"Go Slow." This message was etched into the concrete under our feet as we walked off the dock in Caye Caulker, Belize. What a wonderful welcome! Those two words set the tone for our stay on this sweet little island. Here everyone goes slow since transportation is confined to foot, bicycle, or golf cart.
The vibe in Caulker was one of slowmo relaxation as shown by another sign, "No Shirt, No Shoes ... No Problem." We would have stayed longer but my visitor's permit was running out. Reluctantly we headed to Belmopan for an extension. As our water taxi zoomed away from the dock and Caye Caulker disappeared from sight, another American we'd met called, "Goodbye, Caye Caulker. We love you."
Our next destination, Placencia, Belize, also had a laid-back vibe. "Solve half the problems of the world. Keep your religion and your sex life in the bedroom." This sign stood along the main sidewalk skirting the beach in Placencia. What simple, yet wise, words. Really, what more can you say?
And, of course, there were indoor signs as well. Our first lodging in Placencia posted a creative, playful sign in our hotel room: "No Smoking Inside the Room. If we catch you smoking in the room, we will assume you're on FIRE and take appropriate action."
While staying in Placencia we responded to another sign and stopped at Mrs. Beulah's for homemade bread. A bunch of kids and young people hung out downstairs and told us the bread was gone unless we wanted whole wheat. "Yes," I said with a fist in the air, "We want whole wheat!"
Upstairs Mrs. Beulah told us that the whole wheat bread was still in the oven so I paid her $4BZ (about $2US) and promised to return at 4:00 pm for pick up. Later, as we walked downstairs with the bread, the crew hanging out was playing reggae music. Several men moved to the beat. I automatically joined them, swaying my body and waving my arms.
Later I realized that it was a throwback to my days working for a whole foods bakery in Minneapolis. Our weekly baking sessions were accompanied by the music of Bob Marley. The men seemed to enjoy my spontaneous dancing as well as my willingness to join in. We smiled and laughed with each other.
In another hotel in La Ceiba, Honduras, management posted a sign on the drinking water bottle in the lobby: "What's good for the tourist is good for everyone." (My translation from Spanish.) The subtext here, of course, was that not everyone who lives in Honduras can afford good, pure drinking water.
Signs communicated much about culture, habits, and mores of the countries we visited. By the end of our travels I automatically looked in each bathroom to see whether they posted a sign asking users to place their toilet paper in the wastebasket rather than flush it down the toilet. That sign was common throughout the Yucatan in an effort to keep septic systems flowing freely.... Everywhere a sign.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Mid-Life Travel
I fell flat on my face twice during our travels in Central America. The first time I landed in sand softened by Caribbean waves. (We were nearing the end of our run across a narrow strand of San Pedro on Ambergris Caye, Belize en route to catch a water taxi to Caye Caulker.)
The second time, like the first, I was fully loaded with my backpack on my back and a bag in hand. As I stepped off the water taxi we'd just taken from Dangriga, Belize to Puerto Cortes, Honduras I fell headlong into members of our travel group. Despite their looks of shock and surprise as I collapsed into their midst, they managed to block my fall and set me upright again. In both cases--just like my years spent trying to run as fast as my friends in schoolyard games--I was rushing to keep up with others. But, happily, in these two instances I was left unhurt ... not even a scraped knee.
Still, traveling when you're 54 requires more care and caution than traveling at age 22, or even 44. Frances and I often needed more rest, especially when busing or taxiing for long hours or after navigating border crossings from one country to the next. We also monitored our bodily functions intensively since there was absolutely no way we could tolerate traveler's diarrhea while using public transportation. We also learned to eat and drink little on travel days since we never knew when we'd stop or if we'd find an always-elusive bathroom.
Eventually we tired of riding chicken buses. Why? We were often among the oldest riders on these buses that were designed to transport people with much shorter legs and smaller bodies. Packing almost twice as many riders into an old school bus as the capacity allowed was challenging. But sitting with your backpack on your lap, your other luggage lodged between your feet, and your knees braced against the seat in front of you when you couldn't move was near-debilitating. Worst of all was standing in the aisle while clutching all your luggage as you were pressed tightly against riders on all sides. When more passengers boarded the already-crammed bus OR when someone decided they needed to squeeze by you, it took supreme willpower--and magic--to accomplish.
In one instance, on a chicken bus from Rio Dulce to Flores, Guatemala, a bus staffer asked local riders to relinquish their back row seats to accommodate the gringos who'd boarded. I can't imagine how resentful these riders may have felt to abandon their seats to us for that four-hour trip. Indeed, some of those people stood throughout the entire journey. Still, I was grateful.
