So I'm sitting here, in the VIP club of Lima International Airport, thinking about this arduous, challenging, and yet totally amazing trip, realizing that none of this would have been possible if pieces hadn't fallen in exactly the right (and seemingly wrong) places. It all boils down to taking a risk. Perhaps the spark that started it all was deciding to apply for my internship in Paris. Like dominoes, the pieces have fallen into place ever since then. I took the chance. It sucked, it was hard, and it was amazing all at once. The same thing has happpened ever since. Changing the course of my life by taking the BER job sucked at times, it was very hard, and it's amazing where it has taken me.
I feel like I'm opening a new chapter of my life coming home this time. School orientation starts on Monday. Ready or not, here I come. I did not expect to be a pharmacist. I did not expect that I would want to travel the world. I did not expect that I would be in love. But what one does not expect makes everything worthwhile. I did not expect that this would be the hardest three weeks I've had in a long time, yet I stood alone atop a mountain at a wonder of the world. I did not expect to have broken conversations in half english, half spanish with so many people, yet we got our points across. I did not expect to have so much to return home to, and yet have so much I was leaving behind.
Peru has broken me and built me up. My adventures were not expected, but were probably what was needed most. Life seems to do that to you.
Showing posts with label happiness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label happiness. Show all posts
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Machu Picchu, the Actual Ruins
So, to continue:
Once I finally walked down from Wayna Picchu (around 10am, just in time to beat the hoards heading up in the second group), I sought shade and water. Sitting there alone, I was surrounded by a tour group, and thus began my accidental piecemeal tour of the ruins. I just wanted to sit down... but there was no way not to eavesdrop! Everywhere I turned, I was in the middle of an english-speaking tour. While at times I felt guilty for not paying for my own, really, I wasn't TRYING to stalk them... there's just 2500 people in one place, most of whom take a tour, and 3/4 of these tours seemed to be in English.
But really, I ended up walking out of the ruins (you can come back, and you're not supposed to eat at the site) to much on my peruvian energy bar and other snacks I'd brought. These weird "energy bars" actually taste a lot like corn pops cereal, and have coconut flakes, dried apple, and date pieces. Too bad I was weirded out by them before, they are TASTY. Once rested, and baño-ed (for S1...), I went back in, and stamped my passport with the Machu Picchu stamp (there was no line!), and pulled out the LP to take the basic guided tour myself.
Between the LP and overhearing everyone around me, I got the gist of the place. After a while, I found a quiet place and just laid down on the grass, basking in the amazing natural wonders and the sheer feat of engineering I was tucked into the mountains on. The ruins were not that much more impressive than other ruins I've seen (although they are definitely nothing to be scoffed at!!), but again, the location is SPECTACULAR. I'm home soon... there will be photos from my crappy camera soon, but there really is no way they will be able to actually capture what it feels like to be there. For one of the first times on this whole trip, I really was truly happy I came.
Then I got on the bus down the hill, and the exhaustion hit. All I wanted was a Red Mill burger, and burgers here are nothing even remotely close to Red Mill. I settled for crappy, overpriced tourist food and a beer, which almost made me comatose. Practically crawling onto the train home, I was NOT amused by the "fashion show" and subsequent sales pitch for Peru Rail's line of sweaters and scarves. Nor was I thrilled with the older gentleman next to me, regaling me about all of his hernia surgeries in the last year (but props to him for going to Machu Picchu!!). The uncertainty of the rickety minibus ride from Ollanta was made ever so much less stressful considering the nun in her habit and the little girl asleep in her lap in the seat behind me. I took that as a sign of relative safety... and I made it back to Cusco alive.
I pretty much fell into bed the moment I finished washing the filth, dirt, sweat, and orange juice off in a marvelously hot shower (S32 a night was never worth so much!!). All 7 of my roommates came back at some point that night, but I have no recollection of ANY of them returning and going to bed. I was OUT. It was a LONG day, a marvelous day, and a day that wrecked me completely.
Once I finally walked down from Wayna Picchu (around 10am, just in time to beat the hoards heading up in the second group), I sought shade and water. Sitting there alone, I was surrounded by a tour group, and thus began my accidental piecemeal tour of the ruins. I just wanted to sit down... but there was no way not to eavesdrop! Everywhere I turned, I was in the middle of an english-speaking tour. While at times I felt guilty for not paying for my own, really, I wasn't TRYING to stalk them... there's just 2500 people in one place, most of whom take a tour, and 3/4 of these tours seemed to be in English.
But really, I ended up walking out of the ruins (you can come back, and you're not supposed to eat at the site) to much on my peruvian energy bar and other snacks I'd brought. These weird "energy bars" actually taste a lot like corn pops cereal, and have coconut flakes, dried apple, and date pieces. Too bad I was weirded out by them before, they are TASTY. Once rested, and baño-ed (for S1...), I went back in, and stamped my passport with the Machu Picchu stamp (there was no line!), and pulled out the LP to take the basic guided tour myself.
Between the LP and overhearing everyone around me, I got the gist of the place. After a while, I found a quiet place and just laid down on the grass, basking in the amazing natural wonders and the sheer feat of engineering I was tucked into the mountains on. The ruins were not that much more impressive than other ruins I've seen (although they are definitely nothing to be scoffed at!!), but again, the location is SPECTACULAR. I'm home soon... there will be photos from my crappy camera soon, but there really is no way they will be able to actually capture what it feels like to be there. For one of the first times on this whole trip, I really was truly happy I came.
Then I got on the bus down the hill, and the exhaustion hit. All I wanted was a Red Mill burger, and burgers here are nothing even remotely close to Red Mill. I settled for crappy, overpriced tourist food and a beer, which almost made me comatose. Practically crawling onto the train home, I was NOT amused by the "fashion show" and subsequent sales pitch for Peru Rail's line of sweaters and scarves. Nor was I thrilled with the older gentleman next to me, regaling me about all of his hernia surgeries in the last year (but props to him for going to Machu Picchu!!). The uncertainty of the rickety minibus ride from Ollanta was made ever so much less stressful considering the nun in her habit and the little girl asleep in her lap in the seat behind me. I took that as a sign of relative safety... and I made it back to Cusco alive.
I pretty much fell into bed the moment I finished washing the filth, dirt, sweat, and orange juice off in a marvelously hot shower (S32 a night was never worth so much!!). All 7 of my roommates came back at some point that night, but I have no recollection of ANY of them returning and going to bed. I was OUT. It was a LONG day, a marvelous day, and a day that wrecked me completely.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
So Here's the Rub...
Traveling is exhausting. Adventure and cultural traveling is even more exhausting than your usual beach or camping vacation. Traveling in a language you don't even have a basic grasp of is headache-inducing. Traveling at altitude is exhausting. Traveling while sick is inherantly exhausting, and completely emotionally draining. Throwing all of yourself into a magical day at a place you never imagined you'd visit is thrilling, if not entirely exhausting.
I got up this morning, bright and early to go to the Isla Traquille. I asked for directions to the port from the hostel owner, and while he had been so helpful the night before, he lit into me about how crazy I was for trying to go without a tour, expecially since my spanish is SO horrible. Even after yesterday spent entirely on a bus driving from Cusco to Puno resting up from the dramatic efforts I made at Machu Picchu, I clearly had not recovered from my sickness and exhaustion. So someone calling me crazy, telling me how stupid I was, how much of an awful American who speaks no spanish I was... hitting at all of the things I feel like could be very, very true... I finally lost it. I ended up sleeping most of the day to stop from sobbing, reading a bit, and finally dragged my butt out of bed and made my way to a VERY gringo restaurant where I had an amazing eggplant parmasana style sandwich and chocolate caliente.
Luckily, it didn't start raining until I got back. It's hailing and dumping rain right now, thunder and lightning echoing in the distance. It¡s the first rain I've seen since I got to Peru, and damn it feels like home. The smell of it hitting the warm pavement, the sound of it on the plastic roof over the courtyard, the sparkling underneath the streetlamps. It feels like a little piece of Seattle.
So tomorrow I won't ask for directions. I know how to get to the port. I know how to ask for a ticket to the Isla Uros. I know how to manage my time, how to get food, how to get to the bus station, how to get through the last 4 days I have in Peru. I know that I can do this, as I have been doing it, even completely debilitated by 4 kinds of sickness. The well had simply run dry today, but maybe through a little food, a little chocolate, a little more sleep, and a little rain reminding me of home, there will be something there for me to pull from tomorrow.
I got up this morning, bright and early to go to the Isla Traquille. I asked for directions to the port from the hostel owner, and while he had been so helpful the night before, he lit into me about how crazy I was for trying to go without a tour, expecially since my spanish is SO horrible. Even after yesterday spent entirely on a bus driving from Cusco to Puno resting up from the dramatic efforts I made at Machu Picchu, I clearly had not recovered from my sickness and exhaustion. So someone calling me crazy, telling me how stupid I was, how much of an awful American who speaks no spanish I was... hitting at all of the things I feel like could be very, very true... I finally lost it. I ended up sleeping most of the day to stop from sobbing, reading a bit, and finally dragged my butt out of bed and made my way to a VERY gringo restaurant where I had an amazing eggplant parmasana style sandwich and chocolate caliente.
Luckily, it didn't start raining until I got back. It's hailing and dumping rain right now, thunder and lightning echoing in the distance. It¡s the first rain I've seen since I got to Peru, and damn it feels like home. The smell of it hitting the warm pavement, the sound of it on the plastic roof over the courtyard, the sparkling underneath the streetlamps. It feels like a little piece of Seattle.
