Kelowna, our final destination on an amazing extended study leave.
We’ve been home for just over a week. People ask how it feels to be back home and I’m not quite sure how to answer, yet. Yes, it’s amazing to be back with family and friends, and yes, it’s wonderful to be back in our own home.
I went for my first bike ride yesterday, on what I affectionately call my ‘girlie’ bike. Riding along a close-by linear park, Mission Creek, it felt good to once again take in the sights, sounds, and smells that are so familiar and welcoming. In the afternoon, beach chairs slung on our backs, we took the short walk to the lake and simply took in the beauty that was before us. Back home, we sat on the deck with a glass of wine and olives, reliving the many afternoon wine sipping breaks we enjoyed in Portugal and Spain. It was wonderful to bask in the gratitude of the many wonderful lived experiences of the past 7 months living and working in Europe.
That was yesterday. The week before was not so peaceful and tranquil. One thing we learned while travelling was that the first week in a new location was always wrought with unexpected challenges and a sense of total upheaval. Unpacking, setting up a new ‘home’, discovering what cooking utensils were in the cupboards, finding where to buy groceries, getting accustomed to a new language and culture, getting the lay of the land, locating medical facilities, figuring out when stores and restaurants were open, getting a grip on the local transportation system, knowing when it was safe to cross the street…it all took time. While excited to embrace a new living location, we inevitably dealt with tension and stress until we could finally relax our breathing and appreciate all that was to be explored and experienced.
Arriving back in Kelowna felt somewhat the same. While it was familiar, it wasn’t yet ‘home’. Things changed. New buildings have been erected, prices of food and gas have skyrocketed, our grocery store no longer sells our favourite Sunday morning scones, our condo was a shell, void of our personal items, and pneumonia arrived home from Europe with my husband resulting in 2 days of emergency rooms in a hospital greatly suffering the effects of extremely low staffing. It felt like we had simply moved to our next location on our journey.
However, the settling in is happening. As I sit in my home office or on the deck, I look out at blue skies, vibrant green trees, our walls once again house the smiling pictures of adored kids and grand kids, books once again fill the shelves, and a cup of hot coffee accompanies my morning quietness.
It’s good to be home, truly home. Our time with family and friends is richer than ever, our appreciation of where we live has grown, gratitude for my husband’s amazing medical team is even stronger than before we left for Europe, and I have great anticipation for reconnecting with my work colleagues over the next 3 days.
But there’s a change, I can feel it. In me. I can’t explain it yet, but I am aware of it and look forward to digging deeper and reflecting on it, to discover that part of Europe that has taken route in my soul. Travel changes a person…it’s inevitable. We don’t always know how, but it does. You bring a bit of each place you visit home with you. Travel feeds your curiosity, grows your appreciation for other cultures and people, broadens your desire for new tastes in the foods consumed, forces you to reflect on why you do the things you do, broadens your perspective, and nourishes a deep love and expectancy for life. It’s addictive!
It is great to be home, and we are excited to revisit favourite locations, always enjoyed best with family and friends, and look forward to discovering new things about this fantastic place we get to call home. Until the next travel experience…
Until that next, new experience, I plan to take time to think back on all the amazing places in the world we have been blessed to visit, and reflect on what learnings from those experiences have taken root in my soul.
And you, what places have taken root in your soul?
Madrid…what an amazing city! Two days is not enough to really get to know a place, but certainly enough to leave an impression. The architecture is incredible — the buildings, the balconies, and the most spectacular statues everywhere you look.
We stayed at the Iberostar which, by the way, provided some of the best customer service we have ever experienced. From there we walked, and walked, and absorbed all that is Madrid.
The first day we just wandered, coming first to the Plaza Mayor then took in the San Miguel Market, offering the most amazing display of tapas I have ever seen! Next we headed to Almudena Cathedral and were awed by its majesty. One aspect I really appreciated was the colour in the ceilings and stained glass windows, beautiful. Fun fact, Real Madrid CF won the EUFA Champions League final the day before we arrived. The following day had them offering the trophy to the Virgin of Almudena, along with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. On our visit, I climbed to the platform where the flowers had been laid…a part of Madrid history.
Day 2 was a very different experience…though still amazing. We ended the day at the Museo Del Prado . If you have time for only one museum, this is the one. The art is exquisite as are the many statues throughout the museum. We were even treated to a young woman playing classical piano as we wandered the many rooms.
As terrific as the Prado was, the majority of our second day was spent strolling around one of the most peaceful, beautiful parks I have encountered, Parque de El Retiro If someone were just dropped into El Retiro, they’d never guess they were in the middle of a city hosting a population of 6,714,000 people! So much to appreciate about this UNESCO World Heritage Site: a lovely lake with row boats, over 128 hectares of green space, 15,000 trees, the colourful and fragrant La Rosaleda Garden (with over 4,000 roses), countless majestic statues that tell much of the history of Madrid, and, the park even even boasts it’s own Palacio de Cristal (Glass Palace). What an experience walking through this glass and iron building dating back to 1887.
