Yes, today is my birthday. Not a 'big one', but still big to me. I mean Forty-FOUR. Forty-four and dating (albeit, barely) in Seattle. Forty-four and an apartment dweller (although, more by choice these days). Never mind that I can't actually afford to buy a house in this town...I could somewhere...somewhere remote and probably unappealing??? But for now I choose to live here (we'll talk again when Nasty November hits).
I remember my 30th birthday. An older woman I worked with told me I'd love my thirties...said her thirties were the best years of her life. I entered my thirties feeling positive and charged...or IN charge...something like that. I figured if my thirties were that great (and they were!) I was going to love my forties (and so far I do!).
My fortieth birthday was spent on the island of Skiathos in Greece. I threw myself a big beach party and welcomed my 40's. I danced on a bar, bungee jumped from a crane and paraglided above the sea. It was an adventurous time and I entered my 40's with zest!
No longer FortyISH. I'm now in my 'mid-forties'. And not too far from 'late' forties. Forty-four is a good number though. It's one of those double number years...22, 33, 44...It sort of rolls off the lips easily...forty-four. And since 88 is considered lucky in Asian cultures, wouldn't it seem that 44 would be at least half as lucky?
Other than having to face my mother in my bathroom mirror more and more each day (she died 12 years ago! What is she doing hanging out in my medicine cabinet? Just lurking there to annoy me???) and dealing with some other minor aging signs, being in my 'mid-forties' isn't too terrible. In March I was fitted for glasses....never had to wear glasses. Always perfect eyesight...which I was quite proud of and bragged about (that'll teach me!) Dr. put me into a pair of progressive lenses. What the heck??? Now I can't see anything! They are useless. I have NO peripheral vision and I trip going down steps. Ugh...forget it...they are a mild prescription. I can see well enough without them! That was money ill-spent! I should have bought designer shoes instead. Maybe for my birthday :)
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Just A Bit-O-History
So I thought I'd just give a brief rundown on how I ended up here...wander woman and all... I mean, I'd never really wandered before, at least not that I recall. I'm the 'steady eddie' kind of gal. Dependable. Responsible. Level Headed.
I met my first husband (I like to refer to him as my 'first' husband even though there hasn't been a second, nor is any second anywhere in sight. I'm pretty sure, eventually, there will be a second. Surely there will be....someday...I think...) when I was a sophomore in college. Waaaay too young to be meeting husbands. I was nineteen for heaven sakes. I was pretty adamant about not getting married. Nope that was not me. Not going down that road yet. No ma'am. I'm waiting til I'm at least 30 to get married. Well, if only I took my own advice.
Anyway, we got married at 24...a good solid courtship later. I developed into quite the married lady. My husband was a chef at heart. Not his trade, but it should have been. He loved to cook, to watch cooking shows, explore with food, grow a garden, a fruit orchard...you name it. And he was great at it. He taught me everything I know about cooking (sorry, mom, it's true!). We entertained guests at our home frequently. I not only cooked, hosted fabulous parties and baked pies from rubarb and apples from our yard, I excavated soil, planned and formed patios (yes plural), poured concrete, even MIXED the concrete. Put up drywall, tiled, bricked, roofed, painted, gardened, mowed and chopped and stacked wood. My husband had a workshop and I had a 'craft' shop to do ceramics and dried flower arrangements. I sewed my own curtains and stenciled the walls. I was a regular Martha Stewart groupie. My husband and I watched and 'studied' all the home shows. Oh, domestic doesn't even begin to decribe my old life.
Then, one day, I suddenly realized "wait just a cotton pickin minute here. What happened to ME? What happened to the life I thought I was going to live?" I realized, as many women do in their mid to late thirties (sometimes earlier, sometimes later) I forgot about ME. About what I want? I forgot who I was and became someone I was molded into. It was subtle. I didn't even know it was happening. But there I was ... staring at a pile of gravel that had been delivered to the house thinking "what am I doing? This gravel money could be a weekend get-a-way." I was tired of spending my weekends 'enhancing' our home. Our home was lovely. Not a blade of grass out of place. I was living in the guilded cage. It was finally time to fly.
