2019-05-03. Crossing the Atlantic: Home!

Was waiting for all of the DRAMA to settle before I wrote to you.

As always, I have had some serious ups and downs this journey. 

All to develop RADICAL TRUST. I guess I haven’t learned my lesson completely. There seems to be some repetition, even if the scenarios differ.

I wouldn’t know how far back to begin - so I will tell you about just the last couple of days.

When I arrived here in Ijmuiden, I still had no information or instruction about the Ship’s whereabouts. The people who work here at the Hotel Velsen are absolutely wonderful, just like family. --Danielle, Trudy, Mattie --- I have enjoyed every moment with them. They told me that another woman who stayed with them waited over a week for her Cargo Ship to arrive, be loaded and ready to sail. I resigned myself to the fact that I might be here in Ijmuiden longer than planned.

I received a long message from my Cruise Agent. I was so excited. I did everything that I was instructed to do. Last evening, I walked 2-3 miles to go to the Immigration office to get myself officially stamped to leave the country on the ship. When I arrived at the Police Station where I was told the Immigration Office was, a policeman came to the locked gate, he opened it and told me that the Immigration Office is no longer located at this place. He came into the street and pointed to a tall building that was probably another mile away, at least it seemed that far. He said that I needed to go there and walk around to the side of the building to find the Immigration Office.

Fine. I started out once again and made my way to the Felison Terminal. I followed his instructions and found the Immigration Office. I carried my yellow folder of important papers in my small daypack on my back. My passport in the usual place, where it is always available. I knew everything was in order. I had the ticket that Miri sent to me just that morning which was what I needed to board the ship. Danielle printed it for me at the Hotel. I had other paperwork in my folder. In addition to the needed info for the Ship, I carried other important papers in my yellow folder. The officer saw me taking out the completed forms that he needed, he asked that instead of taking the papers out, I hand him the entire folder.

I didn’t think that was necessary, but I have learned compliance is the way of wisdom when there is nothing worthy of a fight. I complied and handed him the folder, not even knowing what all was in it. They kept looking at my passport with some kind of magnifying device. I couldn’t understand a word of the Dutch they were speaking. There were three of them now. I was starting to feel nervous about this process. It was supposed to be so simple. I had all of the paperwork in order. All I needed was a stamp that approved my boarding the ship.

They asked me so many questions. How much I paid for the trip? When I purchased the ticket? How long I was in Spain. Why there was no indication that I ever left Spain in November of 2018. How did I go home the last time? Did I leave? What was I doing there? What would I be doing on the ship? Why didn’t I fly home? and on and on. I was there a long time. They don’t have anywhere to be since they are opened 24/7.

I began to wonder if this is anything like the Immigrants feel when they go through the immigration process to enter our country. I wondered what I might feel like to know that I was leaving the country of my entire life-experience. The country that I would never be able to return to once I acted on my choice to leave. I couldn’t imagine being a person without a country, without a home to go to. Here I was in a situation where all I wanted to do was come home. 

One of the officers, the one who seemed to want to give me a difficult time, came into the waiting area where I had been standing all this time. They interrupted helping me to process an entire fishing vessel crew of about 30 men, each with passport and ship papers. I made a deliberate choice to remain calm.

I felt like they wanted this old lady to lose her cool - so I didn’t. I would not give them what they wanted. Besides, I already had a nice room for the night, I really didn’t want them to put me up in a cage. I remained calm and unphased by the absurdity off the situation. The young officer came out into the waiting area with my passport, not my folder of important papers that I needed in order to board the ship.

He explained that he could not let me go through the immigration process until he knew for certain that I was leaving the country. He said that he called the number that I gave him for the ship, and they said I was not on their list of passengers. Earlier in the day, I called and spoke with the Master - who is like the operations officer, he did not tell me I wasn’t on the list. He said that he was expecting to get the paperwork and I should give him a call on Friday to find out for certain the day I could come on board and the time that we would sail.

As he dismissed me, I reminded the young officer that he had all of my paperwork and my yellow folder on his desk. I wanted my folder and papers before I left. He went to get it. Since I wasn’t sure what was in it when he asked for it. I wasn’t sure if everything came back to me. I checked for the critical items that I knew I had to have for Ship boarding.

