Aug

60-Something Digital Nomad Tells All!

by Joyce McGreevy on August 12, 2020

Joyce McGreevy, a blogger for OIC Moments, shares her lessons learned from travel as a 60-something digital nomad. (Image © by Joyce McGreevy)

On a plane, a train, a bus? Who knows? But I was giddy with wanderlust.
© Joyce McGreevy

10 Lessons I Learned from Travel

A tabloid headline floats over a deer-in-the-headlights photo of a 60-something woman. She’s been caught in the act of . . . traveling solo! As a digital nomad! This is what I picture whenever people express shock that I once sold my condo, donated most of my possessions, packed a small suitcase, and began traveling full time—while continuing to work.

Becoming a digital nomad is not unusual. But doing so as an older woman tends to flabbergast those around you.

People reacting to women’s life choices with shock is nothing new, of course. But there comes a time when anything a woman does that’s slightly outside of the norm prompts the response, “At your age?” A survey of female friends reveals that this happens from ages 2 to 102. Before and after those troublesome years, you’re free to do what you like without judgment.

Meanwhile, Your Honors, I plead guilty as charged. For 5 years, I was (gasp!) an older digital nomad. Shameless travel hussy that I am, I’d have continued this lifestyle for another 5 years but for the pandemic.

Have I learned my lesson? Oh, yes. There are at least 10 packable lessons I’ve learned from travel.

A sun dial with a clock face and writing instruments in Ireland reminds a digital nomad of lessons learned from travel. (Image © by Joyce McGreevy

Travel lesson learned in Ireland: Don’t let the clock run out on your life goals.
© Joyce McGreevy

1. If you’ve got a goal, get going.

I’m so glad I didn’t dither and miss my chance to travel. That I didn’t let age or modest finances deter me. That I didn’t think, “This must work out perfectly or it will be a disaster.”

Instead, I saw it as one more chapter in a lifelong series of learning adventures.

Travel lesson learned: Not every goal is about travel, but every goal is a journey. Don’t get stuck in park.

A list of subway stations in Bulgaria reminds a digital nomad of lessons learned from travel. (Image © by Joyce McGreevy)

Travel lesson learned in Bulgaria: To hone your navigational skills, keep challenging them.
© Joyce McGreevy

2. When you travel, you’re visiting someone’s home.

If you went to a neighbor’s house for the first time, you wouldn’t

elbow past them to take selfies in front of their artwork.
hunker down in their doorway to eat fast food.
make unfiltered comments on anything you see. “What a tiny fridge! Why’s this house so o-o-old?”
carve your initials on their walls and trees.

Yet residents of Venice, Barcelona, and other great cities have decried such behavior among a small but exasperating segment of travelers.

Travel lesson learned: Be curious, not injurious. Enjoy, don’t annoy.

3. Trying to see everything is the best way to miss most of it.

You would think that someone who’d spent several years traveling would have covered most of the globe by now.

Nope.

If there’s such a thing as Slow Travel, then I’m its biggest fan. Wherever I went, I lingered. I wanted a close-up view of everyday life, not a blurred view of every attraction. Even on short layovers I learned that slowing down is the key to gaining insight into a place.

Travel lesson learned: Take a trip, not an ego trip.

International signposts in Norway remind a digital nomad of lessons learned from travel. (Image © by Joyce McGreevy)

Travel lesson learned in Norway: Don’t engage in competitive travel.
So what if others have traveled farther, faster, or “before it was trendy”?
© Joyce McGreevy

4. Your feet are to travel what great novels are to reading.

“I have the European urge to use my feet when a drive can be dispensed with,” wrote Nabokov. Walking is a timeless activity, one that leads to in-the-moment observations and personal connections with history. When you explore a city on foot, it’s like losing yourself in a great work of literature as opposed to scanning tweets—it’s immersive, asks more of you, and richly rewards you, too.

Travel lesson learned: One mindful walk is better than a dozen rushed tours.

An overhead view of a river walk in Croatia reminds a digital nomad of lessons learned from travel. (Image © by Joyce McGreevy)

Travel lesson learned in Croatia: Discover new perspectives.
© Joyce McGreevy

5. No matter how light you pack, you won’t need half of it.

This is true whether you’re traveling to one country or 10, for 10 days or 10 weeks, and to formal or informal settings. If you need things you didn’t pack, you can buy them there. But if you pack things you don’t need, you still must carry them everywhere.

