Iona: The Tucked-Away

One cannot get to Iona by happen-stance; it requires intention and patience. One must fly to Glasgow, Scotland, an interesting and rough-shaggy place in its own rite. I found Glasgow (pictured to the left) to be eerily similar to Edinburgh, but with more warnings of "don't cut through the park (by the - stunningly beautiful! - university) at night", and more...nitty-gritty realness. After that 13+ hour flight (for those of us coming from the West Coast of America), you must take a ten or so minute nervous-feeling bus ride (could just be that I'm STILL not used to the 'wrong' side of the road) to a train station where you must hop a train to Oban (pictured in a previous entry), being selective of which train car you park it for the 3 hour journey up the northern coast of Scotland; the first two cars continue to Oban and the last 4 or so split off and go to another Scottish city further inland. The journey is beautiful, taking you through sighing hills of green, thrashing trees of strength and beauty like Switzerland (with more rain). Once in Oban, you'll find the 45 minute ferry ride to the Island of Mull a rather peaceable relief from the churning of train tracks, only to be met with yet another arduous albeit scenic toss-and-jolt: the bus ride across the Island of Mull is an hour long on a narrow-even-for-a-single-lane road with passing" sections" (big enough only for cars - not buses - to pull into). The pictures are abundant for the taking, though, and the windows even created some cool glare into the shots. It was on this ride across Mull to Iona that I wrote a poem called "Beauty"; I was bold enough (apparently) to share it during "circle time" with the group of 8 wonderful women I had the privilege of sharing this past 9 days with. After my reading of it, three approached me and asked if I would read it again so they could write it down! (I started to cry).
Anyway, after the Mull bus, you take a short (10 minute) ferry across the Sound of Iona to the Island of Iona. You'll see the Iona Abbey up to the right, small crofts, shops and cute houses lining the (west) coast, and the ruins of the Nunnery more centered, as the rocking ferry slides into its dock to let you off to begin your at-least-one-mile trek to wherever you're staying. Only some locals are allowed to have cars on the island (and even then, the permits are hard to obtain) because the 150 (11 of them children) inhabitants on this 3-mile-by-1-mile island understand the delicate and, these days somewhat precarious balance their "thin" (in terms of the "already-not-yet" veil between divine and earthen) place is in. Here it is; the place of longing. The place I'd set my heart out for nearly 8 months ago, the place that sparked this summer's trip: Iona.

8 bags of Christmas

I spent much of my day surrounded by what you see pictured on the left. Matthias and Anita suggested that something I could do while I was here would be to buy a "tour ticket" for 40 CHF (about $25 - this is a good deal seeing as the train ticket I had to buy from Geneva to Bern and will have to buy again when I fly to Edinburgh on Saturday [this might be the first time on this trip I don't want to leave where I am!] was 51 CHF!) and take a train tour of Switzerland. This ticket is good for any train anywhere in Switzerland, any bus in any city in Switzerland and even, as I'll find out on Wednesday, BOATS! Matthias outlined some routes I could take, and Anita suggested some towns for me to tour so today, around 9:30 I left Bern for Domodossola (via Brig) - Domodossola is actually in ITLAY! There were several stops the train made between Domodossola and Lucarno that were flying the Italian flag! From Domodossola, I went to Lucarno - which is the (very) Italian part of Switzerland - and hopped a bus to Ascona, which was my favorite part of this whole day. I sat by Lake Maggiore for a long while, reading (this book, "TrueFaced" is absolutely incredible...it's about trusting God - for REAL), felt moved to pray, and genuinely felt some sort of lifting of the otherwise relentless "issues" I've got going on. And, I really felt like I was in Italy - I LOVED it!
I got a bit lost/was unable to find the bus back to Locarno (which is where I needed to catch a train to Zu(e)rich via Bellinzona, so I didn't get to Zu(e)rich until about 9pm, which wasn't enough time for me to really see the city and explore (especially since the train ride back to Bern is about an hour). It's ok though, because I've got a ticket for Wednesday where I will travel through a different part of the country - and get to take some BOATS according to Matthias and Anita; I'll probably go to Zu(e)rich, too, since I'll be in the area (and how many times does one get to go to Switzerland?). Train riding is very good time for....well, lots of time. And, if you're in a country like Switzerland, you can't help but praise God for the glory (read: goodness) of the wonders wrought by His hand. I mean, every view was like opening a Christmas present - I'm grateful for this earth, and am grateful for being able to feel gratitude for it, too, instead of taking the extravegent beauty created for us to enjoy along with God for granted.

(I also learned that Swiss women didn't get the right to vote until 1971 and was told by an Englishman (as in, someone who's first language is English) that I spoke very fast) :-P.