Same Book, New Cover

 2020 hasn't been all bad... On May 23 my publisher from Red Adept, Lynn McNamee, and my mentor, Erica Lucke Dean, called -- out of the blue -- to discuss a new cover for The Existence of Pity! 

Erica is an amazing author AND a wiz at everything to do with images, and I think she hit it out of the park with this one! 

Josie and Aaron are standing by a lovely Colombian lake, maybe Lago Calima, and the Andes mountains are behind them. If you have seen Lago Calima, do you agree? 

And in other news, soon, very soon, The Existence of Pity will have a little sibling! I will keep you updated on my second book, so stay tuned! 

WanderTHEMES Travel Changes Lives

Carlos Munoz and I went to the same school in Cali, Colombia: Colegio Bolivar. We met up on Facebook after many years, and when I saw what he was up to, I had to learn more! Here's what I found out.
Hello Carlos! What is your company called, and when did you start it?  WanderTHEMES Experiences. I started working on it in my head in 2014. Real steps began in February 2016. My registration in the state of Texas is July 17, 2016.
What do you do?  We do custom designed theme travel. Our team is uniquely knowledgeable about the world. We have traveled and lived everywhere. We can take you to places, events, and activities no one else can! So let us know where you would like to go and/or what you would like to do and we will design your trip for you. We also have our signature experiences that have excited travelers before you.

Being the owner of WanderTHEMES seems like the dream job for travel buffs. How did it come about?  Actually as an advertising/marketing professional all my life I really focused on how people experienced life and things. I was driven by a desire to find out the why of people's and nationalities' behaviors and how they affected others. You, Jeannie, had a unique experience in Colombia and your Colombian-ness shows just like it does the other MKs (that's missionary kids).
I also started a Master's in Historical Research later in life (almost finished--in thesis stage). My focus is the Mexican Revolution, a country I lived in for 11 years and where my kids grew up. I, too, have a little Mexican-ness, it's in my heart. It is this search for deeper things and other countries that took me to create WanderTHEMES. I want to help people write many travel stories and have travel change lives. When the moment came to change careers and technology allowed it, I started WanderTHEMES.
What has been your favorite travel experience with WanderTHEMES?  My first booking. It was with a group of horseback riders from Cali's Club Campestre (that's Country Club) who now live in Germany, Thailand, Dominican Republic, Bogota, and Cali. They wanted to re-connect and I created an experience on a ranch between Idaho and Wyoming. They are going to drive 40 unbroken horses 140 miles in 6 days. It'll be a full experience, with a chuck wagon, tents, and all. great horses. They are so excited!
The travel researching new places and things to do is always my favorite, but as a moment, I would say that was it.
What is your favorite story about your travels with WanderTHEMES?  Last year I went on a trip with a group in Mexico. We caved for many hours in the dark, rappelled down holes in the ground so deep, 40-foot trees grew way down at the bottom. The days were full of intense experiences, like jumping 20 feet into the water in the dark. We had to trust our guide and just jump--the water was down there. We then floated down an underground stream for a long time, crossing caves the size of cathedrals. When we got to daylight we actually missed the dark! Needless to say, we became very close to the group and I realized how these intense experiences connected us on a deeper level.
And finally, since this is "A Writer's Cup," what's in your cup?  Depends on the time. I drink black Colombian coffee in a big cup so it's not a tinto (a small cup of sweet coffee). About 3 cups in the morning. Water most of the day, because I dehydrate easily. Soda the rest.
To find out more, go to the WanderTHEMES Facebook page:  https://www.facebook.com/WanderTHEMES/
their website: http://wanderthemes.com/
or Instagram:  @wanderthemes_travel
Thank you, Carlos! Maybe we can design a trip based on The Existence of Pity and see the sights in Cali, then head to San Andres Islas like Josie did! Thanks for your time, and happy travels!

Bringing "The Existence of Pity" to Life, Part 2

Here's an excerpt from "The Existence of Pity" and some pictures of the seminary in Cali.

