Category: traveling

a photo of deer in a greenspace next to a walkway Christine’s Own Travel Advice Mostly Worked For Her
ADHD · fitness · self care · traveling

Christine’s Own Travel Advice Mostly Worked For Her

Christine Hennebury1 Comment

I am happy to report that my plans to take very good care of myself worked VERY well on my way to Victoria for my conference.

I packed good snacks, I made sure to buy breakfast in the airport, I moved the things I planned to do on the plane to the top of my backpack, and I walked around a fair bit and did a little meditation in the airport to ensure that I was as unfrazzled as possible when I got on the plane.

Once I was in my seat, I put my papers, markers, and water bottle in the pouch on the seat ahead of me and made myself as comfortable as possible in the cramped space.

After take-off, I made a loose plan of how I wanted to spend my time and set my repeat timer so I didn’t feel like any task was going to go on forever.

The timer will let me choose a length of time to work and a length of time to rest and how many times to repeat the cycle. It’s really handy, especially since my ADHD brain will sometimes refuse to start something – even something fun – if it feels like it will take a lot of time. Setting a timer creates an escape hatch and makes it easier to start.

So I alternated between reading, drawing, writing, and taking notes on some YouTube videos I had downloaded and took breaks for snacks, for stretching, for napping, and for meditating.

a drawing of overlapping ovals, each filled with a pattern, in black ink on a white index card. The card is resting on a seatback table on an airplane.
Here’s one of my drawings from the plane. image description: a drawing of overlapping circles with about half of them filled in with patterns on an index card drawn in black ink. The card is resting on an airplane table and a marker and my grey pencilcase is nearby.

The flight to Calgary for my stopover felt pretty fast but I did have one recurring annoyance because of time math.

If I were to write it as a story problem, it would go like this.

The first part of Christine’s trip is a 6h 20min flight to Calgary where she will have a 1h 5min wait before her flight to Victoria. If her initial flight from St. John’s to Calgary leaves 1h late but the pilot says that the flight will only take 5h 30mins, will she make her connecting flight?

And yeah, the math works out but when you factor in me wondering if I had misheard the pilot, and my concern that I had miscalculated time difference (Is this a factor? no. Could I shake the concern loose? also no), I ended up with a low-key worry that I was going to miss my connecting flight and my arrangements to share a cab from the airport in Victoria were going to get jumbled.

I eventually realized I could ask the flight attendant and I felt better after that but the brainloop was irksome in the meantime.

I made the second flight, got to Victoria just a little late, had lunch with my storytelling friends (Hi to Cindy, Shelah, and Brigitte!) and got to campus feeling pretty damn good.

The conference was great – I heard some marvellous stories, took some terrific workshops, and I was thrilled with how my workshop and my story performance was received.*

On Sunday, I was heading back home via Ottawa. I was relaxed and looking forward to getting home and I got to chatting with different storytelling friends in the airport (Hi Colette and Gail!) and didn’t really give much thought to the practicalities of the trip.

Actually, I kind of forgot my ‘take good care of yourself’ strategy.

In fact, even the need for it slipped my mind.

So, when I started to feel a bit twitchy a little ways into the flight and then I realized that I wasn’t exactly sure how long we had been in the air, I realized that I needed a plan or I was going to drive myself and my seatmate bananas before we landed in Ottawa.

I did my best to calculate how long we had left in the flight and I set my repeat timer.

And, once again, I alternated between reading, listening to podcasts/videos, napping, writing, and meditating. I made sure to eat at regular intervals, to drink lots of water, and to do a bit of stretching.

This worked out pretty well, just not as well as it had on the way up and the flight felt loooooong.

Once I landed in Ottawa, I opted to walk around and stay standing for the hour or so wait so I could burn off some of the energy I built up sitting on the plane.

I did the same timer trick for the last part of my flight – with a few more nap/meditation times because it was late at night (my flight was supposed to arrive at 12:48am and actually got in at 1:30am) – and I made sure to have lots of water and a substantial snack so I could head right to bed when I got home instead of having to make time to eat.

Even though it was a relatively short flight, it did drag a bit because of the late hour and we got in at 1:30am it took forever to get off the plane and get my luggage so it was almost 2:30am before I got home.**

Why am I including those details?

Because the time of day makes it hard to tell how effective my strategy was on the way home.

I think, once you are up into the wee hours traveling, you kind of have to surrender to a certain amount of off-kilter feeling, no matter what you do.

