Wanderlust Girl

Hiatus

2008-02-20T20:09:00.003-08:00

As you've probably noticed, Wanderlust Girl has been on hiatus. I've been working on other projects (including a new blog which I hope earns me some money), building websites for a new client, starting to pursue another money-making operation (doing something I really enjoy), and petsitting.

So anyway, I probably won't be writing here again much, if at all, and I've taken down most of the posts here. I've left some of my favorite or fun posts up, so there's still a little of me here. Re-reading the posts when I was in Argentina make me want to travel again (I never stop wanting this...it just becomes dormant when I intentionally ignore the wanderlust for a while (a girl needs property of her own, remember?)).

So if I start travelling again, I'll start writing here again.

Thanks for having read!

Un besito y un abrazo!

Recent Life: A Brief Recap

2008-02-02T09:28:00.000-08:00

Work: keeping me busy. I negotiated a rate increase with my primary client, and I'm very pleased with that. Am putting the finishing touches on a website I've built and written content for, for a new client. (The website building has been lots of fun.)
Men: went on a date, but it just wasn't a match. It wasn't a Bad Date, so I don't consider it a total loss.
Travel: as always, it seems, I'm currently planning an escape to a warmer climate. I'm seriously considering returning to Mexico, for a little beach vacation, in late March. El sol! La playa! Margaritas!! Last week, I went to Vancouver BC with a couple friends, to see the opera. Had a good time, though the cold that won't quite go away came back while I was in Vancouver.
State of the NaNoWriMo manuscript: uhhhh. I've made a few edits, but haven't really touched it in any significant way. I always think about it when I get busy with work...and then ignored it when I wasn't busy with work...
Dancing with the Stars: well, haven't been dancing with celebrities, but I've had some great times in the two dance classes I've been taking recently. For a while, my tango skills were just a memory (distant memory) in my mind, and then last week it just started feeling natural and I felt like I actually knew what I was doing in the intermediate class. Salsa is still fun, though my partner is down in sunny, hot Uruguay and Buenos Aires (!), so I haven't been practicing and going to dances as often.

A novelist and a WINNER!

2007-11-29T00:40:00.000-08:00

I have just passed 50,000 words for NaNo. I now have a little purple bar above my name on the site, with WINNER! written in all caps.

28 days (+plus about 15 minutes)=50,000 words.

And now I just have to start editing, rewriting, filling in the blanks....

Yet the important thing is this: I sat down, stretched my fingertips, and strung 50,000 words together to create some semblance of a first draft of a novel.

Did I mention I'm a WINNER! ??

Inspiration returns as the end draws nearer

2007-11-24T13:33:00.000-08:00

OK. So it was like this: I was at a lull in my writing, and highly discontent with what I'd written for the last couple pages. Being that this is a NaNo novel, editing is not allowed [in November]. One of my roommates gave me a suggestion for how to get out of the lull, but it didn't quite take. Instead, I decided to start a war. It was very exciting! In hindsight, that could be the major sub-plot of the story, and I could move it up earlier in the book, when I start editing. I'm not sure.

I'm also battling with incorporating the idea of my short story Edith into the novel, now. Edith is a 250 word story, and perhaps my favorite from when I was in college. My main character is also named Edith, for this novel. From what I've written today, and just what today's mood is, I'm thinking she will turn out something similar to the microfiction Edith.

Then again, perhaps my mind is still foggy from this nasty sore throat and cold I woke up with yesterday.

Then again, I already want to change several bits of the novel, so who knows what will make it in to the second draft, and onwards.

Statistically, there are six days left, and I have about 10,500 words left to write. I want to actually have an 'ending' by the time I reach 50k words, though I suspect the story will end up being longer than that.

I also suspect A Lot of what I've written will end up being abandoned, but hey:

It's just the first draft!

Interview with an Author, pt 1

2007-11-16T17:45:00.000-08:00

Interviewer: So Shana, I hear you're writing a novel this month.

Shana: That is correct. I'm doing it as part of NaNoWriMo.

I: Is it hard?

S: Surprisingly, not so much. I generally just sit down and start writing and that's it for the day. There are lulls, or points where I'm not exactly happy with how it's going. Though, one of the NaNo points is to write -- even when you know it's bad.

I: Gotcha. I hear this novel is based on the year you "retired."

S: That is correct. Though, I'm lying about a lot of things, so only someone who knows me really, really well could spot the variance between what really happened, and what I'm fictionalizing. I'm having a spectacular time making people that peeved me into nasty characters, and then, well...I can't tell you what happens to them.

I: You tease!

S: Well, I won't be rich if I tell the story here! [smiles coyly]

I: Very true, very true. What kind of music do you listen to while writing?

S: It varies. Sometimes it's just NPR. Recently, I've been listening to Moby's Hotel (Disc 2), and the Hotel Costes series, and my own personal Downtempo mix (649 songs). At one point, I will listen to a lot of Keane. Honestly, I've not found one disc, or group of discs, that has dominated my writing playlist.

I: Are you writing from an outline? Notes?

S: Um, no. I'd forgotten that NaNo was near, when a friend reminded me about it. Three days was certainly not enough time to create any kind of an outline. I just sit down and write. Though, I am basing it on a personal experience with a very specific timeline, so that does help. Usually.

I: Only usually?

S: Well, the problem with lying is this: when you start lying A Lot, events change, characters change, etc. Then, I have to get my character from one point to the next in an entirely different way.

I: Do you ever worry that your novel will sound too much like a memoir?

S: I do, in fact. It can be hard to balance writing exposition, against having it sound like just some windbag telling you a story about what they did in suchandsuch a place. It's something I'm very aware of and will be revisiting during the editing process.

I: Are you nervous for friends of yours to read the novel?

S: As it is now, a bit. As it will be when I've finished NaNo and had some time to edit it, not so much. Characters who are friends of the main character in the novel are composite characters. So, some people may recognize bits of themselves, but there is no character (ok, maybe there is one) who isn't really fictionalized.

I: Hm, well hopefully you won't include any pesky interviewers!

S: Ah, no. There are no fictional media tours planned.

I: Finally, how far along are you?

S: A little more than halfway -- just over 25,000 words.

I: Very nice. Good luck to you!

S: Thank you.

Novel Update 1

2007-11-09T12:31:00.000-08:00

So, I have a bit more than 10k words. By the end of today, I should have 15,003 to be meeting the daily 'quota' (which isn't what you have to follow, but helps you keep on track for where you need to be at the end of the month).

It's going well. It's surprising how easy the words just fill up the page. Yes, I'm basing this (at least initially) on the year I took off and travelled, but still. It's not unknown that I can knock out 800 words in 30 minutes, or (more often) 1000 or so in about an hour. In reality, I've only been spending 1-2 hours writing each day, yet I spend a lot of time thinking about the novel.

I've started to lie (in relation to whether or not these things actually happened to me or someone I met on the YOL trip), and it's been great fun. I'm able to say things I didn't, change events around, or just create things that just sound like fun to write.

My MSN Messenger has a running tally of my word count, and someone (who had no idea that I'm doing NaNoWriMo) finally asked me what that number was. Of course, he loved my blog, and asked when he could read the novel. Ummm. It'll be a first draft... I've already realized that much of the first 5k words needs to be edited down and/or changed and/or just plain deleted. We'll see.

But in terms of numbers alone, I'm a little over 20% of the way towards the final goal of 50k words! Yippee!

I never thought writing a (first draft of) novel, even based on my own personal experiences, could be so easy. I guess it's just a matter of sitting down and actually starting something. I'm not even working from a formal outline, and I've (temporarily, at any rate) stopped looking at my blog/journal transcript for a guide of where my main character is going and what she's doing.

Which makes me wonder: how many other novels are lurking about in my head??

(hint: I already have an idea for next year's NaNoWriMo, and I'll start drafting an outline for that once this one is done -- which will make this process even easier!)

NaNoWriMo

2007-11-01T14:16:00.001-07:00

As if I haven't been busy enough trying to keep up with my new salsa partner's requests to meet for dancing, the Sudoku I've finally started playing (a late adopter yes, but I'm already looking at possible addiction), I've decided to try NaNoWriMo.

NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month. The goal: 50k words in 30 days. Am I crazy? Perhaps. Am I finally using the document I created of my first blog and personal journal entries and creating the book I always threatened I would? Yes. [note: No, it's not forbidden to use a blog or other outline/notes for this project -- you just can't use a partial (novel) manuscript as a starting point -- BreakupBabe created an early draft of her blog-to-novel during NaNoWriMo.

It all works out to somewhere between 1700-2000 words per day.

Where am I at today? 769. But I only threw some words on the page, just so I could start it. I need to review my blog/journal document, and decide what I want to mine (and lie about).

I once saw a video of an author (John Updike?) who said [sic]:

"Every year, I decide to write my autobiography. Then I start to lie, and then I have my next novel."

In Memoriam

2007-09-20T21:18:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is the 10 year anniversary of my father's death.

I still miss him keenly. He gave me strategic and smart advice, regardless of whether I called him at 2pm or 2am -- always being a great sounding board.

He told my second cousin "call me Sam," after the first time he called him "Uncle Sam."

I have much more of my father in me than I ever imagined, and I discover this more and more as I grow older. Among other things, my wanderlust is from my father.

It is entirely by coincidence, that tomorrow I will be in (close enough, anyway) the city he died in.

The world is not the same. My world is not the same.

I miss you Dad.

The Triumph of the Tech Writer

2007-08-23T21:07:00.000-07:00

So. After a few weeks of not having much to do for work (one PM gone, and me waiting for feedback from other client = not many billable hours). This week, the PM is back and I've been bizzz-eeee. Which is nice.

So today. The PM and another guy were doing a machine installation. It's well worth saying they are both very good at their jobs, and knew what they were doing.

Triumph #1: Installation is progressing. Something appears to not be working properly. The CPU board is removed, cables removed and reattached, CPU board reinstalled. Problem remains. Discussion between the guys ensues. (I was just there to verify the documentation against the process.) The guys look at something else. Problem remains. The guys start thinking something is really, badly wrong. Me: "Maybe it's [xx]." They look at me. One says, "wellll, maybe, we can look at it." Of course, it was the easy thing I suggested... See, I do absorb at least a bit of what I've been writing about for 17 months...