"The Baptist college campus was the only place where I felt truly safe in Cali.

Even in my house, with Brandy barking at anyone who passed by, I felt a vague sense of unease, that I wasn't completely protected. But the seminary was surrounded by a high brick and metal fence, and a gun-wielding guard was on duty at all times. I could roam the wide open space in peace, missing Aunt Rosie and thinking about Alejandro.

I wandered around the campus the day Aunt Rosie left, ending up in the library on the second floor of the main building. Only a few students were sitting at the tables between the bookshelves, and I walked out to the balcony, where bougainvillea was taking over. I liked to study the scale model of old Jerusalem on display in a glass case, with its tiny people and elaborate temple.

After a glance at the model, I looked around to make sure no one was watching me. I stole inside the library again and searched among the concordances, books on ancient languages, and inspirational stories, until I found a book about the saints. Flipping through its pages, I came across the perfect saint for my problems. I wrote his name on a piece of paper and headed back home."  

Bringing "The Existence of Pity" to Life

The setting of my novel, The Existence of Pity, comes from my youth. I grew up as a missionary kid in Colombia, South America, but I certainly didn't experience the conflict Josie faced. This is a picture of our house as it looks now. The current owner has made it more beautiful, but I miss the towering bougainvillea around the front door.

Cali's Baptist Seminary

Here is just one of many photo of the Baptist Seminary across the street. Although much of the land has been sold, the open fields and grand buildings make the place as impressive as ever. 
 
 What follows is an excerpt from my book about the Plaza de Caycedo:

Plaza de Caycedo

Cali's downtown streets swarmed with people as we headed toward the park to sit on thick concrete benches under towering palm trees. Some Colombians were dressed for work, moving quickly past us, while others relaxed with their friends in jeans and T-shirts.
"That looks fun," I said, pointing to a group kicking a soccer ball around.
"Yeah." Aunt Rosie leaned back and closer her eyes. "Do you realize, Josie, we could be anywhere in the whole world?"
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know; it just seems like people are the same wherever you go. Every city has a park for people to hang out in, and it usually has a statue of an important person in the middle." She opened her eyes and pointed to the bronze image of a man clutching a flag. "Who is that, anyway?"
"I'll go find out." I jumped up to read the plaque. Returning, I told her the statue was of a man who helped Cali gain its freedom from Spain. The park had been a public market in the 1600s.
As cathedral bells rang out, I looked around the old park with new eyes, wondering how much -- or how little -- had changed in three centuries. When the bells finally stopped chiming, I pulled out my camera to take pictures.
"I'm glad you like your new camera," Aunt Rosie said.
"Maybe I'll become a photographer for National Geographic one day." I took a picture of the statue with palm trees behind it, then one of the soccer ball flying in the air. "I'll travel the world, visiting all those parks."

A Hurricane of Love at La Ermita

Built in 1678,  the small Catholic church called La Ermita (The Hermitage) was a simple structure on the Rio Cali. When an earthquake destroyed it in 1925, rebuilding it to it's current beauty took from 1930 to 1942. Now you'll find images of La Ermita in every montage, collage, or homage to the city of Cali. It's the jewel of Cali's crown.

This neo-gothic church is inspired by the Ulm Cathedral, Germany, although it's a miniature of the giant original.

On a visit to Colombia with my family two years ago, we stopped at the church and my daughter and I stepped inside while a service was in progress. We only stayed a few moments -- to breathe in the atmosphere and to feast our eyes on the beauty -- and in those few moments, the words of the kind priest pulled me in. "Let us offer the world a hurricane of love," he said. I've been through hurricanes. That's a lot of love.

La Ermita plays a pivotal role in my novel, The Existence of Pity. Here's an excerpt.

All my life, I had seen La Ermita in passing, and I had studied the gray and white spires that were so ornate they looked as thought they belonged in Europe. I smiled at La Ermita's elaborate steeple, which reached toward heaven, not one bit sorry for its extravagance.

