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Back in Very Small Business. Back on the Record with Bob Costas. Back Street Girls. Back to Billy. Back to Life. Back to the Rafters. Back With the Ex. Backcountry Rescue.

Backroad Truckers. Backyard Blowout. Backyard Builds. Backyard Envy. Bad Chad Customs. Bad Education UK. Bad Girls Behind Bars. Bad Girls Club. Bad Influencer. Bad Mothers. Bad Teacher. Bad Tenants, Rogue Landlords. Bad Trips Abroad. Bad Universe. Bag of Bones. Baghdad Central. Bahamas Life. Bake Off Vlaanderen. Bake Squad. Bake You Rich. Bakeaway Camp with Martha Stewart.

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Beautiful Lie, The. Beautiful Life, The. Beauty And The Beast While Wiseman was skeptical of the need for such a feature at first, he said internal testing showed that many preferred the instantaneous communication of IM to communication via e-mail. The company also said that an internal beta has been ongoing since November, and some 14, company employees used the service. The most popular items were tickets to concerts, and the most popular categories electronics and computers.

Feedback was positive enough that the company felt confident it was ready for a public beta, a spokesperson told BetaNews. Futhermore, Microsoft says Live Expo further differs from Craigslist in that the user has control over where, what, and whom he buys from. For example, the user could limit listings to just those in his address book or buddy list, to people within the same e-mail domain, or within a certain radius of his or her location.

Unlike the leading classified listing site, Live Local is more based on whom the user wants to buy from rather than where the item is located, Wiseman explaned. All Rights Reserved. Privacy Policy - Cookie Policy.

Viva and I had our own flow that we developed with much talking and trial and error. Then Viva and Joia quickly developed their own flow during a two-week bike trip to the Sine Saloum, replicating night for night the trip I took with Viva 2 months before.

When I joined them, the day before my 52nd revolution around the Sun, I was prepared for yet another new experience. While I tried to stay in my Mother role I also needed to express my hurt at their exclusive tightness which often left me out. Seeing them more as friends and travel buddies than sons I wanted to have an equal share of attention and connection.

Joia and I have had a long-term tense relationship in the last 4 years where he ignored, distrusted and basically did not like me, as his behavior demonstrated. He felt a son-father relationship with Viva and gave him loads more love and attention and trust than he did me. At the same time, to mirror his behavior, I did the same by going to Viva for decisions on trip logistics, food, camping spots, bicycle issues, and so on and so on.

Finally it all came to a head and I had to let out my anger. Trying to stay in my Heart and not my childlike Ego took a big effort as I was feeling very childlike and hurt, with my own children. What a bummer but the outcome was worth the hours of sharing, crying, anger, and finally love. Hearing Truths we did not want to hear but more importantly wanting a Peaceful reconciliation that would set the rest of the Journey on a positive stressless course, we worked hard.

I am utterly proud of these boys. Waking in the early hours to meditate and stretch, choosing the vegetarian diet that works for them, reading the grandest of literature at all times, discussing with maturity and grace all the great issues of the day, organizing themselves with intelligence and health, sharing and caring for each other and me, working diligently with responsible effort, politely learning to communicate in these new ways, and finally taking.

They choose the best camp spots, collect the wood, heat water for showers, plan meals and do any difficult physical tasks I have little energy for these days. This trip is knocking me over.

I am tired now. Last night I asked them to tell me what they saw as my addictions. VIva gave it to me straight in the face. And especially when you are going to bed. Enjoy Yourself. Take care of Yourself. I felt like my mom.

I know I am doing better than her but with age it has gotten worse, my wild monkey mind that is. I used to be more serene in the days of doing Thai Massage and teaching Yoga. In a way I should not have stopped as these activities kept me grounded and connected to Spirit. I DO need more meditation, quality meditation, another Vipassana Course to kick my butt. Maybe a day Course. Impossible to find 2 more paying people who will actually show up.

