Christmas Letter 2015

December 2015

Hey Friends and Family,

Jimmy Fallon said that “hey” is the most common greeting used in America these days. So hey, “sup”. That’s second or third. I can’t go that far. I’ve been in the States long enough this year to watch Jimmy Fallon, but haven’t kept up with what’s in. That’s the thing about being away from home, I don’t keep up with what’s going on in the world, even though I’m partaking of what the world has to offer.

Yes, I did travel again this year, yet am finding my pleasure trips are shorter, maybe because teaching sailing keeps me away from home longer. Maybe because the planning gets arduous. It’s certainly not due to a lackluster attitude toward travel. My new learning/experience this year has been Airbnb, a great way to meet and understand the local culture.

January might have been the only month I was home for the entire month. December will be second. Spending several months in the British Virgin Islands keeps me warm in the winter, and the months on Lake Superior keep me cool in the summer. Having friends in the BVI on land and on boats makes it so much more fun—running into them at the full moon parties, while sailing or snorkeling, and at anchor. Having a March birthday is always great, especially when crew and friends treat me to lunch and dinner at restaurants I’d been wanting to visit. To top off the season, a friend who had never been to the BVI joined me. What a treat to see someone experience sailing on a catamaran (though she still prefers her 33’ Mason) and snorkel for the first time.

It was fun to come home to my redecorated townhouse in April, spend some time regrouping after numerous back-to-back week-long classes, and throwing myself into yoga again before heading to Mexico for a retreat in Cabo San Lucas. My niece Laura has really immersed herself into this new career, and despite my initial thoughts about her being so spirited and even comedic in a yoga class (in contrast to the solemnness of some teachers in Minnesota) I’ve come to love her classes. The retreat center, built for yoga, was on a windy, high surf Pacific beach so walking ruled, and swimming was done at the pool. The food was so scrumptious I imagined myself eating healthy for the rest of my life. That was short-lived.

Back in Minnesota, I prepared myself for another summer on Lake Superior. The Apostle Islands are still one of my favorite places to sail, and each summer is so different. The prevailing winds dictate where we go. Three summers ago, I swam a lot, not so the past two summers. That doesn’t bode well for using my paddleboard. Maybe this summer . . .  What’s funny is the more time I spend in Bayfield, the less it seems I use my kayak and paddleboard. Is it lack of planning or weather-related? Of course, I need temps to warm up enough. I wore long sleeves almost every day this year, even in August.

I ended my sailing season in mid-September in order to support my niece’s first European yoga retreat in Tuscany, along with her mom. Chris and I spent a few days in Florence visiting David, the Uffizi Museum, rubbing the boar’s nose to ensure another visit to these cobblestone streets, walking along the Arno River, comparing Dali to Dante, and seeing some local plays about the Medici families. When Florence burned to the ground, the stipulation was to rebuild in the old look, so it’s hard to know what really is old. Chris loves food tours, even though she doesn’t cook any more. Given my basic cooking skills, it was eye-opening to learn that the production of balsamic vinegar is given as much attention and time as wine.

We were entranced from the moment we arrived for our yoga retreat with both the villa and the manager, Jeannine from the Netherlands. We did yoga each morning, and most afternoons, in between a winery visit, a spa day, trips to Sienna and nearby Pienza, and gazing at the newly turned fields and grape harvesting. We ate a few meals out, but preferred Jeannine’s cooking. The resident cat added perfectly to the magical ambiance. Though we all wanted to stay, we left only after Jeannine said she’d organize a place for us all to get together again in Provence. It seemed she had as much fun as we did.

Chris and I went back to Florence, then it was home for Chris, and hello to Cinque Terre for me. How I’d looked forward to seeing these ocean-side villages built into mammoth cliffs for what reason I’m still not sure. Terraces have been carved from the rock for homes, vineyards and life-sustaining crops, and launch points for fishing (& now tourist) boats. Tourists can train, hike, and boat between Monterosso, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarolo and Riomaggiore. Each village has a different personality. I don’t know if Manarolo had the best sunsets, but sitting on my balcony with a glass of Italian wine and olives I’d like to think so. I was so mesmerized by the scenery, I couldn’t resist buying a painting of the area.

It was sad to leave, yet I was excited to see the French Riviera just a morning train ride away. I was greeted by a rainy Nice, with a closed Chagall Museum and Russian Cathedral. Darn. But Matisse didn’t let me down, nor the Massena Museum, the former home of a French commander of the Revolutionary and Napoleonic wars, and the always open Promenade, from which I saw a double rainbow.

I was hoping to see some sailing friends on their new 51’ catamaran in Cassis but missed them by a day. Looking at the waves crashing into shore in the harbor, I was wondering how they managed to stay safe, but they did. Despite heavy rains which closed the train stations I’d just passed, I was able to view the Calanques (steep-walled limestone inlets) by boat and hike their majestic tops.

From Cassis I went inland, again by train. Oh how easy it is to get around in Europe. Avignon, Aix-en-Provence, both are hubs to spokes offering more medieval and Renaissance history, arenas, and cathedrals. Nimes, Pont du Gard, Orange, Marseilles. It all started to blur. The history that took place in some did not, such as the prisoners who were executed by other prisoners as part of the half-time entertainment in between bullfights and gladiator competitions. In comparison, Lourmarin, the French home of English author, Peter Mayle, was charming, especially on market day, when one can shop from nine to one, then watch as it all comes down, only to be reconstructed in another town the next day.

As luck would have it I saw a parade, enjoyed a free concert followed by a champagne reception, observed painting students create art, and observed a bride and groom on their blissful day. Staying in Airbnb’s was a treat. Meeting the locals, whether or not they speak English, seeing how they live, and what they eat is insightful to the European way of living. This is how I like to travel.

Was I ready to come home after four weeks in Europe? No, but I did. I spent a month at home, then celebrated Thanksgiving with my sister and her family. I hadn’t seen my nephew for a year, but now that he and my niece are older, they don’t change as much. I’ll spend Christmas in Minnesota again this year, thankfully sans painting projects. I look forward to a joyful holiday and a new year filled with exciting new endeavors.

Merry, happy Christmas and New Year,
Vicki