Texting a Life Away

The couple of times I have joined my colleagues for lunch resulted in them grabbing my phone and keeping it for the duration of the lunch.  "You're so bad with that thing," they said.  I just put it down to them giving me a hard-time, something they do somewhat often.

A visit with my son and he stated "do you think you could be more present mom?"

Still I was able to justify both my actions and their comments.  Then I met a friend for dinner, it had been a while.  I placed my phone on the table, soon we were clinking glasses, chatting and laughing.  A few pings from my phone and I broke from the conversation and quickly responded to the incoming texts.   It was the next moment where things changed for me.  A look of sadness and disappointment radiated from my friends  eyes. I made some excuse, like I always did. "Do you think we can have dinner without your phone tonight?"

My heart broke a little right then.  It broke because it was in that moment that I realized I had a problem. It broke because I could only wonder how many times I made people I cared feel less than happy. 

I don't want to be that person. 

It happened to me the other day too. I was enjoying a nice afternoon with a friend. We were canoeing on the lake on an incredibly beautiful and sunny day.  He started to get texts from friends about an event he was interested in.  Excitedly he texted them back telling me about it also. It continued.  His messages back and forth. I paddled. I paddled alone while he texted.  I enjoyed the beautiful sunny moment. Alone.  I also watched him. I felt pity.  Disappointment.  It was okay for a short while to see him share his excitement for something that was not happening here and now, but then it shifted.  I thought of how beautiful this moment was and that I was unable to share it with the person I was for all intensive purposes supposedly sharing it. 

Then I also thought of how nice it would be to share that moment with someone who might appreciate it.  I wonder, how many times did people have the same thought about me?  I don't want to allow for that opportunity again. 

Life is about the people and the moments you share with them. At least in my opinion. I know I will never for one moment regret not grabbing my phone and breaking a beautiful moment to respond to an inconsequential text. 

I fight the urge to pick up my phone sometimes.  If I were to be really honest, I would have to say that I have good days, and better days.  But I am trying.  I want to be present.  And frankly, I don't want to keep the company of someone who isn't present either.  Next time I go canoeing, or set out to enjoy a moment, I won't be sharing it with the texting friend. He was able to justify why he wanted to text. I was also in the past.  We all can.  But in the end, if we are having to justify - then it's time to take a hard look at what's happening.  I did, and it wasn't pretty.  

A Guy, a Tram and the Giant Baguettes

After another long day at the office, I was headed home.  Since it requires a bit of a tram ride home, I was passing the time with some mindless surfing on my iPhone. 

For those not familiar with tram etiquette, you simply get on the tram and sit in any seat that is available.  You don’t ask for permission, nor do you acknowledge the person who happens to sit beside you.   Antisocial?  Perhaps, but after a long day, you sometimes appreciate not having to engage in conversation with a stranger.   I have to admit however, this was difficult for the chatty Canadian within me.  Initially when I moved here, I tried to engage my seatmates in conversation.  It didn’t work.  In short, it was unwanted.  Perhaps they thought I was crazy, I don’t know. 

So back to the end of my very long day.  The tram came up to another stop.  People were getting on and off the crowded tram and I happened to glance up and notice a particular guy.  He was weighed down with a bunch of groceries while also embracing the longest baguettes I have ever seen.  It somehow amused me.  I wondered what the story was with the cute guy in front of me, and why he dragging around half a grocery store and where he found such massive baguettes.  I guess he caught me looking at him, and seized the moment to sit down beside me.  My iphone once again regained my undivided attention.  That was until he placed the armload of baguettes across my lap.   At this moment I glanced over at my seatmate.  He met my gaze with a look that I will never forget and with it his eyes pleaded with mine, “I know my baguettes are on your lap, but do you think we could just manage to live through this awkward moment?  I would really appreciate it.”  Amused I went back to my phone.  I could feel the eyes of others on the tram trying as well to make sense of the situation. 

