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I’ve been in Latvia for two weeks and I’m settling in for ten months of living in the country’s second largest city, Daugavpils, population 82,000.  The city has everything any small city has, restaurants, a university, stores, hospitals, churches, one synagogue, a library, music, theater and an incredible Mark Rothko Museum.  Rothko is the most famous person from Daugavpils. 

Latvia is one of three countries that make up the Baltics, Lithuania and Estonia are the other two.  The Baltics have a rich and painful history.  They were under Russian and Soviet occupation from 1944-1991.  The Second World War and Hitler saw the slaughter of nearly all the Jews living in the Baltics. What was once a thriving Jewish community, 70% of Daugavpils was Jewish, barely shows up in the census.  My grandparents escaped from Lithuania in the early 1900’s when the Baltics were occupied  by the Russians. 

As I walk the streets of my new city, people look familiar to me.  Somehow I blend. I notice that people don’t stare at me and often approach me speaking either Latvian or Russian.  I assume I look familiar to them as well.  The DNA is deep. 

The food is reminiscent of all the food I ate growing up–food that my grandmother made and came to be comfort food for me. Potato pancakes, known to Jews as latkes, are everywhere, on every menu, whether an upscale restaurant or street food.  Everything is served with sour cream.  Borscht, cold beet soup, comes with sour cream and hot potatoes to add to your soup.  There are blintzes, crepe-like, stuffed with cottage cheese or meat, knishes, empanadalike, stuffed with meat or potatoes. No matter what they are called, the taste is the same and the comfort is embedded in the food. 

We spent the weekend in Riga, the capital, and a large cosmopolitan city with lots of Michelin restaurants and everything else a large city has to offer. Most people spoke English and even though I felt very comfortable, I was glad to get back to Daugavpils.  It’s a great walking city and totally flat, as is the entire country.  I found a great Olympic pool to swim in and a place to try my hand at pottery.  I’m teaching a few English classes to people in the community that just want to practice their English. I suspect that Steve and I are among a very small number of expats.  Given that, I can tell that we are already becoming known to the community.

Next week I actually leave my new home to fly to Madrid and meet a Peaks Island friend to walk 200 miles of the Camino from Leon to Santiago.  I’m ready and excited about the challenge.  When I last walked the entire Camino from France to Santiago, 500 miles, I was 68. At 75, I face new challenges.  My knees don’t work as well, I’m not as fast as I was, and my body feels a lot more aches and pains.  With all of that, I am confident and ready to walk and looking forward to  embracing the miracles I know I will encounter along this journey. I don’t know if I will look like anyone or even fit in.  What I do know, is that in a month, I’ll be back to my new home fitting right in.

With love and gratitude,

Marsha

When we started our journey on March 1 the end goal was to walk the Camino Coastal Portuguese.  We walked all over New York, Edinburgh, Paris, Lisbon and Porto.  The day came and we were ready. This, after a stolen passport, and a lost and then found wallet.  We were dressed for the road:  shorts that I had worn on my two previous Caminos, amazed me that they still fit; Hoka sneakers, instead of the heavy hiking boots I wore in the past. I carried a small backpack with very little in it-only my rain gear and some personal items.  I had my walking poles with me, although I started the day without them.  We walked out of Porto along the river until we got to the Atlantic Ocean.  We followed the ocean for the rest of the day.  It was relatively flat, and we couldn’t have dialed up better weather–sunny in the low 70’s with a great sea breeze.  We walked all day meeting people along the way. We stopped for a wonderful lunch of grilled fish cooked outside on an open fire.  As we approached the end of our day, tired and thinking ahead to the meal we would have along with some Portuguese wine, my husband, Steve’s phone rang.  He chose not to answer and we continued on.  It rang again about a half hour later and again he decided to wait until we reached our hotel.  We arrived at the small and lovely B&B, after an 18-mile day, and the owner came out with a very quizzical look on her face.  “Who are you?” she asked.  “We have a reservation here for tonight,” I replied.  She informed us that there was no reservation for us, although she did have our luggage, which was moved from Porto. There was no room.  How could this be, I thought?  She must be mistaken, and I very assertively told her the name of the company that had booked our reservation and our names again, as if a room would magically become available.  There was to be no room and she very kindly called around and found us a room and drove us there with our luggage.  

We settled into our lovely room with a very kind innkeeper and now it was time to deal with those pesky phone calls.  It was Steve’s brother telling us that his 94-year old mother had died.  One day on the Camino. Oh no!!  We certainly weren’t in a large city with access to an airport.  What to do?  Steve knew he had to abandon his Camino and get back to Florida for her funeral.  I, on the other hand, had a different choice to make.  My mother-in-law and I never got along.  That might be putting it mildly.  I was never what she had in mind for her son and had secretly, maybe not so secretly, wished that we would have gotten a divorce in spite of the fact that we will be married 41 years.  I suppose I could write about all the things that transpired over the years, but it’s enough to say there was no love lost between us.  However, I do love my husband, and leaving him to face a family who never approved of his choice of a life partner seemed unfair.  

