A Short Book Review and the Meaning of Life

   A view from Bend earlier this year.

Since the beginning of the year, I've been traveling down the thematic path of ensuring I live consciously, mindfully, and meaningfully. My wise husband, who I've long suspected is naturally more insightful than I, even though I'm the one with the degrees and training, has pointed out that "You seem to be going through something." Yup, I'd say that's right on. Apparently, that's how I roll on the eve of turning 62.

Last post was about my mother and how I both include her in my birthday celebrations (at least in my thoughts) and feel relief at living longer than she did. Earlier in the year, I wrote a post discussing various essays and the book Being Mortal all of which focused, to certain degrees, on living fully, deliberately with whatever time we have. (See link below).

https://50bedsgapyear.blogspot.com/2016_02_07_archive.html

Buddhist monks meditate on photos of decaying corpses as a way of remembering that the physical self is fleeting. This monk photographed in Bangkok on our recent trip is waiting for a bus. Perhaps he'll meditate once onboard.

Without being entirely aware of my personal timeline, I set out in January on a mini quest to 
discover my own path toward living more completely and consciously with my June birthday as the loose end-date of the quest. In my existential trek toward more mindful living, I inadvertently saved the best and saddest guide for the last.

When Breath Becomes Air by Paul Kalanithi, MD

Since I knew how his story plays out before I read the book, I wasn't looking to learn from 
the final outcome, but rather I was seeking the emotional pleasure of joining Dr. Kalanithi's 
journey in puzzling through what makes life meaningful. My trek with him did not disappoint.

This is a rich book, one filled with thoughtful reflections and I could have filled this blog with quote after quote. But just as I plan to restrict myself to one dessert on my birthday, I decided in an effort to not spoil this book for those planning to read it to select just one quote that illuminates his message.

Toward the last third of his memoir, when he is..challenged he writes

“That morning, I made a decision: I would push myself to return to the OR. Why? Because I could. Because that’s who I was. Because I would have to learn to live in a different way, seeing death as an imposing itinerant visitor but knowing that even if I’m dying, until I actually die, I am still living" (p. 190).

I love this book. I love the essays written by Kalanithi and later by his wife Lucy. I have learned from their experiences.

But now it is time to apply all my good existential learning.
Soon I'm off to celebrate and to cycle, to ponder and to drink some wine. That's what we do at 62.

Age Is Just a Number, Unless It Isn't

    Katherine in Italy during WWII

Is one's age just a number? Or does it mean something more than its numerical value?

I have a birthday creeping closer, oh so closer. Not THE MAJOR BIRTHDAY like 65 but a significant one. How do we decide that some birthdays are more significant than others? This is a question I ponder.

I've heard people say, "Oh, my mother (or father) lived to be (fill in the age) so I'm not worried about turning....65, 68, 70.."

Once I hit 50, I started calculating my birthdays in terms of how much longer I will or have lived than my mother. Each year I "made it" passed the age she died, I was relieved.

Sound morbid? Or perhaps realistic? You decide.

Probably to a risk assessing physician who asks at what age people in the immediate family died and who in the family had what illness, my approach is realistic because it is based on data. 

My mother died when she was 55. I was 14, the youngest of five kids.

Katherine is pictured above in WWII in Italy where she served as an Army nurse. 
She looks good, doesn't she?

And here again, stateside after her tour, serving in an New Jersey hospital, hanging around until discharge. This is where she met my father.

   Katherine in New Jersey. Sorry the photo is so grainy.

I received so much from Katherine, in the brief 14 years she mothered me. I took from her an acceptance of difference, an appreciation of adventure (hell, she served as an Army nurse in WWII in Italy) and a fear of illness, and probably the genetics for celiac for those from the European North, the Scots, Irish, and plenty of UKers are celiac (if you doubt this visit Nova Scotia, Canada or Ireland some time. Completely easy and acceptable to eat GF there). Sadly, she was not a model for good health practices. She smoked and ate tons of animal fat and never exercised. Healthy routines, I crafted for myself.

But as every birthday approaches and I log one more past her last birthday, I thank  
modern medicine, my own healthy diet and exercise habits, and Katherine -- as I
roll her into the celebration. When the current cardiologist says I can openly blame my parents for my cardiovascular condition, I nod in acknowledgement to my parents and move on.

I can't change my history. But on my birthday, I like to remember what I have in common with Katherine -- good hair, a sense of adventure, an excellent laugh, a desire to help others (nurse-social worker-therapist not so far apart), intelligence, and a kindness toward animals. She witnessed unbelievable horrors in the war as a nurse lieutenant stationed in Italy and beyond; during the Vietnam War, she bought me a Mother for Peace poster (you remember the one, yellow and black with the words -- War is not healthy for children and for other livings things) when I was 13. That poster lived on my wall for years (I'd show it except the copyright police would get me).