I could never live here. So we started with 5 students on Day 1 and on Day 3 we are down to 2. Just left without a word, no texts, no calls, and on top of that left the dog here who is starving for his Senegalese leftovers. So my butter and cheese, very prized Toubab foods here, were swiftly devoured when left unattended for moments. Running out of materials we begin to improvise.

No coarse sand to be found anywhere here so we begin to use gravel in the cob mix. A first for me. Then when that runs out we begin digging up his broken shell ground cover and using that for the coarse sand.

This wall is definitely not up to my standards but hell, this is Africa, and I am dealing with Africans. Thankfully there is a white American source to finance this work and us, or I would not have engaged for sure.

It will help Joia break even with his daily expenses and Viva cover the rest of his trip and me, well, cover the energy and time put into this gig so far. But where the heck are Peter and Maimouna anyway? I better read my Dalai Lama book hard before facing him. Compassion, care, happiness, joy Think about others before yourself. So Aries I am. So Aries. Grateful for the dose of Pisces and Capricorn I get every day.

These two angels are dosing me with hard lessons of patience, tolerance, compassion, respect and humility. Claudine is humble. How can I be humble and do my big work at the same time? Humble and Big. I am feeling tired though, as I said. Tired of travelling. Need to chill somewhere peaceful, healthy and connected to the Internet as I prepare for the second half of my Journey.

More Africa? Back to Europe and across to Asia? Workaway prospects? Vipassana or other Meditation Course? Something new? Boat to Brazil and Latin America? Visit Yvonne? Straight to Cuba? Get the Ecovillage started. And Zeca? Dear simple-minded loving and humble Zeca who fires me up?

Is he a real thing? I know I only need him for long-term physical intimacy, but so young. How will he handle my relationships with others when I need more than him? Do I wait it out for one who is more me? Those old white men can be so laborious and unsexy?

My Zeca is so quiet in public and so male big energy in private with me. But how will he fare outside of CV? Is there any reality in this possibility? And beautiful Atab who I just met and zinged with, with his little Gambian English and uneven lips, high cheekbones and sad eyes. A small muscly he- man physique I like, and a mutual smile of pure love as well. Is it part of my learning to have fun? Or is it just me? Decisions, decisions. Life ticking by. Each morning a new day, new possibilties, and one day less on the planet.

But, as my sons advised, just deal with the workshop part and let the personal stuff go. So here we go again, more materials paid for and a fresh start after a slow day. Our workshop grows by one person a day and now the. Peter comments that he feels a peaceful calm energy within him standing inside its circular enclosure. They are all commenting in Wolof. I think they have been bit by the cob bug and are getting more and more ideas and inspiration. Our mission is accomplished once again.

My boys are all converging on a similar theme in their life paths. How interesting. It seems they are all three walking a path of supporting spiritual awareness, self-introspection, and communal inspiration leading to group epiphanies. Xica takes the musical experience path wanting to create an ambiance of oneness, love, pleasure and happiness. Joia takes the path of intellectual inquiry into how to create the same with group improvisation. All three are forms of public service in raising Spiritual Consciousness.

We are a family of Healers, blessed. May our Paths keep us close physically, emotionally and Spiritually. I still have work to do with Jan. Up until now the winds have been cool and even nippy requiring a sweatshirt at night. Today it feels like desert winds baking the land and the people. To top it off there has been no electricity or water all morning. I have completed my commitment to the cob bungalow and left the two remaining students to finish up.

A new energy, a new body, a new Soul The large beer I had before retiring helped me to chill into the male mode. Been a while. I feel safe and aligned with him, though we barely have spent anytime together. Ziguinchor, finally. I wonder if any of the citizens walking through the dusty, stinky, sandy streets even know that. Our arrival was slowed down by a sudden transition to paver-surfaced streets all the way into town.

We crossed endless mangrove wetlands until we reached the Casamance River and entered. It was one of the hottest days yet and all I. The air-conditioned and comfortable inside held me for 2 hours or more as I discussed the merits of American vs.

