UNPACKING THE TRIP, Part 2.

Amsterdam to Budapest.  Fourteen days.  Twelve hundred miles.  Sixty-six locks.  Five countries (Netherlands, Germany, Austria, a slice of Slovakia, Hungary). Three rivers (Rhine, Main, Danube).  

This is the Viking Grand European River Cruise.  

And we added to it by also electing to purchase a "pre-cruise extension" of 2 extra nights in Amsterdam and a "post-cruise extension" of 2 extra nights in Budapest.  And as if that were not enough, we personally planned a pre-pre-cruise extension of 3 nights in New York City just for fun and to get us a bit acclimated to the time change ahead.  So we were away for three weeks.  

I barely remember New York.  Or Amsterdam.  Or at this point, much of anything before Budapest.  Memories were made, but must be prompted with reminders and photos.  There was so much crammed into a relatively short amount of time.

Well, first of all, I credit/blame PBS for all those Viking commercials leading in to our favorite Masterpiece programs.  We finally decided to just do it.  We are Rick Steves Europe tour veterans and wondered what it would feel like to be pampered the Viking way.  Pretty darn good, as it turns out.  

Our Longship was lovely, very comfortable, well-appointed.  The management staff was capable, attentive, and super friendly and kept everyone and everything working like clock-work.  The staff/crew can't possibly be paid enough for how great they were -- from Management to room stewards (housekeeping) to wait staff and technical staff (somebody has to steer the ship and dock it and get it through all those locks).  Everyone was busy, efficient, and smiling!  I questioned many of the staff/crew and they all seemed to genuinely be happy to work there and loved the "family" they formed together. All 53 were from elsewhere -- mostly Eastern Europe and the Philippines.  They were grateful for the work and reapply to come back to Viking year after year.  Viking seems to treat their crews well, with plenty of time off and even paid them during the Covid shutdown.  So that was a good thing. (Photo is , left, our Hotel Manager, Ole, from Norway who was in charge of all the staff and smooth running of the amenities; and right, Marco, from Serbia, who was the Tour Director and handled all the complicated logistics for excursions, on-board festivities, port talks, etc.  They are dressed here for our German heritage/dinner night, going table to table pouring shots of Schnapps.)

We opted for a veranda stateroom, a bit larger than the others that had no veranda.  Ours opened with  a slider door to a small deck that gave us fresh air and a nice sitting space as we watched the shoreline pass by.  That said, we really didn't spend much time there and what isn't shown on the commercials is that some docking locations are so crowded that ships literally tie up to each other, meaning there were times in port that our veranda was 6 inches from the adjacent ship, affording no view and no privacy!  Curtains closed!  (See photo -- yes that's how close we were.) Still, I'd opt for it again because of the air and the view and also just to get a few extra feet of space over the rooms without a veranda.  I certainly would not be happy with the lower deck, below-waterline rooms with only one small window high up on the wall looking out at water level.

Food was great.  Three meals a day.  Big breakfast buffet and some made to order items.  Lunch and dinner were limited option menu-driven with some choices always available, and some changing daily to feature local fare depending upon where we were on the rivers.  It was all white tablecloth, lots of silverware, fine dining presentation.  The food looked pretty and mostly was delicious.  We had only a few "duds", but that's subjective.  (Always a meat, fish, or vegetarian option, but heavy on the meat.) Desserts at each meal were heavenly (and deadly for the waistline).  Portions were reasonable, not enormous, but satisfactory.  I don't drink alcohol but for those who do there was unlimited "house" wine and beer at lunch and dinner.  Or you could buy a "Silver Spirits" package add-on for a fee that allowed premium wines, beers, and cocktails at any time during the cruise.  It did start to feel like we were constantly eating and with dinner not served until 7:00, ending between 8-8:30, I went to bed too full most nights.  I generally like to eat earlier.

Every day we had a shore excursion that was included in the price of the tour.  We disembarked, usually had to bus to the city center, met up in groups with a local guide, and explored the central city historic areas of whatever port we were in.  The local guides were mostly great; a couple were not.  One could also buy for an extra fee a variety of "optional excursions".  These would be what you see on the commercial of people making cheese, or sampling wine in the vineyard, or going to an art gallery.  We only bought two optional excursions.  They are pricey ($100-$200 per person) and we didn't want to over-schedule ourselves nor did we want to shell out the dough for an unknown entity.  

One we bought was a "hike" in the Wurzberg, Germany hills that ended up being mostly in the city with a stop in a chapel, a stroll through a big city park with some elevation, and ending at a fortress with some views, but definitely not "out in the hills" as expected.  The other was in Nuremberg to see the "Monuments Men" (movie) underground bunkers where the Nazi-threatened art was stowed. That was pretty cool.  In some cities we had a bit of free time to explore (one whole day in Vienna), but often we had to be back on the ship to head for our next destination.

There was a sun deck on the upper level that afforded terrific views, including that iconic one of castles on the hillsides that is featured in all the commercials.  It looks just like that.  We had great weather, so that helps.  What they don't show in the commercials, however, is that the sun deck was closed for several days due to low bridges on a part of the river.  The clearance above the ship was about 18 inches at times!  If the water level rises too much the ship cannot even get under the bridges and all the passengers need to disembark and be transported around the series of low bridges by bus and re-installed on a different identical ship waiting on the other side.  We were glad not to have that hassle. (This can also happen when the water is too low for sailing.)

There is little nightlife on the ship.  Fine by us; we went to our stateroom after dinner most of the time. We had a couple of local entertainers come aboard and had a few "game nights" led by the Tour Director that were actually fun, but mostly it's one lounge singer type guy at the piano.  This is not the razzle-dazzle of a big ocean liner.  No casino, no stage shows, no pools, no karaoke, etc.  It is a quiet and early-to-bed crowd.  We estimated the average age hovering around the mid-70's, all of varying abilities, mostly physically able-enough; also, one wheelchair, one walker, many canes.  

There were 187 passengers.  Those we met were mostly from the U.S., a couple Canadians,  and a few Aussies and New Zealanders. All were interesting in their way, friendly enough; no one brought up politics, but we had our suspicions.  We are not the most outgoing people, so we didn't really make fast friends with anyone that would last beyond friendly conversation on the trip.  In fact, we got very savvy about claiming one of only two 2-top tables for ourselves at dinner.  Most tables seated 6, 8, or 10 people.  Forced socializing is exhausting for us.

All in all it was a positive experience and many we talked with thought it perfect.  We made our pro and con list.  

Pro:  We were well pampered, well fed, well looked-after.  The crew was amazing.  Only had to unpack once.  Had a home base. Someone else handled all the logistics and did it flawlessly; we stopped in interesting, sometimes iconic places; saw and learned some new things.

Con:  Little to no sense of where we were other than on the rivers.  No chance to see the countryside around us or get beyond the city-center tourist areas.  It was boat to city, back to boat, on to the next stop.   Also we did not like added expenses for optional excursions.  We also were not thrilled with the (optional but every one did it) tips for local guides and bus drivers (they deserved it, but it was awkward at times); as well as mandatory tips for crew/staff.  (You pay a set tip fee ahead of the trip or if you didn't, it's added to your bill at the end, with the encouragement to give extra in cash for those who you thought did an exceptionally good job for you personally) .  We like that Rick Steves tours have a NO TIPPING policy and all sites/experiences are included; his company pays everyone well and doesn't want/expect his travelers to do it.  

At the end, we decided we were very happy to have gone on a Viking cruise and I would recommend it highly to anyone interested in that type of travel.  That said, and I'm aware of "anchor bias" in that we did Rick Steves tours first and measured our experience against that but I still think I'd come to the same conclusion: we are still more Rick Steves tour types.  We just like his philosophy of travel and his insistence on getting a breadth of local experience, not a "travel in luxury, drop in and leave at the tourist-y spots" experience.  Not that a little luxury is a bad thing.  I did enjoy that too, for sure.  But, at times Viking felt like a very expensive and posh Uber ride -- a lovely way to drop in at a series of ports.

We were so fortunate to have been able to do this and to have Hub's 4,000 photos to remind us of where we were.  Next post will be about sights/sites seen.  Miles to go before we sleep...

