped by color.

But my favorite was the rainbow room.
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Glass shapes, again both ponderously heavy and effortlessly delicate, layered a glass ceiling. Lights shining through them created water-like reflections on the walls. I almost burst into tears from so much beauty. The people beneath–even the selfie-taking tourists–turned beautiful in the rainbow light.

20160710_160033It was pure magic. I have a feeling you’ll be seeing some of these inspirations in a book.

 

Beautiful British Library Mania!

~ Alina ~ 8 Comments

It’s Friday! I’d say it’s time for some beautiful libraries, wouldn’t you?

Let’s take an armchair trip to Britain to visit 5 beautiful libraries. (While the Republic of Ireland is not politically part of Britain, it is geographically part of the British Isles…it’s a long story, better expressed by a YouTube video than by me.)

1. The Bodleian Library, Oxford, England. No library tour would be complete without the Bodleian, which houses 11 million printed items in addition to thousands of other materials. It actually consists of many different library buildings as well as a subterranean storage labyrinth. (Mystery novel, anyone?) The fan ceiling is renowned as one of the most beautiful in England.

Photo credit: redjar

2. The Wren Library, Cambridge, England. A small gem, tucked away in Trinity College, this library was designed by Christopher Wren, one of England’s most famous architects. Containing first editions of works by Tennyson and Byron and the handwritten manuscript of Winnie-the-Pooh by A.A. Milne, the library also has a walking stick and lock of the hair of alumnus Sir Isaac Newton. Love the checkerboard floor, too–makes me think of Alice in Wonderland.

Photo credit: Photodesk.at

3. The Long Room, Dublin, Ireland. Two stories, marble busts of thinkers, and sliding ladders, oh my! Also located at a place called Trinity College (different from the Cambridge one), and sharing a building with the inimitable Book of Kells, they raised the barrel ceiling to accommodate more books! 200,000 of the college’s oldest, rarest books, to be exact…

4. The Chester Beatty Library, Dublin, Ireland. A little-known gem I discovered quite by accident, this library is resplendent more with inner than outer beauty. More than a simple collection of books, it’s a curiosity cabinet of antiquities from all over the world, including some incredibly old manuscripts. Imagine illuminated texts, an ancient copy of Augustine’s City of God, and fragments of Bible papyri from as early as AD 150–yes, people, that would be an almost 1900-year-old book. Er, scrap of a book.

5. The British Library, London, England. Last but not least, a classic among libraries. Along with the Library of Congress, the British Library is the second-largest library in the world. Yes, world. It’s a legal deposit and research library containing over 150 million items. Contemporary architecture (including a bench shaped like a folded-open book) pairs here with a mind-blowing collection of some of the world’s oldest manuscripts. Inside you’ll find everything from Beowulf to Jane Eyre, from Handel’s Messiah to the Magna Carta, from a Gutenberg Bible to Anne Boleyn’s copy of the New Testament. It’s the Louvre of libraries.

Oh, guess what? It’s a…

Bonus #6! The Strahov Monastery Library, Prague, Czech Republic.

This one may not be in Britain, but it sure belongs in a tour of the most beautiful libraries. Tucked away in a hilltop monastery in Prague, surrounded by whitewashed walls and the waving stems of yellow roses, is this little-known gem. After a climb up a steep hill, one is rewarded with this sight:

Globes, illuminated manuscripts, a book wheel, and a painted ceiling! It became an important point of inspiration for my novel. And made me think of this scene from Beauty and the Beast: 


Photo credit: Jessica Ta


Happy Friday! Which of these libraries (the Disney one included!) would you visit if you had the chance? 

Independent Bookstores: Pacific Avenue, Santa Cruz

~ Alina ~ Leave a comment
On an avenue lined with bakeries, antique shops, street singers, and delicious coffee stand three little-known gems of the literary world. Today we’re on Pacific Avenue, Santa Cruz.
First stop: Bookshop Santa Cruz.
This one’s a mix of new and used books, priding itself on its independence and emphasis on local authors. With a clean, bright interior and an impressive selection, it’s also one of only twelve bookstores nationwide to have an Espresso Book Machine. Okay. This is the coolest thing ever. It’s a machine that prints books on demand, on the spot. You can select from over 8 million titles and have your own copy printed, bound, and trimmed in front of your eyes, or even self-publish your own book. (The link above includes a video of the machine printing.)

