Alexandersmap

    Category: Travel

    • Return to Normal

      I know they’re up there, just not as many. I’m sure the flight paths from Europe to America or Boston to Chicago are still traveled by some planes, but they aren’t flying over my home anymore. Chances are they aren’t over your home either. Like many businesses the airlines have furloughed thousands of employees and planes around the globe are getting an extended break from the constant flights that make up their existence. The highways and roads of the world are getting a similar respite from the constant flow of vehicles. Factories are shuttered while the curve flattens. And the planet gasps the cleaner air. The people in India see the Himalayas for the first time in a generation. People in Los Angeles see blue sky. Even here in relatively rural New Hampshire the stars seem clearer.

      No, the sky isn’t empty at all. It’s as full as it ever was, we’ve just finally cleaned the windows enough to see outside. The universe pirouettes above and around us, and collectively we finally see it. Perhaps we’ll remember it when things return to abnormal. For isn’t this far closer to the planet’s normal state than the constant buzz of machinery spewing emissions into the air? Billions of years of normal versus a century or two of abnormal. We just don’t see the forest for the trees.

      Too many act like temporary renters of the space we occupy. Having experienced the attitudes of renters versus homeowners, I know not all renters feel enough of a sense of ownership over where they reside to treat the place well. There are plenty of people roaming the planet with a renter’s mentality. Use it up, discard, get another one. But there are too many of us for that to go on indefinitely. There’s nothing good about COVID-19 for humanity, but the planet might feebly raise a hand to express gratitude. We’re too deep in it to know the long-term impact, but maybe we needed the pandemic to shake us all awake from the drunken stupor we’ve been in. The planet gets a much-needed breather while humans focus on something besides themselves for a bit. The return to abnormal will come, will it be enough of a jolt to reset our worldview? It seems to me that Earth could use more homeowners and fewer renters. What will the new normal be?

    • A Trip Back to the Old City

      I visited the Old City in Jerusalem four years ago. Today is Easter, and I reflect back on my time in the holiest site in Christianity somewhat humbled by the opportunity I had then. I’m not the most religious man you’ll ever meet, but I’m highly spiritual and know a place of significance when I see it. The Old City is the most significant place in Western Civilization.  Divided into quarters that betray the historical importance: The Muslim, Christian, Armenian and Jewish Quarters.  

      I walked the Old City with a guide who brought me into places I would never have seen otherwise, and of course a couple of jewelry stores for his cousins to hard sell me. I felt perfectly safe while there, and found people respectful of each other no matter their beliefs. Based on my experience, be prepared for guides and merchants to sell you hard on their services and wares. It’s all part of being a tourist, and that’s what I was that day. I never saw them disrupting pilgrims, so they know their audience and no matter how much I thought I was fitting in I stood out as the American tourist I was.

      Today Jerusalem is under the same quarantine that the rest of the world is under. Residents are not allowed to move more than 100 meters from their homes except to get food and essential items. Businesses like those jewelry stores are shuttered and the Old City must feel surreally still at a time – Passover and Easter – when it’s normally packed with pilgrims and tourists. Since the world can’t be there this weekend, I’m sharing some pictures from my visit in 2016. May the Old City, and the world, return to better times soon.  

      The Church of the Holy Sepulcher
      Ancient stairs with ramps for carts
      Who paved these ancient market streets? How many have walked upon them in that time?

      Tower of David
      The Western Wall

      Damascus Gate

    • Horses and Butterflies and Viruses

      “For years and years I struggled
      just to love my life. And then

      the butterfly
      rose, weightless, in the wind.
      “Don’t love your life
      too much,” it said,

      and vanished
      into the world.”
      – Mary Oliver, One or Two Things

      I woke up restless. It builds rather than dissipates as I go through my morning ritual of hydration and caffeine and reading. I recognize it immediately. The writing will be more difficult today, I thought, and surely it has been. I struggle at times with structure: chafing at rigidity and schedules and routine. But I chase these things anyway, thinking a proper to-do list brings order to life. My morning routine saves me more than it imposes on me, and today will be no different.

