Rooting for the World (7/19/2026)

I have been watching the FIFA World Cup and rooting for the country of my birth, the Congo, which was eliminated; the country where I grew up, Curaçao, also eliminated; the country of my original nationality, the Netherlands, eliminated as well; the United States, the country of my current citizenship, eliminated in a somewhat embarrassing way; and Belgium, because when I was born, the Congo was still a Belgian colony. No wonder I feel somewhat conflicted. Am I a man without a country, a man with too many countries, or simply a man of the world? Let’s assume it is the latter: a man of the world, free to root for any football team I choose.

As you may know, I have traveled extensively, lived in at least eight countries, and experienced a great deal. Let’s not even talk about all the countries I have visited. The other day, at our UU church, we did a word association exercise. When I heard the word “free,” it took me back to a day in late April or early May of 1979. We had been under a two- to three-week siege in Uganda, fearing for our lives almost daily. One day, just after noon, we heard tanks and heavy equipment approaching the front gate of the Leprosy Center where we worked. At first, we feared this might be the end. Then, suddenly, we realized they were Tanzanian soldiers. We had been liberated. We were free. The compound erupted with screaming, celebrating people. It was amazing to witness. We celebrated for the next couple of days. The strangest part came that on the evening of our liberation, when we listened to a Radio Netherlands broadcast. After the news, our names were announced as missing, with a request that we call home if possible. That moment captured what freedom meant.

In every country where I have lived, I have experienced something special—some moment that felt like freedom. I may not remember the earliest ones. We left the Congo when I was one and a half, moved to Belgium, and left there when I was three. Perhaps my birth itself was a kind of freedom: freedom from my mother’s womb and into life. My first real memory of freedom came on December 5, 1956, in Curaçao. I was three and a half years old when my father told me Sinterklaas had brought me a brother. Sinterklaas is the Dutch equivalent of Santa, except that we celebrate him on December 5. My brother was born that day, and I still remember my disappointment. I had asked Sinterklaas for a sister, but he gave me a brother.

The moments when I felt most free during my youth were usually spent in or on the water—swimming or sailing—or alone in nature, strolling through the bush and observing the world around me. I think I was awkward, a loner, and a bit of an introvert, with maybe one or two friends. I was never bullied or ostracized, but I do remember feeling different. My first-grade teacher told my parents, and me, that I was highly intelligent and would become a professor. My second-grade teacher hated me. I received many beatings from her with a ruler. I am sure I was no sweetheart, but she broke a yardstick on my behind almost every week. Corporal punishment was common in those days, especially in her classroom. I complained to my mother, and she told me, “The next time she does it, get up and walk out of the class to the principal.” Well, I got up—but instead of going to the principal, I walked home, more than an hour in the stifling tropical heat. Free at last. The teacher never reported my absence, so my mother eventually reported it to the principal. Things improved after that: freedom from the daily beatings. I still remember the teacher’s first name: Babs.

Has my ultimate freedom come with retirement? I wish. I am now the president of our church, I still have a mortgage, and I now have a loan for the Airstream. In addition, I depend on the government for Social Security and Medicare. I pay taxes and need a license to drive. I had better stop here. No, I am not a libertarian, but I am as free as I can be—or at least as free as I can feel. Maybe freedom is not the absence of obligations, but the moments I spend on the water, in nature, and out in the world: listening to a concert, traveling, and camping. I hope you feel free too.

We were happy to watch Spain win, although it would have been wonderful for Messi and Argentina as well. We had no strong favorite, which left us free to watch the game without bias and without ties to either country.

We were kayaking the other day (after a long hiatus).  It felt great to be on the water again!

My eulogy/autobiography (7/4/2025)

I just turned 72 and am sitting here on pins and needles waiting for the word that my first grandson was born. This will be a thing of the past by the time this writing will be made public, either as part of a memoire and/or a blog post. Why now, can we blame turning 72, my grandson, or my daughter or her wife for this introspection? I don’t know; it is probably a combination of a lot of things.

I am in a men’s group, and we assigned ourselves the project of writing our own eulogy. If that wasn’t enough, during a birthday get together a good friend asked me all kinds of biographical questions, and unbeknown to me he taped the whole conversation. He showed me that he was recording it after my birthday dinner at a Mexican restaurant. This made me feel self-conscious, and together with the fact that I now will have someone to carry on the torch (a grandson), it made me want to record a little more of mine and my family’s history. I have done a bit of this already in some of my blog posts, and I may refer to them when appropriate. I expect that I will publish sections of this writing in my blog, again in the hope that those of my direct family that comes after me will read it and find it interesting, useful and informative.

