My kids were away at school. My marriage was over. I had saved some money to get away. I assured myself that I was not running away, but running toward something—lessons, rich experiences, and finding out more about myself and the world at large. Travel—even to a new town a few miles away—always has led to mind expansion for me. It enriches; it increases empathy, tolerance, and understanding. It can make us even more grateful to have been born in the United States in situations of opportunity.
And I know how to travel on a shoestring budget. If you do not, there are plenty of books and websites dedicated to budget travel.1 To be the most successful at saving money while traveling, I need to have time to research discounts and deals. My research always has paid off. Flexibility to travel at nonpeak times or on short notice helps lower costs as well. And if one volunteers, the nonprofit organization often will pay for a significant percentage, if not all, of your costs.2
I have several female friends who have designed their careers and work so that it can be done from anywhere. As I write these words, my friend Chezzie Brungraber is hiking in the Swiss mountains with her baby and husband and working when they have Wi-Fi™. She arranged her work life so that she could work very hard on her business for part of the year and then travel for the rest of it. My friend Desiree Garcia travels around the country with her mobile healing massage services. In the last year, I have seen her—and enjoyed her massage services—at two yoga festivals. Her children are now grown and she can support herself with her work wherever she wants to be.3 Several former colleagues worked very long hours over a necessary period until they could retire early and see the world. This kind of life is possible with appropriate planning.
I greatly admire W. Kamau Bell’s chosen adventures. On his CNN documentary television show, United Shades of America, Bell explores communities that could not be more different from where he lives.4 He has visited Ku Klux Klan meetings, prisons for the most violent criminals, Native American reservations, and other unusual destinations. Through these forays, he and his viewers gain understanding about viewpoints that may differ vastly from our own.
While I was lucky to be able to travel to distant places, the lessons afforded by going to new places can be gleaned from near travel as well. A walk through an unfamiliar neighborhood, park, or city can bring excitement, stimulation, and increased understanding.
There are many more places in the world I want to see before I die. The beaches of Vietnam, the island of Mauritius, the Badlands of the western United States, the Burning Man annual village in the California desert, and the Canary Islands are among them. When compiling my 50 After 50 list, I had to start somewhere, and I made a large dent in my lifelong bucket list the year I turned 50. I used to research extensively before I visited somewhere new. Now, I build in more time to allow experiences to unfold. My daughter recently saw a sign in a Cambodian hostel that said something like, “Travelers see what they see; tourists see what they came to see.”
The point is to experience somewhere you have not before been and to take a break from your day-to-day life, to refresh and possibly reset it. Getaways do not have to be far away or expensive. Staycations can provide needed respite, and can be done in novel ways.5 TripAdvisor can help you find things nearby and provides other travelers’ reviews about any place that piques your interest.6 Airbnb has started connecting travelers with experience opportunities to try out in various areas, like guided tours, classes, games, tastings, photo shoots, picnics, shopping with professional stylists, and hikes.7 Let me know what you find.
The meaning of life is to find your gift.
The purpose of life is to give it away.
—Pablo Picasso
I needed space from my old life. I yearned to “get outta Dodge.” I was not seeking a geographical cure to my woes necessarily, but something more like a sabbatical—some distance, so that I could assess where I had been and where I wanted to go from here.
I went almost exactly to the other side of the world. I had wanted to experience some adventure and to do some good in the world. I settled on Nepal.
The trip started on an auspicious note. I got bumped up to first class, which had never before happened to me. I have never wanted to spend my money on added comfort while in transit, but now I know why people choose to do that.
The stars aligned when I befriended a woman who was the first Nepali woman to become a U.S. marine. Her relatives put me in contact with some schools in Nepal. One was in Kathmandu and one was in the poorest region of Nepal—Karnali. I volunteered at both of the schools. By comparison, the school in Kathmandu was posh. The students wore uniforms and there were books in the classrooms and inspirational posters on the walls. Some of the students were orphans. Most spoke English and looked well cared for. Those without parents lived in a nearby dormitory. A friend from home had adopted three of the young women and was paying for their expenses.
The second school was high in the mountains. We took a small plane to the only nearby town of Jumla. There was no security to speak of when passing through the airport. I was surprised to find a rooster sticking his head out of a box next to me. I was even more surprised when a tiny man stepped on board, saw that all seats were taken, then jumped on my guide’s lap for the trip. My guide was happy to oblige. Seat belts were optional.
