New Year's Travels

Tonight I plan to lay low and relax cuddling with my dog. I know there are many out there that have taken special trips to enjoy the New Year's celebration. Perhaps you took a trip to a ski resort. Maybe a trip to surprise that special someone. Maybe a life long dream of standing in Times Square just to watch the ball drop with countless others.

Some of those things I hope to get to do but tonight I'm content to be home while I bid farewell to 2016. This coming year I don't know what holds in store for me. I hope to finish my degree and graduate this May. There is so much more that I hope will happen but can't help but wonder where I'll be next year. Will I take a major trip? Will I get a dream job teaching? Will I finally finish a book and dig in on getting published? Will I finally get lucky in love? Will I move to Ireland? Who knows?

I can only live my best life and hope that we will arrive to the end of 2017 safe, healthy, and happy.

Happy New Year to everyone!

Remembering and Longing during the Holidays

This holiday weekend I’d like to take a moment to acknowledge everyone who has a little longing in their hearts. It can be hard to get through the holidays when there is a piece of you (even a tiny corner of your heart) that is longing for someone, or to be somewhere else.

We smile as we go through the season, putting up a brave front hoping the hide our wishes behind a mask of happiness. No one wants to be the downer at a family gathering or the holiday party right? I think sometimes the holidays with all its cheer and laughter can amplify that longing we all hold rather than overpower it.

For me I have a continuous wanderlust and am always wishing to be on the road exploring different parts of the country or world. This year the desire to travel is amplified by missing my annual Thanksgiving week trek to some new destination.

I think it is important to remember during this time of longing the better things about the holiday. Me personally, I am allowing myself to acknowledge those feelings of longing. Allowing my heart to note what I’m missing (both in people I’ve lost and in travel not done) and registering that emotion. Burying those feelings won’t fix it and won’t make them go away. Allow them to happen and acknowledge them. If you need, have some time with a good friend to talk them out. Sometimes that talk, and a little cry over the sense of loss can make a difference.

Just as important as acknowledging those losses or missing pieces is also to remember to embrace the goodness of the season. Spending a holiday with a good friend or with family. Taking time to be grateful to have those people in your life. Try to remember the good parts of those losses as well. For me it will be remember with nostalgic humor of my dad running around in his Christmas red flannel on Christmas day. I will also remember the happy moments spent on the various trips I’ve been lucky enough to take.

Take in the little moments. That perfect minute tucked on the couch with a cup of cocoa, dog cuddled up next to you, and a good book or Christmas movie on television. Watching a child open a gift on Christmas, that excited amazement on their faces is always brilliant. Looking out the window to enjoy the magic of a white Christmas (if you’re lucky enough to get snow). A moment of shared laughter with others we feel close to. Whatever it is that brings a smile to your face, that moment is one to cherish.

I wish all of you get to experience some magic of the holidays whether it be Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza, or Festivus (ha ha)! For me I plan to spend a merry Christmas with my friends and family and be grateful for them all.

Car troubles and travels

Dealing with car issues this week and thinking back to the trips I’ve taken where there were the inevitable car trouble. Those trips were stressful but looking back, some of the stories that we can tell today in some ways make it kind of worth having the troubles we had.

Mom and I can speak to the road trip we took cross-country to meet up with my dad and brother in Indiana. Just a day or two in and there was car trouble. We spent half the day in New Mexico waiting for a part to be installed before we could get on the road to our next destination. I don’t remember much about this day but mom has talked about this day on several occasions. She talks about the stress of the wait to get going again and the worry of the repair cost eating up the budget we had for the trip. For me, I was nine or ten years old at the time, so it was a lot of boredom and waiting before we could keep going.

Later…much later I went on a road trip with my friends to California and none of us had cars that would handle the trip. At least not that we knew. So we decided it would be cheaper to split the cost of a rental car instead of driving one of our own. Going to get the rental car however, was a journey in itself.  We took my car to the rental place and the cooling system was out of whack. Unfortunately we hit traffic on the way. My car was fine temperature-wise…as long as we kept moving. The minute we hit traffic and were at a standstill, the car would start to overheat superfast. Luckily the person in the car with me knew a work around and had me put my car in neutral and press the gas pedal. This worked like a charm and kept my car cooling itself while we sat still. It was a challenge sitting in traffic, stressful, trying to keep the car cool and running. Thankfully we eventually made it to the rental shop but it was not a fun journey.

Flagstaff…summertime….it’s hot…yes in Flagstaff, it was hot. The car stopped running at the first traffic light into the town. Mom stays behind the wheel while my brother, Brad, and I climb out and push the car through the light and off the road. We started pushing uphill a little just trying to get through the traffic light to make a left, then the car started on a decline and we went from pushing the car, to running with the car, to chasing the car just trying to keep up. I remember praying that no one would hit the car and then when the car left us in the dust coasting down the hill, I started to worry about us getting hit.

Then the mother of all car trouble….the day before Ireland. Obviously this car wouldn’t be coming with us but getting ready for a trip, on a hot day in Phoenix, with a car that is breaking is not an ideal situation. We had to get things finalized when mom’s car rebelled and started to overheat. I showed mom the trick to keep the car cool in traffic but there was also an issue with shifting. I noticed after a while that her car had a tap-shift override so we were able to get the car back on the road and head to the mechanic that day. Unfortunately mom didn’t know how to work the tap shift and I didn’t know how to time when to shift gears since I’ve never really driven a standard car.  So our journey to the mechanic involved her saying to me “Now” when it was time to shift gears and I would work the tap-shift. On the surface streets of Phoenix heading into rush hour, the conversation was pretty much…green light “Now” tap, “Now” tap, “Now” tap. Red light, tap tap tap. Green light “now” tap, “now” tap….well you get the picture. We made it to the mechanic and then began the amazing car juggle to get ourselves transportation until we left.

It doesn’t seem fun at the time dealing with those car issues but looking back. I have to laugh at some of the trips and the troubles. Brad and I chasing after the runaway car, mom is steering and had no idea we couldn’t keep up, she was just aiming for the parking lot. The interesting “Now” tap communication with mom for 45 minutes. The rental car experiences while dealing with the troubles on our own cars. All make for interesting and in some cases fun memories.

Waterford...a sneak peak

Today I thought I'd share a sneak peak of what I'm writing for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). This is the tour of the Waterford Factory in Ireland that Mom and I took.  Be kind, this is an unedited draft.

September 24, 2013

(a.k.a. A bit o’ Irish…single malt)

We plugged in the directions from the B&B to the Waterford factory on Molly and off we went to the tour. We found the factory easily enough, parking was a bit more challenging, and we circled around a couple times before we happened on a paid parking lot and settled on that for our parking. We made sure to put in enough time so that we could enjoy ourselves on our time remaining in Waterford. As we wandered over to the factory, we saw the parking lot sat right on the riverfront and so we took several pictures of the river, correction, mom took lots of pictures of the river. We also caught a couple of swans floating on the water. They looked so regal and beautiful moving effortlessly over the water. It was lovely to see. We kept going though as we needed to pick up some tickets for a tour of the factory. We crossed to the front of the Waterford building and it…was…amazing. Shimmering beauty of crystal could be seen in their showroom. Mom stopped to get pictures, eager to see more I kept moving. Inside it was all I could do to stay still and to stand in line to get our tickets for the tour. By the time I made it to the counter, mom had made it inside and was with me to purchase her ticket. It would be forty-five minutes before we would be able to start on the tour but that was fine with me. I could take the time to drool over the showroom and decide what I would buy after. I knew that no matter what I’d be buying something here. This was something I’d always wanted to do and I was so excited to finally be doing it. I wandered the showroom. Came across a massive grandfather clock that was made entirely of Waterford crystal. I could only imagine just how heavy this thing would be. We saw another piece, a large crystal bear that was priced at 30,000 Euro (about $31,765 American).

