Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Don't miss Holland

by Tracey Flower

A friend of a friend once shared this story:

A couple was in a plane on their way to Italy for their honeymoon. Due to some sort of random technical difficulties they were forced to land in The Netherlands, and for whatever reason, ended up stuck there for the duration of their trip (no I don’t know why they didn’t then just scrap the plane and hop on a train). They were less than thrilled with the situation and, while they spent their time sightseeing in Holland, they complained about everything and fretted over what they were missing in Italy. Thing is Holland isn’t so bad; in fact it’s pretty cool in its own right, but these guys were so worried about missing Italy that they didn’t get to soak any of it in. Catching on to the moral here? Don’t miss Holland, folks.

The South Pier Lighthouse, South Haven, MI
(From the Flower family photo archives)

I love to travel. I want to go everywhere and I want to see everything. So far my travels have only made a teeny tiny pine beetle-sized dent in that dream so I recently made a promise, no, scratch that, a commitment, to myself to simply travel more. To take and make every opportunity I can to go somewhere I’ve never been before, whether it’s Texas or somewhere slightly less foreign like, say, Morocco. (My apologies to the handful of Texans I know and love, I did have to go there).

This commitment won’t be difficult to stick to. I live in a place where it’s almost expected, if not encouraged, to take a month or so off each spring and fall (in seasonal job speak we call this the off-season). I’m not afraid of a little credit card debt and I love going on vacation. My head’s already spinning with all the options of where to go next. Hawaii? Italy? Costa Rica? Holland?

Ah, yes, Holland. Here we are again. And I’m not talking The Netherlands this time.

I’m currently on vacation in, wait for it, Michigan. Not exactly an exotic spring getaway. Not even somewhere I’ve never been before. This is where I’m from. It’s my (first) home and it’s where my family lives. This holiday was born out of a two-parted necessity, to catch up with friends and family I haven’t seen in a year and to celebrate the marriage of two dear friends. I’m thrilled to do both of these things. But, man, no offense to anyone (expect, maybe, the aforementioned Texans) but there are about a billion other places I’d rather have gone and spent my precious pennies (and, er, Capital One credit) this off-season.

Thing is Holland isn’t just a country in Europe. No siree. In fact it’s also a city in West Michigan. My grandparents live there. I was born there. And it comes complete with wooden shoes, windmills and a tulip festival.

And here I am smack dab in the middle of three weeks here. And, while I’m having a fabulous time catching up with friends and family (who I miss too much when I’m away and always leave wishing we lived closer) and that is probably enough to make this trip worthwhile, I also made a decision when I stepped off the plane at Gerald R. Ford International airport in Grand Rapids, Michigan to treat this trip, at least parts of it, as if I'm somewhere totally new; to explore, relax and re-discover this oh so familiar place. Those Pure Michigan commercials make this place look pretty damn inviting, right?

There are a billion amazing places to visit in this world. And I intend to make my way around the globe discovering them, even if every now and then I end up somewhere I’ve already been. Cities change. So do people. And because of that there’s always something new to discover. Even in Holland.


Stay tuned next time to read about what exactly I discovered, and re-discovered, on this trip.



Sunday, May 8, 2011

Just a Haircut?

by Tracey Flower

I got a haircut a few days ago.

It was possibly the most significant haircut I’ve ever gotten. Not because of the style—mid-length, long layers and Heidi Klum bangs—but because of what I saw when I looked in the mirror as I studied my stylist’s handiwork when I got home. The thought I had then materialized spontaneously and was unexpected but so wonderfully and warmly welcomed that I haven’t stopped smiling since I heard it.

I look like myself again.

What? How is that possible? When did I stop looking like myself?

Allow me to explain.

Me sans makeup but loving my new (old) 'do. 

I wrote in a post a little over a year ago that I didn’t recognize myself at that moment.

I have returned home in poor shape. I’ve lost weight and sleep and I have a bad cold. Every time I look in the mirror at the moment I’m shocked to see the person looking back at me. I don’t recognize her, she looks drained, this person, she looks pale and weary and it’s hard to believe this person is me, I wrote.

I wasn’t in a great place then. And I’ve come a long, long way since that moment. Happiness and I had a big beautiful reunion six months ago and we’ve been strong and steady since. Finding peace had nothing to do with my appearance—something I’ve mostly just maintained, rather than remark at, under layers of beanies, thermals and snowboard pants during the past six months of the snowiest winter in Vail’s history (524 inches!). And I’ve pretty much accepted happiness as a part of my life at this point (oh what a sweet life it is) so it surprised me that there was still another bright shiny ray of it to bask in.

A year ago right now my hair was long with shaggy overgrown bangs, all of it a bit too heavy. The color was my natural blonde. When, well, we all know what happened, I chopped it off (as you do when a relationship ends). Months later, after I reunited with Happy, I dyed it red because I felt like a dramatic change to mark the occasion. It’s been some hue of red, or at least dark strawberry blonde, all winter under all those beanies. About a month ago I took it back to my roots and headed toward a golden sunshiny blonde again. It had gotten longer over the winter, and a bit unruly. And since beanie season is pretty much over (no more hiding) I decided it was time to head to the salon.

Now here I am with those freshly chopped layers and Heidi Klum bangs, a style I rocked for awhile back before it got too long and I got sad and chopped it all off. And, well, there isn’t much more to say than I look like myself again. It might not seem like a big whooping deal, possibly not even significant enough to blog about, but it’s a pretty damn remarkable thing to me, a girl who just a year ago felt she didn’t recognize herself.