Thoughts on growing old

February 24th, 2010 by ontheglobe No comments »

Recently, I read an article written by an elderly woman which I found sweetly moving. She discusses what it’s like to age, and says that happiness in the later years is based a lot on luck, and a lot on attitude. Food for thought.

I’ve often wondered at the different ways to age… to either become bitter, or to accept it and find fun in new ways. We’ve all met the angry senior, the one who thinks that it’s OK to cut in line, sit with their elbows out on the train, or complain all the time.  Worst of all are those who shut people down, always being the “expert” on absolutely everything and refusing to learn from anything from the young. We’ve also met the inspirational, fun, loving older person. The grandma who wears big purple hats, pinches her grandson’s cheeks, has an email account, and bakes cookies for people trying to diet. Those are the people we really learn from. Show me the way!

In my opinion, our society doesn’t mix ages enough. We have so much to learn from each other, the old and young. Keeping young people around is a great way to keep up the energy level and attitude. And for the young, you benefit so much from that elderly person who said (when you were 10) “live your life to the fullest, you only get one you know!” (Then you reach your 30s and all of a sudden the same generation is wondering why that kid never settled down and became responsible). But I digress… the point is, getting older is definitely something to think about and prepare for.

It’s strange, I can say that for the first time in my life, old age is not an abstract thing. I can feel its whisper on my shoulder and am very aware that it really is just around the corner. It’s not here yet, but before I know it, I’ll be looking back and laughing at this post. Now I can only wonder, what will be the hardest thing about it? How will I age? Will I be upset by my loss of freedom? Probably. But maybe there will be other things to enjoy.

A passage in the article that I found particularly poignant:

There are things I used to like doing that I don’t now — like sex. This was not a sudden event, its early stages occurred in my late 50s. I was forced into acceptance of this when our household was invaded by a ruthless and remarkably succulent blonde lodger in her mid-20s, and my partner Barry fell into bed with her.

There was one sleepless night of real sorrow, but only one night. What I mourned was not the loss of my loving old friend Barry, who was still there, but the loss of youth. ‘What she has, God rot her, I no longer have and will never, never have again.

I realized that this concern over loss of youth and beauty begins tormenting girls from a very young age, when it is the best and most important asset one has (many times, without the girl even quite realizing it). You have it, then whoop! it’s gone. Oh wait, I was sexy then? Crap, I missed it! I was too busy worrying about that pimple on my chin.

It’s true that men, in general, highly value younger, prettier women. (Obviously I’m focusing on heterosexual relationships, here). The age of an attractive woman doesn’t really change, no matter how old the man is. As men age, they in many ways grow sexier. Meanwhile, their life partner loses her sex appeal, and there’s generation after generation of comparatively prettier and prettier women coming on the scene. It’s a little unsettling for us. But, what if attractiveness wasn’t the only thing that made us happy? What of the women who prefer a round-trip ticket to Mongolia over a face-lift? Guys won’t want to talk to us anymore, with our wrinkles and purple hats, but we’ll sure have some good stories for those that do…

Then a friend posted that she will be giving a talk to a sorority, and asked, “What do these girls need to hear?” Now, I am about to make a gross generalization here, but I find that sororities in particular value appearance very highly. A fraternity brother once even delved into a very detailed explanation to me about how his house would only invite the prettiest sororities to their parties; the whole point was to get them as drunk as possible and get laid. Wow.

So, what would I say to a group of sorority girls? What would I like to say to all young girls, really-

“You are at the prime of your life. You are beautiful! But, think for a second – If you weren’t sexy, would you be happy?… Prepare yourself for that day, because it comes for every woman. Set yourself up to be happy regardless of your ability to attract a man, and you will be happy for life.”

The best part about this is, if/when you do find the man you love, your own self-worth is not completely dependent on how he physically sees you. This not only makes you a less annoying mate, but a happy person all around, way more fun to be with, and… in the end, who really cares? You’re in love! Have fun.