Where to start? But below is a section of the eulogy that I wrote for myself or maybe for those celebrating my life on this blue marble once I kick the proverbial bucket.

“What the heck is Kalemi? Well actually it is a town in the far eastern part of Congo. During colonial times it was the Belgium Congo, and the town was named Albertville after one of Belgium’s monarchs. I (my name) was born in that town on June ??, 195?. We are gathered here to celebrate the premature passing of Jan-Willem or as many of his friends knew him “Jan the man.” As he often told us that when at a doctor’s office no one got up when a name was called, it meant it was his turn to see the doctor. Everybody seemed to have difficulties pronouncing his name, and then when “Jan” got up they seemed even more confused. Is Jan a guy?”

Did it frustrate me that folks had difficulties with my name, my first and last name? Not at all, I found it amusing. In its own way it showcased the lack of cosmopolitan experience that I have observed in this country. Living in Cincinnati in the late 1990s I was always tickled when during our first meeting folks would ask me which high school I had graduated from. Like the majority in the area, they had never spread their wings, and they could obviously not fathom that there was actual life outside Cincinnati. Even more fun was when they told you about the great vacation they had in Indiana, a state maybe less than 20 miles to the west. Here in the Hampton Roads, where I currently live, it is a little less narrow-minded, since there is a large concentration of military and ex-military that have spent time in foreign countries on military installations or at war.

During the clandestinely recorded interview our friend Mason wanted to know how the heck I ended up being born in a small town situated on Lake Tanganyika (or now Lake Tanzania). Well, my father had a job there as director of a furniture company. That raised even more questions, so here we need to pause and start with the story of my father, which then raised the question of how my father and mother met. As you can imagine, the questions never ended.

I'll stop here.  If there is a next post it will be about my father before 1948.

Me as a 10-month-old on Lake Tanganika in the Congo

My dad and I around the same time.

Mother and son

Report from the road (9/25/2024)

Although I am home, I want to report a little more about my recent road trip. I was gone for 11 days. I had fun. I did not record the miles I drove, but I think it was over 3000 miles. Flying back was ok. Thank goodness there was a direct flight from Los Angeles to Norfolk and I was able to relax once the airplane tool off. In this blog I want to discuss some of the non-drive experiences, mostly as they relate to people.

My objective of Day 1 was to get away from Virginia as soon as possible. The major thing I experienced that roads were still under construction, very much like what I described here a year ago. I also had trouble with my phone keeping its charge, despite the fact that I plugged it in. Somehow the USB port was not doing its job. I decided to buy a plug-in charger in the town I stopped. Luckily, there was a car parts store near the motel I stayed in. The attendant was very helpful, we had a nice talk about all the complicated plug-in gadgets and different telephone charge ports there were. He was young, but even for him it was somewhat difficult to hunt for the correct gadget on the rack.

I somehow had a hankering for Mexican food and stopped at the restaurant nearby. It had good ratings on Google, and I dare say, the food was good. But don't order the rib-eye fajita. My chin dropped when it was served; it was an actual rib-eye stake with all the fajita makings. I ate all the vegies and half the meat and that was it. The stake was great but I was full and regretted all those chips I ate and washed down with a jumbo margarita. When I mentioned to my server that it was way too much, he just nodded.

As I mentioned in my previous post the next stop included St. Louis and the famous Gateway Arch. You go up in what they call a train; however, to me it feels more like a ferris-wheel. I shared my gondola with two couples. When making small talk they mentioned that they were both from Milwaukie, did not know each other, but lived a mile apart. As a result they started to discuss the latest murder a few blocks down from where they lived. The mother of one of the couples lived a few homes down whre the murder took place. One of the ladies told me that she wanted to take her (now) husband to all the water parks in the country and they had just spent a day at one in St. Louis.