I love how my memories of her have shaped me. I wonder what she would have thought of a woman president. I think she would have approved.
Happy (early) birthday to us.
Love, Gail 


On a different note, check out my guest post on the glutenfreetravelsite.com.

http://bit.ly/27SEMan
Even if you are not gluten free the site is helpful if you want to eat healthier. And I've enjoyed reviewing restaurants while we travel.

    Dim Sum at the Shang Palace, Hong Kong. Excellent restaurant.

Aging Actively and its Many Benefits

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

 

    Team Green Visors before the walk. An awesome group of supportive folks

A week ago Sunday, I as part of a team, walked a half marathon -- 13.1 miles, the longest I've ever walked at one time. While completing the half marathon in itself felt like a little accomplishment, especially as I nudge dangerously close to my 62 birthday, finishing wasn't the biggest high for me or my greatest pleasure. 

Know what was? Training with a group of active folks, most who were over 55 years old (some near 70) and who challenged and supported one another. That was the best.

Want to know why this was important, especially for someone over 60?

How about some worthwhile data. BMJ's publication Heart soon will publish the findings from a study "Loneliness and social isolation as risk factors for coronary heart disease and stroke" (that's a scary mouthful, huh?). In this study, researchers found that "Poor social relationships were associated with a 29% increase in the risk of incident coronary heart disease and a 32% increase in risk of stroke" (Heart 2016). One main issue is that social isolation and loneliness can influence, and not in a good way, risky behaviors like smoking and physical inactivity.

Questioning the benefits of physical activity? Time to read physician David Brown's article "We all know exercise makes you live longer but this will actually get you off the couch" (Washington Post, Feb. 22, 2016) which adds compelling, if somewhat unsettling info. Dr. Brown reviews current research on exercising including, 

-- Just exercising isn't enough. You must stop sitting around so much (hence the get off the 
couch remark) because sedentary behavior increases cardiovascular risk. The heart likes to 
work.
 -- Some experts suggest that 10,000 steps each day or the equivalent of five miles should be a goal. Many people fall way short of 10,000 steps which can be difficult to reach if one works a desk job.
-- Only about 50 percent of Americans exercise aerobically at least the recommended 150 minutes per week.
 The good news from the article is that tracking activity and steps using simple devices like pedometers or more complicated ones like a FitBit or Smartphone -- helps motivate folks. This article is easily found on the web and is worth reading.

BMJ Open published one more little gem about retirement and risks -- "Social group memberships in retirement are associated with reduced risk of premature death." Well then. This study found that the number of groups retirees joined and participated in after retiring 
positively impacted their quality of life and health. When they stopped participating in social
groups, their risk of premature death increased.

    There I go over (or under) the finish line.

What do physical activity, memberships in social groups in retirement, and avoiding isolation have to do with my walking a half marathon? I reached all the important targets with training for and then walking the half. At the end of the walk, I had almost 36,000 steps and who knows how many floors (Fitbit counts floors). While training, I routinely reached between 12,000 and 20,000 daily steps. Also, I joined team walks weekly (social) and trained with various team members during the week. However, training for the walk and the actual walk yielded much more than the 10,000 recommended daily steps. It yielded a new community, a new social group of active people. While I live in a haven for sporty activities where one can easily find groups for any chosen pursuit and ability, I think this cure for social isolation with its physical benefits could work in most communities. 
What's the Nike slogan? Just do it! Now on to the next challenge. But first, I'm off to cycle.

Stay calm and travel and walk and cycle, but not alone!

    R ready to cycle.

How'd it go? Food, Overview, Experiences

Follow my blog with Bloglovin 

 
Blog looks different doesn't it? And the look will continue to change (I hope) as the Blogger Template Designer and I iron out our considerable differences regarding design and colors.

After a long, full trip and a very long bumpy flight, we are home. Have you ever flown over the international dateline where you leave one day and arrive, after a 13 1/2 hour overnight flight, the same day? Hmm. Where do those hours go? And jet lag. Geez. Circadian clocks do not like to be messed with.

With all that out of the way, on to a trip review. People have asked me if the trip was worth it, how I managed with food as a celiac, what I liked best about the whole five week experience.

Let's start with food.

