Ryshia Kennie's Blog, page 5

Flashback Friday - It's Off to Angkor Wat

Four years after my first journey to Cambodia, the illusive t-shirt has been bought. Angkor - no not the I saw Angkor Wat t-shirt but Angkor beer the national beer of Cambodia. It's been tested, it's good and we have the t-shirt.


Well here we are, Flashback Friday - where did the week go? I know I spent alot of it outside, on the deck, writing. I'm working on a women's fiction/romance right now. But I was aching to go on a trip. And with Saskatchewan COVID numbers going up, well - it wasn't going to happen before, or later. So we're still doing a virtual trip. This trip takes me back to internet glitches - internet cafes and a whole lot of sun and fun. We're going back on a virtual journey to one of my favourite places - Cambodia...


This is my second trip to Siem Reap. It's just a brief jaunt, an interlude in the midst of our trip as we juggle arrival times into Myanmar. At Angkor Wat there are changes, long awaited restoration has begun on major portions of the structure leaving portions off limits. There are signs now that map out a logical viewing strategy with the usual arrows and signs. Somehow I'm disappointed. The mystery is disappearing with each new sign and regulation. The temple in the inner courtyard where the treacherous three story high, ancient, uneven, worn staircase - terrifying for us height challenged individuals - is now off limits. Apparently it was as dangerous as my overactive imagination had anticipated. Still, despite the changes, when I stand in the centre of Angkor Wat beside a Buddhist shrine with incense wafting around me and a man begins a chant that echoes through the ancient chamber I'm transported back in time when this place was alive with another people. People who built something fabulous not just for the Gods they worshipped but for themselves and for the people that served them. It is all rather overwhelming.



In this picture to the right a little boy is climbing an ancient relic like it was his own set of monkey bars.


At Tonle Sap lake just a little further away - it's that unusual time of the year when during the rainy season the lake floods a major portion of Cambodia as the Mekong river overflows into it. The villages that lie near the lake are on stilts and during the floods they resemble floating villages as the water rises right up to road level. Children, dogs and livestock all roam the roads and make it nerve wracking to negotiate the narrow dirt strip that separates one row of roughly built stilt houses from another.


And then....
Tomorrow we are heading to Myanmar - a repeat of three countries one day - news flash - we're doing it again. January 4 - Cambodia, Thailand, Myanmar. I don't know what internet access will be like. I'm assuming for sure no more pictures. I may be going under for the next week but if I can I'll post to the blog. In the meantime should I have to abdicate my role as trip journalist for a week or so standby - at some point I'll be back.



http://ryshiakennie.com
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Flash Back Friday - Out of the Comfort Zone and Over the Edge

Today we're going to head over to Thailand. On this imaginary trip I thought we'd book again book that private jet. Might as well have the elite of trips, after all, in the land of fiction, money is no object.
While that part of the trip is fiction, what happened next, what follows, was real - a handful of years ago. Welcome to Flashback Friday!
Yesterday was a scuba diving adventure. The first time in scuba gear since certification four years ago. Although it seemed like I had forgotten everything, it all came back. Let me say that scuba diving was not on the top of my list of things to do. With only four dives under my belt I may be certified but still a beginner. But I'm so glad I didn't listen to that little voice that screeched something about remaining comfortable, dry and on shore. Instead, I stepped off that boat and dived into another world that I thought I had long forgotten. But how could you forget such sights.


Sting rays scurry for cover. Jelly fish float with delicate tentacles that bob in an undersea exotic dance. Sea urchins waft in silent currents. Cliffs of red and orange and blue hued coral undulate in hills across the sands. Brightly coloured anemone harmonize with the urchins and schools of fish flit here and there. A sucker fish follows, biting one of the divers as he cleans off anything that may have lodged on our equipment. An hour and a half under water will be part of this trip that I'll long remember.

















Take one step out of your comfort zone - you'll be glad you did.


