Go West, Old Mom

And away we went--all three of us!

 

I’m not a fan of “solo travel.” By which I mean, going anywhere much by myself. I see pix of intrepid gals (of all ages) gleefully alone, bar-hopping through Egyptian pyramids, surfing in Venice’s famous canals, perched atop ancient Galapagos tortoises. Bully for them! Apparently, they enjoy their own company PLUS they don’t have a video titled “Horrible Outcomes” playing 24/7 in their heads. Alas, I am the polar opposite (I’m not wowed being with me; I always play the scary interior vid). 

 

So, when I hatched a plan to fly out (just me), to the West Coast (the “W.C.” as it’s called by the locals—unless I’m mistaken?) to visit Evan in Seattle, and attend the premiere of Sheridan’s new piano trio in Southern California, my excitement was matched by my dread. Dreaded the airports and the flights! Dreaded the shady Ubers I’d be taking here and there! Even knowing my sons would be with me most of the time, I still regretted not taking a traveling companion along. Someone to keep track of my I.D. and boarding passes, to distract me with chatter during take off, landing, and at 30,000 feet! 

 

Well, as it turned out, I was never really alone. 

 

A couple of weeks before my journey, the osteoarthritis in my left knee flared up. Shortly thereafter, I developed a large, painful cyst in the middle of my back. These two nasty ailments accompanied me everywhere I went. To give them their due, they did keep my mind off possible midair collisions and Uber driver/kidnappers. When you’re in such extreme discomfort, you don’t even notice that your 3-minute ride from hotel to concert hall cost almost $30 (oh that pricey W.C.!), and that there was no food offered, and only one appearance of a beverage cart, on a 6+ hour flight. 

 

But that “plus” aside, my medical issues were pretty dreadful travel companions. They were constant reminders that I will be navigating their like (and worse) pretty much from now on. I'm very blessed to have been spared serious illness and injury so far, but those days are numbered.

 

Meanwhile, pesky physical annoyances like bum knees have been cropping up more as I've aged in the past few years, and they seem more pronounced when I’m on the road. Was it only nine years ago that I climbed the endless flights of stairs inside the Arc du Triomphe in Paris?  

Nowadays it would be a “triomphe” to tackle even five or six STEPS. I was recently tempted to leave a negative review of Prague Castle on Tripadvisor: “Why is this at the top of such a steep hill?? No matter that the elevation was an effective defense in time of war! Very thoughtless of those 15^th century castle builders! Zero stars!"

 

I’m home now, after a (mostly) lovely trip. Next time, though, I won’t let my aches and pains tag along. “Art” and “Cys,” you guys are officially uninvited. Those kinds of travel buddies, I don’t need.

Steve at Dunnotar Castle, Stonehaven, Scotland (we knew enough not to attempt THAT climb!)

OK Ko

 

Japanese calendar with 72 (count 'em) microseasons

As we all know, there are four seasons: Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall. There are also several Four Seasons restaurants and Four Seasons hotels, movie and TV show. Can’t forget Four Seasons Total Landscaping in Northeast Philly, where rich and famous politicians go to mingle and hold weird press conferences. Even tots understand the way the year is split up, from snowman time to flower/shower time to beach time to goblin time. 

 

But there has to be another way to look at the passage of the year. A way that celebrates the multitude of natural changes each week or so brings, in a poetic manner. Well, leave it to the Japanese! It’s called kō, and it’s a unique traditional calendar featuring not just four, but a whopping 72 micro-seasons. Each season, lasting approx. five or six days, is named and claimed for a specific natural development during that part of the year. Here are a few examples:

 

February 9–13 黄鶯睍睆 Kōō kenkan su.  Bush warblers start singing in the mountains

April 30–May 4 牡丹華 Botan hana saku  Peonies bloom

July 12–16 蓮始開 Hasu hajimete hiraku First lotus blossoms

 

I LOVE this! Though I do wonder how precise these milestones are. I mean, if on October 18-22 “crickets chirp around the door,” well, whose door? Everyone’s? And are they silent as church mice--I mean, church crickets--on October 17 and 23? I envision an annual National Cricket Chirping Tally, as thousands of earnest Japanese naturalists and poets fan out from Tokyo to Kyoto, checking all the doors for signs of chirppage. That sounds a bit unrealistic to me. Better perhaps to amend it to: “a number of crickets chirp around some doors.” There we go! Much more accurate, and we’ve drained all the poetry out of it too!