I left and walked back to Hotel Velsen. Just as I entered and was telling them about what had just happened, they introduced me to a man who recently arrived. He was also going on a Freighter. I asked him which freighter. We discovered we are the two single passengers that they are taking. We are both scheduled for the NARIA. (Sure sounds a lot like NARNIA - I hope there is a Wardrobe in my room!)

He was on his way out the door to go to Immigration. I shared briefly that I had just been there and was refused clearance. He decided to go. He, like I, spoke with the Captain and was told to complete this part of the process. I didn’t see him again until this morning.

When I returned from dinner, I asked Danielle if he had returned and if he had better luck than I did getting through Immigration. She said he had. He was all set and was told to be on the ship Saturday and it would sail on Sunday.

I was not feeling very good about this. I was now wondering if my Cruise Agents had slipped up. The ship name was not one that I recognized as part of the PZM fleet, so I wondered if there had been some kind of mix up. Was I going to have to find another way home again? Last November I was bumped off of the PZM Freighter and had to find an alternative way home. I decided that I better jot the PZM agents an email. I knew that it was too late in the day, they would be out of the office in England. I would have to be patient to receive a reply tomorrow. I reported to them all that had happened.

This morning, I saw Wilke at breakfast. He is a really wonderful person. Told me about his family, especially his wife, Batina, who helped make this dream of his, a reality. This is his retirement “gift” that he and his family have saved his whole life for. A Dream realized!

Then we got to the serious business of my being put off by the Immigration Officers. I asked about the agents that he used. For him everything had gone so smoothly, and he has never traveled before!

He introduced me to the website and the contact names that he used. Problem is that we couldn’t figure out how to get the site in English. So far, only German. He said that there are a lot of travel agents promoting Freighter travel these days. In the States, I found it difficult to locate one! I used a group from UK. I need to find other alternatives or at least more options. We talked about walking to the TaTa Steel Plant where we need to check in with the company before boarding the vessel. We checked google earth to see that there really was no way to get there by walking. We knew there were strict rules about where people could walk on the company premises. They own so much land it is like a small city.

I suggested to Wilke that we get a Taxi and share the cost of the fare. We are making all of these plans and I don’t have clearance. I am eager to get a response from the agent about the situation. We check the time and know that they aren’t in the office yet. I must be patient.

I went to my room and decide I better make my way over to the Immigration office in the hopes that a new shift is working, and I will have a better experience with someone else. Before I go, I call the Ship and talk with the Captain. He is jovial and assures me that he has sent the list to Immigration He doesn’t understand why they denied me last evening. He suggests that I go back and tell them that he expects me on the vessel on Saturday with the goal of sailing on Sunday morning.

I am getting ready to begin the trek to the Immigration Office when my phone rings. I haven’t heard my phone ring in over a month! ID says the call is from Germany. Must be Wilke. It is. He asks what I am going to do. I tell him I am on my way out the door to return to Immigration. He says that he talked with the Captain and all should be good. I told him I talked to the Captain also. Wilke asked if it was all right with me, he had reserved a Taxi to pick us up at 11:00 in the morning to go to the ship. I was pleased that he had taken care of this detail and that he was kind enough to not only include me but also to be sure that the time would work for me. I agreed and expressed my gratitude. 

Off I went, following my GPS. I knew it was taking me along a different route from yesterday, however, yesterday I went to the police station first and was sent on to the correct building. I thought perhaps this was just a different way to go directly to the Immigration Building.

As I walked, I certainly felt that I was going much further than I needed to go. I walked 2.4 miles. I only needed to walk 1.1 miles. What I learned is that there are two buildings with the same name. Of course! It really was a lovely crisp walk, with the cool breeze off the water and the gorgeous sun streaming. I could see where I needed to be. I couldn’t figure out how to get there. A taxi driver helped me to enter information on my Google Map that would take me to the correct destination - another 2.2 miles and then after Immigration 1.1 miles back to the Hotel. Like an Immigration Camino!

Since I spoke with the Captain of the Ship this morning, I was feeling confident. I walked into Immigration and said to a new face, “I spoke with the Captain of the Naria, and he has asked me to come on board tomorrow morning to sail on Sunday morning around 10:00 a.m. Here are the papers you need and my passport. I am quite sure all is in order. In less than two minutes everything was done. I was approved to sail.

