Alexandersmap

    Tag: Travel

    • Seeing It

      “The world is full of wonderful things you haven’t seen yet. Don’t ever give up on the chance of seeing them.” ― J.K. Rowling

      Here on the home front, the acorns and crickets signal the last days of summer are closing in on us. And once again, we seem to have an abundance of each. Whether we like it or not, the clock is ticking on summer days, and that old back to school feeling is all around us (along with Halloween candy displays—why?!). The Final Countdown is playing in my head, and to be honest, I’ve never liked that song. Someone make it stop!

      When I take stock of what I’ve done this year thus far, I have no right to complain about not traveling more. But end of summer always makes me think about the places I haven’t reached just yet. Once a vagabond, always a vagabond. At least in spirit. We may be grateful for the places we’ve reached in our life while still aspiring for more. A mindset of kaizen (constant, never-ending improvement) includes never being truly satisfied. But there’s still time for a little more exploration and discovery.

      This blog began as a vehicle to write about what I saw in an active regional travel routine. Through deliberate lifestyle design, I’ve gone from 80% travel to 0% in my work. Work travel may satisfy the mind’s desire to see something new each day, but let’s face it, most Hilton hotel rooms are about the same. Travel is not the accumulation of points or the “free” bottles of water, it’s the revelatory experience of stumbling upon wonderful and taking the time to learn something about it.

      The thing is, we can discover wonder anywhere, in any season. We just have to be open and curious and willing to experience what is right in front of us. I can wonder at the explosive production of cucumbers growing in pots on the patio just as easily as I can about some roadside historical sign. Why did it take me so many years to give that a try? Just as the garden is where you grow it, gratitude is where you nurture it.

      This was a season when being home was more essential than ever. The end of life journey of my father, a brief summer reunion with old friends, and the time with our children as they each making significant pivots in their own lives, is time I would never have had if I’d been off checking bucket list destinations off the list. There is a season for everything in life. When we are forever looking for the next, we miss so much of the now. Being here, now, and seeing what is right in front of us all along is the true journey of discovery. Do we see it?

    • To Go to Rome

      You hear a lot about Rome from those who have been there. Nearly all agree it’s a crowded place, too full of tourists and the aggressive hawkers and pickpockets who prey on them. Rome is complicated: like all cities it’s got its share of beautiful and ugliness all right there waiting for you. The layers of history are undeniably present all around, impressing on you that you are simply just one more soul passing through this place.

      And yet we pass through. Rome would be nothing but ruins were it not for the masses of people who live here and visit in such startlingly large numbers. To visit is to feel a part of the hive of humanity. Personal space is ridiculously impossible to find when you seek out the places everyone must go to. Yet we still go, feeling the call, or perhaps simply a fear of missing out.

      If Vienna waits for you, so too does Paris and Istanbul and Amsterdam and Barcelona and yes, Rome. The great cities of Europe aren’t simply waiting for us to grace them with our presence. They’re doing just fine without us, and yet they welcome us when we finally do arrive. I know that every picture or observation I make about Rome has likely already been taken or made, to be repeated again by the soul to follow me. Yet I feel compelled to share them anyway, for having been there.

      To go to Rome is to see what all the fuss is about, and to perpetuate that fuss for those who will follow one day themselves. Rome may not be the center of the universe as it once aspired to be, but it remains an integral part of our imagination. Having been, I want to believe I’ll return again one day. That, I think, is when you know a place has you in its grip. And surely, it has me.

      The Pantheon and lots of company
      Build it and they will come

    • Becoming That Which One Essentially Is

      “Nobody can enjoy the experience he desires until he is ready for it. People seldom mean what they say. Anyone who says he is burning to do something other than he is doing or to be somewhere else than he is is lying to himself. To desire is not merely to wish. To desire is to become that which one essentially is.” — Henry Miller, The Colossus of Maroussi

      I was talking to my bride about an upcoming trip friends are taking to a place I’ve wanted to go. We’re going to a few remarkable places ourselves this year and we can’t do everything, right?Sure: we can’t do everything… I can’t argue that I often say I want to go to many places, but there are precious few that haunt me in my dreams.

