Vomiting in Amsterdam written the night I became sick
After another crazy train ride, and a confusing exit from the train station, we were in Amsterdam. Our Amsterdam friends were excited for us to see their beautiful city. We were excited to ride bikes, and likewise see all the bike-riding people we had heard about. We wanted to see lovely Dutch architecture, look for cute little wooden clogs, and see the town (large city) our friend, Raquel, had recently visited. The bad hotel bacon I ate earlier in the day (and in Belgium), on the other hand, was less enthused. Truth be told, I think I knew the bacon was bad. My fate was sealed at the Antwerp Belgium Radisson Blu’s breakfast buffet. I ate the bacon the day before and was fine. Unlike the day before, however, this time the large bacon container was nearly empty. Somewhere inside of me, as I looked at that that last discarded, rubbery, and grayish-looking piece of bacon, I knew I shouldn’t do it. I knew I should not scoop up. My hunger took over and I ignored that very wise voice in my head. Come on, the bacon was sitting in a pool of grease.
“It can’t be that bad. All that grease is probably protecting it. I will be fine.” I thought.
Still unsure and now at the table, I picked up my piece of bacon and convinced myself I would simply eat around the grey so I did. Then I do what I often do, (which I should have done before taking a bite). I performed the if-Dave-doesn’t-drop-dead-while-eating-said-food-then-it-must-be-safe food test. (Please don’t tell Dave). So I placed the grey part of the bacon on Dave’s plate.
“Oh crap!” I thought. [insert panic here]
I have never seen this reaction. Dave was not eating the bacon. Instead, he picked it up, looked at it, and tossed it aside. I was too late. I should have known. For hours, I felt fine. I moved on to train travel, yummy Belgian chocolate, forgetting all about the bacon.
Bruges, Belgium: Twenty-four hours before full barf meltdown. I had no idea what was going to happen.
So there we were walking through Amsterdam’s Red Light District (a Google miscalculation, I might add). I was fine, except for being mortified that Dave and I had walked our two teenage sons through this depressing and weird part of town.
You know how really bad food poisoning goes? A switch flips. And from one breath to the next you go from “let’s get our boys away from all the prostitutes in the windows” to “I think I am dying.” With me it was between the hey-I-am-starving-lets-go-out-to-dinner to the if-I-do-not-leave-this-restaurant-now-I-am-going-to-projectile-vomit-all-over-our-table. Yelp gave our Malaysian restaurant five stars. Understandably, I have no opinion. I cannot even remember the name. Wait. I do have an opinion. Belgium and The Netherlands, seriously, please get with the program. Let people order “tap” water, or at least have fair priced bottled water. The Netherlands has some of the cleanest tap water in the world. Letting my boys drink crazy Malaysian “root beer” or whatever local delicacy is available at every meal is not healthy!
Dave took us to the Malaysian restaurant knowing there would be something there I could eat, and that something was my very favorite yellow curry. The curry arrived at our table in all its yellowy splendor. I took one bite. The fish sauce smell nearly killed me, and had to stop. Sadly, I relinquished the yellow curry and was left muscling my way through a last hope for my angry stomach, a bowl of white rice.
“Rice will calm the angriest of stomachs.” I thought.
Wrong. I could not do stomach (literally) another bite.
Weakly I exclaimed, “Dave, I need to leave!”
At that, Eli offered to go, and he and I left, and walked the two blocks back to our Radisson Blu Amsterdam hotel, which was a lovely hotel, I might add, except for the pee water smelling toilet bowl, a toilet bowl, I know now too well.
Eli was a sport. He knew his mom was sick, and he made sure to return me safely to our room. Inside, I felt that seasick feeling one can only feel on the sea, or when feeling really sick. All I could do was drop down and lay myself on the floor. I can only imagine how many strange and naked feet have stepped on the carpet where my head now lay. In that moment, all the strange and stinky naked feet I was laying my head on did not matter.
“I think I am going to puke!” I screamed.
Eli followed with a, “Mom, are you ok? I am here.”
I thrust myself up and ran to the bathroom.
And like the beginning of a very clichéd song, which I will title: Diarrhea and Vomit, I found myself sitting on our hotel room toilet. And like that the familiar tune, as I sat on the toilet, of course I had a sudden and an excruciating urge to throw up. Doesn’t it always go this way? Amsterdam was no different. Sweaty and panicked, I grabbed at both the toilet paper and the trashcan. A quick and thorough wipe later, I was kneeling to the porcelain throne. I honestly thought I was done after that first go round. And perhaps the blessing that cognitive dissonance gave me is that I really had no idea what the next forty-eight hours would bring. Oh, thank God!