I want to keep this post about some of the people I encountered on the road. I did not get a chance to interact with many, except some servers in restaurants, most of them were very nice and personable, including the server in Warrenton (MO), Pratt (KS), the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, and Mesquite (NV). The bar lady at the brewery in Alamosa was nice too. The most memorable were the teenage server in Pratt. She was too young to serve beer and the bartender had to bring it over. I should have asked if she was still in school and what she thought her future was in such a small rural Kansas town. Actually, the staff at the Pratt Holiday Inn Express were the friendliest. The wait staff at the North Rim appeared to be mostly Turkish engineering students who were there for the second season. I had fun talking with them. Their season was almost over, after which they played tourist for a few weeks before going back to Ankara. Their plans included a tour of the National Parks in the west. The owner of the Peruvian restaurant was from Nicaragua, but he assured me the cook was Peruvian. The food was outstanding.

The ranger or receptionist at the Prairie Preserve, she was mildly interesting, well trained and thus politically correct. Between the lines, she briefly mentioned something like “the mess” this country was in, but when I tried to draw her out, she refrained. We had a nice talk; she as a wildlife grad and me as a range management dude. However, she had no idea about the less common plants that I observed during my hike on the preserve.

The most interesting discussion I had was with a Navajo sales person at the Four Corners Landmark.  He was manning a booth and we spoke about my previous life and work on and near the Navajo Nation.  He told me that I missed the powwow in Windowrock which was held that weekend.  Again just small talk but very pleasant to be back in the culture I once lived in.

My last real encounter with someone I did not know was at the Hollywood Bowl. I wanted to buy a commemorative sweatshirt. “No, no that one is too small for you,” an African American lady all the sudden started to give me advice, “you need to go a size up.” We ended up in a nice 5-minute small talk, while my daughter and her spouse looked on. Having had a few women trying to take advantage of me on-line, I was a little weary or suspicious but then my family was nearby and we parted on very friendly terms. I may write about these more nefarious encounters some other time.

As you can see, I have nothing serious to report, and never had an in-depth discussion during any of my encounters. In a way I regret that, but is never was my objective during this trip. Hopefully, it provides a very small vignette of the people I saw and met during my trip.

This is a photograph of the small gondola of the train going up the Arch.  It's a four minute ride and as you can see, very intimate.

The Four Corners Landmark

Goodbye Fairfax (4/4/2023)

In one of my latest Facebook posts I quote the famous Anthony Bourdain:

"Eat at a local restaurant tonight. Get the cream sauce. Have a cold pint at 4 o’clock in a mostly empty bar. Go somewhere you’ve never been. Listen to someone you think may have nothing in common with you. Order the steak rare. Eat an oyster. Have a negroni. Have two. Be open to a world where you may not understand or agree with the person next to you, but have a drink with them anyways. Eat slowly. Tip your server. Check in on your friends. Check in on yourself. Enjoy the ride."

When he traveled, Bourdain had an entourage, camera men/women, a producer, sound and light engineers, makeup folks, etc. I travel alone. He was lonely. Now I am not depressed like him, not contemplating suicide, or anything like it. But yes, I am writing this in my motel room, again, from a different town, on my goodbye tour. I’ll write about that town (Wytheville) later in a next post. This post is meant to be about my visit to Fairfax and Falls Church two weeks ago.

But back to Bourdain for a paragraph. In Fairfax I was able to get together with an old friend at a local brewery and then have dinner at a local Thai restaurant (Sisters Thai) on the first day. On the second day I went to a local Whiskey tasting room/restaurant (MacMillan Whisky Room) and although I love my whiskeys and bourbons, I decided to have a Manhattan (or three) and a potpie. I closed that evening off with a coffee and gelato at a place next door (Dolcezza). I was a happy camper, both evenings.

The Thai restaurant, whiskey bar and the gelato place were all establishments I had never been before, so in a sense they qualify to what Bourdain was talking about. Meeting my friend as well, and then what happened at the whiskey bar. Let’s go into the details.

I was sitting at the bar, and the folks I sat next to soon moved away. A lady sat next to me with a book. I estimate she was in her early 50s and before I knew it, we had a fun discussion going on. We were talking about hiking, marathons (which she runs), social issues, whiskey, our backgrounds, our respective parents, and so forth. Just an enjoyable time. She ended up being a kindergarten teacher and when her husband travels, she tries different restaurants in the area. She had never been there. After an hour or so a guy sat next to us who tried to dominate the conversation talking about the book he wrote.