Paris on Sale

February 4th, 2010 by ontheglobe 1 comment »

I had no idea what I was about to get into. My friend Nacho and I had just finished watching Avatar (if you ever want advice on how to smuggle 4 hamburgers, 2 cokes, and 2 fries in to a movie theater, let me know). I won’t delve too much into my thoughts on the movie other than, yes, I’m a fan, and was happy to have the food. :)

After the film, Nacho, who I swear is more of a girl than I am (ha, he’ll kill me for saying that… better put, he’s a Macho Argentine with a wicked sense of fashion who works for one of the largest cosmetic companies in the world), suggested popping in to a few shops. “Let’s check it out, the sales are on.” It was the first weekend of the famed Parisian Sales, Les Soldes de Paris, the one month of January where stores are legally allowed to discount their merchandise. I thought, ”Sure, why not?” We ducked in to Zara.

Paris Sales & Soldes

Madness. This was the not-as-crowded section.

Dear God. It was utter madness! Think Oxford Street in London right before Christmas, and add the discount provocation. Women with huge bags would literally push you out of their way as they attempted to get to an item they had spotted through the mass of clientele. Shoppers would all but rip the product you were fingering from under your hand so they could try it on first. All etiquette was thrown out the window. People didn’t even bother to say “pardon” as they bumped and shoved their way around the store. It didn’t take long for me to follow suit, there were just too many people and too many collisions to care. It didn’t matter any more, it was what you had to do and everyone accepted that.

Shopper picks nose in Paris

Did I really catch a Parisienne picking her nose? Oh man, I think she's just scratching it, but that would have been awesome.

Now, I am not much of a shopper. I love a good bargain, but am pretty bad at fighting for it. Once I have to rifle through piles and piles of goods and elbow people just to look at a top, I lose interest. This is why, when I do go shopping, I end up spending more than I should. More often than not, I skip it entirely and settle for the dork look.

The prices were actually good, though, so I bit the bullet and dove in to the fray with fervor. Before I knew it, I had an armful of things I didn’t need. The queue to the fitting rooms snaked around the perimeter of the store, so I opted to plant myself in front of a mirror and try stuff on over my clothes. This of course meant fighting for the mirror with the 5 other girls and their piles, doing the same thing. After working up a good sweat, I ended up with a single t-shirt. It is gray with a giant bright drawing of Wembley Fraggle on the front. I proudly held it up to Nacho, who had purchased a classy leather jacket. He smiled politely and said “hehhh, it’s nice… where would you wear it?”

I’m wearing it to work today. I wish I could have videotaped the top-to-bottom look I got from a typically trendy woman as we waited for coffee this morning. I don’t think it’s so bad, so there. I will wear my Fraggle’s googley-eyes proudly.

Wembley Fraggle Tee

My Wembley Fraggle Tee, at work

Help Haiti

January 14th, 2010 by ontheglobe No comments »

Support Doctors Without Borders in Haiti

I just donated, and so should you. Like, really. Don’t drink your latte today, eat dinner in, whatever.

Ode to Free Wireless

January 7th, 2010 by ontheglobe No comments »

Taunting me
One little bar
It looks so close
Yet feels so far
Blipping blip
It comes and goes
From the list
No one knows
Refresh refresh
Network list
Click again
I will persist
Waiting, waiting
Will it take?
Hoping, praying!
What is my fate?
God, I promise
To email U
Every night
A prayer or two
If you can step in
Just this once
And keep that network
Free from bounce
Refresh refresh
What is free?
Who’s unlocked?
Please help me!
OMG
No way, no how
Connect! Connect!
Holy cow!
Pages loading
Circles spinning
My heart beats faster
Chat is coming!
But, oh yes
You know what’s next.
-
&#*@!
Connection dropped.
And with a sigh,
Another try
-
Refresh refresh
Network List
Thirty Three
Connections found
Laugh at me
You little locks
Except that one…
That single bar
Which looks so close
Yet feels so far
One click away from
“I love you”
Yet no, instead…
I can’t connect
To the Internet

The Montmartre Jazz Band

November 16th, 2009 by ontheglobe 1 comment »

The very first time I went for a wander in my “arrondissement,” I heard these guys before I saw them and they drew me in with their toe-tapping Swing. Really wished I had some Lindy Hop partners in town; it would be fun to tear it up in the square with these folks.

Happily, I have noticed they play every weekend. Next time, I’ll make sure to note down their real band name. ;)

Apologies on the terrible filming; please pay more attention to the sound than the video quality!

Chez Moi

November 8th, 2009 by ontheglobe 3 comments »

I share with you a little video of my new place, where I have been assiduously Hermiting. Warning: bad accents inside. View at your own risk.

