When vacationing with a tour agency, I inevitably come across a fellow traveler or two who seem to be cut from a different cloth. They are often traveling by themselves and when everyone appears to go left, they veer right.

The most recent encounter was with Barbara. On the first day of our trip to Thailand, the tour guide was giving direction on the tour bus and at the end of one statement, he uttered: “And, that means you Barbara.”

I wondered who was this Barbara person whose name had already become embedded on our tour guide’s tongue?

I heard a demure chuckle and spinning my head around, I spied upon a pixie sprite with a Tinkerbell glint in her eyes. That must be Barbara, I surmised. She was an elderly woman, 80 to be exact, with a wiry perm, bronze tan skin (think Magda from “Something About Mary”) and a twinkle of light in her blue eyes which nearly blinded me.

My first thought was we better not get lumped in the same category as her, so my spouse and I took steps to maintain a healthy distance, I mean who wants to get stuck babysitting their grandma?

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Over the course of our trip, I kept my eyes open for Barbara. She was a solo traveler and we all took turns taking photos of her for her. Her intro comments were always the same, “Only take one or two really good ones, never more. I hate deleting things.” So, when we snapped photos of her, I always made sure they were perfectly framed.

At the end of each travel day, we would end up at a resort somewhere and many of us would head for the pool, cooling ourselves from the day’s adventures. Without a doubt, we’d see a daisy flowered shower cap bobbing up and down in the pool, doing laps that a 20-year-old would envy.

Yes, it was Barbara.

We soon grew accustomed to Barbara and her behavior didn’t draw ire, it was more like awe. One evening among the ruins of Ayutthaya the sun was beginning to set. The tour guide called out, “Time to head to the bus.”

Well, that is unless you were Barbara.

She made a beeline straight back to one of the ruins to flash one last shot as the sun was setting. She then, just as quickly, zoomed back onto the bus.

I began to get intrigued. What was it that made this woman so hellbent on soaking up every possible second of our trip?

I finally got my chance in Chiang Mai. We were at a resort called The Reverie and after a lovely dinner overlooking the city, my spouse and I decided to walk in the resort’s gardens which had light sculptures of palm trees, flowers and gifts – kind of like the holiday light decorations you see on lawns, only far more elaborate.

As we strolled and took in the calm evening breeze, we came upon Barbara, taking photos of the sculptures. I stopped her, Barbara. Do you want to walk with us?

She smiled and as we strolled I learned her career had been as an anesthesiologist. When that part of her life had ended, she took on a new hobby – world travel. She explained this was her third trip to Thailand, and I was amazed at the long list of places she had visited on every continent. She lived in Florida, but she said it was boring so she tried to travel to at least three global destinations a year.

She was a great conversationalist and I was fascinated by her passion for life. It was like she was aware on some level that at some point in the not-so-distant future she would be getting to that place of light, and that she had to embrace as much of it that is here while she still remains.

I thought of other trips we had taken with similar Barbara’s. There was a Meryl, there was another person too on another trip whose name escapes me, and then there was my own trip to India, where I was the sole person on my tour.

I have since made it a quest, that I too will be a Barbara. I will absorb as much of this confusing, glorious, amazing planet and life that I can for as long as I am able to. I will snap as many photos as my phone will hold, and I will grasp those memories in my heart for the time when they become my essence.

I’m sure Barbara would approve.

And, with that, I end this as Poolside from PS.