Eventually it was time to leave, and on our way out of the door, we both were going opposite ways, she told me: “Funny, I had fun talking to you, and to think I am an introvert, which is why I brought the book. So, I could hide in it, and I did not read a word.” If you are a regular reader of my blog, you should know, I call myself an introvert as well. We had a chuckle when I told her that as we split our ways and I went for my gelato and back to my hotel room; a very Bourdain experience.

My friend David and I grabbing a brew at the Cabous prior to going to dinner at the Thai Sisters in Fairfax.  We have been good friends for the past 15 or so years.

On the road again (Hotels 3: Virginia Beach) (2/22/22)

One year and eleven months ago after returning from a teaching gig in Lynchburg the then governor and the department I work for decided that we should temporarily shut the office, stop all traveling, and start teleworking. We were completely in la-la land about COVID or the Corona virus, and figured this would be temporary, maybe till June or at worse, September. Ah, little did we know.

So, after teleworking and teaching online we decided that 2022 was going to be the year that we were going back into the classroom. And there came Omicron: We had to cancel January classes. Again, email student the sorry emails and reschedule everything, from hotels to meeting rooms, etc.

One of the things I was looking forward to, was returning to real live teaching. Remarkable as that may be for an introvert like me, it is not a thing about being around people, but more about being able to read their facial expressions and get live feedback. These interactions are invaluable compared to talking to a Webcam.

Finally, live teaching started in February. I became the proverbial “canary in the coal mine,” I was going to try it out for the rest of us. Well, I now have taught four live classes and honestly these classes were exhausting but exhilarating. So maybe I am not an introvert? I really don’t know any more. I enjoyed the one on one so much more than the web-based classes. Maybe it’s just the format; colleagues of mine tell me that since our recent switch to Zoom things have gotten a lot better. Zoom allows you to turn on and view the webcam of your students and makes it more personable. That is of course if the students are willing to share their camera. However, the format that I had been using was not very personable and you have to rely on typed questions in a question box which do not allow for a free- flowing discussion. In addition, you don’t see people’s faces and really cannot have a good follow up discussion. During breaks you cannot have any personal interactions with folks.

Overall though I was good to be able to directly interact with folks. It was just much easier to respond to questions and to enter into fun deep discussions.

Then finally the travel. While somewhat scary to be on the road again; my father-in-law recently survived COVID and I do not need to be afraid of bringing it home. I assume I would survive an infection (knock on wood). Eating out is kind of fun again, although I need to watch out for my waistline again. I have been the main cook at home during these past two years of COVID and I am slowly running out of inspiration. I always told folks that I love to cook, I never thought it would get old, but somehow it does. It is nice to eat something different and sample different flavors to bring home and try them out here. Variety is the spice of life, or so they say.

I watch some different TV, drink a beer and just relax in my motel room. So, what’s not good about it? Maybe sleeping in a strange bed; loneliness, although I don’t mind eating alone; and the drive after teaching a whole day will get old after doing it a few times. Who knows?

My third photograph in the Hopper tradition (little did I know it would take such a long time for the third one).  This was taken in Virginia Beach at the Holiday Inn.  You can see the Atlantic Ocean in the background (Marocco or Portugal over the horizon).

You should never be alone (4/1/2019)

I was listening to one of the psychiatry shows on one of my favorite XM satellite radio stations (Doctor Radio) where one of the geriatric psychiatrists said something that sounded very profound to me: “There is a difference between loneliness and solitude.” I think that this is one of those phrases many introverts understand.

This got me thinking. Loneliness is a negative emotion. A person is or feels lonely when something or someone is missing; when no other person is with them. As common believe tells us we need human contact. It is one of the things that might prevent or at least slow down mental decline in old age; things like Alzheimer and dementia. This is also, why joining groups like religious communities and other clubs is so important, especially at advanced age (over 65 … help that’s me!).

Solitude, on the other hand, is defined as the state of being alone. It is the state of being alone without being lonely. Solitude, the definition goes on, can be especially peaceful and pleasant, an interesting distinction, indeed!

This is why that sentence stayed with me the whole day. We introverts often enjoy solitude and I have often wondered if my need to be alone is harmful to my mental health. Conversely, it seems now that my need for solitude means that I may not lose it when I get old. Introverts like me still surround themselves with their family, friends and often clubs and religious communities, but we need to retreat in solitude so now and then (more often than extroverts do) to recharge. We can probably survive by spending two thirds of our free time in solitude.