The name Parque de El Retiro means Pleasant Retreat Park, a perfect description of a perfect oasis that provided a memorable experience for our final days in Europe.
As I write this post, we are waiting for our final leg home. We’ve already flown from Madrid to Toronto, Canada, then on to Vancouver. In less than an hour, we take the short 1 hour flight to Kelowna…back home. It truly has been an amazing seven month journey, an unforgettable life experience that will take some time to fully process…time to reflect on the ups, downs, joys, tears, surprises, memories created, and life lessons that still come along no matter your age. I have always believed, and now even more so…travel opens our eyes to an amazingly, fantastic world that, once experienced, will change you forever.
For now, we look forward to arriving at the Kelowna airport to the open arms of our daughter and grand daughter…such joy awaits.
We opened the curtains only to be awestruck by the most breathtaking view from our hotel balcony. This is what we would feast our eyes on for the next six mornings!
We return to Canada in less than two weeks. While in Europe our plan was to set times aside, step away from the research and writing, and be on holiday. Last week was one of those setaside times. Ibiza, Spain. One of the Balearic Islands. Growing up, our family never missed a vacation…my parents highly valued these times away, just the five of us. While in Ireland, most vacations were to the South or to England and Scotland. However, Ibiza was our first family tropical vacation. They say that memories over exaggerate things, not this memory. Ibiza was every bit as beautiful as I remembered.
When laying out our schedule for Europe, Ibiza was not on the list. Bilbao and San Sebastian were strong contenders; however, after a few longs days of driving between Portugal and Spain, we decided to find something closer. It was only then that Ibiza came into the picture.
For six days we lazed by the pool, read and listened to audio books, walked the promenade, explored Dalt Vila (Old Town), ate delicious meals, drank excellent Spanish wines, and treated ourselves to a three hour sunset cruise on a 35’ sailboat while enjoying a lovely charcuterie served with Cava. That’s it. No tight schedule, no rushing, just relaxation.
At one point, my husband asked, “So what have you been reflecting on or thinking about while sitting out here?” “Nothing, absolutely nothing” was my immediate response! Now, if you know me, you’ll know that’s a totally uncharacteristic reality for my mind…for it to be so at peace, so quiet, so…present, is a rare happening. Not until the question was posed did I fully realize how completely relaxed and free of concern I actually was. We needed this down time, and our six hour overnight ferry ride from Valencia to Ibiza transported us to the perfect retreat.
I thought I would be inspired to do some writing, to dream of future plans, but no…all I wanted to do was take in the peace, tranquility, and beauty around us.
As a side note, Ibiza has the reputation for being a party Island. That’s true, to a certain extent, but not where we were. The most rowdy noise makers were the birds…and their song was most welcome.
It’s curious…Ibiza has always been a special place for me. Wonderful childhood memories I have spoken of fondly with family and friends. Never did I expect to add to those memories by spending time there with my husband. Such serendipitous events are really quite wonderful. I remember another such time while flying from our home in British Columbia, Canada to Florida, US to meet up with my brother and his family. Severe weather caused us to touch down overnight in Denver, Colorado, biting into our precious holiday time. No luggage, no toothbrush, just what we had in our carry-on. It was February, and we were dressed for Florida, not Colorado. I was not a happy journeyer. It was then my husband reminded me of a restaurant I had often talked about whilst visiting Denver. Casa Bonita. Mexican food, mariachi bands, cliff divers, and the best sopapillas I had ever tasted! Why not look it up and go visit? Car rented, and we were off to add a family memory to one experienced when I was eighteen! Serendipitous indeed.
Impromptu activities, serendipitous events, interruptions, unforeseen experiences, out of the blue happenings — all things that aren’t planned, and at times, totally out of our control. Some interruptions are immediately delightful, but not all. However, we get to choose how we respond. I’m great with the impromptu things, especially when they are my idea 🙂 My husband, on the other hand, handles those unforeseen experiences with grace and optimism, me not so much. I need time to get my head around the disruption before embracing it.
What about you? What serendipitous events have you experienced that turned out to be a gift greater than anything you could have anticipated, or even planned?
As I start to write this blog, I’m sitting in the lounge of Hotel Centre, Cordova, Spain, a very lovely hotel with excellent access to the older part of town…and the view from the rooftop terrace is spectacular.
I’m into views…rooftop views over the city (like this one taken from the roof of our Cordova hotel), views from the top of cliffs looking over the ocean or Mediterranean Sea. Then there’s balcony views over the goings on of life on the sidewalks and streets below. We’ve marvelled at views from the top of the Duomo in Florence, or Miguelete Bell Tower in Valencia, and will never forget standing on Mars Hill overlooking the impressive city of Athens. Views give you a much different perspective, they remind you to take a step back and see the bigger picture.
