Someday Syndrome

The Freedom of Trust

Each week I have to put in twenty-four hours of work in exchange for room and board. It's generally broken into four hours a day six days a week, but as long as I get my twenty-four hours done, I can do them whenever I like.

This is really handy when one gets weather like we've had the past three days. On Thursday morning I did a load of laundry and then hung it out to dry. Shortly after it started to rain and it continued to rain until early this morning. Now, mid afternoon on Sunday, the sun has finally decided to come out.

I put my hours in on Friday organizing and painting, but yesterday it was just too dreary to do any work. So I edited my novel instead. I work this afternoon, but I'm not in the mood. So I will add the hours I didn't do yesterday into next week when it's supposed to be sunny and I can spend longer working on my tan.

Even in my nine-to-five jobs, I always played with the hours, working ten-to-six or even seven-to-three. When I ran my own business, I thought that I'd have the freedom to work when I wanted, but that wasn't the case. Often I would have choose times that best fit my clients' schedules, or get up early for networking meetings.

This current work situation is the best for me, I think. I have a broad guideline, but within that guideline, I can do what I want, when I want. And because the homeowner trusts me to get it done, I don't have to account for every minute of the work I do. She's happy with the results and that is all that matters in the long run.

Someday Lessons:

• If you trust others, giving the broad guidelines rather than hard rules often produces better results.
• Freedom is the ability to do what you want when you want while still being responsible and respectful to others.

A Visit to Zaragoza

Know how I´ve said that I´m a total change junkie and that I love change? Well, that´s only change I initiate, otherwise plans should stay exactly as made.

Of course that´s totally hypocritical of me, but that´s just how I operate.

I got a text message (on my new cell phone) from my Rompot saying that he has a work thing tonight and could I arrive tomorrow around noon instead?

My first reaction was: NO. Tonight or not at all, mister. Then I came back from my short trip to dramaville and decided that I would still go to Spain today, but I would stay the night in Zaragoza, and then go down to Tarragona in the morning.

In my quick phone conversation with the Rompot, he asked if that was okay. I told him the truth as I felt it at that moment, which was I was a bit disappointed. He asked. I replied honestly, but I didn´t explain the reason for the disappointment. Of course I don´t like not seeing him, but in the grand scheme of things I really couldn´t care about one day. The real disappointment came from him changes plans on me! I´m the plan changer. No one else.

Then, as usual when I´m being irrational, I laughed at myself and got over it. I´m spending the night in Zaragoza, a city I thought I´d just drive past. And I stopped for an hour in Huesca where I took some great photos.

So, all´s good.

Someday Lessons:

• No matter how hard you try, you can´t control everything (especially other people).
• Always be ready to create alternate plans at a moment´s notice.

The Grand Game

Cate and I share a favourite pastime: walking, so we've spent most of our time here in Paris touring the city by foot. Yesterday was an epic day with a total of seven hours of perambulation.

And of course we talk the entire time we walk. During one of the gazillion conversations, Cate said:

I view life as an improv game. You never block.

There are three rules to improv: you never answer a question with a single word or a "no"; you never shut down someone else's idea; and you should be as creative as possible with your responses.

What a great way to live!

I've decided to adopt this attitude for myself.

Plus it's very practical. For example, last night we turned a simple trip to a restaurant into an epic quest for food. You see, non-tourist restaurants aren't open on Christmas night in Paris. We wandered along dark, deserted streets, getting progressively colder and hungrier. But we were more amused than anything else. Each closed restaurant upped the challenge. It didn't stop us, didn't make us give up and just eat at McDonald's.

It made us say: "We will find good food!"

When we did (and wow was it good!); our sense of accomplishment and therefore our appreciation of the meal were as large as our combined appetites!

Someday Lessons:

• Another word for chaos is exploration.
• Don't let life block you - find a way to keep the story going.

(Happy Holidays everyone and thanks for all the wishes and messages of support!)

Personality Showdown

Writer-Alex and Party-Alex are heading for a smackdown.

Writer-Alex loves Sauveterre where inspiration oozes out of every building, mountain view, and cup of coffee.

