I know I said I would write my next update from the south, but I wanted to put in some words about our great day here in Chiang Mai. Laura and I got up not so early and bid farewell to her friends, Laura and Kevin. They headed north near the Burma border to work on an engineering service project. They were kind enough to leave us their Lonely Planet guide to Cambodia and let me know that if I decide to go to Laos after Laura and I part ways, that I should be sure to let them know.
After a hearty and super cheap breakfast of sticky rice with mango, rice soup, ginger tea, and freshly squeezed mandarin orange juice, Laura (yes, there are two Lauras, and from now on I'll only be referring to my travel partner, Laura Szabo-Kubitz) and I decided to follow the advice of my Bryn Mawr classmate, Brent Scharschmidt, and go just west of the city center to Wat U Mong. Called the "forest temple," this Wat is less touristy and tucked away just south of Chiang Mai Univeristy. For 10 THB, we bought some cat fish food, and then wandered around the beautiful grounds. Monks adorned in bright orange robes were all around, and the occasional sign translated into English gave some sage advice, including, "Cut yourself some slack; In one hundred years, all new people." We walked through the temple's tunnel and then found our way to the fish pond where the catfish were at least as long as my leg. A man next to us threw whole pieces of bread into the pond whereupon another type of fish (maybe a catfish, but no visible whiskers made me think it was something else) would eat the whole thing in one bite. Not a place I'll be swimming anytime soon.
After our time at the temple, Laura and I got back into the tuk-tuk that had waited for us. Jaran, our very friendly and English proficient tuk-tuk driver, dropped us off at the city's south gate and said he would be happy to pick us up in the morning to go the airport. We accepted his offer and look forward to seeing him tomorrow. At the south gate we found a quick bite to eat and then made a call to Moshiko Kobayashi. Moshiko is a woman that works for an organization called the Starfish Country Home School Foundation. Starfish, which runs different programs, including this orphanage in Chiang Mai, was founded by a friend of a friend of Laura's mother. Laura had contacted the founder, Richard Haugland, before our arrival, and he set it up so that we could tour the facility and meet some of the kids. The school and home are situated in an old hotel that has been converted to a beautiful facility with 9 teachers, including 2 English teachers (one being a volunteer from New Zealand). It houses 26 residents and has about 25 or 30 other students that come to the center for their programs. Many of the students are from the hill tribes and are either orphans, or the children of women who are in the women's prison, or children who were abandoned when their mothers remarried. It's hard to think that anyone would want to leave these beautiful children behind, but Starfish really seems to be a very loving place for them.
We spent just a couple of hours there, but Laura dove right into it and participated in a relay race with some of the kids and then we helped out in one of the English classes. After a few rounds of "Head Shoulder Knees and Toes" and asking everyone "How are you?" (Response: "I'm find, thank you. How are you?") we introduced the small group of 4 year olds to "Duck Duck Goose" and "Simon Says."
On our walk back to our guesthouse, I kept commenting to Laura that I kept thinking I saw people I recognized. Then, as we were back on our street, we walked by a pizza place and I saw yet another face that seemed familiar. Only this time I thought that I knew him for sure. I walked inside and the familiar face smiled at me as he probably thought I was going to ask him the time.
"Hi. Sorry to bother you, but are you Dave Wilson?" I obviously caught him off guard when I didn't ask him what time it was. Sure enough, it was Dave Wilson. Dave and I used to work together at Concord Academy Summer Camp a number of years ago. He's currently living in Japan, teaching English with the JET program, and he and two of his co-teachers are traveling around for a few weeks on their winter break. We agreed that we would all go to our respective guest houses, take a little nap, and then meet again for dinner at 7:30 at another of Brent's recommendations, the Blue Diamond ("the best restaurant in town" according to Brent, who lived in Chiang Mai before coming to Bryn Mawr). Unfortunately the Blue Diamond had closed early today because of the impending New Year holiday, but we found a nice enough place around the corner. Greg, who has been teaching in Japan for over two years, said it had been quite some time since he heard English spoken so quickly. Even though the restaurant was out of panang curry and coconut, we had a lovely dinner and when we parted ways and agreed that if we ran into each other in Chiang Mai, then we'd probably see each other again and hopefully somewhere more exciting than Concord, MA. And to think, all of this reconnecting happened without the aid of Facebook.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
a few days later...
