The Hillhouse

Tomorrow, Elihu and I are traveling to Scotland. We have been preparing for months. Yet even so, on this, the final morning before we embark, I sit, unable to focus, surrounded by the unpacked contents of my tiny under seat bag. This trip will be a challenge for me in many ways, the first being how to choose what goes in the carry-on.

My intention with this post was simply to document a sample of the ‘before trip’ me; to create a record of how I was feeling at the outset. I know the phenomenon of the idealistic thinking that comes before the much grittier, much less sexy reality that follows. In spite of – or perhaps because of – all that I’ve read, learned and watched about the place, I have the small country fixed in a certain way in my thinking. Sure, I know it’s not all stunning mountainscapes and ancient castles – but right now, that’s the backdrop that prevails. However, being the realist that I am, there is a nagging sense of dread hanging about me in anticipation of all the unforeseen mishaps that inevitably await us.

Back in March, when Elihu and I were about to hit the return button and buy our flights, he hesitated for a moment, and we looked at each other. “What could go wrong?” He said aloud, a smile growing on his face… A beat passed, and together we both said “Everything!” And we laughed as he tapped the key.

It’s the “everything” that’s got me a bit queasy this morning. It’s a gray spring day, the house is quiet, essentially back to normal; two tubas have returned to the living room, the birds come and go on the feeder and aside from this mountain of crap at my feet, things feel pretty normal. But I know what’s coming. I fairly dread the first leg – two layovers, one long – too long (easy to fall asleep and lose track of time), and one too short – we’ll have to get through the chaos of Heathrow and make our last flight with no time to spare. It’s that shit which stands in the way of our adventure. I think my dread is reasonable. But my world-traveling son is measured and calm and practical. He’s what makes this possible.

(Also, let’s be real: Elihu booked the cheapest flights possible from perspective of a man in his early twenties. If I’d had the cojones to stand up to him – and the financial means, too – I would’ve done what any adult of my age group would’ve done and booked a direct fucking flight. Maybe even business class. Hell, I’ll be paying for this trip decades hence, what’s anther $2K down the travel toilet? But no, I raised a fiercely frugal son. He dismissed all of this direct flight nonsense out of hand. Ugh. At times it has me angry. I have only so much energy – and extra expenditures of effort add up. Passing on bunks and hostel-like digs, I layed down my one single must-have: a private bath. That’s my one ‘luxury’ request. Thankfully, that request was met.)

I have the general concerns of airports and connections swimming about in my head, in addition to the prospect of having to drive on the wrong side of the road from the wrong side of the car. And I am fairly expecting the rental agency to say that they have no notes in the system that I required an automatic transmission. Believe me, I am expecting the unexpected. But what can I do but let it go? Tiny, tight roads and rotaries going the opposite direction give me a constant, low-level of background stress. My car better be an automatic. I just need to get through the travel bottleneck of the next four days and then I’m sure I will breathe easier.

The kid’s still sleeping. Last night he, grandma, Uncle Andrew and I went to dinner at the Wishing Well as we do each birthday season (Elihu turned 21, and I am now 61). He had the frogs’ legs, as he has every birthday dinner since he was 5. It was a pricey affair, but it was the only occasion at which all four Conants are present, so it’s an important landmark in our lives. The restaurant is old school – a moose head hangs over the fireplace, Rob is there playing piano to greet folks as they enter, and black and white photos of famous race horses, owners and jockeys adorn the wood paneled walls. It’s an iconic place. (Or as our German exchange student Leevi would say “It’s a vibe”. )

I’m going to the Y to racewalk and exercise a bit. Sometimes it’s the best thing I can do to calm my mind. This first to-do of the day is now done: 1) Write short blog post. The rest can wait.

Good bye from a quiet cottage in the country on a gray, spring day. I’ll report back later from the bottleneck.