At least, that's the view from here...©

UNPACKING THE TRIP, Part 1.

When last we met I wrote a post entitled "I Don't Wanna Go?".  Well, I went.  Now I'm home.  Home with the usual disorientation, jet lag, and an unexpected positive Covid test.  Travel is fun! 

This, from my previous pre-trip post:  "Ive learned ways to calm my anxieties around air travel, not sleeping well, gut-upsetting new diet, too much stimulation, too  much busyness, being with strangers, getting confused in new cities, and generally just not being in my familiar life.  But still calming anxiety is not the same as eliminating it.  My highly-sensitive constellation of traits all go on high, high alert."

Yep. All of that.  Except I completely lost my "calming" skill set!  Oh, I did my deep breathing through some anxious moments, but my usual meditation practices fell by the wayside as my routine was dictated by the day's itinerary and I gave into slothfulness around commitment to making time for quiet solitude.  So, yes, I had a few "travel freak-out" episodes where I was overwhelmed, over-stimulated, over-socialized, and under-rested and "forgot" my mindfulness practices to get me through it.  I cried instead.  I had several completely sleepless nights interspersed with merely restless nights, and a few glorious full nights of sleep, which didn't help that much.  I stuck as closely as possible to my usual diet -- no red meat, no alcohol.  But eating three full restaurant meals a day, with pastries and desserts!, wrecked havoc with my gut, not surprisingly.

Many people absolutely love travel, love to be lost in a new city, love to try new foods and drinks, love to mix and mingle with strangers, love to plan and plot and play out all the logistics it takes to get from point A to point Z and all points in between, love to experiment and experience things as far from familiar as possible.  I am not that person.

But I do love seeing places I've heard about, learning about their history and culture, experiencing something novel, interesting, and beautiful, sharing it all with Hub.  And I accept that in order to do that I'll have to endure some personal discomforts that my nervous system wants to resist.  I am working mightily to mitigate my hesitancy with persistent practices that calm and reassure that all is well in spite of feeling like I just want to go home to my refuge.  And in spite of aforementioned challenges this time, I mostly did GREAT!  So there's that.

Also on the positive side, we walked and walked and walked and walked -- averaging over the three weeks, about 13,000 steps a day -- generally 5-7 miles a day.  I'm so grateful for my dedication to healing my hip issue over the past year to allow me to be able to move this much. Walking was fun and necessary. 

We saw iconic sites and beautiful scenery, met nice people, learned new things, made "pro" and "con" lists of our experience and made decisions about future trips.  By the end I was very ready to come home, but not desperately longing to, so that's progress of a sort.  

Unfortunately one of the challenges was both of us coming down with colds a week into the trip.  Me first, then Hub, who had it worse.  It was annoying since we'd worn masks on planes and buses, to avoid close breathing contact.  But still, we noticed many of our fellow travelers also seemed to be coughing a bit and we all just chalked it up to what everyone said was a cold or allergies.  How naive/forgetful we've all become!  Once home, Hub continued to feel lethargic, so finally tested for Covid.  Positive.  I was negative.  I may have had it earlier, or not.  We were both vaccinated two weeks before leaving, but vaccination means "you won't get it as bad", not "you won't get it at all."  Now I think half of our fellow travelers with "allergies" were probably Covid positive too.  We join the ranks of so many of our friends who have returned from trips with a positive test.  This is Hub's first bout with the virus.  He's no longer an outlier. And I have another thing to add to my travel anxiety list.

With this little "travel sucks" rant out of the way, my next post will be much more positive as I review our the ship, our trip, and all the really cool things we saw and did.  So don't be deterred....it's gonna get better!  I just want to reassure those among you who share my travel angst that it's real, it's OK to feel this way for good reasons, and it doesn't have to stand in the way of also having a pretty great time.  

At least, that's the view from here...©

I DON'T WANT TO GO?

 

It took a bit longer than usual, but today, 3 days ahead of our trip, I don't want to go.  

This happens every time.  There is a travel series on Apple TV+ (two seasons so far) hosted by actor/comedian Eugene Levy, called The Reluctant Traveler, where he pokes fun at himself for his anxieties and fears around travel and travel experiences that others seem to relish, but he (and I) prefer to avoid.  Like him I go anyway, and generally love the experience in retrospect, but the pre-trip and even some present-moment realities of travel can be challenging to a highly-sensitive homebody.  

I've learned ways to calm my anxieties around air travel, not sleeping well, gut-upsetting new diet, too much stimulation, too much busyness, being with strangers, getting confused in new cities, and generally just not being in my familiar life.  But still, calming anxiety is not the same as eliminating it.  My highly-sensitive constellation of traits all go on high, high alert. 

(I've written about highly-sensitive people before and I recently read another article about us where the author posited that we be called highly-responsive and I like that better.  "Sensitive" sounds so wimpy and whiny.  But no matter what it's called, about 20% of people have this constellation of traits and it can make life both amazingly deep and joyful and also overwhelming and difficult.  I'm just thankful to have a reason for being the me that I am: highly-responsive to internal and external stimuli/experiences.)

Anyway, I have a list of "to-do" items for each day before we leave.  My OCD tendencies when I'm anxious have now swooped in and I keep adding to the lists.  It was a joke when I was still working that I had to have every single loose end tied up before I went on my vacations, such that I'd work 12 hour days in the week before leaving and compose copious notes for those filling in for me trying to anticipate and mitigate every possible eventuality in my absence.  Then I'd go home and stay up to all hours doing the same at home, including one time repotting all my houseplants!  I'm better now.

I've been on a years-long journey of a spiritual practice of being in present moment.  Anxiety is about the future.  The future doesn't exist.  I meditate.  I practice calming breaths.  I come back to my senses over and over.  I am mostly successful.  But travel always upsets my peace and presents me with the challenge of putting all my tools into practice with great intention.  The way to deal with it is to be present with the discomfort.  Getting comfortable with being uncomfortable is a new goal of mine.  Don't we all do whatever we can to avoid any discomfort, physical or emotional?  Just ask the pharmaceutical and recreational drug/alcohol industries how lucrative it is to "fix" people's various real and perceived discomforts.

So, I am looking at this whole trip thing as the lab for my theory class.  Easy to practice present moment calm when things are calm.  Not so easy when things start to feel a wee bit out of control and anything but calm.  My mind is thinking, "I don't want to go" thoughts, but my Awareness is just sitting there watching those thoughts arise and dissipate and I am aware that my thoughts running wild are what is causing my emotional state to go into a reactive anxiety.  Come back to the present moment, my love.  You are sitting in your beautiful room, typing a blog post, sipping coffee, and watching the sun become brighter on this beautiful blue sky Spring day.  All is well, right?

Well, what is not so great are Nazis.  Last night we started watching All the Light You Cannot See on Netflix.  It's a 4-part series about a blind girl sending coded messages to the Allies via her underground radio broadcast.  The Nazis are on to her and on the hunt for her with the reluctant assistance of a young Nazi officer who was basically kidnapped by the SS and sent to a "training center" that was brutal and inhumane in order for him to use his genius with radio stuff in service to the Fuehrer.  It was hard to watch.  At one point I put a blanket over my eyes and ended up sobbing. I cannot abide cruelty. At the end of two episodes, we turned it off.  I won't go back and watch the rest.

Which reminded me that sites of Nazi atrocities are now tourist attractions.  Tickets to Anne Frank's home in Amsterdam are a hot item.  They are limited and only available for purchase 6 weeks ahead of one's planned visit.  We got up at 2:00 a.m. on the requisite date to get ours and felt lucky to be successful. Many are not; they sell out in minutes.  Now I'm wondering....why would I travel all that way, spending part of my vacation day touring the home where Anne Frank hid in secret rooms for years until someone ratted them out and she and her family ended up in the concentration camps anyway?  (Yes, I read the book in high school and it haunted me.)  I have my ticket.  I'll decide when I get there if I will use it.  I may prefer to sit in a field of tulips somewhere, creating a present moment that brings me peace and joy in the midst of travel.