In Honduras we discovered first-class buses. Not only did we each have a seat for ourselves. We could check our luggage into a separate compartment beneath the bus. What luxury!
Of course, most of the travelers on these first-class buses were other tourists so the opportunity to experience local culture and customs was reduced dramatically. No food vendors were allowed on these buses or permitted to stand along the outside of our windows to offer their wares of fresh pineapple chunks, filled tortillas, chilled sodas, or dried plaintain with lime and chile peppers. We did take a first-class bus several times after our initial experience, though, and did so with deep gratitude for the breathing space it afforded us.
The second time, like the first, I was fully loaded with my backpack on my back and a bag in hand. As I stepped off the water taxi we'd just taken from Dangriga, Belize to Puerto Cortes, Honduras I fell headlong into members of our travel group. Despite their looks of shock and surprise as I collapsed into their midst, they managed to block my fall and set me upright again. In both cases--just like my years spent trying to run as fast as my friends in schoolyard games--I was rushing to keep up with others. But, happily, in these two instances I was left unhurt ... not even a scraped knee.
Still, traveling when you're 54 requires more care and caution than traveling at age 22, or even 44. Frances and I often needed more rest, especially when busing or taxiing for long hours or after navigating border crossings from one country to the next. We also monitored our bodily functions intensively since there was absolutely no way we could tolerate traveler's diarrhea while using public transportation. We also learned to eat and drink little on travel days since we never knew when we'd stop or if we'd find an always-elusive bathroom.
Eventually we tired of riding chicken buses. Why? We were often among the oldest riders on these buses that were designed to transport people with much shorter legs and smaller bodies. Packing almost twice as many riders into an old school bus as the capacity allowed was challenging. But sitting with your backpack on your lap, your other luggage lodged between your feet, and your knees braced against the seat in front of you when you couldn't move was near-debilitating. Worst of all was standing in the aisle while clutching all your luggage as you were pressed tightly against riders on all sides. When more passengers boarded the already-crammed bus OR when someone decided they needed to squeeze by you, it took supreme willpower--and magic--to accomplish.
In one instance, on a chicken bus from Rio Dulce to Flores, Guatemala, a bus staffer asked local riders to relinquish their back row seats to accommodate the gringos who'd boarded. I can't imagine how resentful these riders may have felt to abandon their seats to us for that four-hour trip. Indeed, some of those people stood throughout the entire journey. Still, I was grateful.
In Honduras we discovered first-class buses. Not only did we each have a seat for ourselves. We could check our luggage into a separate compartment beneath the bus. What luxury!
Of course, most of the travelers on these first-class buses were other tourists so the opportunity to experience local culture and customs was reduced dramatically. No food vendors were allowed on these buses or permitted to stand along the outside of our windows to offer their wares of fresh pineapple chunks, filled tortillas, chilled sodas, or dried plaintain with lime and chile peppers. We did take a first-class bus several times after our initial experience, though, and did so with deep gratitude for the breathing space it afforded us.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Buzz ... Infected by the Travel Bug
Roberta, our Bayfield librarian, knows a bit about virtually every library patron's life and dreams and, in her infinite wisdom, introduced us to Kate as we planned our trip to Latin America. Kate was the first of several people who inspired us to leap into our adventure. Having traveled extensively in Mexico and Central America herself Kate assured us that we were embarking on one of life's great journeys.
Kate greeted me with excitement yesterday as I climbed the steps to the library. "Oh, I read parts of your blog while you were on the road," she said, "And I was so inspired. My mom has diabetes and tells me she can't travel so I told her about you. Here, I said, this is someone with diabetes who is traveling. So there."
"Kate," I replied, "You have no idea how much you helped us through our own pre-trip fears and anxieties."
For the next 10 minutes Kate and I were like two kids in a candy store. Though the treats we salivated over were merely pictures in our minds, we shared some of the tastes and sensations from each of our trips and hungrily longed for more. Once the travel bug bites you, I've concluded, you're infected for life. There's no remedy except to travel and experience new people, cultures, and lands 'til you can travel again. That's one communicable disease I'll gladly pass on to others.
Speaking of diseases, I overheard a tourist on Roatan Island, Honduras, mention that Bill Gates owns a beach house a short distance from West Bay. Our "Lonely Planet" guidebook warned us to take anti-malarial medication while visiting this area since there are five different strains of malaria identified on Roatan. Suddenly Bill Gates' anti-malarial activism made perfect sense. If you own a vacation home or travel in an area inhabited by these mosquitoes, the fear of malaria is no longer an abstract concept.