For me personally, being with family can also give you that fresh perspective; it reminds you that you’re not alone in the world, that the children you raised have grown into adults who reflect the values instilled through their growing up years, and have acquired wisdom beyond anything we as parents passed to them. Then there’s the grandkids…oh my! Seeing your offspring and their spouses raise their own children, is the moment we parents can step back and know the future is in good hands. A beautiful perspective.
We are enroute back to Valencia from a 10 day visit to the Algarve in Portugal. Ten days of having emotional tanks filled, and new memories created with both of our children and their families. Our family has been split all over the globe for some time, so this was a treasured time to be together; time for European Uncle and Auntie to meet their new niece, and cousins to meet their Canadian cousin for the first time…it was mutual love at first sight all around. There’s nothing like relaxing on a beautiful Algarve beach, sun shining, water sparkling, while grandkids and Papa try to build a sandcastle, laughter all around…basking in the simple joys of life. Quite a view to behold.
As you’ll know from former blogs, my husband and I spent December through February in Albufeira before moving on to Valencia for another three months. For this visit back we stayed in Carvoeiro. We discovered Carvoeiro while staying in Albufeira, and found it such a delightful place. Now, after staying there for 10 days, we absolutely love it! The views are spectacular, the cafés and restaurants plentiful, and while most are Spanish speaking, their level of English communication really helps when your non-existing Portuguese language skills amount to bom Dia and obrigada! Carvoeiro is a central location for many day trips to many more amazing beaches, and offers incredible hiking along cliff tops. The views over the Atlantic are truly breathtaking. Just to give you a glimpse of what I mean, this is the view from across the quiet street at our vacation rental. We will be back!
I was thinking, what other places have we visited whose views so impressed that, when recalled, can transport one back to that special moment in time. The place that immediately comes to mind is Santorini, one of the Greek Islands. We visited there in 2013 with some friends. Incredibly beautiful. Now, we are really fortunate to travel with friends who love to plan travel. On this particular Greek Island holiday, Mr. W. chose and booked all our accommodations. Each location, Athens, Samos, Mykonos, Naxos, Santorini, and Nafplio were spectacular, but when we arrived at our cave house in Santorini, walked out to our private balcony, the view took our breath away. The Mediterranean had never looked so majestic, and we could sit out on our large balcony and take it all in. A close second was the view from our private balcony in Naxos overlooking the same sea, the town itself quaint beyond words with locally owned shops, cafés and restaurants tucked around every corner. And the wine! How can such inexpensive wine be so extraordinarily delicious (this was true throughout Greece)?
So what is it about views that provide such opportunity for reflection and refreshment for overwhelmed souls? Perhaps it’s simply the way such vistas, and time with family, cause us to slow down, stop, take in our surroundings, marvel at what we see, ‘bracket’ whatever is happening in our day to day lives, and cause us to whisper a prayer of thanksgiving to the Creator for what has unfolded before our eyes. Often, these moments come unexpectedly, just waiting to fill us with amazement and wonder. They certainly prompt me to pause, probe, and ponder!
It’s our last day here in Albufeira, Portugal – of course it can’t go by without one final walk along the incredible stretch of beach that has been our home for the past three months. There’s no wind blowing but still the waves are strutting their power for all to see. As I sit on the power tide created ridge on the beach, I see a big wave coming. I close my eyes and just listen…it’s still, like the calm before a storm, then comes the crash of the wave, followed by the soaking I get as the ocean splashes over the sand ledge where I’m perched. It got me, and a couple sitting a few meters away. We look at each other and laugh…what else can you do? As the water recedes I hear the sound of shells rolling and soft, bubbling water as the next wave gets ready to pound the beach. I could listen for hours! In those few moments the waterscape changes as it continues to do with every new wave. As we walked this beach on an almost daily basis, we’ve marvelled at how much the beach changes, while preserves its beauty.
These past four months have provided the opportunity to spend much quality time with our son, daughter-in-law and grandkids. We love each of them and cherish the new memories created. We’ll miss them terribly! However, being with our European kids means being away from our Canadian kids. We miss our Canada family and friends. No matter where in the world they are, family and friends are such an important part of our lives; too often we forget to stop and appreciate the blessings and joy they each bring to our lives. BUT, over the next four months we are excited to have all our kids and grandkids, EU and Canadian, together in Spain for a visit. AND welcome friends coming to visit as well…the adventure just keeps getting better.
Our time here in Portugal has been fantastic. As my husband and I travel to Valencia, via Seville and Torremolinos, we will have time to reflect on the many memories created. In a way it feels like we’re venturing out on a new trip: new locations, language, surroundings, culture, living accommodation, food…new everything. We are excited.
