An acquaintance of mine writes a blog about travel mishaps with reference to what she calls the ‘Travel Gods’. 
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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.

“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.

Big cities are my thing. I was born in one and have lived most of my life in big cities, that is until almost ten years ago when we decided to retire to the small island of Grenada.
Still, our annual trips back to Chicago always felt like coming home, until it did not. I do not recall exactly when the change occurred but at one point, Chicago no longer felt like home, though still familiar and beloved.

I had occasion to spend a week on Miami Beach recently and the experience was not what I expected. The last time I visited was some years ago and though I knew that Miami had grown, I was not prepared for the shock I received on being there. Everything suddenly felt overwhelming. The eight lane highways, the density of the towering high rises –skyscrapers seems an apt name, the noise, the frenzy of traffic, people all come tumbling down on the unsuspecting.

Though Miami Beach is only a strip of land it is no less overwhelming. There is the size of the stores. Every single drug store, or pharmacy, as we call them in Grenada, could fit into one Walgreens or CVS. Same for clothing stores, shoe stores and supermarkets, etc. One is suddenly walking miles to find an item.

Restaurants are another size issue, not only the space but the size of the portions. Our friend explained that people like to take leftovers for another meal, but what about us hotel guests visiting for just a few days? 

There are few quiet hours here. As soon as the traffic, the tourists, the bars stop, the street cleaners and garbage collectors start. After five days, I was ready to go home to my little island. I missed my nightly concert of crickets and whistling frogs, I longed for the stillness of the nights and early mornings, the slow pace.

An island wraps its arms around you and holds you, the ocean soothes you, the slow pace allows you to be observant, to enjoy the beauty, the friends, all close by, the animals, all that surrounds you.

While big cities have an energy, a drive I can still enjoy, without question, I have become an island girl.

I did not see an ocean or sea until the summer before my 17th birthday. It was not an auspicious introduction.
We had boarded the MS. Berlin, a passenger liner which had regularly ferried people between the Old World and the New. Though by today’s standards she would be subpar, for 1958, she was luxurious.  Once all luggage was stowed, cabin assignments sorted out, on board rules & regulations explained, drawings of the various parts of the ship, stores, eating facilities, library, bars, swimming pool, etc, I immediately went below to our cabin & lay down. I don’t now remember where the rest of my family members were, but I was the only one in our cabin. After about 15 minutes, a knock came & one of the ship’s officers told me to get up & get on deck, no matter how terrible I felt. He assured me that if I did not do this, I would spend the rest of the crossing in my bed. I heeded his advice & the scene on deck was not pretty. Many were leaning over the railing, doing what my mother called “feeding the fish”.

However, the officer turned out to be right & the nausea slowly subsided & as the clouds cleared & the sky brightened, I felt much better. I could now marvel at the vastness of the sea, the gulls that followed us, the hum of the engines & all was well with the world.

The passage took 12 days with a stop in Halifax, Nova Scotia. On-board life was wonderful, with any number of activities, shuffle board, swimming, dancing at night, lounging in the cool sun on deck chairs, with drinks being served by stewards.

​There was one other storm to weather but by then I had my sea legs & could only be amused by the storm’s effect. I was swimming & suddenly all the water sloshed out of the pool, overflowing the surrounding tiles & I was on my stomach in an empty pool.

​The arrival in New York was suitably impressive with Lady Liberty on guard.

We settled in Chicago & it was another 7 years before I saw the sea again. For my second encounter it was the Pacific Ocean in Acapulco, Mexico where a friend & I had gone on vacation. This sea was magnificent with deep colors, a white, sand beach & a great variety of sea birds to watch. Swimming was so easy, the salt water so much more buoyant, the water warm, compared to Lake Michigan waters. I couldn’t get enough of it.

The next year, another friend & I went to Mexico again, this time to Puerto Vallarta, which then was just a sleepy village with 2 hotels. By now I was truly in love with the sea.

  Two years after this trip, in 1968, I went on a Windjammer cruise to the West Indies & saw the Atlantic as well as the Caribbean Sea. It was pure magic, with snorkeling over pristine coral reefs, lazing on powdery white beaches & I was hooked for life.
In 1971 I returned to the West Indies, where my then husband & I ran a large sailing passenger boat for 8 months until it  was sold.
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Our cruises went from the south, the Grenada Grenadines to north, the St. Vincent Grenadines. The seas were kind, the colors magnificent. My crew worked hard to allow me the most time to swim & snorkel, we had lobster every week, life was grand. While negotiations were going on to sell the boat, we were anchored in Trinidad, the Gulf of Paria, with Venezuela visible on clear days. After she was sold, we went to England & I met a very different sea. The North Sea is dramatic, restless, cold, temperamental but awe inspiring to watch. Swimming was a shock to me after the warm waters of Mexico & the West Indies, but that was not the only North Sea experience. My then husband & I bought a coasting freighter to carry general cargo to the Scandinavian countries, Poland, Holland, Belgium & England. We did this for the better part of 9 months.

​The North Sea demands great respect. It can be the roughest, most frightening monster or it can be a marvel of nature, from pancake ice in the Norwegian Fjords to the placid green of the open stretches to the northern lights. When rough, you just hope to either die on the spot or pray for stepping ashore the soonest possible. I remember one particularly bad storm, sitting in my cabin, watching through the port hole, the violent peaks and valleys created by the powerful waves; the pitching of our vessel, making a mockery of the horizon line.  And yet, I loved this awesome sea.

And so, in 2013, we retired & chose Grenada as our permanent home. I now look out at the Caribbean Sea from my house. She is placid, but never the same on any given day. I sit & watch her moods through all seasons & she soothes my soul. Several times a week I go swimming. The water carries me, caresses me, restores me. The beach is ideal for a long walk, people watching, watching boats of all kinds come & go. I look at the tourists & think, they pay thousands of dollars for this & it’s mine any day of the week. I never lose sight of the fact that I’m very fortunate. The sea is my restorative medicine; my friend for the rest of my life.

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