I made it! After much delaying, and a minor misstep at the SFO airport the next morning, I finally got on a plane to Tokyo and then connected to Bangkok. Granted, it was all a day later than planned. The best thing about the Tokyo airport was the toilet in the public bathroom. Is that weird? Well, they have a "flushing sound" button on the toilet, which makes me think that extreme modesty combined with environmental sensibility led them to develop a technology where you don't need to waste water to cover up any embarrassing noises.
Arrived in Bangkok, I did. I made my way to a hotel/motel (not Holiday Inn) where everyone was very friendly both in getting me there and once I arrived. It's amazing how you will put all your trust in total strangers when you're in a place where you have no idea what's going on, have no plan, and don't speak the language. But I figured that I was a head taller than most people I was interacting with so could take 'em out if I needed to. Not necessary, as it turns out.
The roosters woke me up the following morning around 6 AM so my 6:30 wake up call didn't have to. I had a complimentary "American breakfast" (complete with microwaved egg, ham, and white toast), and went back to BKK to get on a flight to Chiang Mai. No such luck. Everything was booked. So I hoped a bus into the city center to the train station and booked a ticket for the 6 PM sleeper train to Chiang Mai, which would get me in around 7:30 or 8 the next morning. I had a few hours to kill in the city, as it was only about 9 AM.
The first adventure was negotiating the women's bathroom at the Hua Lampong train station near Bangkok's Chinatown. 2 baht for toilet service, and 10 for the shower service. I opted for just the toilet, but couldn't quite figure out the system. I eventually bullied my way into a stall (again, shouldn't have been so difficult given my relative size) and then realized the toilet was ridiculously low to the ground and that I hadn't done adequate quad exercises to condition for this situation. But I made it through and headed into the unknown city. I hopped on bus 53 and found myself at the Grand Palace where I visited the Temple of the Emerald Buddha (where the Buddha is actually made of jade). People give offerings of incense and marigolds and other things, and it is important and respectful to keep your feet away from the Buddha itself.
From the Grand Palace I went to Wat Kho down the street to see the 46 m long Reclining Buddha, grabbed a quick lunch of pad thai and orange Fanta (I LOVE orange Fanta when I travel), and then hoped back on bus #53. It wasn't as easy as I thought to get back as it seems the buses don't necessarily go back the same way they came. But I found my way, ignoring many offers for taxis along the way. Despite the appeal of the brightly covered Toyota Corollas (coming in colors more likely to be seen on the side of an ice cream truck than a taxi cab in the states), I wanted to figure the city out a little on my own.
I was back at the train station with a few hours to spare, so I forked over about the equivalent of what it would cost to get a grande latte and cookie at Starbucks and had the most wonderful hour long foot massage. It was the best part of a pedicure, but for an hour, and a fraction of the cost. I totally went into some sort of trance.
After picking up some mixed nuts and Pocky from the little market in the train station, I boarded my train and within a couple of hours was asleep on my bunk. I've always wanted to sleep on a train, and after seeing White Christmas for the first time as a kid, I used to pretend my closet was a sleeper car. It was a similar size, but not quite as luxurious as it looked in the movies. But I was very impressed with the cleanliness and the comfort of the bunk, and it was a cost effective way to find a place to sleep AND get to where I needed to be.
So I arrived in Chiang Mai this morning and Laura was waiting for me at the Siri Guesthouse. I cleaned up, got out of the clothes I'd been wearing for 24 hours, and we headed to Baan Thai with her friends, Laura and Kevin, for a Thai cooking class! What a great way to start my trip. To REALLY start my trip. I learned to make pad thai, spring rolls, green curry, and sticky rice with mango. And it included a trip to the market to learn about all the local produce and ingredients necessary for these dishes. Basically I've been eating since I got here.
