A Moment Like Those

Two weeks go by, the blog remains dormant. At home, at work, I attempt to recover. Initially the jet lag wore off, but a week after returning, I still found myself unable to stay awake past 9 pm, so I listened to my body. I slept when I needed rest, even when it felt indulgent. I took the time I needed to regain my footing and adjust to my schedule.

Now I’m back, clinging to memories and images of my trip. I treasure what I experienced, and holding tight to the sights, sounds and smells of my adventure through Ireland makes me happy.

I can think of no other way to see the country than by driving straight through it. Logging hundreds of miles in a rental car, jamming through the lush countryside, discovering how difficult it is to drive on the other side of the road, I saw more of the country than I ever expected. (And to learn about those motor vehicle cultural differences was a trip itself!)

During the road-tripping, I stopped at a Saturday morning farmer’s market, where locals sold their goods and merchandise. I admired the happy go lucky people and how they shrugged off their country’s mercurial weather with simple logic: “It’s I-rrreland!”

After talking about their simple, happy lives and happy, home fed animals, I envied these people and their simplistic values and lifestyles. “How I wish mine could be more like yours,” I thought.

Another view from the ground was seeing rows and rows of empty houses, just like what can be seen across the USA. To realize the housing meltdown far exceeds the boundaries of California was a sobering moment. How many Irish dreams were broken by the international meltdown? Hundreds, thousands, a lot.

Traveling that far of a distance for that short of time was truly a whirlwind, but as I stood on the edge of the Cliffs of Moher, with the Atlantic Ocean blowing in my face, I forgot about the miles logged, and I melted into the moment.

Struck by the natural beauty of the cliffs, while standing in the wind with thousands of birds flying below, I bowed to their greatness, strength, beauty and legacy.

Humbled by the size of what I stood before, I took time to recognize something I have never seen before in my life.

I’ve been to the Redwood Forest, camped at Lake Powell and flown over the Grand Canyon, but I haven’t stood before such a great natural wonder of the world.

Standing before something so grand, beautiful and natural, truly a landscape for everyone to witness at least once in your life time, is a moment I will remember for years to come. Probably forever.

Re-entry

The flight attendant’s voice came over the loud speaker, announcing our descent into Los Angeles. I took out my earphones, put away my laptop and opened my window shade. With LAX in the distance and the downtown skyline to my right, I peered over the great Los Angeles basin.

Quickly my attention turned to the white haze blanketing the city. The fog, smog, haze or clouds (call it whatever you like) became thicker with each passing mile, and the closer we came to landing, the worse it thickened.

I’m certain I’m not the only person disturbed by the air quality seen from 20,000 feet above, but coming face to face with this environmental reality is never easy.

In fact, this mass of pollution is something I see every time I return to California. But after spending a week in a country known for its lush countrysides, green pastures, and blue skies, the “white balance” hanging over LA was more apparent than ever.

The reaction I received the last time I re-entered the United States (Read about it: HERE) made me think twice about how I perceive my home country when returning from being abroad. With this in mind, I did my best to tuck away negativity, even if it was starring at me in the face!

So after the taxi dropped me outside my home, I walked up my pathway and began the process of decompressing and re-entering my life at home.

I immediately found myself relieved to have familiar food to eat, so over a dinner of veggie enchiladas, I took out my laptop and began to sifting through photographs. 

Feeling bittersweet about returning so soon (and not wanting to forget my favorite images), I relived special moments and tried to remain close to the sounds, smells and feelings of the Emerald Isle. Remembering the air being fresh and clean, the sky blue as can be, the green grass blowing in the breeze.

I recounted not only my Irish countryside adventure, but also the many other international experiences stamped in my passport. Thumbing through my little blue book, I felt proud of myself, as it became clear to me that traveling the globe is what I value most in life.

To know I’ve seen cities around the world and experienced countless cultures is more important to me than having money or material possessions. This is a particular sense of accomplishment I feel – a feeling as though I’ve checked off something from my life “TO DO” list. And with each country visited, another mark in my book of life.

People value what they do in all different shapes and forms, and this is how I value mine.

From Coast to Coast

Located on Ireland’s western coast, the Cliffs of Moher are known for their awe-inspiring look out points and spectacular views of the Atlantic Ocean. (Some even say that on a clear day, you can see forever!)

Recommended by several readers of The Written Road, I decided the Cliffs was one attraction I must visit before departing for home. The Cliffs are the number one tourist attraction in Ireland, so I anticipated they must be something special … however nothing could prepare me for what I experienced once I arrived.

To cap of my trip with a visit to the Cliffs is the only way I can image saying goodbye to this beautiful and wonderful country. Today I return to my own western coast where I will draw upon the magic of Moher (and many other moments from this lucky place) for years to come.

Church and State

Earlier today, as I made my way west towards Galway, I stepped inside some local churches and quietly observed the local god-fearing folk. Some audibly whispered their prayers, while others sat quietly among the benches and knelt before the altars.

A nation united (and divided) by religion, churches stand proudly in every city, town and village, like this massive structure in Kilkenny.