It was awesome to see these massive pieces. They had an entire dining table set up. The tables and chairs were of clear material, not crystal but I think it was a resin, it was definitely too nice to be plastic. The settings on the table were all of Waterford crystal and shining silver flatware. The center of the display boasted a tall flower vase with white and yellow flowers spilling over the top. I loved this view and was in my own little moment of bliss. I hate to admit it, but after looking over the displays and fawning over the pieces of intricate crystal I became restless, I was ready to start the tour. Finally the announcement came on calling those with tickets to gather at the starting point for the tour. Mom and I met up over in the area as she’d gone back outside for more pictures of the front of the building. Our tour guide came up and had all the personality of a brick. He talked flatly and mumbled through the descriptions of the history of Waterford crystal before starting a video to mark the beginning of our tour. After the video we moved on into the backside of the factory and began the tour. We were shown the process from mold making to melting and forming. We watched as the glassmakers worked the crystal on the pipes and heated the crystal in the gloryholes of the furnace making vase after vase with the same pattern. There were two main glassblowers making the vases and two assistance working with each glassblower. By this time, other than picking up a little piece of information here and there from the tour guide, I’d more or less tuned him out. He was pretty dry. As we continued on the tour we came across the marking area where a man was using a guide and a sharpie marker to mark the pattern on whiskey tumblers for the crystal cutters to follow. As he marked the glasses without thought, he began to banter with the tour guide. The guide picked up the tumbler and explained what they were saying the glasses were perfect for a “bit of Scotch,” “Or a bit of Irish” countered the other man. Then the guide began to almost wax poetic about the liquor that could go into the glasses. This was the most emotional I saw him get the entire tour. Saying over and over “singles malt, a bit of Irish, single malt” His eyes gazed off in the distance as if recalling a treasured memory. Eventually, he shook off the nostalgia and returned to the tour, deadened voice returning. We passed through the area of the glass cutters and saw some finished specialty pieces that were largely made off-site in a specialty area focused on custom orders. What we were seeing were the mass production items sold around the world and in their gift shop. The guide passed around a small finished but unpolished wine glass. It was interesting to see a glass that had the cuts and beauty but was dull still as they hadn’t made it shine yet. That was to be the last step. Mom and I looked over the pieces of specialty, we saw a Cinderella style carriage pulled by horses, a large football that would be an award for players of the NFL. I hovered over a model of the People’s choice award and suddenly the tour guide was next to us and picked it up and handed it to me and mom in spite of the “DO NOT TOUCH” signs that were everywhere around the pieces. He took mom’s camera and got a picture of the two of us holding the award. That was such a moment to me. After, very delicately, putting the award back down, taking extreme care not to break it we moved along with the group. I was still flying from holding that massively heavy piece of crystal when we saw the alst item of the tour. It was a replica in crystal from 9/11. The pieces of the trade center that many remember seeing stick up from the wreckage flanked an image carved into a solid piece of crystal. The image was of the firefighters carrying the priest who had died in the tragedy of 9/11. Many of us who passed this piece paused, I felt like crying at the beauty and sadness of this piece. As an American, I felt honored that the Waterford factory would recognize this tragedy with such a beautiful and delicate piece of crystal. Sobered and still a little emotional we moved through the door and back into the showroom. 

A Journey of the Mind

Today marks my second day of participation in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) for 2016 and I'm excited about my writing as it will be about something I love to write about. Ireland! I will be writing on the three weeks of adventure, scares, and fun for the next several days until November 30th or 50,000 words. I'm excited to once again traverse the green hills, stand at the edge of the high rocky cliffs, and stand on the beach listening to the waves crash on the shore. It'll be fun to relive driving on the wrong side of the road on the wrong side of the car. I get to rehash conversations and fun arguments with the taxi drivers we were lucky enough to have. I get to bounce along on a horse-drawn-cart ridge with a tour guide who happily pointed out things and taught me Irish as we went along.  I get to look down from the second level of a double deck bus at the streets of Dublin as I watch cars, trains, bicyclists, and pedestrians whoosh past. I get to hear terms I'd longed to hear my whole life like: cuppa tea, get some petrol, or use the lift. All memories for me now but a dream come to life in the experience. Now as I write, I return to those travels and once again will get to live the dream. Wish me luck!

Indiana in the Fall

I remember one year going to Indiana in the fall. It was early yet so the trees were still in the midst of changing. It was a lovely combination of colors. Brilliant greens that had yet to give way to the fall change amidst the bright oranges, reds, and yellows of the changing trees.  We drove one day, down to Nashville, Indiana, a small picturesque town about an hour south of Indianapolis. For me, visiting this small town was much like stepping onto the set of Gilmore Girls (a favorite show of mine). I stood on the gazebo and observed people moving about with cameras, busily catching the images. I remember hearing the church bells chime the hour in a singsong melody. Vivid flower pots teeming with flowers mixed in with fall decoration and hay bales. 

I stood with my mom, who is also a fan of Gilmore Girls, and laughed with her on how we almost expected certain characters to come bustling across the center of town. Perhaps, Lorelai would go racing toward the diner for yet another cup of coffee. Maybe Rory and Lane would walk up onto the Gazebo and sit for a chat. I joked with mom that I almost expected Taylor Doose to come running up when we hovered over a plaque commemorating the first public water pump for the town. We paused to take a picture on the gazebo, mom and I, to commemorate that moment in time. Mother and daughter, much like the show we enjoyed, relaxing, having fun in this small town that was just bursting with charm. It was such an enjoyable and memorable day. Certainly a place that’s marked on my list for another visit. Perhaps, I’ll go when it’s off season, find a small B&B. Who knows maybe I’ll run into a few unique characters then too?

A different kind of journey

Today in honor of my dad, I wish to share a story of a different kind of journey. Today was the day I lost my dad. It was close to sunset and my family and I watched him struggle to breathe knowing it wouldn't be much longer before it stopped. We cried quietly and held each other. My step-mom stroked his head and held his hand when he took his last breath. I remember how quiet the room got. We all just stopped, staring in wonder at how different the room felt. He wasn't there.

I remember clearly walking to the window where the blinds had been shut and I opened them. I was thinking about Italy and how the literal translation of giving birth means to bring to the light. I stared out the window, a little numb and thinking that dad had just been born in a different way. He had transitions from life to death but now in the hands of his angels. I watched the sun slowly set and could almost picture him crossing into the light, entering into a new journey. I heard the quiet crying behind me while a couple family members shared a few stories of his life. We laughed a little, cried more. I stayed by the window and as the sun lowered behind the horizon, I murmured quietly to dad, "welcome to the light."

A year ago

A year ago today I was preparing to go on my epic road trip. At this point, reservations were made, destinations decided, and the countdown had begun. Now my focus turned to getting ahead in school so I could leave the classwork at home for the week.

I spent my days pushing my love for reading to its very limits. Polishing off the stories, Jane Eyre, Frankenstein, Wuthering Heights, Rebecca, Sherlock Holmes and the Hound of the Baskervilles, and more. Four-hundred pages polished off in two days then followed with an essay discussing the book. It was an amazing journey through the pages of these books. As part of me wished dimly to be able to participate in National Novel Writing Month, the thought formed and then vanished as quickly as it formed as I traveled across the moors in Sherlock Holmes. I traveled the countryside with Jane Eyre as she searched for a new home. I tip toed through the halls with the woman who learned about the despicable Rebecca and followed Victor Frankenstein around the countryside as he chased down the monster he created. As I prepared for my journey across Northern California, I traveled in my head following the stories of the characters I grew to love, enjoy, or despise (Victor, I'm looking at you, you spineless weenie).  It was a journey I loved taking and cannot wait until I have more free time. Perhaps, I'll make a visit back to see Jane Eyre again, slower this time, more enjoyable to soak in all the amazing details brought to the pages by Charlotte Bronte.

