Later that same year......

I have much catching up to do here; though I have continued to be adventurous and have traveled and experienced quite a bit in the past few months, the chronicle of those events has been greatly delayed. Once I returned from my big adventure of procuring the van and getting safely home, I had very little time before I turned around and boarded a plane to Europe. I attended my usual extended Buddhist retreat in the spring, which takes place just outside of Glastonbury, England. The trip included a five-day visit to Amsterdam, which is magnificent in the spring, with long, warm days and delightful evenings.

The journey from Boston to London is such a well-worn path for me now that it seems as if I am simply hopping into a car and driving to a friend’s home. My cab from Heathrow Airport is pre-booked, and once I slide through customs, there is always a fellow awaiting my arrival with my name on a sign. I know I’ll be “home” in an hour. My delightful friends Jill & Rupert dine late, so there is usually a bowl of soup awaiting me, along with a (short for me!) glass of wine and welcoming conversation. In a couple of hours I am off to bed, and awaken in a familiar place.

The weather was very cold and wet in England this spring, very much dampening our usual May frolics in the countryside at our retreat, but not enough to keep us from having the most delightful week together. I skipped walking up Lollover Hill in Compton Dundon, Somerset at sunrise to greet the May day sun this year; it was “chucking it down” with rain, it was cold, it was windy. No rolling in the dew barefoot in a diaphanous gown for the women this year! The wet, chilly spring continued right into summer for the country, many of my friends over there were getting a bit stir crazy as it continued.

Amsterdam; what a delight that city is! There was a mix of weather while I was there, with plenty of sun for me, and not that many raindrops to dodge, if one is strategic about it. My friend Yvette, who currently lives in Wales, joined me for several days, and it was lovely to have a friend there with me, as I generally go there solo. We had a delightful time scouring little markets and shops, visiting museums (The Handbag Museum!! fun) and traipsing around town as we wished. Yvette is a wonderful traveling companion; endlessly upbeat and flexible. We had some fab meals, a highlight being a Thai meal just outside of Rembrandtplein, which included the best veggie red curry dish I’ve ever had—this restaurant just gets it right every time.

Highlights of the trip! The Handbag Museum was sweet. All women in attendance, which was a hoot. The gift shop was busy! The museum includes the best of the best of handmade and manufactured handbags, mostly European, some several hundred years old. Gorgeous, and inspiring. We had some tea while we were there, sitting at a table which over-looked the garden. I spied a handbag left by the bench and told staff; “it’s a part of the exhibit”, I was told. A bronze facsimile of a handbag, left just where one would be likely too. I gather that I was not the first person to push the panic button on that account.

Best, most exciting “moment” for me occurred midway through our visit. After touring town all day, market stalls, parks, canals, parks, coffee shops, more more more, we finally were calling it a night, and returning to our separate hotels, just minutes apart. There was piano coming from the bar, and fun sounds emanating, so I popped in. I’m not much of a drinker, but the piano and happy camaraderie was what I sought. The bar wasn’t packed, and the 25 or so folks inside were singing along with a very talented and friendly pianist from the States. Folks were singing along happily, and a couple of people got up and sang a number.

Those who know me know that I love to sing, and look for and take advantage (if you can call it that!) of any opportunity to sing with others, especially talented others. I have long harbored a wish to be in a distant city, and to enter unknown into a scene, have a chance to sing, and to leave, high on the experience and ecstatic. Singing with abandon in a roomful of strangers, happily, bravely, with gusto. After a couple of folks had their fun and we were all getting into it, there was a lull. “Who’s coming up here next?” I sipped my ginger ale with a long draw on the straw. “Well, who’s going to take this opportunity?” he repeated. Ok. Drink down—I rose and walked over. Crowd clapped encouragement.

“What’s it gonna be?” said he. “Bobby Mcgee” says she. We worked out our key, and I climbed three steps up. Crowd smiled and encouraged me. I felt confident and happy happy happy. I *know* this song. Off we go. “Greetings from Boston!!” LOUD cheer. “Busted flat in Baton Rouge…..”. The guy ROCKED on the piano and gave me everything I could have wanted. We banged the song out with gusto and FUN. I could see folks that hadn’t been interested in the music perk up in the back and start smiling and pointing. I saw one woman elbow her husband and could see that she said “WOW!”. I could have cried, but I was too damn happy. We stretched out the ending, the applause was overwhelming. I was SO ecstatic. Tick off another dream on the life list, Honey. I can still tap into that exhilaration now.
The lessons and realizations were many; but foremost is the fact that I need to sing, more often, with more people. This is a continuing goal of mine.

Back to England, sad to leave the city I love, the city where everyone assumes that I *am* Dutch (which is partly true, as one of my Great-Grandads had a Dutch name, though I do not know when/how the family arrived in the States. The city where young and old, local and far-flung folks ride and dodge black bicycles everywhere, the frites are ubiquitous and the attitude very open and Continental, with a delightful international twist. In addition, my favorite Buddhist shop on the planet is there, and I am very friendly with the owners, and I spend hours and hours at their magnificent shop, chatting, meeting locals, purchasing trinkets. Home away from home; I generally get my cab to Schipol Airport right from their shop. One hour flight back to London City Airport, a ride on the overground to hampstead, and I am back in London.

It was a fabulous spring. Returned home to a big-to-do list, so much to catch up on after spending more than two months on the road between the BIG van trip and European adventures. My daughter graduated from University just after I returned home and we set to work on getting some more van upgrades and doing the usual work within and without our home. Husband and cats very glad to have me back, and me very glad to be back!

But you just know; it wasn’t long before my feet got itchy again and my empty suitcase was calling out to be filled. Ok, ok. where now?