 

If I had a chance to come up with a seasonal calendar, which way would I go? 

 

I could go the lazy way (always a fave way of mine) and have just two seasons: “Too hot” and “Too cold.”

 

Easy-peasy, but not very exciting.

 

Or we could increase the four to 24 seasons, to wit:

 

July 1-5 “Back to School!” and July 6-31 “Trick or Treat!”

December 1-23 “Send Christmas cards!” and December 24-31 “Nah, maybe next year.”

 

That sounds like a lot of work.

 

Maybe a happy medium…eight seasons, such as:

 

September through Mid-October: Pumpkin spice latte season

Mid-October through November: Jack O’Lantern spice latte and pie season

 

It’d be a boon to the folks who make those nylon flags your always-festive neighbors hoist, with snowflakes and autumn leaves on them. They’d have double their business, and keep the neighbors too busy hoisting and unhoisting to make snide comments about your drab, flagless home.

 

You know? I guess I don’t care that much about shaking up the system. Let our Japanese friends mark the ripening of the rice and the hiding of the rainbows. 

 

72 is a no- kō for me. I’ll stick with the Big Four after all. 

photo by Bagus Pangestu on Pexels

Mercy Buckets!

image by Christian Dorn on Pixabay

As a multi-language appreciator (as opposed to multi-language speaker), I am always fascinated to learn all the different international words that mean the same thing. You know: Hola! Ni Hao! Guten tag! Bonjour! (they all mean “excuse me, which way is the restroom?” of course).

Just kidding! (La Broma! La Blague! Lo Scerzo! Der Witz!)

 

Even more funner, are the idiosyncratic PHRASES for things like “good luck”…

 

In the mouth of a wolf (Italian) Good luck for the wolf, I guess?

Break a neck and a leg (German) Those German overachievers!

Fingers crossed (Swedish) Nice, positive wish

Fight! (Korean) A tad bit more AGGRESSIVE wish, no?

 

And here are some novel ways to convey gratitude:

 

May you have goodness (Irish Gaelic) Awww, such a sweet sentiment!

I feel heart (Taiwanese) Awww, even sweeter!

Stay healthy (Turkish) Is that thankfulness, or an instruction from your doctor?

May your hand not hurt (Persian) This one’s a little tepid—kinda like saying “Thanks for driving! Hope you don’t crash!”

 

The problem is, most countries do not suggest the fracture of multiple body parts when wishing someone good fortune. In most countries, that phrase might even be seen as a threat, something a crime boss might snarl. 

 

As the saying goes, “We are 185 countries divided by many different languages!” Or something to that effect. And that’s a shame!

 

We can do much better, peeps of the world! Wouldn’t it be swell to stub your toe and have your curses be the exact same curses that are screamed everywhere on the planet?

 

In the spirit of better global understanding, I have decided to invent some new phrases that EVERY land can use. None of this strange “avoir la peche!” or “"shinrin-yoku" for “I’m happy!” Is the pinnacle of joy in France REALLY being in possession of a peach?  “Avoir le croissant” makes tons more sense to me. And in Japan, the height of delight is—forest bathing? Given the crunchy leaves and twigs on the forest floor, I cast my vote for “big fancy tub bathing” instead.

 

Anyhoo, here are a few of my creations. Please use and share widely as you travel near and far!

 

Instead of saying “I’m sorry!” how about: 

“Why did you make me do that?” 

