An acquaintance of mine writes a blog about travel mishaps with reference to what she calls the ‘Travel Gods’. 
​
As anyone who travels these days will attest, mishaps are a common part of travel. We have been lucky not to have suffered too many mishaps during our recent travels but that changed with our latest trip. We were going to Guatemala for 10 days to observe the spectacular Holy Week celebrations, visit family and enjoy a trip to the Mayan ruins of Tikal. 

When we checked in for our flight, we were told Guatemala required a customs/immigration form to be completed before deplaning and that the form was only available online. Simple, right? NOT. The site was less than user friendly, not allowing for corrections where a mistake had been made. So, start all over again. The form allowed for one form to be completed for couples or families. We tried and failed to do this, so had to do a separate one for hubby and me. After the form was completed, we were told that an email would be sent to us, which we then had to show on arrival in Guatemala. I got my two completed forms, but my friend Janet didn’t receive hers. We were up till past midnight trying to complete the forms, then gave up. Fortunately, as it appears this was a problem faced by many travellers, there were very helpful personnel at the airport to help us complete everything but now, no more chance for email, so I took photos of the completed documents which were accepted. 

Arrived in Miami just 10 minutes late. Then the Travel Gods left. We sat on the tarmac for 45 minutes, waiting for a gate assignment. A wonderful friend agreed to meet us at our hotel and have dinner with us. By the time we landed, got through immigration, tried to find a shuttle to the hotel, were told the next one would be in ½ hour. So, we got a taxi. By now the poor friend had been cooling his heels in the hotel lobby for 2 and ½ hours. When we finally got there, he apologized, (it was now 9:30PM) hugged us and left for home. 
There was no shuttle in the morning, as they left at times which would have made us late for check in, so we took a taxi. 

Delayed again arriving in Guatemala with a group of family members who had organized a mini reunion, patiently waiting at the restaurant. Did anyone look at the stupid forms that had caused us such grief? Nope. 

After all this, we had hoped the return journey would go smoothly. Hah! Said the Travel Gods, you wait and see. Our flight out of Guatemala City was delayed but not by much, so we knew we would make up the time. 

Upon arrival in Miami, our friend Janet had to spend 1 and ½ hrs getting through immigration. I was so worried I asked an American Airlines ground staff member to page her to see if anything untoward had happened to her. At this point a very upset Janet appears saying she will never ever come to or through Miami again.

Next morning, the day of our departure for home, Dick had stomach issues, which made us miss three of the airport shuttles. Fortunately, we set off early enough to not be late to check in. Departing Miami, we were delayed again, waiting for a runway for 45 minutes. After that though, the rest of the trip went well, we were only ½ hour late getting to Grenada.

The “golden years”; “you’re as old as you feel”; “age is just a number”; “60 is the new 40”.
Bah humbug I say. Here you are, finally retired, enjoying the freedom of not having to get up early, no bosses, no deadlines. You can choose to get involved in whatever group or activity you choose, leave it if it turns out to be not what you expected. Take that trip you’ve been putting off, start a health and fitness regime and so on.

Life’s good and then WHAM. Your body whacks you. You just fell, can’t figure out how it happened in an instant. Fortunately, not too serious, minimal damage, only a little bone in the hand was broken. You recover and carry on. Maybe you add some balancing exercises to your workout routine.

WHACK! Your knees start to give you trouble, they hurt, they don’t work as they should. Doctor says, “No wonder you’re feeling pain, your joint is bone on bone. Let’s fix it, surgery should be simple. When would you like to schedule it?” Whoa, you say, not so fast, I’ve got to think about it, but your knee decides for you as it hurts more every day. Fine, let’s do it. Six weeks later you’re back to better than normal. You join a walking group to celebrate.
Now you notice that just about all conversations with friends include a medical update on the latest body betrayals. Not the most cheerful of topics but at least you know you’re not alone. So, you continue pretty much as before, maybe a bit slower, a bit more cautious.

WHOP! Your blood pressure is all over the place. Not to worry, says your doctor, “this is very common in old people”. So now I’m old, as if that explained everything. Well, there are great pills for this, so we get it sorted out.

HEH, HEH, HEH! You look in the mirror one morning and notice that, if you’re a woman, your boobs are heading south, while your pubic hair is settling north on your chin. If you’re a man, the crown jewels are sagging a bit and Fagin the one-eyed snake, won’t get up as he’s supposed to.

One consolation is that there are several magic potions and procedures to fight this thing, so you try to take advantage of them. And then you start to think of all the ones who are gone, who never got the chance to worry about this thing called old age. So, you take a deep breath and practice gratitude. Which is not to say you accept this whole aging thing, but you approach it with a new perspective.