Our first real meal of the trip was at the wonderful, colorful Shang Palace located in the Shangri-La Hotel in Hong Kong. It was Saturday mid-day and the restaurant was full of locals. Richard ordered off the dim sum menu and I was spoiled rotten by a server and chef who helped me order exquisite gluten-free, vegetarian food.

Here's the catch -- eating gluten-free-veganish-pescatarian always costs more. Dim sum 
off the menu for R, not a bad deal even in Hong Kong; special treatment for me, so much 
more expensive that I could not bear to look at the bill. This price difference is typical in the
US, so I can't say it is just part of travel.

For several years, we debated taking a land-based tour of Southeast Asia, in part because we knew finding safe, healthy food for me could be tricky. Eventually, we decided that a cruise of the area would be my best option. That proved to be true.
On port excursions, tours included lunch, which was always in a Western-style hotel restaurant and usually a buffet. In Ho Chi Minh City/Saigon, the most western of the cities 
we visited in Vietnam, the young chef at the sparkly restaurant in a beautiful tourist hotel 
introduced himself to me, took my gluten free card written in Vietnamese, and then scurried
 into the kitchen to prepare a gluten free meal for me. I think what he prepared was 
probably the most authentic Vietnamese meal I had and I appreciated both his culinary 
efforts and willingness to give me a traditional meal. 

Always, always, always travel with 
these cards -- 
and lots of them because chefs like to keep them. You can find the celiac cards at 

www.celiactravel.com.

For someone with celiac who eats veganish-pescatarian, traveling by ship is a good option 
and Celebrity Cruises does a nice job, especially in the Blu Dining Room where each night I 
could order fish or something vegan, gluten free. But this cruise, I really lucked out. The 
chef who oversaw the Oceanview Cafe, Celebrity's casual buffet restaurant is celiac, too. 
First day on board, I introduced myself and we discussed good dairy-free, gluten-free options for lunch or really anytime. I favored his vegetarian chickpea curry and he made sure it was available each day at lunch. Thank you, Melvin and Celebrity.

THE TRIP

The trip was completely worth our time and money and we feel privileged to have enjoyed such a varied, colorful adventure. With that said, if we were to re-do the trip, I'd make these changes:

---- Cruise on a smaller ship, like the ones sailed by Celebrity's Azamara line. Because 
many ports in Vietnam are smaller, our ship docked at larger ports which were long rides away from city attractions. That wasn't all bad because we had views of the countryside, rice paddies, run away water buffaloes, motorbike frenzies, local housing, native farmers and more, like rest stops with squatty potties. But convenience is nice, too as well as 
western-type toilets.

----- Cut the Australia cruise: We booked back-to-back or consecutive cruises from Hong Kong to Sydney mainly because the second cruise stopped two days in Bali after Singapore. The stop in Bali when added to an itinerary that included Hong Kong, Vietnam, Bangkok, and Singapore  provided an excellent overview of Southeast Asia. Celebrity cancelled our stop in Bali because of credible information from the UK and Australian governments regarding planned terrorist attacks in the area. While we completely 
understood the need for safety, especially when large groups of tourists can be tempting targets, without Bali, I doubt we would have booked the second cruise since we could have arranged to visit the Great Barrier Reef on our own and the other Australian stops 
simply did not offer much allure (previously we'd visited Adelaide, Sydney, and Kangaroo 
Island).  Celebrity tried to convince passengers that visiting a zoo in Brisbane was a good 
substitute for Bali. Since we'd visited Kangaroo Island a year and a half earlier and saw hundreds of kangaroos in the wild as well as wallabies, koalas, birds, and seals, strolling through a zoo, even a great zoo, held little interest.

WHAT WAS BEST ABOUT THE TRIP? I've been asked that question frequently.

Seems more than a little vague to answer "Everything about Southeast Asia."  Instead I'll say that early in our visit to Vietnam, I felt transported to a place foreign, exotic and unlike areas I'd visited before. Briefly, I had a little window into a colorful life completely dissimilar, 
except for the capitalism, from my life in the states.
In photos below, a man is transporting enormous water jugs on his motorbike, a woman chats on her cell phone while minding her shop in the old section of Hanoi, and an overburdened, ancient electrical box once disguised as a street light stands as testament to, perhaps novel perspectives on safety. It is a different world.

I've also been asked if I'm happy to be home, back to "God's country" as one enthusiastic friend called it. Honestly, I'm not sure.
Certainly, I'm happy to be reacquainted with our washer and dryer and clean, uber 
comfortable bed. But traveling, exploring, discovering and learning something new, often everyday, offer a  uniqueness I've yet to replicate in my day-to-day life. Anyone out there accomplished that?
Reentry has been aided by resuming training for a half marathon walk and plans for the next adventure.

