The first four days - what I've learned so far

I've done a lot of traveling in the last 20 years, and some things are pretty similar. But now, as I'm the oldest I've ever been as a journeyer, there are some differences.

1. My travel companion Shelley and I decided to use wheelchair assist in the big airports of Seattle, Dallas and Madri. The Seattle people did a perfect job. In Dallas, there was a gate change we didn't know about, and we waited for 20 minutes for a ride to pick us up. Apparently American Airlines forgot to let us know - as well as the assist program. And in Madrid, the wheelchair people forgot about us completely, so we walked a LONG WAY to customs and baggage. I may write a critical but pleasant letter. 

2. I packed two regular canes and two "seat canes" in case Shelley wanted to use one, or my first one broke. So far, I haven't used the seat cane. I usually need it if I've been standing still for 15 minutes or more, but the only time that happened was at the Prada museum. I didn't use the seat cane, though, because if I'd sat down I wouldn't have been able to see the art over the heads of the people in front of me. 

3. At the museum, our guide Claudia explained a dozen or so paintings to us. I completely understood everything she said. As for the paintings she didn't talk about, I have no idea! That was my experience years ago in Florence as well.

4. The more I walk, the easier it is. Duh. When I get home I'm going to do it every day.

5. My poor-so-far Spanish is adequate, thanks to patient Spaniards. Many people we've met so far speak little English, even in the tourist districts. They seem appreciative of my attempts at their language. I recall my Spanish instructor warning us about how to say I'm hot. "Caliente" means I'm, you know, a hot (sexy) person. "Calor" means I'm hot, as in sweaty. In the hotel elevator yesterday, I used caliente and the woman washing the walls of the elevator corrected me with a smile. I thanked her. I may or may not tell my Spanish instructor about that one!

6. I'm communicating with family and friends at home. There's a nine-hour time difference, so I need to be careful what time I send texts or make a call. I am waking up in Madrid when my husband Art is going to bed in Seattle. Before text and internet we were pretty much out of touch with everyone when we were traveling.

7. Shelley wanted to see a flamenco dance performance. I didn't think I'd be much interested, but she was persistent, so we took a taxi to a venue last night. The performance was quite something. Shelley got some great pictures, and if you can get to my Facebook page you can take a look.

8. The BBC in our hotel room provides much less frantic news than anything we watch at home. 

9. I suspect this will be my last international trip unless I have a travel companion who's willing to have me take their arm very lightly when we're going down stairs without railings. And that, unfortunately, wouldn't be my husband, who is six years older than me and not much stronger or better balanced than I am.

This afternoon we fly from Madrid to Lisbon to join the rest of our Viking tour group.

10. I am, as always, grateful for the opportunity be here. 

Getting ready for my trip to Spain and Portugal

My friend Shelley and I are flying to Madrid in two days to join our Viking cruise adventure. We'll be exploring there for three days, then in Lisbon for two days, before boarding the 89-passenger Viking riverboat in Porto for a week on the Duoro River.

I've taken many trips - about 93 of three days or longer since I retired 15 years ago - but it's been three years since I've been out of the country. In that time I've aged physically - of course - and I need to be more careful about how I get around. I used to take long flights in stride. Now I have a newly complaining knee. I bought two seat canes for the times I'll need to sit while listening to a tour guide or standing in line. I may pack my trekking poles as well. I'll take my regular cane with me onboard.

I've been buying stuff! Pants and shirts and cooling towels and fans and sun hats and really good sandals and supportive shoes and a crossbody bag. Amazon has been my friend, and so has the nearby UPS where I have returned probably 30 of the 50 things I bought and tried on.  

I'm using ChatGPT a lot to help me prepare. I love this new tool, in spite of my suspicions about artificial intelligence overall. I have a thorough packing list specifically for where we'll be traveling, and tomorrow I'll fill the two suitcases. I wish I could take just a few items of clothing and have laundry facilities close at hand, but we're moving around. 

My biggest challenge for this evening is finding our adapter for European electrical outlets. I know we have one, but I'm not exactly sure where it is.

Forty-eight hours from now we'll be a couple of hours from landing in Madrid.

I am really grateful to be going on this trip - that I have a good friend in Shelley, that my husband Art is supportive of my going without him, that I can afford it. 

Mostly, life is good!

Slowing down, maybe?

It's been nearly a year since I last posted. I felt mildly guilty, but not enough to sit down at my laptop.

Our lives have continued in their usual way. Art and I spent November to April in Tucson in our little place at Voyager RV Resort, a retirement community. I played handbells, took two Spanish classes, went to plays and dinners, did my live volunteer things in Tucson and my virtual volunteer ones in Brier.

I have also observed that, in spite of my determination, my mobility and stamina are decreasing, as is the case with many people my age. We don't go to Friday night dances any more. We don't hike. I got on my e-bike once this spring, but it had been so long that I forgot I need to start off from the curb - so I fell off the bike right in front of my house! But I consoled myself by noting that I was still in my right mind - mentally sharp, but not as quick as I used to be.