      Yesterday I walked four miles at lunchtime to shake off the feeling. In the last mile of the walk I saw the horses by the fence and eagerly anticipated saying hello to them when I reached the bottom of the hill. As I was thinking this another walker came into my vision, marched purposefully to the fence with his camera phone rising above his head and spooked the horses away. Resentment at this intrusion boiled in me until I realized it would have been reversed had I been in his shoes and he mine. The horses didn’t care which of us intruded first, only that they wanted no intruders. They stood at the edge of the fence because they’d found their end point of freedom. Yet rebelliously snuck their heads through the slats for a nibble of grass on the other side. I finished my walk with mixed feelings.

      Like most of the world I need to fly away from the cage; to weightlessly catch the wind and let it carry me away. To vanish into the world and return again someday, maybe. Such is life in the cage, it seizes the restlessness inside you and amplifies it. Serving the greater good staying in place offers mixed feelings as well. The virus doesn’t care who it intrudes upon, only that it has room to grow, and careless or prudent hosts alike offer that given the opportunity. The virus is restless too. Who’s patience will run out first?

    • Rest In Peace, Happy Enchilada

      And then COVID-19 took John Prine…  I wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to him.  Surely losing Bill Withers to heart disease last week was tough enough, but now another voice from my private stock is gone too soon.  I share the Withers tunes with the world, and the world embraces them.  But honestly most of John Prine’s songs I listened to on my own.  It’s not that he didn’t speak for most of us in his charmingly self-effacing, folksy way, it’s that you don’t roll out Prine songs at parties.  It’s thinking music, sung in a gravely voice that warmed the soul.  His most famous song was Angel of Montgomery, which Bonnie Raitt covered and made it a hit.  Enough people know that one that I’ll leave it to fly on its own.  Here are a few of my favorites.

      All The Best
      “I wish you love – and happiness
      I guess I wish – you all the best
      I wish you don’t – do like I do
      And never fall in love with someone like you
      Cause if you fell – just like I did
      You’d probably walk around the block like a little kid
      But kids don’t know – they can only guess
      How hard it is – to wish you happiness”

      All the best John, you’ll be missed…

      Glory of True Love
      “No, the glory of true love
      Is it will last your whole life through
      Never will go out of fashion
      Always will look good on you”

      Jesus the Missing Years
      The video on this one isn’t great, but John Prine is, and that makes this version worth listening to.

      That’s The Way That The World Goes Round
      “That’s the way that the world goes ’round.
      You’re up one day and the next you’re down.
      It’s half an inch of water and you think you’re gonna drown.
      That’s the way that the world goes ’round.”

      I love the live version of this John sings where he talks about the woman who confused the lyrics “inch of water” as “happy enchilada” , but this version with Stephen Colbert is new to me and put a smile on my face when I watched it.  We all need to smile more nowadays, don’t we?  Rest in peace, Happy Enchilada.

       

    • No Regrets

      “One regret, dear world,
      That I am determined not to have
      When I am lying on my deathbed
      Is that
      I did not kiss you enough.”
      – Hafiz, I Am Determined

      I read this Hafiz poem two ways. On the one hand is traditional love between two people and the lovely sentiment of wishing we’d had more time, love and kisses together. Invest in those you love now for its all impossibly brief. Time is relentlessly pulling us away from one another. What will you wish you’d done or said with your loved ones? There’s only today…

      Another way to read this poem is through the eyes of a traveler. Wanderlust draws me to faraway places. Will the world return to a state of relative normalcy that allows free travel? Will our lives as built offer future opportunities to explore the world? Will I lose the vigor necessary for the travel I seek before I’ve seen the world and all it offers? Time – again – is relentlessly pulling us away from one another. What will you wish you’d done or seen? Perhaps we don’t have today for travel but use this pandemic as a reminder that you may not get another chance and seize the opportunities that come your way.

      If we’re lucky we are sharing this time with our loved ones, if we invest it in them in between Zoom webinars and Microsoft Teams collaborations. Why waste this unique shared experience worrying about places you aren’t seeing in the world? Every day together is a gift, even when we’re all bursting to get outside again. Someday, maybe, we’ll be marveling at these days and how we got through it despite everything. Let us be in some faraway place together, laughing at the wonder of it all, and perhaps steal a kiss. Or maybe two?