Fall Vacation

As I enjoy my first hot apple cider of the fall, I can't help but think back to my childhood when my parents, brother, and I would head to Flagstaff for the week of Thanksgiving. I so loved the idea of missing the entire school week instead of just the two days, even if it meant taking homework packets with us to Flagstaff. We would spend the week exploring the timeshare, going to the tennis courts to play terribly executed games, playing games of mini golf and spending time at the clubhouse drinking hot cocoa and cider. It was a break from the normal daily routine, with the exception of the homework packets. When we finished the work we had to complete each day, my brother and I would tear off like freed convicts to once again resume the explorations of the timeshare.

More often than not, dad would come up to join us after work on Wednesday, he had to work so would miss the first part of the week. When he arrived, it was so exciting, it was almost time for Thanksgiving. I always knew that when I woke on Thursday morning, the wonderful aromas of a special Thanksgiving dinner would already be wafting in the air. Mom would fix her special breakfast strata and I would eat breakfast, smelling the stuffing and wishing it was already time for dinner. I loved watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, something I still love doing today, and feeling that special closeness of family on that lovely holiday.

Travel and the imagination

I must admit...some of my best memories from travel never actually happened. In my planning for trips I often find myself wondering what exciting things will happen to me while I'm on my journeys. I imagine that I'll see some amazing sites, perhaps an eagle will fly close by, maybe I'll see an enchanted scene, like out of a movie. Or my most favorite and common, the one where my romantic side takes lead. I'll live out the most amazing love story while on the trip. Perhaps my car will break down heading into Yosemite where a cranky and handsome rancher will come to my rescue. Perhaps, I'll meet a man who needs my help with something and something develops. It's silly I know, and belongs in the pages of a book. Heck, it is all fodder for a future romance book.  So perhaps I'll leave you all with a short imagery, one from my quick imaginings of trips past.

The evening brushed wisps of air against the skin and down the back giving chills to anyone who still dressed for summer. Fireflies danced around the edges of the nearby woods, mirroring the twinkle lights hanging overhead. She stood on the porch of activity center, the wood boards creaking beneath her feet wishing she'd brought a sweater to put over her sundress. Almost as soon as the thought of the chill popped into her mind, it swished away again as she became enchanted by the view. It was a magical fairyland. The pergola cover of the porch boasted purple wisteria, hanging onto those final days of summer. Each night, she knew, fewer lightning bugs would appear. Each day, more flowers would fade. Even as she enjoyed the prospect of Autumn, she felt a little sad, a little nostalgic for the last days of summer.

She leaned against a post, hearing the tinkling of glasses and laughter of party goers in the activity center behind her. She only had a few days before she had to head home, back to work, back to life. All summer she'd been spying him, the same man, he was handsome, not in the traditional sense but there was something about the way he held himself, the way he moved that attracted her attention. He had been allusive though, disappearing each time she drew near. She sighed, it was like the rest of her life, the idea of a romance dancing around the edges but never fully coming to fruition. As she watched the scenery, she heard creaking of those cranky floorboards. Someone was approaching. She could tell from the smell, from the sound of the walk exactly who it was. "Beautiful night" He said. She turned around....and smiled.

Anticipation of a Staycation

Here we are, mid-September and I'm already dreaming about my upcoming non-road trip trip in November. Every year I take the week of Thanksgiving off and take a vacation. Shoot, to me, this is the best time to take the week off, three vacation days used, nine days off in a row.

In the past I've taken trips to Prescott, stayed in lovely places, explored the shops downtown, and relaxed all while dreaming of the day I wouldn't have to leave. After that dream came true, I found myself wondering...now what. I was living in my favorite vacation destination. So I began to explore. Last year was my biggest solo trip overall, I went on a massive 9 day road trip up California and back down through Nevada. It was an amazing journey.

This year is leaving me without the means to travel, having spent my vacation budget on a conference early this year, taking a road trip somewhere new isn't in the cards. So I decided to still take the time off, but this time, I'm exploring the area. I'm finding I'm a bit excited about this non-trip. I'm counting down the days to the end of my current college course (8 weeks left) and am learning of the different activities I can do while on my vacation.

I'm excited of the prospect of taking a train in Northern Arizona, visiting wineries in Cottonwood, or even visiting the Grand Canyon Caverns in Peach Springs. Perhaps I might even travel a bit of Route 66, something I've wanted to do for a long time. There are so many places I've yet to explore, living in Arizona, they become taken for granted. Who knows what amazing sights I'll see? A week to unwind from the pressures of work, school, and other day-to-day activities sounds just perfect. I wonder how many days I have.....where's my calendar?

Whales!

Watery spray from the whale blasted up right next to the boat with a sound that was from the books, from the movies, and one I'd been dreaming of hearing in person for as long as I could remember. We off the coast of Moss Landing which is just north of Monterrey on a whale excursion.

Early this morning we arrived at the Moss Landing Marina, a light layer of clouds covered the sun giving the morning a gloomy appearance. Despite the low light, my mood was light, nervous, and anxious excitement. I was going on a whale watching trip with my mom and we were filled with curiosity of exactly what the day would bring.
As the time to gather neared, we left the car and wandered over the the assigned meeting location for the journey. The sun began to peak out as the clouds began to roll away. I new this was a good sign as clear days, make it easier to spot whale spouts when they came up for air. As the captain and first mate explained the safety rules, my stomach jumped a little, nervous at the concept of being on a smaller boat than I was accustomed from previous whale/dolphin excursions, nervous at the possibility of sea-sickness. The what-if's kept rolling through my head.

After the rundown of safety rules our tour group headed down the docks to the boat. After spying the boat, mom paused and said "That's it? That's awfully small." I smiled, put on my brave face and told her it would be great, but I too was a little anxious about the size of the craft. We boarded, the crew gave final safety instructions and a little tour of the boat as the captain and other crew pushed off from the dock and we motored out of the marina toward the open ocean. We stayed near the read of the boat to start our journey, watching the water, bouncing over the waves, and listening to the roar of the engines. The sun was bright and sky clear. It wasn't long before a spout was seen and off we went in the direction of the whales.

Over the next few hours we spent much time near a drop-off in the water where Humpback Whales, Seals, and various other sea life came to feed. We watched in amazement as the sides, backs, tails, and heads of the whales would breach the surface and sink back down. When a blowhole appeared, a spray of water would come up as the whale took a breath before sinking back into the water. Fascinated by the sight I hung over the edge of the boat with many others, all jockeying for position along the rail to watch the whales. A few more daring souls hung off the front (highest and bounciest point) of the boat. The cautious ones hung back, utilizing the benches, staying in the shade and watching the whales from a little farther away. No matter the position in the boat, all stared in awe at the views.

Time was finally up, many growing hungry as the day progressed along, ready for a good lunch. Some exhausted from the early morning start and a day in the sun. We eagerly turned our attention back to shore, ready to depart from the boat and head on our ways, memories of whales and seals all swirling in our heads. Finally as we docked and departed I felt a mix of happiness to be off the boat and moving about again and sadness as I was once again leaving the water. It was a day to remember, and a day with amazing sights, smells, and sounds.