Party-Alex says "Eww, don't get any of that oozy stuff on me. I'm ready to go out."

Even though he's set to go, I've been keeping him locked in a cage. He wouldn't do well in Sauveterre. The majority of the men he'd talk to wouldn't appreciate the things he has to suggest to them. Plus they're too young for him.

The poor guy didn't get much chance to go out in Toronto either. The last few years, Entrepreneur-Alex was in control of the personality zoo keys, and rarely let anyone else out of their cages.

Writer-Alex does the socializing in Sauveterre, drinking wine with friends, surfing the Internet having written conversations with people, and talking to everyone about future writing plans.

But Party-Alex can sense impending freedom. One week today starts a three-week trip that includes Paris and Barcelona. Plus Party-Alex's traveling companion is Party-Cate, who can outdo anything Party-Alex can think of.

Writer-Alex is going along for the ride and has insisted on time each day for writerly things. Party-Alex has agreed to that. He'll need the rest anyway – he's out of practice.

The question is: come January, will Party-Alex go quietly back into his cage?

Someday Lessons:

• Your situation changes what aspects of yourself you can express.
• Acting in the moment isn't always possible – reality has a habit of getting in the way.

Lunch Today:
Steak with a baked potato and sautéed red peppers.

A Me Day

Yesterday was a very self-indulgent day (read: I spent lots of money).

I needed to go into Pau to pick up something small, but going into Pau means taking a 7am bus to the train station and returning home at 7pm.

So, I went shopping and spent lots of money on: a coffee, a haircut, clothes, lunch, dessert & a tea, and pizza. I found the jeans I've been wanting – the fit is perfect AND they are the new slim fit (very exciting!). I also got a fitted sports jacket, a sweater and new underwear (wow! nice underwear is not cheap!). My hair is now manageable again and I'm totally sated food-wise. After this day of spending, I went home and watched downloaded TV shows (including the season premier of Veronica Mars! Yay!).

I know that that normally I'm a total anti-consumerist, but everything in moderation including moderation, so I indulge myself sometimes. Yesterday was pure pleasure principle. If it felt good I did it. For me, this is a way of letting go of control. I indulge and revel in it.

That's it for yesterday… (amazing how a shallow self-indulgent day creates a shallow self-indulgent posting, eh?).

Someday Lessons:

1. Let go sometimes and just indulge yourself.
2. Whatever you do, enjoy it thoroughly.

Lunch Today:
(Actually again, it was dinner last night.) Local pizza made in a truck parked in the town square. The toppings were: piperade (a cross between pasta sauce and ratatouille, ham, raw sheep's milk cheese called brebis, gruyere, and an egg cracked over the centre of the pizza just before baking – weird sounding but tasty).

... But it always comes out right

(Okay so I didn't get the other half up yesterday - I was busy getting an apartment - more on that later)

But where was I? Oh right, a useless ticket and ready tired forearms...

Remember how I said that I went through a travel agency to avoid problems? I could freak out, demand something be done, but I choose not to. Instead I simply buy a new ticket (I'm rather proud of myself for showing such restraint).

New ticket in hand, I look for a payphone to find my cousin's phone number. I don't want them to worry when I don't show up at the station on time. But French payphones don't have 411 service, so off to the Information booth, where a very nice young woman lets me explain my problem in broken French and she looks up numbers for me on the Internet (whoever said the French are rude was way wrong!).

After not finding phone numbers, I discover that I have 5 minutes to drag my now 300lbs of luggage (or so it feels) down to the end of a VERY long platform. My arms scream at me and my lungs threaten to burst (why did I smoke just before getting on the plane?). Plus I'm now well past ripe and heading into rotten.

The train ride is uneventful, but on a side note, I really hate not having a map to track my progress and make sure the train is goin in the right direction. I mean without me ticking off the towns as we pass through them, how am I supposed to know if the conductor hasn't gotten us lost along the way?