As I was getting further acquainted with our hotel room toilet, Dave ran into the room screaming,
“Beth, Beth, do you have any euros? The restaurant only takes cash! I left Kyle there until we pay.” (Yes, this really happened.)
“Find my wallet. I have some cash.” I said in a surprisingly calm and attentive voice.
I heard Dave rifling through my wallet. “It is not enough. We are three euros short. Do you have any more?”
“Eli, do you have any euros?” I asked between heaves.
Dave continued, “I need to find a cash machine.”
“Good luck.” I said.
Dave left and I started barfing again.
Barfing in Amsterdam: The “allergic” food poisoning caused my face to get really red and puffy.
I cannot believe how sick I was. My saving grace was this: I knew I had between two and ten minutes of calm after each vomit episode. I embraced those peaceful moments when I could reach out to friends and family on Facebook. I will tell you what: Social Media is a savior when you are alone in a foreign country. Do not hesitate to reach out. During one of those reprieves, I was messaging my sister. I likened my bacon food poisoning to the time I ate a moldy bagel. As a result of eating the moldy bagel (I thought it was blueberry and yes, this is a true story), I had both black vomit and diarrhea. My sister, Brenda, was living with me during the blueberry-bagel ordeal. When we were messaging I said,
Our room, which was a strange sort of family room,, had three twin beds. One of the twin beds was separated by a wall. In the moments before I became sick, I had ideas of mommy daddy time [cue Marvin Gaye’s, “Let’s Get it On,”] so Dave and I slept in the lone twin bed. For some reason I decided to sleep on the inside, next to a very cold cement wall. Dave and I slept this way during my entire round-the-clock-vomit cycle. Here is how it would go. I would wake with a painful urge to throw-up. Before I could get out of bed, I would begin to throw-up so I would power through, holding the barf in my mouth while grabbing onto the blankets I would use to power thrust myself out of bed. Then I would throw my body forward, land on the carpeted floor, and I would run to the bathroom. Dave and I still wonder why I did not move to the outside.
Truthfully, most of the time as I cried, I spent hovered over a pillow on the floor. While Dave and Kyle went sight-seeing with our Dutch friend, Thom, Eli remained by my side. Go Eli! I tried to drink water. I tried to drink the Dutch version of Ginger Ale. Nothing would stay down, not even ice chips. My friend Amber, who is a Physician’s Assistant, coached me through long distance. Thank you, Amber! Again, I would argue that in these moments you take advantage of social media. I could not have done this without her. Finally, between Amber’s advice, and the fact that nothing was staying down or in, we opted to seek medical help. The hotel made me an appointment. Our Dutch friend, Thom, who was visiting us, helped translate. He also accompanied Dave and I to the doctor. The whole experience was scary. We think the doctor was Italian. Her Dutch and English were less than ideal. At one point she turned her computer screen towards us, handed Dave her keyboard, and asked us to Google the medication. She sent me away with two prescriptions, and an admonition to go to the hospital if I didn’t feel better in the next few hours. Rehydrating was up to me, which freaked me out. Here in the United States, a doctor would give me an IV in their office. I am not sure who is right. I just know the Dutch do it differently and that left me uneasy. Consequently, I left feeling weak and afraid. As I stood outside of the doctor’s office I looked around at row houses along the canal, the canal boats, and people on bikes. There were lots of people on bikes.
I love to walk and for a millisecond we considered walking to the pharmacist. That was the hardest moment. I am strong and always able to walk. Realizing that I had lost my strength was terrifying. We called a cab, and made our way. Dave and Thom left me with the sweet, grandfatherly, cab driver while they ran to the pharmacist. The sweet cab driver tried to speak to me in English. Nothing was translating. Finally he said, “women problems.” I said, “I wish.” Oh yes, that is the super surprise to this story. Not only was I sick, the cab driver was correct. I was also having women problems. Geez!
We parted ways with Thom. Then the cab driver took Dave and I back to our hotel. Thankfully, I began to keep water down, and started to regain my strength. Being sick away from home was terrible. I do not recommend it. I also think you can probably be more prepared than I was. No. You do not need to be neurotic, just careful.
Favorite Family Photo: Strömstad, Sweden. Kyle with crazy hair, Eli thinking, me green and sick. Dave = beautiful
The doctor sent me away with a note recommending that I skip my flight to Sweden the next day. Thankfully I did not have to. And yes, as of today, I prefer Sweden over Amsterdam. I think you can understand why.