Triumph #2: Another guy tries to attach an electrical doodad to inside of machine cavity. Can't. PM tries to attach electrical doodad to inside of machine cavity. Can't. "Well," I say, "let me try." PM: "You'll never be able to do it. No offense." (He and I have a very amiable, good relationship, and I knew this was not meant disparagingly.) So, I take the doodad, insert screw, use my small hands to press it to appropriate spot, screw the screw in. Meanwhile, one of them was actually starting to unscrew the side panel... TECH WRITER TRIUMPHS TWICE!

I think the guys have a new admiration for me. I mean, they think my documentation rocks mightily, already.

Later, in the day, in a meeting with these guys, some others, and the president of the company, the PM adds "Oh, and we need to give props to Shana." He then went on to explain my correct diagnosing of the first (triumph), and also of the second (triumph). Loud applause all around.

I so rock.

Why I'm starting to hate WaMu

2007-08-14T00:55:00.001-07:00

I've banked with Washington Mutual (now, sillily called "WaMu") for 15+ years. In the last month, they have started pushing me to the edge of closing all my accounts with them.

The evidence:

1. I find a seemingly strange transaction on my online statement. I call to dispute it. I'm put on hold two different times, for upwards of 15 minutes each time. I later find out that department does not work on Saturdays. I end up using the email feature online, which I don't like, because I'd rather actually speak to someone about things like this.

1a. I even later find out that perhaps some people in that group work on Saturdays. It's confusing, because I've by this point received two contradictory pieces of information. When I asked the second regular rep if anyone was actually answering that phone line [since it was a Saturday, and I understand that not all groups may works on Saturdays] she wasn't able to give me a clear yes or no answer -- and she'd put me on hold "to check into that" a couple times.

2. Pursuant to #1, my debit card is cancelled. I don't learn this until I receive an email back, and a letter in the mail. If I'd known this would happen, I would've tried requesting a copy of whatever it was that was signed. About three days after my card is cancelled, I figure out what the charge was (a non-profit that used a card service with a strange name).

2a. It takes a full week to receive a new card, and an additional week to receive a new PIN. No, no matter how much you argue with them, they are "unable" to expedite these things. Needless to say, this changed my spending quite dramatically, as I had to carry cash, which meant going in to a bank when they were open. There were times I worked past the bank closing time, and couldn't do what I wanted to in the evening [because I didn't want to rack up a bunch of charges on my credit card]. Yes, it's fair to say there was disruption in my life. (And yes, I've realized quite how often I use my debit card, even though I generally only have some (small) amount of cash with me. This is quite different from when I travel, and very, very rarely use a debit or credit card to make any kind of purchases (other than travel tickets).)

2b. The day before I receive the PIN, I call to complain on how long it's taking. I'm told I could have been using my debit card as a credit card all this time. WHY did noone mention this? I called more than once asking just exactly how long/how much longer it would take to receive my PIN.

2c. I take some initiative and take my new card to a branch, because I know they have machines to change PINs. After watching an Assistant Manager talk a bit too long with a customer, and watch him unashamedly, sexually leer at the woman as she walked away (a tangent, I know, but come on...the bank is not a nightclub where you pick up women), I'm told I have to have my PIN in order to change it. Multiple pieces of government identification to prove who I am? Doesn't matter.

2d. The first rep I talk to, tells me information which her manager tells me is patently false. "I don't know where she got that information from."

2e. When asked why I should keep my accounts with WaMu, because by that time I'm royally pissed off, I get this response: "Well, I certainly understand your frustration at not having a debit card." Me: "You just completely dodged the question I asked." WaMu: "Well, you certainly can choose to put your money in any bank you choose." A friend: "Oh, they answered your question alright -- they don't care about you or your accounts." What? Maybe they'd care more if they had all my cash accounts? I'm supposed to keep my cash on hand in a savings account that current offers an APY of 0.2%? Are you kidding? Do they think I'm a moron? My cash savings is in another bank, earning almost 5% APY, and it has been for a while now. Before I opened my profitable savings account, the WaMu sales force constantly called me and sent me letters and sent me cards, trying to invest my money for me. Would WaMu care more if I'd invested my money with them, so I was earning more money for them, but less for me?

3. I just went to check my online statement. This lovely bank has just posted my rent check. Twice. There isn't any kind of checks and balances in their system which would, say, notify them if a check number is posted twice? That seems pretty basic to me. By tomorrow morning, my checking account will be overdrawn, and at least one NSF fee will be charged, in addition to a fee for transferring money from my savings account. How long will it take them to rectify their error? Oh, about three days. How long will it take to rectify all the charges? Who knows.

4. During a recent security upgrade, all of the available security questions to choose from were dramatically slanted towards white, married couples. Sure, I'm white, but I'm also single. Are they willing to alienate anyone outside (their obviously preferred) white, married demographic? Apparently so. I happened to email someone I know who works there, and she actually received a response from one of the people in charge of that security project. In hindsight, they realized the narrowness of those questions (have they changed them yet? I don't know). They also informed her that responses to those questions did not have to be exact. Excuse me?! If, for example, the response to your first childhood pet is "Fluffy" it appears that a response of "Fluffi" could allow access to your accounts. How is this secure, exactly?

5. What is the hiring bar for WaMu customer service reps? In the past few weeks, I've received more than one piece of contradictory information, in addition to receiving patently false information. If this is their level of employees, why should I trust them with my money?

Yes, I've had words with WaMu. While I feel I could have handled my anger in a bit more of an "adult" way [while talking to WaMu CS], I don't repent any of the sentiments I feel and have expressed. Right now, I see the bank as largely staffed by idiots and people who make non-customer-friendly policies.

But see, the thing is this: I'm not keen on Bank of America, and what other bank is as present in the Seattle area as WaMu? Do I have to break down and switch to BoA? If only I had direct deposit from my clients (not possible, as I'm a contractor), I could just completely switch to one of the internet-only banks. If I do continue with them, I will certainly switch to just having a checking and the bare minimum in a savings account [with just enough to qualify for me free checking account, and enough for cash emergencies].

Is it any wonder I'm starting to hate WaMu?

The News of My World

2007-07-18T22:42:00.000-07:00

Work: 2 clients+more than two documents=me fairly busy. Still being busy this far into the year=priceless.
Romance and men: I hear it's/they're out there, but I haven't been looking too closely.
Home: Cozy.
Home version 1.2: What is not in my cozy home is now fit into a cozy 32sf storage locker. Kinda humbling when all that you own (that is not in your tiny bedroom) fits into something roughly 8'x4'. It's really not much more space than a large closet.
Pretty things: Came home today and the storm had blown rose petals all over the steps up to the house. Very lovely.
Recent reading: I re-read Harry Potter 1-6 in about nine days. Nine. Now, I am loathe to start a new book (and I really need something to read!), because (as if you don't already know) the new HP book is released Friday at midnight. My copy is reserved and I will start reading about 12.30am [when I get home from said party]. I've started a betting pool. Aside from those nine days, I've been reading quite a lot lately. Other favorite reading includes the fantastically imaginative Thursday Next series by Jasper Fforde.
Recent cool movie: Wait for it...Harry Potter 5+IMAX+20 minutes of 3-D action=Highly recommended!
Recent event: Went to a wedding reception last week, and had a really nice time. Best guy friend and I danced together. This is notable because he doesn't dance, and he said it would probably be another 14 years before I saw that again. Event was also notable because someone I once spent a lot of time with was there. We didn't actually talk, though I'd wondered if we'd chat or greet each other. In hindsight, it doesn't matter either way. He looked quite different, and I know I looked great -- sounds petty and puerile, I know, but when you're in that position, it matters.
Recent cultish event: Went to the Buffy Sing-A-Long, which is touring the country. Fantastic fun. Catch it if you can.
Vacation: There isn't one planned. Yet. It's just a matter of figuring out when I'll have free time from work, how much I want to spend, and where I'll go. Of course, I'd love to go to Europe for a few weeks (S! E! & other friends!), but we'll see. Financially, I should stay closer to home so I can continue saving for my home, but...my passport is dusty and the wanderlust has been kicking in again!
Random odd event: A pigeon flew into the house a couple days ago, and I had to chase it and herd it out. Pigeons don't look that big until they're flying around your kitchen, close to your head.

The Real World: Buenos Aires

2007-01-13T18:56:00.000-08:00

I always meant to do a post like this two years ago, but I just never got around to it. There have been better mixes in the residencia since I've been here, but I think this mix is, well, interesting. Currently, there are only women in the residencia, which is weird. In no particular order, a mix of current and past residents:

M: Probably still doesn't understand why I don't go out of my way to talk to her, and why E doesn't either. Though, she's made friends with the unnamed German girls (below), so that says something... [Note: this is the one who invited me to a milonga with her and another guy, and then promptly, completely ignored me the whole time at the milonga, and only spoke in German to the other guy.] Asks questions of others, but never seems to volunteer information about herself.

E: I adore E. E adores me. I'm sad she has to move to another residencia on Tuesday (she extended her stay in Argentina, and the residencia was already booked up for January). E's full of energy, intelligent, and interesting. She's also a perfect travel partner, and we're planning another, short trip before I leave. She came here, never having spent time with any Americans and had a dismal view of them. As she's quick to point out to other people, I changed all that. We've promised to visit each other in the other's city (and we will).

The unnamed German sisters: Very, very young, very, very spoiled by their father. They've been here over a week and have still not introduced themselves to me. E said one of them introduced herself to her a couple days ago. I've actually sat a table with them before, and still, no introductions. I thought it was because they didn't speak English, and I know they don't speak Spanish. But today, I heard one of them having a conversation in English... They're also incredibly noisy and obnoxious, and do nothing to dispell the ill feelings I have for nearly every German person I meet (S and L, of course, are exceptions, as I adore them). The young girl has a voice that I detest -- it's like a cross between a little girl voice and a robot, and her laugh sounds like a donkey braying. Seriously.

