tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88874645162746229842024-03-20T00:38:35.828-07:00Who can stop a dream?Stories, memoir, essays, poems, fantasies, photos and video documenting life as I know it. Past is prologue. The present is wrapped in every fleeing moment. Future is written in dreams. Who can stop a dream? No one.Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-26553589887636521742013-06-16T06:38:00.000-07:002013-06-16T06:45:13.865-07:00Father's Day Tribute to my DadCheck out my Fathers' Day Tribute to my Dad
Here's the link to copy and paste to your browser:
http://youtu.be/-XheQXjVY3Y
Thanks!Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-32790536884344860692013-06-13T13:00:00.000-07:002013-06-13T13:37:05.594-07:00Check out my Craft Piece: Inspiration from Anne Lamott published in The Rathalla Review<a href="http://issuu.com/rathallareview/docs/rathalla_2013_spring_2.08/3?e=6739294/2914911">Inspiration from Anne Lamott by Tracy Kauffman Wood published in the latest issue of The Rathalla Review</a>Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-39057910686981031032012-09-21T10:38:00.001-07:002012-09-21T10:38:28.821-07:00Rathalla ReviewDear Community of Writers, Artists, Relatives, and Friends, <br />I am thrilled to announce the launch of rathalla review. This is a non-profit literary magazine that publishes fiction, creative non-fiction, poetry, and art. <br />Our mission is to develop a community of writers, artists, and readers through our online and print publications, monthly podcasts of original craft talks with established writers, and weekly featured podcasts collected from a variety of external sources. <br />This is a call for submissions. Here is an opportunity to publish your work internationally. Check out our website for submission guidelines and to find out more about rathalla review.<br />www.rathallareview.org<br /><br />Feel free to contact me with questions regarding submissions or other ways that you can contribute to this new literary magazine with global aspirations.<br /><br />Thanks, <br />Tracy <br />Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-29991883299361400582012-07-14T14:03:00.000-07:002012-07-14T19:37:52.966-07:00Bastille Day July 14<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg09VWfkBrEJ99k0-g9H1jkts1x_iTfbU2r5RBoG4L94D1JDrDDLBnpD_eyPPMgZzrWm9Zer-r0EIfSMezg4ELBhizR_vWiHKnFebQVL8cVMTIiAwhwhKyXNz4YmHZOe0Ke1O_TyHTsxpc/s1600-h/family+portrait.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358486791870516514" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg09VWfkBrEJ99k0-g9H1jkts1x_iTfbU2r5RBoG4L94D1JDrDDLBnpD_eyPPMgZzrWm9Zer-r0EIfSMezg4ELBhizR_vWiHKnFebQVL8cVMTIiAwhwhKyXNz4YmHZOe0Ke1O_TyHTsxpc/s320/family+portrait.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0 0 10px 10px; width: 270px;" /></a><br />
You don't have to be French to celebrate Bastille Day. Here is a memory of a Bastille Day past.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
“At
least, he died with his boots on!” my mother said. Leave it to Mom to
find something upbeat to say about a schnook like Frank Rizzo. Mom
admired that in a man -the ability to die and be done with it. <br />
We
were in line for the loo at Reading Terminal Market with my aunts Jean,
Lena and Bessie, when we heard the news that Frank Rizzo had just
suffered a massive heart attack and passed away. He was preparing to run
for mayor again (this time against newcomer Ed Rendell), and collapsed
at his campaign headquarters. Ed Rendell went on to become a two-term
mayor of Philadelphia, then Governor of Pennsylvania.<br />
This was
after lunch on July 14, 1991, and before our visit to the Museum of
American Jewish History. My older aunts were back from Florida. I
thought an outing to this museum would speak to them, acknowledging
their role in American history as the children of Jewish immigrants from
Russia. Aunt Jean had been a toddler, Aunt Lena an infant in 1909, when
they crossed the ocean in their mother’s arms, and settled in
Philadelphia. Here was an exhibit about their experience, to make them
feel acknowledged. My mom and dad, lifelong Philadelphians, always
relished a trip downtown, especially when a meal at one of their old
haunts was on the agenda.<br />
Mom wore her white-patent go-go boots
that day. She and I had matching pairs back in 1967, when I was eleven.
Mom’s still fit. I suppose she plucked them from the depths of her
closet in a spirit of rugged individualism; despite the hand-knitted
sweater and hand-me-down pantsuit she wore to please her older sisters.
And despite the fact that go-go boots became passé in 1968. Anyway, it
was midsummer, the time for white shoes. <br />
A celebration of
Bastille Day was occurring at Reading Terminal Market, delaying our
visit to the museum. Mom, Dad, I and my aunts always ready for a party,
joined the revilers, as if we knew what we were celebrating. Mom
practiced her high school French with actors, sporting berets and
ruffled aprons. Having never been to Gay Paris, she was content to make
do with a faux French field day in Philly. Aunt Bess kept serenading us
with, “Que sera sera...” until I mentioned that she was singing in
Spanish, not French. So, she hummed it for the rest of the day. I
carried our croissants and cafe au lait to a table across from a woman
and man in business attire, rapt in discussion. Aunt Jean sat down and
immediately launched into a celebrity sighting. “Gladys Knight! Gladys
Knight!” She wouldn’t stop pointing until the woman at the table across
from us looked up, and acknowledged her, first with a worried look, and
then a smile. I sunk in my chair. <br />
“Thanks for the compliment,
although I’m sorry to disappoint you,” the woman responded. “I’m not
Gladys Knight.” She returned to her discussion, and we to our
croissants. But Aunt Jean kept following people with her eyes as they
walked by, half expecting The Pips to show up after a short break.<br />
As
we were leaving I heard Gladys confide to her associate, “Y’ know, my
family thinks I look like Gladys Knight. She’s not just some crazy, old,
white lady saying we all look alike.” I shared this with my family in
the car. Aunt Jean beamed.<br />
“See, I’m not just some crazy, old,
white lady,” Aunt Jean kept repeating. She felt acknowledged. We hardly
needed to visit the museum after that.<br />
At the museum, we procured a
wheel chair for Aunt Bess. She tired easily, which we would later find
out was due to a growing stomach cancer. But for today, “hmm hmm hmm,
hmm hmm...” Aunt Lena forged ahead, accustomed to leading and
protecting her clan. Dad, despite his recent knee replacements and
cancer surgery, insisted on pushing the wheel chair. He had been a
professional boxer in his youth. This formative experience now proved
invaluable for fighting his ultimate opponent, prostate cancer. In his
zeal to prove his worth, pound for pound in the arena of aging, he
sometimes over compensated. Like on this day for instance, when he
pushed Bessie’s wheel chair in fits and starts, licking at Lena’s heels,
until Lena screeched, “Ouch! Abie, how many times do I have to tell
you..” <br />
Lena and my dad harbored a lifetime of resentment toward
each other. He resented Lena’s overprotective control of her family.
Lena resented that he was never the provider she’d expected for her baby
sister. Today they were duking it out in subtle nudgings with a
wheelchair.<br />
As usual, none of this dented my mother’s enthusiasm.
She approached each display with the exuberance and curiosity of the
baby sister and lifelong learner. This was her role in the family. Of
ten children, she was the only one to graduate high school and further
her education. The older children had to leave school in the eighth
grade, to keep the family afloat during the Great Depression. Mom never
stopped showing them her gratitude and joie d’ vie. <br />
Returning
home to Philadelphia, after ten years away, gave me the opportunity to
appreciate days like this with my parents and aunts, before illness and
death separated us. Bessie and my dad died the following year in 1992.