Laura and I will be in Chiang Mai for one more day before heading to Phuket and Kho Phi Phi on the 30th. I'm guessing that is where my next update will be from...
Until then...
Arrived in Bangkok, I did. I made my way to a hotel/motel (not Holiday Inn) where everyone was very friendly both in getting me there and once I arrived. It's amazing how you will put all your trust in total strangers when you're in a place where you have no idea what's going on, have no plan, and don't speak the language. But I figured that I was a head taller than most people I was interacting with so could take 'em out if I needed to. Not necessary, as it turns out.
The roosters woke me up the following morning around 6 AM so my 6:30 wake up call didn't have to. I had a complimentary "American breakfast" (complete with microwaved egg, ham, and white toast), and went back to BKK to get on a flight to Chiang Mai. No such luck. Everything was booked. So I hoped a bus into the city center to the train station and booked a ticket for the 6 PM sleeper train to Chiang Mai, which would get me in around 7:30 or 8 the next morning. I had a few hours to kill in the city, as it was only about 9 AM.
The first adventure was negotiating the women's bathroom at the Hua Lampong train station near Bangkok's Chinatown. 2 baht for toilet service, and 10 for the shower service. I opted for just the toilet, but couldn't quite figure out the system. I eventually bullied my way into a stall (again, shouldn't have been so difficult given my relative size) and then realized the toilet was ridiculously low to the ground and that I hadn't done adequate quad exercises to condition for this situation. But I made it through and headed into the unknown city. I hopped on bus 53 and found myself at the Grand Palace where I visited the Temple of the Emerald Buddha (where the Buddha is actually made of jade). People give offerings of incense and marigolds and other things, and it is important and respectful to keep your feet away from the Buddha itself.
From the Grand Palace I went to Wat Kho down the street to see the 46 m long Reclining Buddha, grabbed a quick lunch of pad thai and orange Fanta (I LOVE orange Fanta when I travel), and then hoped back on bus #53. It wasn't as easy as I thought to get back as it seems the buses don't necessarily go back the same way they came. But I found my way, ignoring many offers for taxis along the way. Despite the appeal of the brightly covered Toyota Corollas (coming in colors more likely to be seen on the side of an ice cream truck than a taxi cab in the states), I wanted to figure the city out a little on my own.
I was back at the train station with a few hours to spare, so I forked over about the equivalent of what it would cost to get a grande latte and cookie at Starbucks and had the most wonderful hour long foot massage. It was the best part of a pedicure, but for an hour, and a fraction of the cost. I totally went into some sort of trance.
After picking up some mixed nuts and Pocky from the little market in the train station, I boarded my train and within a couple of hours was asleep on my bunk. I've always wanted to sleep on a train, and after seeing White Christmas for the first time as a kid, I used to pretend my closet was a sleeper car. It was a similar size, but not quite as luxurious as it looked in the movies. But I was very impressed with the cleanliness and the comfort of the bunk, and it was a cost effective way to find a place to sleep AND get to where I needed to be.
So I arrived in Chiang Mai this morning and Laura was waiting for me at the Siri Guesthouse. I cleaned up, got out of the clothes I'd been wearing for 24 hours, and we headed to Baan Thai with her friends, Laura and Kevin, for a Thai cooking class! What a great way to start my trip. To REALLY start my trip. I learned to make pad thai, spring rolls, green curry, and sticky rice with mango. And it included a trip to the market to learn about all the local produce and ingredients necessary for these dishes. Basically I've been eating since I got here.
Laura and I will be in Chiang Mai for one more day before heading to Phuket and Kho Phi Phi on the 30th. I'm guessing that is where my next update will be from...
Until then...
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
United we stand? I can't stand United OR How I gambled and lost
The expression, "I gambled and lost," always makes me laugh because it reminds me of a story of an AmeriCorps teammate who gambled and lost when he bet against his GI tract. It is one of the funnier stories I've heard in my day, but since this is intended for a family audience, I am going to have to spare you the details. And not to be exclusive, but for those of you that know what story I'm talking about, let's take a moment...hilar. But I digress (already? I just started). The alternative title for this entry has nothing to do with gastrointestinal activity.
