A couple of things I’ve learned in 5 Years of retirement travel

I’ve learned a few things in our five years of retirement travel.  You probably already know this stuff, things I’ve learned from experience. I’ll be back with more in future blogs but for now…..

First, Vervet monkeys in South Africa are smarter than you and every other tourist who has previously stayed in your luxury tented room.

We were warned. No, not warned, we were clearly and sternly told to lock our tent. Staff told us not to just zip the zipper to the beautiful luxury tented room but secure the zipper’s lock because the monkeys enjoy breaking and entering and taking off with everything. But we were jet lagged, under the spell of Africa, dazzled by the African countryside, seduced by the views of elephants, whatever excuse we want to use — so we ignored the warnings. How silly are we. As we settled into

The criminal back in the tree…..

our tented room, R headed to the bathroom while I started unpacking. I heard a quiet patter behind me, enough of a noise to know something had joined me in the tent.  When I turned around and spied a large Vervet monkey, I screamed. Startled by my response, my monkey visitor screamed right back at me, stared at me briefly, and then scampered out the zipped tent door and back to the trees.  As I recounted the tale, R said he was sorry he missed out on the monkey meetup.

One would think that having a monkey break into our tent would convince us to follow directions and lock the tent’s zipper. No. The next day R’s wish for a monkey encounter of his own was fulfilled. This time I was in the bathroom when I heard R say “ What do you want?” I knew he wasn’t speaking to me. As I cautiously walked into our sleeping area, I found R addressing his question to a monkey. As the two of them stared at each other, R apparently waiting for his new friend to answer the question, I rather expected this bold little guy to say “I’ll have a gin & tonic, please.”

We started locking the zipper.

Monkeys are smart. Not so much the two of us.

Next lesson, life is different in other countries, often times in ways you can’t imagine. Don’t expect places to look and feel like the USA or to have USA conveniences.

You know this. I know this. But it is easy to expect certain conveniences, even when traveling far from home.  For example, toilets are different in Asia. Have you ever encountered a squatty potty?

If you are over five feet tall and less limber than Gumby, squatty potties just might be your traveling nemesis. On a stop from one place to Bangkok, Thailand I really needed to pee. The sole option at the rest stop was a squatty potty. The issue was I could not squat low enough to effectively pee in the squatty potty. Channeling my best yoga/Pilate poses I took a semi-girl dog one-legged squat over the potty, carefully balancing myself on one arm, trying to pee away from my left foot, while dabbing with my free hand. I never appreciated western toilets until I almost flooded my left shoe at that Thailand toilet stop. After that, every time the tour was close to a western toilet, I slugged my way to the front of the line, pushing older women out of my way just for a chance at a decent toilet.

Remember, not everyone lives a western lifestyle. People in many countries live very differently from Americans. Therefore, be kind and respectful because you are a visitor, even when you want to weep from heat, dehydration, hunger, and pee in your left shoe.

An electrical fixture in Hanoi. The wires ran to apartments, the public alert system, to small shops — everywhere. The westerners with us were fascinated by this tangle. Fire code?

A squatters’ township outside Sowetto, South Africa. I’ve never seen such poverty. When I’m feeling whiny or ungrateful about my life, I look at this photo. Quick cure for whininess. 

A Peruvian woman at a community market in the Sacred Valley eating homemade cow’s head soup.  Notice the teeth?

I’ll be back with more but now I’m off to XC ski.

 

Antidotes to Winter and On to a New Year

We don’t travel all the time. A few years ago, I thought a full-time nomadic life was what I wanted but experience, life, and a few years of long haul travel have taught me otherwise. Since we live in a semi-resort town filled with lots of opportunities for wonderful outdoor activities in any season, home is a great place to be.

In December, I enrolled in a XC ski class, my second go round with this particular class. As a group, we headed out to local snow parks for lessons. While it is doubtful I’ll ever progress much beyond an intermediate beginner, I enjoy the sport and especially spending time in the beautiful forests.

Some of the group, still upright…….

Most participants, out on skis for the first time, spent lots of time tumbling in the snow, landing in embarrassing contorted positions, forced to find creative ways of ultimately uprighting themselves. After the class, I wondered how many of the fallen skiers would continue with the sport or switch to snowshoeing.

Beautiful and peaceful

Today R and I will head to a snow park with our snowshoes and enjoy a peaceful New Year’s Day morning hike in the forest.

Whatever your antidote to winter is, whatever wonderful plans you have for this new year of opportunities — Happy New Year! Life is short. Make the most of it.