Aunt Jean died in 1995. Lena and my mother lived on until 2004. Lena
forged through the indignities of aging in stoic denial. The only reason
she died at the age of 95 was because her favorite doctor was out of
town, and she refused to take antibiotics prescribed by a visiting
physician.<br />
But Mom did not die with her boots on. Her off-the-cuff
response to Rizzo’s death back in 1991 was prescient of her own
impending barefoot demise. After ten exuberant years of retirement, she
kicked off her go-go boots in 2001 and sunk into the deep depression
that camouflaged her demented brain. Nothing she could wear could hide
the fact that she wanted to die. Jealous of her friends dropping like
flies, “They’re the lucky ones,” she’d say, while her life lingered on
in a liminal, living hell.<br />
But, if Mom, like Frank Rizzo, had died
on Bastille Day in 1991, in her white-patent go-go boots running around
Reading Terminal Market, speaking French and eating pastry, I know that
my shock at her swift and untimely loss would have been just as
difficult as her slow, painful decline. As her caregiver I learned that
we cannot choose how or when we die. However, if given the choice, I’d
prefer not to die with my boots on, or to suffer the barefoot descent to
oblivion. I’d like to be given time for a clear-headed assessment, time
to appreciate what is and what was, and time to hum what will be, will
be.Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-89786964073612200382012-03-23T03:20:00.002-07:002012-03-23T03:24:45.977-07:00Amity Goes Back to Vietnam (for a visit)Check out this new video from our December 2010 trip.<br />Just copy and paste to your browser.<br /><br />https://vimeo.com/38937208<br /><br />Thanks.Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-47669652531401673732012-03-14T10:25:00.002-07:002012-03-14T10:29:13.323-07:00Book Review of Then, Again by Diane KeatonWomen's Memoirs just published my book review of <span style="font-style: italic;">Then, Again</span>, Diane Keaton's new memoir. Here's the link. Check it out! It's a fun and insightful read.<a href="http://bit.ly/A7ajvH"> </a><br /><a href="http://bit.ly/A7ajvH">http://bit.ly/A7ajvH</a>Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-67879509358443114762011-12-19T18:38:00.000-08:002011-12-21T19:46:54.668-08:00In the season of my birth<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-tGh0k10TjWg9_PverGIr3eZNzPrWGZveO-r3TUbVNLQ-dqEi9RHTgFoS1pzQtPHooDwQgjpjdGztTnVunDysmiGF5R6pxr2bvvY4Ch1gY6uyZxM_XGPypMNwCCrKFB5XxppOXWGRZc/s1600/30.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 206px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-tGh0k10TjWg9_PverGIr3eZNzPrWGZveO-r3TUbVNLQ-dqEi9RHTgFoS1pzQtPHooDwQgjpjdGztTnVunDysmiGF5R6pxr2bvvY4Ch1gY6uyZxM_XGPypMNwCCrKFB5XxppOXWGRZc/s320/30.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688034812236281522" border="0" /></a>This is one of my all time favorite pictures, taken by Tony Wood on my 5oth birthday. Here is a piece I wrote for the day.<br />In the season of my birth, and as I turn fifty, I’m thinking about parents and children,mothers and daughters, my mother, my daughter and me, and how we teach by who we are. All parents wish for their children to be happy. It’s their greatest wish. Children learn how to be happy by watching their parents enjoy themselves.<br />I learned this from my mother, especially in winter, because she never tried to turn<br />winter into spring for me. She made the most of winter...<br />In the morning of a freshly fallen snow, we’d take a hike always with the same<br />destination in mind-’Dunkin Donuts’, she loved their coffee. In the afternoon, after all the forts and snowmen were built and destroyed, she’d pack us into her station wagon and take us to Burholme Park for sledding. We’d all pile on top of her and plow down that hill, making the most of a snowy day, before the sun went down. Winter road conditions never stopped her from driving downtown to the theater at night, then Chinatown for a late dinner. Winter cold never stopped her from celebrating New Year’s Eve on the patio, clattering pots and pans, popping noise makers and yelling “Happy New Year!” to the cars racing through her corner stop sign. (The one she fought City Hall for). New Year’s Day found us shivering on Broad Street while Mummers paraded to the music she loved. In winter, we ran to the Spectrum for the ‘Ice Capades’, her dream, then created our own at ‘Boulevard Ice Rink’. We did all of these things with visions of hot chocolate and ‘TastyKake Chocolate Cupcakes’, her favorites, awaiting our return to the blue and yellow chrome kitchen table.<br />I was nearly born between the heavy chrome legs of that table on a snowy Sunday<br />in December, just before brunch. My pregnant mother’s water broke in the kitchen and<br />three year old brother Lanse ran upstairs for a towel, and for Dad to take her to the hospital. I think she gave birth to me prematurely on purpose in mid-December rather than January, so I shouldn’t miss a party, and the holiday vacation.<br />Throughout her life, my mother’s older sisters “did for her”, allowing her to be their<br />princess. She never crocheted or sewed, she barely cooked or cleaned. They did it for<br />her. She strutted around in the fuzzy winter coats and hand knitted scarves and hats they passed down, and wore them to the opera. My mother had big feet in wide boots. She<br />trampled the snow for me, forging a path for happiness to come sledding through, leaving clear instructions on my heart.Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-36546323970881834742011-04-19T14:45:00.000-07:002011-04-19T14:46:47.072-07:00<div>Check out my story, Kitchen Veda, published by Womensmemoirs.com</div><div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: medium; "><a href="http://womensmemoirs.com/memoir-scrapbooking/memoir-contest-winner-kitchen-veda-by-tracy-kauffman-wood/">http://womensmemoirs.com/memoir-scrapbooking/memoir-contest-winner-kitchen-veda-by-tracy-kauffman-wood/</a></span>Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-43041379520366847572011-01-26T08:40:00.000-08:002011-01-26T08:40:54.960-08:00Memoir Book Review: Jennifer Finney Boylan’s She’s Not There — Reviewed by Tracy Kauffman-Wood<a href="http://womensmemoirs.com/memoir-book-reviews/memoir-book-review-jennifer-finney-boylans-shes-not-there-reviewed-by-tracy-kauffman-wood/">Memoir Book Review: Jennifer Finney Boylan&#8217;s She&#8217;s Not There &#8212; Reviewed by Tracy Kauffman-Wood</a>Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-89924281410456843272011-01-20T09:07:00.000-08:002011-01-20T09:21:25.303-08:00Award Winning StoryMy essay, Easter Bonnet was just published by Womensmemoirs.com<br />Check this out. Just copy and paste one of these links into your browser. Thanks.<br /><br />Here's the link to your award-winning story. Be sure to let friends and family know and invite them to leave you a note in the comment section at the bottom.