At this point I feel compelled to say,  I don't actually HATE travel.  I've always had lovely experiences and love seeing new places.  I just have a lot of other discomforts along the way.  I am grateful, always, for experiencing it all with Hub, my boyfriend.  He understands me, he supports me, he is patient (mostly) with my quirks.  And I "get" him too.  He will spend a LOT of time taking photos, lagging behind, getting all the sites from every possible angle, all to be downloaded to his desktop computer and never seen again.  At least it slows our pace, and I like that.  More time for present moment awareness. 🙏🏽

Leaving soon...stay tuned...

At least, that's the view from here...©

RANDOM THOUGHTS ON RANDOM SUBJECTS

The Muse showed up in September, then abandoned me in October.  In fact all of October flew by in such a rush I barely remember it.  But this being the last day, I decided to sit down and force something onto the page so that I can say I've never missed at least posting once a month since I started this blog.  So here we are with a few things on my mind.

HALLOWEEN:  When my boys were young this was my favorite holiday.  I went all out!  What's not to like?  It's basically a one day holiday; doesn't involve making a meal or having an obligatory gathering of family and/or friends; the decorations are fun and creative; you get to dress up as your alter-ego; AND you get to eat boatloads of candy that people just hand out for free!  

But this year I'm sort of taking a pass.  I usually decorate for Autumn in September, haul out the Halloween decor in October, put that away and get some turkey stuff out for November, then put it all away to start throwing red and green around the house in December.  This year I got out minimal Autumn decor and zero Halloween stuff.  I was going to go dark tonight, but I've now decided to hand out granola bars to the few kids who will come to my door.  Every year it's fewer and fewer and I don't know any of them.  Our neighborhood attracts families from other areas, so cars drive up, drop off their trick or treaters who plunder the 'hood and take off again.  I don't mind, but I don't know any of the kids, which makes it a little less fun.  So, we will see how it goes.  I'm mostly happy for my grandkids who are looking forward to their own Halloween fun in their neighborhood.

TRAVEL:  Do you watch PBS, especially anything Masterpiece?  Then you've seen the Viking River Cruise commercials.  We signed up for one leaving next spring -- the Grand European Tour from Amsterdam to Budapest.  Friends have raved about it.  Viking caters to the traveler's every whim, you feel pampered, see lots of cool stuff, and make friends for life.  Uh-huh.  Well, we spent one entire day on their website and on the telephone making our flight and excursion arrangements with Viking and let me just say, it was not seamless nor particularly easy.   However,  the Viking travel coordinator couldn't have been more accommodating.  It was just complicated. Maybe I'll do a whole post on that one day.  For now I am putting it out of my mind.

We took a less high stakes trip to San Diego last week.  A 5-day getaway as our rainy season here in the Pacific Northwest gets underway.  It was 72 and and sunny in SD, as advertised.  As always.  I don't think I'd get bored with that.  We did touristy things -- walked and walked as we always do and saw the main downtown/waterfront sights.  We did a trolly trip out to Coronado Island and walked on the beach.  We visited a Dia De Los Muertos celebration Old Town.  And saw more unfortunate un-homed people living on the street than my heart could tolerate.  

I will confess to a mixture of feelings -- great sympathy and curiosity about how so many lives became so desperate and sad.  Also, a feeling of guilt at my revulsion over the filth and smell of unwashed bodies and urine soaked sidewalks.  Also, frustration and helplessness over the intractable nature of addressing and solving this problem through policy, politics, and do-gooderism.  No matter which direction we headed from our hotel, we walked past individuals curled up in doorways and small tent cities under viaducts.  I mostly felt safe enough, but with the 'streetwise' caution of not really knowing if/when someone on drugs or with mental health issues might do something unexpected and threatening.  This is the reality of cities large and small to one degree or another.  It's sad.

FRIENDS:  Yesterday, just a week shy of our 6th anniversary, I and a group of my friends (who call ourselves the Coffeehouse Crew) had a rare in-person meet-up at a local restaurant.  Ten of of gathered around a big table and delighted in seeing whole live bodies after years now of meeting primarily on Zoom.  Before Covid we met monthly at a different coffeeshop each time.  Then Covid hit and many were feeling isolated, so we decided to meet weekly on Zoom.  We've continued to do this since we are also geographically spread out and some of us like to be in our jammies all day.  LOL  But we've decided that meeting in person occasionally would be great too so we will do that every so often, along with our Zoom gatherings.

I realized how much I've missed seeing those women in person.  I realize how infrequently I see anyone in person.  My introverted nature was delighted with the Covid lockdown.  No more forced socializing!  I kept up all my connections through FB, this blog, emails, cards, texts, Messenger....but my in-person interactions took a nosedive and has remained so even now.  I go out.  I do things.  I meet  friends for coffee or lunch now and again, but Hub and I rarely go to someone's home or have people over other than family.  It's so different from how it was in the "before times".  I'm realizing I've settled into a new way of being and I am discerning what that means and how that feels to me.  What I notice is that I'm good for about 90 minutes of social interaction, then I'm sort of exhausted.   I will have to work back up to full speed!  

GRATITUDE:  It's been a year since my right hip started to bug me.  I went to Physical Therapy early this year and that helped.  Then I signed up with a personal trainer in the spring and that helped too.  But this fall it has gotten worse, to the point where some days I can barely limp across the room.  (And other days, like on vacation last week, I walked 5-6 miles a day!)  So I'm going back to PT.  This has been such a humbling experience.  I've prided myself on my fitness and lack of chronic conditions that limit me.  I have greater empathy for how something can develop that can slow or stop you in your tracks and the cascading effects of that, both physically and emotionally.  I've gained weight since I've not been able to exercise and walk as much.  I've been in tears of frustration over feeling limitations in movement -- even simply going up a flight of stairs.  I'm less confident in my ability to do certain activities.  It sucks.  

AND I do not have anything life-threatening.  I do not have arthritis or joint deterioration.  This is all due to my scoliosis and a lifetime of compensation for spine curvature which has caused my muscles and supporting tendons, etc to tighten up and "hold on".  I need to do a lot of work to loosen and soothe, build strength, and hopefully find a way to live with this without pain or limitation.  And I have a great team of professionals who know how to help me -- doctor, physical therapist, trainer, yoga therapist.  So I'm humbled but grateful.  And grateful for having developed a desire to persevere.  I might feel like giving up in many areas of my life, but I don't.  Eventually I just find a way, a path, a guide, and I keep on.  Don't we all?

At least, that's the view from here...©

A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT...ALONE

I'm listening to the wind howl and the rain hit the windows of the Airbnb place I rented for myself on a whim months ago.  I had decided to take a solo trip, a personal retreat to start the New Year.  This is one of my "intentions" -- to challenge my comfort zone more often.  I don't really enjoy traveling alone or being away from home at all, really.  Oh sure, I go places with Hub and we have a great time once we have arrived at wherever we are going.  I just don't like the actual travel that much.  And doing it alone is a whole other thing.

Here's what I notice:  I definitely depend upon him to handle most of the logistics of planning and certainly, for sure, the logistics of which way to turn.  I'm directionally challenged.  Also, I hate driving in the rain, or the dark, so he does (although I do most all of the driving for both of us otherwise).  It's a 3-1/2 hour drive from my house to the ocean coast where I am.  I did most of it in a downpour because, of course, it's January in the Pacific Northwest!  There was a several mile detour off a state highway at one point, with questionable signage, on some winding backwoods road (to my city girl sensibilities), so my GPS was useless and I got lost twice.  That was fun.  I made it well before dark, but stressed and exhausted.

First on the agenda was meeting up with some friends to see artwork at the Coastal Interpretive Center, which lifted my spirits considerably.  One of the woman I've known for years but she moved way out here. We became re-connected when she signed up for my Zoom yoga class; the other I met recently because she also takes my yoga class.  The first had virtually held my hand with tips about that detour and landmarks and directions.  The other gifted me, upon arrival,  a 'retreat' bag of bath salts, tea, a book (HumanKind) and a handmade felt heart representing support for sobriety (that's another blog post).  I am just done in by their kindnesses.  When you are trying to pull up your big girl panties and do new things alone, it really does mean the world to have cheerleaders along the way, including my BFF back home who is enduring my texts so that someone in the world knows I'm still alive.