Ryshiawww.ryshiakennie.com   ...a world you never imagined!      
The Dead Sea, a tourist and a whole other  story!


Check out my latest release:  The Tears We Never CriedDon't miss a thing - Sign up for my newsletter The Walkabout!         
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Flashback Friday - Border Crossings - Beneath the Law?

For Flashback Friday, I thought this post was interesting. Another take on border crossings. This time we're traveling to the Myanmar/Thai border (at a time when Myanmar was just Burma - times, borders, names change but some things never do). Here's a look at that border crossing...

Borders are tight in most parts of the world.  They've been tight for awhile and only today are they, well - tighter.  Actually, I've entered few countries in my travels where forms weren't required and passports not expected to be at ready.  There's always the stern looking officials.  But it's all in the presentation, some checkpoints are just a little more intimating than others and on the northern border of Thailand - the Burmese/Myanmar checkpoint was one of them.

Or so I thought.  But in that little village in Northern Thailand that butted up against Burma, borders took on a completely different meaning.  While officials manned an immigration point on a bridge that marked the border between Thailand and Burma/Myanmar, commerce thrived on both sides of the border.

Mae Sai, Thailand was bustling with people wanting to sell everything from cigarettes to t-shirts.  And on the other side of the bridge, for those a little more adventurous - Burma/Myanmar.  But no one was going there without filling out the forms, answering the questions and facing men dressed in military fatigues holding automatic rifles.

No one that is except for one man who was desperately trying to sell us a t-shirt on the Thai side of the border.  When he had none in the size we wanted, he held up his hand.  Told us to wait in that universal sign language and bolted toward the bridge.  While people lined up or even debated whether crossing into Burma/Myanmar was a wise thing, our t-shirt salesman ran under the bridge, right underneath the immigration stop, crossed the border into Burma/Myanmar and within minutes returned back into Thailand with the correct size t-shirt in hand.

Daring to us.  Just another day at the office for him.  Anything daring in your day?




Take care, keep safe!
Ryshiawww.ryshiakennie.com   ...a world you never imagined!      
The Dead Sea, a tourist and a whole other  story!


Check out my latest release:  The Tears We Never CriedDon't miss a thing - Sign up for my newsletter The Walkabout!         
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Flashback Friday - Where There's Smoke...

Today we're hopping on that imaginary plane and we're flashing back a few years. We're heading to Pattaya, Thailand and from there a few Thai island hops to our destination. Thailand, a beautiful place to visit, I'll go there again when, well, when I can.

So here's the trip, of course, with a few glitches in between:


Flashback Friday - Hazards of the Road: This blog post was originally created in a Thai cyber cafe and there was trouble immediately. 
"The other day my blog is going right to left - yesterday left to right. Now, language was an issue. Today language was not the problem - go figure. And the mouse, another issue - it has an e-brain of it's own. Even in paradise there is the occasional fly."
Yesterday was a travel day. Stocked with tylenol cold (yes, even in the tropics) I emerge from the hotel to see our airport transport with the hood up. Worse - there's smoke beginning to waft - and then billow from the engine. "Grab the packs!" is the call to arms. With your life in a canvas bag you can only grab what's important and stand back. Unfortunately, for the car, it wouldn't be going anywhere today. Left to stand on the street corner amidst Pattaya's endless rush, there's no guarantee we're going anywhere in a hurry.



But fifteen minutes later another car is on the road and the airport is in sight. Koh Samui, the only airport where even the airport bathroom is appealing with a room size aquarium dividing men from women's. Open air terminals with lush foliage spill into the waiting areas. And then it's time to be off again - on to the ferry, across narrow gangplanks and off to Koh Pha Ngan. 


