Days Lost, Days Gained

[pjthompson]

I had a great trip, saw lots of wonderful things, and I'm still jet lagged, but I've returned. I didn't do much writing while I was gone, though I'd taken a journal (a real, paper one) thinking I might jot a bit. I jotted the second day out, then my subconscious apparently decided I needed a vacation from writing, too. I felt absolutely no urge to communicate for two solid weeks. Largely I felt the need to Be, to experience the moment, take things as they came without analysis. I took a lot of photos, but not nearly as many as I usually do. I preferred not having filters between me and what I saw, what I experienced. It felt damned good, since I'm usually doing the opposite.

Being back home seems rather unreal. Monday I was at Stonehenge and today I'm back at work. It's a strange world. I'm still feeling kind of not-writey, so here’s my one journal entry, after waking up at 3 a.m. local time:

Friday, April 23, 5:00 a.m., Lyme Regis, England

Lovely views of the city from my window, watching dawn slowly creep into the sky while I sit wide-awake.

The thing about all these views is that a place is never just one sight, that one thing that made it famous or notable. A place is composed of a thousand views, ten thousand, a million. Some are pleasing, many are not. The more places you visit, the more you realize it's not what's famous about a place that makes it memorable—it's the combined effect of all its aspects. If you concentrate on views, you miss the experience, then all experience seems flat and disappointing.

The most memorable parts of traveling are not the self-conscious things that feature in the guidebooks and postcards. That which stays with the traveler are the individual, ephemeral moments that can never be included in any book: the quack of ducks in a dark river; the kindness of the young man at a gas station for a fumbling tourist; the stickiness of the mud on a hillside; the undulating light and shadow on hills gone bright with blossoms and green; the sweet smile of the woman who served your dinner; the cry of gulls in the dawn; small bats flying back and forth across the river walk; the chorus of songbirds in a room high on a hill; a ghost glimpsed running down the dawning street—the runner appearing and going behind trees and never coming out the other side. So many blossoms along the road: the yellow-orange of the gorse; the blazing white of the hawthorn; the white-pink of apple; the near-neon yellow of rape blossoms along highway after highway, filling a field, two, ten, a hundred; the quieter yellow broom blossoms and their sweet, heady fragrance; the vanilla-spice smell of the gorse.

All of these moments of brief intersection, gone forever, are what makes a trip—and traveling—valuable. They will ultimately be what makes the traveler conclude whether it was a good trip or a bad.

When planning the trip, that first day lost in transit across the continent and over the ocean, and the one following lost in jet lag, seemed a much bigger deal then they turned out to be. In fact, other days along the road were so full of exquisite moments they seemed like extra days. They filled me up, perpetually in bloom.

Comments

[kmkibble75.livejournal.com]

Good to have you back, and I'm glad to hear the trip was memorable and fun... I'm jealous you got to see Stonehenge.

[pjthompson]

It was raining if that's any consolation. :-) It was raining even harder when we visited Avebury.

I see you've gained new respect for a writing tool after all...

[jdparadise.livejournal.com]

...despite claiming you didn't feel writery :). Welcome to the world of the Telling detail - the one thing that will make the setting/action/scene different from all other renditions of a similar scene. The stuff you're talking about is exactly that, I think--it's not Big Ben that's impressive (though I suppose it might be, in a big clocky sort of way), but the [spitpolish shine on its exterior/cracks running up the exterior (can you tell I've never been)]...

If that makes any sense a'tall.

Anyway. Welcome back! Glad you had Experiences, and that you're back safe and sound like Alice through the Rabbit Hole of Strange-Enunciating Peoples. ;o)

Re: I see you've gained new respect for a writing tool after all...

[pjthompson]

Hey, JD! Thanks. But I've always been big on Telling Details, dude. They are the warp and weave of any good story, I think. What makes the page come alive. Ooof. Which is far too heavy a thought for someone who's still at least halfway on English time. I need a nap. Good to travel, but good to come home again safe and sound.

[maggiemotley.livejournal.com]

Welcome home! Wish I'd been there -- although the one journal entry you managed made me feel as though I was, somehow.

[pjthompson]

I wish we'd managed it, too. Next time. I bought an English hairdryer at Boots as a pledge that I will return to the Isles. I'd better. The damned thing's unusable with the American electrical system. :-)