<br /><br />http://womensmemoirs.com/memoir-scrapbooking/memoir-contest-winner-easter-bonnet-by-tracy-kauffman-wood/<br /><br />http://bit.ly/ffHNNC<br /><a href="http://www.blogger.com/bit.ly//ffHNNC"></a>Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-47140032306265736722011-01-13T17:44:00.000-08:002011-01-13T19:32:13.003-08:00Happy Birthday<div><blockquote type="cite" style="font-family:Helvetica;font-size:medium;"><div style="word-wrap: break-word;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">We arrived safely in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam around 11:30 PM on Thursday, December 16th. I turned 55 (Philadelphia time) in the air above the Alaskan tundra on a flight from Chicago to Tokyo. I just finished watching a wonderful movie called 'I Am Sam.' You have to see this for the great writing, and Sean Penn's stellar performance. I was deeply moved and soaking in tears when all of a sudden the flight attendants surrounded me with Japanese accented birthday wishes and three big bowls of some kind of choppy, pale, water ice. It was citrusy sweet, refreshing and definitely good enough to eat! Too bad Amity was totally dead to the world at this point. So Tony had two bowls of the sugary stuff. (??!!) The flight attendants presented gifts of candy, playing cards and an inflatable airplane. It was all so unexpected. They made me feel great. I was high all the way to Saigon. By the time we landed, my birthday was just about over, (Saigon time.) I lost 12 hours of the day, but a fragrant bouquet of flowers waited for me at our hotel room. It was the shortest, sweetest birthday I've ever had. I think, flying through the sky, watching movies high above the heaviness of the world, is the best way to celebrate life.</span></div></div></blockquote></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn6mfE_23xj7OllsQ-gm6mkhu61EYyQKiZxYbzM4lDo5LHEnvplxHQ0y5ufwxXQm5NMrO3bcpKvUHWOR2FGHTtOqnoKJqgHUCRDoUmG_4NESIU1Jcyc99MH1A7amv18KOM36Rp1YOCHAQ/s1600/IMG_0049.jpeg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn6mfE_23xj7OllsQ-gm6mkhu61EYyQKiZxYbzM4lDo5LHEnvplxHQ0y5ufwxXQm5NMrO3bcpKvUHWOR2FGHTtOqnoKJqgHUCRDoUmG_4NESIU1Jcyc99MH1A7amv18KOM36Rp1YOCHAQ/s320/IMG_0049.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561852019451007826" border="0" /></a></div><div><div style="word-wrap: break-word;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div></div></div>Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-20337607557034241462011-01-13T17:41:00.001-08:002011-01-13T19:31:38.354-08:00Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam<div><blockquote type="cite" style=";font-family:Helvetica;font-size:medium;"><div style="word-wrap: break-word;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">We slept late on the 17th and eventually ventured out on the streets of Ho Chi Minh City. We stayed right in the heart of things. Street life starts very early here and sleeps very little. Night and day our greatest challenge was racing from one curb to the next. Amity was cowering, crossing the street in a slouch with her hands over her ears until she discovered that the best way to manage this was to get right out there with your hand in the air and stop traffic. It works well. You become the rock around which the river of motorcycles flow. The motorbikes are everywhere, brazen and unafraid, but rarely is there an accident. You try to remember this as you dodge for your life. Ben Than Market is a trip. Stall after stall, row after narrow row of souvenir chachkes with the most persistent sales people in the world stepping on your toes to wrap you in their wares. Right now it's about 20,000 dong to the dollar. Try to calculate that conversion within the chaos of this airless, stinking, claustrophobic, makeshift, seething, heavy-breathing, self-contained city. One visit is enough but somehow you can't stay away from the market. There definitely are bargains here. </span></div></div></blockquote></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwdx6IlSL0plDSnU6rD1Lu5vDQEs5tZfud3DE2RehrgYyIL5zP2N6Xf5Yu7CjzzR07i9idhm4sIebhHPXLYqxV1tKgJtGEufW3WH0MjBsCx1SxBnXxiGKENgwBdx65WISMCEVe4ifOouI/s1600/_MG_7346.jpeg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwdx6IlSL0plDSnU6rD1Lu5vDQEs5tZfud3DE2RehrgYyIL5zP2N6Xf5Yu7CjzzR07i9idhm4sIebhHPXLYqxV1tKgJtGEufW3WH0MjBsCx1SxBnXxiGKENgwBdx65WISMCEVe4ifOouI/s320/_MG_7346.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561851237146687586" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp-DUvvrn2KI5eFJLnjmH0PrffXxf8JiKrt3sO7DDAQiYlRgArnRmb5t-q9y0QEr_3FtQLBHfuMNaMbccu3UaT5ORX_E_bHLz8FXCFqKQjYAkvAZm3Cbz_bDkqtEzOXwU-T8J1YZ5BGmw/s1600/_MG_7269.jpeg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp-DUvvrn2KI5eFJLnjmH0PrffXxf8JiKrt3sO7DDAQiYlRgArnRmb5t-q9y0QEr_3FtQLBHfuMNaMbccu3UaT5ORX_E_bHLz8FXCFqKQjYAkvAZm3Cbz_bDkqtEzOXwU-T8J1YZ5BGmw/s320/_MG_7269.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561851234976474754" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyAJSTF1DjfHime68e9nfGxYebDAYoNfSL_UChfyqWZYynpLiQEBCAfoDoCkQSC9-MXwPTeycHsHCXyE6LvmQ3Jii84HnJxdSglXhGoM3eVCbEzws4x8Q1InukTK11tQKnfNKo33otXGA/s1600/_MG_7306.jpeg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyAJSTF1DjfHime68e9nfGxYebDAYoNfSL_UChfyqWZYynpLiQEBCAfoDoCkQSC9-MXwPTeycHsHCXyE6LvmQ3Jii84HnJxdSglXhGoM3eVCbEzws4x8Q1InukTK11tQKnfNKo33otXGA/s320/_MG_7306.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561851229456604194" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNLAeaBcgFrdez-3OP0ZJtbF1BK98OoiaFztkeRhm1Vct1mkRT2Iq0jsQmSA1fXkzOWwSiOUFlCeXkkOOXdO_GQXyd6YaJyCVtfUBA5jL8zU01eEFOaomNMneS32YMDiPOD8wv1hgKgTo/s1600/_MG_6988.jpeg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNLAeaBcgFrdez-3OP0ZJtbF1BK98OoiaFztkeRhm1Vct1mkRT2Iq0jsQmSA1fXkzOWwSiOUFlCeXkkOOXdO_GQXyd6YaJyCVtfUBA5jL8zU01eEFOaomNMneS32YMDiPOD8wv1hgKgTo/s1600/_MG_6988.jpeg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNLAeaBcgFrdez-3OP0ZJtbF1BK98OoiaFztkeRhm1Vct1mkRT2Iq0jsQmSA1fXkzOWwSiOUFlCeXkkOOXdO_GQXyd6YaJyCVtfUBA5jL8zU01eEFOaomNMneS32YMDiPOD8wv1hgKgTo/s320/_MG_6988.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561851224103405762" border="0" /></a></div>Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-5872783121593508212011-01-13T17:37:00.000-08:002011-01-13T19:31:03.715-08:00Chi Chu Tunnels<div><blockquote type="cite" style=";font-family:Helvetica;font-size:medium;"><div style="word-wrap: break-word;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">On the 18th we went to the Chi Chu Tunnels but not before stopping for a bowl of Pho first thing in the morning. Pho is a bubbling broth into which tons of exotic and undeterminable vegetables and meat has been tossed. It really is a great way to start the day. There's no mid-morning lag after this. Especially if you chase it down with thick, strong Vietnamese coffee. The sweetened condensed milk turns it into almost a coffee pudding. I like mine over ice. The Chi Chu tunnels were where some people lived and found safety during the Vietnam War. They are narrow, dark, airless places where 200 babies where born and grew up. This includes the famous 'napalm girl' who now is living in comfort and fame in Canada. God bless her! The tunnels have been widened for the tourists who tromp through them day after day but I came up short of breath, feeling blanketed top to bottom and grateful to be able to emerge from the darkness. Imagine only knowing this as life. By the way, the tour guide on this trip told us that there are 9 million people in Ho Chi Minh City and 7 million motorbikes. In the afternoon, we met with Mr. Thanh (Amity's middle name but no relation that we know of. In fact it is a very common name. )Mr. Thanh accompanied us to the school and orphanages. (More on that later.) He speaks English, arranged our hotel reservations and permission to photograph at the school and orphanages. He's an affable, good-looking man of 35 who works with Paul's Kids-the foundation formed to help Vietnamese children. Mr Thanh has a wife and two sons. He lives in a modest, one-floor, three room house next door to his parents', where he grew up in Ho Chi Minh City, the former Saigon.