Travel lesson learned: The less you lug, the more carefree you’ll be.

A coatrack, a suitcase, and a travel mascot in Greece remind a digital nomad of lessons learned from travel. (Image © by Joyce McGreevy)

Travel lesson learned in Greece: A hook to hang my apron is all I need to feel at home.
© Joyce McGreevy

Travel lesson learned: The less you lug, the more carefree you’ll be.

6. We should talk to strangers more often.

No one’s asking you to follow someone down a dark alley, or to re-enact “My Dinner with André” on a six-hour train ride. But travel is a golden opportunity to find out what the rest of the world is thinking.

Don’t let that nifty travel app blind you to the people around you. Even language barriers can be overcome by empathy, smiles, laughter, and a bit of awkward miming.

Travel lesson learned: When we acknowledge each other, we extend the reach of community across cultures.

A baker making lavash bread in Turkey reminds a digital nomad aof lessons learned from travel. (Image © by Joyce McGreevy)

Travel lesson learned in Turkey: Savor world flavors—learn to cook cross-culturally.
© Joyce McGreevy

7. Don’t just look at the world, taste it.

My mother was an avid traveler and cook whose everyday repertoire celebrated global diversity. This is why my own journeys have always included culinary field trips. Exploring farmers markets, finding affordable cooking lessons, and swapping kitchen tales with locals is a great way to connect across cultures.

Travel lesson learned: “When life gives you lemons,” find out how local cooks use them!

8. Solo travel is glorious. So is the right traveling companion.

I love traveling solo. It nudges me out of my comfort zone and lets me be spontaneous.

I even learned to love dining solo without hiding behind a book. Often, this led to conversations with locals, who generously shared insights into their country’s history, lesser known landmarks, and of course, culinary culture.

Traveling with others can be Paradiso. Or Inferno. It’s all about attitude. I’ve witnessed travelers who waste time arguing. “I don’t know which museum! I thought you’d know which museum!” Who respond to any glitch by fuming, “This would never happen in [Anytown], USA!”

But sometimes you get to travel with people who embrace adventure, immerse themselves in a culture, and try new things. They find the upside of setbacks and help you notice things you would otherwise have missed.

Travel lesson learned: Travel in good company—your own or others.

Two loving travel companions in Ireland remind a digital nomad of lessons learned from travel. (Image © by Joyce McGreevy)

Enjoying another traveler’s perspective is like seeing two worlds at once.
© Joyce McGreevy

9. The best souvenirs aren’t things.

Traveling with one small suitcase meant I couldn’t get weighed down with “stuff.” But there’s no limit on the customs one can carry home.

Like Italy’s passeggiata—an elegant evening stroll. Or Montrealers’ love of reading in city parks—books, not cellphones. Or the Irish habit of acknowledging passersby with a greeting or at least a nod. Wearing a mask doesn’t diminish the pleasure of these rituals.

Travel lesson learned: Bring back new ideas, not knickknacks.

10. Fresh starts are a type of travel.

When I returned to the States, I moved to Bend, Oregon. The only people I knew locally were my sisters and their families. And because of Covid, only some of us could get together without risk.

But because of travel, I don’t feel lonely. Because of travel, I know there’s always a way to navigate and connect.

I’ve met fellow Oregonians by joining a volunteer group that meets online. I hike along the Deschutes River. I download library books that explore the history and beauty of the state.

A museum with a rainbow panorama walkway in Denmark reminds a digital nomad of lessons learned from travel. (Image © by Joyce McGreevy)

Travel lesson learned in Denmark: True progress means raising each other up.
© Joyce McGreevy

Having been a working nomad, I’m used to being productive from anywhere. I’m also used to getting on Zoom to catch up with the people I’ve met around the world. We share our joys, our worries, our national issues. You may consider these visits “virtual,” but the friendships are real.

Maybe that’s why I’ve adopted an explorer’s approach to our world’s surreal new circumstances. Oh, I see: Because of lessons learned from travel, I feel more at home on this vulnerable planet and within my vulnerable self.