A blue building; A stone building

This was it. Something I'd dreamed about for years and here I was, on Inishmore. I'd spent the day  exploring the smaller island of Inisheer and riding across the Atlantic from Doolin, on mainland Ireland on a ferryboat. Inisheer was an unexpected surprise and an enjoyable one. Most of the island was low to the sea and upon approach it was amazing to see a lighthouse and a wrecked, rusted ship dotting the shoreline. Inisheer was a beautiful island to visit and spend a couple hours before I found myself back on the ferryboat zipping over the waves to an item on my bucket list. Inishmore. I'd dreamed about this for as long as I could remember. I road on the bow of the boat, waiting and watching for the island to come into view. In the distance I could see Inishmaan, a dark low rising mass rising just above the ocean. Suddenly there it was, low on the ocean but getting larger as we drew closer, Inishmore.

Our boat drew closer to the island and my heart was flying. I was there, finally there. I soaked in the view. A light house on a small island just off the main island blinked in the cloudy, slightly misty afternoon. As we approached the main town, Kilronan, I took in the buildings that stood close to the shore. Two in particular caught my attention. One blue building, one stone building. They stood next to each other and both had me itching to explore the goods the two stores had to offer. Carraig Donn, the blue building had so much to offer from Beleek pottery to Kilkenny crystal. Aran Sweater Market, the stone building held many sweaters, scarves, hats, and socks. There were many other gifty and touristy items. I left each store with purchases I loved from the moment I picked them and up still love, three years later. My Aran wool socks are a soft powder blue and a favorite to keep my feet warm on cold winter nights at home. The Beleek ornament still graces the branches of my Christmas tree each year and hangs on the wall the rest of the year as I don't have the heart to put away this lovely little reminder.

The purchases stand as a reminder to me of that lifelong goal I'd reached and the memory I had of floating up to the dock, seeing the buildings of Kilronan but seeing the standout buildings, one blue building; one stone building.

Hiking

Lately I've been doing a bit of hiking on Thumb Butte, trying to get in shape to hike more adventurous locations and I think back to the various hikes I've accomplished, or attempted to accomplish on trips I've taken. One stands out in memory though, a hike in Colorado to Four Mile Falls.

Going back quite a few years ago,  I was on vacation in Pagosa Springs, Colorado with my mom and dad. I was maybe 17 or 18 at the time and still living at home. Dad opted out of the hike so mom and I set out. We'd sprayed ourselves with a little off, packed our day-packs with lunch, extra bug spray, a rain poncho and lots of water and off we went. This hike was a marvelous combination of beauty, adventure, and disaster. We started out enjoying the beauty, marred by the occasional black fly that buzzed around us. The further we walked, the thicker the flies became and before long, stopping wasn't an option, the flies were too thick and would land as soon as we stopped moving. We tried more spray but it was useless. So powering on, we determined to move just fast enough we could enjoy the view while staying ahead of the flies. We crossed a meadow or too with a view beautiful enough to inspire a desire to sing the song from Sound of Music. As we neared the falls, the flies lessened, thank goodness, and they were almost gone when we reached the base. Sitting on a rock near the water, we enjoyed a flyless lunch and admired the view. I enjoyed the light breeze that had begun to blow and loved the view of the big clouds that were beginning to come into view. Mom took off to go a little up the trail to the top of the fall and I stayed where I was, just enjoying the view. Slowly the clouds began to build, getting bigger and closer. Mom returned and we decided we should get moving if we wanted to stay ahead of the storm that was obviously now rolling in. We heard little rumbles of thunder and picked up the pace. The wind kicked up, on the plus side, the flies were gone, they knew the storm was coming. The storm clouds rolled in quickly, rumbles became louder and louder. We knew we wouldn't make it back to the car before the storm hit. When the clouds blotted out the sun, we stopped and pulled out our ponchos. We hit the first field just as the storm broke. Rain poured, and lightning was flashing like crazy. Standing at the edge of the meadow, we debated which action to take. We knew standing under a tree was a bad idea, but so was going across the meadow making us the tallest object in the area. Finally, with a loud crack of thunder we made a run for it. Ducked low, we ran, poncho over backpack and all we looked like turtles on high speed. We never moved so fast, we ran through forest, past the second meadow, and kept going. Finally, the rain began to let up just as we spotted the car in the parking area. We were never so happy to make it back from the hike. Certainly one I won't forget anytime soon. I can't remember the falls or what they look like but I will never forget the storm or the flies. To this day, with all we experienced, I still refer to that hike as the fly trail hike. What an experience!

Tea Gardens

Today had been a lovely misty day. Exactly the kind I'd hope to experience while I was in Ireland. Just a few days into my trip and here it was! We drove down to Hook Point in Waterford Co this day to see Hook Light House, one of the worlds oldest, still in operation, light houses. Ocean beating against the black rock sending sprays of white into the air. The black rock rising up from the water to meet up with emerald green grass. All of this set around a fantastic black-and-white striped light house spearing up toward the misty grey sky.

We had taken time to explore an old ruin on the way in, amazed as always that along the side of the road, with nary a sign or notice, was this amazingly old ruin. The only information of the building was in a small plaque giving a small piece of history and the year it was built. It was amazing to wander around these extremely old ruins and not wonder if I was breaking the rules any.

Now we were heading back from these spots to catch the ferry back to Waterford City when we spotted a sign for Kilmokea Tea Gardens. I looked at mom and asked "Shall we?"  She simply responded "Yes, let's do it!!!!" So off we went another adventure. The tea garden was beautiful right from the start. Large trees and plants bordered the white sandy parking lot. We went inside the gate to be greeted with a corridor leading left and right and a sprawling garden straight ahead. We'd noted a sign that stated the garden was closing in five minutes, so a little bummed plans changed and we just decided to see if we could use the restroom before heading back out.

We stepped inside the tea house and stepped into a beautiful world. Glass walls and ceiling made up half the structure, the tea house, designed to look like a green house. Small garden tables were scattered on one half, a gift shop on the other. An aged wooden counter ran along one end of the building and behind the counter was a man who was counting down the till for closing the shop. This man was so friendly. He insisted we stay, he served us tea and lemon cake, and sat down to chat with us. I'll never forget the bright green bushes, trees, and grass. The pops of red and orange flowers that we could see from the tea house. We thanked the man for his hospitality and mentioned how beautiful the garden was. It was an amazing tea experience for us. Then the man said to us, I'm closing shop but you are welcome to wander the gardens as long as you are out before dark. He explained he didn't want to have to search for us if we got lost once it got dark. Make no mistake, those gardens were HUGE!!!

Satisfied by a late afternoon tea and desert, mom armed with her trusty camera, we thanked the man and set out to explore the garden. We saw hedge mazes, bamboo forests, all kinds of flowers. We passed a lake surrounded by plants with leaves so big, I felt like a shrunk down version of Alice exploring Wonderland. Other similar plants were much smaller held dead leaves in their cups. I was so enchanted I was almost certain if I moved the dead leaves I'd find a fairy curled up asleep in the cup of the leaf. We wandered for a couple hours, feeling happy and thoroughly enchanted headed out to the car. It was getting dark and it was time to head back to the b&b. The greens and the bright colors of this experience isn't one I'm likely to forget. This was one of those cherished memories, one put in a special place in the mind, protected; relived just by closing the eyes and imaging.

One of the best parts

This weekend I've been thinking about a non-trip I'll be taking in November, a staycation where I plan to roam the nearby towns and see things I haven't yet seen. Knowing I won't be packing a bag, or finding hotels is a little throwing to the enjoyment of this particular vacation. I realized that, for me, half the fun of a trip is the planning. The endless hours searching travel sites and reading hotel reviews. Looking at TripAdvisor and searching Google Maps for the best routes and interesting sites I didn't know existed.

