Leaving on a Jet Plane

The Visible Woman...travels.

I'm up this morning laundering clothes and finishing unpacking bags. We have more than we left with. We visited our favorite NYC bookstore and bought two books. I saved a couple of play bills and bought two tiny Lego figures of the Statue of Liberty. FFP bought some cologne at the famous Upper East Side Drug Store, Clyde's, and they gave us a canvas bag tote. We have plenty of totes, but who else will be filling a Clyde's tote at the Farmer's Market. So, no, we didn't really accumulate too much stuff.

I try to travel light. On this trip, for a week for both of us, we took one very large checked bag (a 28 inch Eagle Creek) and one overhead carry-on bag (not too large) and a back pack for each of us. The weather promised to be cold with some chance of precipitation so we took mufflers, gloves, umbrellas and our overcoats. (No liners because that's overkill when it's above freezing which it promised to be most of the time.) The umbrellas are very tiny light ones. The hotel will lend us giant ones but you aren't always at the hotel when you realize you need one. It was so warm when we left Austin that we put our overcoats in our checked bag. We avoid the liquids and sharps silliness by putting our toiletries in there, too. That bag also has FFP's hiking boots (he wears some versatile dress/walking shoes on the plane), a sweater for me, a suit for each of us and two shirts for each of us. In addition, there is a supply underwear and socks for each of us.

In our carry-on we have some dressy slacks (we wear jeans on the plane), a few sets of underwear and socks, a change of shirt, FFP's ties, my dressy loafers (I wear the hiking boots on the plane), chargers, my spare glasses, etc. The umbrellas are stashed in there, too, and can be retrieved quickly at the airport. I wore a light sweater on the plane but FFP didn't so I put his one sweater in there.

In our backpacks we carry our iPads (phones are usually in our jacket pockets because we wear a blazer on the plane...they are stashed and locked in the backpack for the trip through security). FFP usually carries a book. I carry emergency things like OTC meds, band-aids, cough drops, hard candy, Kleenex. I also usually carry some sort of emergency snack in case the airline puts us in a situation where nothing is available. I have a folder full of itineraries, info and tickets on paper to back up electronic records accessible on the phone. I also duplicate IDs, credit cards and cash in a security thing. FFP carries his electric razor and some snacks, too, as well as his spare glasses and his sporty golfing cap. He carries his prescription drugs in there, too.

This is designed so that we can survive if our checked bag doesn't arrive or is temporarily lost. We have a clean shirt and underwear and socks. I have my dressy shoes. We can combine the blazers worn on the plane with the dressy slacks in the carry-on. and be presentable anywhere. A trip out to buy toiletries and a few other things and we are good to go. Since I'm checking the overcoats, of course, we might shiver or get a bit wet. If we were going to NYC in February we'd carry our overcoats on board and probably put the liners in them. And, hey, if the airline loses them...we haven't bought new ones in a while! I do pack the gloves, mufflers, etc. in the carry-on. They can make a blazer and sweater much warmer.

One cool thing about trips is that you figure out how little you really need to get along! I like milling around the hotel room with my newspapers and iPad without being taunted with books I haven't read and clothes I never wear. It creates a kind of focus that is, oddly, never quite available at home. It is similar to going out for a walk and a snack with the day's newspapers. Relieved of distractions of home, the news is more interesting. In New York this stark hotel room also provides respite from the busy, busy street scene or stores, people, vendor carts and traffic. I love it but a break is necessary now and then.

The Packing List Revelations

I'm getting ready to go on another trip. Not counting staycations (I think we did one of those, traveling about two miles and staying in a hotel for two nights) I have been on five trips this year and I'm heading out for another this week. Los Angeles, New Orleans (with a stop in Houston), Manhattan, the North Shore above Boston plus the Hamptons, Denver suburbs to visit family and now, this week, Portland, OR and environs. When I retired I thought it would be wonderful to travel without worrying about work. (In 2000, I went to Geneva, several places in Australia and Las Vegas for work in a short space of time. Probably made several other trips that year.)

I'm eager for this getaway to Oregon, a regular trip for us in August and one I look forward to all year long.

But another part of me is tired of pulling out the packing list and checking things off and organizing it all. Again.