After landing it is a grueling run across hot pavement and through anxious hotel peddlers for one of many small pickups where a ride in the back means being jounced across rough roads,and being careful to keep your head bent or crack it on the roof as the truck pitches and rolls at a quick clip down the road. Right now there is nothing to see but iron bars, dust and heat and the occasional glimpse of what might be paradise. An hour later and a few misturns before a final deposit in a place so beautiful it is surreal. An aqua cove shimmers in the heat as it snuggles up against the restaurant and the tiny bungalows melt into the emerald green lushness of Thailand. It is a place where you could stay indefinitely, languishing under the hot sun, lounging by the pool and immersing yourself in a good book.








Take care, keep safe!
Ryshiawww.ryshiakennie.com   ...a world you never imagined!      
The Dead Sea, a tourist and a whole other  story!


Check out my latest release:  The Tears We Never CriedDon't miss a thing - Sign up for my newsletter The Walkabout!         
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Canada Day Enters Strange Times

It's Canada Day, except there are no fireworks, no bands and no festivities in the park. Most years we'd hop on our bikes (easier to maneuver through a crowd) and head to the park to see some of the events. Not this year. This year everything changes. But there's still celebrations, life goes on even though we're still social distancing united world wide by that virus - of who, today, we shall not name.

Nope, today we're going to talk about fun things like celebrations, books and squirrels - and maybe a bit about social distancing squirrel fashion.

That's what comes to check out my handful of treats each morning - squirrels and one widow crow - He may or may not be a widow but he always comes in alone for one of the peanuts I lay out every morning. The squirrels? - they're all carrying on like nothing has changed in their word. And social distancing, they've always done that. It's called: "Take one step closer to that peanut and we'll see how fast you can run!" Yes, when it comes to food, the squirrels aren't too social. And this morning, after yet another rain, they were looking a little damp as they came in to see what I may have left for them.

Hopefully, the damp gives way to some heat this afternoon. For even though there's nothing to attend, we can still celebrate.

So in these crazy times - celebrate who and where you are!

And to all you Canadians, wherever you might be - Happy Canada Day!





An excerpt from my latest release and first women's fiction:
The Tears We Never Cried 
The only solace Cassie has, is in the arms of the man who emerged from the shadows of the past.

(Cassie's just endured another crisis with her mom):

Eventually I went home, I slept little and finally gave in to a cup of tea and an old black and white movie. I couldn't tell you what the movie was about.

I do remember that Bette Davis played in it and Russ showed up somewhere in the middle. He was in his uniform. I guessed he had driven by and seen the living room light on--I didn't ask. That led me to guess he'd done it before--driven by, checking on us, on me. All those crazy words I'd said to him before about not wanting a relationship, about not wanting him, they'd been words I wish I could take back. But there was nowhere to begin back-shoveling the sludge I'd spewed out as my life had crumbled around me. With every crumble he'd been there, and I knew it. He'd been there and I'd wanted  him to be there. I couldn't imagine my life now without him. And I couldn't stop saying words that might drive him away.

"I don't have time for anything but Mother," I said while my inner self screamed to shut up. "I don't know if I ever will." Despite all I'd said, Russ stepped over it all. He manned up when I had only let the potential of us down. I've never been held so tenderly in a man's arms--ever.


Now available in audio!
                                          ...a world you never imagined!
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Flashback Friday - Hazards of the Road

So in these days of travel restrictions, another virtual short trip across the border to visit friends and neighbours in the United States. It's strange times, and to see that border closed - says alot. Never in our history has the Canada/United States border been closed - until now! 

So here it is, Flashback Friday - Hazards of the Road:

The fun thing about travel is tripping on the unexpected, the unfamiliar and the best way to do that is meet the locals. That holds true anywhere.  No matter how short a distance you travel.

Footprints in the snowA jaunt to Minneapolis in these days of ultra security makes a winter trip between two cold regions a challenge.    I'm used to packing much lighter but it's a trick to figuring out how to go lighter.  Boots, coats, mitts all take room and all need to be divested in security lines and stowed in tight plane seating.  Taking less is an option but winter storms are unpredictable.  By our 9:30 a.m. arrival in the U.S. it felt like evening, I was having  serious empathy for parents with toddlers, although my ears were still ringing from the toddler who cried and screamed the entire flight.  That same little boy was now smiling sweetly a passenger or two ahead of me.


