The freedom of the open road

I've been thinking about how good it felt to drive on the open highways of Pennsylvania and New York on my recent trip to the US. I normally don't enjoy driving too much anymore; I've done so much of it up through the years, and it was mostly stressful. I don't enjoy driving in Oslo at all, for so many reasons that I won't go into in this post. And driving into Manhattan from NJ during the 1980s in order to get to work was stomach-churning stress. Back then, there were no cell phones, so it was impossible to let anyone know where you were stuck in traffic or why you were going to be late. But that was then; now is another story. 

After visiting my sister in Milford PA, which is not far from Port Jervis NY, I left early in the morning, had toast and coffee for breakfast at a diner right outside Milford, and then got on the road in my little red Kia Soul. A great little car--solid, stable and comfortable to drive. It handled well and got good gas mileage. Driving early in the morning was a pleasant experience, especially on beautiful NY summer days like the one that I had the day I was driving. There are a lot of rolling hills and forested areas in that area of PA and NY. Very pretty, made more so by the early morning mist that was slowly driven away by the sun that was warming up the day. Blue skies, a few puffy clouds, and very few cars on the road at that time, at least on 84 and Route 6. By the time I merged onto 87, the traffic had picked up but the day was still lovely. But it didn't seem to matter, as I was relaxed. There was something about starting the driving day in that lovely corner of the world that made me feel free. Like the world was open for exploration. 

It was that feeling of freedom that has stayed with me since that early morning drive. It made me want to take a long cross-country trip, something I've never done. After high school, I went straight to college, and after college, to graduate school. From there, to work. I've never had or taken any sort of long break. I never felt the need to; I was too eager to start my career and to experience that part of life. And I did, over many years. I feel different now; I feel as though my life ahead is an open road, ready for exploration. It's a wonderful feeling. 

 

I've been traveling

I've been traveling recently between several different time zones, and upon my return home, my body decided that it didn't know what time zone it was in, so it's been waking me up at 3 am to let me know that it's time to get up and start the day. The other night I had a long discussion with myself at 3 am about what electric bike I should buy, since I need a new one. Why my brain chose that time to ponder such a thing is beyond me. It got to the point where it suddenly felt extremely urgent that I make the decision right then and there. Of course when dawn arrived none of it seemed so urgent at all. I don't know why the middle of the night creates a sense of urgency out of nothing. It has happened many times before; I should make this or that plan, call this or that person, get done whatever needs to be done. The list is unbelievably long. There is something about the dark that inspires urgency. But when dawn arrives, and in the light of day, I'm more relaxed (thank God). I get what I need to get done, done. Just not at breakneck speed or with the feeling that I have a ton of weight on my shoulders. 

But despite its effects on my body, I wouldn't give up traveling for all the money in the world. Because there are travel experiences that money will never be able to buy--time spent with good friends, scenery that will take your breath away, visits to historic places. No amount of wealth or material goods can replace those experiences. As the old saying goes, you can't take it with you. True, that. I like to travel light, in my daily wanderings and when I'm out in the world. 

So where did I travel to this time? First, to Portland Oregon where my good friend Judy lives with her husband John and their sweet dog Coda. Portland is located in western Oregon; we drove into eastern Oregon one day, and the contrast between west and east is striking. Oregon is a beautiful state for sure, rich in forest tracts, mountains, valleys, rivers, gorges, and rolling hills, but also incredible desert plateaus. The Columbia River, known for its rough waters and high winds, runs through a gorge (canyon). Bounded on both sides by steep rocky walls, it creates its own weather. It's worth a trip there just to see the windsurfers and kite surfers (aka kiteboarders). The terminology may be confusing, but watching the surfers is pretty cool. Judy and I then traveled further on to Cedaredge Colorado where we visited with our friend Janet and her husband Richard. The original trip was planned as a reunion of four high school friends (the Fab Four as our English teacher used to call us), but one friend could not manage the trip, so the remaining three met and enjoyed our time together. We took a day trip to Ouray, which apparently is known as the 'Switzerland of America'. It is a charming, quaint, and historic mountain town bounded by canyons and mountains (the San Juan mountains). We ate lunch at the Goldbelt restaurant (very good food) and walked around the town, ending up at the Western Hotel (established in 1891) where we wandered around looking at the rooms, the dining room, and the saloon. It would have been lovely (and expensive) to stay there; perhaps on a future trip. In the 1870s, gold was found in the San Juan mountains, resulting in the establishment of small mining towns in the area. Ouray has the feel of a former mining town; it is now a tourist town that attracts visitors from all over the world. 

I'd like to visit my friends again in a few years and explore more of Oregon and Colorado with them. The USA never ceases to amaze me; its fifty states offer vast differences in climate and topography. Each state has something beautiful to offer. America the beautiful, indeed. It is. 