Comment on the post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Joyce McGreevy 9 Comments

Adventure Travel/Life Lessons/Worldwide Sites

Aug

Great Gardens of the World: Les Jardins d’Étretat

by Meredith Mullins on August 3, 2020

A UNESCO World Heritage view (and Monet’s favorite spot in Étretat)
© Meredith Mullins

A Nature Discovery with a View

Where am I?

Am I in Alice’s wonderland or a labyrinthian meditation garden? Am I dreaming that hedges are crashing like waves on the hillside, or am I lost in a fantasy tunnel of green?

Perhaps all of the above. Great gardens open doors to creative experiences.

Enchanted gardens inspire the imagination.
© Meredith Mullins

Gardens hide behind tiny doors or down Alice-discovered rabbit holes. They surprise us beyond dilapidated fences that seem to say “go farther only if you dare.” And they present magical mazes that offer the alluring puzzle of being lost in time and place.

Does anyone else see a dancing flower?
© Meredith Mullins

Enchanted gardens are laced through literature. And they have brought inspiration to writers and painters throughout history.

One such special garden is Les Jardins d’Étretat—a nature discovery with a breathtaking view of the sea . . . and a neo-futuristic design that offers a glimpse into the future.

Oh, I see. “The garden is a perpetual artistic experiment,” as landscape architect Alexandre Grivko says of his 21^stcentury creation.

A garden with a view . . . of the sea, of the cliffs, and of the future
© Meredith Mullins

Monet’s Other Garden

The Jardins d’Étretat have a historic link to Claude Monet, as well as other painters such as Boudin, Courbet, Delacroix, Manet, Polenov, and Corot.

The gardens sit at the top of the Falaise d’Amont on the Alabaster Coast of Normandy, famous for its weather-etched limestone cliffs and natural rock arches (and listed as a World Heritage Site by UNESCO).

The light, the clouds, the sea, and the sculpted landscape have been an inspiration for generations.

The Étretat coast has inspired writers and artists for generations.
© Meredith Mullins

Monet painted these cliffs beginning in 1868, creating more than 50 works of the Étretat area.

As a tribute to Monet (painter, avid gardener, and friend), the French actress Madame Thébault created a garden near her villa at the Amont clifftop, planting her first tree in 1903 and nurturing, among other things, a vast collection of orchids.

Her garden was her solace, away from the demands of the theatre. And it became a welcome haven for her artistic friends.

A haven for visitors
© Meredith Mullins

A Neo-Futuristic Experiment

Fast forward more than 100 years. Russian landscape architect Alexandre Grivko takes on the daunting but creative challenge of restructuring and reimagining the abandoned garden, while honoring its historical significance.

The garden becomes an experimental laboratory and an artistic expression of the coast of Normandy.

More than 1000 tons of soil and 100,000 plants were brought to the top of the cliff.
© Meredith Mullins

More than 1000 tons of soil were hauled up the cliff and more than 100,000 plants were planted—all in less than two years.

Grivko followed famous French landscape architect Le Nôtre’s rapid design of the Versailles gardens by limiting the plant species.

He also followed Vito di Bari’s “Neo-Futuristic City Manifesto,” which focuses on the integration of art, technology, ethical values, and nature—to provide a higher quality of life.

A year-round garden of green that withstands the coastal winds and salty air
© Meredith Mullins

Grivko’s goal was to test new plant-care strategies so that the garden could withstand the climate challenges (wind and salt air) and to experiment with sculptural plant trimming in innovative ways.

The plant shapes are organic and true to the land forms of the area. You’ll find the waves of the English Channel, sea spirals, whirlpools, oyster farms, and, of course, the cliff formations—all in a variety of ever-greenery.

An arcade of green, mirroring the formation of the Étretat cliffs
© Meredith Mullins

An Open-Air Museum

Although the garden is not large (just under 4 acres), you have the feeling that endless meandering could be possible. The space presents permanent and temporary displays of sculpture by international artists. The permanent collection was a part of Grivko’s design. The temporary exhibit brings new work to the garden every year.

A sculpture from this year’s temporary exhibit
(“Evolution” by Cyrille André from France)
© Meredith Mullins

The seven named gardens each offer something unique. The Jardin Avatar is the first new discovery by the entrance. This garden features The Clockwork Forest (where you turn the key in the trunk of a tree and music begins to accompany you on your journey).

