Don't forget.

It's been a tough few weeks, so I am posting this as a reminder to myself ... and to you.

"We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm and adventure. There is no end to the adventures we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open." 
- Jawaharlal Nehru

To the next adventure!

Pay it forward.

In this blog, I have written about meeting people when traveling (see here and here). I have also written about a trip to Norway and making my dad jump off a train (stationary, not moving!) here. I wrote about amazing friends hosting me in other countries (see this post). But today I want to write about when you are a host to a foreign guest; when your land is strange and new to someone.

About a year ago, I played host to friends from Norway (I did mention this a bit in this post). My friend, Mariann, is from Norway and we met over 20 years ago when she was studying in the U.S. We stayed in touch all these years and when my father and I planned our big trip to Norway, she and her family were a huge reason the trip was so amazing. (You can read all about it - not just the train part - in this post). One of the wonderful people we met on that trip was Mariann’s father, John. A big bear of a man, John could talk about anything. He was more in tune with U.S. politics and current events than most people in the U.S. are. He had a great sense of humor and a penchant for debate.

Unfortunately, in July of 2012, John passed away. I got the email from Mariann and could just feel her sadness through her written words. But what could I do? I couldn’t go sit with her, or listen to her, or even attend the funeral. I sent a card, but that wasn’t enough. When John was first starting his career after graduate school in New York City – and when Mariann was a baby – he became a professor at the University of Texas in Austin. He, his pregnant wife, and baby daughter moved to Austin and lived there for a few years. Since I was in Austin at the time of his passing, I thought I would contact the university and see if they had a way for us to plant a tree or something in his memory. That is how I found out about UT Remembers Day.

UT Remembers is a special day the university plans for the loved ones of those who have died in the previous year. They have a whole day of events, including a special ceremony. I found out they send invitations, so I asked them to send one to my friend and to her mother in Norway. I just thought they would like that John’s name would be on the list for the ceremony. But instead, when they got the invitation, they were moved to tears and Mariann’s mother and sister planned to come and participate in the UT Remembers day! I was shocked, but so happy. And so excited to help them make their plans.

A few short weeks later, the three of them showed up: mother (Jorunn), sister (Pernille), and sister’s 10-year-old son (John Gudbrand). I was so excited to be hosting them. I introduced them to Texas BBQ (even though I am vegetarian!) – which they said was their favorite meal, and also had them try breakfast tacos, which they initially thought sounded strange. I took them out to Lake Travis where they had lived for a while, and we ended up at a neighborhood picnic with some of the neighbors from way back then. We went to the church where Pernille was baptized. We went to hear live music at Gruene Hall. But most importantly, we went to UT Remembers Day.

It was a beautiful day. It started off rather cold, but luckily got warmer because the Norwegians had only brought clothes for Texas warmth. The sun was shining, but not burning. And the family enjoyed and appreciated every part of what had been planned by the university. My father and I went with them to the ceremony in the Tower Garden in the afternoon. It was perfect, not too long, bagpipe procession, touching readings, lovely music, and the reading of the names and the tolling of the Tower Bell. It was moving and full of class. Really well done.

Here are my friends, including John,
back in the day, on Lake Travis. 

After the ceremony, a professor who had worked with John came over to talk to Pernille and Jorunn. I know they loved that, and the professor even had some papers John had worked on during his time there. And on that day in Norway, Mariann and the rest of the family flew the U.S. flag at half-mast. It was all just very nice and lovely.

But it was more than the ceremony for them. It was seeing this place they hadn’t seen for over 40 years. It was stepping back in time and remembering all the wonderful things that happened when they lived there. It was remembering how much John loved the U.S. and Texas and how his daughter who was born there still felt that sense of pride, even from so far away. She finally had a chance to connect with this place, a place that meant so much to her father, and that still meant so much to her mother on this trip. Her mother felt all these things came together perfectly for the trip, and it made it easy and special to honor and remember her husband.

Texas BBQ ... awww yeah!

Visitors from Norway and me at UT.

John Gudbrand and me up in the UT Tower.