</span></div></div></blockquote></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU07F4M1y74C2ZbziagbmJGUpEb0v-kYjILk9wq3XeXtIrtya-g-xxKYgvLefI3JNKBoxxscSkf8RFsu_nT3v0jZ66FGkwcR1C30TelQPTF5vgPw4R7N6Gqob9LMqTgGMBDcvqIJfgBe4/s1600/IMG_0104.jpeg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU07F4M1y74C2ZbziagbmJGUpEb0v-kYjILk9wq3XeXtIrtya-g-xxKYgvLefI3JNKBoxxscSkf8RFsu_nT3v0jZ66FGkwcR1C30TelQPTF5vgPw4R7N6Gqob9LMqTgGMBDcvqIJfgBe4/s320/IMG_0104.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561850544123873058" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnKasE6SJwMo-kN_b0WkWIRgBahZ4MybG_IVk3mPHcoPTVhNhFwhcxyZBUxV_QbGcyQnTMdomuXnox-nMZAmXMfwTM9PBO7TfnFnz50ZAl_0JTwqDIAa-A8-Dnk4v6_uU4m7-lMoV2rBI/s1600/_MG_3702.jpeg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnKasE6SJwMo-kN_b0WkWIRgBahZ4MybG_IVk3mPHcoPTVhNhFwhcxyZBUxV_QbGcyQnTMdomuXnox-nMZAmXMfwTM9PBO7TfnFnz50ZAl_0JTwqDIAa-A8-Dnk4v6_uU4m7-lMoV2rBI/s320/_MG_3702.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561850536426397410" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDL4aaELel8Ezfo5PQbH-Q9rUVgRlrOAyV1WLnKGn6SGIzXooSimkv2VH3BIPaWO5kK0Ib70wQm7VDk_hqKbtNxc823ZiF8yJ__4Q90vVgVKhEPFfmFika6hcNmmjbKpZm6Wuex1fcC1A/s1600/_MG_6458.jpeg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDL4aaELel8Ezfo5PQbH-Q9rUVgRlrOAyV1WLnKGn6SGIzXooSimkv2VH3BIPaWO5kK0Ib70wQm7VDk_hqKbtNxc823ZiF8yJ__4Q90vVgVKhEPFfmFika6hcNmmjbKpZm6Wuex1fcC1A/s320/_MG_6458.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561850535687750338" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0lECGFWhQC-izha7cj2UhXa89la9FtoLqCFh7fbvrYfEN_i5XpBrAqfl5SB07Y7y6mgZ_gLnnAG80-IZKNrx4Y6sXwKD3v0iaeS7l4EmbWah92ieqmEUsxXVJZ_qw7T1zJktSXECXpUs/s1600/IMG_0080.jpeg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"></span></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0lECGFWhQC-izha7cj2UhXa89la9FtoLqCFh7fbvrYfEN_i5XpBrAqfl5SB07Y7y6mgZ_gLnnAG80-IZKNrx4Y6sXwKD3v0iaeS7l4EmbWah92ieqmEUsxXVJZ_qw7T1zJktSXECXpUs/s1600/IMG_0080.jpeg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0lECGFWhQC-izha7cj2UhXa89la9FtoLqCFh7fbvrYfEN_i5XpBrAqfl5SB07Y7y6mgZ_gLnnAG80-IZKNrx4Y6sXwKD3v0iaeS7l4EmbWah92ieqmEUsxXVJZ_qw7T1zJktSXECXpUs/s320/IMG_0080.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561850531746917106" border="0" /></a></div>Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-84741115303725123742011-01-13T17:27:00.000-08:002011-01-13T19:27:57.799-08:00Mekong Delta<div><blockquote type="cite" style=";font-family:Helvetica;font-size:medium;"><div style="word-wrap: break-word;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">On Sunday and Monday the 19th and 20th, we went on a two day tour of the Mekong Delta. The best part of these tours are the people you meet on the bus. There's a lot of down time to gab and share war stories of being spoiled, American 'Ex-Pats' in this strange/familiar, rapidly developing, third world country. We toured a coconut candy "factory" along the river, really just some big bowls of bubbling sugar stirred by men with oars over open fires and a line of women cutting and wrapping the taffy by hand. We got to try everything and spent the rest of the day picking it out of our teeth. We also saw rice noodles and rice paper being made-everything labor intensive and definitely not automated. We learned that most people live on boats where they fish for a living or farm and bring their wares to the floating market early in the morning. Actually, the reason they bring them to the floating market is to sell to the tourists! That's the industry which sustains. The tourists are urged to come and see the floating market. People from all over the world float by on rickety old boats everyday to buy pineapples and a cup of coffee from the people of the Mekong. Otherwise they just get by farming or fishing to keep their lives afloat. No money, no technology, just the sunshine, the wind in your sails and your family surrounding you. Perhaps they've got the right idea. Perhaps they are less stressed out. Life is certainly simpler but most would choose to have more. And many do leave(or some of their many children do)for more education or to find opportunity on the crowded streets of Ho Chi MInh City. </span></div></div></blockquote></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1KSXDibswdppawVkG1m_HHkDW8uIT73H-tB6Sie47X1Ef181MrZOMcMinQs_a0gVyBIUoxHGHLGUZ9JFAYQby5YK_ZhuEOX5WP6zB8Ppaaxz5kHgi8kqvAL_u_XG8uIfEZIxNh68Q9lg/s1600/_MG_6014.jpeg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1KSXDibswdppawVkG1m_HHkDW8uIT73H-tB6Sie47X1Ef181MrZOMcMinQs_a0gVyBIUoxHGHLGUZ9JFAYQby5YK_ZhuEOX5WP6zB8Ppaaxz5kHgi8kqvAL_u_XG8uIfEZIxNh68Q9lg/s320/_MG_6014.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561849245544810610" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiASlsksr71MzEFNSgi8sykrqLixAT9UFEYYFYWblIpwYIm0Tlvj3LWm_v5NBti5sc9S1zZ3emkGw2hIGk5UGMeLCq3AF_migXFiaSx70Gi4SqTJMAqNrWl4Z1-YCtTYcuSFMMG2I6O1Sg/s320/_8597916899.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561849375241641234" border="0" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1KSXDibswdppawVkG1m_HHkDW8uIT73H-tB6Sie47X1Ef181MrZOMcMinQs_a0gVyBIUoxHGHLGUZ9JFAYQby5YK_ZhuEOX5WP6zB8Ppaaxz5kHgi8kqvAL_u_XG8uIfEZIxNh68Q9lg/s1600/_MG_6014.jpeg"></a><div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoasoooEv43df1RrH4MEEN9P_09yvlhtqn8PgjrT1h2K2WQPKq_wYtEOlXtbo3dyq3JNeXMX0BlYBBomgImh2xHLUuKS3repXw6HPvhlWH24pruM5d1CqxHH6gU1IcrzljCgVvFzqmb4Q/s1600/_5737862589.jpeg"><img style="cursor: pointer; 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width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl5gG4LVd7pWuEzTjJpOag6aJdSo7HsU2i_S3CXFb5P1K7RJja7fGT4cuTQrxhsPGDAM7r6w_p-iwwnsc1kCwiOCA5JlWHETpFhzbKx9vCUp13nN2mxp61I5KoxOyl-JFGao1-rhXEld0/s320/_3400321044.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561848495732544434" border="0" /></div></div></div></div>Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-80346401221988387872011-01-13T17:18:00.000-08:002011-01-13T19:27:17.590-08:00Kien Phouc School<div><blockquote type="cite" style="font-family:Helvetica;font-size:medium;"><div style="word-wrap: break-word;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Tuesday was the big day when we visited Kien Phouc School in Tien Giang Province. Public school costs money here and 15% of the children do not attend for lack of funds. It costs $50 per year, per child. This is the school that </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Paul's Kids</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> supports. Amity raised money (with help from many of you) to send 8 children to school this year. We met the children, photographed them with their friends at school, went home with them to meet their parents and view their communities. What a wonderful day! We spent the morning with the children at school. Photographically speaking, the light was right, the background was great, the children were natural (no one said "cheese" like American children are constantly being urged to do), and we were actually given some time to take pictures. The kids adored Amity and circled her. She was the local celebrity and we were the paparazzi. Going home with the children, hiking through