It’s the people, the encounters, the relationships, that make any travels special… or, for that matter, our lives, wherever we find ourselves. And this is especially true in Cuba. Here are a few special souls I’ve encountered.
Cuban profiles
Posts tagged friendship
68 Thoughts A Baby-Boomer Woman Traveler Has When Traveling Alone in Europe
After walking the ancient wall that encloses the original city of Girona, Catalonia, I returned to my computer to find an article, “68 Thoughts Every Traveler Has On Their Trip Around The World” by Nomadic Matt, one of the many travel writers to whom I happily subscribe. He does a great job at encouraging his peers to “travel cheaper, better, and longer.” While his article appeals and applies to a 20-something beer-drinking, hostel-staying crowd – the ones I met 35 years ago – it inspired me to wonder if I could make a list of “68 Thoughts A Baby-Boomer Woman Traveler Has When Traveling Alone.” Why not?
Matt wrote his list in the third person; mine is first-person and I would not presume or generalize about anyone else’s experience. Although I have had some times of loneliness, I am pleased to note I’ve had no regrets about embarking on this journey, I have been supported in countless ways by human angels at every turn, and have faith I will find my way “”home” and inhabit my dreams all along the way.
Your comments, as always, are welcome. As Iggymo would say, smiles and love.
68 Thoughts A Baby-Boomer Woman Traveler Has Traveling Alone
1. I’ve done this before, I can do it again.
2. This time I am more mature, have more skills and contacts and know-how to plan and budget.
3. I know it’s important to travel light, but damn, I need these 5 pairs of shoes because I have bunions and my feet ache and I need to have alternatives.
4. I will be traveling to various climates and have many experiences, so I need a variety of clothes for warm and cool weather, informal and more formal.
5. I need these hair and body products, this makeup, these over-the-counter drugs just in case… it’s a lot to carry, but important.
6. OK, so I fit everything into 2 rolling bags that weigh in just below the airline limit (25kg each). No matter, I can hire porters and airport carts.
7. There are no porters and airport carts. My bags are way too heavy.
8. I’m afraid I’m going to strain a muscle.
9. Why is there no one to help me?
10. Why did I agree to stay in a 4th floor walk-up without an elevator?
11. Oh well, it’s for a few weeks and I only have to carry them up and down once.
12. Yay! I am in Madrid!
13. It’s a beautiful city I’ve been in twice before and know my way around.
14. There are people everywhere, and I am lonely.
15. I attend InterNations events and get together with a few people. Well done, making new friends, seeing the sights.
16. I am still lonely.
17. I need to make more friends.
18. I do. Good, interesting people. Good for me.
19. This is the first stop on what may be a long journey in search of home. I chose this. Be patient.
20. Love yourself.
21. Everyone thinks you’re courageous.
22. I’m not. I want to see if it’s true what I’ve been telling others: that you can “Inhabit Your Dreams!” Can you really? Can I?
23. Damn, I spent a lot of money on clothes, thinking I needed to buy them before I left, only to discover I could have bought better, cheaper, more interesting clothes in Madrid.
24. I’ll give away everything I don’t need and then my suitcases will be lighter.
25. Two bags of clothes and toiletries gone to the woman who cleans the hallways, and still my bags are full to the max and too heavy. How can this be? What else can I give away?
26. Why did I bring all those toiletries and medicines? I can buy almost everything I need when I need it.
27. Why did I bring a router and printer? I thought I’d need them for my work, but this is Europe and there is wi-fi and copy shops are everywhere. Get rid of them.
28. I give them to friends to use, with the agreement I can have them back if I need them. Why would I need them? Stop hanging on to things for some imagined contingency.
24. I carry the still-too-heavy bags down 4 flights of stairs, one at a time, at 7 a.m. Why is there no one here to help me?
25. I could hurt myself.
26. I do not know how to travel light.
27. Why is the taxi I reserved not here to take me to the train station?
28. I could miss my train and keep a friend waiting who is driving a long way to meet me. How would I get in touch with her? I haven’t figured out how to call France from Spain on a Spanish cell phone.
29. I am pathetic.
30. I will leave all my things in the hallway and hope no one steals them while I run around the corner and hope to find a taxi. Am I am idiot?
31. I find a taxi. I am OK. I am resourceful.
32. Strangers help me with my over-weight bags. I am blessed.
33. My new friend is at the Bayonne station to meet me. All is well.
34. I stay at her beautiful home in the French countryside. I am so lucky. How can two weeks pass so quickly? I didn’t get much done.
35. I am much more relaxed, at peace with this path I’ve set for myself.
36. I am organized.
37. I leave more things behind but my bags are still too heavy.
38. I am on my way to Girona, where I have wanted to go for years, and with a great place to stay, thanks to more great people in my life. It’s all good.
