Present Day Philosopher

Helli Hansen

Iceland was an incredibly peaceful and bonding trip for Rick and me. We prepared meals for our daily excursions, working to ensure we caught all the mountains and waterfalls while racing against the sun. He was the epitome of Boy Scout, having utensils for our meals, tissues for our noses (and my pee breaks), and maps to ensure we reached multiple destinations each day.

Riccardo

Me

I, on the other hand, stayed behind the wheel mostly. I relied heavily on GPS systems and cruise control as I gauged distances, planned our ETAs around check-in times, and demanded cheese on crackers. As Rick spoon-fed me his lovingly crafted stews, we rode across abandoned scenery, over one-lane bridges and through little towns. We listened to a Tim Minchin concert on repeat, and Rick prattled to me about random things, topics I can't quite recall, but his willingness to share soothed me as we traversed Route 1.

Snow Over, Under, All Around

Thanks to my insistence, we had this time together, alone. His initial inclination was to invest in a group tour; mine was to find our own way. He accepted eventually, with the caveat that we would attend a day tour in an ice cave, and I was happy to comply. That day in Iceland, it was negative 12 degrees celsius. That day in the North Pole, it was positive 2 degrees celsius. Our tour guide explained how twisted the world has become, where we were colder in Iceland than they were at the Pole. 

This man, Helli Hansen, was an inspiration. He embarked on many topics with gusto and relished his personal beliefs. "There are no true philosophers nowadays," he said. "Aristotle, Socrates, Augustine, they developed their own philosophies and lived by them. Nowadays, you study philosophy, you memorize facts, but to be a true philosopher, you must be it and live it."

Rick and I loved this man immediately.

"What do you do when you have extremely dirty clothes? You give it to your mother, of course. Our Mother Earth has been dealing with our choices. The dirtier we make our clothes, the more Mother Earth must work to get the stains out. She's doing extreme things all over the world to try and rectify our choices. Imagine how much more radiation is around, ever since we began making atomic bombs? How much harder Mother Earth must work to try and combat that?

"Here in Iceland, we are our own police. Have you seen any police around? We believe that we are responsible for respecting the earth and keeping order around here. I must act with my gut, and if I see something wrong, I will stop it."

Later on in the trip, we passed by some tourists who were driving on the grass. As Helli saw them, he parked the truck and jumped out towards them, his microphone still heard clearly from our seats. "Hey! What do you think you're doing? Do you know how long that moss has been growing? 112 years. Keep your car on the path!"

Off to the Ice Cave We Go

Helli stands up for those who cannot stand up for themselves:  nature, animals, even tourists. "I'm a horse-whisperer," he said, "that's why I'm a vegetarian. I feel for animals. I know what they're going through."

I reflected over my time living in big cities, ignoring the homeless and druggies/drunkards because they made me feel unsafe. What have they done to me? And if I get hurt helping them, at least I would be living by my current desire to help others who ask for it. We need to reassess and be valiant. We need to stand up for those who cannot speak for themselves. We must act with love and try to understand people in other situations. We must not fear humanity. 

Homecoming

Getting home was of course, a whirlwind. Saying goodbye to Rick was saying nothing at all. He soothed me, telling me I was about to see my family, to work at Salt Bagel. I'd be able to see my friends from high school and have time to sing. He told me that he loved me, and that everything was okay because he wasn't losing me. He'd still be in my life, and I in his. And as my eyes welled up, I hugged him close, pressing my ear to his chest as though that was the only place in the world for me. 

The busyness of the airport swirled around us as I forced my way through crowds to my gate. I had a lighthearted conversation with another American who allowed me to join her in line for our flight. I sat next to two grandparents who turned around to play with their grandson in the seat behind, their Welsh accents wafting pleasantly through my ears. I chose to watch Up!, just so I could have a good cry.

I got home, welcomed by Ma, Pops and Hammer in the car, and Dave waiting patiently at home with my favourite Indian dishes (including Palak Paneer, although they do it better in London and Sydney). The next day, my parents surprised me by taking me to a bike shop, where I picked out my latest ride. I could not believe their urgency in this matter, and my happiness shone through all our conversations that day. 

That being said, I was used to a life of independence. Living at home was an odd transition, one I thought I'd enjoy, but I ended up feeling baffled by it all. I didn't want to rely on my parents as much as I did, I didn't want to rely on cars as much as I had to (we live a 15 minute drive from the closest metro station, with no buses to get you there); I felt trapped. 

In high school, I felt entitled. I felt like my parents should provide me a car. I felt like I could go out and eat, using Ma's credit card. Now when I returned home, I realized how much I had used them in my youth, how much I disliked my former actions. Being home meant being dependent. I'd always have to ask to leave the house (as it was their cars that would take me places), I'd be subjected to constant questions about my vegetarianism, and I wouldn't be able to act independently of their schedules. Perhaps my problem is how much I'm saying "I" and "me". I should've tried saying "you", to ask how I could help them each day. To borrow the car to accomplish chores for them as well as myself. But I was off to my next stop: Salt Bagel.

Caitlin Roberts

Caitlin Roberts is an old friend of mine from high school. I rave about her. I think she's courageous for starting a company with her brother, working in her final semester at W&M to launch this company. It's just had its fourth birthday, and she's opening a pop-up shop in January, perfect timing for me to get an instantaneous job while supporting my best friend. 

Had I stayed at home, I'd have over an hour commute each way, having to borrow a car for the day, sit through traffic, and work long hours only to wade through the traffic again. I couldn't feasibly do that, and when Caitlin offered to host me for the duration of the Bagel/Pickle Pop-up, I was eager to accept. 

Caitlin and I have a longstanding friendship, based on food, quirkiness and Arrested Development references. I cannot believe how much more I like her now than in high school. She's become more gentle, more focused, more accepting and dedicated. She listens when she can, she puts her head down when she feels fragile. It's been a helluva fortnight working for her, as I've ended up staying back to ensure things get done at Salt Bagel.

Who Could Want Bagels This Much (honestly)

Each day is a new one. We have changes to the menu, the setup, the pickled goods, and my responsibilities in the shop are growing. I'm getting to know more people, to speak avidly about our foods. Salt Bagel has been getting rave reviews in different newspapers, and our weekend crowds have been overwhelming, selling out of Bagels before noon each day. As you can imagine, selling out means a whole lot more prep for the next day, so the hours are by no means shorter. I revel at how much time Caitlin dedicates to this shop while also maintaining order at their usual Farmers Markets. Her accomplishments are incredible, yet the efforts she sustains are hidden to most.

With my allegiance to Caitlin, it's been difficult to balance a long-distance relationship while also dedicating room to practice singing. I may go to an audition this week, if I feel prepared. I may apply for another audition. I may just ride it out and see where my choices take me.

As Keane says,

"Everybody's changing and I don't feel the same."

But as long as I accept and revel in each situation, I've nothing to fear. Que Sera, Sera.