Before I jumped in my car and made my way back to the highway, I noticed the sun poking out from behind the clouds.

As if it was speaking to those below, I thought, “Maybe someone’s prayers were answered.”

Country Mouse

After two days in Dublin, I arrived in Mount Juliet ready for a relaxing evening, away from the hustle and bustle of the country’s capitol city. With the estate’s winding road being a final push to the finish line (after being in a confined space far longer than my normal day’s quota), I stepped out of the car with great relief that our road trip was over. For that day at least!

Though the drive took nearly 4 hours, the country side of Ireland is what everyone images this great place to be: lush, green, rolling and beautiful. A few hours in this scenery and my mind was set a drift on memory bliss.

The weather has improved since I first arrived, but these wet, damp conditions lend to the atmosphere and charm of this beautiful place.

Today I travel north to the western side of the country to a city called Galway. A night in this youthful town and then back to Dublin for my final evening.

May Showers

A few hours after my arrival in Dublin, I was greeted by the local weather – seasonal rain showers.

Not lasting long, the raining, windy conditions didn’t seem to bother anyone, as most Dubliners continued on their way, doing business as usual. I, on the other hand, ducked for cover under every doorway and awning I found. (One of the items I failed to pack? An umbrella!)

I imagine these showers are the main reason the city smells so fresh. They rinse the streets, nourish the greenery, and keep the air free of pollutants.

“How I wish it rained more in Los Angeles,” I said. “Everything would be happier.”

a mother’s touch

On Sunday my family united at an old, favorite restaurant, Spaghetti Eddie’s. A place I have frequented since I was a young boy, “Eddie’s” serves classic American Italian food which to me always tastes comforting. The restaurant is located in the Mayflower Shopping Center in Glendora, CA and is adjacent to where my grandmother and grandfather’s jewelry shop, Mayflower Jewelers, stood for twenty plus years.

My grandparents arrived to this shopping center long before the Eddie was even born, but their jewelry store closed shortly after my grandma passed away. No longer Mayflower Jewelers, the place which once served as my second home has been transformed into a nail salon, a fast food joint, and now a taco stand.

I grew up watching my grandparents interact with their customers, admiring how they ran their business. They wrote all receipts by hand, knew everyone on a first name basis, and organized their showcases with pride. I loved being in the store not only to be close to my family but also so I could run across the parking lot for a tasty slice of pepperoni pie.

For countless reasons, Mayflower Shopping Center is a memory minefield. Even still my family can’t help but stop in for a Sunday meal every once and again.

So on this particular day, a day to celebrate all mothers, my family navigated around are emotions and celebrated our relationships. Feasting on a Sunday brunch and buffet, we took turns talking about the going ons in our lives. Sharing, listening, and caring.

I spoke about having a new dog in my life and how that very morning she carried in a dead squirrel from the yard. Not the sounds of her smacking nor licking her chops could lift me from my slumber, and it was much to my surprise when I crossed through the living room to see her standing over the carcass!

My brother and my mom shared stories of their own, too. And whether we agree on the issues at hand, I value having my family’s blessing and having them hear the stories about my life. I like them to be apart of my story as much as I am apart of theirs. 

After brunch, as we lingered in the parking lot, we stood before the window of the old jewelry shop and looked inside the window of the new business. I took a moment to remember what it felt like to be a young child in that environment. Everything feeling big and large – the world a giant place with no boundaries and infinite possibilities. Now the world seems smaller, as things changed, life happened, and we gained perspective.

With a long embrace, we said our goodbyes. My mother wished me well on my trip to Ireland, excited for my adventure and eager to hear about what the country is like. Being this was the last time we were to see each other before I return, we held our hug for a moment.

I’ve always been drawn to my mother’s touch, to feel her hands on mine. It connects me to the pulse of my life, to where I came from and to where I belong.

Lucky Me

The countdown begins.

Two weeks from today I will be half way around the world. Far away from what I know, everything will be different and everything will be new. Away from the hum-drum of my daily routine, my senses will be ignited with the sounds, scents, tastes, sights and feelings of a culture I’ve never experienced. My soul will overflow with passion and excitement for a new place to explore.

Ireland … Here I come!

Before I pack my bags, though, I must begin my preparation. For me, I like to imagine what the cities will look like, what the culture will feel like, and how the country will welcome me when I arrive. To visualize my trip before I physically arrive. I like to ask friends and family (and you!) for recommendations about interesting sights to see, delicious dishes to devour, and local treasures off the everyday path.

Today I wonder if all the Shamrocks will be four leafed? And if leprechauns will leap behind pots of gold at the ends of colorful rainbows and greet me at the airport? If locals will be bursting from the pubs shouting incoherent chants? (Something tells me, this folklore is not what I should be expecting.)

This trip marks my first international adventure since 2007 – ever since returning from the Czech Republic, my desire to go abroad has been an itch I couldn’t scratch. However, since The Written Road began one year ago, I have traveled only within the United States. Visiting places where the language barrier isn’t tested and to cities where the food tastes familiar.