So we continued.  My stop came first.  As we pulled up, I signaled my seat partner that it was now time for me to leave, and that he should probably gather his baguettes.  He did.  No words were spoken – but somehow, that shared moment touched me.  It lightened the weight of the hard day I was carrying and pulled me from the completely self-absorbed moment.  I could feel the guy’s gratitude that I didn’t create a drama – both of us well aware of the ridiculousness of the situation.  

I don`t know if there was a particular lesson from this odd experience – other than this moment made me happy in some weird way.  Perhaps only that sometimes being nice can somehow make the day for everyone involved.

Passion and Complacency

I woke early this Saturday morning.  Instead of embracing the luxury of being able to sleep in, my mind woke me racing with the details of my impossible to do list not to mention a bit of anxiety resulting from various uncertainties in my life.  As I was laying there, I received a text from my son, "watch this," he wrote "it is insanely inspiring."

We all receive these videos.  They come by on Facebook, friends and colleagues send

them around - I must confess, I can't be bothered to watch 
them.  Generally speaking, I think we all know deep down what we should and should not do, we do not need a stranger for that.  But, since I had nothing pressing to do and a distraction was most welcome I clicked on the link.  It was an interview with Elon Musk on space travel.

Damn it was inspiring.

Of course I know of this man and his achievements.  Of course I respect immensely what he has achieved.  The man is clearly a genius.

What I did not expect was the person who made the man.  I was completely moved by his determination and passion.  His willingness to pursue a passion even though he knew the odds of success were sometimes stacked significantly out of his favour.  

I must admit, I had fallen into a horrible routine lately.  The hurdles of life of late had distracted me from my view of the horizon.    My vision had become shortsighted.  No wonder I was feeling tired and uninspired.  I even blamed others for this colourless position I now found myself.  How boring and sad was that?  How incredibly pathetic and powerless of me to base my own happiness on the actions of others.  How did I fall into this state of acceptance?

For certain I could sit here and list the countless reasons on how I ended up here.  However, at the end of the day it came down to a decision that I and only I could - and can make. 

Why would I choose to live in a way that lacks passion?  Why would I let my determination waiver?  

During the interview I watched Elon openly share his passion and witness his determination.  I also watched him tear up.

That to me is living.  I am so grateful for this reminder that I received today.  Why the heck would I chose to exist in a zone of complacency and acceptance?  That isn't me.  But then somehow these days, it was me.  Today I am done with it.  I think there is more to fear from living a life devoid of passion than avoiding it.  Sure passion makes us vulnerable, well, it makes me vulnerable anyway.  But it also makes me feel alive, happier, lighter, more authentic - and that to me is well worth the tears along the way.

If you are curious, here is the interview to which I was referring...

...and in keeping with the music theme...

In Love. Again.

I thought for the longest time that a passion that existed once inside me had long curled up and died. It was a little sad, because at one point and time it had been a rather active passion. However I continued to go through the motions. I have to admit it was tough. Some days were better than others, but alas, there was not even a flicker of the passion I once felt.

Today all that changed.

My new home happens to be situated in what I think is one of the most scenic parts of Zurich. Although in the middle of city, I am surrounded by green space. No matter what time of day I can see people walking and running along one of the many trails right outside my back door.

So I did too. But not before spending many a day making excuses for not lacing up and hitting one of the many trails. Finally I did. Intrigued, once day I took a trail along the stream. Narrow, it wound its way along the twists and turns of the stream. Sometimes the trail would lead to a small meadow with soccer field; another with a BBQ and fire pit, but it was all so beautifully isolated. I still cannot believe the gem I have right in my back yard.

A favourite trail of mine at the moment takes me alongside a steam, to the bottom of a mountain with so many wonderful forks; I still haven’t had to do the same trail twice. Some have cobble stone staircases in the midst of trees. Others with narrow tunnels and running fountains. In moments I cannot help but think minus the occasional sighting of cobblestones and the absence of mosquitos I could even be running through northern Ontario backcountry.

