Tag: adventure

  • When Wanderlust Starts to Fade

    Wanderlust (often misspelled as wunderlust) is a strong, deep-rooted desire to travel, roam, and explore the world.

    If you know me, you know that I spend way too much time analyzing my thoughts and how others react to me. Why am I anxious about this, why did she say that, should I speak to him about it? Overthink much? Sixty-seven years of manic thinking is exhausting and unnecessary, but it’s my reality. Lately, the subject of travel has occupied way too much of the space between my ears.

    I’m sure many of you have experienced the following:

    Airport and Airplane Angst

    The business of arriving hours before a flight, sitting idle at the gate or spending way too much money for a cocktail, makes me crazy. I’ve actually done all that, was first on line for boarding and then refused boarding because there was an airplane change and the entire row of “C” seats no longer existed. It cost me over 1,200 euros to get home that day and I was not reimbursed a single penny. Now if that doesn’t make you want to stay at home, I’m not sure what would.

    I don’t mean to be overly dramatic, however, it feels like every time I fly, I shave years off of my life. The baby crying for eight hours as we cross the Atlantic, the guy who smells like he dumped a bottle of cologne over his head at Duty Free, the woman sitting by the window who has to pee every 30 minutes, and the drinks cart that’s been slammed into my left shin three times on a single flight. One more thing before I leave this topic:  whenever they announce quarterly profits for the major airlines, I lose my cool. These days you buy your ticket and then they nickel and dime you for everything from water to a seat on the airplane; then you learn they added billions to their coffers. Aren’t we all so pleased for them?

    Hotel Room Regret

    Have you ever checked into a hotel room and discovered the shower stall was designed for small children? You book the room on a site with photos of the rooms, listing different categories. You make sure you’ll have a decent size shower and what you get is a miniscule stall or a bathtub. You know asking for another room is out of the question, so you squeeze into the stall and proceed to wash only the upper half of your body because your arms can’t go further than your waistline. My favorite is when they have a sink big enough for a pig bath and a teeny tiny shower. Sometimes, this is the smallest of your grievances.

    In Europe, you can count on two twin (or smaller) beds that are pushed together. God forbid you move in the middle of the night, you could end up on the floor or hanging on to the edge for dear life. Even better, when the bed is so soft you cannot move left or right or worse, when the sheets actually scratch your skin. I once had a hotel clerk tell me that it’s been proven that polyester is better for a good night’s sleep. I rest my case.

    Travel Scams

    Scams of all kinds exist everywhere. This is unfortunately a by-product of the digital world we live in. The problem with scams in another country is that you are unaware of their existence. For example ATM machine scams. There are multiple ways you can be cheated at the ATM machine, causing you angst whenever you dare to use one and of course, it would be difficult not to use one when you travel.

    There are also credit card and debit card scams and that too is something to watch out for. And nowadays, nobody takes cash. You can’t use your credit card and you’re shit out of luck.

    I’ve heard of people renting rooms or apartments online using various booking sites, only to arrive and learn that the booking was an on-line scam. You’re standing there with three suitcases and the apartment doesn’t exist. It’s really important to use a reliable booking site.

    Unfortunately, the number of bad actors out there is only growing. Taking precautions and being hyper vigilant, are your only comforts.

    Illness Abroad

    I’m sure people ask themselves why they had to break their leg in Croatia or why Bronchitis welcomes you to Thailand? It seems inevitable that you will end up with some debilitating illness at some point in your travels. I remember missing a bus because of food poisoning in London. It’s a horrible feeling, elevated by your distance from home. How many trips have you had to cancel because you were either ill or a future illness was a strong possibility?

    Irrational Fears Realized

    You’ll know these fears: losing your passport, missing your flight, stranded with no battery life and no cash, no hotel rooms available after a flights been cancelled, a big fight with your travel partner in a foreign country, having your pet placed in quarantine at the airport, the wheel breaking on your bag as you walk the last mile to the airport; the list of possibilities is endless. How do you prepare? How do you respond? Will it prevent you from booking a flight? Will it kill you?

    Joyful Moments and Memories

    There have been moments while traveling when I thought that what I was experiencing was the height of visual stimulation. There are too many to name them. Or a meal that was transformative. I guess as I am typing these thoughts, I have found my answer: Yes, it is worth all of the aforementioned pain and suffering. Perhaps it is all of that angst that led me to that feeling of elation and awe when I’ve traveled. In summary, I guess I will travel until I can no longer travel, but perhaps, staying closer to home most of the time is the best plan.

    Map, compass, journals, and vintage postcards arranged on a wooden table

    “Travel is still the most intense mode of learning.” — Kevin Kelly

    State-of-Mind

    Loss is so fucking hard. It’s probably the loneliest form of suffering. Still, there is a reason they say, “That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” I’m not even going to bother looking up who this pearl of wisdom came from. What does “stronger” mean?

    Am I stronger? It’s difficult to say. One thing is for certain and that is that I can survive grief. I have lost both my parents, several siblings, close friends, and beloved pets and here I am. They are all a big part of my conscious thinking; my sense of self. They guide me and protect me. So in all of these ways, I guess I am stronger; certainly blessed with incredible memories.

    I have been working on letting go for over 30 years. One has to believe change is possible even when it feels like you’re climbing Mt. Everest and the peak never seems any closer. I’ve decided that I’m not giving up.

    “Reminds me of my safari in Africa. Somebody forgot the corkscrew and for several days we had to live on nothing but food and water.”

    — W.C. Fields

    “It’s better to look back on life and say, ‘I can’t believe I did that,’ than to look back and say, ‘I wish I did that.’”

