A Few of Our Favorite Vacation Sites and Sights

We’re Not in Nebraska Anymore
by Marilyn Moore 

Traveling to Africa had been a dream of mine from my days as an undergraduate history major, which included a course in African history.  I wanted to see it; I wanted to see it all.  “All” is a pretty big word when it comes to Africa, so I narrowed that scope to “African land, sky, plants, and animals,” over the course of several decades.  The opportunity came in 2013, when I traveled with a group of about twenty adventuresome folks, led by John Chapo of the Lincoln Children’s Zoo, to the Okavango Delta in Botswana. 

On our first morning out and about in the lush and gorgeous meadows and marshes, I noted that much was familiar; it kind of looked like and felt like the river bottoms of Nebraska, with abundant trees and shrubs and grasses, occasional deer, a warm and humid feel to it.  That’s how my brain works when confronted with something new; I try to link the “new” to something familiar, to understand what I’m seeing.  Then, after several miles of meandering, we rounded a curve, and there they were, a pair of giraffes, perfectly posed, like they were waiting for us.  They weren’t of course; we were just an interruption in their morning routine.  But it was a wow moment for me.  I could only say, “We’re not in Nebraska anymore.”  Days and days of wondrous sights were before us; none would surpass this moment. 

*****

China
By Mary Reiman

 Thanks to my friend Susan, I had the opportunity to walk on a section of the Great Wall of China. 6,443 miles from my usual walking path.

 China, a country I thought I would only ever see through the eyes of National Geographic photographers or the History Channel. 

And the highlight of the trip...looking into the pits of the terracotta army. Wrapping my head around the fact I was standing among sculptured figures of soldiers, chariots and horses, buried with the first emperor of China, Qin Shi Huang, in 248 BC to protect him in his afterlife. The pits were found by local farmers near Xi’an in 1974. They had been buried for 2000 years. Yes, 2000 years!

 Approximately 8,000 terracotta soldiers created with amazing specificity, including a variety of facial expressions, headgear, hairdos, costumes, armor, belts, belt hooks, boots, and shoes. Seeing them in photographs is fabulous. Watching a television special about this discovery was impressive. Seeing them in person was almost beyond belief. An incredible journey.

*****

The Intimacy of Wonder
By JoAnne Young

I fill myself with ocean sights for the long stretches I spend without them. The waves, the soft sand, the milky horizon and the rising and dipping sea birds … and that something-something in the salty, always present ocean breeze – they take away my mental discipline and empty my head. My favorite coastal views are 2,500 miles apart: La Jolla, California and Ponce Inlet, Florida. I know there are more stunning shorelines, but I also have family connections that add to my devotion.

In La Jolla (La HOY-a), tide pools pocket the craggy beaches, where the pounding surf has worn down rock and hard sand. I once met a green crab there who had been pushed from a high tide into a shallow pit, along with sea plants, debris and other tiny creatures. It was her strange world and I watched as she stared back at me, then darted under a tiny ledge, then returned to lift a tiny claw at me.

That’s the thing about the ocean. You can live moment to moment there, mesmerized by the wonder of its colors, textures, movement, patterns, rhythms, and the miles and miles of nothing but space where the blue yonder meets the breach of sea.

In Ponce Inlet, I’ve seen manatees and dolphins and even collected a sea heart, a red heart-shaped seed pod from the flowering liana, that makes its way on ocean currents carried from Central America. The sea heart bobbed along up to a year before it was plopped onto the sand where I spotted it, barely visible and scarred ever so slightly by its perilous journey.

I love the places that invite intimacy, that I can visit again and again to get to know more deeply each time and take in their wonder.     

*****

There’s No Place Like Home
By Penny Costello

There are a lot of places in the world I have yet to see, and I do hope to see them before I’m through. I’ve had the pleasure of living in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, in Colorado, in Minnesota, and here in Nebraska. And I’ve found much to love and appreciate about all of those landscapes.

But I’m a mountain girl at heart. And that started with my great good fortune of being born and raised in the Black Hills of South Dakota. The ranch I grew up on was ten miles north of Rapid City, and eight miles east of the foothills. I gazed upon them every day. To the north, I could see and feel Bear Butte, or Mato Paha to the Lakota, a long dormant volcano that juts up out of the prairie and is sacred to the Cheyenne and Lakota People. I grew up not only seeing but feeling those mountains in my soul.

My grandmother used to drive us kids through the hills, showing us where our grandfather would drive his cattle in the summer to graze. Once in a while, my mom would say to me with a twinkle in her eye, “Let’s go play tourist!” And we’d spend the day driving through the hills, visiting attractions, and loving that time together.

My memories are filled with time spent camping with family, and hiking with my friends. And as I got older, I learned about the complex history of white settlement of the area, the displacement of Native tribes that had been there for thousands of years, and the spiritual power and significance of that place.

As a high school exchange student in Germany, I got to see parts of Bavaria and the Austrian Alps. The Alps were amazingly beautiful. Yet, even while I was there, I yearned for home.

The highest point in the Black Hills is Black Elk Peak. At 7,242 feet, it’s the highest point east of the Rockies and west of the Alps. And I marvel at how lucky I am to have had the experience of viewing the world from all three of those vantage points!

But there really is no place like home. Whenever I drive through those ancient, beautiful hills, my soul is recharged, I reconnect with my history, memories, and sense of self that only comes from standing on that sacred home ground.

*****

A Tale of Frogs and Galaxies
By Mary Kay Roth

As a golden sun set over Merritt Reservoir, those frogs took us by surprise.

My children and I had spent the afternoon in a canoe on the Niobrara River belting out “Singing in the Rain,” paddling through gentle showers on our final vacation day after a week’s loop through South Dakota. Late afternoon, just as the clouds parted, we landed at Merritt to set up camp, grill out and relax as dusk settled around us.

That’s when Joshua and Anna discovered the frogs, lined up in startling, long straight rows along the shoreline.

Skipping and leaping upon the beach with complete abandon, the two kids (probably six and eight at the time) chased the critters, hopped among them, found toy buckets to gently collect them.  And as I sat atop a picnic table to watch, the tender night turning dark, their giddy fervor was infectious.

You know, I’ve seen the Taj Mahal and the Northern Lights, hiked the Cinque Terre cliffs of Italy, gone swimming in the phosphorescent pools of the Caymans.

But when I think of one moment of vacation, I always go back to Merritt and that inexplicable, overpowering sense of joy. 

Later that evening, as the embers of our fire died away, we set the frogs free and looked up into the darkest of nights and the brightest of stars, my children gazing into their own galaxy for the very first time.

Eventually, exhausted, we crawled into our sleeping bags, listening to the quiet. Until one small child’s voice broke the silence: “Do you think the frogs will still be there in the morning?”

 I hugged them close.  “You never know,” I said, “you just never know.”

*****

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