Only Planet

Happy New Year!

2012-01-23T22:36:00.000-08:00

Okay, maybe it's not New Year's Day for the Gregorian Calendar folks, but for the Chinese and Koreans today is the beginning of the new year. I had a bunch of good intentions and resolutions on January 1st to post a blog entry, but ended up laid low by a nasty flu bug. Other than school starting, a visitor from Japan, torrential rains, and a bit of snow there's not been much going on here since then.

I've been thinking of a lot of resolutions and goals I wish to accomplish this year. One of them is blogging more frequently. Let's hope I come up with something compelling to share or this will be a painful resolution for all of us.

In the meantime, I'll be writing more about writing, a bit about travel--we've got a few trips on the agenda for 2012--some about the home front and it's an election/Olympic year, so that might provide some fodder. Oh, and I'm going to be embarking down the self-publishing road, but that's another story.

Here's to a powerful year of the Dragon, let's get this party started.

My Own Private Nano

2011-11-27T13:40:00.000-08:00

This month burst forth with such promise.

A vast open calendar with time to write during Nanowrimo.

I started with a bang, producing 6,000 words those first days.

Then I tripped, images stubbornly faded. words lost.

The universe threw one distraction after another.

For seven days Dylan had no school.

I heard a lot of “Mom can I get a ride to the mall?”

Mike and Phyllis were in town before their annual sojourn.

It was time to catch up with them while they visited.

I can’t say I didn’t welcome the distractions.

A weekend retreat at the beach got me on back on track.

I added another 10,000 words.

Scenes arrived in vivid hues, but the plot meandered.

Thanksgiving came—enough said.

And then my mom called the morning after Thanksgiving.

My dad was in terrible pain, an SOS from his gall bladder.

A trip to the ER, where he spent the night in the hospital.

He came home the next day and was doing better, then worse.

Back to the ER on Saturday morning.

Heart complications along with the gall bladder infection.

His heart rate was all over the place and his breathing labored.

Time for a ventilator.

Surgery was scheduled, then postponed.

Still not out of the woods.

My brother Miles and I are flying to Colorado tonight.

We adult children need to gather.

Don’t know the ending to this story, hoping for the best.

In the meantime, Dylan tells me that she likes my novel.

That she wants me to finish it. She has nothing to read.

We stared at my charts, plotlines and character sketches.

I figure this has to be done on my time.

Three days left in this month; then no guilt if I don’t write.

I’m looking towards the new year where I can begin.

My own private Nano.

Fear and Fantasy

2011-10-31T10:00:00.000-07:00

The other day I heard an interview on NPR about fear and fantasy, which the interviewee was saying were two of the strongest human emotions. Both are embraced in our home during Halloween, which is our favorite holiday. Even the dog is not spared and must wear a costume.

This weekend we shuffled our way to the Thrill the World Thriller dance, a Bollywood Dance party and a karaoke party. We were formally the 99% and 1%, but now roam the land as 100% zombie.

We also went to the zombie walk Sunday but couldn’t get our act together to dress up. We did love these two outfits.

I know the Johnny Depp, Sweeny Todd and Jack Sparrow aren’t zombies, but aren’t they cool?

Andy was kind of a mini celebrity Saturday night with people stopping him on the street asking to take a picture. It was like when we were in China and he was the only white guy in the village we visited.

Dylan took more of a flight of fantasy this year and made her costume out of a 100 feathers and 20 sticks of glue, using her handy dandy glue gun.

I realized that even dressed as a zombie I still look like a panda so I figure I might as well embrace my inner panda this Halloween.

Some of my favorite writers (Stephen King—in his early days, Neil Gaiman, Phillip Pullman) explore fear and fantasy, which is where I’m going to reside for the next month. November is National Novel Writing Month, (Nanowrimo) where thousands of writers try to write a 50,000 word novel (200 pages) in one month. I’ve done this twice before and wrote two novels, The Edge of Mediocrity and A Million Dead Writers. The results were not pretty, but they’re not supposed to be. The purpose of this event is to provide an opportunity for a giant brain dump (zombies would love that) and to get the essence of a story onto the page.

Ever since reading Stephen King’s, The Stand, when I was in 8^th grade, I’ve been fascinated with dystopian stories. So, I’m going to take a stab at writing one during this Nanowrimo. I’ve got a title, main characters, a theme and some subplots, but I’m still trying to figure out the main plot. Suffice it to say, the scary at our house will not end on Halloween.

What I did over my summer vacation

2011-09-09T10:46:00.000-07:00

It's difficult to believe summer is over when the temperatures here in Portland hover in the mid-nineties, but with Dylan back at school and Halloween decorations up at Freds, the summer of 2011 has slipped from our tanned fingers.

Actually, I only made it to the beach twice this summer. The rest of the time I'm sad to report, was spent locked in my lonely garret while I finished my book. But, you may wonder, wasn't that finished in mid-July?

Well yes, a first draft was completed. Then I celebrated for moment before it was time to sit down and apply the edits that my friend Athena (who also completed her book) suggested. In early August I attended the Willamette Writers Conference and pitched my book to an agent who loved the idea and wanted to see the entire manuscript. Which was exciting and validating. I only had one problem, I pitched a different book than what I written. Instead of stories and essays, I pitched a collection consisting of just short stories. At least ten to be exact, maybe twelve.

So instead of hanging by the pool, pulling weeds in the garden or inviting friends over for frosty cocktails I spent hours rewriting four short essays into five long stories.

Not only was I writing new stories (one up until late last night) but I was editing and seriously rewriting the earlier stories, thanks to my erudite and patient friend Rhonda, who could seriously start another career as an editor.

Today I sent off the entire finished manuscript to the agent with a quick kiss and short prayer. I hesitate to say that the book is finished. There are two more stories I'd like to add, but I need a few weeks to complete them. I also need a break.

So while the sun shines, and the is weather warm, I'm going to see what I can do about expanding my summer just a wee bit longer. Maybe a road trip to the beach. And for my local friends, I'm now available for drinks!

A Birth Announcement

2011-07-14T00:03:00.001-07:00

I am thrilled to announce the arrival/completion of my book, Dispatches From An Only Planet. After ten months of writing, critiquing, rewriting and editing, the first completed draft was finished at 11:58 pm, July 13, 2011. It came in at 46,044 words and weighing a hefty 172 pages.

Dispatches From an Only Planet is a collection of seven short stories and six essays, all revolving around the theme of travel. The stories feature:

A couple of uber travelers who pare down their baggage to the point that they find they can no longer carry a relationship.

A young girl who runs away from a life of diminished expectations only to discover her home during one terrifying moment on a carnival midway.

A grieving mother who magically finds she can speak every language in the world, only to realize she has to have the one conversation she's put off for a year.

The essays probe and explore questions like:

what happens when a psychic plans your route?

what is pigeon soccer, and

where do you go when you've fallen out of love in the City of Love?

Within the pages of Dispatches From an Only Planet you'll find a place where love, murder, hubris, passion and a bit of magic collide, because travel can do that to people.

So what next? I hand off the manuscript to a trusted friend or two for a complete edit. Then I pitch to agents at the Willamette Writer's conference in August, and with any luck this puppy will eventually be picked up by agents and a publishing house. If not, I may explore self-publishing options. Whatever the result, it will find it's way out into the world. In the meantime I'm going to take a well-deserved break (have been pushing this out since June 24th, working 10 hour days) and get back to work on my other project; a screenplay that will also be pitched to agents in August.

ps, unless you are an agent, I won't be sending any copies out until it is published. At that point I'll be pimping them out for everyone to buy a copy!

Paint by Numbers

2011-07-06T08:24:00.000-07:00

48 hours: since I’d taken my last shower. In that time I had run through high grasses chasing a run away ATV, sat at a dusty rodeo and pow wow in Arlee Montana, jumped in a raging river, strummed my ukulele by a campfire, slept in a tent and drove 9 hours to Portland. I don’t think I’ve ever been dirtier.

5 chickens released at the rodeo. 60 kids chasing the chickens. If you caught one, it was yours. Bet mom loved that one.

22 years since I’d last been to a pow wow, and eaten an Indian taco. A zillion calories, but worth it!

32 years ago I dressed in cowboy duds and barrel raced. I remember like it was yesterday the time the horse I was riding decided to take a roll while I was still sitting on him. My mom ran from the stands, cleared a 10 foot fence and sprinted toward me, yelling “My saddle, my saddle!” To her credit, she spent a thousand or so hours digging worms to pay for the saddle.

20 years since I’d last lived in Missoula.

100’s of memories prompted by seeing the old dorm, climbing the M and eating where I used to work.

11 months since our dear friends moved from Portland to Missoula. Happy to report that they are thriving and doing great. Still sad they’re no longer three blocks away.

6 days till Dylan returns from a visit with her grandparents. They have a roster of activities planned including sewing lessons and road trips. I have that much time to finish the first full draft of my book. Earlier drafts have been completed but I now have a push date to get this whole puppy squeezed out.

Weekend Update

2011-05-28T08:13:00.000-07:00

Imagine my confusion this morning when I was reading Salon and The Daily Beast, both which had articles about BBQ's, beaches, sunshine and things that sounded like summer. Hmmm, I'm wondering. Who wants to read about summer when it's still November? Barely 50 degrees, raining every week, and almost every day since February, the skies a funeral grey; it feels like winter in Portland and not Memorial Day Weekend. We've lived here for 18 years and each year the winters last longer. Or maybe it's just us getting old.