H: Father to the unnamed German sisters. At first, seems boisterous and funny. Later, obnoxious, overbearing and overwhelming. Called all the guys "CHICO!" and all the ladies "LINDA." (Yes, that's in caps, because he would boom his voice when he spoke.) In the end, a real pain in the a**.

M: Older Canadian woman. At first, she seemed really negative, but I think she just needed some time to be on vacation and to relax. We get along fine now, and we've had some nice conversations. While she came here to dance tango, she's had an injury and hasn't really been able to do so. Instead, she had a facelift.

N: Ex-girlfriend of the son of the residence. Apparently, they're now good friends. She arrived from Germany, today, for a visit. I'm not sure what the current girlfriend feels about the visit, but she was dressed very well today when N arrived.

F: German guy. Bit of a passive-aggressive bully (though, I wasn't quite able to identify this for several weeks). Once went on and on about how perfect his girlfriend and he were for each other, and that if they married anyone, it would be each other. Later, cheated on her with an Argentine woman. His last night here, S and I, and some friends of F's, went to a Brazilian club, and danced samba. When S commented on how sexy samba dancing is, he said "I wouldn't allow my girlfriend to dance samba." A**hole.

S: German woman that I adore, and was sad to say goodbye to. Seemed a little distant at first, but we became really great friends, and she's one of the amazing exceptions to my whole "I can't [generally] stand the Germans I meet in Argentina" viewpoint. She had an incredible knack for attracting either well-off guys, or semi-pro athletes. Oh, and despite her fear and dislike of cats, she came to be somewhat fond of Griselda (as long as G didn't do a full body stretch, which S found really disgusting).

L: Scottish girl. Reader of my blog who asked for a referral to my residencia. Though, was only able to stay for a couple days, because the place is pretty well booked out this month. She arrived while I was in Patagonia, and I only got to talk to her for a couple minutes. We're supposed to meet up before I leave.

Ma: Brazilian guy. Lots of fun. Began most sentences with todavia (still), even when it wasn't necessary or appropriate. Really intelligent and lots of fun. We were all sad when he returned to Brazil, because he was the only person who only spoke Spanish with all of us. For a while I suspected he didn't speak English, but I later learned he spoke some and understood more. He smiled easily and often.

Other Germans: Mostly weird. One guy once asked me if I needed a shower (such an odd question late in the day), and then proceeded to pour a bit of bottled water on my head. Huh? The couple that were recently engaged, and walked around rather smug and full of themselves. A woman here for tango dancing, who was friendly, though rarely here, because she was, well, tango dancing all day and night. She is a doctor, and was really nice and helpful to S, when S was sick once, and left S with a small health kit.

Unnamed British guy: Seemingly talked to noone, and was either gone or always stayed in his room. One night early on, as I was going to sleep, he started banging on the [foot-thick cement] wall and yelling incoherently. Was here for two weeks, I never learned his name, and he only spoke to me when asking me if I knew what the departure tax was.

Ma & C: Two older Canadian ladies. Travelled around much of the north of Argentina, and spent quite a bit of time in Buenos Aires. Really, really nice and sweet. One of them has a striking resemblence to Betty White. I lent them my alarm clock once, and they returned it with a small box a truffles. I missed their departure from the residencia, but the other Canadian M gave me a subte (subway) pass and a calling card with extra rides and time. As she put it: "They're from Betty White." I wish I hadn't missed their departure, so I could've gotten their email addresses, as they only live a couple hours from me.

G: Snotty French woman. Told me to my face that the US does not have "cuisine." This from a woman who I believe has only visited Florida, and ate at chain restaurants along the lines of TGIFridays... Nothing in this country is good enough for her -- food: can't stand it; weather: too hot and humid. Nothing is as good as it is in France. Nothing. Yet, she sold her house in France and came to Buenos Aires (for the first time!) to buy a house here, because she's unhappy with life in France. Spent most of her time on the patio. I can't stand talking to her, because it's 98% negative.

The family: The mother: we adore each other, and we share sweets when we have them. She's a really kind lady and we talk often. She is like my Argentine mother. The father: really great guy, though we've not sat and had many conversations. He's the one that kindly disposed of my Gift Rat in the middle of the night. The son: sometimes a bit grating, but generally a good guy. Likes to talk. A lot.

Damien: the turtle. Needs a bell. Prone to sneaking up on people, and then getting kicked or stepped on. It's amazing he's lived to 32 years...

Griselda: What can I say? Mi amor. My provider of Gifts That Bleed. The one who cries at my door when I'm gone for a couple of days. The one that the family keeps joking they're going to send to the US with me. I adore her and her stumpy tail.

Ice, and The Patagonian Curse

2007-01-08T08:58:00.000-08:00

First, let me say that I did not fall or otherwise injure myself while in Patagonia. That is not the curse. I will get to the curse a bit later.

So. El Calafate. Four days. About a dozen glaciers, more or less. Importantly: I. Have. My. Photos. (!!!!!!!!!)

Getting there was long, as the flight was repeatedly delayed, and we sat in the airport yawning and being anxious to get to Patagonia. To our surprise, the flight went first to Ushuaia (! mi amor!). Sadly, we were unable to leave the plane during the 30 minute layover. Ushuaia from the air is just as lovely as I remember it. Then on to El Calafate, where we were greeted with lovely, beautiful COLD (for us, anyway) weather. It was such a pleasure to wear long pants, sweaters, and to just generally not be somewhere with stifling heat or humidity.

Yes, I know I'm returning to Seattle in a few weeks, so I should enjoy the sun while I can, but I still loved my little, cold Patagonian excursion.

This also isn't to say that there wasn't sun. Despite careful application of sunblock, my nose and cheeks got a little sunburnt. E says my nose looks cute...

On to the ice. If you don't like ice, you can stop reading now...because El Calafate is a town based on glacier-related tourism. My first day, I revisited Perito Moreno. Perito Moreno is famous for shedding (calving) chunks of ice. In 2004, it made international news as one day in March, huge, massive chunks of ice started calving. Today, the glacier still calves, but on a day to day basis, not as impressively as March, 2004. Which, in the end, is a Very Good Thing, as the world needs the glaciers to stay intact and not decrease as exponentially as they have been.

Though, it seemed everytime I heard the thunder/cannon-sound that signalled calving, I was on the other side of the glacier. If you're not facing the part that is calving, you only have about 2-3 seconds to look, otherwise you just see the broken piece bobbing in the water. As such, I was only able to catch glimpses of some calving, but mostly I was sad that my luck was such that I was always in a different area.

I always marvel at how the ice looks blue. This effect is related to the density of the ice, and the reflection of water or sky on the ice. It makes for very, very beautiful pictures.

Saturday, E and I went on a day-long boat trip. We saw A Lot of ice. We took a lot of pictures.

Well, E was able to take more pictures....but we almost weren't able to take pictures...

Here is the Patagonia Curse: something bad always happens to me in Patagonia. This time, though, the ending is much better (and healthier) than two years ago. I also discovered that my choice of travelling partners was much, much better.

Several weeks ago, I emailed the hostel, and asked for a reservation for the boat tour of the glaciers. I stayed at the hostel two years ago, and had been very, very impressed with the hostel and the staff, and I very much appreciated that they would book tours for you and there wasn't a huge surcharge for it. In fact, no surcharge that I know of (of course, I'm sure they get something from the tour companies, because, well, that's the way these things work). So, imagine my surprise when E and I went to the desk fifteen minutes before the shuttle was coming, to pick up our vouchers, only to be told we weren't booked on the cruise. Actually, "imagine my horror" was more like it. The bus for that particular cruise was full, and we didn't have tickets.

I went outside and I cried.

E stayed at the desk, and the two women working there, angels that they are, worked to fix this problem. E called me back in, and when I arrived and they all saw I was crying, things changed a little. I hate to say it, but crying does work... "You're crying...?" "Yes." "Why?" "This boat trip is why I came." E and I were leaving the following day, and it would have been impossible for us to take the trip the following day, because it finished later than the flights we had to be on. They found out there was room on the boat, and that all E and I had to do was to get there. We also had to get some vouchers. Enter Julietta. With maybe ten minutes to pay for the tickets and get the vouchers, Maria hands Julietta money to cover the tickets, Julietta runs out the door, gets on her bike and is cycling into town. Maria verifies Julietta was able to get the tickets, E and I take a taxi into town (only about four minutes), we get the tickets, give Julietta big, BIG hugs, and five minutes later E and I are on a bus.

It was very emotional for me, and I really was horrified. Reason #53 that I adore E: she didn't get mad or upset because of the error. Yes, the hostel didn't book the trip, but I also didn't verify the reservation either before we arrived or the day before. E was also an angel -- comforting me, and being her great self. We are actually very well suited for travelling together -- she prefers the top bunk, I the bottom; she wanted the dulce de leche with breakfast, I wanted the jam, she also almost cried when we saw a dog with an injured foot limping on the street -- and we never got upset or tired of each other. I would travel with her, again, anytime.

That was Saturday. Saturday night, we bought two boxes of chocolates for Maria and Julietta. The only sad thing was that Sunday morning, Julietta, Argentina savior on a bicycle, wasn't working. We gave the chocolates to Maria, and again profusely thanked her for what she and Julietta did for us the day before. I've been to only a few hostels that could even come close to the level of service at America del Sur. I also doubt highly that any other hostel I've been to would have done what Maria and Julietta did. They are a popular hostel, and deservedly so. If it wasn't for Maria and Julietta, I would have bought an expensive airline ticket for El Calafate for just about nothing. Yes, I saw Perito Moreno. What I really came for was the boat cruise. Yes, it was an expensive trip to see some glaciers, and I can see glaciers in the US, but I wanted to see these particular glaciers again.

The Patagonian Curse, part 2: Two years ago, I (stupidly) left my photos in an internet cafe, in another Patagonian town. Saturday, at the moment the boat stopped in front of Upsala...the batteries in my camera died. They'd been fresh the day before, because I'd (somewhat) smartly bought some extra batteries. I changed them at Perito Moreno, and thought they would last through the boat trip the next day... I just hadn't bought extra "just in case" batteries...