It was Sunday night and we managed to get a flight out of Madrid on Wednesday. We made arrangements to stay with friends near the funeral site.  I decided not to go to the funeral and having friends who love me was a Godsend. I spent the day of the funeral with my friend, Judy, having a normal day filled with lots of talking about things other than my mother-in-law.  The funeral was Thursday, and Friday morning we hopped into our rental car and headed for the west coast of Florida to spend a few days with my lifelong friends.  It was soothing and reinforcing to know that how one person feels about me has nothing to do with how my dear friends feel.  I bathed myself in their love and we laughed and cried and my soul healed. Thanks, Deb and Cliff.

After several plane rides, Ubers, rental cars, buses and ferries, we made our way back to Peaks Island and the love of so many friends.  We stayed with our dear friend, Jill, for a few days until our tenants moved out of our house. We are home now and I’m back in my Pilates class, going to Portland to food shop and doing all the things we do in our routine life.  

Steve and I vowed to do the Portuguese Coastal Camino again.  We are home on Peaks for the summer and then we will head to Latvia, where Steve has taken a 10-month position with the State Department.  As I ponder what I’ll do for those 10 months, a friend who had planned to do the Camino from Leon to Santiago, Spain, in April had to postpone her trip until late September.  

HUMMM, Is this the sharp right I was waiting for?  Before I knew it, I was signing up to join her on the Camino. Thanks Maureen. Once again I see that if my heart and mind are open, there is always opportunity right around the corner.

When you walk any Camino people say it’s filled with miracles. The catch is that you have to be open to see them. After we walked the Camino Frances from the French side of the Pyrenees to Santiago, Spain we had  experienced so many miracles both big and small that I became a believer that these same kind of miracles appear in our day to day lives. We don’t always see them because we’re often so distracted. When we left March 1 for our two month journey I set a goal for myself that I would be where my feet are, to stay in the moment and enjoy what’s in front of me. The joy of life is only in the moment, not in the past or the future. After three glorious weeks in New York, we flew to Edinburgh to visit our friends Suzanne and Moritz, who are spending a year there while Suzanne gets a master’s degree and Moritz works on a book he is writing. We walked, we talked, we laughed and we ate great food. We got a glimpse into their lives in Edinburgh and we had so much fun. On our last night we said goodbye and agreed to see each other when we are all back on Peaks Island. The next day we were taking the train to Paris. Moritz had an early flight to Maine to take care of some things at home. We arrived at the train station and went to a small coffee shop while we waited for our train. I looked up and there was Suzanne and Moritz. His flight had been canceled until the next day and they decided to go to the countryside. It was so nice to give and get a last hug. What are the chances that we would see them at that exact moment?  Coincidence?  I say not. Miracle? I say yes. Keep your eyes open and miracles will put themselves in front of you. 

Next, we spent six romantic days in the city of love, Paris. We walked everywhere and met up with friends we met when we lived in Budapest, Irna and Mark. We then headed to Lisbon for 5 days. The first three were filled with great food, walking tours and fun, and we were falling in love with the city. Then it happened!  I was pickpocketed, and sadly, I was holding Steve’s wallet in my backpack. That’s what the thieves took.  It wasn’t until the next day that we realized what had happened and we abandoned our plans of enjoying a day in Sintra, a lovely town about an hour away. We quickly moved into problem solving.  We canceled all the credit and debit cards in his wallet.  Luckily, I had a credit card and a debit card in my name only, so we were set.  Then we began the search for the tourist police station to report the robbery since you can’t go to the American embassy without filing a police report. By the end of the day we left the American embassy with Steve’s emergency passport in hand.  A big miracle. One we worked hard to obtain.

Off we went the next day, by train, to Porto.  We arrived and went to our hotel.  “Passport please,” the clerk at the front desk said.  I reached into my purse and my heart sank.  NO WALLET!!!!!! How could this be happening?  I know I wasn’t pickpocketed because I had the wallet in a small front pack slung across my body. It was filled with my wallet containing my passport, my phone, and the ever popular, red lipstick that I don’t leave home without. It must have fallen out. But where?  We searched everything we had, but no wallet.  The two clerks at the front desk immediately called the train station with the information about which train we had come on and even which seats we were in.  There was nothing more we could do. I felt sick to my stomach.  What are the chances that this would happen twice?  There are no American embassies between Porto and Santiago-the closest being in Madrid, where we will be flying home from. Panic began to set in. Then I felt embarrassed, shame and stupidity.  I went over in my head a thousand times where I could have lost the wallet.  Then I remembered my goal of being where my feet are and I started to recite the serenity prayer to myself and just let go and move on.  While we were brainstorming, I decided to call our congresswoman, Chellie Pingree, and ask for some Maine help.  They were lovely and offered to help out in any way they could but nothing could be done until I arrived in Madrid. 