Next up: The Literary Guillotine.

Cool sign, right? Considering that Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities is one of my favorite books, I definitely stood there and snickered at it for a moment.
The Literary Guillotine isn’t located right on Pacific Avenue–it’s just off to the side, at 204 Locust Street (wonder if there’s any symbolism in that). There’s a cute little red wagon containing sale books just outside the door. Unfortunately, I thought the outside was a little cooler than the inside. Maybe I’d think differently if I were still in college–their selection is heavily academic, catering especially to UCSC students. Maybe my brain is getting soft, having been out of school for almost 2 years.
Last, but not least: Logos Books and Records.
Fun factoid: logos (λογοσ) means word or Word, one of my favorite words in Greek (see my blog subtitle). I’m not much of a music person, but Logos Books and Records definitely has a selection–along with a huge variety of paperbacks, hardbacks, bestsellers, and antiquarian books, which hold much more draw for me. Over 40 years old, Logos claims to be the largest independent used books and music store on the central coast of California. On a previous occasion, I found a book on bookbinding here; this time, I bought a copy of Dorothy Wordsworth’s journals, cross-referenced with a selection of her brother William’s poems. After learning about Dorothy while visiting the Wordsworth’s home in England, I was thrilled to find some of her writings. Such “finds” are one of my favorite things about the used bookstore experience–I came out with something I wasn’t looking for, but that adds a welcome “friend” to my collection. Old, obscure, and only $5? Yes please.

At a price like that, I can get coffee too…and enjoy both at San Lorenzo Park across the river.

Have you been to any of the bookstores on Pacific Avenue? Have any reviews, trip stories, or extra information to share? I’d love to hear your comments! 

On This Day…

~ Alina ~ 3 Comments

Ever look at your calendar and remember what you were doing on this day, one or two or three years ago?

Three years ago (well, April 25), I found myself in church. In western Ireland.

With only about 10 regular attendees, there were more people buried in the churchyard than alive inside the service. It was rather quiet. 

Aftewards, some friends and I went horseback riding! I hadn’t been on a horse since I was eight years old (when veterinarian topped my list of career choices).

This horse was named Rua (Gaelic for “red”). As we neared the hilltop, she bolted. Bouncing around, as in control as a sack of flour, I clutched the English saddle, watching my life flash before my eyes…and arrived at this incredible vista of clear sea and sky (with the Blasket Islands visible across the bay).

Having survived our adventure, we limped off, saddle-sore, to reward ourselves with…

…the world’s most amazing chocolate cake! Murphy’s is an Irish ice cream/sweets shop that makes absolutely the best chocolate cake in the world. If you’re ever in Ireland, find some. It’s an especially good way to forget about being saddle-sore. 
I still miss Ireland some days. Especially when I think about what I was doing on this day two years ago: editing my senior project in college. 
With scissors. Helps rustle up the necessary ruthlessness. No better way to visualize transposals or deletions. I also think I killed an entire rainforest’s worth of post-it notes. But I graduated!
One year ago, I was…

…at my desk, finishing the second draft of my novel. I’m now partway through the fourth draft, which (I hope) will be the last. Maybe this novel will see the light of day before I start getting a senior discount on my office supplies. 
And today, I am here, typing up this blog post:
Freelance life may not often take me across the world on exciting adventures. I don’t often find myself bolting up hills on a runaway horse or violently editing a story with scissors. It’s not every day I get to celebrate the accomplishment of a completed novel draft. But my imagination doesn’t starve. And that is a blessing.
What do you see when you look back at this day in past years?

Bookmarks

~ Alina ~ 11 Comments

Complementing my love of reading is my love of reading gadgets.

Most notably, bookmarks. I keep a ziploc baggie of them, and when I start a new book, sometimes it’s a real, time-consuming task to choose just the right bookmark to pair with it. Hey, people spend that kind of time on wine/cheese pairings. I think this is at least as legitimate.

Bookmarks are also my souvenir of choice when I travel. I couldn’t hunt up some of the more exotic ones, because they’re dutifully marking a page somewhere (since I’m reading so many books). But by my way of thinking, bookmarks are a) portable, b) memorable, and c) genuinely useful. Unlike a touristy keychain, baseball cap, or stuffed bear. These are from Maui, Gettysburg, and the Avenue of the Giants here in California.