I noticed that the Officer handed me my passport without stamping it. I questioned whether or not I needed it stamped to confirm that I was here for Immigration Processing. Yes, of course! He took my passport and stamped it! Whew, now I feel ready to go. I couldn’t imagine what might happen if I showed up at the Ship in the morning without Immigration authorization.

I walked back to the hotel. Stopped at the grocery for something healthy to eat. Will pack and be ready for the taxi in the morning. Wilke and I will go for some fish tonight. We are ready to set sail.

Okay - how is this for an update!!!

Much love,

Remember after I get on the ship in the morning, there will be no communication. no postings until I get home in a couple of weeks.

2019-04-30. Leaving and Arriving: Life’s Story!

Today is May 1, 2019. How did that happen? Where did April go? Do you ever ask yourself about the fleeting nature of time? For me, it reminds me of the sacred quality of time. That every moment is just that a precious moment and once it is gone - it is gone forever. As I live into this eighth decade of my life, it seems to go by faster and faster. Sometimes, I wonder what the rush is? As a child, I didn’t comprehend what my Grandmother meant when she commented on the fleeting nature of time. Now, I get it!

News about Today - starting with Yesterday (see how fast it goes? I have to go backwards, in order to go forwards into NOW.

Yesterday, April 30, 2019, this is what I wrote:

It is 12:48, I woke every hour on the hour expectant to hear the 5:45 a.m. bells, 6:00 a.m. bells, 7:00 bells, 7:15 bells - It doesn’t matter which one, all BELLS. That being said, there are some combinations of tones that I like the best. Usually involves a kind of rolling of tones, as if being poured out of a huge container. I also love when the largest of the bells is engaged, the one at the top that can most easily be seen. It is not sounded very often. It is so sonorous.

I longed to say goodbye to the Monks’ Sacred Garden this morning, however, I decided it is more important to keep the privacy restrictions and be invited back for a visit at another time. I don’t want to lose this privilege.

I was up with the 5:45 a.m. Bells. Finished last minute packing. Almost forgot my sandwich in the kitchen refrigerator. Went back for it. A drizzly, rainy day. I went first to check out at the Hotel. Paid for the nine days from Easter April 21 till today April 30. Left my luggage there. The woman who took care of me has become a familiar face. We always exchange large smiles of recognition. She calls me “Lady,” so very respectful and full of kindness. The sound of being called LADY, cracks me up but, of course, I would never show it. I am not accustomed to this level of formality.

Stairs to the Black Virgin

I asked to leave my luggage while I go to say goodbye to the Basilica. I keep my backpack with computer under my rain jacket and take it with me. I take some last photos- at this quiet hour the Basilica is empty - a rare sight. I stood and absorbed the 7:00 a.m. sounding of the bells - one last time this rip. When the door to the Black Madonna was opened a Chinese family was waiting. They hurried through their visit. I thought they would stop in the Cambril chapel area for a while, but they didn’t. I paid my visit to Morenenta undisturbed. There was no one behind me. I took my time to take all the photos I’ve taken before and more. Hands and toes of Mother and Child. Close ups of both faces, and then, something strange happened. My camera started flickering on and off. I didn’t think I would be successful in getting a close up of her face. I even have a couple of totally black photos of evidence of this seeming electric faulting. I thought about what I read concerning the energy from the mountain -electric magnetic fields that some say play a part in the healings near the statue. I mentioned this morning’s experience to Father Toni. He shared that there were tests done to measure the electrical fields around the Basilica and in the Square in front of the Basilica. Most of the talk about electromagnetic fields could not be scientifically measured. The only evidence that showed up was due to some underground water. I mentioned to Father Toni, that often this seems to be true at sites of great Cathedrals to the Madonna, that are built over ancient Pagan Ritual space, where there are, in fact, underground water or wells.