My brother, Brett, mentioned that news reports about Bill Gates' speech at the Technology, Entertainment, Design (TED) Conference circulated the day I returned from Central America. Gates evidentally hoped to make an infecting point about malaria by releasing mosquitoes into the audience. As he opened the jar of mosquitoes Gates said, "Here I'll let them roam around. There is no reason only poor people should be infected."
Gates waited several minutes before he reassured his elite audience that the mosquitoes he'd released were malaria-free. He went on to say that there's more money put into drugs for baldness than drugs for malaria. I believe Gates chose a potent way to drop audience members into a real-life fear-of-malaria-free-fall. Frances and I certainly couldn't escape that fear while traveling in Central America and we finish our weekly dose of malaria meds in two more weeks.
Kate greeted me with excitement yesterday as I climbed the steps to the library. "Oh, I read parts of your blog while you were on the road," she said, "And I was so inspired. My mom has diabetes and tells me she can't travel so I told her about you. Here, I said, this is someone with diabetes who is traveling. So there."
"Kate," I replied, "You have no idea how much you helped us through our own pre-trip fears and anxieties."
For the next 10 minutes Kate and I were like two kids in a candy store. Though the treats we salivated over were merely pictures in our minds, we shared some of the tastes and sensations from each of our trips and hungrily longed for more. Once the travel bug bites you, I've concluded, you're infected for life. There's no remedy except to travel and experience new people, cultures, and lands 'til you can travel again. That's one communicable disease I'll gladly pass on to others.
Speaking of diseases, I overheard a tourist on Roatan Island, Honduras, mention that Bill Gates owns a beach house a short distance from West Bay. Our "Lonely Planet" guidebook warned us to take anti-malarial medication while visiting this area since there are five different strains of malaria identified on Roatan. Suddenly Bill Gates' anti-malarial activism made perfect sense. If you own a vacation home or travel in an area inhabited by these mosquitoes, the fear of malaria is no longer an abstract concept.
My brother, Brett, mentioned that news reports about Bill Gates' speech at the Technology, Entertainment, Design (TED) Conference circulated the day I returned from Central America. Gates evidentally hoped to make an infecting point about malaria by releasing mosquitoes into the audience. As he opened the jar of mosquitoes Gates said, "Here I'll let them roam around. There is no reason only poor people should be infected."
Gates waited several minutes before he reassured his elite audience that the mosquitoes he'd released were malaria-free. He went on to say that there's more money put into drugs for baldness than drugs for malaria. I believe Gates chose a potent way to drop audience members into a real-life fear-of-malaria-free-fall. Frances and I certainly couldn't escape that fear while traveling in Central America and we finish our weekly dose of malaria meds in two more weeks.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Bang, You're Dead
Last night we saw the movie, “Taken,” about a 17-year-old girl and her friend who travel, unescorted, to Paris. The two are spotted at the Paris airport, then kidnapped and sold into the sex trade.
The young woman’s father (Liam Neeson) is an ex-government agent—-a preventer-—recently retired. On the phone with his daughter when the kidnapping occurs, he promises the men responsible, “... I will find you and kill you,” which he does.
After the movie Frances said of our recent trip to Latin America, “Think how lucky we were. Just imagine what could have happened if our Honduran taxi driver, Flash, decided to turn off onto some country road somewhere.”
Frances believes Flash hijacked us when he convinced us to buy his taxi services after our water taxi from Puerto Cortes, Honduras to Belize City, Belize didn’t show. Rather than wait a week for the next water taxi, we chose to pile into his small pickup truck and drive to another location. This water taxi, he promised, would get us to our desired destination. En route we discovered that Flash was driving us through the Honduran border into Guatemala to reach that taxi.
On another occasion a young traveling Danish couple warned us, “Never allow anyone near your backpack on the bus. You could become a drug runner without knowing it.”
Earlier, a young woman seated next to me on a Belizean bus told me I was smart to hold my backpack on my lap during our bus ride. If I placed it in the back of the bus with the other luggage, it—-or some of its contents—-could go missing.
Frances talked with a man on the same overcrowded bus who ate his meal as he stood in the bus aisle pressed tightly against other standing passengers. She told him she was impressed that he could eat under those circumstances. “Well, if I don’t eat it now, it won’t be there later,” he replied.
We learned in Belize that plastic bags filled with a white powdery substance found floating in the water or resting along the shore were known as “white lobster” or “box fish,” a/k/a crack-cocaine. Dumped overboard by drug runners evading the law, they were later retrieved. If these bags disappeared, though, the drug runners searched for the interlopers instead and spoke an international language, “Bang, you’re dead.”
