Ten years ago, my sister, Ellen, and I took a two week backpacking vacation to Europe.  We agreed to leave with no plans more than airfare to and fro and a general idea of some of the places where we wanted to go.  Everything else, we left up in the air.  I’ve since learned that for some people this would be a nightmare, but for us it was liberating: to wander aimlessly, carelessly, and without responsibility beyond making sure we got food and rest.

Airline tickets weren’t available online, so we had to check prices in newspapers and by calling local agencies.  At school I had heard about a travel company that specializes in student travel and offered cheap rates, so Ellen and I decided to check them out.  We picked a Saturday and drove into Boston to their location on Newbury Street.  It was an early spring day and the morning had started a little overcast, but by noon the sun had broken through the cloud cover and it turned into a beautiful day.  For those unfamiliar with Newbury Street, it’s an upscale living section of Boston that features stylish shops, cafes, and salons.  It could be considered our take on Rodeo Drive, but it’s definitely uniquely Boston.

For some reason I had it in my head that the travel company was going to be run like the student bookstore.  I’d show my school ID, a volunteer would hand me a sheet of paper, and I’d go find my airline ticket which would undoubtedly be on the bottom bookshelf of the furthest bookcase in the store, right next to the 1970’s throwback gym t-shirts that have “property of” stenciled on the front.  The experience didn’t turn out to be anything like that of course and we got a great rate.  We paid $299 round-trip to London and considered our trip booked; we had the only reservations we were going to make.  We stopped at a sidewalk café and I had a pasta aglio y olio dish that stands out in my mind even today.

Ellen likes a little structure in her unstructured travel, so she got some books at the library on traveling abroad and read up on what we should expect.  Other than buying traveler’s checks, the only preparation I did was to look for a backpack.  And even then, I ended up borrowing a scuba backpack from my boss; it was sturdy, had great pockets, and was better than anything I had seen at the stores.

Our flight was on Virgin Atlantic which I had never heard of at the time.  Each seat back had a TV with three movie channels and they gave us a gift bag that held a pair of headphones, a sleep mask, and the craziest pair of red and green, horizontally-striped socks.  I think the socks even had individual toes.  We both got a good chuckle out of them and appreciated the airline all the more.  Even when years went by and I’d hear about Virgin or Richard Branson or see him on the television show, The Rebel Billionaire, I’d always remember those socks.

We landed at London’s Heathrow airport and stepped out not knowing what to expect.  I certainly wasn’t expecting to ride the elevator with a couple police officers carrying machine guns.  In the age before 9/11 American airline regulations were relaxed, but England seemed to have really tight security.  We had been a little tense about flying because Flight 800 had gone down not long before and there had been rumors about a light seen chasing the plane and speculation about a rocket attack.  I guess we could have been comforted by England’s seriousness about preventing attacks, but I was apprehensive nonetheless standing yards from so powerful a weapon.  Fortunately, they weren’t pointed at me and they went their way while we went ours.

In her books, Ellen had looked up the name of a hostel in London, so we set out for there from the airport.  We had only expected meager accommodations because we were really only looking for a roof over our heads, but the hostel was very nice.  There was a central garden; we had our own bathroom, a small balcony over the street, and comfortable beds.  It was really a pleasant stay and nice to return to after each day of walking around the streets of London.

We discovered a lot of interesting places in London and focused on immersing ourselves in the culture rather than just hitting all the tourist spots.  In general, London reminded me a lot of Boston, for obvious reasons no doubt, but it was much bigger and the women dressed more stylishly.  That’s not a knock against Boston, but London women really seemed to dress well.  Of course this is a generalization, but I think Americans tend to be a little blunter about a lot of things where the English tend to be more subtle.  I don’t know if it’s fair to apply this to fashion, but I didn’t see a lot of women in skirt suits wearing running shoes, ped socks, and headphones power-walking down the sidewalks.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that; I know when I see a woman dressed like this, she probably has a demanding job, a family to raise, a bus to catch, and little time to tend to it all.  I respect that.  I understand the necessity of it and the impractical nature of heels and high fashion, but that’s my take on London when I was there.

To take the comparison a little further, Englishman, Oscar Wilde, once said, “Most modern calendars mar the sweet simplicity of our lives by reminding us that each day that passes is the anniversary of some perfectly uninteresting event.” I’m sure it was an American who coined the phrase “same sh*t, different day.”

