adventures of an exuberant explorer

Defining Myself: ByCycle

2009-05-25T17:58:00.001-07:00

Tattered bike gloves and tanned-through hands, thrown confidently out to signal my direction. I always wear my helmet. I have newer gloves, but can't bear to part with the ones that are falling apart. It's not just that they fit my hands; the other gloves do that as well. They fit me. They are the gloves I wore every day one summer until for the first time I saw the backs of my hands browned with an oval here, patchwork crochet patterns there, a hard line across the fingers. A badge of honor earned as a bicycle commuter. Who needs a car when you've got these hands, these gloves, these biker's thighs, this trusty, battered, but infinitely loved bicycle with the basket on the back to hold my "magic expanding backpack" - another characteristic possession, companion. My backpack, my helmet, my "I don't care if they're not stylish, they're functional" sunglasses, my pant legs rolled up on both sides. I leave them rolled up. I like them that way. It's another sign that I bike, I don't care what I look like (though secretly I do), this is serious business, I'm not just some leisure rider who rolls her pants back down as soon as she parks her bike, to hide all traces of how she got there. My favorite jeans practically roll themselves up into biking position, and I love it. So satisfying - even my clothes know when I'm going for a ride. Sometimes I even leave my gloves on if I'm stopping in somewhere on a quick errand. Feels cool, nonchalant, yet I'm self-conscious at the same time, wondering if anybody notices, admires, or even cares. No fancy, high-tech, new, clean gear for me. Give me my tattered gloves and rolled-up jeans and I'll be in heaven on the road.

Lessons from El Salvador, Part III and Final

2008-11-17T20:50:00.000-08:00

Click here for Part I and Part II.

21. A fruit that smells like overripe (and not in a good way) stinky cheese can have a startlingly sweet, completely un-cheesy taste when made into a fresco. (Namely, noni -- it's wonderfully medicinal, too!)

22. Wandering around a Salvadoran shopping mall is somehow much more entertaining than the same activity in the States, though the food court is strangely familiar.

23. Never make positive generalizations about bus drivers. Lesson #14 is hereby amended to "Most El Salvadoran chicken bus drivers are far more civilized and courteous than Guatemalan chicken bus drivers..."

Lessons from Honduras

2008-11-05T07:28:00.000-08:00

1. Always change enough money at the border to pay for transportation, a meal, and a night's lodging, in case you can't find a working ATM until the next day.

2. Make a habit of making friends with the local sitting next to you on the bus. It's fun, and can come in really handy if you encounter unexpected "adventures" along the way.

3. Sometimes you just have to accept the fact that you're a (comparatively) rich white tourist and that people will treat you that way -- but that doesn't mean you have to act like one.

4. Tree piping termites are crunchy and taste like lemon.

5. Better safe than stuck: take the early bus and you can laugh at all your friends who miss the ferry because they wanted to sleep in an extra hour.

6. Underwater bouyancy control is an awesome skill, and fun to play with.

7. Hallowe'en on a Caribbean island: no pumpkins, but plenty of pirates and princesses.

8. Feeling like an outsider in a group of people you "should" fit in with isn't really one of those things that gets easier with experience.

9. Don't make an island the last stop on a trip with a deadline for getting back to the mainland during hurricane season.

10. Fresh, warm, buttered coconut bread is a positively mood-altering experience.

11. Preparation and contingency planning are fine, but worry will get you nowhere. Once you stop worrying about things, they generally work themselves out just fine.

12. It may seem like a cruel trick of the universe that the people you feel the strongest connection to are those with whom you are given the least time to spend. Don't hold back just because you know you'll have to say goodbye -- give yourself fully to the friendship and cherish every moment. You'll meet again someday.

Reflections on Solo Travel

2008-10-31T13:19:00.000-07:00

Note: This was written over a period of about a week, from my last few days in El Salvador to my first few days in Honduras (hence the fact that it gets a bit off-track at the end), but I never got the chance to type it up and post it. I'm actually about to head back to El Salvador again, so the end of the post is a bit out of date. Pretend you're reading it a week and a half ago. :)

This was originally going to be another pithy, unexplained snippet of a Lesson from El Salvador: "Traveling solo in the low tourism season has its drawbacks and its perks." But as I thought about it a bit more I realized there was more to say -- this is a lesson I'm still learning, but it's an important one, and it deserves a fuller treatment.

Traveling solo has been a new experience for me this year, as has traveling long-term: Guatemala was easy, in a way, because Cristie was with me for the most touristy time of my stay, and the rest of the time I was in Spanish school, so I had a more structured lifestyle and built-in social life. But El Salvador has been different. Here it has been very obvious that I am traveling alone through the least touristed country in Central America during the lowest tourist season of the year. Most of the time, apart from one night in Tacuba and two nights in Santa Ana, I have been either the only one or one of two tourists in the hostels I've stayed at -- and I've often felt I've been the only tourist in the entire town or city. This, as the brief version of this lesson mentions, has its benefits and drawbacks.

The main drawback is that it can be difficult to see/do some of the main tourist sites and activities as a solo traveler. Sure, for some things it doesn't matter if you are alone or in a group. But other times, such as when organized tours and/or guides are required, the choices (if you can't round up other tourists) are either: (a) pay the full price for the minimum number of people (usually 3-4) and get a private tour, or (b) not go. Since I'm not a fan of spending triple the cost of anything, and since most of these types of tours tend to be more fun with a group of people anyway, it's option (b) for me.

The flip side of this is that it forces me to be less of a tourist and more of a traveler. At the end of my stay in El Salvador I may not be able to check off on a list all of the things that tourists do in the country when they "do" Central America, but I think I will come away with a richer experience and a deeper understanding of Salvadoran people and culture. I tend to visit fewer places and to spend more time in each place than people who are rushing about trying to hit all the tourist spots, and in the absence of other travelers I have been spending more time around local people and/or participating in local activities.

My first full day in Santa Ana, I went to a concert in the Teatro de Santa Ana in the morning. It was only an hour long, and was played by the Banda Sinfónica de Occidente (a military band), for school groups "and the general public." I think I was the general public -- I was definitely the only non-latina in the theater, and I'm pretty sure I was also the only non-student, non-teacher audience member as well. The main floor and first balcony were willed with middle- to high-school-aged students and teachers, and I had the entire second balcony to myself, overlooking the scene. It was fun to shift my gaze between the musicians and the audience, being the fly on the wall. It was a good concert, too. The finale absolutely cracked me up -- it was a medley that progressed from (forgive me for not knowing exact titles, and I'm missing one or two songs in the middle) A Whiter Shade of Pale to We Will Rock You to Figaro to Another One Bites the Dust, and ended with We Are the Champions. Absolutely brilliant. True Salvadoran culture, and worth every penny of the $0.50 entry fee. (It was probably meant to be serious, though, so it was a good thing nobody could see me rolling in the aisle.)

After the concert I wandered around the city for a bit, eventually happening upon a picturesquely ruined building (why is it that ruins are so picturesque?) and stopped to take a couple of photos. The man who was working in the grounds (his name was Hector) invited me to go inside and walk around and take all the photos I wanted. He followed me shortly and began telling me about the building (it was built 100-110 years ago, was originally an art school, then a government school, and he never told me how it was ruined) and about the city. After a bit, a young Salvadoran man named Napoleon wandered in and joined the conversation, and we all chatted for about 20 minutes more (have I mentioned that I love being able to speak Spanish?). I ended up going to lunch at a super-cheap comedor (full plate of good food plus horchata for under $2) with Napoleon and hanging out with him for much of the afternoon. It was a delightful experience, and one I most likely would not have had if I had scheduled my time full of tourist activities.

All of that said, for the next week and a half or so, I am going to be a complete tourist. I am currently in Copán Ruinas -- the second most popular tourist destination in Honduras -- and tomorrow will be making my way to number one -- the Bay Islands, to go diving off of Utila. I have been and will continue to be surrounded by primarily English-speaking, backpack-toting tourists, facing the mental and emotional challenge of making new friends while at the same time trying to distinguish myself from them somewhat because I dislike being lumped in the "gringo tourist" category. When I'm on my own, locals speak to me in Spanish and I feel on a somewhat even footing with them; when I'm in touristy cities full of gringos, the locals (who can) speak to me first in English, and it bothers me. It creates a distance between us, the divide between affluent tourist and humble local, and it doesn't give me a chance to show that I respect their culture enough to speak in their language.

But I guess I'll have to put up with the struggle against being labeled "gringo tourist" for a bit longer, because I'm not going to forego a diving experience in the Bay Islands! :)

Getting to Copán Ruinas

2008-10-23T14:57:00.000-07:00

... Was an adventure, to say the least. But it seems that whenever I encounter these sorts of "adventures," there is always somebody there watching over me -- usually a local who is sitting next to me on the bus and adopts me and looks out for me. Yesterday there were two, and I was grateful for not only their help and reassurance, but their pleasant company as well.

The border crossing between El Salvador and Honduras at El Poy was remarkably laid-back and mellow (so mellow that I had to search for 5 minutes to find somebody to come into the immigration office to check my passport and take my $3). I walked across and got in a colectivo taxi (that leaves when it's full of people, which can take a while) to the nearest town of Nueva Ocotepeque. In the taxi I met Karla and an older woman she was traveling with (I guessed her to be Karla's monther-in-law, but never actually found out). We struck up a conversation and discovered that they were also headed to La Entrada (where I had to go to transfer to a bus for Copán), and that Karla's husband lives and works in San Jose and that she's going to visit him next month. What a small world. :)

When we got to Nueva Ocotepeque around 11 a.m. we were told that the next bus for La Entrada wouldn't be leaving until 1:45 -- due to flooding on the highways between the capital and where we were, the buses weren't getting through as regularly (it's been raining hard in Honduras for 2 weeks straight, and LOTS of places are flooded). Fortunately, a bus from another company rolled by around noon and we managed to get to La Entrada around 3:30. Karla helped me figure out which bus to catch for Copán and then took off to her destination (after exchanging email addresses so we can visit each other in California).

The bus for Copán was supposed to leave at 4:00, but didn't pull away until almost 5:00, dashing my hopes of arriving while it was still light out. A young Honduran man sat next to me, and for a long time we didn't speak, until we came to a section of the highway where the road was halfway washed out, and we started speaking about all the rain and the roads, and continued a friendly conversation from there. His name was Sammy, and he lives in Copán. He kept giving me updates on how close we were getting -- we've got halfway left, only 10km left, etc. Then, when we were about 5km from Copán, the bus driver pulled over and turned off the bus. Apparently there was a landslide ahead and he wasn't going to be able to cross it.

Sammy almost convinced me to start walking, but we (and a few other tourists headed for Copán) opted to wait for a pickup or other smaller vehicle which could either get us across the landslide or at least get us a little closer to it to minimize our walking distance (we were still about a 20 minute walk from the slide, and an hour's walk in total, which is not fun in the dark with a full backpack). Another bus came by in about 15 minutes -- he thought he could get over the slide, but all the drivers coming over from the other side shouted out their windows at him that he shouldn't try. So he dropped us by the side of the road and turned around and left. We ended up walking over the mudslide in the dark (fortunately, it wasn't raining, and it wasn't really all that dangerous), and catching a minibus to Copán on the other side. Sammy was looking out for me the whole way, making sure I had my bags and my footing, and stuck by his side the whole time. It was very sweet.

All's well that ends well -- we eventually arrived in Copán around 7:30. The three other tourists I had encountered on the bus and I checked into a hostel and then went to dinner, where I ate the "burrito enorme," which more than lived up to its name. But oh, it was good -- it had been a long time since breakfast in El Salvador. :)

Home

2008-10-21T16:00:00.000-07:00

As some of you know, and others may guess, if you've been following me on Twitter or Facebook, I've been thinking about heading homeward. It started out as homesickness in Tacuba, but as I dove deeper into that feeling and explored the reasons for it, I realized that I don't want to go home because I'm tired of traveling, but because I'm excited about a multitude of opportunities and activities back home, and feel like I am ready to transition back into that world. I may not have a crystal-clear vision for the rest of my life (and I never expect to), but after taking some time out this year and getting to know myself better, I do have a much clearer vision now of my next steps. After feeling like I've been floating rather aimlessly for the last several years, this is more exciting for me than I can properly describe.

So, what is it that's got me itching to cut my travels and come back to the States, you ask? Well, it's a lot of things. Separating myself for a time from first the "normal" culture of working life (in February) and later from the rest of my customary life and language and culture in general (in July, when I started my travels) has taught me a great deal about myself and helped me to distill my values and ideals and goals. By discovering the things that I've missed the most in my travels I have begun to piece together a picture of how I want to live my life when I return, full of all those things that mean the most to me, without all the trappings that tend to accumulate over the years in an unquestioned life. I very purposely gave away most of my belongings when I left for Central America -- giving myself permission to start from scratch when(ever) I returned, to be picky about what I let back into my life rather than unthinkingly picking up where I left off.

For reasons that should be obvious after reading the list below, I will not be moving back to Portland (sorry, folks -- but I'll come visit!), but to California -- the Monterey Bay Area, to be more specific. I'm a little apprehensive about becoming a Californian again (you mean I have to buy a car?!), but I think I can handle it.

And, since I know you're dying to see the list, here it is -- some of the things I have missed the most and/or look forward to exploring as new adventures (the two most important factors first, everything else in no particular order, and by no means complete):

- Being close to family
- Work that challenges my limits, builds my abilities, and makes me feel I'm making a contribution to the world (after 8 long years, I'll be working at the marine lab again -- wheee!)
- Learning to play the guitar (and the fiddle?)
- Shape note singing
- Taking German classes
- Rock climbing
- Being close to the ocean
- Social dancing, ritual dancing, taking various kinds of dance lessons
- Gardening, growing things (& cooking them!)
- Really good, 55-60% cacao dark chocolate (okay, I know this isn't a reason to come home from Central America, but seriously -- the chocolate here could use some help)

I just bought a plane ticket to San Diego for November 7th. I'll be making my way north from there by train, visiting friends and family along the way, landing in Portland for Thanksgiving and then heading back to the Bay Area for Christmas and Harmony (hooray for Harmony!). See you soon! :)

Lessons from El Salvador, Part II

2008-10-18T14:37:00.000-07:00

Click here for Part I.

11. Always, always, always carry insect repellent and itch reliever.

12. Always carry a spare battery for your camera, even if the existing battery is fully charged. Carry two spares in hot, humid climates.

13. Don't be afraid to ask for what you want -- chances are, people will be delighted to help you out (give you guitar lessons, make phone calls on your behalf, hoist your bag, teach you silly ditties in Spanish...)

14. El Salvadoran chicken bus drivers are far more civilized and courteous than Guatemalan chicken bus drivers -- and bus fares are cheap!

15. Sometimes they're trying to sell you something. Sometimes they're trying to hit on you. Sometimes they're trying to do both at the same time. But sometimes they're just genuinely friendly and trying to makd conversation. Try to figure out which is the case before reacting too strongly.

16. When you hang around with somebody who knows everybody, lots of things are cheap(er) or free. But it's not always worth the price.

17. In a 48-piece orchestra, there may be 10 trumpets, 10 clarinets, and six tubas, but the single tiny piccolo still steals the show.

18. Weaving is not a practical travel hobby.

19. It is perfectly acceptable to do "nothing" some days.

20. You know you're doing alright with your Spanish when:

- You haven't bothered to use your dictionary in weeks
- You begin to resent other travelers who don't speak Spanish because they force the conversation into English
- After two and a half days, your new friend from Mexico (who speaks perfectly good English) comments on how strange it is to hear you speaking your native language

Lessons from El Salvador, Part I

2008-10-17T13:02:00.000-07:00

Well, it didn't take long to accumulate my first set of lessons from El Salvador -- this place may be tiny, but it offers a lot to learn. :)

1. El Salvadorian border officials are infinitely more helpful and trustworthy than those found on the Guatemalan side.

2. US dollar bills are extremely boring and the coins insubstantial and lifeless after other Central American currency.

3. Not only is riding (standing) in the back of the pickup truck more fun than riding in the cab, it can also be a heck of a lot more comfortable, depending on the truck's shocks (or, more commonly, lack thereof). Just remember to keep your mouth closed at all times (and if you absolutely must sing, stand with your back to the direction of travel to avoid swallowing too many bugs).

4. Attempting to ride uphill on a steep, gravelly dirt road on a mountain bike that's un poco frenada -- in other words, is constantly braking because the front wheel is crooked and rubs against the brake pads -- is just as difficult as it sounds; i.e., practically impossible. (And that was the "good" bike!)

5. Mosquito bites last longer if you scratch them -- it's not worth it.

6. Always make sure you know exactly what the deal is before you agree.

7. Conversations that are difficult in English can be even more difficult in Spanish, but can sometimes be easier in a bizarre way -- if you don't know how to say things subtly, you have to just come straight out and bluntly say what you mean, which can be more effective in the end.

8. Despite Lesson 7... Attempting to explain to a Latin man that he needs to learn to respect women and their desires (or lack thereof), and that when a woman asys "no" it means "no", can be a fruitless and frustrating exercise -- but good practice, especially when you have to repeat yourself several times a day.

9. When your mind and your heart are somewhere other than where your body is, it's time to move on.

10. Never leave a country after visiting only one place -- not all of El Salvador is Tacuba (or any other town, for that matter).

Lessons from Guatemala, Part V (and Really Final This Time)

2008-10-10T18:18:00.000-07:00

Okay, I lied. I should have known there would be more lessons on the way to the border (and a few that I neglected to record earlier in the trip). This really is the last batch, though, I promise... I've already started collecting lessons from El Salvador. :)

Click here for Part I, Part II, Part III, and Part IV.

44. The most fashionable place to wear a motorcycle helmet while riding (if you have one at all) is on one's forearm. Otherwise, it should be kept on the handlebars at all times.

45. The worst thing about dark streets at night is that you can't tell when you're about to step in something disgusting. Best to walk your route during daylight hours and memorize the location of all the crap (literally) so you can avoid it at night.

46. Fizzy beverages and salsa dancing is not a good combination.

47. Be grateful that, in a Mayan ceremony, it is perfectly acceptable to offer your portion of aguardiente (corn liquor) to the fire rather than drink it.

48. On a twisty divided mountain highway, a detour may simply mean driving in the oncoming lane, with no dividers and no warning to oncoming traffic.

49. A "direct" shuttle from Xela to Antigua (to the south) may in fact carry passengers bound for locations as disparate as San Cristóbal de las Casas (Mexico), Chichicastenango (east), and Lago de Atitlán (south, but out of the way). Never assume you're actually going directly to your destination, and never believe a claim of "non-stop" or "private" service.

50. Sometimes the chicken bus experience can seem remarkably like riding the Knight Bus, only without the reassurance of magic.

Transportation Trials and Tribulations

2008-10-02T19:59:00.000-07:00

Today has not been my day for planning or accomplishing efficient transportation. I am currently (after a saga I will relate in a moment) in Antigua, Guatemala -- I came here because I figured it would be infinitely easier to plan and execute my route to El Salvador from here than from Xela, and because I really didn't want to go through Guate (Guatemala City) if I could possibly help it. Unfortunately, this has not proved nearly so straightforward as I had hoped, and I'm going to have to go to Guate anyway.

... But first, this morning's adventure...

I decided to spring for a shuttle bus from Xela to Antigua rather than take a series of chicken buses, for the increased efficiency and security and comfort. I was assured when I bought the (none-too-cheap) ticket that it was "direct, private transport" door-to-door from my house in Xela to my hostel in Antigua. Well, it was neither. I booked a "direct" shuttle to Antigua, and got on a bus with 7 people on it, none of whom were going to Antigua. We had to make a number of stops, either to drop people off at connecting buses or at their own destinations, and the trip that should have taken 3.5-4 hours took 5.5. In addition, once the bus started emptying, the driver started picking up other passengers from the street - it was one thing when he picked up a couple of Guatemaltecos for a short trip for about Q2, but another thing when he picked up two backpackers in Panajachel and charged an extra Q50 apiece, when the people who had gone through the tour agency in Pana had paid Q90 ... and you can be sure Adrenalina Tours isn't going to know about those two passengers (well, not until I fill out their online comments form...).

Quite possibly the most outrageous aspect of the shuttle service was that, when we arrived in Antigua, the driver had no idea how to navigate the city, was not familiar with any of the hostels, and seemed to have absolutely no sense of direction (and seemed incapable of following directions, as well). He let one guy off as soon as we got into town, and two more at the Parque Central, and then it was just one couple and me in the van. The driver asked them where they were going, but did not seem to comprehend the address, even though they showed it to them on a piece of paper - he kept asking, "but where is it?", as if they would know how to get there from wherever we were when they'd never been to the city. They also spoke almost no Spanish, but a bit of English. Fortunately, I had a map of Antigua (which the driver did not even seem to possess), and I ended up figuring out where we were and directing the driver (it was an extremely painstaking process, believe me!) to their hostel - or as close as we could get him to come with his refusal to follow my directions (and no, it was not a fault of my Spanish skills). (Cristie, you would have been proud of me!) We had a bit more luck finding my hostel after that (there was only one turn involved), and trust me, I was glad to get off of that shuttle. The driver had been asking everybody for tips as he let them off (he even asked me how to say propina in English so he could ask the people who didn't understand in Spanish), but I was glad to see that he had the grace not to ask me, after I had pretty much saved his hide. Grrrrr.

... And on to this afternoon...

I spent the afternoon walking around town popping in and out of various travel agencies, always asking the same questions, always receiving the same response. Yes, I can get to El Salvador from here. It costs $30. You take a shuttle to Guate and then a first-class bus to San Salvador. What, you don't want to go to San Salvador? I'm sorry, you can't get off the bus before the capital because it's a direct bus. No, we don't know of any other way to get to El Salvador.

Grrrrr. The problem is, the place I want to go (Tacuba) is really quite close to the border, and it would be utterly ridiculous to have to go all the way to San Salvador just to have to hop another bus and backtrack the 100 km almost back to the border. But apparently I can't just hop off the first class bus at any point I want, which means.... I have to figure out my own way to get there. Here's the plan:

- Chicken bus from Antigua to Guate first thing tomorrow morning
- Hope to goodness I can find the right bus terminal without too much wandering around looking like a lost tourist with lots of expensive luggage in a big city
- Chicken bus to Cuilapa and 11 km beyond, to the fork in the highway at El Molino Junction
- Stand at the junction at what I hope is the South-going fork, and wait for a bus that says it's headed for Valle Nuevo
- Pass the border between Valle Nuevo, Guatemala and Las Chinamas, El Salvador (this will probably be the easiest part of my trip, or at least the most straightforward)
- Look for a bus headed to Ahuachapán and get on it
- In Ahuachapán, look for a bus to Tacuba
- In Tacuba, ask around to figure out how to get to my hostel, because I don't have a map

How's that for a day's journey? If you have extra brain-space to spare tomorrow and feel like sending some extra-specially-strong fun, safe and easy travel thoughts my way, I would appreciate them. :)

Lessons from Guatemala, Part IV (and Final)

2008-10-01T12:26:00.000-07:00

As I am leaving Guatemala tomorrow, this is the final (and slightly longer) edition of my Lessons. Click here for Part I, Part II, and Part III. No doubt the lessons will continue in El Salvador!

31. Guatemalan drivers tend to turn on their headlights only when they see something coming.

32. Always ask at least three people for directions before setting off confidently in what may or may not be the right direction. (Credit goes to Kentucky for this tip - thanks, guys!)

33. Unscented, non-antiperspirant, non-powdery-white-clothes-staining deoderant is pretty much impossible to find.

34. A crippled umbrella is still better than no umbrella at all, if only for the comic relief it provides in the middle of a downpour.