39. There is a French railroad strike and I cannot use the ticket I bought weeks ago to Girona. Now what? Why is this happening to me?
40. There must be another way to get there. Yes, a bus at midnight getting me in at 4 a.m. OK, I’ll deal with it. I buy the bus ticket. Whew. I’ll email my friends in Girona.
41. Fuckin’ internet at the station doesn’t work (“Sorry for the inconvenience” says the online message). I am being foiled at every turn. Am I not supposed to go to Girona? Stop with the “magical thinking,” it’s just a railway strike!
43. I find a wifi signal and get through to them. They are very helpful and consoling. Relax. All is well.
42. Can I just retreat to the comfort of my friend’s nice house in the country? No, you must carry on. Remember how courageous your friends think you are.
43. Thank god there is baggage storage next to the train station. I wheel my bags, piggy backed. It works on flat paved ground. Pretty cool.
44. Now what? I break down and cry. Why am I all alone? This is too much.
45. You’re in Toulouse. You were here before in 2008, as a journalist guest of the Tourism Board. You can rent a city bike. You have a Mexican credit card with a chip in it that should work. You are so smart.
47. With help from other bike renter, you figure it out. It works. Now ride around and see what you can discover. It’s a beautiful day. All is well.
48. I wave at kids on a boat on the river and stop to buy a bottle of water. A young French man and I get into a conversation. He is a filmmaker, lived in Australia, is full of ideas. We talk for a hour. He takes a photo of Iggy and me and the bike. How sweet! Life is full of good things.
49. The gazebo at the park is full of dancing couples, the sidewalk cafes full of friends. It is beautiful and I feel lonely.
50. The bus is full and cramped. How have I managed to travel widely and this is the first time ever that my plans have been derailed? I guess I am lucky.
51. I am in Girona. My friends make me feel very welcome. But they are leaving for the weeks I will be here. I will be alone.
52. This is a beautiful apartment they have given me. I feel grateful.
53. The city has so much history and places to explore. I can take care of myself here, see what I want, do what I want.
54. I don’t really care about churches and museums. I’ve seen a lot of them. What am I really interested in and when am I going to finish writing the two books I have in process?
55. I get out and walk around, talk to people, use “my companion” IggyMo as a device. Some moments are interesting, engaged. I stop and interact. I am good at this.
56. There are many shops with beautiful things. I don’t need to buy anything. It’s strange not having a home in which to put beautiful things.
57. The bread, pastries, wine and chocolates are fabulous and cheap. I am enjoying them all and hope I don’t gain weight.
58. That’s what happened 35 years ago when I traveled in Europe alone. But I was scared then. I’m not scared now, just missing having someone to share all this with.
59. I have coffee with a neighbor. How nice!
60. He has a life. I don’t. But I am just getting started creating this new one. Be gentle with yourself.
61. I am good at distracting myself with Facebook, with work, with writing this list.
62. Remember: this is what many people dream of doing. This is what you said you dream of doing!
63. I feel grateful for my freedom, for the many friends around the world who think of me, care about me, allow me to care about them. How blessed I am!
64. I will take myself to the coast tomorrow, as it will be hot and sunny and I want to go to the Costa Brava, the Brave Coast. I want to be brave.
65. This is my life, my human experience. I am fortunate to be here, to look out over this beautiful historic city of Girona and have so many adventures ahead.
66. I could go to a jazz club tonight, but I am too tired.
67. I think of going to Barcelona for a day or two, as it’s so close, but it seems exhausting. I was there for a week in 2006 and I have no desire to sightsee. Too many people. Better to stay in a place, ideally for a month of more.
68. In 2 weeks I will train to Paris (if there’s no train strike) and meet up with one of my oldest, dearest friends and, for that week, and the next with another friend in Burgundy, I will share the experience and appreciate not being alone. I will get rid of even more stuff, and little by little my luggage must surely become lighter.
The Travel Writer Returns (or How To Restart Your Blog)
Hello, I’m back. The passing of this summer Solstice, which finds me in Girona, Catalunya (northeast Spain), seems a perfect time for committing or recommitting to what is important.
There is so much I want to write about, to share, in the European adventures I’m having, in the new life I am creating at 59 years old. This isn’t just a vacation or a trip, as that implies a finite amount of time and a home that awaits your return. I currently have no such place, such anchor, in the world.
I did not realize three years ago (and more), as I began to dismantle my partnership of 25 years – through lack of appreciation and an abiding sense of discontent – that I was setting myself on this path to discover “home.” It is, of course, both an internal metaphor – a journey of where sense of purposefulness, meaning and connection reside – and an external search for a physical location where I feel “at home.”