I finally made it through the immigration line - having as usual chosen the wrong line.  The slowest one with an immigration officer who bellowed angry orders to frustrated travelers at regular intervals.  When it was finally my turn, it was like I was facing a different man.  A man wearing a smile and with the parting words; "Have a good trip hon".

Hon?   Not a term you'll hear casually thrown out north of the U.S. border at least where I come from.  But soon it's also not the only time I hear hon.  I assume that this is part of the local lingo except I never hear the term again after leaving the airport.  Is it possible that the airport is a culture unto itself?  Or I just don't look like hon anymore?

A Farm in MinnesotaIt was before leaving the airport that we met a true lover of winter.  A woman at the shuttle desk told us how other travelers had questioned her sanity for remaining in such a cold climate.  Then she asked us how we liked Saskatchewan winter and then preceded to tell us about all her winter adventures in Minnesota from ice fishing to ski dooing.  She glowed as she told us about them.  I have to admit, I kind of admired her adventurous winter spirit for despite my place of origin, winter just isn't my thing.  Since leaving my toboggan days as a child, those chilly little flakes haven't held much appeal.  I mean snow is pretty, for about twenty-four hours or until you get stuck driving your car to the local convenience, take your pick.  On the upside, as my mother says, it keeps crime down - why? see, I knew you'd bite - too cold to go outside and all the criminals stay indoors.  That's her theory.  I believe she's also been known to say that it keeps tempers at a minimum - no one's blood can heat up in sub zero temperatures.  And if you believe that I'll give you a hotline to more Momisms.

We're in Laura Ingalls Wilder territory now at least during her time On the Banks of Plum Creek  - from  Little House on the Prairie fame and not the Michael Landon TV version, for those of you who didn't devour the original series as children.  Laura really had a knack of making winter look romantic.  Sorry Laura, not even for you.

So fast forward to the hotel where there's a shuttle to the Mall of America.  But from my hotel window I could see Macy's, an anchor store, across the parking lot.  Now I'm puzzled, why the need for a shuttle except maybe for the old or infirm? So we inquire about bus times and mall access, thinking that one might have to walk around the gigantic structure to enter and thus the necessity for a shuttle.  And when hearing that's not the case, I inquired if there was an undetected reason for us using the shuttle.

"No, ma'am (another term not much heard north of the border), it depends where you come from and what kind of cold you're used to.  Some of our guests take the shuttle because it's too cold or they use it to bring their shopping back," he replied in his easy southern drawl.  I bit back my questions that begin with where he might be from as there was no hint of Minnesota in that accent. Instead I only said we had no need of a shuttle.

But it was on our departure from that hotel when things got interesting.  A conversation began with the inevitable question, "Where are you from?"  This time there was no need to tag Canada to the long enough already Saskatchewan.  This time I heard for the first time; "Oh, I've been there."  But it was his next comment that really made the conversation interesting,  "Drove from Regina to Saskatoon - expected to see more road kill.  I was surprised I didn't see any at all.  Was it the wrong time of year?

Rewind - what?  Road kill?
For a moment I was at a loss.  For one, I'm a city girl and for two, I'm an animal lover.  Road kill just isn't in my reality.  But a comment like that definitely had to be explored.  So here's the scoop:

According to this local hotel manager, the roads of Minnesota are littered with dead animals in hunting season.  Not shot but run over, and lots of them.  I think he expected, because Saskatchewan has a similar prairie landscape, that we'd have the same or more.  I assured him that even in hunting season there wasn't a lot of road kill.  And it usually takes a much longer trip to see wild life of any kind.  A coyote or two, some antelope or deer - all still breathing and usually loping in the distant fields, and maybe as far as road kill, on a busy day, a lone squashed skunk or deer was about all you were going to see and often, thank goodness, not even that.   So after a discussion about live versus squashed viewing, we went on our separate ways.
Winter Highway, Saskatchewan
Somehow I don't think road kill is going to make it to the list of things to see and do in either Minnesota or Saskatchewan.  Although I should never say never.

