The Hardest Part of Travel

It’s a strange dilemma. Porto, Portugal is beyond beautiful, a dream trip my husband Randy and I always wanted to take. The streets are ancient, winding, and medieval. The people are warm and smiling. The food consists of creamy cheeses, salty Serrano ham, fresh-caught seafood, and fruity port wine. The scenery is lush and green. So, what’s the problem?

I get homesick easily.

I see a bunch of young cooks in their ‘whites’ talking outside a restaurant and think of my youngest – and aspiring chef – Paul. I see what looks like a mother and daughter enjoying a cup of coffee in a café and think of my own mother. I spy young musicians across the way from our hotel and think of my oldest son – and touring guitarist — Patrick. I see a yappy little dog that reminds me of my terrier Libby.

Home is never far from my mind.

And maybe that’s the most interesting part of travel. Exploring the world is always a blend of looking out at fascinating newness, but also looking back. I see red geraniums in a pot that remind me of my outdoor deck in Connecticut. Everything brings me home.

After three days in Porto, we board a river cruise that will take us along the Douro River for a week. The beauty of Portugal is never-ending with its green, terraced vineyards, whitewashed villages nestled among hills, and herds of little goats scampering along the shore. The pace is unhurried.

On our first night, we sail past restaurants, twinkling with white lights. From the ship, I hear people talking and sometimes a burst of laughter. Small things like that always fascinate me with travel. Everywhere you go, you witness people living their lives – eating with family and friends, probably discussing politics and gossip and their children. I’m always struck by how much more alike we are than different.

Onboard, the pace is relaxed. We meet fellow travellers – a Danish family with two daughters and their intrepid, 90-something year-old mom. Couples from Britain, Canada, and Germany are about. And then there are, of course, us Americans. The people from other countries like to talk about what’s going on in the U.S. I’m struck by how well informed and curious they are.

And yet something surprises me. Even though it’s nice to take a break from the never-ending political drama, I find I miss my country. Like a dysfunctional family, it’s the only one I have, the only one I know. And maybe there’s no place on earth without problems…although yes, we have our share.

On shore excursions, we view old palaces with gilded turrets and huge, dark, cathedrals with worn stone floors. You can almost feel the generations who passed before. What really changes from one to the next, besides technology and clothing? We all seem to keep the same worries and concerns.

On the news at night, I see a hurricane barreling down on America’s southeast coast. If it hits with full impact, it could be devastating. Even though my family’s up north, I worry about the effects. Will they get doused with residual rain and flooding? Will the electricity hold out?

Meanwhile, the ship’s rhythm keeps me distracted. Everyday an itinerary is left on the bed, giving schedules of meals, shore excursions, and onboard entertainment. I love watching fellow passengers go from strangers to friends as the 90 people onboard get to know each other. Personalities and quirks start to emerge.

The crew is well informed and friendly. Some struggle with English more than others, but all are professional and friendly. They work hard.

In a few days, we’ll board our plane and fly home. I’d like to think I’ll see Portugal and the Douro River again, but who knows? The world is vast and time is shrinking. I’ll never forget the beauty of the countryside and the warm people.

Back home, I’ll be met with the same political tensions we left. The pace will be faster. More hurricanes are coming. But I’ll also have my sons, and mom, and dog, Libby. I’ll have my deck with its red geraniums, at least until fall and winter close in.

Like those people on shore with those twinkling lights, I’ll settle back…and live my life.

 

Do you get homesick when you travel? Comments are always welcome and if you like, please share. Thank you.

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