I am not sure if solace is related to solitude or not, but one would think so. The official definition for solace is “help and comfort when you are feeling sad or worried.” I find my solace from blogging, being with my bonsais, from walking in the woods, being out in nature, sailing or even just driving the backroads, all activities I do in solitude. While I enjoy retreating in the woods, I usually do not seek solace there. I do it because I am an introvert, a naturalist, a lover of nature and because of my nature deficit disorder. However, at times, I definitely have retreated into the solitude of the woods when I was sad and worried, in search of solace.

As I have described before, being out there in nature, in the woods, brings a certain inner peace to me. It clears my mind it allows me to concentrate on what is around me and not to obsess about what is in me, what is eating me. It all comes so very close to meditation, being in the moment, observing all that is going on around me; breathing in those phytoncides, lowering my blood pressure. 

Naturally, being a naturalist, it is just nice to be out there in those woods. I take any moment possible to get out there, take the dog for a walk and just be out in nature. I do not have to see or discover anything new; the regular, the common, is good enough. But that alone time, that solace is so sorely needed. 

Our walk through Pointsett State Park showed a beautiful ecosystem of oaks, loblolly and longleaf pines.  Oaks were covered by by Spanish moss.

Even on our vacation to Charleston, SC a few weeks ago, we had to make a side trips and visit state parks, the beach and spend a few hours hiking before we hit the hustle and craziness of this great town. We spent time in the Cape Fear Botanical Garden, in the Pointsett State Park and later on on Folly Beach and in the woods. Just being able to get out there and enjoy the natural world is so important. But so is being in and around Charleston. We got more enjoyment out of the stately trees (the life oaks) and peering into the gardens and courtyards than the oh so famous market. But even in the market which is full of people you can be utterly alone and lonely. 

The gardens of Charleston, SC.: live oaks, palmetto and other plants.

The "Wild West" (5/20/2018)

During the past five weeks I had three trips to the western part of the state.  Truth be told, I really enjoy going out there, were it not for the long drive.  Folks in my office joke about it, how I supposedly like it out there.

First it was a drive to Christiansburg for a meeting, followed by a trip to the Roanoke area to teach two days.  This past week I spent four days in the Abingdon and Bristol area of the State, in other words the far western part.  This was again to teach, but since it is such a long drive I need to have a day of travel before and after the classes.

My visit to Christiansburg included some field demonstrations like this hydroseeder.  It was a cold day and I thin I ended up catching laryngitis that day.

It was particularly this last trip that I enjoyed a lot.  For one I was not in a hurry to get in the car and drive back.  I could therefore take my time to enjoy my surroundings.  I did my obligatory microbrewery visits, one I have visited a few times, in Abingdon, the Wolfhill Brewing Company; and a new one, Studio Brew in Bristol, Virginia.  Studio Brew might be the far western brewery in Virginia.

In addition to having the corporate party, it was open mic night at Wolhill brewery.  This guy was actually pretty good. 

At Wolfhill I was kind of lonely.  I just sat on a bench had a beer, ate my tacos for dinner and watched people.  Nothing wrong with that; being an introvert it can be nice to people watch.  There was an office party and whether she was the organizer, the office butterfly or more, I don't know, but this one lady was hugging all the men and being very nice.  Just interesting to see. It was also obvious who the boss was.  My guess it was either a law or an engineering firm.

At Studio Brew I had a great talk with the the owner brew master.  They make great food and some really interesting beers.  I just had a wonderful relaxing time after teaching a whole day.

This is the interior of Studio Brew.  These guys make some interesting high alcohol brews, and being so close to bourbon country a few barrel aged ones.  I was impressed!

Actually, when done teaching I did not run out to the bar.  Abingdon is such a great place!  It is situated at one end of the Virginia Creeper Trail.  This trail is a rails to trail park and the first thing I did after teaching was to get out on the trail, walk to mile marker 1 and then back to the car.  Most of the walk is through nature and fields.  It is nice and relaxing 2 mile walk.  It is a great way to come down after being up for 6+ hours or so.  At this time of the year the native cherry trees were in bloom and it rained cherry petals (something we don't have in coastal Virginia and I miss from living in the mid-west).  It was so nice to walk on the trail, look at the plants and trees growing along the trail, breathing in nature, after being cooped up in a class room all day.  Please don't misunderstand me, my students were great.  It was great to interact with them and it was so rewarding when they came up to me after the class to shake my hand and thank me for traveling all the way out there to give them the workshops.