Of course it wasn't as simple as all that, but you get the gist. So I gave all that up...all the glamour (and security) of homeownership, the praise received for making pies that tasted just like my mother-in-law's (the ultimate goal apparently), the unsatifying job and constant stress. I gave it up to go teach and travel abroad. And that I did. It was a thrilling time. Entering into the unknown. Living out of a suitcase. Forging through language barriers and other challenges that traveling as a solo woman would bring.
Now I'm back in the states. I rent an apartment in the city. I bus everywhere. I am working as a temp...wandering from job to job. I am a pet nanny wandering from pet to pet...from neighborhood to neighborhood.... from home to home...a different bed every month.
Do I miss my old lifestyle? Not exactly. I tried baking bread last year when I unpacked my things from storage and found a bread pan. It came out over AND undercooked at the same time. What the &*$??? I was the master of pumpkin bread! What happened? It seems that in my effort to find my old pre-married self, I somehow lost my culinary abilities in the divorce along with the house, the nicer car and the silverware. I now eat standing over the kitchen sink. I have one plant in my house that was given to me and I am a bit skeptical of my ability to keep it alive. I've lived in my apt for over a year now and have artwork that still hasn't been hung. I wasn't planning on staying this long. I was sure I'd have wandered off by now. Maybe it's time to incorporate a blend of wander woman and that other person. Just a bit-o-balance.
I met my first husband (I like to refer to him as my 'first' husband even though there hasn't been a second, nor is any second anywhere in sight. I'm pretty sure, eventually, there will be a second. Surely there will be....someday...I think...) when I was a sophomore in college. Waaaay too young to be meeting husbands. I was nineteen for heaven sakes. I was pretty adamant about not getting married. Nope that was not me. Not going down that road yet. No ma'am. I'm waiting til I'm at least 30 to get married. Well, if only I took my own advice.
Anyway, we got married at 24...a good solid courtship later. I developed into quite the married lady. My husband was a chef at heart. Not his trade, but it should have been. He loved to cook, to watch cooking shows, explore with food, grow a garden, a fruit orchard...you name it. And he was great at it. He taught me everything I know about cooking (sorry, mom, it's true!). We entertained guests at our home frequently. I not only cooked, hosted fabulous parties and baked pies from rubarb and apples from our yard, I excavated soil, planned and formed patios (yes plural), poured concrete, even MIXED the concrete. Put up drywall, tiled, bricked, roofed, painted, gardened, mowed and chopped and stacked wood. My husband had a workshop and I had a 'craft' shop to do ceramics and dried flower arrangements. I sewed my own curtains and stenciled the walls. I was a regular Martha Stewart groupie. My husband and I watched and 'studied' all the home shows. Oh, domestic doesn't even begin to decribe my old life.
Then, one day, I suddenly realized "wait just a cotton pickin minute here. What happened to ME? What happened to the life I thought I was going to live?" I realized, as many women do in their mid to late thirties (sometimes earlier, sometimes later) I forgot about ME. About what I want? I forgot who I was and became someone I was molded into. It was subtle. I didn't even know it was happening. But there I was ... staring at a pile of gravel that had been delivered to the house thinking "what am I doing? This gravel money could be a weekend get-a-way." I was tired of spending my weekends 'enhancing' our home. Our home was lovely. Not a blade of grass out of place. I was living in the guilded cage. It was finally time to fly.
Of course it wasn't as simple as all that, but you get the gist. So I gave all that up...all the glamour (and security) of homeownership, the praise received for making pies that tasted just like my mother-in-law's (the ultimate goal apparently), the unsatifying job and constant stress. I gave it up to go teach and travel abroad. And that I did. It was a thrilling time. Entering into the unknown. Living out of a suitcase. Forging through language barriers and other challenges that traveling as a solo woman would bring.
Now I'm back in the states. I rent an apartment in the city. I bus everywhere. I am working as a temp...wandering from job to job. I am a pet nanny wandering from pet to pet...from neighborhood to neighborhood.... from home to home...a different bed every month.