Then we came home in May. I had two goals for the summer: to continue to study Spanish and to practice the electronic keyboard I bought to bring myself back up to the level of skill on the piano I had when I gave up taking lessons at nine, when I no longer wanted to practice. So far, so good. 

But I'm not sure I'm still in my right mind! I had so many stressors last week - mostly other people not behaving the way I thought they ought to - that I went to a meeting at my church on Friday and left my car running in the parking lot for an hour and 15 minutes. Eye rolls all around, but a little scary for me. I realized I am too busy for my own good now. So, also last week, I dropped two volunteer church activities. And another one this week. 

I also noted that, in the interest of expediency and convenience, I spent a lot of time ordering shoes, underwear and bathing suits online. And a lot of time returning them. I have now realized that to know what size I wear, I need to go try stuff on in a real store. Duh. For example, I found out that I don't wear a size 9 wide shoe. I wear an 8 double wide. When I put on the correct size my feet sighed into them. I now know what size bra I should buy, and next week I'll get the bathing suit taken care of. Facebook and Amazon are convenient, but they are time sinks, plus they encourage a sedentary life, which isn't good for anyone. I need to be walking around in stores.

So I'm cultivating a moderated life. I don't book myself from morning until night. There is no shame in free time to read, or nap, or sit on my deck looking at the garden.

When I retired 15 years ago our financial planner said, "Most people travel for five years, and then they come home." We traveled for 15 years, and we have almost come home. I do have two trips planned for this year - both cruises where I only have to pack and unpack once. But even they look a little intimidating with the amount of walking I'll be doing. I bought a Ta Da cane which converts into a seat for the times the tour guide is talking in front of a cathedral or something.  

Guess I'm slowing down! Still grateful, though.

Fan Mail

I've been subscribing to The Sun for many years. It's an independent, no-advertising magazine with poems, photography, fiction and nonfiction. There's also a section each month called "Readers Write". Each issue has a theme, and readers submit short pieces to be considered for publication.

For the July issue the theme was "taste". I happened to have written something years ago that was worth submitting:

My mother was something of a snob. She'd made good by marrying a career military officer, and from her position of security, she freely cast judgment on others and taught her daughters to do likewise. Anything she didn't care for -- art that differed from what she liked, wardrobe choices she found unattractive, home decor she wouldn't have chosen -- she dismissed as in "bad taste".

She was particularly scornful of plastic flamingos on lawns. All of us pointed and laughed when we saw one. It was almost a game. "Oh, look! Six flamingos over there," someone would say, and heads would swivel to take in this worst of all offenses. 

As an adult I obtained a professional degree and worked for a company that developed software for educational institutions. From time to time I would be sent into the field to train customers to use the software. One day I drove to a school-district office to teach their accounts payable clerk how to use a system called WISE. The computer was slow that day, and the program's logo, a "wise" owl, displayd for an unusually long time as we logged on. To break the silence, I asked the clerk what she thought of the owl. 

"It's all right," she said.

Lowering my voice conspiratorially, I said, "I think it's in bad taste myself. You know: like flamingos on someone's lawn."

"I have flamingos on my lawn," she replied.

I excused myself and slunk to the restroom.

I try to learn from my mistakes. So when I redid my yard several years alger, I put out a pink flamingo in it to remind me of that lesson. I wonder if people laugh at it when they drive by.

My submission was accepted! In the July 2024 issue of The Sun, you can see it, along with a dozen or so others: Linda Myers, Brier, Washington.

Last week I got a letter from an inmate in Joliet, Illinois, praising my little essay and commenting on what he most appreciated about it. I knew that The Sun sometimes sends free copies to prisoners, so I wasn't surprised.

I Googled the prison and found the inmate. His name is Dedric T. Moore. been in prison since 1999 and is scheduled to get out in 2039. He was 19 when he was convicted of murder and other offenses. Now he is 45. He is going to college through the Northwestern Prison Education program. 

My first fan mail.

 

 

 

End of the snowbird season

Two days ago we flew home from Tucson, where we’ve spent the last six months, to Seattle, our home airport. We’ll spend the summer in Brier at our family home. This is a twice-a-year ritual for Art and me and our Siberian forest cat, Dutchy.

I’m looking back at the last weeks of our snowbird season with nostalgic and a bit of sadness. Our life in Tucson is busy with activities and friends, mostly in sunny weather. 

This year I was too busy; I had so much going on that I had to drop two discussion groups. One was current events on Wednesday afternoon; the other was Great Decisions (foreign policy topics) on Thursday afternoon. Both of these groups were interesting, but they cover issues too large for me to make a difference. I read emails from the Washington Post and the New York Times and Atlantic each day, plus CNN and NPR online. So I’m pretty well informed. Sometimes I think of solutions to the big issues of the world, but most of them required egoless leadership, which we don’t have much of these day. 

Instead, I played handbells on Mondays, plus once a month at the “nondenominational” church service. I volunteered at the resort clinic on Tuesdays. This year I took two Spanish classes on Wednesday mornings. I’m a volunteer and a Board member of the Inn of Southern Arizona, which serves asylum seekers coming across the border from Mexico. Many of our guests are from Central and South America, but these days they’re also from Haiti and Senegal, Ukraine and Russia, China and India. For those arrivals we have Google Translate. My goal is to be able to speak Spanish to make a connection with some of our guests. Thursdays were open once I dropped Great Decisions. That was my paperwork day. And Fridays a group of friends went to dinner somewhere in Tucson. We left the resort at 4 and were home by 7. Big night on the town!