      To desire to see the world is common, but precious few actually seek out all of the places they want to go to. Those trips of a lifetime are called that because most people only take them once. It’s up to us to determine if that’s enough. My own time bucket for such travel is shockingly short, and so I feel I must go when the siren calls. We all know what those sirens were up to, don’t we? Calling us to the rocks. The only safe way out was to keep going.

      The person we are now is the person we’re ready to be. Who we aspire to be means nothing more than the direction in which it sends us. We are here because we were once called here, and we willingly made the journey. Sometimes we arrive at a place we love, sometimes we find that it’s not what we wanted at all. Who we become next is up to us—but we must keep moving.

      As James Clear said (and I’ve quoted countless times now): “Every action you take is a vote for the type of person you wish to become.” Knowing this, we simply begin moving deliberately in the direction we wish to go in. Our habits are the incremental steps towards becoming. It begins with desire and is realized through consistent action. Simple, yet so hard to grasp sometimes. Routine hides in plain sight, after all.

      The thing is, we seek so much more than to visit various places. It’s not the visit, it’s the transformation of the visitor. We are completing a puzzle who’s picture is our future self. But in this puzzle, we get to choose some of the pieces. And just when we look at ourselves in the mirror, the puzzle pieces get scrambled all over again. We can’t spend our lives wishing for tomorrow, but we can choose some of the pieces now that will make up who we’ll be then.

    • The Beautiful Voyage

      When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
      pray that the road is long,
      full of adventure, full of knowledge.
      The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
      the angry Poseidon – do not fear them:
      You will never find such as these on your path,
      if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
      emotion touches your spirit and your body.
      The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
      the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,
      if you do not carry them within your soul,
      if your soul does not set them up before you.

      Pray that the road is long.
      That the summer mornings are many, when,
      with such pleasure, with such joy
      you will enter ports seen for the first time;
      stop at Phoenician markets,
      and purchase fine merchandise,
      mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
      and sensual perfumes of all kinds,
      as many sensual perfumes as you can;
      visit many Egyptian cities,
      to learn and learn from scholars.

      Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
      To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
      But do not hurry the voyage at all.
      It is better to let it last for many years;
      and to anchor at the island when you are old,
      rich with all you have gained on the way,
      not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.

      Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.
      Without her you would have never set out on the road.
      She has nothing more to give you.

      And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.
      Wise as you have become, with so much experience,
      you must already have understood what Ithaca means.
      — Constantine P. Cavafy, Ithaca

      There’s a special place in my heart for The Odyssey. It captured my attention in early adulthood and held on tight. I might have sailed away to the Greek Isles in my own odyssey had things gone differently. And so having a heart so set on travel doesn’t surprise me very much at all. In fact, what surprises me is the amount of time I’ve spent in my home port. When you find home you know it, even when the road calls you like a Siren.

      I didn’t have the heart to break up Cavafy’s poem, and offer it here in its entirety for my fellow travelers to celebrate (as travelers do). Perhaps the flow may seem off, as if the entire voyage is top-heavy, but so be it. We must break the rules now and then in our lives if we hope to see what’s outside our box.

      And that’s the point, isn’t it? To see what’s far outside of our comfortable box, and to live to tell the tale. The box will be there when we get back. But we’ll be different, won’t we? We’ll witness things we’d only believed as myth, and things we’d never known existed but will stay with us forever for having been there. We’ll carry the sparkle of faraway places in our hearts that escapes from our eyes as we tell of places we’ve been. Similar sparks escape from the eyes of fellow voyagers who have been to the same place, and a special fire burns brightly when the sparks are shared in other ports of call. There’s a club of understanding that is earned living dreams and encountering what is carried in our souls. If that sounds ridiculous, well, check your sparks for ignition. You may need a tune-up.