Knowing my camera, I was able to take about 20 pictures more. I just couldn't take more than one or two at a time, and sometimes I couldn't use my zoom lens. There were several icebergs I dearly wanted to take photos of, but was unable to.

Really, I'd been worried about trying to take too many photos, because I hadn't had time the day before to download my photos, so that I could take the crazy amount of photos that I wanted to.

Strangely, the boat 'cafe' didn't sell batteries. They obviously don't understand the earning potential, as they could charge a fortune. I would've paid a fortune...

It just means that I will visit again. Probably not the next time I come to Argentina, but I will visit again. I also enjoyed that I was able to see new glaciers, as the boat trip was the same company, but it had a slightly different itinerary than two years ago.

In other Patagonia news, we made friends with a really cool Belgian couple (who we hope to see when they arrive in Buenos Aires in a couple weeks); ate some excellent Patagonian chocolate; watched the well-fed dogs that roam the streets of Calafate; marvelled at the quiet/clean air/niceness of the people (southerners are far nicer than portenos)/the lack of traffic lights anywhere. E is now in Ushuaia, and I am back in Buenos Aires.

I have Patagonian chocolates, a newfound appreciation for incredible hostel staff, and (most importantly):

I have photos.

My first rave, and notes from a dark and stormy night

2006-12-17T09:20:00.000-08:00

Last night went something like this: I take a (fantastic!) tango class and nearly pass out from heat; come home, drink something very cold, lie on bed in front of jet-propulsion fan, take cold shower; catch taxi to L's, where she and E have eaten dinner before me. We eat on L's little patio...in the dark, because parts of her building are without electricity. Though, we were able to see each other now and then, because flash lightning was lighting up the sky. Of course, the tormenta started before we left L's. With incredible luck, we managed to find a taxi within three minutes on the street. This is incredible because: 1. Other times, the three of us have spent upwards of 30 minutes on the streets searching for available taxis, in normal weather; and 2. Finding an available taxi during a tormenta in any part of Buenos Aires is close to impossible.

The night continued at the rave/electronic music party, in a location that boasted an open air section. Of course, people only ventured in this section when they were leaving or arriving, or, like L and I, we needed to wash our hands after using the bathroom (the bathroom ran out of water...strange irony, no?). Really, there was that much rain that all you had to do was hold out your hands and they would be drenched in water. While the music was fairly good, I think it's safe to say that we all had a much better time with each other. E is sad that I live so far away from Europe (L is German), and she reiterated her invite for me to come to Holland, I reitereated my invite to Seattle and she promised to visit.

Then, and this is perhaps the most interesting, if somewhat scary, part of the night: finding a taxi, and then taking said taxi. As noted previously, finding a taxi in a tormenta is really based on luck. It usually boils down to someone getting out of a taxi at a corner you're standing on, and then you jumping into the taxi. Last night, we walked several blocks in heavy rain (without jackets, but it wasn't really that cold, but still...). At one point, L found a taxi, but when the taxista saw E and I, he drove off. This is scary because L was drunk (we were all a bit drunk), and I suspect the taxista would've tried something Very Bad if L had taken the taxi by herself. Normally, we only take Radio Taxis, because they are, well, safer and cheaper and the drivers don't try to take you the Long Way. However, during a rainstorm, any available taxi is what you take, and you hope for the best.

Anyway, the search for a taxi continued. Finally, we found one. E and L sat in the back, and I took the front passenger seat. While I was starting to close my door, a young man started trying to open it, and it appeared he was going to try and sit on my lap...and not out of flirtation. I pulled the door very strongly towards me, and thankfully the guy was probably quite drunk, because he was unable to leverage the door open (he was standing between the car and the door). Eventually the taxista looked at me, and I indicated I didn't know the guy, and the taxista started yelling at the guy, and the guy was yelling and saying things like "there is room for three people in the back, and there are only two." Eventually, the taxista moved the taxi a couple inches forward, and I was able to slam my door shut. At that moment, I wasn't entirely sure if the guy's fingers would be safe from my slamming the door, but honestly, I didn't care.

You would think this would be the end of this little vignette, yes? Um, no. It continues, and this is were it gets a bit more scary.

Once my door was closed, I put on my seatbelt. It was a Radio Taxi, but with the late hour (read: potential drunk drivers, and streets streaming with water), it is always a good precaution. Immediately after this, the driver Got Out of the Car. This was followed by us saying "What's going on?" "Where is he?" and L starting to giggle and laugh uncontrollably (this, by the way, was not the first point of the evening where she couldn't stop laughing). After a couple minutes, we were all a bit uncomfortable and very uncertain about what was happening. The back window was fogged up, so we couldn't see what was happening. Did the taxista go to have words (or fists) with the guy that tried to get in my door? After more minutes, the taxista returned...followed by a cartonero... The cartonero was wearing only pants, and he and the taxista were in a huge, Huge argument, and started circling the car. E: "Shana, ten cuidad!" (Shana, be careful!) While we locked the doors we were all next to, the driver's window was halfway rolled down, and that door was unlocked. I should mention the keys were also in the ignition. (side note: of course, it crossed my mind that if either L or E wasn't drunk (I don't know how to drive), we could easily have hijacked the taxi ourselves...) There was much, much yelling between the two men, and much punching of the car by the cartonero. This is the point that I actually started to worry. Being in a locked car when an angry man is punching said car is not exactly the safest place to be, and options for escape are rather limited -- especially for me, because it was a stick shift. Thankfully, the argument dissolved, and the taxista got in the car.

Only, it was a different taxista. Younger man.

Was there a changing of the taxistas during the several minutes we were alone in the car? We have absolutely no idea why there was a change, and the man's shirt was dry, so he wasn't some random guy from the street hijacking the taxi. E: "Che, quien sos?" E and I laughed about this today -- che is a very affectionate, and friendly, way to greet someone. This is definitely not how you speak to an unknown taxista.

Thankfully, he drove. We dropped off L, then E and I continued home. E occasionally gets feelings of carsickness, and last night was one of them. Pobrecita was in the backseat moaning, and making big gulps of air. I held her hand, and kept telling her "we're almost there, it's very close." It was a bit funny when we arrived home, and I was paying the taxi driver -- E was still moaning.

Me: E, we're here.
E: [moaning] En serio? (really?)
Me: Si.

We left the taxi, the taxista was a good taxista and watched us to make sure we safely got in the front door, and then E and I carefully made our way up the marble stairs.

This afternoon, I though I heard crying in the kitchen. Eventually, I went to go and look. It may sound bad, but I wasn't interested in comforting the new German girl, if it was her. It was actually E, and she was laughing, not crying. She'd lost her mobile phone during the night, and had just talked to L, and had been told of the "Che, quien sos?" comment (she didn't remember saying it). We spent a good 30 minutes rehashing the night, and laughing over various things (e.g. E trying to move a stack of posters advertising the event, so that I could sit on a chair, then her spilling all the posters on the floor and then cleaning them up; at one point a guy came over, and it looked like he was going to help her (L and I were just laughing, A Lot) -- but no, the guy just wanted one of the posters!), and rehashing what happened in the taxi.

In the end, very thankfully, we are all alright. I'm also thankful that there were three of us, because there really is safety in numbers. What might've happened to L, if she had been by herself and taken that one cab, I don't like to even consider.

So really, I'm glad that my mom doesn't read my blog, because I know this would frighten her beyond recognition. Of course, I was worried during the episode with the taxi at the end of the night, but it worked out.

Now, this is just another one of my travel stories.

Foreign food!

2006-12-13T19:24:00.000-08:00

Belgian chocolate, Belgian beer (two of them), French cheese, a mild version of ranch salad dressing, almonds, French raspberry jam, falafel mix, elbow macaroni noodles (I can't wait to make macaroni and cheese!!)... These are among the things I bought today at Jumbo, a very large, very upmarket grocery store in Palermo. All very expensive, and all delicious. Jumbo has been described to me as the "international" grocery store, and it is. I marvelled at the varieties of real blue cheese (sorry Argentinians, but several other countries have you beat in cheese), camemberts and bries, even cheddar (!!).

It was amazing to walk down the aisles -- they are so very different from my local grocery stores. Real Heinz ketchup (though I'm not really a fan of ketchup), French mustard (this I bought, too), real American yellow mustard, teriyaki sauce, Thai noodles, Spanish peppers, American cereals (Trix anyone?), delicious European chocolates (sorry again Argentines, much of the world has Argentina beat for chocolates -- I know Patagonian chocolate is excellent (muy, muy rico), but I've not found someplace to buy it in Buenos Aires), even Cuban cigars. I'll have you know I perused said cigars for at least 10 minutes, but declined to buy any since I don't know what the turnover is on these, and they weren't kept in a humidor, and I wasn't about to pay near-Canadian prices for a cigar that was perhaps dried out (yuck). But oh, I was very, very tempted.

In all, it was a beautiful experience, though very expensive, and I will likely return before I leave.

And armed with pockets of pesos!

Buenos Aires, aka Dune

2006-12-06T03:52:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I saw people walking around on the street, carrying large jugs of water. Surprisingly to me, I was able to buy a 1.5 liter bottle of water at the kiosko next to my residencia, well after the lack of water began.

Sooner, rather than later, the water in the tank at the residencia ran out. I managed to get the last few drops from one bathroom sink (there are three bathrooms), and that was that.

There was some mild rain yesterday evening. More like sprinkling. After I came home and ate, I later sat at the patio table to read my book. I also took a paper towel and sopped up rainwater so that I could try to rinse my hands after eating. This reminded me greatly of the scene in Dune where a basin of water is thrown onto the floor, in a sign of wealth by the royalty or whomever, and the water is sopped up by desperate servants.

I've heard there were restaurants with running water yesterday. I'm sure pasta was crossed off many menus, though.

Thankfully, the water returned about 12.15am last night. Nearly an entire day without water...and I've been unable to find any English-language news reports of it. Perhaps this is a reflection of the search I did, but it seems rather odd to me that when a city of well over 10 million inhabitants loses its water for this length of time, that this becomes news. If blackouts are newsworthy, why not a city without water?

However, I'm washing my hair and taking my laundry to the laundry service.