African Customer Service with Ibou. The best I got for my efforts was a submitted complaint that may or may not get back to me before I depart for Cabo Verde in 3 weeks. Dirty, grimy feeling the second you step out into the blast of sauna air beating down hard. Slow steps push through the sloppy sandy streets. Children beg for CFAS as they watch you buy food. Everything is repeated, nothing changes much. Same old 3 or 4 meals everywhere every day.

The vegetables are hand-picked out of the cooking pot and placed on the rice. The fish is also hand-placed. People just haphazardly walk up to you out of the blue and begin shaking your hand and asking your name with no connection and no intention to remember. Why waste our breath? I just want familiar ease, as every traveller feels after a long time away. To me that means less random conversations, less answering questions, organic vegtables namely chard, collards, kale, arugula, mustard and on and on, quietude and mostly, not standing out so much.

I knew it would be like this, but, unless I am actually living here, I think I can only take so much at a time. I would even know how to answer back to all those little munchkins on the side of the road who scream the same bloody words from North to South, East to West. La Casamance hits you immediately on the Nature aspect. Independent Rebels? Magical mud houses? Lush fruit trees dripping to the ground? Monkey tribes? Secret villages? We are drawn to the relaxed feeling here.

Less people, less harassing salespeople, and a feeling of security. People seem to go about their chores and their lives without stopping everything to look at or talk to the Toubab. We are at a crux in our Journey. I seek out the very discreet Bissauan Consulate on a nameless sand road, identifiable only by a sloppy green and yellow namesake flag hanging sadly at its front.

This recent replacement consulate surprises me a bit for an official government office of a neighboring country. I walk in to a very pale yellow shabby office with one chair and a large wooden desk with an East German steel-gray typewriter on it.

What a sight! Piles of paper gave importance to this desk, behind which sat a petite Bissauan dilpomat, light mulatto-skin color, and with huge rounded dark-framed spectacles which sat on the edge of his nose. The sight was classic and a perfect Saturday Night Live set-up. The small Bissauan gnome had a soft childlike voice to match as he shared with me the Visa details in a very informed simple direct manner, reminding me of the American qualities I so miss.

I had no questions, only a decision to make with my travel mate sons. Yearning for change, for newness, for Portuguese, for new foods and vistas on the one hand So, we are on the almost final leg of our Senegal adventure now, heading West to the farthest points we can get to in the Casamance rebel zones. As our bicycle-laden fully-packed pirogue cruised to its security checkpoints on the pier to the South, where one of the boat staff handed some important-looking and handsome military man a list of the names and nationalities on board, and then to the North He stood on the beach with our passports in hand and yelled questions at us regarding our enry date into Senegal, our birth dates, names, etc.

Our answers were not making him happy nor satisfying him. I was incredulous I jumped off first to try and rectify things lest we would be dumped onto this dumpy, piggy, garbage-infested shoreline that was not welcoming in any way. Again my answers made him angrier. He would have none of it and insisted on the boys and all our stuff to debark asap. We had no choice and I, for one, was a bit scared.

The issue that was surfacing was unexpected. When we had crossed from Gambia back into Senegal in Kartong, we were taken across in a pirogue, dropped off on a deserted beach, and that was that. When I had asked about border officials, passport stamping, noone really knew what to say. Basically there was noone around to fill the role. We simply went on as we had no choice. Ultimately we forgot about it, but it did seem odd that people could just cross here unbeknownst to the Senegalese officials.

Now we were being called on it. The screaming skinny giant finally calmed down and gave me some hope for resolution here by saying he would see what he could do. Knowing Senegal is more correct than Gambia and probably most African countries, my momentary worry about being falsely requested money for having crossed illegally was assuaged. There is an honesty here that is reassuring. While the head honcho in his white muscle T, dark blue bermudas and flip flops flipeed through our passports back and forth repeatedly pausing on the Gambia visa, the second in line was eyeing me already.

The head guy was pissed. Why did we leave Senegal, enter Gambia and not re-enter Senegal where we should have in Seleti? What business did we have crossing in Kartong where there are no border officials? My answers were not registered. He did not care that we were on bicycles and coming down the coast and this was the easiest closest place to cross before dark. All he could focus on was not getting his ass kicked by his superiors for having some random American and French Toubabs wandering around in Casamance with incorrect passport statuses.