35. Barbed wire fences and rusty corrugated tin roofs are apparently great places to dry laundry.

36. When it rains in Xela, the water goes out in half the city. Go figure.

37. Don't get too excited about all the billboards and signs you see denouncing litter and encouraging protection of nature -- basura is still an undeniably prominent feature of just about every landscape.

38. Don't even try to get anything done on a Sunday.

39. Your local ice cream vendor may be an old man riding a tottering bicycle with a giant cooler strapped to the handlebars, carrying a megaphone blasting the classic ice cream truck ditties. (I know, I already posted about ice cream vendors, but I loved this guy!)

40. Building relationships with local shopkeepers (and club owners) is really quite pleasant, and dead useful if you don't have exact change and need to come back mañana for something you bought today.

41. Never take a shuttle when a chicken bus will do. But when a chicken bus won't do, a shuttle (or at least a Pullman) is generally worth the price and peace of mind.

42. If your fever is high enough, you can dream in languages you don't normally speak in waking life (in my case, German -- I only wish I could remember it!)

43. It really is a very small world.

Casa Doris

2008-10-01T11:38:00.000-07:00

In tandem with my post about graduation from Spanish school, I wanted to write just a bit about my fantastic homestay experience at Casa Doris. After two weeks with my first family I requested a change because, although the first family was very nice, they were also very reserved and quiet, and I got practically no conversation practice with them. Doris had been highly recommended to me by some friends from school as a wonderful host mother, and I couldn't be happier with my decision to move.

The family (in-house) consists of Doris and her daughter Andrea, who is a Spanish teacher at Ulew Tinimit. While not the typical large Guatemalan family, I have felt more welcome and at home there than I could have thought possible. Doris treats her students like family -- she cooks special soups for us when we're sick, always asks us how our day went (and has genuine interest in the response), and calls us "mis niños" -- and every morning when we leave for school she calls out from the kitchen, "Hasta la vista, babies!" She cooks the most wonderful food and always asks, "¿Sufficiente niña?" to make sure I really, truly had enough to eat.

Conversation is always lively and interesting at mealtimes -- sometimes we talk about food, sometimes about language, comparing expressions in English and Spanish, but mostly just about daily life. Both Doris and Andrea say they have observed a vast improvement in my fluency over the four weeks that I've been with them (even Juan, a close family friend y un buen homre, says he notices a huge difference - mostly in my confidence in speaking), and a large part of that is attributable to these two wonderful women, who are encouraging and helpful and just plain fun to talk to.

The house itself is cozy, surprisingly warm at night (thank goodness!), and with a truly hot shower (I have a feeling I'm going to miss that shower...). There is a small un-roofed patio where I stand to brush my teeth at night (when it's not raining), gazing up at the stars and the Guatemalan flag waving from the roof of the Spanish school next door.

My room has a skylight (covered with corrugated fiberglass rather than glass) which lets in sunlight and the sound of the rain.

The house is located close to the top of a relatively steep hill, on a stone road that has definitely seen better days (though they have made a few improvements to it in the last several weeks that I've been here -- no more huge gaping car-traps in the middle of the road). It's definitely a workout walking up it and, from what I can tell, just about as tough to drive a car (not to mention ride a bicycle!) down it (it's one-way downhill - I don't think Guatemalan cars would be able to make it up...). Ironically, this is also the street where all of the drivers license offices are, which means that in order to obtain a Guatemalan drivers license you have to navigate (i.e., slalom) this street. A good test, I suppose. :) On a good day (i.e., not often during the rainy season), you can see Volcán Santa María from the top of the street.

All in all, Casa Doris has been an absolutely fantastic place to stay. If you ever find yourself in Quetzaltenango, do yourself a huge favor and contact Doris. And tell her I sent you. :)

Pillow Talk

2008-10-01T10:29:00.000-07:00

No, not that kind of pillow talk...

I meant to post this months (almost literally!) ago, but somehow never got around to it -- probably because I never got around to posting about Chichicastenango and the fantastic market there. Anyhow, this post is about a bed -- specifically, my bed (and more specifically, my pillowcase) at the Posada El Teléfono in Chichi. Here's what I wrote in my journal the first night we stayed there:

...But first I must write about my bed.... Cristie called these beds "firm" when we arrived. I just shifted around to put my journal on the floor after sitting up in bed writing for half an hour, and realized that my rear end had gone to sleep. I then attempted to slide down under the covers, but my toe caught on a small tear in the bottom sheet and made it longer. I remarked to Cristie, "Well, that rip just got a little larger," and I tried again, but my toe caught again and ripped it even more, which sent both of us into a fit of giggles. The "headboards" are made out of thin, painted plywood tacked to the walls. Oh, and my top sheet looks like it was once either a shower curtain or half of a duvet cover -- it's got buttonholes all along the top edge. Cristie says, "Yeah, you got the weird bed." :P

My pillowcase opens on the long edge, and has something printed on one side in some language I don't recognize:

Soms zijn er witte plekken in een droom.
Misschien dat daar wel stille vlinders zweven.
Al weet je niet vanwaar zo'n vlinder komt.

Soms zijn er witte plekken in een droom.
Misschien dat je dan rustiger kunt slapen.
Zodat je niet meer bang bent voor wat komt.

Soms zijn er witte plekken in een droom.
Dan brengt de slaap je warmte en wat licht.
En minder donker waarvan je wakker ligt.

I just hope it means something peaceful, like "sweet dreams"!

*****

Almost two months later, I finally got around to searching for this poem, and found out that it's in Dutch, and that it is indeed a bedtime poem (does anybody know if it's also a lullaby? It would be interesting to hear it sung...) Here's the translation I found on this website:

Sometimes .........................

sometimes there are white spots in a dream
maybe that quiet butterflies float
you do not already know whence comes as `n butterfly
sometimes there are white spots in a dream
mischien dat je rustiger kunt slapen maybe you can sleep calmer
so you no longer afraid of what was or what it is
sometimes there are white spots in a dream
then you sleep, the heat and some light
and less dark things you awake is

It's obviously an internet-generated translation, and one from a native speaker would be much lovelier -- anybody care to provide? :)

Graduación

2008-09-28T12:32:00.000-07:00

Note: English translation follows. I just figured that, since this post is all about Spanish school, I should write it in Spanish... :)

El viernes pasado me "gradué" de Celas Maya, la escuela de español donde he estado estudiando por las seis semanas pasadas. Ahora (en teoría), tengo en mi mente toda la gramática de español -- sólo tengo que usarla! :)

Celas Maya (Centro de Estudios Linguisticos, Antropológicos y Sociales Maya) es una de las mejores escuelas de español en Xela (Quetzaltenango), Guatemala, y la recomiendo a quienquiera que quiera aprender español. Cada estudiante tiene su propio maestro/a, y las parejas de maestros y estudiantes trabajan en mesas individuales (cubiertas de manteles tejidos de colores brillantes) alrededor de un patio al aire libre con rosas y árboles de durazno.

La primera semana, estudié con Martha, una mujer bien inteligente, y aprendí mucho sobre la historia política y social de Guatemala, los derechos de las mujeres, y la identidad cultural en Guatemala y en Xela. Ella me presentó a un sacerdote Maya (un carpintero), y recibí una consulta para averiguar mis Nawales (símbolos espirituales de la religión Maya). Quiero escribir una nota separada sobre esto pero, en cortas palabras, el sacerdote me dijo que yo tengo "buenos Nawales" y que, si yo quiera, podría ser una sacerdotisa Maya también (por supuesto, después de muchos años de estudiar).

La segunda semana yo cambié de maestro y empecé a estudiar con Francisco, y me caía tan bien que no cambié otra vez por el resto de mi tiempo en la escuela. De alguna manera, Francisco siempre sabía exactamente lo que yo necesitaba aprender, y en el momento exacto en que necesité aprenderla. También sabía cuando pudía presionarme o desafiarme, y cuando yo necesitaba más tiempo para procesar lo que había aprendido. Él es uno de los mejores maestros que he tenido en todo mi carrera escolar.

Probablemente podría quedarme seis semanas más en Celas Maya, porque todavía hay mucho más que necesito aprender. Pero, por el otro lado, necesito salir del ambiente controlado de la escuela para poner en práctica lo que he aprendido. Con este propósito, teminé mis estudios (por ahora), y el miércoles me voy a El Salvador para continuar mi gran aventura en Centroamerica. :)

**************

Last Friday I "graduated" from Celas Maya, the Spanish school where I've been studying for the last six weeks. In theory, I now have in my mind all of the Spanish grammar -- all I have to do now is use it! :)

Celas Maya (Centro de Estudios Linguisticos, Antropológicos y Sociales Maya) is one of the best Spanish schools in Xela (Quetzaltenango), Guatemala, and I would recommend it to anybody who wants to learn Spanish. Every student has his/her own teacher, and the teacher-student pairs work at individual tables (covered with brightly-colored woven tablecloths) around an open-air patio with roses and peach trees.

The first week I studied with Martha, an extremely intelligent woman, and I learned a lot about Guatemalan political and social history, women's rights, and cultural identity in Guatemala and in Xela. Martha introduced me to a Mayan priest (a carpenter), and I had a consultation to determine my Nawals (Mayan spiritual symbols). I want to write a separate blog post about that experience but, in short, the priest told me that I have "good Nawals" and that, if I wanted to, I could be a Mayan priestess as well (after years of study, of course).

The second week I changed teachers and started studying with Francisco, and I got along so well with him that I didn't change teachers again for the rest of my time at the school. Somehow, Francisco always knew exactly what I needed to learn and the exact moment in which I needed to learn it. He also knew when he could push or challenge me, and when I needed more time to process what I had learned. He's one of the best teachers I've had in my entire school career.

I could probably stay at Celas Maya another six weeks, because there's still a lot that I need to learn. On the other hand, though, I also need to leave the controlled environment of the school and put into practice what I've learned. With that goal, I finished my studies (for now), and on Wednesday I'm leaving for El Salvador to continue my great Central American adventure. :)

Two Months

2008-09-21T12:13:00.000-07:00

Journal excerpt, September 19, 2008

Today marks my second month in Guatemala. On the one hand, it doesn't feel like I've been here nearly that long; my vacation with Cristie seems like it was another trip that took place ages ago, and I feel like I've only been in Xela a couple of weeks. On the other hand, I feel as if I've really settled in pretty well here and gotten comfortable in Xela and Guatemala, which makes it feel like I've been here forever. According to Boris, that means it's time -- past time -- to leave, but I'm not entirely convinced that being comfortable is such a bad thing. Sure, it's bad if I let the familiarity and comfort factor take over and get stuck here, but as long as I have "legitimate" things I want to do*, goals to accomplish and a determination to leave when I have accomplished them, then being comfortable makes life all the more pleasant -- especially when I know that, once I start moving again, the next stage of my travels will once again be more hectic and less relaxed. So I'm enjoying being comfortable while I can, without getting complacent.

*Legitimate things such as solidifying my understanding of various subjunctive tenses in Spanish, taking private salsa lessons, and getting help with the start of my next weaving project. :)

Lessons from Guatemala, Part III

2008-09-19T16:15:00.000-07:00

Click here for Part I and Part II.

21. Guatemalan falafel tastes better if you pretend it's something -- just about anything -- else.

22. Getting lost is much more fun with a companion, and much more interesting if you have different understandings about where you're trying to end up.

23. Dancing with "the best salsa dancer in Guatemala" is not as fun as dancing with friends.

24. The two basic rules of salsa dancing are:

1. The man's job is to make the woman feel good.
2. The woman's job is to make the man look good.

Unfortunately, most Guatemalan men seem to be unaware of the first rule.

25. If you get pounded by a giant wave in the sea and hit the sand, be thankful that at least you know which way is up and that you have something to push off of to get back to the surface after the wave passes.

26. To avoid #25 in the first place, dive early and dive deep.

27. You know the chicken bus is going around corners too fast when the driver leans into the curves.

28. Lemon-salted peanuts make one of the best hiking snacks ever.

29. When you know you're going to be climbing a volcano starting at midnight on Saturday, it is probably best not to dance for several hours in heels on Friday night and go for a 5-mile hill hike on Saturday morning. Oh, and bring lots of warm clothes -- it's freezing at the top before sunrise!

30. Salsa dancing really is better in heels.

Hostels, Hot Chocolate, & Homing Instincts

2008-08-17T11:56:00.000-07:00

Journal excerpts, August 16, 2008. Entries written in the restaurant punctuated (of course) by comments about my food.

6:20 p.m., Restaurante La Taquería, Xela

I made it to Xela at last! It was a nearly three-hour chicken bus ride, but I miraculously had a seat to myself the entire time, so I wasn't scrunched. The minibus ride from the Minerva Terminal was a different story, however -- I had to manhandle my pack all the way to the far back corner, and then share the seat with it because they still expected to get the same number of bodies in the back seat. Fortunately, it wasn't a terribly long bus ride, and only cost Q3.

***The waitress just brought me two bowls of salsa and a basket with three chips in it. The chips are about 3mm thick, though, so it's an entirely sufficient appetizer.***

I am attempting to withhold judgment on Xela until I've been here for a few days and had a chance to get used to it, rather than let myself be instantly overwhelmed by the fact that I'm once again in a large city and have no idea how to find my way around.

***My chicken and spinach enchiladas just arrived -- three of them! For Q28! (about $4) Yum!***

I'm finding it difficult to reserve judgment on my hostel, however. Casa Argentina was described by my guidebook as "Xela's definitive budget choice," but I'm inclined to believe that that's not so much because it's the best choice so much as it's the only choice for super-low cost accommodation. Figuring I might get a chance to meet some people, I asked for the dormitorio, which turned out to be one very large room absolutely packed wall-to-wall with 23 single beds (one with a top bunk), all jammed right against each other except for a very narrow path between the outer ring and the inner mass. No place to put one's belongings except right in this narrow path, which would block it entirely. Fortunately, there were only a few people there (and I hope to goodness that it stays that way!), so I pretty much had my choice of beds, which came down to a decision between:

1. Easily accessible but right next to the door and the bathroom (noise and stink and security issues);
2. A far corner I'd have to navigate my way toward carefully, but which might be a bit quieter/safer; or
3. Turn around and find a different hostel.
I chose option 2, mostly because I was too tired to walk any further with my pack. I decided to give it a chance for one night, but am scouting out other options for tomorrow. Oh, and there's a bathroom in the room, but it didn't have either toilet paper or running water. I tried the next sink down the hall and the tap came off in my hand. So the closest functioning sink is down the hall, down the stairs, and down another half a hall. Sigh.

8:45 p.m., Casa Argentina

While wandering back towards the Plaza after dinner I stumbled upon the Café y Museo La Luna, which I had read about in my guidebook (seven different kinds of drinking chocolate, open weekends only, 4-9 p.m.) and had planned to investigate tomorrow. But since I was there already, I decided to pop my head in and see what it was like, and ended up poking around looking at all the wonderful old things they had on display -- from Mayan artifacts to old sewing machines, meat grinders, cash registers, cameras, irons, you name it -- and then ordering myself a "Chocolate Francés" and sitting down and spending a delightful half hour drinking chocolate and reading my table. Yes, reading my table. All of the tables in La Luna are covered in old (as in, 1890's-1940's) newspaper clippings, which are always a hoot to read, though a bit more of a challenge when they're in Spanish. My table had poetry, funny love quotes, remedies for removing stains from all manner of things and for keeping eggs fresh (for up to a year!), obituaries, lawyers' advertisements, and random facts. It was a small square table, and I just kept standing up and moving to the next side to sit in a new chair and read from there. It was a highly enjoyable evening, and the hot chocolate was good, too. :)

I've been studying my guidebook's map of central Xela and trying to plant a picture of the layout in my head so I don't always have to be pulling out my guidebook and looking like a lost tourist, especially at night in the dark. I was proud of myself in that I managed to get all the way back to the hostel without looking at my map, though I did get a bit worried when I went too far after coming out of La Luna, and started walking up relatively dark, steep, deserted streets. But I kept going purposefully (the main thing is to look like you know where you're going), keeping my eyes peeled for street signs (there aren't enough to go around in Guatemala, so you have to take them when you can get them), and as soon as I saw one I was able to set myself back on the right course. Cristie would have been proud. :)

There is a beautiful full moon tonight, peeking in and out of the clouds. It is shining on a big city, or at least, big to my eyes, looking at it from the third-story walkway of my hostel. I feel small here. I want to give Xela a chance, but I may just not be a big city person (and this isn't really a big city in the grand scheme of things).

Bed time now (yes, it's still early). First task tomorrow: find myself a new hostel. Well, maybe after breakfast.

.... P.S. My pillow feels like it's been chewed up, spat out, and stuck back together with silly putty. I think I'll fold up my fleece and use it instead.

Lessons from Guatemala, Part II

2008-08-17T11:38:00.000-07:00

Part I can be found here.

11. Whenever possible, eat market food.

12. Traffic lights here have three colors, but four signals per cycle:

Green: Go ahead, barrel through the intersection.
Flashing Green: Hurry up, the light is about to turn yellow.
Yellow: Last chance to gun it before the light turns red.
Red: Sucker! Wait impatiently for the next green.

13. If you're lucky enough to get a hot shower, avoid touching the showerhead while the water is running... unless you enjoy mild electric shocks.

14. The difference between a minibus and a microbus is that in a minibus there's just enough room for extra passengers to stand between your knees and the seat in front of you,and in the microbus they all pile into the space behind the front seat and along the side. Both can still "seat" up to 25 passengers.

15. Saying "no" to a trio of winsome young girls trying their hardest to sell you beautiful scarves is possible, but very, very difficult.

16. Always carry diarrhea-combating medicine in your first aid kit, because if you really need it, you won't be able to make it to a pharmacy to buy it.

17. Wear a good, supportive bra when traveling by chicken bus (or lancha).

18. If you absolutely must jaywalk across a large, busy highway, try to make it at least halfway across before you have to pause.

19. Mobile ice cream stands in Guatemala play the same music as ice cream trucks in the states.

20. A young Guatemalan boy standing up in a wildly careening minibus can make change faster and more accurately than a college graduate with a cash register back home.

Tapado

2008-08-15T17:00:00.000-07:00

July 30, 2008

If you ever find yourself in Lívingston, Guatemala (on the Caribbean coast), go straight to the Restaurante Bahía Azul and order the tapado. It may be the most expensive thing on the menu (Q90, or about $13), but, by golly, it´s worth it. In fact, to my mind, it´s pretty much the only reason to go to Lívingston at all (illustrated by the fact that I´m not even going to bother writing about the rest of our experience there). Incidentally, if you do ever find yourself in Lívingston, Guatemala, don´t even think about staying (notice I didn´t say "sleeping," or "showering," or even "flushing the toilet") at the Hotel Río Dulce.

My guidebook describes the meal thus: "Tapado is probably the region´s signature dish, a seafood soup that´s a superb mix of fish (typically snapper), prawns, coconut milk, peppers, plantain and spices." Cristie and I shortened it to: "Wow."

That tapado was one of the more complicated and adventurous meals either of us had ever eaten, and the meal was punctuated by disbelieving exclamations and peals of laughter as we continually unearthed new discoveries in our bowls. The plantain was absent, but just about everything else you could imagine was there -- fish, clams, crab, whole shrimp (including the heads and googly black eyes, which we weren´t brave enough to swallow), squid, and probably more that I either can´t remember or we couldn´t identify.

Now, let me clarify two things. When I say there was fish in the tapado, I mean there was a fish in the tapado. As in, a whole fish, draped across the bottom of the bowl, with its head (eyes, teeth and all) peeking out on one side and its tail on the other. (We ate around our fishes for a while, marveling at them, then finally broke down and asked the waitress how on earth we were supposed to eat them. She pulled the plates out from beneath our soup bowls and told us to lif the fishes out of the soup and eat them off the plates. Of course!) And when I say there was crab in the tapado, I mean there was an entire crab in the tapado. I was practically crying with laughter when I discovered my crab, because I had foolishly assumed that it was just a few crab legs floating around in the broth, and that I had discovered everything there was to be discovered.

Ah, tapado memories. Photos and videos will eventually be up on Flickr, and I´ll try to remember to put a note back here when they are.

Update: Photos and videos from Lívingston are up! They can be found here.

Finca Ixobel

2008-08-15T16:32:00.000-07:00

July 28-30, 2008

According to the Rough Guide to Guatemala, "Finca Ixobel is a supremely beautiful and relaxing place," where "many travelers are quickly seduced by the tranquil nature of the finca and end up staying much longer than planned." Cristie and I managed to escape after only two nights, but we were constantly discovering reasons that travelers get lured into long-term stays.

First of all, our accommodation was a tree house. How cool is that? It wasn´t literally built in a tree, but more like a little room on stilts nestled into the trees. It was just large enough for two beds side by side. One bed slid under the other during the day, and when it came out at night it completely blocked the door -- no slipping off silently for midnight runs to the bathroom! The porch was just long
enough and wide enough for a narrow bench and a hammock, which we made full use of -- as, apparently, did an ambitious frog, who I inadvertantly sat upon early one morning as I settled down to write in my journal. Fortunately, he seemed none the worse for it, though perhaps a trifle startled (as was I!).

Secondly, the food was amazing -- great variety (no traditional Guatemalan food here), well cooked, huge portions, and mouth-wateringly delicious. They grow a lot of their own food at the finca, and bake all of their own breads and pastries (including heavenly cinnamon rolls with at least 7 wraps). For dinner the first night I had the vegetarian main dish, which was chick peas in wine sauce, and Cristie had stuffed rolled beef. Side dishes included bread, salad, roasted potatoes (the potatoes in Guatemala are amazing!), and ratatoille. It´s no wonder dinner was more expensive than accommodation! (though a huge plate with all those items was still only Q45, or about $6.)

We didn´t participate in any of the organized activities the finca offered, but we did decide to check out one of the self-guided hikes advertised in the reception area. There is a large hill/small mountain behind the finca called Cerro Ixobel (Ixobel Hill), but more commonly known as The Pyramid because its profile against the sky is an almost perfect triangle. Directions for the hike were simpleÑ just walk past the parrot enclosure and past the horses, then follow the yellow arrows. Simple in theory. In practice, we were very glad we´d changed our skirts and sandals for hiking boots, because the ascent up The Pyramid turned out to be about 1/8 hiking, 3/8 clambering, 5/8 rock climbing, and 2/8 sweating buckets. (Yes, Mom, that one went up to eleven.) No switchbacks to speak of, just a trail (if it can be called that) straight up the mountainside. Fortunately, there were plenty of rocks and trees and roots to assist us in our clambering, and in about an hour we made it to the top, where we found a small flattish area mostly covered in trees, through which we could peek to catch lovely views of the finca and marvel at how high we´d climbed. We were pleasantly surprised at how much easier the descent was than we´d anticipated, but still glad to get to the bottom and go for a dip in the pond.

Other Finca Ixobel highlights included:

- Laundry! A desperately necessary chore after the sweat and stickiness of Tikal. (And, besides, I enjoy washing my clothes by hand.)

- Fireflies, countless stars, and the Milky Way

- A very silly game of Cranium which eventually involved everybody at the bar, and which my team lost dismally

- One salsa dance (in sandals on a concrete floor past my bedtime, which is why there weren´t more)

- Re-meeting nice people we´d met at Tikal (remember the family that bought us limonadas for Cristie´s birthday?) and meeting new nice people, connecting with fellow travelers

And some final thoughts, excerpted from my journal, 7/29...