In those adventures, I learned how traveling can be a state of mind and how searching for fresh and new experiences in your local neighborhood can be just as satisfying as exploring a distant land.

My intention behind this blog was to create a space for me to share my traveling experiences – and I always imagined the blogging experiences to be strictly international. My desire to discover a different way of life by traveling other countries is paramount to traveling inside of the US and engaging with fellow Americans. There is a rush when arriving in a foreign land, one that aligns me with a deeper purpose and fulfills my life with meaning.

People who travel can return to their home base and see their daily experiences differently; the well traveled understand that their way is not the only way.

Shaved

Seven weeks of growth sat on top of my head. A bit longer than an inch, my hair resembled a patch of messy carpet. With no time to groom, I watched my dark brown stubble grow longer and longer everyday. Somehow I made it through the short awkward phase (a phase where I can’t mat it down or prop it up) and then one day last week I made peace with the process and committed to growing it out.

Not having long hair since 2007, I thought it would be a fun experiment to try something new and see if it changed the shape of my face. “Why not?” I reasoned. “Styling and using product can be a fun way to start the day,” I thought.

As you might imagine, this internal debate has been a source of stress for me ever since I was a young boy. (Keep it short or grow it long… that is the question!) It began when I was in fourth grade when I began wearing my hair slicked to one side, completely immovable. Each morning I obsessed over my part, the loose “fly aways”, and my front bangs. As if preparing for a Vidal Sassoon hair show, I spent hours getting it just right. Rock hard from gel, my hair wouldn’t move even in the midst of a category five tornado. So stiff and so shaped, my hair only became disheveled when submerged in hot water. It was fierce! (I even daydreamed of having a personalized license plate reading: STFHAIR)

In the last three years, I lost this life long obsession to attain perfectly groomed locks. Now, like a snake, I prefer to shed what I don’t need: my skin, hair, nails, clothes, weight … anything excessive, and I don’t want it. Long hair falls into this category, something I don’t need to feel like myself, so every few weeks I get it buzzed. I like it extremely short. But because I haven’t had time for any upkeep, I thought growing out my hair would be a good exercise in patience.

Yesterday, however, I hit a breaking point. A quick glance in a mirror revealed my worst nightmare: really bad hair.  With my afternoon free, I drove to the nearest barbershop and asked for the first appointment. Soon a female hairdresser, the person who would eventually rid me of my misery, called my name and sat me in her chair.

Before she whipped out the clippers and did her duty, we joked about my options. I considered keeping it long on the top and short on the sides. “A shapely flattop,” I joked. “Or maybe something like a faux-hawk…?” I came to the defense of my own hair, asking her if she thought I was doing something irrational.

In the end, she agreed with me, and before long, she was buzzing away. And, boy, did it feel good!

Now I’m sure to most, seven weeks doesn’t seem long at all. But to me, someone who values a streamlined existence, seven weeks is an eternity. Seven weeks of feeling unkept, unruly and unattractive. Seven weeks too long!

Time Flies

Walking down the aisle, I get lost in a sea of faces. Maybe the exhaustion is setting in because it’s become quite a challenge to locate my seat. Normally such a remedial task has now become an exercise in mental fortitude.

Finally I spot an open window, next to a homely female, which I know is mine. I squeeze in and settle. Pillow and blanket in hand, I shut the window shade and prepare for the six-hour journey. I open my journal and begin to write.

Coach section. Seat, 39 J. Jam packed flight. Two children behind me. They are restless. Kicking my seat already and we haven’t even left the runway. I wonder if I’ll have to turn around and tell them to “knock it off”. Such a parental term that is. I remember my mother telling me to “knock it off!” when I would bother my older brother on long car rides. I rarely use the term, but now it seems perfectly appropriate with these two brats behind me.

I often wonder how fellow passengers would react if I took that type of tone and caused a scene mid-flight. Like one of those episodes of “What would you do?”, I’m sure an airline stewardess or a female passenger would intervene. Ha! Oh how I can daydream.

Actually I never say much on airplanes. I get in, get out and move on. I stay quiet, don’t leave my seat, and leave my headphones on the whole flight. I stay in my bubble and ask that you respect it.

Even with the tight surroundings, I relish in the free time to unwind and decompress from this second whirl wind adventure to the Big Apple.

Two trips in less than two weeks time. The second being Sunday through Thursday with each day loaded with shoots, scripts, segments and opportunities. A trip loaded with celebrity sightings and encounters (Beyonce, Joy Behar, Elizabeth Hasslebeck and Howard Stern). Experiences I will take with me long into my professional career.

Early mornings, late nights, I struggled with catching up on sleep. I fought the jet-lag and found myself staying up later and later even with blurry, burning eyes.

This trip I experienced a different NYC. One seen from private cars, hotel lobbies, Upper East side residences and high rise offices. It was a New york, I found to be stuffy. And not for me.

No personal time to indulge, no free moment to get lost. Always a schedule, always a time line, always someone in my face telling me where to go. Now I rest and prepare for my life in California, the life I know and love.