In the end, horrifically throwing-up non-stop in Amsterdam was not part of the plan. As such, a long, and well processed view of our hotel room bathroom, the curves of the European-styled toilet seat, the clever print (including Danish clogs, and fruit, I think) of our hotel room carpet, a Malaysian restaurant, the doctor’s office (located in an old canal building), a friendly cab driver, and the outside of Amsterdam’s Prostitute Museum, may not make for the most fair or accurate Amsterdam review, or maybe, my Amsterdam experience was spot on [wink, wink].
Amsterdam seen through my hotel window
SIDEBAR
Have your insurance card (even when you don’t need it, it is good to have).
Know if you have any allergies
Seek a translator
Get help before you end up in the hospital. This is the one thing I did right. When I finally went to the Dutch medical clinic, I was on the fence. My blood pressure was very low and I was dehydrated. Had I waited a few more hours, I would have been in the hospital and would have missed the next morning’s flight.
We stayed at Radisson Blu Hotels our entire trip, except for our first two nights in London. We did this because Club Carlson was running a “stay one night get the second free” special. We used points.
Be overly cautious with your food choices when eating hotel buffets or at restaurants with high-impact contamination potential.
Amsterdam is a lovely city. If you want to avoid the Red Light District, learn the city, and map out your path ahead of time.
When paying for a particular type room such as a business class room, (even with points), when you check in, make sure that is the room you are given. Although our room at the Amsterdam Radisson Blu was lovely, it was actually a Superior Room not a Business class room.
If you are traveling, you will most likely be in an unfamiliar setting. Be preemptive. For example, if you start to get sick, make sure you are hydrating, resting and always washing your hands. Being sick away from home sucks!
Homemade Rehydration Recipe: 1 liter water, mixed with 6 teaspoons of sugar and ½ teaspoon of salt. Mix well.
Traveling through Europe, trains were my place to unplug. Consequently, while traveling on the train from London to Paris, and eventually Paris to Brussels, then Brussels to Antwerp, and then Antwerp to Amsterdam, I began (binge) watching the AMC show “Halt and Catch Fire,” which Dave had conveniently uploaded to my iPad. The show is about a group of early software and hardware engineers and developers. As I watched, I saw my own experience creep into vivid focus. Ultimately (and of course), I felt like I could be writing the script. I have always worked in technology, and my lovely husband Dave is a product executive, just like the show’s lead (Lee Pace). And like the show’s lead, Dave has always chased innovation, and the startup dream. My husband is known as an early adopter, and as such, prides himself at being the first. I really do believe he is one of the first people to own a TIVO, for instance. And of course it was a TIVO that he won. I think it was a writing contest.
The train was not crowded. In fact it was pleasant. That being said, my boys were bickering about something (because they should be getting sick of each other after traveling this long). We lost our usual distraction, a game called, “Love Letter,” so a little escape was definitely in order. I put my headphones on, announced, “hey boys, if you need anything ask Dad,” and I pushed play. As I watched “Halt and Catch Fire,” and how the show historically illustrates the disruptive innovation cycle, I felt my own childhood, then my career in technology, even my career blogging, and now my travel writing come into focus. I was completely mesmerized, forgot I was on a train in the middle of Europe, and was transported back in time.
The show takes place in the 1980s and like the people in the show, in the 1980s my step-dad (TED, the dad who raised me) was a computer programmer, a programmer who was always searching for the next innovation or revolution. Ted also believed the revolution was computing. Like the rest of humanity, he just wasn’t sure how.
Antwerp, Belgium: Antwerp Central Train Station
Maybe because of my immense need to connect to a father figure, or maybe because I could see it too, I was also extremely interested in technology. When the gifted coordinator at my school suggested I enroll in summer gifted classes, I begged to take computer programming. I did, and was the only girl. Like the show so beautifully portrays, the future saw my potential more than I could. I remember using stacks of his computer punch cards to take notes. We typed papers on Wordstar, and then printed them on our home computer. Because we dumped our money into our home computer and a home laser printer, we were often left short. Meaning our cars were never new, regularly broke down, gas tanks bled to empty, and back at home unpaid utilities left us with no heat in the cold Minnesota winter.
Train tracks in Paris, FranceThe boys and I riding the Eurostar under the Chunnel from London to Paris
Consequently, our home was filled with a lot of chaos, including crazy dreams of the next big thing. Unlike my own reality, “Halt and Catch Fire” deals with make-believe people, who have education, and somehow find the means to make it all work. Why oh why can’t our lives be made-up television worlds? Hindsight is such a weird crystal ball. I am confidant if Ted had been doing his crazy computer purchasing a decade later, he would have had a better chance at success — at least that is what I want to believe. Instead, we were poorly financed innovators, innovators without a true direction.
