With our daughter Jackie blogging about her adventures in Spain and Portugal, I’m taking a break from my blogging. I’ll be blogging from Norway later in July. But for now…let’s stow away for some teen travel fun in Spain with Jackie. I’ll see you there.
Jackie Steves Goes to Spain, Leaving Mom and Dad Only a Blog to Read
When I was a young guy, my friends knew how well I cooked. When there was a big party, they said, “Why don’t you bring chairs?”
I still don’t bring any dishes to a party…but what I cook up is travel plans. I just love helping friends and family plan their trips. It’s what I do. In the last week, I’ve been immersed in helping plan our daughter’s Iberian escape.
(Later in the summer, Jackie will be assisting on our family tours — Rome to Paris, two weeks — orchestrating the kids’ activities. But on the way to Rome, she’s dropping into Spain for her own little vacation.)
As a parent (and her travel advisor), I’m excited to follow her adventures in Spain and Portugal. In fact, starting Sunday, I’ll be letting Jackie and her best friend, Zoe, take my blog stage and pack us all along for the adventures of two 19-year-old young women in Iberia.
With all the heavy news lately and my penchant for steering this blog into politics, their report will be a breath of fresh teenage air. Imagine just flitting around Barcelona, Madrid, and Lisbon with your BFF simply to enjoy the art, beaches, food, and boys.
Every day for a couple weeks, we’ll hear from Jackie and Zoe about their escapades. As a travel teacher, I’m personally fascinated by the party-centric hostel world that teen travelers enjoy. It’s something I can never report on. But Jackie sure can. I’ll be right there with you, commenting as the Dad 5,000 miles away to their blogs, and I hope you can travel with all of us too.
Then, when Jackie and Zoe finish their trip, I’ll hop back in: blogging from Norway, Sweden, Finland, Estonia, and Germany for the rest of July and August.
By the way, if you’d rather have anxiety-ridden and polarizing politics instead, my take on the tumult in Iran is featured in an editorial exclusive to the Seattle Times.
Where Does a Good Lutheran Catholic Eat?
I’ve been blogging for three years, and make it a point not to respond directly to comments. But so many people think I’m “anti-Catholic,” I need to address this issue. (I have been writing all day…on a roll, finishing Madrid before diving into Basque Country. But I want to organize and share my thoughts on this.)
For years, my travels have caused me to think about organized religion. (When I got my history degree at the UW, one of my favorite classes was “History of the Christian Church.”) And for years, I’ve believed that anyone who enjoys getting close to God should pack their spirituality along with them in their travels. For two decades, I walked the tightrope of being a Christian tour guide wanting to facilitate spiritual growth among the religious ones in my secular groups without offending those who didn’t have a faith.
One of my favorite tour guiding challenges was to organize “back door fellowships” on Sunday mornings, with an open, sharing atmosphere where spiritual people — from conservative Catholics to Buddhists to tree-huggers to Methodists to curious European bus drivers who’ve never seen this on a tour — would enjoy the chance to share spiritual ideas stimulated by their travels. We’d learn a few things about our bus-mates that would normally never come out in the everyday chit-chat of a tour social scene. I’d routinely get well over half the group to attend, and it was always a rewarding hour spent together. And we rejoined the group without having created a divide between us and those who choose sleep over worship that Sunday morning on the Rhine (or wherever).
My most political travel educational experiences have been as a participant in Center for Global Education tours put on by the Lutheran Augsburg College in Minneapolis. Through these, I developed the same Christian passion for “sanctity of life” that anti-abortionists have. But I defined “life” as something much broader than a fetus — rather, I kept a special focus on how structural poverty denies innocent people (precious children of God) the fulfilling life their Creator envisioned for them here on earth.
Most of the Central American staffers for CFGE were Catholics. I learned that many Catholics doing the Lord’s work in Central America are excommunicated for their “social and economic justice” politics, and they just keep on keepin’ on. I was inspired by their belief that part of their vow of obedience to the church was disobedience to the Church. (I draw a huge distinction between little-c church and big-C Church.) While many angry atheists hate God because of bad things the big-C Church has done, I cut God a little slack in that regard, knowing that Church government is made of people — as feeble-minded and plagued with greed, power, and corruption as political and business leaders can be.
Because I work observations about religion into my travel writing, I anger a lot of people unintentionally. I actually had death threats against me before a lecture in San Diego a few years ago from a fundamentalist Muslim group because I wrote that many parents throughout Islam were naming their children Saddam and Osama. The angry Muslims took my point very wrong. My point was that good people can celebrate courageous people in their culture standing up to empire (much like many good people supported Geronimo and Lenin and Spartacus and, of course, Jesus). Brutal and corrupt a dictator as Saddam may have been, to people who have a different perspective, he symbolized taking back control of natural resources from the USA. (I believe that, more than his meanness, was his downfall. There are lots of mean dictators with longevity…but not many who violate US claims to their natural resources.)