The packing list.
At some point before that busy working 2000 year I decided to make a master packing list as a WORD document. The idea was that I'd copy it for each trip, edit it to eliminate things I wouldn't need for a trip, add special items and then check things off as I packed. As my life and the world evolved, of course, some things were added to or eliminated from the master list. The master list no longer calls out a PDA and spare stylus but does introduce the possibility of taking along a laptop, an iPod, an IPad and and iPhone or other cell. I've dropped off pantyhose and feminine sanitary supplies from the list. I no longer take a spare watch because, after all, doesn't every gadget tell time?

A few things are still on the list but get eliminated from the list almost every time: formal wear, robe (if the hotel doesn't have one, too bad), hair dryer (I try not to use one now and hotels usually have them). I almost never take our iPod either but sometimes it's a good thing to do.

A Downsizing Every Time
Most of us have too much stuff. But packing, particularly for a trip involving airlines, will focus one on what is really needed. If you can live on what's in that suitcase for a week or ten days, what do you really need?  I always sort of test myself out on whether I actually use everything I take. Of course, one gets a pass on emergency supplies. I always hope I don't need bandaids, Advil, stomach remedies, my tiny umbrella, spare credit cards and photo ID (kept separately from wallet), cough drops, stuff like that. But it's good to get home with almost all your under things and other clothing having been worn. If you took a book, you ought to have read it. My current dodge is to have reading material on the iPad and then to read one of the books FFP takes along. We always, always seem to visit a bookstore. And buy something. We buy papers along the way. We are never without something to read. But at home, of course, it's much worse with unread books, papers and magazines always threatening to topple from every surface.

If you have to carry it, you'll have less!

Always Take the Time-Tested
It's OK to take something new on a trip, I guess. (I'm bought a new carryon for this trip. And, yes, my packing list lists all the possible 'containers' that I might take.) But for clothes and shoes I like to take things I've comfortably worn at home. Walking shoes need to have at least fifty miles on them, preferably with some five mile stretches. Dress shoes need to have gone a few miles, too.

Money, Ticket, ID, Prescriptions
I don't take prescriptions. FFP does. The theory is that if you have money (and credit cards), your ID, tickets and prescription drugs that you can buy anything else. It's a reasonable theory, but FFP can't buy some things off the rack and it is tough for me to find clothes. Short sleeve shirts, polos, underwear, maybe shoes (but see above) could be replaced.

These days you'd be kind of lost without your smart phone. Or an iPad or something. Or both. But still, there are essentials and there are other things. We go on the plane wearing sturdy walkers, a decent shirt, nice jeans and a black blazer. Dress shoes are in the carryon (although FFP has come up with sturdy walkers that  also pass muster as dress shoes). I usually pack my dress shoes, a few under things and socks, a change of pants and shirt, prescription drugs, electronics and chargers, emergency stuff and tiny light umbrellas and lightweight anoraks in carry ons. We check one bag with more clothing, toiletries with liquids and sharps and such. I close the main compartment with a cable tie, cut off the end and place my trusty Swiss Army knife in the front pocket. If the inspectors (or thieves) open it, I'll know (unless they very carefully duplicate my cable tie color and trim). And if they steal the knife, I'll buy another. But I always have scissors, openers, etc. if my checked bag arrives.

Will You Remember What You Wore?
If the shoes hurt or you were cold or too warm, you might remember. If someone takes a photo of you, you might remember. I guess if you felt really out of place, then it might stick with you. But mostly if you were pretty comfortable, it's not what you remember about a trip. If someone takes a picture of me on a trip, I'm likely to be wearing...a black blazer!

A Trip to Regret
I am almost burned out from the traveling this year. The security lines, airline snafus, packing. But I have been trying for weeks to think of a trip I really regretted taking. Oh, there have been times I didn't mind leaving a place...to get home or go somewhere else. But later I never remember wishing I hadn't been there. I always saw something new, learned something new (sometimes about packing) or met some interesting person. So I'll keep on printing my list, packing and going.

Road Trip

In some ways the road trip we took, lasting a couple of days shy of two weeks and covering about 4500 miles, was essentially pointless. We had only two goals beyond the trip itself: (1) see some friends in Las Vegas and check out a hotel there that we had a free suite in for two nights; and (2) spend some time in the Portland, OR and Oregon coast area with some dear friends as we often do in August. We could have flown to these two destinations, burning three or four days on airplanes. Instead we spent about six and a half days on the road and spent three nights in Vegas and five nights in our Portland area destination.

The idea took hold, though. Once we decided to spend those days in those places and travel between them, I had a couple of long sessions with Internet TrikTiks from AAA, some scouring of hotel WEB sites, some conferring with friends on dates and plans, and the trip was afoot. Or acar, specifically, via our 2007 4 cylinder Honda Accord with new tires and a fresh maintenance run.