According to AMC, “The lesson is harsh but clear: in history, only the truly disruptive ideas are destined to matter.”
And maybe it’s this idea of disruptive innovation that causes such a moths-to-the-flame styled humanity. Ok, here is what I mean: Craft blogs. Once some lady made some money craft blogging, then everyone wanted to open an Etsy store and claim their place as a craft blogger, right? Better yet, how about the concept of frozen yogurt. Why are there so many serve-yourself yogurt places? Because one person was successful. It is crazy. Maybe success is the measure of disruption. Remember when the iPhone first came out? It completely revolutionized how we communicate. Once we realized the upside, we all had to have one. BUT we had to always see how good something was before we would commit.
I remember being an early blogger. People thought I was crazy and really weird. Remember how concerned people would get? People would ask, “Beth, why are you sharing such personal feelings to complete strangers?” When I used the word blogging in a sentence like the phrase, “I am a blogger,” I was more often than not met with a judgmental laugh or an eye-roll. Now everyone has a blog. And years later, the eye-rollers are now sharing feelings I wouldn’t even think to share.
Blogging matters. Self-serve yogurt shops matter, and so do craft blogs.
Paris Gare du Nord Train StationParis Gare du Nord Train Station
Because I, even though I have done it forever, I know I am not the Halley’s Comet of travel writers. I wish I were, yet I want to be that disruptive innovator. Nevertheless, what the show reminded me is that I cannot see the future. Unfortunately, when we cannot see the future, we as humans tend to compare ourselves to our now. Meaning if I see someone successfully travel writing now, I have hard time seeing myself also filling that space. What we need to do, what I need to do is simply innovate, innovate and ignore the now. Then point our heads forward.
In the end and as I rode all of those European trains, I took breaks from watching and because we had a data plan, I looked at travel writers like #tropicofcandycorn’s Instagram pictures. She does it well. And maybe it was the food poisoning acquired in Antwerp, or maybe it was because I was now taking a plane instead of a train from Amsterdam to Gothenburg, I got it. I started pointing my head forward. Why I like “Halt and Catch Fire” is that it illustrates the pain (albeit dramatically). It also shows people from an earlier time (the 1980s) who could not see how their innovations would unfold. What they had to believe is that they would.
The gift is that because it is now 2015, we can see how all of this disruptive innovation unfolds. We no longer have to think people are crazy for posting pictures of their kids online (ok, maybe a little crazy — wink wink), or that using a credit card on the internet is only something a stupid person would do (identify thefters ignore this comment). Now we know that what the technology innovators of our recent past create is beyond anything they could actually dream. Isn’t that cool?
Holding to the past, comparing myself to others prevents me from innovating. Ironically it is travel and the adventure that forces me to stop comparing and keeps me pushing forward.
Bruges to Antwerp, BelgiumTraveling Antwerp to Bruges, Belgium, (when we still had our game, Love Letter)
SIDEBAR
Yes, if you are into historical dramas and the technology revolution, I would totally recommend AMC’s “Halt and Catch Fire.”
We believe we lost our game, “Love Letter,” on a train. If you find it, let us know. Thank you! In the meantime, I might suggest purchasing a copy of your own. It is 4 player game. It is easy and portable, and is great for trains (as long as you can keep track of it).
Train Travel TIP: As far as European train travel goes, we highly recommend it. In the past we rented cars in Europe. Because we were traveling during high season (August), rental cars were outrageously expensive so we opted for the train.
Train Travel TIP: Say you want to travel from Paris to Antwerp (that is what we were trying to do). Paris to Antwerp is very expensive. If you buy your ticket from Paris to Brussels and then buy a local Belgium ticket, you save many Euro.
Train Travel TIP: London to Paris train travel. Buy your tickets in advance. You will save money. I also recommend splurging for the upgraded seats on this particular route.
Train Travel TIP: Don’t be afraid to move on the train once it is going. Look for an empty car. The farther away you get from the loading area, the better chance you will have at finding one.
Honestly, I am always amazed we survive! I will tell you why. It is simple. People die while hiking. And people die at Utah’s Donut Falls (some spell it, Doughnut). Last year at Donut Falls a woman fell 100 feet to her death. In 2003 a giant boulder crushed a young man. He was killed as he heroically pushed his friend out of the way. And just yesterday, (the day we were at Donut Falls), a guy fell 12 feet, landing on his back and was seriously injured. Why oh why would I take my children (and the children of our friends) into the death zone?
Yellowstone National Park: I’m not overreacting. It is scary!
