Far away places with strange sounding names,
Far away over the sea;
Those far away places with strange sounding names
Are calling, calling me.
Going to China, or maybe Siam.
I want to see for myself
Those far away places
I've been reading about
In a book that I took from a shelf.
I start getting restless whenever I hear
The whistle of a train.
I pray for the day I can get underway
And look for those castles in Spain.
They call me a dreamer,
Well maybe I am,
But I know that I'm burning to see
Those far away places with strange sounding names
Calling, calling me,
Calling, calling me.
These cold and rather dreary days, after the brightness of Christmas and the jollity of the New Year, stir up strange longings in me. I have always considered myself a homebody. In every place I’ve lived, I’ve always settled in and made a place for myself where I felt comfortable. And once I was settled, I felt uncomfortable if I strayed too far from my little established world. But the larger world has always interested me. Through my books I have explored the planet – past (I love reading history books), present, and future (I’m a science fiction fan). And that was good enough for me.
At times I have traveled, but usually not very far and, when I did, I was always anxious to go home again. For two years I lived in Japan as a missionary. That was my biggest adventure abroad and for much of the time I was there, although I learned to love Japan, I was homesick. When we lived in Southern California, I once made a day trip across the border to Tijuana and then hurried back. I’ve been to Canada a few times, but never more than a few miles from the U.S. border. I’ve traveled in parts of the United States – twice across the country by train -- but in every case, I was anxious and homesick most of the time I was abroad.
Far away over the sea;
Those far away places with strange sounding names
Are calling, calling me.
Going to China, or maybe Siam.
I want to see for myself
Those far away places
I've been reading about
In a book that I took from a shelf.
I start getting restless whenever I hear
The whistle of a train.
I pray for the day I can get underway
And look for those castles in Spain.
They call me a dreamer,
Well maybe I am,
But I know that I'm burning to see
Those far away places with strange sounding names
Calling, calling me,
Calling, calling me.
These cold and rather dreary days, after the brightness of Christmas and the jollity of the New Year, stir up strange longings in me. I have always considered myself a homebody. In every place I’ve lived, I’ve always settled in and made a place for myself where I felt comfortable. And once I was settled, I felt uncomfortable if I strayed too far from my little established world. But the larger world has always interested me. Through my books I have explored the planet – past (I love reading history books), present, and future (I’m a science fiction fan). And that was good enough for me.
At times I have traveled, but usually not very far and, when I did, I was always anxious to go home again. For two years I lived in Japan as a missionary. That was my biggest adventure abroad and for much of the time I was there, although I learned to love Japan, I was homesick. When we lived in Southern California, I once made a day trip across the border to Tijuana and then hurried back. I’ve been to Canada a few times, but never more than a few miles from the U.S. border. I’ve traveled in parts of the United States – twice across the country by train -- but in every case, I was anxious and homesick most of the time I was abroad.
 |
| New Years 1979 in Japan. |
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| My friend Yamakami Kiyoko, New Years 1979. |
After I returned from Japan, I felt emboldened by my time there and thought I would take a trip to Europe. I’d read many books covering its history from ancient times to the present. I knew all about places like London, Paris, Vienna, Athens, and Rome. Sometimes during conversations with people about those places, they’d ask me when I’d been there and I’d always say, “Only in my dreams.” So I decided that while I was still young (I was 23) and unattached (Stacey was on her mission in Italy at the time), I would go to the places I’d only visited on my armchair adventures.
I saved some money. I made plans. I did extensive research and selected the places I would go. I found the addresses of the hostels where I would stay. I mapped out the routes I would travel by train, bus, and afoot. I already spoke German (somewhat) so I studied a bit of tourist Greek and Italian to help me get around. (I can still ask for a room with a bath and if there are any eggs in Greek.) I had all the details figured out. But after all of that, I decided that I didn’t want to travel by myself. I couldn’t find anyone willing or able to travel with me, so I abandoned my plans and spent my travel money on more books. I’ve always had a twinge of regret for not taking that trip.
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| Some of the places I'd planned to visit. |
In all the years that have passed since then, I’ve stayed pretty close to whatever home I was living in. Everyone who knows me, knows that I don’t like to travel. But things have changed. Last February, through the diligent planning of my wife, I went to Italy. I’d read so many books and watched so many documentaries on its history, art, culture, and food that I thought I had a pretty good idea what Italy was like. But when I got there and actually stood in those places, when I’d walked the streets and breathed the air and tasted the food – when I’d seen those places with my own eyes at last, I was changed.