So there I was, no passport, trying to face the here and now, staying in the moment. It always sounds like such a great idea when everything is going great.

The challenge was on.  I asked the Gods, whoever they may be, to reunite me with my passport.  You don’t need a passport to walk from Portugal to Spain. I let go.

We toured this wonderful city, Porto, ate great food, drank wonderful wine and last night, when we got back from a day of walking the city, our hotel room phone rang, and the woman at the front desk said the train station had called and they found my wallet.  A HUGE miracle!!!!  I was reunited with my wallet this morning, with everything in it, including 50 euros that I didn’t even remember having. 

When we walked back from the train station we passed a street performer with a sign in front of him that said:

“Listen… LOVE, love all and focus on the present moment…nothing else.  Be quiet. You are what you search for.”

We leave on Sunday to start out on a 2 week walk and I will stay open to all the miracles that come my way.

I hope your day is filled with miracles.

With love and gratitude,

Marsha 

“On the road again
Goin’ places that I’ve never been
Seein’ things that I may never see again
And I can’t wait to get on the road again”

In the words of Willie Nelson we are on the road again.,  We are traveling for a total of two months including three weeks in New York City, Edinburgh, Paris, Lisbon and Porto to start a two week walk to Santiago, Spain.

New York City is like nowhere else in the world. It is large, loud, crowded and fast. We are spending our days walking everywhere in preparation for our Camino. The last time we walked a Camino, 500 miles, from France to Santiago, it was 7 years ago and although that may not seem like a long time, in growing older years it’s a lifetime. There are new aches and pains and what was once second nature is now sometimes a daunting task. Getting up and getting started is no longer bounding out of my seat but rather gingerly moving until the body gets going.  Last year I was doing physical therapy and the therapist said over and over again “motion is lotion”.  So, I continue to get up, get dressed and head out with my husband Steve, onto the streets of New York to walk and walk and walk.  Aging has taken center stage and I know that the aches and pains I feel are part of that and although I will continue to move I can’t slow the process down. I never really gave much thought to getting old and not being able to do all that I used to do but suddenly it’s real and I really can’t do everything. I loved running and ran 2 marathons, one at 50 and the other at 68, lots of half marathons and 10K races and now I walk.  Running is a thing of the past.  Now when I travel I think I may be “Seein’ things that I may never see again.” My life has been a great adventure and there is hopefully more to come.

These days I’m focused on putting my socks on without it taking a half hour, wondering when the benches at art museums were lowered by several inches, when I needed a weekly plastic container for my medications, most of which are vitamins, and just plain getting moving every time I stop for a coffee, lunch or just sitting down for a moment. I laugh about it all the time. The other day we were in a restaurant and I got up to go to the bathroom. As I entered the door I somehow tripped on the door sill  and went sliding into the room to my shock and that of the women washing their hands. Not very graceful. I practiced getting up from the ground during my Pilates classes, (thank you Michelle) and got up with no injuries.  I am grateful to have solid bones and no osteoporosis.  Good eastern European genes. All of these changes are the new normal for life as I approach 75.  I keep laughing and keep moving.  Motion truly is lotion along with the help of some Advil, arnica and tiger balm.

With love and gratitude,

Marsha

There is a children’s nursery rhyme that goes something like, “To market, to market, to buy a fat pig, home again, home again, jiggety jig.”  For some reason, that phrase has stuck in my head and I often say it whenever I get home, even if home is a one-night hotel room.  It reminds me that this is where my life is at that moment, and making wherever I am, home.  

Years ago, I had my astrological chart done and the woman told me I was a triple Cancer, my sign. I wasn’t sure what it meant then or now.  What I do remember was that she told me that Cancers are homebodies.  A funny moniker for someone who has spent her adult life traveling around the world and living in lots of countries. Then I realized that I have the ability to make a home for myself no matter where I am. In the days I traveled for business, I would arrive in a hotel room, hang up all my clothes, place pictures of my children and husband on the nightstand and voila, home! 

For the past nine months, I have been living in Budapest, Hungary, in an apartment that is slightly larger than my bedroom at home in Maine. It’s small with little space for one person, let alone two.  I could give you a tour of the entire apartment while you sit in a chair in the living room.  Somehow we have managed to make this small space home and our marriage has stayed intact.  In fact, it has grown, given the dependance two independent people have on each other.

So, after nine months in Budapest, with trips to Croatia, Turkey, Slovenia, Slovakia, a trip to the US to visit family and friends, and several places in Hungary, I am heading home to Maine in a few days. It has been a time of great reflection.  It was the first time in my adult life that I didn’t work.  It was both a challenge and a joy.  I went to Pilates classes three-days a week and got into good shape.  I wandered the city alone and learned the amazing public transportation system while Steve worked. 

