The main point of Thanksgiving, of course, is to express gratitude
for the good things in our lives. And as I wrote last year, it should also be
about showing gratitude for what is yet to come.
Some people genuinely believe that life is great, so they find it
very easy to talk about the things they are thankful for. Depending on their
religious or spiritual beliefs, they might thank God, the universe, or no one
in particular.
Others find it more difficult because of their life situations,
but they can still use the holiday as a time to try to look at their lives a
little more positively. That’s good, of course, but once the turkey-dinner
leftovers are gone, the holiday cheer has passed, and they have to drag
themselves back to work on Monday or face the gauntlet of Christmas-shopping
crowds in the malls, their grateful feelings fall prey to the “life sucks”
virus.
Of course, there are also those who can’t find anything in their
lives to be thankful for, not even for one day. It is sad to feel like that,
but I suppose at least they are not hypocrites.
Four Perspectives
Most of us sort of go back and forth to one extent or another in
how we feel about the “blessings” or “curses” in our lives. But when people
look at or talk about their lives, it seems there are basically four options:
1)
Everything is great and perfect – the unrealistic “rose-colored glasses”
approach.
2) Everything
is terrible and my life sucks – the “paint everything black,” gloom and doom
approach.
3) There
are a lot of good things, sure, but I do have a lot of problems, which I guess
we could call the “glass is half empty” approach.
4) Yeah,
I have some issues like everyone else, but there are plenty of positives that
outweigh the problems, which I guess we’d have to all the “glass is half full”
approach.
We can
dismiss the first two immediately because life is never so absolute. Nothing is
perfect, and nothing is completely terrible. We can try to alter our attitudes
to attain those absolutes, but it’s almost impossible to keep the world around
us from injecting a bit of the opposite side. We can come close to convincing
ourselves that everything is perfect, and that even the bad things that come
our way from time to time – the imperfect – are a form of “perfection.”
We can
manifest the negative absolute in our lives more easily, it seems, than the
positive. But even the dourest and dark-minded person cannot completely shut
out those occasional rays of sunshine that try to bring them out of it. Little
glints of light can still make their way into the gloom.
More
common, and realistic, are those who focus on one side, either the negative or
positive, but acknowledge that the other side exists and exerts influence. But
which side do we focus on, the upbeat or the downcast? I think for most of us,
it tends to fluctuate depending on what’s happening in our lives or how long
we’ve been living one way or the other. I know that this is how it is for me.
I like to
believe that I live in the upbeat world – focusing on the positive while
acknowledging that problems exist – more often than in the other. This blog is
testament that I have spent some time in each, but I think that even my darker
posts usually end with a positive message. And so it is here.
The fact
is that, while I do have some problems, disappointments and even regrets, the
things I should be thankful for – the positives – far outweigh the negatives
that I sometimes dwell on. In one of my earliest posts, written more than four
years ago, I wrote that I was a lucky guy.
And I still believe that.
Things
are Pretty Darned Good
Last year
I wrote about being thankful for what is yet to come. I just reread that post, and it still applies, so I won’t
repeat it. I’ll just mention a few things in the “yeah, there are some bad
things, but the good is much better” category.
Yeah, I
have some aches and pains. My right knee has become a chronic problem, and I
frequently get stiffness in my back and hip.
But, I don’t have any really serious health issues (as far as I know), I
can still go out and do 50 km or more on my bike, swim for 30 minutes straight,
and do a solid hour or so on the weights. And the, ummm... “essential equipment” still
works perfectly. So no real worries about health. That is something to be
thankful for!
Sure, I
have reasons to complain about work, particularly the mindless corporate bureaucracy
that tends to deaden the joy of any creative endeavor. And I’d like to be
making more money, of course.
But
money has never been my first priority, and I have definitely had much worse
jobs with even worse bureaucracy. I love teaching English, and I know I am very good at it. I enjoy my
students every day, and I am blessed to share an office with three fantastic
colleagues. That is a lot to be thankful for.