This is a wonderful place to be, and I can definitely understand why people get sucked in and stay for a long time. At the same time, however, one can easily have pretty much the same resort-like experience pretty much anywhereñ Finca Ixobel happens to be in Guatemala, but there is nothing that really identifies it as Guatemalan other than its location. Most of the more visible staff members are volunteers who came as visitors and liked it so much they decided to stay on; the food isn´t traditional Guatemalan fare for the most part (no matter how delicious it is); and the "culture" of the place is very much a vactationer´s resort type of culture, rather than any sort of local Guatemalan culture. So, it´s great for a while, and I might be tempted to stay and volunteer for a bit if Cristie weren´t here, but at the same time I know this is not what I´m looking for, this is not why I´m traveling. Perhaps as a break down the road, if my other traveling experiences get too intense and I need a vacation, but for now it will be good to move out of the world of the vacationer and back into the world of the traveler.

On The Road

2008-08-15T15:53:00.000-07:00

Excerpt from my journal, July 28, describing the journey from Flores to Finca Ixobel. (Side note on pronunciation: "x" is pronounced as kind of a soft "sh" or "zh" - so "Ixobel" sounds like "Izhobel".)

The trip to Finca Ixobel was highly amusing -- who says you can´t experience true local culture if you´re not on a chicken bus? We bought our tickets from a travel agent in Flores, who arranged a shuttle taxi service to Santa Elena (just across the causeway), where we caught the 15-passenger minibus that would take us to the Finca. When we left the bus terminal there were four passengers, the driver, and two young men (ayudantes, or "helpers") hanging out the open side door shouting, "Poptún, a Poptún!" to rustle up more passengers (Poptún was the main town closest to where we were headed).

We drove really slowly through town (like, molasses slow), and then straight into a major market street which did not look like it was meant for buses -- narrow and winding, one-lane with market stalls on either side and people milling about everywhere. And when we got to the very center, we parked for about ten minutes while the ayudantes called out for more passengers, and young children approached the bus trying to sell sodas and snacks, and random people got on board and sat down for a few minutes simply because it was ever-so-slightly cooler in the bus than it was outside. Cristie commented that "Guatemala is a place where, a lot of the time, I have no idea what´s going on." It brilliantly summed up the afternoon.

We finally filled up the bus and departed for Poptún, picking up more and more passengers along the way (did I mention we were full when we left?) -- they either crowded into other peoples´seats or simply stood up between the seats -- thankfully, the bus had a tall ceiling, and was much roomier than some of the other microbuses we´ve been in. At its max, we counted 26 people (including an infant on a lap) in that 15-passenger bus! It was pretty exciting; we could scarcely believe it when the ayudantes kept calling for more passengers. At one point, three young women wanted to get on, but when they saw that there were no seats left they said they didn´t want to. The main ayudante pretty much told the three men in the seat in front of us to get up, and they did, giving up their seats and standing so the girls could sit. It was a very interesting and informative bus ride.

Market Metaphors, or, Nausea Nightmares

2008-08-14T14:04:00.000-07:00

August 13, 2008

Notes to self:
1. Don´t drink the carrot juice if you´re not sure how (or if) the carrots have been washed/peeled.
2. Anti-diarrhea medication on a completely empty stomach may or may not be worth the potential side effects.

I´ve been in bed for two days. Well, no, that´s not entirely true -- I´ve made it to the toilet several dozen times, and this morning I actually managed to get dressed and go out for a whole hour (most of which I spent sitting down), though it took a three-hour nap afterwards for me to recover. But, in essence, I´ve been in bed for two days, recovering from the unpleasant (and, initially, bright orange) side effects of a giant glass of fresh carrot juice I probably shouldn´t have drunk. At least I have a private room, with super-nice Danish neighbors who went to the store and bought me water and crackers in the pouring rain last night.

My main problem the first day and night was nausea. Pain I can handle. Diarrhea I can cope with. Nausea, on the other hand, is a completely different beast, and one I am poorly equipped to fight. I managed to fend it off during the day by remaining horizontal at all times when not in, or on my way to or from, the bathroom, but there was a major battle on Tuesday night, when the fight went from the physical realm to the mental realm, and I had to overcome the nausea in the dream world.

The scene was a Guatemalan textiles market in chaos. My job had something to do with making sense of it, though it was not at all clear how I was supposed to go about it. The only thing I knew was that my ability to keep myself from vomiting in real life was inextricably linked to my ability to sort out this market in dream-life. It was a long, rough night.

Nothing behaved as it should. Piles of scarves, shawls, blankets and other goods covered every surface so that all I could see was a never-ending sea of fabric. I shopped, I haggled, I arranged piles of cloth in different ways, but things always seemed to jump back into place -- or all the way across the market -- as soon as I glanced away, so that my progress was always one step forward, two steps back. After three hours (real time - I was awake enough to look at my clock), I was practically crying with frustration, and had made up my mind to just get up, throw up, and have done with it, but somehow the dream wouldn´t entirely let me go, and sucked me back into the market.

I finally realized that I was going about things all wrong. Rather than simply rearranging things at the market (a mimicry of how the nausea was rearranging my insides), I had to actually get rid of them, to make them disappear so that they could no longer plague me. I became very methodical, working quickly to create piles of similar products and then obliterate them before they could perform their tricks on me. I´m not quite sure how I did this, but it took a huge mental effort. After a while, though, things became a bit more manageable -- I could see patches of ground beneath the piles of cloth, things became easier to organize, somehow simpler, and eventually it reached the point where whoever was in charge was satisfied and let me go. I slept hard the rest of the night (12 hours in total) and woke up weak, sore and mentally exhausted, but nausea-free.

I´m not sure why the Guatemalan textiles market became the metaphor for my nausea; perhaps because it is one of the most complicated, organic, and unfathomable systems I have encountered in Guatemala so far. Thank goodness I didn´t dream about the public transportation system, whichis the other!

08/14/08 Recovering slower than I´d like. Trying to make myself eat something other than crackers. I foresee another day or two in Panajachel.

New Beginnings

2008-08-10T17:02:00.000-07:00

Excerpts from today´s journal:

7:30 a.m.

Today´s Angel Card: Birth. The last four days, my Angel Cards have been alternating between Compassion and Birth. I suppose it´s appropriate - Cristie leaves this morning for Guatemala City (and home on Tuesday), so after 10:00 today I´m on my own, beginning my solo adventure. It is a kind of rebirth, and I´m sure it will take compassion and patience.

10:18 a.m.

Well, I just walked back to the hostel after getting Cristie onto the bus for Antigua and Guate. I am now officially on my own, and I need to spend some time working out how I feel about it. There are parts of me that are sad, nervous, excited, reflective, tired, anxious, eager, tentative, jubilant, calculating and recalculating in turn. But I woke up alert and joyous this morning - "awake and ready!" as they would say at Ananda - and I want to focus on that feeling and remember that sensation.

1:30 p.m.

Cristie admonished me not to hole up in my room by myself after she left, and with good reason - that´s definitely going to be a tendency I´ll have to work on overcoming. I took a (hot!) shower and spent a couple of hours sorting through photos, reflecting, and thinking about next steps, and then, when I finally felt like I really needed food, decided to venture out for lunch and an afternoon of uploading photos at the internet café (yes, still a very solitary activity, but it´s a start). I´m treating myself to a licuado de fresa with lunch, and it´s delicious - with actual chunks of fresh strawberries! On the other hand, the sopa del día that was just brought out bears a remarkable resemblance to Campbell´s vegetable soup. :P

It´s funny, walking down Calle Santander (the main drag here in Panajachel) is an entirely different experience without Cristie. We spent almost two days walking around Pana together, mostly on this street, and it´s odd now to walk it alone. I noticed a definite tendency to walk faster on my way to find lunch, but almost immediately realized that doing so created a shell around me - I wasn´t really looking at what was going on around me, wasn´t noticing details or watching faces or admiring goods for sale. There was a definite dulling of my perception, which has felt so keep these last few weeks, and I didn´t like it at all. It was as if I´d suddenly become more vulnerable and was trying to protect myself by withdrawing into invisibility. All of that hit me in the space of a few blocks, and gave me a sharp reality check, a taste of what I´m going to be up against in traveling with myself. I need to practice presence and attention, with "constant vigilance!" to full experience. It is okay for me to spend time alone, but when I´m out and about in the world I want to be fully present.

Serenades and Ceremonies

2008-08-06T15:47:00.000-07:00

Excerpt from my journal, 9:30 a.m.:

The town of Santa Cruz del Quiché did not want us to sleep in this morning. For the last several hours we have been serenaded (if that can possibly describe the experience) by a cacophany of drums, marimbas and trumpets that sound as if they´re just outside our hotel, each apparently playing along to its own beat. It reminds me of the Hogwarts school anthem, which Dumbledore directed everybody to sing to whatever tune they liked best. We´re going out to investigate shortly.

Unfortunately, the music stopped by the time we made it outside, so we never found out what it was. But we set off on a walk to find the ruins and caves of Utatlán, which turned out to be a beautiful walk along winding roads through the country. We couldn´t actually wander around the ruins much because there were some Mayan ceremonies going on, so we did our best to stay respectfully unobtrusive. We were kind of bummed that we didn´t get to explore the caves or get close to the temples, but at the same time we both thought it was a much more unique experience to be able to witness a bit of true Mayan culture. It is amazing and wonderful that they are still using these old sites for traditional rituals and ceremonies.

Lessons from Guatemala, Part I

2008-08-02T15:35:00.000-07:00

Cristie and I are learning a lot in our travels through Guatemala. Here are some of the lessons we have come across (I am sure I will be posting future volumes as well):

1. There is an easy way and a hard way to get into a sleep sheet in a hammock.

2. Never, ever assume you have a clue about what´s going on, especially where transportation is concerned.

3. Always check your hammock for frogs before sitting down.

4. A 15-passenger van holds far more than 15 passengers (as in, say, 26).

5. Wear a bathing suit on the trip from Río Dulce to Livingston - there are hot springs on the way, complete with what might be pirhannas.

6. If arriving in Antigua in the rain, wear either sandals or waders, as you will have to ford numerous rivers to get to your hostel and your hiking boots will be soaked in street juice otherwise.

7. No matter where you are, you´re never far from a bag of Doritos, even halfway up an active volcano.

8. No matter what restaurant you eat in, your food may still come from down the street.

9. When buying chili-spiced mango, always buy at least one bag per person, then sit down to savor the experience.

10. Accept the fact that you have no idea what´s going on, and go with the flow (I know, I mentioned this one already, but it´s so important it deserves another appearance).

Tikal

2008-07-28T10:16:00.000-07:00

Saturday was Cristie´s birthday, and we set off for Tikal in the morning (our 9:00 minibus was only about half an hour late). When we arrived we found the camping area, a grassy field with a series of wall-less thatched huts around the edges. We found the person in charge, a wonderful man named Gonzalo, who strung up hammocks for us, complete with built-in mosquito nets (a very neccessary addition). Sleeping in a hammock surrounded by Guatemalan jungle is a pretty cool experience. The stars were amazing, the bugs serenaded us all night, the howler monkeys started up around 3:00 a.m., and the birds around 4:00 a.m. There were ocellated turkeys wandering around the field in the afternoon -- they´re sort of like turkeys trying to be peacocks. We also saw pisotes, or coatis, funny-looking anteaters with pointy snouts and long monkey-like tails, that climbed trees and ran around on the ground. At one point we came across an entire herd of them - about 30 in all, complete with a bunch of young ones. There was also a funny jungle guinea pig called a sereque (I have no idea if that´s how you spell it) that ran around looking for trash. Its hind end looked like a capybara´s, but its head looked like a giant rat´s. I love seeing new animals. :D

We discovered that the price of admission to the ruins has gone up significantly since the time my guidebook was published (from $6.75 to about $22 per day), but that if we bought tickets after 4:00 p.m., they were good for the rest of the day (until 6:00) and also for the next day. So we visited museums and wandered around and napped for a few hours, then bought our tickets at 4:00 and took our first hike in to see the ruins.

I don´t know that it is possible to convey an impression of the Tikal ruins in words if the reader hasn´t been there. Any photos you may have seen do not do them justice, and words like "impressive" or "amazing" or "magnificent" just seem like understatements. The ruins are all of this and more. We were a bit surprised at the extent to which people are allowed to just climb all over the pyramids, but at the same time, it was incredible to climb up and sit at the tops of the temples and look out over the jungle, seeing the tops of other temples looming up out of the trees, listening to the birds and the howler monkeys. Some of the temples we could just climb straight up the steps -- very very steep steps -- and others had staircases constructed along the sides to get tourists to the top. The staircase up Templo V was almost as steep as a ladder, and had 105 steps. Going up was easy, going down not so fun.

We discovered that a lot of the most interesting places were around the back of the structures, where we found all sorts of chambers and passageways and staircases. One of our favorite places (which we found on Sunday) was the Palacio de las Acanaladuras, where we found a bunch of bats in a number of the chambers. While we were exploring it, a Guatemalan gentleman walked up, and recognized us from our trip to the museum the day before (he had asked if we were sisters, commenting that we had similar noses, and we told him we´re cousins). He told us that the Palacio had been a sort of Mayan monastary, and pointed out the separate chambers at the back for men and women, and told us that there was a space around the back that was used for massage and other healing arts. He told us that he was a traditional Mayan priest, and so he enjoys walking around the ruins. Apparently Saturday had been a major Mayan holiday, and he had been in there performing ceremonies.

We hiked around for 2 hours on Saturday and 8 hours on Sunday (not counting the time we spent coming out of the park for lunch, complete with enormous and very welcome glasses of limonada), and still didn´t see everything there was to see. We climbed a LOT of stairs, took a LOT of photos and a few videos (which I will attempt to post on Flickr soon, when I actually have my memory card reader with me at an internet cafe), and met a bunch of nice people. I am really glad that I went to English Week right before this trip, and got my legs nice and strong, because I´m not sore at all today.

There is much more to write about Tikal, but I don´t have my journal with me and I´m running out of time, so it will have to wait. I´ll post photos and videos when I can. :)

ATM Adventures

2008-07-28T10:04:00.000-07:00

Where to start? Cristie and I have been in Guatemala for only 3 days, and it feels like we´ve been here a month. Today is a mellow day, because we´ve been doing a lot of running around the last several days. The two main goals we set for ourselves today were to get cash and to make our way 100 km south to La Finca Ixobel, our next stop.

Getting cash has proven to be a much more arduous task than either of us expected. We figured we´d be landing in an international airport in a large Central American city, so we´d have no problem finding an ATM. Well, the one ATM in the airport was broken. Fortunately, the taxi drivers accepted US dollars (the person from our hostel who was supposed to pick us up never showed up), and our hostel also accepted dollars, so we didn´t have to go in search of quetzales (the Guatemalan currency) until the morning. That first morning (Friday), we walked around the neighborhood trying various ATMS -- we broke one, which completely shut down and rebooted on Windows XP, which cracked us up -- until we finally found one that both functioned and accepted MasterCard debit cards. (We realized that we use the same bank and have the same debit and credit cards, so we´re kind of in a fix if they don´t work...)

That first ATM escapade lasted about 45 minutes. This morning we set off on another, since we´re not likely to be able to get cash anywhere in the next several days. We stayed last night in Flores, a small island in the middle of a small lake, connected to the town of Santa Elena by a 2-lane causeway. There is one ATM on the island, and it was not functioning this morning, so we walked across the causeway to Santa Elena in search of another. The first one we found didn´t work either, but a nice gentleman (who also needed cash) led the way to La Despensa Familiar, an all-purpose grocery store that had an ATM. He tried it first and said it didn´t work, but we saw somebody else extracting cash from it a few minutes later, so we tried and succeeded in securing enough cash to last us a while. I think we were lucky that it only took three tries! We´re beginning to realize that we´re going to have to plan our ATM trips in advance, and allow plenty of time for them! :)

The Adventure Begins

2008-07-24T06:23:00.000-07:00

I'm off to Guatemala today! Cristie and I will head first to Tikal, to celebrate her birthday on Saturday (happy birthday, Cristie!), and then wander happily around the rest of the country for a few weeks. After she leaves, I'll take some Spanish lessons in the Western Highlands, and then see where life leads me. I'll post when I can! :)

English Week

2008-07-23T16:17:00.000-07:00

Due to time constraints (I fly to Guatemala in 17 hours!), I'm not posting a great deal about English Week. The quick rundown of highlights (and lowlights):

- Doing 3/4 of a backflip in the meadow during the Scottish Highland Games on Monday afternoon. (AKA, a backflipflop.) Many factors were involved, including mismatched shoulder heights, a potato, and a pair of pantyhose. We won't get into the details. A few days later, kind folks remarked that the scrapes all around my left eye gave me a "rakish" look. I went to Dr. Shawn, Mom and Graham's chiropractor, when I got back. He managed to adjust my neck, but was stymied by my mid-back, and told me to come in again before I left for a free session where he'd try again. I went back today, where he poked and prodded and proclaimed that my neck was composed of rebar, but managed to yank on it in such a way that my mid-back finally sorted itself out.

- Learning a really cool Scottish hard shoe step dance, that resulted in my calves being better defined than I think they've ever been (it's about 4 1/2 minutes of being up on one's toes, with stepping and hopping and "deedle-deedles" throughout).

- Going into Mendocino and taking over a sidestreet to dance in town for part of an afternoon. We had learned a 3-person reel in the border morris class, and had been practicing it with three sets in a small hall, but when Dave and Jonathan and I danced it in town we took up about half a block - it was excellent.

- Lots of lovely evening dances, and fun after-parties. I think I managed about 6-7 hours of sleep a night (I had a 7 am chore to wake up for), which was just enough to get me through. No time for naps, though - too many fun things to do!

- And, possibly the coolest moment - Jonathan and I made up a two person rapper dance skit and performed it at the back porch gathering on Friday afternoon. We were very proud of ourselves. Video below:

Now I'm all inspired to dance more, and to come back to Portland and dance with Iron Mountain Sword again, so Jonathan and I can work up the double front flip. :P

But for now, another adventure calls... back to packing!

Take Now

2008-07-05T21:01:00.001-07:00

There was a moment full of Time
when I gazed into the ocean of my own eyes
and saw Forever staring back at me -
Now is my chance, Now
I must take it.

Shoes to Fill

2008-06-15T21:24:00.000-07:00

This is not the sentiment I expected to come up on Father's Day (and it isn't actually directed toward my father), but up it came. I don't know how to explain this poem, or even if I should - it is what it is, and it is filled with love and respect despite outward appearances.

I've followed in your footsteps more than once
but only halfway.
Always a step behind, never quite catching up
to your expectations.
Your shoes are too large for my feet to fill,
your height too tall for me to measure up, even on tip-toe,
to look you in the eye and tell you --
I wanted with all my heart to be just like you
and believe me, I tried.
But the shoes don't fit
and they don't belong to me.
Will you let me tie my own shoes instead
and walk beside you?

Happy father's day to all my fathers and father figures - I love you all, and look forward to walking side by side with you for many years to come.

Maintaining Sanity Through Poetry

2008-06-11T21:43:00.000-07:00

Have I mentioned I love magnetic words? This is SO good for me.

Words

2008-06-09T21:56:00.000-07:00

I found my magnetic poetry today, while packing up my kitchen. Hundreds of words jumbled together in small boxes and yogurt containers, an eclectic mix of generic, romantic, college and marine biology themes (use your imagination). I instantly had the urge to plaster them all over my refrigerator, and then pull up a chair and “write” for hours. I didn’t, but it got me thinking…

Lately (as in, the last several years), I have lamented the fact that I do not write as often or as prolifically as I used to. More troubling is the fact that, when I do write, it often seems to lack the “punch” that I used to be able to pack. I am thinking specifically of poetry here, but this also applies to prose. When I go back and read some of the things I wrote toward the end of high school, for instance, or during the first couple of years of college, I am immediately transported back to that time, and can vividly picture exactly what I was going through and how I felt. I remember people I had long since forgotten, old stories are drawn back to light and relived, and I am surprised at how purely I was able to use words to express my truth. (Keep in mind, please, that this is all entirely from my own perspective; I may occasionally share what I write with others, but it is not their critiques that I am concerned with here, but rather how I feel about my own work.)

More often nowadays, when I write it is because I feel like I should write. No, that’s not quite right. I write because I have an experience or emotion I need to take outside of myself and examine, to put into words that can explain it to myself and make it more real (or, conversely, to distance myself from it if it is so real as to be all-consuming). But it’s not the same. I coerce the words onto the paper, with much hemming and hawing and subtle revising. I write because I want to, not because I have to, not because inspiration strikes and I absolutely must pick up pencil and paper and let the words flow, scribbling until my hand cramps, heedless of sloppy handwriting or misspellings or broken chains of thought.

I have always been drawn to magnetic poetry (and I make no apologies for my choice of words here; it is entirely true). I used to spend hours in front of the refrigerator, lost in contemplation, drawing poetry out of a jumbled collection of parts of speech. Sometimes I would scan the words, choosing the ones that seemed to jump out at me, and seeing what I could make of them. Other times, when I had the skeleton of a poem in magnets, the remainder would write itself in my head, and I would search for (or sometimes painstakingly construct) the words I needed to flesh it out. Magnetic poetry was not just a game for me, an idle way to pass the time; it was a true creative endeavor, and I still believe that some of my best poetry was composed on the refrigerator. (Incidentally, I wrote down every poem I ever wrote with magnets, and I have always been grateful that I did. Some art is made to be temporary – people might argue that this is the nature of word magnets, but I disagree – once the words become poetry, they deserve to be recorded.)

I think the thing I liked so much about magnetic poetry was that it inspired creativity, offered it up on a silver platter, a write-your-own-menu feast for the imagination. Here are the words, all you have to do is give them meaning. Play with them, put them in the right order, breathe life into them, make them your own. I wrote poetry with magnets that I would never have dreamed of writing if I had had to come up with the words on my own. I expressed emotions in full view that I would never have been able to unravel in the private pages of my diary. I think the freedom that the magnetic words offered me allowed me to open myself more fully, and brought a greater freedom to my “real” writing than I would have had otherwise.

And now I find myself wondering if that is part of the reason my writing has stagnated in the last few years: I have not had these magnets on my last several refrigerators, and have not been making use of the brilliant tools they provide for unlocking my creativity. I stopped putting the magnets up on my refrigerator because I thought they made it look cluttered, but I didn’t realize that that “clutter” on the refrigerator helped to clear my mind.

And so, after all of this contemplation, and after I finished doing all of the things I was “supposed” to do today, I came home and began plastering magnetic words all over my refrigerator. Three days before I have to take them all down again when I move, but I don’t care. As soon as the words start coming out of the boxes, I can’t stop myself – the first poem begins to write itself, then the second. Soon I have four going at once, I’m looking for certain words as I pull handfuls of them from the box, and snatching at others I hadn’t thought of but that capture my imagination. I have to do this. It is an amazing feeling, this need to write. It has been far, far too long since I’ve had this feeling, and it feels so good. One random string that forms as I slap the words haphazardly onto the freezer door expresses it perfectly:

Original banter fiery write poetry poetry woman

Poetry, woman. Write poetry. So I do.

waking my heart voice
to ask the thousand questions
burning deep in my breast
one vast star blazes in eternal answer:
there are no secrets
you have always known
give joy
that is all

and

she
soft velvet and sacred smoke
cold marble and keen shards of white glass
a carefully sculpted angel
but above all
a rose
gentle and wild at once
speaking a deep red truth

I stop when I’ve written five poems, the freezer door is entirely covered with words, and I still have two boxes to go. That is enough for tonight. But you’d better believe the rest of them are coming out tomorrow.