So here I am 2/3 of the way through my 3 night stay.  I brought enough reading to keep me occupied for a month.  I brought crocheting so I can start to replenish my stash of blankets and afghans for donation.  I brought my computer and my intention to  blog (hello!) and journal and sort some hard things out.  I brought the intention to walk the beach and nature trails and explore the town.  (But I don't like being cold and wet, so?)  I brought the intention to continue my yoga continuing ed class online. (But now I don't feel like "working".) 

I brought my willingness to be very uncomfortable and just lean into that and see what insights might emerge. I plan to do more of this in coming months until the discomfort and feelings of loneliness fade, until it becomes commonplace for me to go away alone, until it feels like freedom.

I realize, with embarrassment, that at my age this exploration of being alone in the world is long overdue.  Of course I've had a life that wasn't totally dependent on others.  I've done lots of hard  things when I had too.  Hub had a demanding, time-sucking career and a passion for doing personal growth work in various groups that took him away many times.  I handled a lot of the home-front/family stuff, worked full time at a stressful job, had primary responsibility for my mom and her dementia issues, etc etc.  Life stuff.  I just mostly choose not to nurture myself by being alone, alone.  I love the security and pleasure of connections with others.  I love sharing experiences and conversations and observations.  And I like a lot of quiet, alone time, but that means a few hours spread out over the day/week, not days on end with no other humans I know in sight.  I love being at home with Hub, just hanging out in our life together.

But here's the thing.  Hub goes away a lot.  Unlike me, he likes time completely alone, not having to consider anyone else in his decisions sometimes.  He camps alone for a few days at a time throughout the summer; goes on snowboard trips alone from one day to a few days to a week or more several times each winter. And I am left at home, which can be fine and can also be an issue.  I decided I needed to take my own time and space alone too.  It would help me grow in a new way, challenge my comfort zone, create experiences and memories that are mine alone.

So I'm sitting here realizing, of course, that many of you are alone not by choice.  I understand and marvel at your resiliency, strength, and "gumption".  It takes a lot of energy to do hard things.  And what I'm doing isn't even hard...I'm in a nice place, will hang with two great women who live in this town who I'm excited to welcome here to my lovely Airbnb today to do fabric art together.  I'll go home to my safe place tomorrow.  Hub will be around between snowboard trips -- in fact, I am accompanying him on one later this month.

But for now...I listen to the wind, hear the rain, sip my coffee, and feel all the feels about being in a strange place alone -- just noticing what arises for me: fear, happiness, sadness, loneliness, confidence.  It's all there.  Also I'm hoping for better luck navigating the detour on the way back home.

At least, that's the view from here...©

LUCK 'O THE IRISH? A LITTLE HISTORY

Hub and I are going through the photos of our recent trip to Ireland, and by "photos" I don't just mean a film roll of 36 frames, half of which would be tossed for being blurry or blank.  Digital means a person (Hub) can take, let's see, about one-thousand photos with the promise of culling them after getting back home.  This becomes a daunting task.  It's also a nice way (until interest and energy wane) to re-visit in great detail sites and memories of the trip. 

People have asked us what stood out for us from our Ireland tour.  Frankly, it has all sort of run together.  As I've already blogged, the itinerary was packed and we were no sooner in one place than it was time to move on to another.  It was hard to stay grounded in any one experience before we were off to the next, such that "impressions" of Ireland come to the fore more readily than specifics.  The photos help with the specifics and I'll get to that in the next post.

For now...impressions:  The Republic of Ireland isn't all that lucky.  

But it is beautiful.  The coastline is rugged with the wild Atlantic crashing into towering cliffs.  Cities are vibrant, modern, busy.  The countryside is green.  And rural.  And there are dairy cows and woolly sheep everywhere.  Especially sheep.  Always sheep.  Rolling hills, old stone fences for miles dividing multi-green-hued pastures, on surprisingly open land.  I thought there would be more trees.  But no...

The invading Normans first decided to take a whack at the native forest lands in the 12th and 13th centuries to create farm land.  In the 16th century Ireland fell under British rule and the British pretty much decimated the rest of the forests for farming, for open space for military maneuvers, to deprive the Irish rebels of shelter, to harvest timber for ship-building and construction in England, really for whatever they wanted. This went on throughout Irish history until now 80% of Ireland's native forestland is no more.  So, while lovely, Ireland still looks nothing like it should, which is one of the many ways in which Ireland has been a victim of invaders, oppressors, and bullies.  

The Irish never did fully surrender to their British occupation given that Britain was a cruel and oppressive "colonizer".  In 1601, an event that turned a tide and set in motion animosities that remain to this day, was the Battle of Kinsale.  The Catholic Spanish sailed to Ireland to help their Catholic brethren reject British rule and chase them back to Britain.  Since this is not a history book, I won't recount all the twists and turns that enterprise endured, but it was dramatic.  The Spanish Armada sailed, arrived off course (not to Cork but to Kinsale) and fought with the Irish against the British.  Alas, fortunes turned, and the Irish began to withdraw, as did the Spanish who surrendered and went back home to Spain, leaving the exhausted and outnumbered Irish to suffer a terrible defeat at the hands of the British.  About 10 years later, after the chieftains of the northern areas of Ireland were forced out, the British rewarded these lands to Anglican (Protestant) loyalists who established this area forever for Britain, foreshadowing what would come later.

The  famous Irish "potato famine" looms large in history and still seems oddly current to the Irish.  They have not really gotten over it. There is bitterness.  We saw many monuments and cemeteries and memorials throughout the Republic to victims of the "The Great Hunger", which some call that period.  I grew to believe this is an apt description.  Potatoes grew prolifically and were a staple of the Irish diet, since the ruling British forbid Irish folk from owning land.  They rented small plots from British landlords and subsisted mostly on the crop that could grow -- potatoes. Then came 1845 and a potato virus from faraway Mexico that turned harvested potatoes to rotting mush.  Nearly 1 million Irish died and 2 million emigrated  to Britain and/or  got aboard "coffin ships" that sailed with starving, diseased, and dying Irish to the United States and Canada.  The population of Ireland was decreased in years to come by 50% and still has not reached pre-famine numbers.  

While the rotten potatoes created a dietary deficit, it was the British (again!) who caused the misery and the Great Hunger -- they did not come to the aid of the starving Irish with any formalized social outreach. The churches doled out  watery soup to families who waited in line all day to get it. The British continued to export nutritious meat, dairy products and vegetables from Irish farms to British mouths while the Irish starved.  The Great Hunger is still mourned to this day, with nearly everyone having an ancestor who died or emigrated in this period.

The Irish Rebellion of 1916 was yet another attempt, of many, of the Irish to break free from British rule.  The rebels thought they might have the advantage while the British were busy with WWI.  But no, again, the uprising was quickly quashed leaving hundreds dead and rebel leaders to be tried and summarily executed at the infamous Kilmainham Gaol in Dublin.  These men and women are remembered as martyrs. 

The Irish War of Independence (Easter Uprising) began in 1920 after the Republic announced it had seceded from Britain.  It resulted in thousands of deaths until finally in 1921 an agreement was reached with the signing of the Anglo-Irish Treaty establishing the Irish Free State.  Unfortunately this did not end the fighting which went on in an attempt to bring Northern Ireland into the Free Republic, but the Republic was defeated by the Northern Loyalists who fought to remain with Britain.

Thus we have "The Troubles" in Northern Ireland in the 20th Century. Remember in 1601 the British basically took Northern Ireland and gave it to the Protestants after the Irish  defeat at the Battle of Kinsale.  And after the Independence Easter Uprising, the north fought to stay with Britain. Frankly this North/South conflict is so woven into history, oppressor and oppressed, power plays, politics, religion and a wee bit of "it's all OK now; let's not talk about" denial that I am still confused about when, why, and how it started and whether it will ever really end in spite of that Good Friday Agreement when President Clinton brokered a peace between Loyalist Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland.  

