Snowbird with a backpack

"So where are you going next?"

"We haven't decided yet."

That was often the response I would hear from young backpackers in the hostel where I was staying on short hiking trips. Gathered in the lounge area, kitchen, or bar, these usually 20-somethings seemed uncommonly relaxed - for tourists. Whether in Colombia or Cambodia, these lucky kids were on a months-long adventure, seemingly with only a vague outline of destination and a distant deadline for return to their home countries.

I was envious.

The bulk of my hiking and exploring was done by tacking a few days on to the end of an international speaking or consulting gig. A job in Lima allowed me to hike the Inca Trail. A conference in Nairobi put me close enough to Kilimanjaro for a week-long climb. Conferences in Bangkok let me visit Angkor Wat and Luang Prabang and Bagan. While I enjoyed these experiences immensely, there was always the little voice in my head that nagged, "Hurry up. You have to be back to work on Monday!" I pledged that one day, I too would throw on the backpack and experience traveling without a plan.

So in this first year of my retirement, I am going to honor that pledge to myself. A week from today, I'm flying to the Philippines to start a three month escape from Minnesota's winter. Having lived a life of planning, I am not totally "schedule-free." After a few weeks on Luzon where I will go back to the rice terraces that amazed me a few years ago, I will fly to Vietnam where my son is getting married. My friend Heidi will meet me there for the wedding and after the ceremony we are spending 10 days hiking in northern Vietnam. I'll then wander for a couple weeks in Thailand (or Cambodia or both) before flying back to the Philippines to ramble in some of its southern islands. I do have a return ticket to Minnesota for the end of February where I am expecting winter to be winding down.

When traveling alone, my goal will be to spend less than $50 a day on food and lodging. I will be carrying only a  45 liter backpack with the bare essentials - a few changes of clothes, my Kindle and Chromebook, a rain jacket, and slip-on sandals. I'll wear my hiking shoes. I have a number of long(ish) books cued up to read, including Michener's The Source and Simon's Hyperion series.

As I have downtime, I will continue to work on a project I started a year or so ago - reviewing the 3000+ posts I've made to the Blue Skunk over the past 15 years and organizing the "keepers" into book format. The criteria for retention is whether the post might be of interest one day to my grandsons. Narrows it down radically.

Security experts and common sense advise not sharing one's travel plans on social media. Yes, my townhouse will be unoccupied for three months. Be warned, potential burglars, I have a very nosey neighbor and not much of monetary value worth stealing. (I think my TV is well over 10 years old.) I will turn off my water, lower the heat, unplug what I can, close the blinds, set a lamp on a timer, and hope when I return, the place is still habitable.

I sense that when people travel for long periods, those remaining behind fear that they may never return. Or return as a person who is changed from the one who left. Those of us who travel take the same chance - those who stay not be the same people when we return.

Enjoy your winter. I know I will enjoy mine!

Boxers or briefs or...

The Mall of America finally has the store that the world has been clamoring for: one dedicated solely to men's underwear.

When did choosing what underwear become so complicated for guys? What was once a simple choice of boxers or briefs has exploded into a dozen aisles at Kohls, displaying what must be a hundred different brands, models, styles, colors, and fabrics. A selection that once took two minutes at JC Penny, now requires half hour of studying, searching, and selecting only to result in shadows of doubt and incompetence once the chosen drawers are being rung up.*

The over abundance of choice makes itself manifest in other areas as well. How many streaming video service are now available? Medicare supplemental plans are listed in a 100 page booklet for comparison shopping. Look for practically any item on Amazon and get page after page of suggestions. As a technology director in schools, the challenge became not getting teachers to communicate with technology, but to help them find the best programs to do so - and get consistency throughout the district - when so many options were available.

Google, Amazon, and large firms have used the plethora of products to their advantage. By knowing one's search history, past purchasing choices, and other interests, they push to the forefront of your computer screen those items you are most tempted to buy. Their algorithms are far from objective, I'm sure, with companies paying for their products to be the first and most often seen. And a click of the button sends us a box at our doorstep of an unnecessary toy or item of clothing when those funds may have been better sent paying off a college debt or placed in a retirement account.

Wouldn't it be lovely to have an objective tool to help one make choices when the market seems overwhelming. Could a series of simple questions help me in my quest for the perfect pair of underwear?