Early.

Flashpacking, revisted

2006-11-27T17:22:00.000-08:00

Out of curiosity, I googled the term flashpacker. It's apparently a pretty new term, and I am the demographic it describes: 30s; with wanderlust; with cash, though may also stay in hostels (not only in hotels); willing to pay that little extra for speed or comfort.

Though, I'm not quite at the level of flashpacker-dom described by a Times UK article, which described flashpackers as staying often in hostels, but occasionally springing for a $200+ USD/night hotel room, or springing for a ~$1000 side trip. Yes, I'm working and I saved a lot of money for this particular trip, but I don't have that much money... Though, I looked at my finances yesterday, and partly from working, and partly from not spending too much, I actually am very under-budget for almost being at the two-month mark (I'd actually be quite a bit more underbudget if I hadn't forgotten to pay my student loan for a couple months, and needed to send them a pile of money recently...but that's another story). In fact, I'm underbudget to the point of having enough cash to spend an extra month in Buenos Aires, and I've been paying for my side trips in cash, not credit! If only I could change my departure date!! So, what this really means, is that a couple trips I've been wanting to do: I can do. Now, I just need to find a [new] travel agent, and start planning. I'd talked about going to Bolivia for a week (don't ask me why, it just sounds interesting -- even though I know just about nothing of Bolivia), so maybe I'll look into that, too.

Flashpackers also have electronics: iPod/mp3player (check), laptop (check), digital camera (check).

So yes, the more I think about it, this term describes how I travel. I choose to stay in cheaper accomodations, and not rent a private apartment. At the end of my last trip, after being disgusted at the mostly American college students I started encountering in hostels (it was the beginning of summer), I started staying in hotels. I eat often on the cheap (whether in restaurants or by cooking at home), and sometimes I eat in very upmarket restaurants. I go shopping while I travel, whether for CDs, clothes, jewelry (yeah, I bought a leather bracelet made of cowhide yesterday...), or books in English (v expensive while travelling). So yes, I travel on the cheap, and I definitely allow myself luxuries.

In all, I think it's an interesting term. Personally, I've never been quite fond of calling myself a backpacker. I've always opted to call myself a traveller. I've never quite identified with the Do It All As Cheaply As Possible And Never Eat In Restaurants philosophy of many backpackers. As I said, I like a little luxury and I certainly don't like to travel without being able to indulge myself now and then. The stereotype, too, is that backpackers are mostly in their 20s, and don't have much money to spend. I've never really thought about the lack of a term for the type of traveller I consider myself (and other people I've met) to be. Though, now I know what a flashpacker is, it seems odd that it's taken this long for a term like this to be created.

I've only actually travelled with a backpack on my back once (first trip to Europe). My last trip, I used a backpack on wheels, and I never once put it on my back... This time, because I'm not moving around much, I'm using a suitcase on wheels, and I have plans to buy a cheap duffel bag/larger backpack for my trip to see the glaciers, or for any other trip longer than 2-3 days. Beyond 2-3 days, I need more than the backpack I used to carry my laptop.

So there you go: I'm a flashpacker.

Flashpackers-R-Us

2006-11-26T05:40:00.000-08:00

Earlier in the week, S was at Iguazu. She happened to mention to someone that she flew there, and they called her a flashpacker. Apparently, this is a backpacker with cash, or either a backpacker with cash and little time.

S and I are uber-flashpackers...

To wit: we took the fast ferry to Uruguay (though, we got a promotion price on the tickets, so it was only nominally more than the slow ferry, and the price difference in dollars (for me) and euros (for her) is pretty nominal anyway); we stayed in a hotel; and yesterday, brace yourselves, we Rented A Car. We were going to rent a golf cart, but it was only about six dollars more to rent a car.

Now, S is "Autobahn S"...

We've had a wonderful time in Colonia, and we've taken many pictures. Mostly of antique cars. I have what may now be the best photo I've ever taken, and yes...it's of a car. We've eaten some great food (pizza with broccoli, fried potatoes with curry, heavenly steak (and yes, J, I have a photo, but I just couldn't send it via texting...)); walked all over the city; drove for over an hour to see another town, and then when we got there, everything was mysteriously closed (it was past siesta time, and it was a Saturday afternoon). We drove up one street, drove down another, I bought a Coke, and then we left. Though, we did stop by one of the beaches, and we took pictures of us with our hair flying in the crazy, strong wind. And then we drove back. We saw field after field filled with cows. Occasionally sheep or horses, but mostly cows.

Me: Bifffeeeee.
S: Stop it!

(S is a vegetarian, but not because she thinks eating meat is bad. This means I can eat a steak in front of her and it doesn't bother her a bit. Apparently though, she's not so fond of me saying bife every time I see cows...)

Though, Autobahn S was very, very happy to be driving (which is good, since I don't know how...) and very, very happy when the signs indicated she could drive 90km/h. Which is nothing compared to what she says she drives on the real autobahn...

In all, we've had a great, relaxing weekend. More importantly, we haven't killed each other and we're still pleased to be spending time together. And yes, S, the drive yesterday was better than a siesta...

Today, the weather is somewhat foul, though thankfully not raining. There was incredibly loud and strong wind all night -- I actually felt the wind moving the hotel, and I heard the wind throughout the night. So, it's a perfect day for us to check email, perhaps see if there are more antique cars to photograph, read. I hope to actually sit and write in my journal today...it's been over a MONTH. Also, we hope that they will let us hang out in the lounge at the hotel (big couches, tv, big glass doors providing a little view), as our boat isn't until 8.45pm, and we were told yesterday that all the cars were reserved for today, so there is no chance of driving around. Though, it's Sunday, so even though we're somewhere away from home, it's still nice to know we will probably still have a quiet day.

So, that's all the news that's fit to print. Wish us luck that it doesn't rain.

At least until tomorrow...

Cheaper than your wife

2006-11-16T14:49:00.000-08:00

Today, among other things, I went to the office of an airline with S, so she could price tickets to Iguazu. While waiting, we read a super-glossy, super-thick 'magazine' of all the trips and packages LAN has to offer. For some packages, the price for the man would be, say, $1200 USD. Then there would be a novia price of, say, $850 USD. This prompted me to say "it's cheaper than your wife!"

We both thought this was particularly amusing.

(This was almost as amusing as the text from a male friend of ours, who, after I told him he was close to getting blacklisted (we haven't seen him in 10 days), and that he needed to do something to prevent said blacklisting, he responded with "DOESEX COTWNT?")

But I digress.

Needless to say, we didn't notice any specials featuring 'husband' price and 'wife' price.

Encouragement to travel with mistress/girlfriend, instead of male friends or instead of wife, or no?

You can judge.

That crazy Mother Nature

2006-10-27T09:32:00.000-07:00

Picture this: bright, hot, blindingly sunny days Monday and Tuesday.

Tuesday was a record temperature in Buenos Aires: 33.6C (92.5F). It was day-um hot, then humid, too. Ah, a taste of the months to come... (Note: Why? Oh why?! don't I have the room with the air conditioner??!)

As Tuesday night grew more and more humid, and the mosquitoes came out more and more en force, we on the patio debated the merit of the prediction of a massive rain storm overnight.

Late Tuesday night, the rain hit.

Wednesday was a bliss of Much Cooler Weather, and intermittent rain. It was a lovely respite to Tuesday.

Thursday: a bit cool, but sunny and windy. AKA: PERRRFECT.

Friday: I woke up to intermittent torrential rain (intermittent with only semi-heavy rain), lightning, and probably thunder, too. Or maybe the thunder sound was just the colectivos roaring down my street. They've shaken the floor in my bedroom, which is quite far from the street, every day I've been here.

This all seques into the currently most practiced sport (aside from dodging cars and buses on the slick streets) in Buenos Aires: avoiding stepping on broken sidewalk tiles.

Given the homeless people and dogs that relieve themselves on the street, and the general dirt level of the sidewalks to begin with, you really don't want to think about what might be in that water that rushes up your foot and ankle when you step on a broken tile. It's disgusting to even consider. Though, I'm becoming an ace at avoiding those tiles, even on dry days.

To wit: after walking over 20 blocks so far today, I stepped on not a single broken tile, and my ankles are not splashed with said disgusting water. It's a worthy achievement.

Really though, I know it's Spring, but I want the sun back!!

Poetry at Dawn

2006-10-22T01:50:00.000-07:00

We met on the patio at midnight,
to go to a Brasilian bar.
A taxi driver boasting of all the accidents he's been in...
Us in the back seat more than a little worried,

The Brasilians: they know how to party,
fantastic music that makes your body sway.
Ciprahainas, or however the drink is spelled,
that are so very, very strong (it's good to tip bartenders!).

Learning another Very Bad Word in German.

Not smelling like smoke when leaving the bar.

Running into the Frenchie at the Brasilian bar.
Two minutes in and he's chatting up las chicas.
Wishing him suerte.

Peanuts and beer at a restaurant playing the Beatles.

Running into a former residencia mate,
and seeing him borracho.

A cab ride through the city,
as dawn lights the sky,
as we sing to Nirvana.
Stars are still in the sky.

The cat running crazily across the patio.
Birds maniacally singing from unseen places.

Gracias farmacia for excellent earplugs!

And so it begins...a second time

2006-10-03T12:54:00.000-07:00

Darlings, I've made it safe and sound to Argentina.

26 hours (door to door travel time); three flights; two layovers; one airline meal that didn't agree with me; lots of unsatisfying naps; only one mildly annoying person sitting next to me; one stamp in the passport. Oh, and a rather rank smell by the time I arrived -- I was verrry happy to take a shower (but only after I'd taken a morning siesta).

It's amazing being back here. Standing on the patio and talking in the kitchen, it felt like I hadn't really been gone two years. My Spanish is quickly returning, though my exhaustion is contributing to me not remembering words. I went by my former Spanish school and I'll be starting up again there on Monday. In the mean time, I have mucho repasar (much reviewing) to do. The director of the school said my Spanish was still good, especially considering I haven't really practiced it at all in two years, and that was nice. I guess all the thinking I've periodically done in the last two years, and the beginning of making flash cards, has really helped me to retain the language.

