Freedom

by Jaycee Dugard

  * * *

  So, do you remember that time you went somewhere to see a concert and then discovered when you are already there that said concert had been canceled? What do you do? Well, this happened. But, hey, I was in Ireland with amazing friends, and guess what we did. Made the most of it, that’s what!

  I had always wanted to travel to Ireland. I am an avid reader and love tales of magic and leprechauns and dreamy castles. I wanted to see it all. I needed to share this adventure and asked many friends and family if they would go. Unfortunately, not all could, but the ones who did were my oldest daughter, my aunt Tina, best friend Jessie, and our friend Kassel. Luckily, Rebecca was already planning to go, and she was taking her daughter, Chelsea, and son, Chris. We all planned to split the cost of a house for all of us to stay in together.

  This would herald my first time traveling to another country, and so my very first passport stamp is Ireland!

  You can see only so much of a whole country in a week. We let my aunt Tina be our event planner. She is the ultimate tourist. On the trip we took to New York, she taught us to walk across streets like the natives. Her motto: “Don’t hesitate!” She’s the best travel buddy to take trips with. When we were in Washington for the Hope Awards, she planned a Segway tour. Watching the video they make you watch is so unnerving and does not inspire confidence when you then have to go out and actually get on these contraptions after seeing all the things that can befall you on one! The group was scared, but Tina’s enthusiasm infected us all, and we gave it a shot. Funniest thing ever! It’s kind of like riding a horse. You need to bend your knees, and finding my balance was the key for me. My mom and Jane took to it like ducks to water. You would have thought they had been riding around on these things for years! Once we became more confident, we Segwayed around all the monuments.

  In Dublin we rented a cute three-story house near Phoenix Park. It was right by a zoo and right down the street from the longest pub in Ireland called the Hole in the Wall. We toured local pubs, and I had my first Guinness. It was strong. I ended up liking the lighter beers.

  On a trip out to see the Cliffs of Moher we had a very interesting bus driver. The Cliffs of Moher are on the southwestern edge of Ireland, so the ride was going to be an all-day adventure complete with lunch in a little town. We were all very excited. Our driver entertained us with stories of the towns we went through and the historical buildings along the way. I sat straight up in my seat. I didn’t want to miss anything out the window. The day was beautiful and no rain in sight, which was unusual, we were told. The clouds look different in Ireland. They are bigger, fluffier, and whiter. His stories had a strange way of never ending and at the same time making little sense, and as the day wore on, I think we figured out why. The “street,” if it could be called a street, was so narrow our bus was brushing things on either side, and when a car wanted to pass, we had to pull way over. When it was time to park at the Burren, it proved to be quite difficult for our driver to maneuver us around some of the rocks, and so he ended up scraping us by a big boulder and then backing us in a spot that only he knows why he chose. The Burren is a magical landscape that looks like you are on the surface of the moon. I could have sat there for hours, but all too quickly it was time to get back on.

  We arrived at the Cliffs of Moher and explored the touristy spot. It was nice to stretch my legs and walk around a bit after being on the bus for so long. The cliffs are high above the ocean, and at places you can look down and see waves crashing below. I didn’t get too close, though. I took a picture of a bee in a flower overlooking the cliff. Me and Jessie climbed to the top of the watchtower and pretended we were watching out for wayward ships. Tina and Kassel took pictures from down below, and when we joined the group again, the wind had picked up. Not just an ordinary wind; no, this wind was strong. If we had wings, it could have easily picked us up and carried us up and away, it was so strong. We put our arms and jackets out and leaned into the wind. My hair was blown completely back and the wind was literally holding me up, and if I turned my back to it, it pushed me. It was so cold, too. What a spectacular sight to see.