• Boxers or briefs?
• No legs, short legs, long legs?
• Cotton or wicking fabric?
• Tight or loose?
• Color?
• Price?

This is, I will admit, a rather trivial example, of a problem I expect will only grow. The fundamental question is whether technology will make us better consumers by helping us make more informed choices - or will it take choice out our hands altogether and place it in the hands of the companies that profit from our choices.

* This may indeed be the definition of a first world problem.

How retirees stay busy

Ever heard someone who is retired remark, "I'm busier now than when I was working!"

What they don't tell you is that they are just busy trying to figure out Medicare.

I'll say right up front that health insurance has never been a time suck for me. I simply took the plans the schools I worked for offered. I have had no major health issues. (Knock wood.) I take no medications except Rolaids. No one has yet committed me to psychiatric treatment.

Until now.

Two things have happened that have caused insurance to eat up large chunks of my time.

The first was moving to Medicare now that I am retired and no longer covered by an employer. Here is what I've learned about this federal program: 

1. It is not free. I get about $200 deducted from my social security check each month. I pay for a "supplemental" plan that supposedly fills in some of the holes in Medicare. I have high deductibles and co-pays.
2. It is complicated. There is Medicare Part A, Part B, and Part D (and probably others as well). I honestly have not studied this enough to determine what part does what, what is optional and what is not, etc. I get to learn about things like determining if a provider is "in-network" or even accepts Medicare patients. Some stuff requires preapproval and some stuff does not.
3. It is not user friendly. When I actually went to a Social Security office to get a statement of what I paid for my Medicare on a monthly basis so I could apply for reimbursement from my health savings account, I was simply told it was not possible. Get lost. The complexity mentioned above could be reduced. A lot.

Yes, this sounds like the grumbling of a cranky old man who wants to diss "socialized medicine." I will admit that I have little stomach for studying this sort of thing and I have had little reason to worry about how insurance in general works since I've not needed to use it much.

The second thing that has happened to focus my attention on insurance is that I actually need to use it.

Last month while hiking, I noticed a loss of vision in my right eye. The top and sides were dark and I had a tough time reading small print even with my cheaters. So when I got back to the good old USA, I made an appointment with an optometrist - my first in 50 years. When he wasn't trying to hard sell me glasses, he ran a scan on my eyeballs and determined I have tear in my retina - which could get worse, resulting in the total loss of vision in that eye. Since I don't have room for a seeing eye dog in my townhouse, I took up his suggestion to visit a retinal surgical specialist. 

That's when the fun really began. Over the past five days, I've learned:

• You don't see just one doctor. So far, I have seen an optometrist, a retinal specialist, a primary care physician, and a pharmacist. Today I will meet the doctor who actually performs the surgery. Each doctor, of course, has a medical assistant to give one of the half dozen or so blood pressure checks I've had. And I know each has a clerical person to process the bill I will receive for each visit.
• Costs are crazy high. I know right now that the eye exam (Is this better or is this better? Put this over your right eye. Look at my ear.) is $200. Just the exam - no glasses. One prescription for eye drops is about $100. I can't wait to see what the cost of the actual out patient surgery will be.
• There is redundancy everywhere. There is no central online source for my medical information. I get the same stupid questions from every doctor. No, I don't have diabetes. Yes, I smoked but quit. No, I don't have dizzy spells. Yes, I drink (and lie about how much.) I'm still not allergic to anything (except doctors.)
• No dual purposes are allowed. I asked that my pre-op physical exam be used to sign off for my Boy Scout exam I will need for hiking next summer. They looked at me like I'd grown a horn out the top of my head.
• Health savings accounts are a pain in the ass from which to get reimbursement. My last two school districts both contributed to my health savings account when I did not use all my sick days. So after 28 years of employment and having used about 7 sick days, I have a healthy balance. Oh, but filing for reimbursement? Better have lots of papers and tenacity.
• Speaking of paper... I have two folders now that contain brochures, scribble notes, appointment reminders, and forms. At some point, can't the health care industry go paper - less?

I suspect for many Blue Skunk readers little of this is news, but it has come as a surprise to me. I'd rather be hiking or reading a novel than filling our paperwork or getting my pulse checked. And I would certainly rather spend my savings on travel or on my grandsons or, well, just damn near anything.

I'll let you know how the eye surgery turns out. Provided I can see my computer.

Any survival tips for the medical morass?