We were in a foreign land, together 24/7, no break. Months had passed since we’d had quality time together, and it was a challenging adjustment. Nonstop togetherness can be like consuming a bag of thin mints without regard to moderation; too much of a good thing. I was beginning to feel an ache in my lower abdomen. Was this a tummy ache or the beginning of an ulcer?

Over the past 28 years, we’d developed a few ways to get us through the rough patches. A Mexican and a Jew, both of us born with an unlimited supply of strong opinions, both relishing giving these opinions to others. However, the old adage “opposites attract” sometimes take the form of  “you say potato, I say potatoe”. Our fate, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, is to always be on the edge of a passionate discussion. Okay, maybe even an argument. Rules for conflict resolution are kept to a minimum.

In my opinion, here are the rules:

Rule No 1: Identify the conflict

Rule No 2: Call timeout (Gains objectivity, acknowledges/ identifies feelings.)

Rule No 3: Discuss the conflict (Ideas are exchanged to work towards a civilized end.)

Well, as you might guess, a conflict was brewing during our recent travels. To further complicate matters, dinner was being made in a couple of hours by our gracious hosts. After a brief snarl, we decided to go straight to Rule No. 3, while the embers of mental anguish were still hot to the touch.

I made the suggestion that since I had to put on makeup and dry my hair, and he had previously expressed a desire to soak in a hot tub, (bathroom providing a nice quiet space away from prying ears), we both agreed. I entered the bathroom moments after my sweetheart entered the tub. Having a hold on my electric curling iron, and seeing his vunerable body in the tub was just too much for me.

“Would you care to plug this in for me?” I asked with a smile on my face. “Let me bring you an extension cord dear.” We began our conflict resolution with humor, our mediator.

Afterwards: This posting is based upon actual events. Both parties maintain a different version of this event, and are alive today to share their version upon request.

Cathedral in Wells, England

Watching a jogger go by my window makes me realize how much work it takes to vacate.Vacation means, NEW sights, NO routine, CHAOS in travel and tons of uncertainty; If this were a regular job, I’d almost be ready for a vacation from my vacation!

On the bright side, it’s a surefire way to change your perceptions on just about everything. Driving in a car on the wrong side of the road, while hitting the curb every few miles (no kidding) leaves me to philosophizing that perhaps I am too attached to life to enjoy the thrill of road traveling in England. Today is NOT a good day to die!

Therefore, I lessen my driving pursuits, and visit a cathedral. The place is in Wells, the smallest cathedral city in England (outside of the city of London).  Parts of this cathedral date back to the 10th century. On its western front are almost 300 medieval statues, one of the best collections in Europe. The size of the cathedral dwarfs its surroundings, and Wells is already a virtual postage stamp of a place.

The scissor arches and Wells clock inside the cathedral inspire thoughts on spirituality; close family relative of immortality.The arches are simple and elegant sweeping the interior of the cathedral toward the sky. The eyes naturally move upward, following the contours.

The clock is astronomical predating Copernicus, a Polish astronomer and mathematician.What is interesting about this 14th century medieval gem is upon the hour, when the clock strikes, sun and moon images revolve around a fixed earth, on the clock face, while nights and horses emerge from the interior of the body of the clock, dance on a circular platform, and then recede back inside.

Continuing my reflection on immortality, I consider my last trip, Puerto Rico, where I came across yet another church, San Jose Church, the oldest church established in North America, 16th century, where Ponce de Leon attended. This famous seeker of the Fountain of Youth fell ill in Florida while searching for his dream. He died in San Juan, Puerto Rico from an infection that developed as a result.

On the other hand, 490 years later, someone is still writing about him. Maybe he did find immortality, hopefully, we will learn to drive on this bucolic road.