Truth Thursday
The most embarrassing moment of my recent business/pleasure trip to Israel and Paris? Having to buy another suitcase in order to bring home the gifts and clothing I had purchased on my way. Had I packed my suitcase in a more suitable and manageable fashion, this additional purchase may not have been necessary.
But no.
For weeks leading up to my departure, I was already packing in my head – making lists of what I would need, and thinking about how I would like to emulate a colleague who makes two-week trips like this on a regular basis and who merely packs one of those small carry-ons on wheels along with her purse. I thought that perhaps I could do the same.
But I was going to be at a board meeting. I was going to be traveling with donors. I was going to be in two countries with different weather. I was going to be working out every day (hah.) I was going to be going to nice dinners several times. And I was going to be doing a lot of walking.
So of course, I needed clothing to suit all these various contingencies. On top of that, a relic of being a mom all these years is that for me, travel means something grown up and adult, and a chance to get dressed in more than yoga pants.
So, on the morning of my departure, as I sat on the top of my big (definitively not carry-on) suitcase in order to cram the zipper shut, realizing that one additional item would make it burst, I wasn’t really thinking about the fact that I had a lot of presents to buy, let alone personal shopping to do.
In Israel it was manageable. I had the great fun of shopping for clothing for the first time there, and was able to figure how to distribute the various pieces in my huge checked bag and my two carry-ons (and while my purse looked more like an enormous canvas bag that was bringing home groceries, it still counted as a purse.)
But when I got to Paris, it was all over. Ooh la la. So much walking to do. And, as I explained to my tween daughter, with walking in Paris comes shopping. You can’t help yourself. Paris is nothing but shops, cafes and brasseries with a few museums scattered about. So that after you’ve scored the perfect set of gray suede platform pumps (and conversed with the saleswoman in French, I might add) you can sit and sip a chocolate chaud and pat yourself on the back. And then get ready to go next door to the bag store. Or the chocolate store. Or the coat shop.
You get the picture.
I only had a day and a half – but by midday on the full day, I realized that drastic times called for drastic measures. I found myself in Galleries Lafayette, the Paris equivalent to Macys (but oh-so-much chicer), in their luggage department. There I purchased the one item that was going to allow me to bring everything else home – a new, hard-cased carry-on suitcase on wheels.
And with the problem of my shopping habits solved, the unpacking commenced.
The first thing to come out when I returned home, of course, were the presents I brought for my children. The minute I walked in the door they were asking. It gives me enormous pleasure to shop for them and for my husband, looking for the perfect item that will make their day. I also brought back birthday presents for friends, and thank-you gifts for everyone who helped make this trip possible.
But there is much more than presents and dirty laundry to unpack.
There is also the experience of the trip. Although I don’t travel very much, I do it enough that I know that each time I leave and come back, I am a changed person. Different stimuli hit me and leave an imprint. Traveling to the same place over and over again (as I have had the privilege to do with Israel) rewards me with a unique experience and a different perspective on the country, the people and myself.
In the case of this trip, while I was moved by the incredible people and accomplishments of the organization for which I work, I was perhaps more aware of my personal reaction to the possibilities of change. Change as in social change, yes, which is my work, but also personal change. By how, as I enter deep middle-age, I want to continue to create a life that moves and shifts and takes new form, and that also continues to include surprises.
While in Israel, I was with a colleague whose 80-year-old husband was attending Ulpan – an immersion class in Hebrew – with the intent and desire to make aliyah (move to) Israel. This, in a word, blew me away. To still have dreams and desires at 80, and to act on them – well, inspiration doesn’t begin to describe what I felt.
Traveling alone in Paris was a different experience. I realized that I have not traveled alone, left to my own devices, without my husband and the GPS chip implanted in his brain, for nearly 23 years. When I go to Israel for work, I am always with colleagues and friends and family who take care of my needs. But navigating Paris all by myself – finding the streets with the places I wanted to see, sitting in restaurants and cafes alone, and remembering how to use the Metro, were all challenges.
Challenges that I rose to and loved. I felt strong, powerful, independent, alive. Invincible. All the things I remembered feeling when I first traveled to Europe alone as a young student.
I took the Metro to the Eiffel Tower on my first night in Paris, hoping and expecting to feel like Carrie and Big from the final episode of Sex and The City – all romantic and tingly. And I did. But there was more.
As I stood on the bridge over the Seine, across from the tower, and looked up at its majestic spire all lit up at night, I began to cry softly. My whole sentient life has been spent in the pull and allure of Paris. I have always loved it, have always been held in its thrall, although I couldn’t really explain why.
But as my eyes scaled its gorgeous matrix of iron and light, I realized that this international landmark was a personal landmark as well. It was a talisman, representing all that have wanted in life, and all that I can still be.
So as I complete the process of unpacking my many bags at home, I am also unpacking the experience of this special trip, and of its import on my future. I feel renewed, invigorated, excited. I am determined to keep dreaming my dreams – perhaps not the same dreams of the 19-year-old girl who first looked up at the Tour Eiffel and had her whole life in front of her, but the dreams of a nearly 50-year-old woman, seasoned by life and ready for her next adventure.
Photo by JA-FS via Flickr
http://www.flickr.com/photos/23925016@N00/2312138079/sizes/m/in/photostream/
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