There are some trips that are a break from the chaos of everyday life, and a chance to escape from the “normal.” There are some where the focus is architecture, art, or history. There are some that are about gastronomic pleasures and wine tasting. But there are a few that go beyond all that. The trip I took to Norway with my dad was very special, on so many levels. So playing host to my friend’s family was an honor really, and a complete pleasure. We had so much fun and I loved being the conduit to revisiting some special places. If I ever again have the opportunity to help someone make a special trip to where I am living, I will jump on it. After all the hospitality I have received abroad and in the U.S., it is only right that I pay it forward somehow, some way. If you have encountered similar assistance while traveling, consider doing the same for someone when you are home. It is almost as great as – if not better than – taking a trip yourself. 

Check out your own backyard.

I have not been able to travel abroad for a while, but I am having fun reacquainting myself with the Texas Gulf Coast. If you have never been, here are some things you might see:

Horses. Yes, you can see horses pretty much anywhere.
But these are TEXAS horses.

Rice University in Houston: beautiful campus,
amazing live oak trees in that part of the city.

The Beach (Galveston)! I've heard some people complain
that it isn't white sand. Who cares?! It's the beach!!
And on this day, I had it all to myself.

Palm trees swaying in the gulf breeze.

And then there are alligators. I saw one last
weekend while walking this very trail.
It was on the other side of the water, so
I couldn't get a good photo (on the plus side,
I also couldn't get eaten).

Be reminded.

The other day I went outside and thought, “It feels like Guatemala.” Now, I’m in Texas at the moment, where temperatures reach sweltering heights during the summer and the humidity makes you sweatier than a high school football team. But that is summer. Winter is a whole other story and a big reason many of us northern-folk migrate to the south. It can be amazing, spring-like, sunny, warm but not too warm, clear, dry, refreshing. Beautiful. Perfect. That is what the highlands of Guatemala felt like during the day most of the time I was there (nights, not so much as you can read here). And when the weather is just so, like it was the other day, it doesn’t just feel like Guatemala; I feel like I’m there. Just for a second.

If you’ve traveled, especially to places mostly different from your own, this phenomenon might happen to you as well. I call it the “wish you were there” virus. But it is not a bad virus. It is a bit of longing, mixed with nostalgia, swirling around your ever-present desire to roam the earth. When you are going through your day, commuting, working, shopping, cooking, cleaning, and all the other responsibilities you may have, sometimes a distant Guatemalan-like breeze blowing your hair as it pushes the faint smell of burning wood toward you is kind of nice. It’s a bit sad. But it’s mostly nice.

Sunny blue sky, short sleeves, sandals ... what better way to illustrate nice weather?
This is my dad and me in Antigua, Guatemala on a beautifully perfect day.

You may not have any idea what I’m talking about. That’s okay. But someday, when you’re somewhere quite different, or when you’ve been somewhere quite different, you may find yourself being reminded of that different place by the smallest thing: the smell of fresh bread, the sound of a bicycle bell, the wet air of a mid-summer thunderstorm. Your experience at home has changed because you have felt it in a different place. It is no longer just a snack, a sound in the street, a natural occurrence. It’s a memory, fastened to your brain, stimulating your smile muscles from time to time. You can’t forget. Nor do you want to. 

Happy travels to you.

The year is coming to a close and at such a busy time, I will simply share this with you:

“Travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.” – Miriam Beard

Granada, Nicaragua

May the new year bring you wonderful new adventures, wherever you go.
Thanks for reading! 

Just go!

When you travel in Latin America, especially if you are not a luxury traveler, you gotta leave the little girl pants at home. No, I am not going to talk about travel clothes again (did that here). I am talking about realizing that you are going to come across things that are very different, perhaps seemingly avoid-worthy as you traverse the region, so you just have to deal with these things. This has been discussed in previous blog posts (see here, and here, and also here), but I am going to address it again, on a smaller scale.

I briefly mentioned the rain in Xela, Guatemala in a previous post (check it out here), and that although it was the dry season while I was there, when it rained, it rained a lot. Buckets. Cats and dogs. Insert other incomprehensible English colloquialism here.