OK, so I
live in a small apartment in an old building, and sometimes it is cold in
winter, and sometimes there are noisy people around me. But it is actually pretty comfortable most of the time, and I have
lived in worse places. What’s more, I have it a lot better than many others
here in Kharkiv and certainly better than probably the majority of people
around the world. And I have had the experience of living in a pretty luxurious
home in the Denver suburbs, as well as in a fantastic cabin in a mountain forest.
Most people can hardly even dream of that. More good stuff to be thankful for.
It’s true
that the city I’ve lived in for most of the past nine years – Kharkiv – is a
post-Soviet town that has a lot of dreary looking buildings, poor
infrastructure, and a corrupt government.
But
it has its good points too, like a lot of really good restaurants and fun
places to go. What’s more, I have been able to travel from here to points in
Europe that would have cost me an arm and a leg to visit from Colorado. And I
can even think about traveling east to points in Asia or the Indian Ocean. I
love travel and adventure, so that’s a lot to be thankful for.
The only
true disappointment and regret in my life has been that I’ve had to live so
much of it alone and without that one special person, a special love to shower
me with light and warmth, and to receive that same light and warmth that I’ve
been so ready to give. The person who I thought for decades was “the one”
wasn't. And a couple of more recent hopes were just
figments of my wishful thinking.
But,
I have some of the most amazing and special friends a man could ask for, both here in Ukraine and back in the States. Every
day they add some measure of light and warmth that makes it all worthwhile. And even as the rapidly passing years seem to make finding that special love less
and less likely, I still have hope that it’s not impossible. As long as I have such
friends as I have, I definitely have a lot to be thankful for.
And to
add a cherry to the top of this gratitude cake, I have two absolutely amazing
and talented daughters whom I love dearly, and we have relationships that
sometimes I feel are stronger than I deserve. They and their families give me a
universe to be thankful for.
Oh yeah,
I almost forgot about coffee. I can drink coffee every day. Sometimes I can
have it with Bailey’s. That is a cupful of delicious stuff to be thankful for.
Let’s see
if I can remember all of this the next time I get a little down and start to
think that things aren’t so great. In fact, things are really pretty darned
good.
After a phenomenal vacation
that challenged my senses and emotions, I returned to Kharkiv. And my heart
sank.
It wasn’t Kharkiv’s fault. The disappointment started, on a small
scale, when we left Ponta Delgada,
and it grew slowly as we made our way back to Ukraine over several days. It became
palpable when we got to Kyiv. Just being in the arrival area of Boryspil
Airport, after going through airports in places like Lisbon and Paris, was a
bit of a letdown.
We spent about four hours trying to “rest” on lightly padded bench
seats in a corner of the airport terminal that was brightly lit, noisy and
cold. But even this was better than waiting around in the train station; Kyiv’s
train station is awful, especially in the wee hours of the morning. It’s a
place to be avoided.
And we mostly managed to do just that. After a 45-minute bus trip to the station,
our wait for the train was mercifully short, and we were soon onboard. Still, the
train was taking us on the last leg of the trip back to Kharkiv, and it was a
little sad.
I truly felt that I was back in my dour reality on the taxi
ride from the Kharkiv train station to my apartment just after noon that
Saturday. The usual sights and sounds that have long been part of my everyday
life were a stark reminder that my “Vacation of a Lifetime” had become a
memory, more like a dream than anything tangible.
At one point the taxi turned up Kosmicheskaya Street, passed one
of my favorite restaurants, Trattoria, and then turned north on Nauka Avenue
(formerly Lenin Avenue). That’s when it reality hit me like a brick to the
head. I was riding up a street that I see multiple times every week and had
traversed hundreds of times in the past, perhaps even more: the same shops and
buildings, the same traffic, the same marshrutkas, the same badly parked cars,
the same people on the street. More than anything else, this shouted that the
vacation was over.
------------------------------------------
In a day and a half, I would be back in my office doing the same things I did before, dealing with the same corporate bureaucracy, the same pressures, the same worries, the same lonliness– the same life.
------------------------------------------
I was back in Kharkiv – back to the same small apartment in the
same gray building, and all the same little things about my life here that made
the two-week escape so wonderful. In a day and a half, I would be back in my
office doing the same things I did before, dealing with the same corporate bureaucracy,
the same pressures, the same worries, the same lonliness – the same life.