So tomorrow I won't ask for directions. I know how to get to the port. I know how to ask for a ticket to the Isla Uros. I know how to manage my time, how to get food, how to get to the bus station, how to get through the last 4 days I have in Peru. I know that I can do this, as I have been doing it, even completely debilitated by 4 kinds of sickness. The well had simply run dry today, but maybe through a little food, a little chocolate, a little more sleep, and a little rain reminding me of home, there will be something there for me to pull from tomorrow.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
The Great Machu Picchu Orange Juice Disaster of 2011
So somehow I managed to not only get my ticket only three days in advance to Machu Picchu, but I was able to buy the pass up the smaller mountain, Wayna Picchu at the same time. This is the mountain you see at the end of the ruins in all the postcard photographs, and they only let 400 people up a day. My pass was for 7am, which made for an early morning.
Up at 4:30am after not being able to fall asleep for hours the night before, groggily stuffing my limbs into my decided outfit (after all, these photos will live forever...), I stumbled my way out of the hostel and down the block to queue for the 5:30 bus. I toted along some breakfast: yogurt, cookies, and a big tetrapack of orange juice. I drank the yogurt (it's all drinkable down here) and cracked my way into the OJ on the ride up, in the hopes of some easy sugars to jumpstart my body.
Once at Machu Picchu, I had an hour to take photos before the Wayanapicchu hike time started. Walking up a flight of stairs felt good and yet put me completely out of breath. I had acclimated finally to the altitude, but there is still very little oxygen up here. But the ruins are breathtaking too... It's more the setting than the actual structures, although they are extremely impressive. The Inca were clearly incredibly talented engineers.
After a few photos, I became nervous about finding my way to the hike starting point, and wandered over in the general direction. I got there early, but my entire mantra for the few days prior was to take it easy and not exhaust myself so that I could have energy for this day, and so I hung out at the gate for a bit, only a group of Japanese tourists ahead of me in line. When they started letting people in, I was number 7 through the gate.
God hiking felt good, and I quickly passed the group ahead of me. I could feel how much weaker my legs were than before this trip, but I pushed them to keep going. Wayna Picchu is basically a crazy staircase up the face of a cliff, and dammit it felt amazing as the view behind me developed and as I got closer to the lingering clouds clinging to the mountaintops.
Then I realized that I was alone. I couldn't hear anyone... Not a single footstep behind me. I reveled in that, at a wonder of the world, I was alone. Then it hit me that I could be the first to the top. Competitive Adrian hasn't been doing so well with this feebleness, and so that side of me took over.
It was about a switchback after this decision to power up the mountain, that I felt an odd drip on the back of my leg. I opened my little day pack to find a disaster--the orange juice container was slowly leaking from somewhere. My Spanish phrasebook was drenched as was my notepad that I'd been using as a journal. The liquid was sticky and sweet, covering the bottom of my bag, and seeping through to infiltrate my vest and shirt, not to mention my pants. I readjusted everything, but didn't ditch the OJ... Considering the mess already, it couldn't get that much worse. I tied a plastic bag around it and kept going, cursing the lost time and wondering how the heck no one had caught up to me yet.
Now I had to make time. The exhilaration of exercise combined with the ever-more staggering beauty unfolding around me, and possibly the lack of oxygen in my brain, was thrilling. A rest--no footsteps. A sign--25 minutes to the top, and so I would check my watch... 10 minutes, no one. 15, still alone but slowing down a lot. The cold that I had been trying to ignore threw me a coughing fit, so I had to stop and pull a cough drop from my bag, more time wasted!
As I was coming to the first real overlook, and becoming concerned that I had gone the wrong way, I heard voices. I pushed through the tiredness, took pictures on the sly and on the run, and scrambled through caves and tight places (you can't be fat, or wear a moderately sized backpack and fit through some of these nooks and crannies). I put some more distance between me and the voices. Then I could see the top. Breathing deep, I just put one foot ahead of the other. One more cave, and different voices behind me. Up the ladder, hand-breathe-foot-breathe, and I emerged into the sky.
The reason Machu Picchu is so worth it is simply the setting. You couldn't get more beautiful. I sat at the summit of Wayna Picchu as a young perfectly in shape couple came up the ladder, clearly disappointed that I, half sick, covered in sweat, orange juice, and about 12 layers of dirt, yet completely glowing from the exertion, had beaten them. I didn't give up my post as more people came up, I watched as the sun and wind blew the wisps of clouds around the thumb-like mountains, as the rivers churned and babbled so far below, as the ruins lay out before me like a promise.
Pictures were taken, and as the summit became crowded, I slipped back down the ladder, and found a place to just sit and watch the world. I sat there, drinking the entire remaining contents of my orange juice, pulling the entire contents of my bag out and literally pouring the leaked juice from my bag. Luckily, I had toilet paper to mop up the mess. Everything about me was filthy. I had scrambled up this cliff with everything I had, and it wasn't even 8am. I have never been so completely content, so completely at peace, so completely happy. At least not anytime in the last two weeks.
More to come later.
Up at 4:30am after not being able to fall asleep for hours the night before, groggily stuffing my limbs into my decided outfit (after all, these photos will live forever...), I stumbled my way out of the hostel and down the block to queue for the 5:30 bus. I toted along some breakfast: yogurt, cookies, and a big tetrapack of orange juice. I drank the yogurt (it's all drinkable down here) and cracked my way into the OJ on the ride up, in the hopes of some easy sugars to jumpstart my body.
Once at Machu Picchu, I had an hour to take photos before the Wayanapicchu hike time started. Walking up a flight of stairs felt good and yet put me completely out of breath. I had acclimated finally to the altitude, but there is still very little oxygen up here. But the ruins are breathtaking too... It's more the setting than the actual structures, although they are extremely impressive. The Inca were clearly incredibly talented engineers.
After a few photos, I became nervous about finding my way to the hike starting point, and wandered over in the general direction. I got there early, but my entire mantra for the few days prior was to take it easy and not exhaust myself so that I could have energy for this day, and so I hung out at the gate for a bit, only a group of Japanese tourists ahead of me in line. When they started letting people in, I was number 7 through the gate.
God hiking felt good, and I quickly passed the group ahead of me. I could feel how much weaker my legs were than before this trip, but I pushed them to keep going. Wayna Picchu is basically a crazy staircase up the face of a cliff, and dammit it felt amazing as the view behind me developed and as I got closer to the lingering clouds clinging to the mountaintops.
Then I realized that I was alone. I couldn't hear anyone... Not a single footstep behind me. I reveled in that, at a wonder of the world, I was alone. Then it hit me that I could be the first to the top. Competitive Adrian hasn't been doing so well with this feebleness, and so that side of me took over.
It was about a switchback after this decision to power up the mountain, that I felt an odd drip on the back of my leg. I opened my little day pack to find a disaster--the orange juice container was slowly leaking from somewhere. My Spanish phrasebook was drenched as was my notepad that I'd been using as a journal. The liquid was sticky and sweet, covering the bottom of my bag, and seeping through to infiltrate my vest and shirt, not to mention my pants. I readjusted everything, but didn't ditch the OJ... Considering the mess already, it couldn't get that much worse. I tied a plastic bag around it and kept going, cursing the lost time and wondering how the heck no one had caught up to me yet.
Now I had to make time. The exhilaration of exercise combined with the ever-more staggering beauty unfolding around me, and possibly the lack of oxygen in my brain, was thrilling. A rest--no footsteps. A sign--25 minutes to the top, and so I would check my watch... 10 minutes, no one. 15, still alone but slowing down a lot. The cold that I had been trying to ignore threw me a coughing fit, so I had to stop and pull a cough drop from my bag, more time wasted!
As I was coming to the first real overlook, and becoming concerned that I had gone the wrong way, I heard voices. I pushed through the tiredness, took pictures on the sly and on the run, and scrambled through caves and tight places (you can't be fat, or wear a moderately sized backpack and fit through some of these nooks and crannies). I put some more distance between me and the voices. Then I could see the top. Breathing deep, I just put one foot ahead of the other. One more cave, and different voices behind me. Up the ladder, hand-breathe-foot-breathe, and I emerged into the sky.
The reason Machu Picchu is so worth it is simply the setting. You couldn't get more beautiful. I sat at the summit of Wayna Picchu as a young perfectly in shape couple came up the ladder, clearly disappointed that I, half sick, covered in sweat, orange juice, and about 12 layers of dirt, yet completely glowing from the exertion, had beaten them. I didn't give up my post as more people came up, I watched as the sun and wind blew the wisps of clouds around the thumb-like mountains, as the rivers churned and babbled so far below, as the ruins lay out before me like a promise.
Pictures were taken, and as the summit became crowded, I slipped back down the ladder, and found a place to just sit and watch the world. I sat there, drinking the entire remaining contents of my orange juice, pulling the entire contents of my bag out and literally pouring the leaked juice from my bag. Luckily, I had toilet paper to mop up the mess. Everything about me was filthy. I had scrambled up this cliff with everything I had, and it wasn't even 8am. I have never been so completely content, so completely at peace, so completely happy. At least not anytime in the last two weeks.
More to come later.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Up and Walking, but Definitely Not Running.
YAY!! I´m not completely comatose!
In fact, I managed to walk around Cusco quite a bit today, although not quite all the way up the hill to the ruins or the little "Christo Blanco" that overlooks the city (it's a much smaller version of a christ the redemer statue). Then I packed a weekend bag for my trip to Machu Picchu, and got the hell out of Cusco. I'd been there far too long, far too incapacitated, so I decided to spend a night in the sacred valley town of Ollantaytambo, since I liked it so much on the tour Sunday. It's where I catch the train to Aguas Calientes (the town at the base of Machu Picchu) tomorrow, so in a way, I'm just extending my "trek" to MP.