But, I do think that I felt better than I would have if I had just tried to forge ahead through my travel without any distress-management plans.

However, I have to note that the disrupted sleep on Sunday night/Monday morning really left me feeling out of sorts for the rest of the week and I was decidedly out of sorts until the weekend.

That’s why I am writing and posting this a whole week later – I just couldn’t make my brain behave last week and I am grateful to @samanthabrennan for posting in my place on Tuesday past.

Overall, I think my lessons here are that making a plan and taking good care of myself really helps me travel with less fluster. AND that I should try to avoid flights that arrive in the very early hours of the morning.

a photo of the bright horizon at sunset taken from a plane window with a plane wing in the foreground
I took this shortly after we left Ottawa. image description: A photo taken from a airplane window of the bright horizon at sunset. There is a dark area at the bottom, a stripe of red, then a stripe of orange, then lighter blue, then darker blue. In the foreground you can see the plane’s wing illuminated by one of the plane’s lights. It creates a great contrast to the dark in the middle of the image and the bright natural colours on the horizon.

*I taught an 1.5h workshop on how storytelling builds empathy and I performed a story about doing a tarot reading that asked, “What advice would my Dad give me?”

**Many thanks to the valiant Steve for picking me up at that late hour when he had to work in the morning!

a photo of the author telling a story on stage. Christine hopes to follow her own advice
ADHD · advice · self care · stretching · traveling

Christine hopes to follow her own advice

Christine HenneburyLeave a comment

By the time this post goes live, I’ll be on a plane on my way to BC for the Storytellers of Canada- Conteurs du Canada conference.

I’m looking forward to the conference and to seeing my friends and telling/talking about stories for DAYS but I always feel apprehensive before I travel.

I’m not afraid to fly or anything like that. It’s the disrupted schedule, the lack of control over my day, the eating at weird times, the crowds of people, the change in time zones…that’s what gets me.

And all of that is fairly unavoidable.

BUT

Then I remembered that the last time the conference was in BC my travel schedule was waaaaaaaay worse and I was miserable on the way up but I actually did ok on the way home.

And, sure, part of it was the fact that I was on my way home but, after the frustrating trip on the way there, I had decided to take really good care of myself on the return trip and it made a huge difference.

So, what did ‘taking really good care of myself’ mean in that context?

  1. I brought some really filling snacks so I had a bit more control over when I ate.
  2. I made sure to keep my water bottle full.
  3. I did stretches and yoga frequently and did some walking in each airport.*
  4. I meditated a fair bit on the plane (and listened to my favourite cello music)
  5. I planned something to do for each hour of the trip (I didn’t have to do it but having a plan made me less fidgety and irritated.)

And that plan seems really appealing to me right now.

In fact, once I thought about it, I immediately started feeling better about the long trip and I could focus more on the fun that awaits me on the other end.

So, let’s see how my plan works out, hey?

I’ll update you later tomorrow.

*Yes, I always *could* stretch or walk at any point but this was me being proactively deliberate about it.

Nat sometimes needs a seatbelt extension when flying
Sat with Nat · traveling

Nat sometimes needs a seatbelt extension when flying

natalieh (she/her)1 Comment

It was 4:45 am on Wednesday as I boarded the de Havilland Dash 8. I always get a hit of nostalgia on that airframe, it’s the same one I flew in during my air navigation training in the mid 1990s.

I sat down and tried to buckle my seatbelt. It was hilariously too short. I was surprised but I also hadn’t flown in a year. My weight and general shape haven’t changed much.

I asked a flight attendant for an extension. They are used in the demonstration before take off so I knew they had them.

I had mixed feelings about needing the extra space but decided my comfort was the most important thing.

In Toronto I switched airframes to head to Winnipeg. It was an Airbus of some type. This time it almost fit but by now I was cavalier and refused to squish myself.

The flight attendant was happy to help. When they arrived with it I exclaimed “oh you have my present!”

It was easy to use. No one cared. I don’t think anyone even noticed.

My trip home on Friday was with another airline in Boeing 747s. I sat down and effortlessly clipped in, no extension required.

3 airframes, 3 very different belt lengths. 1 very tired woman.

I remind myself that commercial flights are uncomfortable. No one feels that the seats are roomy or that they have enough legroom.

People on each flight negotiate to see if they can get an aisle seat (like I did) or sit in the emergency exit row. I saw various strategies to try and fit each person, and their stuff, into a very limited space.

I’m ok asking for a section of fabric for my comfort. It did feel weird though.

Have you ever had complicated feelings when you assert your needs?