Do I miss my old lifestyle? Not exactly. I tried baking bread last year when I unpacked my things from storage and found a bread pan. It came out over AND undercooked at the same time. What the &*$??? I was the master of pumpkin bread! What happened? It seems that in my effort to find my old pre-married self, I somehow lost my culinary abilities in the divorce along with the house, the nicer car and the silverware. I now eat standing over the kitchen sink. I have one plant in my house that was given to me and I am a bit skeptical of my ability to keep it alive. I've lived in my apt for over a year now and have artwork that still hasn't been hung. I wasn't planning on staying this long. I was sure I'd have wandered off by now. Maybe it's time to incorporate a blend of wander woman and that other person. Just a bit-o-balance.
Monday, July 23, 2007
I Am a Bus Person
I hear people saying all the time "naw, I'm not a bus person." What does that mean exactly? You're too environmentally hogish to ride the bus? You're too attached to your car? You'd rather sit in traffic, clench your teeth, drive around the block umpteen times looking for expensive parking and spend a ton on gas than ride the bus and get dropped off within a block (if not right in front) of your destination? (http://www.transit.metrokc.gov/)
I have a new friend who just moved here from California. She is 'not a bus person.' She says it's easier to walk. Well, that is commendable and I can appreciate that. Often it IS easier...as well as faster...to just walk. However, sometimes walking is just impractical. You're wearing your sexy new high heels for a night on the town...the bus saves your heels AND your feet. It's pissing rain and blowing sideways. The bus is definitely a better option than walking if you need to look presentable upon arrival. You're pressed for time...again...the bus is fairly speedy.
I'll cut my new friend a bit of slack, because she is at least making an attempt to avoid the unnecessary use of her car. But what about all those other non-bus people who are using their cars when the bus is just as easy, cheaper, relaxing (really, it is....the bus provides that time to catch up on reading, zzzz's, chat with a new person, or just veg staring out the window contemplating life.) No, these people don't see it that way at all. I think they actually have 'bus fear.'
Yes, fear of the bus. They don't know how to take the bus. It is complicated in Seattle, admittedly. It takes a good six months of using the system before one is an accomplished rider. There's the issue of paying. You pay when getting on when entering the city but when you get off when leaving the city. Free ride area (basically just downtown) is from 7 am - 7pm. After 7 pm the back doors don't open...enter and exit from front door only. Peak hours the fare is $1.50, off hours fare is $1.25...what are peak hours? There's a sign on the paybox...you'll figure it out. Some buses change number partway into the route. Yes, it's complicated business alright, but worth getting acquainted with.
Then there is the issue of the 'bus freaks.' There's always the sleeper whose head bobs like one of those bobble head dolls until it's on your shoulder. There's the drunk, the incessant talker about nothing (no, that is NOT me!), the political activist, the lady with the Great Dane and the other one with the dog in a bag. Sure you will observe many interesting folks (and smells) on the bus...especially through the free ride zone. But that's one of the perks of riding the bus. I could probably write a 'bus stories' blog and be busy writing every day of the week! I grew up in a family who supported bus travel (I think that makes a difference as well. It's in my genes.) I come from a long lineage of bus people. My dad used to come home every night from work and tell an unusual and interesting bus story at the dinner table. After college, when I landed my first job downtown, I too was able to join in on the dinner table bus story talk.
Now I didn't just go cold turkey with this whole bus riding transition. I sold my car before going to Europe. While there I had to learn the public transit systems. I became quite apt...in foreign lands mind you. When I returned to Seattle...jobless and homeless...I decided to find an apartment in a part of town with good bus service. I was going to attempt to bring a bit of my European lifestyle back into my American life. I did not want to race out a plunk down money I didn't really have on a car. No siree. I didn't know how long I could make this last, though. I mean, Seattle isn't known to have the best public transit in the world. But it's been over a year and I'm quite comfortable and happy with my bus riding lifestyle. There are very few instances when I feel I need a car. In those cases, I borrow from a friend or use flexcar (http://www.flexcar.com/) or if really in a jam, I take a cab. The amount I've spent on those other options over the last year is miniscule compared to owning a vehicle (the car, car maintenance, parking, the time spent looking for parking, gas, insurance).