    • Ulsce Beatha: Water of Life

      It’s a cold and rainy Friday morning in New England, and my thoughts turn to Scotland.  I spent a similarly wet day trying to be outdoors on Isle of Skye last November.  The goal all along in Scotland was for a generous mix of outdoor activities.  Plan B was to visit distilleries when Mother Nature turned her back on us.  And so it was that when the sky was full of cold water in Skye we went to Talisker.  We capped the trip with a very intentional visit to Speyside and the Glenfiddich and Balvenie Distilleries. We didn’t go to Scotland to drink our way around, but we made a point of visiting distilleries in each region we found ourselves in.  If castles and battle sites teach you the history of the place, distilleries teach you the entrepreneurial spirit and patience of the Scots.

      Two things you realize quickly when you’re on distillery tours is that you never have enough time to see all of them and it’s best to have a designated driver if you want to immerse yourselves in the process.  Alas, I was the designated driver and time wasn’t on our side to see everything.  But we managed three hours at Balvenie for a magical tour that I highly recommend.  Off-peak tours are especially enlightening as you have a little more elbow room and an opportunity to dwell in special places.

      The Gaelic Ulsce Beatha, pronounced “ish-ka ba-ha”, translates to “water of life”.  Similar to the Latin Aqua Vitae.  Whisky distilling began in Ireland, made its way to Scotland via Islay, where it was transformed into something else entirely.  There are plenty of differences between Irish Whisky and Scotch Whisky, but the primary difference is in the distillation process.  The Irish triple distill, the Scots double distill.  Mix in the raw ingredients and the essence of the land and you’ve got two very different spirits.  There’s magic in each of the spirits, should you choose to linger with them.  Lingering is the key, these aren’t meant to be slammed down like you’re on spring break in Cancun.  Honor the spirit or don’t dance with it.

      Tonight, on this rainy and raw day, I’ll dance a bit with the spirits.  Just enough to honor them without offending them.  A taste of the essence of Scotland, which draws my attention still.  Humanity is taking a bit of a hit at the moment and we’re all living with plan B, but there’s hope for brighter days should we get this right.  I’ll have a virtual toast this evening to your continued good health.  Slainte Mheh!

    • These Streets

      I’m thinking back fondly on some of the streets I’ve walked along when being in close proximity to thousands of people seemed desirable. Someday we’ll walk amongst others again without unconsciously holding our breath or measuring out six feet of space in our heads. Here are six I look forward to visiting again someday should the travel gods smile favorably upon me:

      La Rambla in Barcelona
      If you want to see Gaudi, walk down the bustling Passeig de Gràcia or take a ride over to see La Sagrada Familia.  But if you want to avoid the roar of traffic and absorb the energy of Barcelona, walk down La Rambla, stop for tapas at one of the many restaurants and stroll off the calories on this pedestrian way.  I walked La Rambla in January with a light coat on and it was still fully alive.  I would love to visit in other seasons to see how it transforms when it’s really full.

      Duval Street in Key West
      Slip on your flip flops and stroll the full length of Duval Street during the day and try the same journey at night.  It’s jammed full of people determined to have a great time, and that’s easy to find on this street.  Start your morning at the Southernmost Point and cap the daylight hours at Mallory Square, just off Duval Street.  If you’re lucky maybe you’ll see a green flash.  When the sun sets return to Duval Street for some evening fun.  Like many people I found my way into Sloppy Joe’s a few times for live music with something to wash it down with.

      Broadway in Nashville
      Wander around the honky-tonks on the lower part of Broadway and you’ll fall in love with the energy of this city.  I was just there a few weeks ago, just as the world was flipping around into the new reality.  Timing is everything I guess.  A perfect time to visit would be during a normal SEC tournament or in the fall when the Tennessee Titans are playing just across the river.  Walk back after the game and soak up the live music poring out of every bar.  Walk up to a rooftop bar for a view of the city.  If you love live music this is the street for you.  Just make sure you’re over 21 to get into the honky-tonks.