Let me tell you about my day:
Alarm went off a little after 5 AM. When I looked outside, there didn't seem to be too much more snow on the ground from the night before. I crawled out of bed, opened my laptop, went to the United Airlines homepage, checked flight status, and...delayed! Great. Already over an hour delay which would mean I'd miss my connection to Tokyo. The votes came in and we decided to go to the airport early to see what could be done. On the drive in, I checked other flights going out to SFO (I <3 the iPhone). There was one scheduled to leave around the same time as my original flight on Alaska Airlines. The magnificent Robby Fulton accompanied me to the terminal and kept me grounded (airline pun intended) while I negotiated the situation. I had 10 minutes to decide whether or not to purchase the Alaska Airlines ticket, but it would take me more than 10 minutes to get through the United line to find out what my options were. So I bought the ticket (which turned out to be refundable) while Robby waited in the United line. Win win. The woman at the United desk seemed personally offended that I had booked another ticket. She told me that they had rebooked me on a later flight to Tokyo and a later flight to Bangkok, which would actually get me into Thailand at the same time as my travel companion, Laura. So now I was in possession of 2 boarding passes to SFO, and I had to decide whether or not to get on the earlier flight and try to make my first connection (but if I missed it, possibly jeopardizing the alternative itinerary). See? Here comes the gamble. I should add that the Alaska Airlines flight was also delayed.
I said goodbye to Robby and went through security with the intention of getting on Alaska Airlines flight 2507. After discussing it with my chief advisor (my mother) on an official phone call, we decided that it might be a better bet to stick with United so they couldn't screw me over later (she would advise me not to use that word) by telling me that they couldn't help me since I had gone on another flight. They had told me this wouldn't happen, but for some reason I wasn't completely confident in that piece of information. Alaska or United? Option B, please. Seemed like a safe bet.
Got to the gate, boarded, buckled, ready to go. More delay. Mechanical problem. I dozed off for a little bit with the sounds of the Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack in my ears (great movie! Track 5 is my fav so far). Woke up. Still on the ground. It was a little after 10 now. I still had time. No problem. That'd leave me an hour at SFO. Enough time to eat, charge up my iPhone a little bit, maybe even meet up with Laura before she boarded her flight via Korea to Bangkok. Pilot came back on. More delay. While we were sitting waiting for the mechanical problem to be fixed, the wings decided to have a little more fun in the snow, so needed to be deiced once again. Finally we pulled away from the gate and after a lot more waiting, we took off. By the time I was allowed to recline my seat back and turn on my electronic devices, it was about 11:16 AM. Now we were cutting it close. Estimated arrival time? 12:45. Connection departure? 12:56. Actual arrival time? 12:51. Along with almost everyone else on the plane, I darted over to the departures board where my flight to Tokyo/Narita was nowhere to be found. Under N? No. Under T? No. Don't know how else to spell Tokyo or Narita. I went to ask a friendly looking United employee who told me that flight 853 was boarding right then at gate 98 and if I hurried then I might be able to make it. Well, I was at gate 90, that must be close. Wrong again! I had to book it down to the international terminal. I am not the spry young tennis player I was in high school. I've become more of a "walk to brunch" kind of athlete these days. Well, now I had to step up my game and be a "run with your pack and small carry-on in your light hikers" kind of girl. And I stepped it up! But it was the one or two walk breaks I took that really did me in, I think.
I arrived at gate 98. Door was still open. Yes! The friendly looking lady behind the podium gestured for my boarding pass. I informed her while catching my breath that I didn't, in fact, have one, since I'd been bumped to this flight.
"Well, you'll need to talk to them." She pointed to three frantic looking airline employees shuffling papers and jabbering away at each other. I stood there and tried to get their attention.
"Hi. I need my boarding pass. I got bumped..."
"No. Sorry. Plane's closed. Door's closed. You can't board." No eye contact. Still catching my breath.
"No, the door's open. The plane's right there. I can see it. I have to get on this plane."
