Angela VanWell

Author | Reader | Traveler | Tea and Coffee Drinker

Travel

Folklore and Fairytales, W.B. Yeats and his exploration of the Light and Dark in Irish Fairy Tales Part 2

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What do you do when you come upon a Fairy ring, Fairy mound, or Fairy fort? If you put your clothes on inside-out, do you fix them or wear them? Have you ever placed a piece of clothing on a rag tree? Today’s talk by the National Library of Ireland shared the impact of Irish Folklore and Fairytales on Yeats and discussed superstitions that are alive and well today.

I took a trip to Ireland several years ago. Our home base was in Dublin. There are many wonderful reasons to visit Dublin, but our primary focus was exploring its fascinating history. From Vikings, monastic sites, to fairies, there was a lot of history to explore. We visited the National Museum of Ireland, the Clontarf 1014: Brian Boru and the Battle for Dublin exhibit was the highlight. The exhibition of Clontarf, the best-known battle in Irish History, explored the myths and evidence of what really happened in the battle of the pagan Vikings versus the Christian King, Brian Boru. The battle ended with the Vikings leaving Ireland. It was the most exhilarating exhibit; I am grateful we explored it while we were there.

When we entered the Albert Bender Irish Artistic Connections collection, there were correspondences with J.B. Yeats. This was the first time I understood the importance of W. B. Yeats to the historical preservation of Irish history, specifically folklore.

Having since read both Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry and Irish Fairytales by Yeats, the world of historical and modern Irish folklore and superstitions emerged. W. B. Yeats took Irish fairytales seriously and is most likely the reason people shared their personal stories of interactions with the Gentry with him.

The National Library of Ireland shared how their belief in fairies helped the peasants deal with the harsh realities of life. They shared fairytales to learn about morals and instructive for life’s challenges. How Irish fairytales different from many fairytales we are familiar with today, it that the Irish fairy or the Gentry should be respected and feared.

For as Yeats said:

Fallen angels who were not good enough to be saved, nor bad enough to be lost, say the peasantry.

Yeats, Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry

While the hour-long talk included many of Yeats’s poems, the one I was most interested in was The Wicked Hawthorn Tree. A poem I was not overly familiar with. Hearing it with the Irish accent was beautiful. He wrote the poem originally for a play to be performed in a Japanese-style theatre, intended to be sung. Yeats believed he should write poetry like music, creating a trans-like atmosphere for those watching the play.

The Wicked Hawthorn Tree

O, but I saw a solemn sight;

Said the rambling, shambling travelling-man;

Castle Dargan’s ruin all lit

Lovely ladies dancing in it.

What though they dance; those days are gone;

said the wicked, crooked hawthorn tree;

Lovely lady and gallant man

Are cold blown dust or a bit of bone.

O, what is life but a mouthful of air;

Said the rambling, shambling travelling-man;

Yet all the lovely things that were

Live, for I saw them dancing there.

Nobody knows what may befall;

said the wicked, crooked hawthorn tree;

I have stood so long by a gap in the wall

May be I shall not die at all.

W. B. Yeats

Irish believed the Hawthorn tree to be the meeting place of fairies and the portals into the fairy realm. Current superstitions believe they must protect solitary Hawthorns. Farmers build stone fences around the trees to keep the cattle from tearing at their leaves and bark. The trees are good luck when left alone, but plucking their flowers or cutting them will bring misfortune. The theory that stuck with me was the Hathorn tree, believed to guard the portals to the fairy realm, was discussing the passage of time with one of the Gentry. Mourning the brevity of life while the Hawthorn tree guarded what remained: The belief in fairies.

So, if you see a field filled with Hawthorns or a fairy mound, what would you do?

Happy Reading!

An té a bhíónn siúlach, bíonn scéalach

He who travels has stories to tell

Irish Proverb

Travelling Through Books: The American Road Trip Part 1

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The quintessential road trip involved a motorized vehicle, a map, and never-ending snacks. At least, that is the way I grew up. Me, and my siblings, would pile into our parent’s station wagon. Its dark wood-panelled sides carved with scratches and dents from previous memorable trips. We have distinct zones in the car. Each child with their specific spot and no one, or their limbs, could cross those lines. Falling asleep on a long road trip was no exception. Outside the windows, with the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band providing our travelling soundtrack, was our adventure. Our movement from something mundane to something new.

