Thoughts on keeping entertained while traveling

Why should we even have to discuss how to keep entertained while traveling?  Shouldn't we hope that travel itself will be so new, so full of unique experiences, so soul sating that it provides the entertainment we are seeking? Unfortunately, that hope is only partially met on any trip.I have ever taken.  Long hours stuffed into the economy seat of an overseas flight, interminable layovers in airports, boring ground transportation, stuffy hotel room without the promised ocean view, long wait lines for celebrated restaurants, need I go on?  Sorry if I discouraged you from planning your next trip!  Maybe we can salvage it by exploring how to stay entertained while traveling.

You may be of an age to remember when the decision of how many and which books to pack for an upcoming trip was as crucial as deciding how many pairs of shoes to take.  (I remember once packing a library book which I promptly left behind in the bedroom of a Spanish parador and had to pay $30.00 to our local library upon return.)  As much as I still enjoy reading a physical book, I'm glad those days are behind us.  

Nowadays, a Kindle reader and an iPhone are my go to sources of quick entertainment.  Waiting somewhere in an office?  Check e-mail.  A friend late for lunch date?  Click on Facebook.  Bored at your local coffee shop?  See what Flipboard has to offer.  Ready to sit and rest for a minute?  Get one more language lesson done on Duolingo.  

Our first concern is to make sure electronic devices will still function at our travel destination.  Kindle solved that problem by making the ability to download books internationally available.  However the same type of books I read at home are not the ones I want to read on the road.  No heavy Linguistics titles, emotional war stories, or self-help books for me abroad!  I choose books for pure entertainment value.  Downloading a few easy reading books before leaving gives me a feeling of security that I can bury myself in a book under almost any circumstances.   

The cell phone, however, is another matter.  I wish I were technologically "woke" enough to employ adventurous solutions like buying and installing a SIM card when arriving in a foreign country.  That not being the case, I succumb to the expensive solution of purchasing an international phone plan from my cell phone provider.  Choosing a plan is anxiety producing enough to begin with, not to mention trying to understand just how much data is required to send a picture of the Irish countryside to a friend in the US.  

And I have a cautionary tales about using international cell phone plans.  "Just use WiFi " is the common advice given.   But finding reliable and secure WiFi at the moment you need it is not always the case.  Example:  My husband and I were staying in the small Swiss town of Chur. Free WiFi was one of the perks of the hotel. What we didn't realize was that the signal was erratic, so we used up our cell service data allotment very quickly and found ourselves owing hundreds of dollars two days into a fifteen day trip. Now we are plotting strategies for cell phone use for our next trip.  

But something is very wrong with spending one's time trying to make an electronic device work on a trip.  Shouldn't we be reading about and discussing the places we will visit, doing a bit of language study, and figuring out how to pack for two weeks in one carry on luggage?

Which leads me to my final point.  How about concentrating on our surroundings, wherever our trip takes us?  How about having a conversation, however brief, with a native of the country?  How about chatting with travel companions about what we are seeing and doing?  And even reading the headlines of  a local newspaper may provide not only entertainment but a new perspective.  

Would making a pact with travel companions to go cold turkey from electronic devices be the solution?  (Pretty drastic, huh?)  We might find ourselves enjoying the travel experience even more when it is filtered through our own eyes, ears, taste buds and noses rather than our beloved electronics.  

  

Traveler's Remorse - Have you experienced it?

One of the first questions I hear from friends and family when I arrive home from vacation is, "How was your trip?"  "Great!" I respond automatically.  (They probably don't want details anyway.)

But does "great " describe how I truly feel about the trip?   An insidious emotion that I mentally label as "traveler's remorse" begins to set in even before my suitcase is unpacked. This type of remorse is similar to "buyer's remorse," the feeling that overcomes a person after purchasing an overly expensive item.  What was I thinking, for heaven's sake?

I no longer travel with a steamer trunk the size of the one above, but my unopened suitcase in the bedroom still mocks me after a trip. I know it contains lots and lots of dirty clothes.  Even if the clothes have not been worn on the trip, I feel the need to wash everything. Washing and ironing  several loads of clothes is what I will be doing for several days.  How can I dream about the terraced hills of Tuscany in the laundry room?  Why did I pack so many clothes anyway?  Fewer would have worked just fine.