None of us had legally re-entered Senegal, I had left Senegal with my French passport and re-entered with my American passport when I went to Cabo Verde, Viva was 2 months past the 3-month maximum stay. Now what???? What worked finally, after calling in to Headquarters in Dakar, was that I told them we were on our way out of the country momentarily. We were trying to get the boat from Carabane to Dakar so we could beeline out of the country and on to our next destination.

This seemed to cause a sigh of relief that he repeated to his superior over the phone. No we were not on some Mother. We were not supplying the rebels with arms or money. In the end what I learned was that there was high security right now in Senegal to protect the Toubabs from extremist terrorist bombs and they did not want us running around their country haphazardly without being on their books.

Thus they needed to know who was where. Not so bad after all. Right there in the rundown ramshackle deteriorating one-room excuse for an Immigration Patrol office and in front of his superior.

No shame here whatsoever when it comes to intercultural courting. When I tell him yes, he asks if I have a daughter he can add to his harem. Our next Senegal military run-in took place 3 days later on the island of Carabane Only about 1km2 seems inhabited and the tourist-friendly area constitutes a minor piece of the coastline.

I decided to take a solo space of my own, drawn to this semi- enclosed wind-protected ring of thick overgrown bush. Clearing out all the animal poops, I called it my own and after a last talking campfire with Viva and Joia in which we set intentions for our spiritual retreats, I prepared for a 3-day Silent Retreat at this interlude between wrapping up our time in Senegal and preparing for the next venture in Cabo Verde.

As is always the case It gave me the medicine I was needing to reaffirm and which I was already receiving from Viva and Joia every day. I could relate to Naomi on several levels and reading her made me feel happy. Not an easy task at It gave me hope though and to be able to complete a book with no interruptions from the outside world, and with full concentration, is a gift I have not received in a long time.

The key is, however, to set the intention to be disconnected from phone, computer, speech, food and space. The last one means that you will stay within a small area of space in which your water needs can be fulfilled. This and running a business while biking around the world While this mission must be accomplished for my future Peace of Soul I am longing for, though not ready for, the moment of Physical Stillness in a Space that will become my New Home on Earth.

Surrounded by beautiful and beloved objects, a vegetable garden, animals, trees, sunshine, wild spots, a gorgeously cozy and eccentric home-made shelter, wonderful people, a sweet village or town, and so on.

As the moment approaches of course I too will become more clear on what it is, who with, where and how. For now it is still an impressionistic idea though I know what it feels like. So yummy. Back to the military intervention into our Vision Quest. I am in my tent, it is dark, I am reading my third book After two days in human silence, a voice interrupts the quietude. He apologizes for interrupting but needs my assistance as there are 2 machine gun-toting camouflage-outfitted soldiers with their plaineclothes boss standing at their campfire and asking for our passports.

I later learn from my boys that I did a wonderful job of being centered, respectful, calm and polite. The Quest is working. After ten minutes of chit chat that turns playful, they still decide they need our passports to record our whereabouts on Carabane and thus clear their conscience and line of duty work, lest all hell breaks loose.

I am grateful. Once again, no harm done, apologies made all around, and the passports are returned the next day. Our mode of travel and preferred mode of accomodation, camping in the brush, is not usual for these areas. We calm their minds by, once again,. They are visibly relieved and then the fun and jokes begin though, thankfully for the presence of my sons, they keep their flirting for another occasion.

As low tide reaches its max, and the sun is dropping, we initiate our latest departure yet. Gliding down the wide stretch of hard sand with our pound-loaded bikes plus the rider, the Gypsy Bikers are off again to new lands, new scapes, new adventures.

We leave our host places with gratitude, a positive vibration, a clear conscience and a peaceful mind. Thus we know that new host spots, people, animals, plants will welcome us again. In silence we pedal as far as we can go before needing to bridge a foot wide bolong, an arm of ocean or river water entering into land. Unfortunately we are on the rising tide side of the low tide and dusk is upon us.