I love putting together the itinerary and searching things to do. I love the dreaming that goes into my trips. The "what-ifs" and the "maybe I'll" thoughts. The romantic in me wants to daydream about the perfect romance scenario, even though the realist in me knows that belongs in the pages of a book and would never happen in my real life journeys.

I love thinking about what bags I'll take and what clothes I'll pack. Sometimes I'll even splurge a bit and get a couple new outfits just for the road.

I love the final preparations, knowing where I'll go on each day and knowing that every day won't go  just as I have it planned. To me that is even better than everything happening exactly to plan.  The fresh nerves of going on a journey. Wondering if I'll get lost, if my car will break down, and still forging on knowing that whatever happens, I'll be alright.

I love finally pulling out my suitcase and my travel supplies. I love piling my clothes on the bed and laying out what I want to wear each day. I love slowing working to put all my belongings for the trip into my bags. As much as I hate to do it, I love giving my dog a final goodbye cuddle before handing him off to a trusted friend. I love the fresh nerves that work through my body as I load my car, and finally climb in. Ready for the road. Stopping to fill the gas tank and grabbing a mocha at the local coffee shop as I head out. Ready to hit the road. Ready for a new adventure.

Summertime Afternoon Rain

After the afternoon rain showers we've had the last couple days I can't help but think back to the last time I was in Colorado with my parents for a vacation in Pagosa Springs. It is a beautiful mountainous town with incredible views and lots of relaxing activities. I remember vividly walking through the resort and seeing the green grass, the mountains surrounding the town, and the brown buildings of the resort housing. The air was nice, cool but comfortably so. Never too warm and not too cold. The warmth of the sun made everything even nicer outside. It just made me want to bask in the sun like a cat.

The best part though, every day that visit in the summer, rain fell in the afternoon. It was fantastic, the clouds would roll in, thunder would rumble and the skies would open. Everything would get drenched. Then, just as quickly, the clouds rolled away again.  Somehow, after the rain everything was prettier. The air was crisp and cool, the skies somehow bluer. The grass was greener. I still remember taking an afternoon walk after the rain had whisked away in the afternoon breeze and just breathing in the moist air. The air took on a golden light from the setting afternoon sun and tranquil contentment filled my whole body on that trip.  One I will never forget.

Evening Tea

It was a perfect day. A drive down the freeway from Dublin to the small town of Thomastown where we would be staying the next night. We had found and checked in at the B&B slated for that night and were off to an adventure. Our hostess told us about a ruin not far from where we were staying, Kells Priory, a 12th Century castle  (or church, I'm not quite sure). Kells Priory contained a church, just off the parking. It was large building, stone walls slightly green from moss, roof long since gone, and abundant plants growing from the floor on the interior. To the left was a small gate. We ventured on through the gate to discover a large green grassy field, several sheep grazing freely, and an imposing stone wall surround what one could only assume was once a grand castle. We wandered among the combination of green growing grass, ivy and moss covered stone walls, and construction equipment from the restoration in progress. Few people wandered the grounds and for much of the time, it seemed we had the place entirely to ourselves. We continued on and found a footbridge that crossed Kings River running along the back of the priory and walked the green island for a distance. The journey continued past an old watermill and a warehouse. We passed a thatched roof cottage, mom so enthralled with the pictures of the house I had to remind her that someone lived there. We laughed. Eventually we circled back across a stone bridge, through the town Kells and found ourselves back at the parking for Kells Priory. Tired, hungry, and thoroughly amazed at the experience we journeyed back to Thomastown to grab dinner and head back to the B&B. Finding a take out fish and chips joint we took our dinner back and grabbed a table on the outside patio of the B&B. As we unpacked the delicious smelling food, our hostess came out giving us plates, napkins, cups of water and a pot of tea.

It was a lovely day of adventure, perfect cool weather with puffy clouds in the sky. Brilliant green vegetation against green/black stone. Now a lovely evening with fantastic fish and chips, delicious Irish tea in lovely cups. We enjoyed our meal, tired, but relaxed and happy and watched the sunset.

I have a cup of tea now and think back to this day often. It was a once in a lifetime experience, elements of a day one couldn't design to recreate and yet, I long to return. To see these places again, to experience everything again.

Oh the Hydrangeas

I'm looking out my patio window, studying my flowers as they sway in the breeze and think of the trips where flowers stand out in my memory. In particular one type of flower: Hydrangeas. On a trip to North Caroline to see my step-sister get married, we took a trip to the Atlantic, my mom and I. I knew if I was going to be that close to the Atlantic (4 hour drive) I wasn't going to miss it. So three days before the wedding, mom and I flew to North Carolina and drove to the coast to spend the day on a small island, Bald Head Island. She was excited to see a lighthouse, Old Baldy, and I was excited to see the Atlantic. I had people tell me, "it looks just like the Pacific" but for me, I had to see it for myself. Let me tell you, it doesn't look the same. The water may be similar but the coast is very different. Anyhow, back to my point. I remember the hydrangeas. Beautiful flowers and at the base of Old Baldy. Mom spent much of her time pointing her camera upward to the lighthouse, I spent mine staring at the flowers. The beautiful purple and blue of the different plants all snuggled into the soft green grass under the massive dripping branches of a weeping willow. It was at that moment I couldn't help but feeling deeply how different it felt to be in the south. Growing up in Arizona, my experience with hydrangeas was from a florist, and weeping willows were in movies or in pictures. Not something I ever saw in person. If I was standing in a lush green lawn, it was someone who was watering a lot and not really environmentally conscious. Not on Bald Head Island though. Not at the feet of Old Baldy, history and charm intermingled in this place. This was a place where moisture was abundant, humidity to make hair curl and frizz and make a person feel moist long after drying off from a shower. It was wonderful, at this moment, the humidity didn't matter. All that was there was this experience. The rich green, the bright spots of color amid the green and the towering lighthouse standing watch over it all.

Travel can mean tired

As I spend my weekend resting, feeling rather exhausted I think back to some of the trips I took and how many levels of tired I experienced while on those journeys. There were many overnight or late night journeys to and from California. Some where I spent the trip in a sleep deprived daze, others where sleeping in the car and driving in shifts were necessary.

I think back fondly to three specific tired levels that I experienced, unintentionally, but nevertheless they were certainly unique. The first was the dazed and confused, this was a trip I took a red eye flight to Michigan to visit a friend and some family over a weekend. The time change had me landing in Detroit at 6 AM EST (3 AM Mountain Standard). I hadn't slept at all during the night and by the time I got my car rental I was running purely on caffeine. I'm pretty sure that weekend my body makeup was 90% water and 10% caffeine. By the end of my first full day, I was dazed, slightly confused in getting around and ever so happy to settle into bed that night.

The second journey was my road trip last year, my first full day was about 8 hours of driving from Phoenix, AZ to Fresno, CA. The day was one of adventure and I was excited and nervous to be on the trip on my own. That first day I was dragging by about 3pm and I had several hours ahead yet. I found a little hole in the wall donut shop just north of L.A. Knowing that those places often had the best coffee, I made a beeline for that shop. The lady running the shop was Filipino and absolutely fabulous! She was so friendly, cheerful, and insisted I take two donut holes (on the house) to go with my coffee. I was so enchanted by this experience, I told the woman about my plans and how I was passing through and asked to take a picture of her for my memories. She laughed, patted her hair, and shaking her head saying "Not today, I'm not dressed for picture. You come back tomorrow." It was such a fun few moments of my trip but certainly a pick-me-up on the long journey. By the time I reached Fresno that night it was exhilarated exhaustion. When the concierge told me I had an upgrade room with a hot tub and that delivery for dinner was an option I nearly climbed over the check-in counter and planted a kiss on his cheek. I barely made it into the room and collapsed. Excited I had made it, exhausted from the hours of travel but so happy to be at my first stop.