An airplane seatbelt, just sitting there being some indeterminate length but it does not measure your value.
A pond in Portland's Japanese garden. Health equity, gardens and a llama: Catherine’s conference week
fitness · season transitions · traveling

Health equity, gardens and a llama: Catherine’s conference week

catherine w

CW: mention of some extreme (but real) health injustices and harm done to people and groups because of it.

This past week was a full-service one for me: after two days of teaching, I flew from Boston to Portland, Oregon for the American Society for Bioethics and Humanities meeting. This is a group of medical professionals, including clinicians, directors of programs, patients’ rights lawyers, clinical ethicists working in hospitals, researchers, and a smattering of philosophers.

I was there to give a talk on GLP-1 (weight-loss) drugs and the complexity of hunger. This is one of two health ethics projects my friend Norah and I are working on these days. More on that in another blog post.

Here are some of the fascinating and important topics people are working on that I Iearned more about:

  • pregnancy in prison, and the practice of shackling pregnant people during labor and childbirth
  • how ranking hospitals (e.g. US News rankings) can affect medical policies around managing cancer care
  • what we can learn from our dogs about euthanasia and end-of-life care for ourselves and our human loved ones
  • what’s so special about cancer: opioid prescribing for pain and the need for improved and more consistent guidelines across diagnoses

I met lots of interesting and nice people (including a bunch who live in the Boston area) and also saw some colleagues I hadn’t run into in a long time. It was great to see bioethicist Peggy Battin, who is famous for her work on assisted suicide, among many other things. She gave a powerful TED talk in 2014 on her experiences around her husband Brooke’s death five years after he suffered a broken neck in a bike accident. I regularly show this to my students in my Contemporary Moral Problems class during our module on end-of-life ethical issues.

Because we were in Portland, Norah and I had to sneak away from the conference for a couple of hours to go to the Portland Japanese Garden. We were treated to fall colors as well as the varied shades of green in the moss and leaves.

Orange and yellow leaves.
Orange and yellow leaves.
Reddish-oranges and greens.
Reddish-oranges and greens.
Curved tree with yellows and green.
Curved tree with yellows and green.

There was a bridge/walkway over and around a pond with large and beautiful fish, several other water features, and a lovely zen garden, carpeted with white Canadian rocks.

fish of many colors
fish of many colors
A bamboo and stone water feature.
A bamboo and stone water feature.
A zen garden.
A zen garden.

You may be wondering, what about that llama? Yes, there was a llama– Caesar, the no-drama llama, a prominent Portland celebrity, visited the conference on Friday for a meet-and-greet and photo ops. If you want a moment of respite from our harsh world, look at the video of Caesar here.

Norah and I of course got our pictures taken with Caesar. He is sweet and calm and oh so fluffy!

Caesar the llama and me
Me and Caesar
Norah, Caesar the llama and me
Norah, Caesar and me

Everyone gets tired occasionally, especially when they’re the object of so much attention. Caesar is capable of extraordinary ranges of emotion, and his yawn is a sight to see.

Caesar and me with our mouths wide open.
Yawning or singing? You had to be there to know for sure.

Despite two cross-country flights, I am feeling refreshed and energized, ready to continue my research work, pursue more fall nature, and keep an eye our for fluffy animal encounters.

Readers, how was your week? Did you get to pet any nice creatures? Stroll through nature? Expand your mental horizons? I’d love to hear from you.

Elan in the white canyon navigating a boulder Strong Enough for Egypt Vacation
challenge · fitness · holiday fitness · holidays · rest · traveling · vacation

Strong Enough for Egypt Vacation

elan.paulson

I knew my 16-day trip to Egypt with 3 midlife friends would be a fun, budget-friendly adventure, but it also became a test of stamina and strength for me.

We had no tour big bus providing a comfy, air-conditioned bubble. Rather, our ambitious travel schedule took us through half the country, hauling our backpacks up modest hotel staircases and navigating every natural and human-made obstacle in our path. Although we had quiet evenings, including a few days by a rooftop pool, by day our bodies were moving in lots of ways.

Our first of many tomb and temple visits, the burial chamber of Bannentiu, 26th dynasty (Roman Era) in the Baharia Oasis.

Bodies in Motion

In the desert near the Baharia Oasis we climbed up (then surfed down) sand dunes. In downtown Cairo, the honking cars, uneven pavement, and throngs of moving people in the street demanded constant physical manouvering. We toured ancient sites out in the hot sun, including Luxor’s Avenue of Sphinxes and Aswan’s Forgotten Obelisk. We also used steep ramps and narrow tunnels inside multiple tombs and pyramids, crouching under low ceilings carved over three and four thousand years ago!

