Home and Away Heart

In the last 30 years the majority of my international trips have been ones in which the majority of the time I was traveling alone. This began in my early 40s. I love the freedom to consult only myself about what I want to do on a particular trip or travel day, without worrying about the impact on someone else, even though I love traveling with others too.  I can honestly say I haven't yet encountered a situation in which I didn't feel physically safe, though there were a few times I saw pickpockets working crowds of oblivious people like the ones pictured here in Marseilles, and similar situations in Spain. It's so easy to be distracted when there's something interesting happening, and most of us don't move through crowds thinking about whether and how we might make an easy target through inattention or carelessness in how we carry wallets, purses, and carryall bags. Several of my friends like carrying large full handbags filled with all manner of things “just in c...

It’s moving into late April and I woke up again to a cold rainy morning in Portland that just feels wrong this time of year. I normally don’t fret about what the weather is doing—I figure I just need to pick the right coat when it’s time to go out in it. But this year the colder-than-average temps and record-breaking rain have been unremitting, and that’s saying something for this normally-moderate zone. I’m just back from a quick vacation with some sun— though to be honest it was chillier than normal there too, and I think being in that sun makes the morning gloom a little tougher. Upside? I’m thinking it calls for ramen! I’ve been on the ramen train longer than most in the US because I lived in northern Japan for a few years as a kid, and fell heavy for the warm broth and noodles the minute my first bowl arrived decades ago. I had a hiatus when we moved to Southern California for four years, but happily returned to really good ramen when life took me next to Oahu for high school. In ...

I had my mind set on making myself a brie and shiitake mushroom omelette tomorrow to enliven my Sunday brunch but waited too long to get the shiitakes before the rest of my town had the same idea this holiday weekend. I immediately thought of Far West Fungi in San Francisco's Terminal Building. I was there on Christmas Eve and it seriously made me itch for my favorite 35-year old Cuisinart frying pan and some good creamy butter. The last time I had a mushroom craving that compelling was when I searched in Barcelona's extraordinary La Boqueria Market for 45-minutes looking for cepas (cepes) mushrooms I had had for the first time in Girona, Spain. It wasn't until I finally found them as I was about to give up that I remembered I was staying in a hotel room with no kitchen. arrggghhhhhh!

For a lonnnnnng time I thought pea soup came only from cans, and I knew I didn't like it. I must have made a face when I was six and eating it for lunch because my dad asked if I liked it. Back then I thought there was only one answer-- yes. I was punished for lying by making me finish my sister's bowl of it as she clearly wasn't enjoying it either. Lesson learned though I know that even if I'd been honest I'd have had to finish it anyway. Fortunately it wasn't in heavy rotation and I don't remember having that again. I've since learned I love homemade split pea soup so I haven't ruled out any variety of pea soup from my life if it's fresh. Thank goodness because everyone needs at least once to have a bowl as perfect as this fresh pea soup I found in Napa Valley a couple of years ago. On a rotating menu, I suspect I won't encounter that particular one again. It makes the memory that much sweeter.

While peeling apples for applesauce this morning I had an unbidden random question about whether there are apple groves on the Isle of Skye in Scotland. Travel's been on my mind a lot lately as for decades spring and summer heralded annual university teaching trips to northern France, with short hops to other European spots for the few days my budget would allow. Gorgeous Scotland was one of those. As I near retirement years and attendant curtailed funds, and reflect on the massive footprint of Covid that pushed me indoors at home for three years, I'm especially grateful for all I've been able to see around the world. Where would I chose to head for another?

I lived on Oahu for a few years and attended high school there, and while I've been to Hawaii nearly every year since, I've only been to the Big Island a few times. I was here for a few days in January to visit family and fell in love with a spot off the beaten path. While others went to snorkel I sat under a palm tree, breathed in the clear air that day, and counted all my blessings. Peace is only a quiet intentional breath away.

As kid and adult I’ve lived and travelled near and far, and what’s always grounded me is family. Both first family and ohana chosen family, they continue to connect me to who I really am at heart. Holidays put a point on it whether I’m in the middle of 40 extended family members or alone. For much of my adult life, folks have come to my family home to gather in love and companionship, through celebrations and losses, over an array of good food and surrounded by laughs and music. Today we are scattered across a continent and ocean, and still ducking viruses to keep healthy, I’ll likely eat alone on Easter (thanks for the invites local family and friends!). And as I have for every holiday I’ve hosted for nearly 50 years I’m making applesauce as a touchstone just like Nana. Today it’s Pink Lady apples as Macintoshes are scarce in the spring, a little added sugar, a kiss of lemon, and clear Oregon water. I’m home.