It’s not uncommon, we were told, for local fishermen to find white lobsters floating in the sea. Often these struggling fishermen couldn’t resist temptation. One bag, quickly sold, could buy a cement block addition to their tiny one-room house. Of course, they also had to move their family out of that house for a year or two until their risk of being caught—-and murdered—-diminished and the addition was completed.
How do you balance the risks of traveling in unfamiliar territory against the excitement and adventure? After seven weeks in Latin America I still don’t know the answer to that question. I do know, though, that I gained untold experience and information that will help me on future travels.
The young woman’s father (Liam Neeson) is an ex-government agent—-a preventer-—recently retired. On the phone with his daughter when the kidnapping occurs, he promises the men responsible, “... I will find you and kill you,” which he does.
After the movie Frances said of our recent trip to Latin America, “Think how lucky we were. Just imagine what could have happened if our Honduran taxi driver, Flash, decided to turn off onto some country road somewhere.”
Frances believes Flash hijacked us when he convinced us to buy his taxi services after our water taxi from Puerto Cortes, Honduras to Belize City, Belize didn’t show. Rather than wait a week for the next water taxi, we chose to pile into his small pickup truck and drive to another location. This water taxi, he promised, would get us to our desired destination. En route we discovered that Flash was driving us through the Honduran border into Guatemala to reach that taxi.
On another occasion a young traveling Danish couple warned us, “Never allow anyone near your backpack on the bus. You could become a drug runner without knowing it.”
Earlier, a young woman seated next to me on a Belizean bus told me I was smart to hold my backpack on my lap during our bus ride. If I placed it in the back of the bus with the other luggage, it—-or some of its contents—-could go missing.
Frances talked with a man on the same overcrowded bus who ate his meal as he stood in the bus aisle pressed tightly against other standing passengers. She told him she was impressed that he could eat under those circumstances. “Well, if I don’t eat it now, it won’t be there later,” he replied.
We learned in Belize that plastic bags filled with a white powdery substance found floating in the water or resting along the shore were known as “white lobster” or “box fish,” a/k/a crack-cocaine. Dumped overboard by drug runners evading the law, they were later retrieved. If these bags disappeared, though, the drug runners searched for the interlopers instead and spoke an international language, “Bang, you’re dead.”
It’s not uncommon, we were told, for local fishermen to find white lobsters floating in the sea. Often these struggling fishermen couldn’t resist temptation. One bag, quickly sold, could buy a cement block addition to their tiny one-room house. Of course, they also had to move their family out of that house for a year or two until their risk of being caught—-and murdered—-diminished and the addition was completed.
How do you balance the risks of traveling in unfamiliar territory against the excitement and adventure? After seven weeks in Latin America I still don’t know the answer to that question. I do know, though, that I gained untold experience and information that will help me on future travels.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
It's True! Experiences, Not Possessions, Make Us Happier
A news item on Public Radio caught my attention yesterday; it reinforced what I wrote hours earlier in my blog. When you buy experiences with your money (i.e., travel, meals out, or theater tickets), you're happier than when you buy material goods. The media chose Valentine's Day to tout this message since this holiday, more than others, is framed around consumerism. Who among us doesn't think about sending flowers, candy, or cards to those we love? It's an American tradition.
Yet, Ryan Howell, assistant professor of psychology at San Francisco State University discovered through his research that, when asked to write about recent purchases, study participants felt experiences they had led to longer-term satisfaction and produced better memories than material objects they purchased. Even more significant, those experiences produced more happiness regardless of how much money was spent or the total income of study participants.
"People still believe that more money will make them happy, even though 35 years of research has suggested the opposite," said Howell.
Frances and I are proof positive! Post-trip we both feel energized and revitalized. Friends notice our buoyancy. We feel it, too, when we work around our house, pay bills, file paperwork, and sort through belongings. We are releasing possessions in order to create more space in our home and in our lives.
Occasionally, though, it helps to be reminded that DOING things rather than HAVING things brings us the greatest happiness. I know that I have no buyer's remorse about our travels in Latin America even if I must cut my spending in the coming year. My hunger for learning new things is sated, my vitality is restored, and ... I'm happy.
Yet, Ryan Howell, assistant professor of psychology at San Francisco State University discovered through his research that, when asked to write about recent purchases, study participants felt experiences they had led to longer-term satisfaction and produced better memories than material objects they purchased. Even more significant, those experiences produced more happiness regardless of how much money was spent or the total income of study participants.
"People still believe that more money will make them happy, even though 35 years of research has suggested the opposite," said Howell.
Frances and I are proof positive! Post-trip we both feel energized and revitalized. Friends notice our buoyancy. We feel it, too, when we work around our house, pay bills, file paperwork, and sort through belongings. We are releasing possessions in order to create more space in our home and in our lives.
