As we are brought up through childhood, we are taught that actions have consequences, or at least we should be. We learn that behind every action we take, we should have considered what are the options, what are the results of our actions and finally but not least, what will the consequences be both to ourselves and to the people we act on. In the early years, for the most part, people think selfishly and disregard whatever their action may do to their community. As we mature and grow older we gain more compassion and understanding of the world around us, and gain an insight into the depths of a society where the actions of the individual affect the lives of the collective.
This, in return, grants us the ability to act selflessly and make choices in favor of others. Even if it leads to negative or neutral results for oneself. In many regards it build up the society, as it induces trust among the individuals and gives them the sense of being a part of something bigger. This may be a good thing for some, and it may leave others feeling outside.
Choices are a part of human life. It is a part of what we are and a large part of what makes us human, in the less physical way of course. The choices we make are what guide us, to whatever we endure, experience and enjoy. This goes both for the good things in life and the bad things in life. Whatever we try to deceive ourselves into believing, there is but one person to blame for whatever happens in our lives, and that person is oneself.
The actions and to some extent ideas of people in our lives and around us may influence what we do, how we think, and what happens in our lives but they will never be responsible, nor will they be subject to the resulting actions.
We live our lives differently, some enjoy the continuity and comfort of making as few choices as possible, and believing the risk of making the wrong choice is better avoided, in order to remain in the safety and conformity of habit. A large part of this group do so based on the fear of what may lie beyond the boundaries of the known. Whether or not this is done on purpose and thereby being aware of the choice taken, may not always be the case.
If you actively chose to live your life this way, you must also be fully aware of the things that you reject in the process. Every choice made is at the same time an acceptance and a rejection of something. Something that, in one way or another, would have an effect on the life in the future.
If on the other hand you are not aware of making this choice, then you would be either living happily and blissful believing you are right where you would like to be, or you find yourself at a point in life where you know something is missing, but you fail to figure out what that thing is.
The way forward in the situation must be to either look for change in your life or look at the options you have and figure out why you are at the point where you are and if you feel the need to change something. The result may be a rather big change in your current life, as well as in the life of the people around you. And this is the point where consequences again begin to take their effect, as do the consideration made regarding the community we live in. Depending on where and when in your life you come to this point it may affect your surroundings more or less. Maybe this is where our upbringing and sense of responsibility comes into play. Being able to see beyond the horizon of our own life and existence and realizing that there are people depending on us, being supported by us both mentally and for some cases economically. This does not mean that certain choices should be disregarded by default, but it makes it important to consider the actions and the complications of what we are doing every time we find ourselves faced with new choices. Refusing or avoiding to actively consider the consequences only postpones the inevitable, and may in some cases only worsen the choices that at some point have to be taken. Alternatively the time for making the active choice will pass, either due to others making their choices and thus eliminating the options for ourselves or due to the possibilities simply vanishing for various reasons. This leaves the option of regretting choices that were never really made, mainly due to not liking the outcome, or due to wishful thinking of better times.
So what does it mean when people regret on one side choices they made, and on the other side choices they did not make but regret the outcome none the less? In my personal experience I find that very few decisions are final in this world. Yes, some large ones are without chance of return, but most merely require you to accept that nothing happens without consequences. It is almost never possible to chose one path, then go back and chose the other without some sort of “penalty”. This may come in the form of personal responsibility needed to be taken, or in the freedom being reduced on the actual choice. It may also be necessary to apologize or accept that things may be broken in the process. But in general it is possible. Only requirement would be to accept the things that have happened, and accept responsibility for own choices, both good and bad.
That the option to go back exists, does not always make it the right way, even if the prospect of the alternative road appears better. One must still remember to consider the implications of the entire situation for all. Choices made usually affect others too, and a return on a decision will again affect them. Going back and finding the right path for one self may force others onto a path they did not chose nor desire, even without having the option to alter the fate.
In many ways this should teach us to grasp the lives we have and live them actively, and remember that only one is responsible for what happens and how our lives turn out. Even if we feel plunged into action and situations outside of our control, we are still the only ones to work through them, and the only ones to live with the consequences. We make choices, based on various grounds but always with the same goal, a change in a specific direction is needed and we accept whatever consequences it will bring. If we don’t, we merely force others to take responsibility for our actions.
07 February 2008
11 June 2007
Mother's Lost Weekend Pt. II -- Ensenada
NOTE: I'll get the pictures up tonight, honest.