Lucky Dylan left this morning to go to Washington DC with her 8th grade class. This is her second trip without us, and first time without any family along. She joins 37 of her classmates while they take in Washington DC in a whirlwind of activity, starting at 7:30 each morning and ending at 9:00 each night. And she gets to do it in shorts; it's supposed to be in the 90's in DC!

As you know, Dylan's an old pro at flying and traveling. She was two months old when she took her first flight and we really couldn't count how many she's taken since that one. But she has at least one classmate--maybe more--for whom this is their first airplane flight. Imagine the excitement and thrill this trip will be for the kids who've never been on a plane, never been to the East Coast, never seen a building older than 100 years, or ridden a subway! Moments like these made me the traveler I am today. Maybe a few of these kids will come back wanting more--a lot more!

Andy and I celebrate a weekend sans kids (pup is going to have a daycare sleepover) while we revel in doing the really exciting things that we did before having a family. Napping, going to two or three movies in a row and eating out at ridiculously expensive restaurants. We have an excuse, it's our 18th wedding anniversary this weekend.

From the Department of Shameless Self Promotion

2011-05-13T20:41:00.000-07:00

Hot off the press!

My essay A Bold Yellow In A Sky of Blue has been published in the the nonfiction collection More Voices: A Collection of Works from Asian Adoptees. The anthology was put out by HoltChildren's Services, the adoption agency that was created by Harry and Bertha Holt shortly after the Korean War, and through which I was brought to my family. Holt has probably placed more children in international adoptions than any other agency. Twelve years ago Holt published their first anthology, Voices From Another Place, which included another essay I wrote.

The books are available on Amazon. While I encourage anyone interested in the stories to buy one or both, I receive no money from the sale of the book.

And Now For...

2011-04-05T22:00:00.001-07:00

A complete change of pace!

A couple of months ago I heard about the NPR Three Minute Fiction Contest. This is the contest's sixth year, and every year thousands of people enter. The challenge: To write in 600 words or less a very short story.

Each year there are different rules for the story. For this year the story had to have a joke and one character must cry. I'm not sure how my story was received, it wasn't one of the top twenty, but I had fun writing it. I'm thinking of including this in my book Dispatches From an Only Planet, a collection of short stories and essays with themes revolving around travel.

I thought I'd share it on the blog, a quick story to start, or end your day.

And so without further ado.

A Mother’s Fortune

Loey Werking Wells

Ashley wheeled into the room to find her mother, in tears again. “You need to stop this,” she said. “Don’t you think the medicine man might be wrong, that Peter and I are supposed to marry?”

“Of course he could be wrong, but he was so right about your poor body, we have to at least consider the possibility that he was also correct when he said this marriage wouldn’t last.” Kathleen dabbed away tears.

Ashley sighed. At least the four-tiered cake surpassed her expectations, thanks to the rock sugar diamonds that nestled among the fragile peonies, reflecting the late June sunlight.

It wasn’t that Ashley and Peter weren’t perfectly suited for each other; they were. And it wasn’t because they were too young, or too naïve: almost thirty, they had seen enough marriages go bad to know the risks. For thirty years, Kathleen had believed her job was to inoculate her children against risk.

More cerebral than physical, Ashley never developed athletic grace or endurance, but at fourteen, she began to trip and drop things. After countless doctor visits, the terrible verdict was delivered: multiple sclerosis. Ashley’s dad insisted they visit every specialist, try every course of treatment. But desperate, Kathleen suspected that fate guided Ashley’s course as much as free will and wanted to seek someone who could help bring hope, or better yet a miracle.

Between trips to the Mayo Clinic and Mexico, the rounds of beta interferon and bee sting therapy, they eventually exhausted every resource. Kathleen and Ashley even traveled to the Philippines, to heed counsel from a renowned fifteenth-generation medicine man. Kathleen remembered his sparrow-like frame perched on a plastic stool, hunched over a grimy table in his “office,” a back corner of his relative’s restaurant. He laid his hands on Ashley’s back, rubbed her feet, and after prescribing some salves and breathing exercises, the healer offered to read her future. “Well,” Kathleen said, as she scribbled notes into the tiny notebook that she kept in her backpack, “what do you see?” The medicine man clicked his nubby brown teeth, “One—no, two—marriages, this one will have,” he waved his hand to indicate the girl. After his treatment, Ashley could take a few steps, free from the constant numbness that attacked her legs.

“You remember the prophecy. I can protect you,” Kathleen whispered.

“From what? A life?”

“From pain, disappointment, heartache. You used to believe.”

“I was a kid, I did what you told me to. And even if Peter ends up breaking my heart, it will mend. I know about breaking and healing.”

“You’re better.”

“I’m not worse,” Ashley snapped. “That’s different than better. Why not credit the drugs? The therapies? The doctors who say I’m in remission?” The stresses of planning the wedding and her mother’s behavior were pulling her patience to a taffy thinness.

Ashley smoothed her gown the best she could over her lap, as the satin billowed up the sides of her wheelchair. “You know Peter loves me, don’t you? “

“Yes. “

“Do you know why I love him?” she asked. “Did I ever tell you about the first time we met?”

“Yes. Wait, no. Remind me.”

“He told me a joke, a stupid joke. These two vultures are sitting in a tree. One vulture sees a man rolling down the road in a wheelchair. He taps the other vulture and says “Say look, Ed, meals on wheels!” Ashley chuckled and Kathleen smiled.

“He made me feel like a normal person, no one to be pitied. Peter is worth that risk. No psychic could see that.”

Celebrity Safari

2011-03-21T21:43:00.000-07:00

When in Rome, take pictures of old buildings.

When in Cambodia take pictures of monks and temples.

When in Montana take pictures of mountains and

When in Los Angeles take pictures of celebrities.

After braving treacherous mountain passes, an epic rainstorm and flooded freeways, we finally cruised into Los Angeles last night and landed in Culver City, once the home of MGM studios where Andy's grandpa used to pass his days.

This morning dawned drier and we struck out to the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, where we thought we might see J-Lo or Brittany, only to find the one on Sunset next to Mel's closed.

Then it was off to It's a Wrap, a huge Buffalo Exchange kind of store where clothes from movies and tv shows are given a second life in resale. Dylan and Ruby picked up shirts from The Suite Life on Deck, and How Do You Know? We also drove by Mood hoping to see Tim Gunn outside, but it sadly it had closed.

Wandered over to the Grammy Museum, which had a great cost to enjoyment ratio. Finally to end the day, the kids wanted to see Grauman's Chinese theatre where the stars leave footprints.

Andy wanted to look closer at the Egyptian Theatre across the street and not realizing there was a premiere for the movie Super, we thought all the paparazzi was waiting around to see us--not! But really, had no idea who was going to be there, and why, but we settled in since no one told us to leave, and hung out for an hour watching the paparazzi watch for someone picture-worthy.

Managed to see Rainn Wilson, Nathan Fillion, Ellen Page, Steven Tyler, Liv Tyler, and Sarah Silverman. If we were on an African photo safari this would have been the equivalent of capturing a pride of lions surrounded by a few elephants. Very exciting and you can bet Dylan was very satisfied with these outings on our Celebrity Safari day.

Yes, we were this close to Rainn Wilson!

Mindy Kaling, who plays Kelly Kapur on The Office

My feet are the same size as John Wayne's. I wear a kids size two!

Liv Tyler and her poppa, Steven.

Ellen Page. Short people are hard to get a picture of!

The cast of Super, Rainn Wilson, Ellen Page, director James Gunn & Nathan Fillion

Nathan Fillion is giving Dylan the stink eye.

Not a Flake, just Flexible

2011-03-20T08:27:00.000-07:00

After deciding to cancel our trip plans to Japan, we hit every website we knew looking for flights out of town. While I was on three different weather sites to find a place that wasn't raining, Andy was searching through Kayak, Trip Advisor, ITA and a number of other sites to find us cheap tickets. We even considered flying to Brussels and taking a Ryan Air flight to Spain, to no avail.

So Thursday night we gave up that hope and decided to hop in the car and drive south, way south. Called my brother and made plans to meet him at Disneyland (we do amusement parks very well together) and let Dylan indulge in her latest obsession, sighting celebrities. Not that she gets to see any in Portland. Apparently there is a business in LA where the paparazzi lets you follow them as they look for that elusive (or not) shot of Charlie Sheen drinking tiger's blood. Just like an african photo safari--why didn't I think of that?!.

Dylan has been begging for us to let her bring a friend on any trip so we called her best friend's parents on Friday morning wondering if we could take her kid with us and being fellow followers of the Temple of the Last Minute, said yes!

Not sure how the rest of the week is going to pan out after Disney. Depends on the weather and our moods. Stupid weather in LA looks rainy today, but it looks worse in San Francisco where we hoped to end our week. Yes, we are trying to escape the rain, but maybe in LA it's a different rain--a chubby rain*

*Free beer to whoever get's that reference!