Folks climbing a ramp in one of the Giza Pyramids, built for Pharoah Khufu in the 2500s BCE. Kim said the ramps were put in after her visit 16 years ago: before it was just dirt.

As well, we hiked three silent, stunning canyons in the South Sinai region that shimmered white, red, and multi-coloured in the sunshine. The next day, after a caravan of camels and their handlers got us most of the way up Mt Sinai, we used 750 steep steps to get up to its peak.

Riding Asfour (the Second), a 7-year old camel up the first 3000 steps of My Sinai was a highlight. And although Asfour did most of the work, my legs were still sore the next day!

Later, it was a relief to float face down in the salty water of the Red Sea over the most beautiful coral and schools of fish I have seen. We snorkelled twice: off the beach in Sharm El Sheik and off a glass-bottom boat in Hurghada. But even in and near the water, I had to be thinking about dehydration and sunburn.

Kimi and me snorkelling just off the beach in the Red Sea. Video by Lisa Porter.

Getting hurt could mean getting stuck. I nearly did a few times, once when I mildly rolled an ankle in the Coloured Canyon and when I jammed a finger on a tomb doorway at the Saqqara necropolis. But it felt good to keep moving. At least twice we saw a tourist who seemed unprepared or was having great difficulty getting through the tomb shafts.

Kim and Lisa going down the low-lit ramps in what I think was the Step Pyramid, built for Pharoah Djoser in the 2600s BCE. Video by Kimi Maruoka.

We covered thousands of steps per day, even on our 2- to 7-hour travel days. At the last minute I decided to leave my fitness tracker at home, and I’m glad I did. It helped me to make sense of how I was feeling in my body rather than by stats on a screen.

Rope repelling, then a rebar ladder, just to get down into the White Canyon. Our guide admitted he used this to judge hikers’ readiness for this canyon.

Caring Co-Travellers

And my body did feel many things, as I was under the weather for a good part of the trip: first menstrual cramps, a head cold that turned to cough, then mild heatstroke after the first time snorkeling, and finally a stomach bug. On my worst night, I laid awake shaking with chills, sipping tepid tablet-purified water, and waiting for dawn (or death, I had thought self-piteously).

A short video of Cairo’s downtown streets at night. Our group kept close watch on each other to avoid getting lost or run over.

But I survived. As a white, English-speaking tourist with a credit card and travel insurance on a holiday, I was never really in serious danger. I saw many Egyptians who may have been facing economic hardships and health risks I will never have to deal with as a middle-class Canadian.

Nevertheless, I am so grateful for my three travel buddies, who showed each other constant care throughout our journey. We divided snacks, each bought rounds of water, shared everything from tissues to electrolytes, and carried the mood for each other until someone sick (usually me) recovered.

A cat next to my day pack and water bottle. I stayed hydrated with old and new friends!

Kim, who had planned the travel and booked the local guides and drivers, happily made last-minute arrangements to help me join later when an early morning tour of Isis Temple in Aswan wasn’t possible for me. This caring company was the heart of my trip.

Me in a feeling-better moment, making silly Instagram poses with the backdrop of the Red Canyon behind me. Photos by Kimi Maruoka.

Proof of Life

I believe that our greater exertions paid off in greater fun. In exchange for living out of packs and in our sore, dust-covered bodies, we got to see and sleep in neat places, including under the desert stars, where we felt extremely lucky to be there, together and alive.

Our remarkable view of the white desert at night. This photo was not taken with a black/white filter.

There’s a certain idea of midlife that says to slow down, be careful, rest more. This trip refused that. It demanded and invited all kinds of motion, reminding me how much the body can still do when it must. It turns out that I was strong enough for Egypt.

Lisa and Elan racing (falling?) down a sand dune in the White Desert. Photo by either Kim or Kimi.

And by the end of the trip, I used nearly every pill I’d packed and every muscle I had. But getting over everything became part of my adventure story. I came home with a mildly sprained finger, hardwon but still overpriced souvenirs, and a feeling that my flawed and frustrating body could still bring me much, much joy.

