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On Solo Travel and French Kissing

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Sure, solo travel has its risks. Getting mugged, beat up, getting lost, feeling lonely, doing something stupid you wouldn’t have done if someone was there to talk you out of it are all possibilities.   But think of the benefits. On the benefits list I would include again getting lost and doing something stupid you wouldn’t have done if someone was there to talk you out of it, because define “stupid”. One may define a situation of swerving the car off to the side of the road to jump out to chase a moose into the woods for a photo as stupid. In my defense, I grew up in So Cal where wildlife safety was not a topic beyond rattle snakes. Moose etiquette was not in the curriculum so it was not until showing off pics of a moose blurred between trees that the sharp inhales and wide eyes clued me in that moose trampling is a thing.  How about a photo shoot of a grizzly about twenty feet away napping soundly? Truly, I don’t know what woke him up in the second half of the photos but they look gre
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Struggles of a Frequent Flier

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There is a place where white noise rules and strangers are comfortable within personal space boundaries. The vibration is soothing, even butt numbing, as I relax into a quasi comfortable position in an uncomfortable chair. It has the smooth leathery feel of an arm chair - an arm chair without the extra cushion and wide space for laying across and pillowy arm rests to fall asleep on with a good book, of course. The contrast to that feel takes me home to my arm chair at my heaven on the river. That heaven has the blasting white noise as well, though from a very different and more welcome source. There are many places to fall asleep there with the buzz of white water, though lacking the soothing vibration, while breathing fresh air under trees that have already seen more seasons than me and will see many more to come.  Nature is calling to me in more ways than one. The walk down a narrow aisle, when I bring myself back from my forest bathing day dreams to my current reality, requires a bi
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California’s Cold, Sunny Season

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The beach is warm with direct sun, even hot at times, with the waves lapping the sand. The smell of sunblock is blocking out all other scents except the overwhelming smell of roiling sea water being pulled up from the depths. Those depths hide incredible creatures, big and small, and coral reefs the size of rolling hills, constantly building, growing, breaking off and dying. The smell of the sea is made by all of those living and dying things. The sunscreen feels oily and clingy in a way that I am familiar with from decades of use. There is a comfort and familiarity in it plus a sense of security from the dangers of the discomfort of a painful sunburn later.  The sand feels warm as I dig in my toes, pull them straight up and watch the sand slide off, just to rebury them in the soft dryness, over and over and over again. The sand is comforting like a blanket, like many of the beach sensations. This place is comforting with the constancy of the waves that never end and the moon that make
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Nature’s Jelly Beans

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The grapes in our backyard grew wild, trellised up an old, rusty clothesline. The summertime treat was made to last. My little sister and I would trek out to our big backyard with the old horse berry tree with the rotted out wood seat in the branches, a giant purple-flowering jacaranda tree and a secret mini-grove enclosed by hanging ivy hiding the ruins of a chicken coop out of commission for decades. This escape to explore was fortunate to have. We lived in a neighborhood that was not ok to explore with or without supervision.  Those green sour grapes were nature’s jelly beans and we would pick plastic store bags full of them. We’d eat enough to be sick then freeze the rest. Candy wasn’t a luxury allowed in our house. It was both a naughty sweet and it cost money, so we picked our clothesline candy and stored it ourselves. These are childhood memories worth repeating, so my 5-year-old and I are on a mission. We are going to find some established grape vines to plant and trellis in ou
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Lights

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  There is nothing like a good pedicure. Add to the generally cathartic experience an ocean view from a quaint historic town, cobblestone-fronted nail shop that just happens to share space with a wine shop and you’ll be hesitant to do a google review just so others don’t overrun your new favorite place. Yeah, that’s right, such a place exists. The ambiance of the place can’t be beat. Latin-vibe music and decor, only describable as pleasantly gaudy, greet the unsuspecting guests. From my perch on the mosaic tile-covered platform with the narrow stairs between me and my travel companion, I sink into the soft seat cushion and lay back on a pile of pillows sipping my sangria and enjoying the slather between each individual toe. Ahhhh.  What a chance, an hour-long captive, local interviewee! How could I resist? After the typical pleasantries where I ask far too much, far too eagerly for the less socially confident among us to not visibly cower, I dive into local life. One item of particular
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