It’s early on a Wednesday morning. Hump day as we call them here. Once you’re over the hump, it’s all downhill. However, at the moment, I’m staring at Wednesday from the base of Mount Everest… thinking of the climb to the summit and feeling very weary.
I met with a friend last week to discuss travel plans. She had some ideas. I had some ideas. I’m not sure that they mesh.
She would like to spend all our time in Greece. And, while I think Greece would be interesting, it’s cutting into time I could better use in the UK. I haven’t seen every square inch of the British Isles yet… and I so want to.
People don’t stop to think (well, Americans don’t) that the UK is a collection of about a zillion islands. Of course there’s the big one (England/Scotland/Wales)… but then you have the Isle of Man, Isle of Wight, Gurnsey, Portsea Island, Portland, the Shetland Islands, Orkney… so many I could go on forever.
Then, there’s Lindisfarne (Holy Island) which the Vikings ransacked and nearly destroyed Catholicism in Britain. Darn those Vikings!
I have seen none of them.
Or how about a trip to Findhorn… one of the oldest running spiritual communes in the world, and one of the best known. Findhorn
I want to see Inverness and Aberdeen and Penzance and Cornwall and Cardiff.
And, of course, I want to see the rest of Ireland.
You see? I have enough to keep me busy for a lifetime of visits.
In Greece, I’d want to sit in a hammock on Santorini island and gel. I’m not even that interested in the architecture or history. I know that’s sacrilege.
It would be a beautiful visit for me, but probably not very intellectually fulfilling. I’m just a very focused traveler, I suppose.
Sometimes, it worries me that I may not be able to do this much longer. I’m 52 now…soon to be 53. The trips are becoming more and more wearing as the years go by. It’s not physical weakness as much as it is … the length of the trip, the frustrations of traveling to and from such a distant place, leaving my dogs knowing they will be traumatized for the two weeks I’m gone… that sort of thing.
Each trip, I travel as if it’s my last… because it may well be.
And, perhaps we are supposed to travel that way. It makes it very easy to live in the moment and enjoy the breadth and depth of the experience.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Missing England
Sometimes, even when I don't see Dr. Marvin, I imagine she's here. After all, I'm not wise enough to have these thoughts on my own, you know. It takes stimulus and imagination... and things I just don't usually get from 8 to 5 working as a technical writer.
Today, I'm looking at the wallpaper on my desktop. I try to change it out to keep myself from getting too bored. Today, as most days, it's a peaceful setting in the UK.
I like the UK. A lot. Enough to ponder moving there if I ever make the right connections. So far, no luck with that. Anyway, today, I'm viewing a pastoral scene in Yorkshire. I lived in Yorkshire at one time, many years ago, and it sort of stuck with me. Like peanut butter on the roof of your mouth.
I spoke with Thom the World Poet once, who is also an anglophile. It's a strange connection we have to the earth, the hills, and even the weather of England.
"Oi cud nevah liv theah," he told me once in his thick Aussie voice. "The weathah." Yes, well, it is what it is. I understood the darkness and dankness of a typical Yorkshire day. But, here I am, looking wistfully at the green meadows, stone fences, elderly barns, and cattle-dotted fields.
I wanted to be in the picture so badly.
Like that one episode of Night Gallery where a Nazi war criminal wishes he was in a peaceful fishing scene on a lake in the mountains. Except he got his wish and got put, instead, into a picture of the crucifixion.
Perhaps I shouldn't wish to be in the picture... but it is always so hard to pry myself from staring.
Once, a long time ago, Magical Michael stopped mid-sentence and gasped, "You were British in a past life! I saw it!!!"
I looked back to the hills and meadows, and I knew that at some point, I had been.
I gather up the mists and memories, and I pull my arms around them. I gird myself with them when times are tough and I'm sitting at my desk trying to accomplish tasks that provide me with just enough money to pay my bills and buy a ticket back... back to...
"What?" asked Dr. Marvin.
"Oh, thank God you're here," I said. "I was starting to get a bit depressed."