 

How I’ve Spent My Summer and a Lesson Learned

Early fall in Bend……beautiful

Since it is now Oct. 2 and fall weather has blown into Bend, I guess I better scurry along on the review of how I spent my summer.  Don’t worry, I’ll be briefish and will illustrate with lots of photos.

But first, I learned an important personal lesson this summer. R and I are volunteering for a congressional campaign. I applaud anyone and everyone who volunteers for a campaign, fulfilling their civic duty.  We’ve worked on a fundraiser, including attending meetings, generating lists of attendees, communicating with the campaign. Other times we handed out literature and buttons, at events and while marching and protesting and also entered tedious fundraising data — lots and lots of data, multiple times. And donated money and asked others to donate. While I believe deeply in this candidate  and will be canvassing for her and working to get out the vote, you know what…..volunteering for a campaign isn’t very interesting to me and it is lots of …grunt work. Though we both feel satisfied that we’ve volunteered, R really likes it better than I do. Nonetheless, Go Jamie!

What was interesting about summer…..

We both love music, especially concerts in the summer. The season started with a trip to Portland to hear James Taylor and his fabulous band at the Moda Center. 

Bad photo of James but he and the band sounded great. I love seeing older performers rock.

The Taylor concert was followed by concerts in Bend, including Jackson Browne, Steve Martin & Martin Short and the Steep Canyon Rangers, Willie Nelson, Sheryl Crow as well as listening to our grandniece perform on the kids’ stage at 4 Peaks. In September we headed to the Sisters Folk Festival for the first time.

Steve Martin with his band. Another poor photo but a great performance

We also kayaked and kayaked……

Kayaking with Lynne. Beautiful, isn’t it?

Cycled around, including on López Island, WA

The man planning our cycling route

We protested and campaigned and visited family. We served food at a homeless shelter and donated food to a pantry.

We made new friends, lost some friends, remembered those who passed and appreciated those we still have.  We traveled, to San Juan Islands, Victoria, BC, Vancouver, BC and parts of Alaska.

Stunning Alaska. See it soon. Climate change is harming this special place. 

We read and discussed books and played mahjongg, laughed, cried especially while watching the brave Dr. Ford and grieved for women everywhere. I guess it was a full summer. Now on to fall…..and then winter.

But first a final political note…..

Thoughts on Traveling

Me in Moeraki, New Zealand. What amazing beauty.

While browsing the magazine International Travel News, I came upon a little gem written by an ITN contributor —

“Each trip you take will change your mind about what you like.”  I like this idea but would amend the line to “…will change your mind about what you like and will change you, if you let it….”

After reading the line, I decided to take a little “Where-We’ve-Been” travel inventory, in part so I could ponder what I like and how I’ve changed, through travel and life. But I’m also thinking about what I want from travel going forward.

Don’t worry, I’m not going to bore you with all the little details about where we’ve been these past four years, I’ll just bore you with the summary —

Since spring 2014, we’ve taken ten cruises, including three transatlantic (😲), four guided bike tours, plus our own to the San Juan Islands, visited eight national parks, and 24 countries, most for the first time. Also we visited three new continents — Australia, Africa, and Asia (I still can’t figure out how to categorize New Zealand and the islands of Bora Bora and Tahiti — which we also visited). 

That’s a lot of travel.  And lots of opportunities to learn and change and grow.

We met this little guy on Kangaroo Island, a must visit for those who love wildlife.

For me, travel is best when I discover something (or many things) new, learn, and expand my understanding of the world, its people, and its wildlife.

During our travels, we enjoyed the privilege of hearing and seeing how people live on tiny Kangaroo Island just off the coast near Adelaide, AU, surrounded by wildlife, how folks on the remote Shetland and Faroe Islands, located on the rugged far north seas, craft their lives far from urban cities, and how people live and work, happily, in the dusty South African bush — where many say, “A bad day in the bush is better than a good day in the office.”

On an early morning safari ride, our ranger spotted this resting lion. I loved everything about our African safaris. Ah, life in the bush.

But after four years of lots of travel and a “I gotta see it all” stance, I’m moving toward a more measured, thoughtful selecting of what I like in travel.

For now that means more travel focused on nature and wildlife and less on cities. Learning is good. 

But before I sign off, a little Wallaby cuteness

 

From Disenchantment to Forward

Enjoying nature. Is there a better way to re-engage with life?