The Hermit, Period.

November 6th, 2009 by ontheglobe 2 comments »

I’ve just arrived in this wonderful city and what do I do? Hide in my little apartment. I go to work in the morning, and home at night, and that’s it. Repeat. What? No running around Les Galleries Lafayette? Or heading up the Eiffel Tower? Champs-Elysées? Louvre, anyone? Nah. Not yet. A little wander around my neighborhood is quite enough, thanks. I’ve now been here more than a week and I don’t have much to show for it. Don’t even have pictures for this post. ;)

It’s the Hermit Period: that time when you first get somewhere after a move, and instead of checking the place out you just feel like stopping for a second. You were going 110mph for the past month and then you’re supposed to have a ton of energy to be a tourist, too? Hah! That will come; there is plenty of time to check the place out. For now, I just wish I had a TV and some movies so I could sit on the couch and veg out. Instead, I’m doing silly things like cooking, reading textbooks, migrating the blog, and listening to university courses by podcast. Who knew? Free uni! Love it. Check out Open Culture and MIT for a start.

Soon I will get stir crazy and pop my head out of the den. Uh, actually that’s ’sposed to be Tonight. Plan is to go out, if I can drag myself by the hair out the door, kicking and screaming… I have no normal going-out shoes to wear, so I’ll be the dork in big brown (and dare I say increasingly smelly) loafers dancing in a club with a group of (sure to be extremely well dressed) Argentinians and Brazilians. We’re not even going to start until midnight. I’m going to want to be curled up in a little ball by then, lovingly held by my mattress and duvet, but I will persist! Oddly, I’m so desperate for some real exercise that the idea of running to music sounds more appealing than a club right now. But…must get out there, ALLEZ, c’est Paris! Oh dear the place closes at what time? 6am? Go on, be Extroverted for christ’s sake! (Pulls hair tighter ouch! slams door)

I’m getting old. Screw it, I’m crawling into bed (opens door meekly and sneaks in before the crazy Extrovert returns). If I don’t go running or climbing tomorrow, she’s gonna kill me.

Moving to Paris

October 28th, 2009 by ontheglobe No comments »

Let the next adventure begin! I am now starting to get settled in my tiny studio flat in Montmartre, and it’s wonderful. After all the trials and tribulations leading up to this point, I’m glad I came. In a way I feel like this stint is partly about closing the “Europe chapter” on my own terms, without an economic crisis to send me home. When I go home at the end of this (whenever that may be), it will be because I’m ready. And, I’m almost ready. Stay tuned – some craziness first, of course!

Mime in Montmartre

Mime in Montmartre

Getting here was a significant undertaking in and of itself. I had some pretty stressful last few days, packing up and moving from my apartment, wrapping up projects at one job while starting another (they actually overlapped a few days), and of course saying goodbye to friends and family. (See the “Tough Transitions” post last month).

With two bags of moving material (read: climbing and camping gear) I kissed my patient and supportive guy goodbye in the airport and headed to London, where I have about 10 plastic boxes full of, dare I say, crap in my ever so gracious friend’s attic. I decided the gigantic 18-person Peruvian tent, among other things, needs to go home. Why did I ever bring it to London? I’ll be heading home for the holidays, so this visit to London was as much about moving things to Paris as it was about moving all the extra crap back home. Have to take advantage of flights before I book a shipping company to take the rest.

This led to a record amount of baggage, almost none of it with wheels, to heft onto the Eurostar. I now had three large check-in size bags and three carry-on size bags, only one with wheels. If it weren’t for friends helping me at either end, I don’t think I would have made it.

Packing Light!

The looks I got from the very-well-put-together European business travellers were priceless. Amazingly, the only stranger to help me was a short and plump, sweet-faced African woman on the French platform. She only took my rolly bag, but it allowed me the ability to walk more than 2 meters at a time.

My new place is a small studio flat in Amelie’s hood. It’s pretty awesome. I now know where I’ll be for the next few months. Yay. :)

Le Sacre Coeur

Le Sacre Coeur

Tough Transitions

September 29th, 2009 by ontheglobe 1 comment »

People often think of the wandering nomad as a sort of exotic creature, living an idealised life with no problems, flitting gleefully from one place to another without a second thought. Sure, there may be some glitches here and there, but it’s nothing compared to the constant wonder, amazement, and adventure of the road, right?