The trip has interrupted our household routine.  Two weeks worth of mail and newspapers are piled up on the kitchen counter.  First I sort through the mail, searching for any piece that requires immediate attention to ward off disaster, such as an unpaid electric bill. Catalogs go in one stack, advertisements into the trash can, and items to look at later in still another stack.  Old newspapers require decisions as well.  Shall I run through the yellowed papers quickly and glance at the headlines?  I decide to do just that and also carefully save and fold the daily crossword puzzles, which should keep me entertained through the back at home slump.

Although we leave our numerous pets and plants in very good care, I still feel the need to apologize to the flora and fauna of our household for running off and enjoying myself when they are accustomed to my daily solicitous care.  Several neighborhood cats now jump into our yard to bully our cats at the food bowl.  Our inside cat, Bitsy, haughtily refuses to come out of hiding and snubs us for several days after we return. 

Just as we begin to feel comfortable with home life again, the dreaded monthly credit card bill arrives.  What?  That fancy restaurant where I didn't even like the food charged us that much?  Why didn't someone consider the unfavorable exchange rate?  What are these unidentifiable charges?  Neither my husband or I will own up to them.  We pay the charges reluctantly.  As I write an unaccustomedly large check, I question how much fun I really did have on the trip. My Traveler's Remorse is now complete.

Thankfully though wallowing in Traveler's Remorse is a temporary condition.  It begins to lose strength as we view pictures of our trip and relive happy trip highlights.  I trust that every vestige of Traveler's Remorse will be forgotten as soon we begin planning our next great travel adventure. 

Remembrance of Breakfasts Past

"What would you like for breakfast this morning?" my husband, Wayne, asked one dreary February morning as we were sitting at home in El Paso, Texas.

 "Eggs Benedict at Wynn's Hotel in Dublin," I replied facetiously. Our travel funds were in short supply with the stock market bouncing up and down, and we had no plans to travel to faraway lands anytime soon. But at least we have our breakfast memories.

Not all travelers may agree, but to us breakfast in a new city is one of the highlights of a trip.  (We have friends and relatives who prefer to sleep in and miss breakfast, can you imagine?)  We began to reminisce about breakfast meals we have enjoyed in our travels.

First place goes to Wynn's Hotel in Dublin, Ireland.  Wynn's is a traditional (shall I say staid?) Victorian hotel located near the famous Abbey Theatre.  A maitre d' ushers guests into the elegant dining room with views of  passersby on Abbey Street Lower.  Your coffee cup in filled with steaming strong coffee as you are being seated. Wayne invariably orders Eggs Benedict and swears that they are the best he has ever had.

Wynn's Hotel, Dublin Ireland

The runner-up for our best breakfast memory goes to La Fonda On the Plaza Hotel in Santa Fe, New Mexico.  Santa Fe is only a six hour drive from our home (close by Texas standards), so we have been guests at the hotel many times, often during the Christmas season.  The breakfast room, La Plazuela, is a large, bright area with a fountain in the middle and hand painted glass tiles on doorways. Eggs Benedict is again usually Wayne's menu choice.

La Fonda on the Plaza, Santa Fe, New Mexico

I generally order a less ambitious dish, like this one with yogurt, granola and fresh fruit.

La Fonda Hotel on the Plaza, Santa Fe, New Mexico

Another breakfast memory is not so much about the food but rather the incredible views from the balcony where breakfast is served at the CS Vintage House Hotel in Pinhão, Portugal.  This picturesque small city is located on the Douro River in the wine country.  I could sit all day and watch the boats on the river and gaze across to the vineyards on the hills. 

Pinhão, Portugal

A much less extravagant breakfast that still brings us happy memories was in a small tea shop in the village of Greenwich, UK.  I look forward to ordering tea (hot tea we would call it in Texas) in Britain because you are served not just a cup but a whole pot of tea with sugar and cream on the side.  Scones with clotted cream and jam are the perfect accompaniment to the tea, which always tastes better to me than our American tea.   