My last post left off with me pondering the Disenchantment Stage of Atchley’s Retirement Stages. For some time, I’ve reflected on my own disenchantment, allowing myself to consider all kinds of reasons and ultimately solutions.
My thoughts continued to drift back to 2015 and a cycling trip to Puglia, Italy. On the trip, we met a couple from California, he a mostly retired ER then later radiology doctor and she, a self-described housewife and mother of five. As R and I sat with her in the lobby of our gorgeous masseria, all trying to connect to the finicky internet, me nursing my injuries from the previous day’s bike crash, she spontaneously began reflecting on life. Her radiologist husband had completed his own round of radiation for prostate cancer four and a half months earlier. This bike trip in Puglia was both his reward at the end of treatment and possibly his last trip to Europe. In her musing, she revealed that they were both just passed 70 years-old. She then said something that resonated with me, something I’ve often contemplated, though I doubt she considered her words impactful.

She said any good, healthy years past age 70 are “gravy,” Gravy. Past 70.

Her words stuck with me, this wise woman from California.

But why?

When we returned home from that trip, R visited his internist for a follow up on a rising PSA reading, the test designed to detect prostate cancer, the same cancer the doc on the bike trip was recovering from. R’s PSA numbers earned him a visit to a urologist, and over the next 1 1/2 years more tests, a biopsy, more tests, eventually an MRI, then a super biopsy, a diagnosis of cancer, full body scans to see if the cancer had metastasized. He was 66. What followed was a radical prostatectomy, a recovery, frequent testing to see if the cancer was metastasizing and lots of sadness, anger, and ongoing worry.

This historical summary leads me back to Atchley’s Disenchantment and Reorientation Stages of retirement. Atchley cites a number of reasons people feel disenchanted with retirement after the initial honeymoon phase, including limited alternatives, limited financial resources, over-identification with work, other role losses in retirement and two that apply to me — leaving a community where one has lived for years and health issues.

Many people move when they retire, many people stay put and some live in two places.
Moving from Chicago to the Pacific Northwest was always our plan and that piece has worked out mostly fine.

That leaves health issues. None of us seek health issues or illnesses such as cancer; with the help of genetics, lifestyle choices, and sometimes from nothing beyond just aging or being human, illness finds us. Doesn’t seem surprising that one might end up feeling disappointed and land in the Disenchanted Stage if this occurred in retirement. That was my route.

R has a PSA in January 2018 and if it is clear, testing will move to twice a year, allowing us more freedom from appointments.

According to Atchley, everyone arrives, some sooner and others way later, at the Disenchantment Stage. Whether one arrives organically or is pushed into disenchantment by unwanted illness, figuring out the best use of retirement is necessary and an opportunity. Slogging best describes our movement through most of this year, a year we can’t wait to kiss good-bye. However, we plan to end the year actively considering possibilities for next year. R has a PSA in January 2018 and if it is clear, testing will move to twice a year, allowing us freedom from frequent check ups.

I imagine many, if not all, cancer survivors view life after treatment and recovery as a new beginning, a second chance. I’m not sure we took retirement for granted prior to R’s cancer. I know we won’t now. Who knows if we’ll ever greet the gravy years. For now we are focused on the opportunity and privilege to re-engage in life as we enter Atchley’s Reorientation Stage.

A happy moment just before sunset in Ngala, South Africa. 2018 will bring more and more moments.

Retirement, Stages, and Time for a Reboot

Apparently a retirement life based on using all this gear isn’t fully satisfying. Who knew?

Everyone who retires or contemplates retirement has a vision of what that phase of life will be like, even if the vision is “I won’t know until I experience it” (sort of mine). Richard’s version was “Pick up and go,” as in he/we’d have the freedom in retirement to come and go as we wished, released from career responsibilities. However, disparities frequently exist between one’s vision and how life plays out.

Retirement is a much written about life phase with everyone from researchers, financial advisors, clinicians, and life-style bloggers offering advice and perspective on how to live fully during these precious years. Michael Stein, CFP carved the retirement years into age-related stages, using health and vigor as guides. The stages are:

The Go-Go Years — ages 60 to early 70s, presumably one’s most active and healthy years, when one has lots of pick up and go
The Slow Go Years — roughly early 70s to early 80s
The No-Go Years — early 80s until the end of life, a time when retirees don’t really go.

When I was imagining my own retirement, it made sense to me to consider retirement in terms of Stein’s frame, a blueprint for how much R and I might “Pick up and Go,” particularly in the early years.  Stein’s stages, while reminders that it is best to “go” while going is possible, don’t capture the phase’s complexities, challenges, and necessary emotional adaptation. After a lifetime of working, I was eager to focus on “go-going” but in doing so excluded necessary aspects of a fuller frame for retirement.