So, those San Diego Muslims thought I was insulting Islam, when I was actually explaining to ethnocentric Americans how someone so universally despised in our country could have a local following — and how good people might even name their children after him. (San Diego provided me with a police escort for my visit…and I gave the lecture without being hurt. It was kind of exciting.)
In a similar way, I can write things that some Catholics love and others hate at the same time. So, to all those who say, “Rick, stop picking on the Catholic Church, don’t disparage the Catholic Church, lay off the Catholic Church, don’t be so anti-Catholic” — let me say this: I believe Christian churches offer Christians spiritual nourishment. Like different ethnic restaurants can offer the same quality nourishment with entirely different menus, I think different denominations can serve different congregations. Spiritually, I love to “eat Lutheran.” While some would say only Baptists or Catholics or Latin-speaking Catholics or hat-wearing Wisconsin Synod Lutheran women will go to heaven, all of that seems kind of small-minded to me (and, I imagine, to God). If you want to feed your faith…just eat and eat where you like the menu. It occurs to me that “ecumenism” is one of my favorite words. I love to think it, do it, even say it. Ecumenism.
I consider myself a Lutheran Catholic (as Martin Luther would). My beautiful wife is Roman Catholic through and through. For years she was on the worship board of the Lutheran church in our little town, contributing her rich Catholic heritage to our worship style and making my church, Trinity Lutheran, a better place. I can’t ever remember wanting anything so bad as for our daughter Jackie to be accepted to Georgetown University so her mind could be nourished and shaped by Jesuit higher education and professors. Our son, Andy, has had a great four years at Notre Dame (a Holy Cross Catholic school).
Yes, my brother-in-law, John Jenkins, is the president of the University of Notre Dame. I have a tremendous respect for him — personally, intellectually and spiritually. He is an inspiration in every way. And we differ in our style of Christianity. Ten years ago, when I was writing the script for a Lutheran (ELCA) video designed to tell the story of Martin Luther and the Reformation (which we filmed in Germany), I asked Father John for help (because I strove to make a balanced script and didn’t want to offend Catholics with our history). John and I worked on it. But, finally (and wisely), John said, “For the good of our relationship, I need to end this collaboration.”
(The video was an exciting project — eventually it was sent to all 11,000 ELCA churches, and is used to tell the story of the Lutheran Church to all those congregations. It’s on YouTube and available with four other shows I’ve done with the ELCA on a “Faithful Travel” DVD at our website. Until my Iran show, it was about the toughest scriptwriting challenge I’ve had.)
But back to my brother-in-law, Father John. Today Notre Dame is embroiled in a controversy because they’ve invited President Obama to speak at the graduation ceremony. Conservative Catholics who can’t accept a leader who differs from them on the abortion issue are trying to stop the event. (They’re even pestering Father John’s dear mother.) That 95 percent of the seniors on campus want Obama to give the talk doesn’t matter to them. Some people just “know” what’s right, and can’t accept people who differ.
This is not the first controversy that Father John has confronted, and it won’t be his last. He is a principled Catholic leader making sure Notre Dame is right up there with its secular competitors as one of the nation’s leading universities. And he will not be bullied by people who think they have a lock on the definition of sanctity of life. I believe in the sanctity of life. Father John Jenkins believes in the sanctity of life. And the people threatening to stop supporting Notre Dame because Obama is coming to South Bend do, too. The idea in this country is that no one gets to be the boss of what everyone else thinks. I like it that way.
Am I anti-Catholic? Some would think so. I choose to be Lutheran — it’s just so right for me. The woman I love is a Catholic. I’ve sent both of our children to Catholic schools. I don’t hesitate to say when I believe the Church (big-C) is wrong. I love what the Catholic Church has done in supporting people in Central America. I don’t like what the Catholic Church has done (past or present) in Spain. Do I hold it (and religious wars, and pedophiles, and witch burnings, and the other things that make people really angry about Church) against God? Nope. And when I’m hungry, I’m glad there’s a good place to eat nearby — and people willing to cook.