Vacations are supposed to give us a
break from the stresses of our work and life and let us enjoy a different
experience for a while so that we can come back with renewed energy. But often,
after an especially good vacation, we come back to a reality that just seems to
swallow up whatever good impressions and energy we might have gained. And
that’s how I felt.
It’s About the Speed of Time
Maybe the problem is time and the
speed at which it passes. During those early days of a vacation, when you are
wide-eyed with your first wonderful impressions, you know you still have more great
days ahead of you, and it’s all good. In the back of your mind you know it’s
going to pass quickly, but you try not to think about it and just enjoy the
moment. It’s joyous, and you feel at peace.
As the vacation winds down, you
start to realize how quickly the time has just whizzed by, and it can start to take
away a little of the luster. You know that it’s going to be over soon, and
you’ll have to go back. You start to think about how quickly the time has
passed, and you feel like you’ve been robbed.
And once you have returned, you
look back in amazement at just how fast that wonderful time transformed from a
present-moment reality to a wistful memory, something more like a dream. You
have photos and mementos of your trip, but it’s not part of your reality any
longer. Yep, time is a thief, and you've been robbed!
The irony of time is that it seems there
is never an end to our humdrum, workaday lives. But special times, like great
vacation trips, are over in the blink of an eye. I suppose this is related to the
accelerated passing of time I first wrote about two years ago in a New Year post called, Life at the Speed of Time.
Beat the Blues – Plan Another
Vacation
Seven weeks have passed since I got
back to Kharkiv, and I am still in awe of those two wonderful weeks in Portugal. I
think less now about feeling let down, and I genuinely cherish the memories.
When my head is in the right place, as it usually is, those memories are a
bulwark to help keep my everyday life from bringing me down. It works.
Maybe it was a mental reaction to
counter the blues, but almost as soon as I was back, I started thinking about
another vacation in the future. To add some spice to it, I have been imagining how I might
create something even better than the Portugal trip.
I had a pretty nice, although
short, vacation to northern Italy in January 2015, and in August of that year I
went on an all-inclusive vacation in Turkey
that was much better than the Italy trip. The vacation in Portugal FAR outshone
the Turkey trip in every way possible, so it’s certainly possible to put
together a new adventure that could even surpass this latest trip.
I’ve started thinking about Hawaii
(especially Maui), or maybe going in the other direction to visit the
Seychelles, Thailand, Nepal or Sri Lanka. It’s crossed my mind that I might
like to return to an old haunt like Japan or Peru, and I’d certainly enjoy
seeing more of Argentina than I did during my one short working trip to
Patagonia. And, of course, I still have unfinished business in Ireland.
But so much hinges on what the
future holds, and at the moment I have no clue. After almost a decade in
Ukraine, it does seem as though the time to leave may finally be approaching, in
which case, exotic (and expensive) trips don’t seem to make much sense when I
would need to save as much cash as possible to relocate.
But I truly don’t know yet what I
want to do, so I am still free to dream of hiking in the lush green hills of
Maui, basking on a beach in the Indian Ocean, revisiting the land of the rising
sun, or exploring Buenos Aires. And dreams are always good to have. They keep
the post-vacation blues at bay.
“I am surrounded on all sides by the ocean, and I am happy.”
I love the mountains. To hike among towering peaks; sit on a
grassy hillside and look out upon a beautiful valley framed by forested hills
and snow-covered summits; listen to the peaceful sounds of aspen leaves
rustling in a light breeze, a gurgling mountain stream, early-morning songbirds
or a buzzing hummingbird; to take in a lung full of pure, fresh, crisp air; to
feel the sun on my face, close my eyes, and just be – this has long been my
idea of heaven on Earth.
Nowhere has that dream been more real than in Colorado. I’ve been
in the Appalachian hills of New England, the jagged heights of the Peruvian
Andes, the forested highlands of Hokkaido, and a few other ranges, but no
mountains have spoken to my spirit like the Colorado Rockies, especially around the home I owned before I came to Ukraine.