I was fortunate they placed me behind the front passenger seat. My seat was a window seat with views of the passing countryside and townships. No cars and big boxed trucks for me. I watched as we passed each power line seeded in farmers’ fields and daydreamed I was riding my horse beside the car. The Canadian Pony Express of One, whose horse must jump each power pole shadow or trip and fall behind the car we chased through the provinces. It was a shadow horse, a dark wisp of memory, racing alongside with me on its back. We never missed a jump and raced the car until the clouds stole our shadows away.

All road snacks came from the home kitchen. Our mom would prepare everything ahead of time and ration one piece of the overall picnic at a time. It was the first staged, 12 course meal of my life. Where we each had something sweet, salty, sour followed with water to cleanse our palates. My favourite was the course of crackers, pickles, and cheese. To this day, it is one of our travel snacks. With a side of homemade sour pickles to compliment the fattiness of the cheese. Delightful, easily handled by all. On the rarest of occasion, we would stop and eat fast food. We never ate it in the car. Car snacks were from the house only. Fast food was for when mom felt we needed to stretch our legs, use the toilet, and maybe she needed a breather from being in the car with the minimum of 4 kids, and sometimes the addition of a husband and kittens.

Our destinations were usually unknown to me, unless we were visiting family. Perhaps my parents planned, I don’t know. I know we were going somewhere new, somewhere interesting, and my shadow horse raced along to join in with the adventure.

I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I intended to be.

Douglas Adams, the Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul

As an adult, I travel the same. The shadow horse has gone, replaced by whatever vehicle I, or my partner, are driving. There are road snacks, some from my kitchen, some from a roadside fast food place. I now know the general direction we are headed. Though we have an idea rather than a set destination. We prefer to leave all options open and be spontaneous. It keeps the adventure alive.

But in times of Covid, where road trips are limited, I have turned my escapes to books. I usually join a book club in the town we are living in to explore the area. We choose local authors or stories that took place in our area. Book clubs are a great way to explore new genres and authors. But now, with book clubs moved online, I have changed to reading about my area.

On our biking trip a few weeks ago, I came upon a Free Little Library. In it, were several novels, self-help books, and best of all The Oxford Book of American Short Stories. The title might be dry, but what I saw was a trip through American. A trip through space and time, and all provided within the 768 page book.

The origin of my newest book. You can see it peaking out in the middle of the lower shelf.

Tales from the 1700s through the 1900s. Exploring internal struggles and external journeys. From as far north as Alaska down through XXX. The best part was, I could jump and hop through space and time. My shadow horse could return and leap between the stories wherever my fancy took me. Yes, I am climbing the walls and returning to the imagination of my childhood. I quite like it.

My first destination was the Catskill Mountains following the adventure of Rip Van Winkle, written by Washington Irving under his satirical pseudonym, Diedrich Knickerbocker. Rip Van Winkle, while running to escape the terror of his wife and his domestication, meets the spirit of Henrick Hudson, explorer for the Dutch East India Company. Henrick offers Rip a flagon of alcohol he consumes amongst the eery silence. Other than the sounds of ninepin bowling. Rip drank so much he settled into a deep sleep.

Rip… was one of those happy mortals of foolish, well-oiled dispositions, who… would rather starve on a penny than work for a pound.

Washington Irving, Rip Van Winkle

When Rip woke, he found his gun rusted and his dog, Wolf, missing. Upon his return to the village, he found the place and people changed.

The very village was altered; it was larger and more populous. … [Rip] began to doubt whether both he and the world around him were not bewitched.

Washington Irving, Rip Van Winkle

Yet after he realizes he had slept twenty years, Rip is relieved. He does not have to run away from responsibility and his wife any longer. Now he can live with his daughter and idle, guilt free, in the village. His adventure, having a drink and a nap, ends his responsibilities.

After enjoying the tale, I looked into the folklore Washington Irving used to inspire the tale. Peter Klaus, a German folktale, inspired Rip Van Winkle. Perter, a goat herder, was led to “twelve grave old knights” who appointed him to set up the ninepin game they were playing. He took a drink of their alcohol, then fell to sleep. He woke to find his sheep missing and everything changed.

The people whom he met at his entrance to the town were unknown to him, and dressed and spoke differently from those whom he had known there.

