Now back at home after a long trip, I recall that a peripatetic life suits me.

My artistic friends that I visit while traveling, strengthen, comfort and guide me. There is a parallel to our paths. The parallel is that we exist in this world as  lifelong, passionate students of art and music.

There is a ceaseless quest for understanding the world, because we are conduits of the sentiments in the world. As my brother David put it so succinctly, “The business of an artist is to know.”

I also believe, the function of an artist is to be able to express. Artists express the joy and pain that life brings in their work.

Music is my meditation. It feels like breathing; without it, I would not last.

The rhythm of an artist’s practice comforts strengthens and guides. My friends, many of them artists whom I have visited along this travel, provide safe havens for long discussions regarding this ephemeral path. There were also friends made during travels that inspired me with their passion and dedication to the art of travel.  Creative living is their muse.

While sitting with around a table on New Year’s Eve at a Thai restaurant, filled with families, people of ages 8 to 53, New Year’s resolutions were exchanged. The table was filled with college students, medical administrators, restauranteurs, children and me.  My musician friend was playing at a private party, and we would visit later, in the wee hours of the morning.

Some wishes were very specific.

“I wish to travel more this year.”

Another, “I wish to return back home.”

And for myself, I wish to be able to have so much love, that it is  transformational. Through my art, this happens.

Electric grids in Europe.

Alexander Graham Bell wrote,  “When one door closes, another door opens.”

Well, let me tell you, when in Europe, it doesn’t happen that way. Doors fail to open, or more to the point, they open the wrong direction. They often open toward the inside of a space, no matter what lies within or how large. American doors, on the other hand, open the correct, or opposite direction.

Europeans also have dim hallways. Since I can no longer read without glasses, there were times I had to grope for my belongings, blind and tentative. Lights in Europe come on as one approaches a hallway, or darkened area. All is dormant until light sensitive timers turn on. Europeans are great at conserving electricity; it is very expensive abroad.

This conservative approach works to test the patience of Americans (namely me), and makes us well aware of the land of plenty from which we come. (I do intend to assess however, my home lighting needs, now that I have returned home. American conservation is finally in vogue.)

Then, there are the differences in electrical plugs and systems. There are as many different kinds of plugs, as there are in a large box of Godiva chocolates. The four countries I traveled through (England, The Netherlands, France and Spain) had three different types of electrical plugs. Planner that I am, my trip beforehand to Austin’s REI proved fruitless. I purchased a heavy-duty all-purpose technicolor dream adaptor for persons with wanderlust, and it turned out to be out of date, and therefore non-functional. While traveling abroad, there are also additional assortments of adaptors, at hotels and hardware stores to add to whatever adaptor and electrical devices a traveler might bring. Good luck finding yours. I never did.

Different types of electrical generation and distributions exist in the US and abroad,

110 DC (American) versus 220 AC (European). What is relevant here is what happens when you mix the two systems, in an appliance that cannot adjust the current properly through the adaptors. Receiving a phone call one night, while heating up a heat adjustable lo/hi curling iron with DC current and AC adaptor, produced disastrous results. After leaving the iron plugged in while speaking with a Floridian friend, I later held it over my head upon returning. Steam was present for the first time that I’d ever noticed. I thought it a little unusual, but filled with thoughts of my overseas holiday talk, dismissed it.

Even when I noticed the cap falling off the end of the iron, I failed to recognize the growing warning signals. I picked up the cap from the floor and took a look. Being somewhat blind without glasses (see the above), I failed to notice the reason behind the fallen cap. It had melted off of the iron.

The final blow was taking a piece of my hair, (luckily in the center of my head, away from my skin), and applying the iron. An immediate sizzling sound with a scent of burnt hair made me jump! What remained was fried hair glued permanently to the iron, and a smelly head for a few days. No worries, the rest of me was intact!

  While we were in London, my sweetheart and I went to the National Museum of London where I fell in love with several Dutch paintings from the 17^th century.

My absolute favorite was by an unknown Flemish painter, “Cognoscenti in a Room Hung with Pictures.”  This painting filled a canvas with a dark study that held more than 30 well-known paintings on the wall. Each painting was miniscule, but exact, and each brushstroke held precision, luminescence and reflection. I do not pretend to be very knowledgeable about paintings, but I know what I like.

Other treasures were several of Van Gogh’s works. Each of his paintings reminds me of dancing. They are filled with movement. His famous painting of sunflowers, of which there are four, look like strange snakes swaying out of a vase; I have a vivid imagination. As we enjoyed these paintings, we met a man who comes to the museum to see Van Gogh paintings on a regular basis. He told us he has been coming to see these Van Gogh works for years, and never grows tired of it. He sees something different each time he comes.

Outside of the museum was Trafalgar Square, where one could get a feel of the British self-image and history of the Napoleonic Wars. There were various commanders on horses scattered all over the place, the primary commander being Lord Admiral Nelson, who is given the main credit for defeating the French.

I also sang that  day, but because of the holidays abounding, there was little or no time to organize a musical event. I’ve decided that this part of the trip is about taking a break from routine, even music.

While traveling through Europe over the past month, in London I saw the synagogue where my sweetheart’s, great- grandfather and great-great grandfather may have attended. I visited the East End of London, where his great- grandfather rolled cigars, and had a knowledgeable cabbie show us a place nearby known as the “Tobacco Dock.”

Along the East End, in the late 1800s, where industry, the River Thames, and poverty lay, we found pubs and places where the present inhabitants say there are spirits from the past.

We saw the London Tower where criminals were hung, and Jack the Ripper frequented. And we saw where Captain Kidd had his ale, and learned that each manner of brick laying in London, reveals when a building was constructed.

AND, finally ate my first fish ‘n’ chips!