Stay calm and travel

Australia

    The underwater world of the Great Barrier Reef

Our adventure is nearing its end and neither one of us knows how we feel about returning home. Ambivalent at best, I think. Except about being reunited with our washer and dryer. Those two we've missed terribly. And decent Mexican food but that we'll find in Sydney.

Though we have a few more days of adventure in Sydney, I thought I'd review our time in Australia.

    Darwin
We've visited Darwin, Cairns, Brisbane and tomorrow Sydney, a city we toured in 2014. After the brilliant silky colors, pedestrian and vehicle chaos, and deafening noise of South East Asia, Australia seems a little ordinary and familiar, more like Canada, our North American cousins than a completely different continent and culture. Of course, how could Australia compare to  the exotic, mysterious South East Asia.

    Ammunition bunker from WWII, Darwin

Darwin, located in the Northern Territory, was our first port. It is the gateway to Asia and as one of our guides said, the last stop for people wanting to escape from Australia. Darwin served as a military post during WWII for Australian and American ships and troops and because of its proximity to Asia, the Japanese bombed it 64 times. The city is filled with war memorials and museums and is tropical hot, like 95 degrees and 98% humidity hot.

    Aboriginal sculptures, Northern Territory

    
Happily, our next stop, an area just outside Cairns, the home of the Great Barrier Reef, was much cooler. Having been warned about the potential for rough seas, I wore a seasickness 
patch and was glad I did.
  

    

    Brilliant fish and colorful reef

Those passengers who pressed into service the "vomit bags" during the two hour boat ride 
probably wished they had "patched up" themselves.  I'm guessing the poor crew member 
who sadly found himself heaved upon by a sick passenger wished that, too. Isn't it smart 
to travel with seasickness meds?

Unfortunately, we made port in Brisbane on Easter Sunday so not much was open. A ship lecturer had discussed the Battle of Brisbane during WWII and we were eager to find a memorial or plaque or something about this event. This battle was actually between 
Australian and American troops who took to the streets of Brisbane for an alcohol fueled 
slug-fest over manly things like who got the prettiest local girls. We found nothing commemorating this colorful battle. Darn!

We moved on to visit General Macarthur's former headquarters, now a museum but Easter Sunday foiled us again! The place was closed so we settled for a pic of the plaque outside. 

The wonderful Gallery of Modern Art was open and gave us another opportunity to view 
Aboriginal and Indian Art.

Now it's on to beautiful Sydney.


Stay Calm. Travel when you can.

The Game of Desserts Part II

    Berries, they look good, don't they?

I thought the game ended. I had admitted defeat, waved my white dinner napkin in the air, stopped protesting dessert delivery. Game over, naïvely, that's what I thought.
But I was wrong.

We are on what is called a back-to-back cruise or consecutive cruises, so we stay on the ship for 30 days. But that means when guests from the first leg disembarked, new guests arrived. For the crew, the first couple of days of a new cruise are busy. This is good news for me.

On the busy embarkation day, only berries arrive for dessert. 
Me: May be he gave up or ran out of recipes.
R: May be he doesn't know you are on this leg.
Whatever the reason, the next night again only berries arrive for dessert.
Me: (Slightly giddy) It's over. He knows he won. (I relax. No more food fights).

Not so fast little white haired celiac lady, you don't know the rules of this game.

Two nights in a row, the chef slightly goofs up on my order, one night forgetting to add rice noodles to a stir fry and the next serving my pasta dry. I pay a price for his goofs.

SERVER: Let's see what the chef has made for you.
ME: (Meekly) Ok.
I'm presented with a little chocolate cake and a big bowl of berries, "I'm sorry for the
goofs" gifts.
The next night, a little vanilla cake arrives and two bowls of berries. I take one bite of the cake and eat as many berries as I can hold. I remind R that the next day I'm heading to the gym.

    Vanilla cake and double berries. Game back on.

SERVER: You don't like the cake?
ME: Not really.
SERVER: Some times they are good and sometimes not.
These guys are always optimistic.
Unable to simply watch this drama without joining in, the head server and the maitre de 
assume roles.
The head waiter starts monitoring my food consumption. That evening, I eat half my 
enormous salad.

WAITER: You don't like the salad?
ME: It's too big. Too much food. (Immediately, I know I've uttered the wrong words. He'll take what I've said as a challenge).
WAITER: Maybe tomorrow I make it smaller.
ME: Ok.
By now, I know that will not happen because I live in the world of opposites. The next night, my salad is larger than R's. My words are meaningless.
We are now three days at sea and apparently the maitre de, growing restless, needs a 
project.
That evening, bread arrives.

