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!
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
This I believe...
Based on Edward R. Murrow's 1950's radio series, This I Believe is a public radio broadcast that engages people in writing about their core beliefs and values. In about 500 words, all different people, from Brian Eno (whose full name, by the way, is Brian Peter George St. John le Baptiste de la Salle Eno) to Susan from New Lenox, IL, write about the beliefs that guide their daily lives. Mr. Eno writes about his belief in singing, whereas Susan writes about her former belief in the "unpredictable movement of the cosmic wheel [determining her] fortune for good or for ill" and how now she believes that happiness is a conscious choice--realizing that although she cannot change her situation, she can choose how she reacts to her circumstances. (As it so happens, these are two of my own beliefs.) Yesterday, while babysitting, I decided to try this exercise for myself. I hadn't yet read either essay mentioned above, but knew about the concept. And so I began writing. Michael was busy doing his own writing: a comic book about his super hero, Super Goose and the villain, Poop Toddler. I'm not making this up. I wonder what he would write about for this exercise.
I had heard about This I Believe first from my mom, a Unitarian Universalist minister, but more recently from Jay Allison, the show's host, when I saw him as a guest on Portland's own public radio broadcast, Live Wire. Below is a little bit of what I wrote yesterday--with some minor edits.
"I believe in the power of music as an instrument of peace. I believe in the inherent worth of all human beings. I believe that if we can take more time to listen and consider what other people are saying to us, the world would be a better place. I believe that children have a lot to teach us about ourselves and the world. I believe everyone has the right to be happy and healthy and is entitled to his or her own opinions. I believe we are all capable of creating our own possibilities and realities for our future.
Music as an instrument of peace. This is hardly an original idea. I don't know the history and the facts, but I do know that when a simple message is communicated through song, it has the power to transform, transport, elevate, and inspire. I know that when a group of people join together in actual harmonies, that there is no doubt that there is a possibility for world harmony. Coming together in music is an agreement that says, 'We will stand together. We will speak together. My tones and rhythms will complement yours and I will listen to you as we go along. And I will stay with you. We will begin and end as one, and in the process, we will create something beautiful with a combination of voices and tones never joined before.' If that is not a precursor to creating peace, I don't know what is. "
The rest of it is pretty rough and incomplete so I won't include it, but it's an interesting exercise that will challenge you to consider your own belief system. I'm not talking necessarily about religious beliefs, but that's not to say that those personal beliefs aren't or shouldn't be rooted in an established doctrine. We all live our lives day to day guided by ideas and values, but are not very often pushed to clarify or put words to those beliefs. My friend that sat with me at Live Wire that night said she was going to have her whole family do this exercise over Thanksgiving. So after the turkey and the pie and the football, if nobody's up for a rousing game of Balderdash or Scrabble, maybe you'll want to suggest a family writing exercise. Or not. But maybe.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Thursday, November 20, 2008
These Photographs
Tonight I had the distinct pleasure of hearing Annie Leibovitz speak about her new book, Annie Leibovitz At Work, a book targeting the young photographer, with sections about various kinds of work--from nudes to groups to the creation of specific photos, like the one here, taken hours before John Lennon was killed. The funny thing about hearing artists speak is that they are artists and not, for the most part, public speakers. But we can let this go, especially for someone like Leibovitz (pronounced with a V, not a W), who had the chutzpah to ask the Queen to remove her "crown" (apparently it is a tiara, not a crown).When my aunt handed me and Zach our tickets, she said, "You're front and center." We found our way to the Orchestra, showed the usher our ticket, and sure enough, seats 3 and 4, row A, were open. So we sat and I kept thinking, "Wow, that was really nice of Julie to give us these seats. I wonder where she's sitting." I glanced around, saw a few familiar faces, but as the lights dimmed, I turned my attention forward and thought, "If I'd known I was sitting up front, I would have worn high heels." Julie told us afterwards that they were for the Dress Circle (the lower balcony) and it just so happened that nobody noticed and that nobody came to claim those seats. That explains why our seats were even better than the Powells'.
For the next hour and a half, all that stood between me and projections of Annie's photos on a screen the size of the proscenium was the proscenium itself. As far as I was concerned, there were not 2700 people behind me. Just me, Annie, and the photographs (and Zach).
Ms. Liebovitz spoke of her early days at Rolling Stone, where she began working at the age of 21 and by the age of 25 was chief photographer. It wasn't until her early 30's that she became the chief photographer at Vanity Fair. I'll be lucky if I've moved out of Julie's house by the time I'm 30, much less working as the chief of anything. Hearing her speak about working closely with Hunter S. Thompson and the Rolling Stones, learning lessons about photographing actors from Sylvester Stallone, and seeing politically significant photographs from Nixon to Obama, I realized that here was a woman who went to art school to be a painting teacher but emerged as a photographer who would go on to weave herself into so many significant moments--politically, socially, and culturally--whether or not she knew it at the time. I think it's pretty amazing, actually, to build your own celebrity, willingly or not, based on a behind the scenes relationship to everything that is going on around you. There is a section in her book called Being There. And that is all that she does. She is present and aware, and always being there. I think there's something to be learned from that.
Monday, November 17, 2008
driving, footing, and bicing
I'm unemployed. Again. Or as my good friend's sister called it this summer, funemployed! I'm always working on putting the "fun" back into funemployed. Day 1's effort consisted of catching up on Entourage with On Demand, pricing airline tickets, emailing and stressing about said plane ticke
ts (not as fun), not booking said plane tickets and exploring this city by foot. There seem to be four acceptable modes of transportation in Portland, OR: hybrid, foot, bus or bike. Light rail and streetcar are good too. Sure, people drive Jeeps and VW's, but you get fewer nasty stares from the bike commuters if you're in a Prius. The looks that I catch in my headlights on a near hit on Ladd Avenue seem to say, "Get an effing bike...oh wait, you drive a Prius? That's okay. Sort of." Okay, I'm making that up, but today I skipped the wheels altogether and headed downtown in my New Balances. It wasn't quite clear enough to see Mt. Rainier as I crossed the Thurman Bridge, but it was still a really beautiful day. Thanks to the alphanumerical grid of NW Portland, I was able to reach my destination by way of a route I had not gone before. I discovered new shops, new schools, and new angles from which to view the cityscape. On my way home, though, when I was running a bit behind schedule, but it was faster to walk than wait for the next bus, I thought, "Man, I could really go for a bicing." A what!? A bicing!
I was introduced to this community bike-share over the summer while in Barcelona. For a yearly membership of 24 euros, commuters can check out a bike from one of a number of stations throughout the city. In Barcelona, the first 30 minutes is included with the membership, and after that, there is a charge of 0.30 euros per half hour. 24 euros and zero emissions? You really can't beat that. Bicing definitely came to the rescue a couple of times during our stay, particularly when we had to get far past Montjuic to go to the UPS holding station but the metro was under construction. So we hit the streets with a good map and a few bikes. Problem solved.
Bicing/SmartBike is run by US-based Clear Channel. So where is it in the States? As a car owner who doesn't yet own a bike and who doesn't always want to wait for the bus, a bicing-like program would be a welcome addition to this already bike-friendly city. Turns out that in August 2008, a trial fleet of smartbikes was introduced to Washington DC. Our country's 120 bikes and 10 stations (all in DC) are easily rivaled by Europe's 13,035 bikes and 1,254 stations, but at least we're giving it a go.
While I don't know the current status of the planning process in Portland, a cursory perusal of local blogs seems to suggest that mayor-elect Sam Adams is on the case for a public bike-share. At least he was as City Commissioner. We'll see what comes of his mayoral term. The likely advocates of such a system would be cyclists--people who want to advocate a 2-wheeled culture to overpower the imposing 4-wheelers. But are they? They already have bikes; They're never hankering for a bicing. I may have to wrangle my Barcelona travel companion (also a Portland resident) to champion the cause with me if we find that nobody else is doing it or find that it has simply slipped through the cracks of electoral excitement. More research is definitely in order, but if you're in DC, check it out and let me know how it is.
ts (not as fun), not booking said plane tickets and exploring this city by foot. There seem to be four acceptable modes of transportation in Portland, OR: hybrid, foot, bus or bike. Light rail and streetcar are good too. Sure, people drive Jeeps and VW's, but you get fewer nasty stares from the bike commuters if you're in a Prius. The looks that I catch in my headlights on a near hit on Ladd Avenue seem to say, "Get an effing bike...oh wait, you drive a Prius? That's okay. Sort of." Okay, I'm making that up, but today I skipped the wheels altogether and headed downtown in my New Balances. It wasn't quite clear enough to see Mt. Rainier as I crossed the Thurman Bridge, but it was still a really beautiful day. Thanks to the alphanumerical grid of NW Portland, I was able to reach my destination by way of a route I had not gone before. I discovered new shops, new schools, and new angles from which to view the cityscape. On my way home, though, when I was running a bit behind schedule, but it was faster to walk than wait for the next bus, I thought, "Man, I could really go for a bicing." A what!? A bicing!