OK, for the most part maybe that’s true. But let me tell you, it’s not all roses. There comes a point for every wanderer where he or she must sort out taxes for multiple countries, visas, currencies, jobs… and any bureaucratic venture  increases tenfold in complexity.

The worst of these moments tends to be in what I will call the Transition Zone.  Planning a move to another country, it’s that time when all the paperwork needs to be sorted out, the house packed up, what to do with the car (if applicable), see doctors & dentists at the last minute (because God knows what those foreign clinics might be like), go through every single possession and determine its keep-worthiness, book planes and trains, pay and close out bills, get all said (remaining) bills online, etc etc. This is usually coupled with ending a job of some sort, as well. It gets overwhelming, fast.

To top it all off, all of your friends and family want to see you not once, but multiple times before you leave. (Bless them, you do love them so). The social pressures of leaving can sometimes cap everything else off, and send you straight intoa panic attack.

Having gone through the Transition Zone several times (and being in the midst of one now) I have some advice to share for anyone finding themselves in a similar predicament. For those of you who know me, do as I say, not as I do. ;)

  1. Pack up early. All you really need is 1 plate and 1 cup, a cardboard table and an air mattress. Get rid of everything else as early as possible – like a month early! You will be happy later.
  2. There’s a sweet spot for the good-bye drinks – if you do them too early, everyone says “well, I hope to see you one more time before you leave!” …. do them too late, and you’ll find yourself potentially squeezed by the growing list of tasks that need to be completed, unable to properly enjoy the evening.
  3. Don’t get all worked up on health scares. People survive all over the world, believe it or not. DO go see a doctor for regular checkups and DO go to a travel advisor, but DON’T let them scare you into thinking you need every vaccination under the sun and/or that medical care abroad is inadequate. And they will. It’s fine out there.
  4. On that note, just in case, I recommend IAMAT as a good place to start if you get ill abroad; they’ll point you to the nicest hospital in the area – usually much nicer than any hospital you went to back home.
  5. You don’t need as much as you think. Pare it down, simplify, and de-stress.
  6. Storage: while friends are a great (and cheap) way to store things, you’ll soon find that you have stuff peppered all over the place and not sure what is where. If you go this route, take a digital pic of your stuff and label the boxes in the pic on your computer immediately. I recommend getting an official storage unit, if you can afford it – it’s safer, drier, and it won’t up and move on you with no notice. Storage units don’t have family emergencies, and the peace of mind is worth something.

I think the key thing is to not procrastinate on your tasks, and not let your task list rule your life. It’s a healthy balance between you-time, packing time, and good-bye socializing time. Schedule these buckets in for yourself and stick to the plan, and you should be fine!

Remember, you can always buy stuff and get stuff abroad, you can always visit a foreign doctor, and you can always have people come visit YOU wherever it is you go. Enjoy the ride.

Thanksgiving on the Shore of Lake Malawi

November 25th, 2007 by ontheglobe No comments »

For a dollar a day, you can feed a starving climber in Africa. Cooking on BiRT is always interesting, not only due to the low food budget (50p a day!), but also in the tools we use – an open fire with huge cookpots and pans. Once, when we had engine trouble, we camped in someone’s back garden and we still roared up a fire for dinner. Needless to say, we tend to get pretty creative with cook duties.

Matt cooking for Hot Rock

Matt demonstrating typical Hot Rock cook duty (Spitzkoppe, Namibia)

Each person is assigned a cook partner on joining the trip, and the two must hit markets and shops together to purchase goods for two days’ worth of breakfasts and dinners with the pittance handed to us by the trip leader. If there are 15 people on the truck, you are given $30 to feed 15 people, for two days. Amazingly, in Africa it is just enough.

Breakfast usually consists of porridge, but occasionally we get the odd treat of eggy bread (French Toast) or pancakes. Each Hot Rocker is responsible for his or her own lunch. Those with higher personal budgets can splurge a bit on lunch food. Dinners vary a bit more, but usually start with a base of pasta, rice, or potatos topped with a tomato-based sauce or a bean/lentil stew of some sort. For a treat, we get either cans of tuna or corned beef chucked in the mix. If people really splurge, adding some of their own money to the cook pot, we get some real meat in the mix – with a veggie portion separated for the non meat-eaters. I never realised how much I like meat.

