The Adventure of Travel

This morning I wake up, excited that our long anticipated trip will soon begin. I sit at the computer to check my morning email. I have received a message from The Groom. He writes: Just heard that our international pilots will go on strike, which might affect your flight...

But of course. If there is one thing I've learned about travel, it is this: plenty can go wrong.

There was our family trip to Alaska. We drove all the way to Whitehorse, Yukon, way up in northern Canada. There and back again. Along the way, we caught the ferry in Prince Rupert, Canada, to enjoy the incredibly gorgeous scenery of the Inside Passage. We had been warned - prior to boarding - that the ferry workers were threatening to strike. But we had already driven over 2000 miles to get to that ferry. We took a vote and decided it was a risk worth taking.

We loved the ferry. It was nearly empty due to fears of a strike. Our kids had the run of the ship. We had our own cabin with bunks and a tiny lavatory. Along the way we disembarked to enjoy a few days in Ketchikan, Alaska. 

Now Ketchikan could not be called a large town, at least by California standards. We pretty much drove from one end of it to the other. We explored the gold rush era town. We photographed the beautiful totems for which the town is famous. We drove to the dump in an attempt to see wild bears.

And then we waited to see if the ferry would be returning to carry us to our next destination. 

Now the only way in or out of Ketchikan is by seaplane or ferry. I try to picture us flying out in one of those small float planes while our blue Aerostar gets strapped to the deck of a barge. I go to the front desk of our hotel.


"If the ferry doesn't come, will you have room for us to stay here until it does?" I ask.

"Can't promise anything," she says.

We kept strolling to the ferry dock to check on the status. And we were immensely relieved when we finally found this notice in the window.

Yes, things happen.  National Asset lives in the moment. And somehow that seems to work out for him. But me, well I am a planner. And planners by definition anticipate the many things that could happen and try to head them off in order to thwart disaster.

I have honed this skill through experience. There was the time on a different long car trip when were having trouble finding a campground as night was falling. This was in the era of AAA guidebooks and paper maps. I managed to direct us to a small campground just in time to get the very last campsite. The one on the tiny slip of grass just inside the gate that really didn't look like a campsite at all. 

But we were desperate. As the Asset worked on setting up the tent I went to forage for food at the little camp store. The woman inside saw me coming and literally turned the sign on the door to closed and pulled the shade so she wouldn't have to wait on me. She completely ignored my face peering through the window mouthing please help us we are so hungry.

So there we are, four of us huddled in the tent, trying to make the best of things, when our young daughter starts weeping.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" I ask. 

Is it the fact that every time a vehicle enters the driveway their headlights aim straight at our tent making us fear we will be run over in our sleep?

Is it hunger because dinner consists of sharing the skimpy remains of lunch that are bobbing around in melted ice in the bottom of our ice chest?

"What is it?" I ask again.

"There's no wildlife here!" she sobs.

Yes, we have learned a lot about travel over the years. And we've learned to make our different approaches to traveling work pretty well. The Asset contributes most of the spontaneity and I provide most of the common sense. We make a good team.

Since the Asset has traveled extensively in Europe, he is planning our itinerary.

I, on the other hand, am working through the list of things-that-could-go-wrong-and-how-will-I-fix-them. 

There is that whole Putin-invading-Ukraine thing. And the shooting down of a plane in their airspace. I emailed The Groom expressing my concerns about flying in Europe, to which I received an immediate, and I mean immediate, reply. He assured me that (a) Ukraine is a loong ways from Germany, and (b) that plane had no business flying in Ukraine airspace at all. Period.

So I'm good with this one.

Then there is the whole ebola thing. It really didn't worry me until people began flying on planes after being exposed. So, plucky adventurer that I am, I will just be sure not to touch anyone's bodily fluids. Can't be that tricky, can it?

And when I make the mistake of watching the news at the end of the day when I am tired, well, is it just me or does the world look like it is in total chaos or what? But, as the Asset keeps saying, we're not going to Iraq.

So I am actually feeling okay about all this. After all, you can't expect to have no risk whatsoever when you are out having an adventure. And I love adventures.

Then one evening National Asset asks if I received the email he forwarded entitled Defensive Security Briefing. 

"Yup," I say. "I saw it."

"I think you should read it," he says. "Start at Section F."

I print the document and begin scanning through it. It is mostly stuff like try not to look affluent or like a tourist...in other words, blend in. Okay...should I not ask for directions (in English) if I get lost?