I had come to Karnali with school supplies. We caught a jeep up a mud path riddled with large holes for a short portion of the journey. I left that harrowing ride in tears after teetering precariously along cliff edges. Because there was no road leading to the school, however, two of the parents from the village who came to welcome me carried the boxes of school supplies atop their heads. They nimbly navigated the miles of rocks and rugged uphill terrain that took me eight hours to hike up. No one would have described my hiking technique as nimble. . . .
I doubt I will ever forget the reception I received from the people in Karnali. They had never met a Westerner. A band of six drummers came down the path to meet me when I arrived at the school. The entire village came to the school to welcome me. I received dozens of wreaths of flowers, popcorn, and bundles of greens. I could barely see over my colorful adornments. Many speeches were made. A holy man blessed me with a crimson tika upon my forehead. It was surreal, humbling, and a bit embarrassing. I was no celebrity, after all. Yet they treated me as if I possessed some sort of magical power. Several mothers asked me to touch their infants.
The 120 students aged three to 14 lined up with palms together as if in prayer. We bowed to each other individually, saying “Namaste.” Despite their tattered clothing and open sores, they were achingly beautiful.
The school in Karnali lacked electricity, heat, and running water. Some of the children had no shoes, despite the snow on the ground. The floors of the classrooms were simply dirt, and the children sat on the floor for their lessons. I saw no books. Most of the teachers were volunteers. Some of the villagers said that the Nepali government had forgotten about that remote part of Nepal. It was hard to disagree.
I was struck by how happy the students were, despite their lack of creature comforts. I visited several of their homes for ginger tea, most of which afforded little respite from the harsh weather. One of the villagers put me up for the weeks I was there. Although neither my hosts nor I could speak each other’s language, we managed to communicate. We spent all of our free time huddled around the kitchen stove. There was no electricity or running water in their simple stone house. The guest of honor bed I was given consisted of a table covered by some blankets. The frozen outhouse was a place I tried to avoid, especially at night. Visits to the outhouse sometimes were complicated by whiteout snow conditions and the need to put one’s boots back on since no shoes are worn indoors. I stopped drinking fluids after 5:00 p.m.
The hosts insisted that we eat before they ate. They were reluctant to allow me to help with any home chores. After several weeks, the woman of the house allowed me to grind corn into cornmeal in their primitive grinder, and to milk the cows and feed the chickens.
I was made starkly aware of the many things I take for granted. Like mattresses. Heat. Socks. Napkins. Utensils. Toilet paper. Toothpaste. The majority of Himalayan people do not own toothbrushes or know much about oral care, I was told. I tried not to let the lack of sanitation upend me, though traveling here is certainly not for those accustomed to a posh lifestyle—or a lifestyle based on any sort of schedule. For example, a bus arrives at the closest town (a nine-hour hike away) once each day, but no one knows what time it will come on a given day. I learned how to have fewer expectations there.
I am forever changed by this experience. I kept the thin layer of privileged guilt and self-consciousness at bay, so that I could maintain a positive attitude while working and living there.
The villagers dreamed of building a library for the children of Karnali. One of the village’s residents walked across the country to Kathmandu, found a job washing dishes, put himself through college, and found a way to the United States, where he got a job as a translator. The villagers rightly regarded him as a hero. He and I met on several occasions in the United States and were able to raise enough funds to build a children’s library in Karnali.
I collected loads of books for the library after it was built. Government tariffs and complications prevented the books from being shipped and carried to the library. Someday, however, I will return to see this happy but forlorn village.
I made a small corner of the world a bit better because I was there. You can, too. And I am sure you do not have to go far to do that. Look online for a volunteer vacation,8 or in your community for a charitable endeavor, if you do not want to create one of your own. The point is that helping others helps us get out of ourselves. We gain perspective. We increase our self-esteem by doing esteemable acts.
I originally had hoped to enter the Peace Corps, after learning that retirees make up a large percent of its volunteer population, but my life circumstances do not allow for that at the present time. But with this one trip, my heart swelled with pride and a renewed sense of purpose.
What can you do to make this world a better place?
I took a walk in the woods
and came out taller than the trees.
