So here are two observations for me - I don't really care about anyone else as I've made abundantly clear - that I will note as true then either ignore or forget.
Number one is that I hate getting lost. Which is another way of saying I hate to lose control. And the first day in a new city, in a new culture, is THE day to get lost. It makes me mad. It infuriates me.
Yesterday we took a mental health day, a rest-the-feet day, to recover from all the traveling yesterday, the ultimate out-of-control day. The only thing on the schedule was buying some groceries - and I got lost finding the grocery store, where things only cost $41, not $50, in cheaper Helsinki - and make a 3:30 meeting, an option not available to us on the ferry at some cost to our mental health. Leaving plenty of time to get lost, I confidently march us out the door, point us in a direction 180 degrees from the direction that we . . . you know . . . actually need to go, and we stride purposefully away from the meeting for a good 20 minutes. Knowing we were going to be late, I piss out and head for home - SuperK, calmer, suggests we find the meeting place anyway, lateness be damned, because there are several English speaking meetings held there. We show up 1/2 hour late and enjoy half of a fine 8th Tradition meeting.
The other thing I hate is to be tired. I want to feel fresh and rested all the time. This is ridiculous when I'm in my home, fresh and rested and in control of a lot of stuff. Enduring some stressful travel to-and-from days, battered by the extreme novelty of an alien culture, driven to see and too too much in the short space of time you have in a place you'll likely never see again?
Preposterous.
Sunday, August 30, 2015
Saturday, August 29, 2015
Musings
Expectations are the bane of the serene mind.
Do less - enjoy it more.
Things are what they are and my trying to make them different will accomplish nothing to change them into something else.
When I was India I tried to make it like The States. Easier to control that way. When I'm in Scandinavia I try to make those countries like India. New! Exciting!!
Do less - enjoy it more.
Things are what they are and my trying to make them different will accomplish nothing to change them into something else.
When I was India I tried to make it like The States. Easier to control that way. When I'm in Scandinavia I try to make those countries like India. New! Exciting!!
Thursday, August 20, 2015
Zen Serenity
I'm tootling along in Norway, trying to stay out of my own way, decided to check into my rarely visited FB page and I see a post from a friend from The New City along the lines of "12 Steps to Zen serenity." I like Zen Buddhist stuff because there is such an emphasis on slowness and completeness. The list was along these lines:
1. Do one thing at a time.
2. Do it deliberately and slowly.
3. Do it completely.
4. Leave plenty of space between the things that you're doing.
5. Make time for sitting.
Man, why do I forget this stuff in my rush to move 1000 miles per hour?
The Zen Steps continue with suggestions like Live Simply and Be of Service. You know, stuff your English teacher used to say: Better to do one thing well than many things poorly.
It isn't rocket science this serenity stuff. It wasn't invented yesterday.
1. Do one thing at a time.
2. Do it deliberately and slowly.
3. Do it completely.
4. Leave plenty of space between the things that you're doing.
5. Make time for sitting.
Man, why do I forget this stuff in my rush to move 1000 miles per hour?
The Zen Steps continue with suggestions like Live Simply and Be of Service. You know, stuff your English teacher used to say: Better to do one thing well than many things poorly.
It isn't rocket science this serenity stuff. It wasn't invented yesterday.
Monday, August 17, 2015
From Here to There
So lest you think this is easy, here's the leaving Copenhagen run-down . . .
Twenty minute walk to the train station, pulling fifty pounds of luggage over cobbled streets.
Ten minute struggle with the ticket machine - helpfully translated into English, to no avail - with a one kroner assist from a very nice local woman. I had 71 of the required 72 kroners. The machines take Visa - but we don't have a pin number for ours - and they don't take AmEx - which doesn't require a pin. We could have overcome this whole pin obstacle by standing in a long line at the ticket counter.
Ten minute train ride to the airport, hoping we're going the right direction.
THE most brutally efficient security apparatus at an airport that I've ever seen. Strangely enough, we don't have to show our passports all day along, except to the clerk at a 7-11 where I buy a couple of $50 sandwiches with my pin-less Visa card which he apparently found disturbing. Maybe the state police would have tracked me down if I welshed on my sandwich debt.
One hour flight to Oslo in an exit row. I threw in the towel on pre-selecting our seats and was rewarded for my sloth with the best seat in the section.
Twenty minute extremely high speed train into the city which cost about $50. It took some time figuring out the ticket machine as we ate our $50 sandwiches standing up. There were no seats at the airport which was very weird.
