Designer Approach to Solving Human Problems

                                     From our August visit to Belfast, Northern Ireland 

Lately, I've been reading lots of blogs on retirement and transitions in an effort to locate myself in what feels like a new time and place or phas even though I've been retired for
more than two years and in my new community just as long.

I've been enjoying the excellent site brainpickings.org with it emphasis on creativity and
ideas, writing, and reading -- activities that feed one's soul. I've continued to peruse 


favorites such intentionalretirement.com  and eretirements.com because each offers thoughtful, useful information. As I've been reading and pondering, I have found myself returning to the September post "Calling all Retirees" on Retired Syd's blog (retiredsyd.typepad.com). One of her readers, Walter openly commented on his dissatisfaction with retirement, how he feels lost, unhappy and unsure there is a retirement 
for him. Syd put out a call to her readers for their thoughts on what might be helpful to Walter.  While I empathized and sympathized with Walter's  dilemma, I wasn't so clear that 
suggestions from others would help him solve his problem. 

The more I pondered Walter's situation, the more I came to think that he and I share the same problem. In my blog reading and researching, I happened upon the ideas Bill Burnett and Dave Evans put forth on their web site designingyour.life and in their book (one I think Walter should read) of the same name based on their wildly popular Stanford University 
course.

 Why do I think Walter and I share the same problem? Because our problems are human 
problems. Retirement or pre-retirement is similar to any other life phase in that it can toss a 
crisis or two in the way, unwanted, undesired road blocks, challenges, dilemmas, barriers, 
and disease like cancer.

                                     Just two of my favorite photos from safari in SA 


The retirement R and I planned for our "Go Go Years" has been shelved, we hope 
temporarily because he has cancer. After too many months of PSA tests, biopsies, more 
high tech biopsies, MRIs, CT and body scans, more conversations with physicians about 
potency, nerve sparing procedures, and continence or incontinence then I thought I'd 
participate in over my lifetime, we are traveling the path from cancer diagnosis to best 
treatment which in this case will be -- surgery and then recovery.

Did we take a wrong turn on the retirement bliss highway?

Nope. This is just life and life is full of human problems. While I am a retired therapist trained to think about human issues in all kinds of ways, Burnett and Evans' "think like a designer" approach resonated with me. Some problems are static problems, like how to build a bridge or a house that are solved and then you are finished. Those are concrete kinds of problems. But life problems are "wicked problems," (a rather sinister term) that are not static, not solved one time and you are finished, but require an adaptable, flexible approach to solving for the solution criteria keep changing. 
I'll add that the criteria probably change with new situations and with age.

The solution criteria for my problem have changed and I suspect the solution criteria also 
changed for Walter.

For a complete explanation of Burnett and Evans' approach check out their book, blog, web 
site and/or You Tube presentations. But in brief, the two of them suggest thinking and acting 
like designers to solve nonstatic "wicked" problems by using three ideas -- get curious, talk to people, and try stuff. This last point, try stuff, is enormously important because action 
rather than pondering is rewarded and yields an outcome.

My point is that life is not static -- it is changeable, active, moving, variable with solution 
criteria that keep changing; even so, we must figure out how to go forward. Simple to state 
yet possibly complex to do.

Happy holidays.

                                              Botanic gardens in Singapore 

Heart of a Minimalist, A Garage Filling With GEAR

Where did 2015 go? And how did it go? And where have we been? More about all that later. But first, let's ponder GEAR.

In 2014, after packing most of our stuff in Chicago for out-of-state storage and cramming the remaining needed stuff in our over-packed SUV, strapping our old bikes on the back, we headed west for a big adventure and life change.  After distributing some luggage and clothing as well as our car to various accommodating relatives for safe keeping while we traveled, off we went, by plane, ship, train, taxi, bike, and shuttle, in what we thought was a minimalist fashion -- one large duffle each and one rolling carry on and for me one enormous, oversized, shoulder straining purse. This is how we traveled for 11 weeks, visiting South Beach, Florida, Lisbon, Portugal, La Harve, Normandy, Dover, England, Amsterdam, Brussels, Dublin, Ireland, Ireland's Connemara 
coast, Glasgow, Scotland, Copenhagen, Denmark, the Faroe Islands, Shetland Island, Reykjavik, Iceland, Oslo, Bergen, Geiranger, and Stavanger, Norway, London, NYC, and then Los Angeles. With just one duffle and one carry on each.  Although in all honesty, our bags were not all that light, for more than one taxi driver in the UK said to me, "Did you know the guy?" after hoisting my duffle into a cab trunk. Finally I got the joke -- perhaps, each cabbie was intimating, I was dragging around a dead someone in my bag -- hence the weight. A little UK cab driver humor.