Notes from a traveler on my recent trip to the USA

Meeting the Canadian DJ in the passport control line at Newark airport who had traveled all around the world for his job when he was younger and who ended up marrying a Norwegian woman and living in Norway. A very gregarious type, very talkative. He must have been quite the Lothario when he was single. He mentioned that he had had many Norwegian girlfriends before he married, some of whom were married themselves. Now he sounded resigned to his being 'trapped' in Norway, as he put it. 

Meeting the American woman and her daughter on the train platform at Newark airport while waiting for the Amtrak train to Washington DC. They had just returned from vacation in Copenhagen. We compared notes on Covid-19 testing in order to enter the USA again; she had paid forty dollars for two antigen tests in Copenhagen whereas I had paid ninety dollars for one test in Oslo, Norway. Norway knows how to extract money from us. 

Meeting the taxi driver from Jamaica who drove me from the Union train station in Washington DC to my hotel. The first chance he got, he showed me pictures of his daughter, her husband, and his beautiful granddaughters who live in Montenegro. He was so proud of his grandchildren. He only gets to see them once a year, and was hoping to travel to visit them next year. We talked about how hard it was to have parents in another country than where you live, especially when they get sick and old. Most of his siblings had emigrated to the USA from Jamaica, but many of them were dead now. Most of them had had government jobs. I gave him a big tip after he told me how business had fallen off due to the pandemic. DC was a ghost town now, he said, with most people still working from home. People weren't using taxis to get to their workplaces anymore. 

Meeting the hotel guest born in Nigeria who padded out barefoot to the reception area of the Comfort Inn in search of bottled water. The tap water for drinking purposes in DC leaves a lot to be desired; it literally smells of whatever chemicals are used to disinfect the water. Apparently DC uses chloramine (a mixture of chlorine and ammonia). In any case, the water does not taste good at all, and bottled water is used by most people. The Nigerian man was very friendly and told me about his college years traveling around Europe with his friends. He loved France and French food, especially baguettes. He spoke the Queen's English after having lived in London for a while, and told me "I am a proud American" when I asked him where he lives now. The hotel itself was worn down and had seen better days; for 180 dollars a night I had expected more. The staff at reception and in the breakfast room were friendly so no complaints there. But I'm glad I only stayed there one night. 

Visiting with three of my cousins while I was in the DC area: two of them (Karen and Robert) live not far from DC proper, whereas my other cousin Cathy lives in Charlottesville VA. It was wonderful to spend time with each of them and their spouses. I visited with Karen first, then with Robert, and then with Cathy. We ate at some great restaurants and had some memorable conversations. I hope to be able to visit them again in a few years. 

Taking the (very comfortable) bus from Union Station to Charlottesville VA. When I was on the bus, I saw a road sign near Culpeper VA: "Let Jesus make you a fisherman. You catch 'em, he cleans 'em". 

Listening to the busker Daniel Kepel in Charlottesville while eating lunch outdoors with Cathy and her husband Scott. Kepel played some requests, among them Bill Withers' 'Ain't No Sunshine'. A very enjoyable afternoon. 

Traveling back to New York via Amtrak. Amtrak has a 'quiet car', where no cell phone conversations are allowed. The quiet car is a dream come true for passengers like me who don't want to listen to people yack on their phones ad nauseam about nothing. I listened to music, did some reading and writing, and otherwise enjoyed the scenery until we got into Penn Station in Manhattan. 

Once I get to NY, I'm back in familiar territory. I don't spend much time in Manhattan anymore, but as I was walking from Penn Station to Grand Central Station to get the train to Tarrytown, I felt the 'rush' of the city, the good rush, the rush that makes you want to work hard and achieve. When you are in Manhattan, it's hard not to feel that the 'world is your oyster' or that 'the sky's the limit'. It's not until you've worked there a while that you see the down sides of this way of thinking. But when you're young, it's a fun place to be, and I have good memories of having gone to school and worked there for ten years. 

When I was on the bus to White Plains so that I could pick up my rental car, there was a sign in Spanish that had to do with wearing masks to prevent Covid infections. I am relearning Spanish at present and was happy that I was able to read and understand this sign with no problems. 

Once I get to the NY area, I get together with my sister Renata and her husband Tim and my dear friends Jean, Maria, Gisele, Stef and Jola. Sometimes we hang out in Tarrytown down by the Hudson River and have a picnic, or visit the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, or eat lunch in downtown Mamaroneck. This time around Jean, Maria and I visited Olana (Olana State Historic Site (ny.gov), the Hudson River home of Frederic Church, who was perhaps the most well-known artist of the Hudson River School of American landscape painters. I usually stay at Jean's house until I leave for Oslo again. Being with her is always like coming home; I feel safe. Whenever it seems as though the world is coming apart at the seams, I think of her and my closest friends and the world is alright again. 

