Carol:
Traveling in the Now
Vacations are supposed to be opportunities to live in the present, especially if you have been planning that vacation for months and counting down the days until that future became The Now.
A year ago today my husband and I were debarking from a transcontinental flight with two lay-overs (cheaper than non-stop) and headed to a ubiquitous Travel Lodge somewhere in the center of historic Edinburgh, Scotland. We were exhausted and couldn’t get into our rooms, so we sat in the lobby waiting for the arrival of daughter Megan, who had flown in from England with belongings from four years of living abroad. So ubiquitous are the Travel Lodge hotels in Edinburgh that Megan spent the afternoon of June 1 searching for us at the wrong hotels. When she arrived several hours later at the right Travel Lodge, she was cranky, really cranky. We were glad to see her anyway.
The Scotland trip was meant to be a transition for her, a chance for one last vacation experience in another culture before returning to Arizona and the uncertainty of her future. For us, it was one last time to experience another culture in the capable hands of someone familiar with driving “on the wrong side,” round-abouts, lay-bys and quaint road impediments such as herds of sheep. A time also to make special memories with our daughter.
It was also a great time to practice being “in the moment” as we headed out each morning to explore the Scottish countryside and look for the perfect spot with a view to picnic or lunch at a tiny restaurant. Counting down the days until that future date when the trip was over would have spoiled the experience although I’m sure Megan and Marc allowed their thoughts to stray into the future—work and looking for work—more than did mine. I have always been good at compartmentalizing.
It was also a great time to practice being “in the moment” as we headed out each morning to explore the Scottish countryside and look for the perfect spot with a view to picnic or lunch at a tiny restaurant. Counting down the days until that future date when the trip was over would have spoiled the experience although I’m sure Megan and Marc allowed their thoughts to stray into the future—work and looking for work—more than did mine. I have always been good at compartmentalizing.
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| Ullapool, Scotland |
So, now just about a year later Marc and I have returned from a shorter, closer jaunt to the Northwest where we spent four days with friends of 40 years in Seattle and four days with our son in Portland. Familiar places and people, but we were able to fill each day with some little spontaneous adventure that kept us excited to be living in the moment. The bay view from The Oyster Bar on Chuckanut Drive south of Bellingham, Washington was spectacular as we ate fresh fish over a leisurely two-hour lunch that allowed us to reminisce about the view from another seaside restaurant in Ullapool, Scotland the year before. An hour spent with Marshall waiting for seats at the popular Toro Bravo restaurant in Portland provided a surprise opportunity to sit together and listen to Brazilian music played on mandolin and guitar.
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| Chuckanut Drive, Washington |
As the days ticked by, it would have been easy to slip out of the pleasures of living in the present to fret about the future— court appearances, car maintenance, getting the deck re-stained, cleaning out the basement—and a return to routines such as cooking and cleaning and the daily theme. I think I did a pretty good job of staying in the present, of allowing each day to create its own story.
But, vacations are retreats from, not abandonment of, routine. So, here I am back at my desk straining to come up with an ending for today’s theme, glad to be back home listening to the wrestling dogs and familiar cranky voice: “Are you done with that essay yet? You said it would just be a few more minutes.”
Megan:
On This Day
On this day last year, my Irish friend Sean gave me a ride to Stansted airport and I left my home in England for the last time. I only flew to Scotland where I met my parents and we traveled around for a couple of weeks, so on the 15th of this month you can probably expect “On this day last year, I moved back to the USA” or something similarly whiny and emotional.
It’s funny how little one can accomplish in a year. If I’d known that I’d still be unemployed and living with my parents a year later, I probably would have stayed in England. And in another month, I’d have been eligible for permanent residency. In my lower moments, that’s a regret I have. But I also would never have believed that I’d be happy here without a job or a place of my own.
Sometimes I miss living alone, but I spent all last week by myself and every night was an exercise in trying not to freak out at strange sounds, patrolling the house with a knife in one hand and my cell phone dialed to 911, my finger posed to hit the send button. I thought about breaking a couple of glasses and leaving the shards in the entry ways, but then realized that no burglar’s gonna come into the house barefoot, so I’d probably just wind up hurting myself or one of the dogs. Bella exposed another chink in the armor when, annoyed at being separated from Milo, she jumped straight through an open (but screened) window to reunite with her one true love. The screen wasn’t damaged -- it just popped right out. All of the windows, which before seemed beneficial – letting so much light and air into the house –suddenly became additional weak points that must be defended.
It wasn’t all bad. The dogs and I had dance parties. Our previous dog Trixie, used to dance along at moments like those, or rather, she would get excited and hump a leg. Milo and Bella just sit and observe, tails wagging and no judgment on their faces. I got the impression that they would like to join in, but were shy because they didn’t know the moves. I turned up the stereo all the way and danced and sang at the top of my lungs, which is something I couldn’t do when I lived in an apartment, and also is not something I can do when my mother is home. It’s not fair to make her cry and wet her pants with laughter more than once a day. Too much laundry is bad for the environment.
I seem to have strayed off topic. I’ve written recently about my plans for the future. I head to New Orleans at the end of this month, the GRE is fast approaching and so are the application deadlines. I intended to spend time last week preparing for those upcoming events, but between the daily dance parties and the evening night terrors, I also babysat, hung out with my friends and spent one entire day cleaning the fridge. I’ll get everything done eventually, but there is enough to keep me occupied in the present, I'm not going to waste all my time worrying about the future.
It’s funny how little one can accomplish in a year. If I’d known that I’d still be unemployed and living with my parents a year later, I probably would have stayed in England. And in another month, I’d have been eligible for permanent residency. In my lower moments, that’s a regret I have. But I also would never have believed that I’d be happy here without a job or a place of my own.
Sometimes I miss living alone, but I spent all last week by myself and every night was an exercise in trying not to freak out at strange sounds, patrolling the house with a knife in one hand and my cell phone dialed to 911, my finger posed to hit the send button. I thought about breaking a couple of glasses and leaving the shards in the entry ways, but then realized that no burglar’s gonna come into the house barefoot, so I’d probably just wind up hurting myself or one of the dogs. Bella exposed another chink in the armor when, annoyed at being separated from Milo, she jumped straight through an open (but screened) window to reunite with her one true love. The screen wasn’t damaged -- it just popped right out. All of the windows, which before seemed beneficial – letting so much light and air into the house –suddenly became additional weak points that must be defended.
It wasn’t all bad. The dogs and I had dance parties. Our previous dog Trixie, used to dance along at moments like those, or rather, she would get excited and hump a leg. Milo and Bella just sit and observe, tails wagging and no judgment on their faces. I got the impression that they would like to join in, but were shy because they didn’t know the moves. I turned up the stereo all the way and danced and sang at the top of my lungs, which is something I couldn’t do when I lived in an apartment, and also is not something I can do when my mother is home. It’s not fair to make her cry and wet her pants with laughter more than once a day. Too much laundry is bad for the environment.
I seem to have strayed off topic. I’ve written recently about my plans for the future. I head to New Orleans at the end of this month, the GRE is fast approaching and so are the application deadlines. I intended to spend time last week preparing for those upcoming events, but between the daily dance parties and the evening night terrors, I also babysat, hung out with my friends and spent one entire day cleaning the fridge. I’ll get everything done eventually, but there is enough to keep me occupied in the present, I'm not going to waste all my time worrying about the future.
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