    Cabbies found the duffle heavy. Huh? But these held all my stuff for 11 weeks.
We repeated that same minimalist packing, though much pared down, on our two-month trip from Vancouver, BC to the Hawaiian Islands, Tahiti, Bora Bora, North Island of NZ, Sydney, Adelaide, and Kangaroo Island, Australia, and a cycling trip of the South Island of NZ. The two of us mastered the art of hand washing clothes, frequently wearing the same outfits with minimalist pride, and feeling somewhat superior to fellow travelers who hadn't been on the road (or ship, plane, bike, 
shuttle....) for two months yet overpacked.
     We vowed to keep up our minimalist lifestyle, buying and using only what we needed, living clutter-free as much as possible, adhering to a simpler, less stuff driven life. After all, we reasoned, life now was to be about gathering experiences not tending to stuff. 
     And then we moved to Bend and met GEAR.

     Of course, GEAR is not a something one meets but more a philosophy, a way of living life.

Our new house came with a garage and soon followed kayaks, a kayak rack, personal flotation devices, paddles, kayaking gloves, dry bags, water proof bags for phones, new bikes, bike bags, bike rack, bike repair kits, water bottles, hiking poles, hiking packs, and on and on. Seemingly, we were under the spell of GEAR.

    Pretty neon kayaks require additional GEAR like dry bags, kayak racks, water vests, and more.
    As though accepting summer gear wasn't, well embarrassing enough, we are now, with a new season, living with the additional failed minimalist shame of WINTER GEAR.
Snow shoes, poles, water proof boots, ski gloves, ski masks, ski hats, ski pants, ski boots, skis, ski jackets, ear covers, more boots than two people can possibly wear and on and on.

    Hmm? That's a lot of GEAR.

 Do I really need my long semi-puffy coat with a hood, short wool coat, a long wool coat, a zipped fleece, a zipped ski jacket, a water proof jacket with pit zips? Yup, in Bend, I guess I 
do.
     As a minimalist-want-to-be how do I square GEAR with myself?

While my fancy urban heels and fine leather boots from a different lifetime sit unworn, snubbed, in my closet, watching as my Keen hiking boots and water shoes, hiking pants and so much more playfully join my almost daily excursions, I remind myself GEAR is part of a new life.  We purchased GEAR to support engaging in new experiences.
While the house and our wardrobes may be more minimalist in style and decor, simplified from urban living, the garage is GEAR.

In my previous post, I quoted psychiatrist Glen Gabbard's advice that in one's 60s and 70s, spend on what has been postponed. For us, that means experiences and GEAR.
Happy New Year.

Next up.....how did the year go, where did we go, and looking ahead. Isn't it time for a bed count?

Possibilities, Perils, and Embracing Retirement

    This guy has his retirement figured out. Beautiful, isn't?
Every so often, a few thoughtful gems land in my email account. This happened recently. Well, the gems did not land recently, I just unearthed them as I waded through long neglected, unread emails.

In my email box, I discovered Mark Moran's (Psychiatric News, July 2015) article highlighting pieces from psychiatrist Glen Gabbard's presentation, Possibilities, Perils for Aging Physicians. Gabbard's lecture, sponsored by the Senior Physicians Section of the AMA, was addressed to the AMA's House of Delegates in July. While Gabbard specifically focuses on aging physicians, I think the gist of his message applies to social workers, psychologists, psychotherapists, clergy, and many others in helping professions and non-helping professions.