But I was a latecomer to high-country bliss. I grew up in eastern
Massachusetts, not far from Cape Cod and the Atlantic Ocean. There were no mountains.
It wasn’t really such a long way to visit the Berkshire highlands of western
Massachusetts, White Mountains in New Hampshire, the Green Mountains in Vermont, or
the Longfellow Range in Maine. But my parents were not big on traveling, so we
never went to such places when I was growing up.
Before the Mountains there was the Ocean
Instead, our vacations were to the beaches and seaside close to
home: the near parts of Cape Cod and the area around Plymouth. Even in this, we
rarely got out to the outer cape, where the open Atlantic can freely deliver
its pounding surf on the eastward-facing beaches. They preferred the more
sheltered and calm beaches of Buzzard’s Bay or Cape Cod Bay. Only rarely did we
venture out on day trips to the outer cape or even to Provincetown on the very
end of the cape, and we never went out to the islands: Nantucket and Martha’s
Vineyard.
On those rare occasions when we did go out on the cape, seeing the
“real” Atlantic was always a treat, and I marveled at the immensity of the ocean
and the power of its surf upon the land. The Atlantic Ocean enthralled me, and I
never lost that feeling. When I was old enough to drive and go off on my own, I
went to the outer cape more often, and I took the ferry across to the islands.
I went to the coast of Maine where the Atlantic waves have been carving up the
rocky shore for millions of years. I loved all of it.
And more near-ocean living followed long before I got my first
real taste of the mountains. I spent a few months close to the shore of central
New Jersey, and had more opportunities to visit beaches along the American East
Coast from Maine to Virginia.
Guam is Good
Then, I had my first real island experience: an 18-month Navy
assignment on Guam in the western Pacific. Island living was something entirely
new for this impressionable kid in his early 20s, and it had a significant
impact on my young life. It was a turning point in many ways.
Guam is tropical; it’s always warm, sometimes hot, and it’s always
humid. And the water temperature is always in the mid-80s F (around 28-29 C). It
rains a lot, especially between July and November. The
vegetation was very different from anything I had known before, the native
people were very different, practically everything was different. And for a
young guy like I was, it was a great adventure.
What made life on the island especially unique was that it was
small. Guam is only 30 miles (50 km) long and 12 miles across at its widest
point (four miles across at its narrowest). On any given day, you can watch the
sun rise out of the Pacific Ocean in the morning, go about your business all
day, and the watch it set into the South China Sea in the evening. You can’t go
very far on such an island, but surprisingly, we always found a lot to do, so
we were never bored.
Guam came into my life at a time when I needed it. The exotic
nature of the environment, together with our youthful need for fun and our
raging hormones, fueled the “sex, booze and rock and roll” lifestyle (no drugs)
that my friends and I enjoyed for most of that time. We partied hard, but we
also enjoyed the beaches, jungle and other features of the island: “boonie
stomps” to old caves, Talofofo Falls, the ocean-fed pools at Inarajan, and more.
I even went on a week-long ocean adventure on a sailing yacht.
There were some bad points too, like a big earthquake during my
first month, the supertyphoon that ravaged the island, and
loosing a friend who stupidly went out from Ritidian Point on a surfboard and
never returned. But that island, with its amazing beauty and the ocean all
around, still visits my memories and dreams on occasion.
Even after Guam, the ocean wasn’t done with me, and the mountains
had yet to beckon. I lived for almost a year in Monterey, California, where
Monterey Bay and the Pacific Ocean were a regular part of my life. And for six
years in Japan, the ocean was never very far away, although I rarely visited
it.
After Japan, I came to Colorado full-time (I had already been an
official resident for more than six years). Here, I discovered the joy and
beauty of the mountains, and I pretty much forgot about the ocean. The Rocky
Mountains were just so awesome that I didn’t need the ocean. I sort of forgot
about the ocean, and in particular my memories of the island faded.
A New Island
Many years later, I found myself on an island about the same size
of Guam: Sao Miguel in the Azores. It is a different kind of island, but it
still brought back a lot of memories, and it reminded me of the things I
enjoyed the most about those 18 months on that little bit of tropical land in
the Western Pacific: lush vegetation and ocean views from almost anywhere.