No Tokyo: The Anatomy of a Decision

2011-03-13T16:10:00.000-07:00

A lost vacation is nothing like a lost home, business, or family member. We understand that and are grateful that our lives can go on “as usual” here in Portland. But sadly, we made the decision this morning to cancel our trip plans to Tokyo, and I thought it might be of interest to armchair and fellow travelers to know how we came about this decision.

As you may know, we’re not timid travelers. We’ve floated down a snake-infested river in Northern Thailand on a raft made with bike tires and ten sticks of bamboo, driven to Lhasa Tibet with a cab driver harboring a death wish, and have even zip lined through the forests of Bali. We also understand the nature of television and news reporting and realize that during a disaster the cameras focus on the devastation that makes good news; never mind that ten blocks away life is pretty normal, if not quiet. So we understand that while an earthquake and tsunami damaged many parts of Northern Japan, the damage where we were going to stay in Tokyo is fairly minimal and localized.

Our first call of order was to wait and see the scope of damage. We don’t have CNN and our local TV stations have had nothing on Japan after Thursday night, but we’ve been watching the NHK (Japanese television) feed online, as well as following the Times Asia, New York Times, and reading message boards on websites such as Thorn Three which Lonely Planet moderates. Our attempt was to get first-hand, on-the-ground reporting, from travelers, locals and expats.

We also talked to friends who have traveled extensively and even communicated with Edward Hasbrouck, author of The Practical Nomad to assess how a trip to Tokyo right now would play out. Hasbrouck has a travel philosophy that we respect as well as a blog that follows The Amazing Race, where we enjoy his post-show analysis. He encouraged us to be realistic about our concerns. We’ve also emailed a contact in Tokyo for his assessment. Having traveled to Tokyo before (2003 & 2005), we are familiar with the city and the scope of difficulty of getting transportation, food and power.

Frankly, the earthquake and aftershocks are the least of our worries. After living in Los Angeles and Portland, we are no strangers to earthquakes, and Tokyo is one of the safest places in the world to be when an earthquake strikes. By cancelling, we will probably lose the money we put down for the apartment, and the opportunity to witness incredible stories of a country going through this crisis, but still we hesitated to make a final call.

Here’s what helped make our decision:

1-The nuclear issues are unresolved and not only causing evacuations but rolling blackouts throughout Tokyo. From the probable radiation risks, to the very likely disruptions to trains, food delivery, and businesses in Tokyo, much will be closed and work will be cancelled for many citizens. Two hundred thousand residents, just an hour or so outside of greater Tokyo are evacuated and need somewhere to go, and the last thing Japan needs is the three of us dependent upon them for food, water and transportation.

2-US, British and French Governments are warning their citizens to stay away from or leave Tokyo. I tend to disregard US State department warnings since they err on the most conservative side, last much longer than the actual state of emergency, and have warned citizens away from some very wonderful parts of the world. But when the French and British are concerned, we’re duly warned.

3-This would not be the vacation we thought we’d have. While that’s usually not a bad thing—the joy of travel is discovering and having experiences that you don’t expect—going into it, we know that trips out to the Ghibli Museum, Tsukiji Fish Market, and a number of day trips we thought we might take just couldn’t happen. After visiting Paris last August, where most of the businesses we wanted to visit were shut down for holidays, and recalling how that affected our stay, we understand that for now, Tokyo is not going to be its usual self.

We love Japan, revel in Tokyo and our hearts break for the tragedy the Japanese people face. We are determined to visit again, and hopefully sooner than later. But in the interim, we’re going to have to figure out something else to do next week. While our hearts are in Japan, our bodies need to find some sunshine.

Shaky grounds, shaky plans

2011-03-11T07:01:00.000-08:00

Last night, around 9:45 pst, an 8.9 earthquake hit the northern part of Honsu, the largest and most populous island of Japan, and the home of Tokyo. We watched the news last night with horror and disbelief as a tsunami swept over the land with the understanding that the area was devastated.

In a week we are supposed to be in Tokyo, finally taking the long-postponed trip to one of our favorite cities. At this point we don't know if we are still going. We have the tickets and the hotel is paid for, but now we wait and assess the risks. Having traveled in areas around the world previously affected by disasters, human or man-made, we understand that while one area can be destroyed, other parts can be business as usual.

Time, distance and magnitude all play a part in whether an area is still dangerous. But, we'll be cautious and hopefully smart. We'll look to see how the infrastructure is faring, if there is sewage, water, and transportation still working. Of course if all flights are cancelled, we can't ignore that, but a lot can happen in a week.

In the meantime, our hearts go out to those in Japan and elsewhere affected by this quake. I don't know about you, but things like this make the world feel very small and fragile.

Namaste

A Better Day

2011-02-22T14:13:00.001-08:00

Yesterday in Christchurch New Zealand, the earth rattled, split open and reminded us that despite every precaution; we humans are not immune to Mother Nature's force. Andy's parents live on the South Island of New Zealand during this part of the year, and we are grateful that they were not in Christchurch during the quake. They're doing fine and wanted to let us know as soon as they could--much sooner than we got word of the quake here in Portland--that they were doing okay.

We've visited Christchurch New Zealand a couple of times, in 1996 and a decade later in 2006 and calling it a city is a bit of a misnomer. While it's the largest city on the South Island and the second largest city in New Zealand, it's really more of a bucolic town, filled with gorgeous buildings inspired by England's gothic architecture, a meandering stream where the locals watch the tourist punt (to be guided in a boat kind of like a gondola in Venice) past the college, and fabulous gardens, in parks and seemingly in front of every home.

It's a sad day in New Zealand and we hope the death toll doesn't continue to rise. Fortunately the Kiwi's have the infrastructure and tenacity to ride out the aftermath of this tragedy, but we wanted to let our friends and relatives know we are thinking of them.

*The Photos*

I'm not sure, but I think the church in our picture was destroyed yesterday. Need to check on that. Also, our favorite store in Christchurch was this amazing drygoods place. Gotta wonder how it did after the quake.

Restocking the Pond

2011-02-10T14:23:00.000-08:00

Morning fog has finally burned off to reveal another gorgeous day here in Portland. I know, we have a reputation for being a miserable wet place to spend winter, but it seems that there's always a week in February when the sun comes out, tiny bulbs poke out of the ground and we get tricked into thinking Spring is here. It's not.

It would be an understatement to say I’ve been writing a lot these past five months. I’ve been writing enough to fill reams of paper, enough to wallpaper the whole house if I wished. I’ve been writing short stories, essays, a bit of a screenplay and even a young adult novel. I can’t say it’s all very good, but some of it rises to the top and makes it worth spending the hours. Yet, while I write and will continue to, no matter how little I publish or sell, it can get discouraging not getting things to the point where you feel they are ready to send out. It’s even more discouraging to send things out and not hear how they—your little essay or short story—are faring on the desk of various editors.

Julia Cameron, writes about the need to be self-nourishing since writers are those who draw from an inner well of ideas, images and thoughts. She says that “any extended period or piece of work draws heavily on our artistic well. Over-tapping the well, like overfishing the pond, leaves us with diminished resources.” I’m afraid that my pond is feeling dried up this week. A few bits of algae lay skimming the surface, but I’m not feeling that I have much to give to the two pieces that are sitting on my desk needing some editing.

So, I need to restock my pond, prime the juices and do whatever I can to make writing flow again. One of the things I’ve been doing is reading some really great writing. My newly formed book group is reading Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese and I’ve been devouring his book. Another thing I’d like to do is re-read Twyla Tharpe’s The Creative Habit. I’d rather have dental surgery than watch a dance performance, but I respect her process and the ideas that she writes about in her book. I think I need a field trip somewhere. Going to Seattle last weekend didn’t really jumpstart any writing but maybe I need to spend a few hours wandering a part of Portland I usually avoid.

Dylan has a part in the school play, Henry & Beezus. She plays Judy Cappy a bff of one of the main characters. She says that her character is supposed to sit around, read Seventeen and do her nails during most of the play. Not a huge stretch of acting we tell her. She agrees. Wasabi spends most of his days staring out the window and barking at squirrels. Andy’s not off to Europe this month, but maybe going to Japan next month for work. We are all going to be in Japan for Spring Break, but that’s another entry. Sayonara till then.

Sign of the Times

2011-01-13T21:41:00.000-08:00

There are few things in my life of which I’ve been absolutely sure. That I was born outside the United States (which quelled my presidential ambitions very early), that each day the sun will rise and set, and that I am a Pisces. That is until today. For some reason someone—probably the same brains that demoted Pluto from being a planet—has come up with a new astrological calendar attributing new dates to old signs, and adding one for the hell of it. Well, I’m not going to take it. The earth may be round, we may revolve around the sun, but I will remain forever emotional, dreamy, an artist, with sensitive feet. Cause if I can’t remain a dual water loving fish, I’m worried what will come next if suddenly I am Aquarius, joining the tea party?

Three Little Words

2011-01-07T10:39:00.001-08:00

During the past couple of days I've stumbled across some incredible moments of synchronicity. On Wednesday, I was sitting at Milo's having some lunch at the counter. No big surprise here. A friend who also frequents Milo's sat next to me and we exchanged a few words, catching up a bit since we haven't been at the counter at the same time, thanks to the crazy-making the holidays does to my routine.