Day Two – Ensenada. Despite every effort to sleep-in Saturday morning, my eyes opened at 6 a.m. and refused to close again. This was not supposed to happen! I was supposed to be lazy and not open my eyes before 11! Bertie Wooster would not approve of this behavior. The tea wasn’t even scheduled to arrive until 7! But this did mean that I got to watch from my stateroom window as we pulled into Ensenada. The first thing I immediately noticed was the lack of sun in Sunny Mexico. June Gloom does not respect international borders and pesters Baja California as much as Alta California. Baja California, for anyone who might be geographically challenged, is a long (like 1,000 miles long) strip of land between the Pacific Ocean and the Sea of Cortez, perfect conditions for the same shore-hugging clouds that visit us in the north each June. A huge Mexican flag flying in port told us we were a foreign country, otherwise the coast could have been San Diego or Santa Barbara. After tea and toast and watching sea lions frolick in the harbor for a while, the child and I dressed and when in search of...I kid you not, gentle readers...breakfast!
For breakfast, we visited one of the formal dining rooms, having opted for the casual dining room for dinner the previous evening. The difficult thing to get used on a cruise is the wealth of choices. Meals are included in your ticket, and the staff is prepared to bring whatever you want and as much as want. Smoked salmon! Eggs Benedict! Omelettes! Pastries! The head spins at the array of foods. No wonder I forego breakfast at home! I don’t keep smoked salmon in stock and I lack the time for Eggs Benedict. This has shown me the error of my ways. Breakfast isn’t inherently evil, it has been warped and twisted by our wage-slave society from its natural place as a regular meal into this abbreviated, rushed, often over-processed, pseudo-meal; a meal with an asterisk next to its name. I resolve to work on reforming my relationship with breakfast, but that’s another blog for another day.
Our shore excursion, based on my assumption about sleeping in, wasn’t scheduled until the afternoon. This gave us time for a nicely leisurely game of mini-golf up at the very top of the ship. Again, travel proved enlightening because the ship had absolutely no problem with the notion of mixing mini-golf with a Bloody Mary. In fact, the bartenders seemed to encourage it. Nothing improves the game of golf like a Bloody Mary, and I was sure Bertie Wooster would approve. I was sure Jeeves himself would approve. We were making progress after the rocky start. Perhaps I couldn’t sleep-in until noon anymore, but I can certainly amble around a pretend golf course with a drink in my hand!
Ensenada is just 76 miles from the US border. It is a port city that caters to tourists, probably best known for two things, both bars – Papas & Beer and Hussong’s. However, Baja is also known for its big annual off-road race and is becoming better known for it’s branch of Fox Studios – which was one of the first things we noticed as we surveyed Mexico from Lido Deck earlier that morning, a strangely familiar, somewhat piratical sailing vessel docked very nearby. Later that afternoon our guide was able to confirm for us that it was none other than Capt. Jack Sparrow’s Black Pearl, and had been used for filming of “Pirates of the Carribean III.” But Ensenada had a little more history than that, as our charming and fast-speaking tour guide Belen shared with us.
Ensenada was a quiet little village until an American named Jack Dempsey, very famous pugilist, opened a casino there, the Riviera Pacifico Casino and Hotel (there are rumors it was truly owned by Al Capone, but we were told Dempsey). What remains of the building is wonderful. One can imagine Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo seated at a ringside table beneath the brightly painted ceiling and stunning chandlers. Of course, gambling is no longer legal in Ensensada (I’m sure the cruise ships don’t want the competition). The building is now a cultural center where the locals have their weddings and Quinceañeras (one of which was being prepped for during our visit). Outside of the cultural center was a select assortment of vendors specializing in traditional Mexican arts and crafts, leather work, silver, ironwood, beadwork and so forth. Long story short: child saw opal pendant, vendor saw me coming, I never spent $80 so fast. Our next stop was the Santo Tomas winery, where they had displays of old-fashioned wine-making accoutrements, and explained their wine-making and bottling processes. Apparently, Mexican wines have a good reputation outside of the United States, where the Napa Valley vintners aren’t going to let wines come in from across the border. All of this was proof that there is more to Baja than Tijuana, two large bars and an off-road race. Well, sort of.