The Only Thing I Can Draw

2008-06-07T15:56:00.000-07:00

Let me start this post by admitting that I've always been very hard on myself when it comes to my drawing ability. Hmm, let me revise that: in all honesty, my own drawings make me cringe in mingled embarrassment and frustration most of the time. My automatic response when asked to draw something is "Oh, no - I can't draw." I freeze in fear when I'm expected to sketch something on the spot, even if it's "just for fun." Because it's not fun. I have the most beautiful pictures in my head, but I am pretty much never ever ever satisfied with the way they come out when I try to put them on paper. So, sadly, I hardly ever try. And it is sad; I really really wish I could draw better; I really wish drawing didn't scare me; I really wish I weren't so judgmental about the results. But the fact remains that (at least so far in my life) I've been far too self-conscious and self-critical to even take a class - or even to practice in the privacy of my own company where nobody else will even know I tried - to improve.

But today is Drawing Day, and I've managed to ignore my inhibitions enough to actually post something I've drawn (but look quick, before I change my mind!) The only thing, in fact, that I have ever drawn with any modicum of confidence. The drawing that graced the top hole of every three-hole-punched piece of paper that passed through my hands my senior year in highschool. The thing I had tattooed on my shoulder nine years ago (though I didn't draw that one - I'm not that brave!). Have you guessed yet?

Hey, at least I can still write about drawing, even if I don't like doing it, right? :) And I am eternally grateful that I can write.

...

P.S. The sunflower is now in my recycling bin. Some things never change.

Confessions of a Pack-Rat

2008-05-23T09:31:00.000-07:00

I spent the entire day yesterday in my attic. That alone is a bad sign. I don't think I should be allowed to have an attic... or a basement, or a garage, or any other large, empty space that encourages me to hold onto accumulated "stuff" simply because I have room for it. Some of it I can argue is legitimate - photo albums, craft materials that I actually use - but most of it is just "stuff." I knew I had a lot of stuff, but I was still rather appalled at some of the things I've held onto. My list of discoveries includes:

~ Crab molts. Yes, crab molts. Plural. Please don't ask me how long I've had these. A chipped sand dollar. Numerous other stones and shells, very few of them whole anymore. I stopped unwrapping them from their protective tissues and deposited the whole bundle in the trash.

~ An inch and a half of old bank statements, from the day I opened my account. Somebody's paper shredder is going to be put through its paces....

~ Every single pay stub from every single pay stub job I've ever held, including temp jobs. Truly unnecessary (but are you really surprised?).

~ Binders full of "Writer's Workshop" projects and other creative writing endeavors from about 6th grade onward. Don't get me wrong - I'm keeping these (somewhere) - but some of them are truly cringe-worthy. Take, for instance, the haiku entitled "Baby Earwig":

Oh, baby earwig,
hiding among the green leaves.
Inside a glass jar.

You get the point.

~ Boxes of correspondence. These are definitely not getting chucked either; they are far too precious. I have almost a pound and a half of letters from Quena alone, stuffed carefully into a burgeoning half-size manila envelope, which by this time (10 years!) is about as solid as a brick.

~ An entire bag of zipperfeet for a Singer sewing machine. I haven't had a Singer for 5 years, and never used the zipperfeet when I did have one.

~ Far more and far larger tablecloths than a person with one small 39" round dining table could possibly use.

~ A massive copy of Webster's New Twentieth Century Dictionary, Unabridged, bearing the inscription: "To Patti Boone from Mother & Dad, Christmas 1969." It has been in the same box through at least my last six moves.

~ A pepper spray keychain that some well-meaning relative gifted me when I reached the age they thought it might be necessary. I don't think I ever even opened the package to inspect it.

~ Jim's old Killer Beez softball jersey, from a team that disintegrated a decade ago - before I ever got the chance to demonstrate that, desperate as I was to prove myself, I couldn't play softball to save my life because I was afraid of the ball.

~ The compact magnifying lens that I bought for my geology class sophomore year and have been looking for almost ever since.

Despite all of these discoveries, there are a few things I have not come across, that I was hoping against hope I had not let go, but realize now it's time to accept that they are gone. My old baseball cap, worth nothing but the memories it held, words written on the brim, washed away in the rain but still remembered. A ring from a dear friend, which I know I lost, but have always hoped would magically turn up. A packet of letters I can't imagine getting rid of but still can't find.

My landing is now strewn with boxes and bags to take to the Goodwill, my 75-liter backpack is once again filled with books to take to Powells (if I can lift it), and the boxes that remain in my attic are now organized by recipient, to be delivered at the end of June. Today I tackle my filing cabinet....

What Everybody Wants to Know

2008-05-20T10:10:00.001-07:00

What is my next adventure going to be? Rumors are flying, most of them true*, though the truth changes moment to moment, day to day. But now that my dreaming is finally transitioning to planning, and planning to preparing, it's probably time to share what I've been up to and where I'm headed. So, the truth as it is in this moment....

I'm buying a one-way ticket to Central America, and not coming back until I'm bilingual.

That's me with a great big grin on my face, because this is about the most exciting thing I can think of at the moment. :D

In all seriousness, I really am buying a one-way ticket to Guatemala, for July 23 or 24. From there I plan to travel around Central America over land, until I buy another one-way ticket out of Panama... on to South America! :) As I've written in emails to a few people, I've come to realize that it's high time in my life for me to do a few things, namely: a) become bilingual, b) travel, and c) contribute to the global community by becoming directly involved with local communities in need. With this in mind, my trip will include some Spanish school, some touristing, some volunteering, possibly some teaching, and, I'm sure, plenty of adventures.

Okay, I will admit I'm being vague on the details. But that's on purpose. I don't really want to have a lot of details before I go, but rather to work them out as I go along (apart from the important stuff like vaccinations, visas, etc., which I am of course figuring out as best I can in advance). I have a rough idea of "the plan" and a general pattern of travel, but beyond that I'm going to stay open to letting things develop organically, so that I can be free to accept and pursue opportunities as they arise.

I am fortunate and absolutely thrilled that I will be sharing my first few weeks in Guatemala with my cousin Cristie, who is flying down with me to celebrate her birthday and play tourist with me. (Can you picture me jumping up and down, clapping my hands, and saying "Wheeeeeee!" ? You get the idea.) I'm looking forward to traveling with her, and it should be a perfect way to ease into my solo travels once she leaves. We're not sure where we're going or what we're doing just yet, but there's time to figure that out. :)

After Cristie leaves, I intend to settle down to a month or so of intensive Spanish lessons, most likely staying with a host family in Quetzaltenango (in the Western highlands of Guatemala) and attending one (or more) of the excellent (and cheap!) Spanish schools there. I'm hoping that some formal instruction will help solidify the grammatical concepts I'm still shaky on and jump-start my immersion learning, so that I can then continue to improve my Spanish at a more rapid pace throughout my travels than I could if I were continually struggling to communicate (which is where I am now - I can speak well enough to get by, but can't really have a meaningful conversation, which is extremely frustrating!).

Once I decide I've had enough of Spanish school, my thought is to travel through Central America (and then on down to South America), finding one or two places in each country to stay put for a few weeks (or more) of volunteering and getting to know the culture a bit deeper than I would be able to if I were flitting about between tourist destinations all the time. I do intend to travel and visit tourist sites, but I also want to do it in a more conscious, informed, and connected way. I'll feel a lot better about traveling if I also feel I'm contributing something to the places I'm visiting.

All of this means that I've been very busy with planning, research, and preparations -- I'm so grateful I'm unemployed, because this is a full-time job in itself! :) I've started "the great giveaway" of all of my belongings, which I'm finding easier than expected and very freeing. Some things (sewing machine, favorite books) are going to be "babysat" by people who can use them while I'm gone, others (photo albums, sentimental items) I will probably try to store with a few super-nice folks who have space and are willing to let my things take it up for an indefinite period of time, but most of it I'm just giving away. It's a wonderful feeling, and I'm really looking forward to being able to carry everything I need on my back. Of course, in the midst of giving away everything I own, I'm also in the process of buying a whole bunch of stuff for the traveling lifestyle, which is a little bizarre and somewhat frustrating (can't I just wave a magic wand and have my bath towel transform into a travel towel, my flannel sleeping bag into a silk sleep sheet, and my unnecessary toiletries into a first aid kit?).

So, there you have it. More than just a rumor, my daydreamed adventures are becoming reality at last. Hooray!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
*don't believe anything John tells you...

Nice People Make My Day

2008-04-23T18:40:00.000-07:00

I am a firm believer in being friendly and nice to people, even - and especially - if you're not sure they're in the mood to be friendly and nice back. Because if you're nice to people, you give them the opportunity to be nice to you, which is just... nice. I had two wonderful 'niceness' moments today, and they improved my entire afternoon (which, until that point, had consisted of riding my bike through exceptionally vigorous winds and driving rain to accomplish the errands I had set for myself).

I went to the post office first, to mail a few letters and a small package. I brought with me a stack of old 39-cent stamps, as well as a bunch of 41-cent stamps, since (heads up, letter-writers!) postage is going up to 42-cents on May 12. I didn't have very high hopes that I would be able to use them all up, but the man at the counter looked amused that I'd brought all my stamps, and said, go ahead, you can put them all over! So he did the calculations for me and I plastered stamps over the entire front side of Heike's package to Germany. As you can imagine, I was thrilled.

After the post office I headed to Next Adventure, an excellent outdoor store where I got a bunch of stuff before I went to Ecuador (because my former co-workers are awesome and gave me gift certificates as a going-away present). My main goal was to check out their bargain bins for a few things and compare prices on others, but also to replace the travel pillow that I oh-so-foolishly left on the plane in Panama. When I got to checkout with my pillow, I started making small talk with the woman at the register, commenting that this was the second such pillow I had purchased from them, since it was such an awesome pillow and since I had oh-so-foolishly left the first one on a plane in Panama. Her response? "Oh, that sucks! Well, we'll give you a discount on this one." Now, how cool is that?

My ride home was much more enjoyable after that, and I even had the opportunity to continue the flow of niceness by helping a frustrated driver find where he was going.

Fellow human beings are wonderful.

Why I Volunteer

2008-04-22T21:28:00.001-07:00

Before leaving for Ecuador, I completed my training to become a Sanctuary Tour Guide with the Portland Audubon Society, and since I have been back I have been leading tours of kids (K-3rd grade) several times a week.

To be perfectly honest, I am still not entirely sure from day to day whether or not I actually like working with children; some mornings I wake up feeling ready for anything they might do to challenge me, and other days I practically dread their arrival. But I find that, when the tour is over, I can almost always pick something positive out of it, even if I feel utterly defeated. (Fortunately, this doesn't happen all that often, but I definitely don't envy most of these teachers' jobs!)

But what really keeps me going back for more are those golden moments when I can tell that I've made a difference to a child. I was blessed with two of them today, in a group of kindergarteners. The first came after we had taken our hike around the wildlife sanctuary and were catching our breath before going inside to check out the animal pelts. One of the kids piped up and exclaimed, "That was awesome!" Her friend then jumped in and corrected her, saying, "No, it was better than awesome. It was the BEST!" I love taking little kids out into the woods. :)

The other wonderful moment today was relayed to me by a fellow volunteer, who had been accosted in the parking lot by one of the children who had been in my group, right before their bus departed (I had already gone inside). She said he came up to her and grabbed her coat and said earnestly, "Tell Miss Lacey I had a really fun time. Tell her it's from Andrew."

Now, who wouldn't want to keep going back for moments like those?

Midnight Musings

2008-04-10T15:26:00.000-07:00

I've never considered myself a night person, but sometimes when my head hits the pillow my brain just lights up and starts going a mile a minute, and there's no way to stop it. I spent several hours last night trying to ignore it and go to sleep, then finally got up, grabbed my journal, and started writing, in the hopes that getting my thoughts on paper would help me get to sleep. It didn't, but it was still nice to write things down. Here's a snippet of what was charging through my mind last night...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I want to go back to the Galápagos, back to San Cristóbal, back to Jatun Sacha. I want to stay a good long time, to soak up the island into my very bones, into my blood, let it become my thoughts and my breath and my daily sustenance. Long enough to grow calm, unhurried, steady and sure. I want to become a part of the island.

I want to write a book: Under San Cristóbal Stars: A Year in the Embrace of an Enchanted Isle (title subject to reality check). Part natural history, part personal journey, part documentary photography, part original research into... something.... I want to chronicle my own evolution in the Galápagos.

I can't sleep. My mind is whirling with visions and possibilities, things I want to experience, places I want to visit, people I want to get to know better; things to pack and things to leave behind, eventualities to plan for, arrangements to make; journals to keep, photographs to take, sketches to attempt; sunrises to revel in, stars to marvel at, wonders to witness; ways to make it happen.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I keep saying that I don't have the money to travel, but the truth is that I only don't have the money to travel and stay here at the same time. If I radically simplified everything, packed up, and left my Portland life behind, I could live considerably more cheaply in the Galápagos (as well as traveling through the rest of South America). As long as I'm not working, and as long as I'm living on saved money, this would translate into being able to be unemployed longer and realize my travel fantasies. Hmmm....

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I think I finally got to sleep at around 3:30 this morning.

Under San Cristóbal Stars

2008-04-06T14:07:00.000-07:00

I haven't posted yet about my trip to Ecuador because I haven't been able to figure out where to begin... and I haven't wanted to admit that I'm actually back, and that my trip is over. But I've been home for a week now, so I figure it's time to buckle down and translate a mishmash of journal entries and memories into a post fit for the web. This post will just deal with my volunteer experience - after that I'll hopefully post about the island tour and other traveling I did. I'll try to break this into sections, but be forewarned - it's still going to be mostly stream-of-consciousness, and will likely be long! :) If you want to skip right to the pictures, you can find them here.

The Island
The main purpose of my trip to Ecuador was a two-week volunteer stint on Isla San Cristóbal in the Galápagos, with Fundación Jatun Sacha (Jatun Sacha means "big forest" in Quichua - the foundation was named for the first reserve on the mainland of Ecuador, which was, appropriately enough, in a big forest.) The Jatun Sacha reserve is in the highlands of the island, a 45-minute taxi ride from Puerto Baquerizo Moreno, the port town (which also happens to be the capital of the island province). The taxis are white pickup trucks, so you generally sit in the back with your gear and hold on for dear life, because the road to Jatun Sacha is horrendous. Many taxi drivers refuse to go there because the road is so bad. Those that do can't always get all the way to the station, which is at the very end of the dirt-and-lava road, so they drop people off as far out as they can get and still turn around and get out again. The small town of El Progreso is on the road to the station, about 20 minutes outside of town, and there are a few neighbors within walking distance, but other than that, the station is pretty much in the middle of nowhere. I absolutely loved it.

The Station
The station has four main structures (the kitchen, the old house, the new house, and the staff cabins), two nurseries, two main food crop areas (one right by the old house and one a 5 minute hike downhill and a 10-minute hike back up, depending on how many crates of tomatoes you were carrying), and lots of forest. I slept in the old house, along with a bunch of other volunteers and a few staff members. All of the buildings have electricity except the old house, which is wired but, at the time I was there, not live. I was actually grateful for that, since electric lighting seemed like such a foreign luxury that far from civilization. It was really nice to have electricity in the kitchen, of course, for cooking and meals (and charging camera batteries), but somehow it seemed much more peaceful and appropriate to use candles and headlamps in the living areas. We could also kid ourselves that we attracted fewer mosquitoes in the old house than the new house with all its lights, but I don't think anybody actually believed it.

There are 9 full-time staff at the reserve – the station director, the volunteer coordinator, the cook, two kitchen helpers/house cleaners/etc., and 4 crew leaders (for lack of a better term). The staff are called cholos, or locals, and most (except the director, the volunteer coordinator and the cook) speak no English. It was a great opportunity to practice Spanish! :) I had been a little worried that my Spanish would be too rusty to resurrect, since I hadn’t spoken it since I went to Costa Rica in 2004, but I was pleasantly surprised at how much of it came back to me. In fact, I often found myself in the somewhat bizarre situation of acting as a translator between the cholos and other volunteers, since many of them spoke no Spanish at all! It was quite amusing. At the time I was there, there were between 16-24 volunteers, from the US, Canada, England, Scotland, Germany, Holland, and Wales.

I was pleasantly surprised to find flush toilets and running water at the station, and wonderful outdoor showers - each enclosed in a bamboo cubicle, complete with shelves for toiletries, hooks for towels, and a pipe that released a steady stream of refreshingly cool water - trust me, at the end of a hard day's work in the tropics, you realize how overrated hot showers are. The only downside of showering was that the first thing you had to do when you got back to your room all fresh and clean was to slather on the insect repellent. We used LOTS of insect repellent. I was extremely grateful that my work pants were cargo pants, because I kept my repellent in one side pocket and my calamine lotion in the other at all times. Everybody got used to being slapped at any moment, when somebody else saw a mosquito land. One afternoon, I saw a new volunteer arriving and walked over to say hi. I had intended to introduce myself and shake her hand, but I saw a mosquito on her cheek, so I slapped her in the face instead. Somewhat horrified at my rudeness, I quickly apologized: “Sorry. You’ll get used to people slapping you here. My name’s Lacey, what’s yours?” She took it quite well.

Speaking of mosquitoes, let's get all the bugs and critters out of the way. Daytime mosquitoes, called carmelitas in honor of the woman who introduced them to the island (along with the mora, or blackberry - her name is understandably cursed on San Cristóbal), whose bites don't itch, but leave small bloody spots all over any patch of skin they can reach. They are attracted to dark clothing. Nighttime mosquitoes, who leave angry, itchy welts and will eat you alive if you're unfortunate enough to trap one in your mosquito net at night. HUGE spiders, many with HUGE egg sacks, that build beautiful webs and like to hang out in the toilets with the equally huge cockroaches. Moths, which are attracted to the light and flutter about sometimes looking like fairies in the candlelight. I once found a moth in the toilet (by which I mean bathroom) with a wingspan as large as the widest I can spread my pinky and thumb. Rats, which will scurry about the old house seeking out any food that hasn't been taken to the "safe drawer" in the kitchen. Centipedes galore, which will happily populate a neglected pair of boots over the weekend, and which like to hang out on the washing stone.

The Work
Our daily schedule was quite reasonable:

7:00 breakfast
8:00-10:00 work
10:00-10:30 juice break
10:30-12:00 work
12:00-2:00 lunch and siesta
2:00-4:00 work
6:00 dinner

On the surface, it doesn't seem like those small chunks of time are enough to actually get anything done - but, believe me, people were ready for those breaks! I don't think most of the volunteers were really used to hard physical labor. I was in heaven. :) There were four main areas of work: deforestation, reforestation, production and construction. Here's a brief snapshot of each:

Deforestation
Two words: Machete. Hoe. We hacked a lot of mora, grasses, and other invasive species with machetes, then went back and hoed up the roots. Unfortunately, the machete was the one tool I did not have a natural knack for - a shortcoming that was made all the more obvious by the admiration I received for my shoveling and hoeing and pick-axing. Ah, well. I suppose one can’t be good at everything. Paúl was the cholo in charge of most of the deforestation. He’s 17, and extremely skilled with machete and hoe– he just strokes the ground and the weeds fly up effortlessly – it’s amazing to watch, especially compared to the clumsy, blundering hacking and chopping of most of the volunteers. He called his work crews mis tigres and told us to never say ”no puedo”.

Reforestation
This involved everything from gathering dirt in burlap sacks and carrying it up the hill to the nursery, to filling small plastic bags with dirt for seeds, to starting seeds and cuttings, to digging holes and planting the young native plants. Mostly pretty mellow work, apart from the hauling of burlap sacks full of wet dirt (and occasionally fire ants) up steep muddy hills. I earned a reputation for being a fast hole-digger – I guess my ditch-digging days at the Lab paid off. :)

Production
The reserve tries to grow whatever food it can, and has a couple of "plantations" to facilitate this. It's mostly tomatoes and peppers (which we harvested in astonishing quantities), with some eggplants, melons, pineapples, bananas, papayas, and a few other food crops. Eduardo (one of the cholos) instructed us to weed the crop rows with machetes, but I found that a bit ridiculous (it was mostly just clumps of grass, after all) and instead pulled the weeds by hand.

A side note on the food. Chris, our cook, is a professional chef from the US (he happens to be married to the volunteer coordinator, who is Ecuadorian, which is how I think he got the job). He sometimes got a bad rap among the volunteers for being grumpy, but I was quite impressed with his resourcefulness and skill in feeding all of us. Apart from what is grown on the reserve and the island, all of the food is supplied by three food ships from the mainland, which come once a month. Recently, one of the ships broke. You never know quite what’s going to be available at any given time. So Chris sends his shopping list into town, and when the taxi comes back with the groceries, he finds out how many of the items on the list aren’t there, then sets about figuring out how to make due with the ones that are. He has never once gotten everything on his list. But the food was always good, and generally plentiful.

Construction
When I arrived at the station, half of the ground floor of the old house was a shell of open, unused rooms. One of the projects we started was converting this space into new rooms for volunteers and other visiting groups. We cleared a lot of the old material and made a huge burn pile of worn out wood and bamboo, somewhat worryingly close to the house – and then proceeded to burn it in the full heat of the day when we were all working alongside it. I didn’t quite understand the logic behind that, but no harm was done, other than leaving a persistent smoky scent behind in the volunteers’ rooms that were directly above the burn pile.

Most of my participation in the construction project involved following Pepo (one of the cholos) into the woods with his chainsaw, finding trees to cut down, and then hauling the logs up long, steep, muddy hillsides to the house. Some of the logs were manageable by one person (if barely!), and some took 4-5 people to carry them – not an easy feat when trudging uphill with uneven and slippery footing! I think we each lost about an inch in height and had the tops of our shoulders bruised from carrying the logs. The smaller logs were cut and prepped at the reserve, and the larger ones were sent to town to be planed and cut. Then we set about constructing new rooms, which involved such adventures as standing on precariously balanced bits of rock and concrete to nail high planks in place, and sawing off a set of stairs that I had been under the impression had been functioning to hold up a landing.

The Fun
The work was hard, which made the fun all the more fun. The path that led to the tomato plantation had a fork that led to a lovely little lagoon with a waterfall, where we would sometimes go to swim after work. We would just chuck our crates of tomatoes and tools and logs at the side of the path on our way up and head to the waterfall, jumping in in our work clothes – Eduardo even dove in with his wellies on! It was wonderfully refreshing, and a fine way to wash our filthy clothes at the same time. Sometimes people would play soccer or volleyball after work, but that always seemed like too much effort to me, so I mostly watched, and donated my water bottle for a goal post.

I learned to play a fantastic Ecuadorian card game called Cuarenta. It took a while, because the cholos kept telling me it was easy and all I had to do was watch, but they played it so fast and there are so many rules that I couldn’t keep track of it for the life of me. Finally Chris sat down and explained it, and I worked with him to write up a set of rules so I can remember it and teach people back home. The rules are specific to the Jatun Sacha station on San Cristóbal, however, since regional variations abound. I don’t know that I ever won a game while I was there, but it was still fun to play.

Fridays weren’t really work days, but hiking days, where one of the cholos or a local guide would lead a caminata to one or more sites of interest. On my first Friday we hiked (for four hours, in wellies) to La Galapaguera, a giant tortoise preserve, and then to La Playa Puerto Chino, supposedly the most beautiful beach on the island, with the finest white sand imaginable. It poured all day. By the time our guide rushed us through the trails at La Galapaguera we were soaked to the bone. (I was highly amused at one of the informational plaques along the path, which began: “Despite the dryness…”) On the way to the beach, the path became a stream – apparently the real stream flowing to the sea wasn’t enough, and the water wanted to use our path as well. When we finally reached the beach, we deposited our backpacks and shoes on a rock near the delta, waded across the stream, which was about a foot and a half deep, and walked into the sea with all of our clothes on. We had a fantastic time frolicking in the sea in the pouring rain for about an hour, then looked back at the stream and realized that it had become a raging river… and that all of our stuff was on the other side… and that the rock upon which we had deposited it was in danger of being submerged... and that the current was too strong to get safely across. Fortunately, by that time the rain had pretty much stopped, so we waited about half an hour and then were able to wade into the sea and cross the delta, then wade back up the opposite side of the river to rescue our backpacks. Amazingly, all that was lost was one of Charlie’s flip-flops. But I found a frisbee, so it kind of equaled out (though Charlie didn’t agree).