Just a picture of a tree on the Creeper trail.  I really enjoyed the walk and some of the views, although there seems to be a huge construction project going on right next to the trail.

On the way home I could not help myself and stop over in Draper to go for a brief walk on the New River Trail.  This is an other rails to trail park that I have written about in the past.  It is one of my favorite and I quickly went for a 1.8 mile walk.  So nice to be out in nature, in the mountains.  In summary, three nights, four days, two microbreweries and three walks in nature.  The fringe benifits from being on the road; let my colleagues think I am partial to the mountains.  It is really not that bad there in the "Wild West."

Last but not least a miscellaneous picture from the New River Trail.  Very lush and green, although sections of the trail are invaded by Chinese privet, which is not really not a good thing!

Introvert in the woods (4/24/2018)

Of late, I have been wondering whether I am really an introvert as all the tests I have taken tell me I am.  For one, people close to me (my wife, daughter and friends) wonder about the same thing.  I tell them that I have learned to fake being an extrovert.  In my not so far distant past, being an introvert was really not a problem.  I was a field biologist and just doing field surveys alone or with a partner was just fine with me.  However, as my seniority and responsibility increased I became a manager; I had to go market my and my team’s skills, and that was difficult.  I had to learn to be an extrovert.  Honestly, I sucked at marketing and I really was never very successful.  

Now I am an instructor for the state.  When push comes to shove, this is not really a dream job either for an introvert.  But, I love teaching and love what I do.

Being an introvert does not mean that you do not like to talk to people or that we are anti-social.  Every person needs human interaction and so do introverts (well, unless you're the unabomber or so).  However, we introverts also need a lot of recovery time or me-time, as described in this blog.  

For example, I am literally exhausted after a day of (solo) teaching and that is not only because I stand in front of 20 to 40 folks and talk about stormwater or erosion and sediment control.  I usually give it my all, faking being an extrovert and be out all the time.  A recent student wrote on an evaluation: “Jan is dynamic and lively and the only person who is able to make a boring subject like stormwater and erosion and sediment control interesting and fun.”  As my supervisors describes it, I leave it all out there.  So, as you can imagine, when I am done teaching or interacting with people, I need to be alone, I am tired; for me I need that balance between human interaction and alone time, it is very important.  

Just to be out there, communicating with the trees, touching them, kissing them and through them, grounding myself with the earth.  This is so calming and it gives me balance in life.

My alone time is best spent outside hiking in the woods; sailing on my boat; or on the water in my kayak.  Alone would be great, but with my loved ones is great too, as long as they do not expect me to talk too much.  I just like to be in my own thought's.  As I mentioned in some of my previous posts, when I am sailing, I cannot think about much else than staying on course, the wind, keeping the wind in the sails and not running aground.  A little wind and a heel is absolutely exhilarating.  Kayaking is different, trying to cross a somewhat larger body of water when it is windy requires concentration, but some of the trips we have with friends where we have a flotilla of 10 or more kayaks is just plain fun.  Although, even there everyone is on their own and has to concentrate on the trip.  

But walking in the woods, just taking it all in, lingering among the trees, on or off the trail, exploring and absorbing nature is also very important to me.  John Muir wrote: "In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks."

Nature is where we all came from isn't it?  We may now live in our wooden, or concrete structures and move through the world in our iron carriages, but in the not so far distant history our forefathers lived of the earth and moved on foot through nature.  They needed to be aware of their surroundings, the subtleties out there, otherwise they became saber-tooth tiger dinner.  

One of the things that upsets me the most is that is seems that nowadays when a kid is naughty the parents punish them by shutting down their computer or X-box or take away their smart phone and sending them outside.  In my days we were playing outside and punishment was going to your room.  Going outside and into the woods should not be punishment, it sends the wrong message.  But then on the other hand, breathing in the healing forest air may actually have calming effect on a kid or on people in general as I describe in some of my posts.  It brings me down, lowers my adrenaline and helps me center after having to step out and be a whole day among people faking to be an extrovert.  

Just early in the morning, on my way to work I drive and sometimes stop by Yorktown beach to take in nature, the water and everything around it.  This gets me ready for my day.