The third journey was to Ireland. Simply put, 13 hours of travel and 27 hours of awake time will give even the most seasoned traveler a cold medicine head feeling. The first day in Ireland was easy. I was running on fumes and caffeine (this sounds similar to the last two trips) but I was so excited to be in Ireland and determined to get on their time schedule I refused to let myself or mom sleep until we hit a normal bedtime. We zipped through Dublin, sleep deprived, lost and confused, on the wrong side of the road and the wrong side of the car. The GPS was no help and spent an hour hunting for a B&B that was supposed to be a 10 minute drive from the airport. It was a great first day, lunch in a small cafe up the road from the B&B (thank God our host dropped us off there) and then we wandered back hitting a small grocery store nearby on the way for some fresh fruit to snack on later that evening. We made it to a normal bedtime before collapsing into bed that night. The next day is when it hit. A cold-medicine like head that couldn't be beat. I was so proud of us when we woke at a normal time and had breakfast with the rest of the guests. After breakfast we collapsed. We had to rest and take a nap but I remember I could barely relax, I was in Dublin, there was so much to see and I was running out of time. I gave up trying to sleep after an hour and up we were out to explore Dublin. That day was a haze but was amazing to experience. We rode a double-deck bus, hit a gift shop that screamed TOURIST SHOP and picked up just about everything we wanted to by for our friends and family. We explored and somehow grabbed the wrong bus to get back to the B&B and end up about 2-3 miles north of the B&B. Oops. Sleep deprivation did not work well for us that day. On a fun turn of events though, we grabbed a taxi back to the B&B and had a lovely conversation with the cab driver. That night as we collapsed into our beds exhaustion once again overtook us. We both slept well that night, a dreamed, hoping that we'd wake feeling a little more normal the next day.

Travel, holidays, and food

This weekend I've been making my dad's recipe for baked beans and thinking back to all the trips I've taken where food was a big part of those journey's. Some were destination trips and some were happy accidents, tasty journey for the tongue. Each one has left me with a bigger desire to cook and to create an equally tasty dish; a dish that, when the flavors rest on my tongue, I'm transported back to that spot and can smell, see, taste, and hear where I was when I ate that meal.

For me it was the clam chowder and sourdough bread on Pier 39 in San Francisco or on Wharf 1 in Monterey that takes me back to the Pacific Ocean, cool breezes, salty air, brightly colored tourist shops, and overwhelming amounts of people. I can hear the call of the seagulls as they search for a dropped crumb. I can remember cringing at their hovering overhead as I pray they don't poop on me.

Pea Soup Andersen's and Firestone Vineyard near Solvang, CA were destinations for me. The pea green walls, green carpet, green booths, and green decor of Pea Soup Andersen's should have been overwhelming but somehow, it worked. The soup was fantastic, rich and flavorful, a destination to be sure. Firestone Vineyards had yummy wines but I'll always remember the sight of the vineyards, row upon row of grapevines, deep green in color. The view of a cork tree was something to log. Both lovely places with lovely tastes.

Texas brings back the taste sensation of a fantastic steak. One like I've never had before in even the nicer steakhouses. The Saltgrass Steakhouse appeared to be an upscale restaurant and had I tasted the food before going, I'd have assumed it would be a fancy place to visit. I remember though, the patrons had a variety of dress. Some fancy, on a date, others more relaxed. A Friday night out with the pals or the family.

Ireland, though, that trip left me with the desire to recreate many of the dishes I had while there. I've purchased Irish tea from Ireland because what we have here is a pale comparison to the richness of the flavor of their tea. The soups were blended fantasies, a myriad of flavors all hitting the tongue at once leaving one struggling to determine what exactly was in the soup. There were two things that stood out to me in this journey. The soda, ahhh the soda bread. So simple and yet so delicious. I eat a piece of freshly baked soda bread and am transported back to the breakfast table of a bed and breakfast. The smells of Ireland, the views of the cliffs, the lilt of the voices all come rushing back. Then there was the dish. The one that inspired me to recreate some of the things I ate in Ireland. Mushroom Risotto. The evening was cool and rainy. We'd had an adventure filled day filled with the sights of Giant's Causeway and Carick-A-Rede Rope Bridge and it was drawing to a close in Carrickfergus. Our innkeeper recommended a restaurant a short drive from the b&b so we headed over. The woods were rich, the banter lively, the evening relaxing though it still held an element of something exciting to come. I ordered the mushroom risotto and it was one of the best dishes I've ever had. Still today, nearly three years later, I find myself stopping at the store on rainy days to pick up mushrooms, shallots, broth, and wine to make the fantastic dish. I find myself transported back to that evening where all was perfect, one of the best times of my life.

Food has a tremendous affect on the memory and for me, it's the ties to the trips I've taken that drives me. Those journeys where I've seen amazing sights, met fantastic people, and spawned a larger desire to see more, learn more, and try new things.

Escaping Heat

So it might not be a vacation in the traditional sense of the word but every year at this time I think back to the week I spent on my own at Orange Tree Resort (on a timeshare stay courtesy of my step-dad, Mike).  I had been wanting to take a vacation but between school and a low paying job, going out of town wasn't an option. Not to mention, to me this was a getaway without getting too far from home. I was still just a little too afraid to go anywhere alone.

So here I was, just across town but felt worlds away. It was still hot, Phoenix hot, but it didn't matter. I was on my own for a week. No one to tell me what to do or when to do it, I was my own boss for the week. I could eat when I wanted, sleep when I wanted, watch t.v. for as long as I wanted. Go out when and where I wished. So I did!

It was a lovely week and this resort was and still is, a lovely place to stay. My room had a kitchenette consisting of a mini-fridge, microwave, and a sink to prepare mini-meals. It had a comfortable bead, lovely living room furnishings with a large television to watch. Best of all though was the bathroom. At one end was a huge walk-in shower, the other end a massive soaking tub. In between a large two sink counter with vanity (and stool) in the center.  In the hot summer, I was able to indulge in lowering the AC in the room to freezing (was wonderful to be a little chilly in the middle of summer). Then warm up a bit in the hot Jacuzzi tub.

I didn't have very much money at the time but this week was a week of heaven. I soaked in the tub, watched t.v., "cooked" meals, danced and sang badly to music on my CD player and had a lovely time. I sometimes think back to that week and the enjoyment I had, perhaps one day, I'll go back to visit this place. Perhaps now not for the freedom of doing what I want when I want; I'm an adult, I do that now. Maybe more for that massive tub to soak in. I can just picture it now. A large soaking tub, lots of bath salts scenting the air. Hot steam filling the room. And me, sliding into the hot tub, feeling like I'm floating. Oh man...I think its time to plan a night there.

Dialect and the southern accent

I just finished reading a chapter in my school text on language, dialects, and accents and had to take a break to write in my blog for a bit. Last April I took a trip to Houston and found myself in an area of the country that I easily fall into the rhythm and accent. I was there for only four days and by the third day I had fallen right in with the locals. Friday of the week I was in Texas was my day off from the conference I had flown out to attend. I had decided that if I was going to be as close as I was to the Gulf of Mexico then damn it! I was going to see the Gulf. So Friday I headed south of Houston to Galveston ready to meander, have a yummy lunch, and explore the beach. Upon my arrival to Galveston I found myself unsure of what to do, where to go, or even of where to park. Everything was paid and much was call in to pay which I didn't get.