The world is a big place and it's littered with interesting characters.

Any characters in your recent travels both near and afar?  Or do you have another take on road kill?  And please, not another recipe.







Take care, keep safe!
Ryshia

www.ryshiakennie.com

My latest release - check it out! A mother's tragic diagnosisA daughter's life on hold.An ending and a new beginning...Book news? - follow me on Bookbub                                                   
   ...a world you never imagined!
Don't miss a thing - Sign up for my newsletter The Walkabout! The Dead Sea, a tourist and a whole other  story!Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ryshiakennie/Twitter:  @ryshiakennieFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/Author.RyshiaKennie/
Latest release:  The Tears We Never Criedhttp://ryshiakennie.com
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Flashback Friday - Language, A Fun Challenge

Welcome to Flashback Friday. Today we go to Myanmar or Burma as it was once known. It was an exhausting trip to get there. As you can see, too many countries in too few hours. But it was well worth it. Myanmar for all the troubles that it's faced is a beautiful country with people I will never forget. I remember that first evening; the balmy night air, the peaceful silence broken only by the snap of the slight man's flip flops walking ahead of us. and gently humming a soothing melody with words I'd never learned and couldn't understand. 

Three countries, one destination...


Three countries today - if a silent transfer through Thailand counts. Yes, that was today, flew from Cambodia to Bangkok and transferred for a flight to Yangon. I'm counting that as three countries. It sure feels like  countries.
Burma. Already feeling the language barrier. Headed off to find a strip of cafes in the heart of Yangon. Not so easy to find especially without a map. Yangon has over 5 million people so it sprawls over a considerable area. Asking directions, not easy. One cab driver tried to help, he enlisted his friend, who motioned to another friend, who brought in a woman who could speak very elementary English. After a few minutes of polite smiles, hand waving, garbled directions on every side, it was time to head back to the hotel and collect outside reinforcements. Someone who could write directions on a piece of paper and a taxi driver to lead the way. And we were off. Again, not so easy. We were dropped off in a very interesting area of the city, with restaurants and shops. And, as dusk gathered, it was clear that it was also a rather poor section of town. Across broken concrete and open sewer lines, it was a long walk until a friendly cab driver gave us a ride down to what he thought we were looking for - a Karoke bar.  Stepping out of the stripped down to the metal floorboards, seventy era car, was to again face a walk to - we weren't sure where. Fortunately, another cab showed up and another cab later - back at the hotel and supper at the buffet.

Strangers in a strange land, they were determined to help us.


                                                   Ryshia

Until later. 
Dream big and travel safe. Possibly, for now, between the pages of a good book! 
Ryshia

www.ryshiakennie.com
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Flashback Friday - Let's Head South

A few years ago I escaped winter for a few months south of the border. The trip would come with little culture shock for the States are similar to Canada in a large number of ways. So I thought going in but in this post I discovered that yes there are differences lots of them. Among other things, I have an accent. Although, I swear I don't, apparently accents are relative depending on what side of the border you're on.

Here's how that went down...

Flashback Friday - Somewhere in Arizona...
So today I went to the UPS store to see if there was any way I could settle a mailing issue.  Note to self - you can't get mail if you don't have a mailbox.

Anyway, in the course of the discussion, one clerk looks at the other and says
"Well, that confirms it.  I knew the area code was somewhere in Canada but the accent, didn't you hear it?  Canuck."   She looks at the other clerk with satisfaction and then turns to smile at me.  I think I recoiled in horror, okay not quite but:

A - no one has ever said I have an accent.  It's all of you I say - not me.
B - Canuck, no one has ever called me that either - ever.