So, again, what makes a person 'not a bus person?' I think everyone should at least give it a chance. There's just nothing like a day of good bus karma when you get to the bus stop seconds before the bus arrives, you make all your connections, always get a seat and get where you need to be on time. And if you ARE late...you just blame the bus. Everyone seems to accept this as a valid excuse for tardiness.
I have a new friend who just moved here from California. She is 'not a bus person.' She says it's easier to walk. Well, that is commendable and I can appreciate that. Often it IS easier...as well as faster...to just walk. However, sometimes walking is just impractical. You're wearing your sexy new high heels for a night on the town...the bus saves your heels AND your feet. It's pissing rain and blowing sideways. The bus is definitely a better option than walking if you need to look presentable upon arrival. You're pressed for time...again...the bus is fairly speedy.
I'll cut my new friend a bit of slack, because she is at least making an attempt to avoid the unnecessary use of her car. But what about all those other non-bus people who are using their cars when the bus is just as easy, cheaper, relaxing (really, it is....the bus provides that time to catch up on reading, zzzz's, chat with a new person, or just veg staring out the window contemplating life.) No, these people don't see it that way at all. I think they actually have 'bus fear.'
Yes, fear of the bus. They don't know how to take the bus. It is complicated in Seattle, admittedly. It takes a good six months of using the system before one is an accomplished rider. There's the issue of paying. You pay when getting on when entering the city but when you get off when leaving the city. Free ride area (basically just downtown) is from 7 am - 7pm. After 7 pm the back doors don't open...enter and exit from front door only. Peak hours the fare is $1.50, off hours fare is $1.25...what are peak hours? There's a sign on the paybox...you'll figure it out. Some buses change number partway into the route. Yes, it's complicated business alright, but worth getting acquainted with.
Then there is the issue of the 'bus freaks.' There's always the sleeper whose head bobs like one of those bobble head dolls until it's on your shoulder. There's the drunk, the incessant talker about nothing (no, that is NOT me!), the political activist, the lady with the Great Dane and the other one with the dog in a bag. Sure you will observe many interesting folks (and smells) on the bus...especially through the free ride zone. But that's one of the perks of riding the bus. I could probably write a 'bus stories' blog and be busy writing every day of the week! I grew up in a family who supported bus travel (I think that makes a difference as well. It's in my genes.) I come from a long lineage of bus people. My dad used to come home every night from work and tell an unusual and interesting bus story at the dinner table. After college, when I landed my first job downtown, I too was able to join in on the dinner table bus story talk.
Now I didn't just go cold turkey with this whole bus riding transition. I sold my car before going to Europe. While there I had to learn the public transit systems. I became quite apt...in foreign lands mind you. When I returned to Seattle...jobless and homeless...I decided to find an apartment in a part of town with good bus service. I was going to attempt to bring a bit of my European lifestyle back into my American life. I did not want to race out a plunk down money I didn't really have on a car. No siree. I didn't know how long I could make this last, though. I mean, Seattle isn't known to have the best public transit in the world. But it's been over a year and I'm quite comfortable and happy with my bus riding lifestyle. There are very few instances when I feel I need a car. In those cases, I borrow from a friend or use flexcar (http://www.flexcar.com/) or if really in a jam, I take a cab. The amount I've spent on those other options over the last year is miniscule compared to owning a vehicle (the car, car maintenance, parking, the time spent looking for parking, gas, insurance).
