What I like about being a tour-ist

H. and I are back from two-and-a-half weeks in Europe, on a Mennonite Heritage Tour in the Netherlands, northern Germany, and Poland. We were a small group: five of us from Saskatoon, Winnipeg, and Toronto, plus tour leader and driver Ayold Fanoy, a Dutch Mennonite. It was full, varied, and interesting. We visited sites relevant to the Mennonites/Anabaptists, who originated in Europe in the early sixteenth century, and also places of more general interest, such as Berlin, Krakow, and Auschwitz. We drove some 3600 kilometers through cities, towns, and countryside on our way from one place to another.

Can you tell I'm a tourist?

I’d taken along Carolyn G. Heilbrun’s The Last Gift of Time: Life Beyond Sixty, to read on the plane and in rest periods, and discovered she disliked travel, had “never been a sightseer, never understood the attraction of having been somewhere, taken pictures, had the sights pointed out, and then returning to inflict the details of your journey upon acquaintances.”

“Touring” is an odd kind of endeavor, to be sure, for we touch down upon places briefly, and what we snatch up by our “tourist gaze” is usually what we’re told is worthwhile or necessary to see. It’s a visual encounter above all; we arrange our memories with the eye of a camera and our views are numerous and fleeting.

I’m convinced, however, that even first and brief impressions have merit. We may be creating context by what we do and it may be superficial, yes, but in the process we can gain or deepen the context of what we already know. There’s surprise in nearly every day, it seems, and to me it’s the surprises that make travel a pleasure. Best of all, curiosity is aroused for further exploration.

At least that’s what I like to think our weeks of travelling, the six of us looking together, accomplished. We saw many things new to us. Admittedly a great deal of it has already massed — for me, at least — as an indistinguishable clutter of the baroque or monumental or beautiful. But all of us saw some things in some new ways.

I’m still sorting and sifting it all. In subsequent posts over the next few days, I’d like to share a few things that captured my imagination and interest. Mostly, I think, I’ll pick out a few encounters with women, dead or alive.

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And everywhere we turned, it was charming! We stayed two nights in this hotel in Edam, NL.

Our tour group, l-r, P. and A. Wiens, M. Sawatzky, D. and H. Dueck.

Alzheimer’s, courage, and rhubarb: link notes

On getting Alzheimer’s… I resonate with Margaret Morganroth Gullette’s hopes in “Our Irrational Fear of Forgetting” that we make “cognition-related fear-mongering shameful and rare” but also with Alan Jacob’s response that perhaps fearing losses associated with Alzheimer’s disease isn’t as irrational as she suggests. (I also liked the comments at Jacob’s post and the further link to “The Human Face of Alzheimer’s.”)

I confess to anxiety around Alzheimer’s/dementia, which rises in me particularly when words and names go missing or I forget to do something obvious. In reading these articles and reflecting on my fear of getting the disease, it occurs to me that a big part of it concerns what my children may go through should it happen to me. And that, in turn, grows out of my experiences around my late father’s Alzheimer’s and the process I’m living now with my mother’s decline — milder than his so far, but significant cognitive decline nevertheless — and the way it changes, well, everything! I’m not navigating these things as smoothly as I wish, so I project that forward to what my children may encounter, IF… Ever the mother, I suppose. (Even though, as they say, the kids will be fine!)

Brave woman… Rachel Held Evans took on Mark Driscoll, and it did some good, at least she’s graciously taking it that way. But wouldn’t it be nice to have fewer flippant comments, fewer explanations, and some “real man” changes in his attitude?

Oh, just take a break and read fiction instead… Short shorts, if you like, four of mine, over at Rhubarb magazine. Or bake a rhubarb pie. Which I certainly would, if my oven hadn’t crashed on me, that is. Repair guy said they don’t make the broken part any more. “Go shopping,” he said, sounding way too gleeful. Links to appliance places next; sigh.

Another “presence” on the web

In the crowded, changing world of publishing today, it’s imperative — at least, so writers are told (as for example, here) — to have a “presence” on the web. When I started this blog at the end of 2009, I knew that my novel, This Hidden Thing, would be published the following spring and I supposed that I would also talk about it — as I did, when it happened. I put up pages (above) devoted to my books and to that new one in particular.

I never visualized “Borrowing Bones” as being primarily a promotional vehicle for my work, however. I have found it a bit awkward, in fact, to bring my book — reviews, sightings, reader letters, book club discussions, and more — into the conversation, and so I haven’t done so much. I have no hesitation in saying that I would love for “Borrowing Bones” readers to order and read my work, especially the award-winning This Hidden Thing, if they haven’t done so already, and I will also be bold enough to say that I’m quite certain they (you) will like it a lot — because those who stop here (readers I know and readers I imagine) just seem like the kind who would!

I want to keep “Borrowing Bones” eclectic and wide-ranging and personal; I don’t want it to feel as if I’m sneaking in “sell.”

But I need a venue where I’m more fully present in my professional self.

So, I’m trying this: a new blog, a place where my work will be the focus. I invite you to take a look at Dora Dueck, and hope you’ll visit often. Thank you!