Hagia Sofia, Istanbul

 

My visit to Istanbul would have felt incomplete without exploring the renowned Hagia Sophia. Describing this leg of the journey proves challenging as the place invoked a myriad of indescribable emotions. The ambiance within was potent, as if I were absorbing 1500 years of history in a single day. Let me offer a condensed version of the extensive history of this edifice—the Reader's Digest version, as delving deeper would be a narrative far too protracted.

Originally constructed as a Christian Church in 537 AD, the Hagia Sophia now serves as a mosque. This transformation is not unprecedented, as the building has been reconstructed three times. Its fate oscillated with the political winds of Turkey, akin to a pawn in a chess game. The current president declared its reversion to a mosque in 2020, emphasizing its openness to people of all faiths. Upon entry, females must don a headscarf, and all visitors are required to remove their shoes. Designated a UNESCO heritage site, the mosque boasts separate prayer areas for males and females.

It's a place that elicits both joy and sadness simultaneously—a witness to unimaginable events like wars, plagues, and natural disasters. For 1500 years, individuals have visited, prayed, communicated with God, and sought solace beneath its expansive rotunda. Upon entering, the adage "if these walls could talk" resounded in my mind, laden with feelings, sounds, and an ineffable energy.

The atmosphere reverberated with prayers, conversations, whispers, and an indistinct melody—an ambiance delicately poised on the verge of disturbance. My curiosity piqued about the upper levels, although I refrained from ascending. While there seemed to be people up there, it didn't appear open to the public. Nonetheless, I believe these levels hold artifacts and historical information about the temple's past as it was once a living museum, providing a panoramic view of the structure's layout.
Many Christian depictions have been removed or concealed, reflecting Islamic beliefs that prohibit images during prayer. Notably, an angel's face was scratched out in the ceiling, and scaffolding hinted at ongoing renovations. I pondered the fate of displaced artwork, questioning where it went.

Despite these changes, remnants of the building's history endure. A casket and a baptismal fountain stand near the exit, testaments to the dedicated custodians who have safeguarded the structure for 1500 years—both in spirit and body. It was heartening to see this part of history preserved, a reassuring affirmation that not every trace of the past was being erased.

Port of Call: Honduras

As a child, my imagination was enraptured by Central and South America. These lands seemed like uncharted territories, brimming with adventures. Within these exotic realms lay dense jungles concealing elusive creatures and resilient people who had adapted to flourish in extraordinary environments. From the soaring heights of the Andean peaks to the lush mysteries of the rainforests and the arid embrace of certain deserts, these regions held a magnetic pull on my wanderlust-stricken soul. The pictures I saw of these places did nothing the quell the desire to visit them.

My journey to this enigmatic part of the world began when I turned thirty and took a voyage to Peru, an experience that only whetted my appetite for more. However, Central America remained an elusive treasure, beckoning me from afar. It was only this year, as part of my annual birthday pilgrimage, that I embarked on a seafaring adventure bound for the heart of Central America. The cruise I booked had its course set for the beguiling destinations of Honduras, Belize, and Cozumel.

Honduras, a nation of profound historical significance, welcomed me with open arms. Its unique heritage bore the imprint of British influence, with English being the primary language, followed closely by a Creole tongue and Spanish. The Creole dialect exhibited such close kinship with English that, with attentive ears, one could discern the whispered echoes of its linguistic heritage. My voyage brought me to the Honduran haven of Roatán, a pristine isle inhabited by a modest population of roughly 10,000, predominantly sustained by the nurturing bosom of tourism. This idyllic sanctuary is teaming with individuals who formerly called the United States home and now reside in this glorious island.

Enrolled in an excursion artfully curated by the cruise ship, I joined a mesmerizing Monkey, Sloth, and Macaw odyssey. This expedition promised up-close encounters with these captivating creatures. While the prospect of entering a monkey cage gave me pause, I did opt to embrace the experience of holding a sloth. It was here that I held a sloth, an encounter that charmed me to the core. The sloth, christened "Cid," embodied everything I had imagined – a gentle, unhurried creature with a countenance that could melt the coldest of hearts. Our guide, a gentleman by the name of Isaac, adeptly wielded a smartphone, expertly assisting me in capturing selfies with this delightful companion.