Our last stop was along the major shopping district, very near those two large bars. Here, the lovely picture our tour guide painted for us of an Ensenada that wasn’t Tijuana didn’t quite ring true. The street beggars, the children rushing up with trinkets and hands out, are an all too familiar sight to anyone who’s visited TJ. But at least, to Belen’s credit, it’s not nearly as bad in Ensenada and there are signs for a middle class and economic progress if you look for them. But on to happier thoughts than the poverty that makes so many risk crossing the border without documentation…
Here in Southern California, where Mexican and American culture has been so blended, diluted, and then reconfigured, there is, I think, a general impression that Mexican culture begins and ends with things as mariachi, folklorico, and margaritas, but of course that isn’t true, and the first shop we visited proved that quickly. The child was immediately intrigued by the alebrijes, fanciful creatures, part real and part myth, carved from wood and hand-painted in delicate patterns with bright colors. She also liked the somewhat scary, but often humorous skeleton creations for Dia De Los Muertos, the Day of the Dead celebration. In the end, for her they were just a touch too scary, and so she opted for the alebrijes. And I was so absorbed in the painted ceramics that, in the end, I couldn’t decide which to purchase and left empty-handed! The ceramic plates were nothing less than amazing. The majolicas with the intricate talavera designs, story plates, vibrant flower and animal patterns…again, too many choices! I came home confident that technology would save me, but alas! Bazar Casa Ramirez has no website. After the quality and craftsmanship on display at Bazar Casa Ramirez nothing else measured up, so we had ice cream, rested our feet and boarded the bus back to the ship.
After a nap, we changed for dinner, foregoing the “formal” night in our assigned dining room, we opted, again, for the casual atmosphere of the buffet, world of overwhelming choice and every bit as good as what was being served downstairs. One of my best memories of the cruise is seeing my picky, finicky child eat and eat and eat! She stuck to her usual routine of eating about five times a day, but small meals rather than three large meals; a bit of ice cream, some strawberries, a spoonful of melon betwixt and between breakfast, lunch, and dinner give her a steady supply of energy for walking, sight-seeing and talking, talking, talking! But this night it didn’t give her quite enough energy. The plan had been for her to attend the kids’ slumber-party to give mom a chance to drop $20 on slot machines, but about 20 minutes before the 10 p.m. start time, she confessed her immediate need for sleep. The last two days had finally taken their toll, but the best was yet to come, and those slot machines didn’t really need my $20
Day Two – Ensenada. Despite every effort to sleep-in Saturday morning, my eyes opened at 6 a.m. and refused to close again. This was not supposed to happen! I was supposed to be lazy and not open my eyes before 11! Bertie Wooster would not approve of this behavior. The tea wasn’t even scheduled to arrive until 7! But this did mean that I got to watch from my stateroom window as we pulled into Ensenada. The first thing I immediately noticed was the lack of sun in Sunny Mexico. June Gloom does not respect international borders and pesters Baja California as much as Alta California. Baja California, for anyone who might be geographically challenged, is a long (like 1,000 miles long) strip of land between the Pacific Ocean and the Sea of Cortez, perfect conditions for the same shore-hugging clouds that visit us in the north each June. A huge Mexican flag flying in port told us we were a foreign country, otherwise the coast could have been San Diego or Santa Barbara. After tea and toast and watching sea lions frolick in the harbor for a while, the child and I dressed and when in search of...I kid you not, gentle readers...breakfast!
For breakfast, we visited one of the formal dining rooms, having opted for the casual dining room for dinner the previous evening. The difficult thing to get used on a cruise is the wealth of choices. Meals are included in your ticket, and the staff is prepared to bring whatever you want and as much as want. Smoked salmon! Eggs Benedict! Omelettes! Pastries! The head spins at the array of foods. No wonder I forego breakfast at home! I don’t keep smoked salmon in stock and I lack the time for Eggs Benedict. This has shown me the error of my ways. Breakfast isn’t inherently evil, it has been warped and twisted by our wage-slave society from its natural place as a regular meal into this abbreviated, rushed, often over-processed, pseudo-meal; a meal with an asterisk next to its name. I resolve to work on reforming my relationship with breakfast, but that’s another blog for another day.
Our shore excursion, based on my assumption about sleeping in, wasn’t scheduled until the afternoon. This gave us time for a nicely leisurely game of mini-golf up at the very top of the ship. Again, travel proved enlightening because the ship had absolutely no problem with the notion of mixing mini-golf with a Bloody Mary. In fact, the bartenders seemed to encourage it. Nothing improves the game of golf like a Bloody Mary, and I was sure Bertie Wooster would approve. I was sure Jeeves himself would approve. We were making progress after the rocky start. Perhaps I couldn’t sleep-in until noon anymore, but I can certainly amble around a pretend golf course with a drink in my hand!
