Drifting into the New Year

At the close of 2021 and the dawn of 2022, we decided it was high time for us to escape our four walls. True to our tradition of heading North and West in the summer and South and East in the winter, we more or less randomly picked the Georgia Golden Isles to migrate to. Just like the birds. 

I am writing this piece in the middle of a winter storm, with freezing rain, wind and temps below 30F and it’s exactly the kind of weather we ran away from right before the new year clocked in. 

I am not sure where I came up with “Georgia isles”, truly. I was dreaming of going back to Kiawah island, in South Carolina - something I have been meaning to go back to for a while. But there were not a lot of AirBnB options open for the New Year and not a lot of places to eat too-too near-by. So, I went more South with my searches and the maps landed me in Georgia. 

It was our first time in the islands of Georgia and we had zero expectations. We knew we would want to take in some of the beaches - not to lay out, but to walk and shoot. We knew there had to be some birds to watch and we wanted good, fresh seafood and a reason to sit around on a fish-smelling patio and sip a cold drink. 

And those were what the Georgia isles delivered and more ... 

There is no way to properly describe the haunting beauty of the Spanish moss draping over hundred-year old live oaks. It’s something that must be experienced to understand. It has a lot to do with the chill, or the skin-crawling feeling given by watching a horror movie and less with the quiet, majestic beauty of a landscape. Nevertheless, it is as mysteriously beautiful as it is scary. 

I believe every Georgia coastal town (Savannah included) is flooded by these beauties, but I could be wrong. I have just personally not been in Eastern Georgia where they were absent. 

They haunted us everywhere and framed the adventures we were about to have. 

The first day, we woke up in our AirBnB condo in St. Simons Island, on a marsh flooded with sunlight. There was not one egret under our balcony, but a whole farm of them. Kingfishers, herons, cranes, ducks and many other water fowl that we could not even identify. My husband said “wow! It feels like we’re in Africa or something.” - a little bit wetter than that, I’d say, but the golden water vegetation, the minimalistic trees and the birds everywhere, the wide-open sky were all there ... We felt transported. Our little house in North Carolina, of which we have been growing way too bored, was eons behind us ...

We had breakfast reservations on Jekyll Island, at Eighty Ocean Kitchen and Bar. We ate outside, under the palm trees and by the pool. We were the only people on the patio. There were people eating inside and we could not understand why: the weather was amazing, maybe 75F, partially cloudy and breezy. Just beautiful. Not to mention: pandemic! Why would you want to be inside?! 

You have to pay a toll to go to Jekyll Island, which was news to us, so having done that, we decided to do as much as we could on Jekyll Island before we'd get out again and pursue the adventures on our own island of St. Simons. 

After breakfast, we went to Driftwood Beach which was on our “to do” list. Whatever the google tells you that Driftwood Beach is ... is incorrect. If you’re ever in these parts, the $8 toll is 100% worth it just for this beach alone. Just like the name alludes to it: it is a beach full of driftwood. But not just some twigs and branches of driftwood like you see in the decor of many beachy cabins. No, ma’am! It’s a whole forest of driftwood: entire trees just “shipwrecked” on the beach, thrown around, laying on their side, some still standing, dry roots over wet sand, leafless for what it seems like ages, just bracing the ocean; the wind; the hurricanes; life. 

The enormous trees of Driftwood Beach - Jekyll Island, GA

You feel small and unimportant in the whole scheme of things. If the elements can throw around trees the size of buildings like these, what can they do to you?! No control ... There is so much freedom in driftwood - not knowing where it will land, in a different place every day, moved by the water ... There is so much about chance and history that they whisper ... Again, so much mystery. 

Turkey vulture at Driftwood Beach

After the beach, we drove around Jekyll Island in search of Tupelo Trail. We drove by the Horton House, a historic tabby house built in the 18th century by Major William Horton who was believed to be the first resident of the island. He also was the first person (from what is known) to ever brew beer in Georgia and his “brewery” still stands in ruins on the same land as the house. Learning about the Horton House, we also learned about the rich history of the island which was captured from The Spanish in the early to mid 18th century by British troops stationed at Fort Frederica. In case you are wondering, a tabby house means it was built from a mix of burned oyster shells mixed with sand, water, ash, and other shells. 

The "farm" of egrets behind our condo - Sea Palms Resort, St. Simons Island, GA

The entrance to Jekyll Island with the Sidney Lanier bridge in the background

Once we found our trail, we realized that we just stepped into almost another climate, or even another part of the planet: the landscape surely changed drastically between the open, wet-and-dry, windy beach and the trail: Horton Pond at the mouth of the trail was a quiet little heaven for ducks, turtles and alligators. The trail itself looped around the park through a forest of live oaks draped in Spanish moss and resurrection ferns and littered with palmettos and exotic blooms. We were now thinking we were transported to Hawaii in the middle of the rain forest. It was hot and humid. Sticky humid and almost blistering hot. This was December 31, 2021. Definitely the warmest December I have ever lived. 

Tupelo Trail on Horton Pond - Jekyll Island, GA

We stopped by Tortuga Jack’s on the island for some drinks and some snacks before we headed out. Jekyll’s Island overdid itself in beauty and surprises! 