I just said it: taking my loved ones here makes no sense. And in the interest of full disclosure, I think it is also important that I also mention (here and now) the fact that I may be totally obsessed with freak accidents (I am). I have read every death-in-the-mountains book I can get my hands on. Additionally, I was seduced by our friend’s coffee table book, “Death in Yellowstone,” while visiting a cabin near Yellowstone National Park. I will never forget reading about the dude, that generous man, who was burned to death jumping in a hot spring after a dog. No. Not his dog. Someone else’s dog slipped into a boiling spring, and this man was killed trying to save another person’s dog. Um, and thank you, stupid “Death in Yellowstone” book! The scars you inflicted are deep! Your scary stories haunt me! And your warnings freak me out! May I give your owners a suggestion? A book called “Death in Yellowstone” placed in a cabin near Yellowstone National Park may not be the best reading material to offer your houseguests.
Bryce Canyon National Park
Here is where my obsession with freaky stories jumps into my own reality. I have watched, helpless, our two-year-old Kyle walk his cute little toddler self off of a giant cement sculpture, and (thankfully?) landing on the crumple zone of his face. His teeth still wear the scars. Consequently, for years I death-gripped Kyle’s arm, grabbed the back of his shirt, and the back of his head (his hair), in my successful attempts (knock on wood) to save him (completely unaware) from running off of a fifty foot cliff (Moab’s Fisher Towers, for example, and Bryce Canyon’s Wall Street, for another). Now every single time our family goes on a hike, the blood leaves my brain, fills my achy-breaky heart, and the crazy voice in my head screams,
“Alert! Alert! Alert! Keep your eyes on your boys! Keep your eyes on your boys. Must save them! Must prevent crisis! They could fall to their death! Alert!”
Then as I see Kyle wander desperately close I yell,
“Dave, Dave, D’ah’AVE, Please! Look at how close they are TO THE EDGE! Please!” followed by a, “Kyle, Kyle. KYLE, please, STAY ON THE PATH! If not for yourself, do it for my sanity! Please!”
Ask Dave (or the boys). They will tell you.
“Yes, Beth is full of death grips and crazy screams!”
I would argue that in all the cases my crazy screams are founded. Dude, I do not have a spare. Sure, Dave may laugh a little, but he knows, as you do now, that our lovely Kyle has come way too close to base-jumping without a parachute. (Oh thank God, Eli stays on the trail!) Parental-Hiking-based-PTSD, absolutely!
Donut Falls Hike
Sunday (Father’s Day) we went on a hike with our friends Nate, Emily and their three lovely red headed children. As we all stood in in a very long line of people both coming and going in the 90 plus degree high-altitude heat, next to a fast flowing mountain stream, I imagined that we were actually waiting in line to climb Mount Everest’s deadly Khumbu Icefall. In case you do not know, the Khumbu Icefall is the place where people waiting in a long, stalled line, lead to great disaster. Here at Donut Falls the lines were also uncertain. People were walking in water to get around one another. Babies seemed fragile in wet arms. Feet were getting wet, shoes and tall socks were getting soaked (especially Eli’s). One flip-flop was last down stream, and Dave sent Kyle after it. And near the big warning sign there were people sitting eating watermelon. They offered us a piece.
I watched Kyle climb higher. He was completely out of my reach. He is taller, stronger, and bigger than I am. It made no difference. His life flashed before my eyes. There were so many people between us. Eli was sitting on a boulder. Dave was half way up the rock face between Eli and Kyle. I was on the other side. In a matter of seconds, my face went from acceptable summer glow to Goth-white. As I felt the blood rush out of my head, I knew it was time to executive-decision myself. Then I uttered these words:
“I do not want to project my hiking PTSD onto my boys.”
Donut Falls HikeDonut Falls Hike
Instead, I took a deep breath and watched. I distracted myself. I looked through my camera lens. I gave the boys several thumbs ups as I continued watching from afar. Kyle and Dave kept climbing higher. I will admit I was freaking out, especially as I watched them get so close to the wet rock and the raging waterfall. So far away from their listening ears I blurted, “I cannot look,” and as I stared up at Dave and Kyle, I asked, “Emily, Will you look?” She said,
“Of course.”
I quickly followed with,
“Ok. I have to look. No. I can’t. Nate, Please tell me when Dave and Kyle are on their way down. Please!”
Kyle and Dave both made it down. Sure, Dave ripped up the backside of his shorts, and Kyle was a sweaty mess, but they made it. Here is the deal. Hikes can be crazy, dangerous, and out of control. Heed the warnings. Be prepared. Bring and drink plenty of water. Wear proper shoes. Know your limitations, and pay attention. If there are too many people waiting to climb safely up, be patient. You will get your turn. I promise. You will be ok.
We survived the Donut Falls hike!