I was introduced to this community bike-share over the summer while in Barcelona. For a yearly membership of 24 euros, commuters can check out a bike from one of a number of stations throughout the city. In Barcelona, the first 30 minutes is included with the membership, and after that, there is a charge of 0.30 euros per half hour. 24 euros and zero emissions? You really can't beat that. Bicing definitely came to the rescue a couple of times during our stay, particularly when we had to get far past Montjuic to go to the UPS holding station but the metro was under construction. So we hit the streets with a good map and a few bikes. Problem solved.
Bicing/SmartBike is run by US-based Clear Channel. So where is it in the States? As a car owner who doesn't yet own a bike and who doesn't always want to wait for the bus, a bicing-like program would be a welcome addition to this already bike-friendly city. Turns out that in August 2008, a trial fleet of smartbikes was introduced to Washington DC. Our country's 120 bikes and 10 stations (all in DC) are easily rivaled by Europe's 13,035 bikes and 1,254 stations, but at least we're giving it a go.
While I don't know the current status of the planning process in Portland, a cursory perusal of local blogs seems to suggest that mayor-elect Sam Adams is on the case for a public bike-share. At least he was as City Commissioner. We'll see what comes of his mayoral term. The likely advocates of such a system would be cyclists--people who want to advocate a 2-wheeled culture to overpower the imposing 4-wheelers. But are they? They already have bikes; They're never hankering for a bicing. I may have to wrangle my Barcelona travel companion (also a Portland resident) to champion the cause with me if we find that nobody else is doing it or find that it has simply slipped through the cracks of electoral excitement. More research is definitely in order, but if you're in DC, check it out and let me know how it is.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Don't settle for less
I am an unlikely romantic, but a romantic nonetheless. For the last few years, my life has been less like a fairy tale and more like a bad sitcom, at least insofar as romance goes. Don't worry, this post is not a whine fest or an introspective on the ramifications of being the child of divorce. But I do find the subject matter at least slightly amusing because a friend of mine from college who recently read my blog said, "I like your style. It's very Sex and the City." This coming from a man. But Carrie Bradshaw never had a story like this:
Julie (*name changed) is my hair dresser. She also is the hair dresser for my mom, my sister in law, and my two step sisters. It's a family thing. Julie is 51 years old, never married, and a wonderful woman--and by far the best hair stylist I have ever had. This past spring and early summer, she had been doing some self improvement exercises, reading books like A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose. In doing this she realized that she was settling when it came to her personal life and made the move to break it off with her then boyfriend. Around the same time a friend of hers had an opportunity to go on a free cruise to Italy and Greece in a luxury suite and offered to take Julie with him. She gladly agreed and embarked on said vacation with her [platonic] friend.
To back track a little, when she was about my age, or younger, Julie had spent a couple summers in Greece and had fallen in love with a man named Stavros (*name not changed because it is so awesomely Greek) but at the end of each trip, she returned to the States, and Stavros stayed in Greece. Now, more than 20 years later, she was docking in Greece again. She phoned Nikolas (*name changed because I don't remember his name), who had married her friend, though they were since divorced. Julie said, "Come meet me in Athens for the day." He said, "Better yet, I'll pick you up and bring you to town [where she had spent her summers] and everyone will come to the coffee shop and be so happy to see you." But before hanging up she did not fail to say, "And if Stavros is around, it'd be good to see him, too."
Nikolas had called everyone he knew and said that he had a surprise for them. Some agreed, but others needed more incentive. But when they heard who it was said, "I'll be right there." On the drive, he called Stavros from the car: "Hey Stavros! Come to the coffee shop. I have a surprise for you." " No no, I'm busy. I can't." "Hold on." and he handed the phone to Julie. Remember, more than 20 years. "Hello?" says Julie. "Julie??" He knew it was her just from her voice. "Julie, is that you? Hold on, I'll be there in 20 minutes." As it so happens he was recently divorced and told Julie he'd been in love with her for 20 years and they would never be apart again. She told him that she can't possibly move to Greece and he said, "No, I will move to Boston." And while they knew they wanted to spend their lives together, they weren't going to get married just for the sake of the green card. So he said, "I will go get a visa so no one can question our intentions." He went to the consolate (or embassy or wherever) and told his story. "Why didn't you marry her 20 years ago?" asked the official. "I know I know..." He then proceeded to obtain a 10 year working visa for the US! About a month ago Stavros actually moved, and I just found out a few days ago that they are engaged and we're keeping our fingers crossed that my mother gets to perform the wedding. Let me also not forget to mention that he is movie-star handsome.
It is a story like that and the story of a woman I met, widowed by the war before the age of 30, who found love again and is taking a chance with odds against her (in a shack in New Zealand with no running water), that keeps me a hopeless, although unlikely, romantic (not to be confused with a hopeless flirter according to urbandictionary.com). I think my romanticism also has something to do with my strong affinity for Hugh Grant movies. So if you, too, are a fan of love, but prefer to take a more activist stance on it, be sure to check out my friend Josh's new website: AllorNotAtAll.org. It's new, but get on board early and let's make this movement happen! Because why should we settle?
Julie (*name changed) is my hair dresser. She also is the hair dresser for my mom, my sister in law, and my two step sisters. It's a family thing. Julie is 51 years old, never married, and a wonderful woman--and by far the best hair stylist I have ever had. This past spring and early summer, she had been doing some self improvement exercises, reading books like A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose. In doing this she realized that she was settling when it came to her personal life and made the move to break it off with her then boyfriend. Around the same time a friend of hers had an opportunity to go on a free cruise to Italy and Greece in a luxury suite and offered to take Julie with him. She gladly agreed and embarked on said vacation with her [platonic] friend.
To back track a little, when she was about my age, or younger, Julie had spent a couple summers in Greece and had fallen in love with a man named Stavros (*name not changed because it is so awesomely Greek) but at the end of each trip, she returned to the States, and Stavros stayed in Greece. Now, more than 20 years later, she was docking in Greece again. She phoned Nikolas (*name changed because I don't remember his name), who had married her friend, though they were since divorced. Julie said, "Come meet me in Athens for the day." He said, "Better yet, I'll pick you up and bring you to town [where she had spent her summers] and everyone will come to the coffee shop and be so happy to see you." But before hanging up she did not fail to say, "And if Stavros is around, it'd be good to see him, too."
Nikolas had called everyone he knew and said that he had a surprise for them. Some agreed, but others needed more incentive. But when they heard who it was said, "I'll be right there." On the drive, he called Stavros from the car: "Hey Stavros! Come to the coffee shop. I have a surprise for you." " No no, I'm busy. I can't." "Hold on." and he handed the phone to Julie. Remember, more than 20 years. "Hello?" says Julie. "Julie??" He knew it was her just from her voice. "Julie, is that you? Hold on, I'll be there in 20 minutes." As it so happens he was recently divorced and told Julie he'd been in love with her for 20 years and they would never be apart again. She told him that she can't possibly move to Greece and he said, "No, I will move to Boston." And while they knew they wanted to spend their lives together, they weren't going to get married just for the sake of the green card. So he said, "I will go get a visa so no one can question our intentions." He went to the consolate (or embassy or wherever) and told his story. "Why didn't you marry her 20 years ago?" asked the official. "I know I know..." He then proceeded to obtain a 10 year working visa for the US! About a month ago Stavros actually moved, and I just found out a few days ago that they are engaged and we're keeping our fingers crossed that my mother gets to perform the wedding. Let me also not forget to mention that he is movie-star handsome.