Our visit also unveiled the White Nose Coati, an intriguing blend of raccoon and anteater traits. In Central America, they often emulate the mischief-making antics of raccoons, foraging through garbage and causing a ruckus. Personally, I found them rather endearing, though admittedly, I clung to a sliver of trepidation, akin to my uneasiness around raccoons back home.

Following our memorable encounter with sloths, monkeys, and macaws, we embarked on a bus ride to explore an iguana sanctuary. This small haven serves as a shelter for thousands of iguanas, many of whom had been nursed back to health after injuries. While these iguanas are vegetarians, they harbor a mischievous streak, capable of nipping unwary fingers during feeding. Yet, a spiky-backed intruder, an iguana of a different breed, dared to infiltrate the sanctuary. Swiftly, the vigilant workers expelled this rogue, for such creatures were known to turn predatory, those iguanas are meat eaters.

Concluding our captivating tour, we found ourselves in a charming shopping enclave known as the Macaw Market. Here, we delighted in delectable chocolate, and I, of course, couldn't resist the temptation to procure some for myself. This particular cocoa confection was a testament to the island's bounty, crafted with care and comprised of a mere four ingredients—all grown and harvested locally. It was a fitting finale to an expedition that had awakened my senses to the captivating essence of Central America

Brush Studio; An Artistic Adventure

You know, I've stumbled upon this newfound obsession that's become my ultimate muse – painting classes. I've been on a wild virtual scavenger hunt through the tangled web, hunting for these elusive local painting classes. It all started back in 2022 when I dipped my toes into the enchanting world of paint by numbers. Little did I know, I was about to embark on an addiction that would consume my creative soul. Now, I'm not exactly the poster child for natural-born artistic talent, so I'll be the first to admit that I require a generous dose of guidance, maybe even a boatload of it. That's why paint by number was such a revelation. But, my friends, let me tell you, there's something even more divine – the freehand class. It's like stepping into the arena of your own artistic destiny, with some help.











Picture this: you're in a class, armed with brushes and a blank canvas, surrounded by fellow adventurers of artistic endeavors. There's a masterpiece on the horizon, and you're about to bring it to life. Now, I recently gave a little place here in Grand Rapids a whirl – The Brush Studio. Nestled downtown on Louis Avenue, it's a fusion of modern coolness and cozy vibes. The instructor was a wise and talented master of color. She guided us through the intricate dance of crafting a background, then unleashed the music and set us free. The studio walls adorned with a kaleidoscope of artwork from various classes, creating a vibrant tapestry of creativity.


This place is like a magnet for souls of all walks of life. Picture this: a man and his four-year-old daughter, side by side in the class. It's pure magic watching that little one dive into the world of colors, following the brush strokes with glee. You see, it's not a Herculean task to keep kids focused when art is involved. There was also a couple who found their bliss here, and two pals sharing this artistic voyage. Each one brought their own unique background and skill level to the canvas.

At the beginning, you're handed a pristine canvas and a palette of colors, the essentials for your creative journey. As you sail through the artistic seas, you can choose to chart your own course by mixing and matching colors, but these initial hues lay the foundation of your masterpiece.





Now, here's the kicker – our instructor, she's not just a teacher, she's a docent of the soul. She guides you on a quest to uncover hidden facets of yourself within your art. Her instructions are clear, yet they don't shackle you to recreating an exact replica of the art before you. It's about finding your artistic voice, about adapting the colors of your flowers and discovering how to bring forth a bouquet of diverse blossoms.

Her wisdom shines through in her teaching. It's tempting to fixate on every little imperfection, constantly tinkering and tweaking until you've overcooked the masterpiece. She suggests a different route – take a step back, peruse the work of your fellow travelers, and then return to your own canvas.

The enchanting part of this whole voyage is that every piece of art that emerges from that room is as unique as a snowflake. Same paint, same tools, same guidance, yet each canvas tells a different story.

As we painted away, curious souls strolled past the large glass windows, downtown's voyeuristic windows to creativity. It struck me that I've been on the other side of those windows before, peering in, wondering about the magic unfolding within. What's that project? How do I get in on this artistic escapade? And who knows, perhaps you're brushing shoulders with the next Picasso, or maybe, just maybe, it's you who's destined for artistic stardom....