Tales From The Trips

Everyone’s life is a journey. My journey included travel to places near and far. Who traveled with me, where and why I traveled, when I traveled, and what I saw and did while traveling summarize this book. I learned about my life and others from each trip. Each trip inspired me to seek out new places to explore, much like how my father inspired me to travel for the first time. I wrote this book to inspire others capable of traveling to see what I have seen and experience what I have felt. For those armchair travelers more inclined to live vicariously through others, I hope this book entertains and informs n sixty-one days, I cycled over four hundred miles, spent twenty-six hours on trains and about four hours on boats, touring seven western European countries. Countless conversations with friends and acquaintances were intellectually stimulating and fun. It was like a college semester abroad, without the credits. I learned about art, foreign cultures, architecture, and geography, but more importantly, life. I grew from an immature frat boy into a man with global sensibilities. Snapped spokes and a bent tire rim foreshadowed a broken spirit and altered course that awaited me four years later. After visiting Costa Rica, I understood why a young soldier would give up his life for this country. It is a nation of underdogs symbolized by the Special Olympics floor hockey team who battled in Boise; the persecuted and prosecuted immigrants that settled its shores; and the Britt Coffee Company employees who helped poor villagers rebuild after a severe earthquake. A culture that embraced peace not police, environment not envy, and education not eradication. Sustained by nature’s bounty and beauty, Costa Rica’s “pura vida” (for life) mantra mended hearts and souls broken by war and death. The Mayan Sun god smiled on us Oregon “web feet” and treated us to an unforgettable tropical adventure. Free to laugh at joking Lutherans who ate Powder Milk biscuits, we paddled through waters of flying fish. We answered the eternal question, Does Your Chewing Gum Lose Its Flavor? Yes, only if you put it on a bedpost, rather than a Sapodilla Tree. Peace was upon us as we toured great civilizations and floated through a Magical Mystery Tour, more vivid than any acid trip. We imagined what a high stakes ball game might look like twenty-five hundred years ago and learned how greed and ignorance destroyed ancient relics. We danced rather than feared the Apocalypso to come, and discovered a new recipe for bouillabaisse - rum, tequila, pulque, armadillo, and iguana. The sacred grottoes recharged my spiritual batteries, and connected me to holy places experienced in Italy and yet to be experienced in the Holy Lands. This trip proved that the length and quality of our marriage did not depend upon how much we spent on our honeymoon. In May 1975, Carol and I could not afford a fancy honeymoon, so we drove to Florida from northern Virginia. We stayed in a Travelodge hotel in Fort Lauderdale, and endured the humidity and tacky tourist traps in St. Augustine and Tampa. Thirty-five years later, St. Thomas and St. John, US Virgin Islands exceeded our romantic expectations. Like the Hawaiian Islands, they relaxed, rejuvenated, and renewed our love for each other and for nature. Overall, we found Cruzans, (St.Croix residents) especially our hosts, to be welcoming with good senses of humor. Although renting a car was a hassle, once we did, we learned how polite drivers were. Instead of honking their horns in anger or frustration, they used a short beep to say “hi” and a longer one to say “thank you” , if you drove courteously. Every Friday night in Christensted, locals, tourists, food vendors, and merchants filled downtown streets and sidewalks for Jump Night. Live steel drum music filled the air, as Mocko Jumbies (costumed stilt-walkers) shook hands with bystanders for dollar bills. Although I enjoyed most of my first cruising experience, I doubt I would vacation again on such a large boat. With twenty-five hundred passengers, it was difficult to avoid crowds. Also, events, like the art auction, ran out of free alcohol due to the large turnout. Unloading at our two ports-of-call (Halifax,Nova Scotia and St. John, New Brunswick), I felt like part of an invading army. The food and entertainment on board were great, but Carol’s sea sickness ruined part of the experience. Just like two months in Europe changed me from a boy to a man, my seven years in Alaska turned that man into a father. I learned more about love from my children during family outings. Alaska’s beautiful land and bountiful fish and wildlife, deepened my connection to nature, and respect for the environment. Visits from family and sharing travel memories, awakened brotherly and parental love. Carried in by the Navajo winds, we departed from an airport that appeared inspired by snowy mountains and Native American tepees. Our visit was like experiencing a cowboy and Indian inspired Cirque de Soleil show, whose performers climbed and rode through dazzling western sets. Mountains of sand and rock lifted our spirits. Our souls ascended into the sky on kiva ladders. Our hearts, cooled by rain, made fishing and driving challenging, but wildlife and high tea warmed us with family love. Bonding with my son during our New Mexico road trip, brought us closer together, and opened up doors of communication and understanding. As colleagues,we shared emotional feelings and talked about common interests like writing, photography and the creative arts. The trip made me proud of my son, who was now a young man, and my daughter who was now a new mom. I left them hoping that Sampson, my grandchild, would continue that legacy. A coyote greeted me the next morning outside my son’s apartment, but he refused my invitation to breakfast. Christopher and I ate at the Ocean Beach pier and watched surfers and fishermen enjoying the ocean. I left Christopher’s car behind, after sharing with him the details of my road trip. As I boarded my flight back to Portland, Oregon, I suggested he hand wash his car the next time it got dirty. It was appropriate that Carol and I came to Philadelphia to see our son perform in a play about history. Philadelphia was where we met, fell in love, and grew emotionally and intellectually. Like going to a wedding, the trip had something old (history), something new (Constitution Museum), something borrowed (waterfront recreation) and something blue (the death of a Penn classmate). Shakespeare’s themes of love and marriage, appearance and reality, comedy and tragedy, proved prophetic. Rachel left Albany to get married in Denver in August 2008. Eliot Spitzer left Albany to atone for infidelity in Manhattan. An Irish pub was not the best place to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. Christ’s triumphant appearance on Palm Sunday, was overshadowed by the tragedy of his passion and crucifixion. Comedy prevailed through Irish songs and a fun parade and play.