Below are some of my favorites from Britain. L-R: the Bodleian Library, Oxford *swoon*; Edinburgh, Scotland; and Trinity College, Dublin (home of the Book of Kells).

I also have some bookmarks from other people’s travels. They’re presents that get used often but never worn out. They make me feel like I’ve traveled to Nicaragua, Honduras…and maybe even Middle-Earth.

Do you have a favorite bookmark? What does it look like? OR: locate the weirdest bookmark you can find on the Internet and link to it in the comments!

Small Magic

~ Alina ~ 10 Comments
I spent last weekend away at a magical cottage.
My family and I took some much-needed escape time over MLK weekend and tried our luck on an unknown B&B. Nestled in the big trees of the Santa Cruz Mountains, Redwood Croft is far enough away from civilization to be conveniently detached from cell phone and internet service. The owner informed us that a “croft” was a medieval word for a house, like this wood-and-stone manor, with adjoining land for a garden. (Garden might not be exactly the right word for the wild and lovely ramble of native plants that wound around the house.) The grounds begged me to tramp around with my camera. 
How do I know it was magical, you ask? Well, it was obvious, my dear Chronicles of Narnia fans. There was a lamp-post in the front yard. As if we’d come from the far country of Spare Oom.  
Actually, I knew it as soon as we turned on to the street. It was called Ice Cream Grade. 

Not to mention that there was a wishing well in the back. Pre-equipped with wishes.  

 Maybe not your typical storybook variety of magic, but certainly one that returned me to childhood: the giant trampoline under the redwoods. I hadn’t jumped on a trampoline in years. I quickly rediscovered just how euphoric flying can be.  
Unfortunately, I don’t have a picture of some of my favorite memories, such as sitting down to the sumptuous breakfasts served on vintage dishes, with taper candles and white poinsettias on the table (there are a few photos on the B&B’s website). Or curling up to read by the warm woodstove in the evenings, a strand of Christmas lights twinkling just outside the window, a little old dog named Spinner snoring on a sheepskin on the couch. 

But with views like this to photograph, I didn’t have many pictures left on my camera card anyway. 

Magic is everywhere, usually in the small things, if you’re looking for it. Maybe it was just a little easier to see at Redwood Croft.

Did you have any adventures over the long weekend? Discover any small magic of your own? 

Thinking Places

~ Alina ~ 6 Comments

Last week my family and I got away for a few days together. We scampered all around Northern California, experiencing new towns and possibly discovering every possible way to become carsick on winding back roads. However, it was refreshing to get some quality time together and a change of scenery. A bit of vacation also proved good for my writing.

One afternoon my family sat on the shores of a jade-green lake (interestingly named “Trinity Lake”) and sat in silence, each member absorbed in a different creative project. I took the time to soak in the silence, slowing down after nearly a month of nonstop work (and almost no time for my novel). I scribbled out a poem, a first response to the beautiful place and the quiet moment of being still and noticing. It felt like a drink of cold Gatorade after a hard run or hike.

One of our stops was at the charming Blackberry Inn in the coastal town of Mendocino. Caressed by the foggy, temperate marine layer, lush with dozens of varieties of colorful flowers, and deliciously out of range of cell phone service, it was the perfect place to stop and rest and write. Our adorable little room looked like a life-sized dollhouse, complete with a sunny window and a pair of wing-back chairs.

In my home office, the writing time I eke out is often interrupted by the phone ringing, the dryer beeping, new e-mails, the front door. In this quiet room in Mendocino, I was cut off from those interruptions. Sure, there were all my usual mental distractions (read a book! what do I need to do tomorrow? oh look, a seagull!), but in a one-room enclosure with almost no technology, I found it easier to center down and blurt out eleven pages of new novel material, written longhand in a pink journal. It helped to sit at this old-fashioned wooden desk under a painting of a thatch-roofed English cottage. I felt a bit like Jane Austen or one of the Bronte sisters.

What I realized most was that my normal life is full of multitasking. It’s a skill that makes getting multiple mindless things done at the same time possible, but it really kills deep, original thinking. Writing is one way we mortals imitate our Father God, who breathed a world into being ex nihilo, out of nothing. That takes focus. When my attention is on fifty different things, it’s hard to get below surface-level maintenance writing and think of anything new. 