I happen to turn around as this woman was walking to the bathroom and lo and behold, it was a friend from law school. Someone I hadn't seen since 2004, or maybe earlier. After joyfully reuniting, I had to ask her how her husband was and needed reminding of what he did. She said it was the same thing as before, working with military vets with PTSD. All very well. We exchanged business cards and went on our way. The restaurant was loud, and I doubt anyone could overhear our conversation, which is important to know to understand the next revelation. As my other friend was wrapping up his lunch, we chatted about his recent work and he said that he was tossing around the idea of writing a thriller about a vet with PTSD. While it's not a huge stretch to find me at Milos and chatting with my writer friend, having two unrelated people talk to me about vets with PTSD just seemed too coincidental.

At the same time, I've been kicking around the idea of a blog entry focusing on a great idea that my friend Laura introduced during our New Year's Day lunch. She pulled out a sheet of paper with a number of words, and was thinking of choosing a word to define 2011. Our conversation soon ran around all sorts of topics, but I continued to think about Laura's words. Enough so, that I was ready to blog about what I would choose as my word(s) for 2011, while the Bob Marley tune Three Little Birds became an earworm stubbornly burrowing in my brain, except for the word birds, I was instead, thinking--three words.

I had to google "three little words", to make sure that I didn't have Bob's words wrong. Okay, Bob Marley wrote Three Little Birds (you knew that, didn't you?) but someone did write, Three Little Words and it was none other than GEORGE WELLS. That's right. Andy's grandpa wrote a little movie called Three Little Words, which starred Fred Astaire. Tucked deep down in my subconscious I may have known that, but if so, I've completely forgotten about it--until today.

But how random is that? Walking around with a title in my head that had a much stronger connection to me than I could imagine. Sometimes I feel like a conduit in the universe. Someone who has no other purpose than to bring a person or idea together with another person or idea, with no benefit to myself.

So, what is my word that describes the theme I wish to carry this year? I've got a few:

As far as finances go, Intention. Rather than not spending money at all, a pretty unrealistic goal, I think that if I spend with Intention, rather than impulse I will be happier about how I've used my money.

With my writing, my word is Completion. I am focusing on finishing what I've started, which includes the step of sending the material out into the world. Probably the hardest step, next to starting.

And the third word? Incrementation. Taking things in baby steps, rather than looking at a huge project--a business, my health, trip plans, as a huge daunting mountain of challenges that drive me to absolute distraction--and biting off a bit, day by day, or as Anne Lamott calls it, Bird by Bird.

What would be your word for 2011?

Oh, What a Decade!

2011-01-01T01:09:00.000-08:00

At some point yesterday Dylan informed me that today is 1/1/11. Didn’t see that coming. I’m still processing the fact that another decade has gone by and remembering the things that became a part of my life; things that didn’t even exist ten years ago. Things like friends who I’ve met in the past ten years, new babies who have joined our family—some are now almost 10—and technologies I’ve embraced. Hello Facebook and iphone.

Sadly over the past decade we’ve lost a number of people dear to us including Andy’s grandpa George Wells, my two grandmothers Bertha Werking and Viola Lake, and Viola’s sister Margie. Two of my dearest friends (Lili P. and Sam W) lost a brother, and sister in the 2000s. Some friends have moved, others divorced and some are no longer part of our day-to-day life.

On the upside, I found a space at Milo’s counter for me in the 2000s and my brother Miles was able to re-enter our lives during this decade after an eight year absence, bringing a sense of peace and wisdom that he gained in the hardest of ways.

Yes there were the notable events during 2000-2010. Y2K, Gore v. Bush, September 11, 2001, the wars in Iraq & Afghanistan, a wardrobe malfunction, international terrorist attacks, the patriot act, two terms of Bush, Obama, Palin, the Asian Tsunami, Hurricane Katrina, a 700 billion dollar bailout, and enormous oil spills off the coast of the US and Africa. But each of us spins our own universe inside these greater dramas.

What rocked my world this past decade? First it was Dylan’s transformation from a curious, intrepid preschooler to a composed, ever-evolving teenager. It has been a privilege to be there every moment, watching and perhaps having a hand in forming this whole person. As Dylan got older it was time to see the world. Not only did we execute and launch our yearlong, round-the-world journey in 2005, we made travel a priority, where I visited Korea for the first time since leaving in 1969. We also explored Japan, Indonesia, France, the Netherlands, Canada and Mexico—okay it was just Tijuana, but we did walk across the border.

Finally, it wasn’t until the 2000s that I realized (with a bit of therapy and counseling) that I wanted to be a writer more than a lawyer. On April 24, 2000 I started typing a journal into my computer and as of today I’ve written about 700 pages. What did I have to say in 700 pages? I guess I pondered GM’s car designs, theoretical physics, and my place in a post-9/11 world. I’ve also written a couple of novels, (or at least 200 page starts of novels) a couple of screenplays, over a hundred blog entries, not to mention untold pages of short stories, essays, and emails. I may not have reached my 10,000 hours necessary to master a craft, but I’m working on it. I’m pretty sure I can say that I write better today than I did in 1999.

My writing has focused on a couple of themes; creativity and the struggle that exists when trying to write—a solitary journey—and being a mom; the least solitary endeavor in the world and figuring out who I am, and where I end and the rest of the world begins. Not the lightest of topics.

I not only told my own stories, but I discovered and embraced a number of stories, whether they came in theatres (The Lord of the Rings trilogy—thank you Peter Jackson—the Matrix, Harry Potter, and Slumdog Millionaire,) on TV (Angels in America, The Wire, Arrested Development and Lost) or in books (too many to list, too many forgotten).

I have no predictions of what the next year, let alone next decade will bring. Dylan will probably graduate from high school and college before 2020. I hope there will be more stamps in our passport. Andy, the dog and I will undoubtedly get slower and greyer and I’m sure new adventures will beckon, even when we’re not ready for them.

I leave the decade with this quote because it sums up the magic I’ve been driven to conjure these past years. And I wish you a peaceful transition out of this decade into the next. Namaste.

“The writer who shuts himself up in a room and goes on a journey inside himself will, over the years, discover literature’s eternal rule: he must have the artistry to tell his own stories as if they were other people’s stories, and to tell other people’s stories as if they were his own, for that is what literature is.” Orhan Pamuk, New Yorker Dec 2006

Goodbye, Old Friend

2010-12-21T00:03:00.000-08:00

This week I say goodbye to an old friend. No, thankfully it’s not a person but my laptop. After five years, a half million miles on the road and thousands of pages and emails, it’s finally giving up on me. The modem is acting funky, certain keys no longer work, the battery dies after five minutes and I’m tired of troubleshooting problems every day. Computer years are kind of like dog years and my five year old Dell might as well be a hundred people years. We got it for our trip around the world and it’s been a faithful companion on trains, planes and rickshaws. In hotels, tents and apartments around the globe.

This has been a month of change and reflection in our household. Three weeks ago I was in New York City interviewing for a job and deciding through the process to start my own business. More on that later. Then two weeks ago a good friend and her daughter were hit by a car while crossing a very busy street in Portland. The daughter suffered a broken femur and had surgery the next day. She’s out of the hospital and recovering well. When her daughter was hit, my friend was knocked to the ground and hit her head. Since she is on a blood thinner, there was a lot of bleeding at the site. She’s been in the hospital, first ICU and now a recovery and care unit, while doctors assess her progress.

Meanwhile, I have been building up towards the 10,000 hours that Malcolm Gladwell states is necessary to master a skill, and mine has been writing. Tonight I was supposed to finish a 2000 word essay for my writing critique group. Normally that wouldn’t be too hard, I’ve been cranking out 15 pages of work per week for the last 7 weeks or so, but I can’t wrap my head around my latest work. I think it’s because I don’t know where I want my piece to go. I know I’ll figure it out eventually but by tomorrow—highly unlikely unless some bolt of inspiration hits from out of the blue.

As the year—and decade—come to a close I’m taking a deep breath because I know right now I sit in the quietest of moments before I have to jump back on the this ever-oscillating planet and get back to work creating, planning, scheming and sorting. I’m not ready to say goodbye to 2010 only because I’m worried it will seem bucolic compared to what 2011 may bring. But I hope I’m wrong. That this pessimism is due to a failed assignment and that 2010, may it rest in peace, is retired to the place where dead laptops, and wayward stories go to die.

Little Beirut?

2010-11-28T22:20:00.001-08:00

Dispatch: From Portland Oregon where apparently "It's in Oregon; and Oregon's like you know, nobody ever thinks of it."

A few presidential administrations back, Portland gained the moniker "Little Beirut" because of all the protests expected whenever the Prez visited. While that's evidence of democracy in action, we have managed to avoid having anything else closely related to Beirut: military checkpoints, bombings, political unrest...

Except this weekend we got a bit of a rude awakening into the post-9/11 world. A Somali-born teenager had planned and executed to the best of his abilities a massive bombing, that if it worked, would have leveled blocks in downtown Portland, during the annual lighting of the Holiday Tree in Pioneer Square. This story made top-fold, front page of the NY Times. Thankfully his "accomplices" were the FBI and so the actual danger level never nudged above a usual mass gathering of Portlanders (panhandlers and rogue bicyclists) but the intent was there. He was ready to wreak mayhem. Andy's cousin and his baby were downtown which really makes us grateful it turned out the way it did.