 In his presentation, Gabbard makes several points, including that the "practice of medicine is not a job, it's more of a calling," that "the profound gratifications that medicine offers....make aging a challenge" and that the perfectionism, compulsiveness, and an "exaggerated sense of responsibility for one's patients," qualities that make for an excellent physician, can also make "slowing down or retiring difficult or impossible" (Moran, 2015). To this Gabbard adds the kicker, "We have a need to be needed."

Hmm. That last thought cuts true and deep -- the need to be needed.

     In part, Gabbard is pointing out that one's profession and therefore professional identity impact the evenness or unevenness of the transition into retirement.  This, of course, makes sense.  Our talents as well as who we are and what we have experienced combine to draw us toward our chosen careers and can make stepping into the next phase tricky.

    Gabbard, a psychoanalyst, speaks not just to the perils of the transition but also to the upside, the wonderful possibilities of the retirement phase. "Don't postpone" he advises. "The 60s and 70s are a time for harvesting -- spend money on those things you have postponed."
     "Retirement should not be about leaving something; it should be about going to something. Whether you work part-time, not at all, or full time, have a plan about what gives you joy. You have nothing to prove, you have run the race and are no longer in competition."

     Gabbard's points are well made. Move toward something, seek joy, don't postpone (the old live life with urgency idea), and spend time harvesting the fruits of your labor.

     Is this easier said then done?

     Over the years, I'd heard former colleagues suggest that they would "leave their practices feet first," either from financial need or another need and in fact, some did just 
that. Perhaps not quite the approach Gabbard is suggesting.

     However you decide to configure this phase, experts have some suggestions: (Retirement blues: Taking it too easy can be hard on you, Healthbeat Harvard Medical School)

-- Stay engaged since social connectedness is important for health.
-- Find a balance of activities that challenge, like improving a skill or learning something new.
-- Some stress is good, so choose activities that cause you to stretch, but not too easy or too hard.

This year has whizzed by and I'm wondering how I've applied this advice. Guess I'll find out in my next post. Until then, 
Stay calm and carry on 

    Here I am learning something new. And I'm fairly certain when I fell, I stretched something.....does     that count?

The Wisdom of the Second Year in Retirement (or what adolescents can teach us)

     Our beautiful mountains. 

Ok, that title way over states what I know. Wisdom? Hardly. Wise? Nope. Figuring it out? Yup. I've been working toward figuring out this phase.

There is a bit of mythology among those who haven't yet retired, including some who write about retirement that goes something like this -- You will know (or need to know) how you want to spend your time before you retire. In other words, that you'll have this phase all figured out before you arrive, before you live it.

Hmmmmm.  Quite honestly, that just doesn't make sense.

Most people spend upwards of 35 years building and nurturing careers, meaning they've worked long hours, made sacrifices, delayed gratification, probably worked on weekends, short changed vacation time. The shift from developing and focusing on a career to enjoying life, pursuing leisure, and perhaps pursuing the fun path not taken -- is enormous and realistically the shift takes time.

Several months ago, I wrote a post about the "Go-Go Years," the "Slow-Go Years," and the "No-Go Years" and offered up my disagreement with Vanguard's advice to evaluate retirement's progress five years in. Waiting five years to gauge one's progress toward a satisfying retirement just seemed, well, hair brained to me because one could very well be wasting precious "Go-Go Years."

 Even more months back, I highlighted a slice from Joe Hearn's 8 Habits of Highly Successful Retirees in which Hearn states that the number one habit of successful retirees is......to live life with URGENCY. Life is precious, don't waste it, get moving.

While one needs to live with urgency and certainly not wait five years to assess if retirement life is working out.......I also think retirees, pre-retirees, almost-retirees must allow themselves time and space to figure out this phase.

What exactly do I mean by that?

Adolescence is a time of exploring, figuring out likes and dislikes, experimenting, trying new activities, learning what fits. Because adolescents are still emerging, growing, developing, adults allow them this time -- or perhaps adolescents seize it.  I don't know. It has been a long time since I was an adolescent.