Our fearless foursome trekking in the desert. To borrow a phrase from Kimi and her sisters: “We did it!!”
Salt lake city airport art. Airports as wellness, movement and pleasure (!) spaces: Catherine has thoughts
fitness · holidays · traveling

Airports as wellness, movement and pleasure (!) spaces: Catherine has thoughts

catherine w

In the past couple of months, I’ve spent more time in airports than I have since before the pandemic. Family events (happy and sad) and work trips necessitated flying more, which put me in the position of noticing upgraded features of airports that made my time there more (or less) easy on my body, my mood, and my needs for decent food and a place to land while waiting.

Interestingly, the Washingon Post has also been thinking about airports, and they recently published a piece on the 50 best US airports. I’ve been to 16 of them. Lots of them are smaller regional airports, like Richmond, VA, or Portland, ME. Others are alternatives to the big airports in big cities, like Love Field in Dallas. What’s so great about airports when they do things right?

For me, one of the most soothing things about great airports is what they lack– noise. At the Portland, OR airport, I found a soothing lack of muzak and blaring pop music emanating from the stores. Even the passengers seemed muted as they rushed to their gates. Yes, there were the usual baby grand pianos in the public spaces, but even the folks playing them chose low-key tunes. And no one was playing “Piano Man” by Billy Joel, which (in my opinion) the FAA should ban from all airport spaces. Fight me…

Music and quiet are all well and good, but one thing we really need while traveling is a place to sit, collect ourselves and our belongings, and prepare for the on-board segment of our journeys. Both the Charlotte, NC and the Columbia, SC airports have white slatted rocking chairs all over the place for our comfort. Yes, they get snagged by savvy travelers, but turnover is constant, so a little vigilance will definitely pay off.

A lineup of rocking chairs in the Charlotte, NC airport.
A lineup of rocking chairs in the Charlotte, NC airport.

I love it when an airport has stores or food venues that are local to the area. In Portland, OR, there was a airport version of Powell’s books, at which I perused many interesting titles and bought one (even though I had a fully loaded Kindle and a book already in my backpack). There’s something luxurious-feeling about picking out a book on the fly (yes, pun intended). FYI, I bought The Fox Wife, sort of a historical fantasy mystery novel– definitely outside of my usual genre choices, but eminently suitable for a long plane ride.

By the way, The Milwaukee, Wi airport has a used bookstore (why aren’t there more of these in airports??) and also a local coffee and breakfast burrito cart. Oh, and a ping-pong table, fully stocked with paddles and balls. I think they might also enlist volunteers willing to play with solo travelers, as I was on my own that day.

Speaking of entertainment, that’s another thing great airports offers. The Portland, OR airport (which ranked #1 in that Washington Post article) had an actual movie theatre, playing short films for passengers looking for a little respite from the light and the gates. Here it is:

At first I thought this was a fancied-up bathroom entrance, but it's actual a movie theatre. Wow.
At first I thought this was a fancied-up bathroom entrance, but it’s an actual movie theatre. Wow.

And that brings me to the most replenishing thing about good airports: their art! I love me some large-scale (or any-scale, really) airport art. Airport art takes you out of your rushing, tired mindset and offers an alternative perspective, if only for a few moments. But those few moments really refresh me every time. My favorite all-time art installation is in Atlanta, called Flight Paths. Here’s what it looks like:

The ceiling of Flight Paths–shapes and colors and sort sound. Photos by me.
Passengers enjoying the lights and shapes and sounds of birds and forest.
Passengers enjoying the lights and shapes and sounds of birds and forest.

Charlotte, NC airport also uses abstraction and nature to catch passengers’ attention and imagination.

You can look closer here. What do you see?
You can look closer here. What do you see?
A large-scale cloud scape of blues and whites , with lots of room for imagination.
A large-scale cloud scape of blues and whites , with lots of room for imagination.

I find airport art, both grand and modest, a welcome shift from my head-down-gotta-get-there state of mind. Good and thoughtful airport planners know this, and they provide.

Readers, what are some of your most favorite features of airports? I’d love to hear from you.

Some bronze fish on the terrazzo tile in Seattle airport. Catherine travels to Portland OR from Boston MA, with pictures
fitness · traveling

Catherine travels to Portland OR from Boston MA, with pictures

catherine w

I’m not an early-morning flier. 11am is a perfect takeoff time for me, as airports usually are in a lull by then and I’ve had time to make coffee for myself at home and get to my gate without being sleep-deprived.

That didn’t happen today. Oh no. I had a 7:25am flight (I know I know, that’s not even so early, but it is FOR ME) from Boston to Seattle, connecting to a quick hop from Seattle to Portland, Oregon. Then I would board a shuttle bus for a 2.5 hour drive to Corvallis, where I’m attending this conference. I’ll be reporting in Sunday’s post about some of the cool talks on preparing, eating, growing, producing and theorizing about food. But before analyzing the merits of the destination, a bit about the journey.