We headed towards the St. Simons Lighthouse on - where else but - St. Simons Island. We took the tour of the keeper’s house and visited the museum, but it was simply too hot to climb all the 129 steps to the top of the lighthouse. We resigned ourselves to walk around the park that leads to the St. Simons pier and take in the gorgeous sunset. The last one of 2021. All the worries and “muck” of 2021 seemed to drown into the ocean with that sun ...

Last sunset of 2021

St. Simons Lighthouse

St. Simons Pier

As we were watching the sun drowning into the ocean, I called my parents in Romania around their midnight, to wish them welcome into 2022 although we were still 7 hours away from it. I wished them well watching that sunset - it was like speaking with them on the other side of the precipice and the sun’s brightest lava was bridging us - on either side of The Atlantic, in two different years; present and future to us ... present and past to them ... 

Later that night we had a delicious seafood dinner at Coastal Kitchen and Bar and we rang the new year in our room because all restaurants and bars closed before midnight. Go figure! 

The following day, we woke up to a brand new year! Oh, the possibilities and hopes! The dreams and prayers we were sending out into the world! 

Somewhat augurally, we had breakfast at the Echo Restaurant at The King and Prince Resort on St. Simons island. The sound and the birds were echoing premonitions of the new year, twined with those of the one we had just left behind ... but we could not make up the voices. We could only hear the sound ... When we stepped on to the patio at Echo, we were on the beach again. Although there was no beach to be seen! I had never seen the ocean clad in so much thick fog! I have always wondered when watching maritime movies how they make it so foggy on the ocean sometimes because having lived on The Atlantic in my time, I had never seen fog that thick. Well, it was there, on St. Simons Island on the first day of 2022, I can promise you that! The ocean was silenced and seemed far, far away, although we knew it was right there, within a few hundred yards really ... Puppies and children ran all around ... We sat under an umbrella and enjoyed our breakfast. Or rather lunch because they were done serving breakfast ... All the restaurants seemed to have trouble keeping up with what meal they were serving when and with what reservations were made and for what dining room (inside, outside, covered patio?). They were all very good but it took them a minute to find their bearings with every guest. 

The foggy beach at The Echo - St. Simons Island, GA

We walked briefly around the beach after breakfast and around the resort and the streets in St. Simons. Everything felt very much like we were in Charleston, SC or Savannah - Southern coastal history at its best. Live oaks and beautiful, well-manicured palm trees were greeting us at every corner, majestic villas wrapped-up in history and dramas untold. There is a strange mix of Southern and Spanish architecture in these islands, perhaps hailing back from the times when Georgia was deemed as “Debatable Land” - not too sure whether it belonged to Spain or the British Empire. That debate was settled in 1742, when the soldiers of Fort Frederica fought The Spanish under colonel Ogelthorpe and decided once and for all that the land belonged to The Empire  ...

After breakfast, we headed towards the Christ Church Frederica, an Episcopal church, one of the oldest in the state, originally established in the 18th century, destroyed during the Civil War and rebuilt right after that. A walk through the cemetery on the grounds reveals the long history of these parts, old families with elaborate plots. Makes you wonder where they all came from, who they were and what secrets they took with them on the other side of this dirt. 

Christ Church Frederica - St. Simons Island, GA

The cemetery on the grounds of the church

The day was once again getting hot. We headed next to Redfern Village, a shopping and restaurant kind of neighborhood, to browse the book offerings at Righton Books and cool off with a latte at Jittery Joe’s while getting some energy back while savoring one of their oatmeal cookies. 

Cheeky and inviting sidewalk sign at Righton Books

Over our New Year’s Eve dinner at Coastal Kitchen the night before, a couple sitting by our table on the patio started chatting with us (the magic of dogs! They had a cute little Australian shepherd terrified of the fireworks who came and spoke with us first) and told us that while we were on the island, we must go to Sea Island (Resort) and listen to the bagpiper at sunset. They promised a once in a lifetime experience. Sea Island is a gated (with a guard) golf club and resort which was built on the grounds of many establishments that existed between the 18th century and the beginning of the 20th century (as explained here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sea_Island,_Georgia). Today, it is on the PGA tour and although it is breathtaking, it smells a bit of dirty money and too much pomp for our taste. Or at least that was my first impression, mostly judging by the self-entitled crowd that roams the place with a self-important swagger, drink in hand and superior grin to boot. Maybe I am wrong. 

Even if you can’t get into the exclusive resort, it is worth driving down to Sea Island to see the Avenue of the Oaks - the street that leads to the resort, lined, like loyal soldiers, forever en garde, by old live oaks draped in the now ubiquitous Spanish moss ... The low branches and the hairy moss are quite the spectacle in the breeze of the island ... 

The Avenue of the Oaks at Sea Island Resort, St. Simons Island, GA

Our dinner “friends” told us the “secret passcode” to get in: “Just tell them you’re there to see the bagpiper. They’ll let you right on through.” And they did. We were not too sure where everything was and where the piper might be playing, but a very friendly concierge lady directed us to the back patio which opens up in the driving range, framed by palms and palmetto trees. The bagpiper started playing around 5 PM and he was to play for an hour. He walked up and down the golf cart path in front of the back patio and played sombre tunes. The sunset was around 5.30 PM. We listened in awe to the beautiful sound of this instrument but it was far from the serene experience we were promised. People were talking very loudly on the back porch, shouting out orders, mothers, babysitting their children while the husbands were loading up their golf gear in the overpriced vehicles, were running around trying to keep an eye on the little ones, watching as they were getting ready to hit their first golf ball and hurriedly posting every move to their social media accounts ...