Before I head out on the beach I stop at one of the cafés we have frequented to pick up a coffee and one last Pasta du Nada. You’d think after four months of having them more often than I should, the novelty would’ve worn off…not so! I still love these creamy custard treats, especially sprinkled with cinnamon, a spice that I’m actually not overly fond of.
We are leaving at a time when Albufiera is just starting to come alive again. When we arrived a few month back, we were told that March is when things start to fully open up…just as we leave. Restaurants that we had been longing to try just opened, a café on a side street in Old Town finally opened up; we treated ourselves two days in a row to their delicious offerings. I realize how perfect it would’ve been to work out of that café…oh well. The café on the beach that I did work from was amazing and so hospitable.
I love watching people as they take their first walk along the beach. The awe and wonder on their faces is undeniable. I want to go to them and say ‘isn’t it marvellous? Isn’t it breathtaking?’ But I don’t. With all the different languages we hear around us, chances are pretty strong that they wouldn’t understand anything I’ve said. Instead, we share the unspoken nods, glances, and smiles that seem to say everything without a single word being spoken.
When I look at all I have accomplished these past months for my research, I’m actually quite amazed. At times I have felt panicked thinking I should be doing more, forgetting that sitting thinking and reflecting on what I just read or just written is all part of learning. I’m a doer, and often need to be reminded that ‘doing’ isn’t the goal, but rather stopping to reflect on my learning, process it, and apply it is what really matters.
As I sit soaking in this amazing creation, my mind wanders. I used to think of the ocean, or sea, as being my happy place… I’m not sure that’s the right word anymore. Don’t get me wrong I still absolutely love being by the water, but over these four months it’s become more than just my happy place. It’s become a place where my thoughts have had time to freely make themselves known, a place where I’ve been forced to acknowledge that life can be just plain shitty, but also filled with such joy. It’s a place where I’ve been forced to come to terms with how I’ve grown up viewing myself and where that negative thinking has come from; I’m finally seeing how its deep roots have infiltrated so much of my life.
Sitting by the water over these past months is where tough conversations have taken place, where words have been spoken from a place of hurt, words that were not totally seasoned with love and grace. It’s also a place where long walks have been enjoyed, hand in hand, with the person that I love more than life itself.
It’s place where I have paused to be vulnerable with myself, and am learning to be brave enough to be vulnerable with others.
As I relish being at ‘my ruminatting place’, I notice a deep sense of peace and contentment. I don’t want to leave, but yet know that without leaving and moving on I’ll never experience the new, wonderful and exciting adventures and lessons yet to be encountered on our journey.
In my previous post, I expressed the hope that being in a place for four months (as we are in Portugal and then Spain) would afford us some of the cultural insights that are unique to these areas. We have not been disappointed; culture and daily living is different than in Canada. Sitting at a restaurant, on the beach, sipping some delicious Portuguese wine, my husband and I had a great discussion around what we were observing as cultural differences between this location and at home in Canada. We laughed, the very fact that we had been sitting, sipping, for over two hours with no-one hovering wondering when we were leaving, no server coming to offer the conta (bill), or asking if we want anything else, was a stark contrast to what we would have experienced at home. Portuguese people know how to relax and truly enjoy the moment. No one is in a hurry, even if you really do need to leave the restaurant for an appointment! We adjusted, and have learned to ask for the bill a while before needing to leave. It is a joy, however, to have this travel time with a minimal schedule, where waiting to pay is not an issue.
Several of our experiences have caused us to recognize cultural differences, one such phenomenon relates to when places are open, or not. Because of the time of year in Albufeira, many places are simply closed until the arrival of tourists some time around the end of February. When in February? Well, that’s rather vague. Many places were already closed in November when we arrived, with either no signage indicating when they would re-open, or simply ‘closed for the holidays’. What holidays? Not sure…some opened for two weeks around Christmas, but closed again at the end of the first week in January, when once more they were ‘closed for the holidays’. Apparently holidays could be four months, two weeks, sporadic, or even five days a week. One place we kept trying to go to for Sunday pot roast turned out to be quite a challenge. First time we went most menu items were not actually available due to recent restrictions that would have them limit patrons for a predetermined number of days before Christmas until after the New Year. Understandable. The second time we went, arriving for dinner at 4:30pm, we were told they only served food until 4pm. No problem, we would come back next Sunday for their special pot roast, or roast chicken dinner, served from noon to 4pm. The day came, and my husband was pumped! He was salivating over the prospects of yorkshire puddings, bringing back warm memories of Sunday dinners at my parent’s home…Mom had mastered the art of cooking pot roast and yorkshire puddings! We arrived, sat down and were quickly told that the cook decided to take the week off, so they weren’t serving food that week. Really??
At this point, it simply became laughable. Even the British culture of the proprietor had been influenced by the Portuguese culture they had been part of for so many years. Seeing our disappointment, and ‘what can you do,’ laugh, they assured us that next Sunday, pot roast would be served up, guaranteed! We were there, and it did not disappoint.