But I had to get to Ollantaytambo. It's a two hour ride, in something called a collectivo... but where my first taxi driver dropped me off, it just ended up being a hatchback taxi with three peruvians in the backseat. So I got to ride shotgun for S12, watching the mountains pass by, and really hoping I wasn't going to be kidnapped or worse. After a bit of the ride, I finally eased into it. Passing by so much of the countryside, seeing all the people going about their lives, the mountains looming overhead, the sheer fact that I didn't feel like CRAP... it finally all let me ease up and just enjoy the trip. Of course I ended up in Ollanta fine. Of course there was space at the adorable hostel that LP suggested. Of course the weather is beautiful. Of course I spent time conversing with the guy who sold me my beer at the base of the ruins because he wanted to practice his english. Of course the quiet peacefulness of this town has me relaxing. Por supuesto.
I even hiked a little on a trail up the hillside. My goal is to hike all the way up in the morning, as the morning light is hitting the ruins and lighting up the town. We'll see though. It was warm enough here to wear my skirt in Cusco today, and seeing my scary chicken legs, so withered from so much recovering, definitely put this whole thing in perspective. I seriously have not been well. My body is not the same. I can't wait to get home and have to rebuild all of my biking and running muscles. :/
But there are two british girls in my hostel room, and we might grab dinner together tonight. I'm all for making it an early one though... I might be feeling better, but I'm certainly not all the way well.
In fact, I managed to walk around Cusco quite a bit today, although not quite all the way up the hill to the ruins or the little "Christo Blanco" that overlooks the city (it's a much smaller version of a christ the redemer statue). Then I packed a weekend bag for my trip to Machu Picchu, and got the hell out of Cusco. I'd been there far too long, far too incapacitated, so I decided to spend a night in the sacred valley town of Ollantaytambo, since I liked it so much on the tour Sunday. It's where I catch the train to Aguas Calientes (the town at the base of Machu Picchu) tomorrow, so in a way, I'm just extending my "trek" to MP.
But I had to get to Ollantaytambo. It's a two hour ride, in something called a collectivo... but where my first taxi driver dropped me off, it just ended up being a hatchback taxi with three peruvians in the backseat. So I got to ride shotgun for S12, watching the mountains pass by, and really hoping I wasn't going to be kidnapped or worse. After a bit of the ride, I finally eased into it. Passing by so much of the countryside, seeing all the people going about their lives, the mountains looming overhead, the sheer fact that I didn't feel like CRAP... it finally all let me ease up and just enjoy the trip. Of course I ended up in Ollanta fine. Of course there was space at the adorable hostel that LP suggested. Of course the weather is beautiful. Of course I spent time conversing with the guy who sold me my beer at the base of the ruins because he wanted to practice his english. Of course the quiet peacefulness of this town has me relaxing. Por supuesto.
I even hiked a little on a trail up the hillside. My goal is to hike all the way up in the morning, as the morning light is hitting the ruins and lighting up the town. We'll see though. It was warm enough here to wear my skirt in Cusco today, and seeing my scary chicken legs, so withered from so much recovering, definitely put this whole thing in perspective. I seriously have not been well. My body is not the same. I can't wait to get home and have to rebuild all of my biking and running muscles. :/
But there are two british girls in my hostel room, and we might grab dinner together tonight. I'm all for making it an early one though... I might be feeling better, but I'm certainly not all the way well.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Solo Female Traveler.
It’s a phrase that scares people. Hell, it terrifies me when they’re so scared for me. I’ve done solo travel before--three months in Paris, traveling through Italy on a tour, traipsing across the USA and Canada for work--and it’s been tough, but never impossible. The scariest part is stepping onto the plane, and just trusting yourself enough, that even though there are a million things out there to scare you: pickpockets, scam artists, noisy hostel-mates... you will make it through in one piece.
This time it’s a little harder. Peru is not exactly the same as Europe. A couple of “Learn Spanish in 7 Days!” books is not exactly the same as 4 years of high school french. The looks on peoples’ faces when they find out where I’m going alone this time isn’t exactly as confidence-inducing as when the answer was Paris. The poverty level is much more striking in South America than in most of the places I’ve traveled. And I’m coming off the flux of helping a friend get married, moving into a new apartment, and preparing for graduate school.
But when the going gets tough, I usually end up on the lucky side of things. When deciding where to use up frequent flier miles to get to this summer, Lima came up requiring so few miles that I ended up with a first class ticket. When I dreaded going off alone once again, I had suggestions given to me of ways and means to get where I was going and meet people along the way. I always manage to come out ahead somehow--in Europe, in the US, and in NZ. The lucky star seems to hang overhead still, and (knock on something wood for me, will ya?) hopefully it will continue into the heights of the Andes and the depths of the Amazon.
This time it’s a little harder. Peru is not exactly the same as Europe. A couple of “Learn Spanish in 7 Days!” books is not exactly the same as 4 years of high school french. The looks on peoples’ faces when they find out where I’m going alone this time isn’t exactly as confidence-inducing as when the answer was Paris. The poverty level is much more striking in South America than in most of the places I’ve traveled. And I’m coming off the flux of helping a friend get married, moving into a new apartment, and preparing for graduate school.
But when the going gets tough, I usually end up on the lucky side of things. When deciding where to use up frequent flier miles to get to this summer, Lima came up requiring so few miles that I ended up with a first class ticket. When I dreaded going off alone once again, I had suggestions given to me of ways and means to get where I was going and meet people along the way. I always manage to come out ahead somehow--in Europe, in the US, and in NZ. The lucky star seems to hang overhead still, and (knock on something wood for me, will ya?) hopefully it will continue into the heights of the Andes and the depths of the Amazon.
Oh, and I want to carry on my luggage. The packing post will be very interesting...
Monday, February 1, 2010
Before the Boarding Door Closes
Ahhh... On board a plane headed to Portland. I am ecstatic to be heading to the northwest and even more excited to be healthy this time. No more passing up the beer and wine on my horizon flights due to being knocked out on Nyquill like last year! No more being reduced to heinously brewed starbucks coffee at my hotel! Hipsters and hippies everywhere! Time to visit Powells books and get stumptown!
It's the little things that make me happy.
It's the little things that make me happy.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
It's a Love/---- Relationship
I've been too down on my job lately. Part of it is the ever-changing state of the economy and how that has impacted life working for BER. The thing is, this job is only horrible if you can't find the shining moments you get every day.
I am out on the road with a presenter who most PM's are not fond of, yet by sheer force of will I had a great time with last year. She's a ton of fun, but since she's a little more high strung and from Jersey, she can come off abrupt and rude. Plus, she's on the more high-maintenance side of the presenter spectrum, so you have to learn to expect the little requests without feeling miffed. Luckily this week I have a lot more energy than last week, and we're in great places. Last night we were in Charlottesville, one of my FAVE small towns I've been to, and after the seminar we dashed up for the last tour of Monticello, Thomas Jefferson's house. EEEE! I was so happy to get to see it since I've been forced to drive past the signs about 4 times last year. Then, as it was about 5pm, we went back to main street in Charlottesville for dinner at a tasty french bistro. This was after supping at Hamilton's the night before, the restaurant we had found last year on our trip to Charlottesville together. Two dinners in my favorite town?! YES please!!
These are times when I love my job.
I am out on the road with a presenter who most PM's are not fond of, yet by sheer force of will I had a great time with last year. She's a ton of fun, but since she's a little more high strung and from Jersey, she can come off abrupt and rude. Plus, she's on the more high-maintenance side of the presenter spectrum, so you have to learn to expect the little requests without feeling miffed. Luckily this week I have a lot more energy than last week, and we're in great places. Last night we were in Charlottesville, one of my FAVE small towns I've been to, and after the seminar we dashed up for the last tour of Monticello, Thomas Jefferson's house. EEEE! I was so happy to get to see it since I've been forced to drive past the signs about 4 times last year. Then, as it was about 5pm, we went back to main street in Charlottesville for dinner at a tasty french bistro. This was after supping at Hamilton's the night before, the restaurant we had found last year on our trip to Charlottesville together. Two dinners in my favorite town?! YES please!!
These are times when I love my job.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Packing it Away
I like to think that over the last year and a half, I've become a pretty good packer. I tested myself this week, and still want to find a way to get my bags lighter. I'm on a 4-day week out-and-back, so my challenge to myself was to travel with only my small work carryon bag and not bring an additional suitcase for my clothes and sundries. I think I managed it quite well, and because I know you're DYING to know... I'll map it out for you.
The Bag:
A Swiss Army rolling briefcase with 4 compartments, purchased at Costco last year at the start of my BER adventure.
The Work Stuff:
Ahhh, yes. The tech case. The 48.5lb object between me a complete carry-on heaven.
The traveling office:
My file folder contains all my registration and paperwork paraphenaila while the pencil case carries the various office materials one needs whether one is in Seattle or Mobile, AL (the stapler is a fave with TSA, to some agents it resembles a box cutter). Then there is all of the GPS electronics. In order to streamline, I put the pencil case in the tech case (now at 48.75lbs...) and put the file folder in it's usual place: the second compartment of the briefcase. The GPS cables found themselves a home in the front pocket (hereby dubbed the "cord pocket") of the briefcase while Rita herself went in a pocket of my purse for easy access.
Pocket-by-Pocket:
The cord pocket--GPS cords, iPhone USB cord, AUX adapter cord for car stereo, netbook charge cord, knitting bag with NZ yarn scarf-in-progress, liquids ziplock. File folder pocket--the file folder (surprise!).
The laptop pocket (sans laptop thanks to the netbook!)--workout clothes, dirty laundry, "solids" toiletry bag, makeup bag, snack items (oatmeal and almonds). The main clothing pocket--the Wardrobe.
