Another Candle on the Cake

     Although this space has served as my travel blog, I’ve decided to post an occasional non-travel entry because, well, it’s my blog and I can do what I want to. I don’t know how frequently this will occur – probably not very, as I will post only those writings that I feel are fit to print / fit to read. Here’s my inaugural non-travel entry – enjoy.

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A few years ago, I made a resolution to not get upset when my birthday comes and goes with little notice. Still, it’s hard not to feel a little bereft when the only mention of this year’s birthday comes from the Honda dealership where I recently bought a new CRV after my last one was totaled. Folsom Lake Honda sent me a happy birthday email message festooned with bright balloons. In it, they encouraged me to print the email and bring it in to the service manager who would give me a free ice cream and a chat. 

I’m picturing the carton of ice cream from which the Honda service manager would dish up my serving. It must be years old, the cardboard crushed and covered with freezer fur, tucked in the back of the employee lounge freezer with a post-it note stuck on: DO NOT EAT!  FOR BIRTHDAY CUSTOMERS ONLY! The service manager would extract it, dust off ice crystals, pry off the lid, and attack the rock-hard ice cream with a large kitchen spoon – their scoop having been misplaced somewhere among the random implements stashed in the employee lounge drawers.  It would be vanilla – the universal flavor of  ennui –  and as I attempt to melt it between my teeth, the service manager would try to talk me into buying the extended warranty I failed to purchase when I bought the car.

I’m not quite that desperate for attention and besides, it’s early yet. I’m bound to get at least a few text messages as the day progresses and people’s smart-phone calendars ping with reminders. It won’t happen on Facebook, however, since I hid my birth date from public view. I used to get 20 or 30 birthday nods from Facebook friends, the greetings trickling in as the app admonished users to post well-wishes on my wall. On top of that, I’d get another 25 or so acknowledgements from other Facebook friends who simply “liked” what someone else had already posted. That truly is the least a person can do when it comes to wishing someone happy birthday, and I decided I can live without it.

              My husband is typically on-it when it comes to remembering my birthday. He had to be taught, but he now appreciates the plight of those of us with late December birthdays: the forgetfulness of holiday-weary friends, the treachery of the ‘slash’ gift. But this year, even he is distracted, and I forgive him. He’s still banged up and sore from the car wreck – the one that totaled our last Honda.  In short, he’s got his own miseries to nurse. (Update:  he remembered and stepped up bigly.)

              This will be the second time I don’t receive a message from my mother reminiscing about the time (around noon) and circumstances of my birth. On this day last year, she was in the hospital after having been admitted on her birthday (December 26^th) with a failing heart. It was the all-time record for shitty birthdays for both of us.  Due to fears over the surging COVID Omicron variant, the hospital locked down, and I was unable to see her or get any first-hand information from medical staff.  Driven, I think, by panic, she morphed into the kind of patient none of us envisions becoming: uncooperative and argumentative, and she’d hang up on me when I tried to comfort her by phone. Although released from the hospital after a few weeks, it was to nursing care where she lasted only a few weeks more. 

              So, you see, things could be worse.  At least this year I’m not mismanaging the care of a dying parent; nor am I reckoning with what could easily have been my husband’s crippling injuries from the car wreck.

              As I write this in the day’s early hours, sunshine is brightening the sky outside my window.  A welcome relief after days of fog and yesterday’s storm. Later, I’ll take my bike up the hill and ride some of my favorite territory, and this will be a fine way to spend my birthday.

San Juan Islands Cycling

           Although I wanted to have one more travel experience before settling in for winter, I wanted it to be low stress and uncomplicated. As luck (or internet shenanigans) would have it, an email from REI Adventures landed in my inbox at just the right time. A women-only  three-night four-day cycling excursion caught my eye, but I soon realized those three nights would be . . . . camping, sleeping on the ground, in tents, with sketchy bathrooms, flashlights required, and all that. Hmmmmm. I hadn’t been camping in 30, maybe 35 years.

