Archive for the ‘Random Thoughts’ category

Footie and Nationalism

June 26th, 2010

I love the World Cup. The earth’s energy goes up a notch. It’s so much fun to see people from all walks of life get so very excited – all over the world, over a (mostly) harmless game. It’s a time when citizens of different countries, each with their own internal problems, can bond as a nation. People like you and me can wave flags proudly without any political motive.

As an American, I’ve always envied others in this. I never felt comfortable decking myself out in the Stars & Stripes, because to be honest, most people don’t really like seeing Americans dressed that way, or chanting USA USA, etc. (By the way, we need to come up with some more creative chants). It hits a chord, brings a negative, “superiority” vibe… it’s like the school bully walked into the room. Let’s face it, when you’re on the road as an American, the last thing you want to do is draw attention to that fact. Take the humble road, or eat alone every night. I’m sure there are some who disagree, but this is the way I roll. Keep a low profile, make no big deal of your country, and spend more time learning about others.

Luckily for me and my relationship with soccer, one of my parents is from Argentina. Every World Cup, I snag the opportunity to cover myself in blue and white, talk some smack about other teams, and generally get more and more obnoxious (in Spanish, so it’s ok) the further along we get. For the last one, I was actually in Argentina for most of it. It made me so happy to see the entire country come to a full stop for each game, everyone waving flags and chanting, sooo proud to be Argentine, even though everyone constantly complains about the government. An Argentine waving the flag is not immediately associated with war, or a political party. It usually means futbol’s going on.

Fans at St Andrew's Pub in Seattle, 7am June 22 (Photo by C. Taylor)

This year is different. I’m finally able to do this with the US team, too. (Between the two, I’m exhausted!) ;) People back home in the states are going crazy. I’m seeing images of friends in packed bars at 7am, crowds going wild on wins, healthy banter on social sites like Facebook and Twitter. How fun is this?! Finally, we can wear a navy blue bandana with stars on it, with a red and white striped t-shirt. People can bond over a game. The best part is, we’re the underdogs. It’s not the bully on scene this time. We’re the nerd in the back… the one that’s been working out a bit. And lo and behold, some people are actually rooting for us. I never thought I’d see this day.

It’s not just a game. We’re finally joining, accepting, taking part in this world-wide club, blind to race and socio-economic background. It is a platform of surprises, harmless drama, and a time when you can look at your neighbor no matter who they voted for and say, yeah, go America. Go Slovakia. Go North Korea. Whatever you go for, you can go to a pub and yell to your heart’s content.

Don’t even try to compare this to the Olympics.

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Update on Stef & Eamonn’s Wedding

May 30th, 2010

For those of you who are just dying to know how my friends fared after the Eyjafjallajökull fiasco, they did indeed make it to their lovely wedding in Ireland (via boat and trains from London), as did most guests. There were unfortunately some loved ones missing from the states, including the bride’s brother, sister-in-law, and niece. Here is a testament to technology, as they were able to Skype from the reception. (Photo stolen from the bride’s brother) ;)

Stef and Eamonn

Skyping at their wedding

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Everything has been Eyjafjallajokulled

April 20th, 2010

Eamonn and Stef might miss their own wedding

Sigh.

Every day I am hearing more and more stories about people close to me affected by the Eyjafjallajokull volcano. I have friends stuck in Jordan, Sydney, Seattle, Singapore, and the UK.

Some are happy – extended holidays! Hooray! But the glum, I feel for the glum. One friend might lose his job. Two friends are getting married in Ireland this weekend, and the bride’s mother might not be able to make it to her daughter’s wedding. A relative of a friend of mine was passing away, and no one was able to make it to his bedside to say good-bye.

How many people are scheduled for surgery and waiting for organs? Or are unable to get their prescriptions? Or new mothers stranded on their first business trip back at work? People outstaying their visas? The list goes on. My own story pales in comparison… but is still monumentally frustrating. I can only imagine what it must be like for others, and my heart goes out to all of you.

Who would have thought a “random” volcano could affect so much? Farmers in Kenya are being laid off due to a volcano in Iceland. That’s just amazing. It just goes to show how fragile we really are in this globally interconnected world.

Transportation has changed the way we (animals) have organized ourselves. Take out one mechanically introduced, unnatural part of that and chaos ensues. I am a huge fan of travel (obviously) but this does make for some interesting introspection. If it weren’t so easy to go home, would I have left? I am always comforted to know that my family is only a 10 hour flight away…

Now for the first time we are starting to ask the question – what would the world be like if people were grounded for months? Nature has spoken, indeed.

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Thoughts on growing old

February 24th, 2010

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.


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Paris on Sale

February 4th, 2010

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

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Ode to Free Wireless

January 7th, 2010

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

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The Hermit, Period.