"No. Sorry. Door's closed." Yeah, got that, except it's open. Oh...annnd...now it's closed. In my face. They weren't even pretending to provide good customer service. Keep in mind that there were not hoards of other angry passengers trying to get on this flight. Just. Me. Then they even opened the door to let someone off. Still not sure why, but they still couldn't seem to work it out logistically to get me on the plane, much less make eye contact with me. Then the three of them were gone behind the closed door. I was so flustered at this point, they might as well have walked through the door. I didn't know which end was up. They seemed to just disappear, invisible cape style. I turned back to the boarding pass woman.
"Can you help me?"
"No. They're in charge."
What!? And so I cried. I didn't cry to try to get them to let me on the plane, though that would have been nice. But that wasn't going to work anyway since they hadn't really acknowledged my presence.
I eventually worked my way out past security to the United ticket counter where they informed me that I was booked on the 10:50 AM flight the next morning (my original flight, only a day later). I insisted that they pay for accomodations since it was because of a mechanical problem and not a weather delay. Stefanie behind the counter said that would be taken care of, and she handed me a pink sheet of paper with the name of a hotel and told me where to pick up the shuttle. Fast forward to the check in counter a the DoubleTree.
Friendly Employee #1: "Do you have the voucher?"
Me: "That is the voucher."
FE #1: "No, this isn't a voucher. You need one of those." She points to the piece of paper the woman checking in next to me is handing to Friendly Employee #2. The last time I had seen this woman, besides on the shuttle, was at the United ticket counter, because she was on my flight from Portland and missed her connection, too. So, obviously, if she's entitled to a voucher, then I am entitled to a voucher. And I don't usually walk around feeling very entitled.
FE #1 again: "Sorry, you're going to have to pay out of pocket, but you can call this number and they'll help you out." Friendly Employee #2 gave me 2 cookies instead of just the 1 you usually get at check in.
I call the 1-800 number from room 280 and get someone on the phone. I picture the scenes from Slumdog Millionaire where Jamal, the chai wallah, works his way through rows of phone bankers. I know it's not the fault of the man on the other end of the line, possibly in India, but I'm still upset. At the end of our conversation (which mostly consisted of me being on hold), he told me he couldn't help me but I could send my receipt at the end of my travels.
"Who would I call to file a complaint?"
Phone man: "You would file that with me." Awesome. That's like having a problem with the head of the department. So I complained. He "understood" that I thought it was "unacceptable," and gave me a reference number so that the next time I called about this, I wouldn't have to repeat my bitching. The words "unacceptable" and "You ruined Christmas," would appear in my file. (Ok, I didn't really tell him he ruined my Christmas, but when you spend Christmas Eve eating room service and watching Oprah, it sure ain't good). More tears.
There haven't been many more tears since then, except while I was watching "Obama Revealed" on CNN and it was as if he won all over again for me. Still awesome! I considered getting back on the shuttle to the airport to find Stefanie and berate her, but once again consulting my chief advisor, we agreed that in the Christmas spirit, I would let it go. As John Lennon would say, "And so this is Christmas..."
Merry Christmas!
Let me tell you about my day:
Alarm went off a little after 5 AM. When I looked outside, there didn't seem to be too much more snow on the ground from the night before. I crawled out of bed, opened my laptop, went to the United Airlines homepage, checked flight status, and...delayed! Great. Already over an hour delay which would mean I'd miss my connection to Tokyo. The votes came in and we decided to go to the airport early to see what could be done. On the drive in, I checked other flights going out to SFO (I <3 the iPhone). There was one scheduled to leave around the same time as my original flight on Alaska Airlines. The magnificent Robby Fulton accompanied me to the terminal and kept me grounded (airline pun intended) while I negotiated the situation. I had 10 minutes to decide whether or not to purchase the Alaska Airlines ticket, but it would take me more than 10 minutes to get through the United line to find out what my options were. So I bought the ticket (which turned out to be refundable) while Robby waited in the United line. Win win. The woman at the United desk seemed personally offended that I had booked another ticket. She told me that they had rebooked me on a later flight to Tokyo and a later flight to Bangkok, which would actually get me into Thailand at the same time as my travel companion, Laura. So now I was in possession of 2 boarding passes to SFO, and I had to decide whether or not to get on the earlier flight and try to make my first connection (but if I missed it, possibly jeopardizing the alternative itinerary). See? Here comes the gamble. I should add that the Alaska Airlines flight was also delayed.