Ensenada is just 76 miles from the US border. It is a port city that caters to tourists, probably best known for two things, both bars – Papas & Beer and Hussong’s. However, Baja is also known for its big annual off-road race and is becoming better known for it’s branch of Fox Studios – which was one of the first things we noticed as we surveyed Mexico from Lido Deck earlier that morning, a strangely familiar, somewhat piratical sailing vessel docked very nearby. Later that afternoon our guide was able to confirm for us that it was none other than Capt. Jack Sparrow’s Black Pearl, and had been used for filming of “Pirates of the Carribean III.” But Ensenada had a little more history than that, as our charming and fast-speaking tour guide Belen shared with us.
Ensenada was a quiet little village until an American named Jack Dempsey, very famous pugilist, opened a casino there, the Riviera Pacifico Casino and Hotel (there are rumors it was truly owned by Al Capone, but we were told Dempsey). What remains of the building is wonderful. One can imagine Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo seated at a ringside table beneath the brightly painted ceiling and stunning chandlers. Of course, gambling is no longer legal in Ensensada (I’m sure the cruise ships don’t want the competition). The building is now a cultural center where the locals have their weddings and Quinceañeras (one of which was being prepped for during our visit). Outside of the cultural center was a select assortment of vendors specializing in traditional Mexican arts and crafts, leather work, silver, ironwood, beadwork and so forth. Long story short: child saw opal pendant, vendor saw me coming, I never spent $80 so fast. Our next stop was the Santo Tomas winery, where they had displays of old-fashioned wine-making accoutrements, and explained their wine-making and bottling processes. Apparently, Mexican wines have a good reputation outside of the United States, where the Napa Valley vintners aren’t going to let wines come in from across the border. All of this was proof that there is more to Baja than Tijuana, two large bars and an off-road race. Well, sort of.
Our last stop was along the major shopping district, very near those two large bars. Here, the lovely picture our tour guide painted for us of an Ensenada that wasn’t Tijuana didn’t quite ring true. The street beggars, the children rushing up with trinkets and hands out, are an all too familiar sight to anyone who’s visited TJ. But at least, to Belen’s credit, it’s not nearly as bad in Ensenada and there are signs for a middle class and economic progress if you look for them. But on to happier thoughts than the poverty that makes so many risk crossing the border without documentation…
Here in Southern California, where Mexican and American culture has been so blended, diluted, and then reconfigured, there is, I think, a general impression that Mexican culture begins and ends with things as mariachi, folklorico, and margaritas, but of course that isn’t true, and the first shop we visited proved that quickly. The child was immediately intrigued by the alebrijes, fanciful creatures, part real and part myth, carved from wood and hand-painted in delicate patterns with bright colors. She also liked the somewhat scary, but often humorous skeleton creations for Dia De Los Muertos, the Day of the Dead celebration. In the end, for her they were just a touch too scary, and so she opted for the alebrijes. And I was so absorbed in the painted ceramics that, in the end, I couldn’t decide which to purchase and left empty-handed! The ceramic plates were nothing less than amazing. The majolicas with the intricate talavera designs, story plates, vibrant flower and animal patterns…again, too many choices! I came home confident that technology would save me, but alas! Bazar Casa Ramirez has no website. After the quality and craftsmanship on display at Bazar Casa Ramirez nothing else measured up, so we had ice cream, rested our feet and boarded the bus back to the ship.
After a nap, we changed for dinner, foregoing the “formal” night in our assigned dining room, we opted, again, for the casual atmosphere of the buffet, world of overwhelming choice and every bit as good as what was being served downstairs. One of my best memories of the cruise is seeing my picky, finicky child eat and eat and eat! She stuck to her usual routine of eating about five times a day, but small meals rather than three large meals; a bit of ice cream, some strawberries, a spoonful of melon betwixt and between breakfast, lunch, and dinner give her a steady supply of energy for walking, sight-seeing and talking, talking, talking! But this night it didn’t give her quite enough energy. The plan had been for her to attend the kids’ slumber-party to give mom a chance to drop $20 on slot machines, but about 20 minutes before the 10 p.m. start time, she confessed her immediate need for sleep. The last two days had finally taken their toll, but the best was yet to come, and those slot machines didn’t really need my $20
09 June 2007
A little Fairy(Ell) reminded me...