And what clothes does one pack for a 4-day stint where the warmest temperature is a balmy 45degrees? The following:
Work clothes:
The Purse:
This I think I need to find ways to cut back on... I have a book, my moleskine, a magazine, my netbook, my knitting bag, and my phone to provide entertainment. The camera and tripod to document my travels. Wallet, pens, nail file and clippers, lipgloss, lotion bar, sunglasses, gloves, plastic silverware, meds, and vitamins. My coffee mug (a must have). My home keys (and rental car keys when applicable) and GPS. Once you have a huge purse like this, it tends to get filled...whether you need it or not, so I have to clear it out rather often.
Anyways, that's about it. I know you were on the edge of your seat waiting to find out how I do it. The real challenge will be seeing if I can do it again, in variaton for the next stint--two weeks out with a NOLA weekend in the middle. I want to get everything in my regular 21" suitcase, which I can carry on.
The Bag:
A Swiss Army rolling briefcase with 4 compartments, purchased at Costco last year at the start of my BER adventure.The Work Stuff:
Ahhh, yes. The tech case. The 48.5lb object between me a complete carry-on heaven.The traveling office:
My file folder contains all my registration and paperwork paraphenaila while the pencil case carries the various office materials one needs whether one is in Seattle or Mobile, AL (the stapler is a fave with TSA, to some agents it resembles a box cutter). Then there is all of the GPS electronics. In order to streamline, I put the pencil case in the tech case (now at 48.75lbs...) and put the file folder in it's usual place: the second compartment of the briefcase. The GPS cables found themselves a home in the front pocket (hereby dubbed the "cord pocket") of the briefcase while Rita herself went in a pocket of my purse for easy access.Pocket-by-Pocket:
The cord pocket--GPS cords, iPhone USB cord, AUX adapter cord for car stereo, netbook charge cord, knitting bag with NZ yarn scarf-in-progress, liquids ziplock. File folder pocket--the file folder (surprise!).
The laptop pocket (sans laptop thanks to the netbook!)--workout clothes, dirty laundry, "solids" toiletry bag, makeup bag, snack items (oatmeal and almonds). The main clothing pocket--the Wardrobe.And what clothes does one pack for a 4-day stint where the warmest temperature is a balmy 45degrees? The following:
Work clothes:- Black and white check dress
- Pink and black jersey dress
- Black & grey cardigans
- Black & grey tights
- Red & black belt
- Report wedges
- AE boyfriend jeans
- Bonjour T-shirt and white tank top
- White turtleneck
- Green sneakers (workout shoe substitute attempt)
- Sleep/workout T-shirt and workout capris
- Yoga Socks (whee!)
- Scarf and Coat
- Various undergarments, socks, and whatnot
The Purse:
This I think I need to find ways to cut back on... I have a book, my moleskine, a magazine, my netbook, my knitting bag, and my phone to provide entertainment. The camera and tripod to document my travels. Wallet, pens, nail file and clippers, lipgloss, lotion bar, sunglasses, gloves, plastic silverware, meds, and vitamins. My coffee mug (a must have). My home keys (and rental car keys when applicable) and GPS. Once you have a huge purse like this, it tends to get filled...whether you need it or not, so I have to clear it out rather often.Anyways, that's about it. I know you were on the edge of your seat waiting to find out how I do it. The real challenge will be seeing if I can do it again, in variaton for the next stint--two weeks out with a NOLA weekend in the middle. I want to get everything in my regular 21" suitcase, which I can carry on.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Resolved
New Years Eve this year was great: I got to hang out with a couple of friends I haven't seen in a while and we had some low-key fun. Pies&Pints for dinner, tasty drinks, watching the fireworks on Jeff's gigantic big screen TV, Wii, Star Trek, party poppers, my sparkly headband and fleecy pants, and cake. That is my idea of a good time. Then starting the year off right: Herkimer, steel-cut oatmeal, and magically figuring out how to transfer my music to my new netbook.
Yes, that's right, my new netbook. I've been tinkering with the idea for a while now, and at a post christmas sale I went for it. The amount of ease it will add to my traveling should completely justify it. The lil'cutie is shiny, and tiny, and lighter than air! I picked it up the first time and almost threw it across the room because it weighed so little. (A part of me wanted to throw it across the room, because it is a PC, but I restrained my Mac sensibilities just this once.) It's been strange operating with two computers all the time, but it's fun feeling super techy with a stack of technology in front of me (mac, netbook, and iphone... it's like little computer Russian dolls).
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Because I am resolved, on many levels, to make this year a good year. I started it off with my Christmas wish list, and the wonderful Mom who gave me what I wanted: The Joby Gorillapod Camera Tripod (better fashion photos await!), and yoga socks (which my sister insisted were "too weird" for her to purchase for me). These little, lightweight goodies along with my netbook should make the next 4-5 months more bearable.
Anyways, other than resolving to make my life easier with fancy new travel gizmos, I have three short, sweet, and purposeful resolutions that don't add to my baggage.
1. Take vitamins, because being sick 3 times in the course of 3 months suggests a vitamin C deficiency.
2. Floss. More than 2x a year.
3. Go on a soda hiatus, because 3 diet cokes in one day is too many.
Absurdly, I already blew it with these. I thought I had decided on three, but I couldn't remember one. So I assumed I had decided on two when I wrote them down on NYE. Then today, the crashing realization hit me... VITAMINS!! Probably the most important one, being as how it is the most likely to make me stop being sick constantly and thereby improve my quality of life drastically, yet it slipped my mind. Way to go me.
I want to make this the Year without Fear--the fear of getting sick, the fear of the dentist, the fear of my back going out from all my heavy luggage... and a few other more metaphysical things. We'll get around to that later. Right now, it's all about starting it off on the right foot.
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Because I am resolved, on many levels, to make this year a good year. I started it off with my Christmas wish list, and the wonderful Mom who gave me what I wanted: The Joby Gorillapod Camera Tripod (better fashion photos await!), and yoga socks (which my sister insisted were "too weird" for her to purchase for me). These little, lightweight goodies along with my netbook should make the next 4-5 months more bearable.Anyways, other than resolving to make my life easier with fancy new travel gizmos, I have three short, sweet, and purposeful resolutions that don't add to my baggage.
1. Take vitamins, because being sick 3 times in the course of 3 months suggests a vitamin C deficiency.
2. Floss. More than 2x a year.
3. Go on a soda hiatus, because 3 diet cokes in one day is too many.
Absurdly, I already blew it with these. I thought I had decided on three, but I couldn't remember one. So I assumed I had decided on two when I wrote them down on NYE. Then today, the crashing realization hit me... VITAMINS!! Probably the most important one, being as how it is the most likely to make me stop being sick constantly and thereby improve my quality of life drastically, yet it slipped my mind. Way to go me.
I want to make this the Year without Fear--the fear of getting sick, the fear of the dentist, the fear of my back going out from all my heavy luggage... and a few other more metaphysical things. We'll get around to that later. Right now, it's all about starting it off on the right foot.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
A Christmas Carol
Ho Ho Ho...
Okay, screw it. I'll tell it to you straight: Ihate have a fairly negative history with Christmas.
From being the adorable 2-year-old given a tiny-sized softball mitt and squishy ball, only to burst into tears and exclaim, "I don't even know what it is!" to the young adult dressing up as a goth for a practical joke/spiteful statement for my dad's side of the family (in particular my grandmother), I've often been a bit of a brat on this particular day. Every year I am a huge grinch... but I realize that being a spoilsport isn't much fun. So I've been working on my attitude and those reflex reactions that come out of nowhere to make the social constructs of Christmas more fun for myself and those around me.
I feel like putting some of this together as a way to explain why I probably will never have a collection of Christmas music or your typical giddiness as the day approaches.
Christmas Past:
Not to complain (as I realize that my attitude is mostly my reaction to situations, not from any particular person or cause), but rather to explain I'll ask the question: "Where did all of this grinching come from?"
After reflection I've decided it probably something to do with the pressure of being one of the oldest kids out of both sides of my family, the first girl (on both sides), and the total attention of waaay to many adults after being dragged around without a nap for days on end. While I've been an attention whore my whole life, something about those preliminary years definitely affected me:
As I grew up, I (young, sugar-charged, and sleep deprived) was asked to babysit and organize my younger, equally sugar-charged, sleep-deprived cousins into family Christmas pageants every year upon our arrival at grandma's, which my perfectionist nature made into much more traumatic experiences than necessary. Add in many many years worth of this constant self-inflicted pressure, my grandmother's eternal need to create drama out of nowhere, complicated relationships between my parents and other relatives, one year's explosive expletive-filled expulsion from the Hughes-family festivities, and a growing sarcastic nature and this is what you get:
Christmas Present:
A smile on my face? Me, wearing a red Christmas sweater dress? Is this really even possible?
Evidently it is. If...
I just do all my shopping online a few weeks ahead except for a few projects I can knit up on planes and a couple of little things to pick up in the last week. And then I avoid all Christmas things, even on the road where decorations and constant music are ubiquitous. Perhaps I get sick with an intense cold, and spend a couple of days on the couch, knitting and avoiding food prep (especially the exhausting cookie making). Then, on Christmas Eve, I regain my strength, finish my shopping, wrap everything, and help with the prep for dinner. Christmas day, I manage to nap a bit, work on the set up for the second party in two days, and focus on the constant clean-up and moving along of the festivities while my house is besieged by 20 other people. I make sure that the white elephant gift exchange has written rules and take control so that it moves along as quickly as possible, making it possible for everyone to leave by 9:30pm. Then I give up and escape at around 10:30pm, when a few of my cousins start clunking out "heart and soul" on the piano over, and over, and over... directly above my bedroom, and then continue for another hour.