For a more psychological understanding of this stage, I recently examined the frequently cited work of researcher Robert Atchley (1999, 2000) who has sliced and diced the phase, identifying behavioral and emotional tasks related to retirement.
Atchley’s frame is:

Pre-Retirement — Financial and life planning
Retirement– Actual event and Honeymoon Phase
Disenchantment —Is this it?
Reorientation — Creating something new
Retirement — Establishing a new norm
Termination ( aka death)

While the stages lay out in a linear fashion, like all phases they are looser, more overlapping than lock step. The first two phases are self explanatory — people plan and then retire. Because I currently find myself seeking more from my retirement life and attempting to figure out what that might be, I am most curious about the Disenchantment and Reorientation Stages, because disenchanted captures how I feel.

Atchley (2000) relates that certain factors can lead some people to feel letdown and disillusioned following a more blissful Honeymoon Phase. These factors include limited financial resources, poor health, over identification with careers, other role losses, and moving from communities where they’ve lived for years.

My little research project has left me with much good information to digest before I can figure out my disenchantment and a new plan. More to come. But first….

Let’s not forget about the summer gear……….

When the Ranger Says……

They look innocent, don’t they? 

My mind continues to drift back to memories of Africa, wistfully lingering on certain moments and experiences. Such drifting makes sense since political life in the states alone is enough to foster escape fantasies. In our home since returning from Africa, life has grown routine, revolving around R’s knee replacement surgery and lengthy rehab-based recovery. Exciting safari drives, spotting lions and elephants, tracking leopards have been replaced by small moments of progress — R graduating from a walker to a cane (woo hoo) or sitting through a movie after climbing the stairs in a public theater.

Not surprising that I’d prefer to spend time remembering Africa.

WHEN THE RANGER SAYS STAY……..

Safari rangers are an interesting breed. Not quite definable, they seem a mix of fearless wild west cowboy and tour guide. Most spend at least six weeks at a time at the safari camp, living and breathing African bush life. Perhaps it is the time in the bush that so shapes the rangers.

For example, one day our tracker Thomas and ranger Jason both hopped out of the parked Range Rover. Thomas speedily headed off into the bush on a tracking mission while ranger Jason gave us, his six guests, instructions.
“I’m taking the rifle with me. If anything happens press this button on the radio and someone will answer the call. I’ll be back within 20 minutes.”

He left us, his six guests, sitting in the roofless Rover (like the one pictured below), the possible perfect easy snack for a hungry animal.

Rover, elephants, and hippos. By the way, those are hippos mating as the ellies look on.

There is a belief in African safari camps amongst rangers and trackers that “the vehicle” offers all the protection anyone needs and that rifles aren’t really necessary. Animals are “sensitized” to the Rovers starting at a young age so that they recognize the vehicles’ shape and purpose. Danger, rangers tell guests, exists when humans are outside the vehicle, that’s when animals can see them as threatening. So the six of us sat in the Rover cracking jokes about our possible fates, wondering if we’d enjoy cocktails later at sunset (We did. See photo at the top).

WHEN THE RANGER SAYS HOLD ON………

We’d experienced an excellent morning of game viewing in Botswana — young lions lounging in the tall grass, handsome mature male lions sleeping, then waking, then lazily stirring. All good.

Then our ranger, Robby, received a call that other camp rangers spotted a male leopard they’d been tracking. Our little safari team decided to retreat from observing lions and chase after the leopard.

“Hold on,” ordered Robby.

The phrase “hold on,” safari code for get ready for a wild ride, has many meanings.
Robby means — hold on to your hat, your camera, your glasses and hold on to the actual vehicle because he is pressing the pedal down and the vehicle will bump and jump down the sandy bush roads, through river beds, and over and through shrubs.
Off we flew, clinging to our possessions. This is R’s favorite game drive, the respectful tracking of an animal via the wild ride. He was gleeful.
Twice we crossed rivers.
“Lift your feet. Everything off the floor,” Robby ordered. Like well-trained soldiers, we responded, feet and backpacks raised to higher ground as we watched river water rushing into the Rover. Once firmly on land, off we sped in search of the leopard, ducking as thorny branches pushed aside by the ranger whipped back at us. Hold on and duck are two important concepts on safari.

We found him– the leopard. No wonder current life feels routine. Africa, I miss you.

