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Quick Trip to Bangladesh

Quick Trip to Bangladesh

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The news escapes slowly, as I learn which of my colleagues, liberated from the office until at least 2021, have quietly slipped away from their former homes to other (usually sunnier) climes. At least two have moved to North Carolina, one to the Outer Banks. Another is relocating from Arkansas to California. Still another has been living on the Delaware shore since March.

I won’t be moving anytime soon. But I have a wealth of armchair trips I can take. 

Right now, for instance, I’m thinking of Bangladesh, not a big vacation spot, true, but a place where I spent an intense and satisfying two and a half weeks in 2017. Having just written an article based on reporting I conducted there, I’m reminiscing more than usual about the place. 

It was the rainy season, and the fields were startlingly green.

Tea plants were ready for picking. 

Streets were bustling and rickshaws were colorful.

I met people I’ll never forget. 

Is it any wonder I can’t resist a backward glance?

Beyond the Beach

Beyond the Beach

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When you’re at the beach it’s easy to be seduced by it, to think there is nothing else to see or do. But  there are other pleasures. The pool, for instance. I’ve spent many hours lazing by it, reading or writing, and many hours in it, as my body cools and my fingers shrivel.

And there is walking around the little village center here, where you can people-watch, pick up a salad for dinner and buy a souvenir or two.

Finally, there’s the mental vibe of the beach, which expands beyond the sand and surf into the light and the wind — into the words I write, the thoughts I think and the dreams I dream.

I guess that’s why I keep coming back.

Change of Scene

Change of Scene

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For months we have been mostly at home, not leaving at all except for groceries in March and April, tip-toeing out a bit more in May and June, and now, in July, a couple of full-blown trips are in the offing. The first of these is today. I take Celia to the airport in a few minutes.

It seems strange after a period of home-based quiet to suddenly be encountering the world again. The world has shrunk in these months. It’s now a creaky rocking chair in the kitchen, a yoga mat in the basement and my office chair pulled out onto the deck, looking incongruous there but oh so much more comfortable than the wrought iron patio furniture with the old blue cushion.

You’d think that after such enforced seclusion one might have startling insights. Maybe those are yet to come. My trip is next week, so … I’ll be waiting.

Out of State

Out of State

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Over the weekend, I took a brief trip to the state of Maryland. It was only a quick visit, I was home in less than five hours. Yet so homebound have I become that it felt like I was taking off for a cross-country expedition.

While the go-go-ness of my life up till March has meant no time to process the people and places I was visiting, recent stay-at-home mandates haven’t given me much time to digest things, either. Because there’s never a shortage of work and chores, and low-level anxiety has a way of gumming up the gray matter.

Still, even a short sojourn helped. There was a new path, familiar beneath the feet — but it had been more than a year since I strolled it. There was fresh air from the river and bay, and, most of all, there were the dear faces of people I love but hadn’t seen since wintertime. 
It was a short trip but a good trip, proof that even a little break makes a difference. On the way home I sang in the car.  
Hidden Blossoms

Hidden Blossoms

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While it’s easy to be captivated by the grand views off the ridges of Shenandoah National Park, one of the prettiest sights I saw yesterday were these pink lady’s slippers. They were tucked behind a stand of (as yet un-bloomed) mountain laurel, as if they were hiding, biding their time. 

Spring is still arriving at 3,000 feet, and many of the trees were still flashing gold at their crowns. Wildflowers we welcomed weeks ago, like buttercups, are in their prime on the slopes.

But no matter the season, the views captivate year-round, whether framed in flaming leaves or spring wildflowers.

One-Day Getaway

One-Day Getaway

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A drive west today, out to the Blue Ridge Mountains, the great ridge that runs down the eastern spine of this country, out to where the sky meets the land.

It’s been a while since I’ve been more than 20 miles away from home. Half a year, I think. And while it is true that one can travel widely without ever leaving home, at least for this wanderer, an occasional glimpse of the world beyond helps maintain sanity.

So a drive west it will be, out to the ridge I took pains to see yesterday on my walk. The Shenandoah — the shaggy old hills that mark the beginning of the rest of the country.

Possible Again?

Possible Again?

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Warmth has been slow to arrive this year, so as I listen to the furnace purr, I’m reliving travels to steamier climes, from the white sand beach of Siesta Key, Florida, to the dark, broad beach at Cox’s Bazar in Bangladesh.

I’m remembering the feeling of sand in my toes and the lap of surf in my ears. I’m dreaming of a world where traveling to these places is possible again.

I must need a vacation or something!

Four Years

Four Years

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Four years ago today I started what I still think of as my “new” job. I moved from print to digital journalism, from editing a magazine to being a jack-of-all-trades writer/editor penning op-eds, success stories, profiles, advertising copy and whatever else needs to be done.

On the Friday of my first week I wrote a brief history of the organization. Seven months later, I was sent around the world to report and write stories in Indonesia and Myanmar.

Before I started, my new manager told me that working at Winrock was a little like drinking from a fire hose. He was not exaggerating. There’s hardly been a dull moment.

Turns out, I’m a little addicted to the fast-paced workplace. I thrive in it, though increasingly it wears me out. But I always do better with too much on my plate than not enough. And right now, of course, I’m grateful to have this work.

One thing I know for sure, and I say this with great fondness: In this job, I’l always have too much on my plate.

(Street scene in Khulna, Bangladesh, just one of the amazing sights I’ve seen through my “new” job.)

An Irish Lesson

An Irish Lesson

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Yes, we’re in a pandemic, but Saint Patrick’s Day shall not go unnoticed. Here there will be corned beef and cabbage, Irish music, and placemats with shamrocks on them. In my spare moments I’ll look at photos of the auld sod. There will not be a gathering of the clan, but we will be together in spirit.

The Irish are no strangers to adversity, having survived mass starvation during the Potato Famine (a fact you hear often when touring Ireland, a place where the past is more present than most places I’ve visited). But the Irish are also no strangers to joy.

You can hear these twin themes in their music, which alternates between raucous jigs and mournful ballads. In this the Irish are instructive: they can find fun in the midst of gloom. I’ll hang onto that lesson today.

Virtual Vacation

Virtual Vacation

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Time for a virtual vacation. Today I’m heading to Florida, where I go every summer to walk the beach, inhale the sea air, and watch dune grass swaying in the breeze.

I’m thinking about how sultry it is there, and how I always intend to do more writing than I actually do — but how it works out anyway. Because the trip is always an inspiration and a restorative, much longed for, much appreciated.

It’s still months away but already I can feel a warm breeze on my face and the fine white sand between my toes. One of the best things about a virtual vacation is that it can happen whenever you want it to! And for me, it’s happening … right … now.