So I headed out, determined to find a visitor center. I will say, thank God for my GPS (whom I've named Martha), without her I'd have been lost constantly. as it was, even with guidance, I found I was often circling the freeway on and off ramps like a buzzard circling a dead snake. Eventually, I found the right road, the right on ramp, and be on the freeway heading in the right direction. With my trusty Martha perched on the dashboard acting as my happy tour guide I made my way to the visitor center.

I went inside and found a couple ladies working, they happily began conversation with me and we talked about the Galveston area, places to shop, sites to see, and yummy places to get lunch. At one point one of the ladies asked me where I was from. So I told her, Prescott, AZ. Both women got confused looks on their faces.

"Arizona?" One lady asked. "Really?"
"Did you move to Arizona?" The other asked.
"No, born and raised in Arizona." I paused, "I'm talking like you aren't I?"
"Honey" The first lady countered, "You have more of an accent than I do and I live here."

We laughed about it and I moved on to my adventures in Galveston. I guess if I ever move south I don't have to worry about fitting in like a local. I know I'll slide in without even trying. At least in the way I speak.

A goal, not quite met but still a cool night

Tonight I'm thinking back to my trip to Ireland and what specific night. Before I left for my trip I'd heard the Aurora Borealis (Northern Lights) would be dipping down a bit lower than normal and I might get a chance to see them while on my trip.  As this is an item on my bucket list, along with a trip to Ireland, imagine my excitement at the thought of knocking two off my list at once. What an amazing experience to imagine myself standing on a hill in Ireland, emerald green grass at my feet and glowing lights over my head. 

After we arrived in Ireland, I spotted a newspaper with a headlight focused on the Aurora Borealis and my excitement returned anew. By this point in our trip, mom and I had been traveling around the country for two weeks. We had been to many spectacular sites and experienced things I never expected but here it was a full color picture above black and white lettering on the front page. We were near Malin Head, Ireland, the most northern point of all of Ireland. It was the best chance we had to see the magic.

That night after dinner in Moville, mom and I headed up the Malin Head. There were no street lamps, few houses outside of the small town of Malin. The grass almost seemed to glow lending a runway strip feel opposite the dark asphalt. We made our way to Malin Head, anticipation filled the car, excitement, hope.  We laughed as we made our way and passed a food truck. The only place around with lights glaring, the smell of fish and chips filled the air as we drove past. We've talked about that lone food truck many times, not able to figure out exactly who he was hoping to sell to. Perhaps there was a bar nearby or an event we weren't aware of but it just seemed so odd to see a brightly lit food truck in the middle of nothing.

After what seemed an eternity of driving, we found the turnoff to Malin Head, a steep narrow road that led to the top of a cliff overlooking the ocean. I slowly pulled the car up to the parking spaces and briefly wondered if we should even be there after dark. Would we get into trouble? My eagerness to see the lights quickly outweighed any concerns and they whisked away in the brisk wind that blew.

I climbed out of the car and was amazed at the brilliance of the number of stars above. The tower of Malin Head loomed above, dark shadow blocking the night sky. Off in the distance a lighthouse blinked, it's stream of light swirling in and out of view as I stared up at the sky. Something wasn't quite right though. It wasn't totally clear. I noticed first the lighthouse light became a stream of light that I could see clearly. One by one, stars began to blink out of the sky. Fog. Fog was rolling in. Three weeks of waiting and the fog was going to block it out. I stood at the top of this cliff, amazing views all around and fog rolling in. I was stuck in the middle of disappointment and awe at the experience I was having. I knew at that moment that I wouldn't see the Aurora Borealis that night or while in Ireland but the experience was almost magical still. I'll never forget the sight of the lighthouse light streaming through the fog. The brilliance of the green of the grass. The sight and smell of that lone food truck in the middle of nothing. It is a night for the books for me. Not seeing the Northern Lights was a disappointment to be sure, but there is some level of excitement deep within me, knowing that someday, somewhere I will get to see those lights. I can't wait to find out how.

Prepping for journeys

Here I stand on the brink of another road trip, this time to Northern Arizona and I can’t help but think back to the many journeys I have taken in the past. On the brink, waiting, waiting to hit the road.  That breathless excitement of the trip. I’ve experienced ranges of emotions. As little as mild nervousness on my short first trip up north alone to bat-sized butterflies in my stomach as I head to the airport for my flight to Ireland.

Each time is a unique experience in preparation. Some trips have been unassuming, my road trip with mom across the country when I was nine. This trip I only focused on bringing things to stay amused in the back seat. I also remember thinking how great it was that I’d have the whole backseat of the car to myself. I didn’t have to share with my brother and I was so excited about that fact. I remember going on trips in high school when I was still home and without a car. I didn’t have to worry about a working vehicle and in some cases, like Disneyland with school or church or seeing the pope in Colorado, I didn’t even worry about gas. Just packed my bags and hopped in the van.

Early college, my friends and I had cars, tight budgets, and lots of aspirations. We scraped together enough money to pay for a hotel, gas, and cheap eats and headed off to destinations in California like Knott’s Berry Farm, Six Flags, and the beach. Those were early tastes of independence, times when we stretched our wings and were treated as adults when away from our families but still played like kids when the mood struck.

As an adult the trips grew into more into having a better planning, slightly larger budgets, and hotels that were a little nicer. We grew savvy in knowing do’s and don’ts of traveling. With my closest friend, road trips to California were still the norm. They didn’t happen quite as often as they did when we were younger. With adult life came adult responsibilities, school, work, a kid (hers) and it became harder to take trips. The trips though, they were so much fun. Planning was done carefully, trip slightly outlined with a destination in mind but still a chance to relax and go where the wind blew.

More recently it has been bigger trips, bigger adventure and definitely major steps out of my comfort zone. A trip to Ireland with my mom. A short journey to Dana Point, CA again with mom and a longer road trip with her up the coast of California. Most recent were two journey’s all on my own. A week long road trip in November and then a couple months back I went to Houston (by plane).

Every trip has its own level of excitement, of interest, and of curious wonderment of what was to come but every one of them shares one thing in common. Priceless memories. Unique experiences. And every single one packed full of treasures to recall for many years to come.

My getaway that's now home

Before relocating to my current home in Prescott I often found myself traveling here for my regular vacation destination. I stayed in a couple hotels and have even stayed in a rental or two up here. No matter which location I stayed in, I always enjoyed coming up to the cooler climate and enjoying the downtown area which often was packed with events to take in.

One of the first times I found myself up in Prescott (since my childhood) was on a day I decided to "run away" from home. I had a tremendous urge to just leave town go away somewhere, anywhere. I had no idea that day where I'd go. I just grabbed a bag, packed stuff for an overnight and stuffed it into the trunk of my car. I wasn't sure if I'd be gone overnight or just a few hours so I was ready for anything. With little thought and planning I was out the door and on my way north. I drove past Anthem, New River, Black Canyon City nervous to be going out of town and alone. Worried about what I would do if my car broke down. I was worried about where I would go or what I would do but I just couldn't turn around. As worried, and as scared as I was, going home wasn't an option. The fear of disappointing myself was greater than the fear of the unknown so I pressed on.

It wasn't until I spotted a sign for Cordes Junction that I knew my destination. Prescott, I'd go to Prescott and wander the square for a few hours. Who knows perhaps I might even find an affordable hotel and stay the night. I wandered the square as planned. Looked at items I couldn't afford and as the sun began to set I thought about where I could stay. Money was tight for me that weekend and knew I only had a small amount to spare. The struggle of responsibility versus need warred strongly inside me. I knew I shouldn't really spend the money but at the same time, I still couldn't make myself go home. In the end, the need to stay away won out. I found a hotel The Hotel Vendome  and was lucky enough to get a room. The hotel is a historic destination and is rumored to be haunted although I never have experienced anything while inside. My room was beautiful. It was one of the remodeled rooms with a huge tub to soak in and relax but still managed to keep the old time charm the rest of the hotel boasted. I totally enjoyed my stay, had dinner out, purchased some popcorn and ice cream at the Youngs Farm store and wandered back to the hotel. It felt wonderful to relax on the front porch in one of the rocking chairs and enjoy my ice cream.