the rising dust of their rural communities, made us feel like we were National Geographic photographers and truly gave us a sense of how little people around the world exist on and how much we think we "need." These are great kids - smart, sensitive, wiser than their years and thrilled for the opportunity to relinquish the daily work of home life, carefully dress in their freshly washed and unwrinkled school uniforms and march off to school in the morning. We intend to make sure they're back in school next year! The head teacher treated us and the children to a sumptuous lunch at a roadside makeshift cafe in the province. Apparently, all localities have their own unique style of Vietnamese cuisine. One of this area's specialties is hard boiled eggs with an actual hard boiled chick inside. To be polite, I turned off my mind and ate one. It tasted like chopped liver! Our hosts were so happy to see me enjoying the local favorites that they kept feeding me more, which I of course ate. There was pho, shrimp and stir-fried beef. Always there were noodles and steamed white rice, which Amity lived on. She never complained about all the rounds of Pepsi forced upon us. We all know how Americans love their Pepsi. Even we, the no sugar/no junk food family, did our part to keep that image alive.</span></div></div></blockquote></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidVyZYT_SrAZxBqfB6ulCU_KNfJat9NlhXVNhzi3fRUD9mLrN-AcLXiwbRCHRghhPd522ppIkbUIwaK_eUyaFi5uPS-giCkj9my-CI-Axl7BOF8awyZ5sGZndWsLQiQn0uoVdPkgQdVuc/s1600/_MG_6124.jpeg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidVyZYT_SrAZxBqfB6ulCU_KNfJat9NlhXVNhzi3fRUD9mLrN-AcLXiwbRCHRghhPd522ppIkbUIwaK_eUyaFi5uPS-giCkj9my-CI-Axl7BOF8awyZ5sGZndWsLQiQn0uoVdPkgQdVuc/s320/_MG_6124.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561846663085082514" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgPLpNQ468y2R2VmlAZ4xmbYMGDKfBlq_FTLWB8cBPI7lGwlAQ7uv4zZXUWXfehdAADOAx4oB1aE4Cv8SbK5WsIuZzzpwq1YiKiwleXmKgnhXen0NEjK-tYivTvGu4Gr-XTFpYaMtesyU/s1600/_MG_6160.jpeg"><img style="cursor: pointer; 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width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg52wHz4dH_d5FKcifJIvcEPExpREJPtbTkbSZwUBE53aIntzV5Pt6swSNNrgLcbnttWE2s0SpUPpWwInY-kxhlbG4yvCKbLenp7_Id96IyIpIoOghZVPwehHA2k-hjOeMcfENNPEMR50I/s320/_MG_6438.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561845924697116098" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXI4r1bJCx2Q61jPRO0uFUo7_jBP9TUSBLBP6oY7HTFSbt3jYbz0-qawfh0V-Tun3IjfUP_cukKmoy210wshuYmlctzHRKte3cQ_B-0ZeBBxgXzGFvnqopUXrcE6GKAew2GIQGaaftAP0/s1600/_MG_6434.jpeg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXI4r1bJCx2Q61jPRO0uFUo7_jBP9TUSBLBP6oY7HTFSbt3jYbz0-qawfh0V-Tun3IjfUP_cukKmoy210wshuYmlctzHRKte3cQ_B-0ZeBBxgXzGFvnqopUXrcE6GKAew2GIQGaaftAP0/s320/_MG_6434.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561845921937577522" border="0" /></a></div><div><div style="word-wrap: break-word;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div></div></div>Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-21563828971558859522011-01-13T17:12:00.000-08:002011-01-13T19:26:37.625-08:00Go Vap and Tam Binh Orphanages<div><blockquote type="cite" style=";font-family:Helvetica;font-size:medium;"><div style="word-wrap: break-word;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I had high hopes for Wednesday and I was not disappointed. We visited two orphanages with Mr. Thanh. The first one, Go Vap is where Paul's Kids has donated a physical therapy room. We were allowed to photograph children receiving therapy for various challenges. I was impressed with the love and commitment - the relationship that the therapists have established with the children living there. Ultimate trust and joy resides in this clean and happy place providing these most unfortunate children with a home and a hopeful future. After lunch, (more pho, sweet coffee and actual french fries for Amity), we arrived at Tam Binh Orphanage. This is the place that you may have seen in our original "Vietnam Video" where Amity spent the first year of her life. We retraced our original steps and had fun quoting ourselves from the narrative, "Finally...Tam Binh Orphanage, once a name on paper..." We were greeted by the director who had been on staff 13 years ago when Amity lived there. I brought out our pictures of Amity from that time and she remembered her. She was thrilled to see this beautiful American girl, grown so confident and strong. I could taste her pride and my own. She accompanied us upstairs to where the babies hang out with their caregivers. We held and hugged lots of gorgeous little boys and girls starting their lives in this loving environment, waiting to become citizens of the world. In fact, there were three boys about to leave to be adopted by French families. "This guy may grow up to be a famous French chef," I said to Amity. "This one a doctor, and this kid who knows?" Amity said, "I love France!" as we fantasized about what was ahead for them. Then Amity's primary caregiver walked in. She remembered Amity well. When I saw the light of recognition in her eyes, I knew I was standing in a moment I would never forget. We hugged and held on to each other long and hard. She spent time just looking at Amity, beaming with pride like a grandmother at her grandchild's coming of age. We asked questions about what Amity ate, her health and how she was cared for. "Just like this," she said with a wave of her hand. We sat in the dappled light on that terrace surrounded by loving caregivers and their bouncing charges, laughing, 'kibitzing,' listening and understanding the universal language of women 'kvelling over' Amity in Vietnamese. The discussion revolved around her braces, her tanned skin, her dimples, her American sense of style and expression. Amity handled it with grace and aplomb as if it were her graduation party. We distributed cheerleading pictures, 6th grade school portrait (with Obama for President button pinned to her shirt), 8th grade school portrait from Haverford Middle School, and as they held and fed the babies, these loving women nodded in recognition and beamed with pride sharing the window on this blossoming young woman's life. They knew her when...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">-A great day, and for me what this trip was all about.</span></div></div></blockquote></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAfvAUBvyNjBH67qOPOF78lZtOsjFAOvuQ4ivyiNTBubChlcsY5_Z9Eubv8uNjlHKhNK5t14RRRV7wa_xXUQpfTneobkUFiFQceZ2OO8PiKw5eGN7ywngeA474BSvx1HSRPiexiGAHuW0/s1600/122_MG_2205.jpeg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 219px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAfvAUBvyNjBH67qOPOF78lZtOsjFAOvuQ4ivyiNTBubChlcsY5_Z9Eubv8uNjlHKhNK5t14RRRV7wa_xXUQpfTneobkUFiFQceZ2OO8PiKw5eGN7ywngeA474BSvx1HSRPiexiGAHuW0/s320/122_MG_2205.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561843863837455330" border="0" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAfvAUBvyNjBH67qOPOF78lZtOsjFAOvuQ4ivyiNTBubChlcsY5_Z9Eubv8uNjlHKhNK5t14RRRV7wa_xXUQpfTneobkUFiFQceZ2OO8PiKw5eGN7ywngeA474BSvx1HSRPiexiGAHuW0/s1600/122_MG_2205.jpeg"></a><div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBrXNH7Hebws3AkLcGpODUIehiHPsqSYNeInB7NXRq5walWSCAu0GfoRoac37UUuXhcgSpdHxDB3__-oYQHi93aSePbLqZ22YNfw7yTF_dhzLAnA_UgdrGKjbrYRlklpYJc3_6YlUR6Wk/s1600/018_MG_2098.jpeg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBrXNH7Hebws3AkLcGpODUIehiHPsqSYNeInB7NXRq5walWSCAu0GfoRoac37UUuXhcgSpdHxDB3__-oYQHi93aSePbLqZ22YNfw7yTF_dhzLAnA_UgdrGKjbrYRlklpYJc3_6YlUR6Wk/s320/018_MG_2098.