Johann Karl Christoph Nachtigal, Peter Klaus

Both characters take a twenty-year nap after drinking from the strange individuals who met them. Both grew long beards and returned to dilapidated homes. Rip though, is grateful for his release from the tyranny of his wife and chores. Rip Van Winkle also had a political change.

So, by reading one short story in my new-to-me book, I have travelled to a village at the foot of the Catskill Mountains, and to a village in Europe. I learned they named the Hudson River after a Dutch explorer for the Dutch East India Company from the 1500s, and that he and his crew may haunts the Catskills. All in less than 10,000 words.

I miss travel, but I love to explore. My new to me book is filling that void.

Happy Reading.

A Hammock For A Bed

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A hammock has always been my dream bed. It can fit anywhere and turn any place into a home. As long as I have a hot drink and a hammock, I have a home. It all started in Central America. I was studying Howler Monkeys in Belize and took a trip to explore Mayan ruins. I love the history and beauty of the area. Lodging was not always where we preferred to stay, so I bought my first hammock.

My favourite space was a small cabana campground outside of Tik’al. Tik’al was a major ceremonial centre with pyramids and temples smattered across the grounds. The temples might be familiar for many as the Star Wars IV, A New Hope. Up close, they were amazing. The air was heavy with humidity and the temples stood out high above us. The steps, you can see up the middle in the picture below, were steep and difficult to climb.

The Great Pyramid as seen in Star Wars and up close in Tik’al. I climbed Temple IV, and it had an amazing view. Fortunately, they had a nice staircase on the back of the temple so there was no need to climb the steep steps.

I travelled to Tik’al during the rainy season which turned out great. Midday, rain fell in buckets from the sky. Straight down and turned the ground from soft grass to mud. We took off our shoes and walked around until we found a temple to climb into where we sat and ate our lunch. As quickly as they rain came, it left. When we could walk around again, we were the only people left. It was beautiful and silent. I hope one day to take my family there. To show them the amazing place.

The cabana I stayed in behind Tik’al. It was beautiful and shockingly, there were no bugs!

That was the beginning. When I carried my bed with me wherever I travelled. It became an addiction. Whenever I saw a beautiful hammock, I had to buy it. It took me back to Guatemala while allowing me to create fresh memories in the current place. Most of my hammocks are from warm countries, which makes sense. But a few are from Canada. We have summer too!

My original set of hammocks, I think we now have over a dozen, all require trees or poles to hang them. Most are simple woven hammocks. Colourful, playful, and packable. But then Canada upped its game. Enter, the hanging hammock with a mosquito net and rain cover. In Canada in the spring, the mosquitoes try to pick me up and carry me away. The last time they tried was last spring when I quarantined at my Grandma’s homestead.

It was me, a car filled with clothes, kitchen goods, bedding, camping gear, and a hammock. The knives and the hammock turned out to be the most important items in the car. I love to cook so I always need a sharp knife. I also need a change of scenery. Usually, I could go to a cafe, a museum, for a bike ride, but this time I needed to stay on the farm for two weeks by myself. The hammock became my place to read and nap.

Be a loner. That gives you time to wonder, to search for the truth. Have holy curiosity. Make your life worth living.

Albert Einstein

After quarantine, I travelled to see my family with my daughter who was spending the summer with family. We lived outside of Canada for most of her life so it was a wonderful change for her to spend time with her cousins, aunts and uncles, and grandparents. We became a part of their bubble. There was no need to put up my hammock there as we had bedrooms to spare.

We tried to take the hammock out while we were travelling through the Rocky Mountains, but the mosquitoes and rain kept it tucked safely in the car. The bug tent and tent were home while we explored the mountain trails and waterfalls. Once we were back to our own house, I tucked away the hammock for the winter. I would need a hammock sleeping bag to nap when it is below freezing. It will be on my Christmas list for next year!

This Christmas we ended up back with my husband for Christmas. We hadn’t been together as a family for seven months since his work kept him in Texas and we were hoping the pandemic mitigation would be in place. Sadly, the borders remain closed. So once again, we were in quarantine. This time we returned to Texas so we could be together as a family. And here we stay.

