Ramblings from a Traveler
On the way,
To Barcelona.
Leaving our house,
For Peter and Mona.
Four Continents,
In thirty days.
Eight Ports,
But short stays.
Dress slacks for dining,
Were required each night.
But with only one pair,
I packed a bit light.
We land in Buenos Aires,
St. Pat’s Day Parade.
But missed all the parties,
As jet lag made us fade.
After heart surgery,
Can’t carry a bag.
Plus, my pace,
Tends to lag.
Carnaval Show,
In Montevideo.
And when at sea,
On walks we’d go.
Rio de Janeiro rain,
Pancho Giant Jesus?
Luz does her best,
To try and please us.
Hot and muggy,
Bad tour of Recife.
Lost our guide,
Kind of a relief,
Equator crossing,
Kiss the fish.
Sky full of stars,
Make a wish.
This Viking journey,
With Cindy and Pat.
With all this food.
We’re sure to get fat.
Double Cappuccinos,
Unlimited wine.
A glutton’s delight,
All “Mine Mine Mine!”
Pat had a birthday,
Another wine toast.
As we were approaching,
The African Coast.
Caprese and Gelato,
Almost every night.
But the other courses,
Made my pants get tight.
Five full days at sea,
I tried to keep my steps up.
But devoured those bone-ins,
One too many pudding cup!
Through Good Friday,
Another deck lap.
Afternoon bridge,
While I took my nap.
Paolo’s covers,
The Viking band.
Piano Tim, Jakub’s bow,
When no place to land.
Explorers’ Dome,
3-D and cocktails.
Movie Popcorn,
Talks about whales.
Sao Vincente bus,
Cobblestone roads.
Snake to the top
For a shot of Ponch.
Easter Sunday,
April Fools jokes.
Chocolate bunnies,
But sugar-free Cokes.
Casablanca docking.
Classic movie words.
Boobies everywhere,
Too bad they were birds.
Losing my debit card,
I guess I’m one, too,
A visit to the doc,
And scaring you.
Rock of Gibraltar,
In the midst of the night.
All that I saw,
Was a flashing light.
Next stop Malaga,
Picasso’s birthplace.
And as a young boy,
Sketched his first face.
An overcast Barcelona,
But still quite unique.
Sagrada Familia church,
With peak after peak.
Gaudi is gaudy,
Kings too haughty.
Cathedrals lawdy.
Flamenco naughty.
The time kept on changing,
Our clocks never right.
A mall fills the arena,
Where bulls once did fight.
Never enough Euro,
To pay the fee to pee.
And there was no water,
Though right on the sea.
All of the fountains,
Were bone dry.
So there was little urge,
When I strolled by.
Hop to Mallorca,
For an extended stay.
Dozed by the pool,
While spring breakers play!
Placemats and magnets,
The shopping goals.
Our Son Antem villa,
Amidst eighteen holes.
Needed Fire Starter,
For burgers on the grill.
Denise made the meals,
With master skills.
We rent a Bimmer,
Parking a bummer.
The tormenter turns,
A knuckle numb-er.
No annoying horns,
But cyclists everywhere.
Not good at sharing,
Pass if you dare.
Narrow parking rows,
Mediterranean views.
Dancing Panda,
Shops full of shoes.
We hopped on,
But off -not too much.
Except when we,
Were hungry for lunch.
Port de Pollenca,
Miles of blue.
Romantic Lunch
Just us two.
We met our British friends,
On a Plaza to dine.
Dinner was affordable,
But not the parking fine..
Two trips to the airport
Six bags plus carry-ons.
Bolduman donuts,
Early morning yawns.
Tour Barcelona,
Renaissance night.
Spanish paella,
Six movie flight.
Home at last,
Back in our bed.
To travel again,
We need more bread.
Copyright 2024 johnstonwrites.com
It takes about a mile into my morning walks to work out the stiffness in my left leg. In many ways, it’s like a cramp or charley horse that needs to be worked out. I lean against some of the light poles along the path through our neighborhood, heels flat on the ground, and extend my legs into a hamstring stretch, arching my back to relieve some of pressure on my spine. Massage to my lower back also seems to help, but it remains an uncomfortable experience.
Laying flat on my back with the back of my head touching the floor or flattening my spine against the wall will hopefully help my posture. I tend to stoop when I stand or walk, so I need to stay conscious about being erect, forcing me shoulders back. The posture issue is causing the discomfort in my lower back and leg muscles, mildly atrophied during my recent hospital stay.
Sitting upright and erect are also key, since I now spend more time lounging than standing. Chin up…head back…shoulders straight is my goal, even though my chest aches from the incision scars and my neck is sore from lack of exercise. I need to make more progress. It will be eight weeks in a few days.
Jax, Tally’s schnauzer boyfriend, was there to greet her for this morning’s reunion at Schnauzerville. She should be content in the four weeks we’re gone on this trip. It’s her home away from home.