It is a story like that and the story of a woman I met, widowed by the war before the age of 30, who found love again and is taking a chance with odds against her (in a shack in New Zealand with no running water), that keeps me a hopeless, although unlikely, romantic (not to be confused with a hopeless flirter according to urbandictionary.com). I think my romanticism also has something to do with my strong affinity for Hugh Grant movies. So if you, too, are a fan of love, but prefer to take a more activist stance on it, be sure to check out my friend Josh's new website: AllorNotAtAll.org. It's new, but get on board early and let's make this movement happen! Because why should we settle?
Monday, November 10, 2008
I knew it didn't make sense...
It was kind of you, my readers (all three of you) to not call me out on quite the blunder in my midnight entry. See, I was going on about how Lew was born between Kristallnacht and the signing of the armistice treaty. At the time it struck me as odd that those two things would be happening around the same time. And it seems that my history degree and analytical training/reading skills completely failed me at the moment that the post went to publish. Because while November 10 is the eve of Armistice Day, the treaty itself was signed 20 years earlier. Good job, Annie. Do not let my chronological misprint take away from what I expressed about Lew, but it does make for slightly less dreamy writing to say that between the terror of the Holocaust and the 20 year anniversary of the ending of a World War... So we'll focus on Kate Smith and that, perhaps, with the help of Irving Berlin, she was really singing about America being blessed with Lew's presence.
A septuagenarian celebration
It's after midnight. No, we're not going to "let it all hang out." We're not even going to "chug a lug and shout." (Don't be alarmed. I had to Google the lyrics). We're going to celebrate the fact that right now, in all time zones of this great country, my step-father, Lewis Lloyd, is 70! Happy Birthday, Lew Lew!
Among many things, my step-dad has an encyclopedia for a brain. If he were writing this blog, he would not have to check Wikipedia to know that November 10 is the eve of Armistice Day, the end of World War I: the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. He might not know, however, that on November 10, 1938 Kate Smith sang Irving Berlin's God Bless America for the first time. But chances are he does know that.
It seems that Lew was born at a pretty interesting time in history--a day nestled between the Kristallnacht and the signing of the armistice treaty. It's kind of amazing, actually, that in the midst of what I'm guessing was total chaos on the other side of the globe, Lew was born and into this world came the kind and loving man who would live a lifetime of stories before coming into our lives. It took me a little while to even get a vague picture of the life that Lew had long before I met him. He often tells stories using only first names of world class artists. I soon learned that Bob is Robert Rauschenberg and that Merce and Twyla will often dance across the stories of his life. This past summer I was in the kitchen with Lew and my mom and overheard a story he was telling her in which he kept referring to "Leonard." Leonard this and Leonard that. He may have even called him Lenny. I looked up from my magazine and said, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but who's Leonard?" "Bernstein." Right. Of course.
I could go on and on about Lew Lloyd for quite some time, but I will just say how grateful I am that in a time of the terror of the Holocaust and the likely tumult of a World War's ending, there came a child that grew up to lead the wonderful life that Lew has lead and raised the amazing family that I am so lucky to now call my own, and has brought such happiness into my mother's life. I am grateful for his generosity, his kind spirit, his enormous intelligence and sense of culture, and his humor--all of which come in handy when needing help with a New York Times crossword puzzle.
I love you, Lew Lew! Happy Birthday!
Among many things, my step-dad has an encyclopedia for a brain. If he were writing this blog, he would not have to check Wikipedia to know that November 10 is the eve of Armistice Day, the end of World War I: the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. He might not know, however, that on November 10, 1938 Kate Smith sang Irving Berlin's God Bless America for the first time. But chances are he does know that.
It seems that Lew was born at a pretty interesting time in history--a day nestled between the Kristallnacht and the signing of the armistice treaty. It's kind of amazing, actually, that in the midst of what I'm guessing was total chaos on the other side of the globe, Lew was born and into this world came the kind and loving man who would live a lifetime of stories before coming into our lives. It took me a little while to even get a vague picture of the life that Lew had long before I met him. He often tells stories using only first names of world class artists. I soon learned that Bob is Robert Rauschenberg and that Merce and Twyla will often dance across the stories of his life. This past summer I was in the kitchen with Lew and my mom and overheard a story he was telling her in which he kept referring to "Leonard." Leonard this and Leonard that. He may have even called him Lenny. I looked up from my magazine and said, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but who's Leonard?" "Bernstein." Right. Of course.
I could go on and on about Lew Lloyd for quite some time, but I will just say how grateful I am that in a time of the terror of the Holocaust and the likely tumult of a World War's ending, there came a child that grew up to lead the wonderful life that Lew has lead and raised the amazing family that I am so lucky to now call my own, and has brought such happiness into my mother's life. I am grateful for his generosity, his kind spirit, his enormous intelligence and sense of culture, and his humor--all of which come in handy when needing help with a New York Times crossword puzzle.
I love you, Lew Lew! Happy Birthday!
Friday, November 7, 2008
Yes. We. Did.
Yes we did, and I have the button to show for it.
July 27, 2004: My uncle decided to leave the DNC in Boston a little early that night. I had been listening to the speeches over the course of a couple of days from high up in the nose bleed section, more distracted by my immediate surroundings than the color of Hillary's suit. But that night, my uncle handed me his floor pass and I found my way to sit next to Marianella, one of Tom's staffers. I was excited to hear Teresa Heinz Kerry, but before she came on, I was going to have to listen to some senatorial candidate with a name that I couldn't seem to get to stick in my head. "What's his name again?" I said to Marianella. "Barack. Obama," she said with great excitement. But I kind of shrugged my shoulders and took my seat, hoping I would have enough energy to stay awake for Teresa. Dick Durbin introduced the young State Senator and the signs went up--a sea of "OBAMA," a site that has now become more household than I would have imagined 4 years ago--and the cheers began. Seemingly everyone in that room had heard of this guy except for me. So I sat and listened: "Tonight is a particular honor for me because, let's face it, my presence on this stage is pretty unlikely." His presence on that stage? How about his presence on stage in front of 100,000 people in the city of my alma mater, St. Louis? How about his presence on stage in front of a countless number of people in Grant Park? How about his presence on the stage on January 20, 2009, behind a podium that will bear the Seal of the President of the United States? How about THAT?
Obama spoke for I don't know how long, but he spoke in a way that captured everyone in that convention hall. He spoke in a way that convinced me that there was no way that he could be reading from a teleprompter. He spoke in a way that inspired all of us to believe in the politics of Hope: "the hope of a skinny kid with a funny name who believes that America has a place for him, too."
Last night I had the strangest dream I ever dreamed before.
I dreamed the world had all agreed to put an end to war.
I dreamed I saw a mighty room and the room was filled with men.
The paper they were signing said they'd never fight again.
And when the papers all were signed and a million copies made,
They all joined hands and bowed their heads and grateful prayers were prayed.
And the people in the streets below were dancing round and round.
Their guns and swords and uniforms were scattered on the ground.
Last night I had the strangest dream I ever dreamed before.
I dreamed the world had all agreed to put an end to war.
July 27, 2004: My uncle decided to leave the DNC in Boston a little early that night. I had been listening to the speeches over the course of a couple of days from high up in the nose bleed section, more distracted by my immediate surroundings than the color of Hillary's suit. But that night, my uncle handed me his floor pass and I found my way to sit next to Marianella, one of Tom's staffers. I was excited to hear Teresa Heinz Kerry, but before she came on, I was going to have to listen to some senatorial candidate with a name that I couldn't seem to get to stick in my head. "What's his name again?" I said to Marianella. "Barack. Obama," she said with great excitement. But I kind of shrugged my shoulders and took my seat, hoping I would have enough energy to stay awake for Teresa. Dick Durbin introduced the young State Senator and the signs went up--a sea of "OBAMA," a site that has now become more household than I would have imagined 4 years ago--and the cheers began. Seemingly everyone in that room had heard of this guy except for me. So I sat and listened: "Tonight is a particular honor for me because, let's face it, my presence on this stage is pretty unlikely." His presence on that stage? How about his presence on stage in front of 100,000 people in the city of my alma mater, St. Louis? How about his presence on stage in front of a countless number of people in Grant Park? How about his presence on the stage on January 20, 2009, behind a podium that will bear the Seal of the President of the United States? How about THAT?
Obama spoke for I don't know how long, but he spoke in a way that captured everyone in that convention hall. He spoke in a way that convinced me that there was no way that he could be reading from a teleprompter. He spoke in a way that inspired all of us to believe in the politics of Hope: "the hope of a skinny kid with a funny name who believes that America has a place for him, too."