The hammcocks are self standing, but I can lay outside as the bug population is kept low by the birds. We do explore many parks or museums, there are no mountains to climb, but we have each other. I keep a hammock out at all times. A place to read, to dream, and to hope. I hope the vaccinations roll out well and we are able to travel again. There are so many places to explore and so many people to see. But for now, I will lay in a hammock and remember where I found them. Happy Reading, happy travelling through your memories. What helps you remember the places you have seen?

A Bike Ride Through the Woods

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Our last family bike ride was in 2019 and three countries ago. There wasn’t anything particularly special I remember about the trip. We might have been taking in the recycling, grabbing groceries, maybe dropping my daughter off at school. Through the woods, along a road, on a bike path, we roade everywhere. In the Netherlands, we rode our bikes daily, biking was our family transportation. Moving to Europe provided my daughter to grow up on her bike. I didn’t bother buying a car in either Germany or The Netherlands. Why would I went biking was so convenient and less costly? If I had a car and wanted to part it downtown, parking for a day was 28 euros. If I took my bike, I could find paid parking for 5 euros, but most of the parking was free. And at the door of the shop. It was a simple decision to make. Well, unless there were 40 Km winds and rain. Then we looked to public transportation. Still, and easy choice.

My Daughter’s Miss Grace, Gazelle.

Once we knew we were moving to Houston, we packed everything up and headed this way. We arrived in Houston right before New Year’s 2020. They provided our family with an apartment and a car until our shipment arrived. For me, driving in the traffic of Houston after riding on the bike paths of The Hague was jarring.

Parking was not an issue outside of the core, and it was free! There was always lots of space and I could park as far from the door as I liked. Yes, this is the opposite of how I shopped in The Netherlands. But there, I only purchased enough groceries for a few days. Here, here there was an entire trunk I could fill while I was setting up my new home! We were still in the loaner apartment though, so I didn’t go too crazy. Just wonderful things like a vacuum, pans, plates, cups, and bedding. The basics I have a hard time living without.

A sign from one of my many trips biking around The Netherlands. Please brake for frogs. They use the bike paths too. I found few frogs; it was really the geese and the ducks who wanted their space.

It took three months for our shipment, including our bikes, to arrive. Pretty good in a world unaware of what was to come. We found a house and moved in with what little we owned. It was the week before my daughter’s spring break at school. As with all our past shipments, they filled the house with boxes I tore my way through in 3 days. That’s right. It took me three days to empty all the boxes for an entire house. It was not so much my choice as my decision. If I didn’t get it done, then the movers were out of the picture and I had to recycle the boxes myself. I returned my loaner car. All I had left was my bike. Which was not a complete bike yet. The movers dismantled them for transport and I had yet to find the parts or the toolbox. One day after our goods were in our house, we left for spring break to visit our family in Canada. Lucky for me, I had us bring out laptops and basic supplies because Covid 19, not named, only barely understood, was crossing borders. Our family was not reconnected in Houston, with our bikes, until December 2020. It was a long year.

December we arrived, back at our house that we barely knew, and settled in. It was not until January we reassembled our bikes. There were pedals and wheels fitted on the wrong bikes. The movers tried to help, but without luck. January in Houston is mild. It can be a little cool, but there is no snow on the ground and we had a lot of sun. I love the mild winters where we can still access the outdoors. It is even more important this year where were are all isolated. The need for sun and fresh air is even more important to me. It is my happy place. I love to explore. So explore we did!

We found bike paths and natural areas. The signs for wildlife contrasted mightily. Instead of notice to yield to frogs, we are to leave the alligators alone. No problem. Take all the space you need alligators.

The signage is different, the woods used to be open with plenty of places to explore. The new woods are unfamiliar and we still need to learn what to watch out for. The bike path use appears for leisure and family time, but was is most important is that we were back on our bikes again. Enjoying family time outside of our house, exploring our new environment. Usually one year after moving, I am knowledgeable about the area. But this year was a crazy one. We did not know what was coming. We still don’t But now we have our bikes back and pathways to explore. I am thankful.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Below are a few more pictures from our ride. The last picture is from Germany when our cat decided she wanted to take a ride with me. I forgot to take a picture of when my husband’s pedal fell off. So the ride turned into a walk for the last few kilometers. But it was still a nice day out with a high of 20 degrees (celsius).

I am riding the same commuter bike I have been riding for the last 6 years. Where do you like to explore? I love hiking as much as biking. It is nice to have different perspectives of the same place.

