A Year Off

by Alexandra Brown

  “Oh, lovely,” Nell said, beaming. “Sing us a song, then.”

  I desperately grasped for some song I both knew by heart and could comfortably sing a capella in front of a small group, but my mind betrayed me by going blank. Somewhere from behind the cobwebs emerged a tune that had been my fallback at every single audition I had done over the years, and without thinking further, I began belting out “Part of Your World” from Disney’s The Little Mermaid with as much heart and gusto as I could muster. When I finished, I looked over at David, who was trying to keep from laughing. I glanced about the room at the perplexed expressions of his family members, who had been trying to follow the lyrics, as most Irish songs tell quite the story. My mermaid tale had clearly not moved them.

  “Well,” Nell said. “You have a lovely voice.”

  David was next in line, and he dove headlong into an energetic performance of Bob Dylan’s “You’re No Good,” practically yelling the lyrics at his now completely shocked cousins. Our musical choices had definitely deviated from the norm. When David strummed the last note, Nell let out a gasp and said, “Well, now, that was quite spirited!” I think they had had enough because there was no request for seconds, and it wasn’t long before Nell suggested we head into town to get to the pubs in time to grab a drink and a seat before the (real) music started.

  Nell and Jim lived a short ten-minute drive outside the main town, although for me it was a harrowing stretch. Driving in Ireland is like an extreme sport. The roads are beyond narrow and lined with stone walls that are sheathed in lush bushels of grass in the summer months. To my innocent and untrained eye, the roads all appeared to be one lane, but David had experience driving in Ireland from a family trip years earlier, so he was in on the secret that these roads accommodated two-lane traffic, including the not-so-occasional tour bus. Some deeply seated force of heritage took over David’s body and soul in Ireland, from his ability to drink Guinness and whiskey like the best of them to his astonishing capabilities at maneuvering these death-defying roads. On our drive into town that night, I alternated between covering my eyes, gripping the door handle, and flat-out screaming as David shot through the windy lanes, grass brushing the sides of our car and warning of the stony collision just beyond its outer reaches.

  Despite all my fears and doubts, we made it to town in one piece and found a parking spot not far from the main drag. The first pub we came across had such a friendly and welcoming vibe that we couldn’t resist going in. Several musicians were warming up in the corner, and the bar was comfortably crowded. A jovial energy filled the air, and we drank it in as eagerly as we did the beverages the bartender set down before us. Soon after first arriving in Ireland, I discovered that casual bar conversation, or “having a crack,” was a favorite pastime, so I wasn’t surprised when the gentleman next to David dove in for a chat. The man was a musician who had grown up in Milltown Malbay and was in town for the festival. His eclectic style brought to mind images of Bono and Keith Richards, and he played in a rock band heavily inspired by Tom Waits, Leonard Cohen, and Nick Cave. Once their musical compatibility had been established, he and David became instant friends, and as they talked, the man’s face suddenly lit up.

  “Wait!” he exclaimed. “You’re the Gleasons’ cousins! The American cousins!”

  “How did you know that?” David asked, bemused.

  “Everyone in town knows that!” the man laughed.

  Soon we were being introduced as the Gleasons’ American cousins to a whole host of people at the bar, and as the night went on, we had made friends with almost everyone in the pub—faces we would continue to see throughout the next two evenings at performances across the town. We were so far away from home, but because we were family, we were in, welcomed into the fold and treated like long-lost friends. We spent the night chatting and drinking, surrounded by the loving embrace of the lively sounds of the Irish tunes being played around us. As the hours went on, we eventually reached the point in the night when the owner of the pub “locks” everyone in. The door is closed and bolted so no one else can get in from outside. It signifies last call, which in Ireland means you order as many beers as possible that can fit on any available flat surface as well as the start of some of the best music you’ll hear in a night. As we all settled in with our final drinks, a middle-aged woman sitting at our table stood up, and a hush descended upon the room. Without any introduction or to-do, she began to sing a hauntingly beautiful and heart-achingly tragic Irish song. Tears stung at the backs of my eyes, and it was as if the entire room held its breath while she sang. When she finished, a resounding applause broke the respectful silence. She smiled and made a joke before taking her seat again and opening the floor up to the next willing party. The night went on in this fashion, a show-and-tell of musical abilities similar to what we had experienced back at Nell and Jim’s home after dinner but at a much grander scale. If this is being Irish, I thought, count me in.

  REACHING OUT TO YOUR NETWORK

  Staying with a local brings so many benefits to your travel experience, but asking someone if you can stay with him or her, even a good friend with whom you have regular contact, can be a delicate dance. Having houseguests, no matter how fun, is still work for the host, so it’s helpful to approach the request appreciatively and with flexibility. We found the following tips to be useful throughout our travels with a range of different hosts, from long-lost friends and former classmates to new acquaintances and distant relatives.