—Henry David Thoreau
Trekking in the Himalayas had been on my bucket list for years. I was not exactly searching for James Hilton’s Shangri-La, though the thought of finding it held appeal. Shangri-La is a fictional place described in the 1933 novel Lost Horizon.9 Shangri-La is described as a mystical, harmonious valley. It has become synonymous with any earthly paradise, particularly a mythical Himalayan utopia—a permanently happy land, isolated from the outside world.
In some ways, I found a version of Shangri-La. The terrain was largely unspoiled. We frequently found ourselves above the clouds. Sometimes herds of sheep and goats slowed us. We stopped to admire the white monkeys who gazed at us from tree limbs. I marveled at the rhododendron forests, with the tallest of that species I had ever seen. There were no roads, save for a few muddy paths here and there near the base of the mountains. The people I encountered were shut off from the rest of the world and rarely came down from their high abodes.
The people seemed content with so little. Children played with sticks and improvised toys. Anything not growing naturally in the Himalayas had to be carried many miles upward, so the Himalayan dwellers made do with less. Maybe that was the key to their contentment. They accepted their lives as they were. The experience gave me a dose of humility, perspective, and gratitude for being born in the United States, with attendant privileges (like clean bathrooms and modern toilets).
There was no luxury travel for this intrepid soul. I was back to my 20-something backpacking style. I actually brought my weathered L. L. Bean backpack from a two-month trip I took with a friend after taking the bar exam in 1988.
I did not find the mythical utopia. Even the “easiest” treks are not for the faint of heart. At times I felt as if I were carrying an anvil as I climbed in the higher elevations. But the payoff of witnessing a sunrise at 3,210 meters atop Poon Hill was one of my life’s highlights.
A small crowd gathered at Poon Hill to see the sunrise. It was glorious. All conversation ceased the moment the sun breached the horizon. Even the most jaded among us was momentarily without words.
The planet’s highest peaks are in the Himalayas. I had traveled to India and China in my 20s, but had never made it to Nepal, so I opted for a five-day trek on the Annapurna Circuit in north central Nepal. Annapurna is a Sanskrit name that has been translated by some to mean the “universal kitchen-goddess,” and “the mother who feeds.” How fitting for me, I thought. I planned to volunteer in Nepal after the trek, so I wanted a trek on the shorter side. Plus, I was out of shape.
My Sherpa guide was a trim, affable man whose English was spotty. That did not matter, except for the fact that I barely understood anything he said and thus never really knew our schedule. When he was ready to leave our electricity-free but affordable prayer flag–laden guest houses, I would gamely follow him.
The trek became somewhat of a series of silent walking meditations, which were difficult for this loquacious, recovering people-pleaser. I used to joke with my running group that I could talk for 20 miles (during our marathon training days), and then someone else would have to take on the task for the remainder of the run. And I proved I could, in fact, fill the air with 20 miles’ worth of conversation on several occasions.
My ex-husband used to call me the “U.N. Rep” because I could talk to anyone and frequently approached strangers asking them if they needed help or photos taken.
I wanted to learn how to be a better listener. Quieting my mind and voice were things that allowed me to become better aware of what my Higher Power’s will for me may be, something I was becoming more interested in than where my own stubborn and sometimes misguided will had brought me.
The people I encountered along the trek underscored my lack of endurance skills. There were no roads in that part of the world. Everything had to be lugged up the mountain. Elderly men and women with deeply etched wrinkled skin carried unfathomable amounts of things on their backs and heads. At one point, I asked an ancient-looking woman if I could try picking up her bundle. I could not even budge it. She cackled in laughter at my feeble attempts.
At the end of the trek, I felt exhausted, but cleansed in some way. My arthritic knees were taped up with duct tape toward the end of the journey. Atop and surrounded by the world’s highest peaks, I reawakened my sense of wonder. The natural grandeur of the landscape made me gasp several times. It was cold and the trees glimmered from the snow that settled upon their limbs. The clouds dramatically shifted, darkened, and lightened from one moment to the next. I felt the presence of my Higher Power when I stared at the stunning beauty around me. I learned to just be on the journey without lamenting the past or future-tripping about what would happen next. I let go of expectations and gained perspective on my life. My divorce brought me sorrow, but I felt equipped to deal with the next chapter. Tears of gratitude filled my eyes. Renewal had begun.