I said goodbye to Robby and went through security with the intention of getting on Alaska Airlines flight 2507. After discussing it with my chief advisor (my mother) on an official phone call, we decided that it might be a better bet to stick with United so they couldn't screw me over later (she would advise me not to use that word) by telling me that they couldn't help me since I had gone on another flight. They had told me this wouldn't happen, but for some reason I wasn't completely confident in that piece of information. Alaska or United? Option B, please. Seemed like a safe bet.
Got to the gate, boarded, buckled, ready to go. More delay. Mechanical problem. I dozed off for a little bit with the sounds of the Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack in my ears (great movie! Track 5 is my fav so far). Woke up. Still on the ground. It was a little after 10 now. I still had time. No problem. That'd leave me an hour at SFO. Enough time to eat, charge up my iPhone a little bit, maybe even meet up with Laura before she boarded her flight via Korea to Bangkok. Pilot came back on. More delay. While we were sitting waiting for the mechanical problem to be fixed, the wings decided to have a little more fun in the snow, so needed to be deiced once again. Finally we pulled away from the gate and after a lot more waiting, we took off. By the time I was allowed to recline my seat back and turn on my electronic devices, it was about 11:16 AM. Now we were cutting it close. Estimated arrival time? 12:45. Connection departure? 12:56. Actual arrival time? 12:51. Along with almost everyone else on the plane, I darted over to the departures board where my flight to Tokyo/Narita was nowhere to be found. Under N? No. Under T? No. Don't know how else to spell Tokyo or Narita. I went to ask a friendly looking United employee who told me that flight 853 was boarding right then at gate 98 and if I hurried then I might be able to make it. Well, I was at gate 90, that must be close. Wrong again! I had to book it down to the international terminal. I am not the spry young tennis player I was in high school. I've become more of a "walk to brunch" kind of athlete these days. Well, now I had to step up my game and be a "run with your pack and small carry-on in your light hikers" kind of girl. And I stepped it up! But it was the one or two walk breaks I took that really did me in, I think.
I arrived at gate 98. Door was still open. Yes! The friendly looking lady behind the podium gestured for my boarding pass. I informed her while catching my breath that I didn't, in fact, have one, since I'd been bumped to this flight.
"Well, you'll need to talk to them." She pointed to three frantic looking airline employees shuffling papers and jabbering away at each other. I stood there and tried to get their attention.
"Hi. I need my boarding pass. I got bumped..."
"No. Sorry. Plane's closed. Door's closed. You can't board." No eye contact. Still catching my breath.
"No, the door's open. The plane's right there. I can see it. I have to get on this plane."
"No. Sorry. Door's closed." Yeah, got that, except it's open. Oh...annnd...now it's closed. In my face. They weren't even pretending to provide good customer service. Keep in mind that there were not hoards of other angry passengers trying to get on this flight. Just. Me. Then they even opened the door to let someone off. Still not sure why, but they still couldn't seem to work it out logistically to get me on the plane, much less make eye contact with me. Then the three of them were gone behind the closed door. I was so flustered at this point, they might as well have walked through the door. I didn't know which end was up. They seemed to just disappear, invisible cape style. I turned back to the boarding pass woman.
"Can you help me?"
"No. They're in charge."
What!? And so I cried. I didn't cry to try to get them to let me on the plane, though that would have been nice. But that wasn't going to work anyway since they hadn't really acknowledged my presence.
I eventually worked my way out past security to the United ticket counter where they informed me that I was booked on the 10:50 AM flight the next morning (my original flight, only a day later). I insisted that they pay for accomodations since it was because of a mechanical problem and not a weather delay. Stefanie behind the counter said that would be taken care of, and she handed me a pink sheet of paper with the name of a hotel and told me where to pick up the shuttle. Fast forward to the check in counter a the DoubleTree.
