Happy Birthday, Julie Zickefoose!!!

In my family, the written word has always been a prominent love language. Every year since I was 10, my mom has dutifully crafted a celebratory blogpost on my birthday--a couple of weeks ago, she published the 15th! Some are poetic while others are more of a narrative, and all include a highlight reel of photos that sum up my recent history. Anyone who has me mixed into their Facebook algorithm has probably seen them. Liam gets them, too, as did my dad and our first dog Chet Baker (Curtis usually gets a gotcha-day post). So I'm not sure why it's taken so long to strike me that I would like to write a birthday blogpost for my mom. I'm drafting this post on the actual day of her birth, July 24th, but given my ~creative process~ it probably won't see the light of day until it's a bit belated. But good things take time, like the pot roasts and fruit crisps and chicken pot pies she puts in the oven. Since I moved away, I've been trying like hell to recreate her meals, so I know how it works. 

Simply put, I am so proud of my mom. I've always been proud of her, but the feeling has expanded even more these past few years. One of her main fears around my dad's passing was no longer having someone around to do the big land maintenance tasks he'd always (albeit infrequently) done, like weed whacking and mowing the fields with the big tractor. With me living elsewhere and Liam at college, she was essentially alone with our property. If only she could have seen herself now! She has fearlessly figured everything out and tackled the biggest projects of her life on that land, pruning and planting and mowing and growing with a keen eye for beauty and the utmost respect for native wildlife. She has made great connections with local landscapers and Amish roofers (who she also sometimes hires to hop on the tractor), and taught herself how to weed whack. She spent months doggedly heading out every day with hedge trimmers and eventually freed our overgrown orchard from the multiflora rose and grapevines strangling it. She has reclaimed and maintained all of the trails on our land that had been grown over for years. She completely cleaned out and reorganized our basement and garage, which both formerly looked like portals to hell. And now that all the refuse is gone, my favorite part has been watching her dream up and indulge in small but significant aesthetic improvements; namely her new patio. I know she's made my dad so proud with this--he would always sit in the yard with a beer on summer evenings and dream up ideas just like that one. 

Grilling surprise steaks for my birthday after she cleaned the cobwebs off of my dad's old gas grill and taught herself how to use it. I honestly never thought I would taste that again. (And before you ask, Liam's tattoo is temporary!)

Just a few of the dogwoods freed

While undertaking everything listed above, my mom also continued her life's work of supporting and documenting all of the wildlife around her. All by herself, she creates a bastion for birds, bugs, plants, animals, and everything in between. Within her considerable sphere of influence, baby bluebirds don't starve when there's a late spring cold snap. Monarchs, fritillaries, skippers, and swallowtails have ample butterfly weed and milkweed to sustain them. Rare and beautiful orchids thrive on what was once barren cow pasture. And bobcats have clawed their way back from near extermination, leading kittens down the well-maintained meadow paths each summer. My mom has stacks of journals filled with her observations of every kind of living creature, and can tell you things like exactly how many unique species of butterflies she's found on the property (77 with a new addition last week!) and the approximate arrival dates for any migrating bird. Through her actions and wisdom, she has shown me that one does not need to have a PhD in order to make meaningful and valid contributions to science. 

Showy Orchis on our land!

Painting by her, of course

The amazing thing is that most everything I've written so far will come as absolutely no surprise to anyone connected with my mom online. She's not only made these observations for herself--she has crafted them into alluring stories and shared them with the world through books, her blog, and social media (@juliezickefoose on Instagram if you're not already there). She has made the wonders of nature accessible to anyone willing to read. It recently hit me that when I marvel at how much she's taught me about the natural world, I have to multiply that by at least a few thousand to even begin to capture her influence in this world. In a time when the natural world needs well-informed allies more than ever, she has provided a spectacular and invaluable service. 

And of course, to top this all off, she is an absolutely incredible mother; the details of which I hold close to my heart sometimes. Being able to go home to her is my greatest privilege in this life and truly keeps me sane. She has taught me lessons and ways of being that will echo down through generations of our family to come. Every day I am a little more like her, and it's always something I'm thankful for. Because to be like her is to save the world. Happy birthday, mama. 

