It was a perfect fall day. I spent the early afternoon raking leaves and washing the front windows. It's important to appreciate these last warm days....
...because in two or three months, it's going to look like this...
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Crying my way around the world
Our trip to South America is fast approaching and I'm all giddy anticipation. All the logistics have been smoothed out and we're into the fun prep: reading up on the history, the people and the places, and planning potential excursions and activities. Before trips, I always get butterflies from the excitement and nerves. We're about to put ourselves out there in the world....away from home and the familiar, and towards new experiences. The leap into the unknown; that's what I love about travel. Well, it's part of what I love about travel. I also love the fridge magnets. And the good coffee.
Over the years we've enjoyed some really great trips, filled with adventure and some misadventures. I'm pretty consistent....I usually get sick or injured and I usually cry, out of fear, at some point during any given trip. I've blubbered during a kayaking trip off the coast of New Zealand (I was misled; the brochures showed glassy, smooth water, not whitecaps and whipping wind), I've sobbed on the back of a motorbike in Cappadoccia (It's not safe! My helmet doesn't fit! I'll end up a quadraplegic!), and I've cried while climbing the Harbour Bridge in Sydney (no explanation for that, other than the hideous "protective" coveralls they inflict upon the tourists). I've suffered from heat exhaustion and a whack on the head in Turkey, a jellyfish sting in the Galapagos, and I've spent a 5-hour bus trip in the Andes quasi-delirious, writhing in pain and vomiting every twenty minutes from a mysterious, severe abdominal ailment . Ah yes, I love to travel.
I've only ended up in the hospital once. That was after a sailing trip in Turkey. I was putting on my swimsuit in our tiny cabin and Bill opened the door suddenly, hitting me on the side of the head. I feared that I had fractured my skull - alarmist that I am - because I was dizzy in the days following. It was actually heat exhaustion, so I was taken to a private clinic in Antalya. They wanted to sedate me, given how upset I was, but Bill managed to convince them that the hysteria was normal for me. After being re-hydrated, I calmed down, watched a couple of episodes of "Who's the Boss" dubbed in Turkish on the clinic tv, and soon was back in travel mode.
Our trip to Turkey also furnished us with many happy memories and stories. During a hike through a gorge near Fethiye, I had trouble climbing up one of the little rock outcroppings, because it was slippery, with lots of water rushing over it. Unbeknownst to me, a Turkish man behind me asked Bill's permission, using gestures, to put his hands on my butt and push me up. And he did. With no warning to me. Hello!
Since it was our first overseas trip together, it was our initial exposure to the "travel versions" of Bill and Shanon. And I don't mean small and magnetic, like those sets of backgammon or checkers. Bill is quieter when we're away from home; he's so blissed out all the time. When I'm travelling, I'm a much less worried version of myself. At home, I can be a bit neurotically fearful about things....like ordering pizza. Go figure. I have no problem ziplining and swimming with sharks, but ask me to pick up the phone and order a pizza and I'll beat a hasty retreat, heart beating too fast, palms sweaty. Phone phobia.
What is it about travelling that emboldens me? Does the relative anonymity let us step outside ourselves a bit...or a lot? I find travel is transformational. For me, it's about renewing faith....not in a god, but in oneself and in the world. I look at it this way….when I travel I have to have faith in myself and know that I will make the most of the experience and that I can handle whatever comes my way. I also must trust in the world and believe that people are mostly good and it's likely those are the ones I'll encounter.
Over the years we've enjoyed some really great trips, filled with adventure and some misadventures. I'm pretty consistent....I usually get sick or injured and I usually cry, out of fear, at some point during any given trip. I've blubbered during a kayaking trip off the coast of New Zealand (I was misled; the brochures showed glassy, smooth water, not whitecaps and whipping wind), I've sobbed on the back of a motorbike in Cappadoccia (It's not safe! My helmet doesn't fit! I'll end up a quadraplegic!), and I've cried while climbing the Harbour Bridge in Sydney (no explanation for that, other than the hideous "protective" coveralls they inflict upon the tourists). I've suffered from heat exhaustion and a whack on the head in Turkey, a jellyfish sting in the Galapagos, and I've spent a 5-hour bus trip in the Andes quasi-delirious, writhing in pain and vomiting every twenty minutes from a mysterious, severe abdominal ailment . Ah yes, I love to travel.
I've only ended up in the hospital once. That was after a sailing trip in Turkey. I was putting on my swimsuit in our tiny cabin and Bill opened the door suddenly, hitting me on the side of the head. I feared that I had fractured my skull - alarmist that I am - because I was dizzy in the days following. It was actually heat exhaustion, so I was taken to a private clinic in Antalya. They wanted to sedate me, given how upset I was, but Bill managed to convince them that the hysteria was normal for me. After being re-hydrated, I calmed down, watched a couple of episodes of "Who's the Boss" dubbed in Turkish on the clinic tv, and soon was back in travel mode.
Our trip to Turkey also furnished us with many happy memories and stories. During a hike through a gorge near Fethiye, I had trouble climbing up one of the little rock outcroppings, because it was slippery, with lots of water rushing over it. Unbeknownst to me, a Turkish man behind me asked Bill's permission, using gestures, to put his hands on my butt and push me up. And he did. With no warning to me. Hello!
Since it was our first overseas trip together, it was our initial exposure to the "travel versions" of Bill and Shanon. And I don't mean small and magnetic, like those sets of backgammon or checkers. Bill is quieter when we're away from home; he's so blissed out all the time. When I'm travelling, I'm a much less worried version of myself. At home, I can be a bit neurotically fearful about things....like ordering pizza. Go figure. I have no problem ziplining and swimming with sharks, but ask me to pick up the phone and order a pizza and I'll beat a hasty retreat, heart beating too fast, palms sweaty. Phone phobia.
What is it about travelling that emboldens me? Does the relative anonymity let us step outside ourselves a bit...or a lot? I find travel is transformational. For me, it's about renewing faith....not in a god, but in oneself and in the world. I look at it this way….when I travel I have to have faith in myself and know that I will make the most of the experience and that I can handle whatever comes my way. I also must trust in the world and believe that people are mostly good and it's likely those are the ones I'll encounter.
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