      Do you understand what Ithaca means? If not, give it time and room to grow. You’ll find it far from the comfortable routine, just waiting for you to go there. You just might come across me on that journey too, chasing Ithaca and learning more about this voyage every day. So tell me, do you see it now? Isn’t it beautiful?

    • Life is the Train

      “Our life is a constant journey, from birth to death. The landscape changes, the people change, our needs change, but the train keeps moving. Life is the train, not the station.” – Paulo Coelho

      Traveling by regional train is such a treat when you’ve been subjected to the indignities of air travel and commuting in the relentless grind of traffic. Taking an Amtrak from Boston to New York is not the fastest way from point A to point B, but my gosh it’s surely the best way. Give me the rolling scenery without the stress of distracted drivers and unpredictable traffic, thank you. Give me actual leg room in coach over whatever they think proper leg room is on a regional jet between any two cities in the United States. The train is the best way from here to there if the option presents itself.

      There are two options when taking the train from Boston to New York (or Washington beyond). The first is the Acela, the “high speed” option. The second is the regional train. The difference is in top speed the trains can travel at, and the number of stops the train makes along the way. For all the potential of the Acela, it only gets you there about 30 minutes faster. I’m quite content taking the regional most days. Sit on the port side going south for the coastal views and the sunrise, or the starboard side for the great view of the city as you make your final approach to Manhattan.

      Days blend into weeks, which blend into months. Years fly by and suddenly you can’t recall how many times you’ve done this particular trip. Last week I was flying up and down the East Coast, this week I’m doing a portion of that trip ten feet above sea level. In the last month I’ve been in nine states and when I land in my hotel room tonight I’ll have slept in 12 different beds. Clearly I’m inching back to my old nomadic lifestyle. With travel as with life, I’ve found that it’s usually far better when you’re taking the journey with someone than running solo. But most trips that’s not the way it works with business travel.

      The world changes, that’s not a negative statement, but a simple fact of life. And we must keep adapting to change, and keep authoring our own life story. To stay in one place seems a waste to me, when there’s so very much to see out there. Why not explore the world while you have health and mental faculty on your side? We’ve seen how it goes when you wait too long. Life isn’t fair, it will brush you back with a fastball and strike you out with a nasty curve before you know what happened to you. Get to it while you can, and don’t ever strike out looking.

      Travel by train gives you the time and mental space to think. To appreciate how far you’ve come, and not stress out about where you’re going. You’ll get there, just stay on the train. Life is like that, isn’t it? Stick with things, keep moving forward and things tend to work out for you. Trains and baseball analogies, all in one post. Isn’t it funny how far a rolling coastal view will take the mind?

    • Returning to November Stillness

      Walking along the edge of the woods through a thick blanket of fallen leaves, I noted the changes in the landscape since I was last home. New Hampshire is well past peak now, and recent wind and heavy rain coaxed some holdouts down in my absence. The hardscape is glaringly obvious now. November in New Hampshire offers a cold stillness that can be jarring for the uninitiated. But I love it for all that it offers.

      No doubt the pandemic made everything different for all of us. Collectively we might never be the same, but this is the natural state of the world, isn’t it? The one thing the pandemic did, aside from all the horrific stuff, was alter our perception of the world. For if there’s one benefit to what we’ve collectively gone through, it’s acquiring a heightened sense of change. We were forced to slow down and look around at the circle we placed ourselves in. And reflect on whether that was where we wanted to be.

      Bouncing across the country these last two months, I’ve savored some incredible regional food that’s as much a part of the uniqueness of a place as the language and landmarks. I’ve had sourdough bread in San Francisco, popovers in Vermont and biscuits in the Carolinas. Breaking bread offers lessons. The food tastes amazing whether you lean to the right or the left. We’re all human, we just forget that sometimes in our race to categorize others. There’s nothing like a face-to-face conversation to define the common ground between us. And this is one of the primary benefits of travel — getting out of your circle of influence into something wholly new. And seeing that we’re not all that much different from each other after all.