If I can still have a smile on my face after all that... I can manage Christmas.
Christmas Future:
I can remember one time in my 25 Christmases where I understood the Christmas spirit and enjoyed my family and everything about the holiday. That was the year where my immediate family was traveling in the Southwest--touring about about in an RV from Phoenix to Santa Fe (where we spent Christmas itself) and onwards to Monument Valley, Chaco Canyon, and the Grand Canyon.
So my ideal Chirstmas wish is to eventually re-create this holiday escape... I'd love to spend the holiday in a snowy place like New England, or in a German or French town with Christmas markets, somewhere warm for a tropical Christmas in sundresses, or even just escaping to a cabin by the Washington Coast or in the San Jauns. Somewhere new every other year... away from all of the traditions that make me feel the triggers of the past.
But we always have to have a Big Freakin Tree.
Okay, screw it. I'll tell it to you straight: I
From being the adorable 2-year-old given a tiny-sized softball mitt and squishy ball, only to burst into tears and exclaim, "I don't even know what it is!" to the young adult dressing up as a goth for a practical joke/spiteful statement for my dad's side of the family (in particular my grandmother), I've often been a bit of a brat on this particular day. Every year I am a huge grinch... but I realize that being a spoilsport isn't much fun. So I've been working on my attitude and those reflex reactions that come out of nowhere to make the social constructs of Christmas more fun for myself and those around me.
I feel like putting some of this together as a way to explain why I probably will never have a collection of Christmas music or your typical giddiness as the day approaches.
Christmas Past:
Not to complain (as I realize that my attitude is mostly my reaction to situations, not from any particular person or cause), but rather to explain I'll ask the question: "Where did all of this grinching come from?"
After reflection I've decided it probably something to do with the pressure of being one of the oldest kids out of both sides of my family, the first girl (on both sides), and the total attention of waaay to many adults after being dragged around without a nap for days on end. While I've been an attention whore my whole life, something about those preliminary years definitely affected me:
As I grew up, I (young, sugar-charged, and sleep deprived) was asked to babysit and organize my younger, equally sugar-charged, sleep-deprived cousins into family Christmas pageants every year upon our arrival at grandma's, which my perfectionist nature made into much more traumatic experiences than necessary. Add in many many years worth of this constant self-inflicted pressure, my grandmother's eternal need to create drama out of nowhere, complicated relationships between my parents and other relatives, one year's explosive expletive-filled expulsion from the Hughes-family festivities, and a growing sarcastic nature and this is what you get:
Christmas Present:
A smile on my face? Me, wearing a red Christmas sweater dress? Is this really even possible?
Evidently it is. If...
I just do all my shopping online a few weeks ahead except for a few projects I can knit up on planes and a couple of little things to pick up in the last week. And then I avoid all Christmas things, even on the road where decorations and constant music are ubiquitous. Perhaps I get sick with an intense cold, and spend a couple of days on the couch, knitting and avoiding food prep (especially the exhausting cookie making). Then, on Christmas Eve, I regain my strength, finish my shopping, wrap everything, and help with the prep for dinner. Christmas day, I manage to nap a bit, work on the set up for the second party in two days, and focus on the constant clean-up and moving along of the festivities while my house is besieged by 20 other people. I make sure that the white elephant gift exchange has written rules and take control so that it moves along as quickly as possible, making it possible for everyone to leave by 9:30pm. Then I give up and escape at around 10:30pm, when a few of my cousins start clunking out "heart and soul" on the piano over, and over, and over... directly above my bedroom, and then continue for another hour.
If I can still have a smile on my face after all that... I can manage Christmas.Christmas Future:
I can remember one time in my 25 Christmases where I understood the Christmas spirit and enjoyed my family and everything about the holiday. That was the year where my immediate family was traveling in the Southwest--touring about about in an RV from Phoenix to Santa Fe (where we spent Christmas itself) and onwards to Monument Valley, Chaco Canyon, and the Grand Canyon.
So my ideal Chirstmas wish is to eventually re-create this holiday escape... I'd love to spend the holiday in a snowy place like New England, or in a German or French town with Christmas markets, somewhere warm for a tropical Christmas in sundresses, or even just escaping to a cabin by the Washington Coast or in the San Jauns. Somewhere new every other year... away from all of the traditions that make me feel the triggers of the past.
But we always have to have a Big Freakin Tree.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Re-routing and Overloading My Way Through Chicago
Instead of flying on a painfully long flight home on Friday night from Burlington, VT I had planned on an easy direct to Chicago to spend the weekend with Krista and CJ. Oh, if only that had been what had actually happened.
The two days out on the road before this weekend were pretty good. Sadly, I gave up my free day on Veterans Day up to fly trans-con to Manchester, NH. In Manchester, I sat in on a seminar for the first time. I was out with Ken Vieth, who is an amazing artist and art teacher. Unfortunately I was really not feeling creative for whatever reason and what I created that day during the hands on part of the seminar was disappointing. It was a great project though, and I intend to attempt the art on my own time at some point this coming week. We had a great talk on the drive to Burlington, VT as we drove towards a sparklingly beautiful sunset. He was the kind of guy who’s had amazing life experiences that he’s willing to talk about at length, but he also is a question asker and was interested in what stories I had to share as well. I really appreciated talking about my own issues with figuring out what my life’s passions are and what direction to go in after this BER year.
Burlington is on my list of favorite places in the country. I got him to join me out for dinner on Church Street, a fun pedestrian area of town that also has a Ben & Jerry’s store (pumpkin cheesecake ice cream anyone?!) and we wandered a bit just enjoying the college atmosphere and New England architecture. After the seminar the next day, we had a while before our flights so we went down and parked downtown and walked to Lake Champlain, which was staggeringly beautiful with mist and late-afternoon sunlight streaming across it. After one more scoop of Ben & Jerry’s we headed off to the airport, where we were greeted by the most glaringly awful flashing screens I’ve seen in a while.
Turned out, there was the remnants of a hurricane sitting over all of the major east coast hub airports. Ken’s flight to Newark was outright cancelled while my connection flight through Philly was delayed 6 hours. By working my PM magic and working with a brilliant US Airways ticket counter agent (she is getting a commendation letter from me, she was THAT great in the crisis!). Ken and I both flew on a US Air flight to LGA, I got him a car to get to Newark while I changed terminals and got on an American Airlines flight to Chicago, arriving barely half an hour late. Considering the situation was pretty shitty overall, the feeling I got after managing the whole thing seamlessly was amazing. This job has really given me skills that are real world applicable. If anyone wants to know exactly what to say to a ticket counter agent in this kind of situation, call me. :) Also, I was capable of getting my presenter from one airport to another, while getting myself from one terminal of a huge airport to the other terminal, through the correct security line, and still have a front of the plane aisle seat.
When I got on my American flight to ORD, I was pretty excited to actually be making it to my destination, but definitely planning on downing a glass of wine. When my seatmate sat down next to me though, I realized the universe was making it up to me for the previous stress of my day. The cut,e 24 year old NYC equities trader next to me who has family in Seattle was not only fun to talk to, but also all about proving himself to the older, better traveled, attractive female on his right. After he started name dropping celebrities I knew I was about to get my drinks paid for. And that is another thing this job has taught me: let them pay, even if they make fun of you for knitting. That way I get to keep my per-diem for exciting hotel stays in places like Nashville and Miami.
When I arrived in Chicago, Krista and CJ came and picked me up for a chill weekend in Chicago. I’ve already done all of the touristy stuff, so I just wanted to see their new neighborhood and maybe go thrifting. And did we! CJ is the most amazing chef ever... she whipped me up a salad to make up for the fact that I’d barely had time for a luna bar for dinner and then the next morning, after a trip to the most amazing ukrainian deli/grocery store, we had a scramble/fry that was potentially the best thing I’ve had in weeks (excepting my mom’s squash soup... *hint hint*). She also figured out the proper name of the coffee drink I wanted--a coranado or a wet macchiato... damn it I wan to be back in a place that understands “flat white.” Krista took me for a terrifying yet exhilarating scooter ride around the neighborhood and showed me her super-secrect favorite gift shop which was definitely worthy of being favorited.
Then we went to the thrift store. I am not allowed to disclose the actual location of this amazing treasure trove (as if I could find it myself if I tried), but Oh Damn. Thank god I threw a space bag in my suitcase to crunch down some of the amazingness I purchased. I got an extra pair of black flats (Nine West and brand new), a knock-off yet adorable Prada bag (which I call affectionately Frada), tons of sweaters and tops, and an American Apparel skirt, nevermind the already squished contents of my suitcase. We had a blast, and then to top it off, we went to possibly the world’s largest whole foods to grab dinner and to gawk at the rich Lincoln Center folks. People actually get glasses of wine and drink as they shop. How yuppie-fabulous can you get?
Now I am in the Pittiest of Burghs, about to meet an old friend for dinner before starting a week out with one of my favorite presenters from last year. It makes up for the fact that I’m headed to Akron and Detroit this week as well.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
A Million Stories to Tell
The problem with having a blast constantly on the road is that there's no time or energy left to blog about it. Lets just go back in time a bit and see if I can cover some of the fun I've had making the most of my weekends:
Las Vegas
You can't blame me for not posting... *cue cheesy joke about what happens in Vegas*
My first trip ever to Vegas was a blast, mostly thanks to the group I was there with. I had the best hotel-roommates ever and we enjoyed both crashing early the first night and getting sleep as well as getting a little crazy with some press on tattoos in our pre-going out prep session for the Saturday night festivites. We walked up and down the strip, enjoying the 65 degree all the more since we'd all come from places that had been below freezing. I could hardly believe how tacky everything was--the gigantic open containers, the clothes, the posters, the cards littering the ground, even the casinos themselves! I gambled a grand total of $1 and lost it in 4 pulls of the handle but managed to find the perfect fake coach purse that I'd been looking for.