Ah, then the hang-up. An attendant directs us to the #12 tram, our tickets secured at another 7-11. The 7-11s are everywhere. They are, for some reason, ubiquitous in Scandinavia. We're almost there! The old #12 stops literally right outside the station. We stand there for a bit, watching #12 trams go by in the wrong direction, before noticing that our tram no longer stops at this spot.
Thirty minutes later, hot, bedraggled, frustrated, we find the tram stop, somewhat discombobulated. Every one I ask for help is eager to speak English and most helpful even when they don't know shit about anything. They're SO good looking, though, that I don't mind asking. I'm a committed heterosexual of long-standing but some of these guys are tempting me.
Thirty minute standing outside the huge wooden door of our apartment before receiving a note that the key is at a nearby Shell gas station. On Frognervein Street. We try to imagine walking over to a gas station in Ventura, staffed by a rotating collection of minimum-wage, teen aged clerks, and giving them a key to our house.
Six hours door to door. An event.
Twenty minute walk to the train station, pulling fifty pounds of luggage over cobbled streets.
Ten minute struggle with the ticket machine - helpfully translated into English, to no avail - with a one kroner assist from a very nice local woman. I had 71 of the required 72 kroners. The machines take Visa - but we don't have a pin number for ours - and they don't take AmEx - which doesn't require a pin. We could have overcome this whole pin obstacle by standing in a long line at the ticket counter.
Ten minute train ride to the airport, hoping we're going the right direction.
THE most brutally efficient security apparatus at an airport that I've ever seen. Strangely enough, we don't have to show our passports all day along, except to the clerk at a 7-11 where I buy a couple of $50 sandwiches with my pin-less Visa card which he apparently found disturbing. Maybe the state police would have tracked me down if I welshed on my sandwich debt.
One hour flight to Oslo in an exit row. I threw in the towel on pre-selecting our seats and was rewarded for my sloth with the best seat in the section.
Twenty minute extremely high speed train into the city which cost about $50. It took some time figuring out the ticket machine as we ate our $50 sandwiches standing up. There were no seats at the airport which was very weird.
Ah, then the hang-up. An attendant directs us to the #12 tram, our tickets secured at another 7-11. The 7-11s are everywhere. They are, for some reason, ubiquitous in Scandinavia. We're almost there! The old #12 stops literally right outside the station. We stand there for a bit, watching #12 trams go by in the wrong direction, before noticing that our tram no longer stops at this spot.
Thirty minutes later, hot, bedraggled, frustrated, we find the tram stop, somewhat discombobulated. Every one I ask for help is eager to speak English and most helpful even when they don't know shit about anything. They're SO good looking, though, that I don't mind asking. I'm a committed heterosexual of long-standing but some of these guys are tempting me.
Thirty minute standing outside the huge wooden door of our apartment before receiving a note that the key is at a nearby Shell gas station. On Frognervein Street. We try to imagine walking over to a gas station in Ventura, staffed by a rotating collection of minimum-wage, teen aged clerks, and giving them a key to our house.
Six hours door to door. An event.
Sunday, August 16, 2015
In Retrospect
Retrospect: Consideration of past times (official definition).
Looking back at what I've worried about and realizing what a colossal waste of time it was.
Traveling really re-emphasizes the importance of being on the winning side of the ancient alcoholic existential battle between Acceptance and Expectations. The foe battling peace of mind is worthy, strong, and relentless. It wants to disappoint me. Quiet Acceptance is every bit its equal but it doesn't waste much time shouting to make itself heard. It needs to be nurtured. Expectations doesn't need any help at all.
I'm a guy who really likes to pack a lot of accomplishments into a day, to see and do everything, and to have it all be Fantastic! and to have it all run smoothly and without a hitch. I want to do it Right!
And then I maneuver the trains, trams, planes, streets, ticket kiosks, and security apparatus of 3 or 4 different countries. What I want to see and do often disappoints and what I stumble across unexpectedly thrills me in equal measure. I don't have to see and do everything or anything in particular. It all works out fine in the long run. It is always a waste of time worrying about the future.
I'm going to stand out on my balcony this morning and throw $50 bills into the street to get ready for my day.
Looking back at what I've worried about and realizing what a colossal waste of time it was.
Traveling really re-emphasizes the importance of being on the winning side of the ancient alcoholic existential battle between Acceptance and Expectations. The foe battling peace of mind is worthy, strong, and relentless. It wants to disappoint me. Quiet Acceptance is every bit its equal but it doesn't waste much time shouting to make itself heard. It needs to be nurtured. Expectations doesn't need any help at all.
I'm a guy who really likes to pack a lot of accomplishments into a day, to see and do everything, and to have it all be Fantastic! and to have it all run smoothly and without a hitch. I want to do it Right!
