Family, Meet Family

When I got back from Germany and Ireland, it was a little bit of a whirlwind. Work went nuts, personal life got cray. [Excuses, excuses]. I don’t think I took a moment to revel in both what an amazing experience the whole thing was…or what some of it truly meant.

As I wrote a while back, I had one heck of a family take me in when I landed as a solo traveler in the summer of 2004. Seriously, words cannot express the way they opened their homes and their hearts. That summer held a lot of growth for me, and they put up with all of it.

Fast forward 10 years: my parents have heard stories. I’ve kept in touch with my second family. I’ve watched the kiddos grow through pictures. I got to spend some time with them while they vacationed in California a few years ago. But my parents had never met these strangers who took their daughter in. So when we started to talk about a European vacation, I knew that if we were headed that direction, it had to involve a meet and greet between my two families.

Family, please meet family.

I was so worried before the trip…would they get along? Would they have anything to talk about? Would everyone feel comfortable? It was my parents first trip to Europe, would they be okay? Would the language barriers bother them?

Silly, silly me.

I will never forget the moment that we stepped out of customs, and my entire second family stood there with yellow roses in their hands and open arms. My host mom’s beautiful smile and tears that stood in the corner of her eyes. My host dad’s familiar laughter. And the “children” who were now teenagers and nearly eye-to-eye with me [how do they grow that fast?!?].

We had four days in Germany, and my second family went above and beyond. They had a whole itinerary thoughtfully planned out. They took my parents through the town they lived in. I got to show my parents spots that I had sat out or grabbed a bite to eat, trails I had run, and the bedroom I stayed in. They made reservations at a beautiful castle, and showed them all the sites.

And while re-visiting some of my favorite spots was beyond wonderful, some of the best moments were just sitting around the breakfast or dinner table, enjoying each other’s company.

Within hours, the guys were talking politics, the ladies laughing over life observations and challenges, and we already had inside jokes that carried throughout our visit. We cheers-ed  over ouzo, gorged on bread, beer and black licorice, bonded over stories of life’s difficulties, and compared notes on cultural differences. My host mom’s familiar “alles, klar?” when I got quiet. The noise in the family room in the morning as everyone got ready. The smell of fresh bread and sound of water “with gas” being poured. All reminders and feelings of coming home, 5,000 miles away from home.

And being able to finally share it all with my parents…words fail me.

As I sat at dinner one night, I looked around and was overwhelmed with gratitude. This family didn’t have to do any of this for me, or my parents. They once again opened their home and their hearts to a few strangers. In that moment, I realized I wanted to do the same. The children are learning English [and speak beautifully, I might add]. My goal is to have a place with enough space that they can visit and stay awhile. Share in the laughs and sites, culture and conversation.

And hopefully feel right at home… with family.

Ridin’ Solo + Remembering to Enjoy the Journey

“And she will be free,
Like the leaves floating in the wind, and the stream.
She will not be bound, by anything that tries to drag her down.
Oh, and all that girl wants to be is loved.”

– Josh Abbott Band “She Will be Free”

I’ve always loved songs that have a “run” theme to them…Keith Urban’s “Stupid Boy,” Dierks Bentley’s “Lotta Leaving Left to Do,” and the like. Songs that talk about freedom and exploring have always appealed to my “Miss Independent” side, and, perhaps a side of me that desperately wants to be more carefree and not try to plan as much.

Lately, I’ve been feeling anything but “free.” In a lot of ways, I’ve felt like Seattle has been closing in on me. There have literally been times between my teeny parking space, my apartment and sitting in traffic, it’s like it is all getting smaller and smaller and I’m pushing the walls with all my might to keep them from crushing me. So, naturally in my mind: I need to run. And not stop running for a very long time. And if I can’t run, how can I put a band-aid on the situation by booking as many trips to get outta dodge as possible? After all – running at full tilt is always easier than actually facing a problem, right?? [Unwillingness to show vulnerability. Wrong. I know.]