Sao Miguel was the last phase of my “Vacation of a Lifetime” in
Portugal. It is the largest of the nine islands in the Azores, all of which are
essentially the tops of huge volcanic mountains that rise from the depths of
the ocean.
We spent four days on the island before returning to Ukraine. It
was the best part of the whole trip. I had thoroughly enjoyed my days in
Lisbon, and experiencing the magnificence of the Atlantic Ocean along the south
coast of Portugal was amazing. But Sao Miguel was special; it was almost
magical.
The first thing you notice once you start to tour Sao Miguel is
how green it is. Everywhere you look, on the hillsides or the pasturelands, it
is amazingly green. It is, perhaps, the greenest place I have ever seen. There is a beautiful contrast of the brilliant green of the
island with the deep blue of the ocean. And in so many places, the green is
dotted with flowers of various types and colors. It’s a feast for the eyes.
We arrived in Ponta Delgada, the island’s main city, on a Sunday
afternoon and quickly got checked into our guesthouse, Atlantic Home Azores, which I wrote about in Part One of this series. Once we got settled, we had plenty of time
to explore the nearby parts of Ponta Delgada. Our island “home” was just across
the street from the harbor and marina, and we had a fantastic view of the
ocean, as well as the hills to the east.
We walked the length of the main street, checked out the locations
for our whale-watching excursion and our car rental, went through a number of
shops, and found a decent place for dinner. We also located a small grocery
store right in our complex – perfect for getting what we needed to make our own
meals.
Day One: Whales and the Lake of Fire
Monday morning was all about cruising out on the open ocean in
search of whales. This three-hour trip on a fast catamaran set the tone for the
whole visit to Sao Miguel because it was a unique and special activity that got
our spirits soaring. We cruised far out from the shore where the waters are
rough and the whales are plentiful.
We learned that these tours often go out without seeing nary a
flipper, although they almost always manage to locate some dolphins. And we
were lucky: we came across several pods of resident sperm whales. It is
difficult to get close to them, and we had to settle for seeing their backs and
flukes from a distance, but at least we did see them.
After trailing several pods for more than an hour, we broke off
and made for an area where dolphins were pretty common. Again, we were not
disappointed and were treated to a fun show of 50-100 dolphins swimming along
with our boat, crossing our bow, and frolicking in front of us.
After the cruise, we got our rental car and set off for sights in
the central part of the island. The main focus was Lagoa do Fogo (Lake of
Fire), one of three large lakes formed in the craters of old (but still
nominally active) volcanoes. But we started at a small oceanside community
called Lagoa, just a short drive from Ponta Delgada. We noticed there, as we
did in most coastal areas, the distinct difference in the coastal landscape
compared to the mainland. The rocks are mostly black, as they are young
volcanic rocks. And the sand along the beaches is mostly black volcanic sand.
The drive up into the hills surrounding Lagoa do Fogo was
breathtaking. Here is where we first saw just how green everything is. The
hills on Sao Miguel are all volcano formed, and many are extremely steep. As a
result, the roads have to weave their ways up the slopes, with a lot of S-turns
along the way. The government has constructed many viewing points along these
roads, places where you can safely pull your car off the road, walk around a
bit, and enjoy absolutely mind-blowing views. Our first views of Lagoa do Fogo
did just that.
When we finally had our fill of natural beauty for one day, we
returned to our home base and found a place to park the car. Then we did some
grocery shopping and made our own amazing dinner of spaghetti with linguica, a
Portuguese sausage I remembered from my childhood. It was a fantastic first
day.
Day Two: The East
We had a romantic idea to get up early one day and drive to the
eastern tip of the island to catch the sunrise. But getting up early was
difficult, particularly because the bronchial irritation that hit me in the
Algarve had gotten worse, and the coughing made it hard to get a good night’s
sleep. Still, my friend managed to get up and take some nice sunrise pictures
from Ponta Delgada.