Creative thought, like a relationship with God, requires some periods of silence, solitude, and centering. (Hot tea, fuzzy socks, and a beautiful view don’t hurt either.) Sometimes it’s important to retreat from routine to create a nurturing environment where creativity can grow. For me, it was a time of peace and releasing the story within. It left me refreshed and a little readier to return to the daily world of multitasking.

Does the world of multitasking ever leave you in need of a retreat? Where do you go to refresh your creative side?

Snapshots of Cambridge

~ Alina ~ 8 Comments
Two years ago this week, I was in Cambridge, England. As an American college student, watching my British counterparts study, ride their bicycles to class, and play cricket at the park, I almost felt like I was looking in a distorted mirror. But after 9 days of living, walking, and studying in this medieval college town, it almost began to feel like native habitat. I can’t give you a Lonely Planet guidebook description. So I’ll just share a series of snapshots that characterize the journey there. 
Two structures characterize Cambridge: the tall, Gothic spires of the colleges and cathedrals…and the spokes of bicycle wheels. The medieval streets make driving a health hazard, not to mention an insurance nightmare. So everyone bikes. Little baskets and all. Even in skirts. Knowing my world-class klutz skills, I decided to forgo this traditional mode of transportation and let my good ol’ feet carry me….

…to every bookstore in sight. The bookstores in Cambridge are absolutely world-class. There are some fine new shops–Heffer’s and Waterstone’s, not to mention the home office of Cambridge University Press. But better still are the used and antiquarian bookstores. “Old books” in the U.S. reach maybe 50, 60, even 100 years old. But when the Brits say “antiquarian,” they mean it. I found a crumbling copy of The Pilgrim’s Progress from the early 1800s in a discount bin because the spine cover was falling off. The early 1800s! One of these days I’d like to about bookbinding and fix it up. If you’re ever in Cambridge, go check out G. David Booksellers (where I drooled at a two-volume leather-bound set of Samuel Johnson’s Dictionary that cost 2500 pounds) and The Haunted Bookshop (absolutely dripping charm, with a head-bumping spiral staircase!) 

The May flowers in Cambridge are also jaw-dropping. Many of them I had no names for, but I did recognize fields of many-colored tulips and walls covered with wisteria, like this one. 

When the Cambridge boys aren’t riding their bicycles to class, they make a little extra pocket money by punting: pushing tourists down the shallow river using flat-bottomed boats and ten-foot poles. They expertly steer their passengers down the river, pointing out all the sights along the way. Our group decided to be economical and do the punting ourselves. Our group was also 90% female. I gave tried punting for about 10 minutes before almost falling in and calling it quits. Those poles are a lot heavier than they look!  
Possibly the funniest moment in Cambridge: a mother duck and her brood of ducklings decided to cross the street, plunging headlong into traffic. Shopkeepers and pedestrians from both sides of the road darted after them, stopping traffic to “make way for ducklings.” It was rather adorable: a whole street of cars and people frozen in motion as a little family of ducks waddled across the road.

Most fabulous teatime: The Orchard. About three miles (on foot) outside of Cambridge, we sipped Lady Grey tea and nibbled scones and clotted cream at outdoor picnic tables under trees frosted with apple blossoms. The sun even decided to grace us with her presence for part of the afternoon. Sweaters came off; some of our group closed their eyes and tanned; some opened books of poetry; some blew streams of bubbles from plastic wands into the air.  

And last, but not least, the King’s College Chapel choir. We attended services at King’s one Sunday morning under the grand fan ceiling, sitting on carved wooden benches with a Rubens painting at the far end of the nave. And then the boys’ choir began to sing. If I hadn’t been looking right at them, I would have sworn it was an adult choir including both men and women. But listen to them! Surrounded by candles in that vast Gothic space, they sound like a choir of angels.

This concludes Episode Three of our Armchair Travel Guide to Britain. Have you been to Cambridge? England? Did you have experiences that you positively have to share? 

The Great Potato Revolution

~ Alina ~ 9 Comments

Well, you asked for it…another installment in my Britain story. This one’s going to have to be abbreviated, as time is short this weekend, but today we’re traveling to Dingle (An Daingean), in County Kerry, Ireland!

Two years ago yesterday, I was in a grocery store. My study abroad group of about twenty-five students was staying in a “self-catering” youth hostel–which means basically that beds, showers, and pots and pans are provided for you; the rest is do-it-yourself. Like a bed and breakfast, minus the breakfast. Hence, the grocery store.