I'm not sure what will happen to this guy, or what it means for our city, but I do wonder if we lost a bit of innocence after this weekend.

A Kimchi Crisis?

2010-10-15T10:37:00.000-07:00

Imagine a national dish so pervasive it’s eaten morning noon and night—every day. A dish so honored and revered Samsung makes refrigerators just for storing it. A dish so fragrant you can smell it when you land in the country. Yup, that’s kimchi. The Korean dish that binds North and South, cities and villages, and rich and poor throughout Korea. I need to come clean here, I hate kimchi. It’s nothing against the Koreans and their palates, but any arguments that taste is genetically acquired goes down the toilet when it comes to me and kimchi. I’m 100% Korean and 100% grossed out by this ubiquitous dish. Look, I think Taco Bell is spicy so kimchi didn’t have a chance. The greatest fondness I’ve ever had for Kimchi was for our cat, who had the dubious distinction of being named after the Korean national dish. Kimchi? Wasabi? Naming pets after Asian condiments seems to be a theme here…

During both trips to Korea I had the opportunity to get elbow-deep in kimchi. One was a visit to a kimchi factory and the other was while staying at a Servas host’s home when we happened to visit during fall, which is prime kimchi making season. It’s an interesting dish to make. Consisting of Napa cabbage covered with a paste of peppers, garlic and assorted spices, it was a perfect source of vitamins during long, cold Korean winters before refrigeration. Today the New York Times had an interesting article about the rising cost of kimchi and the almost calamity that it is causing in Korea. The French have their baguettes, the Italians their pasta, but American’s don’t have a dish that is so ubiquitous and necessary to the entire country's well-being that everyone is affected when that food becomes too expensive or threatened. I suppose if there was a turkey shortage in mid-November we might get an idea of what a food shortage panic looks like, but not everyone would be affected; including millions of vegetarians would probably gloat and start hoarding Tofurky.

As an outsider, it’s kind of funny—for a moment to think of a national panic over fermented cabbage—but there are more worrisome factors to think about. Just this week I sat through a presentation at the world headquarters of Mercy Corps, an international aid and development organization. One of the biggest future challenges that Mercy Corps is preparing to help alleviate is the emerging food crises. Too much or too little rain, fewer acres planted because of encroaching human settlements, lower food prices that encourage farmers not to plant, and many other factors contribute to a precarious food situation.

While it may be difficult to imagine food shortages while living in the United States—land of Costco and Safeway—a lack of food on the shelves for millions is not a futuristic dystopian nightmare, but a very real present danger. Especially for people whose diets consists of just a few foods. Lest we get too complacent and figure that access to affordable food is a third world problem, a couple of winter’s ago Portland got hit by a snowstorm that lasted a few days. Portland is a city that closes down if two snowflakes rub together and land on the ground so three days of snow was especially crippling. Towards the end of Winter Storm 2008 I walked to our local Fred Meyers and saw a sight I’ve never seen in an American grocery store, bare shelves in the produce area. A few limp sweet potatoes were the only fresh vegetables and fruits for purchase. The rest of the produce area was cleaned out due to no truck deliveries during the past few days. Fortunately for us, we had enough to eat at home, (Oreos anyone?) but it reminded me just how fragile and interconnected we remain to what we eat.

Paris Part Deux

2010-08-08T13:17:00.000-07:00

It's funny, our second trip to Paris and all we can do is compare it to our first back in 2006. Last time we were here it was an unusually cold March, Dylan was just nine and we were feeling quite seasoned as travelers. This time it's warm (though thankfully not as hot as it is in Moscow right now), crowded beyond recognition and Dylan is remembering things in flashes, like bits of a dream she might have once had. Kind of like the movie Inception. She remembers random things like the bathroom of the restaurant where we celebrated my birthday and the store in the Louvre where we bought some washcloths, but Notre Dame, Montmarte, and the Metro feel new for her.

While we're trying to see a lot, we're not in a manic state trying to get to all the sights. Went to the Pompidou yesterday and unlike our last visit, ventured inside to check out the gift store--very cool--and ride the escalators in the habitrail. I'm not sure of the official name of the tubes running outside, but we came up with habitrail and since I felt kind of hamster-like inside it, the name will stick. The views were amazing, almost as good as the chocolate cake we shared; I'm not sure why frosting isn't inside all chocolate cakes, it works much better that way, less mess.

We're covering a lot of territory, walked the Marais yesterday and today from the Louvre, to Notre Dame and onto the Isle du Cite; all this in flip flops. Getting really bad sleep here in Montmarte. If you put together a frat house during homecoming with revelers on Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras, you might come close to the noise level outside our apartment each night. I'm wishing a special karmic hell to the guy who blasted europop from his car stereo at 5:00 this morning. It's almost 10:30 pm and I'm starting to fade.

Two new developments on this trip: Dylan said a perfect "S'il vous plait" complete with French accent and I had to pick up a pair of magnifying glasses because everything I was reading was looking blurry and really small.

Note: Due to technical difficulties, we may not be having pictures on the blog, nor any more postings thanks to the downright wonkiness of Andy's work computer. My tiny iphone is working better for us on this trip than his mega machine.

Wandering the City of Light

2010-08-03T11:53:00.000-07:00

After a ten hour flight and an hour and a half train ride we arrived in the City of Light where we will hang out for the next few days while Andy works. Not THE City of Light, as in Paris--that's next week--but Eindhoven, the fifth largest town in the Netherlands.

This is the town that Philips (innovators in lightbulbs) built, hence the moniker, City of Light. As much as I travel, I never lose the sense of wonder that crosses my mind when I step on a plane in one place and mere hours later can disembark in an entirely different country, let alone continent. We tend to take it for granted--the online printing of boarding passes, the whisking of luggage down a moving sidewalk and the ability to watch three movies and yet travel across an ocean, but it remains a wonder and privilage of our modern age to travel this easily--despite how uncomfortable it is to sit in coach for ten hours.

We're all discombobulated. Andy sped off to work while Dylan and I wandered the winding streets that make up the town center. Dylan was thrilled to find an H&M right away and I'm just glad I could get us back to our hotel without getting lost. We quickly picked up our habits developed after spending countless miles on the road: grabbing a hotel card to stash on ourselves so that we can remember where we sleep, setting up our mobile telecommunications center, and quickly adjusting our pace to that of the locals. It's good to be on the road again.

We're Number One!!

2010-07-21T22:53:00.000-07:00

While we've laid some pretty serious bucks down for great meals; a five course lunch at Gordon Ramsey's restaurant in Claridges Hotel, a chocolate sushi box from Nobu, the most perfect poached egg at Beast and silky smooth mashed potatoes, (the kind you'd sell your mom to the North Koreans in exchange for an endless supply) at Thomas Keller's Bouchon, we'd have to say our most memorable meals came from the street. A small paper bag of rice and spices topped with chicken, sold on the streets of Ubud by a shrunken old lady who would run out of her supplies in moments. Spicy, tangy, pad thai for forty cents at the huge MBK mall in Bangkok and super tasty noodles in Singapore.

These street delicacies always come to mind when I remember some of my best street meals, but nowadays we don't have to go too far for street food that is da bomb. Cause, right here in Portland Oregon CNN has anointed us the town with the best street food in THE WORLD!!

I get it, I really do. While I love catching regional specialties and eating as near to the street as I can, I love me some variety and that's what we get in Portland. Whether it's a hankering for some schnitzel, or a bulgogi taco, or my favorite, rice and chicken wrapped neatly in paper, it's easily found in Portland. In fact this weekend Andy and I had a deep fried chicken pot pie, Belgian fries and steak sandwich for around $15. Keep it up Portland and know if you build food carts the people will come.

Bathtubs or Barcelona?

2010-07-15T11:37:00.000-07:00

We woke up at 6:30 this morning to make sure we were ready for the carpet guy to come in and install carpet in my new closet on steroids. Carrie Bradshaw, eat your heart out. This summer has become less about travel and more about making things work at home. You see, we are one of a few American homeowners who actually bought a house in the past couple of years that had ONE bathroom. Having just ONE bathroom doesn't seem too bad when you've been living out of hotel rooms for a year, or sharing a home with fifteen other people (using two baths), but once a teenager comes into the picture, one bathroom can be painful, inconvenient and down right strange here in suburbia.

So, we're taking the plunge and adding a bath to our home, remodeling a storage space into a master closet and moving some walls. Of course we've managed a number of remodels in various homes but this is the first time we're handing over a majority of the work to a contractor. While Andy is certainly happy to not have to do more than some painting and touch up work, I'm a bit twitterpated. Seeing a huge chunk of money being spent on something that is not a plane ticket or hotel room is out of my ken. In fact, every time I look at the bathtub, I think, hmmm, soaking in warm baths on cold Portland nights, or a week in Barcelona? I realize there are worse choices to have make (rent or food?) but as an avowed travel slut, Barcelona would have been my usual choice.

Something about this remodel is making me feel domesticated and not in a good way. It's not like we don't live in comfortable, homey surroundings; we do. But I've been able to delude myself into thinking that choosing travel frees me from having too many ties, or ultimately being a conventional grownup. However the addition of pipes, wires and yards of subway tile has left me feeling more grounded in a way than having a husband, kid, or dog ever did.