      When my son was two months old I went away for ten days on a white water rafting trip through the Grand Canyon I’d had booked for well over a year. As funny as it seems, I felt in that time away that I’d missed a lot of him growing up. But in going away, I learned to pay more attention to the moment-to-moment changes when I was back home. Sometimes you don’t know what you’ve got until you’re gone. Returning to the stark woods of New Hampshire this November, I’m aware of the changes I’ve missed here. And the changes that have taken place within me while I’ve been away. In the stillness of November, I celebrate both.

    • Traveling Between Variants

      Traveling again opens up the world, and exploring new places for a few days in Miami leaves me ready for so much more. Miami has some of the best dining options anywhere, and also some of the worst drivers. I delighted in the best sushi I’ve ever had, while marveling at some of the most ill-advised driving decisions I’ve ever seen. Each destination offers its own unique reveals.

      You forget how much you learned to love the life of a nomad until you’re locked in place for a year. One business trip and it all washes over you again. The anticipation and cadence of a meeting, the shift from one hotel to another as you change cities, overcoming language barriers, and the food versus fuel debate in your head as you scan unfamiliar menus. It’s all part of the life of a traveler, and you count your blessings when you can travel again.

      And yet this business of fighting the virus and its variants isn’t quite over yet. There’s an underlying unease about the virus amongst the thoughtful, and a heightened awareness of crowded spaces. Eating out in a place like Miami involves many crowded spaces. You hear of Australia locking down and patrolling streets and contrast it with the freedom of movement and the casual closeness in packed spaces in Florida. Who is right?

      We may move closer to normal, but the generational impact of the pandemic on the collective psyche of humanity will be felt for our lifetimes. When you travel again you immediately see the world differently than those who are still sheltering, because you have to. The world is moving on even as the virus is doubling down, and you’re either casual with your personal health and responsibility to others or you’re not. I’m surfing the edge and I know it, but the thrill of travel fills me up anyway.

      Travel by its nature requires a leap of faith and calculated risk. If you have the freedom to travel, then do so responsibly. That begins with getting vaccinated and practicing good hygiene. Risk is never eliminated in life, but it can be mitigated. Because getting back out there illuminates this beautiful gift of living, and it would be great for everyone to get back to the brighter days.

    • More to See for You and Me

      “From here to Venezuela
      There’s nothing more to see
      Than a hundred thousand islands
      Flung like jewels upon the sea
      For you and me”
      – Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, The Lee Shore

      I heard about a former coworker, a guy with Israeli good looks and intense blue eyes that no doubt closed many negotiations of the heart, who succumbed to COVID after months of treatment. Younger than me, far more energy with a passion for family, travel and technology, in that order. A whirlwind of energy and intellect and movement. Quietly receding from life in a hospital bed in Miami.

      Which once again reminds me that life is so very brief, and the years of fitness and energy are even shorter. So what do we do with our days? Fritter it all away in spreadsheets and conference calls? Watch other people live their lives on social media? Or do something with our own?

      We miss too many opportunities to dance with the forests and the waves and the sky for this business of living. This busyness of living. But is it really living or just staying busy? The game of deferred living is a tragic and fatal one indeed.

      My friend is a reminder of what the stakes are, what the stakes have been, and why we changed everything. And now? Now we are living in the time of the haves and the have nots. Are you vaccinated or not? If you are, let’s celebrate our faith in science and each other and dance with the world.

      There’s so very much more to do in this short life. A hundred thousand islands are just waiting for you and me. Out there, just beyond the horizon. Waiting for us to weigh anchor and go to them. Let’s go out and meet the world.

    • More Like a Cardinal

      Contemplating the turf war between a pair of stressed House Wrens and a nonchalant female Cardinal perched a little too close to the nest. I was struck by the similarity between the birds and my relationship with my neighbors. The neighbors are fine people, mind you, but they each do something that I find annoying in some small way. And I realized that I was like the House Wrens reacting to encroachment from the Cardinal. And of course, the neighbors were like the Cardinal.