  Tip 1: Put the ball in their court. When reaching out to potential hosts, start the conversation by letting them know you’ll be coming through their part of the world. If they are up for hosting you, they will usually suggest it without your having to ask, and if they aren’t up for it, you’ll be able to avoid an awkward moment. In our experience, we never had to ask to stay with any of the people we connected with, no matter how well or little we knew them. Most everyone we approached extended an invitation, and we were delighted to accept.

  Tip 2: Know your limits. More often than not, the depth with which you know someone will determine how long you’re able to stay with him or her, although sometimes there are exceptions to this rule. In general, though, the better you know someone, the longer you can stay with him or her. Similarly to the initial invitation to stay, we often left the length of the stay in the hands of the host, but in cases where we asked about a specific amount of time, we would suggest the dates with a very strong caveat that if they didn’t work for the host, we were more than fine.

  Tip 3: Always have a gift. It’s incredibly generous of people to host you, so always make sure to have something you can give them in thanks. Gifts can range from the material to the experiential. While traveling in Southeast Asia and India, we picked up a few lightweight handcrafted items at markets and brought these with us as fun gifts from our travels to give to future hosts. The most common gift we gave, though, was a home-cooked meal. Even if you’re on a budget and traveling with a small bag, you can go out and get some fresh ingredients and a good bottle of wine, depending on where you are. We would always ask our hosts first, since this gift involved using their kitchens, but people were excited to be cooked for. We got really good at making roast chicken, and this became a classic for us as we traveled from place to place. This gift was a nice way to show our appreciation while also being able to have one last shared experience together during our visit.

  KEEPING AN OPEN MIND

  It sounds so simple, but keeping an open mind about who you meet on the road can really unlock some of the most incredible moments. Throughout your journey, you’ll encounter people from all walks of life and of different ages and stages, and it’s remarkable what can happen when you put aside any preconceived notions or assumptions in your interactions. One evening in Tours, France, we stumbled upon an Indian restaurant. Intrigued and perhaps a bit nostalgic, we decided to see what a French take on Indian cuisine would be. We ended up sitting next to an adorable older couple and struck up a convers
ation with them. Our talk soon turned to India. They had a trip coming up, and the memory of ours was still fresh in our minds. As our respective meals drew to a close, the woman invited us to come see her when we were in Nice, her hometown, in a few weeks’ time. We took her up on her offer and ended up having one of the most memorable days of the trip. It turned out she was a professional tour guide, and she took us on a private tour of the famous artist Jean Cocteau’s home, then brought us back to her flat for a delicious home-cooked meal. On the surface, we were so different from this woman and where she was in life, but the connection that unfolded couldn’t have been more effortless. This is all part of the magic of meeting new people while on the road.

  THE PEOPLE YOU’LL SEE

  As you may expect, travel is an amazing opportunity to visit family, reconnect with old friends, and get to know friends of friends. People we had not seen since college, or who were loose connections to people we knew at home, opened their doors to us, providing us with not only places to stay but also enthusiastic tours of their cities. We were aided by dozens of people with links to back home, and folks we had not considered as connections before leaving became gracious hosts and good friends.

  Another remarkable surprise was how close we became to a handful of other travelers. We had always expected to meet people and make new friends, but we didn’t understand how enduring those new friendships would be. The combination of abundant time, incredible shared experiences, and similar perspectives on life set up a very good formula for building amazing bonds. In the travel environment, relationships often get deeper faster, and it is far from uncommon to end up traveling with new people you meet in multiple destinations. Before leaving we would never have expected to make sustaining relationships on the road. But now we have several friends we met while traveling that we keep in regular contact with. We have even vacationed with a few, and many came to our wedding after we got back home.

  Meals That Last a Lifetime

  Tours, France

  DAVID

  47.3941° N, 0.6848° E

  There are meals that last a lifetime.

  For ten years I had been anticipating visiting my great friend Kevin in Tours, France. I had shared a flat with him and other students for six months while living in Cape Town, South Africa. I deeply cherish the memories we made then. They constantly remind me that life is for the living, to take some risks, listen to your gut, and not fear going big.

  Kevin, our friend Aaron, and I were a team, and we lived like we would never live again. We drove an old original Mini bought from a pawnshop that overheated most every time we took it out. It had terrible brakes that often made us scream in terror as we barreled uncontrollably down the hillsides of Cape Town. The term “emergency brake” still holds special meaning as I recall pulling that thing with all the strength my wiry arms could muster in order to slow the old car down. But functioning brakes or not, we drove like hell all over that city, country, and even a few neighboring nations. When I think back, some integral part of me remains connected to the rich and exuberant energy that thrives within this special part of Africa and the joyful times Kevin and Aaron and I had there. It was the best life I had ever known.

  Since the moment I waved goodbye to Kevin before boarding the plane to the moment he picked us up from the train in Tours a decade later, we did not speak a word to each other. Maybe it was that I spoke no French and Kevin’s English was less than stellar, or maybe it was because we were dudes. Yet when we saw each other again, there were no apologies for our lack of communication, and we instantaneously picked up where we left off. It seemed to me that we had an understanding that we were both fulfilling our promises to each other: mine that I would someday make it out to France and his that he would show me his family’s pride and joy—their restaurant.