I've since traveled up to Prescott many times before finally moving but that journey, that overnight stay was the beginning of my journey. The start of my path to moving and following a dream I'd held since high school. One I was too afraid to follow when choosing my college options, I secretly desired to attend Yavapai College but was too afraid to leave home. To me, this trip was a first for me, a chance to break out of my fear, a chance to embrace my individuality and desires. A chance to move forward to my future.

Back in time

As I excitedly get ready for the show "Eat Your Science" hosted by Alton Brown I am thinking about times, trips I've been excited to do and can't help but remember a rather important experience. This was my senior year theater trip. There were a lot of firsts for me on this journey. My first time on a plane, my first time at a Broadway show, my first time to travel without parents and not with my church. Low supervision and lots of fun. I remember going through security (much less difficult back in 1996 than it is now), I remember the bus ride, the nerves and excitement that fluttered through my stomach.

After a day of classes and watching the clock that barely seemed to move it was finally time to meet at the school theater classroom and load up for the trip. The more outgoing students sang show tunes, there was laughter, a lot of smiling on the bus ride to the airport. I was glad to have a couple good friends who were also in theater to be going on this trip.  I have to pause in my writing as I remember this trip with some fondness, there is so much more detail that I remember than I can fit into this particular blog. Definitely more stories for another day. But that journey, the ride to the airport, the closeness of a friend, the wonder and excitement of a trip without being watched closely.  I remember getting on the plane and was terrified, my classmate gave me some gum to help my ears pop when the plane took off. I chewed that gum like my life depended on it while the plane streaked down the runway and lifted into the air. I saved the bag of peanuts from that flight and the wings I received from the flight attendant.  What an amazing trip, full of feelings I'll never forget!

California, Knotts Berry, and the Big Foot Rapids

This weekend I'm visiting my mom and can't help but remember back to the year my friends and I went on our first no parent slightly unsupervised trip. That year my friends Jennifer, Katie, Karen, and I plotted, planned and finally pulled our parents for a meeting.  We were close in age, only about 17 or 18 and all of us still answering to our parents.

I remember the day we decided to sit our parents down to have a meeting. We had the trip planned, we had asked friends of our who were older, our parents age but with one important distinction, they weren't our parents. They were cool. Jennifer and Katie had much more work cut out for them because they had to convince Katie's parents to let her stay behind since they were just about to move out of state. Somehow, we did it. We planned the trip, we got the okay to go to California where we would hit the beach and visit Knott's Berry Farm.

This was the best time, we were all so excited to visit the park. We hit rides, ate yummy food, and generally had a great time. One particular ride,  however, saw us many many times that day. That was the Big Foot Rapids. This ride was designed on a round float where several people rode face to the center of the float. It was a ride designed to get everyone on each raft drenched in water. If the rapids didn't get you, then surely one of the waterfalls the raft was sure to go under would. It held true for all of us, except one, Jennifer. We went on that ride several times throughout the day with a goal of getting Jennifer wet and each time someone would come out drenched in water but just not Jennifer. The ride attempts mounted quickly, 5, 6, 7 and still Jennifer maybe a drop or two of water. The 8th, 9th, and 10th tries were met with a little more determination. We climbed off the ride and immediately rounded back to the line to wait to go through again. By the 10th try we were near the end of the day and the line had grown considerably shorter. We began to hop off to get back in line after the 10th time and the employee knew we'd be right back and said to just stay put. He had caught on to the fact that our friend was still dry. The 11th time through, still nothing. I was soaked. Twelfth time, she got a little wet. Then the magic round, the 13th try. We thought it wasn't going to happen, we'd made it through the rapids with no water on Jennifer, then we hit the waterfall and like magic the raft spun at the last second shooting Jennifer right  under the heart of the water flow. Drenched, soaked from head to foot. Not one dry spot on her. We cheered, it was finally done. Climbing out of the raft like heroes we plodded away from the ride, shoes full of water, shivering from cold, clothes and hair dripping. It really was a great day and one for the memory.

I think about that trip sometimes and wonder, if we went back, how many times through the ride would it take to get Jennifer soaked again?

Rain

Tonight as I write this blog I listen to the rain pitter pat outside my bedroom window. It's a cold night but I can't quite bring myself to close the door all the way as this would block the delicious sound of rain. As I sit in my bed, cuddled in a blanket, my dog cuddled up close I can't help but think of a night almost three years ago. This night was in September and the temperatures were much warmer than now but I was listening to the sound of rain that night too.

Three years ago, September, I was busily packing my bags for a journey I was about to take with my mom to Ireland. This was easily one of the greatest adventures of my life and one I hope to repeat soon. That evening as I listened to the rain, I piled clothes on my bed. I dug through my closet looking for anything I might need for three weeks of travel. Shoes, pants, shirts, shorts, sweaters, socks, underwear, umbrella, rain jacket, jackets, etc. By the time I finished digging my drawers and closet were slightly gutted and my bed was somewhere below a mound of clothing.

There was no way I was going to fit all that I had piled on the bed into the suitcase I had purchased. This suitcase, by the way, was not just any suitcase. This was the Moby Dick of suitcases, it was gargantuan. Standing up, it hit right at my hip level. Laid on its side I could have used it as a stool. Laid flat a foot stool. It was just that big, and yet somehow, I managed to pull out so much clothing I out did what that suitcase could manage to hold.  This was going to be a problem.

I dug into the mound of clothing and began ruthlessly making cuts. There would be time to do laundry at some point, So there went half the jeans, underwear, and socks. Just a weeks worth of each. I only needed two pairs of shoes and my slippers, gone went four other pairs. I was beginning to see progress. Two sets of pajamas, a couple sweaters, two light jackets, it was looking good. Then I hit the shirts. Little by little I managed to get the pile down to a manageable mound that would actually fit in the monstrosity of a suitcase and still have room for the toiletries.

Packing complete I pulled the bag from the bed nearly throwing out my back in the process. It didn't matter though, my bag was packed, I was ready to go, the rain still fell outside. I briefly wondered if it would rain like that in Ireland. In that one blissful moment, I was utterly happy, and completely content.

Travel beginnings

My lifetime is filled with memories, both good and bad, but the highlights of those memories are often the different trips. With my brother and parents as a child, and as I grew older with friends supervised by adults, and eventually trips on my own. Some were vacations, some to visit family, some to see exciting new places, some familiar and comfortable routine. There was always something in common with those trips, those memories; that was a sense of doing or seeing something different from the day-to-day living of school, work, and home.

Growing up, my family wasn't the happiest, my parents didn't like their jobs and were often tired from the day-to-day routine. Something about those trips, however, there was some enjoyment for everyone. Even when there was practically no money to spend there was a certain magic about going on these journeys. 

My earliest memory of travel barely registers as a memory, more a whisper of ghosts from the past. Vague memory of seeing grandma in the motel room. Seeing Mickey Mouse at Disneyland and being terrified of the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. Sometimes I wonder if those memories are really mine or just the repetition of old stories with the family that have become so familiar that they seem to be memories. Nevertheless, whether fabricated memories from repeated stories or real experiences locked away somewhere under a veil of distance those memories are still mine. Still cherished, and still effect how I view vacations today.