By the way, I love the Donut Falls hike. Utah’s Big Cottonwood Canyon is one of the most magical places on earth and Donut Falls is one of its many gems. As long as you are careful, stay on the path, and are patient, I promise the Donut Falls hike is safe. And really the only think you will have to survive is trying to get your too-tired-for-walking kids up and down the path [wink wink]. Trust me.
Lovely Dave talking Max up the Mountain.
SIDEBAR:
Regarding Donut Falls: Here is a hot tip. Only park in designated spots or you will get a ticket!
As many know, Utah has many amazing hikes. We recommend taking a hike in Big Cottonwood Canyon, which is located at the eastern edge of the Salt Lake Valley. In the summer there is nothing like driving over the Guardsman Pass Scenic Backway to get between Park City and Salt Lake City. If you make it that far be sure to say hello to our year-round-living-in-Big-Cottonwood-Canyon friends, Travis and Troy! They will make you feel right at home.
For years I have taken them. The notes started as shopping lists, then to-do lists, and packing lists. Eventually I started taking travel notes – always with the intent that I would write about the moments I captured on each line. Sometimes I do.
I am sure I am not alone.
Now each time I travel I pull out my iPhone 5S (yes, I know. I am old school), and jot down a few words to help me remember the moment.
Saturday, June 6, I took a few notes as we made our way from Costa Rica to Salt Lake City.
1. AA flight (1392) from Costa Rica.
American Airlines Flight from Liberia, Costa Rica to Dallas-Fort Worth
It was actually a flight from Libera, Costa Rica to Dallas. Dave left moments earlier on his United flight. The boys and I boarded our plane and somehow each of us ended up with a row to ourselves. Our 7:05 AM scheduled flight time was three hours and forty-four minutes. The pilot announced that we were ready for take off, the boys and I were nestled snuggly in our rows, I heard the engines rev up as I drifted off. Maybe two minutes later the captain came over the loudspeaker,
“Folks, as you may have notice we shut the engines down and we are headed back to the gate. An engine light went on and we want to make sure everything is ok.”
He did. And nearly three hours, a few false starts, no murmuring, and two trips to the airplane bathroom later, we were off. I am grateful our pilot (I wish I knew his name) was so careful. Not only was he careful, he kept us all in the loop,
“Well folks, now they are draining the oil from the engine. They tell me it will be another twenty minutes. Thank you for being so patient.”
American Airlines Flight from Liberia, Costa Rica to Dallas-Fortworth
On and on his updates went. My guess is if I had not jotted this note down, and if life continued as fast as it does, I may not have remembered how important this moment was.
We landed in Dallas, moved quickly through customs and security, and only had to walk a few steps to our next gate. Dave reminded me that a perk of one of our credit cards was my Lounge Club membership. The information Desk (near Gate D22) was a few steps away. We asked the man behind the desk. As we stood there waiting for him to call someone and ask where our lounge was, Kyle and Eli figured out where we needed to go.
The Dallas Lounge Club near Gate D22 is interesting. It is a conglomeration of odd ball Lounge Clubs, some fancy, some bare bones. Our very clean, and very friendly-staffed room 1 was along the lines of bare bones. We did not mind. There were a few variety of potato chips, pretzels, apples, oranges, alcoholic beverages (no, I did not partake), sodas, sparkling water, and an espresso machine. The best part of the lounge is that you do not need a password to log on to the WI-FI.
Dallas-Fort Worth Lounge Club
I helped myself to the Gluten Free baked Lays and a cup of tea. As we situated ourselves people in the lounge were screaming as Barcelona won its fifth European Soccer Cup. We took our electronics out: phones, laptops, and iPads and their accompanying chargers. As I read the news on my laptop the television closest to me was tuned to a recap of Beau Biden’s funeral. Here is where the rest of the day’s notes come into play. I needed to set the scene.
The ticker read something like: Obama eulogizes Joe Biden’s son and moves people to tears. It did. I know. See, while Barcelona was winning on one side of the room, I was looking up Beau Biden’s eulogy on the other. I watched. I cried. I thought. “those are some well written words.”
“To the Biden family, this sprawling, intimate clan—I know that Beau’s passing has left a gaping void in the world,” said President Obama.
And before I could finish watching President Obama, I heard Coldplay’s Chris Martin strum his guitar all over the big church’s stage singing one of my favorite Coldplay songs, “Kingdom Come.”
“…For you, I’d wait ’till kingdom come
Until my day, my day is done
And say, you’ll come and set me free
Just say, you’ll wait, you’ll wait for me…”
I think the best part is the giant pipe organ accompaniment.
