Alexandersmap

    Category: Travel

    • I Mourn for the Undiscovered

      Up early, reading some Robert Frost poetry I don’t remember reading before.  I’m mesmerized by a line and read on.  I get like this.

      Millions of songs on iTunes, and I’ve barely scratched the surface of what’s out there despite a lifetime focus on music.  I’ve spent huge chunks of my time exploring new music, Shazam’ing songs in loud bars and quiet coffee café and back in the day hanging out in used record stores in Harvard Square trying to find that one gem, that magical song.  And I’ve found many over the years.  Eclectic collection perhaps, but dammit, interesting.

      A bucket list of places to see, and slowly I chip away at it.  My list grows shorter, not because I don’t want to go to all the other places, but because I want to focus on the specific few.  Linger in special places, like listening to a song over and over until you really know it.  Instead of trying to chase everything in a spin of futility.  No, not that.  Give me Thoreau at Walden or Hemingway in Key West.  Or Frost in Derry.  I’ve visited each of these places and understand the power of immersion it had on them.

      I mourn for the undiscovered songs, poems, books and places.  The conversation you never had with a grandparent.  The sunrise you slept through, the lonely beach you didn’t stroll on in winter, the ridge line you didn’t cross, the Northern Lights that danced unseen, the big city that woke up without you, the swims in bracingly cold water and salt on the tongue that you’ll never taste; the places you’ll never be.

      We can’t be everywhere of course.  But I’ll do my best to be present in this moment at least.  Tomorrow will come and I hope to see it.  But don’t mourn for losing today if I should get there.

    • Boston’s Changing Seaport

      When you walk, or worse, drive through Boston’s Seaport area you see an explosive leap to the sky (capped by height restrictions from nearby Logan Airport). At the same time every inch of available real estate is being gobbled up in a feeding frenzy of leveraged transactions. All this construction encroaches on the roads, closing sidewalks and lanes, wiping out parking lots and small businesses. What grows is beautiful and modern, if challenging to navigate in the short term.

      The seaport used to be desolate 30 years ago. Cross over Fort Point Channel and…. not much. An active seaport to be sure, and fishing piers, a seldom-used Hynes Convention Center, a few restaurants but not much else. Talk of the Red Sox and Patriots opening a shared sports complex blew up in political opposition. But then the Federal Courthouse opened up, with prime water views. A larger Massachusetts Convention Center opened along with an outdoor concert venue popped up. Then Legal Seafoods opened a large restaurant and there was wind in the sails. And suddenly the floodgates opened up.

      Today the Seaport is madness, thriving and accelerating in growth. High end steakhouses, trendy beer gardens, hotels and mixed-use buildings everywhere. The only thing they neglected was open public space and the infrastructure to support the crush of people commuting in and out. Surely there’s a grand plan for that, but honestly it seems the city is just winging it on mass transit and the roads.

      I finish this post still in the Seaport, but now at Trillium Brewing Company. An IPA and a pause before driving home. Wait out the traffic and get out of dodge. But [please] don’t do it under the influence of an IPA. There’s plenty of business in the Seaport, but New Hampshire and home calls. But perhaps a 4-pack to bring home with me… call it a souvenir if you will.

    • Move to Live

      “To be human is to be on the move, pursuing something, after something. We are like existential sharks: we have to move to live.” James K. A. Smith

      Early start today, and my routine was subsequently turned upside down. Writing and exercise were postponed for commuting and work tasks. And so be it, here I am writing, and the exercise will happen this evening instead. We all need a little agility to effectively navigate life’s twists and turns.  If I look back on this summer, I’ll say I regret not swimming more, not hiking more, not taking more late night star gazing walks….  but also not meeting with more customers, not writing more, not reading more.  I do something, but I could do more.

      It all counts. Do more. Keep moving forward or we atrophy and die. Existential sharks… moving to live.  Write the book, start the business, ask for the date, take on the project, take the chance today on something bolder than you might have done yesterday.  Fortune favors the bold, after all.

      “Make mistakes of ambition and not mistakes of sloth.” – Machiavelli

      James Clear highlighted this Machiavelli quote in his weekly newsletter and it hit me like jumping into a cold lake early in the morning (something I’ve been known to do):  Boom!  You’ve got my attention!  I’ve made many mistakes of sloth over the years – we all have, but use Machiavelli’s advice and choose your mistakes wisely.