Hiking in nature anywhere can be healing. Our country’s national parks provide picturesque, accessible venues. I know several women who have hiked the Appalachian trail by themselves. One celebrated her 50th birthday with this feat. Author Cheryl Strayed captured the essence of her healing solo journey along the famous West Coast trail in her bestselling memoir, Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Coast Trail.10 I believe we all can heal by spending some alone time with Mother Nature.
Nature is the art of God.
—Sir Thomas Browne
The lion was so close, I could see its fine whiskers move. My guide had no weapon and we were in an open-air vehicle. The lion looked regal and fierce. He looked satisfied, as if he had recently had a big meal, I told myself.
It was exciting, beautiful, and educational to be out in the wild, at the mercy of the majestic creatures whose habitat we visited. Animals emerged unexpectedly, and my senses were on high alert. There was an air of danger about, and I imagined predators sizing me up as we meandered around the wild terrain.
I wanted to take a photographic safari. Being in nature feeds me, and I find animals to be fascinating. Even observing my dog reminds me to stretch before physical activity. Nature can be a potent instructor.
I looked online, read reviews, and booked one on the low end of the pricing scale. It was a bit of a gamble, in that I did not know who else would be in the group. I had some fear, as well, about traveling alone as a woman. A small woman. I am not even five feet tall. But I am fairly feisty!
I lucked out. I found a reasonably priced safari to Kruger National Park, one of the largest of South Africa’s game reserves. It is about the size of Israel or Wales.
There were two couples on the trip, one of whom was on their honeymoon. The other was from England and very jolly. I was the only solo traveler, but did not feel uncomfortable about that. Our guide was a grizzled old Afrikaner with a mischievous sense of humor. He was a big flirt, but harmless. He counseled us not to “donate” ourselves to the ferocious Cape buffalo we encountered, and jokingly tried to get me to stay in South Africa and be his companion.
I did a lot of research to find the lowest airfare and safari accommodations. After my time in Nepal, I was fine without many creature comforts.
The scenery and wildlife we saw were breathtaking. Witnessing the circle of life and survival of the fittest was perspective altering for me. I felt tiny. I felt amazed. I reveled in the wonders of nature in a way I seldom did in my adult life before this chapter.
I learned about the history of South Africa while on this safari, and could observe en route the remnants of the Apartheid era. Even in the bush, the white Afrikaners appeared to have the better jobs. The culture is an amalgam of Dutch, British, and tribal influences. It is financially more stable than most of the other countries on the continent, which inspired some xenophobia when outsiders tried to take South African jobs. Tourism plays a large role in the South African economy.
I stretched myself by going on an adventure on the other side of the world with people I knew nothing about. I could hear wild animals roaring around me at night, reminding me of nature’s pecking order. I left with a greater understanding of one of the world’s newest democracies and of African wildlife, which is so different from that indigenous to our continent. The adventure fed my spirit.
Of course one does not have to go around the world to experience adventure and stretch oneself. The theater of natural beauty can be found in many, many places you have never been. One of my friends takes daily walks along the Potomac River, marveling and posting about the never-ending discoveries of flora, fauna, and insect life she comes across. Another volunteers at a girls’ camp each summer to get her dose of outdoor adventure. I have explored trails and parks with my dog that are close to my home, but make me feel far away from my usual environs.
Being outside and close to the earth can feed your spirit. Go. Now.
Cut off as I am, it is inevitable that I should sometimes feel like a shadow walking in a shadowy world. When this happens I ask to be taken to New York City. Always I return home weary but I have the comforting certainty that mankind is real flesh and I myself am not a dream.
—Helen Keller
It is a life regret of mine that I never lived in bustling, captivating New York City. It is a city that never sleeps, filled with culture and excitement, where one can find whatever they want, 24 hours a day. I visit often, taking a $20 to $30 bus from the D.C. area and staying with a dear friend from high school, who lives in a rent-controlled walk-up on the Upper East Side.
It feels as if I have walked almost all of Manhattan via my trips over time. The island is fewer than 23 square miles, and I have spent a multitude of hours meandering along its grid. I ran the New York Marathon through the five boroughs when I was younger. There are so many distinct New York neighborhoods, each with their own special flavors and ethos. Some New Yorkers have told me they rarely leave a 10-block radius of where they live because they have all they need there.