  We stopped for lunch in a quaint little fishing village and much to my surprise, there was the cutest little bookstore complete with sign that read The Old Book Shop! This was my favorite moment in Ireland. I love old books. I hurried inside and rummaged through them all until I found one that looked like an old Irish fairy tale book. Before I left, I took one more look around and found a treasure. I randomly pulled out a book to inspect it and on the inside cover were handwritten musical notes! Wow, I wonder what this tune is and who wrote it. I bought that one, too, from the man napping in the corner and left the store feeling very happy. At the pub where we had lunch, my friend’s son Chris sat drinking Guinness while reading James Joyce at the bar. A perfect sight. There is a code of honor there that I had not encountered before, living in America. After we ate, I learned that to pay you just had to go up to the bar and tell them what you ate, then they would tell you how much.

  On the ride back to Dublin, our driver had to stop four times to use the bathroom. When he asked the bus for the fifth time if anyone needed to go, we all shouted no. We were all tired and just wanted to get back. We had left Dublin around eight that morning, and it was already approaching eight thirty at night. As we found ourselves once again pulling into a gas station, we were all a little irritated at the driver but forgave him because maybe he had a bladder problem. He started in on one of his stories that went nowhere again. His driving was a little more erratic at this point, and we had some narrow misses with some mailboxes. As we got on the only highway that Ireland had, we all sighed with relief because our journey with the driver was almost over. He interrupts himself midway through a story to ask once again if anyone needs to go to the bathroom. Again we all say no. After a few more minutes, we hear him loudly announce that he is sorry, folks, but his “kidney problems” are acting up, and he swerves over to the side of the highway and pees on the side of the road! I was laughing; some in the bus, however, were not. I couldn’t blame them; it was strange. I wondered whether our driver had a wee bit of something in the front with him. I was so glad when we made it back in one piece. As we disembarked, he slurred, “Now, if you enjoyed this tour, please go to Trip Advisor and give me a good rating, will ya?” Um, no, probably not going to happen. I will always remember him and his “botatoe famin” stories and how he would say “however” every other sentence he said. He kept us very entertained for the whole trip.

  I experienced so much on my trip to Ireland. I went bar hopping with Jessie, and we ended up talking to some local fishermen who were waiting for their wives to pick them up. They were good-natured but had very strong accents that, combined with all the pints they had obviously drunk, made them very hard to understand. They told us amazing stories and bought us a round of Guinness. I wasn’t surprised when the bartender looked at me and said, “I’m going to assume you’re of age.” Yes, numb nuts, I’m over thirty! Gosh, will I ever look my age? I’m always told it’s a good thing to look so young, but it’s annoying at times. It was especially annoying in Ireland because the legal drinking age is eighteen. We listened to the Irish folk band playing, and I asked Jessie which one she thought was cutest. She said the guy on the right, and I laughed. She didn’t have her glasses on, or I’m sure she would have picked the one on the left!

  The eight-hour time difference was hard to get used to, but there so much to do and see even without the concert. The locals were divided in their opinions on the concert being canceled. It was a big deal, and I bet Garth felt bad about having to cancel. That didn’t stop us. What I wanted to see most was a castle. I ended up seeing a lot but only touring two. Malahide Castle was home to the Talbot family and dates back all the way to the twelfth century. Walking the halls, I felt what it must have been like to live in such an enormous structure. The living quarters were always upstairs because they were warmer. There is a beautiful tree you can see from almos
t every window of the castle. It is called a cedar of Lebanon and thought to be more than four hundred years old. I can imagine the countless kids that have played in its branches. I know I would have liked to.

  The next castle was the Dublin Castle. This one was more modern or had been updated a lot more throughout the years. It was also really big. We did get to go underground and tour the oldest parts that still remained, so that was really cool. Kassel gave me a penny to make a wish on. I threw it into the old well. Malahide Castle was much more of what I thought of as a castle. Dublin was too modern for me.