Occasionally, though, it helps to be reminded that DOING things rather than HAVING things brings us the greatest happiness. I know that I have no buyer's remorse about our travels in Latin America even if I must cut my spending in the coming year. My hunger for learning new things is sated, my vitality is restored, and ... I'm happy.
Friday, February 13, 2009
The Journey of a Lifetime
"Certainly, travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living." -- Miriam Beard, author, from USA Today, November 28, 2008
Back home for one week now both Frances and I recognize the wisdom of Beard's statement. Inspired by the wide variety of lodgings we inhabited throughout Central America--all plain, simple, comfortable, and uncluttered--Frances was compelled to purge our house. As we cull through our possessions and papers and sort through our basement, closets, and drawers we're also reassessing how we choose to live. How can we live more freely? How can we not be owned by our possessions? How can we simplify and delight in that simplicity?
For me, travel is one of my greatest teachers. Starting with a six week bike trip I took through Western Europe immediately after college to the present day, I've learned lessons on the road that rival years of classroom lectures. Those lessons have stayed with me longer and affected me more deeply because they were rooted in the art, architecture, landscape, culture, history, natural world--and people!--that I met, talked with, touched, felt, and heard. My mind was filled with new information but so, too, were my body, emotions, and spirit.
I'm often surprised when friends or family members admit that they admire our courage for taking this journey through foreign lands. Certainly there were times when we felt fearful or uncertain during our travels. But the insights and information, the surprises, frustrations, adventures, beauties, and bounties that we encountered, filled us with energy and inspiration that carry us forward.
Years ago I scanned the book, "Hungry Planet: What the World Eats" by Peter Menzel. This photo book showed one family per country from Australia to the United States (and many countries in between) posed beside one week's worth of groceries. I was struck by how prepared, packaged, unnatural, and unhealthy much of their standard fare seemed. One country stood out from the rest. The family from Guatemala was surrounded by fresh fruits and vegetables, grains, and beans. "I want to eat like that family eats," I thought to myself.
Not surprisingly, as soon as we entered Guatemala, we were greeted by huge, bountiful, and beautiful markets. Fruits and vegetables were piled high. Grains, spices, and unknown foodstuffs tantalized nose, mouth, and eyes.
During a walk through a market enroute to Rio Dulce we were enticed by bags of unidentified chunks of a green fruit or vegetable sprinkled with salt, lime juice, and chilis. When we asked our bus driver, he said, "Oh, that's green mango. Since it's not ripe it tastes sour, tangier. Do you want some?" We tried it and liked it ... What a treat! Green mango remains one of my favorite taste discoveries from this trip.
The picture of a Guatemalan family surrounded by their food made an impression on me. And, yes, I still believe that a picture is worth a thousand words. But experiencing some of those foods myself--without a camera lens between us--was so much better.
Back home for one week now both Frances and I recognize the wisdom of Beard's statement. Inspired by the wide variety of lodgings we inhabited throughout Central America--all plain, simple, comfortable, and uncluttered--Frances was compelled to purge our house. As we cull through our possessions and papers and sort through our basement, closets, and drawers we're also reassessing how we choose to live. How can we live more freely? How can we not be owned by our possessions? How can we simplify and delight in that simplicity?
For me, travel is one of my greatest teachers. Starting with a six week bike trip I took through Western Europe immediately after college to the present day, I've learned lessons on the road that rival years of classroom lectures. Those lessons have stayed with me longer and affected me more deeply because they were rooted in the art, architecture, landscape, culture, history, natural world--and people!--that I met, talked with, touched, felt, and heard. My mind was filled with new information but so, too, were my body, emotions, and spirit.
I'm often surprised when friends or family members admit that they admire our courage for taking this journey through foreign lands. Certainly there were times when we felt fearful or uncertain during our travels. But the insights and information, the surprises, frustrations, adventures, beauties, and bounties that we encountered, filled us with energy and inspiration that carry us forward.
Years ago I scanned the book, "Hungry Planet: What the World Eats" by Peter Menzel. This photo book showed one family per country from Australia to the United States (and many countries in between) posed beside one week's worth of groceries. I was struck by how prepared, packaged, unnatural, and unhealthy much of their standard fare seemed. One country stood out from the rest. The family from Guatemala was surrounded by fresh fruits and vegetables, grains, and beans. "I want to eat like that family eats," I thought to myself.
Not surprisingly, as soon as we entered Guatemala, we were greeted by huge, bountiful, and beautiful markets. Fruits and vegetables were piled high. Grains, spices, and unknown foodstuffs tantalized nose, mouth, and eyes.