Ruins, oaks and moss at Sea Island Resort

The bagpiper at dusk

We left the porch and the too-busy-to-take-in driving range area and found a more solitary “crowd”, much quieter, by the infinity pool on the shores of the ocean, still within earshot of the bagpiper. There, we waited for another glorious sunset - the first one of the year 2022. We were silent as we both probably made a mental plan or said our quiet prayers for what the new year might be bringing onto our lives.  

The infinity pool and the first sunset of 2022 at Sea Island Resort - St. Simons Island, GA

On our last morning on St. Simons Island, January 2, 2022, we woke up at high tide, with our condo marsh flooded by the tide water. It no longer looked like Africa. It very much resembled Kiawah Island ... the trees were half-way buried in water and the birds were happy, restless and hunting for fish. 

 

 

The marshes behind out condo on our last day on the island

View of our condo from the marshes in the back

I threw on a shirt and some jeans and I had to walk behind our condo and take some last pictures to remember this place by. There was no noise, not a sound, other than of fish occasionally leaping up from the waters, or of water fowl letting each other know they are home. 

Birds in the marshes behind our condo

On the way back, with my husband driving, I kept thinking of all the things we had learned, about The South, its history, about what kind of people live in these parts and were buried in that solemnly quiet graveyard, about all the old year’s remains that we buried in the ocean with that last sunset and about the new slate ahead of us - a new year, with new dreams, hopes, promises ... 

My thoughts were drifting in and out of my mind, oscillating between the old and the new; the old I had left behind, the new that was wrapped up in the fog of the unknown new year in front of me. Will it be better? Harder? More rewarding? Or a let down, not worthy of new year’s resolutions or even prayers? An uprooted tree, at the mercy of torrents knows no direction. It just follows the drift until one day, it might just find a friendly shore to rest on ... forever ... 

Happy new year, all! Wishing you all safe shores! 

Sunrise to a new day behind our condo right as we were getting ready to head back home. Click on the picture to view the entire album from this trip.

The Big Lesson

I have been writing this post in my head just about a thousand times, with only a smidgen of exaggeration ... And I realized that I better let it flow and stop overthinking it, so here it goes ... 

For the last team meeting of the year, my boss asked us to come up with one accomplishment, our biggest for 2021. One. And you know what? I racked my brains for days to come up with one. Not because I’ve had so many, mind you, that I had trouble choosing, but just because I am afraid 2021 was one of those just ... OK years. I never believe that any year is forgettable. I’ve always believed that every year is good and bad and new and old and it’s all its own “thing”, just like people. You can’t just pick one person to be interesting - we all are for different reasons ... But in the “personal accomplishments” department, 2021 seems to be lacking. For me. 

I personally don’t think of accomplishments per se, either ... I string them together in my head around milestone days (birthdays, anniversaries, deaths, year-ends) right alongside the losses and the not-so-glamorous events. But, I usually count the “new” and the “different”, the lessons in my years and this year, just like all the others, had those, as well. But again, if I were to compare it with other years of my past, it would not wow me. It would not stand out. And it would not beckon me to repeat it - although I never want to relive things, either, even when they are great ones. What is the point, when life has so much more new-ness in store for us that’s worth trying at least once?! 

This year felt a little bit like this: 2020 was a bizarre, surreal, fiction-like year that brought about end-of-the-world-like fears in me, and everyone around me, family, friends, or complete strangers. There were true, palpable events that could literally have made “the whole sh*thouse go up in flames”. 2020 was one of those years (probably the first for me, in my 46 years of life) where my whole world, my frame of reference of the world, was completely blown up and exploded to smithereens. And I knew that the smithereens would never come back together just the way they were before,  they were never to make the same exact whole, albeit cracked, as before 2020 struck midnight on January 1st. Last year we were all trying to regain our balance and to clear the ashes and smoke out of our eyes before we barely realized what the heck just happened to us - our lives, our routines, our understanding of the world was completely shattered ... 

And then, after 366 days of that (it was also a leap year, remember?!), I told myself (and I am sure I had company, too): “All right, 2021. Be (dare I say?!)  normal! Let’s figure out how to get back to before the Big Interruption of 2020, shall we?! 2021 came with the promise of new vaccines that would restore our freedom. We’ll then open up the world. We’ll get rid of the Dictator in Charge in the White House. The world will be freer, fresher, will hit Reset and start back up. Shakier, changed, a new kind of “new”, but start back up. We hope.” So, for 365 days (almost) of 2021, that’s what we did: we kinda waited for that “normal” to come back ... We waited. And hoped ... and we’re still waiting and hoping ... Or at least I am. 

