roots

Both sides of my family have roots deep in specific places and embedded in agriculture and a love and respect for the land. Land that their lives have been built around and that has built and shaped the individuals, both families and is part of who I am even though I’ve never called either of those particular places home for more than a few days at a time.

I love to travel. I love new places and people, exploring – I don’t much like having change thrust upon on me, but I love being the one who is changing, moving and doing something new. I always semi pictured my life spent moving fairly often, maybe putting down roots either in some distant land or future time, but at least in the imaginable future being more on the move. And yet, I’ve very much attached myself to my little corner of the world. Nearly 17 years ago I moved into a dorm room on a university campus in a small town near Portland. I moved a few dozen miles away after graduating, but 7 years ago bought a house barely a mile from that dorm room and have called that town home since. I don’t own nearly enough land for any agricultural endeavors larger than my mostly shaded small garden, but I do own a little bit of land and a house here. I run into people I know from my undergrad days or other businesses in town nearly every time I go to the grocery store and the library staff know me by name. I’ve attended the same church for over 14 years. A church that isn’t much older than those 14 years, that I’ve seen grow and change

apple orchard in central Washington

immensely over the years. That I’ve fallen in love with, been frustrated by, been challenge by, grown along with and fallen in love with again. That knows me and that I’ve helped shape in small ways as well I think. I’m known here at this coffee shop I love and frequent almost daily when in town. I’ve built my own roots and community that I love and is very much a part of me. I’ve lived in this area, gone to this church and been part of this community longer than I have been anywhere else in life.

So maybe that rootedness is more important to me than I used to think when I dreamed dreams of travel, movement and adventure. Dreams I’ve accomplished in many ways and ones that still live on, but have morphed and changed a bit as well. Somehow those roots make it more possible to both adventure and to come home maybe. They for sure make me a more stable and healthy person. My parents were somehow able to encourage us to dream, adventure, and travel, explore and learn, while giving us roots and stability to return to. Something I think more and more as I get older is no small feat to accomplish as a parent.

 

day 5 ramblings

Green Gables, Prince Edward Island

Another day missed in the flurry of travel, but I’m just going to stick with my original plan and jump back in. Thanks to Delta’s compute mishap yesterday we’ve been rerouted all over the place, and I’m not waiting for my last flight, which they just announced is delayed. Here’s hoping it’s not too far behind and traffic isn’t too insane, because I am very much ready for a shower and nap. Something about planes always makes me feel like I need a shower. I also remember every time I fly how much I actually dislike flying even though I love to travel.

My mom and I have traveled together better even than I was thinking we would. We’ve spent most of the past few days driving around Prince Edward Island exploring very small almost towns, walking the red beaches and trails and catching a somewhat over the top musical interpretation of Anne of Green Gables. We’ve also laughed a lot. It’s been a much different style of travel than when I travel with my husband or the handful of friends that are my frequent travel buddies. Most importantly I think she’s had a blast. Plus there was only limited motion sickness and no one has actually got sick (at least so far, one more flight to go I suppose).

In my current been traveling too long/eating in airports/awake since 3 am on 3.5 hours of sleep, which was 17 hours ago, my level of insight and contemplation for writing is a bit on the uninspired side. For example, there is a rather large number people sitting around me at the gate right now holding Tim Horton’s coffee, a slightly smaller number eating food from Tim Horton’s and a few who even have bags of Tim Horton swag and in one case a giant canister of Tim Horton ground coffee. I’m assuming this must be for nostalgic purposes, because the one morning there wasn’t another option and we grabbed Tim Horton’s for breakfast it seemed to me to be a slightly greasier version of McDonald’s breakfast and coffee was just palatable. Plus, there’s the whole factor that most likely a good portion of those sitting at this gate have Portland as their final destination since it’s not necessarily a large hub and I’m positive you can get much better coffee in Portland. Alas, that feels like more than enough musings on a Canadian fast food chain for today.

In that vein, I had meant to make sure I didn’t just ramble in any of these 500 word a day entries, but it seems like that’s maybe exactly what I have done today. The good news is that the plane we’re supposed to leave on has apparently arrived, meaning departure should be imminent. One more flight and drive and then a day spent sleeping, catching up on tasks and repacking to head back north again, this time by car! Will be our first real venture into seeing how our organization and prep attempts for living mostly out of a storage unit and the car works, while aiming to still eat well, be active and work productively while exploring. Between that and maybe fleshing out some of the family history I’ve been trying to learn there should be some good content for me to try to turn into moderately interesting writing/reading material.

Sarajevo

If you take a look at Sarajevo at any time of day, from any surrounding hill, you will always inadvertently come to the same conclusion. It is a city that is wearing out and dying, while at the same time being reborn and transformed. Today it is the city of our most beautiful longings and endeavors and bravest desires and hopes. ~Ivo Andrić, writer and winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature

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You know those places that just get under your skin and won’t go away? It seems they are a casualty of traveling. An inevitable piece that for some slightly mysterious, almost magic reason that can’t quite be grasped a place just captures you. Maybe there’s a specific moment. A view over coffee, a connection with another traveler or local or a once in a lifetime experience. Or maybe it’s something far more mundane. A walk through a neighborhood or a bite of an exquisite pastry and your heart is taken in with this place and there’s no going back.

I made my first international trek almost 20 years ago. After 2 months, I enjoyed Scotland, but I couldn’t get Ireland out of my head. I knew I’d be back and I have been – twice. Countless trips and countries and adventures later, there have been places I’ve loved, places I would happily never return to and then there’s the handful of places that almost haunt with a subconscious pulse and pull to return, to study, to understand.

We fit in a 3 day side trip to Sarajevo into our travels this summer. I couldn’t get it out of my head and so we took the challenge of getting there and away and made it happen. Before we arrived I had been consuming books and making connections with friends of friends on a hunt to learn more in between classwork and wrapping up my Master’s defense. And then somewhere on the first early morning run through the heart of Sarajevo, back and forth over the Drina bridges or maybe over the first cup of Bosnian coffee overlooking this incredibly beautiful and scarred city. Or maybe on the drive down through the mountains from Sarajevo to the Croatian Adriatic coast with our new friend. I can’t actually pinpoint the moment or assign a specific reason, but along with Ireland, India, Sweden… Bosnia stole a piece of me and there’s no getting it back.