To be continued…

On our honeymoon, Maggie and I went to Jamaica.  We had heard good things about Sandals in Negril and had all but decided to stay there before we had walked into the travel agent’s office to book the trip.  However, the travel agent instead recommended Couples in Negril.  She showed us some brochures and added that she goes to Couples whenever she travels to Jamaica.  She said it was very romantic and accommodating, and the brochures certainly seemed to reflect that.  It was also a lot cheaper than Sandals, yet still all-inclusive.  Neither Maggie nor I would have even considered skimping on our honeymoon, but all things being equal, a lower price certainly didn’t hurt to make up our minds in favor of Couples.

The resort was even nicer than we had imagined and we had a fantastic stay.  I haven’t been to Sandals, so I couldn’t rightfully compare the two, but I know I wouldn’t hesitate to go back to Couples.  Our room was spacious and clean, had a balcony with a great view, a large bathroom with jacuzzi, a big bed, an excellent air conditioning unit, and a CD player/radio for which we had brought many CD’s.  The decor conveyed the feel of the island without being either overpowering or gaudy.  We felt quite comfortable in our room, which was good since we spent a fair amount of time there on our honeymoon, but still the rest of the resort was top notch, too.

When we first arrived, the hotel staff announced that there would be an orientation shortly, leaving us little time to ourselves.  We were shown to our room, unpacked a few things, and diligently headed back to the lobby to meet up with the rest of the guests for the orientation.  For the next twenty minutes, they introduced the hotel staff, identified the various desks in the lobby, and showed us the gift shop, also in the main section of the hotel.  It didn’t look to be a very exciting tour to say the least.  The guide then led us through the main dining room, past the pool, to the poolside bar.  He then told us the schedule for each of the dining areas and explained that food is available at the poolside bar whenever a meal isn’t available in the main dining room and restaurants.  Maggie tugged on my sleeve and said, “Ok, I’ve heard enough.” I stammered something to the effect, “B-b-but, what about the rest of the tour?” and Maggie poignantly added, “To heck with it.  Let’s get a drink!” Is it any wonder why I fell in love and married her?

Maggie and I pulled ourselves out of the tour and sidled up to the poolside bar where we ordered cocktails and looked out over the beach.  The whole time, I felt like we were cutting gym class, which is ridiculous but it added to the surreal feeling of sitting in Jamaica with my new wife, sipping exotic drinks.  We were pretty comfortable and feeling pretty good when the rest of the tour returned about forty minutes later.  As they jockeyed for position at the bar, another couple recognized us and asked if we weren’t in the group.  I explained how we ducked out after we got the only info we felt we needed and headed to the bar instead.  I asked if we had missed anything, to which they replied, “Not much.  I wish we had skipped out, too.”

In the center of the resort is an enormous swimming pool connected to a smaller, side pool and a swim-up bar.  The smaller pool is about three feet lower than the swimming pool, so water continuously flows over the wall separating the two, creating a waterfall.  The effect was quite charming, the water was cool and comfortable, and the swim-up bar was convenient.  When we weren’t in our room, we spent a lot of time in the side pool.  If they would have agreed to serve us our meals there, I may have spent all of my out-of-room time in that pool.  Excepting of course, the time I spent walking between the pool and the bathrooms which were inconveniently located back in the hotel.

In order to get to the bathrooms, I had to exit the side pool by the stairs, walk around the main swimming pool, hike through the dining room, down a hall, and into the men’s room.  It was inconvenient enough that I had to speculate how many guests didn’t bother to make the trip, which in turn made me appreciate all the more the filtering and circulating system that moved the water from the main pool to the side pool and back again.  On my way back, it seemed a waste to walk all the way around the main pool again, so instead I walked down the stairs into the pool, trudged and swam across it and came directly to the divider wall that creates the waterfall.  Seeing no graceful way over it, I decided to go all out and pounced on the wall on my belly, slipped over the side, and splashed into the water, like a seal diving into the Atlantic.  I popped my head out of the water in time to hear a round of applause and scattered “scores” for the dive which I eventually perfected after regular trips to the bathroom throughout our stay.  In the course of our stay, I witnessed many other guests confused as how to cross into the side pool from the main pool.  Most exited the main pool by the stairs, walked around the circumference, and entered the side pool by its stairs.  Only a few ventured over the wall, and none with as much enthusiasm as I.

