Vegas

Just got back from Vegas. 

Vegas has a definite underside.  It is smoky and LOUD and I was there over Halloween, so it was also particularly garish.  Crude.  I enjoyed the Osmond shows, and Human Nature – the Motown group – is great too, but basically I don’t need Vegas.

Except that Frances loves it, and sometimes you just have to do what you have to do.   My grandmother used to say, after losing her husband less than 20 years into their marriage, that she often wished she had going fishing with him more.  A cousin who lost her husband when their children were very young is comforted by the fact that she went to many Nascar races with him – even though she could think of plenty of other things to do.

If there is one thing I know it is that life can change in an instant.

So, my style is to find ways to enjoy Vegas once a year or so…  and over the years I have done that.   The spas are wonderful, and minimally priced if you just settle in for the day and don’t get any treatments.  The restaurants are great – particularly if you go for lunch when prices are lower than evening menus.  And I gamble a bit too, especially with the new fancy slot machines they have these days.  I can find ways to have fun.

I don’t love Vegas.  I am always glad to come home.  But the reality is that I am also relatively happy to go, because I am spending time building memories (ask me about the Vegas Timeshare presentation sometime!) and I have learned, from painful experience, just how sustaining memories can be.

Visiting Portland

Why travel?   Having just returned to the east coast from a whirlwind trip to Portland, OR, I think it’s a valid question.  Cross country travel wears you down – body, mind and soul – in somewhat the same fashion that I imagine running a marathon does.  Not that I would know.

Travel is exhausting.  It is expensive.  It is uncomfortable and risky.  Yesterday, I travelled through six airports; if you want reviews on airports amenities, I am your girl.

And yet.  By traveling to Portland I was able to reconnect with a dear friend, find some inspiration in the landscape, and live outside of my own ruts and routines for awhile.  I saw myself strong: able to tackle a challenging hike, strike up conversations with unfamiliar people and make my way through airports well enough to get where I was going without breaking down in  heart-wrenching sobs.

My heart and mind were expanded just a bit on this trip, and while home is familiar,  as I rest, I see home and my life here through slightly different eyes.  And isn’t that the challenge of living after Molly’s death?  I need to build a new life out of the familiar; I need to evaluate previous routines and develop new ones.  I need so see myself in new situations and recognize my own strength.

So, I travel to challenge myself into a unknown future and  I am oh so glad that I went to Portland.

Paris Revisited

Ah, Paris.

How amazing to spend 10 days studying there.  There was enough of a “school” experience to keep loneliness at bay and enough of an “individual” experience to test my ability to stand on my own two feet.   Perfect.  Here are some of my take-aways: probably not what the professors had in mind, but true none the less.

1) Iceland is a fascinating place, but Iceland Air is tricky.  Iceland seems like a great country, and if Al Gore is right and global warming is upon us, Iceland may be one of the first casualties.  I’d visit soon if it is on your list. 

I guess I don’t blame Iceland for second guessing  TSA screening and requiring us all to be rescreened before we changed planes in Reykjavik (though I noted that Iceland does accept French screening; we were not rescreened on the return).  And I was okay – sort of – with being taken in to a private room for “random security screening”   in Iceland despite the fact that my plane was delayed and waiting for me.  It was not okay when there were no Iceland Air ground personnel in Paris and 250 people had to be rebooked due to a broken aircraft.   I would think twice before flying them again.

2)  The headsets in art museums are worth it.   They seem like just one more way to get tourist money, but the commentaries really make paintings come alive.  The Louvre and the Orsay are overwhelming enough – cough up the extra euros for some professional assistance.

3)  The current college aged students are really good people.  Most of the students on my trip were undergraduates.  Yes, there were some episodes with drinking too much (them, not me).  And yes, they tired quickly of museums.  But, they welcomed me and they embraced me and they invited me to lunch. 

 

4)  Americans are big and loud.   It was embarrassing but true.  We got “shushed” a lot and probably deserved it.  And on balance, we were much bigger than the Europeans.  All of the food and drink portions were smaller than I am used to, and no one was coming around in an apron with free refills of anything. There is a lesson there, no doubt. 

Overall, I loved having a room of my own, navigating the subways by myself and having the time to really sink in to such a vibrant city. 

The trip was exhausting in that everything everyday was new: the people, the experiences, the places, the expectations.   I was happy to come home.  I would happily go again.  And I am so glad that I stepped out of my comfort zone – just the smallest bit – and went.

What Lies Over the Hill?

Today is one of those “turning point” days for me. 

I finished up substituting for the year and head to Paris tomorrow (for two weeks) with my own Master’s program. 

The Paris trip is a big marker for me.  It’s an opportunity to stretch my middle aged wings, test my personal strength,  and discover new things about myself.    And of course I will look for Molly; I expect that I will sense her presence in and around a good deal of this experience.  She KNOWS that  this trip is a tad bit out of character for her mother. 

And then what?   I have not had a summer off in at least 30 years.  My guess is that I will enjoy the leisurely pace for about 4 days.  And then, by the 4th of July , I will likely be doggone sick of myself.  

We’ll see.   I cannot imagine beyond these next two weeks in Paris.    The trip is one of those hills that is just too big to see over until you get to the top.

I look forward to sharing the view when I get back!

Vacation

Frances and I are travelling this week - Vegas, Palm Springs and Northern California.

OF COURSE, because I exceed any measurement of "predictible," I went to the Donny and Marie show while we were in Vegas.   I was there as a recurring nod to my own 70's fan history of course, but even more so, I was there knowing that Marie lost her son to suicide.  It comforts me, in an "I am so glad the lights are down so I can cry" sort of way, to hear her very gracefully acknowledge both the pain of the loss of her son and the excitement she feels as her own life continues to unfold.   It's probably only 90 seconds of the show's content, if that, but it was the heart of the show for me.  A good evening.

Travelling is tricky business.  Jolted out of routines and without access to some of the things that make daily life our own - favorite foods, control of the car keys and the TV remote, friends down the street - there is a certain spiritual starkness to it all.  Here I am.  This is me.  Who the heck am I?   

The thinking time is good - probably necessary - but the demons lurk in the corners and despite the fun and the beauty and the reconnections that this trip has offered, a piece of me will be very happy to roll into my own bed tomorrow night.

A Travel Story

Frances and I boarded a plane for a 5 hour flight and we chose, very specifically, two aisle seats.  My last cross continental flight bordered on torture, and the aisle seat was a very intentional choice for me.

As folks continued to board, there were fewer and fewer seats available - and no seats together.  But there was an open seat next to me...  and one in the center of the row in front of me.

A couple got on the plane, walked the back (where we were) and realized that they were going to have to split up.  The guy asked folks if they would be willing to move so that he could sit with whoever the woman was.  He received a lot of polite, but very clear, NOs.

The woman (25 - 30 years old)  took the seat next to me, began to tremble and started to cry. The fellow took the center seat a row up and wished us luck in dealing with her.

Now...  what to do?  These are grown adults who, if there was a legitimate health concern, had several ways of proactively taking control of their seating.  I wasn't feeling sorry for them.  But I WAS feeling (a little bit) bad that  my butt was not budging from my aisle seat.

Ultimately, a 6ft. 4 inch man gave up his aisle seat and came to sit in the middle seat next to me.  He had a VERY long flight.  I was impressed by his generosity and I guess I still feel a bit guilty that I couldn't summon up the same response.

Once they were seated next to each other, the young couple had a pleasant and  uneventful flight.

Thoughts?