Why shouldn't retirement lay out sort of the same way? Why shouldn't retirees take some time exploring what works, might work, doesn't work?

Joe Hearn (intentionalretirement.com) spoke to this in his post Five Behaviors That Will Ruin Your Retirement. (I actually think Mr. Hearn is a bit of a therapist disguised as a financial planner, but that's a different topic.) Hearn makes several cogent points in his Five Behaviors post, but the one that resonated with me was "Confusing 'Past' you with 'Future' you." 

Boy, I'm guilty of this one.

As Hearn points out, retirement should be a time to experience all you've dreamed about but instead some people get waylaid by limiting beliefs about themselves, saying about new experiences, "That's not me." To which Hearn answers,

     "That might not have been you when you were working 60 hours a week and raising three kids, but              your circumstances have changed.....Maybe you ARE the guy who becomes an expat to Ecuador. Maybe you ARE the lady who takes up skydiving. Maybe you ARE the couple who sells everything and     starts a B & B in Oregon. Past you does not equal future you" (my italics).

Past you is not future you. Or current you. I like this. And this is what takes time to understand. Part of this process is creating a new identity but part is also allowing time and space for exploring and experimenting. Just like those wily adolescents we all used to be (only now with more money).

I'm giving myself time to figure this out while I live with urgency (always multi-tasking, that's me) and travel.

Stay calm and carry on. I'm off to cycle.

    Last Friday we hiked for R's 65th birthday. He pretty much has this phase figured out.

Time for a Bed Count and a Review of Peru

When I wasn't paying close attention, we reached a traveling milestone of sorts -- 100th bed slept in since March 19, 2014 when we set off from Chicago on our journey into this new phase. We reached this milestone while traveling in Peru, the topic of this post.
So beyond my eating difficulties (see previous post and the cute, edible Guinea pigs) how was the trip to Peru?

I'm going to answer that question in my usual round-about way because hey, I've got the time.

There were people on our tour who since their elementary school days, after looking at pics of Machu Picchu, had dreamed of visiting Peru and gazing at Machu Picchu. I wasn't one of them. Since I don't remember studying Peru, I was probably busy not paying attention in class or reading Nancy Drew or about Florence Nightingale. Either way, it wasn't my dream.
 Others on the trip considered hiking to Machu Picchu and around the ruins of the Sacred Valley experiences of a life time. I really didn't fall into that category either. As I too soon discovered in Peru, a few ruins, that are basically created from the same look-alike granite, go a long, long way with me no matter how tall, complicated or symmetrically perfect. Not to mention I still itch from those nasty, blood-sucking little flies.

    Ollantaytambo, Sacred Valley
    

However, R had long wanted to visit Peru and especially Machu Picchu so in the spirit of marital harmony, I agreed. More than one time over the years, a visit there was on the books and I found a way of wiggling out of the trip.

This time I did not wiggle.

Learning about the Andeans, past and present, was my favorite part of this adventure. I'm amazed that people live in an environment as rugged and in many ways as harsh as the Andes. I loved our peek into Peruvian countryside culture via the "Primitive Market Tour" as our guides dubbed it. I was fascinated watching three adults wrestle a huge pig into a bag for its trip to their village where he would meet his final destiny.  I was captivated in an American-grossed out sort of way by the Andean woman quietly eating her homemade (of course!) cow's head soup with the cow's teeth jutting out of her bowl. While the cloud forest mountains of Machu Picchu are beautiful, the chaotic, dusty, colorful, rural ways were what caught my interest.

   This guy went unhappily and loudly into a bag

    Market, Urubamba, Peru

With that said,

If Peru is on your list of must have life experiences here are a few ideas to consider before heading off --