One of the unexpected and amusing things about being out at an ecological reserve in the middle of nowhere was that there was a bar just up the road from the station (called Bar Los Tres Palos). It was owned by one of the neighbors, and existed pretty much entirely to serve the station volunteers, since it was so far out that nobody else (other than a few other neighbors) could realistically get there. A group of volunteers went a couple of times a week, especially when it was somebody’s last night. I was a bit apprehensive about going, since I’m not a “bar person,” but I had promised Nicole I would go for her last night, so I did. The walk to the bar is about 8 minutes, but Eduardo and Pepo and I took about 20 minutes to get there that night, because it was a clear night and all I wanted to do was look at the amazing abundance of stars overhead, and they were tolerant enough to indulge me and walk slowly while I oohed and aahed. My first glimpse of the bar was an all-senses experience. We came at it from a path from the road, coming up over a hill to see the bar on a level field, with a magnificent view of the night sky. The bar was open on three sides, spilling soft yellow light onto the dark ground, the sound of latin music punctuated by the clack of pool balls, the smell of popcorn wafting into the night. I ended up having a really good time hanging out and playing pool. The walk back home took about 45 minutes, because the stars were even more beautiful and plentiful, and it’s slow going walking on a rutted road when you’re looking at the sky. :)

All of the cholos and other volunteers were wonderful people, and it was fun just to hang out in the kitchen or in the hammocks at the old house and chat with folks. We did a bit of whale watching from the porch of the old house one clear afternoon. All we could really see were black lines on the surface of the ocean, so we had some good-natured arguments about whether they were actually whales or just waves, but we finally agreed that there were indeed whales. One night Nicole held a candlelight poetry reading at the old house, which was quite mellow and fun. Siesta time often found the hammocks filled with journaling or napping volunteers, enjoying companionable silence. After dinner people would play cards and sometimes play music (guitars and drums or juice jugs) and/or sing. We had a challenging time finding songs that the majority of people knew – Tracy Chapman’s Fast Car failed the test because nobody could carry it, but Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl and The Proclaimer’s 500 Miles passed.

The Conclusion (Not the End)
I want to go back. Of course I want to go back. I was just starting to feel like I was settling in, getting to the point where I felt like my work was making a difference, when I had to leave. I loved living so far from everything, washing my clothes on the washing stone, taking cold outdoor showers, marveling at the millions of stars, hearing the rain pounding so hard on the corrugated tin roof of the kitchen that you had to shout to be heard, taking afternoon siestas in the hammocks, listening to the roosters in the morning, the birds during the day, and the insects at night, working until I thought I would drop but never getting sore, sharing experiences with people from all over the world in different languages, feeling like I could be utterly and completely me in every moment. I still find myself looking at my clock and thinking, “they’re gathering for work right now – I wonder what they’ll do today,” or “the siesta is almost over – time to rouse for the afternoon’s work,” or “I wonder if people are going to the bar tonight.”

There are many reasons I want to go back to Ecuador and San Cristóbal. I may blog about them at a later date, but for now I’ll just say I want to go back – and I intend to go back. My quest now is to find an organization with which I can volunteer or work long-term, that will pay my way for me so I don’t break the bank doing it on my own. If you have any ideas, either for organizations doing the work or providing grant money, please share. I’m open to ideas from pretty much anywhere in Central or South America, actually, though my heart and thoughts are in Ecuador at the moment.

I told you this would be long. :) And there are plenty more stories to tell. For now, I’ll close with the poem that came to me on the taxi ride from the station as I left to fly back to the mainland.

It hit me when we hit the pavement:
I’m leaving the Galápagos
and I’m not done yet.
As we left the dirt road and Jatun Sacha behind
a wave of loss overtook me.
I wanted to cry, turn back, turn back,
I’ve left my heart behind
in the soil and the scalesia and the seeds that stick,
in the mora and the machetes,
in the water and the washing stone,
in the sweat and the strain and the siesta.
But we kept on driving
and I pretended that my tears came from the wind.

Ecuador, Here I Come!

2008-03-02T12:06:00.000-08:00

My flight doesn't leave until tonight, but Mom and I are going up to visit Pa and Monee this afternoon on the way to the airport, so I'm posting my "hasta luego" blog now. I'll post from an internet cafe in Ecuador if I can, but more likely I'll just share all of my adventures and pictures when I get back. Happy March!

Nurse Logs are Awesome

2008-02-26T15:37:00.000-08:00

Today I 'shadowed' two Audubon Society Sanctuary tours, as part of my volunteer training to become a tour guide myself. Every time I go out in the woods, things are different, and something different always fascinates me. Today it was nurse logs. I think all the pictures I took are of Western Red Cedar nurse logs (which retain a lot of water) with Hemlock trees (which like a lot of water) growing out of them. I thought the root structures were pretty amazing - you can just imagine what they're going to look like once the nurse log has completely rotted away...

Okay, that one's not a nurse log - it's me! Just to prove I was actually there. :)

My Avocado Tree is Dancing!

2008-02-25T21:54:00.001-08:00

I think it's just so happy to have branches at last (albeit tiny ones) that it's just playing with them. :)

Eastbank Esplanade

2008-02-25T20:19:00.000-08:00

On Saturday morning Trisha and I went for a walk along the Eastbank Esplanade with our cameras and her dog, Winston. It was a beautiful day, bright and sunny (though I was glad that I was not fooled into leaving my long johns at home!), and I got to play around more with John's camera. I still couldn't figure out what most of the buttons did, but I got a few good photos.

View of downtown, with the Hawthorne Bridge - my favorite bridge for cycling (notwithstanding the fact that it was coming onto this bridge that I had my bike accident)

View of downtown and the Hawthorne Bridge, from underneath the Marquam (I-5) Bridge.

The Sellwood Bridge. Are we beginning to see a pattern? There's a reason Portland is called "Bridgetown"... eleven reasons, actually. :)

Not a bridge! Reflections of OMSI.

A cool propeller thing outside OMSI. I don't actually know what it's from, as I was too busy trying to stay out of cyclists' ways as I took the picture to read the plaque.

I liked the way the kayak and paddle matched the color scheme of the Cirque du Soleil tents on the other side of the river.

Gooseflight.

Landing!

Hmm, I just realized that this seems to be turning into more of a photo blog than a writing blog. Not sure how I feel about that yet.

28th & E. Burnside

2008-02-22T22:09:00.000-08:00

I'm borrowing John's fantastic camera for a few days, just to play around with it. I went for a walk tonight to see if I could get some interesting nighttime photos. Most didn't turn out, since I have no idea what I'm doing with this camera (and he didn't give me an instruction manual), but I liked this one of the Laurelhurst Theater, a few blocks from my house. Definitely more photogenic at night than in the daytime, when it just sort of looks rundown.

I'm going on a photography walk down by the river with Trisha tomorrow morning, so hopefully I'll have a chance to figure out how to work the camera better and take some good photos. :)

The Lovely Luna

2008-02-20T21:20:00.000-08:00

I wonder how many bloggers are posting photos of the eclipse right now? :)

By the time I figured out how to focus my binoculars for my camera (that's after remembering to get the binoculars and the camera out), the full eclipse was over and the moon was on its way out again. I only got a couple of decent photos (from my kitchen window, kneeling in the same place from which I took the sunrise photos in my last post), but I'm sure that I will have half-moons dancing in my dreams tonight. What a lovely way to spend the evening!

This Morning's Sunrise

2008-02-12T09:17:00.001-08:00

... was beautiful. The pictures don't do it justice, but here they are - as viewed from my kitchen window.

On Resumes and History Class

2008-02-11T21:22:00.000-08:00

I was all motivated to update my resume this evening... until I started actually working on it. I've been struggling with it for 45 minutes, finding myself wishing that it would just write itself, darn it. After all, I already know all of the things that I've done - and, for the most part, they're far enough in the past that I don't relish the process of revisiting them in this context.

As I slogged away at it, trying to come up with captivating action verbs that convey my competence in every situation imaginable, while gagging at my own presumption all the while, a thought came to my head: I've never been good at history. It was always my least favorite subject in school, because the information seemed to travel in one ear and out the other - if, indeed, it ever made its way into the first ear to begin with.

I remember discussing this with Betty Lue one day several years ago, and she remarked that Dad is the same way, observing that the two of us are simply not focused on the past - it's over, it's done, there's nothing we can do to change it, so we don't dwell on it, but instead move on to what is coming next. That made me feel much better when confronted with the reality of my abysmal memory for history, even if it didn't help my academic performance.

Now I'm wondering if this isn't why updating my resume is always so hard. It always seems to come after the fact, and forces me to go back and re-live my past work experiences from somebody else's perspective of what's important. I think that's the kicker - I could probably write all kinds of stories about my work experiences if given the chance, but being forced to distill those experiences into pithy, genericized bullet points just sucks all the life out of them and makes me feel like I'm in history class again, struggling to regurgitate rote bits of information that don't appear to have any relevance to my life.

I vote for a new kind of resume - a narrative or artistic resume that lets an applicant express her qualifications in whatever way best suits her. After all, this in itself will give the person reviewing the resume a much better glimpse of the person behind it. ... But I guess that's technically what the interview is for, isn't it? Sigh....

Fearsome Fish and Carunculated Caracaras - Reasons to Travel to Ecuador

2008-02-03T21:31:00.000-08:00

I love maps. I love guidebooks, too. They tell you interesting things. Funny things, sometimes. Tonight I learned about the carunculated caracara - a hilarious name for a surprisingly beautiful (and fortunately not endangered) bird of prey found in Ecuador & Colombia. I hope I see one while I'm there, just so I can tell people I've seen a carunculated caracara. Go on, say it out loud - it will make you happy. :)

The fish paragraph in my Lonely Planet book was also quite amusing. After the general information about the vast number of species to be found, it goes on to say: "Some of them are fearsome. The electric eel can produce shocks of 600V; a school of piranhas can devour a large animal in minutes; stingrays can deliver a crippling zap; and the tiny candirú catfish can swim up the human urethra and become lodged there by erecting its sharp spines. Despite these horror stories, most Amazonian rivers are safe to swim in." Yup, that sure makes me want to go for a dip in the local stream!

The more I look at maps and guidebooks, the more places I want to see, and the more time I wish I had in Ecuador. And, of course, the more I want to explore other places as well. Anybody up for a backpacking tour of South America? Anybody have any good ideas for how one could get paid to travel instead of spending all of one's money on it? Please share! :)

Officially Unemployed

2008-02-02T21:22:00.000-08:00

Many people might not think that unemployment is a positive thing, but I think it's grand, and I'm excited about all of the opportunities that it holds for me. And now, finally, after no fewer than four goodbye parties (not to mention several tea and lunch dates and extra visits), the day has finally come - I am officially unemployed! Now I can get busy with all of the exciting things that I'm truly interested in, and not have to worry about work getting in the way. :)

My last day was kind of hectic, but fortunately not too stressful. I got to see and say goodbye to most of the people I wanted to (even Dan the shuttle driver, who stopped the bus in the middle of the street and opened his door to lean out and give me a hug), had a lovely last day lunch with Jenn and Trisha, and even made it to Employee Health for a few of my immunizations for Ecuador - Hepatitis A in my right arm, B in my left, and tetanus/diphtheria in the rear. Pleasant. I go back to the Family Medicine Travel Clinic on Tuesday to get the rest of the shots - the really expensive ones that my insurance doesn't cover, of course.

I was thinking about going to shape note singing last night, but by the time I got back from a "happy hour" tea with Catherine and Trisha (none of us drink alcohol, so we went to The Tao of Tea for our happy hour instead of a bar), got home and ate some dinner, I realized that I was far too tired and brain-dead to go out. In fact, I told a friend, I was so fried that, if I'd had a movie and a way to watch it, I probably would have. :P I made do with a book instead.

Today has been mellow, and I've been trying to focus on remembering the fact that it's my first day of freedom. Somewhat ironically, I actually spent a good part of the day sorting through all the stuff I brought home from work with me, trying to figure out what I actually needed/wanted to keep, and where to put it. Lots of sentimental trinkets and things that were fine to keep in my cube at work, but that don't really belong in my apartment. Sigh. I'm really starting to be sensitive to all this "stuff" that I have, and am just about feeling in the mood for a major purge....

More excitingly, I did a bit of rearranging in my bedroom to create my very own "Thotful Spot" in the corner, where I can go to meditate, think, write, or just sit and be peaceful. I need to head to the thrift stores to look for cushions and maybe a little stool or table, but it's nice to see the space shaping up and know that I am building myself a wee sanctuary.

And now I am getting sleepy, so methinks it is time for bed. Ah, the joys of going to bed early. :)

Fitting

2008-01-28T20:52:00.000-08:00

This is my week of "lasts" - I had my last New Employee Orientation today, I will have my last meeting with my manager later this week, and then I will have my last day at OHSU. It's a little surreal, being in my last week. It was strange being at NEO today, something I have done every Monday for the last year and a half, and knowing that, come next Monday, it will be Trisha there instead of me. Even though at the time I started, NEO was the "hot potato" project that nobody wanted, it turned out to be the one I enjoyed the most, and the one I will miss the most.

On a happy note, next week will be a week of "firsts" - my first actual volunteer training for being an Audubon Society Sanctuary Tour Guide, my first immunizations for Ecuador (though I'm not terribly looking forward to those...), my first week of being completely free.

In honor of hopeful beginnings, and because I wanted to leave on a "looking forward" note rather than a "looking back" note, I've been trying to think of something to do for my teammates when I leave. I settled on a card with a photo of all of us, a note and a poem. Despite my best efforts, I have been unable to come up with inspiration for a new poem, but I had a feeling that I had something previously written that would be just perfect. After some rummaging (during my reorganizing blitz last weekend), I found just the thing (from June 1997). It doesn't have a title, but I think it captures the spirit of what I'm doing and why I'm doing it. I know that my teammates know conceptually what I am doing, but I think this might give them a deeper insight into the spiritual dimension. I owe them that much, after the support and encouragement they have given me.

The window to the world is open
The winds of change are blowing through my hair
Inviting me to fly, to spread my wings
To wish and to be there
To live and to let others live their own
To try and to succeed
Never to give up, but to have faith
That all will turn out right just when I need
A helping hand to guide me
Through nights so stormy black and grey
To lead me on to hope, to love
To the life and lasting beauty of the day

I need to write more.

Audubon Adventures

2008-01-26T18:35:00.000-08:00

I opted out of volunteering with the Friends of Trees neighborhood tree planting today, for a number of reasons: 1. The ground has been frozen solid for a week now, and I didn't want to kill my wrists. 2. It started raining this morning (after a week of being crystal clear and below freezing), and I just didn't want to go out. Instead, I accomplished some much-needed organizing in my apartment -- I can see my desk and my coffee table again!

I did go out this afternoon, because I was scheduled to attend the Audubon Society of Portland's volunteer orientation. They have a ton of cool volunteer opportunities, not just helping out with the birds, so I thought I'd check it out. I put my name on the list for "Sanctuary Restoration and Trail Maintenance" (they usually have a monthly work party) and the "Restoration Team" (which does restoration projects in surrounding areas, not just on the reserve), as well as the "Sanctuary Tour Guides," which involves taking groups of first- through eighth-graders through the sanctuary and teaching them about the natural history, native plants, birds, etc. I have two half-days of training for that one (it's really three, but the first is my last day at work, so I can't make it), and then I can start teaching our next generation of naturalists! :)

Another reason I'm excited to volunteer with Audubon is that it will "force" me to get outside and be in nature more. The only way I can really get there, in fact, is by a half-hour hike through Forest Park - how's that for a commute?! :) I took some pictures today, because it was so beautiful, though the trail got a bit dicey at times... remember that rain I mentioned? Well, it was no ordinary rain - it was freezing rain, a concept I'd never quite grasped before, but experienced first-hand today. Basically, the air was warm enough that the precipitation comes down as rain and not snow, but the ground was so cold that the rain freezes on impact. So, the rocks and gravel in the trail that would normally be great for traction... not so much. Next time I'm bringing my Yak Trax!

On the upside, there were some incredible icicles and other ice formations on the hillsides and in the creek. The rocks in the creek were coated in ice, and the little waterfalls cascaded down right next to some massive icicles that were created by the spray. I was almost late to the orientation because I kept stopping to look at them. :) The pictures don't do it justice, but you can at least get some idea of what it was like.

Knowing Me

2008-01-25T21:01:00.000-08:00

I had been wondering if my coworkers were going to cook up some sort of surprise party for me when I left. I was pleasantly surprised by the treats and journal gift they brought to our team meeting last week, and thought that was a very nice little goodbye. Imagine my surprise yesterday, then, when I walked into what I thought was a meeting of three people, to find the room filled with our extended team and even one or two folks from the IT Training team. (Armando had even walked down the hill because he didn't want to create suspicion by riding the shuttle with Catherine and me! I guess he took Trisha's death threat for spoiling the surprise to heart! :P) The two union reps I work with most frequently even came a little later on.

Jenn had put together a slide show of all the photos they had of me with the team -- from various HR parties, our "team building" day on the river, and the Halloween Giving Campaign event with me in a pirate costume. Catherine had concocted a delicious punch, and Gretchen had baked a heavenly cheesecake and decorated it with real flowers. And they had all signed a lovely card and contributed to another gift - a gift certificate to Next Adventure, a cool outdoor store close to my house. Wheee!

Jenn made me laugh with her stories about how they had planned the party and chosen the gift certificate. She said, "We were trying to plan a party with all of HR, but then thought, 'wait, Lacey doesn't like parties. She's not a party person at all. She'd probably kill us if she showed up and the entire department was here!' So we didn't invite them." On the subject of gift certificates: "We were coming up with all sorts of ideas, like 'how about a day at the spa?' Then we said, 'Oh, wait - this is Lacey we're talking about. Hello!'" :P They ended up choosing the outdoor store because they figured I could probably use some gear for my trip to Ecuador - and they're right! It is a perfectly splendid gift, and one which will certainly be put to good use (as opposed to that spa certificate, which would have languished and expired in a drawer...).

It was a fun party, but reflecting on it afterward, I realized that what meant the most to me was the fact that these people know me -- well enough to have planned and carried it out perfectly. I have always said that I work with a group of amazing people, but this brought that point home. I have built real friendships here - personal friendships, not just working relationships. These women have taken the time to get to know me and I know that, while they will be hugely impacted by my leaving (they're not going to be able to refill my position), they are all sincerely happy that I am leaving to pursue my heart's desire. How could I ask for more than that?

Here's all of us a few weeks ago after our (postponed and rescheduled) holiday hot chocolate date downtown:

Left to right: Jenn, Jillian, Catherine, Trisha, Kirsten, me, Shannon

Changes afoot

2008-01-22T21:06:00.000-08:00

As you've probably noticed (and if you haven't, you might want to get an eye exam), I've given my blog a makeover -- whee! It's very green. :D I thought that, with the beginnings of my new life just around the corner, I would start heralding the changes to come with a new look for the way I express myself to the world (at least, the online world...).

Here are a couple of excellent definitions behind my choice of words for the title:

Adventure (n):
1. an exciting or very unusual experience
2. a bold or exciting undertaking or experience

Exuberant (adj):
1. effusively and almost uninhibitedly enthusiastic
2. abounding in vitality; extremely joyful and vigorous
3. Full of unrestrained enthusiasm or joy
4. happy and excited or in high spirits

Explorer (n):
1. a person who explores unknown regions

And that is exactly who I intend to be. Wheeee! :)

An excuse to post pictures of icy puddles (really, they're cooler than they sound)

2008-01-21T20:42:00.000-08:00

John and I went for a mellow hike this afternoon, riding our bikes down the Springwater Corridor Trail for a bit, then dropping the bikes off at John's brother's house and hiking around the Oaks Bottom Wildlife Refuge. It was a clear, COLD day, perfect for a brisk walk (anything slower than that and you'd have to have been bundled up to the contour of a snowman). We saw a bunch of birds, a squirrel, and a majestic midnight black cat with yellow eyes sunning itself on a log in the middle of the marsh, the king of all he surveyed.

Here are a couple of pictures of a puddle with some really cool ice forming/melting (they're even cooler if you view them full-size). We could actually watch the lines of the ice extend and retract; it was really cool. Things were still icy even at the end of the afternoon, meaning (I think) that this has been the coldest day so far this winter. If there had been precipitation, it definitely would have been snow. Maybe next time. :)

Oh, and check out this page for some of the pictures that John took of the local wildlife.

How not to teach a calling workshop

2008-01-19T17:32:00.000-08:00

Let me admit up front that I only walked into the last 15 minutes of this workshop this afternoon (at the Old Time Music Gathering), so I cannot vouch for the first 45 minutes. However, the part that I walked in on seemed to present a pretty good example of a pretty bad example of how to teach a calling workshop.

When I walked in, the teacher was calling a simple dance, and a group of students were dancing. The dance was done in pairs of couples, with some circling, some stars, some swinging, and then couples promenading around the room to find a new set of partners to repeat. Alright so far (though I personally would not have chosen a random mixer for a beginning calling workshop). They danced that for a while while the teacher called. Then he started the same dance over again and asked them all to call along with him while they danced.

Now, I've been dancing for a few years (okay, fifteen), and maybe I just don't have a caller's brain, but it is not easy for me to coherently call (rather than point and briefly direct) while I'm dancing. However, by the end of that dance (it lasted a very long time), I could hear some improvement in people's calling - more on time, more consistent, more coherent, and mostly correct. I thought they were doing pretty well (for total beginners).

Then came the kicker. The teacher told them that they were going to do the dance again, and this time, each circle of four would call for their own circle, starting whenever that circle joined -- so if some couples found each other immediately after the promenade, they would start the dance earlier than couples who did not find each other as quickly, and everybody would be on their own with no help from the teacher. (My reaction: what?!!) This, of course, caused mass chaos. Each circle tried to start when it joined, everybody was trying to yell the calls to keep themselves on time and not get distracted by the circles that were calling at a different point in the dance, and everybody forgot how the dance went because they were seeing other groups doing something different than they were. More than once, everybody sort of gravitated to one point in the calling (usually "promenade to form a new ring"), no matter where they actually were in the dance, so it sort of got back on track a few times. But in general, it was pretty abysmal.

I'm kind of glad I wasn't there for the whole workshop. :-/ The Sacred Harp workshop after that was much better, and I got my singing fix for the week. Yay for shapenote!

Starting to sink in

2008-01-18T21:20:00.000-08:00

I booked my flights to Ecuador today - wheee! It's finally beginning to sink in that I'm actually going to the Galápagos... but that doesn't mean that my excitement is diminishing! :)

I worked out a clever scheme (at least, I think it's clever) with my flights: rather than flying from Portland to Quito (on however many flights that would take), I bought tickets between San Francisco and Quito, and I'm booking a separate set of flights on Southwest Airlines between Portland and San Jose for a few days before and after. This accomplishes three things: it breaks up my LONG trip to Ecuador at least a little bit, it lets me see at least some of my family before and after my trip, and (and this is the reason this is such a clever scheme) it earns me the last flight credits I need on Southwest in order to get a free trip, which I plan to use to visit Quena this summer. Hooray!