When we had first arrived, we met a nice older couple who had been married for many years.  The wife was very nice, although I thought the husband a little nosy.  However, we always made a point of saying hello whenever we saw them.  On one of the first days, I was sitting at the pool-side bar waiting for Maggie who was probably making the trek to the bathroom, when the husband struck up a conversation with me.  He started with, “So, what did you guys do yesterday?” “Nothing,” I answered plainly.  “Yeah?  We didn’t do much either.  We just went into town, walked through a few flea markets, and went out to a restaurant.” His definition of “nothing” was far different than mine.  Over the course of the week, I discovered his definition also included sunning on the beach, parasailing, and even horseback riding.  Mine remained pretty much the same.

On the last day of our honeymoon, the resort had scheduled a bus to take its departing guests back to the hotel.  Maggie and I turned out in good form, with our luggage, checked out, and awaited transportation.  The lobby was crowded, but not everyone had the same departure time, so when our time was announced, we put our bads in the designated area and stood near until the bus arrived and the driver began loading the baggage.  The cargo hold quickly filled and it appeared that not everyone was going to make it on the bus.  We could sense the agitation among some of the guests, but Maggie and I took things in stride and waited patiently.  Soon, however, another couple, I assume also recently married and who had arrived much later than us, picked up their bags from the back and put them directly in front of our luggage.  It didn’t escape our notice and didn’t escape the notice of the driver who realized there would be only enough room for two more people.

The husband saw the look the driver made to us and told his wife, “Honey, I think we just cut in line,” but she dismissed his comment and put the rest of her baggage down.  The driver stopped loading the bus and told her directly, “These people were here ahead of you.” To which the wife replied, “Oh?  Were you waiting for the bus?” as if she had somehow missed the crowd of people, the semblance of a line, and her husband’s remarks.  I answered coldly, “Yes.  In fact we were all here waiting for the bus before you came up.  Those are our bags you put your luggage in front of.” She feigned a look of surprise and asked the driver, “Well, what are we supposed to do?” “There’s another bus coming,” he offered.  She stood there a moment, made no attempt to remove her bags, and appeared to hope that we’d all agree to cram into the bus together so she wouldn’t have to wait for the next bus.  I, however, looked at the already crowded bus and offered to Maggie that instead, we wait for the next bus.  I could tell that Maggie was a little peeved and was eager to claim our spot rather than give this woman her way, but I rationalized that we weren’t in a rush.  The hotel was still serving complimentary champagne cocktails.  I definitely didn’t mind extending our honeymoon a little longer and the next bus may be less crowded.  She agreed and we told the driver that this other couple could take our spot.  We would wait for the next bus.

I don’t know if this woman went home happy with herself or was embarrassed that she had caused a scene in the last hour of the last day of her honeymoon, but I do know we left happy.  I had learned from the Jamaicans to say, “No problem, mon,” and in a twist of fate that so often accompanies a positive attitude, the next bus was indeed a much better option.  The next bus didn’t turn out to be a bus at all; it was an 8-passenger minivan that Maggie and I had all to ourselves.  The driver was a really nice local who took the time to point out interesting landmarks and the sites where they filmed various scenes from the movie Cool Runnings with John Candy.  We stretched out in the cool A/C and enjoyed his conversation between smooth reggae songs on the radio.  It was a comfortable ride that felt more like a tour than two and half hour transportation to the airport.  I would gladly have paid extra for the comfort of the van over the cramped, sweaty quarters of the bus.

Aside from the brief lapse in the beginning of our honeymoon and the last day when we needed to checkout, during our honeymoon Maggie and I took a vacation from time and schedules.  We got up when we awoke, ate when we were hungry, swam when the mood struck us, and went to sleep when we were tired.  The rest of the time, we had no agenda other than to spend time together and enjoy each other’s company.  It was blissful.  I suppose there will be a time in our lives when we’ll grow a little bored with each other and will be thankful for structured activities, but that day hasn’t yet come. After leaving the island and returning home, we’ve long since had to rejoin society and yield to the mechanics of time and schedules out of necessity, but I look forward to those stolen moments when we have free time to spend together and can choose to do anything we want or simply nothing at all.  It’s like living my honeymoon over again.  And it’s still bliss.

"Patience serves as a protection against wrongs as clothes do against cold. For if you put on more clothes as the cold increases, it will have no power to hurt you. So in like manner you must grow in patience when you meet with great wrongs, and they will then be powerless to vex your mind.”
Leonardo DaVinci

Maggie and I had my cousin, Mark, over for dinner Sunday.  He had recently called to invite us to his daughter Anna’s birthday party.  When we couldn’t attend, I suggested we get together another day instead.  Mark and I are only a couple years apart, but it had been a few years since we had spent any time together outside of weddings and funerals.  He, his wife Terri, and Anna were to come over for Omaha Steaks, but a severe drop in temperature and a little snow ruined plans of a barbecue.  We substituted Chinese takeout instead and it really was good to see Mark again.