The town of Dax arrives (phew! no lost conductor!) I unload my baggage (yes more stairs!) and confirm that the next train will arrive in Orthez at 10:30. I sit and have an amazing duck sandwich (mmmm) then board my new train. I arrive in Dax and of course no cousins. The station attendant (more proof that the French are actually very nice people) offers to find me a taxi to my cousin's if I can figure out where they live (yes the organizer doesn't have an address either). In wandering the station, I find a note "Alex Fayle call us" with a phone number (nice to know SOMEONE was thinking!). The station attendent lets me use the phone and I call my cousins. It's now almost 11pm and they have been enjoying some drinks - so no chance of them picking me up - and no taxis are operating at this hour. But my cousins do direct me to a hotel in Orthez.

By this point, I'm so tired I ring the bell at the hotel because the door is locked, only to find out that I'm supposed to PUSH the door, not pull it (the door even says <<poussez>>). For 25 euros I get a great sleep, a morning coffee, two croissants and a phone call to my cousin's. By 11am, I'm at my cousin's and welcomed like a close member of the family (and not a distant never-met 4th cousin).

Lessons Learned:

1. Something will always go wrong - don't freak out - see it as an adventure.
2. If you can't fix something gone wrong, change what you're doing.
3. Things will always work out fine if you're adaptable.
4. Always make sure you have phone numbers when travelling.
5. Always carry local cash (for those unexpected meals and hotels).

Something Always Goes Wrong

I relearned a lesson during my travels from Canada to France.

No matter how prepared you think you are, something will go wrong and a quick adaptation is the only option.

Leaving Toronto I act all smug. I'm Mr. Organizer. Plane and train tickets purchased through an agent to ensure accuracy and avoid headaches in France; no liquids or gels in my carry on (new airline restrictions), no sharp objects, a connection in France to family (picking me up), Euros in cash and traveler's cheques, debit card and credit card at hand in case of emergency.

The flight's on time and uneventful, including my usual curse of not a single cute male flight attendant or nearby passenger for eye candy. The plane arrives in Paris at Charles de Galle exactly when the ticket said we would. Luggage arrives as well - in tact even! Only a single glance at my British passport and I am through customs.

Everything is going as smooth as silk... until I get to the train station.

Oh, let me sidetrack for a moment about my luggage. I am over weight on my luggage, by 8 kilograms, meaning that with my checked baggage and my carry ons, I'm pulling around about 100lbs of luggage, about 60lbs of which are in a LARGE wheeled suitcase.

(Remember this, it comes up later.)

Where was I? Oh right, the airport's train station.

Being an independent person, I pull out my ticket and start to look for my departure details on the station's info board. Nothing. Paris to Dax 14h40. Nope, nada. Okay, off to information.

<<Oui, bonjour>>

<<Je ne peux pas trouver mon train.>> I hand over my ticket.

<<Insert a long string of incomprehensible French.>>

<<Um, mon francais n'est pas bon.>>

"This ticket is not for here. It is for Montparnasse."

Uh-huh. Okay. Montparnasse it seems is at least one hour away by Metro. It's now 1:30pm, train is at 2:40. Not going to happen.

Then my big organizing slip hits me. I don't have my cousins' phone numbers - I have no way to reach them. The earliest I can get to Dax now is 8pm and Orthez at 10:30pm - two and a half hours AFTER my cousins are picking me up. Great. Let's hope they either stick around or leave me a message at the Train station.

So, I carry my 100lbs of luggage down to the Metro (no elevators) then I change trains in the city and go upstairs, downstairs, up down and up again to the new line for two more stops then more stairs, up down and up twice.

It's 3:20pm by this point. My forearms are beginning to ache and I'm beginning to smell a little ripe having been in my clothes for about 18 hours straight.

I go to the ticket counter. <<Je voudrais aller a Dax, mais je suis en retard.>> I show the nice ticket agent my carefully travel-agent purchased ticket.

<<more incomprehensibly fast French>> then <<Un moment monsieur.>>

He goes away and comes back quickly.

<<again with the too-fast French.>>

It turns out my ticket is non-refundable and non-exchangeable.

I'm holding a useless first class ticket to the south of France.

Merde.

(to be continued tomorrow)