So, again, what makes a person 'not a bus person?' I think everyone should at least give it a chance. There's just nothing like a day of good bus karma when you get to the bus stop seconds before the bus arrives, you make all your connections, always get a seat and get where you need to be on time. And if you ARE late...you just blame the bus. Everyone seems to accept this as a valid excuse for tardiness.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Culture Shock
When I returned from Europe last year, several people contacted me wanting to get together for a coffee to ask me about my experiences teaching abroad. Total strangers....friends of friends who knew someone who knew me. What the heck? I'm no anomaly. I'm just a gal who took life by the seat of its pants and decided to live a little. Nothing special. Nothing unique really. I didn't just sail around the world solo for the first time or anything else remotely noteworthy. But people were acting as though I'd done something worth talking about. They wanted to know how I'd started my venture teaching abroad, how I found the course, how I found living abroad, what was traveling as a solo 40 something woman like etc... Okay, after 3 or 4 of these coffee "dates" I decided it might be more efficient to bring all these people together and give one comprehensive seminar on the subject of...well... me traveling, teaching and living abroad (www.discoverU.org/travel).
Through teaching the course I've met a number of interesting people, both men and women, eager to change careers, quit jobs, venture abroad. They've asked me questions that make me ponder as well. Recently, one student asked me if I had experienced any culture shock and how did I deal with that. Well, since my travel experiences on this particular journey was limited to European countries, I experienced very little, if any, real culture shock. And the things that were different were things I pretty much expected and embraced whole heartedly...or at least half heartedly, e.g. ALL shops and businesses closing during siesta hours. Once accustomed to that routine, I loved that part of life. I'm currently lobbying to bring the siesta to America. SLOOOW down. Take the afternoon off....go home...eat a nice lunch, have sex with your spouse....chiiiiillll. There is the misnomer that the Europeans then have to work late into the evening because they take those afternoon hours off. Hey, Americans are already doing that! Most people I know in the corporate world don't even take a proper lunch. They eat at their desks causing indigestion and poor eating habits! Or if they do take a lunch, they spend the majority of the time on the cell phone or blackberry not missing a beat.
Sure the language barriers were a part of the cultural differences. But that is why I went to a foreign country to live...to learn and experience a foreign language. Every day was a challenge. Every day was a success when I was able to communicate something to someone and get what I asked for. Ordering a piece of cheese at the deli was a huge achievement!
Sure, managing the "Turkish toilets" can be tricky when wearing jeans. The solar powered hot water can be touch and go (I had many a-cold shower...but at least I had a shower!). And doing laundry by hand and hanging dry in all weather requires planning. But these things don't cause culture 'shock.' They're just little inconveniences that can be adjusted to quite easily.
Men in other countries are much more bold than our American scaredy cats. They will actually sprint across the road to come talk to a girl if they are interested. Sure at first that is flattering. Then it becomes annoying. Then you just learn to deal with it in the most polite, yet firm, manner. But I come home and realize that men don't even talk to women in public anymore. I go away for a few years and find out the only way anyone is communicating is via the internet. What? You mean you have a conversation with a guy in line behind you at the Safeway...it seems like a good one...you are connecting....laughing and joking....and then nothing??? You have to go to your computer and look on the "missed connections" or "I saw you" site to see if he wants to meet again??? THIS is culture shock!
It's taking me longer to adjust to the whole internet dating/communicating online scene than it took me to adjust to peeing into a hole in the ground, that's for sure!
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Wake Up Rip Van Winkle
I was only living abroad for about 3 1/2 years (three years and four months) but at times it seems longer. Coming back to the states I felt (and still feel sometimes) a bit like Rip Van Winkle! Bluetooth, Blackberry, Blogs??? What are these things? I can't tell the crazies from the people talking on their phones...everyone is walking around talking to themselves (or so it appears). I was only in Europe, not some third world country (although Turkey is still considered a 'developing' country, they DO have ample technology there), but to be honest, I fell out of touch. I didn't go abroad to "stay connected" to the American culture. The idea was to emerse myself in the European cultures. And that I did.
I had, and still have, a lot to catch up on! My trek back to Seattle involved a stop off in Park City, UT for the Sundance Film Festival (January 2006). While I did recognize the 'oldies' like Sally Fields, Nick Nolte and Dennis Quaid, anyone new and upcoming was completely foreign to me. Terrance Howard, who?? And Maggie G?? I still don't know that gal's name. And don't even get me started on the whole Branjolina and Bennifer thing. The worst part that no one else found any of this 'weird' at all. My friends would talk about these people as if they were real people in their lives. I guess it's better they spend their time gossiping about these 'fake' friends than gossiping behind the back of yours truly (which they probably do as well).