Truth is: 2021 did not end up being much different than 2020 ... Still another year of proving “unprecedented” to be a painful cliche ... Still a year of “not normal”, a year of fear, of waiting, of hatred, of haves and have-nots, of one day competing with the next in bad news and drama, no matter what news channel you follow ... Turns out that 2020 did not teach us much. Yet, anyway. We kinda wanted 2021 to reset us to our “old selves” but what it instead did, at least for me, is made me believe that there is no “old self” to go back to ... The scars and pain of 2020 morphed me, and us, into these new earthlings and will now have to find a new path, a new life, a new routine for whatever the future might bring to us ... 

I am sure the generations that survived the wars could relate to this: they could never again be the people they were before the wars began ... They could only move on as the transformed people they became during the trauma and the tragedies they witnessed during those wars ... And so are we today.

The world has evolved (or really just changed) and our “war methods” might be different today than in the beginning of the 20th century but they are still wars - direct affronts to our systems of value, of integrity, of being ... Disruptions to a perceived and comfortable order that we had established for ourselves and called it our own ... 

2021 was the Year of the Big Lesson, I would call it, or the Year of the Big Reset: the lesson was that there is no new normal to come back to, that the world has the power to disrupt, interrupt, even demolish, but it’s up to us (only) to rebuild, to rekindle, to reinvent ... And that, I did not do this year and because of that the year seems emptier than others ... I can only hope that it was a learned lesson and in the years to come I will soul-search deeper and find some answers and some new rules to this game we call life, and apply them and move my life along ... 

John Lennon said that “life happens when you’re busy making other plans.” In 2021 I was not even busy making other plans. I was in this hurry-up-and-wait mode, waiting for something, some signal, some external change to reboot my world ... And it never came. I am not one to have enough patience to wait around much (I am kicking myself I waited even as much as I did, for two years now!) and I can tell you that I am full of doggedness for the next little bit to try to go after life and meet it halfway. No longer waiting, no longer watching to see what she’s up to today, and in the next week, and month, and year. Just go and try to meet her ... wherever life is ... 

I hope I can sit here 365 days from today and report back and tell you that I do have at least one accomplishment I would be proud of for 2022, but I know life is tricky and she might still have a few curve balls to throw. All I can say is: I will try a lot harder to do everything in my power to not come empty-handed again in another year. I will try to make it count. 

There are trips I want to take in this new world of travels, new books I have stacked up high to read, there are classes I want to take and speeches I want to give. There are blogs I want to write and even a book or two ... There are days and weeks I still want to spend with my family and my aging parents ... because if one thing is for sure, no one is getting younger ... There are antics I still have not seen from my brand new kitty (rescued and adopted during this so-called “empty” year of 2021 - so maybe she can be my biggest accomplishment?!), and many recipes I have not yet tried in my ever new and ever evolving and ever richer vegan world ... There is so much life, even when the world is doing everything in her power to evidence the contrary ... If there is will and hope, there will always be life ... 

I hope your year’s been full and the next one will be fuller still ... 

Be well, everyone! 

Highlights of a 10-Day Road Trip Through Eastern North America

1 year, 11 months, 12 days. This is how long it’d been since our last long trip (which was a drive to Florida that launched a weeklong cruise in The Bahamas in November 2019). We did take smaller trips since then, some overnight ones, and many day trips, but we almost never left our state (North Carolina) during this time. Crossing the border for a few hours into Virginia during this time doesn’t really count as “leaving the state”.

But this year, prompted by a milestone birthday in Michigan that we simply could not miss and the fact that hey, we were in the neighborhood of Canada where we have more close family, we had to venture out, COVID19 precautions and all, and take a longer vacation.

Almost 10 days later we would have traveled through 8 states, one Canadian province, two countries, more than 2000 miles and would have learned so much! We chose to do all this in a huge road trip, with zero flying. As much as I miss traveling and really long trips, flying is still not on my list for the time being. Airlines cannot space out people on planes and people are so inconsiderate when it comes to hygiene in close spaces. Not to mention that, to my knowledge (and belief!) the COVID19 pandemic is far, oh, so far, from being “over” yet. So this trip had to be a driving one, where we could have a bit more control of our surroundings.

Traveling now is nothing like traveling in 2019, as you can imagine, unless you have lived under a rock for the past two years. The logistics are different, but also our fears, our caution, our “paranoia”, if you will, is a new thing to get used to and embrace. Yes, I say “embrace” because despite all the worry that you’re out there, in the world, exposed to all sorts of human garbage, despite the fact that some people are stupid and selfish and … wrong … you still must try to have some fun, make some memories and save something for your family album. Otherwise, all the travel and the bother would not be worth it …

There are a lot of things that will remain with us from this marathon trip. A lot of new things we experienced for the very first time which taught us so much. I really don’t have the time (nor you to read such long belaboring) or the memory for it all, but I did not want this trip to go unnoticed, so I am summarizing some of the highlights in this journal.

West Virginia toll roads. Seriously, West Virginia! $4 a pop times three to cross your state (on the same road) is a bit steep! Also: West Virginia, have you heard of these nifty little things called credit cards, yet? All of the tolls must be paid in cash in WV. I remember that my Canadian family drove through there in 2018 and they did not have any American cash so they could not pay the tolls. Well, three years later, there are still no credit cards allowed in West Virginia. All cash or get off the toll roads and navigate the back country roads for free.

