Oregon Bound

Nancy — Mon, 25 Aug 2014 11:50:00 +0000

Wow – for those of you still interested – yes – I’ve been “gone too long” in more ways than one. I’ve been writing in my mind and was surprised to see the last entry was July 4th. Since I have been traveling and through the extreme generosity of friends, have been sleeping at their homes – the Ugandan’s would say, “You’ve been sleeping around!” So in the Ugandan context – yes, I’ve “been sleeping around,” but not much luck there in the American sense…

I spent about a month with Brett at his place at the foot of Mt. Hood and began the process of re-entry – again. Mexico was fabulous in so many ways because it gave me time to process, feel and think without having to define what I plan to do next. It gave me time to become aware of what I miss, what I want to add back into life when I settle-in somewhere and time to climb back into my own skin. Friends who saw me in the first few days and weeks after I got back from Africa have told me I looked “shell shocked,” and I admit I felt like that. Going from Post-conflict Northern Uganda to the affluence and pace of the States was so much harder than going in the reverse direction. Another friend was surprised at that, asking where I’d been in the States that was so difficult. But the fact is, even the most “laid-back” town in the US is light-years faster and more complex in every regard compared to life in rural Uganda. So, Mexico was the perfect middle-ground: slower pace, lots of color and life, communities that take time to share a conversation and communal time, fewer gadgets in general and less to confront all at once.

The first week I arrived in Oregon, Brett had mountains to climb – real ones, not figurative ones. Climbing season is short and if you climb too late it’s really unsafe – so I used that time to walk wonderful, bucolic trails that are so magical you can practically see the fairies playing. It was regenerative, especially after the intense heat of the Yucatan! Vine ripened fruit was everywhere: berries along the path, fruit stands overflowing with cherries, blueberries, apricots, blackberries!

A drive along the coast north of Newport Beach (no not the one of California fame) gave me a glimpse of the diversity of communities there – some are heavy-duty ports with no actual beach, others are covered with river rock and dramatic boat eating boulders, while others are soft and sandy. Bathed in sunshine walking along one beach you can see the next one down shrouded in fog. I’m aiming for the Cannon Beach area, but where I’ll actually land will depend on what I can find to rent. Yes – I’m one of those crazy people who show up with a U-Haul full of furniture and assume something will show up.

Then to Austin, where I have been so incredible fortunate. Goods friends have embraced me and provided gorgeous places to stay, good food, cars to drive and caught me up on their lives. My goodness there’s been a lot happening: twins were born, divorces were had, houses burned, kids were married, left for college, businesses were started, and Austin grew into an almost unrecognizable city. But that’s the sort of thing that happens when 150 per day move to town. Congress Avenue and downtown have been transformed from a lazy place to spend a weekend into the hip-and-high-priced-happening-place-to-be.

I got the opportunity to spend a week in a really posh high-rise condo overlooking the LadyBird Lake and the expanding city of Austin all lit up at night and I finally – after almost 40 cumulative years in Austin got to see the bats fly out at dusk from the Congress Avenue Bridge. 1.5 million Mexican free-tail bats call the bridge home in the summer and every night about 8:30 they take flight to rid Austin of mosquitoes and of course entertain the tourists. They winter-over in a cave in the hill-country outside of town.

Today is D-Day minus two: tomorrow I pick up a 20 foot truck, which started as a commitment to a 10-foot truck and grew. Too much stuff for the baby truck, then they said a 14″ would work, but if not loaded right, might not work, so safer with a 17foot. Just about the time I’d resigned myself to that one, I got a call saying my reservation for a TWENTY foot truck was confirmed! “No 17-footer available ma’am, the 20 footer is only a foot longer (whaaaat? 20 minus 17 still 3 isn’t it??? ) and drives better because it’s newer and gets better gas mileage ma’am.” Hmmmm. So here we go. My Peace Corps friend Karla has arrived from Tennessee via Nawlins to make the trip with me and we’ll stop in Albuquerque to visit another Peace Corps friend. We are going to make this an adventure no matter what! Stayed tuned!

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Oregon Bound