Looking and Learning

Traveling keeps me sharp, on my toes and exercises my curiosity muscle. My eyes are wide open, always looking and learning. Where’s the ferry? Where’s the train? How do I buy tickets? Where do I stand? Am I going in the correct direction? What’s the weather like this evening? Where can I swim? Where do I eat? How much does that cost? What’s that accent? Friend or foe?

Travel also makes me grateful for the every day well worn rituals of home. After the intense stimulation of the unknown, returning home is like laying on my back in Savasana and breathing in the moment.

Sao Paulo raw thoughts

I was in Sao Paulo, Brazil for a wedding a couple of years ago and jotted down some thoughts and impressions in Evernote. I shared the page with my brother in London who made a great point. He reminded me that keeping notes is essential. Our memories change so quickly, and it’s great to have a record like this, which is untainted by future experience. Future experience & hindsight is good, but don’t forget the original thoughts when they were raw

It’s a good habit when traveling.

Here are the notes if you are interested:

Flying in the outskirts of SP reminded me of a flood plain near a river mouth. The vast population of SP is a sea of people slowly creeping into every nook and cranny

People, traffic – High Energy!

Initial feel is very welcoming. Bit like Durban, Barcelona, BA or Cape Town

Beautiful people

Portuguese language dominates. English gets you nowhere

Have devolved into pigeon Spanish and hand signals while smiling

Motorbikes everywhere. Constantly hooting like little ducks

Taxi ride from airport GRU to hotel was R110. 1 hour ride to hotel with very heavy traffic. Urban planning is an afterthought

Every restaurant is jam packed. Lots of smoking in cars. No smoking allowed in restaurants

Everyone dressed in colored shirts, but conservative feel to the business world

Congonhas Airport is in the city. Planes fly low over the city every 10 minutes. Constant noise

Very international city. (Need a helicopter to get around.)

Ibirapuera park is beautiful – dogs, skateboards

Heading to Buzios now. beach town

Porcao – Rio meat restaurant that I’m going to try

View of SP from my hotel

Family holidays – Priceless moments

I’m off to my brother’s wedding in a couple of weeks. It will be the first time my immediate family has been together since 2006.  Getting together these days can get a bit pricey and off course means taking time off from the daily gig, but I never hesitate. Thinking about this made me reflect on our priceless family trips over the years.

A road trip in my family included piling four young kids and two parents into a Volkswagen microbus, and trekking off across the country. Sometimes it was a 2000-mile round trip to a National Park or a maybe it was a 100okm trip to Cape Town and back to pick up a new puppy. This was before the days of AirBnB or VRBO, so my folks would organize pit stops and accommodation along the way. Sometimes these stops were at family friends and sometimes they were in roadside hotels. Normally it was one room with all of us piled in, and sometimes it was two rooms with my sister and parents in one, and brothers and me in the other. If we were in the bush and I was sharing with my brothers then I’d go sleep with them telling me the hyenas had broken through the fence and I would be eaten first.

Most stops along the way involved unpacking the car, taking family pictures with my dad’s beloved Nikon and exploring our new accommodations. It was exciting winding down a dirt road towards a small dark farmhouse or checking into a hotel at 9pm at night. As a kid I had no concept of time or space other than the road ahead, dinner (probably sweet corn on toast) and which bed I’d be sleeping in that night. Picking beds with older brothers involved my mother’s intervention once the younger brother (me) was told his bed was the mattress on the floor next to the door.

A highlight on these road trips was sitting up front with my dad in the passenger driver seat, wearing the seatbelt while studiously paging through a well used road atlas. My father had a rule – you had to be a certain height before you could sit up front so that the seat belt would cross your chest and not your neck when you were sitting upright.

A couple of times the car would overheat and we’d limp into a small Karoo town garage in the middle of nowhere. Remember this was before cell phones, so if we broke down on the road then we flagged someone down for help. A roadside stop for us would mean target practice with my older brothers, by throwing stones at anything that looked like a target, irritating my little sister or just waiting around watching cars go by. I never doubted for a second it was a permanent breakdown…sooner or later we piled back into the car and moved on to the next adventure. Only now do I appreciate how my parents must have stressed about getting the car fixed, the delayed schedule, keeping us fed and occupied…remember no cell phone to contact the hosts awaiting your arrival.

As a family we still laugh about these trips. Whether it was Yosemite when we got lost in back country trying to find the Hetch Hetchy valley or finding a cockroach in a bowl of soup in a small back country hotel in Pilgrems Rest. Most of the time it was the unplanned events along the way that keep us laughing.

I remember a return trip from a National Park and setting up “camp” in a small town in the middle of nowhere. We were all piled into one room and it was so cold we all put multiple layers of clothes on and slept next to each other to warm up. I don’t know what my parents were thinking but I was having the time of my life…it was so exciting. We were freezing cold but everyone was laughing and trying to keep warm. My mom told me later they woke us up at 4am and left because the car was warmer. We were all still wearing 3 or 4 layers of clothing and headed to the gas station to fill up with petrol. At the pump next to us there was a farmer filling up his truck…and he was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. We still talk about that cold morning and laugh about the “farmer at the gas station”.

These memories are the glue that binds my family together. It’s the small moments we still laugh about years later.

Looking back I think my parents were probably a little nuts and naive to pile 4 kids into a microbus and drive across the country, but I’m glad they were and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

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