And then I maneuver the trains, trams, planes, streets, ticket kiosks, and security apparatus of 3 or 4 different countries. What I want to see and do often disappoints and what I stumble across unexpectedly thrills me in equal measure. I don't have to see and do everything or anything in particular. It all works out fine in the long run. It is always a waste of time worrying about the future.
I'm going to stand out on my balcony this morning and throw $50 bills into the street to get ready for my day.
Friday, August 14, 2015
Train Day
Today is Take The Train day. We feel some trepidation because our last train ride was in India, home of the 50 year old train with open air squatting holes for bathrooms - I can still remember like it was yesterday, the cold air massaging my ass as I pooped over the tracks rushing by 3 feet below, trying to translate the odd wordage of the sign which said something along the lines of "No Crapping When The Train Is Stopped." I think they wanted to avoid the steaming pile of shit sitting on the tracks in the station when the trains moved on - as they did fitfully, with no rhyme or reason and no explanation from anyone official - preferring that the feces be sprayed over a wide area at 35MPH.
Yeah, well, okay. The main station is staffed by agents fluent in English ably assisted by floor assistants fluent in English who help us navigate the system. They take credit cards of all make and model. The ticket has the track number on it as do the electronic signs above the entrance to that particular track AND the electronic signs up and down the platform next to the clearly marked train. In case you're still not sure what you're going people employed by the railroad get off the train at each stop who can help, also fluent in English. In case there's still a problem, the cars themselves have electronic signs scrolling the current stop, the next stop, the time of the day, and the exact minute that you're going to die. In case all of this is still not enough, a woman announces the name of the next stop in Danish and English. I was a little disappointed that someone didn't get off the train and carry me around piggyback for the rest of the trip.
The train itself would be at home atop a NASA rocket, substituting for the control module. It is smooth and quiet and fast, the seats comfortable, the stops timed down to the millisecond.
And the bathrooms! I may buy more train tickets just to use the bathrooms. I would be PROUD to have one of the train bathrooms installed in my trailer home.
Yeah, well, okay. The main station is staffed by agents fluent in English ably assisted by floor assistants fluent in English who help us navigate the system. They take credit cards of all make and model. The ticket has the track number on it as do the electronic signs above the entrance to that particular track AND the electronic signs up and down the platform next to the clearly marked train. In case you're still not sure what you're going people employed by the railroad get off the train at each stop who can help, also fluent in English. In case there's still a problem, the cars themselves have electronic signs scrolling the current stop, the next stop, the time of the day, and the exact minute that you're going to die. In case all of this is still not enough, a woman announces the name of the next stop in Danish and English. I was a little disappointed that someone didn't get off the train and carry me around piggyback for the rest of the trip.
The train itself would be at home atop a NASA rocket, substituting for the control module. It is smooth and quiet and fast, the seats comfortable, the stops timed down to the millisecond.
And the bathrooms! I may buy more train tickets just to use the bathrooms. I would be PROUD to have one of the train bathrooms installed in my trailer home.
Thursday, August 13, 2015
17 Flefferstrassgasseflort
Ah, yes, we made it to a meeting last night. It's a little different on the road getting to a meeting - not quite as easy as jumping in the car and driving to a familiar spot full of familiar people. So we take a walk to find an ingress point for the 3A bus. We could have taken the 6A as well but we didn't want to get too high and mighty with the larger numbers. You never can tell what might happen. I've got the whole kroner thing somewhat deciphered at this point and was able to deliver close to the right amount of money to the bus driver who actually gave me back a little change. I was tempted to tip him for not throwing us off the bus or under the bus or making us go to the very back of the bus. We successfully zip to a predetermined egress point and hop off - it's a short walk to 17 Flefferstrassgasseflort, the location of the meeting, actually a small coffee shop that's still closed when we arrive. A dude walks up at about the same time, sits down on the adjacent stoop, and starts puffing on a cigarette. Someone smoking is always a good indicator of a meeting spot.
Confident we are where we are supposed to be we wander down the block, find a bench on the shores of a small lake and watch the Danes jogging and walking the periphery, taking the night air. 10 minutes before meeting time we walk back to 17 - no dude smoking outside of a closed shop. I pull out my mobile and discover that the meeting is actually at 107 Flefferstrassgasseflort so we start to make tracks, finally finding a church which is dark and closed. We're peering at a sign on the door when it pops up and a bearded guy says: "Would you like to come in."
Yes. Yes, we would.
Nine people - 3 Americans, 2 Irish, 2 Danes, a Mexican, and an Italian. Half of us had been sober for a long time and the other half were wet behind the ears. Great meeting. A real shot of vitamins for both of us. Definitely worth the adventure.