I was reminded that I'm a person of interest, a foreigner. I was one of those people, the ones I meet on planes, in other countries, in public transport - just everywhere.  People with stories that are different from mine.  They're fascinating and I'm their worst nightmare because I want to hear all about them.

Now I'd become one of them.  One of the others - the one with the accent.  I mean it's easy to feel foreign when you're traveling in a country where your native tongue is not theirs and where the customs are radically different from yours.  But here the similarities run as close as the disparities.  So, no, I wanted to say - it's you, you have the funny little accent not me.  No, the look the clerk laid on me said it all - it was me.

Me?
A fraction of the price at home.
Sure I knew I was in a foreign country.  I'm reminded every day.  Retail shops alone are a good reminder.  Like the other day when I was gawking at the Canadian Whiskey disbelieving of the price.  Of course, I'm disbelieving of the price of any liquor south of the border but this one in particular.  Made in Canada, it sat here thousands of miles from its manufacture point marked at a price that can only be called extraordinarily cheap - possibly even giving it away, cheap.  And the day before that I scoured the dairy section looking for cream and only seeing artificial creamer.  At home, it's parked by the milk and it comes in a cardboard container, which I have since found it does here too but it's buried beneath a massive selection of creamers.  Anyway, maybe I should have taken those and any number of other clues that, not only was I foreign, but I just might just be the one with the accent - not "them".

So with that reality check I headed off down the road.  There we stumbled on the salsa lady, selling out of the back of her van by the side of the road.  Unemployed temporarily she said after greeting me with a cheery hello that she hurled at me long before we were in speaking distance.  After getting my salsa she offered her e-mail address in case I should like the salsa and she wasn't at her usual roadside haunt.  I did.  Will definitely be e-mailing her for more.  Fortunately, except for spelling issues - I think e-mail is relatively universal.  No accent there.

So now it's off to the family selling tamales and fruit of all kinds at another roadside stand.  We left
with a bagful of fruit - 12 limes for a dollar!  Unheard of in Canada or at least the corner I'm from - not the limes, the price.  The tamales, well we'll be back for a roadside lunch one day soon.

It was a day of moments that would never have happened at home because, wait for it - I'd be shoveling snow and thinking of past trips and future stories. And, moment of truth - roadside salsa stands just don't happen, not in my part of the world.

And one last word on the accent thing - you will never, ever, hear me say that one dreaded word - eh.    Because well,  there was that classic Canadian throwback to the eighties, Bob and Doug McKenzie ... I cringe every time I hear it. Enough said.


Take care, keep safe!
Ryshia

www.ryshiakennie.com

My latest release - check it out! A mother's tragic diagnosisA daughter's life on hold.An ending and a new beginning...Book news? - follow me on Bookbub                                                   
   ...a world you never imagined!
Don't miss a thing - Sign up for my newsletter The Walkabout! The Dead Sea, a tourist and a whole other  story!Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ryshiakennie/Twitter:  @ryshiakennieFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/Author.RyshiaKennie/
Latest release:  The Tears We Never Cried

http://ryshiakennie.com
https://twitter.com/#!/ryshiakennie

Flashback Friday - Coffee Off The Grid

One job had me spending some time on the road. It was a chance to visit some interesting and sometimes, quirky, small towns. Maybe, to be fair, they weren't so much quirky as they had residents with interesting customs. Or maybe it's just easier to dive under the surface in a town than it is a city. Any way you look at it, Abernethy, Saskatchewan had the most interesting custom that I think I've stumbled on in all my road trips - past and present.

So here it is: - Coffee off the Grid
Today I was on the road for work and off to visit one of my favourite Saskatchewan places, Abernethy, Saskatchewan. And it was there that I experienced coffee time. Not coffee time, like I had experienced anywhere before. There was no visit to a cafe or local coffee shop. No. We went to someone's house where coffee was on every day for anyone in town, or in my case out-of-town, who showed up.