      The Royal Mile in Edinburgh
      The Royal Mile is a walk in the footsteps of history.  Sure, that’s cliche, but it fits well on this street, or rather, these streets.  The Royal Mile is made up of High Street, Lawnmarket and finally Castlehill as you approach it’s namesake.  Edinburgh Castle commands the city as it has for centuries.  But a walk to the bottom of The Royal Mile has it’s own rewards with a visit to The Palace Of Holyroodhouse (open when the Queen isn’t in residence).  In between is plenty of touristy shopping, some very enjoyable side trips down the many Closes, each with their own personality.  Want to burn more of that haggis off?  Extend your walk with a hike to the summit of Arthur’s Seat and the 360 degree view of forever.  If you’re lucky you’ll catch a rainbow but avoid the source.

      Boylston Street in Boston
      There are plenty of famous streets in Boston, with Beacon Street, Lansdowne Street, Commonwealth Avenue and Newbury Street each offering something unique.  But Boylston Street has a special place in my heart one day every year, and that’s Patriot’s Day.  That’s the day when the Boston Marathon finishes on Boylston Street and Red Sox fans pour onto the street after the early game and Boylston Street comes alive with an incredible vibrancy that you look forward to all year.  This year won’t be the same with the pandemic postponing both the marathon and the start of the baseball season, but hopefully a year from now we’re talking about Patriot’s Day in Boston once again.

      George Street in St John’s, Newfoundland
      The shortest street on this list, George Street in St John’s is jammed full of bars.  This is a sailor’s town if I ever met one, and it’s highly likely most sailors have made their way onto George Street when they spend any time at all here.  I fell in love with St John’s during my one visit, and I still can’t believe I haven’t been back again since then.  Someday, maybe.  Just like all the rest of the streets on this list.

      The Royal Mile, Edinburgh

    • Crazy for Lovin’ You

      In August of 1961, a couple of months after being thrown through a windshield after a car accident with her brother, Patsy Cline recorded a song that would become the most played song on juke boxes around the country for years to come.  And that’s where I fell in love with this song years ago, 25 years after it was recorded, hearing it over and over on a juke box in The Old Worthen in Lowell, Massachusetts.  With senses refined by pitchers of cheap beer, the pack of us would conspire to plug quarters into the juke box to play “My Way” and “Mercedes Benz” and “Tainted Love” and especially this Patsy Cline hit, the sultry and mournful “Crazy“.  This song has been playing on constant rotation in my brain ever since.

      In Nashville a couple of weeks ago, (which seems like a million years ago now) my daughter and I made our way upstairs from the Johnny Cash Museum to the Patsy Cline Museum for a visit with the timeless Patsy Cline.  We’re coming up on 59 years since she recorded this Willy Nelson song in Nashville, scarred and still on crutches from her car accident.  The magic in this song comes from Owen Bradley’s arrangement, bringing in a mix of musicians who gave it that special sound and propel the careers of many of those involved with the recording.  A-Team session players were brought in to bring the song it’s richness and soul.  Floyd Cramer’s “lonesome cowboy” piano style dominates, with Bob Moore’s acoustic bass driving the song.  Harold Bradley’s six-string guitar punches through and the rich harmonies of the Jordanaires lay the foundation for Patsy Cline to soar over the sonic landscape.   The song was recorded on 3-track, rare at the time, with Patsy nailing down her vocals after the rest of the musicians completed their work.

      As you work your way around the Patsy Cline Museum, you can hear Crazy playing on repeat from a juke box, which seems about right to me given my own beginnings with this classic.  Behind the song was a very driven, very talented young lady who would push aside her injuries from that car accident and create many of the songs that were staples of her catalog.  She would die way too young in a plane crash on March 3, 1963, less than two years after recording Crazy, at the age of 30.  People talk about the day the music died being when Buddy Holly died in a plane crash in 1959, the crash that killed Patsy Cline was just as devastating for Nashville.  Her music lives on, timeless in many ways.  Personally, I can’t hear Crazy and not think about it playing on a juke box in an old bar many years ago.  I suppose that’s just how it’s supposed to feel.

       

      Juke box at the Patsy Cline Museum. Guess which song was playing?

      Set list at the Patsy Cline Museum

    • Je Suis Vivant

      I thought I was doing pretty well learning French until the four people in the row ahead of me on a flight back when the world was almost normal started speaking rapid-fire French to each other and I realized I have a long way to go. It was like putting a student driver in the Grand Prix. And that’s okay; it’s a journey not a test. Those four people couldn’t speak much English but it didn’t stop them from traveling to a country where relatively few would throw them a bone and know and speak French (welcome to America!). I saw myself in those four, back when I was stumbling through Portuguese while driving across the country and falling in love with the adventure of it all. You don’t need to speak to communicate, you just need to find common ground.