Recently, Steve taught a lesson on happiness to his students. While he was planning his lessons he asked me what makes me happy.  He wasn’t searching for a particular answer like “You, dear, of course,” but rather what truly makes me happy.  Without hesitating or overthinking, I said “Staying in the moment.” Once the words were sitting in front of me, I thought long and hard about what that meant.  When I live in the past, it always feels like a slippery slope to nowhere.  Someone once told me that staying in my head is a very dangerous neighborhood to hang out in. You just can’t believe everything you think.  It’s not always the truth. There is absolutely nothing I can do about what may have happened in the past.  I can learn from mistakes, make amends and then move on.  So much easier said than done, but I know for sure, there is no happiness waiting for me in the past.  Then there is living in the future. I know I can plan for the future and still live in the moment.  Planning is very different from obsessing.  I spent a good part of my career working with women on visioning their futures and  creating plans to get there.  I have always created visions for myself, along with a plan, and all of this feels very different from worrying about what lies ahead.  My sister and I laugh about the motto our mother lived by, “If you worry enough, bad things won’t happen.”  We spent an inordinate amount of time worrying about everything.  It did little to no good.  

So here I am, on the precipice of turning 74, knowing that the only thing that makes me happy is living in the moment.  The only truth is what I have before me, right here where my feet are.  Living in the moment is a much more relaxed and happy place to be.  

As I pack up and head home, I know I’ll miss the urban life of Budapest, but that is in the past and what lies before me is my home on a beautiful Island in Maine, my friends, my family, and all the things that bring me happiness.

As I sing my tune on my way home, I will look forward to seeing so many of you and sharing my adventures of the past nine months with joy as I remember where my feet are and appreciate what is right in front of me.

“Home again, home again, jiggety jig.”

With love and gratitude,

Marsha

There was a time when I was younger, these days that could mean in my 60’s, when the metaphoric idiom “The sky’s the limit”, applied to my dreams, visions and goals. It really meant that that there was no limit to what a person could have or want.  I really did believe this and thought that anything was possible. It served to keep the naysayers at bay and to focus on what I wanted. 

In the late 60’s, when I was 20, I dropped out of college thinking that life was bigger than spending my time in a classroom.  I soon realized that in order to live I needed to work.  There was no one to catch me financially, or any other way for that matter.  I worked for 10 years and decided that without that degree I might be limited from reaching the sky. Realizing at age 30 that I couldn’t envision myself sitting in a classroom with 19 and 20 year-olds, I decided to apply to graduate school.  I mean, after all, I had worked for ten years, five of those running my own business. And it was my vision, after all. I was off and running, talking to everyone and anyone who would listen, getting referrals and names of people I could talk to and before I knew it, I actually had a choice of which graduate school I wanted to attend. 

The sky really was the limit. My life took off in new ways with lots of twists and turns and the dreams and visions just kept coming.  For 25-years my husband, Steve, and I ran a successful consulting practice which gave us the flexibility to attend all of our sons’ lacrosse games, school events, to travel the world and to be our own boss.  We were surely  reaching for the sky.

When we entered our 60’s we pivoted, knowing that we wanted to give up our business one day to travel and live in other countries. We got certified to teach English as a second language and the next set of dreams and visions became a reality.  We taught college students in South Korea, high school students in Budapest, and had lots of adventures both during and in between these dreams. 

We are back in Budapest this year and the big difference for me is that I am not working. I am joyously retired.  Instead, I’m writing and exploring this incredible city.  I have time to reflect on the past and to take that knowledge with me as I change and alter my future dreams and visions.  There are not as many places I want to travel to and there are no more jobs I want to apply for. My children are grown and on their own, with lives that are reaching for the sky with no limits. My parenting days are minimal.  I have three wonderful grandchildren.  When I see them it’s pure joy, but I don’t have day-to-day responsibilities there either.  However, the sky may not be limitless for me anymore. My time on the earth has the reality of years left, so I try to spend it with people I love and care about, doing things that bring me joy.  I think when I was younger my world was broader and deeper and I had more responsibilities and obligations and I know I spent a fair amount of time with people I may not have wanted to be with, but work or social events called in a different way. 

These days, I love my alone time, and I especially love my time with Steve.  After forty years and lots of water under the bridge, he is the person I most want to be with.  I miss my women friends–you know who you are.  That will never change.  My mother modeled for me the importance of having great women friends in my life.  She had lifelong friends and so do I. 

I continue to have dreams and visions and I will reach for them. Although they may not be as high as the sky, that works just fine for me.

Stay in touch.  I love hearing from everyone.

With love and gratitude,

Marsha

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