Beyond Luck

Tonight, I'm coming to you live from the 8th floor of an airport hotel in Lisbon, Portugal. My room primarily overlooks a BP station and a roundabout, but in the distance I can see the city proper under a cloudless sky. Under normal circumstances, I'd be taking pictures of the incredible tiled buildings and watching the sun set over the water, but Lisbon (and much of Portugal) is in a bad spot with COVID right now. So instead, I've ordered in and am remembering the layover Oscar and I had here two summers ago on our way back to the States. While the words "overnight layover" may make some people cringe, I have had nothing but great experiences with TAP Air Portugal connecting to the Canaries through Lisbon. They service much of Europe and actually have really good airplane food, so check it out if you're in the market (#sponsor #me #TAP). Pictured food is not from the airplane but rather an amazing little restaurant called Alpendre that we stumbled upon while in the city. 

                      

Back to the present, because I have a story to tell from today. Today was the day that I left the island. (yes, many tears were shed, but that's another topic!) My original travel plan was as follows: 

-Wake up at ~5:15 am to get ready, finish packing up, eat breakfast, walk the dog, etc.

-Leave around 6:15 for the hour-long drive across the island to the port

-Take the 8 am ferry to the southern port of Tenerife (the ONLY ferry leaving the island before 2 pm. If you ever travel to the Canaries, take my advice and do not arrive or depart on a Sunday)

-Arrive at 9 am and use a walking/taxi/bus combination to leisurely make my way 20 minutes over to the southern airport 

-Fly out to Lisbon at 2:15 pm

Sounds easy enough, right? There are two ways off of La Gomera (ferry and plane), and I had chosen the ferry because it would get me much closer to the Tenerife South airport, which is where my flight to Lisbon was departing from. There are two daily flights to Tenerife, but they only service the Tenerife North airport, which is a full hour's drive from Tenerife South with traffic. I hope this makes sense for the sake of the story--It's all second nature to me now, but sometimes I look back and marvel on how I managed to piece together the inter-island travel systems largely through TripAdvisor reviews before heading to Canarias for the first time. It is really confusing! 

From https://eas.unige.ch/EWASS2015/travel.jsp

Anyway, I finally got to bed last night around 1:30 after a marathon packing session. Oscar and I sat together and both set our alarms for 5:15 am, knowing that we couldn't miss it. My head hit the pillow, and the next thing I knew, Oscar was shaking me awake. I opened my eyes and saw light outside, and had one of those classic stomach drop adrenaline rushes. We were supposed to be leaving in the pitch black. What happened?! It was 7:30 am--I should have been aboard my ferry, but instead I was still in bed an hour away. How could it be that neither one of our phones sounded? I've definitely had mishaps with mine a couple of times in the past, but we'd been setting and waking up to alarms the whole trip without a problem, so setting two almost seemed like overkill. And no, we did not sleep through them--I am incapable of doing that and Oscar is sensitive as well. 

Still bewildered, I jumped up to get my laptop because the only other way off that chunk of basalt was by plane at 10:30 am. I coughed up the euros for the last-minute price hike, and we got out of the house with just enough time to drive the hour to the airport. The lady at the check-in desk very graciously ignored my 30-pound baggage excess (moving across the ocean is hard, okay?), and before I knew it, Oscar and I were saying goodbye. As hectic as the morning had been, we were so grateful to have had a few more hours together. When you're in the final stretch, each minute feels like a gift, and we had really gotten a windfall. 

I boarded the little propellor plane and braced myself for a stressful transfer upon arrival in Tenerife. The flight was set to arrive to Tenerife North at 11 am, and my flight to Lisbon was boarding in Tenerife South at 1:30 pm. I would need to get my bags and find a taxi immediately for the hour-long ride south, and just pray for short check-in and security lines once I got there. It was doable but very risky, and would have a disastrous domino effect if it didn't work out. I put in my headphones and tried to relax, but after a while I noticed that we weren't descending like I would expect. The flight is just 30 minutes long, so it's pretty much up and right back down. The captain eventually came on over the intercom and said that Tenerife North was experiencing some strong gusts from the vientos alísios (trade winds), and had a thick blanket of clouds drastically reducing visibility. His plan was to circle the airport to see if things got better, but if not, we would have to divert to Tenerife South. 

Tenerife South. 