However, as we left the restaurant, I had a real sense of feeling cheated. Not because of the quality of food, or the generous quantity that overflowed the dinner plates, but because I was in Portugal, eating a traditional English Sunday lunch, drinking Guinness, surrounded by British people. I truly missed hearing a cacophony of conversations, in multiple languages.
One of the beauties of Europe is that while you are residing in one country, everywhere you go you’ll encounter folks from many countries and cultures; just be quiet, listen, and take it all in. It can be intimidating and exciting all at once, but there is such a beauty to it. Fortunately for us, the majority of people speak some degree of English (how I wish I had learned a second language!). To give you an example, we were enjoying breakfast at a cafe last week. Over the course of our time there, we visited with people from Ireland, England, Wales, Germany, India, and of course, Portugal. It was so much fun. The common thread of course was travel, and a love for learning about others experiences. Some encounters, however, aren’t quite so successful.
This week my husband and I visited the end of the world, Sagres, at least that’s what Europeans considered it until the 15th century. Sagres is a small village of 2000 people, located on the very south-western tip of Portugal and is a place unlike no other we have experienced. A small place, it’s beauty is truly breathtaking, from the landscape, to the 100 plus species of flora, to the cliff-side walks overlooking vistas of unending ocean, to the 25 isolated beaches with avid surfers, and of course we can’t forget the fearless line fishing happening on the precipice of 200 foot high cliffs! This truly blew my mind! Do these people not know the potential danger and certain death they were inches away from? That several of their co-adventurers fall to their death every year? Well, apparently they do, but it hasn’t curtailed these brave souls from fishing here for many years. These are one of the many sights that remind me I’m from Canada…our authorities would have shut such activity down years ago due to potential danger. I’ve lost count of how many times we have commented on this very thing throughout our travels…apparently we North Americans need someone else to let us know what is dangerous, then set up rules to save us from ourselves. Hmmm!
I digress…while walking around the peaceful Fortaleza de Sagres, we passed a lovely, elderly couple who were clearly enjoying their time exploring this wonderful area together. By the third time our paths crossed, it seemed right that we should have some kind of an interaction. Which we did. We exchanged greetings, neither speaking the other’s language.. We learned they were from France. When we said we were from Canada, they immediately assumed we also spoke French! They excitedly talked about some of the places they visited in Canada: Montreal, Quebec City, Montcalm, Gatineau, to name a few. However, when we somehow communicated that we were from the West Coast of Canada, and couldn’t speak a word of French, they offered a rather pathetic “Vous ne parlez pas français aussi?” Which I rightly assumed meant they were expressing empathy towards our lack of French speaking ability. (I had to get my multilingual niece to help with this interpretation!). Still, using hand signals, body language, and tiny words, we were able to share a moment together celebrating the awesomeness of the creation we were enraptured with. We said ‘Au revoir’, they said ‘Goodbye’, and we parted company. Even that short encounter brings certain joy when shared by fellow travellers who have a deep appreciation for not only our similarities, but also our differences.
Part of me feels the pressure to make this blog significant, inspirational, insightful…that’s a lot to live up to. It’s writing also happens to line up with the start of a new year, leaving behind a year filled with such mixed emotions, for everyone.
I do, however, need to start off with the acknowledgement that I am truly blessed. While the past year has had its fill of sadness and loss, it has also had a great deal of joy, laughter, and much to be thankful for.
I went for a walk on the beach today, as I have done most days since arriving in Albufeira, Portugal. This is a true novelty for me–not the walk, but where I walk. No need for winter jackets, gloves, touques, or boots. No snow. Most days the sun has been shining, but even on cloudy or rainy days, the weather is very mild with temperatures hitting around 16-20 degrees. We even had an amazing day at Monchique where the temperature hit 25 degrees.
Rather than the crunching of glistening snow, my feet sank into the soft sand as I revelled at the majesty of the glistening Atlantic ocean while the sun sparkled on the white caps. Watching the mist clear after storms truly is a sight to behold. Two very different landscapes, snow and sand, in the amazing world we get to inhabit, each with their own beauty and unique features.
But there’s more, the pièce de résistance…we got to spend Christmas with our son, daughter-in-law and six grandkids. What a treat! This doesn’t happen often since their immigration to Europe. The times we have been able to share Christmas are richly embedded in our memory bank of never to be forgotten moments. Over the past years we have spent two special Christmases with them, one in Ireland and the other in France. Now we get to add Portugal to the list. Papa and Gramma were truly blessed to be their house guests from December 24 through 26. The excitement grew as the days approached. The thoughtful planning of how we would spend our time: the games we’d play, movies we would watch, and last but not least, what yummy food would be prepared and enjoyed. To top it off Grama would be joining in their now Christmas Day tradition of jumping into whatever body of water they happen to be living on. So glad they are spending these few months in Portugal, away from the frigid Baltic Sea of their home in Finland!