I've been back for over a year and I am still resisting much of American culture. I don't have a car. I made certain to rent an apartment near downtown and all the bus routes I'd need. I have no need for a Blackberry. My mobile phone (or cell, rather) is as basic as they come. I can make a call and take a call....and it even works as my alarm clock. Wow! I have one of those old fashion large sized TV's (handed down from a friend who upgraded to the fancy wancy flat screen) that works fine for the two shows I watch per week (Sex and the City re-runs).
However, even though I personally live quite simply, I do have HIGH expectations with regard to technology. I expect my laptop/PC to ALWAYS work and work quickly, internet should NEVER be 'down,' reservations should never be lost, and everything everywhere should be automated. And now...now I am finally going to attempt to transition from the paper journal notebooks I've been keeping for years, into the world of 'Blogging.'
I had, and still have, a lot to catch up on! My trek back to Seattle involved a stop off in Park City, UT for the Sundance Film Festival (January 2006). While I did recognize the 'oldies' like Sally Fields, Nick Nolte and Dennis Quaid, anyone new and upcoming was completely foreign to me. Terrance Howard, who?? And Maggie G?? I still don't know that gal's name. And don't even get me started on the whole Branjolina and Bennifer thing. The worst part that no one else found any of this 'weird' at all. My friends would talk about these people as if they were real people in their lives. I guess it's better they spend their time gossiping about these 'fake' friends than gossiping behind the back of yours truly (which they probably do as well).
I've been back for over a year and I am still resisting much of American culture. I don't have a car. I made certain to rent an apartment near downtown and all the bus routes I'd need. I have no need for a Blackberry. My mobile phone (or cell, rather) is as basic as they come. I can make a call and take a call....and it even works as my alarm clock. Wow! I have one of those old fashion large sized TV's (handed down from a friend who upgraded to the fancy wancy flat screen) that works fine for the two shows I watch per week (Sex and the City re-runs).
However, even though I personally live quite simply, I do have HIGH expectations with regard to technology. I expect my laptop/PC to ALWAYS work and work quickly, internet should NEVER be 'down,' reservations should never be lost, and everything everywhere should be automated. And now...now I am finally going to attempt to transition from the paper journal notebooks I've been keeping for years, into the world of 'Blogging.'
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
life begins at fortyish
As soon as I landed in Prague, I knew I'd made the right decision. Actually, it was during the four hour layover in Copenhagen...wandering the cobbled streets in awe of the women commuting on their bicycles wearing skirts and high heels, purses slung over their shoulders...some even on their cell phones...I mean 'mobiles.'
Then my arrival in Prague just confirmed my gut instincts were right. I am all about the 'gut instinct' theory. Heck, if I'd listened to my gut in the first place, sixteen years prior and responded with "let me just wear the ring around for awhile first and see how it feels" instead of the emphatic "yes!" that I DID respond with, I wouldn't have found myself a 39 year old divorce alone in one of the most charming, romantic cities in the world.
But then I am also a huge believer in the "everything happens for a reason" theory too. So there I was in Praha after leaving my husband, my job (which was intended only as a sabatical), my home and my cat to my best friend. I was embarking on that next chapter in my previously average, domesticated, American life. And from that point on I became a true believer in the "life begins at 40 (or 39) theory."
Then my arrival in Prague just confirmed my gut instincts were right. I am all about the 'gut instinct' theory. Heck, if I'd listened to my gut in the first place, sixteen years prior and responded with "let me just wear the ring around for awhile first and see how it feels" instead of the emphatic "yes!" that I DID respond with, I wouldn't have found myself a 39 year old divorce alone in one of the most charming, romantic cities in the world.
But then I am also a huge believer in the "everything happens for a reason" theory too. So there I was in Praha after leaving my husband, my job (which was intended only as a sabatical), my home and my cat to my best friend. I was embarking on that next chapter in my previously average, domesticated, American life. And from that point on I became a true believer in the "life begins at 40 (or 39) theory."
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