I had lunch in a little sandwicheria I used to go to nearly every day, two years ago. When I walked in, one of the two owners/brothers looked at me, immediately recognized me, and warmly greeted me. The other brother came over later and chatted briefly, too. I'm not sure why, but it's easier for me to understand them now, than two years ago. They both have very strong local accents, and there were times two years ago when I could barely understand them -- even after I'd been here over three months!

The dog that used to live here passed away a while back, and the turtle is still here, sleeping somewhere (the weather is quite cool today). The newest addition is a gorgeous grey cat (which makes me quite happy, and those of you familiar with my first blog may remember why) who is quite friendly and rare. If I understood correctly, Gisella is an Irish breed, and there are only three registered in the whole of Buenos Aires. I'm pleased to be living with a friendly animal again (the dog wasn't particularly fond of anyone except the father of the family -- unless you had steak and were willing to share).

Other memories of Buenos Aires, that have been dormant, have been flooding back. Traffic is crazy -- my taxi from the airport wove in and out of lanes, rarely using his turn signal, and sped along quite fast. The sidewalks are uneven and with loose tiles, and sometimes the tiles are just missing and it's uneven dirt and pieces of tiles. Oh, and dog poo on the sidewalks, though it doesn't seem as much as before (but it's been raining here, so maybe that's helped things out a bit). Not that I'd really forgotten, but the men are beautiful here...

I'm still tired, so it's time for another siesta, and then some of that famous Argentine steak!

Chau chau.

Scenes from a hospital

2006-08-26T20:48:00.000-07:00

Day 1: my friend's father is lightly coherent (morphine). He would mumble things now and then, told my friend he loved her, stared at my red hair (I was not a stranger to him). At one point, I was rubbing his wrist, and he grasped my hand: "Help me" he said, and he put all his strength towards trying to get out of bed.

Day 2: my friend's father slept the entire day. We only spent a little time at the hospital.

Day 3: my friend's father was sleeping, but breathing in jagged gasps. Known signs of impending death, like blue fingers and feet, were obvious. Within 30 minutes of being moved to a private room, he began to stop breathing for 10-20 seconds at a time. Then he would make a big gasp for breath, and then be ok for a bit. Eventually, he stopped breathing and didn't make the gasp for air. There was informal checking for a pulse, by family members, though everyone was shaking and upset. I ended up holding his wrist, trying to find a pulse. I didn't. The hospice worker was called in a few minutes later, and he confirmed that my friend's father had died.

I'd never touched a dead person before. I'd never watched someone die before. Though, instead of seeming creepy, it seemed natural [given that it was obviously impending]. I'm not sure if that means anything, but I wonder. It was creepier to hear his body make little exhalations of breath, once he died, and watch the skin of his face yellow and watch his cheeks sink in so that his cheekbones were prominent.

During the hospital visit days, I cried a little here and there. Sometimes, I think it was because it was poignant for me because he was dying from the same thing that killed my dad (though a different type of cancer), and that I hadn't been with my dad when he died. The rest of the time, it was in reaction to the emotions in the room. How can you not cry when a 93-year old mother is weeping over her dead son (and her only child), saying "My only son. My only son."? No parent should ever bury their child/ren, especially at that stage of life.

In the end, I'm glad that he went quickly and fairly painlessly (when he got the private room, they upped the morphine).

I had extended my stay with my friend by a couple days, and I'm glad I did. I provided comfort and assistance with little things like tracking down boxes of tissue, to bigger things like holding hands and rubbing backs and just being there when people were crying, to telling stories or jokes and getting the family to laugh while in the hospital.

Today, my friend and I slept in, went out to eat lunch and she did the mundane job of buying a new vacuum cleaner. Then, I came home.

Tomorrow, a good friend and I will be having an informal, joint birthday celebration. My birthday is in several days, and hers is at the end of September. Since she will be fighting jetlag when her birthday rolls around, she's celebrating her birthday early.

So tomorrow, wherever you are and whatever you're doing, raise a glass for a life lived well, and lives that continue.

Thoughts on travelling

2006-07-20T09:58:00.000-07:00

A couple nights ago, a girlfriend and I went to a reading for a new-ish book. To sum up: a guy was jilted about three days before his wedding, and then him and his brother 'honeymooned' together and travelled the world for about two years.

While I'm not sure if I'll buy and read the book, he said a couple things which have stayed with me.

First: travelling gives you time to think. He said that most people really don't have time to sit and ponder anything, because of work, commute, etc. This is true, and it's something I completely took for granted. It never hit me "wow, I have all this time that I'm spending thinking, instead of [fill in the blank]." Perhaps that's because I generally think a lot, anyway. [Note: I've often been accused of "thinking too much" -- I wonder about odd things, and I'm usually juggling several different thoughts at any given time.] I know for some people, this could actually be scary. I know people that, given time to examine their lives and themselves, I think would be scared or upset. I know very well how easy it is to fall into a routine, and just watch the days, then weeks, then months, then years just slip on by -- and have nothing much to show for it except debt, dust bunnies and an unsatisfying job. I also realize that some people don't have the level of curiousity or adventure that I do, and that's not an issue to me. What I have an issue with is people who basically live to work, and are without a personal passion, or who don't pursue their passion(s). I've known people to say "I'm passionate about [fill in the blank]," but then they rarely engage or pursue that passion. To me, that's living in a fantasy. I say: step out of your mind and actually do something!

Second: only 10% of Americans have passports, and a smaller percentage actually use their passport. I've heard statistics like this before, and I'm always appalled. It feels like there is precious little encouragement to discover and experience other countries and other viewpoints. I know I often forget this statistic, because so many people I know have travelled internationally, at least once. Then again, I live in a reasonably progressive city on the west coast. If I lived in Kansas, I'm sure this would be different. I know the US is a large country, and it's possible to drive for four hours and not reach a state border. Europe, on the other hand -- you can drive for two hours, in many places, and be in a different country. Yes, proximity is a large factor. Still. On the date with B11, when I mentioned something about travelling as a great way to spend retirement, he had a look on his face that said "what a novel idea" and I wondered if he'd ever gone to Canada or Mexico.

There were parts of his talk that made my skin bristle. Specifically, when he talked about the 'simplicity' that he pursues in his life. Simplicity is all well and good, yet I rail against people who make this decision after having high-paying jobs, and all the trappings that go along with that. Yes, it's very easy to 'simplify' when you have the budget to do so. However, this is a peeve of mine. I think living simply is a great pursuit. It's just the way he talked about it, after emphasizing his vast consumerism, seemed so...pretentious.

Something I've told many, many people, and that this author reiterated, is the addiction and power of getting rid of your belongings. When I did this, before my Year of Leisure, it was like a drug. You start, and you think "oh, I want to keep this." Then, you start realizing how much junk you have, and you just start getting rid of tons and tons of things. Nearly everything that I've kept is either irreplacable (e.g. my rug I bought in Morocco, artwork, a few possessions that belonged to my father) or particularly sentimental to me (books, [perhaps oddly] my set of plates/bowls/etc). I'm sure if I was to open those boxes now, I would rid myself of even more possessions. Though, I packed most of those boxes after I returned from the YOL, so perhaps not. There is something liberating about reducing your life to its essentials -- aside from the obvious: being able to move around easier and more quickly. For me, it wasn't a matter of downsizing for the sake of simplicity, it was that I realized that I really didn't care very deeply about so much of what I'd had (and I didn't want to move it or pay to store it) and I had never gotten to the point of buying things of real value (e.g. the Pottery Barn leather couch). It was also an excuse to be able to buy things while travelling, and use those as decor (sadly, this didn't happen as much as I would have liked, though I do have several small things from a variety of places and I'm happy with that).

In any case, going to the reading gave me some new insights in travelling [even though they reinforced things that at some level I already knew]. I've read a couple travel memoir books recently, which in itself is unusual since I rarely read anything other than contemporary fiction, and it's been particularly illuminating. One book, that everyone says I should love, I couldn't finish. I rarely abandon books, and I can't even bring myself to skip to a section that I think would be interesting to me. Coincidentally, my new roommate was reading this book when I moved in here, and she said the book never got better. Repetitive was her description, and I agree. I admire that she actually slogged through to the end of that book. The other memoir I read was interesting in that it revealed very little about the city she where she was living. Yes, the focus of the book was studying tango, but you'd still think she'd have included more about non-tango topics (well, she talked quite a bit about sex...).

This is all a bit rambling. Yet, it's given me different ideas for how to approach the [stalled-out] memoir I've been working on. It's startling what I included in my journals, and what I didn't. I'm looking forward to going through my emails from that time, to see what is there [that didn't make it into my blog or journals]. It's apparent there is quite a bit of room to talk about the personal ramifications of travelling, instead of just the destinations. I know this sounds painfully obvious, and it's something I already knew [very well, thank you]. It could also be my lack of reading of more travel memoir books.

In any case, I wanted to share a couple of these things. I realize I don't often write in depth about certain aspects of travelling -- mostly because I take them for granted. I've always appreciated it when someone I know sends me an email asking some question about the why of my travels, because it forces me to articulate ideas and meanings that are very significant to me. It's all a matter of asking the right questions.

I do know that it is very difficult to explain just all the ways your perceptions change when you travel in many different places. If you ask people who know me at least reasonably well, they will all agree that I am a different person than I was before I left. Some will say I'm more laid-back, some will say I have I've lost my 'localness' and that I have more perspective, some will say I'm more self-assured. Others have praised and expressed awe my 'adventurousness' and boldness in pursuing my dreams. Others have expressed dismay, in that I haven't followed the college to job to boyfriend to house-buying to marriage to kids path. Though, people who don't understand wanderlust or who can't accept why travelling is important to me generally aren't in my life.

All I can advise is to just get out there, actively pursue your dreams and passions, and travel widely if at all possible.

Skeleton keys, henna tattoos, coins

2006-06-30T23:08:00.000-07:00

Things I find when I'm getting ready to move:

A skeleton key that opens a private room in a hostel...in Istanbul.

Dried up tubes of watercolor paints.

Novelty gum that includes strips of henna tattoos.