On the plus side, we wouldn’t be carrying gear on the bikes. We’d have two guides, one of whom would drive a van with gear, tents, sleeping pads, and whatnot. Also, the guides would procure and prepare all the meals, so this would be camping ‘lite’ for sure. But still – sleeping on the ground! Oof!

In the end I was won over by the assurance that this particular trip featured  “elevated food and wine pairings.”  Wine by the campfire! I was in.

Getting to the San Juan Islands can be complicated (flight to SeaTac, shuttle with transfer to ferry, or sea plane) so in the spirit of simplicity I decided to drive. It’s a fair ways, so I loaded up my iPod with audiobooks and podcasts and set out on a Tuesday morning. After a night in Salem, OR I made it to the Anacortes ferry terminal in time for the Wednesday 2pm ferry.

Our cycling group met up on Thursday morning to begin our adventure.

 

 

        Our ages ranged from late thirties through early seventies (except our guides who were in their twenties) so most of us experienced some overnight aches, even with sleeping pads. All campgrounds had flush toilets and sinks, and we had showers at two of three campsites. We made do for the one without. It ended up being a great trip with fun women, great food and wine, and hey, the camping was do-able. 

We finished up mid-day Sunday and took the ferry back from Orcas to Anacortes where we said our good-byes.

Short Video Clips

 Spotty internet while traveling meant I couldn't upload all the video clips I tried to.  So here are links to some now posted to you tube. I've got a few more to post but apparently, you tube limits how many at one time.  

Enjoy!

Ashford Castle in Cong

West Ireland Coast

Connemara Wind

Galway Busker

Guinness - mid pour

Marseille Apartment View

Les Halles market panorama

Les Halles fish vendor

Fontaine de Vaucluse

Ducks at Hotel du Poete

Home at Last

Our return trip threatened to undo the well-being we had achieved on vacation, but we arrived home in good spirits.

The train to Marseille airport, COVID tests, and night at the Best Western all went according to plan.  But our flight from Marseille to Amsterdam was delayed over an hour; after an attempted mad dash (during which we ran mistakenly through forbidden doors and ended up outside the secure area without having gone through passport control), we missed our connecting flight. Damn! Delta re-booked us on an alternate route -- but on the following day. 

I’ve been a fan of Delta airlines since 2018 when they so kindly handled re-bookings and refunds after a family death disrupted my travel plans. I remain a fan. For this situation, Delta gave us vouchers for food at the Schiphol airport, and for a night + dinner and breakfast at the nearby Hilton hotel. 

Although we didn’t love the delay, it worked out in a good way. For starters, the Hilton was upscale. We had a lovely room and good food, all gratis. Plus, it was the night of the Champions League fútbol final which I had thought I’d miss. But now we watched it in the hotel lobby bar, alongside two young Dutch fellows (ages 24 and 20). They both work for Hilton -- a different one -- and were hanging out at this one for a few hours to watch the match before leaving on their vacation to Malaga, Spain.   

They were personable extroverts with excellent English, interested in learning about us and describing their career plans to “grow with the company” at Hilton. Together, we watched the match (as well as the unfolding fake tickets debacle) and they bought us drinks on their employee discount.  We were stranded in Amsterdam in the best way.

We had figured we’d just mosey to the airport in the morning to catch our re-booked flight. Thank goodness we got there earlier than planned because navigating Schiphol was a fiasco.  It took us nearly 2 hours to get through security and whatnot, and that was WITHOUT having to deal with our luggage (which had been retained by the airport). Our flight was boarding by the time we got through it all. 

 

I had some worry that our negative COVID tests might have expired by then but, whew, nobody called us on that. We settled into our seats for the 10-hour flight and never looked back.

I hope to make one or two more posts for this blog series – a few more photos and, possibly, some video clips if I can figure out how to post them to you-tube and link from here.Check back if you can, and thanks for following along!