  Another fun memory was taking a horseback ride through the country with a guide. I had visions of riding a tall, leggy Irish warm blood, but in reality they gave me an Irish draft and gave my friend Jessie the leggy, elegant horse! Hey, the Irish draft and I do have a bit in common though; we are both tough and sturdy and very reliable. Plus, Jessie got a nip from her horse, so clearly I got the good one. We left from a historic monastery site. We saw Connemara ponies on the side of a lush green hill nibbling grass. Miles and miles of ferns grew in the forest we traveled through. Going on a gallop through the forest was so much fun, and my horse felt very safe. Our guide told us that the only predators were small foxes, but the mosquito population in some spots literally tried to eat us alive.

  The scariest moment on the trip was when Tina got lost. We had split up to do some shopping and planned to meet back at a shop we all knew. It was the only day it decided to rain while we were there. It rained buckets on us. At the appointed hour, we all met up except no Tina! We waited for hours on that corner. It was so scary. I was really getting worried. Only one of us had a cell phone, and it wasn’t Tina, so we couldn’t call her. I thought something terrible had happened to her. Where was she? We decided two of us would take a cab back to the house and then call if Tina was there. We hoped she remembered the address to the house. I decided to stay, and I kept the cell phone with me. It was hard waiting and not knowing what to do. I was getting just a small taste of what my mom went through when I was missing all those years. Finally, the phone rang. I sighed a big sigh of relief when I heard Tina’s voice on the phone saying she was okay and that when she couldn’t find the street to meet at, she took a taxi back to the house. I was just happy she remembered the house address. I don’t know what I would have done in the same situation.

  On the way back, I experienced my first twelve-hour plane ride. It was one of the hardest things for me to do, but I managed to sleep most of the way back. When I wasn’t sleeping, I was watching whatever movie they had on, which helped the time pass more quickly. It was still a very long time to be in a closed-in space. In the future, I would try to avoid long flights. It’s a really great exercise if you are trying to improve your patience, though.

  I will always remember so much about this trip and the amazing, nice people we met. I hope to return to Ireland one day and do an all-out horse trip!

  Segways in Washington.

  Blown away on the Cliffs of Moher.

  Me and Jessie getting blown away on the Cliffs of Moher.

  The Old Book Shop in Ireland.

  Me and Jessie sharing a pint in an Ireland pub.

  Me and Aunt Tina in front of a castle in Ireland.

  Horseback ride in Ireland.

  Most Frustrating Moment

  * * *

  I take driving as a very serious privilege, not a right. So my first speeding ticket came quite by surprise. I was late for a board meeting, and isn’t “late” when all your common sense goes out the window? I was so focused on getting to where I needed to be, I wasn’t really paying attention to things like speed limits.

  I had been through that particular stretch of town countless times and knew it went from 55 to 45 in the blink of an eye. That fact did not slow me down, and I heard a siren behind me. Still oblivious of my blunder, I thought the police officer only wished to pass me. To say I was surprised when he proceeded to follow me to the side of the road would have been an understatement.

  Armpits filled with sweat in 0 point 2 seconds! I turned off the car and rolled down my driver’s side window. I had to remind myself of what I had seen when people got pulled over on TV. Always the officer would say, License and registration, please. So over and over in my head was that phrase: license and registration, license and registration. As I rummaged around trying to find what I needed, I thought, Oh my, who put all this crap in my glove compartment? Why can’t I be more organized? It’s funny the weird things that you think about when you’re nervous. Finally, I found the documents and pulled out my license from my wallet. I sat patiently waiting for the officer that pulled me over.

  I go over what I want to say, but I’m so nervous and afraid, I worry that nothing will come out right and he will think I’m insane or drunk or an idiot! I had fully expected him to be at my driver’s door window, so when he did the safe thing (duh!) and came to talk to me from the passenger window, I jumped a mile in my seat and hit my head on the ceiling. He tapped on the window and I rolled it down. “Hello, ma’am, do you know how fast you were going?” he asks. I think to myself, Um, yep, way too fast apparently because I’m being pulled over.