But I am not.

Years ago I loved to run. It was not a hobby – it was my passion. It was where I would ponder things. The longer I ran the more sense the world would start to make. I didn’t do it to be fit, or to win a race – although those were nice benefits – but it was for me.

Somewhere along the way, I lost it. The passion slipped away and I never found anything that really did the trick after. But alas, I found it again, nestled inside the green of Zurich city. I suppose sometimes you just have to keep at something, and sometimes something that you thought you had lost can one day be found again. But what awakens that passion is not the same thing. Before it was about distance and speed – but now not so much. It’s the diversity I have come to love, the sound of water, the tiny size of the trail, its isolation and the painful grade of the mountain that is determined to challenge and exhaust me.

The Plane, the Buzzard and No Regrets

Friday, October 18th could have ended much differently for me and many others. On a full flight from Panama to Newark I had that moment in life when you get to consider the fact that you have reached the end of your stay here on earth. As the plane sputtered and the smell of smoke filled the cabin I had nothing left but time.

I watched the people in the plane. There was no crying. No yelling. No tears. Only hope and acceptance. The cabin crew sprang to life and prepared the plane for impact. Their professionalism in this terrifying moment astounded me. I didn't get to lay eyes on the man behind the voice that kept his cool and managed to land a limping plane full of gas safely. I wish I could have told him how much his skill was appreciated by not only those on the plane but also by those who loved us.

To the captain and crew of Continental flight 1022 from Panama to Newark - thank you.

At first I was going to carry on with this blog and write about how much the people in my life mean to me. But the thing is they know this. In fact I make sure to tell those closest to me the difference they make in my life as much as I dare. So it was in these moments in the plane when I thought I would not have a chance to do this again I was not troubled. Although I am far from ready to leave this world, I know that one thing I have done and done well is love. I have beyond a shadow of a doubt the most incredible, brilliant, kind and giving people in my life. In fact, I promise myself daily never to take them for granted.

So in this moment of acceptance I realized that I really didn’t have any regrets - just was tremendously heartbroken that I would not see my amazing son again.

But then as my eventful day carried on, something else happened. While making my way back to the hotel in Panama City my taxis driver and I narrowly escaped a major car accident.

My reaction? Laughter. Like someone shaking me from a deep sleep came the acknowledgement how very alive I was. Fate had intercepted and given me a tremendous gift.

You see flying is one of my greatest fears. Rationalization fails me on this one thing. I do it, but I loathe it. Even try to avoid it. But no more. As I felt the plane struggle to gain altitude my fear became my reality. I had no choice but to face it. Accept it even.

As cliché as it sounds “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” I certainly feel that way. I have lived a great life, but now it’s about to get even better – I simply won’t accept anything else. Acceptance is for moments when you’ve given up on life – and frankly I don’t have time for that.

PS. For a bit more information on the Continental Flight 1022 see below...

Incident: Continental B739 at Panama City on Nov 18th 2011, bird strike

By Simon Hradecky, created Friday, Nov 18th 2011 18:46Z, last updated Friday, Nov 18th 2011 18:47Z

A Continental Airlines Boeing 737-900, registration N53442 performing flight CO-1022 from Panama City (Panama) to Newark,NJ (USA), was in the initial climb out of Panama when the left hand engine (CFM56) ingested a bird and repeatedly surged. The crew shut the engine down and returned to Panama City's Tocumen Airport for a safe landing on runway 03R.Panama's Civil Aviation Authority reported the aircraft was headed for Houston,TX (USA), however, this flight reached Houston on schedule.Continental Airlines confirmed their flight 1022 returned to Panama due to necessary maintenance.