At the end of Obama's speech back in 2004, I, someone who was FOR Kerry and not just AGAINST Bush, turned to Marianella and said, "Too bad we can't vote for him!" It even crossed my mind that maybe he could run next time, but surely that wouldn't happen because who goes from State Senator to President in 4 or even 8 years? But I can admit when I am wrong. And guess what? I was so wrong. And I am so glad that I was.
I can proudly say I was one of the first million to join the Obama movement. I went against many of my high school friends working on the Clinton campaign. I even took on the whole Firestone family in a heated discussion one summer night on the Cape. (Btw, a huge congratulations to Mike Firestone, the Field Director for the NH Coordinated Campaign, on the Shaheen victory). I had the bumper sticker, and knocked on doors as a way of avoiding studying for organic chemistry. Because some things are just more important than the finer points of a nucleophilic addition.
So here we are. November 7, 2008. I spent most of election night skirting around the swanky bowling alley where my organization was hosting our election night party. But not too long after the election was called by CNN around 8:03 PST, I stepped outside to get some air where a large crowd had gathered in the street, dancing to the music of a local marching band that had shown up unplanned. I have never seen such pure jubilation, especially not in this country. The band, March 4th, played for close to 2 hours. I all but abandoned post at the election party to join in the celebration. Never mind that our staff had been at work since 6:00 that morning. And so I went to bed that night feeling relieved, but more importantly, renewed.
Last night I had the strangest dream I ever dreamed before.
I dreamed the world had all agreed to put an end to war.
I dreamed I saw a mighty room and the room was filled with men.
The paper they were signing said they'd never fight again.
And when the papers all were signed and a million copies made,
They all joined hands and bowed their heads and grateful prayers were prayed.
And the people in the streets below were dancing round and round.
Their guns and swords and uniforms were scattered on the ground.
Last night I had the strangest dream I ever dreamed before.
I dreamed the world had all agreed to put an end to war.
Monday, October 6, 2008
So much for daily posts
It was definitely my intention to get back into the daily posting habit. But, alas, that's not going to happen. Lots going on here in Stumptown. First things first: I found a job! Well, at least for the short term. I'm working with the Oregon Bus Project (www.busproject.org). It's a grassroots non-partisan political organization that functions as a "vehicle" for democracy and focuses on young voter mobilization and policy education. I think. (Anyone from the Bus should feel free to correct my description). My job is to coordinate volunteers and other bits and pieces for a function we have coming up in a week called Candidates Gone Wild. It's an irreverent variety show featuring local political candidates. The Bus Project stresses local politics, from canvassing for State reps to beating bad ballot measures. And, yes, they have a bus.
Other fun happenings besides job searching: Went camping at Silver Falls, the largest park in the State of Oregon; went hiking at Coyote Wall, on the Washington side of the Columbia River Gorge (if you think Ithaca is gorges, you should come to the NW); volunteered with my uncle, Dennis, at the Portland Marathon this past weekend; watched a swift migration; went to a lecture about how geckos stick and why we should care; and became the proud owner of a pair of Obama knee socks. If you are not jealous of at least one of the aforementioned activities/acquisitions, then you might find this blog generally boring from here on out. Maybe you'd be more interested in this blog, started by my good friend and future doctor, Jake Rosenberg. Less reading, more visual stimulus: http://thedesktopexperiment.blogspot.com/
People keep asking me why I love Portland so much. My brother, Chris, seemed to want to get into some kind of competition about why Somerville, MA was better than Portland, OR. Yeah, it's okay...I laughed a little too. Just kidding, Chris. We <3 Somerville. But I <3 Portland more. That's all. It's a city about the size of Rochester, NY in population, but with a much better personality. It's surrounded by evergreens and hiking trails, and an easy day trip to the coast, the mountains, the Gorge, and Washington State. I work in a building that is actually the home to the Tazo Tea factory, which means free Tazo Tea all day! And it's sunny all the time. Okay, I lied about the last one. But who needs sun? It's bad for your skin. I think that's why everyone here looks so young.
Other fun happenings besides job searching: Went camping at Silver Falls, the largest park in the State of Oregon; went hiking at Coyote Wall, on the Washington side of the Columbia River Gorge (if you think Ithaca is gorges, you should come to the NW); volunteered with my uncle, Dennis, at the Portland Marathon this past weekend; watched a swift migration; went to a lecture about how geckos stick and why we should care; and became the proud owner of a pair of Obama knee socks. If you are not jealous of at least one of the aforementioned activities/acquisitions, then you might find this blog generally boring from here on out. Maybe you'd be more interested in this blog, started by my good friend and future doctor, Jake Rosenberg. Less reading, more visual stimulus: http://thedesktopexperiment.blogspot.com/
People keep asking me why I love Portland so much. My brother, Chris, seemed to want to get into some kind of competition about why Somerville, MA was better than Portland, OR. Yeah, it's okay...I laughed a little too. Just kidding, Chris. We <3 Somerville. But I <3 Portland more. That's all. It's a city about the size of Rochester, NY in population, but with a much better personality. It's surrounded by evergreens and hiking trails, and an easy day trip to the coast, the mountains, the Gorge, and Washington State. I work in a building that is actually the home to the Tazo Tea factory, which means free Tazo Tea all day! And it's sunny all the time. Okay, I lied about the last one. But who needs sun? It's bad for your skin. I think that's why everyone here looks so young.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
and we're back
Well, we're not both back. Alison is up in Washington, so from here on out, anything written here will mostly reflect what's going on down here in Portland. It's been 2 weeks since I arrived. The job search is a bit slower than I anticipated, but it's okay. Things are moving forward and looking up, so I expect I'll have something in place within the week. But it's boring to talk about work, so fortunately I don't have any work to talk about. I'm just going to use the excuse like John McCain would in this situation: that I don't need to focus on the task at hand (in my case, working and in his case, debating the issues our country faces) because I have to focus solely on ONE thing (in my case, doing nothing and in his case, solving our country's economic crisis). Don't get me wrong, the crisis is an important issue and coming up with a bill to bailout Wall Street that includes good policies and oversight is also really important. But we have 98 other senators that can work on it. Besides, it's not as if Obama's not working on it; He's been on the phone with Henry Paulson every day. As Gov. Rendell said about the issue of delaying the debate, “What, does McCain think the Senate will still be working at 9 p.m. Friday?”
While I tried to keep politics out of the blog as much as possible during the road trip, now that I'm here and unemployed, it's really the only thing I think about and the only thing I seem to get emails about. One I got this morning was a piece written by Anne Lamott. If you're not familiar with her work, get familiar with it. Though, I have to say, I've mostly read her earlier stuff that she wrote before becoming a "reform Christian." But I've heard her recent work, more focused on faith, is really great. The piece I read this morning said that we should be talking ABOUT Obama and not hating on Palin and McCain so much. She's even gone so far as to not only vow to not say Palin's name anymore, but not to even mutter the word "lipstick" until this is all over. I like what she's getting at, but if I follow her suggestion, it's going to put a huge damper on my plans for a Halloween costume.
While I tried to keep politics out of the blog as much as possible during the road trip, now that I'm here and unemployed, it's really the only thing I think about and the only thing I seem to get emails about. One I got this morning was a piece written by Anne Lamott. If you're not familiar with her work, get familiar with it. Though, I have to say, I've mostly read her earlier stuff that she wrote before becoming a "reform Christian." But I've heard her recent work, more focused on faith, is really great. The piece I read this morning said that we should be talking ABOUT Obama and not hating on Palin and McCain so much. She's even gone so far as to not only vow to not say Palin's name anymore, but not to even mutter the word "lipstick" until this is all over. I like what she's getting at, but if I follow her suggestion, it's going to put a huge damper on my plans for a Halloween costume.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
all done one day early
Well, I guess we're on schedule since we were due to arrive on the 7th originally. We woke up this morning and decided to put the full 12.5 hours of driving in today to get all the way to Portland rather than stop in Boise for the evening. So here we are! Not much to report as today was just driving driving driving and now I'm very sleepy...
So thanks for checking in on us and reading the blog. Hope you enjoyed it!!
Annie and Alison
So thanks for checking in on us and reading the blog. Hope you enjoyed it!!
