I didn’t have to do this!
I’ve repeated this statement so many times while traveling it’s become a mantra, one I reach for when things aren’t going the way they should be or, more accurately, the way I think they should be.
ONE WEEK AGO….
A week from today I will get on the first of three airplanes that will deposit me in Porto, Portugal. I have some major tasks to complete before I leave: finishing an update of my Will and POAs since my address is now in Kentucky. This requires a new attorney licensed in a state I’m unfamiliar with; gathering information my accountant needs to do my taxes while I’m gone; getting enough of my two maintenance prescriptions to last for a number of months; making sure I have everything needed for my travels, and that it all fits in my new red backpack.
I would call the pre-travel apprehension and fear that seem to settle into my innards irrational, but I have forgotten things often enough that they are perfectly rational.
Also,
I have met all the requirements for being awarded a Doctor of Procrastination degree, which will be mailed to me as soon as I fill out the required forms.
Oddly, when I finish packing my backpack, either late the night before I leave or early in the day I am leaving, I start to relax. The most peaceful times are on the way to the airport and then even more so after going through security. I always try to arrive at the airport with enough time to people watch. If I realize I’ve forgotten something, I will deal with it when I arrive overseas. They have stores there.
I am in an enviable time in life.
I have a fixed income that covers my needs. I am free to choose what I do with my time. It is wonderful; it is exhilarating; it opens endless possibilities. How could I not be thrilled to have freedom? Well, I am thrilled, but with that freedom comes responsibility for the choices I make. The freedom to choose, is a double-edged sword. I have no one to blame but myself when my choice pulls me in over my head or when I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. Those of you who have read what I have written the last decade and a half on my blog, on Facebook, and, now Substack, know that I have not lacked for distressing experiences.
I didn’t have to do this…
Right?
I was feeling relaxed until late in the first leg to Chicago O’Hare when I noticed there was only one boarding pass in my online wallet instead of the three I needed and could’ve sworn were there.
By the time I was off the plane, backpack on my back and electronics bag in hand, feelings of helplessness fueled distress. I cannot appear at the gate for an overseas flight on Lufthansa with no boarding pass.
I found a checkpoint in the airport and learned no one would be at the departing gate for another hour and a half. While dragging my luggage distances that can be measured in kilometers, I wondered if what I am doing now is worth all the effort? I got to the gate and waited. When finally the staff arrived, there were many of us who had checked in online in the same situation. Technology glitch, system update, something or the other - I got boarding passes for both of my next flights and complied with their request that I check my backpack because the flight was completely full.
With boarding passes in hand and time to spare, I decided it was time for a beer. The stress dissipated.
My seat mate on the long flight was from Porto. Even as checked luggage, backpack Felicity was true to her name. Ricardo, who was returning home to Porto from a textile convention in Las Vegas, was happy to talk about Porto and exchange phone numbers in hopes of getting together while I am here.
I am now in my fourth day in Porto.
Upon entering Portugal, my backpack had to be searched because the x-ray revealed a potentially dangerous object: a 4 oz tube of toothpaste larger than the 2.5 oz limitation. The agent just smiled and said he would let it go.
The Airbnb here is like a hostel with a common area and kitchen where community interactions can happen, but instead of bunk rooms, all the rooms are private with an ensuite bathroom and a workspace (desk and chair) along with good wifi.
I was greeted with a huge pot of freshly made vegetable soup, crafted by a fellow traveler, Ronda from the USA. She offered me and another resident a bowl. She introduced me to other residents as they came through, young people from the Czech Republic, Brazil, Peru, Korea, and Angola.
Ronda is here on a Digital Nomad Visa and, like me, has shed her belongings and auto to travel full time. She is twenty years younger than I, works remotely along with putting together jobs that allow her the mobility necessary for traveling. She is far more adventurous than I, having been skydiving, paragliding, and mountaineering, among other adrenaline stimulating activities. She and I had a great conversation with thirty-five year old Bruna who was taken by Ronda and my active lives at our ages. She felt we had, in our conversation, impacted her view of her life and what might lay ahead. My experience of Porto in these first few hours is one of the rewards of not letting my fear stop me from choosing to be in places where I am internally shouting at myself, “I didn’t have to do this!”