Who wouldn’t be tempted to turn a giant key in a tree in an enchanted garden?
(Sculpture by the Greyworld Group in London)
© Meredith Mullins

This area also exhibits the temporary sculptures of American Gianna Dispenza’s “The Space Between” and Chinese Shuengit Chow’s “Mobile Music House.”

Gianna Dispenza’s metal sculpture seems to fly in the wind.
© Meredith Mullins

The Mobile Music House is made of aluminum skins from drink cans to show
that beauty can be found in everyday objects.
© Meredith Mullins

The Jardin Impressions comes next, with its timeless view of the Étretat cliffs, permanent exhibits of comfortable wood lounging chairs, a lounging boat (apropos to the coastal location), and a temporary sculpture entitled “L’été” (Summer) showing the cycles of life and seasons.

L’Été sculpture by Armenian Gevorg Tadevosyan
© Meredith Mullins

A perfect way to merge with nature, pausing in wooden furniture
that is much more comfortable than it looks (by German Thomas Rösler).
© Meredith Mullins

The Jardin Emotions is the most recognizable part of the garden with its set of polyester/resin heads showing the range of human emotions.

The faces are floated in greenery that reflects the underwater world and mollusk-like shapes of Marie Antoinette’s first oyster bed, said to have been in the waters just below this Étretat cliff.

What emotions do you feel?
(Sculpture by Samuel Salcedo from Spain)

The “Drops of Rain,” as they are called—by Spanish artist Samuel Salcedo—range from expressive to creepy, depending on your personal interpretation.

Let’s just say I wouldn’t want to spend a night in the garden with these fellows, no matter what their emotional depth.

A kiss is not (yet) a kiss.
© Meredith Mullins

The Jardin d’Aval sends you into wonderland, with The Tree Hugger Project made from fallen tree branches by Agnieszka Gradzik (Poland) and Wiktoy Szostalo (Lithuania), a long table and benches made from one solid oak block by German sculptor Thomas Rösler, and flowers made of greenery that look like they are about to burst into song.

Next on the path are the Jardin Zen, for a meditative pause amidst walls of bamboo and white rhododendrons; the Jardin La Manche with topiary mazes; and the Jardin d’Amont that takes you to the highest point of the garden, with greenery trimmed to look like the Normandy cliffs.

A Rabbit Hole and a Vision of the Future

As you wander through the Jardins d’Étretat, you might feel as if you fell through time and space into a different world. Whether real or imagined, you did.

As one of the great gardens in the world, this nature discovery is a brilliant integration of technology, ecology, and art. It shows a strong link between earth and sea.

And best of all, it is an artistic creation that is rooted in one of the most artistic places of all time—the Étretat coast. It is the past, present, and future all in one. Monet would feel right at home.

For more information on the Jardins d’Étretat, visit here. For more information on landscape architect Alexandre Grivko, visit Il Nature.

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Meredith Mullins 15 Comments

France/Nature Discovery

Jul

Let a Tune Transport You!

by Joyce McGreevy on July 28, 2020

Travel Memories Inspired by Music

Imagine a melody with the power to recreate worlds. The cocoa-butter scented breeze of a beach in Maui in 1979—when it’s 2020 and you’re in Montréal. The soaring elegance of a train station in Leipzig—as you drift off to sleep in Lincoln City.

That’s what happens when a tune, any tune, becomes travel music. Oh, I see: When it comes to modes of travel, nothing transports us like music.

The influence of music on our memories has long been established by science. Music lights up the visual cortex like a rainbow-colored disco ball, spinning emotions into motion. One moment you’re pushing a shopping cart down a grocery aisle, the next moment you hear that song—and suddenly travel memories inspired by music come dancing out, whirling you along with them.

A woman exuberantly enjoying the beach reminds the author of the transportive power of travel memories inspired by music. (Image © by Joyce McGreevy)

At the office in January you hear a certain song, and suddenly it’s summer
and you’re barefoot on a beach in July.
© Joyce McGreevy

“Magical Mystery Tour”

Travel music can be a trickster. Like the time a song from a passing car in Chicago whisked me back to a village in France.

A basket of croissants symbolizes the way travel memories inspired by music often include vivid sensory details. (Image © by Joyce McGreevy)

So what was the song? Something iconic like “La Vie en Rose”? Pas du tout.

