Alone Again

After five nights of being with excellent company and sharing their excellent homes, I was ready for time to myself. Time to kick back, spread out, lounge about, and ‘vege’ a little. I really haven’t had time to feel lonely at all.

I am in San Luis Obispo, California.

I was here once before, with my ex-husband, about 6 years ago traveling between a wedding in Santa Barbara and a wedding in Monterey. I remembered this place better than I thought I would. As luck (?) would have it, while taking a walk, I stumbled over the Bed and Breakfast we stayed in, only a few blocks away. I remember our room was decorated with roosters. I remembered what the walk into town looked like and I remembered having tapas at a restaurant overlooking the creek. I probably shouldn't have stopped in this town, but rooms were cheap and the location is just as right now as it was then. I had no desire, though, to stay at the same B and B. How awful would that be? Of course, visiting a place by oneself makes it quite a different sort of place.

Why this particular place has such a vivid memory to me is a mystery, because I didn’t then, nor do I now, find San Luis, particularly interesting. But I feel no distress regarding my single situation. It is just another one of those “it is what it is” feelings. So it’s OK.

I temporarily lost my cell phone yesterday. YIKE! My life line, my breathing tube, my connection with all that is known to me. I stopped in Solvang, yesterday. Solvang is a quaint Danish village with shops, bakeries, restaurants and tourists all over the place. I stopped to have breakfast, shopped a little, buying some socks and books. On the way out of town, I stopped for gas before continuing on. Then, for some peculiar reason, about 15 miles down the road, I had the urge dig my cell out of my purse and put it some place more convenient should someone call while I am cruising down the road. A cursory search in my purse did not turn up my phone. I pulled over and searched more thoroughly. Couldn’t find it. Dumped out the contents of my little purse. It definitely wasn’t there. Searched the car seat, the floor, and other less likely places it could be. No phone. I am beginning to panic. Think, think, where might I have left it? At my cousin’s house? No, I distinctly remember putting it in my purse. Then, I must have left it, somehow, at some stop I made in Solvang? Oh no!!!

Then I did that which I hate to do, I turned the car around and went back. Feeling disconnected I tried to think some more. Where might I have left it? The gas station was my last and now my first stop. I asked the clerk. "No," no cell was found. Then I had a brilliant idea. Maybe if I call myself, someone will answer or just maybe it is buried in the car under maps and brochures. The clerk said she had no phone that I could use for a long distance call and my phone would definitely be a long distance call, to Florida and back. But some nice lady hearing my request offered up her cell so that I could make the call. I dialed my number. Someone answered with a tentative hello. (Oh, thank God!) I told her it was my phone she answered and she said she thought it might be me. I asked her where she was. She told me, The Soft Loft. I found my way back and retrieved my lifeline. Whew! Tragedy averted!

Six years ago, the loss of a cell phone would have been less of a problem. We were two. We were less dependent on it. Public phones were more available. It would have been an inconvenience, not a cause for panic. But things are different now. I know this seems like a silly story, but really, I hang onto my cell phone like it was the hand of a friend.

California is, as I remember, beautiful. The Pacific shows itself every now and then as I round a bend. The hills and mountains, though sparse, rise quickly and provide a dynamic silhouette against the sky. There has been heavy white mist, black burned hillsides which were formerly yellow and green, blue skies, and rolling vineyards.

California is big, but with the changing backdrops, it is nothing like driving though Texas, which is also big, but without the constant change in the scenery. The drive here is ever so pleasant, although, I prefer the lack of traffic in Texas over California’s busy-ness.

I have three days alone before my next visit. And after five days of visiting, I am ready to be alone. To be quiet. To wander and wonder awhile.

As I am seated in restaurants or as I shop the shops, or walk the walk, I can’t help but notice that everyone is with someone. Especially in vacation destinations. I am the only one sitting at a table eating alone. There are always two walking along the village streets. Two checking into the motel. It is a strange feeling, being one. A song comes to mind, “One is the loneliest number that you’ll ever do. Two can be as bad as one, it’s the loneliest number since the number one.” All things considered, one is not so bad."

I am feeling how this trip is so very different from any I have ever done before, not just the being a woman alone part, but also the distance that I am traveling and the purpose. This is not a leisurely experience. Taking three months to cover 8000 miles is barely enough, I should have planned for four. (Then again, why is it I must get home again? Just mussing.) I feel like I am in a movie where they show the passage of time and travel, by quickly changing the background going from open desert, to city traffic, to a crawl up a winding mountain, speeding down the interstate, searching for a parking spot in a small Danish style village crowded with tourist, to driving into the Super 8 looking for a room. In the span of a few minutes, a week or month has passed. Then the story begins once again.

I am traveling, continually going from place to place. I do not explore where I am, but rather, get a quick “look see” and move on. Occasionally I do stop to take in the local tourist attraction. Today I think I shall stop and have a look see at Hearst Castle. A recommendation from a friend. Maybe tomorrow I will slow down a little. Maybe.

I am into it, this moving vacation style road trip. I could do without the jump in gas prices, though, ugg, $2.65 here in California. When I started this trip, I paid a "mere" $1.99 a gallon. Nothing to do but pay it and keep moving.

Time to go. See ya.