Christmas was indeed wonderful! To be honest, the only thing that could have made it better would be to have our daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter in Canada join us here in Portugal!
Still, we all entered our family time with great expectancy, and we were not disappointed. On Christmas Eve our six grandkids (now aged 9-17) put on their traditional Christmas play…oh my! Our grandparent hearts just about exploded with joy, pride, love, and amazement at their dedication, creativity, and excellence as they reenact the story of Christmas in song and spoken word. One grandson even saved some of his dad’s beard shavings (he has quite the viking beard), and pasted them on his face to be more ‘authentic’ in his depiction of a shepherd. We were doubled over in laughter when he turned to face the ‘audience’ to reveal this transformation.
Our dip in the water was indeed refreshing. The water wasn’t cold, nor was the air, all adding to the enjoyment of the experience. I was, however, taken by surprise by the strength of the waves and the undertow. My assumption that all the hill walking and stair climbing of Lisbon and Albufeira would rebuild the strength after knee replacement, was certainly overrated. How wonderful to be able to grab the hand of my grandson as I struggled to gain my balance and unstick my feet from the sinking sand as the tide fought against itself.
Christmas dinner was a culinary treat prepared with love by our daughter-in-law, aided by well trained sous chefs whose creativity and skill goes well beyond putting on Christmas plays. Our daughter-in-law home schools their kids, and honestly, they blow me away with how much they know about, well, everything! I think it’s fair to say that travel is an education in itself, but combining that with intentional learning that embraces the history and geography of where you happen to be living at the time is unequalled. What could be better than learning about the history of Rome while camping just outside the great city, or studying design while living in the Netherlands, or learning about ocean tides while living by vast bodies of water in Ireland, Portugal, or Spain. This is certainly one of the advantages nomad families get to enjoy. Amazing to say the least.
It’s fascinating being in a culture so different from your own for such a significant and tradition filled season of the year. Significant from my perspective. I expected a similar celebratory atmosphere in Portugal as we experience in Canada. Or as a child in Ireland. I expected decorations that celebrate both the sacred and secular expressions of the season in homes and shared spaces. There are some, but minimal at best. I expected…I’m not really sure how to describe it, but it seems like one could easily miss the fact that it’s Christmas. In the centre of Old Town there were a few booths selling mulled wine and other Portuguese treats (very delicious); there was even a large tent set up with an ice skating rink! Live Christmas music was played on some evenings, with a small number of people partaking in the offerings, but again, it didn’t feel like a community coming together to celebrate.
Now, to be fair, we are on the outside looking in. We don’t know what happens in the privacy of people’s homes, or in the churches scattered throughout this area.
My expectations for this season, in this location, were fully based on my own experiences throughout life. I didn’t have any conversations with locals about their traditions. Except at an Irish pub. It was raining on the evening before Christmas Eve – where else would an Irish born woman go on such a rainy day? The Guiness and warm Irish Whisky was a true tonic for the deep cold that comes with the rain and incredibly high humidity here during those days. The pub owner had planned to celebrate with patrons throughout the season from Christmas Eve to New Year’s Day, until the announcement of additional restrictions being enforced to curtail the spread of the new COVID variant. The plug was pulled, so to speak, on their ability to facilitate the festivities of locals and tourists alike.
Once more, how realistic were my expectations? Is what I was observing ‘normal’ for this area, or had people already dialled back their public seasonal celebrations in response to a global pandemic?
So, what does all this have to do with Blog #100, January 2022, inspiration, and insight? I entered this season with expectations, not expectancy. I had preconceived ideas of what ‘it’ would be like. While the expectations of time with our European family were greatly surpassed, I didn’t take time to really research the ‘norms’, nor learn of the Portuguese people’s personal experiences around the season.
I have also observed the same thinking around the focus of my current research. I entered expecting to learn about how to lead a hybrid team, I entered thinking only of that one aspect of leadership. I’ve learned that those expectations need to be readjusted. Instead, I’m learning to look much deeper as I read, listen, watch, inquire, reflect, and experience life in a context that is so different from my norm.
I have been in leadership roles most of my life in various industries ranging from not for profit, to government, to for profit, to education. In education we are often asked, ‘What is your philosophy of teaching’. A very important question indeed. However, in all my leadership roles in business, I have never been asked that question. Why do I lead as I do? Why do I make the decisions I do? Why do I value my team members as I do? It’s a big one! I’m learning that we are living in an age where the focus is on ‘how to…’, and not on ‘why?’. Yes, the current environment is new and ever morphing…and it will continue to do so. Many books and articles have now been published on how to lead hybrid teams, or lead in this unknown context, but are we stopping to ask ‘why‘? Are we stopping to consider what belief system of humanity is informing why we are making the decisions we are? What happens when the next ‘pandemic’ comes along, do we come up with another new list of how to’s, or do we pause and consider the ‘why’?