Getting away isn't easy these days. We arranged for people to give our elderly parents a hand, but then my dad ended up in the hospital for a couple of days after an antibiotic he was given sent his sodium perilously low. I almost thought we'd have to cancel. But we kept planning. I put together two notebooks, Outbound and Homebound with detailed driving instructions and hotel confirmations. I got new paper maps from AAA. I made lists, lists, lists.

There is something about the road running out under you, transferring you magically across the changing landscapes, listening to books on CD, nibbling road snacks, talking, laughing at what you see that concentrates your attention and gives you some perspective. I am energized most by the reality of people, what they wear, where they live, where they shop; by the signs, trash and animals (dead and alive and just promised by crossing signs) along the way. This is the same detail I find interesting in my walks around my own neighborhood but the details really stack up when you cover thousands of miles of the U.S.

So we do get to go on this lark of a trip. The car is all nicely organized. A bag with hiking boots, hiking socks, jackets and sweatshirts stuffed way in the back of the trunk for the Oregon coast. Small bags to take inside one night stand hotels. A bag with books on CD, an emergency first aid kit and a portfolio of DVDs. A small suitcase with some extra clothes. A laptop and its accouterments in a separate bag. Atop this in the trunk two hanging bags with extra shirts, slacks and a blazer each.

In the back seat, a small soft-sided cooler with a few drinks and a little cheese for first day. Also, two pillows; a canvas sack with plastic utensils, wipes and napkins; a canvas sack with peanut butter crackers, cereal bars, plain almonds, beef jerky; a backpack for each of us with gadgets and books. In the front a slim organizer for maps, directions, hotel confirmations, pens, receipts and two commuter cups full of fresh coffee. We are off around five in the morning. Our goal is to achieve escape velocity west out of Texas on our way to Las Vegas.

Las Cruces, NM is not a garden spot but it was a convenient place to lay over. We did our usual marvel at the 80 MPH speed limts on IH10 in W. Texas and the giant windmills turning ponderously on the bluffs in stretches of nothing. We ate at a restaurant specializing in New Mexican wine. In fact, I think, an actual extension of one or more New Mexican winery. The food and wine were forgettable. Our goal was to sleep and be off in the morning very early to make it all the way to Las Vegas. We had gone 618 miles. We needed to go 742 to get to Las Vegas.

Traveling is so different now than it used to be. Once there was no Internet mapping. No iPhone to pop out to help navigate. In fact, I remember road trips before air conditioning and seat belts. And certainly before cup holders, pay the pump, cell phones, singing shoulders (that rough pavement that wakes you up as you run off the road) and books on CD (or tape). Indeed before CDs and cassette tapes. And certainly before XM radio which the Accord also has. These things have changed travel as have more reliable radial tires. We saw few disabled vehicles.

I thought the car would become disorganized straight away, but the organization held up pretty well for the entire trip. Of course, I moved things around every time we stopped. The cooler only had cold packs when we had a frig with a freezer in the room which we did at most of the small Comfort Inns and such. Trash accumulated and was discarded, drinks were rearranged in the four cup holders in the front.

That second day on the way to Vegas was very scenic. From stately Saguaro cacti to mountains and amazing rock formations and rock-bordered lakes on the Colorado. I've traversed some of this before, of course. But it never gets old for me. I really liked Texas Canyon near Benson, AZ. I'm sure I'd been through there before, but I forgotten the majesty of the giant very rounded rock formations. I actually enjoy seeing the crumpled shells of old abandoned buildings and the various people at the stops. It's a long drive, though, and we arrive in Las Vegas pretty weary. We find the Wynn Encore and valet park, taking most of our stuff inside. We will stay here three nights. There are long check-in lines, but we finally get to a lovely suite. A sitting area, a perfect desk with power and Internet, a flat screen that twirls around between the sitting area and the area with the king-size bed. Lovely bedding, an iPod dock, a giant bathroom with a shower and a tub, two sinks, etc. This is no Comfort Inn.