I also did some investigation on immunizations today. It turns out that working until February 1 so I can keep my health insurance for an extra month might not be so smart after all, at least in terms of immunizations, since that insurance plan doesn't cover travel vaccinations (phooey on them). This would mean me having to pay up to $500 out of pocket for them - gack! On the other hand, the insurance I was planning to purchase starting in March covers all immunizations at 100%. So... I'm going to try to swing it so that I start my individual insurance a month early, then tell the clinic that I've changed my insurance so that they bill my individual instead of my employer insurance. I still have a bit more investigation to do on that to make sure I can pull it off, but I hope so! (because I think it's too late to change my quitting date.) I'd much rather be out the additional $85 or so for the extra month of insurance than five times that for all the vaccines!

So, things are moving forward. Now I just have to figure out what I where I want to go in Ecuador after my volunteer work is over. I gave myself 5-6 days to play around - hopefully enough time to get to some fantastic places. Back to the guide books!

Overheard on the bus

2008-01-16T08:47:00.000-08:00

While I steadfastly maintain that riding a bike is the best way to get to work, riding the bus can have its interesting moments (good interesting and bad interesting). One such moment occurred this morning - I had a hard time not bursting out in laughter at overhearing this conversation.

The scene: We have two late-middle-aged men, George and Not-George. George is sitting at the front of the bus, in the sideways seats. Not-George is sitting a few rows back, facing forward. Both men are staring straight ahead while this completely serious conversation is taking place (over the laps of the intervening passengers).

The conversation:
Not-George: George?
George: Yeah.
Not-George: Did you have a chance to eat breakfast this morning?
George: Yeah, I had some Rice Crispies.
Not-George: Ah. ... (Pause) .... George?
George: Yeah.
Not-George: I had Corn Flakes.

Touching gifts

2008-01-15T21:45:00.000-08:00

Today my team had the last official team meeting that I will attend. My co-workers surprised me by bringing coffee and tea and baked goodies, and a gift - they bought me a journal to record my adventures, and in the front of it were notes and cards from all of my team members with personal messages and inspirational quotes. It was really sweet. I started to read them later that morning back at my desk, but started to cry, so I saved the rest of them for when I got home.

Several people gave me Thoreau quotes (you can probably guess which ones, since I am finally "going confidently in the direction of my dreams"), but the poem that touched me most was given to me by Jenn, written by Dawna Markova:

Perfect. Thanks, team - you've been fantastic.

Jumping Jubilation

2008-01-14T21:44:00.000-08:00

This is your cue to turn green with envy ... I'm going to the Galápagos in March! I got my acceptance email today, for a 2-week volunteer trip to San Cristobal Island, working on native habitat restoration and sustainable agriculture. If you know me at all, you know that that's the perfect project for me. And the fact that I get to do it in the Galápagos is almost too cool to be imaginable right now. I feel like I've been on one continuous "Wheeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!" since I got back to my desk at 4:15 this afternoon and saw the email (to think that it had been there for 3 hours without my knowledge!).

Details are yet to be worked out, but I sent in my application fee to secure my place, and will be doing some noodling on plane flights, extra travel options, etc. They recommend an extra 4-5 days after the volunteer portion to tour the rest of the islands, and it might be fun to see some more of Ecuador as long as I'm down there. I just have to make sure I'm home in time to start my permaculture class for spring quarter. :) Goody goody!

I just realized that this will be my first solo international trip - how exciting! Not that I've taken very many non-solo international trips, but there has definitely been a sense of wanting to have somebody else along, which is probably a big reason I haven't done more traveling. Hopefully this will get me over that and instill a deep travel bug that will withstand the apprehensions of going solo (not that it's not still more fun to have a friend along!). And I think it will help to have at least the first part of this trip pretty much organized for me, to get my feet wet, so to speak... and literally - March is supposedly the best time of year for snorkeling around the Galápagos. :)

Wheeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!
:D

Up-catching miscellany

2008-01-12T21:06:00.000-08:00

Yes, it's mid-January already and I haven't blogged since last year. I'm going to use the occasional blogger's excuse of "been too busy to blog," even though the busy times are usually the ones most worth blogging about. This is indeed the case here, but I don't particularly want to delve deeply into any one thing, so I'll just give a brief synopsis of what I've been up to since I last blogged, and possibly come back to one or two things in more detail later.

So, what have I done since my last post?

- Christmas! We had several family gatherings, which were all enjoyable. I got to see most of my family on all sides, including some new by-marriage relatives I hadn't even known about. Shaleece and Cristie inspired me with their knitting and crocheting projects, and then Mom bought me some delicious baby alpaca and I started knitting myself the most snugglous hoodie imaginable. By the time I got home from CA, I had knitted the back and more than half of the front (including the pocket). Hooray for creative crafts. :)

- Harmony was magical and wonderful as always, with a touch of bittersweet, knowing that it was to be the last year in the beautiful location in the Santa Cruz mountain redwoods. We took lots of photos. LOTS of photos. And Quena and I turned 10 this year! I am so amazed and grateful that I have had such a beautiful star-sister for ten years.

- As usual, Harmony inspired me to explore more musical goings-on back home, so I finally attended a Portland Sacred Harp gathering at my local food coop. It was highly enjoyable, and I do plan to go back. One of my coworkers has been singing shapenote for quite a while, and another former morris dancer was there as well, so it was nice to have people there that I knew. My coworker even pulled me into the middle of the square for the last song that he led, so I could hear the voices coming at me in harmony from all sides. It was very cool. It turns out that Portland Sacred Harp meets five times a month, and that three of them are pretty close to my house, so I'm looking forward to more singing in the year to come.

- Last Saturday John and I went for a lovely day-hike in Forest Park. The weather was variable -- some sprinkles, some sun, cold but just the perfect temperature for hiking. We hiked past the Audubon Society and then up to Pittock Mansion. We stopped by Powells on the way back and bought a book of local hikes, and plan to go hiking much more frequently in the future. It is SO nice to get outdoors!

- I had my first darkroom class this Thursday, and developed my first roll of film! I haven't printed any pictures yet, and didn't even get a good look at the negatives because they were wet and I had to hang them up (and leave them there). I'll probably spend the next class developing my other two rolls of film from my CA trip, and then start learning to print the pictures the next week. But I may get impatient and take the negatives to a camera shop before then! :) Developing the film was a really cool experience, especially since it is done in complete darkness and you have to be so in tune with where everything is, what your hands are doing, and how things feel when they're right or wrong. I noticed that I had my eyes wide open even though I couldn't see anything -- I wasn't even looking down at what I was doing, but staring straight ahead. I want to pay more attention to that and see if I can relax enough to close my eyes next time.

- I helped DeMara a bit with getting her house ready to move in - mostly things like lining kitchen cabinets and painting baseboards, since she did the majority of the big tasks while I was in CA. Tomorrow I will help her move in, to her very own house.

- And, potentially the coolest news of all ... I applied for a volunteer work trip to the Galápagos!!! The project is working on native habitat restoration and sustainable agriculture - right up my alley... and in the Galápagos! How could I pass up that opportunity? So cross your fingers that they accept me, because that would be an amazing trip. Needless to say, I'm just a teensy bit excited. :D

Well, that was more detail than I had planned to go into. I guess I'm incapable of writing one-liners about things that excite me. What can I say? I like to write, but concision is not my strong point. :)

Happy Solstice!

2007-12-21T22:21:00.001-08:00

I know I have posted this poem before, but I love it, so I am posting it again (this time with the correct credits!).

The Shortest Day
by Susan Cooper

And so the Shortest Day came and the year died
And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away.
They lighted candles in the winter trees;
They hung their homes with evergreen;
They burned beseeching fires all night long
To keep the year alive.
And when the new year's sunshine blazed awake
They shouted, revelling.
Through all the frosty ages you can hear them
Echoing behind us - listen!
All the long echoes, sing the same delight,
This Shortest Day,
As promise wakens in the sleeping land:
They carol, feast, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends,
And hope for peace.
And now so do we, here, now,
This year and every year.

As they say in Revels: Welcome Yule!

I will be off to California tomorrow morning for a few family gatherings and the wonderful camp Harmony -- there's no better way to bid farewell to the old year and bring in the new. Happy Solstice, and, if I don't post again before then, Happy New Year!

Even my eyes are perfectionists...

2007-12-19T21:01:00.000-08:00

I had my first eye exam in... well, ever, I think... today and let me tell you, I came out extremely thankful for my good vision (20/15 to be precise, and yes, I'm gloating a bit). The whole process was utterly fascinating, from checking out the crazy apparatus with all the lenses and dials that they make you look through (like some torture device from a sci-fi novel), to the bright yellow numbing eye-drops (when I saw that my drip-catching tissue was bright yellow I immediately asked if I could check out my eyes in the mirror to see if they had changed color [they had a bit, but not dramatically]).

And then she dilated my pupils and I had the strangest experience of all. It was totally bizarre to "watch" my vision deteriorate as the dilating drops took effect, and to gradually have my vision get blurrier and blurrier. I got up out of the chair and just started walking around the room looking at things, trying to read labels or distinguish details, and then going back to the same things a few minutes later to find that they were unintelligible. (Pretty much the opposite of Graham's experience after LASIK.) It was like my brain was playing tricks on me -- I would try to focus my eyes like I always do, but they just wouldn't focus, and things remained obstinately blurry. I pretty much retained my distance vision throughout, but my near vision was abysmal. The whole thing served to make me a hundred times more thankful that I was already that I was blessed with good vision and that I don't have to deal with fuzzy edges on a regular basis. Oh, and I was also happy to find that I am not far-sighted, there are no other problems with my eyes, and I don't need to have another checkup for a good number of years. Hooray! :)

After my exam, I stopped by the bike shop downtown to purchase new brake pads. (Since I haven't yet managed to get my bike to a shop, I figured I should try bringing the shop to the bike.) I asked a guy behind the counter for help, since I wasn't sure exactly what I needed... and then, as he started laying my options out on the counter, realized that I would have to explain to him that I couldn't actually read any of the product information, since I couldn't focus my eyes on anything. He was amused, and very nicely helped me out (after making eye contact and remarking, "Wow, your pupils are huge!"). So now I have new brake pads to put on my bike -- hooray! Hopefully I will be riding to work again come the new year.

Catching up

2007-12-15T20:46:00.000-08:00

'Tis the season for a number of things, one of which seems to be catching up with friends I haven't seen in a while. This week has been wonderfully full of planned, spur-of-the-moment, and chance encounters with people I haven't seen in some time, and it's been great! Paul came over on Tuesday and chopped vegetables for a veggie pot pie; DeMara came over on Thursday and showed me pictures of the house she just bought (woohoo!!); on Friday I was on campus at PSU and spontaneously decided to knock on Virginia's door and see if she was there -- and she was, and we had a nice catch-up chat; and this morning I ran into Lisa as I was walking down the Park Blocks to the farmers market.

I am now munching my last morsel of Maine maple candy and thinking about another someone I haven't seen in a while (three guesses who...), and starting to get very excited about coming down to CA for Christmas and Harmony. At the same time, of course, I'm realizing that I now have less than a week left at home before Christmas, and that I am completely unprepared in the gifts department (and the clean laundry department, but I won't go into that here). So, if last week was the week of being out and/or otherwise social every night, this week will be the week of staying home and getting creative. :)

Know Thyself

2007-12-10T21:43:00.000-08:00

When you can take joy in the rising sun
and greet the night like a welcome friend;
When you can find comfort in the unconditional truth of the seasons;
When you know that you yourself are nothing
but the wind and the stars cascading
over the earth in an endless wave of compassion;
When you can look deeply into yourself
as into a still lake under the moon
and listen to the joyful singing of your heart;
When you can be completely still
yet utterly, vibrantly, jubilantly alive …
This is when you know yourself.
This is when you are whole.

A Thrilling Discovery

2007-12-08T16:19:00.000-08:00

I just discovered that my digital camera has a black and white setting -- that's so exciting! :) (Especially since I just put new color film in my borrowed SLR camera.) Unfortunately, the battery ran out as I was exploring things to take black and white pictures of, so I didn't get a whole lot of pictures. But now I have something new to play with tomorrow! :)

Here are a couple of photos I did manage to get. It's funny, things I would never think to take color pictures of somehow all of a sudden look good in black and white. It's like having new eyes!

Yes, I know this one is in color. I put it in to compare it to the black and white one below. Pthhh!

A black and white version of the same. It needs a less distracting background, but that's where the light was.

I liked the shadows in this one. Who ever thought my beat up kitchen chair could look cool in black and white? :)

Yes, I know I need a new mirror. No, it's not dirty, just really old.

Reflection

2007-12-06T22:30:00.000-08:00

Ripples on a pond
Memories, drop by drop, fall
Reflection unfolds

It's Official

2007-12-05T18:32:00.000-08:00

February 1 will be my last day at OHSU - yay! My manager took the news quite well, considering. She was vacillating between excitement for me and "ohmygodwhatarewegoingtodowithoutyou?" which I expect to be the reaction from the rest of my team as well (though Catherine will be outright devastated, poor thing). So, it's still mostly a secret, but secrets will out, and this one probably will within the next week. It feels so good to be moving forward!

Zest

2007-12-05T07:02:00.000-08:00

I love these moments in life of extended periods of blissful happiness. They often seem to come in the middle of or following a big life shakeup, as if I'm finally waking up and realizing that I'm okay, and I'm going to be okay, that life is good -- wonderful, in fact -- and exists only to be enjoyed to the fullest.

I had one of these periods in August of 2005, when I scribbled this on a piece of paper by the side of the couch I was sleeping on at Mom's:

It's a deep excitement
that keeps me awake at night,
Not some superficial
spur-of-the-moment giddiness,
but a deep-seated eagerness,
an excitement for life itself
and a readiness
for whatever it may bring.
I'm excited about my life.
I love where I live.
I love how I'm choosing to live.
I love the consciousness with which
I choose to live
and act every day.
I am in the thick of my life
and I totally love it.
I get so excited about life
and so eager for
whatever comes next
that sometimes
I lie awake at night
not sleeping for excitement.

And I'm having one of those periods now. I was pretty darn depressed after my bike accident and ensuing cold, but I finally managed to make a positive mental shift on Friday, and my whole world has changed. Everything is making me happy, and nothing seems to dampen it (not even the huge storm we had this weekend -- I love the rain!). I was even happy during my biology final. Not just "not stressed," but actually happy! (I know, I'm strange. But I finished that 2-hour final in 35 minutes!)

I've been smiling all the time, and laughing a whole lot, just finding joy everywhere (and absolute fascination watching raindrops strike puddles on the street). It's a skippy-jumpy-bouncy energized kind of happy, and it feels fantastic. I'm feeling completely ready for the next step in my life, which is a good thing, because today is the day I get to walk into my manager's office and happily tell her that I will be leaving OHSU next month. On second thought, maybe I'd better try to tone down the overjoyed happiness a bit so I don't give the wrong impression. :P

Limited Mobility

2007-11-27T21:34:00.000-08:00

I can't believe I used to take the bus to work, spending countless hours waiting for buses, waiting in traffic, waiting for a transfer, and then getting to my destination hopefully on time. Granted, I still prefer busing over driving, but still... I guess I've been spoiled for the last several years, being able to bike or walk to work and school, and most other places I need to go.

This week, though, I'm stuck taking the bus (which takes about 10 minutes longer to get to work, and today took me 30 minutes longer to get home -- and it wasn't even raining!). My wrists still aren't up to biking par, and I don't want to test them out at a time when I really need them... like for getting to work, or getting home from my midterm tomorrow night. So I'm practicing patience with the buses this week, and will try out some gentle test-biking this weekend when I can walk myself home if my wrists aren't ready yet.

I guess I've always taken my ability to get around by bike for granted, never assuming that there would be a time I wouldn't be able to rely on that type of transportation. When I moved to my current apartment, I was glad that my new house was by a bus line that goes downtown, but figured I'd never have to use it, since it's so easy to bike there. Well, I now have a renewed gratitude for my high degree of personal mobility in my normal, healthy state, and a renewed gratitude for Portland's generally excellent public transportation system... even if I can get there faster by bike. :)

In other news, my stitches are out, and now I just have an oddly-shaped lump on my chin. It's not really visible, but it sure feels strange! It was basically a small chunk of fat that they sewed back into my chin, so it will be interesting to see if the lumpiness subsides as it reincorporates, or if I will have a permanently lumpy chin from now on (go ahead, start making up nicknames). The skin seems to have healed over pretty well, so hopefully the scar won't be too bad, though they say it takes 6 months to a year to really be able to tell.

I will be so happy when I can get on my bike again.

"If you put makeup on your other eye and went downtown, you'd look normal!"

2007-11-21T11:42:00.001-08:00

Um, thanks... I think.

In other news, apparently you don't know how much you use your pinky finger until you injure it. Turns out I use mine all the time! It's like a tail, infinitely useful for balance and stability in all sorts of situations (brushing my teeth, taking the milk bottle out of the fridge, holding the camera steady...). I don't think it's broken, but it sure hurts sometimes!

Yesterday was a very sore day, but I'm better now, thanks to a couple of hot baths and a terrific shoulder/neck rub that loosened up some of the major knots. My wrists still aren't happy at all, nor is the aforementioned pinky finger, but I assume my stitches are working and my chin is healing, so that's good. Also, I changed my flight and will be flying to CA today instead of tomorrow - yay! As long as I keep this band-aid on my chin, it should be difficult to over-stuff myself. :P Happy Thanksgiving, everybody!

My First Stitches

2007-11-19T14:56:00.000-08:00

My Monday has not gone according to plan. But then, who plans to have another bicyclist pull out in front of them without a glance (and without listening to the mad ringing of one’s bike bell), on a wet and slippery downhill slope, causing one to slam on both brakes and flip head first over the handlebars into the pavement because the back brake is in need of replacement and the front brake caught first? Yes, folks, I just got back from the emergency room about an hour ago with my first ever stitches (not counting the dissolvable ones I got when my wisdom teeth were removed, though the numb-jaw feeling of having been to the dentist is ominously similar). Three of them. In my chin. Black ones. With big knots on the ends. For a week.

The semifinal toll of scrapes and bruises and soreness (I’m sure I’ll find more tomorrow when the shock has worn off): Hole in the chin with flap of fat & skin (thoroughly cleaned and sutured), slightly scraped nose, big lump over the right eyebrow (which threatens to turn purple in a few hours and develop into a beautiful black eye), skinned left knee, small skinned area on the chest (from a snap on my raincoat), badly skinned and sore right pinky finger, really bruised palms (thank goodness for padded bike gloves – no skinned palms!), and pain in both wrists when I turn them (no fractures, though). Tomorrow I expect to add some significant back and neck soreness and overall stiffness to the list. Oh, and a bloodstained white turtleneck (I knew I should have worn red today).

Many thanks go to the two very kind gentlemen who stopped and picked me (and my bike, and all of my stuff) off the ground and took the time to make sure I was okay, to the gentleman who allowed me to borrow his cell phone to “call in injured” to work, and most of all, to Catherine, my coworker who insisted upon driving out to pick me up at my house and take me to the emergency room (and home again), because I was too stubborn to admit I needed medical attention (and, by the time I got myself home (yes, on my bike), not in any condition to seek it). There are some truly wonderful people in this world.

The irony is that I was going to go to the bike shop after work today and get a new set of brakes. Maybe I should get an air horn while I’m at it. The other biker never had a clue what she caused – she just kept right on pedaling and never heard a thing. At least I managed to avoid a collision in which two people would get hurt.

Please, everybody, if you ride a bike, ALWAYS wear your helmet. It may not be able to help you predict the actions of other bikers or avoid accidents, but it can save your head – literally. Oh, and look both ways before pulling out onto a major bike thoroughfare.

I think the anesthetic is beginning to wear off. Time for more ibuprofen.

Photography Lessons

2007-11-17T09:26:00.001-08:00

I had my first photography lesson with Mary (John's mom) last night, and came home with a camera on loan to practice! I think she taught me just enough to make me think I know what I'm doing, even though I really don't. But she also lent me a few great books, so I can read up on how the camera works and figure out if I'm doing things right -- because I can't see my pictures as I go along like with a digital camera! :P I am going to be very good and write down the settings I use for each shot, though, so I can go back later when I get the film developed and figure out how I could have improved each one.

Mary also said that her favorite darkroom teacher may be teaching a class close by during the winter quarter, so we may take that together (she uses it more as a workshop, since she already knows how to do most of her own developing, but I would learn a ton). I'm excited! It will be neat to "take photographs" instead of just "shooting pictures."

GRE-Free

2007-11-16T14:08:00.000-08:00

Well, all I can really say is, I'm glad that's over!

The fallout (highest score is 800):
Verbal: 650 (I thought I did much better than this, but apparently I didn't)
Quantitative: 690 (not bad for an anthro major!)
Analytical Writing: I'll know in two weeks

It was quite an adventure getting to the testing location. I must say, I am eternally grateful for Portland's network of "Bike Boulevards," complete with signs, distances, and street markings. Unfortunately, the best bike directions in the world don't do anything about the fact that it's raining outside, so I sat my test completely soaked (and progressively colder, with the fan from the computer blowing directly onto my hands), and then, when my jeans had almost dried to merely damp, I got on my bike to go home. I had to wring out my jeans when I got home, and it will probably take my raincoat all weekend to dry. But I'm nice and toasty warm now, no harm done. :)

Hooray for not having to take the GRE again! (At least, not for another 5 years or however long the scores last....).

Overheard/seen in Portland

2007-11-10T20:26:00.000-08:00

A man and a woman are walking down the street, arguing. The man steps off the sidewalk into an alcove doorway and stands facing the door while the woman walks on. After continuing to walk and rant for a few steps, the woman notices that she has lost her companion. She stops, turns around to look for him, and, when she sees him, asks, "What are you doing there?"

His response (still facing the door): "I'm hiding."