As we enter 2022, let me encourage you to truly hit pause and intentionally make time to think through your leadership foundations. In his book, Virtual Leadership, author Bart Banfield states, “The search for answers always begins with a question.” He further observes that, “Production and performance quickly replace inquiry…”
That being said, what is your philosophy of leadership? How does it play out in how you lead the valuable individuals under your care…no matter if they are hybrid, remote, co-located, or whatever? Who are you as a person, as a leader? What competencies do you bring to the table, and how do your personality traits inform how you lead?
I am re-learning that only when we are able to answer these questions can we then move on to how we practice our leadership. The ‘how to’s take on more meaning and effectiveness when they are informed by your philosophy and personhood.
This is the direction of my research…stay tuned as I continue, with great expectancy, to learn.
I stood on the outside balcony of the beautiful lake front hotel. The sun shone, the lake sparkled, the music volume was at just the right level for conversation, and every one of the 400 people in attendance were thoroughly enjoying themselves. Actually, make that 399 were enjoying themselves. I was not. My heart was racing, my palms sweaty, and I wanted to bolt!
Just the day before, I and four other new business start-ups had agreed to go to the highest attended annual networking event in Kelowna. You know, safety in numbers. None of us were comfortable ‘selling ourselves’ to a crowd of strangers, somehow letting them know that we ‘had what they needed’. So, we set a plan in place. We would pair up, approach the attendees, smile, have our new, shiny business cards ready to hand out, collect all the cards we could. We were prepared, what could possibly go wrong?
So, there I was, right on time, standing on the balcony like the Queen of England waiting to greet her subjects. That’s when my cell vibrated with notification of a text.
”I’m so sorry, but I can’t make it tonight, something’s come up.”
“That’s ok”, I replied “these things happen.”
No problem, three of us can still work the plan, just breath Roberta. Then another vibration.
“I hate to do this, but I just don’t feel good. I need to bail tonight. You understand, don’t you?”
Two down, still two standing. We got this! Breaths are coming almost in spasms. And then the unthinkable happened. You guessed it. “My boyfriend just came into town for a surprize visit! I can’t leave after he drove all this way. Sorry. I knew you’d understand.”
I would understand? Are you kidding me?! I could have come up with a million valid reasons (ok, maybe two or three) for not making the event, but I didn’t. I was there. I was alone. The air had been sucked out of my bubble!
Let me just insert here, that I am truly an introvert. When I teach, or present at a conference, you would never know it, but I am. If you are familiar with Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, I’m an INTP. (I still have a difficult time getting my head around this tool). That ‘I’ stands for Introverted. If I’m representing something, or someone else, or if I have a task to do at a function, I’m ok. But put me in a situation with strangers and charge me with drawing attention to myself, I’m not a happy camper. I’m in panic mode.
What happened next made me believe in angels. As my eyes scanned the crowd they spotted a lady I had only recently met. Our eyes met; she recognized me! And, she waved for me to come and join her! Thank you God! When I reached the spot where she stood waiting, I quickly blurted out my dilemma, hardly stopping to breathe, and asked if I could hang out with her. Remember, I had only recently met this lady, so I’m sure my emotional eruption must have taken her aback. Her next words were music to my ears. “Of course you can. Let me introduce you to some people and show you how it’s done.” The birds once more started to sing.
For the next two hours, I witnessed what I could only describe as ‘the networking dance’. This lady moved fluidly from conversation to conversation, introducing me, asking questions of each person, smiling, connecting, inquiring of life happenings in their lives, all the while holding on to a glass of wine, passing out business cards, and simply floating. The breath I was holding for so long had slowly released, liked at the end of Seasons of Life during a performance of Rent; I was in awe!
My heart was no longer racing, I could shake someone’s hand without fear of leaving a sweaty impression. I heard myself laughing and asking questions; I was actually having fun.
A discovery, a lightbulb moment, had just occurred worth every bit of anxiety previously experienced. Networking is not about telling people about me. It’s about being curious, listening, paying attention to what others say, hearing their struggles, their joys, their pain. And, if appropriate, offering myself, my product or service to help meet their needs. That’s it.
Being an introvert is actually a strength when in these situations. We don’t need to be the centre of attention or the life of the party. Rather, we get to facilitate others so they can be the centre of attention and the life of the party.
As I traveled to different countries (and yes, I do look forward to doing again), present at conferences, meet new people, I still feel like the ocean undertow is threatening to suck me in. Having a co-worker (or hubby) with me is a lifeline, but not always possible. However, when I remember to take my eyes off me, and focus on others, I have been so gratified to meet many awesome people who are more than willing to tell me their stories and share their experiences. You see, networking doesn’t just happen in huge crowds, but also between strangers standing on the train platform outside of Glasgow, or waiting for a bus in Amsterdam, or having coffee in a local café in Florence. Networking is about connections (I actually don’t even like the term ‘networking’, so it is now nixed from my vocabulary!) Connections bring people together. Connections are like a beautiful symphony performed when individual musicians join their skills and passions together to make harmonious music. Making new connections is worth the discomfort of sweaty palms, shortness of breath, and even fear of rejection.