-- Altitude sickness is a real thing and impacts some more than others. It usually manifests as both middle of the night wakefulness (resulting in fatigue the next day)  and a crushing nighttime and daytime headache. Oxygen, available at most tourist hotels, helps as does Ibuprofen.
-- The trip is strenuous, even if you only hike a mile or so on the Inca Trail. This is the land of stone streets, thousands of uneven, high steps, and soaring elevation. And just so you know, the Sun Gate is about 1 1/2 hours of straight up walking. You'll be visiting ancient ruins not modern structures with ramps and lifts. Wear sensible shoes.
-- During dry season, Machu Picchu is busy since 3,500 people are allowed into the site each day. You will not visit these sites alone, although you may wish you were.
-- Even if your tour guides don't suggest it,  WEAR BUGS-AWAY LONG PANTS (for the uninitiated, these are pants treated with bug repellent). During season, those nasty little flying biting nats BITE! Three and a half weeks post MP my bites, while healing still itch.
-- About half the folks on our trip fell ill at one point or another. Bottled water and a good supply of Imodium and possibly antibiotics, are your best travel friends. Also pack bite stick, hydrocortisone, Calamine lotion, and possibly Benadryl. This arsenal will win you friends and make you more comfortable.
-- Even though the economy and living conditions are much better than they were a few decades ago, Peru is a relatively poor country. Our guides emphasized that Peruvians believe that anyone who travels to their country is wealthy. You may be asked for money to take someone's photo or just because.

One aspect of travel I find wondrous is that different places are magical (or not) to different people. One person's idea of nirvana might be my idea of a ring of hell, or something like that. While Peru wasn't a top trip for me, it was a good one. But it wasn't magical. I still favor cycling trips over walking. However, my analysis of my Peruvian travel left me with a question I'd like to answer but seem unable yet to do so.

How does one balance exploring and trying out new adventures, including some that might disappoint, against sticking with what is known, tried and true, and previously explored?

Thoughts anyone?  Adventure Girl is listening.

Next planned trip -- Asia and the east coast of Australia -- by ship!
But first, someone will have a BIG birthday and we'll celebrate 35 years of ......marriage.
Stay calm and carry on!

   

    Fall in Bend

Forging a New Food Identity

I'm in the midst of a food identity crisis. Ok, crisis is probably way too strong a word. Perhaps it is more a transition. That's it, I'm in a food transition.

Am I a celiac vegan who eats fish and egg whites? A pescatarian with celiac who avoids dairy?  I'm just not sure; I just feel confused.

About eight years ago, I was diagnosed with celiac.  Mostly, I have figured out how to eat and travel with this autoimmune illness. But what the doctor is now saying to me.....Oops, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me back up.

Not long ago, I was sitting in the exam room intently looking at the new, highly recommended doctor. I was fresh from an EKG and echocardiogram and I had my dreadful Cardiac Calcium Screening report gripped in my hand.

Then he spoke.

"This is the one time you get to blame your parents."

In a nanosecond, I pondered what he had said and considered possible responses to the doctor's remark.  I'm thinking that some part of me has wanted to hear someone say just this -- Yup, for  these crappy heart reports, you can blame the parents.

I even considered that perhaps my former patients at times wanted me to say this to them. That they too could blame their parents for their situations.

But this is not a therapy session for me or one of my patients. The man seated across from me dressed in a summer plaid shirt, Keen hiking shoes, and cargo pants -- the typical physician uniform in Bend -- is my new cardiologist.
And he is giving me the go ahead to blame my parents for my sucky genetics. Oddly, despite his delivering rather unpleasant news, I like him. That's the best part of the visit.

Once I've digested the less than appealing test results, we move on to discuss what can be done. It is this discussion that has led me to a food identity crisis.

Despite my having eaten a fairly healthy diet over the decades, the nice new doc is suggesting I switch to a modified vegetarian diet, one that includes some healthy fish.

Many vegetarians eat dairy (lacto-vegetarian) but I try to avoid dairy which is more vegan-like. But vegans don't eat fish or egg whites.....and both vegans and vegetarians eat grains and I don't because I'm celiac but I do eat legumes and rice.

May be you understand my confusion? 

And I haven't even considered how the new food identity, whatever it is, will impact travel.
More to come.....and to ponder.

Until next time Gluten Free Black Bean, Quinoa, and Corn Vegetarian Patties. Sadly, they were kind of crumbly but tasted great.

Retirement Journey So Far Part 1: How'd I Do in the First Six and a Half Months?