I did make progress on the tasks I was doing in preparation for the trip. I managed to get the Prescriptions I needed. The Will is signed and in place, providing a feeling of security about that element of the future. The hand surgery is done and the healing is progressing. There is, however, a glitch concerning a stitch that wasn’t visible when they were removed on January 31st. There is a quarter inch of blue plastic string that is now hanging out of my hand. It is the sort that will likely require me to get to an ER (Urgência) at a hospital for removal. It is not the kind that the body will eventually absorb. It is a Mattress Suture, a knotted loop, demanding a specific way of removal. If I were still in Kansas City when I discovered it, I could have gone right into my surgeon’s office to get it removed. But here I am in Porto, Portugal, unable to speak Portuguese, needing to deal with this. If I choose to have it removed, it will provide another opportunity to learn how to negotiate health care in this part of the world. I went to an ER once when I walked the five hundred miles long (800k) Camino de Santiago de Compostela Pilgrimage in Spain. I don’t have to be here. I could have stayed put in Kansas City. I do love KC. (Coincidentally, the other person in the row on the plane with Ricardo and me had lived in Kansas City for a few years and was very enthusiastic about how much she loved it there.)
I had a dream last night about the people at the church I served for almost fourteen years before I retired, a community to which I remained connected for another eight or so years, many of whom I still interact with via Facebook.
As usual, I don’t remember the details, but what I do remember is starting to feel as if tears were coming as I was about to leave wherever the dream scene was taking place. It has sparked a reflection of all that has been left behind in arriving at this place and time in my life. Mary Ann has left the planet, but remains a part of who I am now. It is simply a truism.
Change happens and will never stop happening whether we like it or not.
We can refuse to accept it in ourselves and others. We can fight against it and pretend it is not happening, pretend we can make the past return, but we can’t. Our fear can stop us from engaging life fully as it actually is in the present, but life will go on even if we refuse to accept it. Our bodies are not the same ones we had just a few years ago. The cells are renewing themselves constantly. The food we eat transforms to new flesh and bone and viscera. Cells break down and are replaced. The matter of the cells is replaced with new matter. We are made of stardust but not the same stardust of which we were originally made. Impermanence and imperfection are necessary for life to proceed.
In her Substack, Changing the Channel,
shares that she would tell her therapist Courtney about her cultural struggles within the USA and that moving to Italy was really her dream. They talked about it for a time and then Courtney said, “Well, are you really going to do it or are you just going to talk about it?”Kirsten now lives in Italy.
After Mary Ann died, I thought about what I could possibly do to survive the empty void. Ideas emerged from nowhere, not even dreams yet, ideas that at first glance would be too daunting to realistically consider. I talked about those ideas, and pain driven bravado changed the talk into action. Each step in planning took me farther until two months in New Zealand and Australia, filled with adventures, became a reality.
I no longer have the pain driven bravado to push me through fears and apprehensions. The good news is that I have memories filled with terrors that have come and gone, leaving me with exhilarating experiences and discoveries beyond anything I could imagine when all this started in 2011. I am still afraid, the kind of fear that can be utterly disabling if I give it the power to do so. I can look back and see what has lain on the other side of fear in the past and I can feel the tug of unknown discoveries that lie on the other side of present fears. I choose to step into the future. I choose to keep going whether it is traveling, meeting someone new, learning something new, embracing new ideas.
I am now in Porto, Portugal. I didn’t have to do this, but here I am.
Terrific, Peter. I look forward to keeping up with you via your posts. You have the travel details nailed so that it's easy to see you dealing with issues that are inevitable, especially with international trips. You will find many compatriots on your journeys as we did in our RV through the U.S. Canada and Mexico which is now our home base. There are sub-cultures of travelers who, through shared experiences, become good friends. Happy trails, Peter!
Cheers to your new adventure