Heading home

 January 3

Friday

Somewhere over the Atlantic

Heading back.  

Looking forward to sleeping in my bed.   Seeing my son and friends and my cat.     

Having a beer at Backstop.   

And planning my next trip.   It might be Columbia. 

I will start to study some additional travel French and German.   

But it was clear to me that Spanish will be the closest I ever get to a second language.  

It was satisfying to be understood in Spain.  

And there is an entire continent of mostly Spanish speakers in my hemisphere waiting to be explored. 

Three years ago I spent a month in Ecuador on my own.  It was the right thing to do at a time of dislocation.  

At the time, I kept hearing fellow travelers in Ecuador talk about recently reopened Columbia.  The civil war was over and the country quickly adjusted to a peaceful place. Ironically one of the most violent areas, Medallin, is considered the most beautiful of the region.  

Last night Cate met me for dinner at Nai restaurant.  My third time there.  

Next to us was a couple: he from Australia and she from Columbia.  

“Gotta try Columbia mate.  Beautiful beaches and even more beautiful women.” He said.   

Maybe I will.  

For now I will spend at least the coming week putting into words and perspective what I’ve learned.   

Five countries in four weeks sharpened my travel skills.   My suitcase is lighter coming home due to the planned jettison of an old second pair of shoes, shirt and briefs.   And as minimal as my packing was, I found I still brought a couple things I didn’t use or need.  

I also learned to ask another question after sleeping in 8 different beds.   

What type of bed do you have?

There are enough Airbnb’s out there that I can play a little hard to get.    

A good nights sleep is everything when you are on the road.  

Physical preparation pays off.  

I’ve been working out every day for a year and it made a huge difference in the amount of territory I could cover in a day.  Museum is a mile a away.   No problem.  Let’s walk and see the city.   On the average I logged about 8 miles of walking a day with 10 hours of standing.  Only twice did I feel it and both were days that exceeded ten miles of walking.     

Embracing public transport.  

It’s something I first learned on a late night  bus from Zhuatineo to Xtapa Mexico 25 years ago.  Kim and I paid 7 cents to ride the packed local bus instead of a taxi back to our hotel.  

Somewhere in the bus was a little boy singing.   Every verse he got louder in this sweet voice.   “Aye yi yi yi...” he would go on.   A quarter century later it still plays in my ears and in my heart.  

And I realized that public transport is one of the few ways a stranger can get close and participate in an authentic   activity with locals.  

On subways in each of the places we stayed I saw the regular roles that locals play on a daily basis.   Going to work.  Going to school. 

My travel companion.   

This trip began with an invitation from my daughter to join her at the end of her au pair gig in Spain.   

I didn’t want to assume that either of “my adults” (they are no longer kids) wanted to automatically hang with dad.  It’s their lives and as a parent part of my job is to keep my expectations from inhibiting them living their lives exactly as they want to.    

So I said nothing.  Until Cate brought it up.  

I said, as long as I’m there would you like to join me on a tour of Europe for the holidays?

I don’t think it could have gone much better.  We did things together when we wanted to and separately as well.  We respected each other’s space.  But most rewarding, I got to see first-hand this amazing woman as she is. 

Today. 

Not as she was in my memories or photographs. 

When I left earlier than her at a pub with her friends far, far outside of London, I was tempted to say, “be careful. Are you sure you know which train to take back?”

But she is the one who visited four Asian countries last spring  and lived in Europe for three months.   

If anything I was pleased she gave me credit for getting back to our flat without double checking.    

Fourth quarter in post season play

I’ve described this part of my life as a post-season bowl game.  Winning isn’t the point.  It’s executing plays with joy and a degree of grace and kindness.  Teaching the younger players some of the tips I’ve found helpful.  

Trip of a lifetime? 

Yeah sure.   

So far.