      The Cardinal was simply existing, but doing so in a way that annoyed the Wrens. And I recognized I don’t want to be like a House Wren at all. I want to be more like a Cardinal. Not necessarily annoying the neighbors with my presence, but in the nonchalant way that it goes through life.

      I realized in that moment that I’m probably going to live in this spot, with a nod to fate, for at least thirty years of my lifetime. By far the longest I’ve spent any time in any place. And I’m a nomad at heart. What brought me to this realization? Comfort? Complacency? Commitment? I’m sure there are C’s I’m missing, but you already know the answer anyway. It’s a bit of each. And this is how communities are formed. People sticking together despite annoying tendencies and a competing urge to try a new place now and then.

      Cardinals don’t migrate. They stick with the place they live in and make it work. House Wrens, on the other hand, migrate to warmer climates for the winter and return when the weather warms up again. Snowbirds versus redbirds, if you will. Both return, but where they’ve been in the meantime is so very different.

      Ultimately, I long to fly like each bird. To fly off but return to the home nest seems appealing. I’m coming to terms with the idea that my travel will be shorter in duration, but perhaps more meaningful knowing I have a place to land in when I return. Maybe that’s enough. And thirty years in one nest is surprisingly closer than I ever imagined.

    • Wandering Souls

      “Why am I gazing at this campfire like a lost soul seeking a hope when all that I love is at my wingtips? Because I am curious. Because I am incorrigibly, now, a wanderer.” – Beryl Markham, West With The Night

      Doesn’t it feel a bit like the world is about to explode into an orgy of mad travel and celebration? We’ve already seen misguided souls partying like it’s 1999 in maskless rebellion, imagine when the adults in the room assess the situation and determine that we’ve reached a tipping point with vaccinations and – dare I say it? Herd immunity. Of course, the common cold and influenza will each dance a happy dance. This pandemic hit them hard too. But we’ve danced with each plenty of times, right? Still, we all talk a good game, but what happens when someone sneezes without covering their mouth in a crowded space? Are we ready for that moment?

      Passport stamps stopped abruptly in 2019. A lost year for ink pads and border agents and wandering souls alike. I’d like to get another stamp or two in the passport before it expires. Before I expire. To hear the thrill of rubber stamp meeting paper once again! It’s tantalizingly close now, isn’t it?

      Where do you go when the borders open up? Does the list of places you’d built up over your lifetime just resume now, or did all of this open your eyes to new possibilities? Do crowded streets in Venice carry the same appeal yet? Will remote beaches and quiet mountaintops still draw you the way they always have or have you had enough isolation? Just how much has this pandemic changed us in ways unseen?

      I don’t have the answers, of course. But I know that I’m a wanderer myself. I have places to go in this world, places to meet people (like you!) in solidarity and celebration. For life is out there as much as it’s in… here. And like you I’m about ready to get out there and mingle with kindred spirits in faraway places.

      We aren’t there just yet, but we must get ready, mustn’t we? Mastering phrases like Excuse me, where is the restroom? and Where can we get the best tapas and Sangria? and Do you know the way to San Jose? and of course, Cheers! To break language barriers we must meet the locals more than halfway.

      And then there’s our fitness level. Let’s face it, there’s been way too much Zoom and sitting around in close proximity to the pantry for our own good. We must get fit and toned for those long climbs up ancient steps, those walks through ripening vineyards, or simply those forever walks through international airports. The world is waiting for you, will you be ready when it opens up?

      Tonight, with the temperatures moderating just enough for respectable conversation, I’m going to light a crackling fire outside and inevitably be drawn into the embers as the night progresses. We may contemplate the changes of the last year, but we’ll also scheme about the future. It’s out there, waiting for us. Should we be ready to wander once again. Etes-vous prets?