Day one had been focused on the center of the island, so we
decided to go to the eastern end for day two. The main targets were the
volcanic Lagoa das Furnas and the hot spring baths in the town of Furnas. After
making ourselves a great breakfast in the guesthouse, we were off for Furnas.
Like the day before, we drove up from the coast into a series of
gorgeous green hills and had to wind our way to the small town of Furnas. Along the way, we also had to stop for a parade of cows. Dairy cows are big business on Sao Miguel, and they have the right of way on the roads.
We
found signs to the Caldeiras das Furnas and Lagoa das Furnas, and in no time,
we were there. Like Lagoa do Fogo, Lagoa das Furnas is a large lake formed inside
an old volcanic crater. But there are some notable differences. First, the
water in Furnas is green, not deep blue as in the Lake of Fire. And there are
more active signs of volcanism around Furnas: the Caldeiras.
The Caldeiras are a series of hot spots next to the lake and
include holes from which scalding hot water bubbles up from the ground and
others where boiling mud can be seen shooting out. And there is a lot of steam.
The area of the Caldeiras is a tourist spot with a wooden walkway that allows
visitors to safely get up close and personal with the water and mud geysers, a
nice park area, paddle boats on which to go out on the lake, and of course,
some small souvenir shops and food stands.
Local restaurants prepare food in special pots buried in the hot
ground of the Caldeiras. As we walked along the boardwalk, we saw many spots
where food was cooking, all marked with signs advertising the restaurants.
Our next stop was the famous hot bath resort in the town of
Furnas: Poca da Dona Beija. To our surprise, the people running the place were
from Ukraine and greeted us in Ukrainian. We changed and spent an hour or so
enjoying the various pools in which hot geothermal water was mixed with a cool
flow to maintain a comfortable temperature of about 40 degrees C (104 F). The
water as quite rich in iron, which cast an orangish color on every place where
the water flowed.
After the hot springs, we made our way leisurely down out of the
hills and back to the coast at a placed named Povoacao, which was the original
main settlement on the island centuries ago. The rest of our day consisted
mainly of driving eastward along the south coast, around the east end, and then
westward along the north coast. Of course, we stopped repeatedly at one
memorizing vantage point after another to take in the beauty and, of course,
take pictures.
As the afternoon drew late and evening was not far off, we decided
to look for a fishing village called Porto Formoso on the north coast. We had
been advised by the very friendly and helpful owner of our guesthouse that
there was an excellent fish restaurant there that always had the freshest fish.
We found Casa de Pasto O Amaral, but
were a bit surprised at what we found.
When we entered the place, it looked like we had simply walked
into a neighborhood bar, and we were not sure what to make of it. But the man
behind the bar asked if we were there to eat, and he motioned to a doorway that
led to a staircase. At the top of the stairs was a large dining room that was
open to the street along one side. We took a table with a view of the street
below.
Next, the waiter came to our table, not with a menu but with a
board, on which were three fresh, uncooked fish. We each chose one fish, and
the waiter went away to have them cooked up. In the meantime, we enjoyed an
appetizer of fresh bread, cheese that was sort of like mozzarella, and a spicy
sauce.
Finally, our fish arrived served with potatoes and a bit of sliced
vegetables. With the exception of salmon, tuna and perhaps fish and chips, I’m
not much of a fish eater. I’ve always been particularly averse to eating a
whole fish with a head, little bones, and all that. But this was quite good,
and I liked it.
And with that, once again it was time to head back to the
guesthouse and rest up for our last full day on the island. That night, we saw that a huge cruise ship had come into the harbor. Its size and bright lights added a little something extra to the allure of the harbor at night, but it also meant that there would be a lot more tourist buses on the road the next day.
Day Three: The West
There was still one more volcanic remnant to check out: Lagoa das Sete Cidades, a series of lakes created in an old volcanic crater. The two main
lakes, Lagoa Azul (Blue Lake) and adjoining Lagoa Verde (Green Lake), are
separated only by a narrow bridge/road from which you can take in the beauty of
the whole valley. There are other lakes as well, but we didn’t get to see them
because on this day, we had some low clouds and thick fog.