During a walk through a market enroute to Rio Dulce we were enticed by bags of unidentified chunks of a green fruit or vegetable sprinkled with salt, lime juice, and chilis. When we asked our bus driver, he said, "Oh, that's green mango. Since it's not ripe it tastes sour, tangier. Do you want some?" We tried it and liked it ... What a treat! Green mango remains one of my favorite taste discoveries from this trip.
The picture of a Guatemalan family surrounded by their food made an impression on me. And, yes, I still believe that a picture is worth a thousand words. But experiencing some of those foods myself--without a camera lens between us--was so much better.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Coming Home and Traveling ... through the Tao Te Ching
In the winter of 1989 Frances slipped behind the wheel of her old red Dodge pickup truck and spent three months traveling from central Minnesota through Ohio, Nebraska, New Mexico, Arizona, Idaho, and other parts of the central, southwestern, and northern United States. Her travel companions were two of her closest friends: her Golden Retriever, Sadie, and her rabbit, Poof. The trio camped together and shared many adventures.
"But," Frances reminded me during the last week of our trip through Latin America, "After only a few days at home Sadie was intent on getting back on the road. She just couldn't settle down. I had to tell her, 'No. We're home now. We're not going anywhere.'
"I have a feeling you might be like that too," Frances warned.
Perhaps she was right. I'm not sure that I want to pack my bags and head out the door this week. Yet, now that I've tasted the fruits--both literal and figurative--of a warmer, sunnier, more exotic culture and climate, I don't need to spend the rest of my life in my beautiful, shady house in the woods.
In fact, both Frances and I are reevaluating the direction of our lives, reimagining what we both long to experience as we cull through our possessions and lessen the load. It's clear that we both love to travel. Leaving behind the routine of daily life provided us with an opportunity to be more objective, less willing to cling to what we know, and more open to trusting that we can learn, grow, and thrive in many other circumstances than we previously thought. That's one of the precious gifts we received from our travels.
The morning after our return to the North Woods I led my Cornucopia T'ai Chi Chih class in our first winter practice. During class tea time, as usual, we read and discussed the next verse of the Tao Te Ching, Verse 23. We're studying this well-known classic text from two out of a multitude of translations: Ursula LeGuin's "Lao Tzu Tao Te Ching: A Book about The Way and the Power of The Way" and Wayne Dyer's "Change Your Thoughts--Change Your Life."
Dyer's chapter, "Living Naturally," spoke directly to me about my experiences during our travels. "Open yourself to the Tao and trust your natural responses ... then everything will fall into place," translates Dyer. He later writes, "The Tao points out that the Way is responsible for everything ... When you conform to the naturalness of the universe, you cooperate with this all-creating power that flows through you. Suspend ego-driven plans and instead participate in the power that created you--allow it to be the guiding force in your life."
Yes, I have come home and still, I am traveling.
"But," Frances reminded me during the last week of our trip through Latin America, "After only a few days at home Sadie was intent on getting back on the road. She just couldn't settle down. I had to tell her, 'No. We're home now. We're not going anywhere.'
"I have a feeling you might be like that too," Frances warned.
Perhaps she was right. I'm not sure that I want to pack my bags and head out the door this week. Yet, now that I've tasted the fruits--both literal and figurative--of a warmer, sunnier, more exotic culture and climate, I don't need to spend the rest of my life in my beautiful, shady house in the woods.
In fact, both Frances and I are reevaluating the direction of our lives, reimagining what we both long to experience as we cull through our possessions and lessen the load. It's clear that we both love to travel. Leaving behind the routine of daily life provided us with an opportunity to be more objective, less willing to cling to what we know, and more open to trusting that we can learn, grow, and thrive in many other circumstances than we previously thought. That's one of the precious gifts we received from our travels.
The morning after our return to the North Woods I led my Cornucopia T'ai Chi Chih class in our first winter practice. During class tea time, as usual, we read and discussed the next verse of the Tao Te Ching, Verse 23. We're studying this well-known classic text from two out of a multitude of translations: Ursula LeGuin's "Lao Tzu Tao Te Ching: A Book about The Way and the Power of The Way" and Wayne Dyer's "Change Your Thoughts--Change Your Life."
Dyer's chapter, "Living Naturally," spoke directly to me about my experiences during our travels. "Open yourself to the Tao and trust your natural responses ... then everything will fall into place," translates Dyer. He later writes, "The Tao points out that the Way is responsible for everything ... When you conform to the naturalness of the universe, you cooperate with this all-creating power that flows through you. Suspend ego-driven plans and instead participate in the power that created you--allow it to be the guiding force in your life."