Lest I devolve into a minute-by-minute (or day-by-day) account where I'm trying to convey some of the moments that make the trip worthwhile, I'll just briefly recap the rest of the trip. Spent three nights in Vegas. Ate several fabulous meals (one lunch with the aforementioned friends) and had lots of good eats and drinks. Slept, shopped, viewed a couple of the fabulous fake environments. Did not risk one cent gambling. Then we drove to Boise, Idaho. And then on to Vancouver, Washington across the Columbia from Portland, Oregon. We had a nice lunch on the Columbia, dinner in Portland and took off around noon the next day with our friends to spend a couple of nights on the Oregon Coast (Cape Meares). Then back to Vancouver. We made our pilgrimage to Powell's City of Books and added a new must-do to Portland shopping: Everyday Music down the street from Powell's. We attended an Oregon wine tasting, had a super fab meal where we got to see a very dear friend I've known since Junior High. Our Portland-area friends made every minute of these three days fantastic by knowing places to go, cooking for us and enjoying music and movies with us. Then we spent three days driving the couple of thousand miles home. I used to keep much more detailed records of the activities and not just in tweets and facebook photo uploads. Start here for such a recount of a 2005 trip. Sometimes I wish I kept the details of my life like that now, but it is just so much work.

Was it worth it? Did we see anything like the Eiffel Tower (real not Vegas one) or even the Grand Canyon (which was, after all, right there in Arizona)? Could it be said to be restful what with going from hotel to hotel and doing all that driving? To those who see the very real problem of making sense of this 'vacation' I can only offer the following bits of narrative and flashes of images which make it all worthwhile for me.

• Sitting down with our friends in Vegas, listening to the narrative of how they live in the Vegas suburb of Henderson, sharing stories and seeing how they are handling their retirement.
• Enjoying the wonderful suite in Vegas, having good simple steak as well as delicacies like lamb's tongue and sweetbreads and marveling at the over-the-top ostentation, but still getting a feeling of escape when watching the lights recede as we plunged into the lonely desert to make our way north on the loneliest highway in America.
• Wondering why all the road kill seemed so dry and dessicated as if it had been a long time since anything fresh was felled. Also, wondering at how trucks can throw all that rubber that I mistake for roadkill. Laughing as the silhouettes on the game crossing signs got more and more exotic with bigger and bigger racks with the passing miles on Highway 93 in Nevada aka the aforementioned 'loneliest highway in America.' Along said highway, by the way, we found the people very friendly and the restrooms rather clean. Highlight of our animal spotting was a walk to feed goats pinned near the Oregon coast and seeing a tiny pig survive a run across the road in Texico, NM. (This is the first live pig in the road on my life list. I have seen a dead one.)
• Wondering why every other customer in a combo convenience store/gas station/Domino's pizza joint was American Indian. Then realizing we were driving on a reservation.
• Loving the feeling of crossing the map, turning the pages in the book of directions, recalling past experiences in some of the places. Also: I can now say I've been in Idaho and Utah. I don't think I'd ever crossed those state lines before.
• Seeing the same franchises in place after place and knowing that it is really possible to mostly avoid them. An exception to this is occasionally made, of course. FFP finds a particular concoction of a freshly-made Subway sandwich good for filling his stomach. I started to laugh as he searched for Subway outlets, particularly before 9AM but he often found them. We also stopped at one McDonald's to fill a cup with coffee and use the bathrooms. We filled up at more local places on our one-night stands: brew pubs in Boise and Salt Lake and the Owl Diner in Albuquerque, for example. We were asked by one of the owners of our Austin Ruth's Chris if we tried the one in Vegas. But, no, only 'our' Ruth's Chris will do. We look for something different on the road and our affection for that particular Ruth's Chris is not transferable, generally.
• Speaking of dining: we did some of the 'fine' variety. Sure, Austin has a wonderful dining scene. But I swear Portland never ceases to make me sit up and take notice. This trip we tried out Wildwood, Metrovino and Davis Street Tavern. All stunning. Add to that the amazing cooking of our friend Tina and eating some fine food in Vegas and we had that element we demand from vacation: fine, fresh and adventurous food. From roasting freshly-bought oysters on a fire to eating offal in Vegas, I'll remember the food and the fun.
  
• Speaking of filling coffee cups. Taking along our Nissan stainless 12 oz. commuter cups allowed me to have a steady stream of surprisingly good coffee provided at prices ranging from free (yes, free) to a little over a buck. That McDonald's filled the cup for thirty-five cents. And no. No, Starbucks. Not one. Of course, many of these spots were chain convenience stores associated with gas stations but they all had a whiff of the local entrepreneur about them.
  