By this time, we’d been in the British Isles for three weeks. One food group had grown very old: potatoes. Yes, the Brits think that potatoes are a food group (no offense to my British friends :)). I have nothing against potatoes, but seriously, everything included them. Everything. In a hostel in northern England, the menu one night consisted of shepherd’s pie (mushy peas and beef topped with mashed potatoes), with a side of–what else? Jacket (baked) potatoes!  

At any rate, three weeks in, with a grocery store at our fingertips, we college students wanted some potato-free fare. We were going to split into groups and take turns making dinner for everyone. As a Spanish-speaking Californian, I suggested Mexican food. Nice break, right?

Except that the SuperValu store had still other ideas about types of food groups. Items plentifully stocked: brown soda bread, canned baked beans, granola bars called “Elevenses.” Items not stocked: tortilla chips, black beans, sour cream, guacamole. Salsa existed, but was priced at an arm, a leg, and a sack of pirate gold. Hm.

Potatoes were not an option. Potatoes were never an option. So we compromised. Bought Irish soda bread and saved it for sandwiches (best bread ever). Skipped the chips and salsa/guacamole. Discovered that Irish beef tastes pretty Mexican when mixed with taco seasoning and stacked on tortillas under lots of cheese. But the best part was cooking together with friends, the spicy, familiar smells rising around us, in a sunny kitchen on the other side of the world.

And no potatoes.

Iona Day

~ Alina ~ 16 Comments

April 11, last Wednesday, was Iona Day.

Never heard of it, you say? That’s because it’s my own private holiday. It’s the day that, two years ago, I visited the island of Iona, Scotland, and it became part of me.

Known as the Sacred Isle, this is the remote place where a community of Irish monks settled in 563 A.D. to fully devote themselves to the contemplation of God. Under the leadership of St. Colum Cille, they built a monastic community that drew saints and scholars from across Europe to worship and learn. (If you want to learn more, the delightful animated film The Secret of Kells gives a condensed glimpse at Iona’s history.)

This tiny island just three miles by one, isn’t on any of the lists of tourist destinations in Scotland: Edinburgh Castle, Isle of Skye, Loch Ness. And it requires an arduous journey, requiring six legs of travel just to get from the mainland to the island and back. Yet, of the two and a half months I spent studying abroad in the British Isles, that weekend side trip is the one that still nestles most closely to my heart.

On April 11, I was looking at the framed Iona postcard on my wall, at the Celtic cross hanging on my desk, and remembering. The day has become an anniversary for me. So I thought I’d invite you to share a vision of the place through an excerpt from the blog I kept while traveling. May it give you a glimpse of why I remember this place:

The water is unbelievably clear–it’s a stunning, Bahamas turquoise blue, with powdery white sand on the Iona shore. It made me feel like I was in a little Mediterranean, in the wrong hemisphere. Stepping off the boat, it was like entering a dream. The island has very limited cars, so the air is serene, and often silent, in a way you can’t get in a city, or even a regular town. This is a sacred city, an island wholly devoted to worship and prayer. It is like a cloud away from earth–a place of solace, a haven and sanctuary from the world. There was an ineffable grace about it that I can’t even describe. It made me want to weep and sing and stay forever. It is not just a city, but an island of God.


It was simply magical, and yet more than that–a stairway to heaven? My companions and I had only 2 1/2 precious hours to spend on shore, but they were beautiful. We had a picnic in the garden of the ruined nunnery, with butterflies on the hyacinths and daffodils in the sun. We walked through the ancient graveyard, where it is said Macbeth is buried (though I tried in vain to find his headstone), and I had the privilege of praying in a 900-year-old chapel. I just about died with delight. The abbey has ancient Celtic crosses in front of it, and peaked windows that let in shifting patterns of light. Sheep graze all about, and it makes sense that the Lord is our shepherd. Candles burn in the windows, and I saw prayers rising like incense. It is truly a place of peace, an island so practiced in worship that it is almost a scent you can breathe in on the air. And to see gardens blooming beside ancient stones–there’s something here that is out of my reach to express, but that touched me deeply. It’s not even worth asking if it was worth it to take six forms of public transportation to get here.

(you can read more about my Britain experiences here if you’d like.)

Iona Day is a time to remember this beautiful and healing place. Someday I’d love to go back.

What places have become a part of you? (home counts too!)