Once I decided that I was going to go, the practical nature of the journey set in. Usually, I have weeks or so to plan and get myself psychologically prepared for a trip, but because I decided on this one so late in the game, I was behind. It's not that I don't know how or what to pack --- Lord knows I travel enough to have the basics under control --- it's just that I like having a little more notice before setting out.
So I started with the lists. I love making lists. It helps me feel like I have some modicum of control over the vicissitudes of the world. Lots of tasks at work? Put them in a list. Short on groceries? List. Overdue phone calls? Definitely a list. In this case, I needed to keep track of things to pack and things to do before leaving. It's Canada, so I need my passport. I need to add the temporary international calling plan to my cellphone. I need to transfer money into the bank account that doesn't charge international withdrawal fees (Charles Schwab, if you're wondering --- they've been wonderful). I need to pack a hat and some gloves. I need to remember to turn down the heat. I need to make sure there's nothing in the trash can that's going to rot and develop language skills before I get back. And so on.
Almost more than making the lists, I love categorizing them. There are the things I need to do the night before we leave, the things I need to do the morning of, the things I need to pack in the suitcase as opposed to in my computer bag...you get the idea. And so I can give myself the cozy illusion of having everything squared away, in preparation for the unknowns of the journey ahead.
Not that this is going to be such an onerous trip, mind you. For once, I was going somewhere without having to fly, so there are no stupid 3-ounce containers to worry about, and no fussing with the damn security lines. I could just wake up, stash my toothbrush, and go. Isn't that what travel is supposed to be like? Maybe with a valet?
Despite that, I'm feeling more anxious than I usually do about traveling. After the packing and other tasks had been squared away, it occurred to me that I have basically no idea of what I was going to do when I got there. I haven't had any time to research places to eat or things to do. I don't have a map, or even the vaguest notion of what the city looks like or how it's laid out. And while I have some general plan to find a nice cafe with Internet access and get some work done, mostly I haven't the foggiest idea of specifically how I'm going to fill my time.
This isn't any sort of deep existential crisis, of course, but it does provide a rather disturbing look into my psychological makeup. I really like having everything laid out in advance and squared away, such that the thought of making it up as I go along is rather daunting to me. But I'm sure I'll be able to deal with it. At any rate, it should make me stronger rather than kill me.
Assuming, that is, that I survive the drive. Michael is out at the moment, picking up our rental car. The plan is to have a bite of breakfast and then pick up his three graduate students around 8:45 so that we can get on the road at a good hour. It's about an eight hour journey, plus a lunch stop somewhere around Albany. Luckily, our road will take us through some truly spectacular high-season fall foliage, which hopefully will soothe this naturally belligerent group of philosophers into not talking about philosophy for once. I know that this can't be helped entirely; any time you get more than one philosopher in the same place, it's always shop talk. Plus, the whole reason for this Montreal trip is a conference that they're attending. Oh well. Guess I shouldn't complain, since I'm just (literally) along for the ride. Bon voyage, and look for my updates from Canada!
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