As we go through our life’s journey, we lose many things, have to adapt to new, not always welcome circumstances. We age, we lose family members and friends, our kids and grandkids have their own lives. So where does that leave us? In a good place or bad, depending on our attitude. We can feel depressed, hopeless, abandoned OR we can practice gratitude, because we all have things for which we can be grateful.

I sit on my verandah of an early evening, enjoying my cup of tea or a glass of rum or scotch. As the sun slowly sinks, I admire the sepia color of the hills and villages. I watch fishing boats,
pleasure craft, ferries come and go, by now recognizing many by name.
I watch the white cranes head south for the night, the many birds taking a last drink or bath in our birdbath. Later, the swifts come and entertain us with their incredible acrobatic flying.
As the sun goes down, I watch the sky show of cloud formations and light play, never the same any two days. Then the streetlights come on, one village at a time, the bakery truck, honks for customers as it winds its way through the villages.

Through all this, I have such a sense of peace, a sense of gratitude to be living on this beautiful island with its lovely people, my beautiful home, my family, my friends, near and far.
I’m grateful that I have the means and physical ability to travel. My bucket list is getting shorter, but there are still some exciting trips to anticipate.

Do I have my aches and pains, my losses? Of course. But as one of my friends says, “I’m grateful  for what I have and grateful for what I don’t have.”

“Life’s what happens to us while we’re making other plans”; “Man proposes, God disposes”; “Murphy’s law strikes”. Take your pick.

Our visit to the US, started out just fine. We spent a wonderful few days with granddaughter, Tabitha and her boyfriend in Columbus, Ohio, where they took good care  of us and  we got to experience how they live (very well, indeed).

The wedding of our first grandchild, Mike, was all a wedding should be, perfect weather, an enchanting venue, touching ceremony, great dinner. The bride, Victoria did an amazing job of including members of all families; whether divorced, blended or any other combination, seating them so that no one sat at a table where they didn’t know some people.

Seeing the first grandchild get married is such a special gift. I’m mindful that so many people are not given this gift. As I watched the ceremony and the day progressed, memories of Mike growing up, all his little habits, his teenage struggles flashed by. I was now looking at a full-fledged adult, embarking on this new phase of his life.

Back to Chicago and cold, miserable weather and to our lives being turned upside down. 
Dick’s legs and feet swelled up like balloons, not good. When the swelling did not come down, off to the hospital we went. Blood clots, heart disease, lung disease, gout were the suspected villains. After the typical million-dollar workup, the swelling eased and he was sent home with no definitive diagnosis but no heart disease, no blood clots, no lung problems identified. Two days later, the swelling returned, so we went back to the hospital for more tests. In the  end, it was determined that gout was the culprit.
 
After being away for 10 years navigating the American health care system was a nightmare but we managed to get through it. So much for an enjoyable vacation, though not all was negative. I did manage to see West Side Story at our beloved Lyric Opera House and we did get together with  family for a relaxed meal. 

We also found new friends in the building where we were staying. They helped us in many ways and to thank them, I invited them for a typical West Indian meal - beef curry,  with rice and peas and fried plantains, all enjoyed by them. 

Dick’s swelling was now gone, so we could resume the plans we had to see friends, hang out with family, go to our beautiful Millenium Park for an outdoor concert and as many other activities as we had energy for. A 2 month vacation was compressed into 1 month but we’re grateful that  good health has been restored.

​Every visit back to my former home of Chicago is a culture shock, lasting several days.
The noise level is a shock, the density of buildings and people is intimidating. The volume of never-ending traffic is numbing. 

The portions of food in restaurants are outlandish. Any three people could be satisfied with one order.

I think I remember a street address, only to find that I have forgotten how to get  to it, have to ask for directions.

But most of all it is the size of the stores that overwhelms me. All of our supermarkets in Grenada could fit into a Mariano’s, especially the suburban ones. There are isles and isles of products, it takes forever to choose the item desired, not  to mention the new products that have come on the market since my last visit.

Add to that the fact that there are all sorts of specialty products, organic, fresh farm grown (would anyone be likely to buy something that is not fresh?), vegan, gluten free, fat free, sugar free, sustainably farmed, non-GMO, plant-based, well  you get the idea. One must walk miles looking for things. Of course, regular shoppers know the layout, so they are not wandering around with the same confused look as I.

Weather is another shock. I have to remember the old saying about Chicago weather, “if you don’t like our weather stick around for a few hours.” Right now, the difference between day and nighttime temperatures can be 30° Fahrenheit.

Of course, all this is balanced by the positives. There is an energy, a vibrancy to the city that is palpable. There are an endless number of cultural institutions and programs to choose from. It is hard to find a rival to the Millenium Park concerts or the Lyric Opera or the Art Institute. Then there is the fact that Chicago is still a  city of neighborhoods, each with its own special characteristics.