My flight from Boston to Seattle was delayed because of mechanical problems with the plane. They got us a better one, but it took some time. Fair enough. However, I missed my connecting flight and had an extra 2 hours to kill in Seattle. I love it that airports often embed cool things in their terrazzo tile flooring. Here are some fish:

I love it that airports often embed cool things in their terrazzo tile flooring. This floor featured bronze-ish fish seemingly swimming upstream to the nearby water fountain.
This floor featured bronze-ish fish seemingly swimming upstream to the nearby water fountain.
Here's a school of tiny ish making their way towards baggage claim.
Some tiny fish making their way towards baggage claim.

After the requisite 2 hours of walking, sitting, standing, milling, and repeating, I got on my short hop flight to Portland. There I found many airport sights to see:

What an atrium! What trees! Portland is looking snazzy.
What an atrium! What trees! Portland is looking snazzy.
What swirly terrazzo flooring! Loving Portland so far.
What swirly terrazzo flooring! Loving Portland so far.

But that wasn’t all.

To the side of the grand wood ceiling was a grand video of some grand rocks.
To the side of the grand wood ceiling was a grand video of some grand rocks.
They even have bleachers in case someone is playing a high school basketball game or doing a play.
They even have bleachers in case someone is playing a high school basketball game or doing a play.

Eventually I had to leave the airport to pick up my next travel leg– a 2.5 hour shuttle bus to Corvallis, OR. Sadly, even though I was in time for the 3:30 shuttle (having missed the 1:30 shuttle I had originally planned), it was about full. There was only one seat left, and three of us vying for it. One woman immediately opted out, leaving two of us. I suggested doing rock/paper/scissors for the seat, but she didn’t know how it was played. I tried teaching her, but the shuttle bus driver was (understandably) getting impatient. So we flipped a coin. I lost the toss, so waited at the outside-the-airport bus stop for another hour. Here were the sights I was treated to:

Over my head was a cool walkway with glass and steel all around.
Over my head was a cool walkway with glass and steel all around.
At eye level, the bus stop, and the lemon poppyseed muffin I had bought 12 hours ago.
At eye level, the bus stop, and the lemon poppyseed muffin I had bought 12 hours ago.

I ate the muffin, or at least what I didn’t spill on me and the pavement.

At last, the 4:30 bus arrived, a bit after 4:30pm (but I’m splitting hairs at this point). 16 of us crowded into the shuttle and rode for 2.5+ hours through the Oregon suburbs and countryside, at last arriving at my hotel. I got a lot-a-lot of steps in, chatted with many people I don’t know, didn’t waste the breakfast muffin I bought, and enjoyed airport sights.

All in all, not a bad (if very long) day. Hope your Tuesday was nice, too. See you on Sunday.

Succinct Sunday: things to do with manatees
fitness · traveling

Succinct Sunday: things to do with manatees

catherine w

Happy new year! 2025 is five days old, and in my view, so far so good. I’m back home in Boston after 11 days away visiting family and friends. However, I’m already looking forward to my next trip in mid-February. I’m going to see manatees in central Florida!

If you don’t know much about these beautiful and interesting creatures, start here and here. Also say hi to this lovely manatee family.

An adult and baby manatee in the freshwater springs of central Florida, surrounded by grassy food they love.

In the winter, manatees migrate from the Gulf of Mexico to the freshwater springs of Florida, as the water in the Gulf drops below 68F, and the springs maintain a constant temperature of 72F.

Manatees are endangered, but certain kinds of manatee tourism are legal and regulated there. For instance, you can swim with them.

Swimming with a manatee. You’re not allowed to touch or interact with them, but you can swim nearby.

You can also kayak with them. Various tour guides use clear kayaks, the better to see them with.

Two kayakers, observing some manatees below them.

Manatees are herbivores, eating all sorts of aquatic plants. But, like us, they enjoy treats as well. These volunteers at Homosassa Springs state park found out that manatees also love sweet potatoes.

Volunteers feeding sweet potatoes to manatees, who also look like sweet potatoes.

More pictures and of course a full description will be forthcoming after my trip. Happy first Sunday of 2025!