Martha Beck had an interesting article in the latest Oprah magazine on how to convert money into happiness. Essentially she divides life's purchases into things we need and love, things we need but don't love, things we don't really need, but love and things we don't need nor love. While she suggest you first spend money on the stuff you need, but don't love (insurance, money for retirement, something to wear) she suggests you go for the generic, or the minimum. But for the things you need and love, be as lavish as you can. This adds zest to an otherwise utilitarian existence. Of course if you don't need it or love it, then walk right by. And it you don't need it but love it, that is what we call a splurge. How we spend our time, our money and our energy tells the world a lot about what we value and who we are. And what I'm realizing is that my bathtub, like Barcelona is as much a need as a love. So if you wonder where I am once the weather turns cold and gray, follow the rising steam and you'll find me soaking in my tub, gazing towards a picture of the sun-soaked Spanish coast and the possibilities that remain, long after the dust has settled and the paint has dried.

Scenes from a Portland Summer

2010-07-04T14:51:00.001-07:00

It's not really summer here in Portland. Today is cold and grey and follows a record three months of crappy weather. Apparently between March and June there were only three days that didn't have rain. But when it's beautiful here, it's beautiful. Dylan has been taking a lot of pictures with her new camera and I thought I'd share a few.

What Do They Say About The Best Laid Plans??

2010-06-21T22:52:00.001-07:00

Oh no, now Dylan has to wait to try Pandaseals!

One of the most telling and frustrating characteristic of how we travel, is that more often than not, we make these huge elaborate plans; only to change them. Whether it's flying to New Zealand from India, (no wait make that Singapore, nope...how 'bout Australia), or driving to Montana from Portland, our only constant is change.

Which is why it should be no surprise that we've just tossed all of our plans to travel to Japan this August up in the air and have made new and hopefully improved plans for the next few months. For weeks I've felt a certain dread about going to Japan. After looking for hotels this weekend and experiencing a minor anxiety attack, I brought up some huge concerns I had about our impending visit to Japan with Dylan and Andy. They were:

1-The heat and humidity in Japan is pretty unbearable in August. We still have flashbacks to melting on sidewalks and cuddling near air con units. The only reason we chose August was because Andy's company is shutting down for a week and he needed to take some vacation time then, but to go back when we know we were miserable?? How bright is that?

2-I can muster enthusiasm for a week or so in Tokyo. We've already been to Kyoto, Nara, Hiroshima (not to mention two trips to Tokyo) and the unexplored parts for us were the forests and villages of Hokkaido, but we're not really forest and village kind of travelers, at least not for this trip. We were slated to be in Japan for 22 days and it was starting to feel like we would be standing around killing time. Our original intent was to have Dylan do a week's worth of work for her Senior Project at Arbor. Well, since there's no Arbor, and thus no Senior Project, there is no need to stay so long. But with the way our frequent flier miles worked, we were trapped into a 22 day stay if we used these tickets. Ugh.

3-There are far more cheaper places on this planet to kill time than Japan.

4-Leaving town for three weeks while trying to add a bathroom to our house would really slow down construction.

So...

A few intense conversations later and we have much better plans!

Japan--Spring Break 2011. Eight days of onsen soaking (believe me you don't want to visit an onsen in August), cherry blossom viewing and extreme sushi eating and Dylan gets to land in Japan on her birthday! Yup, just rebooked tickets.

Vancouver BC or somewhere equally lovely in August where we can road trip, sans pup but with adventurous spirit intact.

Perhaps somewhere warm, awesome and cheap for Xmas break??? Still have a decent number of frequent flier miles.

And if Andy can't make it to Japan for spring break, I've promised him a sweet couples trip to the New Orleans Jazz Festival--just the two of us.

So much of the travel experience lies in the planning and I guess we take the more roundabout route. Before you revoke our passports due to indecision, I quote JRR Toilken, writer of one of the most memorable travel adventures, "All who wander are not lost..." I stand by my motto: I'm not a flake, just flexible.

Blue in the Face

2010-04-04T11:47:00.000-07:00

Recently a cloud of self-doubt, angst and apprehension has hung over our home, followed by some winds of change. Yesterday we informed the head of Dylan’s school that she won’t be returning and instead Dylan will be heading to a local middle school, if not by next week, definitely for 8th grade. Change for most people is pretty tough—we learned that lesson big time when we opted for the ultimate change, chucking it all to travel the world—changing a kid’s school has got to be up there with the lifetime biggies like divorce, death etc… or at least it seems.

Eight years ago when Dylan was still a tiny fresh-breathed pre-schooler we started the search wide and far for where she would go to school. Unlike the days when we were kids and you automatically went to the geographically closest school, there are so many choices for kids. Language immersion, arts focused, parochial, environmental, private and yes, the always handy neighborhood school are just a few of the options out there to mess with parents’ heads; the kids are mostly fine so long as they have a consistently (good) home life. We stumbled upon a school set in a rural setting with a lovely campus, with a very exciting curriculum, and a wonderfully small student/teacher ratio. We looked at the school and said, “Wow, if only every kid was so lucky to get this, but jesus, it’s 20 miles away!” and decided on the school 2 blocks from our house. Dylan loved school. She made some fast friends, seemed to be learning, and there were no complaints from the peanut gallery. But mom and dad were dissatisfied. Seeing their kid in a class with 30 kindergartners and one overburdened teacher, turned off by what seemed like pretty unchallenging and uninteresting work, and pissed off by the local/state/fed budget constraints that kept the school at risk for losing something extra (i.e., PE, music, art) every year got old.

So we schlepped back down to that happy school and applied. Long story short, Dylan got waitlisted and then we headed off into the world. Upon our return, a space was made for her and we thought, well wasn’t that perfect timing? The transition to a new school was rough for her. We chalked it up to coming back from what was essentially a tour of duty and made plenty of excuses for her behavior and attitude about school. Fifth grade was a bit easier, but still general grumblings of discontent popped up—more than other peoples’ kids it seemed. And then at sixth grade she really wanted to leave. We said “Hell no, you wont go.” And that was that.

In February, while chatting with a very wise friend about Dylan’s attitudes, she said “You know, if you don’t listen to her on this [her desire to leave school], she’s going to stop talking to you because she realizes that unless she toes the party line, her voice doesn’t matter,” and that stopped me in my tracks. We come from a culture that says parents know best. We are doing things for you that you may not like, but it’s for the best. Our culture also says that kids this age are a mess, are you really going to listen to them, they’re negative about EVERYTHING. Andy and I were on a fast train with Dylan towards high school and we realized we needed to put on the brakes and really think about this. Did we really like the things we liked about the school? Yes, we did. Were there still problems at the school just a few blocks away? Countless. So what changed? We’re not sure. Maybe our kid is not the kid we envisioned her being, who would want to do the things offered at her school. Maybe her cohorts, while perfectly fine to work alongside, were not the group she would find to be her soulmates. Maybe carsickness on her 40 mile daily commute got the best of her. Some reasons changed, some stayed the same. After we said, “Okay, we get it. You’re not happy at school, and if you understand the consequences of leaving, you can change,” if she were a cartoon character, you would have seen dust trailing behind her, she was leaving so quickly.

And yet, every two days—or was it twice a day—I would check in with her and say, “Do you really want to do this? Leave the school? No more Senior Play or Senior Project? You know, the better things?” her answer was a resounding yes. Finally, after talking to a friend about my methods, I realized I was waiting for Dylan to change color or something! “Listen kid,” I thought, “could you just turn blue or pink or green when you really are feeling to your core about something? Could you just SHOW me? “Oh I get it,” says the friend. “You want your kid to be a mood ring.” “Damn right I do!” And why not? When they were babies we thought it would be a hell of a lot easier if they could just tell us what’s wrong instead of crying on about it, and now that they can talk, wouldn’t it be easier if we knew they really, really, really felt the way they did? That it wasn’t hormones, friends, fatigue, or the climate causing their angst, but something less ethereal, more substantial?

A couple days ago I laid out my mood-ring experiment. Okay, Dylan. If you were to use colors to describe your feelings with light pink/white being happy and hunky dory to deep dark magenta being in the worst of places, how to you feel now. “White” was her response. This was the moment where I got out all of our audio visual equipment to record said mood. Okay, I asked, and if we were to tell you that we’ve reconsidered and you’re going back to your school next year no matter what, mood please?” “Black.” No different results came from the mood ring theory, but I guess I’ve got to settle down and just believe her, once I’ve decided to listen to her.

People say parenting is hard. Pushing a bowling ball out your butt is hard. Climbing Everest without oxygen is hard, getting rid of everything and cutting all ties to travel for a year is hard. Parenting—well, good parenting—is the Bataan Death March over glass, with lemons and salt being rubbed into your wounds on an hourly basis hard, at least when you feel like you’re failing your kid. But the rewards when things turn out okay—man, that’s sweet ambrosia: whichI guess is supposed to fuel us during the worst of times.

Opting out...

2010-03-15T20:12:00.001-07:00

Yes, I've rediscovered blogging today. Don't ask why.