By the time we crossed the state we were $12 down in tolls alone through a state that, albeit beautiful, does not impress in road quality. As a traveler, always looking for interesting things, I suppose this is meant to slow you down to take life in, or something. But you are on a busy highway, so stopping, getting your wallet out, counting your dollars, waiting to receive change (especially in a time where everywhere else in the country cash transactions are rare because of virus transmissibility…) is a bit odd. But it’s how they do it in WV, so be warned.  

Cuyahoga Valley National Park, OH. I have this crazy goal to visit all of the National Parks before I die. So, when we drive past one now, I will try to make it through it at least for a couple of hours. Cuyahoga Valley was achieving a small piece of such a goal. The one surprising thing was that although a park of almost exclusively deciduous trees, the leaves were hardly turned yet on October 23^rd! I would have thought that Northern US, so close to the border with Canada, would have been past-peak for leaves-turning by that date, but the leaves were mostly green … We had time just for a very short hike, which was peaceful and made for a couple of good photo ops of bridges and train tracks. The park is very easy to just drive through. No fee required.

The Ohio Turnpike bridge seen from the Cuyahoga Valley National Park

Egrets on Lake Erie! Again: too late in the year to see these beautiful warm-weather (we thought!) birds as far North as the Canadian border. But there they were … A whole flock of them just chilling on a marsh outside Lake Erie. Can we assume global warming?! Perhaps …

Egrets outside Lake Erie

Speaking of Lake Erie. We got to see several Great Lakes on this trip: Erie, Ontario, and Michigan. We skirted around Lake Huron, but we never so much as got a glimpse of it. I remember learning about them in geography classes in middle school, back in Romania. They told us they look and feel like seas or mini-oceans, with minimal tides and big waves. They were not wrong. I grew up on the Black Sea coast and I can tell you – there is not much of a difference between any of the Great Lakes and a sea such as the Black Sea which I am most familiar with. Sure, the lakes are full of fresh water and the a sea would be full of salty water, but if you’re not swimming in them to know this, there is not much of a difference between them by just looking at them. They are vast, impressive bodies of water and they do not ever feel like peaceful “lakes” but more like troubled, angry, and restless seas or even oceans …

South Haven lighthouse on Lake Michigan

Crossing the border into Canada in times of pandemic. Now, this was the real adventure. Many months before our trip, when the border opened in Canada to Americans to be allowed to visit, my sister who lives in Montreal educated me about how to cross into Canada who has a very strict system for contact tracing and enforcing pandemic rules (vaccinations and masking). We had to sign up for this app called ArriveCAN which would hold all of our information (passport, vaccination card, Canadian address, reason for visit, personal data, etc) 72 hours before we cross the border. We even had to tell them the approximate time of when we will be at the border and which border crossing we would be using. This system looked intimidating and impressive. I know of nothing remotely similar in the US. When the borders originally opened, the rule was that Americans can cross into Canada by car, train, or ferry only with a proof of vaccination and that a 72-hour negative Covid19 test was only needed for people flying there. Well, we were driving, so we figured – no test.

Two days before getting ready to cross into Canada, we were in Michigan visiting with family and I decided that it’s time to finish signing up and completing all the information for the ArriveCAN system. As I was finishing that process up, I found out that we did, after all, need to present a negative PCR test (which is not the “rapid test”, of course – that would have been too convenient and too easy) that could take up to 48 hours to come back. So, this would have meant that if we took it that day, it might be back the very day we were supposed to cross into Canada so we could be in Toronto for our hotel reservation.

We had researched before the trip places where we could get a test in Michigan, should we need one, for any reason, so we already had this one place mapped out. We did not need an appointment, luckily, so we just drove through, and they took our samples and we filled out a form. We were told it’d be up to 48 hours but it’s more like 24 hours from what they’ve seen in the last little bit to get the results. The test itself ran extremely smoothly. We were impressed by how Michigan seemed to have everything down to a science almost.

We were supposed to get our results through email. The next day (24 hours) we kept refreshing our emails compulsively. Neither one of us got anything. So, that “it’s more like 24 hours” did not turn out to be true, after all. The second day, which was the day we were supposed to head out to Toronto, we practically did not turn our email app off and just stared at it all morning, refreshing and waiting … and panicking! Nothing.

I have worked with bureaucracy (and the medical field which is the worst of all in bureaucracy!) long enough to know that you do not rush these people. That when they say “48 hours” you better make damn sure you count down the very last second before you raise your hand and ask. But at about 45 hours (10 AM instead of 1PM when the test had been performed 2 days before) I lost my patience and I called. There was no answer, naturally! They placed you on this eternal hold where you knew no one would ever rescue you from.

I was picturing my cute little nephews waiting for us at the hotel that night and us not able to cross over and not able to be there to check everyone in (the hotel was in my name). They would have had to travel for hours from Montreal to Toronto, they had to interrupt school, our hopes and dream of finally meeting up after more than two years shattered. Because of COVID. Because of two governments in the “civilized” world that should have gotten their crap together already. I was angry. Disappointed. Mostly angry.

So I called. And called and called incessantly. I did not wait on hold. I dialed and if the on-hold voice came on, I hung up and called again. Till finally someone did pick up! The most helpful lady came on and explained that they had been trying to reach us the day before but I had not left a phone number (they told us they would send it through an email!) and they could not. It also turned out that they had misread my husband’s phone number and they probably called that, but they were calling the wrong person.