November 6th, 2009

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.

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Tough Transitions

September 29th, 2009

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.

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Passport mini-crisis and a sliced finger

September 24th, 2007

I sent my passport in to get a page supplement and was a bit worried about it, as it’s been looking a bit… let’s just say ‘tired’. I spoke too soon in my last post, in fact. As feared, the Embassy determined that my passport was not in condition to get new pages and that I needed a new one. They were not returning my old one; I had to go there in person. It was Monday morning, and Friday I was meant to be off to Oktoberfest. A week after that, Africa. What to do?

I was first in line at the Embassy on Tuesday, passport photos and birth certificate in hand. Luckily, I was allowed in as an ‘emergency’ and went through the process of getting a temporary passport (phew!) and a new one, which is to take 10-15 days. D’oh! That wasn’t going to be in time for Africa, and there weren’t enough pages in the temporary one for the number of countries I would visit. They gave me a glimmer of hope by saying they’d put a “little note” on it to rush, but to still expect 10-15 days. I put all my faith in the American Embassy, hoping that for once my government bureaucracy could do something right, via a post-it note.

The tightly crossed fingers got in the way of a gigantic beer-stein which smashed against mine during an animated “Prost!” in Oktoberfest. Glass everywhere, I looked down to see blood on the table and thought “Oh no! Someone was cut!” And then I realized that someone was me. Blood was gushing a little too quickly out of my pinkie. It was a very small, but deep, cut across the blood vessel on the knuckle. I knew I would need stitches.

Oktoberfest from above

Oktoberfest (photo taken a previous year)

The Germans, ever efficient, had put massive red balloons up at the first aid stations. No matter how much you drank, there was no missing them. A friend led me towards the nearest balloon, over a tent where they actually glued my finger shut. Interesting, and definitely easier than stiches. Best of all, the nurse stated that I could keep drinking and dancing – probably until I fell over and needed more first aid. She also mentioned that the event organisers had changed the glasses a few years ago. Prior to that, she had seen far more broken bones. Now, it was cuts. Hmm.

I am meant to be using this hand in just over a week to climb Spitzkoppe, otherwise known as ‘The Matterhorn of Africa’ at 1,800m. Now, not only am I out of shape but also with a lame finger. And no passport! Oh, and a bit hung over, but that should pass… I hope.

This article originally appeared on MSN UK Travel.

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A little bit of Rabies, a little bit of Hep

September 13th, 2007

“This might hurt a little” says the travel nurse as she jabs my upper arm for the fifth time. I’m starting to feel like a walking pin cushion.

I scuttle away with a long list of prescriptions and ‘necessary’ first aid kit items. Stopping at Boots on the way back to work, I pick it all up and am thinking I may need to bring an extra piece of luggage for my mobile emergency clinic. I can’t possibly need this much! But what to cut?

My number one bit of unsolicited advice for new long-term travellers is to take less than you think you need. A lot less. This is easy enough to agree to, until you start baggage triage. Do I cut the pain medication, malaria pills, or anti-diarrheal? How many bandages to take? How many bottles of repellant? And that’s just the first aid stuff…

The list keeps growing. The ‘go light’ motto is such a hard one to follow.

Backpacking packing

A similar packing shot from earlier travels

There’s not much time left to get everything in order. Thinking of this causes a dropping sensation in my gut which probably won’t go away until I’m on the plane. I have a list constantly looping through my head – wrap everything up at work, pack the bags and then the rest of my belongings into a few boxes… not to mention the final social requirements of seeing every single person I know before I go, even though 3 months are going to pass by so quickly that no one will even notice I’m gone. Time always seems to stretch out far when we look ahead, yet compresses drastically on looking back.

The good news is the flights are now purchased. I used Expedia’s multi stop option and got a pretty cheap flight in and out of Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania, via Dubai. From there I’ll take another flight to Namibia, via Johannesburg, where I will meet the Hot Rock crew. It’s probably the most inefficient route I could take, but you get what you pay for.

I don’t mind, as I get a week alone in Dar Es Salaam before heading to Namibia. As of yet I have NO idea what I’m going to do there… and confess to being utterly ignorant of Tanzania and nearby Zanzibar. It will be an adventure to figure things out as I go, but I’m still hoping to get a few minutes to at least flip through a guide book or something before getting on the plane! Am very excited.

The only major thing left is my passport, currently at the embassy, which in itself makes me nervous. They seem to know when you’re in a hurry. All I requested were new pages to be added. A friend of mine just got a new passport in a week. I sent mine in over a week ago for new pages and have nothing. Tick tock tick tock… I hope it’s not too tattered for them. This could get complicated. Wish me luck.

This article originally appeared on MSN UK Travel.

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