After months of this kind of food, Thanksgiving was looming on the horizon and I thought, hey, why not embark on a new sort of cooking adventure? I summoned the only other American on BiRT for help and he was all for it. Let’s cook Thanksgiving over an open fire in Africa. We were in Malawi, on the edge of a gigantic freshwater lake of the same name. It was hot.

Lake Malawi

Lake Malawi at sunset

Lake Malawi

Lake Malawi

Getting the right ingredients was the first hurdle to overcome. We sketched out a rough menu and set about seeing what we could find. Pumpkin? Corn? Apples? Turkey? Hah, unlikely! Having some trouble determining what was and was not possible, we decided to hire the services of a local as our “personal shopper” to lend a hand and see what he could find through local contacts. We gave him a huge shopping list, paying for most of it in advance, while also continuing to look ourselves. Of course, he didn’t find much, and we didn’t ask for the money back – he did after all kill and pluck a couple of ducks for us.

There were no apples but there were mangos galore, no corn but maize, no celery but some random vegetable that looked an awful lot like a leafy version of celery and was in fact rather tasty, no turkey but duck and lamb, and finally and most sadly… no pumpkin. Or so we thought.

We had been searching for pumpkin for days to no avail, when Duane noticed there was pumpkin soup on the menu in the bar at our campsite. Apparently it had been around at some point but was now out of season. D’oh! But how could they make the pumpkin soup? We kept asking, but no one answered – most frustratingly, even our hired shopper wouldn’t budge on this one. Finally, I hunted down the man who cooked the soup himself.

“How do you make your pumpkin soup?”

He looked at me, head tilted to the side, and answered “For how many people?”

“No no no, I just want to know how you make it?”

“But for how many people?” Oh, my God.

I had to work to explain to him that I didn’t really want the soup, but the ingredients for his soup. Finally, I managed to buy what was certainly the very last pumpkin in Malawi. :) Pumpkin soup was literally erased from the restaurant menu, and we had ourselves a lovely pumpkin pie.

David chopping, Duane frying

In the heat, David chopping, Duane frying

We chopped and mixed under a thatch roof and cooked over both an open fire outside and in the campground’s wood-fired pizza oven, our only means of baking. We were lucky to have it, or it would have been a stir-fry-only Thanksgiving. I’ll mention again: it was hot. And humid. While the other Hot Rockers splashed around in the lake and played games, holding the first-ever Hot Rock Olympics which included such notable events as a judged dance routine, volleyball, and dwarf tossing, we stirred and fried and baked in the stifling heat.

Steve's Hot Rock Olympics outfit

Steve's Hot Rock Olympics dance-routine outfit

Hot Rock Olympics Dance Routine

A Hot Rock Olympics judged dance routine. From left: Jase, Juliet, Mike, Joe

We woke around 5am to begin cooking and were hovering in and around fire from about 8am until about 6pm, baking pies and roasting meat with no temperature control whatsoever. Somehow, miraculously, it all came together. I dare say it was one of the better Thanksgiving meals I’ve had the pleasure of putting together, although this could have also been due to the impossibility of the task to begin with and the comparison to the meals we’d been having until that point.

Hot Rock Thanksgiving in Malawi

Hot Rock Thanksgiving in Malawi

The spread included: two roast ducks (freshly killed and plucked that day by our hired shopper), a leg of lamb, stuffing, corn pudding (I had miraculously found cans of creamed corn weeks before in a supermarket), salad, mashed potatos, two mango pies, one pumpkin pie, and a flan. We had no measuring utensils and few actual recipes, but it amazingly turned out well! People got so stuffed that some actually passed out at the table; one didn’t even get to dessert having fallen asleep in his chair. The thing I was most worried about was that someone would get sick from either something we made or just having eaten too much rich food and butter, which we weren’t used to. Luckily, none of our “guests” did, but unfortunately one of the cooks (Duane) ended up having a loooong night.

The next morning, we had more pies and pudding for breakfast, the dishes were wiped clean and the legend of Thanksgiving in Malawi was cemented into the history of BiRT.

David eating mango pie for breakfast

David eating mango pie for breakfast

I am definitely going to have to try and make mango pie again someday. It was the bomb.