Walking, for me, is the best way to get to know a place. Architectural details are more noticeable, and encounters with local people add color and understanding about a place’s vibe.
There are many free walking tours offered in New York. You can find them online.11 I availed myself of a free walking tour highlighting the city’s graffiti as art and social commentary. I have a completely new appreciation for the artistic graffiti that mysteriously blooms on New York City’s surfaces. Most of it is placed illegally. Serious graffiti artists are well known, and sometimes commissioned. There is a famous graffiti work by the artist Banksy at 79th and Broadway that I doubt I would have noticed had it not been for my tour guide.
Some graffiti artists enjoy “bombing” the city with their work. Some create “brandalized” art, or branded but not necessarily permitted. “Yarn-bombing,” whereby artists create pieces made of yarn interwoven into fences, is another graffiti method I came to know while on this tour. The tour underscored my belief that art does not have to be expensive to be good.
On one of my walks, I crossed the Brooklyn Bridge. It was beautiful. I explored the part of Brooklyn by the water and then figured out how to ferry back to Manhattan for a few bucks. Brooklyn has undergone a renaissance and is a hot spot for young people and artists now. Definitely check it out if you are near that part of the country. People have told me that there are less expensive Airbnb accommodations in Brooklyn if you want to visit New York City overnight.
I also have availed myself of the bike rental stations that have popped up around Manhattan. I often beat the traffic by biking somewhere. Biking in Manhattan is not for the faint of heart, however. Ultra-crazy drivers, especially taxis, have come uncomfortably close to my two wheels. There are more and more bike lanes, which helps cyclists gain a bit more safety and room. My New Yorker friends think I am out of my mind to ride a bike on these mean city streets. I like it.
New York is unlike anywhere else I have visited. There is always something to see or do, and many events are free.12 I Google free events in New York before I visit and invariably find concerts, tours, festivals, and other activities that do not cost anything. I particularly enjoy the free concerts and Shakespeare productions in Central Park in the summer. On any given summer day, a walk through Central Park has yielded an entertaining surprise.
The most quoted and astute prose ever written about New York is by E. B. White in his essay, “Here is New York”:13
A poem compresses much in a small space and adds music, thus heightening its meaning. The city is like poetry; it compresses all life, all races and breeds, into a small island and adds music and the accompaniment of internal engines. The island of Manhattan is without any doubt the greatest human concentrate on earth, the poem whose magic is comprehensible to millions of permanent residents but whose full meaning will always remain elusive. At the feet of the tallest and plushiest offices lie the crummiest slums. The genteel mysteries housed in the Riverside Church are only a few blocks from the voodoo charms of Harlem. The merchant princes, riding to Wall Street in their limousines down the East River Drive, pass within a few hundred yards of the gypsy kings; but the princes do not know they are passing kings, and the kings are not up yet anyway—they live a more leisurely life than the princes and get drunk more consistently.
White notes in this essay the curious ability of New York to “bestow the gift of loneliness and the gift of privacy” to any person who “desires such queer prizes.” That may be true, but it also exudes an electricity found nowhere else and appeals to my taste for possibility. And I sometimes relish the anonymity the city affords.
Pick a new place to learn about—on foot. It could be the town next to yours, or even the neighborhood that borders yours. Note what you discover that you would not have noticed while in a vehicle. I am interested to know what you find.
Travel is fatal to narrow-mindedness.
While walking around by myself in Ubud, Indonesia, I came upon the town’s cremation ceremony. It was not macabre in the least. It was a cacophony of music, chanting, pungent smells, and abundant offerings as the families bade adieu to the loved ones who had died over the past five years. It was fascinating to witness the rituals surrounding death in a country on the other side of the world, even when a half-dead chicken fell off an elaborate offering tower and unceremoniously plopped onto my foot.
I endeavor to go off the beaten path to be a student of the world. Travel is a mind-expanding opportunity for me, and I have learned how to travel on a low budget. I realize that my preferred style of travel is not for everyone. Once, when backpacking around Asia, my traveling companion lasted two days with me in China before ditching me for Club Med in Bali. She did not want to take public transportation. The Chinese—at least in 1988 Beijing—had public workers whose job it was to physically push as many people as possible into the buses. There seemed to be no appreciation of personal space.
