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July 10, 2000
Hallå:
That would be hello, my friends. I've been here in the beautiful city of Stockholm since
Saturday night, after having made a 36 hour train/boat journey from the south of France. Why the sudden shift of
geography? Well, I was already headed this way since I'm planning on meeting a good friend here on the 27th, but
my actual arrival has been expedited by the necessity of rehabilitating an injured knee.
When I was at the meditation retreat last month in Plum Village, France, I strained a tendon in my right knee while
stretching. This was about a week before we left. I received medical support from my friends Kathy (MD) and D'vorah
(physical therapist), and I rested it as much as I could before leaving. But alas, the rest was evidently too little
for too short a time, and then I overdid it after leaving. I was quite keen on exploring the beaches of France
and I most certainly did. After spending a night in Bordeaux, I went to Biarritz for two days, to San Sebastian
across the border into Spain, back to Biarritz for two more days, and then onto Sete, which is along the western
Mediterranean coast of France called Golfe du Lion. This was just too much wear and tear on my knee and being the
slow learner I so often am, it took me until a week ago to figure out I'd better try a different approach. Hello!
A major impact on this new approach was my new friend Caroline convincing me in Sete that I should go to a doctor
and make sure I really knew what was going on with my knee. She made some phone calls before leaving town and the
next day my other friend Emily accompanied me to the local hospital as an interpreter so that we could negotiate
the maze one always seems to find in these places, no matter what part of the world you are in. Finally we saw
a doctor, and her diagnosis was tendonitis. The remedy was simple and emphatic: stay off of it completely for 15
days, plus of course the usual meds for which she wrote me the predictably indecipherable prescription.
Knowing I could never rest adequately in a hostel I put out an email plea for help to several friends and got terrific
support (aren't friends just great!). The quickest response, and the best for me in many ways, was from Peter here
in Stockholm. I'd gotten to know Peter quite well at Plum Village and he generously opened his house to me. So
off I went to Sweden. What is interesting is that several years ago in his early twenties, Peter's life dramatically
changed due to a genetic neurological disorder, and a physically active young man became largely confined to a
wheel chair. But anyone who has spent time with Peter knows him as someone who is ALWAYS smiling and who NEVER
complains.
Less than two years ago, he took advantage of his "disability" to start his own company, which now has
four employees, and is rapidly expanding. It's called Lazybee.com if you want to pull it up on the web. Besides
being a wonderful inspiration for me Peter also has some extra "gimp gear" (wheel chairs, crutches, and
walkers) available for me to use. I mentioned something to him about a race in the wheel chairs, but he doesn't
seem interested.
I left Sete on Friday morning at 10 am via train and thanks to the 180 mile per hour TGV was in Paris by the late
afternoon where I needed to change stations. So I had four hours to get a tantalizing taste (just an appetizer)
of a city I will come back to later to savor in depth. In Paris, I joined a really good bunch of four other travelers
in a sleeper car going to Hamburg, Germany. We traveled through Belgium and The Netherlands, but I certainly do
not feel like I was in those two countries. My son Matt says that if you are sleeping when you go somewhere you
weren't really there. I agree, and have always thought that airports don't count either.
When we awoke the next morning we changed trains in Hamburg and headed north to the coast of Germany near Lubeck,
where the train actually went onto a ferry, and we then crossed over to Denmark. The passage was beautiful and
then we were on to Copenhagen for another urban appetizer, then up the coast to where we crossed via another ferry
into Halsingborg, Sweden. Once there I enjoyed some spectacular scenery on the way to Stockholm. There were pristine
dark blue lakes and rivers, as well as mixed pine and white birch forests surrounding farms and small idyllic looking
villages. My first impression of Sweden is that it is very clean, efficient and unassuming - and so pretty! The
farm buildings seem to all be painted dark red with white trim. Either there's a federal law requiring it, or maybe
there was a huge sale on those colors for a few decades?
When Peter picked me up at 10 pm, he asked, "Are you hungry? You are…good, cause we are going to dinner with
some friends of mine. I have already ordered for you." And off we sped in his little convertible MG through
this Scandinavian fairyland. It was then that I transitioned from those dreadful little sandwiches served on trains
and ferries to a very upscale restaurant/night club drinking fine wine and eating chocolate mousse. At 2:30 am
we abandoned our friends (four Parisians who had flown over to sail the coastline for a week - tough life!), as
the party continued. Beautiful Swedish men and women (yes, they are almost all tall, blue-eyed, blond and athletic)
danced the short summer night away.
As many of you know, extended traveling can be a bit of a roller coaster. Most everyone who travels eventually
admits that it's not just a downhill ride, but also the bumps and bruises, the hassles, the so-called negative
aspects do add depth to the experience and often generate the greatest rewards. I've learned a lot about myself
while traveling, both in the past and recently. It's been a great opportunity to practice patience and tolerance,
to cultivate a better sense of humor. It certainly helps me clarify and define my priorities, both short and long
term, to become clearer about what is essential, both with what I carry in my pack (I have gotten rid of quite
a few things I left Phoenix with), but also with the intangible aspects of life. What am I attached to? What do
I crave? What can I let go of to lighten my load - physically, spiritually, emotionally, mentally? And also, what
must be a part of my life on the road?
