--Ralph Waldo Emerson
Always keep Ithaca in your mind;
to reach her is your destiny.
But do not rush your journey in the least.
--C. P. Cavafy
Lee Wachtstetter, who turns 90 next month, has lived aboard a cruise ship for the past 13 years. She prefers it to a retirement home, and she is warmly welcomed by the crew. The fare, after discounts offered by the cruise line, amounts to about $100,000 per year. She doesn't disembark when the ship is in port -- she's seen it all already.
For Ms. Wachtstetter, cruising isn't about exotic destinations. It's all about living a comfortable life aboard ship. It's all about the journey.
I tell you about this lovely lady for a reason, aside from my finding her lifestyle to be genuinely interesting. I want to desensitize you, to make what I'm about to tell you about myself seem tame and rational by comparison.
Sunday, I'm taking a train to Oakland, California. Monday, I'm flying home. Why am I traveling to the city about which Gertrude Stein famously declared, "There is no there there"? And leaving again so hurriedly? Not because of the destination, clearly, but because of the journey.
If you've followed this blog for several years, you know that I love trains. Always have. I traveled on sleepers from Portland down the Valley to Roseburg with my mother, to visit my great grandparents, when I was 3 and 4, and to Sacramento when I was 6.. I traveled alone by train to Chicago, and back again, when I was 14. I traveled from Seattle to Boston ten years ago. I've traveled overnight from Nairobi to Mombasa, and from Surat Thani to Bangkok. And all over Europe, at all stages of my life.
Furthermore, to establish my point beyond fear of contradiction, by the age of 10 I had virtually memorized the Lionel Electric Train Catalogue.
I last took the train from Seattle to Oxnard, CA, at Christmas 2017. But nothing since. It's time for a train ride.
As a student, I often traveled as cheaply as possible. As a concession to advancing age, I now do my overnight travel in a roomette. The fare is considerably higher than coach, but I'll get lunch, dinner, and breakfast included in the fare. The scenery is great, the meals aren't bad, drinks in the lounge car are always available, and -- for me, but not for all folks -- bed in a gently swaying roomette is conducive to a great night's sleep.
I leave Seattle at 9:45 a.m. Sunday, and arrive in Oakland at 8:35 the next morning. I then transfer to a regional train for an eight-minute ride to the Oakland Coliseum station. From there, I transfer to BART's odd little automated, unstaffed shuttle that runs from the station to Oakland airport. There, I'll rent a car, and drive to Palo Alto, crossing the Bay on either the San Mateo or Dumbarton bridge. I'll revisit old student haunts, pretend I'm still 18, deplore changes to the campus while envying the kids who are still students, and all too soon find it time to return to Oakland.
Thence, by Alaska Airlines back to Seattle.
I'm nuts? No doubt. But then, aren't we all in one way or another? Some of us just don't reveal it to the world in a public blog.
No comments:
Post a Comment