Question #2

When I sat down at the coffee shop and nibbled on an overly sweet coconut bun, I was focused solely on completing my writing. I have a not-quite-complete speculative fiction novel waiting for my attention, three other novel ideas that need outlining, a travel book in-process, and a neglected blog.

I planned (as much as I plan any part of travel I do alone) this trip around the world with three focuses: to eat...a lot, to restore myself after almost seven years of working in violence prevention, and to write. I’ve paid the requisite attention to the first two goals and precious little to the last. Intermittent blogging isn’t sufficient. I want something robust and complete. I'm tired of telling people I’ve “almost” finished a book, I want to be definitive- I've finished.

Travel in Europe has never interested me in the same way other places in the world have. There are foods I want to eat all of the things in Italy and Spain, try out the cuisine in Croatia and Montenegro, but the ruins of Greece didn’t awe me the way Egypt’s did, the cities of Portugal don’t mesmerize me the way Vietnam’s did.

The Asia half of my travel helped me focus on goals one and two for this trip, hot baths and massages, good tours and night markets; maybe Europe will help me to focus on goal three. Europe inspires me to sit still, gaze at beautiful water and varied people while nibbling on food as I type furiously.

And type I did, Rodrigo y Gabriela played lyriclessly in my ears, drowning out the bits of conversation and traffic sounds that both floated and roared by. I looked up and smiled when a woman asked permission to sit at the seat catty-corner to me and again when she left. So when a 70ish year old man did the same, I offered him the same smile and nod. And then I continued typing.

He munched on his toast, eating first around the crusts before devouring those as well. When the busboy came by and seemed to be fussing at me (he was speaking in Portuguese and I wasn’t following any of what he was saying) the older man across from me mimicked him affectionately as the busboy walked back into the restaurant, and then shook his head and smiled in my direction. A nonverbal “don’t worry about it.”

I bent my head back to my computer, music still playing in my ears, and the second question in Tim Ferris’s Five Minute Journal exercise made me pull out one of my earbuds. That morning’s answer to the question, “what would make today great?”, rung in my ears: a meaningful connection.

I took out the second earbud and leaned over to the gentleman across from me and asked if he spoke English. He did. I asked him about his day.

We chatted for a while. Me, mostly listening, straining to hear him through his Austrian accent and over the rush-hour traffic circling the roundabout behind us. He had a stroke recently and fired his doctor because the doctor told him he’d never walk again (he walks to physical therapy every day). He played hockey for eight years, married a model. His wife died six years ago; doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong and one day she told him, “hold me, I’m ready to go,” and she went.

He’d been in Portugal for more than 30 years, I’ve been here a week. We sat opposite each other and for a short moment we were connected.

Cool breeze floating in, I thanked him and I walked away, reminded that we all carry volumes; whole stories of love and loss and laughter. With earbuds in and averted gazes those stories are easy to miss.

Later, having scrounged around for dinner, I settled into my seat at the table of my hostel. A man walked over searching out a mug or glass to prepare his vervain tea. The usual traveler pleasantries exchanged, we somehow settled into conversation.

Trump led to Brexit led to Algeria. We talked about travel and family and heartbreak. We exchanged Whats App information and in the morning we chatted about our plans, we sat quietly beside each other, tending to our own worlds but still connected. And when it was time for me to leave, he offered to walk me. And he did, accompanying me all the way to the bus station, a walk and train ride away.

I’ve often thought about what could have made my day better (question five in the Five Minute Journal). I’ve lamented “if only” to some event. But I've never really expressed a specific idea about how to make my day the best. I've “hoped” or “dreamed” but the thinking there is more magical less within my control. But starting my day mindfully. Starting my day with an idea of what I want from it in specific terms – not “i want to be happy” but “what could I do that would make me happy” has adjusted my thinking.

What would make your day great today?