Let me just say that while we were there, Queen Elizabeth died and the Republic shrugged, while in Northern Ireland the Union Jack was at half mast and the funeral day was a Bank Holiday.  Some in the Republic are still agitating for a "United Ireland" while in the north they, today!, refuse to seat a government because the "unification party", the Sinn Fein, won a majority for the first time ever but the loyalists won't let them participate in governing.  (Think Mitch McConnell thwarting Obama, the former president deciding not to recognize the new one, etc.)  At least that's how my simple brain comprehends it.  I refer you any number of Google-able sources that have long confusing stories about this.

So, I guess my impression is that Ireland is a small island nation with a long history of oppression and a sad history of North/South internal conflict that seems to have started centuries ago.  It is a beautiful country of contrasts: Melancholy and hopeful. Safe. (The police do not carry weapons.) But the history of violence is memorialized everywhere. The people: Friendly. Warm. Welcoming.  Realistic. Proud. Resilient.  The culture: Steeped in the past, moving to the future.  Festive.  Musical.  Creative.  Fun.  

As for luck?  Wikipedia says the "luck o' the Irish" saying comes from the California Gold Rush where many of the most successful miners were Irish or Irish-American.  Good on them. 🍀

At least, that's the view from here...©

Sources:  A bunch of Wikipedia articles, ABC News, The Economist, History, Irish Central, Kinsale (book by Barry Molony), and my own faulty memory.

Photo credits:  Hub, Official Trip Photographer:  (CLICK ON PHOTO TO ENLARGE) Irish coastline, Irish countryside, colorful Kinsale, artist's iron sculpture of a "coffin ship" with skeletons surrounding the masts, plaque at the Easter Rebellion Uprising Memorial, sculpture in Northern Ireland with figures reaching out in friendship -- but not quite touching.

IRELAND: DITCHING THE HIGHLIGHT REEL

Our first trip "across the pond" was four years ago.  We did back-to-back Rick Steves tours of Scotland (10 days) and England (14 days).  I came home with a bad cold, exhausted, and swearing never another tour!  People apparently thought I'd had a miserable time.  I didn't. They just caught me moaning in overwhelm and exhaustion. (See previous post about my highly sensitive traits.)  I actually had a wonderful time.  As I did on our recent trip to Ireland -- another 14 day tour.

Yes, we jumped back in.  We bid on a Rick Steves tour at an auction for an organization we support.  We got into a good-natured "bidding war" with another guy, until he dropped out!!!  What?  We won.  So what to do?  We scheduled a tour with some trepidation, but feeling we'd do better this time.  First of all, NEVER do two tours together!  And we decided to do our best to pace ourselves, find times for quiet and aloneness, pack lighter.  (RS makes everyone lug their own luggage.)  We were not entirely successful.  It might be impossible.

I posted each day's activities to Facebook, as a travel journal for me and as virtual travel for those who appreciate going along vicariously with others who travel.  On Facebook it looked magical, perfect, with quintessential Irish culture and sites in abundance, us always smiling.  

What no one saw was the fact that I slept abysmally about 1/3 of the time.  We changed hotels on average every 2 nights as we made our way around the island.  The longest stay was 3 nights, the shortest were two 1-night stays.  This means we lived out of our suitcases.   (Highly sensitive to new places/clutter/chaos.)  NOTE:  Even once home, I woke up for the first few mornings wondering, "Where am I and which way to the bathroom?"  LOL)

Accommodations on RS tours are interesting -- he tries to choose only local, family owned inns which can be absolutely lovely or maybe a bit dated and threadbare.  All are clean and very adequate, but often small.  In one room I had to step over my open suitcase to get to the bathroom.  But most of the places on this trip were pretty 'luxe, one or two being fabulous.  I will say the proprietors are mostly wonderful and I love the idea of supporting them.

We were two of 26 on the tour with a guide and a driver (all masked per RS Covid policy, FYI).  To cover the whole island there were a couple of long days of travel on the "coach".  We made stops, of course, but it's a bus, ya know?  At least we were lucky enough to get to sit in one of the first 3 rows most of the time.  There is a request that if you get the "front row" one day, you'll relinquish it to others the next day and so forth.  NO ONE wanted the front seat most of the time!  I guess they were partying in the back (albeit quietly since I didn't hear a thing from back there...maybe they were napping?) so after offering that prime real estate to others, we took it if no one spoke up.  I loved looking out the big front windows at the road ahead, which also helped with my tendency toward motion sickness.  (Highly sensitive to body sensation/movement.)

Breakfast is always provided but generally service started at 7:30, so we set our alarm for 6:30 most days.  If I wasn't already awake from not sleeping, the jarring alarm startled me upright with an adrenalin rush, pounding heart, feeling tired and disoriented.  The breakfasts were mostly buffet style, some really good, some really not so good.

About half of the dinners are provided, eating as a group in pre-chosen restaurants.  The restaurants were great and the food delicious!  (A couple from the Michelin Guide were particularly good!) I was amazed at the creative and really tasty vegetarian meals I had.  I go into any restaurant and give the menu a quick look;  I don't want alcohol, rich sauces, most cheeses, pasta generally, too many "hot" spices, red meat (or chicken most of the time).  That leaves usually 2-3 things to choose from, plus my go-to "cocktail" of sparkling water.  I was super happy to have some great meals in spite of these limitations to accommodate my (highly sensitive) constitution -- and health-conscious eating.

Note on alcohol.  I was the only non-drinker.  It seemed everyone was delighted to do my share of drinking.  No drunks or anything like that; very moderate drinking. But I'd say the group still put a little dent in the Guinness kegs and whiskey barrels at each stop.  My travel partner drank at least one Guinness a day (and on our own in Dublin we did a 3 hour tour/tasting at the 5-story Guinness brewery), leaving me thinking he'd found a new fave after years of saying he didn't even like it much.  But coming home he said it was an Ireland thing and he still wouldn't choose it at home, which surprised me, but I guess it's like "everyone is Irish on St. Pat's Day". He did bring back some Irish whiskey, another thing he almost never drinks, but I think that will be a passing fancy too.  He'll be back to his usual wine and micro-brews soon. What was annoying, again, is how much conversation centers around alcohol, no matter where I am.  Vintages, brews, distilleries, the subtle taste differences, the stories, the lore...urggh...Enough!

Back to the restaurants: so noisy!  Generally we were ushered to a room of our own for the group, or sat at long tables in a part of a busy restaurant and always we were rather jammed together.  While lovely to meet new people and chat over dinner, it's hard when it's so noisy.  And it's hard at the end of a tiring day to socialize with enthusiasm.  (See, again, highly sensitive traits around too much noise, crowds, people!)  There were a number of times I just didn't want to be social, or go out at all.  But instead of choosing to stay behind and miss something (including a delicious meal instead of take-away food to eat in my hotel room), I went.  But this pushing on in spite of needing down time took a toll on my energy level.

Our itinerary was FULL.  Rick Steves, if you've seen his PBS program, listened to his radio show or podcast, read his syndicated column, Zoomed into his Monday Night Travel, or watched any of his specials (he's everywhere!), is a supreme extrovert!  And his tours reflect that.  He packs the schedule with really cool places to visit, experiences to have, people to meet, food and drink to enjoy, and miles to travel.  It's great fun, but for me...well, sheesh.  Is there a similar tour for highly sensitive introverts where we cover the same itinerary in, like, a month, spending a little longer in each place with lots of time to just hang out?  I'm not sure that would help, but I do know I need A LOT more quiet, alone, "down time" than his tours afford.  Some of my favorite memories of this tour were the times when it was just Hub and me alone on the "non-tour" afternoons or evenings not scheduled with the group. There were times my sensory overwhelm led to being teary, bitchy, and sad.  But only in our hotel room.  Otherwise, ONWARD because "no grumps" is another RS tour rule.

Hub and I travel well together, with only a couple little tiffs in our three weeks away.  One, though, was significant.  On the last day he said he was sorry I didn't have a good time; that I had struggled and numerous times I said I wanted to go home.  I was shocked to hear his summation that I didn't have fun.  Nothing could be further from true.  I actually had a really good time!  But travel is hard and stressful for me, so I could (eventually) understand his assumptions.  