• Speaking of gas stations. We stopped at several Sinclairs with the good old green Sinclair dinosaur. This surprised me because this brand was subsumed in Texas in the '70's I think, by Atlantic Richfield. Which became part of BP decades later, of course. I guess I didn't know the cute dinosaur survived anywhere, and it was one of those little details I enjoyed.
• Reading. Honestly, I took along several books and some old newspaper sections and didn't read much of them. But I did enjoy papers we bought or got along the way and I did enjoy the books we listened to on CD. We caught up with the Swedish novel "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo." Even better relative to the passing landscape and the highway system, we listened to "Lolita" which besides being a telling investigation of pedophilia is a paean to driving the U.S. highway system with its motels and tourist sites in the '50's. We also listened to a book about the Panama Canal which was a constant reminder of how hard it was to cross the continent even in the early 20th century. Funny while driving in air-conditioned luxury at around 70MPH even on 'lesser' roads.
• Speaking of driving again, I find the long drives, supported by planning routes and sleep stops like a giant game. We try to observe the speed limits exactly, minimize wrong turns and long stops. Each caffeine-fueled mile feels like victory even when the scenery isn't the best.
• A walk on the beach. The beautiful Pacific. Sunset. A three or four mile walk. Ah. Of course, my mother-in-law didn't know why we needed to go to the west coast when we've 'already been to the east coast.' And, of course, we'd already walked on that Cape Meares beach, too. My mom-in-law has not seen the ocean to my knowledge nor left the state of Texas. She probably doesn't know that the Idaho license plate says something about Potatoes. I'm just saying. What's important in this world?
• People, people, people. Great to see friends along the way. But also great to see strangers. The couple reading books about beavers in Powell's City of Books coffee shop. She had a T-Shirt that said 'No religion. No flag. No fear.' The truck drivers and other travelers. Was a little upset with the guy dragging three trailers and having trouble holding the lane when I passed him and he was reading a book. But, yeah, all those people, doing their things. Including hundreds at the Tillamook Cheese factory. I didn't see the attraction, but I did enjoy seeing the tourists there. And wondering...why? Although there were free cheese cubes. And a cafe and ice cream shop and gift shop.
  

Yeah, I loved our trip. I think it puts me more in touch with the greater U.S. where almost twenty percent of people live in manufactured homes and where some of the clerks ringing up those coffee fill-ups may not stray far from the little town you are going through as fast as you can. I wouldn't want to only do that mindless driving, staying in Quality Inns and Comfort Suites, some of which look like they've fought a battle. But mixed in with fine dining, beautiful scenery, wonderful visits with friends, it worked for me. Missed a small crisis for my dad or, rather, got in on the tail end of it, but the caregivers managed it. So it goes. See you in the rear view mirror.

Being Some Place Else

It focuses your attention on a different set of things when you travel. I find that the act of putting everything you'll expect you need (except for food and drink, of course) in some bags and taking off makes you think about your possessions and your needs and relax and go with the flow of the world. Or fret over finding the one thing your spouse decides he wants while you are driving.

When you go on a driving trip, things at home take on a different perspective as the miles unwind behind you. You imagine yourself cleaning out a closet or cabinet and having it go really well, knowing just what you want to do with everything, no hesitation, no sneezing because of the dust.

Today we left the house to the house sitters and headed out for a leisurely drive to....Lubbock. Rather than make Santa Fe in one nearly 700 mile hop, we decided to spend the night in Lubbock, making two pretty easy drives of it.

Our new Accord seemed to purr along effortlessly. I like to eschew cruise control to stay connected to the drive and I had to keep from putting my foot in it and exceeding the speed limit. we don't see a reason to waste gas and squeeze past the limits too much. It's a vacation! Relax! We listened to jazz (mostly...the real non-Kenny G type) and acoustic rock on the XM radio. That's a plus. When the other person was driving, we read the day's papers. We made a stop for gas and the bathroom. We stopped at a Chili's for an early lunch. And we stopped at, gulp, McDonald's for a fill-up of our commuter cup with coffee and the bathroom. (McDonald's coffee is not that bad. And cheap. In any event, there weren't a lot of local coffee shops offering organic shade-grown fair trade brews at that point.)

The road offered the usual small and half dead Texas towns (with names like Bangs and Lawn). One town's school mascot was the Gorillas. Hmmm. Most of these towns had a few derelict structures along the highway, some suspicious-looking eateries and maybe a junky 'antique' shop. To add to those usual entertainments and the roadkill spotting there were some amazing displays of wildflowers, a few dramatic wind farms and donkey heads pumping oil. With our reading material and radio, it was really effortless.