"Venga, mona, we don't have all day," Blanca said, pulling me inside the sanctuary. "I still have work to do when we get home."

Photos by Chris Zokan

She opened one of the heavy doors, and the beauty of the church stole my breath. I took two steps in, admiring the stained-glass windows, the large statues, and the altars. Our Baptist church was nowhere near as beautiful. In our church, simple rows of wooden pews faced a pulpit and a pool to baptize those who wanted to be born again. In La Ermita, I could feel the presence of something greater than myself something that had been there long before me and would remain long after I was gone. Our church had love, but in the Catholic church was... majesty.  

Want to read more? Click on the cover of The Existence of Pity for your own copy.

Stepping Off the Plane

I left Colombia at seventeen to go to college at Baylor University, and nearly flunked out because of culture shock. Merriam-Webster says it's "a feeling of confusion, doubt, or nervousness caused by being in a place (such as a foreign country) that is very different from what you are used to."

The displaced feeling never left, but I managed to graduate four years later and move to Washington, DC.

Living in the capital was a thrill. I loved walking down the busy streets, stopping for motorcades, visiting the museums, and finding all the statues spread around town. Every once in a while, though, I still pined for my childhood. "Life was so much better in Colombia," I'd tell anyone who would listen. The cold DC winters and the hectic pace wore me down, and the people, although friendly enough, didn't have the warmth and caring I grew up knowing.

One cold January day I was missing Colombia yet again when a new thought stopped me in my tracks. If I missed it so much, why not go back?

The idea took shape in my mind; maybe I could work at Colegio Bolivar, the American school I attended. Plenty of young Americans took jobs overseas, and I already knew the language. Why not me?

I set up an interview with the school and found another job opening in sales, then bought my ticket and headed to Cali. I could hardly contain my excitement in those days leading up to the trip. One way or another, my life was about to change!

On the airplane, I pressed my nose to the window as we approached Cali's airport, studying every mountain and cloud and village below me. Everyone clapped when we landed safely, the crew rolled the stairs up to the airplane door, then I stepped into the warmth of the balmy Colombian afternoon, and..... I knew immediately.

I knew I didn't belong in Colombia anymore. I loved Cali, but my life was in the States.

My stay was wonderful, even though I turned down both jobs. I visited friends and places, and didn't look back when I headed home again. And when I thought of Colombia after that, it was with a nod to an excellent past, and peace with the new life I was making for myself here.

Souvenirs from Colombia

One of my favorite things to do in Cali is find souvenirs, and the more unusual they are, the better.
Back home, I love how they catch my eye on my dresser or on a shelf above my desk, and remind me of a moment, or a story, or a loved one. The Cristo Rey statue reminds me of the trip my dad and I took up to the mountaintop one windy day. My Conchita cup from Juan Valdéz came with the cute burro and reminds me of delicious granizados, iced coffee with sweetened condensed milk, shared by my family and my brothers' families on a hot afternoon in Cartagena.

 This little metal piece of art was created  one cool and clear night at the Belalcazar Statue. A caleña made it for us by bending one long wire as she spoke to us about her unique craft. Under the star it says, "J y C," Jeannie and Chris, then O for Olivia, and N for Natalie.
There's no leaving Colombia without the trademark fabric art with it's bright, bold colors and designs. I remember pouring over all my choices until I decided this pink-haired girl with chickens all around was for me.
What are your favorite souvenirs? Where are they from?

We've Just Landed!

In early March of 2014, my parents moved to Cali, Colombia. Dad found a retirement home there where he and Mom could live together, even with her Alzheimer's. The adventure worked out surprisingly well -- for a while.

Looking back, I remember how emotional it felt to have them go. I won't forget the panic that gripped me when Mom turned to me with fear in her eyes as they wheeled her into the airport security checkpoint. What were we doing?! But Mom in her fragile state and Dad in his characteristic confidence sailed safely off into a completely unknown situation, and not for the first time. If they had gone to any other city, I doubt if I could have accepted the move. Cali, though, was where I grew up. I loved this city and never dreamed I'd get to see it again. I knew I would love visiting my parents in Cali, and sharing the country with my husband and daughters proved deeply rewarding.