Black Virgin. Santa Maria de Montserrat

This experience with my camera flickering and then working perfectly well after this morning’s occurrence, reminded me of something similar that happened when I was with a group of students visiting a site in Southern Ohio of the Serpent Mound. At that time - it was before I owned an Iphone, I was using a digital camera. When I attempted to take photos at the mounds, my camera did all kinds of unexpected things that I can’t even explain or describe. I thought my camera was ruined. I didn’t understand what was wrong. When we left this place, I mentioned to some in the group what had happened. They told me to try the camera again. They explained that there is an electrical field at the mounds that can cause this to happen and the camera is actually fine! I didn’t believe them. 

I attempted to use the camera later that day and it was absolutely fine.

This leaves me with questions about what happened this morning while photographing Morenenta? What happened? Was it my own energy that caused the malfunction? Is that a possibility? I know I am having very strong feelings about leaving this sacred place. Could it be?

What is the power of our personal energy? on cameras? on one another? on ourselves?

These are questions, like so many, that may never be answered. That’s okay. There is something about the mystery that makes it all the more special, the not knowing!

As I exited, I paused momentarily in the Cambril, behind the Statue. I remembered the very first time I was in that Chapel. There had been a red rope restricting entry because there was a private Mass going on. I was visiting the Basilica for the very first time. I heard singing as I passed the small Chapel and I paused to look just for a moment and then, seeing the red rope, I continued. Just as I was walking away, a man lifted the red rope and invited me to come in. Without hesitation, I entered and attended the completion of the Mass that was being celebrated in Spanish or Catalan. I watched as the Priest spoke and kept pointing up to the back of the statue that is present in this room. I received Holy Communion. An unexpected sacred moment for me, a passerby, invited in, given an unexpected banquet of grace, released to the world, changed. I knew I would be back. I knew I must come back. The message of the Mary visitations on the Camino actualizing. Now I have visited four times and according to the message received from the Virgin as I prayed, this visit, in the Hermitage of Saint Iscles, I need not worry, I will return.

She has taught me so much in each of the visits, especially about how I am to love her Son. That is a much longer story to share.

Red Rope at the Cambril door

Yesterday, as I left the Cambril for the last time this visit, I place the Red Rope across the entry to the Chapel, just as I had first seen it years ago. I took a picture, to remember. I put it back the way I found it and walked away.

It is still raining. I went back to the hotel to claim my luggage. Being early to meet Father Toni, who offered to take me to the train that would get me to the airport on time, I waited at the hotel where it was warm and dry. At the appointed time I went to the parking area. We loaded my luggage into the car and off down the winding mountain road to the station. Thank heaven for Father Toni’s help to get me through the ticket machines and on to the correct platform and the train headed in the correct direction.

The train arrived on the opposite track of what we expected. Quickly we said goodbye and off I went toward Barcelona.

When I arrived at P. Espanya the ticket agent spoke English and explained that it would be easier for me to go back three stops toward where I had come from, because there was a direct connection into the Airport Terminal. A much easier way than to attempt a bus from here. He was very kind and let me re-enter using the same ticket to go back to Europa Firma and then switch to the Metro Line 9 directly into Terminal One where I was departing on Vueling Airlines.

I asked several people where to locate the airline desk. No one seemed to know what I was talking about. Now I am wondering if I am at the correct airport…just a little bit of panic! Finally, I was referred to an information desk. The agent knew immediately what I was asking. Then I realized what the problem was. I don’t know how to pronounced ‘V’. The more I emphasized the VVVVVV, the more confused others were. Now I remember as the agent speaks the name back to me “Bueling”, VVVV is BBBBB in Spain.

I located the desk on the third floor and stood in a very long line to check in. Although I was over an hour early, I was worried about missing my flight. Once my baggage was checked in, I was directed to Passport check in. When I got there, I was somehow misdirected. I assume all responsibility for these slip ups. It is all about LANGUAGE!

I couldn’t find my flight listed anywhere. I stopped a gentleman in a uniform that looked like he might be able to help. It is getting close to my departure time. He says that I am in the wrong place. This is the second time today, first at the train and now here at the airport. I’m in the wrong place.

Have you ever found yourself in the wrong place? 

Wondered how you got there, thought you did everything right and still are in the wrong place?

What does it mean to be in the wrong place?

Were you in the wrong place if everything works out the way it was intended to work out?

What purpose, or good outcome was the result of being in the wrong place?

Has it ever happened that the very place you planned to be is truly the wrong place?

