July 1st we travelled. The early rise came so soon. I tried to sleep until 4:30, but the thought of the travel day pushed open my lids and kept them open. It was a day filled with planes, trains, and automobiles. Although I wanted to, I never got to say "You're messing with the wrong guy" or "You're f***d." We slung (hoisted slowly) our 45 pound backpacks over our shoulders, dropped them into the trunk of a taxi, moved them to the seat of an express bus from Tacoma to Sea-Tac airport, checked them in, slung (even more slowly hoisted) them over our shoulders at baggage claim in Barcelona, dropped them down in front of us on the train to Passeig De Gracia, threw (achily carried) them for seven long blocks to our new apartment, and finally set them down. It was a long travel day for our packs, but they did just fine.
The most notable part of the catalyst to our trip had to be the disconnect. By disconnect, I specifically mean the shutting down of the Blackberries for a month. The moment we shut them down in Toronto was the last moment they would be used for 30 days. This may not seem so interesting to some, but to Mary and I, it was unbelievably freeing. No texts. No emails, Facebook updates, or Twitter feeds sent immediately to our phones. No telemarketing phone calls. A disconnect. It felt good. It feels good. My pockets are lighter and I'm not checking the damned thing every minute. It took years for me to really use cell phones and texting, but, oh yes, I got sucked into the vortex of constant connectivity. Not now. Gone. Phew.
At one point on the train ride into town, I thought I felt my pocket vibrate. I instantly dropped my hand down to check a text. But it was just a jolt of the fast train that rumbled down the Spanish rail line.
“I embrace you with all my heart.”
3 years ago