After 2 weeks, I am once again acclimated and happy to be back for a visit.

With Easter just passed and the many happy spring wishes, it made me pause and think how different our tropical experience is from the experience of our northern climate friends and family.

Easter is celebrated here just like elsewhere, Grenada being a largely Christian country. We even celebrate Easter Monday. Since my family lives far away, I have made sure our Easter celebration is shared with close friends, whom I call my Grenada family. Our meal reflects the many influences of our various ethnic and national backgrounds, and whereas before I insisted on making the whole meal myself, I now gladly accept dishes brought by my guests. The result is a unique, delicious mélange of dishes.

As for spring, we don’t have that in the tropics. What we have is a dry season and a rainy season. The changes between the two are less dramatic than the changes in temperate climates but changes there are. Right now we are in the dry season and the lush emerald green of the island has turned into a duller, khaki color. And, yes, there are deciduous trees, so many lose their leaves. The infinite variety of fruits diminishes, we don’t plant much and water twice a day what we do grow. The winds are quite fierce, ideal for kite flying, this being a favorite sport around Easter. The days are getting longer, the temperature is slowly climbing, in another month the rainy season will start.

Renewal comes with the rains. It’s incredible how quickly and completely the lush green returns, we get busy with gardening, cruise ships stop coming, so we have our capital and our Grand Anse beach back to ourselves. Things slow down but we still find plenty to do.
That is the good news part. The not so good news is that the weather will turn hot and humid, the winds will diminish to nothing, we have fans going day and night (hubby and I don’t like air conditioning), the mosquitoes come back. We plant a lot of food we eat but are in a constant competition with the iguanas who are impervious to all means to discourage them. Those of us who are able, try  to leave the island for as long as we can. In our case, the wedding of our first grandchild, grandson Michael Pantelios is the reason for going back to Chicago, with a stop in Columbus, Ohio to spend a few days with granddaughter Tabitha and her boyfriend Montae.

We plan to be in Chicago until the end of July. While this is not long enough to avoid the worst of the summer misery, at least it shortens it. In the meantime, if we get too uncomfortable, we can go to any number of the wonderful beaches in Grenada.

A wise person said, “You have to be a friend to have a friend”. I’ve tried to live my
life with that in mind.

Friends make our life richer, make our burdens easier to carry, our joys multiplied by sharing. Though we know this, how many make the effort to reach out, to maintain contact throughout the changes of our life cycle? How easily we just let go of friendships by inertia, by trusting that they will be the ones to go the extra mile to keep reaching out to us.
​
Friendships, for me, have been especially important as I’ve lived in so many different places. They have helped me integrate into a new neighbourhood or a new country and sometimes they came about in unexpected ways. One of the best ones is the friendship with my neighbour in St. Osyth, a small town in Essex, in the UK. She came knocking on my door, holding an envelope, saying she thought it belonged to me. Turns out, we both had the surname Davies, and the mailman dropped my mail off with hers. She also happened to be German and as I had lived in Germany, we had some things in common.

It’s also important to recognize that not all friendships do or should endure. Deciding which ones to let go is hard, but critical. Some are lucky enough to have maintained friendships since childhood. That was not a possibility for me, as I left my native Hungary aged 15, never to return except for the occasional visit.

Two of my closest friends are still with me, through the many geographic meanderings, children, divorce, remarriage and now my retirement to Grenada. Both have visited Grenada and I see both when in Chicago. Technology has made it possible to communicate easily where before we had to rely on letter writing alone. Some  Chicago friends are still friends, though distance, in many cases has meant the close bonds have loosened somewhat.
 
When first settling in Grenada, I had one friend whom I saw only on my infrequent visits to Grenada for some 43 years. Yet, the friendship has endured and now we’re closer than ever. Other friendships have developed through my joining organizations and my habit of inviting people to meals whenever I found an occasion, never expecting a tit for tat invitation back. The friends who have become more than acquaintances, now form what I call my “A Team”. We get together frequently, share our challenges as we age, laugh together, support each other. I feel fortunate to have them in my life.

When I recently resigned my position as President of one of the organizations I belong to, my immediate thought was, “well, what other organization interests me and should I join it? Several came to mind but in discussing it with hubby and some friends, they all asked why I thought it was necessary to join another organization. 

That started me thinking and figuring out why it is that I feel I couldn’t just belong to and work with one organization. As I’ve always said that retirement is the best life stage as one can choose to do or not to do anything and everything, I figured if one thing was fun, two would be better. 

In a more serious vein, I know that the predominant theme of my adult life has been a commitment to give back to whatever community has welcomed me and Grenada is no different. Since I have the time and energy, why not do as much as I can. A noble sentiment but as hubby pointed out, I also maintain a household, do gardening, keep in touch with my grandchildren, my friends, make my own juices, condiments, bake bread and maintain an active social life.  Retirement suddenly becomes a whirlwind of too many activities.