My travels in this chapter of my life have included the Grand Canyon, Cape Town, Johannesburg, Nashville, Nepal, Gettysburg, Venice Beach, Montreal, Indonesia, the Philippines, Cape Cod, the Adirondacks, Munich, Doha, Chicago, Boston, and the Northeast Kingdom. Airbnb has increased affordable accommodation options in almost every venue.
All trips have enhanced my life in a different way. I try to hit a 12-step meeting every place I go, and I am lucky to have a boyfriend who likes to do the same. The people I have met along the way taught me various things, and I have learned not to judge a book by its cover.
I also have used travel as a means to learn more about my cultural heritage. My mother treated my children to a trip to the country of her youth—the Philippines—after my daughter graduated from college, and invited me to accompany them. I had only been to the Philippines once before, 30 years ago, as a gift for graduating from law school. It was a much different experience this time around. I possessed more context, cultural pride, and life experience at this juncture. I appreciated more of the nuances I observed.
The Philippines are an amalgam of Spanish, Malay, and American influences. It is unlike other Asian nations because of the colonial remnants. The joie de vivre and vibrancy of its people are infectious. Smiles and laughter come easily in this culture, as does singing. We were greeted and sent off with songs at a resort we visited. Karaoke and singing competition shows are popular there. Highly decorated, sometimes garish, Jeepneys are a common form of transportation. The Manila traffic, however, is not something I care to experience again any time soon.
It is also a country of great financial disparity. There appears to be not much of a middle class. We stayed in Manila with family friends who live in a lovely, large house, in a guarded walled community, with a staff of domestic help and drivers. Certain things that we take for granted in the United States, however, are lacking in their grand home. Because the price of electricity is very high, central air conditioning and clothes dryers are a luxury that is too dear for most. What is not expensive, however, is labor. Employment opportunities are such that a great deal of income in the Philippines comes from relatives who go off to work in the cities or other countries and send money home to their families. Remittances account for more than one-tenth of the gross domestic product of the Philippines.14 The country’s biggest export has become overseas Filipino workers. While a financial salve, the effect on separated families is quite deleterious. Witnessing this and being made more aware of how much of the world suffers to make ends meet is a sobering experience that helps me not take for granted the many blessings in my life.
I strive to see how the locals live and to experience a venue like a local when I travel. The way someone travels can reveal a great deal about a person. I parted company with one travel companion after I observed some “Ugly American” tendencies in his foreign travel behavior, such as assuming that everyone who sounded American was American when many times they were Canadian. Or expecting certain modern amenities in third world countries. Or simply speaking very loudly in a way that disturbs those around us.
Other world citizens, especially from Europe and Australia, do vacationing well. Americans typically take two weeks of vacation. Months off are not uncommon for European holidays.
I am encouraged to see the practice of sabbaticals taking hold in some parts of our country. Extended time away from the daily grind elevates our thinking and well-being. Any time away from daily routine is good for us, both for relaxation and reflection.
Sometimes, when I cannot get away physically, I read good work by travel writers. This practice is even more enjoyable while soaking in a warm tub or lying in a hammock. Author Peter Mayle has transported me to Provence with several of his books. Beryl Markham’s West with the Night infused me with bravery for solo travel and a desire for more adventure.15 In the mood for a wild road trip? Pick up Jack Kerouac’s On the Road16 for some explosive ideas. Enthusiasts of train travel might enjoy Paul Theroux’s The Great Railway Bazaar,17 recounting a journey across Europe, Asia, and the Middle East. A book like Diners, Drive-ins and Dives18 may inspire you to plan your next U.S. venture. Someday, I plan to tour the United States in a recreational vehicle. Hopefully, I can finance that trip with some travel writing pieces. The world can be our oyster. There is so much more of it that I want to discover. Road trip, anyone?
6. Appreciating What’s in My Own Backyard
The more one does and sees and feels, the more one is able to do, and the more genuine may be one’s appreciation of fundamental things like home, and love, and understanding companionship.
—Amelia Earhart
I was born in Washington, D.C., and have lived in the D.C. area for most of my life. Our country’s capital is filled with national treasures and unique opportunities. I realized in my fifth decade, however, that there were many D.C. venues, like museums and embassies, I had never seen. Maybe it is because there is such a wealth of such places here, that I had grown complacent that I would eventually get to them all.