I walked past them at this point and did not catch any more, but somehow I don't think it worked. :}

Innovate or Die

2007-11-09T17:26:00.000-08:00

I just found out about the Innovate or Die Pedal-Powered Machine Contest. It makes me wish I knew how to do things with batteries and electronics so I could design something cool. I particularly like the pedal-powered washing machine (watch the video below). The contest runs September 19 - December 15, and I'm rather surprised there haven't been more entries so far. It would be awesome if this could become something as well-known and popular as solar car competitions. But this is only the first one, so hopefully it will catch on quickly. :)

If I could build a pedal-powered machine, it would probably be a small oven so I could bake cookies by pedal power. :) What would you build?

~~~ The "Green Machine" pedal-powered washing machine:

Don't tell my co-workers...

2007-11-02T17:01:00.000-07:00

… But I’m quitting my job in January. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and mentioned it to a few people when I was down in CA last weekend, but I hadn’t realized that I had actually made the decision until I noticed things like this happening all week:

- My co-worker told me that she had heard that, in January, she and the rest of the team would finally get to move their offices up to the hill to join us in the Career Center (they’re currently about a mile away, which gets frustrating). My outward response: “That’s fantastic! It will be so great to have the whole team together at last!” My inward addition: “But, really, I don’t actually care all that much, because I won’t be here anymore.”

- We just got a new manager, and she has set up a half-day team strategic planning meeting for next week. In the midst of trying to prepare for it, all I can think of is, should I tell her before the meeting that I’m leaving so that we can use the time to develop a plan for hiring and training a replacement, or should I wait until afterward so the meeting isn’t awkward with everybody knowing I’m walking out on them?

So, I guess my mind has made itself up without me for once. :P The plan is to (at some point, probably soon) tell my boss and my co-workers, so that we can put out the job announcement and go through the interviewing process, hopefully in time to hire somebody about a week before I leave for my Christmas and Harmony vacation. I can train the person, then go on vacation and leave him/her at the office. Then I’ll come back from vacation for a week or so to answer all the questions that came up and tie up any loose ends (and make sure I get paid for that vacation time!), and then I’ll be out of there! (Side note: Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love the people that I work with, and I will be honestly sorry to leave them behind. But the job’s not right for me, so I will be glad to get out of there!)

What am I going to do after I leave my job, you ask? Well, for starters, I’m going to get back on a decent sleep schedule. Then I’m going to start doing all of the things that need to get done but that I’ve been too busy with work to do, and then move on to all the other things that I want to get done but that I’ve been too busy with work to do. Things like volunteering, taking guitar lessons, doing yoga, exploring Portland on my bike, going to community events and lectures and meetings, and just participating more fully in my life in general. Because work isn't my life, and my life isn't work. Yes, I’ll have to find a way to make some money in there somehow, but honestly, I’m really not worried about that at this point. I think I am finally trusting that that part will flow easily into the rest of my life once I get a few other things figured out. (Hallelujah for that! It makes moving forward so much easier.) I just need some time to relax, to explore, to figure out who I am and how I fit into this world, how I can contribute to making it a better place while being true to myself.

So, there you have it. But, shhhh! My co-workers don’t know yet…

My Halloween Poem Turns 10... And Needs a New Title

2007-10-31T20:58:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween! (And Happy Birthday, Monee!) I wasn't going to post my Halloween poem this year, because most of you have seen it before (probably more times than you'd like), but I'm going to after all, for two reasons:

1) Today is its 10th birthday (or writtenday, in the case of a poem, I suppose)
2) It desperately needs a new title

For those few who have not been subjected to this poem yet, I wrote it in highschool as a Halloween homework assignment. It was actually supposed to be a short story, titled "Monsters and Such," but I had no creative juices for short stories and this came out instead -- still titled "Monsters and Such" in the hopes that I would still get credit even though I'd severely bent the rules of the assignment. It shocked the living daylights out of my teacher (who gave me full credit) and classmates (several of whom asked me where I copied it from). And even after 10 years, I have to say I still think it's pretty creepy to think that I wrote something like this when I was sixteen. :)

If you can come up with a better title for this poem than "Monsters and Such" (it really shouldn't be that hard, since that's such a terrible name, but it's been 10 years and I have yet to accomplish it), please let me know!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’ll tell you a story of which the dead boast,
of ghouls and demons, of witches and ghosts
who creep into closets in the black of the night,
and fill little children with horrible fright.

These ghosts, with their vengeful spirits afire,
with hearts full of malice, bloodlust, desire;
These are what’s under the bed of your youngest.
One waits for bedtime, and then out he lunges!

He carries the child in arms made of mist,
and whispers through lips that the Devil has kissed,
“Heaven be damned, you’re in my power now.
To Satan, the King of all Hell you shall bow.”

Through Hades the innocent youngster is borne.
He sees all the people whose lives have been torn
now cowering in misery, fear, constant fright,
with hellfire and brimstones as their only light.

Souls that have sinned, and those that are damned,
all serving the Devil in this barren land.
Their decaying bodies rotting down to the bone
cause a stench no one wants to admit as his own.

As the young boy feels his stomach grow weaker,
he locks eye to eye with the deadly Grim Reaper.
The long bloody scythe held high in his hand,
the child knows he will never escape from this land.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

On a more cheerful note, I got to wear a Halloween costume for work today, because I was helping out at my co-worker's Employee Giving Campaign event. It was quite refreshing to walk around in my pirate costume all day instead of my normal all-too-professional gack. Arrrrr! :) Unfortunately, I missed the "Tour of Untimely Departures" at the cemetery near my house, because I had class tonight -- and it wasn't even a very good lecture. Grrrrr.

I hope nobody knocks on my door tonight, because I didn't even think about buying any candy! But then, I'm going to bed soon, so I wouldn't answer anyway! Happy Halloween from the world's biggest party pooper! :}

What's Wrong With This Picture?

2007-10-29T21:15:00.000-07:00

Did anybody else get this in the mail today and wonder what on earth has happened to Planned Parenthood?

I suppose it was effective in one way, because it got me to at least open the envelope instead of chucking it directly into the recycling.... but, still. What a bizarre (and potentially very self-defeating) way to request donations, especially when the first things you see inside the envelope are

and a donation form.

Is it just me, or is this slightly disturbing?

A Successful Surprise... And a Surprisingly Fun Trip Home

2007-10-28T20:28:00.001-07:00

Well, I'm home safe and sound from a "surprise" visit to California for Pa's 80th birthday -- happy birthday, Pa! :) Of course, by the time the weekend actually rolled around I think just about everybody knew I was coming... except Pa -- I have to give Monee a huge amount of credit for managing to keep the secret. It was wonderful to see everybody, to talk about some of the things that have been filling up my consciousness and my subconsciousness recently, in person, with the people whose insight and wisdom and support I value most. It was also good to just get "away" for a brief time; there is something about physical separation from one's normal surroundings that enables a fresh perspective. So, I'm thankful for both of those side benefits of the visit. Of course, it was all too short, and I had to come home this evening, but at least I have my Thanksgiving visit to look forward to. And I actually had a highly amusing flight home, which cheered me up considerably.

You know you're in for a good plane flight when, just before takeoff, the flight attendant asks you to "please be sure that your window shades are all the way open, because we're going to go really... really... fast." :) Shortly thereafter, while rapidly ascending, a few packets of peanuts zoomed past my aisle seat on the floor, toward the back of the plane. I watched them pass, saying a silent "oops" for the person who dropped them... until I realized that the flight attendant sitting in the front facing the cabin was pulling handfuls of peanut packets out of the cabinet and sending them down the aisle like bowling balls. Pretty soon everybody in the aisle seats caught on and was trying to catch the peanuts, so hardly any more made their way back to where I was, but it was fun nonetheless. When we landed, during the big "whoosh" when the plane is slowing down really fast (I think that's an accurate and non-contradictory statement), the attendant turned on the intercom and said "Whoooaaaahhh, boy!" and started making horse whuffling noises and clip-clop-clip-clop sounds as the plane slowed down. I like flight attendants with a sense of humor. :)

So, it was a good visit. And, with all such things nowadays, I came home with some things clearer in my mind and others newly opened up for questioning. But answers are beginning to formulate, so I am hopeful. Thank heaven for family.

Strengthening my (follow your) heart muscles

2007-10-23T09:13:00.000-07:00

“Really big, but not very strong.” That’s how a physical therapist described my calf muscles earlier this year when I finally went in to investigate my prolonged shin problems. I was shocked and, to tell the truth, slightly offended: after ten years of morris and social dancing, I never expected anybody to accuse me of having weak calves. (It was like when the makeup designer told me I needed to use stage makeup to “enhance” my eyebrows when I was in the Revels – I wanted to say, “Are you kidding? People already tell me I look like Frida Kahlo!” (Check out the photos on this page and tell me if you don’t agree.)) But since then, I have dutifully done my physical therapy exercises every morning to strengthen my calves and shins and hips (I leave my eyebrows unenhanced, however).

I think I also need to work on strengthening my “follow your heart” muscles. In theory, these muscles are incredibly large – I want more than anything else to change my life to align more closely with my ideals and goals. In practice, however, I continually run into obstacles that (I allow to) prevent me from moving forward in that direction. Obstacles such as what I call my “psychological money block” – the need for financial security and the knowledge that I will have enough income in the future to support myself (note to self: think in the present). Perceived obstacles such as not having enough of the nebulously defined “experience” to pursue the path I want (what kind of a Catch 22 is this where you need experience to gain experience?).

So, I’m working on baby steps toward a more sustainable lifestyle – sort of like emotional/spiritual therapy for my follow-your-heart muscles. I’ve already reduced my hours at work under the guise of going back to school, though the deeper reason is that I simply don’t believe in the 40-hour work week. Granted, the time that this has “freed” up has been rapidly absorbed by other things (such as the aforementioned school), and I would love to work even fewer hours, but at least it’s a somewhat healthier balance (while still providing most of the financial security I cling to). A future step (maybe not the next step, but definitely a step) is to get out of this job altogether and find something better suited to me (mmm, wouldn’t it be nice to have a job that I would do even if I weren’t getting paid for it?). Meanwhile, I’m investigating volunteer opportunities, starting with Hands on Greater Portland, which offers one-time or short-term projects rather than asking for a long-term commitment (thanks to Graham for reminding me about the Hands On network). A future step (once I free up more time for non-employment) is to commit to a more in-depth volunteer program(s) to which I can devote more time and energy, and which would provide the opportunity to gain experience, get to know other people with similar interests, and let me feel that I’m giving something substantial back to my community. I want to move toward a more service-oriented lifestyle, and volunteering seems to be a good way to start.

For some reason, I’m really good at making up excuses not to follow my heart. But I’m not going to do that anymore. That’s my commitment to myself from now on, and anybody reading this has my full permission to hold me to it (please!).

The Vertiginous Thrill of Exactitude

2007-10-20T12:02:00.001-07:00

That has got to be the coolest name for a ballet that I have ever heard. :) And it's one of the three ballets that I got to see for free last night! Due to a string of simultaneous lucky coincidences (unexpectedly encountering John outside his building as I was riding my bike home, while he was on the phone with his friend Marenda, while Marenda was searching for somebody to share her pair of free ballet tickets for that night), I was invited (well, okay, I really kind of invited myself...) to go see A Midsummer Night's Dream by the Oregon Ballet Theater. Only, it wasn't just Midsummer -- it was their "Germanic Lands" program, which included two short ballets, then an intermission, and then Midsummer (1 hour long). So, we got three ballets for the price of one - which was free! :)

The Vertiginous Thrill of Exactitude was actually my least favorite of the three (and the women's stiff, flat, bright green frisbee-like tutus were mildly distracting), even though it had the best name. The second one, Almost Mozart, was really cool. I guess you could say it was in "acts;" each act was introduced by a brief, haunting Mozart phrase from the orchestra, and then the majority of the dancing was done in silence. That in itself was very different, and it could have been terrible, but the choreography was fantastic. The first act was two men, joined by both hands the entire time. It was amazing what they could do within those limitations. In the second act they added a woman, who was sometimes linked with them, sometimes dancing inside or weaving in and out of the circle of their arms. Again, very cool. And it was pretty neat to be able to hear the dancers as well -- their feet, their breathing -- which you don't normally get in a regular ballet because of all the music.

And, of course, Midsummer was great. I was impressed at how they were able to tell the story so well without words, in only an hour. (Granted, I haven't seen Midsummer performed as a play for quite some time, but there was a recognizable story line that was easy to follow, which is a great feat to accomplish.) The goal was to make it a very family-friendly and kid-accessible show, so there were lots of kids in it as fairies, and they threw in lots of silly things as well, like a ballet-tango between the fairy queen and the donkey, which was hilarious. All in all, it was a highly enjoyable evening.

It's nice to be reminded me that the world does tend to put us in the right place at the right time, even if we don't know it at the time. :)

Top 10 Reasons I Like Biking (Even When it's Rainy & Cold)

2007-10-19T22:06:00.000-07:00

In no particular order...

1. I get exercise without having to spend "extra" time on it -- I get at least an hour of "automatic" exercise every day just getting to & from work & school.

2. There's less bike traffic on the roads and bridges when it's rainy (and yes, in Portland, bike traffic is a commute consideration).

3. When I'm biking in the cold and rain, I can feel every part of my body so much better. A lot of the time in our current weather, I'll just wear a t-shirt and fleece vest, so the skin on my arms gets the invigorating wind chill while my body heats up from the inside -- it's such a fantastic feeling. And when the rain starts soaking through different parts of my clothing as I ride, I become more aware of those parts, how they're feeling, how they're working, getting me to my destination (albeit soaking wet). It's biking with the rain, not against it. (And no, I haven't caught cold from it yet.)

4. Doing my part to put as little carbon dioxide into the air as possible.

5. There's a bizarre sort of righteous satisfaction in "toughing it out" and biking in all weathers, when other people wimp out.

6. Not having to get on a damp, steamy bus that's crowded with sopping wet, crabby riders. (Oh, yeah, and not having to pay for the bus, either.)

7. Enjoying afternoon rainbows that drivers are going too fast to see.

8. Facing a new and unknown commute challenge every day, depending on the fickle fall weather here in Portland.

9. OHSU pays me to commute by bike when I would do it anyway.

10. I crack myself up. Somehow, I am always able to find something amusing while I'm biking (usually myself). In general, when my face isn't screwed up against the driving rain, I'm laughing. Sometimes I interrupt the "rain scowl" with laughter at how silly a face I'm making. I also talk to myself almost constantly while I bike, and apparently I'm highly entertaining It's great.

So yeah. Bike commuting. I highly recommend it. Even in the rain. :)

Bioneering in Spirit

2007-10-15T17:29:00.000-07:00

This weekend, I will not be traveling to San Rafael for the 2007 Bioneers conference. I opted not to, in favor of using my vacation time and air miles to visit Quena in Maine -- and I'm very glad I did! But I will certainly miss Bioneers, for the intensive weekend of inspiration and rejuvenation, for the fantastic lectures by some incredibly intelligent and forward-thinking people, and for the community of ecologically-minded individuals from all walks of life, all working toward the same goal - "Revolution From the Heart of Nature," as the Bioneers website puts it.

Last year, Eugene, Oregon held a "Beaming Bioneers" event - a satellite conference that "beamed in" the plenaries from the main conference and then held its own workshops and lectures in the afternoons. I was holding this out as a less expensive option for me this year, but for some reason, there is no Beaming Bioneers in Oregon this year. I wonder why? One might think that, in a state so "green" (in so many senses of the term), it would be easy to garner support for such an event. But perhaps not two years in a row. Sigh. I shall have to content myself with downloading audio tracks of some of the talks after the event, and getting my annual dose of Bioneers inspiration that way.

If you're interested, check out the conference website. I think you can still drop in for portions of the day, if you're in the area - I would highly recommend it.

The Need to do Something Worthwhile

2007-10-14T17:14:00.000-07:00

Do you ever get that niggling sense that you’re just not quite making your contribution to the world, not quite pulling your weight? Like there’s something else that you should be doing to take care of other people, animals, or the environment, but you just don’t quite know what it is?

I do. Sometimes it’s just a general feeling of unease that I’m not doing my part, or curiosity about what the world would be like if I made more of an effort to make it a better place. Other times, it comes in incredibly intense bursts of longing to break out of the life that I’m living, to shed the artificial parts (the job that doesn’t fit, all the “shoulds” that go along with playing the career ladder game that I don’t believe in, the hesitation to follow my passions for fear I might fail) and devote myself completely to a worthy cause that’s larger than my own struggles. Bursts so intense that the tears come from nowhere, brimming with an indefinable emotion that is a mixture of frustration, regret, excitement, fear, urgency, hope, and raw, aching desire.

At these times, I am convinced of the absolute necessity of restructuring my life to expand my horizons and make a worthwhile contribution to the earth, and I understand why people commit their energies to two years in the PeaceCorps or a lifetime of volunteer service. I ask myself, what can I do? What am I willing to give up or change in my life so that I can dedicate my energies to causes I believe in? Could I spend a month, six months, a year or more of my life volunteering my time to preserve rainforest biodiversity or restore threatened habitats in critical regions of the world? What would it take to move my life to a place where I could do that? What can I do in the meantime?

Needless to say, these things are on my mind this weekend, thanks in part to Graham’s post about Thinking Beyond Borders and a conversation with a friend about EarthCorps (which, unfortunately, I am too old for – now, that’s a scary thought!). Volunteering and travel do seem to present an appealing combination of experiences, and one that I think I will look into further.

Morning Adventures

2007-10-06T19:14:00.001-07:00

I have had an interesting series of morning "adventures" this week. The first two were not planned, nor terribly enjoyable, though I did manage to find the humor (or irony, as the case may be) in them and keep smiling.

Wednesday
I have had a hard time admitting to myself that my commute to work takes longer than the half-hour that it used to (including the tram ride and changing clothes), so I have had a hard time getting out the door on time in the morning. On Wednesday I was determined to be at work on time, or even 5 minutes early, so I was all set and ready to go 10 minutes before my customary rush time. But... when I got to my bike I discovered a large shard of metal sticking out of a very flat back tire. Sigh. So much for being early.

I decided to just switch out the inner tube entirely, since the hole was so big... but when I got out my box of spare bike stuff I realized that the spare tubes I had were for my old tires and were the wrong size. So, I had to patch the hole as best I could and use the same tube. I figured that, as long as I was already half an hour late for work, I may as well make it 45 minutes and stop by a bike shop on my way in to get a spare tube in case the patch didn't hold. So I took a slight detour on my route to go by CityBikes... but it turns out that they don't open until 11:00. Neither does the CityBikes Annex, 13 blocks down the road. So much for being prepared.

Luckily, my tire held out and got me to work, though it was definitely leaking. I pumped it again before I left work, and rode straight to the bike shop downtown, where I bought a replacement tube, a spare tube, and a refill for my patch kit. I had just enough time to bike back to PSU and change my tire again before class. All's well that ends well, I suppose... though I think I still have bike grease under my fingernails....

Friday
My Friday adventure actually starts with an adventure last weekend -- getting my heater to work. To make a long story short, a technician had to come out to check it out, and eventually to reconnect the sparking cable so that the heater would light. He turned the heater on before he left, but I immediately turned it off again because I was baking and the apartment was plenty warm already. So the pilot light is on (and the heater makes a constant background noise -- just like the sound of your neighbor taking a shower in the next apartment over, when you can hear that the water is going -- it's driving me nuts), but I haven't turned the heat on. This is for a couple of reasons: 1) I'm cheap (I mean, frugal), and I would rather wear long johns and sweaters (as I'm doing now) than turn on the heat, and 2) the heater is placed right next to the attic door and the entry stairs, and does a very good job of spewing heat directly onto the landing, from which I guess I would just have to hope that it goes into the other rooms rather than up to the attic. 1 + 2 = I don't want to pay to heat my attic and my entryway.

Okay, enough background. So, on Friday morning I decided to test out the heater, because Antonia was coming to visit, and it's not polite to freeze one's house guests. So I got up, shivered through bed-making and tooth-brushing, and then turned the heater on to "2" before going into the living room to do my stretches. About a minute later the wonderful morning peace is shattered by the incredibly loud and obnoxious sound of my smoke alarm. At 6:00 in the morning. I am sure my neighbors were not very pleased with me. I was not very pleased with my heater. Apparently it had collected some dust (and goodness knows what else) over the summer of dis-use, and was burning it off. It smelled terrible. So, instead of having a nice toasty warm apartment that morning, I had to open all the windows and turn the fan on to get the smoke and the smell out. It was not a warm morning.

On Friday when I got home, and when the outside temperature had risen a few degrees, I turned the heater on again (after disconnecting my smoke alarm), and ran it with all the windows open and the fan on for a bit, to try to burn off whatever was in there and get rid of the smell. I hate to just blow the heat right out the window (I'm paying for it, after all!), but I do want to be able to use the heater when I really need it, without having it smell up the place and set off the smoke alarm. I think most of the nasty stuff did burn off, but it still doesn't smell too good when the heater is on. And I haven't put the battery back in my smoke detector yet, either....

Saturday
My Saturday adventure was much better -- both planned and pleasant, thank goodness. I went to the library book sale -- wheeeee! :) It was held in what used to be a Wild Oats store, and it's supposed to be the largest used book sale in Oregon, with about 100,000 items. It goes all weekend (it started with a members-only pre-sale on Friday night, and ends with a 75% off day on Monday), but I wanted to get there at the start, so I went this morning. I thought about going back this afternoon, because they kept putting out new books, but I didn't make it back. Maybe tomorrow. :) I didn't find any of the books I was looking for in particular, but I did come away with a few fun things, and one useful one -- a GRE prep book with CD, which will hopefully inspire me to actually study for the exam that's coming up next month. :} It was fun just to wander amongst the books, never knowing what you'll find, and being in the company of so many fellow bibliophiles. Not that anybody actually talked to each other much, with everybody in his own little world, moving along the tables with eyes roving the titles. Good bookish energy, though. It's been far too long since I've been to a library book sale. I didn't think they even had them here, because the library has a full-time book store (called the "Title Wave") -- but this is the Friends of Multnomah County Library, and apparently they do sales twice a year. It's just not advertised very well on the library website for some reason, so I never knew about them before. But now I know, and I'm very glad I do. Hooray for library book sales! :)

So, I think planned weekend morning adventures are good, but other work-day morning adventures are probably to be avoided. :} On the bright side, we finally have a new garage door, so after nearly two months of lugging my bike upstairs every day I finally get to park it in the garage again! :)

Every day you don't cop out makes you stronger -- some thoughts on exercise

2007-09-28T17:22:00.000-07:00

I am often tempted to skip my physical therapy exercises in the morning, because they take time, require me to put on shoes, and involve moving furniture. But every day I do them, my shins (and knees, and hips, and ankles) get stronger, and are less likely to hurt later on. And every day I don't cop out is a day I don't make excuses to myself, and builds a bank of days I can draw upon when I feel like copping out later on -- I can say, see? you weren't a wimp that day when you really wanted to be, so you can't be a wimp now, either! I like not being a wimp. :)

On a similar note, I went swimming today! I think I can truthfully (and somewhat abashedly) say that this is the first time I've been swimming in Oregon (in a pool, I mean -- I'm not counting the several notable occasions on which I have dived into shockingly cold lakes/rivers, because you can't really "swim" when you're gasping for breath). I bought myself a pair of goggles and a swim cap and rented a locker at the PSU gym for the quarter, in the hopes that I could drag myself to the pool a couple of times a week (all of this in continued efforts to strengthen my lower extremities without impact). And now that I've been, I do think I will continue -- it wasn't nearly as traumatizing an experience as I expected. :} I think Friday afternoon is a good time to swim -- there were only a few people there, so I had a whole lane to myself, which was nice, since I was pretty self-conscious, not having swum laps since highschool. My other options for times are Tuesday and Thursday mornings (though the open swim times are not ideal), Tuesdays after work, and weekends. I'll see what kind of regular schedule I can get myself into, because swimming is good for me! At the moment it doesn't take much of it to wear me out, but that's good, because it shows me how much potential I have for improvement. :) Now I just have to figure out how to get all of my hair under the swimming cap so there are no gaps and my hair stays dry and non-chlorinated -- any hints? (Cristie?) :P

Small Pleasures

2007-09-20T19:19:00.000-07:00

Some of the things that have made me happy recently...

~ Friendly seat-mates on homebound plane flights

~ An abundance of ripe tomatoes

~ An entire neighborhood that smells of freshly baked bread