Friendly Employee #1: "Do you have the voucher?"
Me: "That is the voucher."
FE #1: "No, this isn't a voucher. You need one of those." She points to the piece of paper the woman checking in next to me is handing to Friendly Employee #2. The last time I had seen this woman, besides on the shuttle, was at the United ticket counter, because she was on my flight from Portland and missed her connection, too. So, obviously, if she's entitled to a voucher, then I am entitled to a voucher. And I don't usually walk around feeling very entitled.
FE #1 again: "Sorry, you're going to have to pay out of pocket, but you can call this number and they'll help you out." Friendly Employee #2 gave me 2 cookies instead of just the 1 you usually get at check in.
I call the 1-800 number from room 280 and get someone on the phone. I picture the scenes from Slumdog Millionaire where Jamal, the chai wallah, works his way through rows of phone bankers. I know it's not the fault of the man on the other end of the line, possibly in India, but I'm still upset. At the end of our conversation (which mostly consisted of me being on hold), he told me he couldn't help me but I could send my receipt at the end of my travels.
"Who would I call to file a complaint?"
Phone man: "You would file that with me." Awesome. That's like having a problem with the head of the department. So I complained. He "understood" that I thought it was "unacceptable," and gave me a reference number so that the next time I called about this, I wouldn't have to repeat my bitching. The words "unacceptable" and "You ruined Christmas," would appear in my file. (Ok, I didn't really tell him he ruined my Christmas, but when you spend Christmas Eve eating room service and watching Oprah, it sure ain't good). More tears.
There haven't been many more tears since then, except while I was watching "Obama Revealed" on CNN and it was as if he won all over again for me. Still awesome! I considered getting back on the shuttle to the airport to find Stefanie and berate her, but once again consulting my chief advisor, we agreed that in the Christmas spirit, I would let it go. As John Lennon would say, "And so this is Christmas..."
Merry Christmas!
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Winter Wonderland
In case you didn't believe me...
I know it's colder in Chicago and there's more snow in Boston, but for those of you that are having trouble imagining the snow in Oregon, here it is. Well, it's actually a nice winter mix of ice and snow. A guy actually skied by me today on a walk...on alpine skis! See that car in the left hand picture? That's Jack, the Prius. You might recognize her from her work in earlier blog entries, most notably for her kick-ass mileage in Yellowstone. She looks a bit thinner, you say? White's really her color; Makes her look half her size. And in the second picture? Can you see Mt. St. Helens? Yeah, neither can I.
The airport's closed today. I'm supposed to fly from Portland to Bangkok in three days. What to PDX and BKK have in common? They've both been closed within the last month. Okay okay. I know. An ice storm is a bit different than political protests, but let's just say it's a good thing I'm not into signs, otherwise I would just unpack my bags right now and Laura would be looking for me for a long time at customs. (As if I've already packed...)
If you're out on the roads, regardless of which coast you're on, please be careful.
Sending you actual warm wishes (and wishes of warmth),
Annie
P.S. I heard back from the aforementioned unnamed writer! I wrote her back saying I haven't been that star struck since meeting Paul Farmer which, as you probably know, was a big deal for me.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
New appreciation for New England winters
Guest Editors, Jacob Stout and José Cuervo
But to comment on the first: It has been almost a month, and I have no excuse except that babysitting for an 8-year old and tossing the football in the yard on a daily basis has left little room for inspiration. However, I have been spending my early afternoons volunteering, at least peripherally, at an organization called the Children's Healing Art Project. As in many situations, the description itself will make it sound like I'm doing a lot more than I actually am. But the organization seems to do exactly what it says it's doing. It goes into area hospitals and works with pediatric patients and their families to take the focus off the disease and put it towards creating art. The venue I've been volunteering at is the Holiday Bazaar which functions as a workshop, retail, and gallery space for people of all ages. I silk-screen, bead, and decorate ornaments and help kids who come in to the shop do the same. My most interesting experience was when a group for the local school for the blind came in and I realized that without visuals, art was a totally different experience for these kids, as was meeting someone. Every time I said something to them I had to identify myself by name because my voice was very similar to their teacher, Keri. So as far as they were concerned, we were wearing the same outfit and looked exactly alike. We were indistinguishable unless introduced.
