I had two errands to run that day – return a DVD to the library, and get a haircut. I didn’t accomplish either of them. Short version – I was on an e-scooter….and then I wasn’t. I thought I knew how it worked. Apparently I was wrong. There were no other vehicles, people, squirrels, obstacles, or breaks in the pavement involved. I fell, I’m sure gracefully, to the ground, all in my own bubble.
I was traveling light. In my pocket was my phone, a pair of sunglasses, and a card case (which included my Ontario Health Card – thank you Canada.) They were all fine. The DVD was fine. The scooter was fine. My leg was not.
While in Hanoi, a Story Slam appeared on our group’s calendar for a Saturday night, with the topic of “community”. I admit that my first reaction was that I would enjoy being in the audience to see my first slam. I then reminded myself that I am actively working on story-telling skills, so I really should volunteer regardless of my uncertainties of the format and the elusiveness of the topic. Below is a rough transcript of the story I told that night. Perhaps put yourself with another twenty people, in a second floor lounge at a Hanoi bar with rearranged, mismatched furniture and the sound of motorbikes coming in through an open window, to get a little bit of the ambiance and spirit of the evening….
The world lost a ‘smart lady’ two years ago, and my brother and I lost our Mom. It doesn’t feel like two years have gone by. Perhaps because I still think of her, and miss her, every day. On this anniversary, I thought I would share the two stories I told at her Celebration of Life:
I smile when I imagine calling home to talk with him and share stories of all of my adventures. His first question was usually, “And where are you today?” It would have been quite the range of answers this year! He was a fantastic storyteller himself, which made him a good listener too – at least to my energetic ramblings! And we would usually end our calls with, “Thanks for the chat Dad. Love you too.”
He passed away one year ago. Here is the tribute I wrote for him then:
As I continued to travel, something began to bother me. It just didn’t feel right. I felt weighed down and burdened. I slowly realized that it was happening at a variety of levels – in my head, in my heart, and in my gut. I didn’t fully appreciate them all, until I took action. The issue may seem trivial to some, and it did even to me for a while. And it may seem a common story of transformational moments, in which case I’m simply supporting that theory.
I got a haircut. A really short haircut. In an act later described as ‘brave’ and ‘audacious’, as well as ‘immensely practical’ and ‘envied.’
With genuine compliments, many people have tagged on, “How long were you thinking about this? And why did you do it?” So I’ve been considering the true motivations. Here is what I have come up with.
In Part 1 of this post, I shared my picks for geographical heights, and even some descents, from my explorations of Split.
For Part 2, I thought I would share some emotional highs and lows from the experience of living in Split, Croatia for a month, which was also the first month of a full year of travel.
I have written about many highs already – islands, sailboats, the shipyard, Canadian Thanksgiving…. But here are a few more:
“How is it that you never married?” If I had a nickel for every time I was asked that question…well, I wouldn’t be rich, but my pockets would be heavy. For a time, I felt the question was catching me “off guard” and therefore I had to make an effort to be ready and “on guard” for it. I would feel defensive, like I had strayed outside the lines so of course I would occasionally be required to explain the anomaly. I came up with a breezy, packaged response that ‘tested’ well:
Marie Kondo’s book is now so popular that kondo’ing is an understood verb. I thought I had grasped the concept during my previous move, from Washington, DC to Oakland, CA. I reduced my volume of possessions applying a good chunk of the lessons from her book. I agreed with the concept that I should choose to surround myself with things that bring me joy. So I naively thought I knew how to downsize the Oakland house into storage as I transitioned to traveling the world for a year.