That I wanted to talk about Jay Rosen's piece at HuffPo, but it was just a busy week, I wasn't able to get to it. Also, I left Pt. II of the Cruise Blog at the office on Friday, so this will keep you all entertained over the weekend -- and thinking, I hope.
Many thanks to Time Goes By for being more astute and on their toes this week than Mother was.
Many thanks to Time Goes By for being more astute and on their toes this week than Mother was.
06 June 2007
Mother's Lost Weekend -- Pt. I
Day One – There had been a plan. It was a good plan. The child would go to school until about noon, then I would pick her up and we’d be off. That would give me time to pack, take care of the cat, and lock everything up, and keep her occupied in the morning, since the ship wasn’t scheduled to sail until 5:30 in the evening. However, the child begged and pleaded, so I relented and let her stay home from school. This meant every 15, then 10, then 5 minutes there would be a request to leave for the port. It’s the at-home version of “Are we there yet?” Still, we were both excited and who could blame us? Our first cruise! So, at noon we left for lunch and the drive down to Long Beach.
Now Long Beach sets your cruise expectations very high, for sitting in the Port of Long Beach is the grand dowager of cruise ships: The Queen Mary, in all her Art Deco splendor. Just looking at the QM reminds me of when travel wasn’t about getting from Point A to Point B for the least money in the quickest time. There was a time when travel was exciting, glamorous, and the journey as meaningful as the destination. The QM, long-past her time of being seaworthy is a hotel now, but you can visit her and see pictures of movie stars, millionaires, and Winston Churchill aboard back in her glory days, and dream about what it must have been like. Would our ship, Paradise, possibly live up to such expectations? Or would it be the Southwest Airlines version of a cruise, a floating cattle car with all the personality of a Motel 6?
Before we’d find out the answer we had to get on board, in the usual post-9/11 fashion…long lines and a security guard ransacking your luggage to make sure the two bottles of water you had packed for your day wandering through Ensenada, were really just water bottles contain just water. The good news was we got to keep our shoes on. But after security, a quick check of our American citizenship, and arrangements for our Sail-And-Sign Card (a combination boarding pass & credit card) we were a quick escalator ride from the gangway, crossing the pier our gleaming white floating hotel and home for the next few days.
Dear Readers, Paradise delivered from her first moments. Boarding, we found ourselves in the central atrium – apparently Deco splendor is the optimal cruise ship décor, and the designers and builders of Paradise, built in 1998, understood this and saw no reason to depart from proven success. A bar surrounds a platform topped by a white grand piano offering classical music while people sorted out which direction to their stateroom. And, if I might take a little credit it here, as well as thank those who had offered their suggestions and recommendations, Mother picked out an ideal stateroom, ocean view, toward the back but still very much midship, and not far from this atrium. The child was immediately pleased. And so, very soon, we were unpacked and situated in our stateroom, and ready to have an explore of the place. We wandered up and Aft first arriving quickly at the pool on Lido Deck, which almost immediately gained the nickname “The Drunk Tank,” because of the large number of happily inebriated people who seemed to live there. Here, I was able to acquaint myself with “The Fun Ship Special” the bon voyage drink of the day – rum, vodka, apricot brandy, and just enough fruit punch to make it all go down smoothly, served in a tall, curvaceous glass with a spear of tropical fruit and a little paper umbrella. After a stroll around Lido Deck, we dropped down one to Promenade Deck, with an assortment of casinos, bars, lounges, and Café Ile de France, the ship’s version of Starbucks. This place became part of the daily routine for us, usually for an after-dinner mocha and some chocolate-covered strawberries or a slice of cake. Wandering the Promenade Deck was one of the child’s favorite activities, not because she’s partial to gambling, and not only for the confections, but because here was people-watching central in luxurious surroundings with an ocean view. Speaking of which, it was soon time to cast off.