It is easy to take for granted the natural and man-made wonders that grace our environs. One step I took to remedy this was to join a women’s group that regularly visited embassies. They did the leg work and I went along for the ride. This group of mostly middle-aged women wanted to learn more about the world, and found a way to get embassy personnel to give us insight. Some embassies include a sampling of their traditional dishes when we visit.
The embassies also open their doors to the public on various Embassy Walk days. I took my daughter’s Girl Scout troop to see some embassies years ago. The women’s group gave us a more intimate and detailed view of the embassy and the country represented.
I also took a Segway tour around the Washington monuments and museums. I will admit that it took having an out-of-town guest visit to move me to do this thing I have wanted to try for a long time.
Riding on a Segway felt like floating on a hoverboard. Because they are electric, they make no sound. They are easy to control by using foot pressure—press on the balls of your feet, and the Segway goes faster; press on your heels and it slows and stops. We were given a lesson before setting out, and it felt very comfortable. I even learned a few historical tidbits that I did not know, such as that President Taft was the only U.S. president who also served as Chief Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court, and that the U.S. Capitol dome is made of cast iron.
Most of the museums in our nation’s capital are free. The spectacular National Museum of African American History and Culture recently opened and is impossible to absorb in one visit. Most museums have changing special exhibitions, so there is always something new to see.
What have you not seen in your locality? The Internet, with travel sites such as TripAdvisor, makes it so much easier for us to discover and enjoy the banquet of delights around us. We are no longer in our dress rehearsal days. Life is happening right now. Get out and about before it is too late.
He was a bold man that first ate an oyster.
—Jonathan Swift
Food, for me, is one of life’s greatest pleasures. I have a friend from law school who once said she wished there was a pill she could take every day instead of having to eat to stay alive. I was so startled by that notion that I remember the comment 30 years later.
I have another friend, Trisha de Borchgrave, who is a columnist on current affairs. She also is a talented artist and her intricate paintings of food reveal a deep respect for the natural fruits of our world. One of my favorites, a portrayal of leeks and garlic cloves, adorns my kitchen wall. Trisha’s passion for a healthy-eating lifestyle is eloquently expressed:
The refreshing fruits of that morning; instant energy from the banana’s B6, magnesium and potassium; the blueberries, apple and kiwi enriching your brain and digestive system. Yet another step away from the storm, away from dementia, arthritis and heart failure.
These foods are your real allies, guiding your moods and energy levels and providing the core of not only how you feel but who you are. Like a parent with your best interests at heart, these nutrients are on your side, they love you, working to maximise your potential, and your inner serenity, instead of leaving you to obsess about what not to eat.19
Her recent art show in Mallorca was called “Eat Food,” of which she said:
Fruit and vegetables are our guardian angels, always there to provide us with health; they are quiet but powerful reminders of why this planet is unique, and all our life within it. Our relationship to them—growing, nurturing and embracing them in our diet—is what truly connects us to the history of life and Mother Earth, to the continuity of our existence, from thousands of years ago to this very moment in time.
When Trisha lived nearby, meals with her were unhurried, delicious affairs, spiked with wide-ranging, thought-provoking, and witty conversations. In true European style (Trisha was raised on Mallorca), dinners went on for hours. America’s busy lifestyle seems rarely to support such gatherings. But how delightful it is when we can slow down and savor an intimate meal with friends and family.
I always have considered cooking for other people an expression of caring for them. When someone in my circle of friends had a baby, we would do dinner showers for them, whereby we would each take a day for the month following the birth to drop off a dinner. At this stage, our practice is more often used when a friend is gravely ill or incapacitated in some way. When a friend loses a family member, arriving with food to help console, or at least to relieve someone of having to prepare meals, is customary. At this point in my life, I would rather bypass anything store-bought and gift someone with a homemade food item as an expression of my fondness for the recipient.
Sharing a meal with another is a bonding experience, as is cooking together. My daughter and I are trying to get my mother to teach us how she makes Filipino lumpia. It is a time-consuming process to make these delectable egg rolls, but it is part of our cultural heritage.
