By Irene Butler
Photos by Rick Butler
Published in Senior Living Magazine
If we knew more about our ancestry, my husband Rick and I are convinced a good shake of our family trees would result in a fall out of gypsies. Since a young child I have always felt a strange euphoria when on the road. Rick has forever been magnetically drawn to new trails, but it was not until we retired that we fully realized our vagabond propensities.
After becoming a couple 17 years ago while still in the “work-world”, we got away as often as our businesses would allow. Starting out as Atourists@, at some point between excursions we became “travellers”, and from there we insidiously morphed into our nomadic existence of today.
Looking back on our first vacation together to Hawaii, we recall hauling two humongous suitcases filled with color coordinated shoes for each outfit and a different bathing suit for every day of the week. We have since discovered if we load our backpacks with what we think are necessities, then cut that in half, we have everything we need.
An early-on trip to Egypt was a package deal with a planned itinerary. With limited time, it made sense not to invest energy figuring out how to get from site to site, but a few negatives immediately crept in. Our main gripe was wanting more time at a particular site than the group schedule allowed, especially when precious hours were consumed by a commission-eager-driver veering off to a merchant’s shop (not to mention my impulse shopper mode was easily activated).
In our next travel phase, we would divide a three week travel package; for instance, our first two weeks through Turkey was a pre-set bus tour, followed by a week in Greece wandering where we pleased.
By the time we hit Morocco a few years later, we just bought airline tickets and had not so much
as a hotel booked. We were amazed at our evolution. After landing in the capitol, Rabat, we took a bus up into the Rif Mountains, worked our way down to Merzouga for a camel trek on the Sahara, across to the circus town of Marrakesh, then up to Casablanca. Hitting every mosque and kasbah along the way was quite a feat in only three weeks, and we loved the exhilaration and the challenge of going it on our own. The exposure to the culture was so different and real we knew we would hang up our tourist hats and forever be travellers, letting our trails insouciantly unfold.
On a day six years ago I vividly recollect rubbing my hand over our airline tickets, yet not needing a Genie to appear to grant us our wish - Rick and I were to travel around the world for a year. Several months previous, we had a chance to sell our business. After ten minutes of deliberation, we said “yes”. This was the true beginning of our gypsy ways, though a full year away was a radical move. After booking our “one-world” tickets that would sweep us away to 12 countries, we questioned whether it was too much too soon? What agency or government bureau would be sniffing us down like blood hounds for a forgotten procedure in the paper blizzard of closing our companies? And although on-line banking and pre-planning would take care of most personal matters, such as income taxes, property taxes, medical and insurance - what of the forgotten or unanticipated items? Our salvation was one of our sons and his partner willingly taking on the responsibility of being our mail recipients and letting us know about any dangling loose ends.
Most important was our family. Would even a mole-hill problem seem like a mountain from half-way around the world? We devised a rotation phone schedule to keep in touch with our children and grandchildren. E-mail is great, but it was more satisfying to hear their voices and feel from their tone that they were okay. Letting friends know “whaaatz up” was easier. We sent them all a letter announcing our plans.
Just when I thought all was settled, Rick threw a crank into the planning.
“What if we could travel for a year for the same amount of money as if we stayed home sitting on our couch?”
“Are you kidding?” I responded, “Now, I realize we can’t stay in as posh accommodations as on a two or three week trip, but if we are going to be tight-wads we may as well stay home watching the travel channel.”
Rick was not kidding. He proudly produced his calculations of our Canadian cost of living, plus a formulated ‘budget’ based on guidebook pricing for mid-range accommodations, food, site-seeing and land travel along our loosely defined route; he said he left some wiggle room.
Being of the feminine gender, I intuitively could see it would be wise to have some agreed upon modus operandi – which led to the development of Our Travel Mottos:
1) We are not here to suffer
Our comfort range must be adhered to in accommodations and eateries, realizing different cultures have different standards. Budget restrictions are never to be applied to visiting the sights we had come so far to see. (In short - a counterbalance to Rick’s budget.)