About 15 months ago, we set off from Chicago on our initial journey into this next life-phase. R was fully retired and I was planning to live a mid-life gap year of fun and adventure. This journey included relocating to the Western part of the U.S., buying a little cottage in Bend, OR., and lots of planned travel varying in levels of adventure.

We've been living in our Bend house now for six and a half months so I'm over due for my six month check in -- to see how retired life is working for me, since I consider these six and a half months my initial retirement. As email-luck would have it, my friends at Vanguard recently sent me the article 5 Things to Think About on Your Journey to Retirement.  Perfect, I thought, I'm in the mood to think and analyze. More than half the article focused on planning basics --  when to start saving, figuring out your savings needs, calculating retirement expenses. Important stuff but not the focus of my six month evaluation. The last section grew more interesting with questions like What's your vision for the (retirement) future? Now we are talking, I thought -- let's start exploring how we want to live our lives. My interest built as I anticipated that the article's last section would help me assess and clarify how my own journey was moving along.

The final section opened with You're living life as a retiree -- finally! Is there anything about your lifestyle that hasn't met your expectations?

Great question, I thought as I read on. I'm ready to think about this.

"About five years after you retire, consider asking yourself whether or not retirement is what you thought it would be...."

Wait! What the f...? Five years? Wait five years to ask this question? Are they nuts?
Suddenly, my friends at Vanguard were not such good friends. Or at least not bright friends. They seemed to be ignoring one of the enormous realities of life -- that unforeseen events happen that can quickly change one's plans -- while at the same time suggesting that one diddle away a fair amount of precious time before evaluating how life is going. From my perspective, this is a big problem.

Let me explain.

As a psychotherapist, I'm a believer in development and developmental phases (infancy, childhood, adolescence, adulthood, etc.) in that life can be roughly and flexibly broken into stages, with attending tasks or events associated with each phase. This idea applies to retirement. Michael Stein, CFP, is often attributed with (though others may have espoused this) the idea that for most people living in retirement follows three separate age related stages -- The Go-Go Years, The Slow-Go Years, and The No-Go Years.  The related ages for each stage are somewhat loosely configured as 

Go-Go Years --ages 55 (or 60 or 65) to mid-70s. These are presumably one's most active and healthy years, when one has lots of get up and go.

Slow-Go Years -- roughly mid- 70s to 85 when for many dashing through retirement 
seems less appealing and health and general aging cause them to slow down.

The No-Go Years -- 85 to ........ when retirees just don't go much. These are more the 
rocking chair on the porch years. Ok I know what some of you are thinking -- you've heard 
stories of people in their 90s running marathons or cycling in the Senior Tour de France, or climbing the Himalayas but those folks are likely exceptions. I've also heard people anticipate their own life expectancies in retirement based on their parents. Some describe how long a parent, an aunt or uncle lived rather than how well they lived in retirement. Quality of life. My own father died at age 84 but I don't think anyone, including him, thought his last six to eight years were his best and most active.

Others never live to see retirement. My mother died at age 55 well before she could retire. I've known plenty of others who died in their mid to late 50s or early 60s never knowing retirement's pleasures. To my way of thinking, arriving at the Go-Go Years is a privilege, probably a gift and one not to waste.

Let's go back to Vanguard's idea that after five years in retirement one evaluate how retirement is progressing. Let's say Ms. Susie B., an attorney, retired at age 65 and following Vanguard's model decided at age 70 to assess her retirement satisfaction. I'm no numbers genius, but seems to me that would give her only five more of the precious Go-Go Years to adjust her course and more fully live her retirement vision. That's not much time, especially after a lifetime of work.

My advice, which is not about finances, is to spend the five years prior to retiring coming to know yourself, figuring out what you want from this phase, and creating your vision of how you want to spend those precious Go-Go Years, knowing that your ideas, wants, needs will probably change and evolve once you live in that phase. And then six months or so into retirement living (not five years!), evaluate your progress so you can adjust if needed to make the most of the 
active, healthy, Go-Go Years.  And periodically, keep assessing your life. You never get 
back any of this time.  Don't waste it.