In our two hour "debrief" of his comments (and my tears), I realized he's my "safe place" to vent, perhaps unfairly.  And when he hears my distress it distresses him because he can't fix it for me.  And I realized by saying I wanted to "go home" I didn't literally mean I was grabbing my suitcase and heading for the airport; it meant I needed refuge.  I needed homelike peace and quiet; not the constant stimulation of information, sites, socializing, schedules, new beds, restaurant foods, alarm clocks, etc etc.  We talked it all through and came to a better understanding of what "big" travel can look like for us, making plans for our NEXT European trip, whether a tour or not, with more insight and clarity on what works best for us and how to best get through the hard times of being 'on the road'.  

So, you see, not every moment was Leprechauns and rainbows.  But like Rick, we do plan to "keep on travelin'".  Just know that every reality might not show up in the highlight reel.

At least, that's the view from here...©

Photo Credit:  Hub, Official Trip Photographer, at Dunluce Castle Ireland

THE WHOLE TRUTH

What people post on Facebook is usually the "highlight reel" of their lives.  I have posted some real reels at times, but I too mostly try to post personal things that are palatable and perky.  (Except for politics, which is generally neither.)

I've posted a daily log with photos of our current Kauai vacation.  It's been fun.  I love to travel vicariously when others post their trips, so I posted mine for those who care.  It's also a bit of a travel diary.

But any true diary must also dive into the depths and not every picture is perfect.  Here is the whole truth as I recall it anyway.  Truth is a momentary thing; everything changes moment to moment, and details get lost or buried under more recent events and memories.  Still...

This has been a GREAT trip overall (3 days to go, so I'm being optimistic about the rest of the week).  Hub and I have been super compatible, loving and easy with each other.  We've been through a rough patch over some period of time, as astute readers have surmised, but we are good now and incredibly grateful for it.  We learned so much about ourselves and each other at this age and stage of life and we are recommitted in a new way in our 70's decade.  Onward!  This trip has been honeymoon quality -- even as we approach our 50th anniversary.  So there are no qualifiers on that part of the highlight reel.

Still, living in a 320 square foot studio condo, (not counting a small balcony with a killer view) with only a refrigerator, a microwave, a table, two chairs, and a Murphy bed, is quite cozy.   We've more than managed (thanks to nightly grilling on the grounds), but we've both mentioned it would be nice to spread out a bit.  Things get cluttered and there is no privacy and if one of us is awake, we both are...you know, that sort of thing.  It gets a wee bit claustrophobic, but we are outdoors most of the time, so there's that.  We live in a tiny house here!  All the rage!

Our location has seemed noisier to me this time.  We are not out in the boonies -- there is a commercial area not far away; a couple of restaurants; a smaller adjacent beach used by mostly locals at all hours of the day/night with someone's booming bass blaring from their cruising cars at times.  The grounds are beautiful and that doesn't happen by magic: there are times of mowers, blowers, and trimmers making noise.  Planes fly over on their way to land at the nearby airport, but this is not as big a deal as you might think -- the airport is close, but flights are few and the pounding waves mostly drown out the engine noise thankfully. There are frequent overhead helicopter tour flights though.  And people. Turns out we are not the only people here.  The beach is not crowded, but it can get noisy with voices, yelling, laughter, kids screaming, music playing.  It's just people having fun, but I'm just noting it's noisy.

And did I mention the waves?  I know, it's crazy to complain about the beautiful, supposedly peaceful rhythm of the waves hitting the shore, but you guys!  It's loud!  And relentless!  We are super close to the ocean. We've had particularly high waves in the bay this time and they don't lap at the sand, they crash!  At first we left the balcony doors open at night but after the first 10 days, I started to close the doors.  I found I was less distracted by the occasional hum of the air conditioner.  I slept better.  (I'm very noise sensitive, which I am learning more about in some work I'm doing with my therapist -- another blog post!)

Speaking of sleeping...the pillows are too lumpy and the studio Murphy beds, which used to feel great, are in need of replacement.  I mean, it's not terrible, but it's not great.  I'm putting a word in to our Board of Directors to use some of our maintenance fees for a studio update on the bed front.  Bad pillow = sore neck.

Here you are wondering...Murphy Bed????  Yes,  this entire timeshare is a "hotel conversion", not purpose-built full amenity condos.  We knew that going in and if I have any complaint it's that. There are inconveniences.  But we keep coming back for all the things that make up for it.  

The unit we have is a one bedroom with a "lock off".  If we stayed in the whole unit we'd have a King bed in a separate room with another bath along with our current living area (couch without pulling the Murphy Bed down) and kitchenette.  BUT that would cost us a bunch of timeshare points that would mean a shorter stay.  We can stay over twice as long if we use only the "parlor" side (I call it the studio) which eliminates the King bedroom/second bath, but gives us the Murphy bed side with kitchenette and full balcony.  The bedroom side is "locked off" for use by another guest, similar to adjoining hotel rooms and theirs is basically just a hotel room with a mini-fridge; no balcony.  So we like our arrangement fine.  Except for the lumpiness I'm experiencing this time.

We make way too many trips to the grocery store.  Granted, Hub goes alone at times, but we also try to combine this chore with other outings so I have to set foot in Costco, Safeway and Times (local supermarket) too often, which at home I rarely do, leaving grocery shopping to Hub who seems not to hate it and in fact enjoy it. Not my thing. He's weird.  Anyway in the quest for fresh fish, bagged salads, ripe fruit, and sunscreen it seems we always need to shop.  

And there is lugging -- towels, paddle board, backpack to the beach; groceries and excursion equipment from the parking lot to the building (a good 1/3 mile!), long hall to the elevators and a walk to the beach and pool -- getting lots of steps and it's fine, just at times inconvenient.  We try hard not to forget anything and have to go back.

This has been the most active vacation I've ever done.  I've recently lost weight, gotten in better shape, and have enjoyed challenging myself and my new body as well as my less hesitant, less fearful mind.  That said, my body hurts.  The mud hike (previously documented in this blog) sent me into a tailspin of PTSD and migraine for a day.  Then a few days later another half-day migraine with nausea.  My feet have been sore, my knees have ached.  I stubbed my toe on a hunk of lava rock and scraped my hand on a piece of coral.  Both still hurt a week later. I've taken more Ibuprofen in two weeks than I usually take in months!  And throughout all of this trip I've had nagging queasiness on and off.  Maybe different routine? Food? Activity?  Anxiety? Not sleeping great? Just feel a wee bit "off" at times, even when I'm having fun.  It's not stopping me; I'm just noticing and breathing through it. But I don't like it.  

So, today I started packing, if not in my suitcase at least in my mind.  I can tell I'm turning toward home even while still here.  It's cold and rainy at home; there will be all the same old chores to do and responsibilities to meet. Once there I'll look back on this trip with great fondness and probably even longing for lazy days at the beach and pool, for the sun, the warmth, even the waves.  But I'll have Hub with me (the best part of this trip), will return to my familiar routine, and will see my family and get ready for my son and daughter-in-law's long-Covid-delayed wedding celebration for which I have to buy a fancy dress...my life will return to "normal".

We've been coming here for almost 25 years.  We love it.  All of these observations are just to document that Paradise can be less than paradisiacal at times, especially if one is a bit hot, cranky, tired.  The Facebook highlight reel doesn't tell the whole story, but hopefully it tells the story of how grateful we are to get to spend time here.

Still, travel -- even fabulous, fun, exciting, relaxing travel -- is stressful for me and at a certain point home beckons every time.  At heart I'm a homebody.  And I'm ready.

At least, that's the view from here...©

BE SURE TO WEAR SOME FLOWERS IN YOUR HAIR...

Hub and I were in San Francisco last week for a short Autumn getaway before the holidays and Hub's snowboard season consume us for several months.  Let me just say, I didn't leave my heart in San Francisco, but neither did I lose my mind...and that's progress.