Reader Comments:
panama birdBy enrico boehme on Friday, Nov 18th 2011 19:18Z
i was in an warehouse in the cargo area when the noise started like a turboprop is landing next to me.. we run outside and over my head i have seen fire and noises like explosiones from the left engine.. we thought first is going down and is not climbing anymore.. pilot was bringit it under control and left kerosin in the pacific before landing.. landed save with scared people. good pilot and the landing was good..however those stupid birds here always are treath beside of heavy rains and storms.. friend of mine was in airplane and she said stuff flying around, people screaming and big noises and vibrations.. good they turned the thing off before explosion..

For a video of the landing refer to the editorial link http://www.tvn-2.com/noticias/noticias_detalle.asp?id=63532

Police and an Empty Wallet

In Canada, if you pay for something with cash it can really mess things up. First off it better not be in big bills because anything over a $20 is subjected to anti-counter fitting scanners. In fact often you will see a sign that says “we do not accept $50 or $100 bills” simply because they can’t be bothered to take the chance. I in fact have a friend that was busted with a counterfeit $20 that he received from a bank – but the hassle he had to endure over proving that it did not originate with him was substantial.

However here in Vorarlberg, Austria this is not the case. It is all about cash. I have even had the pleasure of experiencing the awkward moment when it came time to pay and as I handed over my visa was advised that they did not take cards.

So I now go to the bank. Or rather the bankomat. And it spews out Euros in denominations of €50’s and €100’s. The first time I handed over a €100 bill for a €5 purchase I did what any other Canadian might do – I sheepishly asked if I could pay with my €100 bill. They looked at me as if I was from another planet and promptly made change.

This weekend has been a busy one for me. I’ve had commitments all over the place and burned through cash like crazy until all that remained was 5 euros. Still busy I put off going to the bankomat until it was more convenient. As I was rushing off to the next thing and singing along to Maroon 5’s latest I suddenly saw two police officers jump out into the middle of the road in front of me and flag me over.

As I handed over my British Columbia driver’s license and every single official looking paper I could find in the glove box the police officer informed me that I had been going 30 over the speed limit. Now in Canada I wouldn’t have been able to manufacture enough tears to get out of that one – not only would I lose a ton of points but I would also receive about a $300 ticket and a letter from my insurance company informing me how displeased they were with my driving habits. So I was clearly nervous. I had no idea how they would feel about my driver’s license and if I gave them the correct papers and if I was off to the nearest Austrian jail as a result of the combination. (By the way, in my defence I have been driving in Germany a fair bit lately and getting into the no speed limit highway driving).

You can imagine my absolute shock that once the police officers had completed their examination of my ID and papers that they then asked me for €35. Now. Of course it was then that I opened my wallet saw the remaining €5 bill. It was now time for the officer to look shocked. I am sure he was thinking “how can someone speed without cash? That’s not very organized.” Instead he said “there is a bankomat up the street.”

Doing as I was told I headed off to the bankomat and returned immediately to the scene of the crime just as I had been instructed to do. I handed the €50 over and the officer gave me change and a receipt.

As I drove away I couldn’t help but smile. I had just handed a police officer a 50 after being caught speeding – try doing that in Canada and see what happens.

Another 13 Things I Have Learned Living in Austria

1. Most Austrians think they are very similar to Canadians. I think perhaps after a spin on the 401 or attending a Canuck playoff game will cure them of that sentiment.

2. Formality rules. This is a bit of a mind bender for me being a west coast Canadian. I have had to re-evaluate how to write an email. Frau Antle.

3. Ceilings are made of cement. Particularly delightful when drilling holes for light fixtures.

4. Smoke detectors are no big deal here. See above.

5. Austrians don’t care about rhythm when they dance. It’s all about having fun – rhythm just just gets in the way of that. (Okay, that’s not completely true. I was just surprised by those normally reserved tearing it up on the floor. Who knew?)