I CAN explain why I've been absent lately and it's your fault. Okay, maybe it's mine, but here's the deal. When I started this blog it was to share our travel adventures, but since travel isn't on our agenda as much these days (we are going to San Francisco next week)I felt like I was doing a bait and switch on you, dear readers. You signed up for one adventure, and I kept taking you someplace else. Seeing that so many of the readers of this blog were/are actual friends and family members, I figured you were too polite to object, while I felt guilty subjecting you to my rants and raves. Back in the day before blog readers, we tried to have updates to the blog automatically sent out to our readers, but that didn't work, so we ended up emailing each entry as it was written. This added to my spiraling feelings of guilt and bashfulness every time I updated the blog which became a vicious circle.

But today I came up with a brilliant solution. Offer the masses a chance to unsubscribe, opt out and be free of Only Planet. If you really want to continue reading my increasingly manic and prolific posts, you're more than welcome. But if you'd rather check out entirely, or sporadically check in to see what we're up to, I'd like to give you that option.

Okay, anyone left? Buckle up because it's going to be one hell of a ride from here on out...

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Bless the Beasts and the Children.

2010-03-15T20:00:00.000-07:00

For my friend George, who enlightened me on the grand scheme of things. Yes, of course--it makes sense to dismantle a classic education. Who needs children who can do algebra and talk about East of Eden or Manifest Destiny when child labor laws are repealed??? In the meantime, let the warm glow that emits from this picture fill you with love.

Mad as a Hatter

2010-03-15T15:32:00.001-07:00

Yesterday Dylan and I went to see the new Alice in Wonderland as interpreted by Tim Burton. Visually captivating, and fairly interesting, as it points out how Alice had few choices in her life--given that she was a woman in the 1800's--I thought it wasn't a total waste of ten bucks. As we left the theatre I asked Dylan if she knew why the "mad" character in the movie was a hatter, as opposed to a cook, or accountant. She didn't know and I explained to her that hats at that time were predominately made of felt and that felt contained mercury, which is poison for humans. I further explained that the effects of mercury would often render those working with it "mad."

I love it when I can sneak in some history when her bandwith is so finely tuned into the pop-culture. When we watch Lost, I can tell her that John Locke shares his name with a certain English philospher, and the hooting and hollering heard on American Idol isn't much different than the noises the ancient Romans made cheering gladiators. It's the educational equivilant of sprinkling bran fiber on her cupcakes!

As a history major, I'm not a fan of text books; how can you possibly grasp of the nuances of the American Civil War when it's encapsulated in a mere five pages? And as a traveler, history not only comes alive, but it is downright necessary to be on a first name basis with the"why's" of history to understand modern-day "hows", which few, if any textbooks can offer. But your average high school student is not a history major, and what little bit of history she's going to learn probably comes from your high school text book. This is why I view the most recent news coming out of Texas with a certain dread reserved for root canals and military expansions. While it may seem that revising history to include a more "christian & conservative" leaning may be the fate of children whose parents chose to live in Texas, the effects are sure to seep beyond the border since Texas is one of the largest markets for text books. Yes, kids in Colorado could also be subject to the whims of the Texas Board of Education. Of course in this age of Wikipedia (which Dylan is learning is NOT a definitive source) perhaps the effects of educational decisions made on a regional basis will not be widespread, but in school districts where the populace tends to lean conservatively, and computers are a luxury, I doubt it.

It seems that education is under assault more than usual lately. From the national level, where Obama and team are proposing new educational standards--which if unfunded--doesn't really change the game, to Kansas City Missouri losing half of its schools due to low enrollment, to our own drama here in Portland, our kids are bearing the brunt of diminishing resources. The Portland School Board is looking at the same solution that Kansas City has adopted; closing a couple of high schools due to low enrollment and proposing a modification of the curriculum in the remaining schools since schools, like McDonald's, exist in a universe where the more you can cram into a room, the cheaper you can serve them. This may be a model that works well for selling lattes, but is this the philosophy you want to embrace to educate our future workforce? I guess if you embrace promoting capitalism as part of your curriculum, you may as well walk your talk. But it leaves me thinking that Wonderland remains an endearing tale because we too often see our world reflected in the crazy, assbackwards thoughts of the Mad Hatter.

Weekend Update

2009-10-11T22:11:00.000-07:00

Yes, I know. It's been way more than a weekend since I've last posted. Not sure how I've gotten so distracted. The lost duck was a bit distressing, but if Harold hasn't found his way home by now, he's probably packed his bags and flown south. This weekend ushered our first crisp cool mornings and orange lights already hang around our door.

I do hope to post more frequently. I'm also going to be writing for a blog called cookwaresreviews.org, where I'll be able to talk about my favorite subject next to travel; food and everything involved with making wonderful food. Check it out in the next few days, I hope to get a post up soon.

This week I go under the knife (carpel tunnel surgery on both wrists) and the typping may be a bit slow. But the ideas are flying, so this might be the perfect time to teach Dylan some keyboard skills.

Reason 358 Why I Love Portland

2009-07-09T21:33:00.000-07:00

We Are the World

2009-07-07T22:50:00.000-07:00

Because we have the video in electronic form, because Loey is so cute in it, and because she has such great lines, I had to post her "We are the world" speech from the previous blog post on YouTube.

I apologize for the video quality and the noise at the start--dubbing from a 23 year old tape on an old VCR doesn't do much for the image. But it's still worth it....

--Andy the tech geek

How Michael Jackson saved a tiny Montana town

2009-07-07T14:18:00.000-07:00

Six billion people live on this planet, 305 million in the United States alone. So it’s easy to understand how tiny we can feel, a single cell in a ginormous organism. And while our individual lives are marked by our singular joys and sorrows, sometimes we need to remember that we are part of a bigger whole. This has to explain why we gather around our electronic campfire to grieve and celebrate, whether it be Princess Diana's or Michael Jackson’s funeral, the inauguration or the Olympics.

For what it’s worth, I’m not a huge fan of Michael Jackson’s work, but it’s hard to ignore the impact he had upon popular culture. Like everyone my age I saw the Thriller video before it became iconic and like a few in Harold Tusler’s English class, watched my high school teacher make a lame attempt to do a moonwalk.

But for me, Michael Jackson will forever be associated with my political outing. During the spring of 1985 one of the biggest employer in Columbia Falls Montana was the Anaconda Aluminum Mill. At the time, the Bonneville Power Administration had decided to raise power rates, which in turn would greatly affect employment in the area. I was kind of fuzzy on the details, but a teacher pegged my friends Sam and Krista and me to write something to represent the students.

“Okay….” we thought. “Hey, We Are the World’s a huge hit and isn’t there a line in it about being children, saving for a better day and wishing for lower power rates so our parents could keep on working at the mill?” Maybe not the last bit, but it was the best we could do with an afternoon’s notice and no Wikipedia. The ironic thing is, neither Sam, Krista or I had a parent working at the mill, so what did we know. Well, like the good little Sarah Palin I was becoming, I went up and gave the speech, which was met with wild cheers, an invite from the Governor of Montana to meet with him and the head of the BPA, and the beginnings of a political future. Next came the run for Student Body Vice President, Youth Legislature Governor, and Speech Team Co-Captain. Oh, to peak so early.

While I’ve continued in leadership roles, I packed away my political ambitions and my Michael Jackson tape (kids, look that one up on the internet, they used to be played in cassette players). Yet Michael wasn’t out of our home forever. After traveling around the world our favorite touchstone to home was The Simpsons. And after seeing all 420 episodes at least twice in the past few years, I’d have to say one of my favorite is Stark Raving Dad—the one where Homer is put into a mental institute and meets a huge bald white guy who thinks he’s Michael Jackson. So in tribute to the singing/dancing/politically inspiring Michael Jackson I hum “Lisa It’s Your Birthday” and wonder how soon it will be before our next campfire gathering.

UPDATE

2009-06-13T10:32:00.000-07:00

Three cheers to George Mason for knowing the quote came from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson. George, we're on for a drink when we are back in town!

I realized in my previous post that I may have sounded less than thrilled to do our trip. Not true! It's sitting in a car for 17 hours that bums me out. The poor planning (having to get out of town and work on Arbor's Graduation on the same day) and lack of funds (I'd rather fly to Colorado) makes getting there a bit more work.

Going to Colorado is a summer highlight since we not only get to see my folks and brother Lake (and his girlfriend Claudia), but my other bro and his family are going to be there at the same time! It will be the first time since June 2005 that we will all be together and this time our new nephew Finnegan will be part of the hijinks as we make our way to Hunter's old stomping grounds.

Road Trip '09

2009-06-13T07:36:00.000-07:00

Thelma and Louise did it. John Steinbeck did it. Jack Kerouac really did it, and even Einstein's brain did it, once. It being the road trip. An American past time more ingrained than watching tv and shopping at Walmart. Where would we be if Lewis and Clark didn't load up the wagons with guns and booze (forget the maps, that what the locals are for) and forge out west?

Which reminds me.... Today Andy, Dylan, Wasabi and I load up the Prius and hit the road. Due to a mixture of limited funds and even less planning, our vacation this summer will be driving 17 hours to Colorado, spending a few days visiting a bunch of Werkings and driving 17 hours back. Which, when I think about it, is the best way to do a road trip. While the humans are old pros at this (have been in the car since we were tots) we're a bit worried about our canine companion. He does sleep a lot; but he has to run every few hours or he gets all wiggy, has to pee even more and is not welcome every place we visit. But we are travelers and some of the zen of traveling comes not only from the challenges that you encounter, but some you bring along. And what better companion than a four month old Golden Retriever who believes he is an ambassador for all that is doggy.