The home my parents stayed in was beautiful and the people could not have been more kind and attentive.  But in the end, two and a half years later, it was just time for Mom and Dad to come home.

My brother John and his wife Karin flew down to escort them back to Atlanta, and at 5:09 pm yesterday I received a text that said, "We've just landed." I didn't realize until that moment how much I missed having them in the same country again. Relief doesn't begin to cover it.

I know I'm not the only one who will miss being able to say, "My parents live in Colombia," but living in Atlanta will be pretty cool, too. My brother Dan and his wife Michele found an amazing place for them to live called Southside Personal Care Home. This licensed facility has a team of three people who take care of five residents in a large, comfortable house. I foresee homes like these becoming the favorite choice for those in need of care. This link has a few pictures.
 http://www.aplaceformom.com/community/southside-personal-care-home-1376858
It's doubtful I'll grow to love Atlanta as much as Cali, but my family plans to visit my parents soon, and no international travel will be required.

Cartagena Revisited



La Sonesta Hotel

Castillo San Felipe de Barajas

It wasn't easy, but we managed to pull it off. My parents  and Mom's nurse flew north to Cartagena, Colombia while we four kids and our families flew south. We met at a beautiful hotel on the beach and for four days we swam in the Caribbean and in the pool, drank delicious coffee and exotic fruit juices, and saw the sights. Cartagena has an amazingly rich history dating back to the 1500s. The mountain-sized fort, the 17th century monastery on a hill, the walled city with a French Quarter feel, were fascinating to share with the kids. But this wasn't my first trip here. Twenty-two years ago Chris and I saw the same sights. And though some things haven't changed in centuries, two decades completely altered others, like the dear family surrounding me. I can only hope all of us will have the opportunity to vacation together again.   (Photos by Chris Zokan)



Walled City at Night

 To read more about Cartagena, click on this link. What a world we live in!  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/bob-schulman/spanish-superfort-is-a-mu_b_4051138.html



Cartagena de Indias

 





Colombia 7: The Spice of Life

I am beginning to understand Cali better. Longtime friend John Palencia takes us on a drive and as motorcycles thread through traffic, horns honk, and overloaded buses lumber along dedicated lanes, he explains Colombia. It is an "emergent economy" and as such is making sweeping changes. Changes that sweep away my past. I find out the city knocked down blocks of houses in the neighborhood of Ciudad Jardin to build an incomprehensible amount of businesses;
perfectly beautiful homes replaced by big square buildings with neon signs hawking cars and clothing and meat and phones.
But I learn space for expansion wasn't the only reason to knock down those homes. Some of them were built with drug money, and Colombia is doing all it can to distance itself from the horrific drug wars in its past.
It's nice to understand the changes, but I can't describe my joy when I recognize the old San Fernando church. It is exactly as I remember it all those years ago, and it reminds me I truly am in the city of my youth. 
We shop some, but mostly ride around in the car and soak it all in. I love the unexpected differences between this culture and mine, choices that bring variety - the spice of life. It is lovely to be here. The people are beautiful, alive, busy becoming a country. They are improving their world, leaving my memories behind, and I am realizing I don't belong here.
After college and before I met Chris, I came back to Colombia intending to live here. But as soon as the attendant waved me off the airplane I knew this beautiful place wasn't mine. It's still true today, but that doesn't change how much I love Cali. If anything, my unrequited love is only stronger, and I'm glad Colombia is thriving.