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561843857539514498" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrAZ8BQjhAiFP_MB_zJ0Ov_dpkb-T1I60xCMutM-ywmhbpD2RPbebf6EDJ2Mffb4Ipdfbwa9nZ__uhf4fWJ6uqanOfoowAkVNPm8IhKKqJmHfwvy1NrjRmr7rOaXlEr3QAwqtjmAsZHhE/s1600/_MG_6768.jpeg"></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrAZ8BQjhAiFP_MB_zJ0Ov_dpkb-T1I60xCMutM-ywmhbpD2RPbebf6EDJ2Mffb4Ipdfbwa9nZ__uhf4fWJ6uqanOfoowAkVNPm8IhKKqJmHfwvy1NrjRmr7rOaXlEr3QAwqtjmAsZHhE/s1600/_MG_6768.jpeg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrAZ8BQjhAiFP_MB_zJ0Ov_dpkb-T1I60xCMutM-ywmhbpD2RPbebf6EDJ2Mffb4Ipdfbwa9nZ__uhf4fWJ6uqanOfoowAkVNPm8IhKKqJmHfwvy1NrjRmr7rOaXlEr3QAwqtjmAsZHhE/s320/_MG_6768.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561843845645885090" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikAB7xpXtS_OoGcXGpGhIk_HEAer325LuZcPDgYqDpGwk3VyQrg4hU7CgiwSpNdOuHDg3Hgk8U8RBjyVuRKWKlKQVnDgHn8qKVrvmUXQXzCrTW6VCVentDlmhyAAYuRNPWWFdNSpzioLg/s1600/_MG_6754.jpeg"></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikAB7xpXtS_OoGcXGpGhIk_HEAer325LuZcPDgYqDpGwk3VyQrg4hU7CgiwSpNdOuHDg3Hgk8U8RBjyVuRKWKlKQVnDgHn8qKVrvmUXQXzCrTW6VCVentDlmhyAAYuRNPWWFdNSpzioLg/s1600/_MG_6754.jpeg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikAB7xpXtS_OoGcXGpGhIk_HEAer325LuZcPDgYqDpGwk3VyQrg4hU7CgiwSpNdOuHDg3Hgk8U8RBjyVuRKWKlKQVnDgHn8qKVrvmUXQXzCrTW6VCVentDlmhyAAYuRNPWWFdNSpzioLg/s320/_MG_6754.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561843844703065826" border="0" /></a><br /></div></div>Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-90224233548038110082011-01-13T17:06:00.000-08:002011-01-13T19:26:02.704-08:00Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde<div><blockquote type="cite" style=";font-family:Helvetica;font-size:medium;"><div style="word-wrap: break-word;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">After this we needed some down time to plan the rest of our stay, and Amity needed to get that last homework assignment done before Christmas. We spent Thursday immersed in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and planned our trip to Halong Bay.</span></div></div></blockquote></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLNpZcwgMltgeS2aZkWVlJkY-bjoE1jIeI89uzfFzBF4OYutAmTeZQsdP93A5A7M5y_XhAi3QMEj_fQoZWwSlS-8rUddY2f5bzXxUAVdZXWPWFFxK2J5WgN9cwYsYLcy59myeaD68aSLQ/s1600/_MG_7331.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLNpZcwgMltgeS2aZkWVlJkY-bjoE1jIeI89uzfFzBF4OYutAmTeZQsdP93A5A7M5y_XhAi3QMEj_fQoZWwSlS-8rUddY2f5bzXxUAVdZXWPWFFxK2J5WgN9cwYsYLcy59myeaD68aSLQ/s320/_MG_7331.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561857110163884322" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" /></a></div>Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-41310789581577674372011-01-13T16:56:00.000-08:002011-01-13T19:25:26.095-08:00Halong Bay<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Times;">We departed for Halong Bay in the early morning of December 24th. We flew Vietnam Airlines to Hai Phong, just south of Hanoi in the north of Vietnam. Our excursion around Halong Bay was in a traditional boat called a "Junk." This junk was named, 'The Jewel of the Bay.' We spent two calm and carefree days slowly cruising the bay surrounded by a spectacular view of mountains and caves formed by thousands of years of interplay between limestone and salt water. Everywhere you looked astounding beauty, and other boats with tourists from all over the world with their cameras. Christmas Eve found us sharing stories with a smattering of international travelers. We befriended some musicians from California, born in New York of course. (Wherever in the world you go, it seems you're never far from home.) Turned out that our new friend Jared is the guitarist on Saturday Night Live. In fact, Amity had a song on her Ipod that Jared co-wrote with one of her favorite bands, Honor Society. This made all the trials and tribulations of a journey across the world well worthwhile for Amity. The steep climb to the top of a mountain to gaze across the hallowed expanse of Halong Bay energized us all and filled me with an optimism for the future and the conviction that mine would include more of such treks to beautiful and mysterious world venues. Jared's impromptu ditty, "Jewel of the Bay...." quickly became Amity's theme song for the rest of the trip.</span></div><div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw23T_cRT-wU6djbFAdtRxP8gZd9DAtfdGnarW8FDKrvbMUu26au5Sue5A3v2y8HsrzMKTwgDa3Q-Y4pGJTJRju4kYJJg6bYt0JMwMp57SJ4pD-FUn2n_UKdun4MVkahyphenhyphen_MZOcaLce9Y0/s1600/_MG_6912.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw23T_cRT-wU6djbFAdtRxP8gZd9DAtfdGnarW8FDKrvbMUu26au5Sue5A3v2y8HsrzMKTwgDa3Q-Y4pGJTJRju4kYJJg6bYt0JMwMp57SJ4pD-FUn2n_UKdun4MVkahyphenhyphen_MZOcaLce9Y0/s320/_MG_6912.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561859779528980802" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigMYvFzYEJTfr-vIzFHO2_Z1r6WaogBVABxs2mRTA3j9k9I_Hrcb3wY-jJqRptihjp25L-oeGBHvrKW-4AOobGhdj9aSnKH_T222JHyDRT__Q7uFrDBCPu3J_0xrcwbSb9doNtdaUGM_I/s1600/_MG_7216.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigMYvFzYEJTfr-vIzFHO2_Z1r6WaogBVABxs2mRTA3j9k9I_Hrcb3wY-jJqRptihjp25L-oeGBHvrKW-4AOobGhdj9aSnKH_T222JHyDRT__Q7uFrDBCPu3J_0xrcwbSb9doNtdaUGM_I/s320/_MG_7216.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561859774429144162" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKqOb-2eU2wMyY8wfvHfU8pttgsg-vEfhTssk8aM-zX8l3RQh4Msn25kkltvx4u8f6sMTGTtFkzqBc3mvI0U7m95X5NO8Dqpw4m1-uHZsvEwx_3u855y3qZz3Q5okVBH9j9EL16N06me8/s1600/_MG_6955.jpeg"><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKqOb-2eU2wMyY8wfvHfU8pttgsg-vEfhTssk8aM-zX8l3RQh4Msn25kkltvx4u8f6sMTGTtFkzqBc3mvI0U7m95X5NO8Dqpw4m1-uHZsvEwx_3u855y3qZz3Q5okVBH9j9EL16N06me8/s320/_MG_6955.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561859573639408498" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3sqqNoEipTlAB7wlnBAZM-C363jv8Uoi1DRfSzGTxyTrpPzZAEaqhslZG8vQ2JKKLO8wX5JYYpsKJnmZnDrcKhBdLMwlGasV6hEC3gOgCalq1ZEBKgIPlZcUkh4zVsG0-D5h7SmVJ2rI/s1600/_MG_6994.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3sqqNoEipTlAB7wlnBAZM-C363jv8Uoi1DRfSzGTxyTrpPzZAEaqhslZG8vQ2JKKLO8wX5JYYpsKJnmZnDrcKhBdLMwlGasV6hEC3gOgCalq1ZEBKgIPlZcUkh4zVsG0-D5h7SmVJ2rI/s320/_MG_6994.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561859567620157234" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnDaK3DZLZsGYFZzUq-zPkg3E8ZhfImGvlIcXylhQBWg4zQPDRl6KjMTY4EfkGQSxHENK8q-ZOj95Xr3AuGteJAThmQGNcQQ0FMz5UCf8cBd3h4HKxOzFsfk0HtcL1Gj1AuHygA6lxAD8/s1600/_MG_7023.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnDaK3DZLZsGYFZzUq-zPkg3E8ZhfImGvlIcXylhQBWg4zQPDRl6KjMTY4EfkGQSxHENK8q-ZOj95Xr3AuGteJAThmQGNcQQ0FMz5UCf8cBd3h4HKxOzFsfk0HtcL1Gj1AuHygA6lxAD8/s320/_MG_7023.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561859563258906738" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCC2yIFR6P1llF2APNv14Gcgqimya_PGz7uvBj4AdAatW8Ee0z408fnwHv7WIzhe9dYRH9K_e0PZI80kU72-I6aydJuYqPtLkecB_xvXI5NolVwT2Thxi9jVY8BRf1DYBC8UCfcU8FM_8/s1600/_MG_7192.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCC2yIFR6P1llF2APNv14Gcgqimya_PGz7uvBj4AdAatW8Ee0z408fnwHv7WIzhe9dYRH9K_e0PZI80kU72-I6aydJuYqPtLkecB_xvXI5NolVwT2Thxi9jVY8BRf1DYBC8UCfcU8FM_8/s320/_MG_7192.