      “Some say risk nothing, try only for the sure thing,
      Others say nothing gambled nothing gained,
      Go all out for your dream.
      Life can be lived either way, but for me,
      I’d rather try and fail, than never try at all, you see.

      Some say “Don’t ever fall in love,
      Play the game of life wide open,
      Burn your candle at both ends.”
      But I say “No! It’s better to have loved and lost,
      Than never to have loved at all, my friend.”

      When many moons have gone by,
      And you are alone with your dreams of yesteryear,
      All your memories will bring you cheer.
      You’ll be satisfied, succeed or fail, win or lose,
      Knowing the right path you did choose.”

      – William F. O’Brien, “Better To Try And Fail Than Never To Try At All”

      Well, there it is; Go all out for your dream.  ’tis better to try and fail than never try at all.  Make the mistake of action instead of the mistake of sloth. Keep moving forward. Be an existential shark already.

    • Flight Delays and a Dose of 80’s Arena Rock

      Strobe lights probed the crack in the curtains, finding my eyes. Loud rumble of thunder found the ears shortly after. A glance at the clock confirms what I feared. 1:14 AM and under two hours until the alarm on my phone is set to go off. 2:54 and various atttempts at sleep, meditation and mental math have carried me to the inevitable and I was up before the alarm. I’d switched to a morning flight when the evening flight delays and cancellations started stacking up, grabbing a room at a Doubletree I’ve spent too many nights in over the years.

      Too early for the airport. I know this. But the alternative is to toss around in bed trying to squeeze an hour more sleep out of the night. Not me. So I shuttle over to the airport with a crew of Spirit Airlines talkers listening to which airports have quiet places to sleep when your flight plans get blown up. Finally in the airport, too early for TSA Pre-Check, but with only 12 people in front of me who cares? The guy in front of me, that’s who. We all handle sleep deprivation differently. In the morning, no matter the sleep pattern, I simply don’t care about slight affronts to my Pre-Check ego.

      Gliding my carry-on through the airport I try to avoid waking up the nappers trapped in the airport. If I had a restless sleep in my hotel they surely have more to say. I won’t be the one to wake them up. Looking out at the sheets of rain rolling down the glass punctuated by heat lightning I wonder if I should have just stayed at the hotel. Flight is still listed as on time, and all I have is optimism and a healthy dose of hope that this flight goes as planned.

      Talking heads on CNN analyze last night’s debate. My noise canceling headphones barely overcome the volume of the speakers blasting through the waiting areas. I count my blessings again for getting a hotel room. This trip on balance is still positive, but it’s also another vote for less business travel. Time is fleeting, and this is no way to spend it.

      “Be still my heart; thou hast known worse than this.” – Homer

      I revisit this Homer quote at times when optimism wanes. That hasn’t happened just yet but I have it at the ready. The other is “This too shall pass”. And it will, so I roll with the changes, like that REO Speedwagon song, which sounds like the perfect choice to drown out debate talk right about now. And just like that the pulse quickens just enough. It’s going to be a good day.

      And then before I know it we’re at 34,000 feet and things look brighter. Things do pass, given time and patience. I keep reminding myself of that, and the world keeps reinforcing it in return.

    • Early Morning on Navy Pier

      East Ohio Street leads right to Lake Michigan, as so many other roads in Chicago do. This road ends at a tunnel under North Shore Drive into Jane Addams Memorial Park and the Navy Pier beyond. As with most things, being out on the water a bit changes your perspective of the world, and on my last morning in Chicago I finally got out there.

      The city was shaking off some overnight rain, and fog was descending quickly as the sun rose. In that brief window I caught a glimpse of sunrise, appreciated the good fortune and took in the waking Navy Pier. Boats all docked, restaurants all closed, just the joggers, dog walkers, construction workers and me. And one tractor driving noisily by on its way out to the end of the pier. I grumbled to myself about the noise until I looked up and realized what he was doing. There’s a row of flags at the end of Navy Pier, and all were at half staff to commemorate the anniversary of 9/11. This gentleman was riding out to raise the flags. I caught up to him as he was completing the raising of the first, paused for a moment and moved on. There was a lot of “where were you” talk yesterday, and it was interesting to hear how people from around the country took in the events of that day.