And "if another vehicle hits you while you are on a deserted stretch of road, note the license number, but do not stop. If your vehicle is impaired, don't get out unless several other cars stop to assist and/or the police are present." Well duh.

I am to be cautious of sexual overtures from anyone, and not engage in political arguments. No sweat.

I can't photograph anything associated with the military. Or slum areas, ghettos, or underprivileged persons. Oh, and no airports or train yards, either. Check.

In the event that I am taken hostage in a terrorist situation, I must prepare myself mentally for a long period of hostage negotiations and remember, that although negotiations are usually lengthy, virtually all hostages are released unharmed. Oh, and I must attempt to establish personal rapport with my captors, while at the same time maintaining my dignity. 

"How do I build rapport with captors?" I ask the Asset.

"Oh, I have to review this every year in training," he says. "You ask them about their kids."

Right. Ask them about their kids. Got it.

Then it gets spooky.

"Our clothes may be tagged with invisible dyes and/or radioactive materials?" I ask incredulously.

"Yeah," the Asset replies. "Did you read the part about using stamps?"

I scan further down.

"They put invisible inks and radioactive tracers on postage stamps, too?" 

He grins.

You just might want to bear this in mind if you should receive a postcard from me. Especially if it has a photo of a slum or train station.

Just received a quick update from The Groom: your flight will not be cancelled. Therefore you should be fine. Let's hope it stays that way!

Yes, indeed. Let's hope it stays that way.

Anticipation

I look at suitcases spread open on the big guest bed. I look at the piles of blue jeans and shirts and socks and sweaters for layering and sigh. I am out of practice at this.

Since we bought Sanctuary, all of our trips have been between there and San Diego, our car loaded with a computer and sewing machine, a sturdy bag that serves as my portable office, and all the things that we need in both locations for work and living, including two cats and their paraphernalia. I have developed a high-tech system for these trips, involving a pile of miscellaneous items in a corner of our bedroom that increases in size in anticipation of each trip. As I think of things that need to travel with us to one house or the other, it goes on the pile. When travel day comes, these items are transferred to whatever vehicle we will be using and voila! Off we go.

This trip is different. Six months ago I received an email from a good friend inviting us to attend his wedding. In Germany. This will not be a throw-everything-in-the-car-and-close-the doors kind of trip. No, this one requires a different skill set.

So I look at all our mismatched luggage and nearly despair. National Asset looks at me but says nothing. His pile will most likely fit in a carry-on. A small carry-on.

Of course, one of the large bags to be checked is filled with our wedding gift, a handmade quilt stitched with love for the bride and groom. So on our return flight that bag will be available for overflow and whatever will return with us from Europe. But this knowledge provides no help to me now.

This will be my first trip over the pond. Our daughter accompanied her dad on a work trip when she was still in high school. She was delighted to be missing anatomy and English and visiting Europe's fine museums and art galleries. I remember discussing the trip with the school administrator. 

"I'm afraid this will be an unexcused absence since she has used up most of her sick days," she says.

"What does unexcused mean?" I ask. "Will this affect her graduation somehow?"

"No," she replies.

"You do understand that she will be attending art college in the fall, and this is an opportunity for her to visit some of the best museums in the world, right?"

"It is still unexcused," she says.

"Well, what are the consequences of being unexcused?" I ask.

"It will go on her permanent record," she replies.

"Oh, okay. Well I am her mother and I give permission for my daughter to go on this trip even though it will be unexcused."

Our son went to Europe with his dad more recently. They share an interest in family genealogy. Their trip included hours, maybe even days, doing research in places housing archives, and locating the sites where our ancestors lived and worked and worshiped.

Finally, it is my turn. I have made the Asset promise that I won't have to visit with the distant relative who delights in showing off his amazingly large collection of cattle semen. There are so many other things that I've read about and seen pictures of that I would like to visit. I detected something that felt a bit like resistance, but he agreed. As I said, it is my turn now.

I just have to get there.

I remind myself that I survived two trips to Australia with not only a serious time difference to overcome, but a change of season as well. On one of those the Asset left me behind for two additional nights (due to waiting too long to book my return) which involved flying from Sydney to Hawaii to Vancouver, Canada, in that middle seat in the middle aisle directly in front of the galley so the seat doesn't recline at all, with the passenger on my left coughing and the one on my right holding a puke bag and having to exit the plane and go through customs at each and every stop before landing in San Diego twenty-four hours later. 

This was my watershed trip. I do not like flying. I do not feel well when I am flying. I can't sleep while flying. But, I figure if I survived that nightmare trip from Australia, I can do this.

Europe, here I come.