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561859565992535442" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB543IjgcLz7udxEBNo-4oXBQfX-R0vLHvcsQyikBV9VSeVncaZRfXql6E0Eq6qe6f9eQ-oS7NrRwT9mSQf4GZu-GXHeYs3h6dSQ83HrtMJ6gI3JL_fVZhffU7x8JPO9tWqjANnjt5jhw/s320/_MG_7109.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561860020214113618" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" border="0" /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBeAVPjP2Isg3wVA2C8yauS-Ex2leaWMjplS-66JmxGaJm0mddyr_5ChmYfVxPMmXn4BNACXv4TboxQl8Lp_c3Y_5xm0MzlZT1HFOtlmzs0_zONybn3xdnObhU-oxMbHuUiGVFvc-qVdY/s1600/_MG_7109.jpeg"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBeAVPjP2Isg3wVA2C8yauS-Ex2leaWMjplS-66JmxGaJm0mddyr_5ChmYfVxPMmXn4BNACXv4TboxQl8Lp_c3Y_5xm0MzlZT1HFOtlmzs0_zONybn3xdnObhU-oxMbHuUiGVFvc-qVdY/s1600/_MG_7109.jpeg"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBeAVPjP2Isg3wVA2C8yauS-Ex2leaWMjplS-66JmxGaJm0mddyr_5ChmYfVxPMmXn4BNACXv4TboxQl8Lp_c3Y_5xm0MzlZT1HFOtlmzs0_zONybn3xdnObhU-oxMbHuUiGVFvc-qVdY/s1600/_MG_7109.jpeg"></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><br /></span></div><div><br /><br /></div></div>Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-17137651183990941802011-01-13T16:54:00.001-08:002011-01-13T19:24:44.151-08:00Back in HCMC<div><blockquote type="cite" style=";font-family:Helvetica;font-size:medium;"><div style="word-wrap: break-word;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Back at our home base, The Bloom Hotel in Ho Chi Minh City by late Christmas night, we fell into bed still clinging to the sounds of the soft, gentle lapping of the bay's cool waters (yes, I swam!) and the vision of peace and majesty that our minds would not soon relinquish. It's a good vision to keep close to your heart and mind, when you are again the dodge ball on the teeming streets and sidewalks of Saigon. </span></div></div></blockquote></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsj9KF_ZMKUIOvTjZXMuB_oHLydNWt-allssd3z6gZ4fRAYovU9XMm_rafFoFY489BdJmUEbDoqZQ8GvgaBh2ksYiZ-i0EKkKq9NlpB0ta11_EXBNAfaQMESmLYT2w0RDUFNuS0YSgzSg/s1600/_MG_7332.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsj9KF_ZMKUIOvTjZXMuB_oHLydNWt-allssd3z6gZ4fRAYovU9XMm_rafFoFY489BdJmUEbDoqZQ8GvgaBh2ksYiZ-i0EKkKq9NlpB0ta11_EXBNAfaQMESmLYT2w0RDUFNuS0YSgzSg/s320/_MG_7332.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561856661429623458" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix0ztWfEclBAKEEsB0k_SrL-d8tMKDv2Y7UEoM4G1edkDnwE92zL3-U4mDFiqUkmltx7_cLYxDZMivHPSO0U0FPNR4si4_Ui-ipmavUIqUayG91s4mKX1Y7mm3hvx2VNmZJo2FEeCEDUg/s1600/_MG_7358.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix0ztWfEclBAKEEsB0k_SrL-d8tMKDv2Y7UEoM4G1edkDnwE92zL3-U4mDFiqUkmltx7_cLYxDZMivHPSO0U0FPNR4si4_Ui-ipmavUIqUayG91s4mKX1Y7mm3hvx2VNmZJo2FEeCEDUg/s320/_MG_7358.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561856660365996578" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCFxtpr319SNki3lTex6_mHrkvZ-Negvys0AbPH_b3paoPSameWv6SiiKwauM6uRmCHeZ0mYgIdqQI_51OOJr2FEZpNYTTCXCQBnr_videlNhsrCtiLJuEY0Hux82B0vIfLQHPYjpluPs/s1600/_MG_6788.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCFxtpr319SNki3lTex6_mHrkvZ-Negvys0AbPH_b3paoPSameWv6SiiKwauM6uRmCHeZ0mYgIdqQI_51OOJr2FEZpNYTTCXCQBnr_videlNhsrCtiLJuEY0Hux82B0vIfLQHPYjpluPs/s320/_MG_6788.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561856657030393522" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU7TeD3GmCXpZ5pr4t9N5PjJCE4Lcq-HziETobTsk2DzErFcgEKLZU4LqUkxpjEb2sdnimljAcSHJiphZ_aB5Jjp98kc6rZhfi2_3kt56W1j23TP3lcJRfYW9HcH3RAsPdMWk6gOQavgA/s1600/_MG_7350_1.jpeg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU7TeD3GmCXpZ5pr4t9N5PjJCE4Lcq-HziETobTsk2DzErFcgEKLZU4LqUkxpjEb2sdnimljAcSHJiphZ_aB5Jjp98kc6rZhfi2_3kt56W1j23TP3lcJRfYW9HcH3RAsPdMWk6gOQavgA/s1600/_MG_7350_1.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU7TeD3GmCXpZ5pr4t9N5PjJCE4Lcq-HziETobTsk2DzErFcgEKLZU4LqUkxpjEb2sdnimljAcSHJiphZ_aB5Jjp98kc6rZhfi2_3kt56W1j23TP3lcJRfYW9HcH3RAsPdMWk6gOQavgA/s320/_MG_7350_1.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561856655952630994" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" /></a></div></div>Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-53333159399816353892011-01-13T16:51:00.000-08:002011-01-13T19:24:01.662-08:00The Grand Hotel<div><blockquote type="cite" style="font-family:Helvetica;font-size:medium;"><div style="word-wrap: break-word;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">We spent our last two nights at The Grand Hotel. This was our home base 12 years ago, where we first bonded with our tiny, new daughter Amity Bess Van Thanh Le Wood. It was fun recounting the initial challenges ("of eating, sleeping and staying dry") memorialized on our 1998 video and to luxuriate in this elegant, French-style, historic hotel in the nicer, (designer-shop-lined street) part of town. As before, it was from here that we took the time to shop for "nifty souvenirs for the folks back home.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyzexjhznO-QfGFmmQBci6yZlK6D2pR2gPCY7kJVgKeMVprIiIuYZCD4TvDRiEGuwjTf3J-xi2Br882sgQRKMwGO4UBcwShI-KLexabxPUZv6bZ-X33dn4Squ2T4lxThh5tYKnUviN3lg/s1600/_MG_6801.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyzexjhznO-QfGFmmQBci6yZlK6D2pR2gPCY7kJVgKeMVprIiIuYZCD4TvDRiEGuwjTf3J-xi2Br882sgQRKMwGO4UBcwShI-KLexabxPUZv6bZ-X33dn4Squ2T4lxThh5tYKnUviN3lg/s320/_MG_6801.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561855841102335106" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" /></a></div></div></blockquote></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbt6Mr86Kve73ueK8V4lgRmS91GPoD2W17MMqdAR4LsMOir1GDSBLu2vOf3c7KDIDuBN9Dbe4Hbm8vNWSp1LLq2Q3erI1BUmpAch-X7BAC-h3pTb2W-Ad1g_6aYZGKxR8E0TfLtyYOSXs/s1600/_MG_7365.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbt6Mr86Kve73ueK8V4lgRmS91GPoD2W17MMqdAR4LsMOir1GDSBLu2vOf3c7KDIDuBN9Dbe4Hbm8vNWSp1LLq2Q3erI1BUmpAch-X7BAC-h3pTb2W-Ad1g_6aYZGKxR8E0TfLtyYOSXs/s320/_MG_7365.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561855835399772658" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" border="0" /></a></div><div><div style="word-wrap: break-word;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div></div></div></div>Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-48333758479346969572011-01-13T16:47:00.000-08:002011-01-13T19:22:53.881-08:00Can Gio and Monkey Islands<div><blockquote type="cite" style="font-family:Helvetica;font-size:medium;"><div style="word-wrap: break-word;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The day before we left, we headed out of town for a tour of Can Gio and Monkey Islands. This "Eco-Park" and island whose residents have been fishing and harvesting rice (Vietnam is the 3rd largest exporter of rice in the world), with the same labor intensive methods for hundreds of years, is home to bats, crocodiles, and the infamous wild monkeys. This is the actual 'Monkey Jungle' where unchecked monkeys run free across the landscape and your back. They'll steal your shirt and hat, if you don't watch out. Amity and our delightful tour guide, Phou, forged a universal bond as they clutched each other in fright when the monkeys came too close. Phou was born and raised in the Mekong Delta and moved to Ho Chi Minh City with her parents for more opportunity. She attended school in the city, learned flawless English and a wealth of information which made her by far our favorite guide to this incredible, resilient, mysterious, ancient, modern, elegant, primitive, scary, warm and welcoming country and its people. Phou became part of our family by the end of that day and we would liked to have brought her home with us. On our last night, Mr. Thanh, his wife and sons invited us to their home for dinner. We had yet another banquet provided by people who own little and share all. Even Amity nibbled at the sumptuous home made spring rolls, shrimp salad and glazed chicken wings filling our bowls. And just when we thought we'd done justice to the feast, out came the ever-present bubbling hot pot of broth and endless, nameless vegetables for simmering. We learned one culinary maxim if not many on this trip. The rice noodles go directly into your bowl with hot broth poured over them. Any other method leads to over cooked noodles, which would be unfortunate.