When we went out Saturday night, we went to a bar on the roof of the Rio hotel and enjoyed an absolutely spectacular view along with a few minutes of a VIP open bar that we managed to sneak into. I was sadly the first person to be waved off by the bartender when the 10pm cutoff for the open bar hit, but the guy in front of me (who had gotten some drinks) at one point had turned around and accientally whacked my arm pretty well. I guess he felt bad because he ordered one extra drink and handed it to me, without hanging around to awkwardly chat me up!! Best free drink ever! I had brought along a fun little pink dress that I'd bought in mexico and a big black belt that i figured would help bring it to Vegas standards. Turns out wearing anything other than black (and I was in HOTT pink) meant I stood out. After having some serious anxiety about not fitting in by wearing a dark colored shirt-or-dress, I ended up getting so many compliments I was handily put in my place for freaking out.
Generally, it was a blast, and I enjoyed getting to know a lot of my co-workers much better.
Charleston
I decided that I wanted to go to Charleston, SC when I realized I was going to be stuck in the Virginia area for three weeks straight, yet no other program manager was available to join me in picking up another (warm) state. Luckily I have awesome friends who are willing to fly cross country and/or drive 5 hours to join me for a weekend. Kirsten found a fabulous 2 hour walking tour that ended up being 3 hours, and we covered miles and miles while looking at some amazing old buildings. Charleston is a quintessential southern town and theyve done a great job of keeping beautiful old buildings in the old part of town intact and well kept. Of course, Maureen and I wandered a bit of the non-walking tour part of town and there are some typical college housing type buildings near the university. Again I managed to enjoy a weekend in the sunshine and near-60 degree temps with great peeps. We had a fun dinner out, although nothing requiring pink dresses.
Charleston really did surprise me with how extremely beautiful it was, along with how freaking huge (and how close to the waterfront) Steven Colbert's childhood home is.
The Other Washington
Okay... how the F did I get three 60+ degree stayovers in January and February?!
I rolled into DC this weekend because I ended one week just south of the city and started the next week 2 hours away in Richmond. After dropping of the bags and my rental car, I spent the evening walking the Mall up and down as the sun set. I ended up freezing, but kept going and got some amazing photos (they'll be up soon at flickr.com/photos/arirose) of the sunset. I almost cried at the Lincoln memorial, and did the same in front of the white house. Then I took myself out to a nice dinner and met up with another program manager (a different Kirsten) who was in town with some friends. We went out and experienced all the yuppiness of DC, including a round of 10 irish car bombs bought by some kind of banker who was seirously drunk and trying to impress Kirsten. Damn those things are good... and have a lot of alcohol!
The next day I hit up museums for about 5 hours. I saw the dinos and diamonds at the Natural History Museum, the Star Spangled Banner and first ladies dresses at the American History Museum and some amazing art at the National Gallery and American Art museum. I poked my head in so many places and wandered past so much beautiful architecture throughout the weekend that I was overwhelmed. The capital really is spread out... I walked between 5-10 miles every day, easily. Today I was able to enjoy the sunshine and visit the market for a bit as well as go to a couple more museums before picking up my car and heading south.
________
There's a lot more to be said about things that have happened in the last couple weeks, but I figure the facts of the stayovers are the most interesting to all of you, so I thought I'd start there. Hopefully in the next four days before I come home for break I'll get around to transcribing some of the things I've had written in my journal and give an update on what I've been doing mid-week to keep me from posting anything :)
Las Vegas
You can't blame me for not posting... *cue cheesy joke about what happens in Vegas*My first trip ever to Vegas was a blast, mostly thanks to the group I was there with. I had the best hotel-roommates ever and we enjoyed both crashing early the first night and getting sleep as well as getting a little crazy with some press on tattoos in our pre-going out prep session for the Saturday night festivites. We walked up and down the strip, enjoying the 65 degree all the more since we'd all come from places that had been below freezing. I could hardly believe how tacky everything was--the gigantic open containers, the clothes, the posters, the cards littering the ground, even the casinos themselves! I gambled a grand total of $1 and lost it in 4 pulls of the handle but managed to find the perfect fake coach purse that I'd been looking for.
When we went out Saturday night, we went to a bar on the roof of the Rio hotel and enjoyed an absolutely spectacular view along with a few minutes of a VIP open bar that we managed to sneak into. I was sadly the first person to be waved off by the bartender when the 10pm cutoff for the open bar hit, but the guy in front of me (who had gotten some drinks) at one point had turned around and accientally whacked my arm pretty well. I guess he felt bad because he ordered one extra drink and handed it to me, without hanging around to awkwardly chat me up!! Best free drink ever! I had brought along a fun little pink dress that I'd bought in mexico and a big black belt that i figured would help bring it to Vegas standards. Turns out wearing anything other than black (and I was in HOTT pink) meant I stood out. After having some serious anxiety about not fitting in by wearing a dark colored shirt-or-dress, I ended up getting so many compliments I was handily put in my place for freaking out.
Generally, it was a blast, and I enjoyed getting to know a lot of my co-workers much better.
Charleston
I decided that I wanted to go to Charleston, SC when I realized I was going to be stuck in the Virginia area for three weeks straight, yet no other program manager was available to join me in picking up another (warm) state. Luckily I have awesome friends who are willing to fly cross country and/or drive 5 hours to join me for a weekend. Kirsten found a fabulous 2 hour walking tour that ended up being 3 hours, and we covered miles and miles while looking at some amazing old buildings. Charleston is a quintessential southern town and theyve done a great job of keeping beautiful old buildings in the old part of town intact and well kept. Of course, Maureen and I wandered a bit of the non-walking tour part of town and there are some typical college housing type buildings near the university. Again I managed to enjoy a weekend in the sunshine and near-60 degree temps with great peeps. We had a fun dinner out, although nothing requiring pink dresses.Charleston really did surprise me with how extremely beautiful it was, along with how freaking huge (and how close to the waterfront) Steven Colbert's childhood home is.
The Other Washington
Okay... how the F did I get three 60+ degree stayovers in January and February?!I rolled into DC this weekend because I ended one week just south of the city and started the next week 2 hours away in Richmond. After dropping of the bags and my rental car, I spent the evening walking the Mall up and down as the sun set. I ended up freezing, but kept going and got some amazing photos (they'll be up soon at flickr.com/photos/arirose) of the sunset. I almost cried at the Lincoln memorial, and did the same in front of the white house. Then I took myself out to a nice dinner and met up with another program manager (a different Kirsten) who was in town with some friends. We went out and experienced all the yuppiness of DC, including a round of 10 irish car bombs bought by some kind of banker who was seirously drunk and trying to impress Kirsten. Damn those things are good... and have a lot of alcohol!
The next day I hit up museums for about 5 hours. I saw the dinos and diamonds at the Natural History Museum, the Star Spangled Banner and first ladies dresses at the American History Museum and some amazing art at the National Gallery and American Art museum. I poked my head in so many places and wandered past so much beautiful architecture throughout the weekend that I was overwhelmed. The capital really is spread out... I walked between 5-10 miles every day, easily. Today I was able to enjoy the sunshine and visit the market for a bit as well as go to a couple more museums before picking up my car and heading south.
________
There's a lot more to be said about things that have happened in the last couple weeks, but I figure the facts of the stayovers are the most interesting to all of you, so I thought I'd start there. Hopefully in the next four days before I come home for break I'll get around to transcribing some of the things I've had written in my journal and give an update on what I've been doing mid-week to keep me from posting anything :)
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Hope and Its Burden
Okay, Vegas stories to come for all you patient chickadees, but there's other things I'd like to say first about the inauguration, if you'll allow me a rather circuitous route to it...
Life has a way of changing what I think of it constantly, especially regarding its purpose. As a child, I can remember being very moment-to-moment about my goals in life. My purpose was always some tangible thing or translatable abstraction--from being a scientist and curing cancer to having a life philosophy of tolerance, it was all very clearly defined, straightforward, and completely rationalized. At some point in my teen years, I lost all forms of faith and optimism, realizing that the forms of spirituality in my life were clogged with human failings and childish obedience rather than any real understanding of hope. I'm sure you all have undergone similar questioning periods or ambivalent stages in your life regarding what you are really here to accomplish, even if they were not so pronounced or disruptive as mine or perhaps more so. We all eventually have to realize that our state of understanding is in constant flux if we are ever to come to terms with our own failings and achieve any kind of real wisdom.
Not that I claim any kind of real wisdom; I am only just now coming to the full understanding that what I think now will eventually be usurped by another thought and that I will never achieve any final pinnacle of awareness. There is no final pinnacle after all, and no better or worse. No, what I am trying to say is that I'm just now coming to the understanding that the purpose of my life, in this moment at least, is evolution (And before you say anything... I don't mean a biological evolution, Jeff ;)). If you pay attention, you'll see a pattern of reoccurrences in your life. Every time a situation arises it provides you an opportunity to react however you want. When you refuse to change how you react, you do not evolve but only continue to perpetuate the cycle. If you break the cycle, new opportunities can arise for you to grow and evolve in new ways. The funny thing is, no one has to be conscious of this pattern and often your growth occurs in a sub-conscious state, but if you pay attention to it, you can start to control it.