2) Expect the Unexpected.
Don’t get hung up or stressed out on preconceived notions of how things should be from our own societal perspective. If plan “A” doesn’t pan out, go on to plan “B” or “C”.
3) Travel at a leisurely pace.
Take rest times between excursions for good health maintenance.
4) Follow the sun.
Let spring precede us in countries that have bone chilling winters.
Photos by Rick Butler
Published in Senior Living Magazine
If we knew more about our ancestry, my husband Rick and I are convinced a good shake of our family trees would result in a fall out of gypsies. Since a young child I have always felt a strange euphoria when on the road. Rick has forever been magnetically drawn to new trails, but it was not until we retired that we fully realized our vagabond propensities.
After becoming a couple 17 years ago while still in the “work-world”, we got away as often as our businesses would allow. Starting out as Atourists@, at some point between excursions we became “travellers”, and from there we insidiously morphed into our nomadic existence of today.
Looking back on our first vacation together to Hawaii, we recall hauling two humongous suitcases filled with color coordinated shoes for each outfit and a different bathing suit for every day of the week. We have since discovered if we load our backpacks with what we think are necessities, then cut that in half, we have everything we need.
An early-on trip to Egypt was a package deal with a planned itinerary. With limited time, it made sense not to invest energy figuring out how to get from site to site, but a few negatives immediately crept in. Our main gripe was wanting more time at a particular site than the group schedule allowed, especially when precious hours were consumed by a commission-eager-driver veering off to a merchant’s shop (not to mention my impulse shopper mode was easily activated).
In our next travel phase, we would divide a three week travel package; for instance, our first two weeks through Turkey was a pre-set bus tour, followed by a week in Greece wandering where we pleased.
By the time we hit Morocco a few years later, we just bought airline tickets and had not so much
as a hotel booked. We were amazed at our evolution. After landing in the capitol, Rabat, we took a bus up into the Rif Mountains, worked our way down to Merzouga for a camel trek on the Sahara, across to the circus town of Marrakesh, then up to Casablanca. Hitting every mosque and kasbah along the way was quite a feat in only three weeks, and we loved the exhilaration and the challenge of going it on our own. The exposure to the culture was so different and real we knew we would hang up our tourist hats and forever be travellers, letting our trails insouciantly unfold.On a day six years ago I vividly recollect rubbing my hand over our airline tickets, yet not needing a Genie to appear to grant us our wish - Rick and I were to travel around the world for a year. Several months previous, we had a chance to sell our business. After ten minutes of deliberation, we said “yes”. This was the true beginning of our gypsy ways, though a full year away was a radical move. After booking our “one-world” tickets that would sweep us away to 12 countries, we questioned whether it was too much too soon? What agency or government bureau would be sniffing us down like blood hounds for a forgotten procedure in the paper blizzard of closing our companies? And although on-line banking and pre-planning would take care of most personal matters, such as income taxes, property taxes, medical and insurance - what of the forgotten or unanticipated items? Our salvation was one of our sons and his partner willingly taking on the responsibility of being our mail recipients and letting us know about any dangling loose ends.
Most important was our family. Would even a mole-hill problem seem like a mountain from half-way around the world? We devised a rotation phone schedule to keep in touch with our children and grandchildren. E-mail is great, but it was more satisfying to hear their voices and feel from their tone that they were okay. Letting friends know “whaaatz up” was easier. We sent them all a letter announcing our plans.
Just when I thought all was settled, Rick threw a crank into the planning.
“What if we could travel for a year for the same amount of money as if we stayed home sitting on our couch?”
“Are you kidding?” I responded, “Now, I realize we can’t stay in as posh accommodations as on a two or three week trip, but if we are going to be tight-wads we may as well stay home watching the travel channel.”
Rick was not kidding. He proudly produced his calculations of our Canadian cost of living, plus a formulated ‘budget’ based on guidebook pricing for mid-range accommodations, food, site-seeing and land travel along our loosely defined route; he said he left some wiggle room.
