Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost

Not all those who wander are lost. – J.R. Tolkien

Europe.

I wore a Canada flag on my back. I laughed. I wore men’s wool socks for days on end. I was threatened. I wore sandals, but I mostly wore boots. I got wet. I felt fortunate to be where I was. I did the awkward backpacker run wearing packs on both my front and back. I thought about my family. I went to bed at 8pm and I went to bed at 8am. I travelled by plane, train and automobile. And by boat. I slept in the airport. I slept in a doctor’s clinic. I slept on floors, too-short couches, bunk beds, hide-a-beds and queen-sized beds. I shared beds and I slept alone. I drank wine – red, white, sparkling and mulled. I drank beer – cold and warm. I choked on Akvavit. I ate pickled herring, chocolate sprinkles on bread, fresh fish off the bone, schnitzel, Lefse, waffles, pizza, and goulash. I smiled to myself. I acquired a taste for coffee – black coffee, even (you finally did it Lasse)! I experienced acts of great kindness and great generosity – some when I least expected, but most needed them. I was very nearly run over by a bicycle – not in Denmark, and not in Holland, but in Italy (that would have been embarrassing). I took hundreds of photos. I met Canadians thanks to our red mittens. At times, I exercised great restraint in not shopping. On the other hand, I bought more than a dozen pairs of earrings. I saw dogs sitting in restaurants, and old women making lace with amazingly dextrous fingers. I experienced my first Christmas away from home. I read books. I listened to hours of music. I cycled in packs of dozens around cities webbed in bike paths. I learned how to eat a slice of pizza the Italian way. I decided that the benefits of earplugs outweigh the initial discomfort they cause. I saw people drinking beer in restaurants at 10am before the food menu was available. I learned to ride the green wave. I was asked for directions – from locals as well as tourists – in nearly every country I visited. I said thank you in eleven languages (Danish, Dutch, Spanish, Portuguese, German, Norwegian, French, Italian, Czech, Hungarian… and English). I bragged about what a great “little” brother I have. I went to my first opera in a beautiful building with a ticket that cost $2.50. I bought coffee for $2.50. I paid $30 for half a large pizza in Norway. I paid $30 for a flight from Paris to Rome. I saw chapels so large that I was overwhelmed, so beautiful that my jaw hung open. I saw people praying in these chapels, and I saw people scamming outside them. I spent more days in sunshine than in rain. I cried. I saw pubs that were many times older than the nation of Canada. I was granted my wish for a white Christmas. I got peeped on in the shower. I heard music in the streets – classical, jazz, hip-hop, bagpipe, acoustic, folk, didgeridoo, one-man band, string ensembles and big bands. I sent postcards. I lived in a house with a mouse. I learned that cross-country skiing is more extreme outside the flatlands of Manitoba. I went without a cell phone. I saw homeless people and their dogs out on the street, but also saw a type of wealth that I’d never been exposed to. I walked more kilometres than I can fathom a guess at. I saw roads, oceans, fields, and mountains. I learned more about WWII than I ever did in school. I explained the location of Winnipeg to countless people. I saw lovers all over – not just in Paris. I climbed innumerable stairs. I was moved by art. I saw former cities that had all but tumbled to the ground. I was left out of conversations that took place in languages that I did not understand. I saw names carved and written on tables, bunk beds, gravesites, and walls. I hugged. I kissed cheeks once, twice, three times. I met a few undesirables, but I met far, far more incredible people. I fell in love with people, with places, with cultures. I strengthened friendships that I already considered to be great.

I spent five months and one week exploring seventeen countries.

To all the friends I visited along the way, I could never thank you enough, so instead I extend an open invitation to visit me in Canada whenever it suits you. I promise to return the hospitality, and I can’t wait to see you all again.

I adore travelling, but I am a prairie girl at heart. I love Canada. I love Winnipeg. I love the prairie skies.

I may be wandering, but I’m not lost.

Sending all my love, from home.

(Photo: Lasse Lyck)