 

Getting Some Go

Beautiful ferry ride from Bainbridge Island, WA to Seattle.

There hasn’t been a huge amount of Travel & Go lately for the RetireTravelCeliacGo blog girl — more commonly known as me.

Since returning from the Japan cruise, we’ve been catching up on routine maintenance — blood work, physicals, dental cleanings, gum tissue grafting, scans, screenings and more — the appointments aging bodies need to keep humming or at least working.

R found one appointment-free week in July and decided we should get up and go — so off we set north to Canada, hybrid bikes strapped on the rack. Our plan was to cycle the much praised Galloping Goose Regional Trail a couple of times, catch up on sleep, eat seafood, and visit our aunt and uncle in Victoria and on the way home, stop off in Seattle for some shopping at Nordstrom.

R pausing on the Galloping Goose Trail

After plenty of years of traveling, we’ve learned that not all trips work out quite as planned. Not surprisingly, Victoria was packed with tourists, many of them German, which is not surprising considering the favorable exchange of Euro to Canadian and how much the Germans love the open spaces of the Pacific Northwest. Victoria was crowded but then, it is summer.

The Galloping Goose Trail turned out to be an ok ride, nothing spectacular, more stops and starts and road crossings then were detailed in its over-the-top reviews. Oh well.

We had a sweet visit with our Aunt Toots and Uncle Jim

We also visited the beautiful Goldstream Provincial Park outside Victoria where we heeded warnings about black bears and aggressive cougars. I hiked the safe trail since I’m not interested in being eaten.  And we indulged in fresh, heavenly steamed Canadian mussels and other seafood.

 

And finally, we enjoyed one of the pleasures of summer — ferry rides and a particularly sweet, breezy one from Bainbridge Island to Seattle.

Going is good.

But who wouldn’t love returning to the gorgeous Oregon sky.

Aaaahh! Summer is Half Over!!!

While waiting for John Mellencamp to perform, we enjoyed the beautiful Oregon sky.

Well, maybe not officially half over but once the 4th of July has passed, I start counting how many weeks of glorious summer are left.

Last winter was long. Not only did Bend experience record snow falls and unbelievably cold temperatures, but R’s pre-surgery tests, travel to Portland for prostate cancer surgery and then follow up appointments kept us in anxious motion as did his recovery. Summer, when it finally arrived, was to soothe the year’s hurts, warm our chilly souls, distract us with fun, musical outings with family and friends, and restore our spirits by offering time in nature.

So at mid-summer, how are we doing?

Pretty darn good, I think. Since June we’ve attended big concerts — John Mellencamp, Paul Simon, Pink Martini with more to come and listened to less well-known but thoroughly enjoyable local groups, including one our talented nephew and grandniece perform with.

Peaceful kayaking on Sparks Lake.

We’ve kayaked Elk Lake, Hosmer, and Sparks with friends and alone, watching bald eagles circling the water searching for fish while we, tucked in our kayaks, also admired the distant snowy mountains, clear lake water, and our luck at living in such a beautiful place.

And we’ve hiked comforting, familiar trails along the beautiful Deschutes River as well as new ones and slowly resumed cycling the roads, stopping to delight in acres and acres of treed vistas. And we’ve renewed our acquaintance with celebrating – birthdays, holidays, visits with others, or just whatever — as cautiously we move out of cancer’s funky mood, scheduled follow up appointments, and worry about the future.

Indeed, summer is a balm for winter.

The man with his Trek. Summer.

Seeking Forward

When cycling, it is pretty easy to find forward.

We are home from our travels, time spent visiting Shinto temples and beautiful Buddhas, strolling through the crowded, bustling Tokyo Tsukiji fish market and Hakodate’s smaller version, gazing at stunning snow capped mountains and blue bays, and straining to catch a glimpse of Russian submarines lurking in Petropavlovsk’s harbor. The trip did what it was supposed to — provide much needed distance from doctor’s appointments, PSA tests, and cancer. For three weeks, we did not need to talk or think about cancer and how we’d move forward but rather could distract ourselves, from the distance of our cruise ship cabin, with the political unravelings, intrigue, and chaos of Washington.

Now home and resuming the routine of life, including medical appointments, we are left with figuring out how to move forward knowing surgery was mostly successful but that cancer particles linger. Like thousands and thousands of other cancer patients and the people who love them, we focus on living in the moment while considering how to live going forward knowing R has cancer.

The beautiful, peaceful Buddha of Kamakura. We made “wishes” for future health and for help figuring out forward.