Greenwich, United Kingdom

A breakfast we can have any time we feel like driving about an hour from our home is in a small restaurant called The Shed in Las Cruces, New Mexico. What a perfect place to start a relaxed Saturday enjoying the multicultural atmosphere of the "City of the Crosses." We have to remind ourselves to bring a hearty appetite, because servings are quite large.  The quiche comes with a variety of fresh fruit and crusty bread.

The Shed, Las Cruces, New Mexico

Our last standout memory are the breakfasts served on the long distance VIA Canadian train between Toronto and Vancouver.  We have taken the four-day trip both ways, east to west and west to east, once in the dead of winter.  I can't say enough about how much we love to the travel on the Canadian. And being served a sumptuous breakfast while watching the Canadian landscape pass by through large picture windows is about as much fun as a person should be allowed to have.

VIA Rail Canada

I'm not sure where our travels will take us next.  To the Isle of Skye in Scotland? Northern Spain? A train trip in British Columbia?  Wherever it is, I know Wayne will ask me, "What do suppose they serve for breakfast?"

On Arriving Home

Arriving home from an extended trip should be a joyous occasion, shouldn't it?  After all, "There's no place like home."  Certainly the week before a big trip I wonder if I am crazy for leaving familiar comforts and venturing out into the big, scary world.  But I find the day or two after returning from a trip equally as disorienting.

I arrived home in mid-July this year from a 17-day trip abroad with my husband, Wayne.  We  stayed in Switzerland,

Chur, Switzerland

and rode the Bernina Express through the Alps.

Alps viewed from Bernina Express

We had many adventures traveling on Italian trains and spent a week at a Tuscan villa with friends and family. Due to difficulties with plane schedules on the return flight, it was mid-afternoon before we finally pulled up in our own driveway   I am always happy to see our house still standing as we round the last corner. But I immediately started peering at the front yard to see if the desert plants had survived.  After all, it was July in the Desert Southwest, with daytime temperatures often hitting the 100 degree mark.

Our house cat, Bitsy,

Bitsy

punishes us when we travel by staying in hiding rather than greeting us at the front door.  Bitsy has a special cat minder who provides her with daily care, but that doesn't stop her from making sure we suffer because we abandoned her.  I look in all of Bitsy's usual hiding places — under the bed, on the window sill behind a table, behind my reading chair in the bedroom, and of course I call to her, but to no avail.

I wonder endlessly around the house and yard, trying to feel as if I belong here.  I apologize to plants and animals for being off enjoying myself instead of tending to their needs.

Commonplace duties are everywhere, demanding my attention.  Two weeks of newspapers and mail are piled up on the kitchen counter.

So many newspapers, so little time

I set the newspapers aside, vowing to at least glance at the headlines to keep up with local news.  The mail is sorted into a junk pile, an emergency pile, and a tend-to-later pile. The answering machine on the house phone is blinking a red light announcing nine voice messages.  I listen to them impatiently.  Only three of the nine messages need a follow up.  I write down the information to tackle tomorrow when I can concentrate.

My mind keeps drifting back to Italy.  What is going on today at our Air B n B  in Tuscany, Le Due Volpi?  Are new guests now in  "our"  rooms?  Have they discovered the postcard-worthy view of the valley from the villa patio?

View from the villa balcony

How are our traveling companions, my friend from London, and our son and his girlfriend?  Did they arrive home safely?  Did they enjoy the villa as much as we did?  I miss our daily get-togethers.  So many more interesting topics I would like to discuss with them.

Tomorrow I will get back on track.  I vow to make appointments, wash clothes, clean out the refrigerator, buy groceries, and balance the checkbook.  Ugh.  How boring.

But just for today, I want to daydream. I want to recapture the glorious feeling of being out in the world, where life is happening.   I want to remember the kindness of Italian strangers who pulled me through a train door that was already closing to leave.  I want to think about how proud I was when I finally remembered, after three shopping trips, to weigh and mark the price of the fruit before going to a cashier.  I want to taste the strong coffee that Wayne made us every morning in a special pot, a Moka, served in the outdoor kitchen at the villa. And most of all,  I want to wake up every morning wondering what great adventures are in store for me that day.

Duties and real life are already crowding into my mind.  The hills of Tuscany are slipping away, only to be recaptured in photos, conversations, and if I am so fortunate, flashes of remembrance.  I am settling in to ordinary life again, which I suppose is what I truly want to do.  

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