Coffee is served in the owner's gar
age, as long as the weather holds. When the weather turns cold, everyone moves to the house but coffee is still served. Every day, 10 o'clock, rain or shine, as long as the household occupants are home - coffee is served!

And show up they did. One senior even arrived on an ATV Artic quad which he parked on the neat concrete driveway right beside our car. Others walked but soon we were all ensconced in the garage on plastic lawn chairs, nursing hot coffee and being offered fresh muffins by our fantastic hostess.

So, in my comfortable, plastic woven rocker and with coffee in hand, I sat back, careful not to rock into the car parked just behind me, and enjoyed the experience.

Coffee anyone?

Ryshia

Take care, keep safe!
Ryshia

www.ryshiakennie.com

My latest release - check it out! A mother's tragic diagnosisA daughter's life on hold.An ending and a new beginning...Book news? - follow me on Bookbub                                                   
   ...a world you never imagined!
Don't miss a thing - Sign up for my newsletter The Walkabout! The Dead Sea, a tourist and a whole other  story!Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ryshiakennie/Twitter:  @ryshiakennieFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/Author.RyshiaKennie/
Latest release:  The Tears We Never Cried

http://ryshiakennie.com
https://twitter.com/#!/ryshiakennie

Flashback Friday - Oh My God I Can Fly - Conclusion

Yes, I have crazy friends and I wouldn't have it any other way. And, yes, she did jump out of that plane - with a parachute!  Here's the story on the way down.


Oh My God I Can Fly - Conclusion by June Botkin
Farmer is standing outside the plane on a ledge waiting for Wyatt and me, so he can get the pictures of me exiting the plane.  I duck, walk to the door with Wyatt attached to my back and look down at nothing but clouds and the next thing I know I am falling.  14,000 feet and 120 miles per hour.  My heart is in my shoes.  The wind is screaming by me.  The thoughts going through my head are "what the hell were you thinking?"  Wyatt taps me on the shoulder and tells me to spread my arms.

I AM FLYING!!!!!
We fall forever; turning summersaults above the clouds, when I look down I see a white fluffy blanket, what a rush.  Farmer is with us the whole time capturing on film this experience.  Every expression all the way down is captured for me to relive again and again.
Soon we hit the clouds and let me tell you they hurt.  The temperature drops and we begin to be pelted by ice pellets.  All around is whiteness.  Once we break the clouds the Noth Shore comes into view, the mountains, the ocean with whitecaps and the airfield where we will be landing.  Farmer waves goodbye as Wyatt opens our parachute and up we go.  Another change, this time to peace and calm.  I look straight down my body at the ground below.  It is like standing on a piece of glass and looking at the land far below your feet, that is when I realized that the only thing holding me in place is the harness I am wearing and being strapped to Wyatt.

I tease Wyatt about going right then left as he deftly steers the glider in circles.  He whispers in my ear that I am being cheeky and so that I should take over the controls and so I do.  I turn the glider in circles heading ever closer to the ground.  About 200 feet off the deck Wyatt takes over and we land on the button.  The landing is softer than jumping off a bar stool.  There are two guys there to grab the chute and unhitch me from Wyatt.  My feet are back on the ground and I am forever changed.  I did it, I actually did it.  I jumped out of an airplane!

Now weeks have passed since this experience.  I pull out the photos and go through the slideshow reliving every moment, still in awe that I actually accomplished this and yes it was really me parachuting out of an airplane.  I am not sure what my next personal challenge will be, but this will be hard to top.

I will end this by saying go out there and take the risk.  Do whatever it is that you have dreamed of doing, seize the moment and go for it and yes I would do it all over again.



Thanks so much June for an awesome story!  Seize the moment - what an inspiring thought to be left with.  What inspires you?
Ryshia
www.ryshiakennie.com



Take care, keep safe!
Ryshia

www.ryshiakennie.com

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