Annie and Alison
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Somewhere between heaven and hell on earth
We were unable to update the blog last night; Apparently there's no wireless internet in the 
National Parks! We left our scenic spot at our motel in Wapiti, WY (see photo) early but not too early. We would have left earlier but we ended up chatting with a couple from Florida that had just come from Yellowstone and was heading to Mt. Rushmore. So we traded tips. The drive in towards the east entrance was so beautiful! The whole day was one of those days where you stop to take a picture because, surely, nothing could be more beautiful than what you're seeing at that moment. 
And then the next thing you know, the view is even more breathtaking or the next bison is that much closer to your car (sometimes a bit scary). Within the first hour we saw three bison on the side of the road. Well, one wasn't so much on the side of the road as it was IN the road, but it moved out of the way by the time we approached. Later that day there was a bison in our trail, but it too moved out of our way by the time we got closer.
Our next stop was to the lower falls and Artists Point in the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone. Again, SO beautiful! Most of our day was spent driving in the lower loop of Yellowstone. If you can imagine the roads of the park forming an 8 with a stick at the bottom, we took the road, counterclockwise, that encompassed the lower half of the 8 and stayed in a lodge on the stick, on the way to the southern entrance and to Jackson, WY (where we are now). The highlight of our day was wa
lking around the geyser basins that are on the southwestern side of the park, driving south between Madison and Old Faithful. The Biscuit Basin was our favorite, creating a landscape that could easily be mistaken for another planet (or maybe something between heaven and hell, as Alison put it). It started to rain and it was getting towards dusk, so we skipped the Black Sand Basin to go catch Old Faithful doing her thing at around 6:30. Sure enough, by 6:35, she was spouting high up into the air. The air was relatively cold so there was lots of steam, which obstructed the view, but it was still pretty great to watch. From there we headed south to our lodge, had dinner by Yellowstone Lake, and popped open the bottle of wine we had bought earlier in the day to provide our own entertainment since there are also no TV's in the parks.
This morning we got up and headed directly south into the Grand Teton National Park and towards Jackson. We pulled over on the side of the road because lots of other cars on the side of the road signify wildlife. We managed to glance an ear of a moose hiding in the brush, but that was about it. I wouldn't have known it was a moose or even where to look if it wasn't for the friendly person next to me who gave me her spot on the pullout to get a better look.
Within a half hour we were coming up on the Grand Teton itself (with some serious cloud cover). I haven't been back here since my WEMT course in December 2006. It was great to approach the range from a new angle and to see it all without the snow. Though, I have to admit, I'm partial to the basin in the winter time. We missed the turn-off for Kelly, where I had my training, so we just decided to keep going to Jackson rather than backtrack. We passed the National Elk Refuge w
hich was sans elk. I guess they wait until winter to migrate down to this park of the basin. When I was here two winters ago, you couldn't count the elk because there were so many. Today we couldn't see even one. But the landscape never ceases to be stunning with or without the elk. We pulled into Jackson and right to Alice Roby's house. (Thanks, Alice!!) I have known Alice almost my entire life, though we haven't seen each other in ages. Her mom, Louise McPherson, was at the hospital when I was born. I actually still haven't seen Alice, as she's at a wedding right now, but she graciously opened her home to us (literally...she left the door unlocked) and so Alison and I have been free to come and go. Just a block down from the house is the Elk Refuge and it's off the main drag of town. Great location! We hit up the Whole Grocer to replenish our snacks for the last push into the west. I fondly remember the Whole Grocer from two years ago, and though Jake Stout might tell you I have a bad sense of direction from our time together in Spain, I remembered exactly where the store AND the Snake River Brewery were.
Only two more days! We should be in Portland by early evening on Monday. Tomorrow night we'll be in Boise (where, I've learned, you say the S softly and not like a Z).
P.S. Our mileage has been above 55 mpg for two days now!
National Parks! We left our scenic spot at our motel in Wapiti, WY (see photo) early but not too early. We would have left earlier but we ended up chatting with a couple from Florida that had just come from Yellowstone and was heading to Mt. Rushmore. So we traded tips. The drive in towards the east entrance was so beautiful! The whole day was one of those days where you stop to take a picture because, surely, nothing could be more beautiful than what you're seeing at that moment. 
And then the next thing you know, the view is even more breathtaking or the next bison is that much closer to your car (sometimes a bit scary). Within the first hour we saw three bison on the side of the road. Well, one wasn't so much on the side of the road as it was IN the road, but it moved out of the way by the time we approached. Later that day there was a bison in our trail, but it too moved out of our way by the time we got closer.
Our next stop was to the lower falls and Artists Point in the Grand Canyon of Yellowstone. Again, SO beautiful! Most of our day was spent driving in the lower loop of Yellowstone. If you can imagine the roads of the park forming an 8 with a stick at the bottom, we took the road, counterclockwise, that encompassed the lower half of the 8 and stayed in a lodge on the stick, on the way to the southern entrance and to Jackson, WY (where we are now). The highlight of our day was wa
lking around the geyser basins that are on the southwestern side of the park, driving south between Madison and Old Faithful. The Biscuit Basin was our favorite, creating a landscape that could easily be mistaken for another planet (or maybe something between heaven and hell, as Alison put it). It started to rain and it was getting towards dusk, so we skipped the Black Sand Basin to go catch Old Faithful doing her thing at around 6:30. Sure enough, by 6:35, she was spouting high up into the air. The air was relatively cold so there was lots of steam, which obstructed the view, but it was still pretty great to watch. From there we headed south to our lodge, had dinner by Yellowstone Lake, and popped open the bottle of wine we had bought earlier in the day to provide our own entertainment since there are also no TV's in the parks.This morning we got up and headed directly south into the Grand Teton National Park and towards Jackson. We pulled over on the side of the road because lots of other cars on the side of the road signify wildlife. We managed to glance an ear of a moose hiding in the brush, but that was about it. I wouldn't have known it was a moose or even where to look if it wasn't for the friendly person next to me who gave me her spot on the pullout to get a better look.
Within a half hour we were coming up on the Grand Teton itself (with some serious cloud cover). I haven't been back here since my WEMT course in December 2006. It was great to approach the range from a new angle and to see it all without the snow. Though, I have to admit, I'm partial to the basin in the winter time. We missed the turn-off for Kelly, where I had my training, so we just decided to keep going to Jackson rather than backtrack. We passed the National Elk Refuge w
hich was sans elk. I guess they wait until winter to migrate down to this park of the basin. When I was here two winters ago, you couldn't count the elk because there were so many. Today we couldn't see even one. But the landscape never ceases to be stunning with or without the elk. We pulled into Jackson and right to Alice Roby's house. (Thanks, Alice!!) I have known Alice almost my entire life, though we haven't seen each other in ages. Her mom, Louise McPherson, was at the hospital when I was born. I actually still haven't seen Alice, as she's at a wedding right now, but she graciously opened her home to us (literally...she left the door unlocked) and so Alison and I have been free to come and go. Just a block down from the house is the Elk Refuge and it's off the main drag of town. Great location! We hit up the Whole Grocer to replenish our snacks for the last push into the west. I fondly remember the Whole Grocer from two years ago, and though Jake Stout might tell you I have a bad sense of direction from our time together in Spain, I remembered exactly where the store AND the Snake River Brewery were.Only two more days! We should be in Portland by early evening on Monday. Tomorrow night we'll be in Boise (where, I've learned, you say the S softly and not like a Z).
P.S. Our mileage has been above 55 mpg for two days now!
Friday, September 5, 2008
a note on mileage
A friend pointed out to me that his parents get 49 mpg on their Prius and my photo was showing we're getting below 41. I just want to comment that when you're in a state with 75 mph as the speed limit and then head into the mountains, mileage drops. We'd been averaging about 44 or 45 until then (the older Priuses like mine get lower mileage than the newer ones).
Thursday, September 4, 2008
The last state in the alphabet
Alison and I have been on the road together for over a week. I've learned to turn down the music and that I need to remind her to hydrate and she's learned "that the only thing that 
makes [me] angry is the Republican Party because [I have] control over everything else in my life." We said goodbye to South Dakota and entered the wildly changing landscape of Wyoming. We took a detour off I-90 to encounter Devil's Tower, America's first National Monument. Having determined we weren't yet hungry for lunch, we just said we'd wait for the next rest area to pull over to have our picnic. I don't know how much time any of you have spent in western Wyoming, but there's not much going on. It was an hour and a half until we found a rest area (though, to be fair, there were gas stations and fast food places on the road between). Our summer picnic was not so summery since it had started to rain and the temperature was in the low 60's.