Mark’s a really nice guy.  He has a big heart and sticks to his convictions.  After dinner, we talked about personal goals and ideals during which Mark told me he wants to some day be able to buy land and build a park.  To him, that would be ideal.  I remembered and added that I had always wanted to have a park bench dedicated to me.  If Mark ever builds a park, I’ll be first to donate a bench.

When Maggie and I were dating, I told her about my bench idea.  I think a bench is a beautiful tribute to a person’s life.  It’s cheaper than a statue and it has a useful purpose.  People can sit down, relax, and take the weight of the world off their shoulders.  They can read a book, or people watch, or just rest a while.  A bench provides comfort to anyone that needs it.  Cemetaries should be full of benches.  When your friends and family come to visit you when you’re in the ground, you can still offer them a seat.  Maybe they’ll stay a little longer and visit a little more often.

My story must have resonated with Maggie, because she did something really sweet for me.  She surprised me for our wedding and bought me a bench, complete with a plaque.  It’s in our backyard.  At least, I hoped Maggie was being sweet and it wasn’t her way of telling me she’s planning to put me in the ground.  We’ve been married for almost two and a half years now, and I’m just now beginning to sleep with both eyes closed.  Or maybe I should’ve thought bigger, like Mark, and I could’ve gotten a nice piece of property.  I can’t complain, though because Maggie did give me Xbox 360 just Friday morning.

Xbox was an expensive gift not just for the price, but for the price Maggie has already paid for the amount of time I dedicated to it this weekend.  I can’t get Maggie to try video games, so when I play, she’s boxed out.  I’ve resolved to get her to at least try a couple games some day, but she’s resistant.  She didn’t think she’d like playing cribbage either, but I got her to play a few games and now she loves it.  There are so many different types of video games that it’s unlikely there aren’t a few games she’d enjoy.  My mother used to be addicted to Tetris.  Whenever I’d go home to visit my parents, the Nintendo would be turned on, preserving her top scores.  Years later, she got hooked on Bejeweled on the PC and downloading MP3’s.  My mother was very techno-hip.

It took us almost a year on the waiting list at Gamestop before we could get the Xbox.  We put our name in early, then the units were delayed until the end of November, and even then they were released in limited quantities.  Occasionally I’d see package deals that included the configuration I wanted with a bunch of games and accessories, but we waited in line on principle.  Although the bundles didn’t usually gouge on the price, but only sold for the combined retail sales of its components, I think it’s unfair for companies to saddle customers with unnecessary parts and unwanted games.  Can you imagine the outrage if every store at once refused to sell a gallon a milk unless customers also bought a loaf of bread, a jar of olives, and a three cans of tomato soup?

Maggie got word that Xbox was in on Thursday, but she didn’t tell me, bought it on her way to work Thursday night, and surprised me with it after work on Friday morning.  The timing was especially nice, because we had already arranged for me niece, Shannon, to babysit Friday night so we could get out for a date night.  We went out to find some place new, but had difficulty finding some place nice that wasn’t too busy.  We went to the other extreme and tried out a bar.  The food wasn’t too bad and not long after we got there, a live band started to setup.  They weren’t very good, but it was still entertaining.  When we got there, the bar was pretty empty, but by the time we left, even the standing room was crowded and it was a big place.  There was some real characters in the bar, so all in all it turned out to be a really fun night.

The weekend got even more expensive on Saturday as Maggie and I continue to interview contractors.  We’re going to remodel our kitchen, dining room, and the downstairs bathroom.  It’s going to be a huge inconvience and a ridiculous expense, but it’ll be worth it.  Our kitchen is outdated, poorly designed, and unattractive.  So far, the search for a contractor has been interesting.  We setup appointments with six different contractors we found through the paper, phonebook, and internet searches.  We’ve been able to reject three of the contractors outright already and have more or less decided which we like best, but we’re holding off on any kind of a decision until all the quotes are in and we complete reference, insurance and license checks.  I hope everything works out for our already favorite.  It’ll be interesting to see how things turn out.  I know this kind of construction can put a lot of stress on a family, but I think Maggie and I are up for it.  I’m sure it’ll be a topic for future posts.

"Be sincere; be brief; be seated.”
Franklin D. Roosevelt