I’m not going to wax poetic about turning 30, which I did on Thursday. I don’t have any sage words about passing into the third decade of my life. But I will say that the idea for this round-the-world trip germinated during a 30th birthday. It just wasn’t mine.
Maikael turned 30 last June, which was a bigger deal for me than it was for him. I remember lying in bed one morning sometime around his birthday, staring at the ceiling, when an absurdly simple thought shot across my mind like a rocket: the rest of my life is no longer ahead of me. Of course I knew this on an intellectual level — life starts ticking by from the moment we’re born. But until that moment in time I had always felt as if the world was full of limitless possibilities. While I had accomplished a fair amount during my 20s, I didn’t feel as if I had tackled any of the personal goals that I had set for myself a decade earlier. Indeed, the only thing I had truly wished to complete was to travel extensively and learn Spanish fluently. In nine years I hadn’t done much to nudge myself toward either of those goals. Now was the time to get busy living life.
Fast-forward 11 months. I am sitting in a very frou-frou chi-chi restaurant in Santa Fe, New Mexico, getting ready to order the first dinner of my 30s, which I am expecting to be sumptous. I request the lamb sirloin, garnished with favas, morels, sunchokes, and shallots, in a demiglace with French feta salata atop. The waiter asks me, “Would you like the mushrooms with that?” I assume he is referring to the morels. This is not insignificant. Admittedly, I am not the biggest mushroom fan (nor is my friend, Nikki, a vegan blogger who writes eloquently about her dislike of mushrooms). However, I have been trying to broaden my culinary horizons in preparation for this trip, so I respond, “Sure, why not.” Thirty minutes later I am delivered, alongside my entree, a steaming plate of crescent-shape fungi, dusted with fresh parsley. This is not an inconsequential amount of mushrooms. It is a plate-full, fit for a true fungi fanatic.
For a moment I consider digging into the mushrooms. Has there been some sort of a mistake? Did they extract the mushrooms from my entree and give them a place of honor on their own plate? But no; I see the morels nestled amongst the favas, their jaunty caps a stark contrast to their more pedestrian-looking cousins on the next plate over. I determine this is mushroom overkill, and realize that I have been upsold an additional side of mushrooms that I never intended to order. These mushrooms are coming at a great cost.
To appreciate my next move, you must know I dislike conflict with a passion. I will usually do anything to avoid rocking the boat, but I’ve made conscious strides in the last year to overcome this. Now was the time to test my mettle. “I’m not paying for these extra mushrooms,” I tell Maikael. I call the waiter over with an expectant eyebrow-raise. “I’m a little confused,” I say, in the sweetest voice I can muster. “I thought you were asking me if the existing mushrooms in the dish were okay, not if I wanted an entire side of mushrooms.” The waiter and I share a look. “It wasn’t clear to me.” Pause. “I would like to send these mushrooms back.” The waiter screws up his face, in a look I can only describe as whiny. He starts to say something and stops himself. “I’m sorry about the confusion. I’ll take care of that.”
This moment was, quite simply, exhilirating. The 29-year-old Elizabeth wouldn’t have sent the mushrooms back. Instead, she would have stewed about the mushrooms, talking incessantly about how she hates to be upsold, in effect ruining the meal. It suddenly dawned on me that the Elizabeth of Her 20s would never have been prepared to take a trip of this magnitude. The Elizabeth of Her 20s had some growing up to do.
I am further elated when the check comes. The waiter explains that he has comped the side of wild mushrooms. When he leaves, I lean across the table and ask Maikael, “What did the mushrooms cost?” “Fifteen dollars,” he says. My mind quickly calculates what I’ve just saved us in WTER terms! Nearly 1/3 of a plane ticket from Madrid to Lisbon! About 1/2 of a room in our Lisbon hostel!
My 30th year is bound to be memorable, inextricably linked with embarking on a round-the-world trip. The iPod I received for my birthday from my mother-in-law was engraved with “Round the World Trip 2008.” I got a lot of cool travel-related gifts: custom-designed business cards for our trip from a friend who’s a graphic designer. A metal spork (who knew they made these? - ingenious!). But there’s no better gift I could ask for than to start living out a long-held dream.
People keep asking me, “How does it feel to be 30?” I can honestly say that I never dreamed the chrystallizing moment of turning 30 would come in fungi form.