It was “What’s Up” by 4 Non Blondes, an alternative rock band from San Francisco.

But to memory, none of that matters. Because of where and when I heard the song, the Jukebox of Memory selected it for my subconscious travel music playlist. Hearing it again, I’m instantly back in Port Launay in 1993:

I taste buttery, cloud-like croissants—croissants so marvelous that I show up at the boulangerie each morning before sunup.
I feel the thrum of my rented Citroën zipping over the back roads—I who haven’t driven in years.
I see primroses around the cottage where my young son and I sit by the fire, reading Breton tales of the sea.

All that joie de vivre and Breton beauty magically preserved in an angsty California rock song. This kind of travel music mismatch, it turns out, is surprisingly common.

A jazz trio in Denmark symbolize why travel memories inspired by music make us feel as if we are re-living, not just recalling, an experience. (Image © by Joyce McGreevy)

“Come Fly With Me” (and other musical flights of fancy)

Of course, some travel songs are on the nose. And by “nose” I mean the nose cone of a Boeing 707 pointing up at a big blue sky. That’s where I’m transported whenever I hear “Up, Up, and Away.”

Written by Jimmy Webb and popularized by The Fifth Dimension, it became Trans World Airlines’ theme song in 1968. Five notes in, I can practically smell the jet fuel, so vividly does this tune recall the joy of a travel adventure’s beginning.

Oh, I have a whole catalog in my head labeled Travel Music Linked to Airplanes. It’s where I keep travel memories that are . .

Ecstatic: Art Garfunkel singing “Break Away, fly across your ocean . . . to awaken in another country.”
Glamorous: Joe Sample’s jazz classic “Night Flight.”
Wistful: Peter, Paul, and Mary’s “Leavin’ on a Jet Plane.”

Name any mode of transport and you’ll find travel songs for it. “Night Boat to Cairo,” “Last Train to Clarksville,” “On the Atchison, Topeka, and the Santa Fe” to name but a few. Some travel songs, like “Let’s Get Away from It All,” with its boat to Bermuda, plane to Saint Paul and kayak to Quincy or Nyack, pack in every means of travel but the pogo stick.

“They Call Me the Wanderer”

Some music makes you want to travel somewhere, anywhere, even when you’re toolin’ around town on errands. Many a mild-mannered commuter has experienced raw wanderlust at hearing a classic road trip song like “Route 66” or “Born to Be Wild.”

Then there are songs that evoke longings for places we’ve never been. Like the Faroe Islands, which I researched obsessively after hearing Faroese singer-songwriter, Teitur. Indeed, millions of music lovers felt wanderlust for Cuba the first time they heard Buena Vista Social Club, the musical ensemble celebrated in the documentary of the same name.

“Summer in the City”

You could fill a library with songs about cities—from “Istanbul, Not Constantinople” and “New York State of Mind,” to two entirely different songs with the title “Galway Girl.”

A concert at Lollapalooza taken before the pandemic reminds that author that travel memories inspired by music can be comforting now that such popular events have been canceled. (Image © by Julie Larkin)

With most destination concerts canceled in 2020, we travel via musical memories.
Above: Lollapalooza, Chicago in 2017.
© Julie Larkin

Great cities, in turn, send you home with memories to unpack musically. Any song by the late, great Alain Toussaint or young visionary Trombone Shorty takes me back to New Orleans—wherever I am. And this recently released music video stirs this traveler’s fond memories of a favorite U.S. city, Chicago. Let’s go!

“Take Me Home, Country Roads”

And sometimes travel music takes me all the way home. Home, where childhood memories and my love of travel began. Where my late parents spent evenings planning family travel adventures, as popular French songs floated up from the RCA record player, those Gallic melodies mixing with the aroma of Boeuf Bourguinon from the kitchen.

That’s why whenever I hear “La Vie en Rose” I’m instantly transported . . . to Syosset, Long Island.

To quote French cabaret singer Maurice Chevalier, “Ah yes, I remember it well!” Whether your travel memories inspired by music transport you to a favorite destination or to the land of childhood, the common “chord” is magic—the magic that occurs when travel memories have a soundtrack.

What’s on your travel music playlist? Share a favorite tune and the travel memories it evokes for you in the comments below.