As always, the drive up the hillsides to the top of the crater was
amazing in its own right. And when we got to the point where we could see the
lakes, it was nothing short of phenomenal. But the best part was getting down
to the lakes, where we finally decided to take some photos of the car with the
top down. It was about time.
After seeing the lakes of the western volcano, we made for another
famous site, Termas da Ferraria at the very western tip of the island. Here
there is a small cove where water heated deep underground by volcanic forces
rises and enters the ocean. Ocean waves surge into the cove and mix with the hot
water to create a fantastic bathing experience.
After changing our clothes, we walked carefully on the volcanic
rocks that were sharp in some places and slippery in others until we got to the
ladders that allowed access to the cove. There were a series of ropes strung
across the cove so that bathers could hold their places, more or less, and not
be either pushed up against rocks or pulled out to sea.
The water temperature is never constant, but it tends to be warm
more often than cool. As the currents in the cove ebb and flow with the
movements of the ocean, you feel hot surges of geothermal water followed by
cooler waves from the sea. And all the time you are buffeted to and fro by the
waves. It was really a blast.
The complex has a restaurant and spa, so after showering (cold)
and changing, we had a nice lunch. Seafood, of course. Then we took off again,
this time for the north central coast and what they call the “Tea Country.” We didn’t find exactly what we were looking for – a tea plantation
and factory – but we did find more awesome ocean views as we went through
several northern towns.
Driving back to Ponta Delgada was a little sad as we
knew we were facing our last evening on the island and the vacation overall.
It was coming to an end. The next day would be about returning the car, heading
to the airport and starting our journey back to Ukraine. We made dinner at the guesthouse, and I even did laundry.
The Last Day and the Long Trip Home
The next
day, my travel companion made the most of the time available by walking around
Ponta Delgada and spending some time at a swimming and sunbathing area near the
marina. But I was too exhausted to do more than return the car and then stay at
the guesthouse until late afternoon when it was time to go to the airport.
Dealing with my bronchial irritation and the associated coughing, the lack of
sleep, and a few other issues had left me more tired than I had imagined. I was
wiped out.
And so we returned. We left Ponta Delgada on Thursday afternoon,
had one more overnight in a guesthouse in Lisbon, left Lisbon Friday morning
and got back to Kharkiv around mid-day on Saturday. In between, there were
planes and trains and taxis and one bus ride, as well as killing five hours or
so on hard bench seats in Boryspil Airport. We were tired, but we survived.
And just like that, it was all over except for the memories.
What’s the Point?
I started this post writing about the mountains and how I feel
when I am graced with their power. I realize that the same is true of the
ocean. The difference has probably been that I’ve spent more time alone in the
mountains, more time to experience that power without distraction, to let
spirit move deeply within me. I had some of that long ago when I was on Guam,
but it has become hard to really remember it. I think I just haven’t given the
ocean the same opportunity to awaken my soul.
Spending time in such beautiful places on Sao Miguel, as well as
the beaches of southern Portugal, gave me glimpses of the peace and spiritual
connection that one can receive from the ocean if one’s mind and heart are in
the right place, and if enough time is allowed. We didn’t have that much time –
we were on the move almost constantly.
But I saw enough and felt enough to know that I want more. I’ve
long thought that I would like to spend a week or so on the west coast of
Ireland, just looking out at the ocean. Perhaps spending time on one of
Ireland’s Aran Islands would be even better. I often imagine the inspiration I
might get from just being in the presence of the ocean in this way, inspiration
to think, to write, and perhaps inspiration to find answers to some of my
biggest personal questions.
Of course, I also like being warm, hanging out in shorts and
t-shirts, or even being able to swim in warm water. That is something Ireland
definitely does not offer. So maybe a trip to a warm island is in order.
I’ve been thinking recently about the Seychelles in the Indian Ocean, Bali in
Indonesia, the Canary Islands of Spain, or even Maui in the Hawaiian Islands.
Have to save up for that kind of trip.
Perhaps a return to the Azores is in the future. There is more to see on Sao Miguel, and there are other islands to explore.
I have other thoughts about the trip, about what it meant, and
about the future. But I think I will save those for one last post, sort of an
epilog to the whole experience.