Confident we are where we are supposed to be we wander down the block, find a bench on the shores of a small lake and watch the Danes jogging and walking the periphery, taking the night air. 10 minutes before meeting time we walk back to 17 - no dude smoking outside of a closed shop. I pull out my mobile and discover that the meeting is actually at 107 Flefferstrassgasseflort so we start to make tracks, finally finding a church which is dark and closed. We're peering at a sign on the door when it pops up and a bearded guy says: "Would you like to come in."
Yes. Yes, we would.
Nine people - 3 Americans, 2 Irish, 2 Danes, a Mexican, and an Italian. Half of us had been sober for a long time and the other half were wet behind the ears. Great meeting. A real shot of vitamins for both of us. Definitely worth the adventure.
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
I Got the Power!
Power: The ability to coerce, influence, or control.
I am convinced that the agony and the ecstasy of travel is summed up neatly by the phrase "I am SO not in control." How about that? Some more talk about powerlessness from the man who apparently can't grasp the concept. I'm not even thinking in the right language for god's sake. I should get a big, reverse tattoo on my forehead - in day-glow pink ink - that says: "Not In Control!"
Things that sound so easy in a book are a lot tougher when my boots are on the ground, not helped by suggestions from the locals who are so familiar with their system. "Just take the S-Tog from the airport, get off at Flimstosshlout, transfer to Bus 3A taking it to Sonder Blvd or the metro which stops at Humkeederogt Plaza, then walk two blocks east and ask for the key at Kioksh Groceries. Yeah, well, it took me an hour to figure out the fucking ticket machine.
And I'm reading a book where the main characters are on holiday in Italy. The scenes always start with the couple having a picnic lunch with a chilled bottle of wine, reading books and chatting wittily along a lovely stream in the country. Brother. Getting the food - where did the wine glasses come from or are they drinking out of plastic beer cups? - renting a car, finding this stream where it never seems to rain or be too hot or overrun with mosquitoes would have taken me all day. I'm not buying into the whole extravaganza, personally.
Sponsor: "Don't forget to have fun."
I am convinced that the agony and the ecstasy of travel is summed up neatly by the phrase "I am SO not in control." How about that? Some more talk about powerlessness from the man who apparently can't grasp the concept. I'm not even thinking in the right language for god's sake. I should get a big, reverse tattoo on my forehead - in day-glow pink ink - that says: "Not In Control!"
Things that sound so easy in a book are a lot tougher when my boots are on the ground, not helped by suggestions from the locals who are so familiar with their system. "Just take the S-Tog from the airport, get off at Flimstosshlout, transfer to Bus 3A taking it to Sonder Blvd or the metro which stops at Humkeederogt Plaza, then walk two blocks east and ask for the key at Kioksh Groceries. Yeah, well, it took me an hour to figure out the fucking ticket machine.
And I'm reading a book where the main characters are on holiday in Italy. The scenes always start with the couple having a picnic lunch with a chilled bottle of wine, reading books and chatting wittily along a lovely stream in the country. Brother. Getting the food - where did the wine glasses come from or are they drinking out of plastic beer cups? - renting a car, finding this stream where it never seems to rain or be too hot or overrun with mosquitoes would have taken me all day. I'm not buying into the whole extravaganza, personally.
Sponsor: "Don't forget to have fun."
Monday, August 10, 2015
Shock and Awe
It really does take the shock of something new to make the routine come into place, almost like being tossed in a cold pool on a hot and humid day. That sun doesn't feel so bad after an ice-water bath. The stress of travel, battling jet lag and culture shock, overcoming all of this, helps me break through to a better, different place.
And I can really appreciate the Type-A, hyper-driven American personality when I get somewhere else. in the business world it made sense but I'm on fucking vacation for god's sake. The idea is to mi a little sightseeing with a little hanging out, not to drive myself into the ground trying to absorb every last slice and sliver of everything, especially when the main tourist sites are crowded and underwhelming.
And I can really appreciate the Type-A, hyper-driven American personality when I get somewhere else. in the business world it made sense but I'm on fucking vacation for god's sake. The idea is to mi a little sightseeing with a little hanging out, not to drive myself into the ground trying to absorb every last slice and sliver of everything, especially when the main tourist sites are crowded and underwhelming.
Sunday, August 9, 2015
Termites Ceaselessly Devouring Foundations
Worry: (transitive) To seize or shake by the throat, especially of a dog or wolf.
(also transitive, confusingly enough) To disturb the peace of mind of, afflict with mental agitation or distress.