She asked me what my name was and she told me that they misread my handwriting and that the test is negative but the name on the test is different than my name so now she has to file a correction with the lab to have the negative test reissued. Every time I hear of someone having to “file” something … I know it’ll take a while. So I pleaded with her to please hurry because if it spills into another day I am losing thousands of dollars in hotel fees alone … Long story short: she sent me my husband’s proof of the negative test in my email (why they did not send his to his email will forever be a murky mystery to us) but I had to wait two extra hours for mine to be “corrected”. But we got our negative tests. Yay. Onward to Canada, negative test and ArriveCAN app ready and all. The border crossing should be a breeze now.

Only … not so fast.

We were both so nervous going towards Canada that during the two and a half hour journey from our family’s house in Michigan to the Port Huron – Sarnia border crossing we hardly spoke 10 words to each other. And mostly they were comments about the dark, foggy, gray day we were driving through.

At the border with Canada, this very friendly, masked lady officer asked us all the usual questions about why we were coming to Canada on a Wednesday (I didn’t know there was a special day you were supposed to travel to Canada, or in general?!), what we were bringing (“Did you know mace and pepper spray are considered weapons in Canada?”), and how much pot and cannabis products we were carrying. She looked at our passports and she asked for our negative tests (I have been more proud of a piece of paper in my life only when I got my American citizenship “diploma”. I was bubbling with pride for that hard-earned negative PCR COVID test, I tell you!).

She never once asked us for our ArriveCAN QR code where all of our information should have been stored. But right then and there, negative test in hand, she tells us that “Oops, this is not me doing this. But my computer just randomly picked you both to be tested today. So, here are your testing kits and you will go to this tent over there (she waived us) and get tested.”

So, here we were, just barely over the Canadian border, 48 hours since our last test (I suppose not official enough for Canada?) and taking another PCR test across the wall … Sigh. They asked us to sign up for yet another “system” called SwitchHealth. This is their contact-tracing system which seems to be very efficient, from what my family tells me. They, too, just like ArriveCAN, asked all the possible information about who we are, where we are going and we had to sign off upon threat of perjury that should we test positive that day, we would have to quarantine for 14 days at the address we were staying in Toronto (which was our hotel).

So now, let me tell you: you wanna know everything there is to know about me, my husband, our health, passport numbers, height, eye color, shoe size? Ask Canada! Between ArriveCAN and SwitchHealth, they’d be able to dig something up! We did receive the results on the SwitchHealth online portal (with an email notification), just like they told us at the border, in almost exactly 48 hours. They were very certain it will not be less than that and they were right. Like clockwork.

Two days was all we were spending in Toronto anyway, so we were wondering what would have happened if the results came in right as we were leaving – we would have “escaped” without quarantining, but … thank goodness we didn’t have to find that out!

Canada abounded in these signs - this one just as we entered Toronto

Canada was such a good visit! As scared and threatened by inconsiderate and lying people as I feel in the US about whatever they carry and expose me to, I felt 100% safe there. They truly have hand sanitizer dispensers every 10 feet in any indoor public space and during our stay there was not one of them that was not working or empty. They are all touchless too. You need a mask for all indoor places, no tolerance for unmasked people. You also need proof of vaccination for all the restaurants, hotels, and all the museums you want to visit. Museum entry is timed, so they allow only so many people at once in there. Again, zero tolerance for the proof of vaccination: you don’t have that, you are not allowed entry. And everyone complies. Everyone is polite and moves about their business and everyone still goes and sees places and has a good time, without having to feel like they ingest COVID boogers with every breath because of 10,000 lying inconsiderate you-know-what’s around them.

This was quite a lesson! I am sure every border crossing will be different from now on for the rest of our lives. I am sure that going to Europe will be different than this – the demands and restrictions will be different with each country and means of transport. But I digress.

Toronto is a great, big city but it is incredibly clean! Even my 10 year old nephew who lives outside Montreal noticed that “Toronto is so much cleaner than Montreal”. People are kind and patient, never rushed, like in our Northern big cities. They are helpful and welcoming. I was surprised how many vegan options I found in restaurants, even at our hotel: it is not just a matter of tolerance there, but it feels like true inclusion.

We did touristy, Toronto-related things while here, like climbing up to the glass floor in the CN Tower and visiting the exhibits of the Royal Ontario Museum. But there were two activities that stood out for me: a walk around Toronto Islands was a welcome surprise. A short ferry ride takes you to the middle of Lake Ontario and you truly get a sense of what the currents are like on this enormous lake! The winds are nothing short of amazing, even on a sunny fall day. Walking through parks and neighborhoods along the water with the wind blowing my hair every which direction and turning me into a banshee was refreshing … All worries washed out … There are several neighborhoods on Ward’s Island, even a school – it’s like a mini-small town outside of Toronto. The yards were overgrown with tired flowers and bushes, only a pale testimony of how green and lush they once were in the summer. I was trying to imagine how these people live in the winter when the winds are the cruelest and the lake freezes over, so the ferry service must stop. It would be nice for writer’s isolation, but not productive living, I am sure. We spent a couple of hours on these islands just walking and having family time. No services were open, so restaurants, cafes and the amusement park were closed. But the quiet, the peace, the isolation, minutes away from a bustling city across the water will stay with us.

