Thursday, July 11, 2019

The Two Faces of Travel, Part 1

Most of you probably see this picture and think: toes in the white sand, mai tai at the beach bar. I look at the same picture and imagine sunburn and biting sand flies.

This is my nature; I can't help it. I'm a perfectionist pessimist.

When I'm here at music camp, I make an effort to tell people I'm in the beautiful green mountains of West Virginia--even though I'm really suffering from the humidity and disappointed with the dining options (canned/fried cafeteria food and sugar-laden continental breakfasts). 
Not to mention the twice-daily deluge of rain. Pretty clouds--no, spectacular clouds!--drop thousands of gallons of water, overwhelming storm drains, flooding sidewalks, and soaking my brown suede shoes. I have to wrap my guitar in plastic bags.
Yes, travel can be two-faced for a perfectionist pessimist like me. I have a roomy, quiet room but miss my own bed. I am enjoying the camaraderie of fellow musicians while pining for my partner's home-grown vegetables. I feel lost without a car waiting for me curb-side. (I carpooled to West Virginia.) Although I'm walking miles each day among lush grass and trees, I miss the classes at my local gym. (Because it is on pavement....see the point?)

Most of all, I am concerned about the availability of medical care, due to an injury the day before leaving as well as ongoing physical infirmities.

One of the things I appreciate about music camp is the uninterrupted ability--or should I say expectation--to practice, practice, practice. There is no TV and marginal internet. No job, no volunteer obligations, no social invitations. Just classes, playing together, and practice.
That said, you naturally might expect me to become a more accomplished musician by the time I return. Do me a favor: hold me to that. Test me on it. 

After all, that's the goal of this particular round of travel,

1 comment:

  1. You remind me of how often I have fantasized about being confined for six months or a year to a prison cell with the right mix of books and writing material or my guitar and music. Perhaps I would be more productive that way, on the one hand, and force myself to learn a complete song or two on the other.