I can't think of anything that's a bigger waste of time, a more vexing affliction, than worry. I'm always going back to my Anxiety List so that I can remind myself that the shit I worry about is dust, in the wind, ephemera, moonbeams of dust. I worried about the ride to the airport, getting there on time, and it was fine. I worried about the flight, and it was fine, and I slept almost the whole way. I worried about the taxi driver screwing me over, and he didn't, and if he did, had charged me a $100 more than he should have, it wouldn't have changed my life one iota.
Now I will say this about that: some of the trip anxiety is pretty normal. The problem with me - one of the seemingly endless problems with me - is that I think that I shouldn't worry about anything and that ain't going to happen ever. I should be happy that I'm not worrying about everything all the time. That accomplishment - dubious as it may be - is a great improvement over the life that I used to have.
(also transitive, confusingly enough) To disturb the peace of mind of, afflict with mental agitation or distress.
I can't think of anything that's a bigger waste of time, a more vexing affliction, than worry. I'm always going back to my Anxiety List so that I can remind myself that the shit I worry about is dust, in the wind, ephemera, moonbeams of dust. I worried about the ride to the airport, getting there on time, and it was fine. I worried about the flight, and it was fine, and I slept almost the whole way. I worried about the taxi driver screwing me over, and he didn't, and if he did, had charged me a $100 more than he should have, it wouldn't have changed my life one iota.
Now I will say this about that: some of the trip anxiety is pretty normal. The problem with me - one of the seemingly endless problems with me - is that I think that I shouldn't worry about anything and that ain't going to happen ever. I should be happy that I'm not worrying about everything all the time. That accomplishment - dubious as it may be - is a great improvement over the life that I used to have.
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
TripToTheAirport.Com
A friend of SuperK's offered to pick us up at our house and drive us to the airport. Here in Vacation City, where traffic and a huge airport frequently make this trip a trial and a tribulation. Compounding the beneficence of this offer is that we need to head out around 5PM, in the teeth of rush hour. We were uncomfortable with this generosity and took great pains to try to talk this woman out of the task or at least give her the opportunity to come up with a plausible excuse, but she was adamant.
It reminded me of the suggestion that a great way to receive a gift is by saying a simple Thank You. It robs the giver of the joy of giving to downplay the gift. I learned that when I was making my amends - I felt a greater sense of relief when the aggrieved party acknowledged my poor behavior and then forgave me than when everything I did was waved off as not that bade a
It also helps when someone is driving us to the airport, a task I wouldn't undertake for less that $750, which makes the gift all that more precious to me.
It reminded me of the suggestion that a great way to receive a gift is by saying a simple Thank You. It robs the giver of the joy of giving to downplay the gift. I learned that when I was making my amends - I felt a greater sense of relief when the aggrieved party acknowledged my poor behavior and then forgave me than when everything I did was waved off as not that bade a
It also helps when someone is driving us to the airport, a task I wouldn't undertake for less that $750, which makes the gift all that more precious to me.
The Man Who Mastered Fear
As a man who is prone to anxiety I usually ask myself: "Why are you doing this?" at right about this juncture of a big trip. I have the "getting there" part of the trip still ahead of me which is, of course, the worst part of the trip - the discomfort of planes and taxis and airports all loaded with the anxiety-producing "out of control" facet and complicated by the "everything is new and unfamiliar (and thus even harder to control)" angle. I'm usually looking at my little trailer house and my stuff and my routine and wondering why in the world I feel the need to leave.
This is from our book: "Some of the things that used to stop me in my tracks from fear still make me nervous in the anticipation of their doing, but once I kick myself into doing them, nervousness disappears and I enjoy myself. In recent years I have had the happy combination of time and money to travel occasionally. I am apt to get into quite an uproar for a day or two before starting, but I do start, and once started, I have a swell time."
How specific is that?
Another section in this story: "It would be wonderful were I able to tell you that my confidence in God and application of the Twelve Steps to my daily living have utterly banished fear. But this would not be the truth. The most accurate answer I can give is this: Fear has never again ruled my life since that day . . . " that I quit drinking.
This is from our book: "Some of the things that used to stop me in my tracks from fear still make me nervous in the anticipation of their doing, but once I kick myself into doing them, nervousness disappears and I enjoy myself. In recent years I have had the happy combination of time and money to travel occasionally. I am apt to get into quite an uproar for a day or two before starting, but I do start, and once started, I have a swell time."
How specific is that?
Another section in this story: "It would be wonderful were I able to tell you that my confidence in God and application of the Twelve Steps to my daily living have utterly banished fear. But this would not be the truth. The most accurate answer I can give is this: Fear has never again ruled my life since that day . . . " that I quit drinking.
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