I hate goodbyes.

Last October, after four months and 9000 miles of American travel, I landed in Los Angeles, where I soon took up residency with my son and his wife, got a California driver's license, registered to vote, enrolled in "Covered California" healthcare, became a leasing agent for a real estate management company, and learned the ins and outs of driving in LA.

I am a Californian.  And I love it.

But my two older sons have taken up residency in the same metro area on the other side of the country for a brief time, and I feel a sense of urgency to get back behind the wheel of my prius to head east so that I can take advantage of this opportunity of access.

I quit my job.  I bought new tires.  I packed up my things (they are sitting in the middle of the living room floor). I am sipping my coffee and will soon load the car. Tonight's hotel is booked and paid for.  I am set to trip again and I am excited about making memories with my grandchildren for the next few months. 

I will be answering to a different name for awhile:  Ma'amaw. This makes me smile.

But I still have tears in my eyes this morning; I have to say goodbye.

Yes, it is a temporary departure. And my family here in California can probably use a little break from me; I mean, jeez, having your mother/mother-in-law live with you for such an extended stay should qualify you for humanitarian of the year. These two lovely people deserve some private time; how they must miss walking naked through the house and having sex in the living room.

They are up now. He is watering the garden; she is getting ready for a photo shoot.

And I have tears in my eyes and my throat burns and I am clenching my jaw shut to prevent sobs from bursting out.

We will go out to breakfast and then he and I will load my car and then we will look at each other and hug and I won't be able to talk because if I open my mouth I will sob and then I will get in the car and drive away and wonder if I am doing the right thing and for many, many miles, I will cry.

I hate goodbyes.





 

Road Tripping into Foreign Territory

Hello!  How are my favorite readers out there in internet land?  I know I left you hanging and that you have been unable to eat or sleep while  waiting patiently for news from me....  No?  You didn't even know I hadn't written?!   Excellent!  Knowing that you are busy living, rather than looking for my posts, warms my heart.

So...where have I been?

After Maine, I headed through New York into Toronto, Canada, where I had my first border experience. Having researched border crossings the evening before, I knew I should be truthful (not a problem for me) and refrain from any humor-intentioned comments (apparently, border agents have no sense of humor).

After an hour's wait, I pulled up to the agent, rolled down my windows, and removed my sunglasses and hat.  He felt no need to reciprocate, big black sunglasses shielding me from his humanity, ignoring my cheery "hello," taking my passport, beginning the interrogation.

     "Where do you live?"

     Hmmm.  Tough one.  I stammered as I responded, "Florida.....I guess."  Man, that was a difficult question.  I wonder if he noticed my nervousness. 

     "What do you do?"

     "Teacher," I automatically replied.  "But I quit," I quickly added.  Okay, Julie, you are not passing this test.  Do better.  Telling the truth is tricky sometimes. 

     "Why are you coming to Canada?"

     "To see friends."  Easy one.

     "How long will you be here?"

     "A week?  Two?  I don't know for sure."  Does it matter?  Do I need to have better plans?  Is he going to give me a time limit?

     "Are you traveling with anything other than clothes and personal items?  Any food, produce, alcohol, tobacco?"

     "Uhhh...yeah.  I have everything that I didn't give away when I left Florida.  I'm on a road trip.  I have camping gear..."

     "So what is your final destination?" he interrupted.

     "California."

     "Do you have a place to live when you arrive in California?"   Well, it is so nice to see that he is interested in my welfare.

     "I'll be staying with my son and his wife for awhile."

     "Do you have a job lined up?"  Wow!  I mean, I just want to go visit my friends in Canada! I really don't get why this is important, but I know not to make border agents mad:  I didn't want to be selected for inspection, not because I have anything to hide, but because of the hassle--my car was totally packed.

     "I'll get one when the time comes," I said confidently.

     "Go on," he said sternly while handing me my passport. 

     "Thank you!" I happily responded.  And I was free once again. 

      Free in Canada for sixteen days (yeah, I stayed longer than two weeks) where I had to undergo the trials of learning to live in a foreign country.  Adapting is not always easy.  For months I had driven through neighborhoods where the American flag is displayed by proud citizens, but now!  Now I was to endure Canadian pride, spying red, white, and maple leaf waving at me, taunting me!

     But beyond the flags, I first had to master driving.  The speed limit had changed to 100.  For the rest of my life, I will never forget the five seconds of uncertainty as I sought, located, and pressed the button that changed my speed from 65 to 105.  Driving in a foreign land...what a harrowing experience, but not nearly as difficult to conquer as the ultimate test of survival--

     Crossing the language barrier.

     As a speaker of English--American English with a bent towards Southern--I struggled to understand the natives of Canada, even as they so willingly made sacrifice by reaching out to me as a foreigner, welcoming me to their country by speaking to me in my own language.  Canadians are truly a kind and hospitable people, and if I ever get kicked out of the US, I know where I will be headed.

Border Flags 

International Border Plaque

Waiting to get in...

Made it!

Images from Mississauga:

Marilyn Monroe

I live right over there...

Port Credit

Dinner at my favorite Serbian restaurant with my Canadian family

After much Serbian music, he sang a Beatles tune for me…in English!

Serenade by the water...

"Earning" my keep

Parry Sound:

Island Queen Cruises

9/10 - 9/26