WHAT?! As everyone else on the plane groaned, my eyes got wide. There's no way I could be that lucky. I've flown that route probably 15 times and it's never been diverted. I kept my hopes low as we circled above the northern panhandle of the island 10+ times. The chances of landing in the north and making my flight in the south were getting slimmer and slimmer. I watched the compass on my phone go around and around until finally, it held steady moving southeast. Sure enough, the captain came on again, this time leading with an apology because the flight had officially been diverted. I'm telling you, I could not believe my luck. Not only was I saving the large chunk of money I would've spent on a taxi, but this was actually even easier than my original plan. I felt terrible for everyone else (because I was definitely the only happy person on that flight), but Binter Canarias (the airline) would take good care of them, and many of their connecting flights had been diverted to Tenerife South as well. 

Scratchy plane windows and beautiful weather everywhere in Tenerife except the north

As soon as we landed, I called Oscar and told him the news. He was just as incredulous! We have concluded that this must have been the work of our dads. We talk about them all the time--what they must be doing up in the sky, what they'd think of our lives now, and how they might be looking out for us. My dad was the #1 travel logistics expert, so I know he must have had a hand in today's events. 

Thank you clouds <3 I spy with my little eye four Canary Islands!

Any remaining doubt was wiped away as my little plane from La Gomera was about to touch down and "Citywide Rodeo" by The Weepies started playing out of a shuffle of my 569-song playlist. My dad played me that song as we roadtripped across Ohio when I was probably 10 years old. Some things are just beyond coincidence; beyond luck. 

Until next time, my loves!

What's Changed

It's been a few weeks since I landed back in my nest in the Canary Islands. After I got over the initial head rush of seeing Oscar IN PERSON and not on a FaceTime call, the rest of my return felt far more mellow than I'd been expecting after all my yearning and nostalgia. It was like I'd just hit pause on this part of my life and stepped away for a while, but the play button let me resume things seamlessly. Throughout college, I was petrified of changes taking place back home in Ohio, like sections of familiar forest being leveled to make way for fracking platforms. But thankfully, these fifteen months haven't changed too much in La Gomera. 

The most obvious mark of the passage of time is in my students. I gave myself one day to recover from jet lag before I popped back into the school for a visit (a moment I'd been dreaming of since I'd left). I made it there around recess time, and let the wave of "PHOEEEEEEEEEEBEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" crash over me. We were all so excited to see each other. They were all a bit bigger, their voices a touch deeper, and all just a little more sure of themselves in this world. They had clearly been broken of their hugging habit during the pandemic, which hurt my heart, but just laying eyes on them was enough. 

One of the best comics I have ever read

4 años giving me their autographs

A few of my youngest students had trouble remembering me, and some reverted back to being just as shy as they had been when I first met them. I can't say I wasn't HURT, but I guess I can't be too offended by the workings of the rapidly developing brain. Many students of different ages haven't recognized me when I wave hi in the street, probably due in part to masks, but it's also the toll we pay to the march of time. It makes me feel the same way I felt when I triumphantly returned to my high school to visit over Christmas break during my freshman year of college, only to find that everyone had been living life PERFECTLY FINE without me and that the impact of my graduating class had been gently washed away like footprints on a beach (happy Cancer season to all my fellow dramatic little babies out there). Anyway, it prompts a period of self reflection and mini ego death that is necessary to keep on living and putting down new roots in different places. Closure, I think they call it? 

I've found that stepping back into life here also regresses me in some ways to the headspace I was in when my dad got sick and passed away during my first Fulbright year. Not really in a bad way, though. It's just that my newly established life in North Carolina has never included my dad alive, whereas this one in La Gomera has. I even caught myself thinking "woah, wait, my dad is dead" as I was walking down the street the other day. While digging through my closet here (and absolutely dreading having to pack all the clothes I left behind in March 2020), I found a little bag that he helped me stuff full of miscellaneous items in a way that fit just right in my suitcase. It's remained largely untouched, and I was immediately hit by the memory of him shoving things in while I held the bag open and spiraled about moving to a random island. I think I miss him the very most when I'm packing/preparing for a trip, because he was the most well-traveled person I knew and always had answers to all of my questions and solutions to the infinite problems I invented in my head. A lot of times the answer was just "worry 80% less", but it helped so much. 