Yes, I have come home and still, I am traveling.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Home Again Home Again Lickity Split
Our return home was like slipping on a pair of comfortable, well-worn jeans. No, we weren't entirely prepared for the 4 degree temperature at the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport on Tuesday afternoon (about an 80 degree drop from Cancun, Mexico temps). Still, we were born, raised, and are growing old in this climate ... our bodies and minds know it intimately.
I've seen two gorgeous sunrises since coming home to the woods. And, too, we're surrounded by our own sea ... this sea has sparkling white waves that are frozen in place but they are beautiful nonetheless. During our absence spiders and mice moved into our vacant house so one of our first priorities will be to convince them that they need to move to new digs.
I admit, it does feel like we've returned to an overly-worn routine here, especially after experiencing a multitude of adventures during our seven week trek. We're also facing a daunting pile of work concerning our business and our home as well as the ever-present responsibility of chainsawing, hauling, splitting, and filling the wood stove to achieve some modicum of heat.
Our last day in Cancun was just right. We found a wonderful eco-tel just three blocks from the bus station. It had a quiet, peaceful inner courtyard filled with trees, plants, flowers, a small swimming pool, and a massage studio. We took advantage of the latter and each had an early evening massage to relax and ease muscles strained and tired from seven weeks of carrying our world on our backs.
First, though, we asked our host for a restaurant recommendation. She mentioned La Parilla (The Grill) several blocks away and handed us a card allowing us a small, complimentary drink. The restaurant name sounded familiar to Frances and we walked back toward the neighborhood we stayed in when we first arrived in Mexico. We didn't turn at our familiar street, though, continuing on to find the turn our hotel hostess mentioned. After walking a mile or two we decided that we were lost, hailed a taxi, and asked him to drive us (what turned out to be) eight blocks to La Parilla.
And, yes, it was a familiar restaurant. We ate our first Mexican meal at La Parilla our very first day in Mexico and, appropriately, we ate our last Mexican meal there. During the course of our travels our stomachs and our feet went full circle.
Thanks to our friends, Robbyn and Jan, for our wonderful welcome home and overnight stay before we ventured back to the north woods. It was terrific to reconnect with friends as we headed for home. We met a new friend, too. Laura, a coworker of Jan's, joined us for dinner and shared her plans to move back to Mexico in 2009. She provided email travel advice during our trip and, though we were unable to visit most of her recommendations, it was a treat to meet our Spanish-speaking cyberwoman upon our return. Hearing Laura's Spanish-tinged English was a wonderful way to transition from, and slightly extend, our Latin American travels.
Due to our technological limitations (when I write "our," I mean Frances and Steph), we were unable to post travel photos on our blog. Once we learn how, we plan to include some of those photos on the blog post-trip so stay tuned ... Perhaps we can keep the sun shining and the temperatures above freezing as we continue to share memories of our adventures.
I've seen two gorgeous sunrises since coming home to the woods. And, too, we're surrounded by our own sea ... this sea has sparkling white waves that are frozen in place but they are beautiful nonetheless. During our absence spiders and mice moved into our vacant house so one of our first priorities will be to convince them that they need to move to new digs.
I admit, it does feel like we've returned to an overly-worn routine here, especially after experiencing a multitude of adventures during our seven week trek. We're also facing a daunting pile of work concerning our business and our home as well as the ever-present responsibility of chainsawing, hauling, splitting, and filling the wood stove to achieve some modicum of heat.
Our last day in Cancun was just right. We found a wonderful eco-tel just three blocks from the bus station. It had a quiet, peaceful inner courtyard filled with trees, plants, flowers, a small swimming pool, and a massage studio. We took advantage of the latter and each had an early evening massage to relax and ease muscles strained and tired from seven weeks of carrying our world on our backs.
First, though, we asked our host for a restaurant recommendation. She mentioned La Parilla (The Grill) several blocks away and handed us a card allowing us a small, complimentary drink. The restaurant name sounded familiar to Frances and we walked back toward the neighborhood we stayed in when we first arrived in Mexico. We didn't turn at our familiar street, though, continuing on to find the turn our hotel hostess mentioned. After walking a mile or two we decided that we were lost, hailed a taxi, and asked him to drive us (what turned out to be) eight blocks to La Parilla.
And, yes, it was a familiar restaurant. We ate our first Mexican meal at La Parilla our very first day in Mexico and, appropriately, we ate our last Mexican meal there. During the course of our travels our stomachs and our feet went full circle.