Readers, have any of you seen manatees in Florida? Any tips? I’d be most beholden.

fitness · holidays · traveling · walking

En marchant à Paris (walking in Paris)

fieldpoppy

A lot of what we capture on this blog is the counting of fitness — number of workouts in a year, kilometres ridden or run, personal best in a race, time in a heart rate zone, steps in a day. All useful in their own categories of marking accomplishments, meeting goals.

But some steps are more transcendent than others. Susan and I gave ourselves the gift of a short trip to Paris for the beginning of the holidays. It was grey and rainy and every step had a story.

Friday, 6598 steps. Arrive, fall fast asleep, wander out to find a vegan feast whose colours mock the early darkness.

One of the many meditations on death in the catacombs.

Saturday, 20,275 steps. Death and ancestors. We voyage through the catacombs and then make a pilgrimage to the church next to the Salpêtrière. This building started out as a gunpowder factory and then became a place for “poor” women of Paris — meaning beggars, orphans, mentally ill, sex workers and, later, criminals. Now it’s a sprawling hospital, but I wanted to visit it because it’s also the place where many of the Filles du Roi — the single women sent to marry the colonists of New France around 1670 — were recruited. Like all people of French Canadian origin, I have several of these women in my family tree — and I wanted to acknowledge their strength and resilience. The church they would have worshipped is still standing, a shabby contrast to the miraculous restoration of Notre Dame – and I pictured the shivering young girls of the mid 17th century, hoping for a better life. I wrote my ancestors a letter of thanks. It came out in French.

Sunday, 18407 steps. A windy and rainy encounter with the excesses of empire and colonization in Versailles, which sends us into rabbit holes of the causes of revolution and during which Treaties the Europeans actually divided up the Middle East (Sevres) and Africa (Versailles). I spend a lot of time talking smack about Napoleon.

The wind whips us back to Paris instead of wandering the gardens of Versailles, which are mostly covered for the winter in any case. We cleanse our palates with a wander through the Picasso museum and the cutest shop of paper products I’ve ever seen. We find a serendipitous charming tiny, crowded italian resto where the owner unexpectedly calls for everyone’s attention and then serenades us with Con Te Partiro.

Yes I did take a photo of Athena. After I looked at her and decided I wanted to take her with me. And I wasn’t in anyone’s way.

Monday, 20,116 steps. Simultaneously sublime and enraging, it’s the Louvre. Sublime because, well, the Louvre. All the art. Truly transcendent moments. More opportunities to talk smack about Napoleon. Enraging because of the rivers of humanity holding their phones above their heads with video on while not actually looking at the art. We fantasize about paying extra for a No Phones around the Art day. I ask Athena for some rageful wisdom.

We eat more pain au chocolat and bouche de Noel and take a ride on the Roue de Paris just as night falls and all of the lights come on. Dinner is at a random, teeny vaguely Mediterranean vegetarian place festooned with vines that might be the most charming wee spot I’ve ever eaten, though the kitchen and its burning oil are basically right in front of us and we both have to use our inhalers before bed. We have a cocktail in a Hungarian restaurant and then wander out to the dampened nightlife of our Le Pigalle neighbourhood, admire the spritely sleaze of the Moulin Rouge.

Tuesday, 16,795 steps. Christmas eve. We march off to the Eiffel Tower, which neither of us has ever been up, with our tickets that include a glass of champagne at the top. Just as we arrive, it shuts down because of a fire on the top floor. No one is hurt, but more than 1000 people are evacuated and we get to watch the pompiers at work. We eat more pain au chocolat while deciding what to do, head for the Musée d’Orsay. More art, more cursing of the people with phones, though they are a little less voracious here. I look at Mary Cassatt’s Jeune fille au jardin and want to photoshop a phone into her hand.

We both do some serious stretching before dinner, feet worn down by all the tromping, my plantar fasciitis held at bay by my hideous cushy Hokas. But I trade the comfy shoes for Fluevog boots for our final adventure, dinner in Montmartre and then midnight mass at Sacré-Coeur.

Mass is another pilgrimage for me, one of the only things I can do in my weird 21st century life that my ancestors would recognize. I connect with my mother, with all of my grandmothers, whose fortitude and shortness twirl through my DNA. Susan is patient. I’m grateful for everything.

Christmas Day: We fly home lying flat, blessedly upgraded, astronauts compared to my ancestors and their 17th century ships. I’m filled with gratitude and thoughts of revolution.