As a writer, words (increasingly spoken aloud to my solo self) are the means by which I process and communicate with myself, and others with whom I hope to be in conversation. Therefore a blog is an appropriate and valuable tool, which I’ve not employed in a long time. There are always distractions, excuses and choices to be made about how we pass the hours of each day.
In addition to being present with the newness that travel imparts, I’ve been spending a lot of time on FaceBook creating a community for my travel companion, IggyMo who is a stuffed monkey made by Gund and purchased for me 27 years ago. He now has over 100 fans and, like any novelist will tell you about characters taking on a life of their own (which you hope they do), IggyMo is doing and saying things that are unique to him. He’s a delightful companion who permits me to share his daily adventures at http://on.fb.me/STqio3. Iggy would love if you’d like his page and subscribe to “notifications” of new posts.
As I left San Miguel de Allende the end of April on this journey to Europe, in search of “home” and to inhabit my dreams, I’ve been trying to organize and refocus my website and this blog. I still have a long way to go, to put all my professional work on to my personal site and use this blog for my travels, both inner and outer. Between that and online work, for which I am very grateful to my client of 2+ years, Mr. Paul Merriman, I have had good excuses for not blogging.
No more excuses. I recommit. And, if I want to know what I’m committed to, all I have to do is look around at my mirror of my thoughts, feelings, actions (inactions) and interactions. The responsibility is all mine. This feels good.
How are you feeling about your commitments?
If you are a subscriber, thank you! I hope you will share this site on your social media and among friends, and will write a comment, even if briefly, so I know you’ve been here, are with me, which means so much!
I hope you enjoy my first post back, which will post immediately after this: “68 Thoughts A Baby-Boomer Woman Traveler Has Traveling Alone.”
San Miguel de Allende: First Impressions
The full moon hovered large and bright above the mesas, accompanying my pre-dawn shuttle van from Santa Fe to Albuquerque, like a friendly blessing to my farewell to winter and the start of my trip to San Miguel de Allende, in the central “Bajio” region of Mexico.
I had visited San Miguel 37 years ago when living for six months in another nearby Spanish Colonial city, Guanajuato. While I knew that it and I had changed, I was eager to discover how.
The most marked difference (besides the increase in cars, technology and availability of U.S. goods) is being a Baby Boomer in a city that attracts my ex-pat contemporaries. Instead of being footloose college-age kids, passing through hostels and swapping stories of cheap eats and travel plans, there is an extraordinary community of accomplished, creative people (heavy on the female gender) who have made San Miguel their home, full or part time.
My Santa Fe friend, sculptor and jeweler Karen Wight, has made her full-time home here for five years and invited me to stay in her spacious house/studio in Colonia Guadalupe, a traditional neighborhood in easy walking distance of everything in the city.
Having a local friend always enhances the experience of a new place, but Karen’s many established connections, interests and community engagement, rocketed me into the middle of a vibrant movable feast of food, friends, music, dance, literature, art and general socializing.
While Santa Fe is renowned for many of the same attributes as San Miguel – art, culture, architecture, fiestas, markets, alternative therapies – the difference for me is the genuine openness and welcome I have received here; unlike anywhere I’ve been.
In just four days, I have attended to two private parties and several cantina meet-ups where conversation and tequila flow freely; met almost every vendor at the Saturday organic market at Parque Benito Juarez, and numerous shop and gallery owners (ex-pats who have created businesses here); added more than a dozen personal contacts to my address book of people I want to know; and participated in an annual 10k walk – at the beginning of the 9-day pilgrimage of the faithful to San Juan de Los Lagos – to raise awareness and support for ending domestic violence.
I have visited the baroque-gothic cathedral, La Parroquia de San Miguel Archangel (the tall spires in this photo) and found a favorite food stall at the Jardin across the street with tasty chicken tacos and fries for less than $2. I have walked many of the cobblestone streets and sat in cafes, danced to live music, watched the sun set over the distant arid hills from rooftop decks; visited the public library (“biblioteca”) with its mural-rich rooms and elegant stone courtyard; and taken many photos of the colorful buildings for which San Miguel is famous. I have stayed out late and risen early to the adamant crowing of neighboring roosters. So far, I have found nothing disappointing and am enjoying every minute.
As fund-raising expert, tour guide and botanical illustrator Dianne Aigaki confirmed for me at a small gathering last night, “There is a plethora of phenomenal people in San Miguel.” Her decades-long experience in and out of San Miguel is that it attracts those who want to get back on track from wherever they may have gotten off years ago, or those who are following their creative dreams, or women of a certain age for whom San Miguel offers close friendships and a safe, ready-made social scene.
No doubt, being in a foreign country offers a sense of solidarity and potential for deeper expression or reinvention, but I suspect there is much more… and I intend to find out.
I am trusting in La Luna, which sent me off from Santa Fe in the fullness of the feminine, to guide me in this adventure. Please stay tuned!
