It is 80 degrees, nearly the end of September in Portland, Oregon, where I sit now, writing. I've just arrived, and I'm getting my bearings, looking for a point of beginning, a place to leave myself behind and see what's really here.

What happens next? It's a good question to ask myself. I am used to certain features of traveling: packing, looking online for things that might interest me, looking at maps and weather reports. But, I like to see what it feels like in a new place, let the place take me by the heart and lead me around. There may be an embrace, a fit of anger, and there may be a long relationship that begins. Who knows.

For me, a pretty quiet person, an introvert really, what piques my interest is listening to voices, seeing the landscapes and cityscapes as three-dimensional art in real time, feeling the movement and energy around me, and letting it move me. It's as much physical as emotional, internal and external. I travel; I learn.

Portland moves as cities usually do, with pace and sound. It has a pride and sense of itself that derives from its geology and geography. Big hills roll up and away from its big rivers, and grand mansions stand on high promontories above the riverbanks. The symmetrically arranged grid pattern of suburban streets and avenues further away are interrupted by the random wandering paths of streams and rivers.

It's Indian Summer, a warm incongruity that doesn't seem to match my vague idea of what the northwest should be. On a day so warm and languid as this one, the complaints I've heard of rain upon rain upon moist cold ring false. From what I see around me, this is a fine, easy town, used to warmth and an outdoor lifestyle.

What did I do today?

I arrived. That's an accomplishment sometimes, I have to say. There was a bland lack of challenge in it at first, but Portland doesn't sit around for long, waiting for a person to wake up to it. There is energy here, not restless and unruly so much as undaunted by problems, a town walking into its future with intention. That sounds odd to me to say after only a brief time walking along its streets, but the set of the shoulders, the pace and look of the populace tells me that it is more that than not.

I didn't really get a sense of Portland ahead of time except that friends told me it's a pretty town (it is) and that there are good street cars and light rail (there is). Maybe I will admit to believing that Portland is a funny mix of tree huggers and rednecks. It might turn out to be, but I need to have a look, feel it out. Definitely, I did not expect the torpid heat.

But, that's the point of traveling. You get your mind set on an expectation so easily. Then, things pop up differently than you'd planned, so you have to listen more closely, see what's around you, learn it for what it really is. Lots of trees shade the streets. People are out walking, cycling, sitting in cafes, riding street cars and talking to each other. There is an air of self-acceptance and something else here. Independence?

I photographed roses by the millions in the International Rose Test Garden, rode the street cars around town and ate at a lovely restaurant (see? I am not a cagey, thrifty traveler!) called Higgins. I walked for awhile, heard young buskers playing plaintively on street corners that echoed the sounds of their violins and horns. I wore the wrong shoes, got a blister, and reveled in the warm night air despite the discomfort of my feet.

I am sitting here late at night, listening to the same echoing rumble I might hear at the shore of my own town when the waves of the ocean break, but there is the sound of humanity out there in Portland, voices and engine sounds coming through the night air in similar waves. In the morning I will wade in, up to my heart, up to my eyes and ears.

Hero's Journey: Wisdom For a Young Traveler

A friend of mine told me about her daughter's trip to France this summer.  She had planned for months after  she found out about the possibility of a homestay for three weeks with a family in the mid-south region of the country.  She had studied French at her small high school for the previous three years and felt it would be an ideal way to put her nascent language skills to good use.

Obstacles arose in the planning process, not the least of which was the anxiety of traveling alone in a foreign country to a destination completely new to her, to live with a family she had never met before.  Much more than her language skills would be tested.  Yet, she continued on with the planning and ultimately left on her big adventure.

The travel to Germany by plane and then to her temporary home in France by train went well and she arrived full of hope and some trepidation.  Immediately, she was welcomed and began to settle in to the pace and life of her host family.  The language barrier was noticed by all, not because she spoke poor French, but because her French was stilted and old-fashioned.  Being only 17, her mind adapted and absorbed phrases and modern slang quickly.

Three weeks flew by. She was adopted and included in the life of a French family in one of the most beautiful areas of a lovely country.  Before she knew it, our young traveler had to say good-bye and made her way all the way back home.

On arrival home, she was filled with stories of what she'd seen and heard, where she'd gone and who she'd met.  It was another adustment period, a time of culture shock all over again, but this time it was because she was returning to her home with a change in her heart.

"What did you notice most while you were in France?" her family asked her.

"I saw how the family ate together every day at lunch.  The son walked home from school, everyone stopped their work and they were together for an hour and a half every day.  Life was much slower.  There was never a meal in their house when there were not at least 8 or 10 people together.  It could have been neighbors dropping by or other family members, but there were always people at meals together.  Most of the time, they ate outdoors at a big table under the tree."

When she came back home with France fresh in her mind, she began to notice, almost for the first time, the pace of her family's life, how few meals were eaten together and how much her friends spent time alone, separate from one another.  Her family has not owned a television for years, but even without the TV, unusual as that is, she noticed a hurried pace, social isolation and a greater intensity of talk and behavior during time when families were together.

This struck her, and it changed her.  She was able to talk about it and in doing so gained a new wisdom about our society and choices she can make in her life to reflect the wisdom - the gift - she returned with that had transformed her.

This is a simple but true story that illustrates the positive effect not only of travel but ultimately of understanding that processing and sharing the meaning of preparation, travel and personal experience completes the journey.  It would have been easy and light to welcome her home, look at her photographs and then plan another trip or go off to some other activity, but the family took time to listen to her experience of travel.   They gave her an opportunity to reflect and witnessed her transformation, even if it was a personal internal one.

Any opportunity we can take to allow our family members and our friends to gain wisdom through their experiences and difficulties enriches us all as individuals and fosters personal as well as community transformation.  Take the time (with the TV off) to listen to each other at the end of the day and at mealtimes.  This is the Hero's Journey, a story we are all taking part in every day.  You have the power to change your own story by doing something as simple and low-tech as listening, carefully.  Bon voyage!