The thing is, I couldn’t figure out why I was feeling this way. Sure, I could blame it on all the change that’s been going on to me and around me. But there was something else that I couldn’t put my finger on…

For the first time in weeks, I let myself relax a bit on Saturday. I forgot how amazing it is. I had woken up at the butt crack of dawn [not to an alarm. it’s just my mojo nowadays], got some miscellaneous tasks done and then I walked down to the coffee shop a few blocks from my place. The same coffee shop that I’ve been to the last several weeks.

Being someone who always needs to feel productive, I brought my laptop, with every intention of working on the meal plan for Thanksgiving. Instead, I pulled out a piece of paper and began to write, but what came out wasn’t much of a menu.

[Actually, not much other than “turkey, gravy and stuffing” made it once pencil-hit-the-paper.]

I found I just kept getting lost in thought and reflection in the most amazing way. And as I sat there thinking, I realized I wasn’t totally mad at Seattle. I was placing blame because I was more-than-a-little frustrated with myself. 

As much as I am a planner [read: moderately-OCD], I love to explore and discover. And I love just walking around without always having an end in mind. Some of my favorite days in Europe were spent just wandering the streets taking it all in. Basically, taking the time to live out the lyrics that I love.

And over the past several months: I stopped.

When I first moved to Seattle, I made a rule: you can’t say no. So I ended up in some very random situations [a bar called the Morgue south of town with no windows? Terrifying, but hilarious looking back. Dance clubs on Capital Hill? You can’t un-see things, people. Playing on a flag football team? Holla! Salsa lessons? Sign me up!] And when I didn’t get an invite or people weren’t available, I forced myself to go explore. Perhaps a jaunt through a new neighborhood on a Sunday. Or  a new local watering hole. Bumming around Ballard. Frolicking around Fremont. PBR in Everett. George Strait and Chris Young in Tacoma. Whatever I hadn’t seen yet, I tried to get out there and fall in love with my home all over again, even if I was flyin’ solo.

As I sat back and reflected Saturday afternoon, I realized the simple reason I stopped: I got sick of doing it alone. So as the city started to wear on me, it slowly got smaller and I stopped seeing the beauty in it. When I am ridin’ solo, it sometimes feels like it’s more about the destination than the journey.

After all this ‘realizing’ Saturday, I texted one of my nearest and dearest who is never afraid to tell it like it is, and asked ‘okay, but I’ve done it solo for years and it’s never stopped me. Why stop now??’

Her simple response brought tears to my eyes: “Cause it’s tiring.”

Nailed it.

I realized that while I love meeting new people and exploring and discovering and pushing myself outside my comfort zone, when you’re doing it alone a significant portion of the time and trying to get to know new people, and build a community…it takes a LOT [a lot] of energy. Especially for someone with some serious introvert tendencies in a city not known for it’s warmness. [Deny it all you want, Seattleites: the freeze exists.] I often need someone to give me that extra push to get out, toss the plan out the window and go. And I don’t always have that here.

Simply: it’s tiring.

When I look back on a few of my favorite days in Seattle, one was an August afternoon with someone I had met only a few weeks before. This person = not totally a planner. So I did my best to go with the flow. [My guess, if I could ask this person now, is that they’d say I asked too many questions in advance. I did my best, people.]

What started as lunch and box car races [a first for me], turned in to a tour of rooftop bars in downtown that I’d never been to, overlooking the city, the water, and randomness that often is Seattle…and I saw the city in a whole new light.

I remember smiling that day in a way that I hadn’t smiled in a really, really, really long. time: big, openly and often. And feeling freer than I’d felt in a really, really, really long time.

It wasn’t grandiose. Or spectacular. But I cannot lie…it re-energized me and I would have never done it solo. And having a partner in crime, experiencing parts of the city through their eyes, in that moment, meant everything.

There’s a lot of the PNW I haven’t explored yet. Leavenworth for Christmas. Whistler. Mount Rainier.  Friday Harbor. And so many more. And yes, sometimes it’s tiring doing it solo, but with a huge list of journey’s waiting for me, seems like it’s ’bout time to lose the excuses and run free for a bit, eh?