I walked into the breakfast room of the Malvern Hotel at 8:00am sharp (per the proprietor's orders) and for the second time in as many days, the group of two dozen grade school students on a field trip from Norfolk all stopped their eating and chattering to stare at me as if I were some weird life form--nothing to fear, perhaps, but something unusual to note. I was the only other guest there, and alone at that, which may have made for a phenomenon.It was only after I served myself cocoa crispies and corn flakes from the various vats of cereal and sat down to my tea that they returned uneasily to their meals. They continued to eye me as if I might sprout antennae or pull out a laser gun while they weren’t looking. I was feeling a little unnerved by their scrutiny, myself.
This day with the longest amount of daylight is also my day of longest travel so far--Wight to Dumfries, an eight-stage travel that involves a walk to the Sandown train station, a ride on the rickety-rackitta Wight railway, a ferry crossing, a train to London Waterloo, a subway to London Euston, a train to Carlisle, another to Dumfries, and a walk to my B&B a mile and a half away. Departure time 9:30am. Estimated arrival time 9:00pm. Whew, I'm exhausted already.
Finally heading for Scotland, and feeling happy about it. Spent Portsmouth to London Waterloo gluing paper scraps and memories collected through Lydford into my scrapbook and then napping. The London train to Carlisle is a long one--3.5 hours. The tables are all set with flatware and glasses and paper placemats, so a meal must be coming. Or maybe they're for drawing. Naw, probably not--no crayons provided. First class cabins do have access to electric power, so I've pulled out Perry and its folding keyboard and am writing this at the dining table.
I'm liking the travel life again. Why the heck not do more of it? Before this month away, traveling long term seemed an impossible thought. How could I afford it? How could I live it, working as I go? Why shouldn't I keep going like this, get into apprenticeships and service programs in exchange for lodging and food and learning?
"Have you still got your curly whirlies?"
The comment booms from the seat ahead of me, so unusual that I just have to stop typing. A Englishman in a business suit is talking into his cell phone with the eagerness of a lovesick teenager. I suppress a giggle and try to keep my attention on my writing.
"Haven't had some of them cut off, have you?"
It's no use. My fingers have stopped on the keyboard, and I'm chortling into my water glass to cover a laugh.
"I'll be home soon to see your curly whirlies. Bye-bye, my love."
I just have to take that one down. Now where was I? Ah, right. Work, travel, living. I've needed this time to kick myself out of a groove and into trying and trusting new things. Before, I was a blank, afraid to start, not sure where to start. Now I feel open to all kinds of ways to earn my keep without necessarily earning an income. This is, for me, truly trusting the universe instead of my own figuring out of things...being open to nudges and ideas and leads and just going for what feels right, rather than what rationalizes as right.
I got into Dumfries to rain and high winds--the first wet weather I've hit in over two weeks. Bundled myself and my pack up in full rain gear and walked through town to cross River Nith as my B&B proprietor had instructed. There I got turned around a bit (yes, even with a map) and asked directions from a white-haired lady toting a plastic bag of groceries and using a hat instead of an umbrella. She got me righted in direction, then asked, "Traveling alone?"I grinned Yes through the downpour and she said, "And a woman. Good for you." Her thumb went up. "One up!" she cried, and waved goodbye across the street.
One up, indeed. I folded my soggy map and grinned through the final blocks to the B&B, tired after a long day of traveling, but feeling less like a weird life form and more like a brave woman of the world.