HIM: Try this. You haven't had any bread. I had the chef make this for you.

He presents me with four pieces of gluten free focaccia.
ME: Ok.
I force R to eat a piece and I eat part of another.
HIM: We'll have this for you every night. We'll just keep it in the back.
ME: (Forcefully) No. I don't want it.
HIM: Ok, just tell me the night before when you want it.

No one listens to me.
Dessert arrives. Something new with chocolate. I'm thinking when will this guy run out of 
recipes?

The head waiter takes my order for the next night, a salad and salmon.
WAITER: That's all.
ME: That's all.
WAITER: I saw yesterday at lunch what you ate, you don't eat enough.
ME: I eat plenty.
WAITER: No, not that much.
He tells R that tomorrow at lunch he wants to see us in his station. My thoughts turn paranoid. I wonder if the kitchen has a watch list, a kind of "America's Most Wanted" for
 those accused of under-eating on the cruise ship. My thoughts worsen, perhaps there is a surveillance camera? I'm being watched?
Honestly, even my parents never monitored my food intake this closely.
I rouse myself from my paranoid thoughts and on my way out of the dining room I chide the maitre de that they are trying to fatten me up. He laughs. Regrettably, I think they've 
succeeded.

Modern, Shiny Humid Singapore

    Singapore is a construction zone!

Just want to say, boy is Singapore in mid-March really hot. Like sticky-jungle-humid hot.

With that said --

It is not just the sounds, the whirl of bike motors, the incessant blare of bus and truck horns bellowing their warnings or the vibrant colors, swirls of magentas, gold, teal,
jades, or the pungent smells of foods sizzling in oil, exotic fruits warming in the sun or the constant motion, of people, of vehicles, frenetic, blurry, dusty.  It is all that and more that make Southeast Asia compelling. Old, traditional, slow moving bumping up against and mixing with modern and new. Water buffaloes and rice fields, rickshaws, zippy motor bikes and pedestrians dashing dangerously through oncoming traffic, golden Buddhas and burning incense, open markets bursting with cheap plastic goods, fragrant fruits, faces wrapped against a burning sun. Those are my observations about Bangkok, Vietnam, and Hong Kong.

    View of Garden by the Bay from Marine Bay Sands. These are solar panels and collect rain water.

    Singapore is Eco-green.

How do they contrast to Singapore?

Singapore is the shinier, more cosmopolitan, less gritty, better dressed Westernized Asian sibling to Vietnam and Bangkok. Densely populated, with every inch of real estate wisely (mostly) used, 
Singapore is a well planned, organized, safe, clean city with minimal crime and a government that enforces strict standards for behavior. It is also a religiously tolerant city/state. Children are taught tolerance for others from a young age. Hindu and Buddhist temples, Christian churches, and an Arab Mosque co-exist in this tiny country. 

    Inside the Chinese Buddhist Temple, Chinatown

The idea is that religious diversity is welcomed but pushy attempts at conversion are not. All this takes place in a city where modern architecture, like the Marina Bay Sands and the ArtScience building stand in contrast to older sections like Arab Town, Little India, and the hectic, colorful Chinatown.

    Outside the Hindu Temple, Little India

Some Singapore facts -- the city/state is about 275 square miles with a population of 5.5 million. As one lecturer explained, Singapore doesn't produce anything, other than people. Rather it imports goods from everywhere, improves the product and then exports it. The hard working harbor is teeming with cargo ships of all sizes, fully stacked with brightly colored containers traveling in and out of the port. Singapore also imports workers -- from India, the U.K., and other places near and far to fill specific jobs.

    The ArtScience Museum. Looks like something from a Bond movie.

One other noticeable difference, it is safe to cross the streets here. In Vietnam and Thailand we were told to walk slowly across the street in oncoming traffic so that the motor bikes and cars will slow down (we hoped they would slow down); in Singapore, a transit bus stopped for us when we entered the cross walk! Such politeness was unseen in Bangkok where the guide said cross walk markings are considered meaningless zebra stripes.

   The famous Marina Bay Sands Hotel and Shopping complex.

    This amazing structure houses Singapore's incredible botanic garden with its rain and cloud       forests.


Our original itinerary contained an overnight stop in Benoa, Bali. When both the Australian and UK governments issued credible travel warnings regarding potential terrorist threats in Bali, the cruise ship company cancelled the stop. So from Singapore, on to Darwin, Australia we go.

Travel can be wonderful. Travel can be risky. Plans change. Best to stay calm and carry on.

   Thousands of ships fill the harbor.