travel – Carole J. Garrison

The Joys of Travel

In October of this year, I will turn eighty. I am fully vaccinated and running out of time. COVID be damned! I’ve got my mask, and I’m on my way.

FIJI

By the end of my few days in Nadi, the locals knew me, waved to me as I sat at a local coffee shop in the early morning, told their children to say bula, and smiled when we passed on the street.

Lessons Learned on the Jungle Trail

There was no relief, no euphoria—only dull shock. I fell asleep. When I awoke fifteen minutes later, or maybe it was an hour, I was disoriented. When I tried to stand, my legs cramped from my hips to my toes. I was dehydrated.

Holding Mother’s Hand

But that day in the museum, it was I who held her hand in mine. It was my hand supporting her, reassuring her, protecting her.

Ineffable Experiences

I suffer from acquired topographical disorientation, or directional dyslexia—I’m always getting lost

Inhospitable America

Has anything changed at America’s airports? We wear masks—carts are still not free and America is still not hospitable.

Finding My Roots

“I could feel the tracks on my cheeks burned into my memory from the tears I had shed in Sokolka.”

The Fire

“Words did not matter. We were celebrating life, we were celebrating community, and trust abounded.”

The Hajj

I’m an infidel. I’m Jewish. I’m an American, and I’m a woman. Any one or all of these factors put me at risk when I visited Iran in the summer of 2004. To my Iranian friend’s more religious relatives, I was an unwelcome guest.