Being of the feminine gender, I intuitively could see it would be wise to have some agreed upon modus operandi – which led to the development of Our Travel Mottos:
1) We are not here to suffer
Our comfort range must be adhered to in accommodations and eateries, realizing different cultures have different standards. Budget restrictions are never to be applied to visiting the sights we had come so far to see. (In short - a counterbalance to Rick’s budget.)
2) Expect the Unexpected.
Don’t get hung up or stressed out on preconceived notions of how things should be from our own societal perspective. If plan “A” doesn’t pan out, go on to plan “B” or “C”.
3) Travel at a leisurely pace.
Take rest times between excursions for good health maintenance.
4) Follow the sun.
Let spring precede us in countries that have bone chilling winters.
5) Find ways to have our own breathing space. Solitude needs must be respected so our unaccustomed togetherness 24/7 does not end in divorce court.
After trekking that year through Australia, China, Tibet, Nepal, India, Italy, Austria, Hungary, Slovakia, Germany, Switzerland, Portugal and France, we came back changed forever. In the vagaries of travel, anonymity washed away how others knew us (work and personal accomplishments), leaving us to continually redefine “who we were” in relation to each culture experienced.
Travel is said to be the perfect transitional setting, to let go of old patterns, and to see more clearly where to channel energies during the next segment of life. For us this has come to mean roaming the planet; milling about ancient ruins, joining in local festivals, having tea with villagers, floating down famous rivers, and climbing mountains for breathtaking views. It means living our credence to “trek the globe with gentle footsteps” – to leave behind a favourable impression wherever we go by being ecologically responsible and by adhering to acceptable dress codes and demeanour of a particular culture. It means having the foreignness of a culture fade as we slowly learn to see issues through the eyes of others.
Now, five years and 49 countries later, when in one place for too long, our feet itch to find new paths (whether by air, water or land). Our condo in B.C. is a launching pad for our next journey – to wherever our whim takes us for eight or more months of each year. We still chuckle at our transition from days of yore when “roughing it” meant “No Room Service”; to the present, when the only stars we see are in the sky (not hotel ratings). Some would say this is regression, but for us the sheer fun and adventure of free-spirited travel more than outweigh the challenges.
So, if by chance you hear two mediocre voices ritualistically bellowing Willie Nelson’s, “On the road again, going places that I’ve never been, seeing things that I may never see again...” - it may be Rick and I, on the move.
After trekking that year through Australia, China, Tibet, Nepal, India, Italy, Austria, Hungary, Slovakia, Germany, Switzerland, Portugal and France, we came back changed forever. In the vagaries of travel, anonymity washed away how others knew us (work and personal accomplishments), leaving us to continually redefine “who we were” in relation to each culture experienced.Travel is said to be the perfect transitional setting, to let go of old patterns, and to see more clearly where to channel energies during the next segment of life. For us this has come to mean roaming the planet; milling about ancient ruins, joining in local festivals, having tea with villagers, floating down famous rivers, and climbing mountains for breathtaking views. It means living our credence to “trek the globe with gentle footsteps” – to leave behind a favourable impression wherever we go by being ecologically responsible and by adhering to acceptable dress codes and demeanour of a particular culture. It means having the foreignness of a culture fade as we slowly learn to see issues through the eyes of others.
Now, five years and 49 countries later, when in one place for too long, our feet itch to find new paths (whether by air, water or land). Our condo in B.C. is a launching pad for our next journey – to wherever our whim takes us for eight or more months of each year. We still chuckle at our transition from days of yore when “roughing it” meant “No Room Service”; to the present, when the only stars we see are in the sky (not hotel ratings). Some would say this is regression, but for us the sheer fun and adventure of free-spirited travel more than outweigh the challenges.
So, if by chance you hear two mediocre voices ritualistically bellowing Willie Nelson’s, “On the road again, going places that I’ve never been, seeing things that I may never see again...” - it may be Rick and I, on the move.
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