One of approximately 1500 bad photos I have taken of Spain's highest point, El Teide

When I first got back here, the streets were very quiet. While June is typically a very calm month for tourism in La Gomera, travel restrictions and general hesitation have made things even slower. There's currently no ferry arriving to the port of Valle Gran Rey, so the long road filled with hairpin turns is the only way to get here. Many of our favorite restaurants are closed for a month of well-deserved vacation. While the local economy could always use the boost, I have selfishly loved the relative peace, being surrounded by familiar faces, and hearing almost exclusively Spanish being spoken. 

And as for Oscar and me, we've both changed in subtle ways, largely for the better. After more than a year of being apart, we both agree that we know each other better than ever before, having relied exclusively on verbal communication to keep our spark alive. We're obviously far more appreciative of our time together now, which has led to some very fun excursions, acting like fools in public, lots of selfies, and healthy doses of ice cream and Spanish wine. The fine lines around our eyes and mouths have settled in more, and Oscar has developed a few canas (gray hairs!). Every time the light catches one, I get a little emotional that I get to be the person by his side as we move through the years. He's just so good. 

Well, I reckon that's enough baring of the soul for one blog post, so I will take my leave. Coming back here has unlocked the part of my mind that thinks in intelligible sentences, so I hope to keep things rolling as I settle back into the States. That is IF I can come up with a rebrand I'm happy with--while I will be back to the Canaries as much as I possibly can be, it just won't be Canary Current. Like I said earlier: closure. Stay tuned!

Photo by Carinna Nikkel AKA my first loved one to make it to La Gomera TWICE!! 

Homecoming

As I write this, I am sitting on a boat bound for La Gomera, my island home of a year and a half that I left in a rush when our global nightmare began last March. As the pandemic roared toward us in March and the prognosis got worse every day, I made the decision to leave Spain and go back to America, largely motivated by the believe that I would be back by June to close out the school year and collect my things. I took only the things I couldn’t live without, and left the rest in its place in the apartment that I shared with Oscar. He stood vigil in our home (under a much stricter lockdown than America’s) as weeks turned to months and months turned into… well, a year and a half. Once June 2020 hit, I started to fully realize the magnitude of this thing, and that it wasn’t going to get better any time soon. Together over FaceTime each evening, we stared out over an abyss with no horizon, and distracted ourselves by talking about the future, like when he might come to America and all of the things we would do together. Looking back, I can’t believe the motivation and hope that we maintained in the fall and winter months, when the promise of vaccines wasn’t even fully realized yet.

In March, I got my second dose of the vaccine with my fellow educators and allowed my spirits to be lifted by the buzz about what summer might look like. When it came to international travel, though, I couldn’t identify any sort of hole that would allow me into the European Union. However, things changed once I spoke to a fellow Bowdoin and Fulbright alum, Camille, who also found love in her host country. She told me about a certificate that she was able to obtain as the unmarried partner of an EU citizen that would allow her entry to reunite with him. And it worked! So I took a shot in the dark and wrote an email to the Spanish consulate in DC, and much to my surprise, I got an affirmative answer after working hours. The process was incredibly simple and validating, like Spain genuinely cared about reuniting two hearts separated by borders. It stood in stark contrast to US policies, which we became familiar with while investigating the visa process for Oscar. 

With the certificate saved to my computer, I bought my flights but still didn’t fully let myself believe it might actually happen. I just put my head down and worked all spring, focusing on my job and keeping the idea of the trip close to my chest. Oscar and I started a countdown around ninety days, celebrating the diminishing number each day. As I look at my phone right now, the screen says 34 minutes. 

I wanted to write in this moment, because it feels monumental. It is monumental. I am standing in the light at the end of the tunnel that has kept me going since I hugged Oscar goodbye 15 months ago. As I flew in to Tenerife this morning, I marveled at the jagged coastline and thought about how different I felt the last time I saw it. I had timed my music just right to play the saddest part of the saddest song as we struck out over the ocean and left the islands behind. This time, I couldn’t stop smiling. I thought about all the life I lived in between those two moments, entrenching myself in two new school communities and working with a batch of incredible students and dedicated staff. Making a new home in a new place and celebrating a different kind of beauty. And through it all, the Canaries kept a firm grip on my heart. I am so excited to get back and spend a month in worship of landscapes, people, food, and the ocean, and I feel so lucky to have so many reasons to return.

Now, if you’ll excuse me…. I have an Oscar to hug!!!!