Ok. This may sound weird. My favorite moments of travel are often the small simple moments. Moments I may miss if I don’t pause, or write them down. Sometimes it is the combination of sweeping view and quiet moment. I will admit. Nothing beats the subtle moment of watching your husband read the Nature Valley Granola Bar wrapper as he sits under Delicate Arch. These quiet, subtle moments I do not want to forget are the “humanity”-styled moments.
Dave reading a granola bar wrapper at Delicate Arch, September, 2006
Earlier Saturday our plane had engine trouble. We were exhausted and flying without Dave. Eventually, we made it to Dallas. We easily found our way to a quiet spot. One side of the room was cheering Barcelona’s win while the other was mourning Beau Biden’s death. We sat in the middle. Big moments like Rome’s Coliseum I will always remember. Small moments like these, I sometimes forget. Thank God I took out my trusty old iPhone and wrote myself a note.
It is 9:10 PM. My eyes are droopy. I am lying under the covers and around my neck is my black fuzzy-on-one-side-smooth-on-the-other airplane neck pillow. I am in the bed closest to the bathroom. Dave is in the other bed. (He will come back over here in a little bit). Eli is sitting at the desk with his headphones on, and Kyle is lounging in a comfy chair by the window. It is quiet. We are all in our pajamas. Wet swimsuits hang on pants hangers all over the room. Some are situated in front of air-conditioning vents. Kyle just asked, “can I go to sleep?”
Earlier I set my alarm twice. Our flight leaves at 7AM. The shuttle leaves at 5:15 AM.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
“Yes. I just want to go to bed.” Kyle responds and continues, “Can we turn off all of the lights? Mom, look. I found your dental floss. Want it?”
“We can turn out the lights in a few minutes.” Dave tells him.
“Where do you want me to put it?” Kyle says as he walks the dental floss over to me.
“I don’t know. The bathroom” I respond.
He senses my distraction, and knows I will not remember the dental floss if he leaves it where I asked him to.
“Mom, I’ll just put it back in my backpack.”
Relieved, I say, “Thank you.”
Then I hear the click, click, click of Eli’s mouse as Kyle gets up to use the bathroom.
Me and Big Daddy at the Andaz Papagayo. Costa Rica
We checked out of the Andaz Papagayo a few hours ago, and are currently checked in to the Hilton Garden Inn Liberia. The rollaway bed Kyle is rolling across the room is more like a rolling box spring.
“No. No. No. Where are you going to go?” Eli asks Kyle as Kyle rams the box-spring into Eli (in an attempt to get past him).
Immediately distracted, Kyle lets the rollaway go and picks up the coconut we found somewhere along the way.
“Wait. Wait. Can I open this?” He asks.
“Let’s take it outside.” Dave answers.
Kyle walks over to the little hotel room counter. Now at the counter and with coconut in one hand and pen in the other, Kyle tries to puncture the coconut to get at the water. His efforts last for a few minutes. Eli gets up. Kyle asks, “Are you done?” I don’t know what Kyle is getting at, but Eli seems to. Annoyed, Eli responds, “Shut up.” He pauses, and because he actually loves Kyle, he asks, “Do you want a pen?” (Meaning a better pen to help him open the coconut.)
Then Eli walks over and begins working on the coconut.
“It smells kind of nasty.” He says.
Ok. I was totally under the impression that Dave said we were going open the coconut outside. What happened to that plan? I smell it. The coconut reeks. I raise my voice, “Dave, you need to get that thing out of here.”
“Ok. Look. I am covering the hole. Kyle, you take it.” Dave responds.
Eli fidgets with the rollaway. Kyle says something about not having a shirt on so he (obviously) can’t take the coconut away.
Dave asks, “where are my shoes?”
I tell him his shoes are in the closet. Kyle puts on a sweatshirt. He and Dave get their shoes and leave our now rotten-coconut-smelling room. I ask Eli to wash the counter.
“Mom, it does not smell like it (super rotten coconut) over here.”
Crisis averted. Coconut disposed of. Eli is back sitting at the desk. Dave is back in the bed across from me. Kyle is not lying at the foot of Dave’s bed, and I am still here. It is now 9:37 PM and I need to pack it in! Good night!