Next post -- Assessing My Initial Go-Go Years.

Hiking on Orcas Island, WA

Traveling With Celiac in Italy

Bed count 89. Locations of beds 87, 88, and 89 -- the magical land of southern Italy, Puglia, the heel of the boot. Let me just go on record that I think the Italians really know how to live, minus their limited use of air conditioning, terrible highway driving, and roads in need of repair. And I guess I'll add to the list their tradition of starting dinner each evening at 8 or 8:30pm which can be a bit late for an American. Beyond those complaints, I think Italy is heavenly and mostly makes up for the minuses with sunny, warm days, slower pace of life, amazing scenery, and abundant, glorious food.

On this segment of the trip, we traveled to Siena in Tuscany, the old port town Bari on the Adriatic, inland to historic Matera and then with the bike tour to small villages like Alberbello, Ostuni, Fasano, Otranto -- all beautiful parts of southern Italy, a region fairly easily traveled when one has celiac.

Here's a summary of what I've learned about dining in Italy with celiac--

1. In larger, frequently visited (think day trips from Florence) cities, like Siena that serve international tourists it will simply be easier and more convenient to find safe food. In Siena our hotel Palazzo Ravizza recommended a restaurant only a few minutes from the hotel. The restaurant owner's wife has celiac, diagnosed when she was seven. While this is an unfortunate situation for her, for a traveler with celiac it has yielded a restaurant owner who deeply understands celiac and manages his kitchen in a celiac-safe way. It was such a joy to safely eat delicious Italian food that we ate there twice and recommended it to a couple we met on a tour. His restaurant is Vivace (vivacesiena.com). The owner of Vivace recommended another restaurant that makes safe gluten free pizza. We delighted in Siena's considerable charms and  ate well.

2. In Italy, food service workers are required to understand celiac and food allergies  and in my experience they are well educated. Once I mastered the important phrase "Senza glutine" (without gluten or gluten free) and handed over my celiac card, which every server knowingly brushed away, I was in business. The Italians, no matter how limited their English wanted to help me have a delicious, safe meal. Celiac wasn't an annoyance to them. I wish that were true in the states.

3. Make friends! Not just in life but when traveling, especially in smaller cities where dining options may be more limited. Richard befriended the gregarious Italian gentleman who ran the tourist office in Matera. He recommended a wonderful restaurant, Fornaci, and phoned the chef to confirm he could accommodate celiac and to tell him we were heading his way. On our arrival, the chef came out to greet us, took my Italian celiac card, wrote on the reservation "gluten-free" and told us to come back in an hour. When we returned, I was greeted with fresh gluten-free rolls and told I could select anything I wanted from the menu and he would prepare it gluten-free. In Matera, I found gluten free heaven and excellent, affordable wine. It is very good to have friends.

    The remains of my wonderful fish soup!

4. Traveling in a country that values fresh, quality food mostly makes eating safely easier. Beyond pasta and bread, much of southern Italian cooking is naturally gluten free. Zuppa di pesce, a luscious tomato based fish chowder of mussels, shrimp, white fish, and clams is 
made without any wheat filler and easily found in many restaurants, even in small villages.
And many a small restaurant in a small village offered gluten-free pasta.

5. With some advanced notification, even organized tours that include meals will provide excellent food. I've been on tours where styrofoam-like, overly wrapped pseudo-food was presented (or tossed at me) as my included meal. Not in Italy. On a day long tour of wineries that included lunch, I enjoyed antipasto, salad, and pasta with the group and the chef asked specifically if my gluten free pasta was to my liking. It was and I came home with six pounds as proof.

    A Puglia specialty -- which is gluten-free. Black rice, vegetables, and fresh mussels. Heavenly.

6. While my preference is to be as stealth as possible about food, that often isn't possible because fellow travelers are curious about what I eat. I'm always prepared to answer questions about celiac, but I do grow annoyed when others want to know why I'm 
receiving "special" food. Thick skin is a good thing to pack when traveling.

    Seafood pasta found in the small village of Monopli.