Some views from our walk around Toronto Islands

My second Toronto highlight was Casa Loma (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Casa_Loma). Built at the beginning of the 20^th century by Sir Henry Pellatt, a banker, investor, and British knight, it is an amazing construction, a large private residence and lastly, a castle. I saw Casa Loma in a Toronto advertisement going across my screen when I was booking the hotel for this trip and something about it called my name: the British, almost medieval look, the secrecy and grandeur, and the fact that it is in Toronto, Canada of all places (when it should be in Scotland or Ireland or some other place) just spoke to me. It did not disappoint. If you are into architecture, or history (especially British and North American history), it is a must-see when you are in Canada. I came home with a book about the family who built it and the building process and the history of the home after the family’s status fell and they were forced to sell it piece by piece. It just fascinated me as if maybe many generations ago my own family might have lived there (very seriously doubting this).

The impressive Casa Loma

After two full days in the capital of Ontario, saddened that we were parting with family and unknowing of when our next get-together might happen, we started our long journey back towards the US to come home. Crossing the border back to the US was nothing like crossing it into Canada. In a symbolic testimony of how the US does the COVID pandemic, the border officer was not masked and the first thing he ordered us to do in a gruff and unfriendly tone was “Masks down!”. Then, he waved us through after checking our passports.

We stopped briefly to the Niagara Falls State Park for some pictures and then away we went to reach our next destination in Harrisburg, PA that last night on the road. We drove through beautiful places that day in Western New York state, rolling hills clad in autumn colors, but the rain and fog were so thick the pictures we took do them no justice. The following day, we stopped in Lancaster County, PA to take in some of the Amish countryside, but we could really not partake into any of the offerings as it was Sunday and everything was closed.

It was a whirlwind of a trip, with mixed feelings, much love and many meaningful hugs (which were the most important, to me). With lots of new places and people watching, something we have been hungry for for too long. Stresses we never had before and joys, too, that were new.

One thing I know for sure: I never did much of this before, but now I know that I will never take the privilege of traveling for granted again. Travels have taught me so much, always, but especially now, when we’re trying to understand a new world, you find that every action, every stop, every person you interact with truly teaches you something new. You cannot help but learn so many new ways in which others do life. Ways you would never dream of when you’re just watching life go by from your couch. There are new learnings everywhere, close and far, but when you do go far, the learnings are exponentially bigger. Exposing yourself to the world, making yourself vulnerable only empowers you.

Happy, mindful, respectful, and safe travels, you all!

Click on the CN Tower picture to see all the pictures from this trip

Four Years Ago and Counting ...

Four years ago today we left our old home in Spanish Fork, UT and headed Eastward towards our new home in North Carolina. I say "our home in Spanish Fork", but by that time, it was no longer ours ... By the time we reached Moab that night, it belonged to this other couple who already had plans to expand the garage and finish the basement ... Such is life ... 

When we lived in Utah I longed for the South. I missed my friends and the gentle rolling hills, covered in green for most of the year. I never knew I liked green so much as when I lived in Utah and I didn't have much of it at all around me ... I longed for the Southern food where every restaurant parking lot smells of bacon. 

Now, that we have been here, we hardly ever see our friends - we're all too busy and then, there has been the pandemic ... With my vegan diet, I can hardly ever have any food that's appropriate for me and I can never truly dodge someone sneaking butter or cheese in my food or frying my fries in lard or bacon drippings in North Carolina ... I never stopped missing The Rockies. I miss my doctors who were small-town doctors that cared for the patient more than their career ladders, like they do in the big medical world of The Triangle. Sometimes I have doubted whether we made the right move ... 

We always want and crave what is not right here, in front of us. 

Four years later, missing the mountains and all, I still think we've made a good move. There is not a day that goes by where I don't gasp "wow! I am so happy we live here" when I look at the massive trees in my back yard or drive for 15 minutes through NC hardwood forests and don't encounter another car. 

I love the people, even my neighbors, I love the green, I love the fact that you drive for 30 minutes and you're in a different city, with a different history, different landscape, different restaurants, and culture. I love the slow pace my heart is beating at right now, as compared to the way it was jerking around in my chest at 11,000 ft in Utah! I don't miss the Utah air, and not much about the Utah culture in general. I never felt like we really belonged there, gorgeous mountains, breath-taking sunsets, open spaces and all ... 

I love a lot about NC still and NC still feels like home. I can hardly believe it's been four years, though. I look around and I feel like we didn't accomplish much, although, my husband has had two jobs since we moved here, we made tons of home improvements, we've made new friends, and reconnected with just a handful of the old ones, we traveled plenty around the area and out of the country (and even went back to The West a couple of times), we lost a cat, and got another one more than a year later, we welcomed family in our new home from all over the planet ... And just like that time flew. I guess this is how you know we made a good move: when time flies by fast because you're having too much fun. 

No regrets and all, life is what you make of it with what you do have in front of you. Four years later, we're still taking one day at a time and making the most of it, right here, in the middle of the green North Carolina ... We are home. I have no doubt about that. 

Leaving Spanish Fork and arriving in NC - October 18-26, 2017

O zi deosebită pentru un om deosebit ...