I do not have a good relationship with the City by the Bay. My first trip there was in the early 70's and even though I dressed like a hippie, I was mostly a midwestern, blue-collar, conservative-town girl in the early throes of discovering that I was not like most of the people in my hometown (or my family), but I wasn't all the way to "peace, love, and protests" either.  I still trusted a few people over 30.  I also dealt with undiagnosed anxiety disorder, that we denigratingly referred to as "She's freaking out." On that trip I did have a bit of a "freak out". S.F. seemed overwhelming, a bit chaotic, and super scary. This is hard to admit at this stage, but was nevertheless true for me then, an innocent from Illinois. I did not like it.

We went again some years later when a friend of ours had moved to Big Sur. We drove down from our new home in the Pacific Northwest, to visit her and again I felt off-kilter and like the whole trip took place within a funhouse mirror. I recall a very weird, disheveled, nearly Zombie-looking guy jumping out in front of our car on a dark rainy street. I screamed. We didn't hit him, but sheesh. And then something about almost driving into the ocean? Whatever. I just wanted to go home.

Another time I have a vague recollection of staying at the Four Seasons and watching older Asian folks doing Tai Chi in the nearby park while Hub was attending a medical conference.  Why don't I recall anything else about that trip?  It's like my brain shuts down in S.F.

Many years later we went to a Giants game and maybe some other stuff with our young sons...I frankly don't recall much about that either other than it being a one-day visit tagged onto a different longer vacation.

And this time....well, it took me 24 hours to feel comfortable being there. First, I had taken a Dramamine before the flight which was dumb since I didn't need it and didn't realize it was only a 90 minute flight. I take it to ward off anxiety about claustrophobia/nausea/vomiting I'm convinced will befall me on flights. It's my insurance policy, but Hub was a little annoyed with me and suggested that one pukey flight almost 40 years ago really doesn't necessitate drugging myself forever, every time I fly because when I do it makes me sleepy and spacey and is also the antithesis of what I profess to be about -- see the last post in this blog. His words were a wake-up call to me to see I was using drugs in a way I don't like, so I'm going to go Cold Turkey on my next flight. But this time the deed was done and I was trying to stay awake to my surroundings the first afternoon we were there. We ended up in the heart of the Fisherman's Wharf in the most touristy area, Pier 39, which was loud, crowded, chaotic, and carnival-like. Ugh. I just wanted to go home.

The next day, though, I realized I was fighting old S.F. demons and decided to stop. This was not then.  This was now. I sat down on a bench in a quiet park, closed my eyes and told myself a new story. I was going to have fun on this trip as the grown-ass woman I am now, with decades of self-knowledge and a toolbox full of tools I could use to deal with old wounds and anxiety-fueled fantasies. Walk my talk. So from then on it was a goodish trip.

We did all the touristy things. Went back to the Wharf, walked to Coit Tower (took the Filbert Steps -- 450 of them!), walked up and down the stairs skirting curvy Lombard Street, ate Cannoli in Little Italy, explored Golden Gate Park and the S.F. Botanical Gardens, climbed the Secret Garden mosaic stairway, walked along the beach out to the end of the Municipal Pier, over Ft. Mason to the marina and Marina Green, took a ferry to Sausalito for lunch, passing close by the hulking and foreboding Alcatraz, which frankly gives me the creeps and maybe that's the bad ju-ju I feel in S.F. since you can see it from all the sites, went to Haight-Ashbury (no flowers in the hair of homeless folks living on the streets there), had a hot fudge sundae at Ghirardelli's, discovered a fabulous little coffee shop where I had the best ice cream Affagato ever, rode a cable car, and rode city buses -- always a half scary, half entertaining enterprise in any big city -- when we weren't walking, walking, walking.

It was all just....fine. Hub seemed annoyed with my slow start and my lack of enthusiasm for S.F. as cities go. (Take me to NYC!!!) We were both frustrated with "wasting" the Sausalito day since that little burg looked nothing like it did in the 70's and we found it to be uninteresting with not much to see or do, plus it was 85 degrees and little shade to be found. Even Hub admitted to being a bit cranky and out of sorts that day.  

We usually travel so well together... I guess some distance will help us appreciate the trip more because we also shared experiences in S.F. that in the re-telling to our son the other day seemed fun and funny and good. 

But, once again, I'm not back home feeling like S.F. is my "place" and that's weird because nearly every other person I know absolutely loves it. It's just that every time I'm there, something is "off" for me mentally and emotionally. This time I thought it initially was my Dramamine-induced stupor, but the friction with Hub was the thing that makes me saddest, which seemed not of either of our making, but rather some dissonant vibe that surrounded us.

Hub says he wants to go back, explore more, and maybe get outside the city (revisit Muir Woods, Marin County, Mt. Tamalpais, Bolinas) and I guess I do too. It's become a bit of a challenge for me now. I ended up feeling way more comfortable there this time in spite of the occasional weirdness. Maybe one day the place really will steal my heart.

At least, that's the view from here..©

NYC-DC/A-OK

Just got home from a trip.  Those are words I haven't written in over a year!

When I occasionally announced to friends in early January that we were planning a 10-day spring trip to New York City and Washington DC, one friend expressed shock; others' silence indicated an inner judgment was percolating but unspoken.  I was unsure myself.  But we went ahead and booked it, knowing we'd be fully vaccinated by then and that a lot could happen between January and April -- either things would be looking up and all would be well, or we'd cancel the trip, which we were fully prepared to do.  We were diligent in following Covid news, talking to people we know in NYC, and monitoring our own comfort level.  (After January 6, I ended up being more concerned about domestic terrorism than the virus!)

Turns out....no cause for worry.  (Disclaimer: I am 10 days out of NYC and only 5 days home from DC, so I guess some sneaky variant could still be lurking, yet to reveal itself, but all indications are that the vaccines are handing it all effectively, so I feel confident.  Today.)  

Besides, it's not like we went to Arizona or anything, as Son Two did in mid April to attend a buddy's wedding.  He said it was a culture shock; Arizonans seemed to have missed the masking recommendation as well as the physical distancing idea.  Neither were in evidence anywhere.  In spite of being fully vaccinated, he felt so uncomfortable when his old college pals went out to a crowded bar, that he refused to go inside, sipped one beer in the beer garden, and retired early to his B&B.

Things on the East Coast couldn't have been more different.  Masking was a given -- indoors and out -- and we rarely saw anyone unmasked on the streets of New York or DC, ever. We wore our masks all day, every day...much more than at home, since we are literally at home most of the time, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world to do.  Signs everywhere reminded people to mask, distance, and sanitize; hand sanitizing stations were in every lobby, store, restaurant, take-out window, and tourist site.  Physical distancing was easy since there were no crowds anywhere.  Sure, these are big cities so there were people about, but never at any point did I feel the crush of a crowd or the inability to keep as much distance as I wanted.  We had subway cars to ourselves in Manhattan!  We were two of four people on the tour tram at Arlington National Cemetery!

If we were the types who go to fancy (or any) restaurants, wanted to see Broadway shows, visit every museum in both cities, or went in for an exciting "nightlife", we'd have been disappointed.  Much was closed.  But we've done that on previous visits.  This time the intention was to do lots of outdoor sightseeing, walking, eating from take-out menus in parks and in our hotel suite -- back from our daily excursions by 6:00 most of the time and ready to settle in for the evening.  That was exactly what we did.  And we had a blast!  

We walked and walked, putting in 82 miles in 10 days on foot.  Occasionally we'd take a subway to a neighborhood, then walk back to our hotel from there after we finished exploring.  Or sometimes we'd do the whole trip on foot.  Both Manhattan and downtown DC are easily and safely walkable with so much to see that the walking felt almost effortless.

As being a tourist goes, it was a gift to be in these two of my favorite cities before everything opens up again.  I did, however, miss the fun of what I call "New York Fast Walking".  I love to surf my way through the crowded Midtown sidewalks dodging and weaving and moving like a flowing stream around the "boulders" of those going more slowly.  This time, there were so few people I didn't get to do that.  But a more leisurely pace was lovely too.  

It was a memorable Covid Times trip.  I'll have more on-the-ground observations in a future post, such as the strange, sad, hysterical grave marker we saw at Arlington.  