My precocious five-year-old granddaughter got a huge kick about “flying” over the seven Venetian-like bridges in the passenger seat of our golf cart. Although I’ve curbed the speed a bit after surgery, it was still a thrilling rollercoaster ride over the alligator infested canals that wind throughout our Islandwalk Community. She enjoyed a frozen strawberry popsicle to celebrate, draped in a towel to prevent any stains on her pretty dress with heart shapes. She was winning mine today, now that it’s repaired.
We were in-flight overnight from Atlanta to Buenos Aires, arriving on festive St. Patrick’s Day. The flight was uneventful. My wife slept most of the way so I devoured her two meals and watched “Ferrari,” “The Hunger Games” prequel, and “Everest,” a climbing documentary. We arrived at 9am, getting back the hour just lost from springing forward.
We met up with our once Decatur neighbors on the boat, who arrived from their retirement home of Marana, AZ via Miami. We had to go north illogically from Tampa through Atlanta to travel South across the equator on Delta Airlines. An old friend is staying at our house after, driving us the two hours to the airport to avoid a month of parking fees. In mid-April, a neighbor friend will pick us up in Tampa and drive us home.
I discovered through Facebook that a high school classmate was disembarking the ship just as we were getting on. We were so close to reconnecting in person but will have to settle on messages, posts, and e-mails to exchange pictures as we go our separate ways again. So close – so far, Janey! There is a 55th Elkhart High School reunion in early September, but I’m unable to attend. I’ve yet to learn her plans.
Continued…
It’s Christmas 2023, while fifteen years earlier (December 29, 2008) I was contemplating the start of a running streak that was originally planned for New Year’s Day. We flew into Indy from Austin, drove on icy roads to Elkhart to see my folks and had Christmas dinner at my wife’s sister’s home at Geist. We then traveled to Decatur to check on our unsold house and went to Bloomington to watch I.U. basketball lose in embarrassing fashion to unheralded Lipscomb. These were the days when Christmas was an absolute hassle, trying to spread our time between friends and family in three different states and four or five different cities. The bigger nightmare, however, was finding the Decatur home flooded from a broken pipe. I think I started my running streak a few days early to help deal with the stress of all this. I haven’t missed a Christmas morning jog since, still running away from my problems.
This year’s Christmas was easy. Brunch at a neighbor’s and dinner with family at home. It rained during my morning run, but it was my son who was rushing with the kids from place to place instead of me. It’s, in fact, the very first time that my son, his wife, and the grandkids have been with me in our home on Christmas Day – a monumental occasion! I’ll get to see the look on my five-year-old granddaughter’s face when she beholds the Barbie Dreamhouse that I assembled in our garage.
Earlier today, my wife opened her traditional Limoges box gift, a memory from our visit to King Tut’s tomb. I enclosed the following poem:
These Moments We Share
We’ve seen the world,
And Buddha’s butt.
And visited the tomb,
Of pharaoh King Tut.
Our first might have been,
The Twin Towers on high.
The lights of Times Square,
And fireworks in the sky.
We’ve cruised the Nile,
Stayed in an overwater hut.
And at luxury resorts,
Shaded by the coconut.
We’ve heard prayers in mosques,
Synagogues and Churches.
And stood atop,
Some precarious perches.
Rocamadour comes to mind,
Or a rollercoaster ride.
I’m always much braver.
With you at my side.
Even at sunset,
It’s always proven true.
There is no better view,
Then looking at you.
We’ve been to the Pyramids,
Admired the Sphinx.
Stood in Monet’s Garden.
And by the statue that Thinks.
The Beatles and Big Ben,
Bourbon Street pubs.
Michelin Stars,
Vacation Clubs.
Nantucket to Napa,
Hood to Coast.
Key West to Mackinaw,
All Bucket stops we boast.
Coronado Island,
Caribbean getaways.
Hall of Fame museums,
San Francisco Bay.
Traveled on cruise ships,
Flown in First Class.
Marveled at Glaciers.
And Chihuly glass.
Normandy’s white crosses,
Or atop the Eiffel Tower.
A slow Positano ferry ride,
To fast Hydroplane power.
Castles and Temples,
Too many to mention.
Or Palace Guards,
Standing at attention.
A Maui Luau,
Huatulco waves.
Mountains and Oceans,
Crypts and Caves.
From Route 66,
To the Champs-Elysées.
I sometimes take the wheel,
But you always point the way.
Amsterdam and Rome,
Santorini blue domes.
Overall, in five states,
We’ve owned homes.
Petra and the Dead Sea,
Night Life on the Strip.
Our Bellagio Wedding,
It’s been quite a trip!
Planes, Trains, and Auto,
Ubers, Taxis, and bikes.
Despite my reluctance,
Even cliff-nics and hikes.
Stonehenge seemed tiny,
After all that we’ve done.
And soon we’ll be basking,
In the Mallorca sun.