Moving During NaNoWriMo in 2020 is Challenging

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I was optimistic. I thought it was possible to do both. How could I not pack the car, drive, unpack the car, repeat? In the small gaps of time between, I could write. After all, I am getting used to being Between.

Between countries, between houses, between times. That is what 2020 had been to our family. The Between Times. I had big plans with an ambitious timetable. We moved out of the Netherlands in December of 2019 and moved to our temporary accommodations in the USA in the same month (Home 1). We brought in the New Year in a whole new place a celebrated our latest adventure. This would be the eighth move between countries. But then COVID struck.

I am not a negative person, but it hit all of us around the world hard in different ways. In our case, the borders between Canada, our passport country, and the USA while we were in Canada visiting family. We had just (And I mean I had less than a week) unpacked our new house in Houston (Home 2). All of the main level furniture was in the living room because my husband was in Argentina while I was unpacking, and I have learned my lesson about moving heavy furniture alone. Well, I have learned not to try and go up and downstairs with furniture without help. So we decided to stay in Canada while the border was closed for a month and the world adapted to isolation and lockdown. We relocated to my grandparents’ homestead as no one was using it at the time (Home 3). It was the first time my daughter lived on a farm. The perfect time to see what it was like to live with no close neighbours. But then my husband was told to return to work, so he crossed the border and left us up north.

Once our daughter finished school, I left her with my mom. It was our original plan for our daughter to spend the summer with our family while I focused on my writing and we settled our new home (Home 3). Instead, our daughter stayed with family while we finished moving into the house and packing the car. We decided it was in our best interest to move our daughter and myself to Canada since I could no longer work in the USA. No new work visas meant I was out of luck. So I drove up north, collected our daughter, and moved in with our friends (Home 4).

We would stay with our friends while I signed up our daughter for the local school and waited for our house to be available. I am so fortunate to have good friends who were willing to double their home occupancy while we waited for our home. We kept our Canadian house and other people were living in it. This was in August. Finally, in November, we have our house back (Home 5).

So now, once again, we clean. We clean because…. COVID. It is best to make sure the house is empty and disinfected. More so then I have done between our other world moves. And this makes me tired. So tired. And that is why I am now behind on my writing and my blog posts. I apologize for not posting the Inspiring Author of the Week post Tuesday with Faith Hunter. I simply have been too focused on cleaning our newest home. But now the beds are made, the kitchen stocked, so tomorrow I will catch up. I promise.

Hauntings at the Banff Springs Hotel

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Banff Springs Hotel, Alberta, Canada

My daughter and I decided to take a girls trip in the Canadian portion of the Rocky Mountains. Our first stop, Banff. Why Banff? All you need to do is look up the name and the images will call to you. Regardless of the season it is a little treasure held within the heart of the Rocky Mountains. It also resides in the first National Park in Canada. Banff is unique in that it was setup solely as a tourist destination after the discovery of Cave and Basin hot springs. If tourists were to explore the exquisite park and spa, they needed somewhere to stay. It was then, Sir William Cornelius Van Horne had the idea to built the Banff Springs Hotel. It is the hotel that my daughter and I were truly interested in. Not because of its history, so much as the history of its inhabitants.

If we can’t export the scenery, we’ll have to import the tourists.

Sir william cornelius van horne (1843-1915)

Great Canadian Ghost Stories

Legendary Tales of Hauntings from Coast to Coast

by Barbara Smith

When traveling, we pick up local books of folklore, fairytales, and my daughters favourite, ghost stories. This time it was a collection called Great Canadian Ghost Stories, Legendary Tales of Hauntings from Coast to Coast, by Barbara Smith. This book spoke of several ghosts who have been seen and even interacted with guests. The most well know, The Dancing Bride, whose death on her wedding day does not stop her from dancing her wedding waltz at the base of the grand staircase where she died. The most loved, the ghost of Sam Macauley, a bellman who continues to help guests at the hotel, well after his death. He is held responsible for moving elevators and helping guests in need.

Although we wished we saw those ghosts and others, the best we could do was find the bottom of our tea cups after enjoying afternoon tea. It was our first foray into exploring the ghostly past of the Canadian Rockies, but it won’t be our last.

Have you found any interesting local ghost stories on your travels? If so, I would love to hear about them!