At Buffalo, WY we said goodbye to I-90 and headed west on route 16 and up into the Bighorn Mountains. This was Alison's first time at the wheel of the Prius on such demanding terrain. She insisted that the car was protesting (I likened the sounds my car makes
going up mountains to those of a pug breathing: you think she's struggling but really she's fine). Up in the Powder River Pass and down into the Ten Sleep Canyon, we faced our first snowflakes and temperatures below 40. However, there was so much downhill coasting that I'm pretty sure we used close to no gas for about 25 minutes. (see photo)
Every turn of our drive left us more awed than the last. Sprawling plains, river carved canyons, mountains covered with conifers, and finally the Buffalo Bill Reservoir. After a quick Mexican dinner in Cody, WY, we crossed the Shoshone River and into the front range of what I think are the Carter Mountains (my map is a bit ambiguous). We've stopped for the night at a beautiful spot in Wapiti, WY, about 30 miles from the east entrance of Yellowstone. Hopefully the weather will clear up for our day in the park tomorrow and I also hope that this cold weather has driven away the mosquitoes.
makes [me] angry is the Republican Party because [I have] control over everything else in my life." We said goodbye to South Dakota and entered the wildly changing landscape of Wyoming. We took a detour off I-90 to encounter Devil's Tower, America's first National Monument. Having determined we weren't yet hungry for lunch, we just said we'd wait for the next rest area to pull over to have our picnic. I don't know how much time any of you have spent in western Wyoming, but there's not much going on. It was an hour and a half until we found a rest area (though, to be fair, there were gas stations and fast food places on the road between). Our summer picnic was not so summery since it had started to rain and the temperature was in the low 60's.
At Buffalo, WY we said goodbye to I-90 and headed west on route 16 and up into the Bighorn Mountains. This was Alison's first time at the wheel of the Prius on such demanding terrain. She insisted that the car was protesting (I likened the sounds my car makes
going up mountains to those of a pug breathing: you think she's struggling but really she's fine). Up in the Powder River Pass and down into the Ten Sleep Canyon, we faced our first snowflakes and temperatures below 40. However, there was so much downhill coasting that I'm pretty sure we used close to no gas for about 25 minutes. (see photo)Every turn of our drive left us more awed than the last. Sprawling plains, river carved canyons, mountains covered with conifers, and finally the Buffalo Bill Reservoir. After a quick Mexican dinner in Cody, WY, we crossed the Shoshone River and into the front range of what I think are the Carter Mountains (my map is a bit ambiguous). We've stopped for the night at a beautiful spot in Wapiti, WY, about 30 miles from the east entrance of Yellowstone. Hopefully the weather will clear up for our day in the park tomorrow and I also hope that this cold weather has driven away the mosquitoes.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
A long way from Bryn Mawr (and luckily from St. Paul, too)
I know I said I would keep politics out of this, but having just caught a re-airing of Palin's speech, I just want to say that it brings me great sadness that the Republican party continues to try to build a movement on fear, hate, and negativity and peppers their plain and folksy rhetoric with blatant lies and bullshit. Normally watching something like the RNC would make me want to crack jokes and say how ridiculous it is that they think that they will win. But in this moment it just makes me want to cry. This actually produces an interesting segue to our day's adventures: At the close of Palin's speech, she was backed by a patriotic image of Mt. Rushmore. Seeing that behind her after hearing her words almost managed to ruin the very moving experience I had today with Alison at that very same monument.
Alison and I left Chamberlain this morning after she sent off some applications. We drove west for about 200 miles until we reached the beginning of the Badlands National Park scenic loop (Route 240, exit 131). Just so you know, there are no student discounts at national parks. We drove the loop and stopped off at most of the lookouts. According to my American Park Networks guide (picked up at AAA), the Badlands, a 244,000 acre landscape, was formed starting 65 million years ago from various sediment, including what is known as the Pierre Shale, volcanic ash, 
and decomposed forests. Erosion has caused, and continues to cause, the formation of channels, gulleys, cliffs, and spires. We stopped for lunch at the visitors' center and were surprised by how cold it was. We exited the scenic loop at Wall, SD which can only mean one thing... WALL DRUG! Have you dug Wall Drug? We did. I got a homemade donut, 5 cent coffee, and some postcards. As many of you probably know, they have free ice water, too. Though it's nothing to write home about. It tastes funny.
Back on I-90 for about another hour, we exited at Rapid City and headed south for about 30 miles until we came upon the aforementioned monument. Whether you're a fan of Alfred
Hitchcock, Team America World Police, or just the United States of America, Mt. Rushmore is the place for you. It's hard for me to put my finger on what was so stunning about it, but I think it's the confluence of scale, history, and the adjacent landscape. And we saw a mountain goat! After dinner we found the local movie theater and saw Hamlet 2, the highlight of which was the tune, "Rock Me Sexy Jesus." Before you're offended, let me tell you that the movie explains that the song is about if Jesus came to the earth in modern times, he'd have to market himself like a sexy celebrity. All in all we give the movie 2 thumbs up.
We're spending the night here in Rapid City before driving through Rocky Raccoon country tomorrow (that would be the Black Hills of Dakota) and into Wyoming. Despite Sarah Palin ruining my night, today has been one of the best days yet. So here's to another night in a Best Western, though this one seems to be a Better Western (we have a fridge). See you in Wyoming!
A&A
Alison and I left Chamberlain this morning after she sent off some applications. We drove west for about 200 miles until we reached the beginning of the Badlands National Park scenic loop (Route 240, exit 131). Just so you know, there are no student discounts at national parks. We drove the loop and stopped off at most of the lookouts. According to my American Park Networks guide (picked up at AAA), the Badlands, a 244,000 acre landscape, was formed starting 65 million years ago from various sediment, including what is known as the Pierre Shale, volcanic ash, 
and decomposed forests. Erosion has caused, and continues to cause, the formation of channels, gulleys, cliffs, and spires. We stopped for lunch at the visitors' center and were surprised by how cold it was. We exited the scenic loop at Wall, SD which can only mean one thing... WALL DRUG! Have you dug Wall Drug? We did. I got a homemade donut, 5 cent coffee, and some postcards. As many of you probably know, they have free ice water, too. Though it's nothing to write home about. It tastes funny.Back on I-90 for about another hour, we exited at Rapid City and headed south for about 30 miles until we came upon the aforementioned monument. Whether you're a fan of Alfred
Hitchcock, Team America World Police, or just the United States of America, Mt. Rushmore is the place for you. It's hard for me to put my finger on what was so stunning about it, but I think it's the confluence of scale, history, and the adjacent landscape. And we saw a mountain goat! After dinner we found the local movie theater and saw Hamlet 2, the highlight of which was the tune, "Rock Me Sexy Jesus." Before you're offended, let me tell you that the movie explains that the song is about if Jesus came to the earth in modern times, he'd have to market himself like a sexy celebrity. All in all we give the movie 2 thumbs up.We're spending the night here in Rapid City before driving through Rocky Raccoon country tomorrow (that would be the Black Hills of Dakota) and into Wyoming. Despite Sarah Palin ruining my night, today has been one of the best days yet. So here's to another night in a Best Western, though this one seems to be a Better Western (we have a fridge). See you in Wyoming!
A&A
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
weird computer activity
I don't know if it's the Best Western internet or my computer but clearly something got messed up in the most recent post. I'm too sleepy to try to figure it out, so in the mean time, enjoy what's there and I can try to fix it tomorrow.