Coins and currency from countless countries.

Receipts and shopping bags from countless countries.

A missing sock.

A sticker that I had when I was a pre-teen. ??? It was still on the backing and I'd never put it on anything. Now: it's in the trash.

Artwork hidden behind closet door (I never closed the door, and I forgot it was there...).

For someone fairly nomadic, I have far more boxes than I expected to have. Though, many of the boxes are smaller than the ones I used to move in here, so perhaps that is some of what's going on. Still, I'll likely be getting rid of more things before leaving again.

I really need to start travelling again, if for no other reason than to use all the flippin' coins I found... There must be at least 10 *pounds* of coins...

I suppose that means I need to dust off the passport.

Soon. Very, very soon.

"Let's keep the killing quiet"

2006-05-28T15:03:00.000-07:00

That statement was uttered by a housemate on Friday night. Halo 2 was being played. His five-month old baby was sleeping at his feet as he took out aliens.

I finally got to play Halo 2, and he's left the X-box hooked up to the big tv (it is useful for something after all...esp since the local tv reception is shot since the cords were rearranged to accommodate the X-box). I'm home alone until tomorrow, and I will likely play some this evening. It's annoying and humbling when a kid that's only six tells you "you don't play very well." Attesting that I had never before played Halo 2, and that I hadn't played Halo in about two years, didn't help my case. After a few hours, though, it all started coming back and I made some lovely, single shot kills.

I've missed playing with sniper rifles and tanks. Ohhhh, yeahhh.

Since the game was being played or watched, depending on the rotation of the second control, by a 6-year old and a 12-year old, I had to watch my mouth. A couple things slipped out, but I think overall I did quite well. The thing is, when I play X-box, I swear worse than the Marines in the game.

So, I went back to my 'swear' word from the days when I worked on my pool-sharkedness:

"Sugar!"

The Year in Review

2005-12-31T10:59:00.000-08:00

Brace yourselves, this may take a bit...

Obviously, this has been a notable and incredible year. I've been around the world, met incredible people, gathered amazing stories, had a very nice relationship (until, of course, it ended), danced in Buenos Aires, Kusadasi (Turkey), Istanbul, Seattle. I found an incredible place to live, with a very cool woman and her awesome dog. I kick-started my dating life as soon as I returned from my trip, and have had a variety of experiences (including many stories I haven't written about).

So, I'll start with an easy-to-read bullet-point list to get this reminiscence started:

* Countries visited: 18
* Photographs taken while travelling: ~1500
* Plane rides: umm, at least 15 in a jet; 1 in a bi-plane
* Distance travelled: it would take a day to figure this out...let's just say at least 10,000 (miles, not kilometers)
* Number of beds I've slept in: countless (in hostels and hotels, silly! I'm not a tramp!!)
* Books read: countless
* Books written: one, in progress
* Men I've gone on dates with: six (Seattle), three (Europe)
* Relationships: one
* Current status: single

I learned that distance really does show the strength of friendships. While I would probably say that I'd be on friendly terms with almost all the same people I knew before I left on my trip, there are people I rarely (if at all) see these days. I've found that I don't really mind. The number of people I regularly spend time with is smaller, and I've found that I enjoy that. So I suppose I have a smaller stable of friends than I used to, and those friendships are strong, and I truly appreciate that. Historically, I've gone through cycles of Social Butterfly, then Not-So-Social Butterfly. Right now, I think I'm a little towards the latter -- I just don't feel the need to be constantly out-and-about and getting home late most nights. Does this mean I'm getting old?

I'm still not exactly sure what next year holds for me. It's pretty definite that it will involve travelling at some point, though for how long, I can't say. I've pretty much decided to stay around in Seattle a little longer than originally planned, so that I can strengthen my financial position (pay down debt and put aside more money for investments and retirement). I've dealt with a great deal of personal turmoil over where my life is headed, and I'm still learning to deal with that ambiguity. Historically, I'm a very stable person -- one who plans. I honestly don't have a particular plan right now, though I have some general goals and I'm working towards them. I've also thought (wistfully) of moving to New York. Watching several seasons of Sex and the City is largely responsible for that, though I must admit I've loved NYC on the times I've visited. I've also thought that maybe I should try another US city, just for a change. Yet, I don't want to separate myself from my friends. One of my best friends, who was reassuring me while I was having a particularly bad, let's called it Ambiguity Crisis Day, said that I should just travel again. "You were so happy when you were travelling." It's possible (I have the money), but I do want to work on the personal finances bit.

One thing I've learned is that it's not so much a particular city that is seductive (Venice being the notable exception), it's the presence of friends that make me want to stay somewhere. To wit, I was ready to indefinitely postpone my Live Abroad plans, in order to maintain the relationship I had with J, and I had no qualms about that. I was out with a friend yesterday, and he was lamenting how difficult it was to find a woman that wanted to permanently live abroad. I told him that I would do that, as long as I could visit friends and my mother and that they would periodically visit me. "Really?!" he said. "Definitely!" I replied. "Especially if I was with someone I was in a relationship with." I then said, "if things were slightly different, you and I would be a perfect match." I learned, while travelling, that it can be difficult to re-establish a network of good friends. Meeting people is incredibly easy. Finding people you really like after a few hours or a few days, is another matter entirely. It's also a different matter entirely to create a friendship that will last a couple days, than a friendship that will hopefully last much longer than that. The idea of just up-and-going is shadowed by going somewhere where I don't know anyone. (Though to be honest, if I went to Europe, I would know several people in different places -- or at least know some of them well enough to look them up in their city.) I'm a social person, and while I've met people that can almost instantaneously create a group of friends anywhere they go, I'm not quite one of those people.

I still carry my passport, and maybe four non-US currencies, in my purse. Though, finding a 10 pence coin in your hand, instead of a US quarter, when you're scrambling for bus fare: not fun or particularly useful.

So, it's been a remarkable year. I went on a great adventure, had adventures within the Great Adventure of Travelling, met some wonderful people, been surprised at the quality of wine in Slovakia, danced on a table in a club in Turkey, had my first-ever holiday romance, visited cemeteries in many countries, went shopping during the summer sales in Europe (oh! how I love the sandals from Florence; oh! how I love the denim skirt from Paris; oh! how HAPPY I was to find a new denim jacket in London; oh! how I LOVVVVVE the jewelry I bought in Paris, and the jewelry I bought in several other countries; oh! the music CDs I bought in Italy and France; oh! how I bought way too many things to list them all!), I learned how to speak a couple words in a variety of languages and my Spanish allowed me to pick up several words in Italian.

Regardless of how I've been handling the trepidation of the ambiguity of my current life, I'm very much looking forward to the new year. Now that the holidays are finished, I will soon be throwing myself to the dating wolves again. I can only wish for some more luck with that. I'm actually going to dinner with J in a couple weeks, and while there are obviously mixed feelings about that, I'm looking forward to seeing him. While I know I will be nervous, I am not scared or that I'm hoping for more than dinner and conversation. If nothing else, it will give me a sense of closure -- I'm the kind of person that when Big Things happen between people, I need to be able to look them in the eyes, because communicating Big Things via email or phone just doesn't cut it with me.

I will also be pursuing a different kind of job, and a much, much better paycheck. One of my best friends has coached me through a little of this, and will be helping me a bit more to get ready for this. He says I should do just fine (and I don't have any formal training in this.......). Have I mentioned it would earn me a much larger paycheck than what I'm earning now and I could also easily find contract work, so I wouldn't have to commit to a full-time job. I mean, they've 'encouraged' me to apply for the job where I'm currently working, but 1. I don't want to commit to a full-time job (it's just not fair to someone if I pack up and leave in six months, and I like the people I'm currently working for); and 2. they just can't pay as much money as I want (really, I'm not going to sign on for another entry level job with an entry level paycheck).

If my year were to have a soundtrack, it would start (and be utterly dominated) with the Keane CD, then Bajofondo (electronica tango -- "mi corazonnn"), a dance mix CD I created, Scissor Sisters, Brazilian Girls, an electronica flamenco CD (it's much more mellow than you might think), some Arabic music CDs I have (which I looovvvee), a variety of songs in Eastern Europe that I don't have recordings of, the songs J.Lo and Gwen Stefani released in Spring (not because I particularly liked them (OK, I'll admit I'm a GS fan), but just because every club in Eastern Europe and every bloody internet cafe played them over and over and over and over). There are probably more, but these are the ones that most come to mind. Oh, and the Beastie Boys are always on this list, even when they don't have a new CD out...

So, wish me luck with:

1. the book
2. the new 'career'
3. the men (ok wish me lots of extra luck with this!)
4. the financial goals
5. figuring out just what the hell I'm going to do in 2006 (ESPECIALLY wish me luck with my luck with this!)

So, that's about it for 2005 in Review In Shana's Life. Of course, if you really want to get into it, just visit my first blog...or, just wait for the book to come out (someday, please!!).

I hope your year was as incredible as mine, and that you have the same optimism for going into 2006.

Cheers!

Birthday doggie

2005-11-02T08:59:00.000-08:00

Fun with Google

2005-10-25T19:01:00.000-07:00

From http://www.googlism.com.

shana is september

shana is committed to ongoing research to ensure that its informed software is fully accessible to all government employees and citizens alike

shana is an excellent student of the game and learns very quickly

shana is an xtreme aerobics instructor for hip hop fusion and cardio groove

shana is enjoying life

shana is slowly adding

shana is very naive and has a little temper

shana is far

shana is privately owned and brings over 15 years experience to its informed...

shana is staying true to her roots

shana is a character created by one of my friend

shana is my favorite character

shana is also the same shade as the widow's peak 1st edition shana

shana is given quite different make up on the show though

shana is rescued by a very unlikely creature

shana is convinced that her rejection was engineered by a congressional committee
she briefly appeared before as a witness

shana is a character who has been vastly underestimated

shana is a folk singer from tampa

shana is understood to be a function of its purpose as a vehicle of prayer

shana is a merry holiday so everybody should have a merry and happy mood

shana is just a gental person

shana is not coasting on

shana is sexy

shana is going to a body

shana is an exceptionally sweet

shana is a sweet

shana is 22 years old and goes to college in wisconsin

shana is a little shy

shana is saving the story about when her entire family was kidnapped for a future issue

shana is a really cute chick

shana is the curator at the old jail museum in barnesville

shana is ready to lift her voice in a smoldering new sound

shana is persistent

shana is beautifully captured in this modern setting tinged with the look of the 60's

shana is facing a year in a new york state jail

shana is explaining the 4 chambers of the cow stomach to us

shana is ignoring him

shana is lying in a coma on her hospital bed

shana is supposedly a fertility goddess

shana is leash trained and has house manners

shana is assigned as a chaplain of colegio psicopedagogico juan wesley in santiago

shana is denied admission to the army

shana is a bright and honest

Heh. I think some of these are pretty funny. This, while long, is not the complete list.