With my past sharing in On the Road, I've chosen to mostly focus on the joyful rides and not get into the "negatives",
as they might be perceived. I've assumed that you would prefer to read about the sunset or the incredible people
I've met, rather than the bus breaking down, or the blisters on my feet. Maybe not, but I chose not to complain,
as that seems very unnecessary and unproductive - and the sunset certainly does seem to be more uplifting to the
spirit. I can tell you though that after being on the road for just six months, I've eaten food I never thought
I would eat, showered and shit in bathrooms I never thought I would, and gotten a good night's sleep in places
I would have never thought were possible!
Most days the challenges are merely opportunities to learn about myself and can even be entertaining. It's common
to arrive in a city knowing little or nothing about it, and knowing nary a soul there. I then need to address the
basic needs of food and shelter, at the very least, and sometimes without benefit of a common language. In most
cases I have learned how to take this in stride, but there are days I am just not in the mood for it, as was the
case in San Sebastian.
After negotiating the border crossing train ride I arrived with sore feet, an empty stomach and a full bladder
(where is a McDonalds when I need one - to pee in, not to eat.). In Biarritz I'd gotten too little sleep and too
much sun and had brought with me incorrect directions to get to Tourist Information. Yet I needed to figure out
where to change money on a Saturday, and where to find a hostel I could afford. At this point, the pack I was lugging
around was feeling like a '57 Buick!
I couldn't find anyone who spoke English well enough to help me alleviate my disorientation and frustration, and
I really felt like just sitting down on a bench and crying for a while. No harm in that I suppose, but instead
I sat down and enjoyed the beauty of where I was for a few minutes; listened to the wind and the birds and the
surf pounding the nearby beach. Then I spotted a guy wearing a University of Wisconsin t-shirt and flagged him
down. Sure enough he was an American who'd been there for a week and he straightened me out in about two minutes.
So… yes there are hard times, and just like in other aspects of life, when they occur while traveling we do what
we need to do to get through them and hopefully thrive. We adapt, we learn and maybe we laugh while we are doing
it. I guess it's largely a question of balance and really paying attention as much as possible. For instance, I
recently realized that I want to and need to slow down and take more time in the places I go, since just when I
figure out a place, I usually leave it to go explore another. And slowing down is less wear and tear on me, all
parts of me, not just my knee.
There's always a balance, a line to walk in decision-making, and it changes all the time! How much planning and
preparation do I do, and how much do I just wing it? Very often the real magic happens when I fly by the seat of
my pants (that's trousers for you Brits!). Lao Tse said, "The journey is the reward." I think
that can be interpreted in many ways.
Where were you when France won Euro 2000? If you were in the US, you probably don't know or even care, but
if you were in Europe you probably do remember, and if you were in France you probably will never forget. Especially
if you were rooting for France. I was with a few friends from my hostel in a bar in Sete watching the match. And
when the winning goal in overtime hit the net, it seemed as though all of Sete erupted into a frenzied celebration
and rushed into the streets to sing and cheer, to wave flags... to be French for a night if you wanted to be, no
matter where you were from! I can only imagine what Paris was like.
I was also fortunate to be in Sete when their annual jazz festival was going on. Most nights there was live music
in the parks and sometimes bands played in the streets during the days. One day while sitting in a cafe, I closed
my eyes and imagined I was in New Orleans in 1920. Then I opened my eyes and realized I was on the coast of France
in 2000. Reality was even better than fantasy!
And of course the beaches. I prefer the heavier surf on the Atlantic side, but swimming in the Mediterranean is
heavenly too. And to answer the question I have been bombarded with (and not just by men), yes they are topless,
and yes the women are amazing, and no it does not get boring after awhile. Not even close!
Granted I did not cover that much of France, but nonetheless, I want to address a stereotype of the French that
I'd heard so much about before going there. And that is, of course, their supposed rudeness. Maybe it was because
I made an effort (pathetic as it might be) to speak their language rather than assuming they should know English?
Or maybe it was because I expressed a curiosity and appreciation of their culture, rather than sitting around in
cafes with my baseball cap on backwards talking with my cronies about Microsoft's lawsuit, or why the Cubs still
suck, or how small the coffees are in France? (Yes I saw and heard this!) I found the French to be incredibly friendly
and helpful wherever I was and they always went out of their way to give me directions, help me and encourage me
with their language, or to just take time to enjoy the time we had to talk.
A European joke: What do you call someone who speaks three languages? Tri-lingual. What do you call someone
who speaks two languages? Bi-lingual. And, what do you call someone who speaks one language? American.
And by the way, I've found that it is actually pretty easy to put together functional French. For example: ordering
food, buying train and bus tickets, getting around town, all the basic stuff. Anyone who says they cannot is just
plain lazy, and besides, all my European friends found me quite entertaining. I was a lot of laughs at the breakfast
table. But I'm very motivated to learn either French or Spanish in the near future. I'd live for a while where
it is spoken, take some classes and then get out and do it.
Another question I am frequently asked (besides about European women) is about whether or not I'm saving these
writings for a book. Being asked that is quite a compliment, and I'm glad that what I share is enjoyed by some
of you that much. But although a few friends have said that they are printing out copies and saving them in a file
for whatever reason, I have no illusions that either Paul Thoreaux or Bill Bryson will be giving up market share
to me in the travel book section of Borders any time soon.
Some Websites with relevant information:
http://www.stockholmtown.com/pages/271/index.asp
--The official Stockholm visitor's guide
http://www.eurail.com/ --The official site for traveling by train in Europe
http://www.sverigeturism.se/smorgasbord/ --The Web's largest
site for info about Sweden
Until the next time
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Peace
and love