      Making the turn and heading back to the hotel the fog began to swallow buildings. There’s beauty in fog too, and I took in Chicago from this perspective. Beautiful city and a joy to behold. Reflection time over, its time to move ahead with the day.

    • The Siren Call of More

      Energy. Vibrancy. Concrete, glass and steel. Traffic. Relentless traffic. Fit achievers marching to close the deal or set a new PR. Steakhouses and pizza and other temptations tip the scale. Look up and you see money reaching for the sky. Look down and you see the homeless trying to get a leg up or having given up. Urine stains on concrete sidewalks. Sewer system reminds you that there’s another world under that sidewalk.

      Taxis and buses and Uber this way and that. Roar of engines, wail of sirens, honking of horns. This world clamors for attention. Like many big American cities Chicago won’t wait for you. “Be better” it calls. “More!” It cries. As the old business cliche warns, “If you’re not moving forward you’re falling behind.” So get moving already. Play the game or get out of the way.

      It’s easy to get caught up in this crazy world of “more”. The siren beckons… But “less” has its own call.

    • A Wandering Tenant

      Waiting this morning for a flight to Chicago, and the last line of this poem comes to mind.

      THE SHIP

      I march across great waters like a queen,
      I whom so many wisdoms helped to make;
      Over the uncruddled billows of seas green
      I blanch the bubbled highway of my wake.
      By me my wandering tenants clasp the hands,
      And know the thoughts of men in other lands.

      – John Masefield, The Ship and Her Makers

      Granted, I’m boarding a JetBlue flight with technology not dreamed of in the time of John Masefield, things like iPhones playing music over Bluetooth to my wireless noise cancelling headphones, or the onboard video entertainment 18″ from my face that I try to keep on the tracking map to focus on productivity. Perhaps the vessel has changed over the years, but the adventure of travel hasn’t. Instead of blanching a bubbled highway a pair of contrails mark our previous moments. I surf an aluminum tube skimming 35,000 feet above sea level at 480 miles per hour

      This is a business trip, but as with any trip I try to make the most of the time away from the more familiar. I’ve been to Chicago many times, and look forward to reacquainting myself with people from around the continent attending the same event. And of course a chance to meet new acquaintances as well. Travel offers the opportunity to explore the world one conversation at a time.

    • Snatching Necklaces From the Sea

      “The wind freshened, and the Spray rounded Deer Island light at the rate of seven knots.
      Passing it, she squared away direct for Gloucester to procure there some fisherman’s stores. Waves dancing joyously across Massachusetts Bay met her coming out of the harbor to dash them into myriads of sparkling gems that hung about her at every surge. The day was perfect, the sunlight clear and strong. Every particle of water thrown into the air became a gem, and the Spray, bounding ahead, snatched necklace after necklace from the sea, and as often threw them away. We have all seen miniature rainbows about a ship’s prow, but the Spray flung out a bow of her own that day, such as I had never seen before. Her good angel had embarked on the voyage; I so read it in the sea.” – Josh Slocum, Sailing Alone Around the World

      I’ve read that passage a few times over the years since first reading this book, and did so again last night.  There’s magic in setting out on a new adventure, and I feel this paragraph captures that exhilaration.  These are the highlighter moments in the novel of life; the first ride without the training wheels when you have balance and velocity with you and you feel like you’re flying, boarding a plane for a flight overseas to a place you’ve always dreamed of going, or simply the first feeling out steps on a long hike when you realize everything is good to go.  Preparedness meets possibility, and the world is in front of you welcoming you to explore your potential.  Ready?  Go!

      Of course, not every moment is a highlight moment, but there should be something in every day that makes you feel alive.  Every dawn is full of possibility, if we’ll only get out and greet the day.  Over the weekend I re-acquainted myself with my sister’s dog Parker. She’s a yellow lab with a highly expressive face and eyes that tell you everything you need to know.  Reading about Slocum’s boat Spray, I thought of Parker’s expression as she realized she was going for a swim in the bay.  Sheer delight, and a sprint to the water.  May we all have more of that in our time here.

      What shall we make of this day?

    • Three Legs of the Triangle

      Beginning Tuesday morning through last night I drove from Southern New Hampshire to Rocky Hill, Connecticut, up to Danbury, over to Dover Plains, New York, up to Albany, up to Burlington, Vermont and back down to Southern New Hampshire.  That’s a roughly 700 mile perimeter triangle on a map that is bigger in area that some of the states I drove through.  I’ve found that the people are mostly the same no matter where I go, but there are some differences in the three legs of that triangle.  The drive from Southern NH through Massachusetts and Connecticut is one world. The other two legs from Dover Plains to Burlington and back offer a very different world.