Have you ever wondered if it is the place or is it you that is wrong?

He marks my passport and delivers me to a different area. I see my flight listed and realize I have a long walk to get to the gate before boarding begins.I have to move very quickly to get to the departure gate. Breathless and overheated, I arrive at Gate 41 - the flight is late!!! thank you. I run to the rest room. I come back. Still no plane in sight! I hurry to the water fountain and fill my water bottle. Now I am ready to board. I go back to my place in line.

Eventually we are all boarded and seated. 7F is my window seat and I am grateful that in the very full plane, the middle seat is left unoccupied. I have a little room to stretch. I am exhausted from the stress of the journey. I sleep for a little while. I awake in time to purchase a bottle of mineral water. All day, I have been eating the sandwich I purchased the day before at the Café in Montserrat. I finish it on the plane. I will get to Amsterdam and have a nice dinner tonight.

After gathering my luggage, I go to the ticket machine to attempt to figure out how to get to Ijmuiden where I am staying, close to the port where the ship is to dock. A family is there purchasing their tickets. I ask if they speak English. Could they help me purchase a ticket? The woman knows I am going to Ijmuiden, seems to know me. I must look confused. She explains that we spoke standing in the line waiting for the airplane in Barcelona. She and her husband were returning from taking their son, Jon to Barcelona to celebrate his start of High School. This was a family tradition for each child as they passed into High School.

They looked at the map that I had screen shot the day before of the journey and determined that I would be taking the same train as they were. They assisted in the purchase of the ticket. When it was time for me to exit - in three stops - Jon reminded me to get off the train. I did.

I asked around the station about how to get to Ijmuiden, the Train folks said there was no train. I was directed to follow Bus signs - outside and downstairs. I exited the building. Busses parked in a row all along the left of the large station lot. I was making my way to the building hoping to find an office to make inquiry. The very first bus I walked passed read: Ijmuiden.  I asked the driver if she was going near the address I had in my phone.

She didn’t know how close she could get me. Her bus number was a little different than the one in the directions. She said she thought it could be very close. She was leaving now. 

I decided to risk it. With all my luggage I went to the back of the bus. I didn’t like being so far from the driver in case she could indicate where I might get off. I had myself sandwiched into a seat with backpack on my lap and suitcase on the seat next to me to clear the isle.

Signs flew by. Ijmuiden. I realized that this was a large area. Many signs said Ijmuiden. Bus stop after bus stop indicate IJmuiden. I was getting a bit fidgety wondering if I should be getting off. Finally, something in me said. Get your stuff together and make your way forward. this was a major task: lifting the luggage down, wrapping the backpack on, moving from the back to the front of the bus. I did. 

The driver looked at me and said, “I checked with some of the passengers. This is your stop.” Just like that. I was directed off the bus and told the direction to walk. I did. 

Amazed.

Amazed at the timing. 

Amazed always at how I am cared for, even if there is a bit of drama. 

Amazed I always get where I am going, even when I don’t have a clue!!!

I didn’t see the street name anywhere: Kennemerlaan. The spelling of words here in Holland is so different from Spain. Another immersion experience.

A man walking his dog, coming toward me. I have a fanny pack around my waist, a backpack on my back, I am dragging a roller duffel behind me. I think he took pity. I asked if he could direct me. He read the address I pointed to on my phone screen. “Yes, just here. Follow this street. You are at 300. Must go to 118. Not far. This side of the street. I know the place. You are fine.”

At that I was on my way, quickly snuggled into a wonderful clean room. Unpacked, changed clothes, went out for a walk. Got lost. Needed to ask directions back. My phone is not providing Google Maps because I have gone from Spain to Holland. I will take care of that in the morning so that I can walk. Walk without getting lost!

Last item. I ate at the Greek Restaurant in the same building as the Hotel Velsen. Food was wonderful and plentiful. I took more than half back with me for tomorrow’s meals.

I’ll bet you asked yourself a lot of questions as I share this part of the journey. Please share them with me. I know, the day was full of questions, but the best part is always the answers that often arrive in ways that I cannot explain.

Ever experience receiving an answer you were seeking and not recognizing you received it?

or

Ever wonder as you held the answer, what your question was?

A day of answers held!

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