" SpiritofSaltSpring:BC:Canada:GulfIslands:SaltSpring:Salt Spring:

September 20, 2010

Depends on your definition of romance perhaps

The beach near Seaside

Okay I admit it. One of the reasons I'd never driven down the Oregon Coast sooner in life is because to me it seemed like such a wonderfully romantic thing to do that it required the right partner. Long walks on the beach. Oregon Pinot Noir tastings. Wonderful seafood in cozy restaurants perched high aside the ocean's splashing surf.  The wind whipping up the hormones with the fare at exquisite restaurants the mere appetizer for a more sensual dessert. Small towns with quirky nooks and crannies to discover and interesting characters to meet.  Conversations that reminded you why you were with your "love" in the first place.

Two words. Read my lips. Dream on!

There's only so many years in one lifetime to await such a Made-for-T.V. fantasy. So, instead, I decided that it's long overdue for me to pack up that silly notion, pack the car and just hit the road with a friend who just happened to be able to take time off at the same time as me whom I thought might be a decent travelling partner: Gwen.

Gwen and I on the beach

No, I am not a lesbian for anyone who might suspect it. Let's just say my taste is so discriminating and my meetings of men that I actually let into my life in any real way so limited that I'm scanning my memory for the long romantic walks on the beach scene.

Instead, we stayed in a yurt (which I loved),  we set up a tent in a few of Oregon's first rate state parks, (I like camping but not in the rain),  we stayed in cheap but clean motels (I like a lot less) and finally, we checked into the bottom bunks in room number 8 of the International hostel in NW Portland, a beautiful old house, where one morning I awoke to see the young, large, Muslim woman (who had slept above me in the top bunk) praying at the foot of my bed.  Right before I went to sleep I had visions of being crushed or paralyzed for life when the top bunk broke and came crashing down on me.

Yurts at Fort Stevens State Park

She called herself a "revert" not a "convert". It's not a term either Gwen or I had heard. Gwen seemed particularly troubled by the term. Revert? What's that? "I don't think she was facing the right direction when she prayed," said Gwen.

I, on the other hand, asked her if she could please take her cell phone conversation at 7:30 am out in the hall tomorrow morning should she receive a call at that time and she looked at me with a defiant look that would have unnerved a younger me.

Oh and did I mention it rained hard 4 of the 7 days.

Me doing a Colonel Klink  (Hogan`s Heroes) imitation
Rain on a bench outside the Portland Art Gallery

And, isn't life (and dreams) often like that.

What's something you've always wanted to do but have put off waiting for the "right" time for reasons that have no basis in reality? Don't be shy!


flameonglass said...

Having a massage. No time has ever been the right time.
So I have never had one.

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