6. Duck, lamb, rabbit, deer – it will be on the menu.

7. You don’t wait for things in the pharmacy. It’s instantaneous. No four hour prescription waits here.

8. Big brother is watching. I am still getting used to cameras being everywhere.

9. When travelling elsewhere and I tell people I work in Austria they think “Australia.” Seriously.

10. Binders. We don’t do folders and filing cabinets here. It’s all done in binders. I have yet to embrace the concept.

11. People are kind. I like that about living here.

12. Bicycles. It’s not unusual for someone to have three. One used for running errands. Another for street biking and then another for mountain biking.

13. Don’t order a highball.

A Good Life

I made the mad dash to grocery store – just in time. I quickly found my new favourite Austrian wine to have with dinner. The cloth bag for my groceries was tucked under my arm. Once at the checkout I was able to answer all the questions asked of me – in German. When I walked in the door I noticed that the big bouquet of white roses I had bought myself had filled my flat with a beautifully fragrant air.

Earlier today I had a wonderful exchange with my son back home. Then a few texts with a special friend reminded me that I am indeed loved.

As I make dinner tonight I can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I have learned so much since moving Austria. Particularly about myself. My personal idealism of how to be a good mother has been challenged. I have had to count on the kindness of others to help me make my way at times, and without that, my days would have been much more empty and difficult. I know now the tremendous gratification that can result from knowing how to answer someone in an unfamiliar language, if only a handful of times. I have learned to ask for help.

I know that the small triumphs and beautiful moments that made up my day today were the result of the many amazing people that have entered my life. Whether it’s my son who makes me feel like the world’s best mom even though I am an ocean away, or the friend up the street that feeds me when I have not the time, or the colleague who helps me book a hair appointment when I am too shy to make the phone attempt –I am lucky. It’s the small moments that make up a life, and because of the support of everyone in my life, I can enjoy and savour them.

I have a good life. Thanks for being in it.

I came. I weighed. I conquered.

I bought lemons today. Oh yeah. I rocked this whole Austria thing big time. For months I have been terrified of the produce section – but today no longer.

This past week I shared with someone from the office how intimidated I was by the produce department. The weighing in and tagging prior to the cashier hadn’t worked out so well for me in the past and lead to some pretty embarrassing moments. He took his time and explained the process. Produce on the scale. Type in number that is displayed on the items sign. Sticker comes out. Place on bag with produce.

Got it.

But first I needed cash and I had none so off I went to the bank machine to use my Austrian bank card for the first time.

Not good. The English language button was nowhere to be found and my attempt to logically select the right buttons was failing miserably. The machine kept spitting my card back. No money. This was a bit of a problem. I needed food and a pair of shoes was calling my name. So I did what any other person in my predicament would do. I went to my favorite bakery and ordered a cappuccino to go and pondered my options.

That’s when I heard “hey American girl!”

Seems walking around with a coffee is not a very Austrian thing to do. Nonetheless, that cappuccino proved to be the perfect Segway for a little bank machine tutorial. Money now in hand I decided it was time to head to the busy Interspar and stock up my weeks groceries.

First stop produce section. I circle the area. I decide to only try one thing just in case I did it wrong – one oops is much less embarrassing than 10. So I decide on lemons. Just three little lemons. I bag them and begin searching for the machine. Instantly I panic. There is a line up at the weigh scales. I nearly bail, but instead go back to the lemon sign and double check the number. “You can do this,” I silently assure myself.

My turn arrives. Place on scale. Check. Push button. Hmm…where is the tag? Nonchalantly I start examining all sides of the machine. I start looking for an enter button, something, anything that I could have overlooked. Nothing. Just before I am about to walk away I notice the sticker. I place it on the bag and head to the till. Reading the label I think whatever it happens to say does not look much like the word “lemon.” Should have taught us lemon in German class I think.

In the end, my lemons were accepted at the till. It was a euphoric moment for me. I paid for them with the money I took from the bank machine.

Today there is an extra bounce in step as well as a renewed sense of pride. And I will likely share this anyone and everyone who is misguided enough to ask me how my day went. And why not? I conquered the heck out of it!