Traveling, gaining new perspective, and life changes

Traveling opens the mind to new ways of thinking and looking at situations. I don't know how many times I have returned from a trip filled with renewed hope, enthusiasm, and motivation to tackle certain aspects of life that may have appeared complicated or tricky before I left. While I am away, I seem to be able to let go in a much better way than when I am continually faced with the same situation day after day. Sometimes it IS good to get away in order to get perspective. What may seem overwhelming on a daily basis becomes manageable after getting distance from it. That is my experience and I'm sure it has been the experience of others.

Traveling allows the mind to relax and focus on the now. When I am traveling, I don't think too much about the past or the future. I enjoy the present, because the things I am doing are enjoyable and fun, and I am doing them with people I love and care about.

This will become ever more important as I get older. I know now when I want to retire, and I am moving in that direction, moving my daily life in that direction, so that all my actions translate into a gradual rather than abrupt transition into a life without a daily work schedule. Some days I think about what I will do when I retire, other days I realize I don't need to plan it all now. Perhaps it's best to let life happen, to see what life brings at that point. Many of my American friends have retired already. Those who have not, have unusual work schedules; they either have home offices or they travel a lot and are not office-bound. They've had that alternative work style for a number of years now, and seem to function quite well. They haven't had the social camaraderie of a daily workplace and they don't seem to miss it, with one exception. I don't know if I will miss it; I don't think I will. I've had it for a number of decades now, and I find it tiring to think about continuing in the same vein for another ten years.

What I will miss is my career as a scientist. As I wrote to my close friend recently about starting to clean out my office and getting rid of old files and papers I don't need anymore, I find it freeing, but a bit sad at the same time. It makes me realize that those days will be no more, those fun days of science, and that my career is ebbing. But then I remind myself that it's not impending retirement that took the fun away or caused the ebbing. It's the fact that academia turned into a huge money-making business about a decade ago, and so many of us were just blindsided by it. It's never been the same since. And that is true. It's not the getting older that changed things, it's the fact that academia is akin to the corporate world now, where huge sums of money are involved and necessary if you want to survive in it. If you don't have a business plan, or plans to patent your findings, or plans to grow your research group into a huge conglomerate, or plans to create a center of excellence, there really is no place for you anymore. You are a drain on the system if you don't bring in large grants or obtain many PhD and post-doc positions. So it seems right to plan on leaving it behind in the near future. I know it won't happen without conflicting feelings; I have accepted that major change is accompanied by uncertainty, anxiety, sadness, happiness, exhilaration, and confusion. Life is messy and it's just to accept that and live it and live through major changes in the best possible way. Many others have done it before me. I have their experiences and wisdom to guide me.

New Year's resolutions and goals

I normally don't make New Year's resolutions, although I do set a few specific goals for myself. Last year it was to read twenty books during the year (I signed up for the Goodreads challenge), and I achieved that goal. I also vowed to write at least twelve blog posts per month, and I met that goal as well. But the reason I don't make resolutions is because they are often too vague--exercise more, eat more vegetables, etc. I try to follow them, but I know I will not live up to those resolutions in the same way as I try to meet my goals. I think the difference is the level of commitment. A resolution is more of a decision to do something without necessarily being committed to doing it, whereas a goal involves commitment to a vision of how one wants the future to work out. It is the commitment part that drives me; once I set a goal, I want to achieve it.

This year I have goals as well, and they involve publishing the books I have been working on for the past several years. I won't do the Goodreads challenge this year, so that I can devote more time to finishing my own books. I will continue to write this blog, but the number of posts will vary each month as they always have (except in 2018).

Books, movies, photography, traveling, and writing are the interests that I try to prioritize. In many instances, I can combine several of these, e.g. traveling, photography and writing, and produce a photo-essay that describes where we've been and what we've experienced. But otherwise, reading and movies facilitate a type of travel that I have long been used to. Ever since I was a child, I have traveled to new realms in these ways. I will continue to do so in the coming years.

Looking back on 2018 and the need for hope

What a year--2018. Looking back, I'd say it was a whirlwind of a year for me personally. My work life took an unexpected turn for the better, and as the old expression goes, 'I never looked back' once I hopped on this new train--a new focus area and one for which I seem to be suited. It could all change in an instant; I am fully aware of that, but that is the beauty of growing older. One has been down those paths before, so one is less surprised if it all goes to hell again. I hope it won't, but the universe might have other plans, so it's just to stay open to new possibilities and opportunities.