Belonging to an organization is one thing; finding myself volunteering  to do a lot of things, that no one else seems to come forward to do, is something else. Before long, I’m busier than I was while working for a living. It follows that with a certain age comes less energy, so I often complain of being tired. 

Another area where I’ve been too accommodating is in making arrangements for everyone for our various social outings. “Why can’t they all make their own arrangements?” asks hubby. So now, when one of them asks if I had called, texted, etc. I just say “no, I thought you had already done it.” Hubby again, “why don’t you just say no more often?” good point, why? “Why can’t you sometimes buy ready-made stuff?” Another good question. 

So, I’ve had to sit back and re assess what I feel I need to commit to. Reluctantly, I’ve begun to say “no” while trying to not feel guilty. I wish I could say, the new approach is successful, but it goes in fits and starts. Still, I’ve embarked on a new way of living. No is not a dirty word anymore, just one that’s still a bit hard to say.

As you all know Christmas has been my favourite holiday ever since I was a small child. Each year I have gone all out to decorate, to bake, to send out a huge number of Christmas cards.
I have always maintained the tradition of my childhood, celebrating St. Nicholas Day on the 6th of December, having an Advent wreath, decorating the house but not putting up the tree until Christmas Eve and taking everything down on the 12th day of Christmas.

Since I have lived in different countries, I added a few touches to commemorate times spent in them. As the family grew, I made sure to pass the traditions down to my kids and grandkids. They all received Advent calendars well into their teens.

Three of my granddaughters and one grandson began helping me with the baking of favourite cakes and cookies and continued to do so until I retired to Grenada. When we left, the girls took over some of my recipe books.

When we settled in in Grenada, I asked a friend to get me a Christmas tree and ship it down here. Since we packed up and brought down all the ornaments and house decorations, the tradition continued here, including the baking. The latter needed some adjustments as the tropical climate is not kind to some of the cookies, baked with lots of butter.
 
When family came down to visit, all was as it had been in Chicago. But this year, the grinch showed up. 

We had a nightmare of a termite infestation, with a huge nest the size of a watermelon in the storage room. We had to remove everything from the shelves and floor in preparation for the exterminators. As we unpacked boxes, we discovered that the termites had gotten inside the boxes and destroyed 2/3rds of all our Christmas decorations. 

As St. Nicholas day drew near, I realized that what was left would barely allow us to decorate. With the realization came a decision to get rid of our 7-foot Christmas tree and the antique ornaments. The small tree we had left would suffice. As for baking, the only thing I managed to bake was the traditional Christmas fruit cake.

By now all Christmas spirit was gone. I just could not get into it, no matter how hard I tried. The only concession was baking a duck Hungarian style for our Christmas day dinner and taking down  a few of my Christmas dishes.

The one bright spot is that my big Christmas tree and the ornaments found a happy home with a dear friend. Bah humbug, next year has to be better. 

As I have for the past 9 years, since retiring to Grenada, I sent out the invitations for my annual American Thanksgiving dinner. About a week later, upon reflection, I realized that to pull off the dinner, was a virtual impossibility. There were just too many things needing my attention. Not least among them the fact that friends, a family of 5 were arriving the day before, a Grenada Green Group educational exhibit, of which I was in charge, happening 3 days before. No possible way to do a complete Thanksgiving dinner, so I reluctantly cancelled it.

My friends arrived and asked what we were doing for Thanksgiving. I told them I couldn’t do anything, no time. They suggested not to stress, we could go to a restaurant for a Thanksgiving dinner. I had to tell them that Grenada did not celebrate in the American tradition and we would not have the traditional meal in a restaurant. Friend Kate, ever helpful said, “no worries, we’ll help you prepare the   meal, let’s just buy the turkey”. Easier said than done. I have a source for fabulous local turkey, so I called the lady who had previously supplied me  with the turkey, apologized for yet again changing my mind and asked for a small bird. She graciously agreed to do so.

When the turkey arrived, I nearly fell over. She had sent me a 31lb TURKEY!!
We wrestled the beast home and then tried to figure out how to get it into the oven. No way was it going to fit, though my oven is large, nor could we have lifted it out, had it fit. We solved the problem by cutting off the back, the legs and thighs and the wings. We put the breast into one roasting bag, the legs and thighs into another and put the rest in the freezer.
 
My guests in the meantime had planned activities. The kids had to study, they needed to sleep in, one was not feeling well, so I did a simplified version of the whole dinner.
​
In the end, there were 8 of us. We had a wonderful, relaxed meal but now we will have to eat turkey for the next 2 years, to finish the beast. As the saying goes, “When you’re handed lemons, make lemonade”