Half way there?
a>Today was a long day on the road. We hit up the Trader Joe's in Madison at 9 AM to restock our cooler. After refueling the Prius, we were back on the road by 10 AM, heading west on I-90 (again). We crossed the Mississippi River around lunch time and stopped on the Minnesota side for a picnic lunch with the ingredients we had picked up that morning. I chatted with a couple that was heading from Wisconsin to Washington and then down to Arizona. And I thought our route was indirect! Apparently they're picking up a new camper in Washington. This picture is great because you can see both Minnesota AND Wisconsin.Neither Alison nor I had ever been to Minnesota before, so we both got to check that one off our list. The 70 mph speed limit helped things go by more quickly and southern Minnesota's flatness is only rivaled by South Dakota's. Though the monotony of the landscape was broken up by fields of wind turbines. I <3 onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyp6IMdfsuoeWWnpgra84rZLY9qxBBEq9t8FNiVOPiLwoEyNafCHLKYBLl0rMICNMWIqVgiALDWIswrGl4XPFQTgKIjG9wujWIlRiCLNh6IKtDE_A4vaOvTYkW0dGLY_qL6vyObtkHJvYW/s1600-h/DSCN5379.JPG">
nscathed (although Alison was really hoping for some rain to clean off the dead bugs on the windshield). We pulled off the road in Fairmont, MN after seeing a billboard for Starbucks. We drove down the side road for about 2 miles until we realized that this was likely one of the stores that had been shut down. Sure enough, on our drive back to the interstate, we saw a shell of a store that had once been. Here's to you, Masa! (Masa, Alison's husband, has been lamenting the closing of some 600 Starbucks stores worldwide for the past four months. Now Alison can truly appreciate the impact). So we pressed on to our next POI, the 55-foot Jolly Green Giant statue in Blue Earth, MN. Yes, we sought this out after having read about it in our AAA book.From there we crossed the state line into South Dakota, another first for both of us, and where the speed limit is 75 mph. We were greeted by many billboards, most notably "We Dakotans reject all animal activists." This made Alison's heart beat a little faster and made me question whether we would be safe with my Obama sticker proudly displayed with these New York plates. Later this evening, at dinner, Alison thought it better to say she is "allergic to butter" rather than explain that she is a vegan.
Since I planned this trip, I have been looking forward to the Corn Palace
in Mitchell, SD. We arrived after 5 pm, so couldn't go inside. But I'll include a picture, and that will be enough said. Except to say that it wasn't all that I hoped and dreamed it would be. Johnny, if you're reading, you were right. But it was worth the stop anyway. If for nothing else, the find dining experience at Chef Louie in Mitchell, SD. It was all about the ambiance and the fine decorating. My favorite is the placement of this painting you can see on the wall. Whoever did this surely has a future in curatorial assistance.The drive from Mitchell to Chamberlain was the flattest hour of my life. Everything stretched on so far I'm pretty sure we could see North Dakota and Nebraska on either side of the highway. The sunset was the widest one we'd ever seen, and it was all quite beautiful. Alison remarked, "I can't believe there's a place like Tokyo and a place like this in the same world." (Alison lived in Tokyo for 8 years.) So we're driving along this flat plain, and then all of a sudden the highway dips down as we arrive in Chamberlain. We turn right before hitting the Missouri River and find our home for the night, the Best Western Motor Inn. In the morning we will drive a couple of hours to Wall Drug and the Badlands, and then keep going a little further into Rapid City, Mt. Rushmore, and the Black Hills.
We continue to make good progress on our license plate checklist and our new music for the day was Ingrid Michaelson's 'Boys and Girls.' Thanks again, Julia!
Monday, September 1, 2008
Reclaiming summer at Dotty Dumplings
Megan Schultz: "After a splendid day at the nation's largest waterpark, we are now consuming fine local brew on this last day of summer. Good food, good times, good friends."
That was blogged directly from Dotty Dumplings Dowry in Madison, WI. Technology is so great.
Annie: Alison, how was your day today?
Alison: It was fantastic!
Annie: You're funnier than that. Why was it so fantastic?
Alison: Because we went to the biggest waterpark in America.
Annie: You like waterparks, don't you?
Alison: I f***ing LOVE water parks. You can't type that.
Annie: I'll bleep it out.
Alison: How did you like the waterpark?
Annie: It was all I hoped and dreamed it would be. The funnel cake was the best. You look tired.
Alison: I am tired. It's because I feel like I've been through a washing machine.
Annie: You have been through a washing machine.
Alison: That toilet bowl sucked.
Annie: Yeah, I think I pulled my sternocleidomastoid.
Alison: Well, hopefully we can rest it up in the car tomorrow on our drive into the lands of badness.
Annie: You mean the badlands.
Alison: Yeah. And by the way, you have some really attractive friends.
Annie: Thanks, I'll be sure to let them know by publishing it in my blog.
The toilet bowl Alison is referring to is the first ride we went on at Noah's Ark, The Time Warp. The ride is a giant enclosed toilet-bowl-like structure ("monstrosity" would be Alison's choice of word) that sends you on a tube into darkness and whirls you around like you're being flushed down a toilet. A giant dinosaur head in the middle is supposed to give you the sense of going way back in time.
As Alison and I had walked through Chicago the other day, she said, "I wish I could reclaim my summer." After studying for the MCAT and biochemistry all summer, she was ready for some fun. Little did she know at the time, the MOST fun was just around the corner. Nicki joined us and a group of Megan's classmates at the waterpark and showed us how to do it right, zip line and all. For 6.5 hours we slid, floated, splashed, and zipped through the attractions of America's largest waterpark in the Wisconsin Dells. We even scrounged up $0.70 in the Adventure River, though Nicki tells us that her loot has been as high as $10 in the past.
We topped the day off with a successful trip to Chipotle (we'd now been craving it for three days running), and some good company over at Dotty Dumplings. Daves Strasfeld and Ullman (roommates, Wash U alums, and PhD candidates) arrived on their bikes to join in the fun.
I hadn't seen Dave Ullman since I graduated from college in 2005; It was wonderful to see him and to catch up.
And so with great sadness we will say goodbye to the wonderful people of Madison, WI, and venture west through southern Minnesota and as far into South Dakota as the setting sun will allow without blinding us. Hopefully we'll have an internet connection to give an update tomorrow, but if not, we will write as soon as we can!
Until then,
Annie and Alison
That was blogged directly from Dotty Dumplings Dowry in Madison, WI. Technology is so great.
Annie: Alison, how was your day today?
Alison: It was fantastic!
Annie: You're funnier than that. Why was it so fantastic?
Alison: Because we went to the biggest waterpark in America.
Annie: You like waterparks, don't you?
Alison: I f***ing LOVE water parks. You can't type that.
Annie: I'll bleep it out.
Alison: How did you like the waterpark?
Annie: It was all I hoped and dreamed it would be. The funnel cake was the best. You look tired.
Alison: I am tired. It's because I feel like I've been through a washing machine.
Annie: You have been through a washing machine.
Alison: That toilet bowl sucked.
Annie: Yeah, I think I pulled my sternocleidomastoid.
Alison: Well, hopefully we can rest it up in the car tomorrow on our drive into the lands of badness.
Annie: You mean the badlands.
Alison: Yeah. And by the way, you have some really attractive friends.
Annie: Thanks, I'll be sure to let them know by publishing it in my blog.
The toilet bowl Alison is referring to is the first ride we went on at Noah's Ark, The Time Warp. The ride is a giant enclosed toilet-bowl-like structure ("monstrosity" would be Alison's choice of word) that sends you on a tube into darkness and whirls you around like you're being flushed down a toilet. A giant dinosaur head in the middle is supposed to give you the sense of going way back in time.As Alison and I had walked through Chicago the other day, she said, "I wish I could reclaim my summer." After studying for the MCAT and biochemistry all summer, she was ready for some fun. Little did she know at the time, the MOST fun was just around the corner. Nicki joined us and a group of Megan's classmates at the waterpark and showed us how to do it right, zip line and all. For 6.5 hours we slid, floated, splashed, and zipped through the attractions of America's largest waterpark in the Wisconsin Dells. We even scrounged up $0.70 in the Adventure River, though Nicki tells us that her loot has been as high as $10 in the past.
We topped the day off with a successful trip to Chipotle (we'd now been craving it for three days running), and some good company over at Dotty Dumplings. Daves Strasfeld and Ullman (roommates, Wash U alums, and PhD candidates) arrived on their bikes to join in the fun.
I hadn't seen Dave Ullman since I graduated from college in 2005; It was wonderful to see him and to catch up.And so with great sadness we will say goodbye to the wonderful people of Madison, WI, and venture west through southern Minnesota and as far into South Dakota as the setting sun will allow without blinding us. Hopefully we'll have an internet connection to give an update tomorrow, but if not, we will write as soon as we can!
Until then,
Annie and Alison
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Give or take a day
Much to report for day 4. I've spent the last few minutes trying to figure out how to post photos in an aesthetically pleasing way but it's proving to be too difficult for this weary traveler. So that will have to wait until tomorrow. But just some highlights:
We have already brought "sexy back" a number of times thanks to Julia Johannsen's musical contributions to our drive (A little JT goes a long way). Thanks to Julia we were also introduced to DJ Alibi, Koop, and a few others. Thank you, Julia!!! We haven't gotten to them all yet, but we're looking forward to all the CDs!