She just smiled with that gorgeous Cheshire cat smile of hers.
"Why is England so important to you?"
"I'm not sure," said I. "Partly because I started my married life there, perhaps. Partly because I'm interested in the history and culture. Partly the beauty of the place."
"But that's not all of it," she said.
"No, that's not getting to the crux of it."
"Which is?"
"I think I'm English," I said. Then, I told her the story about Magical Michael.
"I suppose there may be something to that past life stuff," she nodded.
"It feels that way. It feels like for lifetimes I was there. I loved her, I fought for her, I died for her."
Then, I told Dr. M. about the time when I was driving along and heard "Rule Brittania" on my radio. Such a wave of national pride overwhelmed me at the time. So much so that it scared me.
And the time I was riding the train from Gatwick, smelling the rich earth, passing by homes and gardens, knowing that my feet had deep roots in all of it.
Somehow...
It was like a memory I couldn't quite recall.
And that's all I wanted to tell you this morning. That sometimes, I miss England so badly it hurts.
Today, I'm looking at the wallpaper on my desktop. I try to change it out to keep myself from getting too bored. Today, as most days, it's a peaceful setting in the UK.
I like the UK. A lot. Enough to ponder moving there if I ever make the right connections. So far, no luck with that. Anyway, today, I'm viewing a pastoral scene in Yorkshire. I lived in Yorkshire at one time, many years ago, and it sort of stuck with me. Like peanut butter on the roof of your mouth.
I spoke with Thom the World Poet once, who is also an anglophile. It's a strange connection we have to the earth, the hills, and even the weather of England.
"Oi cud nevah liv theah," he told me once in his thick Aussie voice. "The weathah." Yes, well, it is what it is. I understood the darkness and dankness of a typical Yorkshire day. But, here I am, looking wistfully at the green meadows, stone fences, elderly barns, and cattle-dotted fields.
I wanted to be in the picture so badly.
Like that one episode of Night Gallery where a Nazi war criminal wishes he was in a peaceful fishing scene on a lake in the mountains. Except he got his wish and got put, instead, into a picture of the crucifixion.
Perhaps I shouldn't wish to be in the picture... but it is always so hard to pry myself from staring.
Once, a long time ago, Magical Michael stopped mid-sentence and gasped, "You were British in a past life! I saw it!!!"
I looked back to the hills and meadows, and I knew that at some point, I had been.
I gather up the mists and memories, and I pull my arms around them. I gird myself with them when times are tough and I'm sitting at my desk trying to accomplish tasks that provide me with just enough money to pay my bills and buy a ticket back... back to...
"What?" asked Dr. Marvin.
"Oh, thank God you're here," I said. "I was starting to get a bit depressed."
She just smiled with that gorgeous Cheshire cat smile of hers.
"Why is England so important to you?"
"I'm not sure," said I. "Partly because I started my married life there, perhaps. Partly because I'm interested in the history and culture. Partly the beauty of the place."
"But that's not all of it," she said.
"No, that's not getting to the crux of it."
"Which is?"
"I think I'm English," I said. Then, I told her the story about Magical Michael.
"I suppose there may be something to that past life stuff," she nodded.
"It feels that way. It feels like for lifetimes I was there. I loved her, I fought for her, I died for her."
Then, I told Dr. M. about the time when I was driving along and heard "Rule Brittania" on my radio. Such a wave of national pride overwhelmed me at the time. So much so that it scared me.
And the time I was riding the train from Gatwick, smelling the rich earth, passing by homes and gardens, knowing that my feet had deep roots in all of it.
Somehow...
It was like a memory I couldn't quite recall.
And that's all I wanted to tell you this morning. That sometimes, I miss England so badly it hurts.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
It's All Good!
Hello dear reader!
I'm back after a long hiatus. Shall I bore you with my life or try to write something witty?
Well, since you're a captive audience, I'll bore you with my life. :)
I've been unemployed, looking for work, and found a contract since I last wrote. It's a bit of a sticky wicket (finding work), but I have an angel looking out for me, obviously.
