Friends Old and New

They make traveling all the sweeter.

Written this week in haste and with jetlag — plus election anxiety. But also with friends on my mind, as a balm for living in these times. Apparently, I need to keep writing about them.

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The sun rising over the Pyrenees, which I only caught because it happened at 8:15am.

You know a trip has been good when you can say, as Jane Austen does in Emma, “It was a delightful visit;—perfect, in being much too short.” If you’ve been around me much, you may have heard me quoting this; it’s my ultimate test of any visit or vacation.

Always leave them wanting more! Less is more!

The long and short of it

I’ve gone on trips that felt much too long, that made me yearn to return to my own bed. I’ve been known, on occasion, to count the days till the sweet relief of coming home, while these lines play in my head from the Beach Boys song “Sloop John B”: “Let me go home. Why don’t they let me go home? This is the worst trip I’ve ever been on.”

Some of those trips involved difficult situations, complicated obligations with intransigent people who sucked the life out of you (am I talking about my mother-in-law? I might be talking about my mother-in-law). Some involved illness. Other times, it was likely my own failings, my own insecurities and fears, that kept me from enjoying certain trips to the fullest. For whatever reason, in recent years I’ve had an uneven relationship with traveling.

That makes me all the happier to be feeling sad now. What? That’s right — my sadness about returning home shows how good my latest trip was. Could it be saudade?

As lucky as I am to have traveled in Europe before, I hadn’t been to Spain and France for twenty years (see what I’m doing here? I feel guilty to complain about not going often, because at least I got to go). That felt like far too long.

I was away for too long from a more relaxed way of life. From a culture that isn’t just about work. From an abundance of outdoor cafes that people sit at even when it’s cold out. From all kinds of “third places” where people can gather. From effective public transit. From a sense of history. From cities filled with buildings of remarkable beauty and detail. Honestly, how can there be block after block, street after street, of such stunning buildings in Paris?

Where I stayed in Paris, in an actual garret. Nothing special here, just an average Parisian building.

Barcelona also has its share of beautiful buildings.

Because I was staying outside the touristy areas, I got a sense of how people live in these cities — something I always wonder about when I travel. I got to interact a bit with locals and feel the rhythm of life in those neighborhoods.

Too little time with old friends

But what made this trip especially special was connecting with friends and family.

In that favorite Austen quote of mine (despite its bizarre punctuation), it was those connections that made Emma’s sister’s visit so delightful.

In Barcelona, I stayed with a dear friend who lived in the Bay Area for a few years, and I also visited with my cousin there. Though I’d last seen them years ago, I reconnected with them immediately, not surprising considering the kindred spirits they are.

In Paris, I stayed with a family friend I’ve known since the 1970s with whom I share a similar connection. I got to see another family friend whose son I’d babysat a few times back in Illinois.

Unsurprisingly, much like my trip to upstate New York last year, this trip was enhanced by these close connections with old friends.

Too little time with new friends

What surprised me was some new friends I made.

Between visiting the two cities, I had a restful and inspiring stay at a writing retreat in the French Pyrenees. Twelve of us, all women, attended the retreat.

I don’t normally sign up to spend six days with a group of people I’ve never met. Although an extroverted introvert, I’m still an introvert, meaning I need a certain amount of downtime to myself. Plus, I have a tendency to feel like an outsider. Unlike most of the other women at the retreat, I’m not a mother; I was the oldest one there; and, of course, I’m kind of weird.

But the truth is, I didn’t really stand out; we were all quite different from one another. Yet I left the retreat feeling like I had a whole new group of friends.

I can’t explain the strange alchemy that happened. I know it had a lot to do with our writing teacher; there’s something about her care and authenticity that attracts like-minded people, and she created the ideal conditions for something special. Part of that was removing the mental load we women tend to carry; unusually for all of us, we didn’t have to think about what to make for dinner or even lift a finger to clear the dishes. Maybe it was the shared purpose and the supportive environment our teacher created that drew us together. Maybe it was the evenings around the fire pit.

Whatever the reason, I never felt the need to retreat from the others, something that normally hits me after any amount of time with any group of people. I was deeply sad to leave. I even hung out with a couple of the women in Paris. It was indeed a perfect visit, in being much too short.

Returning to reality

I have a good home to return to, with plenty of close friends, some family, two cats. While we don’t have the beautiful buildings of European cities, we get to enjoy spectacular natural beauty. And there’s the consolation that California is much sunnier and warmer than Paris.

But I returned from my trip to some harsh realities. Though Europe is far from perfect, life in the U.S. is harder in many ways — just ask me about my insane health insurance bill (you don’t want to know). Work-life balance here is a joke compared to most European countries; it’s much harder to get around without a car; it’s ridiculously harder to be a parent here, which bothers me even though I’m not a parent. I could go on.

Of course, I was on vacation, away from the realities and demands of my life. That also meant I mostly ignored the news — though even from afar I felt the stress of our election, which will, after all, affect the entire world.

Today, we collectively face that reality. Let’s hope the outcome is good. Whatever happens, we can count ourselves lucky if we have friends — best friends, acquaintances, and everything in between — to get us through it. I’m certainly lucky to have reconnected with some old ones and gained some new ones.