**

Fieldpoppy is Cate Creede-Desmarais, who is descended from four Filles du Roi — Jeanne Petit, Catherine Paulo, Anne Rivet, Marguerite Girard — and from Marie Margarie, Jeanne de St. Pere and Gillette Banne, three “Filles à Marier” who arrived between 1634-1662, decades earlier than the Filles du Roi. Gillette has the distinction of being the first woman executed for murder in New France — she killed her daughter’s abusive husband.(Those links are little video bios of each woman made by genealogist Lisa Elvin-Staltari).

Cate is pretty sure that her grit and penchant for riding her bike alone across new countries is written in her DNA from these women.

aging · camping · canoe · fitness · traveling

Cutting things out with age: Adjusting to the inevitable gracefully or narrowing options unnecessarily?

Sam B9 Comments

I seem to be at the age when friends start making pronouncements related to their age. Like, now I’m sixty I’m not doing that any more! Fill in the blank for “that.”

Some of the things being cut out are beauty regime related and they come with a feeling of PHEW. Like no more shaving one’s legs, or no more lipstick, or no wearing underwire bras. (We all gave up the last one during the pandemic, right?)

Sixty

And okay,  in some cases,  they sound like rich people things to say.  What are some examples? Like, never flying economy on a flight over 3 hours or some such thing. Which is fine, if you’ve got the money and that’s how you want to spend it, you do you. But don’t make it sound like a moral commitment. You’re just wealthy and treating yourself well and that’s fine. It’s not a major life insight to declare that it’s more comfortable having more leg room on a flight.

But some of the proclamations and pronouncements are fitness activity related and they make me just a little uneasy. On the upside,  it’s good to recognize the ways our bodies change with age and adjust our expectations accordingly. On the downside, I wonder if we do that too soon and limit our lives unnecessarily.

The first set that I’ve encountered among friends concern camping. In the last year I’ve heard friends say that they’ve decided they’re too old to sleep in a tent so no more tent camping again. But that rules out any back country camping. Others say now they’ve reached sixty, there’ll be no more portages. That seriously limits your canoe routes.

Others say they’ll ride bikes and run or swim but definitely no more races.

Now I get it if you always hated sleeping in a tent, portaging your canoe, or racing your bike. You shouldn’t do things you don’t like at any age. But if you still like it, why stop? Or maybe you’ve changed your mind, and don’t like it any more, but don’t make it about age. You don’t need an excuse to stop doing a thing you no longer like.

From radicallysunny

My gut feeling is that very little of it is really about age. Other friends say we’re not doing some things because we’re old now. But in many cases they’re things they’ve never done and didn’t want to do in the first place.

It’s kind of like knee replacement surgery.  Some friends who have had knees replaced attribute not doing certain activities to knee replacement.  But they didn’t do these activities before knee replacement. Further, I suspect they never really wanted to do these things.

I worry we shouldn’t stop doing things we love because we think they’re not possible as we age.  The truth is we just don’t know what we’ll be capable of.

When I wrote about aging and activity a few years ago this thought really stuck with me from a New York Times article on a study about aging and exercise, Exercise Can Keep Aging Muscles and Immune Systems ‘Young’.

The piece begins by noting that our understanding of aging might be radically mistaken because so few older adults get any exercise at all.

“Exercise among middle-aged and older adults in the Western world is rare. By most estimates, only about 10 percent of people past the age of 65 work out regularly. So, our expectations about what is normal during aging are based on how growing older affects sedentary people.”

Of course if you don’t like doing a thing– whether it’s wearing lipstick,  sleeping in a tent,  racing your bike,  or whatever– don’t do it. That’s true at 20, 30, 40 etc. But don’t stop doing it just because you don’t like it or don’t like it anymore,  and blame it on age.

I’m hoping to expand my range of activities with age.  I want to try new things,  not shrink my life down. 

Sarah and I met an older woman a couple of years ago paddling and back country canoe camping solo.  She said her husband used to come with her but with age it became too difficult for him.   Now he drives her up there and drops her off. I love that she loves back country camping so much she does it solo now. That’s brave and it’s expanded her options.

I mean,  who knows.  Maybe she didn’t ever like camping with her husband but it didn’t sound that way.

So it does happen, things can become too difficult with age and injury.  I no longer run. But I am hoping to dance,  bike,  and camp my way into my senior years.  It looks as though it might be a struggle to find people to do it with. That’s okay. I like hanging out with younger people. But I am also hoping to lure some friends my own age out onto their bikes for long rides, into the woods and lakes for some camping trips, and out on the dance floor to shake a few moves.

How about you? How are your activities adjusting to aging? How are you feeling about it?

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