I could go into my latest thoughts on life here, but without belaboring the point this last summer I started to see this pattern in a different way than I had before. Deliberately, I pulled myself away from the path that I had found myself on, and stepped outside of the cycle. Albeit, I did it in a fairly comfortable way--with a job that was relatively easy to get (due to strong connections and actual experience I had never realized I had) and that provided me with a short term guarantee of not having to figure out what else to do. My outright, conscious goal with this job was to push my limits of my self-definition, primarily socially. What happened was a strange shift. I discovered that the social definition was a piece of cake to alter, but multiple other aspects of my life shifted far more drastically than I had even dreamed. Somehow, I am now absurdly optimistic compared to the girl I was six months ago. I am happier, healthier, more stable, and so much more in control of my life that most of my anxiety about my future career has become a flimsy shadow of what it once was.
So there's a personal reason that when I sit in my hotel rooms alone with my TV, I start bawling every time I listen to Obama give a speech. It's not that I agree with everything he says, or expect that things will change overnight, it's that the rhetoric he uses meshes so completely with the experience I've had lately. He speaks about the evolution of America, with the obvious example of the gradual change from slavery to an African American president, but he carries it on into the future. While the last 8 years have been about staying the course and fighting any threat to our way of life as if America was a static nation, Obama is explicitly working at changing our way of life while retaining the principles that made us great. America is an ideal, one that may never be fully realized but one that we can strive towards, and while there is real work to be done, Obama's optimism regarding the ideology of our country is absolutely refreshing. After all, I have learned the value of being optimistic over the last few months... Less things go wrong when you optimistically know that it will all work out, if only because you automatically make space in your mind to react rather than anticipate and therefore can rectify any situation far faster.
His message is focused on sacrifice as well, with emphasis on the idea of community and hard work. I have long spent time separating myself from those around me since at one time, those around me separated themselves from me. Again, his message hits a nerve... as I have slowly begun to understand what a true community of friends I have and can have, and what a difference my "new-found" social skills have made. Acting out of Love towards everyone I meet is something I never really consciously decided to do, but I found myself doing it and started noticing it. A warm greeting and the intention of empathy in my heart makes such a difference... it's simply astounding.
So for me, every time our new president has gotten up on his podium to tell the American people that "Yes, We Can," my heart wrenches in the best way possible. I think I cry for the lost time, for the pain we all had to inflict on ourselves before we could come to this understanding and the pain that will continue to afflict us. I cry for the people who cannot fully understand the power of this kind of philosophy, including my own self-consciously simplistic understanding. I cry for the fear that the hope will fade and that the fear-mongering of the last few years will drop a pall over this light. I cry because I feel such immense joy that this world can change if we only let the power of the human spirit burst free of the chains of pessimism. I cry because I am intimately and personally wrapped around the philosophies that I am hearing our country embrace. I cry because I know that tomorrow the practical aspects of daily life will come creeping in on the celebration, and that we will all be tested as to whether we can actually live up to these ideals.
Martin Luther King Jr. was an idealist who never saw his full dream realized. The dreams of today will undoubtedly be similarly long-lasting and long-languishing before they can be fully realized. I smile because I know that there are others in the world that share the burden of hope that one day they will be realized. One day, we will evolve.
Life has a way of changing what I think of it constantly, especially regarding its purpose. As a child, I can remember being very moment-to-moment about my goals in life. My purpose was always some tangible thing or translatable abstraction--from being a scientist and curing cancer to having a life philosophy of tolerance, it was all very clearly defined, straightforward, and completely rationalized. At some point in my teen years, I lost all forms of faith and optimism, realizing that the forms of spirituality in my life were clogged with human failings and childish obedience rather than any real understanding of hope. I'm sure you all have undergone similar questioning periods or ambivalent stages in your life regarding what you are really here to accomplish, even if they were not so pronounced or disruptive as mine or perhaps more so. We all eventually have to realize that our state of understanding is in constant flux if we are ever to come to terms with our own failings and achieve any kind of real wisdom.
Not that I claim any kind of real wisdom; I am only just now coming to the full understanding that what I think now will eventually be usurped by another thought and that I will never achieve any final pinnacle of awareness. There is no final pinnacle after all, and no better or worse. No, what I am trying to say is that I'm just now coming to the understanding that the purpose of my life, in this moment at least, is evolution (And before you say anything... I don't mean a biological evolution, Jeff ;)). If you pay attention, you'll see a pattern of reoccurrences in your life. Every time a situation arises it provides you an opportunity to react however you want. When you refuse to change how you react, you do not evolve but only continue to perpetuate the cycle. If you break the cycle, new opportunities can arise for you to grow and evolve in new ways. The funny thing is, no one has to be conscious of this pattern and often your growth occurs in a sub-conscious state, but if you pay attention to it, you can start to control it.
I could go into my latest thoughts on life here, but without belaboring the point this last summer I started to see this pattern in a different way than I had before. Deliberately, I pulled myself away from the path that I had found myself on, and stepped outside of the cycle. Albeit, I did it in a fairly comfortable way--with a job that was relatively easy to get (due to strong connections and actual experience I had never realized I had) and that provided me with a short term guarantee of not having to figure out what else to do. My outright, conscious goal with this job was to push my limits of my self-definition, primarily socially. What happened was a strange shift. I discovered that the social definition was a piece of cake to alter, but multiple other aspects of my life shifted far more drastically than I had even dreamed. Somehow, I am now absurdly optimistic compared to the girl I was six months ago. I am happier, healthier, more stable, and so much more in control of my life that most of my anxiety about my future career has become a flimsy shadow of what it once was.
So there's a personal reason that when I sit in my hotel rooms alone with my TV, I start bawling every time I listen to Obama give a speech. It's not that I agree with everything he says, or expect that things will change overnight, it's that the rhetoric he uses meshes so completely with the experience I've had lately. He speaks about the evolution of America, with the obvious example of the gradual change from slavery to an African American president, but he carries it on into the future. While the last 8 years have been about staying the course and fighting any threat to our way of life as if America was a static nation, Obama is explicitly working at changing our way of life while retaining the principles that made us great. America is an ideal, one that may never be fully realized but one that we can strive towards, and while there is real work to be done, Obama's optimism regarding the ideology of our country is absolutely refreshing. After all, I have learned the value of being optimistic over the last few months... Less things go wrong when you optimistically know that it will all work out, if only because you automatically make space in your mind to react rather than anticipate and therefore can rectify any situation far faster.
His message is focused on sacrifice as well, with emphasis on the idea of community and hard work. I have long spent time separating myself from those around me since at one time, those around me separated themselves from me. Again, his message hits a nerve... as I have slowly begun to understand what a true community of friends I have and can have, and what a difference my "new-found" social skills have made. Acting out of Love towards everyone I meet is something I never really consciously decided to do, but I found myself doing it and started noticing it. A warm greeting and the intention of empathy in my heart makes such a difference... it's simply astounding.
So for me, every time our new president has gotten up on his podium to tell the American people that "Yes, We Can," my heart wrenches in the best way possible. I think I cry for the lost time, for the pain we all had to inflict on ourselves before we could come to this understanding and the pain that will continue to afflict us. I cry for the people who cannot fully understand the power of this kind of philosophy, including my own self-consciously simplistic understanding. I cry for the fear that the hope will fade and that the fear-mongering of the last few years will drop a pall over this light. I cry because I feel such immense joy that this world can change if we only let the power of the human spirit burst free of the chains of pessimism. I cry because I am intimately and personally wrapped around the philosophies that I am hearing our country embrace. I cry because I know that tomorrow the practical aspects of daily life will come creeping in on the celebration, and that we will all be tested as to whether we can actually live up to these ideals.
Martin Luther King Jr. was an idealist who never saw his full dream realized. The dreams of today will undoubtedly be similarly long-lasting and long-languishing before they can be fully realized. I smile because I know that there are others in the world that share the burden of hope that one day they will be realized. One day, we will evolve.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Again, and Again...
Why would I start again on a goal that is a set up for failure? However fast 12 months seems to pass these days, taking a photo a day, writing every day, doing art once a week... it seems like a long time, rife with opportunities to stop. I'll have to play catch up at some point, I'll have to stop and snap or scribble something in a rush, I'll probably fail. But there's a chance I won't. And so 2009, here we go... With a list that is slightly behind (I managed to fiddle some things and cross off a good number that I'd forgotten I'd finished), it's closer to being on track than I expected. I even finally gave it up, 10 inches up, and did Locks of Love. I surprised myself and almost cried as she cut. I got almost none of the goals finished that I thought I would finish, but I'm doing okay. My first sock is coming along, and there's plenty of time to keep working.
This year I have it easy with only 365 photos. I might try to start off each month with a photo of myself (no promises here...), and here I am as of January 1, 2009. Let's see how I change, shall we?
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
A Trip to the Windy City
After probably one of the best weeks out with one of the best presenters that I've had so far, I finished my week in Chicago, in one of the worst hotels I've had to deal with. Luckily, I didn't have to stay the weekend in that hotel. I met KAL at O'Hare and then we took the train into the city to stay at the la-di-da Hyatt right downtown. As always, K had a good connection and got us a "Regency Club" room, for super cheap! We got to our room with my crazy load of luggage (thanks for the help toting my big bag K!!) and then went to enjoy the "hot appetizers" in the special lounge for "guests who require an even higher level of service than the Hyatt standard."
We chose convienience over finding a true conniseurs restaurant in the sub-freezing temperatures and found a deep dish pizza place nearby to grab dinner. After dinner, we went wandering around just to see a bit of what surrounded the hotel and see if we could find a bar. Both of us gasped in pure christmas travel joy at the sight of a beautiful old building which had been lit red and green at the top. Across the river we found a gigantic statue of the American Gothic figures in front of the NBC building (and Chicago Tribune sign!) but no 
bars. So we wandered back across and found a place to get a Sam Adams (since that's what people in other parts of the country drink when they're not drinking Bud, I'm still getting used to not being able to get Mac'n'Jacks ever).By the time we got to the bar we were pretty much frozen solid. Turns out people have long puffy coats for a reason, and not just as a fashion statement. I decided that I needed to buy the flat, wrap-around black fleece ear muffs that I saw on all of the men about town.
