Gratitude – an unnumbered series of posts

I’ve been wanting to write and reflect on how grateful I am but felt like no matter how I wrote it, the end result would be a humble brag.  So let me start this exposé by saying I am grateful to have so much to humbly brag about and I am also grateful to have those around me who remind me that my reality is not typical and worthy of extra thanks and recognition.

This series was written while “stranded” in an airport.  I had woken up at ridiculous o’clock in the morning, had a lovely conversation with a gentleman on the bus who was dreading the coming day and his 16 hour shift.  Flew through security to arrive barely on time to receive a text from the airline informing me that my flight – which was scheduled to board in 5 minutes – was unceremoniously cancelled without explanation.  I spent the next 2 hours on the phone and in-line being sent always to the next customer service representative because whoever I was currently speaking with had some kind of “view only” software capability and hadn’t actually been trusted to serve customers.

Finally, at the end of the two hours, I resigned myself to my fated airport limbo, despite the fact that I knew I could rent a car and drive to my destination arriving two hours before my newly scheduled departure time.

Expecting a short flight without connections, I was woefully unprepared to spend 8 hours in the airport waiting for my next departure.  Frustrated with my predicament, I went in search of entertainment.  I needed a new notebook anyway so I decided to search one out and indulge in writing some of the backlogged blogposts that have been floating around in my brain.  3 stores later, I was approached by the sales woman.  It was a tiny store and her question, “Can I help you find something?” had more concern and confusion which put the emphasis on the fact that she clearly believed I needed help of some kind, but probably not of the shopping assistance variety. 

Knowing that I was clearly in the wrong store, I asked, “Do you know of anywhere in the terminal where I could buy paper?”  [Pause of confusion on both sides.] “… of any kind, but preferably of the notebook variety.”  Her face lit up!  “We have TWO notebooks!”  She’d clearly expected that they would never sell.

Exhibit A and evidence that I chose wisely (hint: check out the name of this Blogovel)

I brought the notebook to the cashier and handed him a 20 dollar bill.  The cashier’s eyes shot from my hand to the credit card machine, back to the cash in my hand.  Eventually something clicked and he took the money laughing at my excessively analogue interaction.  

Walking out of the store I was struck by the triviality of my frustrations.  Yes.  My trip was off-schedule and would take longer than expected.  Yes.  The delay cut into time with family.  Yes, this delay would also cost money for entertainment and food costs in the crazy economy that is an American airport.  

All-in-all though, I was stepping onto a modern marvel which would transport me hundreds of miles in a matter of minutes.  I had a plethora of things that have caloric value and resemble food at my disposal, safe drinking water, and the means to purchase additional supplies as needed.  Top all of this off with literacy, time, and space to write and the ability to interact in this environment as an unaccompanied woman, with relative safety and I had reasons to be grateful.  So there you have it.  This begins my series on gratitude.  As I start yet another transition and accumulate stories for future posts, I will leave you with some gratitude to keep you thinking and reflecting.  Thank you for being part of my community of readers, writers, and observers.

*Epilogue*

In the days that followed the writing of this blog post, I was subject to 4 flight cancelations, spent over 48 hours stranded in various airports and only about 8 hours flying.  When Murphy’s Law takes hold, find something to hold onto … apparently my something is airport security screened.

Group Travel

I’ve mentioned here before that I am often a solo traveler.  I would estimate that my travel for the past decade has fallen almost entirely in 3 categories.  

1. Solo travel
2. Visiting someone in my friend or family base.
3. Travel for work/education - often venturing alone. 

This spring though I deviated from my typical pattern and traveled 3,000 miles from my current home to spend time with people who live very close to me … and in one case, I was traveling a quarter of the way around the world to spend time with my upstairs neighbor.  The experience was entirely foreign to me.  In fact, I think the first thing I said when I got off the plane and saw my three friends waiting for me at the end of the gangway was something like, “This is so weird.  I shouldn’t know you people.  This is a layover. I should be alone.”  

Traveling with other people creates a whole new set of experiences in addition to those provided by the venue that you’re visiting.  Want to get coffee?  Cool.  

Solo traveler:  Stop at the next acceptable shop and buy yourself a coffee according to your needs and whims. 