</span></div></div></blockquote></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDsC_mqKfB9pUKyyoU6zafKnDvoodKJTeNbRQOxfweYAPL6IJXGqA3P6RFu1kaubJumkeOnWiE61YfOeExSkkUR7Gae7a44TU-_vT0FrnrGqX2QafO3nTiAxVHvIbsFhiiqJJOsrD3P6c/s1600/_MG_7517.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDsC_mqKfB9pUKyyoU6zafKnDvoodKJTeNbRQOxfweYAPL6IJXGqA3P6RFu1kaubJumkeOnWiE61YfOeExSkkUR7Gae7a44TU-_vT0FrnrGqX2QafO3nTiAxVHvIbsFhiiqJJOsrD3P6c/s320/_MG_7517.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561855018083667362" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ELmuXM1ylPubzE9XcAifkuKs6M5T7s8u719XMpUyJUgEUi919MIK_aKBpfg83Iy18W3v8GfWifP2gGz9q-zb81tCdeY1x2TguOrzf0oPqX7gThTe5hWHaaDR_cptXW5omqfx4MQyB0k/s1600/_MG_7579.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ELmuXM1ylPubzE9XcAifkuKs6M5T7s8u719XMpUyJUgEUi919MIK_aKBpfg83Iy18W3v8GfWifP2gGz9q-zb81tCdeY1x2TguOrzf0oPqX7gThTe5hWHaaDR_cptXW5omqfx4MQyB0k/s320/_MG_7579.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561854874686115010" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj41jPw6psxgo6PahGELeiRCCMQ15NhEDAXUz5kSX8MRcrUWufVV0EhCtsJCEtl9QcgKO8CxR6q6QaVBYS07EBON5VuVBsQ-60IJKaoD7uSejpagtUJOqWYCG3ow3fNZH0KR4MmP2fBiSQ/s1600/_MG_7576.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj41jPw6psxgo6PahGELeiRCCMQ15NhEDAXUz5kSX8MRcrUWufVV0EhCtsJCEtl9QcgKO8CxR6q6QaVBYS07EBON5VuVBsQ-60IJKaoD7uSejpagtUJOqWYCG3ow3fNZH0KR4MmP2fBiSQ/s320/_MG_7576.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561854875655863042" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWXgJl0pS3ooFdOzZgiIg8NojKHSRTB7E0m_jRoeyGfURVGCU2J3QzuV8TG3iHtpPdt3UFwVlpz7977Qgi82JMLYVQ3NswIKAYGARxTW3ax66ZGQGyRTHkziYTaL0GK_tE6LRQazs9ye4/s1600/_MG_7511.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWXgJl0pS3ooFdOzZgiIg8NojKHSRTB7E0m_jRoeyGfURVGCU2J3QzuV8TG3iHtpPdt3UFwVlpz7977Qgi82JMLYVQ3NswIKAYGARxTW3ax66ZGQGyRTHkziYTaL0GK_tE6LRQazs9ye4/s320/_MG_7511.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561854869743368818" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div style="word-wrap: break-word;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div></div></div></div></div>Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-12801660437273235542011-01-13T16:44:00.000-08:002011-01-13T19:20:59.987-08:00Coming Home<blockquote type="cite" style="font-family:Helvetica;font-size:medium;"><div style="word-wrap: break-word;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">We continued on our flight around the world as we flew home from Saigon via Frankfort, Germany to Philadelphia, with a wave to our cousins in Israel as we flew over the Middle East. Exhausted, crampy and cranky, we arrived home safely in Philadelphia late on the 29th. I'm still not sleeping through the night but the cramps have lessened. And as we all move into our old, familiar, comfort zones, it's becoming obvious that this was "the trip of a lifetime"-pivotal, revealing and renewing. Unforgettable. Thank you Amity for the inspiration.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiE6Fit86Sjk_dyxc8KhIGK3nNlluQG6pBEv_c13hl5hRR1s37MjVOg7DSZNSCQUJpv3990PUb5cE2g301dwwpw-yEYMcZkrBxbwKGv_rNNGTKr6uNI-AOfKjAMnidXO6l8mY6YDVaVis/s1600/IMG_0052.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiE6Fit86Sjk_dyxc8KhIGK3nNlluQG6pBEv_c13hl5hRR1s37MjVOg7DSZNSCQUJpv3990PUb5cE2g301dwwpw-yEYMcZkrBxbwKGv_rNNGTKr6uNI-AOfKjAMnidXO6l8mY6YDVaVis/s320/IMG_0052.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561854274153447362" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" border="0" /></a></div></div></blockquote><div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguBPIHW5Ml13ep0MyLyjcd3-sndoCtm3d5esA09ogWnJKYigEVSFqTxr93LjZK4p_TWP9EcqwUCXA_AicVchLDANzww5zdf181nVLva74tbYPZgHl1Vw5cAa9wOENLtQlhRvsmnPWF4Sk/s1600/IMG_0686.jpeg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguBPIHW5Ml13ep0MyLyjcd3-sndoCtm3d5esA09ogWnJKYigEVSFqTxr93LjZK4p_TWP9EcqwUCXA_AicVchLDANzww5zdf181nVLva74tbYPZgHl1Vw5cAa9wOENLtQlhRvsmnPWF4Sk/s1600/IMG_0686.jpeg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguBPIHW5Ml13ep0MyLyjcd3-sndoCtm3d5esA09ogWnJKYigEVSFqTxr93LjZK4p_TWP9EcqwUCXA_AicVchLDANzww5zdf181nVLva74tbYPZgHl1Vw5cAa9wOENLtQlhRvsmnPWF4Sk/s320/IMG_0686.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561854275290404130" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" /></a></div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiE6Fit86Sjk_dyxc8KhIGK3nNlluQG6pBEv_c13hl5hRR1s37MjVOg7DSZNSCQUJpv3990PUb5cE2g301dwwpw-yEYMcZkrBxbwKGv_rNNGTKr6uNI-AOfKjAMnidXO6l8mY6YDVaVis/s1600/IMG_0052.jpeg"><br /></a></div><blockquote type="cite" face="Helvetica" size="medium" style=""><div style="word-wrap: break-word;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></blockquote><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="word-wrap: break-word;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div></div></div></div>Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-70017220595673561362011-01-13T16:40:00.000-08:002011-01-13T19:19:09.388-08:00Halong Bay Pearls<blockquote type="cite" style=";font-family:Helvetica;font-size:medium;"><div style="word-wrap: break-word;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Here's a video of the process of harvesting the pearls from Halong Bay-one of the world's most beautiful natural wonders. The limestone cliffs and caves formed from thousands of years of salt water erosion and tectonic plate shifting provide a background to the serene waters of Halong Bay (surrounded by the Gulf of Tonkin of Vietnam War fame) We floated overnight in a 'junk' boat after an afternoon of caving, kayaking, and swimming. PS I got a good deal on some pearls.</span></div></div></blockquote><div><div style="word-wrap: break-word;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw06hgwZL30viciaGDad89xNcQ63WdjPmp3AK-Wipi2lV_OGPqEJG-bXeBGl5S_tT04qEXjxa0PRjXEKFW2wg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-46039462361632860482010-09-03T11:57:00.000-07:002010-09-03T12:01:54.282-07:00Book Review of Lucky -A memoir by Alice SeboldHere's the link to my review of Lucky, a memoir by Alice Sebold. She wrote this before penning the novel, The Lovely Bones.<br /><br />http://womensmemoirs.com/memoir-book-reviews/book-review-lucky-by-alice-sebold-reviewed-by-tracy-kauffman-wood/Tracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8887464516274622984.post-39030877853218447682010-05-26T21:25:00.000-07:002010-05-26T21:27:09.325-07:00Book Review of Lit: A Memoir by Mary KarrCheck out my book review of Lit:A Memoir by Mary Karr on womensmemoirs.comTracy Kauffman Woodhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16607034581821180722noreply@blogger.com0