We called it a night pretty early, since we were both exhausted, and proceeded back to the hotel for some absolutely fabulous sleep. This bed... oh god. It was spectacular. There was some kind of thick feather-bed top to it, and it just was so cushy i just melted into it. Although, after having had so many king beds to myself I had to remember that I couldn't turn fully horizontal on the bed during the night.
The next day we had breakfast at the Regency Club room and then went out shopping in the deci
dedly Seattle-esque weather (45 and chance of showers). Throughout our time on the Magnificant Mile I decided two things: 1) Ann Taylor Loft is KAL's store, but generally not mine. With the exception of a ridiculously on sale (66% off!) pencil skirt. and 2) Designer Jeans don't automatically make you look good. I tried on two dressing rooms full, and decided that I didn't like them any more than I liked my previous $50 pair, in fact I liked them a lot less. Sadly, I didn't find the perfect pair of earmuffs but we did find a Noodles and Co for lunch!
We weathered the rain and enjoyed Millenium park (Yay Bean!) and then met up with another program manager who happened to be in chicago the same weekend. She (well, her cousin who lived in Chicago) helped guide us to a little german christmas market where we proceeded to drink gluewhine (or whatever you call it) and wander around. We were icicles again at this point, since the market was
outside and the rain was still falling. Back to the hotel we went to try on our new purchaces and get ready to go out to a show.We'd gotten half-price tickets for "The Christmas Schooner," at a little theater in Belmont. I found the show a little hoaky for my taste, but it was fun regardless. The story is about a Michagan sailor who in the late 1800's filled up a boat with christmas trees and sailed across the icy lake to bring the trees to Chicago. I was sudenly sturck with amusement that sailing a lake could be so dangerous, but one look out our hotel window (and some jibes from KAL) reminded me that those lakes are BIG. In fact, they're Great. :P
In the morning we met up with one of KAL's friends who had moved to chicago and had an amazing breakfast with gigantic cinamon rolls. We then wandered over to check out Wrigley field, and then we were off again back to fabulous O'Hare. My flight got delayed multiple times (thank you Northwest!) but I ended up finally making it to Kansas City. All in all a great trip!!
Sunday, December 7, 2008
The Days Get Longer
Here’s a clearing house post, to make up for the fact that last week, while I had a great presenter I was stuck in a part of the country that made me want to beat myself over the head. No offense to the better parts of the Midwest, but I have to say that Indiana, Toledo in Ohio, and Michigan definitely qualify for “fly-over state” status. Anyways, I’ll give you a run down of things I’ve been thinking about:Job Satisfaction
At some point in every job I’ve ever had I’ve lost interest. Maybe I have career ADD. I’m good at pushing through for defined periods of time though, something that has helped me with any class I’ve ever taken. Luckily, this job is extremely defined. Two more weeks and I’ll have the first real Christmas break I’ve had in a long time. Maybe that’ll help me wake up at 6am and actually almost care about what I’m doing.
Because in fact, waking up at 6am has become a process of dread. Every day I know I will face people who will not be satisfied… people who rudely refuse to fill out evaluation forms with only 4 questions, people who are insulted that you cannot solve all of the problems that they themselves should have checked on, participants who rudely insinuate that I’m insane to be doing this job, hotel staff that either move like molasses or go so far over the top to be nice that they cant get anything done for all their graciousness. There are plenty of folks who are nice, but it’s hard sometimes to put up with all of the crap that gets thrown my way… especially when I’m in places like Detroit or Toledo where there’s nothing to be done outside the seminar.
Luckily, this week I should be able to go traipsing through Phillidelphia and drive down to the lovely little part of Long Island that another PM and I found last time I was there. Then there’s Chicago… and man am I looking forward to that. It’s going to be great fun to wander around town with KAL, just being low-key but seeing a great city. That’s what I love about this job, and what I just can’t do in Toledo or Detroit—getting out and investigating cities. Detroit’s hotel did have a water park, but considering it had only one slide and I was the only guest in the entire park, it was just awkward.
The Future
It’s the thought of indefinite periods of time spent working a single job that grabs me by the throat and throttle the will to work out of me. That’s what happened with my last lab job… and what I fear will happen once this job is over. I don’t know much more now what I want to do than I knew before. All I know is that I don’t want to spend an exorbitant amount of money on grad school unless I know that it will be worth it. Debt has always scared me and I’d managed to avoid credit cards entirely until now (but those reimbursement checks cover all of that anyways), but to pick up debt in this economy without a clear method of paying it off scares me.
The state of the economy also scares me. What does one do when things are heading towards a depression and there’s no clear career path to head down? I think I need to start working towards a position that can become a career, because I need to be able to build into a promote-able position… but not knowing which direction to go in bogs me down.In fact, I want to make a plea of anyone who actually reads this. Sometimes people outside of the situation have the clearest sight of the situation. If you don’t mind, I’m extremely curious what any of you see me doing as a career. Please leave a comment… Do you see me in a suit running business meetings? Do you see me back in a lab coat? Do you see me with a reporter’s notebook? Anything would be helpful.
NaNoWriMo
No, I did not finish. I got 60% done, and then realized I needed to rewrite a section of over 800 words as well as write all of the sections that I had not really thought out. Once I got bogged down in feeling sick and not wanting to eat, writing completely lost its excitement and I fell far enough behind that I couldn’t manage to continue. I’m going to try to get the story finished, and the plan is to push for Christmas. It’s horribly terrible in my opinion, and I’m at the point where I hate every word of it, but I wanted to do this, so I’m going to finish it. That’s what I do, complete assignments.
Christmas
As far as Christmas goes, I’m really not feeling it at all this year. Considering I don’t really feel a spiritual connection to the holiday, don’t really feel excited about spending it with family, and pretty much hate the present aspect, I wonder how I make it through every year. Many of my friends are going to leave town around the holidays too, which makes me sad since I finally have time to spend with them.
However, I don’t think I’m a scrooge anymore since I don’t mind that other people enjoy Christmas and I’m happy to try to make their holidays more fun. While I exempt myself from the cousin gift exchanges because I don’t want it to become my aunt buying me a present and my mom buying my cousin a present, I do like to give gifts. I just don’t like feeling forced to do it all at once along with the rest of the world and honestly I really appreciate giving little thoughtful things more than big all-out extravaganzas. Plus, I’m trying to get better at accepting gifts with excitement.
One thing I think I’ve realized is to ask for different things, no matter how much it feels odd to request things out of someone else’s generosity. I don’t want clothes (unless you’re getting me silly socks, underwear, or Christmas pj’s just for fun), but I like getting accessories, especially scarves and mittens and the like (anyone who hasn’t heard of it should check out Etsy.com for fabulous homemade things. If shipping doesn’t work out in time, I’m always a fan of getting a photo of what is headed my way). I’d love a stash of books to take on my flights, or CD’s/iTunes gift cards to entertain me. I’ve already got a decent book list in my archives on this blog, but as for CD’s, I’ll try to fill in a list at some point (although new bands I might like are always appreciated, I’m into slightly folksy music lately a la The Submarines and The Weepies). I also told Mom that I want stuff I hate buying for myself: makeup, perfume, gift cards for treatments like pedicures, haircuts, facials, or massages. Also, no matter how picky I am about coffee now, I’d still love the international coffee currency (ie a Starbucks card).
______________________________________
So that’s that for now. I’m somewhere over the Dakotas on my way to Philly right now, connecting to Manchester, NH (if only it was England!!). I’m hoping to beg the Shuttle driver into driving me to town since I’m going to be lacking a car. Hopefully more posts will happen this week as I can feel the weight of crappy Midwest hotels and grouchy participants lifting. But expect a nice ranty post about the Newark Holiday Inn… ugh.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
You Are My Lucky Star…
My mother constantly says I live under a lucky star, and I have to say I agree. When my cab driver picked me up in Long Island to drive us to LGA airport, I left a solid 2 hours to allow for traffic. We made it the 60 miles in about 65 minutes. Before you think anything, just know that we also left our hotel at 5pm. The driver was in as much shock as I was, probably even more!Sometimes I am stunned at how lucky I am, but maybe I just recognize it more often. There’s plenty of unlucky things that have happened already: my flight was canceled yesterday, my tortillia soup in San Antonio was disgusting, there have been multiple issues with my faxes for work, my projector bulb died, and let’s face it… I haven’t gotten a presenter who liked to go out of the hotel. But for all those things that are bad (the flight and the bulb being by far the worst), it’s always worked out. I got put on a better flight than I was booked for yesterday. My projector problem was fixed in less than five minutes. And actually, for all the bad food and exhausted
presenters, I’ve still gotten out and gone into more cities in the last few weeks than I’ve ever managed before in a similar string of time. I even maximized time in Seattle by running off to Leavenworth with some friends to eat brats and take fall photos.Rochester was a fun city to be in actually. There was beautiful old architecture and lots of newspaper buildings and statues around town. I wandered during lunch and then picked up a sandwich at a shop on my way back to the hotel. Then today in Ronkonkama (Long Island) I met up with another PM and we found lunch in a little part of town called Sayville, which was adorable looking and had AMAZING pizza. This is the kind of life I lead now. Sometimes I just want to explode with happiness and amazement. This is an almost daily experience. How did I get here again?
I really am a lucky girl. I can hardly believe it sometimes. But the more I believe it the luckier I get. I really think it’s half grace, half attitude—half blessing, half my own openness and efforts—never all my own credit, but partly my fault. Or maybe I just like to think so.
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