Now that I am cooking only for myself or a friend or two, I am able to indulge my love of food in a different way than when I was cooking nightly meals for my family. The availability of recipes online has opened a whole new avenue of dishes to try. Sometimes, if I happen to have an ingredient in my refrigerator that I want to use up, I look up recipes containing that ingredient and challenge myself to use the item in a new way.
I particularly like trying new foods and ethnic food. It is like a gastronomic travel interlude for me. Vibrant saffron coloring my rice can mentally transport me to a trip to India I once took. The smell of adobo and lechon make me think of my mother and Filipino relatives. Fresh salmon conjures up dinners with my Seattle friends. Coconut milk and sugarcane bring back a trek in northern Thailand. Beignets make me remember JazzFest in New Orleans.
When I travel, trying the local cuisine is a must, even if it looks unappetizing. I challenged myself to try haggis (a mix of sheep innards) while in Scotland, balut (fertilized duck or chicken embryo) in the Philippines, poutine (a pile of fries, gravy and cheese curds) in Quebec, Luwak coffee in Indonesia (coffee made from beans eaten and defecated by civets) and Vegemite (leftover brewer’s yeast extract) when Down Under. I cannot say I loved any of these delicacies, but I enjoyed trying each of them for the adventure and bit of cultural immersion they provided. Unfortunately, I also enjoy trying the kinds of local artery-clogging offerings at state fairs, such as fried Oreos and fried Twinkies, though I am not promoting that here!
Post-50, I am less worried about my body’s contours. We all know that it takes more effort to keep weight off as we age. So I wear larger sizes now. Oh well.
Sometimes I eat Ben & Jerry’s ice cream or frozen yogurt for dinner. Or I try a new, outlandish recipe with ingredients I’ve never heard of before. Or I experiment with combining ingredients. Because I can. It is one outstanding benefit of having an empty nest.
My children were picky eaters. I probably enabled them. While they were still living at home, the cuisine I served my kids was relatively bland, like pasta with butter and cheese and veggies on the side or hidden in the sauce by employing a food processor. Or I would handle dinner like a short-order cook, accommodating each person’s preferences. One of my children did not eat vegetables; the other did not eat fruit. I got both of them to eat raw broccoli by slathering peanut butter on it or hiding it in pesto or tomato sauce on spaghetti.
I am pleased to share that my daughter became a much more adventurous eater in adulthood. She travels extensively and tries the local cuisine wherever she goes. I certainly have not given up on my son’s gustatory habits. I like to think I set a good example to my children, at least with respect to culinary exploration and adventure. I will admit that my taste for sweets did not serve them, or me, well.
I used to host elaborate, multi-course dinner parties, mostly to impress people and thereby make me feel better about myself. I was in a neighborhood cooking club for several years and still use some of the recipes from that time. When my children were young, my next-door neighbor and I would, once a week, alternate making a double batch of whatever we were preparing for dinner and share half with the other family. In this way, one time every other week I would not have to make dinner. It was a helpful practice we both enjoyed at a time when we were both ultra-busy with family obligations.
Food has another meaning for me in sobriety. An important acronym we are taught to abide by is HALT. To preserve our sobriety, we are warned to avoid being “Hungry, Angry, Lonely, or Tired,” all of which can be triggers for recovering addicts and alcoholics. Therefore, I keep something to eat with me at all times. I am working on making that something always be an item that is nutritious and not just easy and full of empty calories.
Make a list of foods you would like to try, whether you would like to cook them yourself or find them at a restaurant. I keep a running list on my cell phone of restaurants I would like to try, and take an iPhone pic of recipes I come across that I want to use. When an opportunity to eat out comes up, I have ready ideas.
How does food bring joy to your life? Has preparing it become just a chore? Has eating it become just a means and not a pleasure? How can you change this dynamic? Go to a farmers’ market and challenge yourself to make something out of an unfamiliar item. Or relish the taste of fresh summer corn and tomatoes, or whatever else is at its seasonal peak. Deliberately use all of your senses when enjoying food. Food can provide more than nourishment. It can foster connection with others, with the Earth, and with yourself.
As chef Paul Prudhomme says, “You don’t need a silver fork to eat good food.” The best, most nutritious food is unprocessed, and fresh fruits and vegetables generally cost less than packaged food. Make a commitment to yourself to allow food to be more than just mindless consumption. Let it be a source of health, pleasure, and fellowship with others.