Bungled Risk Assessment and Tragic Road Trips
Having a daughter studying at Georgetown means I have a steady stream of interesting reading coming into my email box. Jackie loves studying in Washington DC. Here’s an excerpt from something Jackie just sent that is thought-provoking:
This is from her psychology textbook, Psychology: A Concise Introduction, Second Editionby Richard A. Griggs:
“Availability in memory also plays a key role in what is termed a dread risk. A dread risk is a low-probability, high-damage event in which many people are killed at one point in time. Not only is there direct damage in the event, but there is secondary indirect damage mediated through how we psychologically react to the event. A good example is our reaction to the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks. Fearing dying in a terrorist airplane crash because the September 11 events were so prominent in our memories, we reduced our air travel and increased our automobile travel, leading to a significantly great number of fatal traffic accidents than usual. It is estimated that about 1,600 more people needlessly died in these traffic accidents (Gigerenzer, 2006). These lives could have been saved had we not reacted to the dread risk as we did. We just do not seem to realize that it is far safer to fly than to drive. National Safety Council data reveal that you are 37 times more likely to die in a vehicle accident than on a commercial flight.”
Stripping the Meat out of My Lobster Tail, I Prepare to Surf
Christmas already seems long ago, as our entire family is enjoying this year’s Christmas gift — a week in Costa Rica. I’m just relieved to be here, with the surf crashing outside of our dreamy hotel in the remote Pacific Coast beach resort of Manuel Antonio.
I was a bit edgy getting out of Seattle. Snow was stranding people wearing Santa caps at the airport. I had logged on to the airport website to check on parking, which told me that all parking lots in and near the airport were full — even people with reservations were being turned away. So, since we couldn’t drive ourselves, I had to scramble at the last minute to find a loved one to brave the icy roads to drive us there.
And that followed a bigger fright. Two days before Christmas, my daughter Jackie realized she left her passport back at her dorm in Washington DC. We scramble to get it FedExed — but had no assurance that it was actually sent, as much of the country is snowed in. So the day before Christmas, not about to risk our long-awaited family vacation over a passport stuck in a snowstorm somewhere, we spent hours in downtown Seattle getting an emergency replacement passport.
There was a long line of people, the computers were down, and snow was threatening to close the office. We were nervous, telling the woman at the counter, “This is a real emergency — our entire family vacation depends on Jackie getting her passport today.” The woman curtly responded, “It’s the day before Christmas — it’s an emergency for everybody in this line.” We do the paperwork, they declare Jackie’s existing passport lost and cancel it, and send us away for two hours while they issue the new passport — but they say that with more snow threatening, they don’t know how long they’ll be able to stay open.
Trying to relax, we got word that Jackie’s original passport is actually on its way via FedEx and should be in Seattle shortly. Then the irony sets in. If the snow closes down the passport agency office, we could actually have gone to heroics to get her existing passport to Seattle while simultaneously cancelling it, and be unable to pick up the newly issued one before we were to fly out. Thankfully, the snow held off and Jackie got her passport (which was good, since the FedExed passport never made it in time). Flying out at midnight on Christmas night worked great. A quarter tab of Ambien gets me three hours of good sleep to Houston (dreaming of a four-legged tree and two happy monkeys). We then grabbed a burrito breakfast and good coffee before catching a flight to San Jose, Costa Rica, where another quarter tab of Ambien gave me the second half of my Christmas night’s sleep. (Ambien meets Starbucks…and Ambien wins.)
I feel clueless about Costa Rica. I simply signed up for the best eight days that my friend’s Costa Rica tour company could offer. I can’t even find where we’re going on the map. It’s fun being clueless. I actually brought the last of our Christmas Satsuma oranges all the way to Costa Rica, where the customs official made me toss them out. Not knowing what plugs work here, I needlessly brought European adapters. I’m paranoid that our iPhone will be accidentally on, and we’ll be roaming 24/7, racking up a huge bill…we’d be sipping cheap drinks while going broke.
At the small San Jose airport, we climbed into a tiny six-seater plane for the herky-jerky ride over lush mountains to a jungle landing strip and a quick shuttle to the remote beach at Manuel Antonio. The flight seemed pretty dangerous, but I kept looking at the pilot and his young co-pilot, who were incredibly nonchalant as they motored their airborne jalopy into a dense cloud, managing to push the right little buttons and switches as the entire cockpit rattled away in a complete whiteout. Eventually, like a stray chunk of two-lane highway, our landing strip came into view.
The kids are into this vacation. Jackie spent much of the flight reading up on Costa Rica’s civil war, local gender issues, and lively bars near our hotel. Andy’s all for getting up early tomorrow for our guided nature walk through the national park.
I’ve never been to Central America to simply relax. As golf carts are ready to shuttle us down to the beach at a moment’s notice, I’ll do my best not to think about economic realities over the border in Nicaragua and El Salvador. Costa Rica is the Switzerland/Disneyland of Central America, and for the next week, it’s our rum/sun/fun-soaked play zone. Tonight, stripping the meat out of my lobster tail, I told my family I need to get in shape in a hurry. The day after tomorrow, I learn to surf.