Elephant ears, bingo and wine tasting

2005-09-26T22:21:00.000-07:00

So, I got out of town this weekend and went to Yakima. Nice weekend.

Yesterday, K and I went to a winery. I was on a mission to buy some chocolate sauce for J (aka: B3). I ended up buying a couple bottles of wine and engaging in my first mini-wine tasting. It was nice.

Directly after this, we went to the Central Washington state fair. And then we saw the bingo hall. And then we played bingo. K actually won a couple of rounds, but I never did. Though after we came back later (yes, I admit it, we went *back* for more bingo), I got really close to winning a blackout round. I think I have a new obsession, and I learned today that there is Pub Bingo here in Seattle. Heaven help me.

We ate the requisite Fair Food (strawberry shortcake, scones, elephant ears, sausages, burgers). Thankfully, I didn't have acid indigestion at 3am...

We also went on a couple rides, and I learned my tolerance isn't what it used to be. I have no idea (or, really I do, and I don't want to admit it) what this will mean for my future as a passenger for aerobatics. Though, I like to think the discomfort I had was because I'd just eaten a greasy German sausage with mustard and a ton of sauerkraut and grilled onions. Go along with me here.

Things continue to go very well with J. Each time we see each other, I feel luckier and luckier that we met. When my friends ask how it's going with him, I get one of those goofy grins of the Very Happy.

Though, I'm sure he'll laugh when I tell him about my budding bingo addiction...

The power of music

2005-09-19T13:47:00.000-07:00

I have always loved music. As a kid, I played four instruments (but primarily the flute and piccolo).

I have a difficult time listening to Peter Gabriel's Us CD, as it brings back a lot of memories of a breakup I went through well over 10 years ago. It's a beautiful CD, but I usually don't want to relive those memories.

To wit, I've started listening to Keane's CD again. I bought it in Argentina, and listened to it almost constantly throughout the European leg of my trip. I can't count how many travel days had Keane as a soundtrack (though, I do distinctly remember listening to Scissor Sisters as I headed to NYC in February).

I guess I should backtrack a moment and say that I hadn't really listened to the Keane CD for the first several weeks after I returned to Seattle. Mostly because I wasn't listening to music quite as much naturally, and also, after I started dating B3, I didn't want to listen to a CD that can be rather melancholy at places. I also listened to the CD a lot after the On Travelling With Friends debacle. (Thankfully though, I don't have any negative associations with the CD.)

But then I started loaning a bunch of CDs to my roommate, and she commented that she just loves the Keane CD.

So, I pulled out the Keane CD at work (this was maybe two weeks ago). It was like being pushed into another dimension. I know that sounds cheesy and strange. Though, I really did feel it in my chest and throughout my body. It completely took me back to Europe and I could just see the Romanian countryside and just about smell the Romanian countryside (side note: the smell is that of the myriad of factories Ceceauscu built), for example.

I've been listening to the Keane CD more regularly (really, I've been obsessed with the Brazilian Girls CD, and have listened to precious little else for the past week or so), and it still takes me back to Europe. Sort of like the Beastie Boys' Hello Nasty can sometimes still remind me of walking through a rainy Paris on my first night in Europe in 1998, or of walking through Rome on a Sunday and going to the Colosseum.

It goes to show that while pictures or visual memories are what people normally think about when they remember their holidays, music can very much do the same thing. While the music I have is the primary aural memory I have, I know there are other sounds that would remind me of my travelling: the call of the muezzins in Turkey and the sounds of trains/planes leaving and arriving are the primary sounds that come to mind right now. Oh, and let's not forget certain Gwen Stefani and J. Lo songs that were excrutiatingly overplayed in internet cafes everywhere.

The next time I hit the road, I will have a device that will have the ability to record the ambient sounds of wherever I'm at.

I can't live without music.

War of the words

2005-09-09T12:58:00.000-07:00

Some may find it interesting that I'm still having difficulties with words. I've mentioned this before, and it still persists. It's even seem to have gotten a little worse than initially.

Is there anyone out there [who's also travelled for an extended period of time] who's experienced something similar? I'd love to have confirmation that something like Alzheimer's isn't setting in early...

It's unusual, because I read a fair bit while I was travelling, and obviously I was writing on nearly a daily basis. I think, though, that the words that seem oddest are ones that I just haven't really used in the past year. It's the best theory I have.

I still recognize the words and can pronounce them and define them. It's like one part of my brain says 'That's WRONG' and another part says 'Oh, I remember that, it's back in Data Bank 3,329'.

Maybe I should sit down and read a dictionary?

When words are weird

2005-08-24T13:04:00.000-07:00

So, much of my job involves looking at words on a spreadsheet, and then deciding where they match up with images and the lexicon of the company I'm working for.

More and more, I see words, and they just look weird. Weird, like they really aren't words in English or another language.

This happened (notably) with the words "gallon", "garden" and "half" today. They just look incredibly wrong to me.

It's worth pointing out that I didn't have any difficulties with reading in English while I was travelling, and that I don't have any difficulties in reading in English now. All this weirdness has purely come about when I'm looking at individual words on their own.

Or perhaps I'm just a little more tired than normal. I had (another great) date with B3 last night, and I woke up early to go walking with a friend. I happen to be telecommuting today (yeah, yeah, I'm on my lunch break) so I'm thinking of taking a nap and catching up on the last few hours later.

Maybe then the words won't be so weird.

On lingering culture shock and related topics

2005-08-18T22:00:00.000-07:00

Yes, I still get culture shock. I'm still dismayed at the morbid obesity of so many Americans. [side note: I'm overweight, but still fairly healthy -- as in, I can walk up a few flights of stairs without turning red and bending over in pain, I'm fairly active and busy.]

I'm still dismayed at the level of rudeness. One of my friends said that not saying hello, and just asking for what they wanted, was a way of [sic] "keeping it quick and to the point."

I think she was joking.

I also find a certain uneasiness about talking about some things. So many of my recent memories are (obviously) from my travelling. I know that it can sound pretentious or place name-dropping to talk about things, and I try to be conscious of not doing that often. Though, I don't like feeling uncomfortable because of someone else's jealousy or possible perception that I'm trying to be Impressive With My Stories or that perhaps I'm trying to be pretentious. I'm not -- it's just that after spending so long on the road, my recent memories are of the road. It's also fair and accurate to say that right now, my goal is to have an International Life. There are a couple friends (none of whom are in the US) that are living the kind of life I want to lead, and they most easily understand and encourage me and my goals.

Where I'm temping at, there are two of us temps. The other guy is pretty cool, and he also didn't work for almost the same time as me. It is great to have someone to talk with that understands the adjustment curve to having a set schedule and having to adjust to working again. It is especially great to have someone to talk with that is also going through the same thing. Obviously, we don't talk about this much at all, but when I was having a hard time last week, because of eye strain and the adjustment to following a schedule, he was right there with me and understood what I meant.

I still don't feel like I have a place that I belong to. Especially in Seattle. I'm fairly comfortable here, though I know that's mostly because of my history here and that many of my friends are here. Someone I met last week called me unstable (not in a negative context). I thought that he was mistaken, and I corrected him and said that I generally am pretty stable.

Now, I wonder if he was at least a little bit right.

I miss the friends I made while travelling. I know those friendships are as strong they ever were, even though I'm not in as frequent communication with them. There are no hard feelings.

I'm still dismayed at my abundance of clothes. I had such a limited selection for so long, I still get awed when I look in my closet. And I don't have that much. Though, I'm finding that I have a slightly different style preference, and that I wear some clothes and decide that I don't want them anymore. Also, I want to go shopping this weekend (see previous reference to first paycheck) -- mostly because I need more nicer clothes for dating. My wardrobe is fine, but there are only so many nice combinations that I have. And Seattle isn't really the place for wearing a deep-ish, clingy, v-neck top on a date, unless you're looking for something temporary, instead of lasting. Or unless you want the guy to most likely stare at your breasts most of the night. I appreciate it when a man appreciates them, but I'd rather he appreciate me first. It's much easier to find a man to appreciate my breasts than to find a man that appreciates me. Que sorpresa!

I'm still occasionally having difficulties with scheduling things. I am still writing everything down in a little book. The most recent, possible snafu, resolved itself without any hasty apologizing on my part. One friend that is helping me with something said that helping me in the morning would be most convenient for him. Whew! I'd already agreed that seeing him Saturday was good, and then I went and made tentative plans with another friend for the afternoon. It's like I'm missing synapse connections now and then. Planning even week-to-week is a chore. Time was, I used to plan day-to-day, and spontaneously choose a destination the day before (sometimes even choose and book transportation at midnight the night before).

I've just re-read this, and I want to stress I'm not in a sour mood about any of this. These are just things I'm feeling and I wanted to write about them. I just really thought that any reverse culture shock would be gone by now. I've been back over a month now...

All the more reason to put some of Friday's paycheck into a newly minted Return To Europe Fund.

Welcome to a new era and a new blog

2005-08-08T00:08:00.000-07:00

So. My year of leisure officially ended eight minutes ago.

And so a new set of tales will begin. I'm currently several hours away from embarking on a new job; I have a date on Thursday; and I'm already creating budgets for just how long it will take me to leave the country again.

I'm sleepy, so this post will be short.

Wish me lovely dreams as the last bit of leisure fades into a beautiful memory.