~ Discovering that, after six years, I really can ride my bike with no hands

~ Strawberry blossoms in September

~ Just knowing that I have sourdough starter in the refrigerator

~ Local milk, yogurt & eggs from the co-op

~ Invigoratingly chilly morning biking weather

~ Huge batches of fresh homemade pesto, to be frozen for the winter

~ Free tickets to the opera

~ Realizing that, starting next week, I'll only be working 30 hours per week

~ Munching crisp Maine apples

~ One last weekend before school starts

I had fun. I came home. :)

2007-09-16T17:04:00.000-07:00

So ended the majority of Graham's and my childhood stories, and so was my wonderful Maine vacation brought to a close. Here are a bunch of pictures and a few stories, to give you an idea of the fun that Quena and I had.

Some General Pictures to set the scene

"The Big House." Still under construction inside, but everybody finally lives there.

The Playhouse, where WendiLou holds her daycare, "Skip to My Lou."

Friday

A sign in the Belfast Co-op Café, where we ate dinner prior to the contradance.

Quena, getting ready to go into the Belfast "Flying Shoes" contradance, played by the magnificent Nightingale. A truly wonderful dance it was. I got to meet a bunch of Quena's dancing friends, taught somebody the delightfully silly interlocking-elbows-nose-holding swing (I am hoping he will pass it on), and iced my shins all the way home.

Saturday

Saturday is English Muffin Day in the Salman house, meaning fresh, homemade sourdough English muffins -- absolutely delicious! I got the recipe, and Wend even gave me some sourdough starter to take home, so I can make my own!

The view from Mt. Wallamatogus, commonly known as Togus Mountain for short, which is right behind the house. Quena and I hiked up and picked wild low-bush blueberries on Saturday morning. They're tiny, but delicious!

The "gravel pit," a lovely pond where Quena and I took a bath (complete with biodegradable soap and shampoo) in the afternoon after our hike. It was chilly but not too cold, so we could actually stay in and swim a bit. Oh, and there were very cool frogs and a turtle in it, too. :)

After our hike and swim, Quena and I baked rhubarb muffins, then went to an outdoor potluck party hosted by the family of a friend of hers, who live on a truly wonderful farm with a huge garden and horses and pigs and goats and the most beautiful brown cow I have ever seen. There was music and frivolity (and lots of pies), and Quena and I had a highly enjoyable cross-step waltz on the grass, uphill and downhill and around the food tent.

Sunday

After a breakfast of sourdough blueberry pancakes, Quena and I braided our hair and Bella's, and the three of us went to Blue Hill Park. We were going to go blueberry picking in the afternoon, but it rained, so we took a nap and had a lovely evening at home instead.

Monday

Quena had to work on Monday, so I went into Blue Hill with her to wander while she worked. I went for a lovely walk up the road toward East Blue Hill, wandered around an old cemetery, discovered the Marine Environmental Research Institute (MERI, which is a lovely cheerful acronym), and found some library books to check out for Bella.

I had lunch with Quena at the co-op, and spent the remainder of her work hours in the cafe, because it had started to rain again. A couple of Quena's friends came in and we all spent about half an hour trying to figure out if there's a way to sew together 6 square faces of a cube in one continuous, non-overlapping seam. We couldn't figure it out, and we think it's not possible. But if you can figure out how to do it in fewer than four separate threads (non-overlapping), please let me know!

Monday was sushi night, because Reuben had caught a bunch of crabs that day. He and Eliza came over with the crabs, which we boiled and prepped outside in the drizzling rain (that's me in the black apron), and Royce and LouAnna came over and we had a wonderful sushi party in the tiny "cafe" kitchen. Delicious!

Tuesday

Tuesday morning we spent around the house, prepping the front entryway for laying bricks. Then Quena and I went to various small towns to check out thrift stores, and had a smoked seafood pizza for dinner at BarnCastle. Unfortunately, it was dark and rainy, so I didn't get any pictures of the place, because it was really cool - not called BarnCastle for nothing! :)

Wednesday

Quena had to work again on Wednesday, so I stayed home to do some exploring. I went back up Mt. Wallamatogus, played with stones, and found a gigantic patch of blueberries. I was wearing a small purse to carry my camera, and ended up putting my camera in my pocket and filling the purse with blueberries because I couldn't possibly leave them behind. :) When Quena got home we made a blueberry-rhubarb crisp, which was delicious.

Thursday

Thursday held more Blue Hill wanderings while Quena was at work.

This lovely little bakery was attached to a bookstore. I had gone into the bookstore and noticed that the used book section was located in the bakery. When I got there, the baker was offering another woman a free croissant that was improperly baked (in a too-hot oven, so it was dark and crispy outside and somewhat gooey inside). I was grinning at his explanation, and he saw me and said, "You're smiling over there, do you want one as well?" I said "Of course!" and the three of us spent the next several minutes munching croissants and talking about Oregon and Shakespeare and other things. I also found out that the baker knew Quena, because he used to work at the co-op (and because Quena knows everybody in Blue Hill). So that was fun.

After Quena got off of work, we walked to the base of Blue Hill Mountain (which was a hike in itself!), and then up the mountain. It was lovely, and hiking up it barefoot was very satisfying.

The view from Blue Hill Mountain. If the picture were big enough, you would be able to see a bare patch on the top of another hill in the distance -- that's Mt. Wallamatogus!

I just liked this tree, with the leaf in it. It looks like some little wood-witch spirit standing guard over the path.

This was just a really cool bit of path that was mostly comprised of tree roots.

Us, in a roadside mirror on our walk back into town.

Thursday evening we went out to Quena's friend Jess's house and spent the evening cooking and eating and chatting with her and another friend, Kiera. We were going to watch a movie, but never got to it. :} Jess has a fantastic apple tree, and sent us home with bulging bags of delicious apples.

Friday

On Friday morning we drove to Schoodic (pronounced "Skoodick") and had lovely rocky beach adventures. Quena discovered that she could skip stones better left-handed than right, which was quite exciting. We then went and had lunch with Quena's friend Andrew, who told me how to make homemade yogurt, and who had rows upon rows of beautiful onions drying on his garage floor. It was very inspiring.

On Friday evening Quena and I baked two apple pies and a bunch of apple turnovers with the apples that Jess had given us (we only used about a third of them). WendiLou made yummy pizza for dinner, and then Quena read Harry Potter to me while I packed.

Saturday

Saturday was once again English muffin day, so I had a lovely breakfast before Quena drove me to the airport. I flew in the smallest plane I've been in yet from Bangor to Boston -- the kind of plane where each passenger has both a window seat and an aisle seat at the same time, and the flight is pretty much full with 16 passengers. It was a very noisy, vibrating flight, but fortunately short -- the woman sitting across the aisle from me said she just thought of it as a nice long massage. :P On my flight from Boston to Cincinnati I sat next to another woman going home to Portland, so we had a lovely chat. Then on my flight from Cincinnati to Portland I ended up (after some seat shuffling when the captain announced that the flight wasn't full so we could all move around if we wanted) next to a very nice man from Boston, and we whiled away a good deal of the flight chatting. It was kind of nice - I don't normally do that on plane flights (usually my flights are so short that I just doze through most of them), but it certainly made the trip more enjoyable and quicker. He was very curious about Portland (he's from Boston), and talking to him about all the cool things going on here made me realize how much I really do enjoy living here. There's just a lot to like about Portland, and it was nice to be able to share some of it with somebody from out of the area.

So, that's my story. It was a wonderful vacation, and I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. Thanks to WendiLou and Tristan for welcoming me into their home, to Quena for sharing her Maine life with me for a short while, to everybody that I danced with and chatted with and got to know just a little bit. And now I'm home, safe and sound, ready to face my daily challenges with a renewed perspective. Hooray for vacations!

Off to lands unknown... to me, at least

2007-09-05T21:26:00.000-07:00

That's right, folks - I'm off to Maine to visit Quena!!! I probably won't have internet access while I'm there, but I'll be back on the 15th, hopefully with plenty of pictures and fun stories to share. Have a great week!

Questioning

2007-09-02T20:21:00.000-07:00

Note: Please bear with me as previous posts come tumbling down around my ears....

I've finally decided to go back to school. I've picked my favorite graduate program and spoken with the director to determine my class schedule and application prep for next fall. I've arranged with my boss to cut down my hours at work so I can take classes. I've posted an affirmation on my blog that I will only be in Portland one more year; after that I will officially be a masters student at CSUMB.

And now I'm questioning.

How do I know a masters program is really what I want? Should I spend more time exploring academically before choosing a program? Should I work in the field first to determine if I even need a masters degree to obtain work that is fulfilling?

What if all I really want is simply to go home, to be near my family?

What if I just want to go to CSUMB so I can go and work at the Lab as a jack of all trades, because I've done it before and it made me happy? What if I'm just using grad school as an excuse to go back to work at the Lab, even though I know it can never be quite the same?

I worry because I am a jack of all trades -- in all the personality assessment and skill assessment stuff I have done with my co-worker (a career counselor), my strongest specialty has been generalization. I'm interested in everything, I want to try everything (maybe that's why I have such trouble with restaurant menus), and I worry that I would (a) not be able to choose a thesis topic, and (b) feel frustrated with the resultant limiting of my scope. I want to take one class in every subject; I can't think of a particular focused topic that interests me enough to be the sole focus of two (or more) years of intense study and research.

It gets back to an observation I've made before about myself: I seem to completely lack ambition, in the conventional career sense. I am perfectly content to do whatever is needed, in whatever capacity I fit -- whether it be peon or project manager -- as long as I enjoy it. I have no desire to work my way to "the top" because, for me, that's an artificial goal. To me, being at the top means doing soul-satisfying work, and that covers a wide range of possibilities. Do I need a masters degree to get to the top? I don't know.

That's what I'm questioning.

It seems that second-guessing myself is also a fundamental aspect of my personality...

One-Year Countdown

2007-09-01T19:17:00.000-07:00

I am "putting it out to the universe" that I am only going to be in Portland one more year. In the fall of 2008 I will officially be a grad student at CSUMB in the Coastal and Watershed Science and Policy program. All I have to do between now and then is take care of all of my prerequisites, take the GRE, ask for letters of recommendation, and apply. :-D

I spoke with the director of the program on Friday, and it sounds like I'm actually pretty well on track to get all that done and be able to attend in the fall. I will be taking biology all year, and one or two statistics courses (goody, goody), and I will probably take the GIS requirements when I get there. Fortunately, my science credits do not expire, so all of my earth science, geology, oceanography, etc. credits from Stanford will be accepted. And I technically already have the statistics requirement done, but I don't remember a thing of it (it was 5 years ago and I haven't used it at all since then, so why should I let it take up space in my brain?), and since I know it will be a critical foundation course for graduate work, I'm going to go ahead and re-take the quarter that I took, and probably the next quarter as well.

I was also given the names of a couple of faculty members to contact for possible research and advising opportunities, so my next step is to follow up on those. It's like Cristie said in her comment on my last post -- once you make a firm decision and begin to move in the right direction, things start falling into place. Or, to quote The Indigo Girls, "The sweetest part is acting after making a decision." Here I go! :)

I love my boss

2007-08-28T18:48:00.000-07:00

I had a meeting with my director today (who is now also my direct boss, since my manager recently left), to discuss the possibility of reducing my hours so I can go back to school. I had half expected her to freak out a bit, since there are so many changes going on in our team right now, and so much is up in the air, and there is so much work to be done, but she was totally supportive and enthusiastic. Basically, all I have to do is figure out my class schedule and let her know the hours I want to work, and she'll put the paperwork through! I will probably try to go down to 30 hours/week, because that's the lowest I can go and still get full-time benefits, which I definitely want -- especially the tuition discount! :}

So, now I get to start looking in earnest at classes, since I think I'm going to try taking two this term (biology for sure, and something else). Unfortunately, the GIS class I wanted to take is full, as are a couple of other interesting-looking ones. So I might be looking at something boring like a re-take of statistics, which I haven't taken for about 5 years. Oh, and I need to check with some of the grad schools I'm looking at to see if my science credits expire after 7 years, which I've heard is often the case. If that's true, I may have to re-take a bunch of science credits... yipes! But I'm excited to get this ball rolling, and so grateful that my team and my boss are on board. Hooray!

My new favorite song

2007-08-26T16:41:00.000-07:00

I recently sent out an email asking some friends for new music suggestions, since I've been listening to the same music for a very long time and don't really have any motivation to seek out new stuff on my own. Thanks to everybody who responded and suggested/sent music! Mom (who was just up here for a wonderful visit) didn't reply, because she claimed she didn't have anything I would like that I didn't already have. But it ended up that she's led me to my new favorite song! Check out Michael Bublé singing "Everything".

I like it because it's happy and upbeat, has good lyrics, and because he obviously just gets a kick out of singing it. Oh, yeah, and he has an absolutely delicious voice. :) I've been following the You-Tube trail all afternoon listening to different songs, and they're all great! If I can just get my hands on some of his music, I'll be quite content for quite a while. :)

In other news, I had a lovely (and all-too-short) visit with Mom this weekend, wherein she wholeheartedly approved of my new location, and we had a delightful day doing the "Hawthorne Hop," a Portland activity consisting of strolling up and down Hawthorne Blvd. and checking out all the cool shops on the way. We spent the majority of our time in the Powells Home and Garden bookstore, but also put in appearances at such fun locations as the sunflower intersection at SE 33rd & Yamhill, a bead store, a hostel with a green roof (well, we looked at it), a "vintage" consignment store, and "The Awe-ful Waffle" with the "Waffle Window" at the side of a cafe. We went for a lovely walk this morning in Laurelhurst Park, upon sight of which Mom exclaimed, "It's not flat!" Indeed, my neighborhood is pleasantly hilly, though you wouldn't know it from a map. Oh, we also made fresh pesto (which we ate on pasta with cherry tomatoes from my garden), and chocolate mousse, and rosemary shortbread cookies. Yum!

My new neighbors are moving in downstairs this weekend. They seem quite nice, and we're looking forward to planning a revitalization of the front yard, which is in sore need of some love. The weather is gorgeous and all is well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Update: I finally was able to load Michael Bublé's website (it's been obstinate all day), and discovered that he's singing in Portland... tomorrow. And I'm going!!!

How do people do it? I don't think I can.

2007-08-20T21:07:00.000-07:00

I don't know how some people manage to work full time and go to school full time. It's hard enough for me to work full time and go to school part time, or work part time and go to school full time, let alone doing them both full-time! I work with a woman who has been working full-time and taking 9 graduate credits per quarter. Nine! And she's still sane! I had enough trouble with one 4-credit online econ class this summer along with my full-time job (and moving, of course), and I don't know what I'm going to do when my 5-credit biology class with lab starts up in the fall.

I don't know how they schedule it either. For instance, my biology class has to be in the evenings because I work during the day. It takes up three evenings a week: two for lectures, one for lab. Now, there's also a GIS class I'd love to take; however, it is also offered in the evening, and happens to be the same evenings as biology. Now, what am I supposed to do with that? If I could take biology during the day, I could take the GIS class in the evening, and everything would be hunky-dory. ... Oh, yeah, except for the little problem of work.

I'm starting to really long for a very flexible, part-time work schedule that would let me work around whatever class schedule I happen to have each quarter, and let me take more than one class per term. I would dearly love to not only finish my minimum prerequisites for graduate school, but also get a stronger foundation in some of the areas I'm weak (for instance, statistics, shudder though I do at the thought), in the next year, so that I can apply for graduate school for next fall. But that's not going to happen as long as I'm working 40 hours a week, because I just don't learn if so much of my time and brain power is spent on not-school.

As much as I'm comfortable with my current job and like the people that I'm working with and am getting paid decently with great benefits, I feel like I'm letting myself get stuck there. Okay, so they pay me to ride my bike to work, which is fantastic, but the job itself really isn't doing anything for me, and the longer I stay there, the longer I'm building a really great resume for a career I know I don't want. I'm starting to wonder if it's time to take the risk and get myself unstuck, and put the priority back on my education. Of course, I'm not giving myself much time to make this decision (and find a part-time job) if I want to have any flexibility for the fall quarter.... Can I pause the clock for a while while I figure all of this out, please?

Maybe I've just let myself get too stressed out with everything that's been happening recently, and I'm not thinking clearly. I've made some pretty rash decisions so far in my life, some of which were significant ingredients in the brewing and stewing of my current quandary (would I be facing this dilemma in the first place if I'd stuck with my original major?), and I really don't want to throw away the pretty-darn-good thing I have without being pretty-darn-sure that I'm moving on to something better. But part of me insists that this is thinking clearly, that this is what makes sense to most quickly get me back on the track I need to be to make my life fulfilling.

Money sucks.

Pink Panda and the General Public

2007-08-18T16:00:00.001-07:00

I just got back (and showered) from the 2nd annual Eco-Games, hosted by the Northwest Service Academy and Americorps. It was my first time, since last year it wasn't open to the public, and it was fun! And it completely wore me out. Basically, the idea is a bike race in teams, stopping along the way to do ecological restoration projects. That's all I knew when I signed up. I had no idea of the distance, nor the number of stops. It turns out that we did an almost 20-mile loop, with a total of 8 stops along the way. We got 15 minutes at each stop to complete the assigned task; the tasks included:

2 Ivy Pulls
1 Blackberry Hack (thank goodness it was only 1!)
1 Weeding around Natives (with points taken out for pulling the natives)
1 Nightshade Yank
1 Identifying Natives (and spelling their scientific names correctly)
1 Teambuilding "Group Ski" activity
1 "Schulty Pull", a very silly activity where one person gets crowned "King" and gets in a porta-potty on wheels, and the rest of the team pull it around an obstacle course. Guess who got to be king because she was lightest?

My team didn't win (we were also short one person, who got sick and couldn't come), but we had fun anyway. And one of our team members got the prize for best costume (well, okay, she was the only one in costume) -- she had painted her face like a panda, attached panda ears to her helmet, and wrapped bamboo pieces around her bike. It was very cool. Our team was also "Team Pink" because we had to wear pink ribbons to identify ourselves. So, our team name started out as Pink Panda. But then we realized that we were the mismatched team consisting of the only people who weren't current (or never had been, in my case) Americorps/NWSA members. In other words, we were the general public. So by the end, our team name was Pink Panda and the General Public. Sounds a bit like an indy band name, but we weren't clever enough to come up with a theme song.

And now I am exhuasted. I don't want to do anything for the rest of the day, and it's only 4:00! But I have to go to the store to buy ingredients and make a key lime pie, because my manager is leaving next week and I promised I would bring a dessert to her going-away dinner. I think I'm going to wait until my legs have un-jelly-fied a bit before trying to walk to the store, though! :)

Reevaluation

2007-08-17T20:26:00.000-07:00

There’s something about moving (and, of course, the associated breakup) that puts me in a reminiscent mood, and makes me reevaluate my life in its present state and freak out at how poorly it matches my vision of where I want to be. Okay, freak out is a pretty strong statement, but honestly, I’ve been realizing more and more intensely recently how important it is that I get back on the right track with my life. Here I am specifically talking about my career, which is definitely in the wrong place.

I’m listening to GrooveLily right now, and just picked this line out of the song: “It’s hard when you see someone else live your dreams.” That line definitely hits home with me. I recently joined LinkedIn at the request of my manager, who has taken a new job and wants to stay in touch. Naturally, I set about searching for old acquaintances to see if I could reconnect with anybody. I found the profile an old friend from highschool and discovered that he is now a geospatial analyst, and has been for three years. Now, I don’t really want to be a geospatial analyst, but seeing that really made me stop to think. I graduated from high school with this person. He is now a geospatial analyst. I am working in an administrative job in a field I know I don’t belong in, making half as much money as I did when I was 18.

I’m better than this. I am nowhere near the point in my career or professional development that I had always assumed I would be by now. Granted, I have taken the scenic route to my educational goals – I graduated from college 6 1/2 years after I graduated from high school. That would be fine, except for the fact that I also got lured on a major detour (major in size and subject) and never got back to the main road that I knew led to the field I wanted to be a part of. Sure, my anthropology degree was fun, sure I learned a lot, but when it comes right down to it, it was not an environmental science degree, and it does not get me a job in the environmental science field, which is what I’ve always known I wanted. It’s hard to see people like my high school friend, who pursued a degree and then got a job in the field and are presumably busy being successful and satisfied. It’s also hard to see people, like another friend of mine, who are actively pursuing an education with specific career goals in mind, and are making steady progress toward those goals.

So, I have decided to finally start making progress again myself. I am taking post-bac classes (starting with the economics class I just finished) with the aim of getting into grad school in the next year or two, in an environmental science program (perhaps this one?) that will feed my brain and my heart and my soul and help me find and do the work I know I want to do. I am excited to be getting back into school, but also frustrated that I can only take one class at a time, given the need to work to make money to live and pay for school. I just have to keep reminding myself that I am doing what I can, and that I am on the right path again. And I am also actively searching for well-paying part-time jobs in just about any environmental field (yeah, I know, good luck), to get me working in the field and leave me more time for studying. Wish me luck on that one! :}

Reevaluation is tough. But it’s good to define goals and move towards them.

The Deluxe Model Two-Speed Hands-Free Vibrating Body Massager

2007-08-11T12:57:00.000-07:00

Thank heaven for Goodwill, providing us with the necessary items for life.

Sadly, I did not purchase said necessary item; I did, however, find many other, though admittedly less novel, items to equip my new abode. Yes, in case you didn't know, I moved! If my new contact info hasn't reached you yet and you want it (and I know you), shoot me an email and I'll send it to you.

My new home is absolutely lovely - lots of windows, lots of trees outside the windows, a huge kitchen, and an attic! Even the name of the neighborhood is happy - Sunnyside! :) It's a longer bike ride to work (including a bridge over the river, which can get annoying when all the bikes pile up in a pack and you can't go at your own speed), but it's a good ride - downhill most of the way to work, so I don't get too sweaty, and uphill on the way home, which tires me out and assures a good night's sleep. Speaking of which, I managed to sleep in past 5:30 this morning for the first summer Saturday in two years, since I no longer have a farmers market directly outside my window. There are tradeoffs to that, of course - now I have to ride my bike to a farmers market, but that's not so bad. I can either ride downtown to the PSU market that I used to go to, or ride to NE to the Hollywood market, which I did today. It was an interesting ride - much more "scenic" than I had expected, definitely not a route that invites rushing to a destination. The market is in the Value Village parking lot, and a block from Trader Joe's, so not a bad location to get a few errands done on a Saturday morning.

That's it for now. Off to do more unpacking, then more errands, and hopefully studying for my econ final at some point this weekend! :) Here are some pictures of my new home, in case you're curious.

Achievements

2006-11-08T20:42:00.000-08:00

I solved my first Sudoku puzzle today! And it was a "Medium" level one, too, not even easy (though not "Very Hard" either - I'm not there yet!). There's something very satisfying in challenging my brain in that way, solving puzzles and making it think in a different way than it normally thinks all day.

Those who love to walk in the rain should walk in the rain

2006-11-04T17:07:00.000-08:00

It is pouring outside today. It wasn't raining all day - I had a lovely breakfast and stroll down NE Alberta St. with Lisa this morning, checking out the co-op and all the funky stores and art galleries and restaurants. But this afternoon it really started coming down. So, naturally, when it was clear that the rain had settled in for the long haul, I decided it was time to go out to the garden. John had just gotten home, with his friend John (he's got about 3 friends named John, which makes it difficult sometimes - for simplicity, this one is John S.). John S. warned me that it was "practially primordial out there," and that I should put my wellies on and be prepared to get wet. I pointed out that that was most of the reason I wanted to go outside - to be in the rain and, yes, to get wet.

I love walking in the rain. I don't so much love walking in the rain when I'm walking to work and have to try to stay dry by wearing a raincoat and carrying an umbrella, or when I'm carrying things that I don't want to get wet. But I love walking in the rain and just BEING in the rain, feeling it splash down on me from the clouds above, feeling it drip off my eyebrows and down the bridge of my nose, feel my hair getting soggy and eventually dripping from the tips as well, feeling closer to nature as I get wetter and wettter and happier and happier. I took out the compost, picked the last of my zucchini and basil and gourds, and one remaining unbedraggled sunflower, and then came back to the apartment, completely soaked and with a huge grin all over my face.

This got me thinking, wow, everybody should go walk in the rain more often - we'd all be so much happier! But then I realized that some people don't like the rain like I do, so that might not actually make everybody happier after all. So I amended that to "those who love to walk in the rain should walk in the rain," which basically means "everybody should do more of what makes them happy." Can you imagine what the world would be like if everybody walked around with huge grins on their faces all the time like the one I get from walking in the rain?

So, if you love walking in the rain and it's raining, go walk in it. If you love something else, do that. Give yourself a grin, a nice wide pure-pleasure smile. You deserve it!