      I was at a bar in Danbury talking to a guy who was waiting out the traffic with dinner and a couple of drinks before he got back in his car to crawl home.  I know a guy in Massachusetts who does the same thing.  The traffic in both places will murder you 1/10th of a mile at a time.  There’s a helplessness that comes with relentless traffic that can eat you alive. That guy in Danbury was shell-shocked by a combination of forces working against him.

      Sprawling development has changed Danbury from the place I knew 25 years ago.  Perhaps nothing disgusted me more than seeing condos perched on the top of a hill, offering lovely views for the people who lived there but ruining the view for everyone that had to look at what they did to that hill.  Wedging more homes into open space means more and more people jamming onto those roads.  But the people are great, if worn down by the grind of traffic, urban sprawl, and Connecticut’s bureaucracy. There’s seemingly a sign everywhere telling you what you can and can’t do (Take my sunglasses off when I drive into a tunnel? Who knew?).

      New York is two states, metro New York and everywhere else. Dover Plains is not Metro NY, and neither is anyplace else along the stretch from there to the Canadian border, save for some Capital District commuter misery. North of Saratoga you can breath again. And other than the ferry drama mentioned in yesterday’s post those two longer legs were uneventful bliss. No condos carved into hilltops, no commuters on the verge of boiling over. Bliss.

      If you’ve ever stood by the side of a road you know how unnatural it is. It’s a horrific blur of noise, fumes and speed, all meant to rapidly transport goods and people from one place to another as quickly as possible. It’s inherently inefficient, destroys vast swaths of land, disrupts communities and ultimately destroys itself and chunks of the planet. The flip side of that story is that the world becomes smaller. I love the highway system when I’m zipping around 2/3 of that triangle, and hate it when I’m crawling along on the other 1/3. It’s a complicated debate, but I hope we get it right in the end. Let’s not let the 1/3 leg become the norm

    • “Ferry” Tales

      Waze. A blessing and a curse. Better than GPS no doubt. But sometimes it gets it really, really wrong. Yesterday was one of those wrong times.

      After bouncing between meetings from Danbury to Albany I set Waze for my next destination; Burlington, Vermont. I’ve done this drive in reverse a few times, so no big deal, right? But Waze conditions you to drive in autopilot, and I was well into my drive when I double-checked the route it was sending me. Bad news: It had me taking the ferry. Worse news: That ferry stopped running for the night an hour before. I could either try to make the last Port Kent ferry or go all the way around the lake. Damn.

      Cursing myself did no good. Cursing Waze did less. Instead I did a re-set of both Waze and my own brain. It was raining hydroplane hard if I were to push the speed. Instead I checked the time, realized I’d get there with plenty of time to spare and drove to the tiny ferry terminal in Keeseville, New York. When I arrived the booth attendant ignored me for whatever was on television, not jumping to attention until I pulled behind the only other car in line. Grabbing my tiny umbrella I walked back to the booth and paid my $30 for the ride across. It was worth three times that for me as the buckets of rain made short work of the umbrella and soaked my dress shirt sleeves and my favorite off-roading leather sole shoes.

      30 minutes later we were boarding the ferry for the ride across Lake Champlain. I knew the view we were missing in the rain and fog, and described it to a retired couple from Wisconsin taking the long, scenic (usually) route to Cape Cod. I described the strategic importance of Lake Champlain and the story of when Benedict Arnold was a hero before it all went wrong for him. The blank, polite stares told me to swing the conversation back to their trip. They were traveling the old school way, with a road atlas and no smart phone or GPS. I recalled days when I’d have plotted my own trip, noted bridges and little things like ferry schedules. I told them they might just be on to something.

      The crew joined in on the conversation. This was the last run of the night and all the chores were done. As we cruised into Burlington I looked over the shoulder of the couple from Wisconsin and pointed out the sun setting as the clouds lifted just in time. We were just slipping into port with the lighthouse to Starboard. The trip was full of twists and turns, but it all aligned for this moment. Three passengers and as many crew, sharing it before we all hustled to our respective positions. Things have a way of working out if you just trust… but verify.