Lubbock is just a stop so that we don't work too hard getting ourselves to Santa Fe. The road is part of the trip.

When we arrived at our Quality Inn the staff was nice and upgraded our room. We searched the Internet on the free wireless and found what we hoped was a non-typical restaurant for Lubbock. We ended up having dinner at a wannabe French place called Chez Suzette. It wasn't bad and better than we could have hoped for its arbitrary selection. Drinks and music at a place called Stella's was unexpectedly good, too. Especially the conversation with a young couple who could walk right onto the set of Friday Night Lights.

Letting Go

There are times when you have to let go of stuff. You even have to let go of your dreams of stuff.

Right now, in my closet, there is a pile of clothing that has to be thrown away. It's tough, but I've got to do it. Two cashmere sweaters with holes worn in the left elbow. A fine cotton custom-made shirt with the right cuff and collar frayed beyond that 'one more wearing.' It was a not quite but almost black material, a black basket weave pattern and oh so perfect for LB, traveling light, of the last few entries. Once expensive clothing but now worn and must go to the trash, not even the thrift store. I suppose the truly thrifty could add elbow patches to the sweaters, salvage the buttons or remake the shirt or make little cashmere sweaters for Barbie and Ken. I am not that person. I must throw them away. It's a little harder than the average ragged pair of underwear, though. Speaking of which, I have been known to take my ragged underthings out on a trip for 'one more wearing' and then toss them for the homeward trip, using the space in the suitcase for souvenirs.

The picture was stolen from ebay long ago. It's a detail from one of the best stamped tin toys ever, in my opinion, a cool Ferris Wheel. I once thought of being a toy collector. I didn't become one but I did collect a few things and a pile of books. I've let go of the books. Mentally anyway. They are stored at my dad's house to be taken to Colorado and donated to a toy and miniature musuem my sister is associated with.

But back to those cashmere sweaters. One was a present from FFP long ago and was an expensive one. The other I bought a long time ago, too. In a secondhand shop. For fifteen dollars. I'm sure I paid a hundred dollars for the custom shirt. But I've probably worn it a hundred times. I probably spent more than the hundred dollars on laundering it. Now I will often wear a shirt (blouse if you will...in this case the tailoring was shirt-like but the buttons went the opposite way of the menswear I sometimes co-op it being custom made and all) multiple times. Especially on trips. This shirt probably had been to Europe, maybe Africa and maybe Australia. It was well-traveled.

I'll miss these things when I let them go. They are hard to replace exactly. Custom clothing seems too extravagant for someone who is retired and spend a lot of time in sweats. And I loved that one sweater because it was such a bargain.

But you have to do it. You have to let go.

Eye on Myself

Last few posts have been a little self-indulgent, don't you think? With our heroine appearing without the scrim of shop window contents and reflections.

Well, here's more.

Have you ever seen the London Eye?

Well, in 2002 I had a business trip to England. I had to meet with customers in London and environs, give a speech at some conference there and take a day trip to Glascow to give a pitch. A fly in and fly out speech was my nightmare. No matter how I balanced the decongestants I arrived deaf. Add in the accents and I would have trouble understanding my customers' questions. Of course, they had to overcome my Texas accent to understand my answers! Anyway the fun started at something like 7AM, London time, on a Monday.

My mother was in the hospital, very ill. This trip to London was the only time during her almost hundred days in the hospital that I left. I'd agreed to the conference speech and I was only going to be gone a few days. I finally decided not to cancel. I told my assistant, though, to get me in on Saturday. I couldn't imagine arriving jet-lagged on Sunday, risking delay and then having to be conherent at 7 on Monday. I arrived in London about 11 in the morning on Saturday. I checked into the hotel and went to sleep. I kept intending to get up and find food and drink that wasn't in the mini bar. I kept sleeping and sleeping. I think I could have slept all day Sunday. But I didn't. I had to get in the time zone. About nine the following morning, twenty-two hours after I'd crashed in the room, I decided I had to stop sleeping. I guess I didn't know how weary I'd gotten working, going to the hospital. Anyway I got up, showered, put on my black jeans, hiking boots, black blazer (at least the shirt wasn't black!) and had some breakfast. I bought an Underground pass and went to London proper. (I was staying at the airport.)

One thing I did was ride the London Eye. Somehow I figured out that at a certain point they took a photo. (A camera was mounted on arms of the giant ferris wheel.) So I moved over to the right part of the car at the right moment. No one else seemed to be aware of this or maybe they thought it was silly. When I got off, I went to the kiosk and bought this photo.