On one such a day, I had to get back to work after lunch. It was raining relatively hard, but I had my rain jacket and an umbrella. I took my usual route and when I got to the strange street (mentioned in this post here; I am posting the photo again below), there wasn’t just a wet road and some puddles. There was a waterfall. A dirty, fast moving waterfall. I was getting wet despite my wet weather gear, but this was going to soak my shoes. And socks. And perhaps all 52 bones in my two feet. More importantly, I was going to fall on my ass.

I stood there, underneath my umbrella, for at least ten minutes, pondering what to do. I didn’t know another route. All routes I took led to the waterfall street. I could go back to the house, call my boss, and tell him I couldn’t get back to the office. I didn’t really want to do that. But I didn’t want to get washed away either. 

As I was thinking, observing, brainstorming to find a way to get down this crazy hill, two old ladies walked by and just stepped down the waterfall. Zippity-doo, down they went. Just like that. Like they had done it a thousand times, knew where to step without losing a shoe, and it was no big deal. That is all it took to snap me out of my caution-addled thoughts and get down the waterfall. If two little old ladies could do it, so could I!  I tried to step where they did, and guess what! I didn’t fall or get washed away. I got incredibly wet, but I already was incredibly wet. 

What is the point of this story?

If you don’t know where to turn, follow your elders, as they are wise to the ways of the river.

Or:

Standing around thinking too much will get you nothing but wet.

Or:

Don’t be such a chicken – put on your big girl pants and just go!

Follow your bliss.

Here in the U.S., it is major league baseball playoffs time. My beloved Boston Red Sox are in a nail biting series with the Detroit Tigers right now for the American League pennant. I haven’t really had easy access to television all summer, so I haven’t been watching like I usually do. But last night I ventured out to a bar in El Lago, Texas to watch a game, in a place devoid of Red Sox fans (except for the bartender who was actually from Boston). And it was a fairly crappy game, from my standpoint at least. We lost. No one cared but me. I felt so alone.

I am a baseball fan. I am not obsessively so, but I enjoy it a lot and have since I was a kid. Although I have seen many games at all levels here in the U.S., I have not yet seen a professional baseball game in Central America, despite its popularity there. But it is something I would really like to do. 

Although not professional, this is a baseball (or maybe
softball) game I watched in Nicaragua. 

Not too many women watching this game, but that's okay.
I tried to keep my swearing down to a minimum.

I went to a semi-professional soccer game once in Costa Rica and I was glad to be with a group of people, including some guys, because it was a bit rowdy. A huge majority of the crowd were male. And a huge majority of those males were stinkin’ drunk. They were yelling profanities at regular intervals, never anything too creative, but as a student in a beginning Spanish class at the time, I quickly learned the term “hijo de puta.” That was their favorite by far.

I imagine a baseball game may be similar. (I found this guy’s blog and he has a baseball post that is super interesting, so check it out here. It is very guy-centric, but from what he wrote, so was his experience. The bathroom scene is a bit disturbing.) Nevertheless, I think it would be an interesting cultural experience that would tie my own interests to a popular past time in a country I am visiting. You can do this with anything really.

If you are a crafty kinda gal, then find a way to watch local artisans create their wares. Sometimes you can even take classes, e.g. weaving classes in Guatemala are popular. If you love to bake things, learn how to bake something popular from where you are visiting while you are there, from a local. If you take pleasure in drinking a couple beers now and then (while you watch baseball perhaps), go to a local brewery – or at the very least, try all the local beers. I like the beer in Central America, but even if you don’t, at least try it so you can find out. I can also be convinced to try new cocktails (as I mentioned here). If you delight in gardening, find out about local vegetation, get a guide or visit with a local garden club during your travels. There are countless possibilities.

Maybe all this is obvious, but a lot of times we are too busy on trips to make a personal connection with what goes on in a new country. Either our schedules are too full of visiting the usual touristy things, or we are so overwhelmed by it all that we just can't make a personal connection with life in this different place. It doesn't have to be a profound connection. But you can enjoy your past time or your hobby or your bliss in a completely different way. Heck, you may enjoy it more in another country. You just never know where following your bliss might lead you.