    — Unknown

  • Life Without A Car — reblog

    Also: Traveling to Manchester, England during COVID-19 Lockdown

    Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

    My love affair with the bicycle goes back to my paper boy days in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. I was ten years old and I went to my dad and asked him for a bicycle. My dad had nine children and he was a blue-collar worker, so asking for anything made me feel guilty and ungrateful. This was different, I told him that I had applied for a paper route and I needed a bike to deliver newspapers in South Brooklyn. My dad had a very surprised look on his face; wondering if I could rise before the sun and handle the elements. Looking back I realize just how much faith he had in me.

    I got a shiny new red bike with a big basket in the front for my papers and I started earning my own allowance. I held onto that bike for a few years, but clearly it was worse for the ware and by the time I was a teenager, it was time for a new bicycle. My sister Debbie and I ended up at a bingo hall one Saturday night. I can’t tell you how we were allowed to gamble at ages 14 and 15, but we were and we did. I managed to win the big jackpot of the evening: a whopping $75 and with my winnings, I bought my sister and I used bikes. Mine was a yellow Schwinn with a white seat and my sisters; well I don’t recall. That Schwinn took me to Coney Island, our neighborhood bowling ally, the community pool, and on really hot days, for a bag lunch under the Verrazzano Bridge — that had to be the coolest spot (windy and 15 degrees cooler) in all of Brooklyn.

    That bike was stolen a couple of years later and I was so angry about the theft I refused to purchase another bike. I realized that this personal protest was not hurting anyone but myself, so I decided to upgrade to a really nice blue ten speed. I don’t recall much about this bike except that my tire got caught in a trolley track and I went down hard. In fact, looking back I have had three or four bad bicycle accidents throughout my life. Still, bicycles have been a means for me to do great things and see so many interesting places. I may need to admit to myself that I might be accident prone. Still, I ride.

    I did the Boston to New York AIDS Ride three years in a row and was able to help a great cause and meet new friends. I completed a week-long bike ride through Provence I will never forget. Biking through Tuscany was fantastic and the list of places goes on. Despite the aforementioned serious accidents, I am committed to riding for as long as I possibly can. In order to stay healthy in the Algarve and reduce my carbon footprint, I have decided not to get a car and to do more cycling and walking. Buying a used bicycle has not been easy in Faro. I ended up buying a mountain bike last week, only to hear from the owner of a bicycle I really wanted the next day. A bike rental shop in Tavira was selling 10 gently used bikes and the style and price were exactly what I wanted. I decided to buy one of these used bikes and sell the one I had just purchased. I must have had good karma last week because the owner of the bike agreed to deliver the bike to my apartment and when he arrived he said, “I brought you a new one.” Honestly, brand spankin’ new, right out of the box, and I got myself quite a deal (see photo below).

    I’ve learned my lesson, albeit the hard way, and I have purchased a good helmet. I’m excited to see Faro and the Algarve by bicycle. I’ve already mapped out a route to the beach and the cinema, and I’m certain I’ll be using it for trips to the mercado (market).

    Not having a vehicle is sometimes frustrating:  waiting for trains, complicated transfers, the loss of spontaneity, the freedom of mobility and the joy of a stick shift. If I’m going to be honest with myself, I love having a car and I love driving a car. However, this is a time in my life where being practical and smart takes precedence over convenience. Truthfully, I can and will survive without a car. Waiting for the train will teach me patience; I can plan trips to IKEA and the mall; walking and riding has far greater health benefits; and the money I save on gas, insurance, and maintenance will help take me to places far more exotic than the grocery store — a short walk or ride from my apartment.

    Riding in a foreign country is a bit scary, but fear can get in the way of true adventure and I won’t allow this to happen.

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    The mountain bike I purchased for 70 euros and then sold two days later for sixty euros — not a very lucrative proposition.
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    My new Orbit. The right price, the right height, the right color, perfect handlebars for an old guy, fenders, kickstand, a light in the front, a cool bell, and a rack above the back tire. I’m good to go!

    Update (July 5, 2020): I gave up the Orbit because it was difficult getting it in and out of the elevator. I purchased a smaller folding bike (pic unavailable) and it fits perfectly. Sometimes I find myself making several attempts before I get it right. Hopefully, I learn something in the process and I congratulate myself on being diligent.

    When things are easier, you tend to do/use them more often. Easier isn’t always better for you.

    I am reblogging from Manchester, England. I’ve been here since Thursday and happily returning home tomorrow. I had no problem getting here, only to learn they are doing “Track & Trace.” I can’t go into pubs because Big Brother is tracking my whereabouts. Portugal was not on the UK’s list of safe countries. I know it’s political and I’m caught up in the middle of it. The good news is that I have a beautiful one bedroom on the 19th floor right in the center of town. I have floor to ceiling windows and the sun is shining as I type this. Today I am going out with a tour guide to visit little known treasures. I’m hoping the sun stays out because it’s been mostly dreary since I arrived. I have reservations for dinner at Salvi’s Mozzarella Bar, an upscale Italian restaurant, this evening — a good way to say goodbye to Manchester.

    It should be noted that RyanAir would not issue me a refund or a travel voucher; COVID-19 did not exist when I did my initial booking. Needless to say, I would have come at a better time had I known. I did not want to lose my ticket, and so I made the trip. I’ve been known to be fairly stubborn and righteous. No regrets, but I wish things were different. I also miss Paco. I wish that I could always have him with me. Patricia took this photo of him sunning on my terrace yesterday. I’m sure he’s wondering where I am and why I left him.