Opening Ourselves To The Open Road.

Today we started our journey.

Frank and Gigi are traveling with us.

This time it's a journey on many levels, not just another exotic vacation. It's a leap of faith, putting out to the universe what we want the rest of our lives to look like and opening ourselves to the abundant reply.

It's a journey into retirement, a fundamental change from working a steady job, something I've done since I was 16, except for a few years when I worked part-time in college.A whole new way to be in the world.

It's also a step into the unknown as far as traveling is concerned. Other than the year we lived in Vietnam, we only traveled in short bursts--a week here, three weeks there. We've seen a lot of places, sure, but we haven't had the time to really explore anyplace other than Vietnam in depth.

And since we've never been in South America before, we have no real idea what it will be like. Can we do the 25-mile, four-day hike to Machu Picchu at altitudes as high as 14,000 feet? How strenuous is a week of diving in the cool, fast currents around the Galapagos Islands in the dead of winter surrounded by schools of hammerhead sharks?

How will it be to live away from family and friends and our comfortable home for months at a time?

So that first step out the door this morning came with a lot of trepidation and well as excitement.

It was a crystal clear, sunny day, but with a cold, biting wind. In the cocoon of the car, though, it was quite warm. The landscape, greening rapidly to spring, was gorgeous as we sped though valleys past snow-capped mountains on our way to Reno. We always break up our road trips to the Bay Area by overnighting in Reno. The hotels are incredibly cheap, and six hours is far more doable than ten.

So we found ourselves at the Nugget too tired to leave the hotel for dinner. Dragging ourselves through the surreal cacophony of the casino floor, we scoped out the dubious dining choices available. We settled on the steakhouse, figuring we could have a couple appetizers and call it a night.

The food (other than the prawn cocktail, do not order fresh seafood in Reno) was better than we'd feared. We were ready to call for the check when the waiter offered us creme brulee. Now good creme brulee is a weakness of ours, so we were tempted. However, we're purists and the creme brulee was a dual presentation, half classic and half mocha.

Ordinarily, we would have taken this as a sign we weren't meant to have dessert, but we were moved to ask if we could just order the classic half. The waiter said he would ask the chef. Many minutes passed and suddenly the chef, an impressively tall man in full regalia, appeared at our table. He couldn't give us just half the order because then he'd be stuck with the other half, he explained. He talked for a while about how delicious the mocha brulee was, and just as we were about to succumb, he offered to make us a Marsala sabayon instead.

Now we used to frequent a neighborhood restaurant in SF that made a stellar sabayon with fresh berries. Unfortunately, they imploded one night and we've never had good sabayon since. So we accepted his suggestion with great joy.

And we were wise to do so. He served us a big bowl of berries smothered in delicious, warm sauce, accompanied by a complimentary glass of Sandeman port. It was abundance beyond what we had imagined possible.

And the moral of the story is: ask and you will receive, in more ways than you can conceive.

P.