Is it no wonder that my current day dreams feature extended stays in sleepy Italian masserias, long bike rides along the Adriatic, and multi- course meals enjoyed late into the night? Oh, Italy.

It will Probably Be Different From What You Imagine

  Oh fantasy, where would future plans be without you? Many people imagine, fantasize about life after decades of work. They envision lots of play time on beaches, long afternoon naps, endless travel, all kinds of anti-work activities, more of that most precious commodity -- free time. Humans have the capacity to predict (usually based on prior experiences) how something might unfold, how the experience will go for them. It isn't too difficult to predict how one might experience a routine trip to the grocery store or a stop at a gas station. But what about completely new experiences, those without prior experiences attached? For many of us, there are experiences we simply need to live through to figure them out, to process and understand them and to know ourselves in them. The transition to retirement is like that, at least for me.

  Prior to taking the gap-year, I read all I could find about gap-year adventures, senior gap-year adventures, retirement, semi-retirement, encore careers, re-imagined careers, passion about careers, life phases, life transitions, round-the-world travel, vangabond senior living, full-time life on the road (in addition to books on the topic I read blogs like Retirement:A Full-Time Job, Satisfying Retirement, Early Retirement Journey and HomeFreeAdventures).  In other words, the good researcher and curious part of me did her investigative work. In my active brain and electronically, I explored all sides of the stay or go question, all sides of taking a break, traveling for months at a time, becoming a permanent bum, finding new pursuits. I became a knowledge expert. As best I could, I prepared myself for this significant transition, and mostly my prep work paid off. Traveling for long stretches always comes with complications, some predictable, some not -- delayed flights, torrential rains, sketchy hotel rooms, illness, questionable, sometimes unrecognizable food  -- but most of the travel was magical. New experiences each day, lots of adventures, the delicious excitement of the yet to be known. That part of the living through experience has worked.

  Moving to a new community and new house has been.......not challenging but different from what I thought it would be.  R and I knew retirement, semi-retirement, or whatever I call this next yet-to-be-named phase would be trickier for me than for him. We are different with different needs and wants and expectations. I get that. I did not know that each day, with each experience I would be collecting data on how I want or don't want to live this phase of my life. Apparently, I'm one of the must-live-through-this time-to-know folks. 

  One of the ways I know that I'm puzzling through an experience is when I don't quite feel like myself. I'm not the Chicagoan anymore but I'm hardly settled in the new life, even though I now possess an Oregon driver's license and my passport sports my new address. I recognize my house as my house but it doesn't yet feel like home. I'm meeting new people but none know me historically, through the experiences that have shaped me into who I am. Over the years I have learned that floating in this state of not-quite-me means I'm in transition and is a necessary, if uncomfortable part of change. Who wants to wake up each morning not-quite feeling like themselves?  I'm traveling through this phase with the knowledge that I'm on my way to somewhere new, probably a place unfamiliar to me, a place unlike the fantasy. A place, since I've not lived-through it, I could not quite have predicted.  The tremendous upside is that moving into the unknown leaves me open to possibilities. 

  Last week I read Oliver Sacks' piece in the NY Times "My Own Life: On Learning I Have Terminal Cancer."  Not only was I deeply moved by Sacks describing his experiences, I found his thoughts on living till the end wonderful guidelines, perhaps a philosophy for simply living fully, especially when one is in the last quadrant of life. Here are a few of Oliver Sack's thoughts extracted from the article --

"It is up to me now to choose how to live out the months that remain to me."
"I have to live in the richest, deepest, most productive way I can."
"I feel intensely alive, and I want and hope in the time that remains to deepen my friendships, to say farewell to those I love, to write more, to travel if I have the strength, to achieve new levels of understanding and insight."

"I feel a sudden clear focus and perspective."
"There is no time for anything inessential."
"I must focus on myself, my work and my friends."
"I shall no longer look at "NewsHour" every night."
"I shall no longer pay any attention to politics or arguments about global warming.
This is not indifference but detachment -- "

I wonder if Dr. Sacks' response to this phase is different from what he imagined? Mostly, I admire his clarity of thought. To achieve such clarity is my goal.

Good morning, Bend