http://www.cbsnews.com/videos/colombias-resurgence/ 

Colombia, Part 6: Colegio Bolivar

To get right to the point, Cali's Colegio Bolivar is an amazing school. Anyone with the very good fortune to attend even one grade - from pre-kinder to 12th - is beyond lucky.
Today Dad, Dan, and I walk around the American school and as I sift through memories about good friends and teachers, the library and the gym, musicals and bake sales, I'm amazed all over again. Even as a child, I knew this was a special place, and it's more beautiful than ever. There's one thing they shouldn't have changed, though. The classrooms used to have only three walls, and they've added half-walls to the open side. I used to love looking outside at birds hopping along tree branches and at people walking along the center walkway, and those half-walls are really cutting down on some great distractions. 
Over the years my memories of Colombia have seemed less and less believable, and that's why I'm so glad to come back to Cali. Fellow schoolmates, you aren't dreaming. It really is wonderful here.
We take the scenic route back to Mom and Dad's house, and Mom knows us and is glad to see us all. After a delicious lunch of fish, rice, plantains, and more lulo juice, siesta is in the air. I settle in beside Mom, who's napping already. I watch her and remember that horrible day, May 17, 2012, when Dad called and said Mom didn't know who he was. I visited as soon as I could, and found her moving puzzle pieces around a perpetually unfinished puzzle. She wanted to go to her mother's house.
A part of me understood her dementia but another very stubborn part could not accept it. I drove myself crazy trying to make Mom's words true, at least in the beginning, when she was so convinced herself. I've never felt like I had such a strong grasp on reality - Lord knows reality is overrated anyway - so maybe Mom was right. Only she wasn't. Her mother was long gone, her mother's house, too, and there were no hobos in her neighborhood.
When I drove home after that first horrible visit, south on I65 from Montgomery, my heart hurt so badly I could barely breathe. But then Olivia called to let me know she was home from school and was wondering when I'd get there. I took a deep breath and assured her I'd be home soon. I didn't tell her she had just saved me. She and Natalie and Chris needed me, and for them I wouldn't fall apart.
Now I look at Mom and touch her hand. She's gone to me, safe from any lasting heartache. She opens her eyes and smiles. "Hey, darlin'," she says, like she has a million times before.
 P.S. Thank you to Jaami Clement Palacio, Sara Meneses, Carla Uribe, and Jennifer Tiffin for a lovely school visit!   http://www.colegiobolivar.edu.co/website/index.php/en/


Colombia, Part 5: Paradise

I am awakened on my first day in Cali by the aroma of the world's best coffee. Laughter floats in from the veranda.
Through my window, I see the sun is reflecting off the Farallones - a high jagged mountain range nearby. I am going to love being in Cali again.
I walk onto the porch and can't believe my eyes. My parents live in a park! This assisted living home has a huge yard with a pool, tall mango trees and shorter palms, an umbrella table, a soccer field, and birds of all kinds. Small storks, red-winged black birds, mockingbirds. Two canaries come up to our table for bread crumbs. Dad, still a romantic after 56 years, has named them Jimmie and Marilyn.


Maria's view over the kitchen sink

The cook (Maria) and the nurse (Lysett) are friendly and fun, and are excellent at taking care of my parents. If Mom has to have Alzheimer's, I'm glad it's here, in their loving hands and surrounded by this beauty. It's a cool morning, and they serve my favorite foods: lulo - a delicious fruit drink; pandebono - cheese bread; and café con leche - coffee with milk. Mom seems to remember me, and I am in paradise.

Colombia, Part 4: Thank God for Cristo Rey

"Linea unica, por favor," - with its translation "Unique line, please,"- is the sign greeting Dan and me as we get off the plane. I'm soaking everything in and the wade through immigration goes quickly. We make our way out the door and into the overwhelming throng, but Dad's smiling face in the center of the sea of Colombians is a reassuring sight.

Cristo Rey Hovering Over Cali

The airport used to be far from town, but Cali has grown toward it and on the drive I search for something, anything, that looks familiar. The city is so changed it's another place entirely. I'm disheartened that 25 years has turned Cali into a stranger and I wonder if this is how Mom feels; lost in a world that was home. 