¿Por qué me hiciste hacer eso? (Spanish)

 зачем ты заставил меня это сделать? (Russian)

 

Instead of “You surprised me!” how about:

“Your jumping out from behind the sofa almost gave me a heart attack and made me ponder my mortality!” 

Ugonjwa Sugu wa Moyo, kuwaza kufa! (Swahili)

tumane mujhe dara diya door sophe ke peechhe (Hindi)

 

Instead of "Dinner was delicious!” How about:

“I’ve eaten more disgusting things!”

 ʻai mea ʻole 'ono hou aku!" (Hawaiian)

 ρώω γουρδισμένη τροφή! (Greek)

 

Instead of “Happy Retirement!” How about:

“Try not to be one of those annoying old people!” 

tǎoyàn de lǎorén, bùyào zhèyàng (Chinese)  

een irritante oude mens, wees niet zo (Dutch)

                                                                            

If there’s a prize for a monumental linguistic project like mine, I accept! Mercy buckets, y'all!

Divide and Slumber

 

 

 

"One Sleep, Two Sleep, Old Sleep, New Sleep/

Smooth Sleep, Rough Sleep, Never Get Enough Sleep "

(inspired by Dr. Seuss' masterpiece One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish)

 

Every now and again, sporadic history student (moi) stumbles upon a truly useful and enlightening nugget. For instance, didja know: leeches have actually been DIS-proven as medicinal aids? No need to keep saving those jars of bloodsuckers for your family doc!

 

Oh, wait, that’s pretty well established, isn’t it?

 

How about this?

 

Many of us find the goal of a “full night’s sleep” quite elusive. Oh, sure, we expect our newborns will awaken, shrieking, every two hours (I do that sometimes too!) But by and large, grown humans are tasked with a regular, nightly, seven-eight-hour, uninterrupted snooze-a-thon. If we don’t manage to attain this gold standard of sleepybye, it’s because we: watch TV, use our electronic devices, keep a hall light on, have a glass of wine or sugar cookie within four hours of bedtime, etc. Why didn’t we: use a sound machine? Regulate the room temperature? Meditate? Do gentle yoga? Drink warm milk? OUR FAULT, in other words. 

 

So, I’ve lived my three score and eight years feeling plenty darned responsible for all my wakeful nights. I picture every other adult on earth, with their nightcaps (not the alcoholic ones, the flannel kind!), snoring merrily away from 10 PM-6 AM. This image mocks my nocturnal struggles, and makes it even more likely that tomorrow my sleep pattern will be more broken than tonight's. 

 

Enter my useful/entertaining historical nugget.

 

In ages past, it was the NORM for people to sleep in two segments, cleverly labeled as “first” and “second” sleep. When darkness fell, candles would be snuffed out and folks would hit the hay (often, actual hay) for a few hours. At some point, they would awaken, and stay awakened for a while. During this interval, they would scroll through their iPhones and…no! wait! They would read a book, or knit, or even prepare a meal for the next day. They’d definitely visit the outhouse. What they wouldn’t do, was feel guilty. After a time, they’d toddle back to Dreamland for Slumber, Act II.

 

The original cause of this pattern harkens back to prehistoric times, when it was dangerous to sleep too deeply or too long, lest one become a saber-tooth tiger’s midnight snack. Much better to be fully awake when attacked by a saber-tooth tiger, no? At any rate, millennia passed, the lightbulb and The Johnny Carson Show were invented, and suddenly everyone stayed up through the evening, and then snoozed until the milkman arrived, clattering those glass bottles. 

 

Knowing that truth has set me free. No longer bound to my mattress, I feel totally justified whipping up a pie at 2 AM, or writing a chapter of my novel, or walking my dog (if I had one). Night is like a delicious sandwich, with dozy bread around a wakey filling! 

 

I’m writing this between sleeps, and I’m not ashamed to say it. History is on my side!