Back in the Pacific Northwest, I’m hoping to take it easy. To sleep more, read more, relax more. I’m going to try to limit myself to one out-of-the-house activity each day. And how much time I spend online. I’m hoping the summer will be a respite for me.

I guess that’s up to me, though, isn’t it?

Girls' trip to San Diego

I had some timeshare points needing to be used this year, and The Inn at the Park in San Diego looked like a practical way to spend them. I have three good friends at the Tucson RV park where we spend the winter. Everyone thought four days away sounded like a good idea. I asked at the start of planning who would be willing to share a bed, and who would be okay with a sleeper sofa. Since we're all older, everyone said no to both options! So I reserved a suite for our "together" events and a studio for the extra beds. That worked out very well.

We're all retired. Shelley was a nurse, Pam a marketing professional, JoAnne a small business owner, and me an IT person. We brought our skills of coordination to the planning. All in all, it was easy.

We laughed a lot of the time on the six-hour drive. Almost ran out of gas because we forgot to check the fuel gauge, so we ended up paying $6.97 a gallon in an out-of-the-way place in the middle of the desert. We had three drivers so no one got too tired. 

We found the Inn at the Park with no difficulty. We parked for free in front of the hotel for three days, using Uber to get around the city on our explorations. We got through the timeshare presentation in about 15 minutes. We ate Mexican, Thai and American comfort food, plus the bounty of snacks we'd brought along. 

On our first sightseeing day we took a Hop-on, Hop-off trolley around San Diego. Got off first at Little Italy to enjoy the Wednesday farmers' market there. Thought about getting off at the USS Midway museum along the waterfront, but decided against it because we were getting a little hungry. Crossed the Coronado Bridge.

Got off the trolley at the Coronado Hotel across the long and beautiful Coronado Bridge and had a leisurely lunch.

We walked over two miles for the day. Nice and slow, for the two of us who used canes.

On our second day we explored two museums in Balboa Park. The first was Museum of Us. Pretty interesting place! Here's how the webpage describes it: "Located in Balboa Park, on the unceded ancestral homelands of the Kumeyaay people, the Museum of Us presents exhibitions and programs that address a vast range of histories and cultures, fostering conversation, self-reflection, and interpersonal connections."  

The Mayan exhibit was curated by museum experts and Mayan scholars, with sections on colonialism and its impact on the Mayan culture. The history I learned as a kid has been transformed into the reality of European exploration. That is a good thing.

For over a decade, millions of people from all over the world have been anonymously sharing their secrets with Frank Warren, founder of the community art project, PostSecret. Each postcard submission is a unique work of art handmade by people who needed to share and release their secret into the world. I loved this exhibit.

In a side room, a young girl was writing a secret of her own to contribute to the collection.

A third exhibit was about immigration at the US southern border. A map of Arizona showed where bodies had been recovered, and the toe tags for those bodies hung from the map.

A side museum across the street discussed and displayed stories of cannibalism, which allows observers to consider whether they would be able to participate in such an activity if the circumstances were dire. 

We finished off the day with a Gaslamp District crime walking tour. On this second day of exploration, we walked another two miles. There was a time when it would have seemed like a short distance, but as we get older it's more of an effort, influenced by individual aches and pains.

On our drive home, nearly six hours in intermittent rain, I thought about the value of friendships. Growing up as a military brat, I moved a lot and never had the opportunity to be part of a "group of girls". That's what this trip felt like. We have new things to remember and laugh about. Always a good thing!

A Matter of Perspective

When I was 23, near the beginning of my first marriage, my husband John got inducted into the Army. After boot camp in South Carolina (when I lived in California) and Officer Candidate School in Georgia (where I went with him and lived in a trailer with another couple) he was transferred to Fort Bliss in El Paso, Texas). We spent three years there - in the high desert, with its arid climate and wind. From time to time we'd make the two-day drive to California, where our families lived. That trip was mostly through desert. I remember being depressed during that time, and I hated the brown vegetation of the desert. It was like death and dying was all around me.

When I was 53, near the beginning of my second marriage, my husband Art and I were taking a road trip from Washington State, where we live, to somewhere across the desert. I don't even remember what our destination was. But I remember commenting, "I hate the desert. Everything is dead."

And Art said, "No, the desert isn't dead. It's just land held in reserve. All it needs is water." By that time, I hadn't been depressed for years. I heard him. And when I looked out the car window I could imagine spring, when the desert sprouts green after the rains. 

And now that I am 75, I spend half the year in the desert, at our little home in Tucson. I notice the many varieties of native plants which have evolved to survive and thrive in places where the rain falls only rarely.

Last week I went with friends to a local art gallery. I had no plans to buy anything, but I found a photograph I could not resist:

It's called "Blue Spigot".We put it up in the living room of our Tucson place. 

My perspective has changed in the last 50 years. Now, I'm grateful for the desert.