After he returned from 3 weeks in Lyon, France, Emerson offered me his journal to read. As I read, I wondered about the whys of his ways. He chatted with Marina on the first day. He struck up a conversation with Rosina and Stephan at dinner. He accompanied Romain to his workshop. Talked with Sid and Jean Pierre in the park—just to name a few local folks. Why? After walking all over the city, why did he continue going back to Place Sathonay, rather than other compelling spots? (more…)
“St. Anthony, St. Anthony, please come down
Something is lost and can’t be found”
We have a great friend, Zia. We’ve worked with her for years on various projects, and whenever we needed something that seemed to be lost, she recited this little prayer to Saint Anthony. Miraculously, it always seemed to work. Once, in fact, she located something missing in our own home because Saint Anthony told her it was on a specific shelf in the dining room cabinet. I thought it was an unlikely place, but Em encourage me to immediately go home to check it out anyway—and there it was, just like Zia said. Or just like Saint Anthony said. That experience made us believers, even though we’ve rarely used the prayer since . . . except for one particular day in France! (more…)
A few months ago, we came across a program called “Workaway.” It’s an online organization that allows people who need help to find those people who want to help. Or conversely, people who want to help, can find someone with an engaging project. The idea is simple. If you want to spend time in Norway, then find a project and volunteer. How about New Zealand? South Africa? Peru? Just send them a message and see what happens. You might be surprised. We were. (more…)
On a brisk, cool Saturday morning in September, we set out on our trek through the French countryside. From Rue de Saint Jacques in the town of Le Puy-en-Velay to Conques, toward Toulouse, the trail known as the GR 65, wends its way through some of the prettiest French villages in the country. Within minutes, we were on the pilgrims’ footpath, leading to Santiago, Spain, which overlooks the Atlantic Ocean. But we weren’t going that far . . . not even close . . . not this time. Our plan was to cover only a little over 200 kilometers (125 miles) in 10 days. Next year, perhaps we’ll walk another section. We’ll see. Our conclusion is that those medieval pilgrims were some pretty tough cookies indeed! (more…)
Bicycles have clearly been a major mode of transportation in cities around the world for decades—especially in Europe. Nothing new about that. But with each great idea comes a few new problems to solve. For example: theft, maintenance, safety, storage, and more. But those problems are becoming a thing of the past with the latest version of Bike Sharing. The third generation systems are successfully in use around the world. And, the fourth generation is arriving soon! (more…)
Lined up along the east bank of the Rhône river in Lyon France is a “Barge Subdivision.” Immediately a burning question sprang to mind: Exactly how different would that lifestyle really be and what does it take to be a “Barge-r?” (more…)
Mailman by day and architect by night. Poet and visionary. In his own words chiseled into the walls of his beloved Palais Idéal, Ideal Palace, he said the following: “In creating this rock, I wanted to prove what the will can do,” and “work of only one man.” His life is truly an incredible story of single-handed persistence and possibility! (more…)
At the visitor’s center in the small French town of Saint-Vallier-sur-Rhône, we asked the director, our new British friend Hillary what to do. We had taken the train from Lyon earlier that morning, with the intention of continuing by bus to the tiny burg of Hauterives, to visit Ferdinand Cheval‘s “Ideal Palace.” That was the plan . . . until we found out that the buses were really few and far between. The next bus would be along in 4 hours. A taxi was a logical second choice, but they’re hard to come by, and would be on the super high side of pricey. We were determined to see the Palace—hence our dilemma. (more…)
Walking down a narrow side street in Lyon, on my way for a morning coffee, I (em) caught a glimpse in my peripheral vision of what appeared to be a small salon de coiffure hommes, which basically means barber shop.
Committed to living on the dazzling edge of intuition and spontaneity, I instinctively veered to the right, and found myself standing in the doorway, face to face with Henri B. I didn’t really need a haircut, but the spirit moved me, so there we stood, in close proximity. He was a pleasant man with a gentle demeanor, but spoke no English whatsoever, nor did he want to try. Mostly, we agreed to talk intermittently without any overriding need to understand each other. (more…)
Uncommon promise 