Fortunately I have two travel warriors as my partners and know they will figure this quandary out. We need to cross with bikes and baggage trying to stay dry and for this we need to figure out the most shallow crossing point. The boys luckily scoped this out yesterday and as usual I am in good hands. No need to think, decide, lead, figure it out. If they can do it here they can do it anywhere. I have done my motherly duty for what I believe is one of the most important human skills: travelling with respect, flexibility, adaptability, economy, beauty, nature, local customs and intercultural interlingual communication.

In addition, the bonus is the bike touring skills which is the cream on the parfait. Thus the only larger expenses left are the plane tickets and visas. For those you need some cash in the bank or you need to be making money on the road, the final skill I have bestowed upon my 2 oldest male descendants. This last skill, as it relates to my personal expertise, leaves them with knowledge and ability to build their own beautiful shelter anywhere in the world for next to nothing in monetary cost.

I am complete. Viva is He is extremely handsome, well-built, intelligent, friendly, humble, kind, respectful, fearless, sturdy, confident and creative. He is our lead guide on this journey as far as directions, where to camp, setting up camp, making the fire, cooking, making sure water is nearby, and basically securing everything.

When Viva is around, everyone feels safe and sound, well taken care of, loved and peaceful. He is essentially a Mama and a Papa rolled into one.

I have no doubt he can raise a family all by himself, perfectly. Of course why would he want to do what his Mama had to do, not without difficulty and stress. The lucky woman who makes his Heart sing and Face smile is an amazing one.

Just like him. This Journey has deepened our relationship, our. I am less triggered by his moody moments, perhaps becoming more self-confident and less self-centered is the reason. I learn so much from and with Viva as he has those characteristics I am weak in: the H word humble , the P word patience and the R word respect , in descending order of quantity.

I know I am making progress because we have less fights than we did at the beginning. Bless His Soul. I look forward to seeing his Journey unfold, from not too far away hopefully. Joia is He is also very handsome the redhead version , tall, lean, strong, fit, kind, respectful, friendly, curious, self-motivated and loving. Joia is a bubble of innocent childlike happiness, eager to learn, share, communicate and love.

He makes friends easily, and his musical talents are often the bond when the language skills are not yet established. He is the most travelled of the three, and has had the good fortune to have a best friend whose family took him with them every Christmas vacation to a new international hotspot. Joia has opened his Spirit to monkhood in China for three months, 11th grade in Spain, Thailand on his own, a southern road trip on his own from Asheville to Dallas, traipsing through Europe with his best buddy and of course all of our wild and woolly family trips.

Joia is on a heady Spiritual Path to become wise in the ways of the Chinese and Indian healthy lifestyle systems and immediately puts into practice what he is learning each day. His newest interests are Spontaneity Philosophy and Art Therapy and, much to my contentment, he is returning to college to finish a BA at a school that is more to his liking, the famous Naropa Institute in Boulder, Colorado. This African adventure will have brought him many new traveller and construction skills which give him grounding practical abilities to equalize the focus on Spirit and Mind.

Not everyone likes to be in a place of not knowing, being the beginner, having to get to where everyone else seems to already be. I am a very very fortunate and blessed Mother that 2 of my children want to travel with me for a lengthy period of time in a foreign land by bike and work at my side. Very lucky indeed! I get to watch Viva and Joia flow in their beautiful brotherhood friendship unlike many others I think. They wake before dawn and do their yoga, chi gong and meditation practice daily, they fast every Sunday, and here in Africa, their diet and mine has been simplified to rice, veggies and beans once in a while.

There is not so much available here, certainly nothing new except seasonal fruit, and thus decisions on what to eat are limited. They have regular bowel movements, feel good and lead an equanimous life. Again I feel complete in having shared a healthy lifestyle with these guys as best I could and now they have adopted it and customized it to their taste.

Today was speech and food fast day. To our good fortune we were surrounded by harvestable coconuts filled with water. The kind that is shipped over to the US, put into weird Tetra-Pak containers and sold for 10 times more than the cost to just drink it out of the coconut, if there is even is a cost. The cost for these is asking Viva to climb the tree. I even offered him CFAs a coconut double the price because my fast needed a little sweetness.