Now the second thing. Long underwear. Long underwear is one of those things that your parents tell you to wear when you're younger but you're afraid it will make you look like a loser so you'd prefer to walk around freezing your butt off rather than having an elastic waist band showing above your pants. Like wearing a hat to school. I can't tell you the number of times I resisted wearing a hat to school because I thought it looked nerdy. Well kids, let me tell you something: your parents are on to something. Looking cool is way overrated and being warm is infinitely better. I think I finally appreciated the love that is long underwear while spending a particularly frigid winter in Jackson Hole, Wyoming in the winter of 2006. Yes, it took me 23 years. Without the synthetic layers, I very well may have been an actual patient during my EMT drills rather than just playing one in stage makeup.
The third thing--why homeless people and writers often drink. I realize this might be a bit controversial because I'm about to make a sweeping generalization but it's my blog, my outlet, my stream of consciousness...allow me a LITTLE creative freedom. Feel free to leave your comments on the matter if you're that outraged. But I digress, back to the drinking. I was splitting a pitcher of margaritas with a friend and realized that drinking makes you incredibly toasty AND more lucid--two qualities that are beneficial to both people without shelter and those wishing to express their ideas in writing....or perhaps, given the state of the economy, homeless writers. After having a delightful dinner with a friend I hadn't seen in quite some time, I walked up the hill back to my house and couldn't wait to get in the door to start writing. Granted, if I had had my laptop, I'm sure the piece that I wrote while walking would have been a little more inspired because even a slight lapse in time combined with a little tequila can really put a damper on your writing. But I credit this surge of inspiration solely to the margaritas. AND once I reached the top of the hill I was really warm which, again, leads me to infer that homeless people drink, at least in part, to keep warm, and some writers drink, at least in part, for inspiration. If it wasn't for Acapulco Gold and their delicious margaritas, I would've never felt such bond of solidarity for those wandering homeless writers.
Ah, but speaking of writing and inspiration, I have two winners. One is to go grab the book The New Kings of Nonfiction (look at me, I'm kind of like the Apple store and making it just a little toooo easy for you to spend your money this holiday season). Edited by Ira Glass, this collection of works of non-fiction (after reading the intro, I hesitate to use the word "essay") covers everything from white collar crime to British soccer players. I think. I just started it. But it seems like it'll be worth the read. The second thing I'd like to share with you is that I recently had the opportunity to send a personal email to one of my favorite authors regarding travel advice. I mean, how often do you get to do that?! Never...but sometimes the literary gods smile upon us. Or maybe it's the email gods?
But back to long underwear. And here is where I'll tie in my appreciation for New England winters. Let me first say that I love the Pacific NW. Many days I feel that it is the place I am most meant to be. But a couple of days ago the snow fell. No big deal. I'm from Upstate New York. We piss on an inch of snow. Sometimes literally...you filthy homeless writers. But up here? Roads freeze over, nothing is plowed or salted, and my 4-car family has quickly been demoted (or promoted, depending on how you look at it) to one as the 2-wheel drives (my Prius included) are effectively immobilized, and the Jeep's undercarriage was wrecked on a spin-out on the icy hill getting out of our neighborhood. That leaves my cousin's car that, luckily, has 4-wheel drive. My uncle has taken to chauffeuring us around. And since my cousin worries about scratching so much as the car key, we know that allowing his father to drive his car is a big deal. So thank you, Alec! (unless you don't read this...then I retract my thank you).
So now I'm ready to sleep. I know that during my trek up the hill I had grand notions of what else I would write here, but it seems that all that has faded and now I just want to get cozy on this snow day and wait for the next storm (it's supposed to snow again tomorrow and we're expecting an ICE stom on Sunday...I don't have fond memories of ice storms circa 1991, but that's a separate issue that I will spare you, my kind readers). Sleep well, and if I don't write until I leave the country, then Happy Holidays, and we will meet again in Thailand...Tra Ben!
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