Now, this is the post-9-11 world, so all those romantic images of people tossing confetti and serpentines off the side of the ship showering it down on throngs of well-wishers waving from the pier – forget all that. Doesn’t happen. Well-wishers have to be left behind before you enter security and get nowhere near the ship. Such are the sacrifices we make to create the illusion that we are safe. However, from our vantage point back on Lido Deck Aft, we could see the churning water indicating the ships engines were engaged, watch as we slowly moved away from the pier and, like that breathless moment on an airplane (the one the airlines have not yet found a way to charge you for or deprive you of) when the engines whine, gravity pushes you back in your seat, you hold you breath and wait for that moment when the wheels of the landing gear break free of terra firma and you realize your flying, here is the moment when you have broken your bond to dry land and are floating off into the vastness of the Pacific. It’s a brief moment, but there’s a freedom to it that always gives me a thrill that I am happy to now be sharing with my daughter. Travel isn’t about Point A to Point B; it’s about breaking free and creating your own journey. So Long Beach receded into the distance and anything became possible.
Now Long Beach sets your cruise expectations very high, for sitting in the Port of Long Beach is the grand dowager of cruise ships: The Queen Mary, in all her Art Deco splendor. Just looking at the QM reminds me of when travel wasn’t about getting from Point A to Point B for the least money in the quickest time. There was a time when travel was exciting, glamorous, and the journey as meaningful as the destination. The QM, long-past her time of being seaworthy is a hotel now, but you can visit her and see pictures of movie stars, millionaires, and Winston Churchill aboard back in her glory days, and dream about what it must have been like. Would our ship, Paradise, possibly live up to such expectations? Or would it be the Southwest Airlines version of a cruise, a floating cattle car with all the personality of a Motel 6?
Before we’d find out the answer we had to get on board, in the usual post-9/11 fashion…long lines and a security guard ransacking your luggage to make sure the two bottles of water you had packed for your day wandering through Ensenada, were really just water bottles contain just water. The good news was we got to keep our shoes on. But after security, a quick check of our American citizenship, and arrangements for our Sail-And-Sign Card (a combination boarding pass & credit card) we were a quick escalator ride from the gangway, crossing the pier our gleaming white floating hotel and home for the next few days.
Dear Readers, Paradise delivered from her first moments. Boarding, we found ourselves in the central atrium – apparently Deco splendor is the optimal cruise ship décor, and the designers and builders of Paradise, built in 1998, understood this and saw no reason to depart from proven success. A bar surrounds a platform topped by a white grand piano offering classical music while people sorted out which direction to their stateroom. And, if I might take a little credit it here, as well as thank those who had offered their suggestions and recommendations, Mother picked out an ideal stateroom, ocean view, toward the back but still very much midship, and not far from this atrium. The child was immediately pleased. And so, very soon, we were unpacked and situated in our stateroom, and ready to have an explore of the place. We wandered up and Aft first arriving quickly at the pool on Lido Deck, which almost immediately gained the nickname “The Drunk Tank,” because of the large number of happily inebriated people who seemed to live there. Here, I was able to acquaint myself with “The Fun Ship Special” the bon voyage drink of the day – rum, vodka, apricot brandy, and just enough fruit punch to make it all go down smoothly, served in a tall, curvaceous glass with a spear of tropical fruit and a little paper umbrella. After a stroll around Lido Deck, we dropped down one to Promenade Deck, with an assortment of casinos, bars, lounges, and Café Ile de France, the ship’s version of Starbucks. This place became part of the daily routine for us, usually for an after-dinner mocha and some chocolate-covered strawberries or a slice of cake. Wandering the Promenade Deck was one of the child’s favorite activities, not because she’s partial to gambling, and not only for the confections, but because here was people-watching central in luxurious surroundings with an ocean view. Speaking of which, it was soon time to cast off.
Now, this is the post-9-11 world, so all those romantic images of people tossing confetti and serpentines off the side of the ship showering it down on throngs of well-wishers waving from the pier – forget all that. Doesn’t happen. Well-wishers have to be left behind before you enter security and get nowhere near the ship. Such are the sacrifices we make to create the illusion that we are safe. However, from our vantage point back on Lido Deck Aft, we could see the churning water indicating the ships engines were engaged, watch as we slowly moved away from the pier and, like that breathless moment on an airplane (the one the airlines have not yet found a way to charge you for or deprive you of) when the engines whine, gravity pushes you back in your seat, you hold you breath and wait for that moment when the wheels of the landing gear break free of terra firma and you realize your flying, here is the moment when you have broken your bond to dry land and are floating off into the vastness of the Pacific. It’s a brief moment, but there’s a freedom to it that always gives me a thrill that I am happy to now be sharing with my daughter. Travel isn’t about Point A to Point B; it’s about breaking free and creating your own journey. So Long Beach receded into the distance and anything became possible.
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