Hand on backpack slung over one arm, that's my travel self. And no, I don't keep really valuable stuff in the backpack. Just stuff like bandaids and mints and reading material. Maybe a camera.

I look pretty relaxed here with my twenty hours of sleep, doing some touristy things to get moving and get in the right time zone frame of mind. I was feeling really strange and out-of-it though. I got this picture to show my mother. I hated leaving her and she had told me to bring some souvenirs for her. I did that, too. She enjoyed seeing the photo and the stuff I brought her. We then took her souvenirs home and she never saw them again. The other day at my dad's house I saw a dish towel that had garish graphics celebrating the Queen's Golden Jubilee. Must have been one of the things I brought her.

About Nothing

I decided to post something and I have no idea what it's going to be about. The picture was taken by one of my friends in 1999 on the Normandy beach. Near a memorial probably. We might have been awaiting an exercise of landing craft to commemorate the 55th anniversary of D-Day. In fact, the dots on the horizon are LSTs or something. So that's it.

It's cold and windy and I have on my trusty anorak (purchased in 1997 it has lost a bit of waterproofing and has been replaced but I still wear it sometimes). I'm carrying my backpack with whatever emergency supplies and provisions I deemed needed. I have a 'fresh for the trip' haircut as this is the beginning of the trip. Same trip mentioned in the previous entry where I showed an arrival picture. The anorak and backpack are key in my travel scenarios...just like the black blazer, the hiking boots, the black jeans.

I'm pensive I guess. (Both at the moment and over seven years ago in the picture.) Thinking about the sacrifices of our fathers' generation. My dad wasn't in Normandy on June 4, 1944 but my friend's dad was. And storming beaches wasn't the only type of sacrifice that generation made.

This morning I need to go shopping for my dad. And empty his dishwasher. The bending over doesn't play well at the moment. However, he drove himself to Sunday School and church yesterday. And to some friends' house for football watching and a meal. And he said he did his own laundry and hung everything up. "I'm getting better," he declared.

Traveling Light (Darkly)

I was fumbling through old pictures and found this one. It isn't too clear for two reasons: it was bigger (I cropped out my friend who was pointing at me and waving her camera) and it was probably scanned and manipulated poorly by me. In 1999

So almost eight years ago. It's June 1999.

I'm going on a trip with my friends that includes Normandy (the fifty-five anniversary of D-Day) and Paris and Berlin. A couple of my friends have been somewhere else (Switzerland, I think, or looking for chocolate factories in obscure parts of France). They are driving to Normandy and have kindly agreed to pick me up at Orly. Our great plan was that I would meet them at an airport hotel. Naturally my flight in was dead on time or early, I zoomed through customs and immigration and I was there hours before them. I got the shuttle to this hotel where I was not actually staying. I sat in the lobby and ordered strong espresso from one of those typical French waiters. I had to drag all my luggage with me (well, what you see is all of it) to use their public restrooms since I was alone. I waited and waited. I pondered the alternate plan. (That I would take a train to Paris and Bayeux and find them.) After what seemed like days (I'd been traveling a day by then) but was only a couple of hours, one of my friends stormed into the lobby with a big 35MM camera and started snapping pictures of me. Some people were staring like I was some celebrity they couldn't place. I was staring hard ahead at that point trying not to doze and look like a vagrant sleeping in this lobby. In the parking lot my other friend snapped a picture and later gave it to me. In the uncropped version, my friend is in a white T-Shirt and jeans and tennis shoes, waving that big camera.

Fuzzy or not, I like this picture because it shows me in traveling mode with everything I took on the trip either on my back or in my hands. Black jeans, gray waterproof hiking boots, a dark shirt, a black blazer. A small rolling suitcase and a day pack (which zipped onto the suitcase in a pinch allowing one to bust out straps on the bigger bag and put the whole mess on one's back). In the old days, I could have carried all this luggage on the plane. My trusty Swiss Army Knife would have been in the backpack in any case. It has a less than four-inch blade and was entirely acceptable for flying then.

Yep. I had everything I needed. Some dress shoes and dress pants. More servicable shirts. An anorak. A small camera. A few maps and books. The knife. Clean socks and underwear. A spare pair of eyeglasses and my prescription. Toothbrush and toiletries. I'm not sure how long I was on that trip. I'm thinking about ten days. I found a couple of notes about it in my online archive but nothing complete.