Ok, I want to tell you something so strange you probably will not believe it. I bought a ticket to the UK a few months back (no, that's not the strange part). The strange part was that ... once I bought it, I lost all energy to want to go! I mean, you know me - c'mon! By now, I have transportation all worked out, places to stay, people to see...
And this year, nothing! I wish I knew what it was about. It may be the time of year I chose (October) so that I could join Thom the World Poet at the Cheltenham Literary Festival. October is not my first choice of month when vacationing in the UK. And then, Thom did not get the offer of a ticket that he usually does, so - for the first time in a decade - he's not going to be there!
A kind of depression set in when I thought of going to England this year.
And then...
I got this job that pays really well. If I took off two weeks, that's $4K of pay lost. Not to mention the $2500 it costs me in room, transportation, food, and sundry costs for the rest of the trip. $6500 for two weeks in the UK in October... a bit too pricey especially in lieu of the weird mental state I was in about it.
So, I canceled the one or two plans I *had* made. And am going to take the hit when it comes to the airfare (non-refundable ticket through the evil, satanic priceline).
What's on the agenda now?
I've got a couple of ideas for travel talks at REI I'm considering. I'm working on a book (not travel related). Keeping up with hospice, puppies, friends, and work.
And yet...
My gypsy heart keeps calling. I recently ran into my old friend Diana who traveled with me to England in 1999. She wants to do another trip...
And perhaps it's time to break out of my comfort zone. I'm considering two weeks in Europe (will likely at least include London, Edinburgh, or Dublin in that). I'm working on a sly idea to piggy back off an existing tour (I hate guided tours). But, it means a price break for airfare, lodging, and food. I'll be chatting with the Nomad Lady (Sharon) about the feasibility of this and will contact Diana to see how she feels.
I'm thinking... June 2011?
It's all good. :)
I'm back after a long hiatus. Shall I bore you with my life or try to write something witty?
Well, since you're a captive audience, I'll bore you with my life. :)
I've been unemployed, looking for work, and found a contract since I last wrote. It's a bit of a sticky wicket (finding work), but I have an angel looking out for me, obviously.
Ok, I want to tell you something so strange you probably will not believe it. I bought a ticket to the UK a few months back (no, that's not the strange part). The strange part was that ... once I bought it, I lost all energy to want to go! I mean, you know me - c'mon! By now, I have transportation all worked out, places to stay, people to see...
And this year, nothing! I wish I knew what it was about. It may be the time of year I chose (October) so that I could join Thom the World Poet at the Cheltenham Literary Festival. October is not my first choice of month when vacationing in the UK. And then, Thom did not get the offer of a ticket that he usually does, so - for the first time in a decade - he's not going to be there!
A kind of depression set in when I thought of going to England this year.
And then...
I got this job that pays really well. If I took off two weeks, that's $4K of pay lost. Not to mention the $2500 it costs me in room, transportation, food, and sundry costs for the rest of the trip. $6500 for two weeks in the UK in October... a bit too pricey especially in lieu of the weird mental state I was in about it.
So, I canceled the one or two plans I *had* made. And am going to take the hit when it comes to the airfare (non-refundable ticket through the evil, satanic priceline).
What's on the agenda now?
I've got a couple of ideas for travel talks at REI I'm considering. I'm working on a book (not travel related). Keeping up with hospice, puppies, friends, and work.
And yet...
My gypsy heart keeps calling. I recently ran into my old friend Diana who traveled with me to England in 1999. She wants to do another trip...
And perhaps it's time to break out of my comfort zone. I'm considering two weeks in Europe (will likely at least include London, Edinburgh, or Dublin in that). I'm working on a sly idea to piggy back off an existing tour (I hate guided tours). But, it means a price break for airfare, lodging, and food. I'll be chatting with the Nomad Lady (Sharon) about the feasibility of this and will contact Diana to see how she feels.
I'm thinking... June 2011?
It's all good. :)
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