I must have drank 5 coconuts today and I learned this afternoon that the water deconstipates you swiftly. They tasted so fresh, clean, natural, healthy. Our day was superb. Slow, spontaneous, relaxing and everyone looked fantastic at the end of the day, if I may say so myself. I even communed with a cow, to the point where he let me touch his horns, and the vultures came pretty darn close too. A stretch of pristine white sand beach lines a pine needle-layered ground cover dotted with coco palm trees behind which is a multi-layered forest through which the cows plod daily after their day on the beach.

This is the spot that called out to us, says Joia, and Viva was sensitive enough to hear it. We have settled here for 3 days in delight and seen noone but the cows. Clay body facials, massages, fireside chats, naps, books, good food cooked on the natural coals of the Ataya Stove that Viva has carried around for the last 2 months, Shea Butter spreads, hairwashing, and so on.

We are really preparing for some worktime ahead. The unknown for now, as my dear friend Patrick continues to expand his pot of gold in order to manifest his greatest dreams with my muddy support. Viva actually spotted it from maybe feet away across the community gardens in Djembering, up on a hill. My visual scope gets narrower when the conditions are challenging, namely heat, hunger and deep shifting sand to walk through.

Immediately my interest was piqued. On our return from the village in search of victuals, I take a solo detour up to the magical grounds that call out to me. As I enter, the gardener leads me to the cropped red-headed and rectangular-bespectacled Queen Matron who is in the large, colorful and artistically-tiled kitchen full of unusual liqueurs made from local fruit, open and airy, clearly the source of many a tasty European- inspired African meals.

Tok-Tok is the 2-story skinny pyramid I had seen from far away. We enter through the little door made of black-striped mangrove wood. I fall in love. Up we climb to the lookout tower bedroom with a degree view of the ocean, the rice fields, the village and the dunes. The large flap windows open to the outside and are supported by a piece of wood, simple, allowing the fresh breezes to fill the room and remind you where you are.

Oxun, the African entity, is the name of the bungalow whose grey straw roof continues down to the sandy ground like a big round A-frame.

We have to duck to enter through the little hobbit door which leads us into, once again, an irregularly-shaped room for three. The walls all have different shapes, angles, nooks, niches and windows, framed with all sorts of woods from the area. I later find out from Julio, the self-made master builder, that he and Anne had a ball deigning and building this maze of happy huts. She has outdoor living rooms of purple and pink-pillowed couches, cozy wooden armchairs and perfect WIFI coverage.

Little doors, stairs leading to small loft spaces, random shelves in all shapes and sizes, oddly-shaped windows and all with very customized woodwork that looks like it took forever for all its personalized details.

She confirms the contrary however That is why my Journey needs a limit so I too can have the time needed to sprout my Ultimate Ecovillage Creation. Hmmmmm, I take a big breath before responding. What she is asking for is a cob dome, in which the walls turn into the roof in one fell swoop.

This is something that Nader Khalil does with his serpent-like Superadobe bags firmed up with barbed wire circling around and around like making a pot. I know that cob ovens are made this way but they have a sand form, which clearly we cannot do here. I know the cob can be corbelled little by little to close the dome I explain to Anne that it could be possible, but either way an external roof would be requisite here where the downpours come from July through September and flood the rice fields.

Of mud and men. There are more men and there is more mud to discover. What is the connection in terms of me, I am not clear. I AM clear that mud bonds men and women and children when they prepare it for and embark on building a structure together.

No question there as my decade of cob workshops attests. I have circled the sun 52 times now. Now, I am going to be totally honest with you guys who have had the wherewithal to follow this story this far. Perhaps only a well-trained eye or another crone Goddess would even notice.

Perhaps if I could do that now, the neurotic changes that have begun to infiltrate my persona with the end of my menses would also be lifted away. I have lost weight to the point that I am lighter than I was as a senior in high school when I first got my period and put on 20 pounds in 6 months, taking me to pounds and more for the next 35 years of my life.