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| In Italy last February. |
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| In Italy. |
I realize now that I’m in the odd predicament of wanting to go to distant places, but hating to travel. I don’t like airports or airplanes or traveling over deep water. Traffic and crowds of people make me anxious. But now I think I’m willing to endure any discomforts and suppress my phobias for the sake of going to the places I want to see. It helps that I have a great companion who is braver and more savvy than I am when it comes to traveling.
I think my family and friends might be a little bit shocked by this shift. I think I would be willing to close up the house, maybe sell off my flock, and even forgo a year of gardening to go traveling. I’d like to return to Japan and see the places I knew forty years ago. I’d like to visit my ancestral homelands in Great Britain and Germany. I’d love to wander around the Ringstrasse in Vienna. I'd like to explore the great Gothic Cathedrals of Amiens and Chartre and the museums of Paris. I want to walk the ancient streets of Israel and see flocks of wild cockatoos and go to the Irwin’s zoo in Australia. Mexico and Central America scare me, but I would love to go to the sites of Mayan and Aztec ruins. Then there are the Isles of the Pacific and Africa and India. And I’d like to spend more time, much more time in Italy.
I feel a growing need to go and be in those places. The world is changing. I’m getting older. Another year has begun. I can feel time and opportunity slipping away.
During these dark days of the year, when the world where I live is cold and the trees and my gardens are asleep, I feel the wide world beckoning for me to explore it. And after I’ve traveled, if I get to travel, I will always be happy to come home again.
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On Monday, Josiah and I finished splitting firewood. We finished just in time as the weather turned colder and we got snow and then rain after that. That same day we took down the Christmas tree and all the decorations. Then I did some pre-New Years tidying. I like to have a clean house when the new year arrives. On New Years Eve we ate our traditional foods and finished our traditional yearly Lord of the Rings viewing. Then on New Years Day we ate our pork and sauerkraut – and then the children left. Hannah and Josiah are back in Idaho at school. They’ll be gone until April. Miriam is down at the Thayn’s house babysitting. She’ll be back sometime this evening. It seemed strange to have just the two of us here. It was a quiet start to a new year.
I think my family and friends might be a little bit shocked by this shift. I think I would be willing to close up the house, maybe sell off my flock, and even forgo a year of gardening to go traveling. I’d like to return to Japan and see the places I knew forty years ago. I’d like to visit my ancestral homelands in Great Britain and Germany. I’d love to wander around the Ringstrasse in Vienna. I'd like to explore the great Gothic Cathedrals of Amiens and Chartre and the museums of Paris. I want to walk the ancient streets of Israel and see flocks of wild cockatoos and go to the Irwin’s zoo in Australia. Mexico and Central America scare me, but I would love to go to the sites of Mayan and Aztec ruins. Then there are the Isles of the Pacific and Africa and India. And I’d like to spend more time, much more time in Italy.
I feel a growing need to go and be in those places. The world is changing. I’m getting older. Another year has begun. I can feel time and opportunity slipping away.
During these dark days of the year, when the world where I live is cold and the trees and my gardens are asleep, I feel the wide world beckoning for me to explore it. And after I’ve traveled, if I get to travel, I will always be happy to come home again.
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On Monday, Josiah and I finished splitting firewood. We finished just in time as the weather turned colder and we got snow and then rain after that. That same day we took down the Christmas tree and all the decorations. Then I did some pre-New Years tidying. I like to have a clean house when the new year arrives. On New Years Eve we ate our traditional foods and finished our traditional yearly Lord of the Rings viewing. Then on New Years Day we ate our pork and sauerkraut – and then the children left. Hannah and Josiah are back in Idaho at school. They’ll be gone until April. Miriam is down at the Thayn’s house babysitting. She’ll be back sometime this evening. It seemed strange to have just the two of us here. It was a quiet start to a new year.
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| The finished woodpile. |
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| Our traditional New Years game of Risk (Miriam won). |
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| New Years Eve. |
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| New Years Day. |
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| Good-bye to Hannah and Josiah. |
The year ahead will bring lots of changes. We will welcome another granddaughter in April. We are preparing for and anticipating General Conference in April. We have a family reunion in Oregon in July. And there are gardens to plan and plant and a long list of projects waiting to be done. Who can say what else will happen?
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| A sunrise last week. |
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| One strange colchicum blooming in January. |