At least, that's the view from here...©

Photo: View from our hotel room

NEW YORK, NEW YORK

I've been home for a week from a 6-day vacation in NYC with Hub.  We had a blast!  I am so grateful for a life that affords me opportunities to travel to places I love.  As you know, I don't travel a lot by some standards, so when I do I always hope I'll have a great time and see and do cool things.  This trip filled the bill.

I already know I love New York.  What's not to love?  There is so much to see and do -- one couple on the elevator of the place we stayed was heading out one morning to what they said was the "dog museum".  They seemed pretty excited and ready to go outside! (The American Kennel Club Museum of the Dog -- I looked it up.)

We headed out each day with destinations in mind too.  We bought a three site City Pass so before we even got there we knew we'd see the 911 Museum/Memorial, the Empire State Building, and the Statue of Liberty/Ellis Island.  We also got tickets to a play: Come From Away.  We had a dinner date planned with NYC friends.  Other than that, our days were ours to create spontaneously.

We walked the High Line trail, came across Bella Abzug Park, found and explored the new "Vessel" at Hudson Yards, ate yummy pizza at Julianna's in DUMBO, walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, explored The Heights (Brooklyn), strolled through Central Park, picnicked in Bryant Park, and in Washington Square in Greenwich Village, gawked in Times Square, road the subway everywhere, and walked miles and miles and miles making our Fitbit step counter very happy.

Here are some things I noticed (along with some tips) with the caveat that I am describing a Manhattan experience:

1.  It's OK to talk to yourself or sing at the top of your lungs on city streets.  Many do.

2.  Or maybe it just seems like people are talking to themselves given the frequency of people talking on their cell phones via wireless ear buds that make it appear they are just walking along having a nice self-referential conversation.

3.  Cell phones were, of course, ubiquitous and at first I found this annoying, but I did occasional unscientific studies where I glanced around at the first 10 random people I saw and only about 40% were looking at screens.  That's still a lot and who knows what they were doing?  We used ours for navigating at times and that seems to be a purposeful rather than mindless usage.

4. Subway stations are gross and dirty.  Don't touch anything.  It's also very very hot down under.  Try not to think how far underground you are.  There are levels of underground!

5. Subway cars are surprising bright and clean and safe.  (Well...a story will follow later in this post.)

6. Subway workers, when you can find one, are surly.

7. People (locals and tourists) walking around NYC are very fit.  It must be all that walking.

8. Many Italians visit NYC.

9. Cops are super friendly.  So are the locals.  We were offered assistance many times and observed many instances of people helping people out.  It was heartening.

10.  Sirens never stop.  Ever.  Day or night.  Same with honking horns.  This horn honking seemed to have absolutely no bearing on traffic moving any faster.

11.  Be careful crossing the street, although on the Don't Walk sign you have far longer than you might think, so don't just stand there either.  Always watch for turning cars; don't assume they will stop.

12.  Bicyclists are ruthless.  They ride a jillion miles per hour with a whistle between their teeth and will blow it relentlessly loudly to alert you to MOVE cuz they ain't gonna slow down.  Annoying.

13.  Do not, for God's sake, block the sidewalk!  Millions of people live in and visit NYC and we all are trying to get somewhere.  When you walk 3-4 abreast with a sauntering gait, you create a roadblock.  There is a flow to walking in NYC similar to driving on the freeway.  Keep right and let those walking faster pass.  (One of my favorite city things is to walk fast and weave in and out of the pedestrian traffic.  I feel like Fast and Furious -- on foot!)

14.  Our taxi into Midtown from JFK was over $80.00 and took over an hour to go 16 miles on a Sunday afternoon!  We investigated:  The Long Island Railroad (LIRR) leaves Penn Station about every 15 minutes to Jamaica Queens near JFK.  It was $8.00/each.  Then you transfer to the AirTran ($5.00/each) and it stops right at your JFK terminal.  It took us 45 minutes, avoiding Friday rush hour traffic.  A cab would have cost waaaaayyyy more (hotel said likely $100) and 1-1/2 to 2 hours sitting in traffic.  You're welcome.

Any downside?  Well, we did ride the subway from Midtown to Lower Manhattan one morning and a woman got on carrying all her worldly possessions.  She was obviously mentally ill and in full profanity-laden rant for about 10 minutes.  It was uncomfortable, but you know, city life.  Then she unzipped her jeans, pulled them down, squatted in the aisle and peed.  Hmmm...not cool.  Everyone around her found other seats on either end of the subway car.  One couple we'd talked to briefly said they were from Kansas; they sat very close together and held hands looking startled.  Hub leaned over and said to them, "Well, you're not in Kansas anymore."  HaHa

To his credit, a young man who was likely very familiar with the variety of humanity riding the subways in his city, said, "Well, when ya gotta go ya gotta go.  Let's sing!"  And he started singing "Stand By Me" like a rock star.  Everyone in the car sang along.  As he exited with cap extended before him he collected a nice amount of change and waved goodbye.

New York! New York!

At least that's the view from here. ©

REFLECTIONS

I feel an urge, an obligation really, to finish up the posts about our Great Britain trip before the end of December.  I turn these blog posts into  physical book form, a sort of memoir, of each year.  I don't know who will ever read them; for now they line my bookshelf. I fantasize my grandchildren might one day find them after I am gone and will learn something about Grandma and her life.  Or they may get tossed away in the grand 'cleaning out' that inevitably happens at the old family home at some point.  At any rate, I forge ahead and  I want to get the trip documentation in under the 2018 deadline.  

The problem is I'm still having a hard time processing the whole thing.  I have snippets of memories and tons of digital photos I've skimmed through, but find the task of studying them and organizing them rather daunting.  I want to create a slide show as well as a hardbound photo book.  I wonder when that will happen?  Procrastination has been my go-to decision lately.  So until then I find the details of the trip hard to tease out of the impressions of the whole.

Still, as Christmas approaches I find myself conjuring images of Britain as the quintessential Christmas scene -- the winding narrow cobblestone streets of Scotland's Edinburgh and Oban, Wales' Conwy, and England's Bath and York, lined with shops, restaurants, pubs, and inns.  (Every one of which had advertisements about booking holiday meals and  get-aways even when we were there in September.)  I can imagine the sparkling lights, Christmas trees, and festive decor.  I see the soaring cathedrals, robed priests, angelic choirs -- all of which I am sure are now adorned for and anticipating Christmas worship.  I see the hustle and bustle international hub of London brightly lit and busy as ever as a meeting place of cultures and languages and religions gathered in one place, creating a holiday season of rich diversity.  I imagine all those places colder, wetter, and less crowded when we were there; more true to themselves.

I wrote about the trip immediately upon returning home with less than stellar reviews of my experience.  With time I have mellowed and have started to find more and more access to what I loved about it.  I recall the experience now with fondness and with rich, happy memories.  I never negate the challenges life throws at me, but I almost always (eventually) find a way to embrace those aspects of any situation that help me to grow, learn, and find joy in the experience too.

Hub and I were watching a Rick Steves "Christmas in Europe" special the other night and I even allowed as to how I might actually entertain another Rick Steves tour.   Hub was shocked.  I told him this time I would know exactly what to expect, how to navigate the rough spots, and to focus more on the positives than the negatives, knowing the negatives will pass and the positives will prevail in memory.

For now, we are content with planning some in-country travel in 2019, but flirting with the idea of doing one of those Viking River cruises, that I see on PBS, in 2020.   To even find myself at the point of not only considering this, but feeling not even a hint of anxiety about actually doing it, demonstrates my Britain trip this year was a huge success.  I've turned a corner.  I still may not be a world adventurer, but at least I'm willing to leave the confines of the county -- and country -- with my travel anxiety mostly in the rearview mirror.  Bon Voyage!

At least, that's the view from here...©
(I think you can click on the photos to get a larger image.
TOP to BOTTOM: 1. Edinburgh, 2. The Sheep's Heid Inn (Duddingston,Scotland),  3.Bath, 4. York, 5. Wells Cathedral, 6. Conwy (Wales), 7. Trifalger Square, London