Rethinking a Goodbye

I don’t like goodbyes. Not one little bit. They are an unnecessary dramatic conclusion. To me a goodbye signifies an end. And most often an end is a negative thing – so why goodbye?

When my son was around two years old he refused to say goodbye. He would hug people, say “love you” and then quickly leave the rest of us to our dramatic send off. I think he was on to something.

My long time email/pen pal used to sign every email to me with some sort of “goodbye.” Each time I would read through the email and enjoy the inevitable chuckle it provoked, but then it would lead to a formal “have a nice life” sort of ending. It made me crazy.

As I head off for a three week leave from my Austrian home, I found myself once again dealing with “goodbyes.” I appreciate the effort certainly, but being the sensitive soul that I am, I am horribly uncomfortable with the finality of a goodbye. I accept that things change and that sometimes it can be painful to part. But it does not have to be a goodbye. Does it?

I would like to think that a goodbye is more like the end of a chapter. And as you turn the pages to another chapter and perhaps another you will soon find that there was no need for a goodbye. Whether it is three weeks, 10 years or a lifetime – why say goodbye? How about see you soon? Then we can just keep turning the pages and see what the next chapter holds.

Orange Envy

Over two months in and I have to say it is the grocery store that causes me the most grief. I love fruits and vegetables. The problem is I don’t know how to buy them.

A week back I put some oranges on the store conveyer belt. Not a big deal – right? At home in Canada they just weigh those suckers for me, enter in how much I owe and I am on my way.

Not here.

The cashier stopped, examined my oranges and said something to me at warp speed in dialect riddled German. I am completely clueless except that there is a problem with the oranges and she is not very happy with me. Everyone around is now watching and wondering how the orange issue is going to turn out. The cashier continues to stare at me as she picks up the phone to call someone.

Excellent. She was calling back up. This wasn’t going to get embarrassing at all.

At this point I declared that I no longer wanted the oranges while at the same time pausing to scan the rest of conveyer belt for any other possibly awkward produce moments. Fortunately the rest of my selection was straight forward.

Days later I share my produce story with a fellow at work. Being ever so helpful, he launched into the most complicated explanation of how I must select, weigh and tag my produce prior to the till. At the end of my verbal tutorial he decided that these produce machines were in fact so incredibly complicated that I should make every effort to avoid them. After his explanation I was inclined to agree.

Heading Home

This evening as I was packing up, I announced “I can't wait to get home.”

Truth was I was tired and happy that the day was coming to an end, but my comment was met with raised eyebrows. My co-worker had assumed that I was on the next plane back to Canada. In that moment it hit me, I was calling home a teeny tiny hotel room when I was in actual fact homeless.

Of course this caused me to ponder the facts. My home in Kelowna was about to become someone else’s and I was still in the process of securing a flat to call my own here in Austria. Since I had arrived here with only four bags of stuff, I would be faced still with making my new residence, home.

When I think back to my beautiful town back in British Columbia, I think of home. It’s where my friends and family live. However, as I made my way back to my hotel, I also had to admit that it too was home to me. If only just for the moment - and that when I made it into my new flat, it would also become my home.

So I got to thinking, what was “home” exactly? It was clearly a place of emotional attachment because no matter when I say “I am going home” it makes me feel warm inside. It could be back to my roots in small town Ontario, or where my loved ones reside or where I climb into bed each night – even if it is a teeny tiny hotel room.

But is home just a place? I started to think not. If it can be so many different places, then it must be a feeling. When I see my son or speak to him on the phone, I am filled with feelings of peace, warmth and love that resonate even stronger than the sense I get when I head to a place that I geographically define as home. And, when I am in the arms of a special someone I know that there is no place I’d rather be. That special moment is home to me.

I’ve decided that there is absolute truth to the old adage “home is where the heart is.” But it isn’t geographical. Sure it can be a place you seek solace in at the end of the day, or a place you consider during a tough time - but it can also be sound of your childs laugh and the arms of someone you love the most. And that to me is an even better kind of "home."