I'm relieved when Cristo Rey, a distant speck in the sky, comes into view. At least he hasn't gone anywhere, even if he is now surrounded by cell phone towers.

Mom and Dad's street in the Daytime

Mateo, our driver, turns off a main road, then makes a quick left and pulls up to a huge white wall. We've arrived at Mom and Dad's assisted living home. It's a lovely house, feels very safe, has a pool and a veranda, and there are many people around to help out.

I'm thrilled to see Mom, but she isn't sure of me. Dad tells her I am her daughter and she looks suspicious. She smiles her distant smile, not my dear mom's smile for me. She loves her nurse, the cook, and everyone who looks after her, and Dad seems well. He is in high spirits. I leave the room and come back and Mom asks, "And who is this?" It breaks my heart and pisses me off at the same time. I hate this Alzheimer's. 

I've noticed there are no bugs, and can't wait to tell my Natalie. No bugs! No mosquitoes, no cockroaches, a moth or two, and some salamanders, but that's it. The weather feels damp and cool, like it just rained, and it's unbelievably quiet. A dog barks occasionally, a car drives by, but otherwise this house, with it's windows open wide to a neighborhood full of people, is silent. This is truly a different world, this city of 3 million. It's still hard to believe the number now includes my parents. But tomorrow I will see Cali in the daylight, and I can't wait.

Colombia, Part 3: Next Stop, Cali

 The Miami Airport's North Terminal is a wonderland. Even the air smells better, but that's because of the expensive perfume shops. The floor is inlaid with gorgeous pearlescent shells and sea life, and -- is everyone more good-looking? I love this, even if it feels like a weakness to enjoy such ritz.
Dan and I head for our gate, find chairs, and get comfortable. I doze, exhausted from being up since 3:30 am. I am aware, even as I rest, of more and more people surrounding me. Finally, I sit up, a kink in my neck, and Dan and I kill time talking about our kids, Mom and Dad, and how much flying takes out of a person. I swear it's because of the noise of the engines.
When it's time to board our flight, I call Chris and Natalie at home, then Olivia on her cell phone, to say goodbye. The flight will be three hours, seventeen minutes and the next time I am on land will be in Cali, Colombia, the city of my youth. We rise over Miami and it seems we barely miss the skyscrapers on the beach. We are immediately over water, and soon we are over land again: Cuba, they say. They serve us delicious snack dinners, then I listen to jazz and look out the window. I see the ocean end and Colombia begin, and am in awe of the clouds building up over the land. It's silly, I know, but I feel safer with that bouncy castle of white beneath me.
Soon we will see the Andes, and I push the tragic memory of Flight 965 carrying Ariel Felton and Catalina del Corral out of my mind. That flight, and those school friends, didn't make it over the mountains in 1995.
The sun is dipping beneath us and the sky, still blue, is rimmed with pale yellow. As I sit, my forehead pressed into the window, I try to separate what is new about this experience and what I grew up loving about flying. Speed; I always loved the overwhelming speed that makes flight possible. And those clouds. The cold, forced-fresh smell of the airplane's oxygen. The sense that I'm closer to God up here. The music in my eats that separates me, making me feel alone on this wing.
So what is new? Chris. The girls. The fact that I am thinking of them at every turn, and missing them. And Alzheimer's. That's new.
 The pilots lowers us into wispy clouds that will envelop us and darken the night around us. I remember this morning when tears stung my eyes as Chris glided down the escalator, waving goodbye. I'm on my own now, and I feel a momentary sense of rebellion. I didn't want to take this trip. After years of travel (my old passport opens like an accordion, stamped full) I am now a homebody. I didn't choose for my parents to move so far away. It all feels so dangerous, so frightening. I want my little life back. But I need to see my mom.
Then our airplane drops below the clouds and city lights shine in the distance. I can't deny the thrill I feel at seeing Cali, my beautiful Cali again. Like it or not, my world is about to get bigger once more.
Here is a link about Miami's North Terminal. Have you been there? http://www.miami-airport.com/app_north_terminal.asp