Notice though that I was traveling pretty light. One secret to that, obviously, is dark clothing that you can wear multiple times. My friends have so tired of my several black blazers. I still own the one in this picture. I occasionally actually wear it. I so need some new clothes. In dark colors.

Running Out of Excuses

Today I had a noon meeting. At my club. Which is closed. So I had to cancel that. I had a social occasion tonight. But it's been moved to tomorrow night.

To avoid cleaning my office or cleaning up anything else (the maid didn't make her usual visit yesterday due to weather no doubt) I have sorted through all my finances online. I have a few other things I could do on the computer to displace but I guess I'll just have to clean up 'stuff.'

I'm crawling back through old pictures as part of cleaning up. No doubt this is a thrift store offering of an old typewriter. I once thought I might collect typewriters. Yikes!

When I travel (lightly) I always take a plastic folder to hold itineraries, confirmations, maps. For a complex trip especially involving driving I may have a notebook with transparent inserts to organize some of this. As I'm cleaning out today I see that some of this stuff lands in other places when I reuse the plastic folders and notebooks. And my question is...is this a good idea? Shoud I have folders for the likes of Denver and San Francisco and boxes for Paris and France and New York and store guide books, printouts, clippings in these? Seems like a good idea. If I can then keep up with these folders and boxes. And if I occasionally sort through them and eliminate some stuff.

Sort of in the middle of all that I discovered a problem with my Internet connection. I talked to my guru on the phone, got it working myself by giving the right equipment a boot to the head and then FedEX delivered my new laptop so I had my guru come over and help me install it and and install a new router with a wireless connection. And I guess I'll ponder getting things sorted another day.

Traveling Light

I'm fond of shop window photos like this one because they are complex. There is stuff on display, stuff reflected and, in this case, the chaos of a plant on the outside. Interesting things are complex.

That's why it's hard to travel lightly through the world. One can't simply eliminate complexity. That would be dull. Like having all wine taste like grape juice and all food like Cheetos. Rather, one must pick and choose the best and be willing to discard, recycle, reconsider.

I bring this up for a couple of reasons. One, I've thought of writing a non-fiction book called "Traveling Light: Reducing the Weight of Your Luggage and Your Worldly Concerns." For the readers who have been with me for a long time that probably seems hilarious. I have documented in words and pictures my struggle against mess. And it is not like I'm typing this from a neat, clean office where victory has been declared. I am a pretty light packer, though, when I actually travel and I'm learning to downsize I hope. And I think that packing light is a good metaphor for the complications of one's life and dealing with them. And I think I've come to terms in my life with my relationship with things.

Also, I've been reviewing those recycled resolutions and the next one up is this: "take Bridge lessons and learn more about Bridge." Four years ago I hadn't been retired that long and I hoped that I could find time to play what I think is a fascinating game. When I worked I went through a period of time when my colleagues and I tried to play Bridge at lunch. As I have done so often in my life, I decided that the best way to embrace this new pastime was to buy a lot of books about Bridge. Books about bidding systems, the play of the hand and such. In the process I discovered a niche category of books that seemed fun to collect: Bridge literature. Really these books were just analyses of interesting hands but they incorporated a bit of character and story to make it more interesting. Besides passing the time when a bunch of my nerd buddies needed a small break but didn't feel like going out to lunch, this dabbling with Bridge resulted in a two-foot tall stack of books, mostly unread. And while I never learned a bit more about Bridge, took lessons or started playing I met a lot of people who did play and realized that I probably never would take it up. So...I found a gal who was glad to have the books. Who played and liked to read about it. And I gave her the books. It's a small thing, yes. But I realized that if I ever started playing, I could get more books. My friend even asserted that she would loan them back in this case. (Although in my guide to traveling light I would never recommend you count on getting anything back that you loan or give away.)

It is quite true that much of the weight I carry through life is in the form of bound paper. I am trying to prune and sift my library, though, and I'm cataloging the ones I (currently) indend to keep. I have even started putting this data online at LibraryThing. I haven't gotten to the limit for free cataloging yet (200 books). And when I travel? Yeah. I always take too many books. And when I get to another city, even in a foreign country, I manage to find more books to buy. My spouse is no help in this matter. He is worse. Plus he reads faster and it takes more books to satisfy him. My advice for you, when you travel, is to take magazines and newspapers you can discard or a small, light book that is intense and engaging.

So travel light today folks.