Earlier this week a friend of ours posted a Facebook plea, which read something like this, “I am going to the Welsh Coast this summer and need help buying proper hiking shoes…”
Having recently been in Wales (at a Pub near the English border, not the coast), I felt like I could give the perfect advice, [wink, wink]. In truth, we did hike in South Downs, England at Beachy Head (one of my favorite places I’ve been), which I imagine has similar terrain to the Welsh Coastline. Quickly, I looked up my favorite walking/hiking shoe brand (I have purchased at least thirty pairs over the years), copied and then pasted the link with this message:
“Do not go hardcore. You won’t need crazy hiking shoes/boots. Get something cool, functional, comfortable and waterproof, like a pair of Gore-Tex Salomons. Take one of your lovely friends to REI or the Salomon Store and look. Trust me. I have worn these for years and have hiked many a mile in them. The Salomon Gorw-Tex trail runner rocks!”
Quickly the thread digressed into why our friend should not buy the shoes from the store I recommended (REI), because of REI’s new return policy “sucks.” The thread had a point.
Beachy Head, England
As I was telling the shoe-exchange-gone-wrong, Dave burst out with “that’s it.”
“What’s it?” I asked.
“Often times it is the anticipation of the trip that gives someone the most pleasure — like shopping for shoes.”
We are currently in Costa Rica staying at the Five Star Andaz Papgayo (a Hyatt Brand Hotel). I would call this hotel a little bit of heaven tucked away on the Costa Rican coast. Moments earlier Dave, the boys and I were at one of the four swimming pools when the rain rolled in. It was falling just hard enough that we decided to take shelter under the open-air, covered Rio Bhongo restaurant. Here we sat as I stared at the beautiful bay view, the jungle flowers, the sky, the ocean, and the swimming pools below. We are in paradise.
Hyatt’s Andaz Papagayo, Costa Rica
Yet paradise can go wrong. Last night, for instance, I walked into the bench at the foot of our bed, stubbed my toe, and split my toenail all the way down the middle. Ouch! Before that Dave was in the ocean with Kyle when he walked into a rock. We thought it was broken. And right before that, I sprayed bug repellent on my legs, which melted my pedicure.
Injured toe in Costa Rica
As we waited for the rain to stop, our conversation continued.
“People spend months and months looking for the perfect hotel, the best attractions, reading reviews, and telling their friends about where they are going.”
“It is like the fantasy created in planning is where the joy is, and the trip may even be something to check off a list, or better, the less-enjoyed aspect of the whole experience.” I responded.
What Dave and I both observed is that for many people the real joy in travel does come from picking out the right travel shoes. Then we both wondered, “how much of the actual satisfaction of the journey lies in the planning, or doing things like gathering points?”
I think for many it is a lot. I would argue that getting the most joy out of fantasizing your most amazing trip is not only ok, but your trip fantasy can give you endless joy and satisfaction. When you plan, you can take time to imagine things like all the stunning and formidable rock cliffs shooting out of the Welsh coastline. You can see yourself walking along in your perfect hiking shoes while using a clever walking stick (I imagine one with some sort of Celtic wood carving). And then you can see yourself hiking along with your adorable Welsh guide. You hardly understand what he is saying through his strong Welsh accent, but that does not matter. You are simply delighted as the sea mist brushes your face and you share tales of warriors and magical sea creatures. I imagine your fantasy does not include toe injuries, unexpected fees, or canceled flights. I am certain it does not include the possibility that you bought the wrong hiking shoe, or the fact that once you arrive in Wales, you may not even see the coast through the rain and fog. My guess is that if you were thinking about staying in paradise, rain, which it is doing now, is not even considered.
“See, once you are actually there, things can go wrong.” Dave continued.
“You may not even need the hiking shoes, or better, if you go some magical place like Hawaii, you may never leave your beachside chair.” I inserted.
“Or not even make it to the beach at all, and stay by the pool.” Dave followed.
It is an interesting thought. I do not think it matters. I think some of us enjoy all aspects of travel: the planning, the trip, the social media sharing, and the return. I also think for some people the actual trip is perfunctory (remember things can go wrong), and it really is the planning (the fantasy) that allows them to escape their everyday life. I look at it this way. You can plan for months and months. Each of those planning days can serve as a most perfect vacation day. If planning is your thing, I think you have created a most excellent way to extend your vacation. High fives to you and your super durable hiking shoes!
Sidebar:
Here is a list of some of our favorite planning websites:
1. My favorite multipurpose travel information website: Tripadvisor
2. Rent-your-own lodging: VRBO, HomeAway, and AirBnB (all of these sites are worldwide)
4. My mother-inlaw’s favorite travel review website: Fordor’s
5. A great flight, hotel and car rental aggregator: Kayak
6. To learn about earning points: The Points Guy
7. If you want to stay on someone’s couch: Couchsurfing
8. Flight Matrix Search (gives you a way to really find the lowest cost airfare): ITA
9. Finally, If part of the fantasy is a personalized, customized approach, and you are traveling in South or Central America: Mosaico Travel