Putere ... tenacitate ... caracter ... fermitate ... integritate ... – sunt doar câteva virtuți care îmi vin în minte când mă gândesc la mama ...

Mama nu a avut o viață ușoară – spune și ea asta cu orice ocazie care i se ivește...

Nu enumerez aici multele pete negre pe care i le-a aruncat viața în cale încă de când era copil și mai apoi și in anii de adult – cei care o cunosc bine știu povestea ei.

Azi vreau doar sa îmi amintesc de ceea ce ne-a învățat ea pe noi din experiența zilelor ei grele de peste timp, experiență care a format-o în cel mai puternic caracter pe care l-am întâlnit vreodată.

În fiecare moment in care mi-a fost greu in viață, în fiecare clipă când m-am găsit la o răscruce, la o cumpăna, am auzit mereu vocea mamei, aducând-mi mereu aminte să nu mă uit mai departe decât în mine însămi: ca un înțelept budist, mi-aducea mereu aminte că răspunsurile sunt în mine, în sufletul meu, în mintea mea, și nu mai departe ...

Mi-a adus mereu aminte că sunt echipată de la natură (de la ea, mai bine-spus) cu tot ce am nevoie, că sunt puternică și că voi face mereu o alegere bună pentru mine, pentru că sunt înzestrată cu exact ceea ce trebuie să „fac față la tot ce îmi este pus in cale”.

Când o întrebam dacă nu se teme de vreun șef, răspundea cu o seninătate și siguranță de sine de nezdruncinat: “Vai de mine! Dar ce au șefii in plus față de mine? Un titlu? Caracterul, știința și siguranța de sine nu stau într-un titlu! Avem amândoi o facultate, aceeași experiență, un creier, de ce să îmi fie frică?! De un titlu pe care azi îl ai și mâine, nu?”

Astăzi, peste mulți ani, îmi dau seama cât adevăr există în aceste cuvinte!

Ne-a insuflat mereu certitudinea că nu suntem „nici primele și nici ultimele care trec print-o încercare” – și așa prindeam curaj de fiecare dată pentru a merge înainte.

Așa ne-a învățat toată viața: că puterea, siguranța există în noi înșine. Ne-a învățat să credem in autosuficiență mai mult decât in orice,  ne-a învățat că suntem noi înșine in stare să răzbatem prin orice. Nu prin morală a făcut asta, ci prin exemplul ei, prin felul în care a răzbătut ea printr-o viață mult mai grea și amară decât a noastră ar fi putut fi vreodată.

Pe mine, personal, m-a învățat sa mă ascult – să ciulesc urechile la adâncurile ființei mele și să aud ce îmi spune: toate marele alegeri pe care le-am făcut vreodată le-am făcut ascultându-mă pe mine însămi, având siguranța  că  nu exista dilemă pe care să nu o pot rezolva singură.

Orice dram de curaj, orice credință, orice putere pe care le-am găsit vreodată în mine de-a lungul existenței mele le-am moștenit de la ea.

Dintre toate mamele din lume, poate nu a  fost cea mai “mămoasa” în sensul că nu ne-a alintat, și nu ne-a răsfățat la maxim, dar ne-a dat niște calități  infinit mai importante și de mai mare valoare decât alintul: încrederea în noi înșine, reziliența, curajul fără limite de a crede în puterile proprii, duritatea de a rezista în orice situație – toate acestea ne-au înzestrat cu o armură mult mai importantă și mai indispensabilă supraviețuirii unei vieți care s-a dovedit a fi, pentru noi, uneori nedrepte și alteori aspre, dar foarte adesea singure.

Astăzi, în  ziua când o celebrăm pe mama, cel mai important om de pe pământ pentru mine, simt în fiecare mușchi, în fiecare por, în fiecare celulă puterea și tăria pe care mi le-a transmis, și care vor rămâne și in mine cât timp mai exist.

Mom, nu aș fi putut ajunge nicăieri fără încurajările tale, fără sprijinul pe care ni l-ai dat, chiar și in detrimentul bucuriei tale, an de an, zi de zi, in modul tău tăcut, ferm, și nu in ultimul rând, puternic și impetuos de a fi.

O călăuză neclintită, un far luminos si neșovăitor, un exemplu de calm si putere – ne călăuzești mereu, oriunde ne-am afla, si oricâtă distantă fizică ar exista intre noi ... Ești parte din noi; te auzim, te purtăm și te simțim în fiecare bătaie a inimii; în fiecare respirație ...

Tot ce îmi doresc este să  te asculți pe tine însăți și să iți asculți propriul sfat de a continua să răzbați prin orice durere, si orice obstacol. Astfel, mergând mereu înainte ( „că înapoi nu se mai poate”), să continui să fii cu noi multe, multe, toamne de acum înainte, să ne bucuri cu înțelepciunea ta nesfârșită, lucidă și calmă, să te știm aproape mereu și să ne amintești mereu că totul se poate … pentru noi, dar mai ales, pentru tine.

Te iubim, mom!

Cu mulți ani și multe speranțe înainte ...

Această fotografie e în ziua nunții mele (2010). Mă bucur că o zi atât de importantă și scumpă pentru mine i-a putut oferi mamei ocazia unui zâmbet. Se întâmplă mai rar ...