on my own

I spent most of the day today at Balboa Park in San Diego. I have to say this is one of the most beautiful spots I've seen on this vacation. The gardens and lush hills provide a backdrop for exploration that embraces me as I ride through on my bike. Traveling light, I had only an over the shoulder bag giving me limited space for purchases, something I will be grateful for when I get my credit card bill.

One woman in the United Nations Building was so open and friendly; I loved sharing a quick smile and kind word with her. The gentle greeting from her was a bright spot in my day and she probably won't even know about it.

One thing I noticed is that as a lone participant in the visit today, I had very little human interaction despite the numerous other people who were there. Even when I was walking within arms length of the others, we did not even share a hello. What does this say about our culture? I remember how the shop owners and travelers in Italy were open to visitors, almost encouraging an interaction regardless of any mutual background or heritage. There, we just wanted human contact and it arrived in the least likely of places. Sitting at a table in a local cafe, I found a quick, friendly conversation. This was not the case today. The only people I talked with were those who wanted money from me for purchases or for the Environment California group.

Wait, I have to add one other interaction. A boy at the Japanese Friendship Garden was excited about his new hat he'd gotten here in San Diego and wanted to share it with anyone who might be interested. He was developmentally delayed. What does he know that the rest of us have forgotten? His openness was refreshing somehow, a reaching out that I didn't even know I was missing.

What do I miss? Talking face to face with someone I love about nothing in particular. I am coming to the end of my vacation having spent tons of time with my family but it seems like the time was spent going and doing. I didn't have enough time just one-on-one. Some, yes, but not enough. I miss the quiet conversations. I think my favorite times were spent in my parents' hotel room talking politics or in my sister's room talking about family dynamics. I liked the times one-on-one in the car with my sister-in-law and the gentle conversations with my brother on the couch. I crave those moments. Is it that we are so busy moving that we end up avoiding the human connections and then we get so used to being disconnected that we begin to believe that is the norm?

So as I return home, what can I do to seek out the conversations I am craving? How can I find the friends who are equally interested in making the connections, long-term connections that I desire? More to ponder.