  Making my way with Alexandra to the family’s restaurant, La Roche Le Roy, filled me with a sense of satisfaction far beyond any expectation. The feeling surpassed some of my greatest moments of personal achievement. Walking under the limestone archway leading to the dimly lit entrance, I could barely keep up. I was quietly overwhelmed. I was reunited with a true friend, and there was a palpable feeling of pride between us. Upon arrival, Kevin left no doubt about his anticipation and happiness to see us. He gave us his car and moved himself, his pregnant wife, and their three-year-old son to his in-laws’ house in order to give us his apartment stocked with the loveliest rosé. And now, he was giving us the very long-awaited meal he had promised so many years ago.

  We were warmly greeted by his mother, who ran the front of house, and seated outside at an elegant patio with red tablecloths, wooden chairs with velvet cushions, and calming lighting. The temperature was cool and comfortable on that July evening. Alexandra and I both felt like highly honored guests, and at the same time, part of the family that had created this beautiful restaurant. You could see and feel the hard work and dedication Kevin’s family had poured into every single detail, earning a much-deserved Michelin star for twenty-six consecutive years. Kevin explained that the building was once a royal hunting lodge. It looked to us more like a small castle with its spiraling towers of silvery limestone, sumptuous rooms, massive fireplace, and great sense of old-world riches. He also explained that it was good that we came when we did, because they were soon going to sell.

  Everything was waiting for us, even gluten-free bread the bakers had perfected especially for Alexandra. I will never forget the deep sense of blissful arrival I had while eating each phenomenal course and drinking the wine pairings. We started the meal with Champagne, and each delicious dish effortlessly flowed into the next: chilled tomato soup introduced a bouquet of asparagus topped with bacon and a soft-boiled egg. Although the menu was set, we were asked to choose a main course. Kevin and I went with the more adventurous option: a classic French dish of sweetbreads and morels cooked in a pastry crust, while Alexandra had a filet of fish with crispy skin, topped with chanterelles and little nuggets of pancetta. The meal was impeccable. It expressed the rich simplicity of the French countryside and the refined elegance of something well practiced. The experience may never be topped; I was reunited with a friend as well as with some of my fondest memories, over a perfect meal that was promised to me during a time that began to feel like an abandoned dream.

  As with all dreams, it is hard to convey the import of this one, but the night will stand as a marker in my life: a reminder to live big, trust in my gut, invest in good people, and never let fear get in the way of life.

  SECTION III

  COMING BACK HOME

  Chapter 8

  Preparing to Make a Soft Landing

  The last few weeks of your trip are a unique time. At this point, the nomadic day-to-day existence that might have seemed foreign and unfamiliar months ago has become the new normal, and traveling is a second-nature way of experiencing the world. For us, each day felt full and engaging, but our return flights to the States loomed bigger and bigger on the horizon.

  It is difficult to determine how you may feel about coming home. Some people we met on the road were looking forward to getting back to friends, family, and life back home, while others found ways to extend the magical life of travel. If you choose to lengthen your trip, it does not mean that your life goes on pause. One friend, for example, spent three years making his way back home, but when he finally did land on native soil, he brought with him a world of experience and a traveling companion who later became his wife. Take a moment during these last few months to evaluate if your return plan is still what is best for you. At the time, we felt our budget would not have allowed for more time traveling, but looking back we could have figured something out. If travel is still what you want, there are lots of ways to make it work.

  Choosing to go home brings with it a suite of potential feelings, just as departing does. It is important to listen to what you feel during this time, as very often these feelings can provide great insight on your life and future choices. In this chapter, we touc
h on what it felt like for us to know home was not too far away, and some of the issues that cropped up as a result.

  TO RE-ENGAGE OR NOT TO RE-ENGAGE

  Alexandra

  When we left on the trip, David and I made a commitment not to engage with work until we got back. For most of the trip, we stood by this decision. Work could wait until we got back, and we had the additional cushion of the savings we had set aside for our return. But when we had about three months left in the trip, I became tempted by a few emails from old employers and recruiters inquiring about my availability upon return. Not realizing how much it would affect me, I thought it would be wise to pursue a couple options in preparation for our return. This was a terrible mistake. Without my realizing it, my focus began to shift, and I quickly disengaged from the trip. Although I was completely unaware of it in the moment, thinking about home and work made me want to pull off the Band-Aid of going back home and dive right in. Rather than thinking about the incredible places we were in and engaging with David and the people we were meeting, I mentally flew away, stressing about returning to my career and preparing for potential interviews I would take from the road. Before I knew it, I had a Skype interview set up, and David and I were no longer emotionally traveling together.

  I eventually came to my senses and returned from this hiatus, but it took over a month and is my single biggest regret of our trip. I spoke to other travelers our age, and many of them went through similar experiences, especially if they didn’t have a job lined up for when they got home. Although you may be able to remain engaged in your trip while re-engaging with work back home, if you choose to do so, I encourage you to consider the risks.