Thanks to our friends, Robbyn and Jan, for our wonderful welcome home and overnight stay before we ventured back to the north woods. It was terrific to reconnect with friends as we headed for home. We met a new friend, too. Laura, a coworker of Jan's, joined us for dinner and shared her plans to move back to Mexico in 2009. She provided email travel advice during our trip and, though we were unable to visit most of her recommendations, it was a treat to meet our Spanish-speaking cyberwoman upon our return. Hearing Laura's Spanish-tinged English was a wonderful way to transition from, and slightly extend, our Latin American travels.
Due to our technological limitations (when I write "our," I mean Frances and Steph), we were unable to post travel photos on our blog. Once we learn how, we plan to include some of those photos on the blog post-trip so stay tuned ... Perhaps we can keep the sun shining and the temperatures above freezing as we continue to share memories of our adventures.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
La Playa ... The Last Days
The countdown has begun. Today is our last full day in Playa del Carmen. Though it´s cool we have beautiful blue skies and a plan to douse ourselves in the Caribbean sea one last time later this afternoon.
Friday we experienced a magnificent storm. We´d just finished checking email and updating the blog as rain cascaded from the sky. People crowded under store entries and any available shelter; small street stands closed up shop; and a bicycle taxi ferrying a woman and child pulled off the street onto the sidewalk, then into a covered alleyway, then disappeared entirely. The taxi driver and passengers were dripping wet. For over an hour rain poured down rain spouts, sidewalks, and streets, rising higher and higher.
Two young Mexican girls at the shop next door grabbed umbrellas and dashed in and out of the rain, finally settling themselves beneath a rainspout that pounded their umbrellas with nonstop water. It was wonderful to watch people pause, stop, and patiently await nature´s grand display.
NOW we know why curbs and sidewalks are so deep here in Mexico and Central America ... to keep walkers suspended above the swirling fray.
We experienced a similar storm while staying in Guanaja, Honduras. There we went inside, secured shutters and doors until rain finished, then opened up and closed down again as rain returned over and over throughout the day. That time I asked one of our water taxi´s sons what he did on that rainy day. He looked at me like I was nuts and said, "I stayed home." No further explanation needed.
After Friday´s rain, Saturday was breezy and cool with high waves. We almost didn´t go in the water. Late in the afternoon we joined four others in the heavy waves. Everyone else stayed on the safety of the beach. The water was so warm we could have bathed in it. Instead we watched each approaching wave and jumped up at just the right time to ensure that it didn´t dunk us or shove us into the sandy shore.
Tomorrow (Monday) we catch a bus for Cancun. Tuesday is fly away day. It feels sad and yet appropriate that our time here is almost over. Back to the life we abandoned for seven full weeks. Other than occasional thoughts of our friends and family, Namaste, Zeke, and the geese, I´ve plunged myself into this alternative lifestyle. It has been adventurous, stressful, tiring, inspirational, educational, and absolutely, positively fun!
Friday we experienced a magnificent storm. We´d just finished checking email and updating the blog as rain cascaded from the sky. People crowded under store entries and any available shelter; small street stands closed up shop; and a bicycle taxi ferrying a woman and child pulled off the street onto the sidewalk, then into a covered alleyway, then disappeared entirely. The taxi driver and passengers were dripping wet. For over an hour rain poured down rain spouts, sidewalks, and streets, rising higher and higher.
Two young Mexican girls at the shop next door grabbed umbrellas and dashed in and out of the rain, finally settling themselves beneath a rainspout that pounded their umbrellas with nonstop water. It was wonderful to watch people pause, stop, and patiently await nature´s grand display.
NOW we know why curbs and sidewalks are so deep here in Mexico and Central America ... to keep walkers suspended above the swirling fray.
We experienced a similar storm while staying in Guanaja, Honduras. There we went inside, secured shutters and doors until rain finished, then opened up and closed down again as rain returned over and over throughout the day. That time I asked one of our water taxi´s sons what he did on that rainy day. He looked at me like I was nuts and said, "I stayed home." No further explanation needed.
After Friday´s rain, Saturday was breezy and cool with high waves. We almost didn´t go in the water. Late in the afternoon we joined four others in the heavy waves. Everyone else stayed on the safety of the beach. The water was so warm we could have bathed in it. Instead we watched each approaching wave and jumped up at just the right time to ensure that it didn´t dunk us or shove us into the sandy shore.
Tomorrow (Monday) we catch a bus for Cancun. Tuesday is fly away day. It feels sad and yet appropriate that our time here is almost over. Back to the life we abandoned for seven full weeks. Other than occasional thoughts of our friends and family, Namaste, Zeke, and the geese, I´ve plunged myself into this alternative lifestyle. It has been adventurous, stressful, tiring, inspirational, educational, and absolutely, positively fun!
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