I realized too how important traveling is for broadening our horizons, and planning a trip to a new place each summer has become a fun occupation. I want to explore more of Great Britain--more of England, Scotland, and Wales. I'd love to revisit Italy in order to take in Florence and Sienna. I'd like to see Spain and Portugal as well. I have a feeling we'll get there, one country at a time. For that reason (and a few others), I really do look forward to retirement and to taking some longer trips with my husband and my friends.

But one doesn't always need to physically travel to a new place in order to broaden one's horizons; one need only pick up a good book that will take you where you want to go (or sometimes where you never thought about going). I have rediscovered how interesting American history is, thanks to Caroline Fraser and her wonderful book Prairie Fires--The American Dreams of Laura Ingalls Wilder. If there is one book I can recommend from this year's reading, it is this one. I have mentioned it before in a previous post (https://paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com/2018/08/book-recommendation-biography-of-laura.html), but it bears repeating--the USA has been through some pretty dark times, and it has survived them--climate changes, rampant corruption, economic depressions, widespread poverty, political uproars and turmoil, world wars, and so much more. Our country has had great presidents and terrible presidents. It survived them. We will survive. We may need to undergo some forms of renewal (much like the Catholic church needs to do in order to deal with the sexual abuse scandals), but we will survive. There is comfort in knowing that, and that is what learning about our history gives us--new realizations about where we come from, and even insights about where we might be headed.

Despite the current political chaos that reigns in the White House, our country will survive. The founding fathers built many checks and balances into our system of government. It may seem as thought they are failing one by one, but they are not. The majority of politicians still believe in something good; one must hope that they will rise to the challenge of defending our country's honor and dignity. And if they cannot do it, that we the people must do it for them. Our ancestors left Europe to find a better life in America; perhaps some found that, while others didn't. What they did find was the chance to figure it out for themselves, to think for themselves, to take responsibility for their own lives. They took a risk, and we must take risks too, in order to preserve the freedoms that we have fought to attain. We must not be complacent, self-satisfied, or slothful. We cannot afford to be any of those things. We must find it in our hearts to be grateful and hopeful, because from gratitude and hope spring all that is good, and we must translate our gratitude and hope into positive action.

There are no strangers when I travel

There is something about traveling that makes me a better person, about the freedom involved that frees me to be more open than I usually am. Traveling restores my faith in humanity and my trust in the present and future--that the world is fine for the most part. Yes, we face challenges like climate change, a political climate not to our liking, and the disappointments that follow along with getting older. But when I travel, I am not encumbered by these things, or by the judgmental overtones of the society in which I live. I am a stranger in the world, but I don’t feel like one, and other people don’t feel like strangers to me either. I don’t feel afraid or lonely, I rather feel connected to the world around me. I talk to people—cab drivers in New York City, the homeless on the streets of Manhattan, my seatmates on the plane to and from New York. I experience people for who they are, for better or worse. Yes, sometimes I run across some few people who are rude, unkind, critical or difficult. I sidestep them if necessary. But by and large, I have understood that if I open an encounter with a stranger with a smile, I get one in return. And sometimes, strangers just start talking to me; I’m not sure why. In any case, unless the topics discussed get a bit weird, I’ll give these conversations my best shot. I learn something new for the most part.

My conclusion is that it’s a good thing to get out of one’s daily personal and social routines, even if for a short time. It’s good for the brain to tackle new challenges, to be ‘uprooted’ so to speak. It’s also good to have to deal with changes in plans, as happened on my recent trip to New York; half of what I had planned to do simply did not come to pass. I did not like it initially, but there was nothing to do with it except to accept it—that life sometimes takes new turns. As it turned out, the unplanned free time gave me more time to write, for which I am grateful. But I also realized that perhaps I had over-planned, and that is a good reminder for planning my future trips. In any case, I am grateful for the fact that I can travel, that my health is good and finances likewise. Strangely enough, for how much I actually enjoy traveling, it was never a goal when I was younger. It simply came to pass that gradually, the opportunities to travel presented themselves. It started with traveling to scientific research conferences and grew from there. I will always cherish the memories of my first trip abroad to Cambridge England, to attend a scientific conference at Cambridge University. It was there I met my husband, so I have those memories to treasure. But even before I met him, I can remember the first day when we were assigned to our living quarters—the thrill of boarding in one of the dorm rooms at Cambridge University, being in a monastic-like room with a bed, a desk and not much more. It felt perfect, like that was all my life needed at that time (early 30s)—the minimal existence that is student life. Because what was waiting for me outside those four walls was immense—a chance to experience what it might have been like to study there, to experience academic life in that setting. It was a thrilling feeling, and frankly, still is. In the future, I would love to (and plan to) study there for a couple of weeks during the summer semester. Cambridge University offers short literature courses, and that is one of the things I hope to do when I retire. I have made no firm plans to do so as of yet, but it’s on my bucket list.