  To save myself from some embarrassing speech, I simply confess, yes, and I’m sorry. I really was sorry, sorrier for not thinking about this particular stretch of highway and being more present, but sorry nonetheless and just wanting this moment to be played in fast-forward mode. He says the famous line, “License and registration, ma’am,” and I hand him the documents. I ask lamely if I have given him the right ones. He answers yes and then asks if I live here and I answer yes. He says then I need to get my address changed to my current one. I answer with a smile and say I like my privacy and I have had trouble with the media in the past so I don’t want to get it changed for those reasons. I told him the chief of police knows me and approved. I admit I name-dropped the chief’s name hoping by some miracle that this cop would say, Oh, you know the chief. I will just let you off with a warning. I had seen that happen before on TV. Real life is not TV, and of course that didn’t happen. Instead, I hear him under his breath say, Yeah, lady, we all like our privacy. He looked at me like I was crazy, and I realized in that moment he had absolutely no idea who I was. Even looking at my license it had not registered. With such a unique name, I always feel like one gander and it’s over, but apparently not with this guy. No, he just thinks I’m some lady who’s really into herself and wants her “privacy” for some odd reason, which meant nothing to him.

  He was just doing his job. He looked at me one more time, and as I flubbed around for what to say next, he walked back to his car. I’m not sure if he ever made the connection to my story, but he came back with my ticket for sure and told me to drive the speed limit from now on. Pulling away before him was so hard. I felt like everything I did was being scrutinized. Of course, he was probably on to his next thing, but I made sure I put on my blinker as I pulled out onto the highway and stayed at the exact speed limit all the way to the board meeting.

  My excuse for being late was my first speeding ticket, and laughs and condolences were given and exchanged. It felt good to hear about their first speeding tickets, too, and I didn’t feel like I had made a big mistake after that. I was just another human being in the world and allowed to make mistakes, too.

  Journey to a New Land

  * * *

  When the opportunity to go to a place called Monkey River in Belize came up, I couldn’t pass it up. It sounded so exotic and beautiful. A place with monkeys and beaches! Sign me up!

  I learned about this trip from Rebecca. She and her husband, Chef Charles, were already planning to go, along with their daughter, Chelsea. Rebecca had known the organizer of the trip, Ted, from way back. Growing up, she had spent many summers with her family on an island off the coast of Maine called Isle au Haut. Ted was the local minister of the community and family friend. Although Ted had taken many volunteers to his adoptive town of Monkey River, this would be the first
time she and her family came along.

  When I learned more about the trip, I realized it wouldn’t be a total vacation. From Ted I learned that Monkey River and its inhabitants were devastated by Hurricane Iris in 2001. Ted, a longtime fisherman, started the Monkey River Project to help rebuild this isolated community and also help educate fishermen about sustainable fishing practices. He organizes volunteers to go on these trips periodically throughout the year.

  The thought of totally immersing myself in a culture was new to me, and the opportunity to help out was also appealing. I wanted to challenge myself. I had never been to a third world country before. This seemed like a really good opportunity.

  I told some of my friends about the trip, but most couldn’t get away from their busy lives. One friend though, Kassel, that I had met at Jessie’s wedding in 2012, didn’t want to miss out on this adventure.

  Before making the final decision to go on this trip, it was important that I knew whether it would involve any religious preaching. I had had just about enough of preaching after years in the backyard with Phillip. I have true respect for people and their religious beliefs as long as they keep them to themselves or only share with those who ask. I learned that the trip would be nondenominational and nonreligious.

  Although there would be some really fun and exciting aspects to this adventure, I also knew there would be manual labor involved. At first I thought Ted was looking for people with special skills. I’ve never really thought of myself as having any special talents, and I wasn’t sure what I could contribute. I always wanted a special talent when I was little, a really cool one like being able to dance or blow bubbles out my nose! Despite my apparent lack of talent, I still wanted to go. I don’t mind hard work, and I can hammer a nail. Plus, I couldn’t pass up the chance to snorkel and see Mayan pyramids.