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Tripped up in Beantown

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It is dawn. Mark is asleep but I have been awakened by pain. I had actually considered buying insurance for this trip.  Probably will next time. I had so much in mind for these 11 days and now it will be simply scenic drives for the foreseeable future. Yes, I have pain pills, but I take them sparingly because one very quickly builds a tolerance to codeine.  Mark is fetching and nursing - something,  I'm sorry to say, at which he has a lot of experience. At least I was still able-bodied for the MFA, one of America's truly great museums. Come for the John Singer Sargent. Be amazed by the Jamie Wyeth. Mark was gobsmacked by the latter, thus we made the exit through the gift shop and grabbed the exhibition book, adding serious pounds to the luggage.  I am blue. Mountain hikes and beach combing plans gone. Historical walks? Nope. Getting old sucks. I'm not saying I fell because I'm old. I fell because I walk fast and don't look out for obstacles. But a twenty-something w
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Derde Zondag van de Advent

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We have seen many impressive churches in Europe but I think I have found my favorite:  Sint Nicolaaskerk in Amsterdam. Facing the Central Train Station, just north of the Red Light District and "coffee shops" east and west, St. Nick retains its beauty amid the detritus of modern Amsterdam. Fittingly,  the walls are covered in wonderful paintings and gorgeous tiles. The stations of the cross are each huge scenes of about 10x15 feet painted onto the wall and the painter, Jan Dunselman, labored on them for 40 years. St. Nicholas is the patron saint of seafarers and the fate of this city has always been tied to the sea.  Tonight we attended vespers there. The 11 monks and priests came up the main aisle in their plain white robes and chanted, in Latin, the evening prayer. It was lovely.
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