I can’t wait to build more connections as I journey to places unknown.
In a previous blog I wrote about liminal space from the perspective of a professor. Recently, I have been thinking a great deal about it from the context of leading in this current work-from-home reality. We know the current state of affairs will not be forever, but we don’t know how long it will be until we can settle into a more stable way of life and living. Thus, the liminal space in which we are living. The rollout of vaccines has certainly provided a glimmer of hope for the ending of our forced remoteness. Until then…liminal space.
“Liminal space is where you have left something behind, yet you are not yet fully in something else. It’s a transition space.”
So, how do we take advantage of this period of liminal space, a gifted time where we can rethink what we want life to look like when we are released from the bounds of our four walls? I recently listened to a podcast by Brené Brown where she was interviewing Adam Grant. They discussed how “…rethinking does not have to mean changing your mind; it’s about reflecting and wondering if you should change your mind. It’s about being open to new information.”
For some, the experience of working from home has been a welcome change from the craziness of the 9-5 existance we came to accept. For others it truly has been like a confinement paired with constant negotiations with partners, kids, pets, or house mates for even a tiny bit of space in which to work. Some have already decided that they never want to go back to the office, while others are thinking, “If this is remote work, no thank you!”
The thing is there is nothing normal about how we are working right now. This isn’t remote-working. While some folks are happy with their working from home arrangement , I don’t think this describes the ideal that would cause many of us to say, “I’m loving this set up, I could do this forever!” Perhaps the majority of us would be happier approaching it like a buffet…”I’d like some of this, some of that, but none of those!” Now that makes more sense to me.
So how can we take advantage of this rare liminal space? Let me suggest a few questions to think through as you prepare for your upcoming liberation.
What are you really loving about your current working context?
What about this context do you want to preserve–to hold onto–even after restrictions are lifted?
What are you really hating about your current, working context?
What do you know must change for the sake of your emotional, physical, psychological, or spiritual health? What is simply not sustainable?
What have you learned about yourself and how you work?
No matter which work arrangement you hope to embrace, change is inevitable. We may not be able to control all the elements of change, but we do have control over how we prepare ourselves for what’s ahead. While we are living in this liminal space, why not add value to the time by investing in YOU? Engaging in some, or all, of the suggestions below can start the preparation for emerging from the liminal space with great expectancy and enthusiasm, more prepared and equipped than before we hit lock-down. Self-growth (or self-leadership) may just help you prepare for your desired work arrangement by gaining a deeper understanding of who you are and what you bring to the job.
Learn about and developing the competencies necessary for success as a remote/hybrid worker.
Identify some desired growth areas and create SMART goals to work towards achieving them.
Let me finish with the quote I started this blog with. “Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known.” We will get through this pandemic; how great would it be if we emerge with great expectancy for the incredible that’s waiting to be known?
It’s almost the end of the week. One more day. Actually, it’s the Victoria Day weekend and I long for even two days to shut down and be totally off-line. How quickly life has changed from truly enjoying connecting with folks virtually, to being so screen weary that the thought of settling in with a real, hold-in-your-hands book is ripe with anticipation.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the times I get to visit and work with individuals across physical distance. I am truly blessed to participate in thought provoking, encouraging, challenging, and stretching conversations with amazing minds around the globe. But I miss going to a coffee shop for a visit with a good friend, or simply having dedicated, productive time working while sipping on a rich americano created by a favourite barista.
It’s the small things I miss. Happy hours on a patio catching up on the happenings of life around us, bike rides that end with a dark beer at a local brewery, hugging friends at will, holding a new born baby without fear of endangering their fragile life, sitting by the bedside of a dad who still remembers me…but for how long? Planning weekend getaways to…anywhere!
Still, I have much to be grateful for. I am still working, enjoy health, have a safe home in which to dwell with an amazing husband, have a loving family who are committed to staying connected without compromising health, have a great community of friends who make the extra effort to reach out and share life, I have amazing colleagues with whom to create and plan, live in a town/province/country where residents respect the need to ban together to fight this crazy virus, and I have purpose.
But it’s tough. I have deep empathy for those who must live life in compromising environments, not always of their own choosing. I struggle with isolation even though my days are filled with virtual conversations, and I long for the days when we can confidently plan to meet up with loved ones who live in far off lands. It will happen again, I know that. But for now, life is not what any of us expected, or even dreamed of.
It’s…well, it’s life! Let’s pray for a brighter tomorrow.
“Our human compassion binds us the one to the other – not in pity or patronizingly, but as human beings who have learnt how to turn our common suffering into hope for the future.” – Nelson Mandela