Group traveler:  Check in with the group.  Do we also want food?  Coffee to go or sitting preferable?  When you say coffee, do you mean pour-over or espresso/latte drink?  Oh sure, iced coffee …. ummmm that may take some more work.  20 minutes later 75% of your group may have what they were looking for.

Reading through that it seems so much harder, but it’s also a great challenge.  During past layovers my greatest challenge was to find a place where I could either sleep in relative security, or figure out a way to stay awake until my boarding time.  With a group that’s not really an issue.  If we’d wanted to, we could have cordoned off an area and slept with security in numbers.  In reality our greatest concern was not spending so much time joking and making fun of each other that we ended up leaving a trail of belongings behind us. 

Things in jeopardy of being left behind: one fitbit, two wallets, an entire carry-on bag, and one passport.  

It is possible that jetlag played a part in this as well.  

The beauty of traveling with friends is that you see a side of them that you otherwise might not.  It’s not like these new traits are wholly unexpected or in any way out of character, but everyone is out of their element and does not have access to typical coping mechanisms.  

Easily distracted?  Well, there’s no normal routine to keep you mostly on track.  

At one point, we were on our way to dinner, wandering through a section of a city where I used to live.  Two of the people in our group were a little bit ahead of the other two.  I was part of the group in back.  When we passed an alley that led to where I used to live, I got distracted and led the two of us in the back off on  a parallel street to check out my old home.  Of course, after venturing off, it DID occur to me that the remaining companions may miss us, but I also knew that at the end of the block the two streets converged again.  Worst case scenario, we were all headed to the same restaurant and would meet up there. By the time we met up again at the restaurant, there were stories of searching for lost travel mates, meeting points set and plans for how long to wait before calling the police (only about 20 minutes had passed).  

There were also several instances involving people who are exceptionally prone to losing things.  The assumption was always that if you couldn't immediately locate an item it MUST have been left behind.  This assumption wasn't without merit, however large amounts of time ended up being spent to locate phones, wallets, fit bits and an errant parking ticket that was usually in the person’s pocket the whole time.

The best part of all of this is the stories.  We have a huge list of inside jokes which only we will ever understand, but an equally long list of stories that are entirely relatable to anyone who’s ever been away from home and outside of their usual surroundings.  

It was such a good experience that I’ve decided to do it again in June.  Next stop:  Island life!

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Paradies

In order to provide the pictures for last week's post I went for a little walk.  A few months ago, as we drove by, I had noticed what looked like it was an old parking lot that had been abandoned and was being reclaimed by nature.  That alone I find pretty compelling.  As you'll see from the pictures below, it turned out to be a part of the railway system for the coal mining that hasn't been in use since at least the 1960s*.

What I found most compelling were the manmade structures with the trees growing up through and the contrast between the two worlds fighting to exist in the same space.

Along my path, I came across an older gentleman.  I tried to pass him at one point, because I walk faster than he does. It seemed to be disturbing him when I was walking behind him.  Further along the path, as I took this picture:

he caught up with me and moved up the walkway (aka the ramp designed to inspire mischief in adults):

Seriously - who wouldn't want to go soaring down this thing on a bicycle?  It doesn't even lead to traffic or anything dangerous.  Best part:  That's what it was designed for!! (I'm pretending that's true even though I'm sure I will soon be informed that there's some rule making RIDING down "Verboten")

When I finished taking a series of pictures, I moved ahead and found him waiting for me at the top of the last curve.  He called me over to the railing and pointed.  German wasn't either of our first languages, but he was insistent that I take this picture:

I happily agreed to and then showed him the result.  His face beamed and he excitedly explained how this was paradise.  It doesn't get better than this.  The water.  The trees.  I tried to tell him how I saw it and explain that's why I was outside taking pictures, but he was less impressed with the contrast of man vs. nature and mostly just content that we both had the opportunity to see this view.  I'm still kicking myself for not asking to take his picture but am glad to at least have his story and enthusiasm for Paradies!

Here are a few more photos I took that day.  I also want to point out that at no point did I leave the city.  That is one thing I love about this place.  Nature has claimed its corners. Partly due to remnants of war and partly by choice, man has allowed and fostered that presence within this proud city.  

*It could have been the 60s, or the 80s, or maybe the 70s ... my source on this is a little less certain than the first time I heard this explanation, however, in order to maintain truth in perception and storytelling I've decided not to research it, but simply let the story be as it began.