But the best place of all,
Is in your arms.
Beholding your beauty,
Admiring your charms.
All would be meaningless,
If you weren’t there.
To hold me hand,
In these moments we share.
Christmas 2023
Copyright 2023 johnstonwrites.com
Sorry about all the formatting issues.
I honestly didn’t do much travel in my first marriage, except business trips to Chicago, New York, Atlanta, Philadelphia, and Boston until Marcia’s company arranged award travel to London, Hong Kong/China, Greenbriar, and The Breakers. As we were trying to raise a family, it was too expensive to see the world. However, as we settled into our careers, we were soon anxiously hooked on adventure, and prior to these international excursions, her friend Karen coaxed us for the first time abroad to experience regions like Tuscany and Burgandy. With Oregon friends we tackled Rome and the Amalfi Coast.
Being in the media business and doing promotional work took me to some out-of-the-way places. For example, we organized some day trips for listeners out of Indy to the Bahamas (hot) and Stowe (cold) on ATA. Viewer ski trips took me to Breckenridge two years straight. In addition, our friends Tim & Irene suggested Isla Mujeres for a taste of rural Mexico, and we ventured to Las Vegas many times through the years, especially after our son left home. We did take him there for his birthday one year. I remember visiting some of her distant family in Arkansas and a night at Hot Springs, numerous ski junkets including Big Sky in Montana, touring Washington DC, and staying closer to home with weekends in Ann Arbor, Louisville, Cedar Point, Brown County, and Chicago. We fell in love at Mardi Gras and out of it in Honolulu during our 25th wedding anniversary. As a side note, we did take the sheets and blankets from our hotel room, trying to keep warm while waiting for the sun to rise on Oahu’s Haleakala. I wanted to bike down – she didn’t.
In the second marriage, we were constantly on the fly and dined at many famous chef restaurants. Conventions and business meetings in NYC were common along with frequent dealings in Chicago, Detroit, Cape Cod, Las Vegas, New Orleans, Dallas, Houston, Providence, Buffalo, Boston, Orlando, Los Angeles, Honolulu, Atlanta, the Big Island, and even Dayton. Vacations included Saint Lucia, Napa, San Francisco, Barbados/Jamaica, Dominican Republic, a Carnival cruise to Cozumel, and career moves to TV stations in Austin and Portland, following stints in Lafayette and Central Illinois. European stops were Paris, Rome, Positano, Cannes, Montpelier (where a daughter studied), Sorento, and Capri.
Retirement meant the means of traveling more luxuriously and for longer periods of time. Viking Ocean and River Cruises became the staple with voyages to Normandy, Venice, Croatia, Santorini, Athens, Amsterdam, Vancouver, Alaska, Hawaii, and soon to come, a cross-Atlantic tour of South America, Africa (Casablanca), Gibraltar, and Spain/Mallorca. Marriott Vacation Clubs and Hotels took us to Wailea, Kauai, NYC, Washington D.C., Phoenix, Palm Springs, Tucson, Napa Valley, Las Vegas, Alabama, Orlando, Hilton Head, Cleveland, Nashville, Indianapolis, Austin, Miami Beach, Marco Island, Amelia Island, St. Augustine, Atlanta, The Keys, and many “points” in between. Long drives to Florida, Glacier National Park, Marfa, Walla Walla, and Mackinaw Island’s Grand Hotel, along with Hall of Fame Tours filled in the gaps.
Movies keep us entertained when we’re hungry to get away from it all but don’t have the means or time. I don’t typically like to watch movies for the second time even though I never remember what happened the first time. Of late, travel documentaries have become more important in determining where to go next, plus the thrill of seeing the places on the big screen we’ve been to through the years. It always brings back great memories.
With the world at our fingertips, I think back to childhood when all I knew was the neighborhood around me. We did some family trips to Florida, Yellowstone, the Black Hills, and Upper Michigan, but I had no idea how vast the world was or how much I needed to learn. As I learned to speak, there were odd phrases that I picked up from my parents that were mostly adaptions of “dirty,” profane, or cuss words. My Presbyterian Church upbringing made these words unmentionable, even in private conversation. I’ve since learned to cuss like a champion. They were often words you could switch to after the first syllable came tumbling out of your mouth or silly terms used instead of swearing:
“Go…sh da…rn, Holy Cow, Da…rn it, Pee-pee, Da…ng it, Jee…z, Sh…oot, Cr…ud, Tinkle Dance, Hamburger, He…ck, Fu…dge, Bottom, Cr…ap.
Writing stories like this gives me peace of mind. It’s a reminder of how far I’ve come in life. Like everyone else, my life is unique. It’s rewarding to recap all the places I’ve been and the related experiences. It feels good to get this all on paper before I’m gone someday. Hopefully, the grandkids and their children, if they read this, will see the world through my eyes as I try to recap my childhood, career, marriages, and adventures through these spontaneous trivial tidbits.