      “Add up the sum of our days and that’s who we are. We get what we repeat.” – Seth Godin

      The world is in a collective, forced re-evaluation of what matters. I was suffering from bottled-up wanderlust before COVID-19, and I was traveling a lot the last six months prior… but it seems still not enough. Now that I’m camped out at home I’m finding myself less concerned about FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) and just living. Learning a bit of French every day, sticking with the habits that build up a life, whether you’re traveling or sitting at home. Eventually I’ll get to put my limited French vocabulary to the test in Quebec or Paris, but for now I’ll keep on plugging away at it.

      Travel is often the highlighted passages in our life journal and an opportunity to broaden our awareness of the world and our place in it. It’s a vehicle for growth, teaching you humility gently… and sometimes abruptly. It’s living with a purpose many don’t find in their day-to-day existence. Travel heightens observation and slows down time in that particular moment. That makes it a drug of sorts, making us feel more alive. The pauses in between travel, or between growth in general, offer us an opportunity to contribute, to give something back to the universe.

      I’ve got this restlessness bursting inside of me most of the time, but strangely now doesn’t seem to be one of those times. I recognize the need for a collective pause given the circumstances. Instead of sipping a cocktail while watching surfers in the setting sun in Sagres I’m watching the deer, camouflaged and stealthy, walk single file through the woods beyond the old stone wall that pre-dates the deer and the observer alike. I listen to the sound of water heating in the kettle for a second cup of caffeine. I feel the coolness on the tile floor on my bare feet. It seems the senses are still alive and well, observing the world and all that’s in it. Eventually we’ll be let free to wander once again. Being fully alive until then seems the least we could do. Je suis vivant, et toi?

    • Dancing With Perhaps

      “I have a lot of edges called Perhaps and almost nothing you can call Certainty.” – Mary Oliver, Angels

      I’m a big believer in Perhaps, though I know Certainty has its place in this world. Certainty dances in the world of STEM. I’m grateful for Certainty and those who pursue it, but I like where Perhaps dances. Those who know me know that I use the word often, and likely too much. So be it, I find Certainty less… fascinating. So it was a delight to read Mary Oliver’s poem and read that line. Why did it take me so long to get around to it, I wonder? Dabbling too much in the world of Certainty I suppose.

      You want Certainty? Certainty is a kettle whistling when the water boils enough that steam trapped inside screams to get out, now! How many mornings have I been quietly lost in thought, reading or writing when that kettle calls for my immediate attention? Countless. And I appreciate Certainty knocking on my forehead now and then, prodding me back to reality. I don’t especially like to linger in Certainty but I find it comforting to visit once in awhile.

      Mary’s famous line from “Angels” is this:

      “I don’t care how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. It’s enough to know that for some people they exist, and that they dance.” – Mary Oliver, Angels

      I don’t think all that much of angels dancing on pins either, but do I think of ghosts whispering history when I arrive at places of significance and listen raptly as the oaks welcome me back to their woods. Places speak, if you’ll listen and observe. There is no better practitioner of observation than the poet. Sure, scientists do pretty well too, but I’d contend that they’re secretly poets with a formal education. But what of religion? Isn’t that Certain? Believers might tell you there’s Certainty in the Bible. I’d contend that there’s far more Perhaps in the Bible than Certainty. Zealots arrive at Certainty about their religious views or their political views or their social views and work to impose Certainty on others. We get in trouble when too many people arrive at a Certainty that conflicts with the other guy’s Certainty. Leave room for Perhaps.

      So we’ve entered a strange new world, stranger than the world we’ve been living in for some time now (and that was pretty strange indeed). It seems a good time to look inward, to turn off the panic news and read the works of those who came before us. The poets and Stoics and Transcendentalists and philosophers. They dealt with far more uncertainty and death than we have (they’re all dead after all). Shouldn’t we learn more from them?

      Whatever you believe, leave a little room for Perhaps. That’s where you’ll find me most of the time. Come visit now and then if you like. I’d certainly like that.