On the topic of my broadening my musical horizons, Alison's contributions have not gone unnoticed. Erasure and New Order have been gracing my 6-CD changer with their presence and have been responsible for getting us through some pretty flat states. Speaking of which, Ohio stretched further than either of us thought would be the case. That doesn't bode well for South Dakota, but eventually we crossed into Indiana and the central time zone (in Michigan City) and then somehow missed the sign welcoming us into Illinois. But we certainly didn't miss
Chicago. We stopped for about an hour since Alison had never been. We parked near Millennium Park, had a photo op at the Cloud Gate (or "the bean" as I like to call it), and happened upon the Chicago Jazz Festival. After a failed attempt at locating a Chipotle Mexican Grill in town, we got back in the car and booked it to Madison. Megan Schultz and Justin Miranda (friends and co-workers from PIH) have warmly welcomed us into their home. Their friend, Ryan, joined us for dinner at The Weary Traveler (a fitting choice), where we also met up with Bryn Mawr alumna, Nicki Zelenski and Wash U alum, Dave Strasfeld.
While dining on arguably THE BEST burger I have ever had, Megan mentioned that if we wanted to stay an extra day then we could go with them tomorrow to Noah's Ark, the country's largest water park. Seeing as how Alison had been talking about water parks ever since we left Boston, I suggested to Megan that she ask Alison about what we should do. I have never seen such joy on someone's face. How could we NOT agree to stay? It literally brought Alison to tears. And so we're going to be adding one more day to our trip.
And so with that, I will sign off and get some rest before our big day in the sun. But first, a few travel tips. Sugar snap peas are a superior road trip snack to baby carrots, and the Massachusetts Fast Lane pass works in Indiana and Illinois (though be warned that Ohio has no such automated toll system). Also, the NPR map is a lifesaver, though we missed some key programming since we seemed to travel west too fast to keep up with the stations (in other words, the station would get too much static before we could hear the rest of the program and the next station isn't playing the same show).
We have already brought "sexy back" a number of times thanks to Julia Johannsen's musical contributions to our drive (A little JT goes a long way). Thanks to Julia we were also introduced to DJ Alibi, Koop, and a few others. Thank you, Julia!!! We haven't gotten to them all yet, but we're looking forward to all the CDs!
On the topic of my broadening my musical horizons, Alison's contributions have not gone unnoticed. Erasure and New Order have been gracing my 6-CD changer with their presence and have been responsible for getting us through some pretty flat states. Speaking of which, Ohio stretched further than either of us thought would be the case. That doesn't bode well for South Dakota, but eventually we crossed into Indiana and the central time zone (in Michigan City) and then somehow missed the sign welcoming us into Illinois. But we certainly didn't miss
Chicago. We stopped for about an hour since Alison had never been. We parked near Millennium Park, had a photo op at the Cloud Gate (or "the bean" as I like to call it), and happened upon the Chicago Jazz Festival. After a failed attempt at locating a Chipotle Mexican Grill in town, we got back in the car and booked it to Madison. Megan Schultz and Justin Miranda (friends and co-workers from PIH) have warmly welcomed us into their home. Their friend, Ryan, joined us for dinner at The Weary Traveler (a fitting choice), where we also met up with Bryn Mawr alumna, Nicki Zelenski and Wash U alum, Dave Strasfeld.While dining on arguably THE BEST burger I have ever had, Megan mentioned that if we wanted to stay an extra day then we could go with them tomorrow to Noah's Ark, the country's largest water park. Seeing as how Alison had been talking about water parks ever since we left Boston, I suggested to Megan that she ask Alison about what we should do. I have never seen such joy on someone's face. How could we NOT agree to stay? It literally brought Alison to tears. And so we're going to be adding one more day to our trip.
And so with that, I will sign off and get some rest before our big day in the sun. But first, a few travel tips. Sugar snap peas are a superior road trip snack to baby carrots, and the Massachusetts Fast Lane pass works in Indiana and Illinois (though be warned that Ohio has no such automated toll system). Also, the NPR map is a lifesaver, though we missed some key programming since we seemed to travel west too fast to keep up with the stations (in other words, the station would get too much static before we could hear the rest of the program and the next station isn't playing the same show).
Saturday, August 30, 2008
More than we deserve
Day 3 started later than planned. Fortunately we only had about 5 hours of driving planned. After being treated to some delicious vegan waffles by Drea and Brian and before leaving town, we made another stop at Wegmans to stock up on snacks. Alison was in heaven with the olive bar. 
$50 later we headed out of Rochester and hopped back on I-90 W.
Around Buffalo, Alison asked, "How close are we to Niagara Falls?" I wasn't sure so I had her pull out the map. It didn't look too far, so we impulsively pulled off 90 and headed north on 291. 12 miles later, we were in the town of Niagara Falls. No mist to be seen, but no lack of heart shaped jacuzzis either. We followed the signs to the American Falls and were there soon enough. Parking was another issue. We circled around for a little while until spotting a 5 minute parking spot in front of the House of India (advertising a wide selection of international food including chicken wings and hot dogs) and hoped for the best. We ran through the crowds, bolted through the visitor's center, snapped a few shots in front of the falls, and ran back to the car. No ticket!
And Alison could check off a natural wonder of the world from her list of things to see. It added some time to our trip, but it was worth it, and the bonus was a beautiful drive along Lake Erie as we crossed into Pennsylvania.
Another first for Alison came about when we crossed into Ohio. Soon enough we were passing through the cute town of Hudson and into Stow, where my friend Brian Robson and his girlfriend, Krystel, greeted us with open arms. Brian and I met 2 years ago in Kelly, Wyoming during our WEMT training, and this was the first time we'd seen each other since our send-off party in Jackson at the Antler Lodge. The four of us went out for sushi and now we're enjoying each other's company with or full bellies. It's Alison's turn to say a few words...
I loved the daylights out of Rochester. I loved Niagara Falls, though I couldn't help mention to Annie that they always find ways to make natural wonders unnaturally annoying with attractions like wax museums and "Will pay cash for gold!" kiosks. Annie's friends Brian and Krystel have treated us like royalty. I am looking forward to the little pink houses we will no doubt be seeing very soon. John Cougar Mellencamp really knew what he was talking about. Annie told me blogging would be fun. Another first for me. A note to Masa -- totemoaishitemasu.
I can't believe I forgot my Ratt CD.
$50 later we headed out of Rochester and hopped back on I-90 W.Around Buffalo, Alison asked, "How close are we to Niagara Falls?" I wasn't sure so I had her pull out the map. It didn't look too far, so we impulsively pulled off 90 and headed north on 291. 12 miles later, we were in the town of Niagara Falls. No mist to be seen, but no lack of heart shaped jacuzzis either. We followed the signs to the American Falls and were there soon enough. Parking was another issue. We circled around for a little while until spotting a 5 minute parking spot in front of the House of India (advertising a wide selection of international food including chicken wings and hot dogs) and hoped for the best. We ran through the crowds, bolted through the visitor's center, snapped a few shots in front of the falls, and ran back to the car. No ticket!
And Alison could check off a natural wonder of the world from her list of things to see. It added some time to our trip, but it was worth it, and the bonus was a beautiful drive along Lake Erie as we crossed into Pennsylvania.Another first for Alison came about when we crossed into Ohio. Soon enough we were passing through the cute town of Hudson and into Stow, where my friend Brian Robson and his girlfriend, Krystel, greeted us with open arms. Brian and I met 2 years ago in Kelly, Wyoming during our WEMT training, and this was the first time we'd seen each other since our send-off party in Jackson at the Antler Lodge. The four of us went out for sushi and now we're enjoying each other's company with or full bellies. It's Alison's turn to say a few words...
I loved the daylights out of Rochester. I loved Niagara Falls, though I couldn't help mention to Annie that they always find ways to make natural wonders unnaturally annoying with attractions like wax museums and "Will pay cash for gold!" kiosks. Annie's friends Brian and Krystel have treated us like royalty. I am looking forward to the little pink houses we will no doubt be seeing very soon. John Cougar Mellencamp really knew what he was talking about. Annie told me blogging would be fun. Another first for me. A note to Masa -- totemoaishitemasu.I can't believe I forgot my Ratt CD.
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