Hopefully at the pace we'll be traveling I'll be able to post a few missives on the road; until then we'll just play it cool, crank up the ipod and stay under a hundred. A beer to whoever can name the source of this quote, " We were someplace around Barstow, at the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold."

Wasabi in the White House

2009-04-13T11:18:00.000-07:00

The Obama's are not the only family to be getting a puppy this spring. Back in March we surprised Dylan with the gift of a puppy for her 12th birthday. He was only a month old then, so we've been anxiously awaiting his arrival for the past month. He finally came home this past Friday and the weekend was filled with moments of joy everytime he pooped or peed outside, and exhaustion after getting up 4-5 times during the night. The puppy's full official name is Wasabi Dill Tippy Toes Wells, and he's one of the cutest, most intelligent puppies we've ever met. He's a Golden Retriever, which means he's always got something in his mouth.

You know how people get a dog to practice parenting for the day they get a baby? Well, we're going at it a bit backward and think having the kid first is making us better puppy parents. We now understand the idea behind developemental milestones, are all for Ferberizing (never did that with Dylan) and are experienced with distracting the pup with a rawhide in order to get back my shoe.

The only problem we have is whenever I say "good puppy", both Dylan and the dog turn around.

Looks Like I'm not Alone

2009-03-05T09:25:00.001-08:00

The NY Times--my source for all sorts of inspired blog posts--had a piece today featuring a bevy of blogs for those without work, and who might want to find company to share their misery. It's titled Out of Work? Read a Recession Blog. Or, Better Yet, Write One.

While some of the blog entries are inspired, I've clicked on a few links within them and found even juicer nuggets of information. My favorite of the day? Watching 93 year-old Clara cook recipes from the Depression.

I (heart) Facebook.

2009-02-24T22:25:00.000-08:00

No I have not been hanging out in a cave off the beaches of Koh Samui, or herding cattle on the pampas of Argentina, but those who have, may be the few left on the planet who haven’t heard of the phenomenon called Facebook.

Lately, I’ve been asking myself a fairly serious question: will Facebook replace blogging? That’s because I’ve not posted many blog entries lately and I’m blaming it on Facebook’s status update—the ultimate communication tool (in 150 characters or less) to your Facebook friends.

Facebook, a digital networking site, was started by Mark Zuckerberg in 2004 (at the time he was a student at Harvard). He based it on the books that many colleges (and law schools!) give out to students which have everyone’s ID photo and name listed and are called—ta da—facebooks! Essentially Facebook is a handy communication tool that allows free social networking and connecting, something we used to have more time to do before work and family life became subject to an all-consuming 24/7.

Since joining Facebook I’ve had some pretty cool interactions including but not limited to:

* meeting another Loey (who also lives in Portland) and becoming part of a group called Only the Loeys where we ponder the unfathomable mystery of being named Loey.
* getting back in touch with a friend who I honestly thought had died during the 20 years since I’d last spoken with him.
* finding out that a good friend’s brother worked for another friend’s family ten years ago—a very random connection, and
* knowing my father-in-law can read my wall and having him tell me to get to bed when I posted at 2 am after a night of crazy dancing.

I often wonder what our trip would have been like if we had Facebook while we were gone? Would we have ever felt gone when we would get word that our friends were making lasagna for dinner or happy that their tax refund check had arrived. And would we have been missed if it felt like we never left? I mean how many times would you have wanted to hear that I was bored standing in line waiting to see some really old thing: “Loey is waiting to get into the catacombs.”

No, I think I’m glad we didn’t have Facebook when we traveled. While the blog could provide a one-sided road trip, where I could take you on whatever part of our journey that felt significant, Facebook status updates would have felt less wondrous. Perhaps Facebook will not replace blogging for me, especially when I’m thinking beyond 150 characters. I’ll take (and give) the virtual pokes, hugs or cupcakes on Facebook, but even though Shakespeare said “Brevity thy soul is wit” he didn’t imagine a constant twitter of words—and for now I will keep the tweets to myself.

I'm feeling like a Grammy

2009-02-09T19:39:00.000-08:00

Tonight, while watching the Grammys, (we tivoed last night's show) I came upon a very clear realization, I'm old. Well, maybe not old enough to get the Senior Discount at Dennys, but I had a moment that I truly hoped wouldn't happen for a few more years. My kid--the not quite twelve year old--knew more of the songs and performers than me.

I'm not one usually clued in on the music scene, as evidenced by the obnoxious number of songs from the Shrek soundtracks on my ipod, or the fact that in the mid-nineties I innocently asked my friend Sam "Who?" when he mentioned Billy Ray Cyrus --which he responded, half with pity and half with awe--how lucky I was to not know about the phenomena behind Achy Breaky Heart. But I could always fancy myself more clued into popular culture than Dylan.

To find out that is no longer the case was a bit unsettling. I mean when did she learn the difference between Miley Cyrus (progeny of Billy Ray) and Taylor Swift? And how is it that she knows the tune to Viva la Vida by Coldplay? Moreover, where have I been these past couple years? Dylan actually said to me "I like it when there's a song on that you don't know, it makes me feel smarter than you."

She was groovin' on that smarter feeling until Paul McCartney came on.
"Paul who?" she asked.
"Only the most famous musician in the world"said I, dripping in smugness. "You know of the Beatles."
"Oh right...." She claims that she thought they said Paul McCartheleeeey or something.
"Whaaaateveeeer"---I said. Isn't that the correct response when talking to a pre-teen?

The Art of the Possible

2009-01-20T07:26:00.000-08:00

It’s early. 6:30 am on the West Coast. I’m usually one happier to rise at the crack of noon, but today I’m excited. Today I’m going to witness, along with the rest of the world one of the most historic events of our country’s history—the inauguration of Barack Obama.

You see, I’m kind of a political science/history geek and I’m not white. The impact of what will happen this morning will not be lost on me.

Since I was in high school I’ve paid attention to presidential campaigns, Supreme Court nominations, foreign policy decisions and was thrilled when I got a free trip to visit not New York City, Los Angeles or Vegas, but Washington DC. There I could smell the politics happening. Little known fact among my blogging audience: in 1986 I was elected the first female Governor of the Montana Youth Legislature program. Rambling down the halls in Helena, I had my own coterie of assistants, a press that exposed scandal after scandal (yes I was hosting poker games in the back office) and the dubious distinction of scaring the hell out of the adult advisors when I seriously considered passing a bill legalizing marijuana. Ahhh, the memories. This was also the same program where I met and decided to marry Andy—but that’s a different story.

But while I played an executive on a state capitol hill, I knew presidents were different. They were old to start with. Hey—when you’re 18 Kennedy’s youthful 43 looks, well, very old. And they practiced Christianity. And they were a guy—something I hope will change after Obama’s presidency. And they were white, or at least looked white.

Flash forward with me to a market in China in 2005. It’s hot, crowded, dirty, and we need to get something. Since Dylan is a child, the most powerless creature on the planet, she can’t help. I’m in a unique situation for myself, but not for over a billion people in the world. I look like everyone else, but I can’t even speak the language. Andy, however, is (relatively) tall, and white.
He could push his way through and the sea of humanity may part.
He could yell,
He could demand.
He really could. That’s the power of being white in much of the world. He didn’t, which frustrated the hell out of me, but I understood. He knew he has this power and he didn’t want to be a jerk. I understand that getting attention from the locals is not the same as becoming President of the United States but power has a funny way of being handed to people for reasons perhaps unclear to even them. Family, gender, skin color—power’s been granted and denied.

Last winter I decided to place my bets on a very different kind of candidate for US President. Sure I’m a gal, and could have easily chosen Hillary, but there was something about Barack. While he was a US Senator, NPR reported that he had called someone who he inadvertently snubbed in order to apologize. He had lived overseas, not on a US military base in some comfortable country, but in Indonesia. And he had to struggle to understand who he was, given a broken home, absent African father and idealistic Kansan mom. Once he started talking about his politics, I mostly liked what I heard (to tell the truth, he’s a bit conservative for me,) and his campaign was one of the best run in the history of US elections. I was behind him because I believed him to be the best candidate for the job. Period.

Which is why I’m up this morning at the crack of dawn. To watch the best candidate (that’s my opinion—you can have your own) take the oath of office for President of the United States. You can argue that being half African helped him win this election. I’ll leave that to the historians and political scientists. But the fact is, his race—not traditionally one to hold power—didn’t stop a majority from voting for him.

No matter what he does as President, the fact that he will be President in just a few short hours is going to garner him chapters in the history books. And for myself, the one who has a child who is like Obama: half white, half something else. I can dream of the possible for her.

Is It Here Yet?

2009-01-01T00:08:00.000-08:00

If 2008 were a horse, I'd picture it right now as a tired old nag. Swayback, with no teeth and hardly able to walk, let alone carry a person. Which is weird, because personally for us--2008 wasn't that bad. But it seems it's a year most of us are ready to leave behind. So like a rodent roused from my nap, I inch out of my den--sniff the air and welcome the new year.

Happy 2009 everyone and may this year be sane, safe and prosperous for all.

The Anti-Resolution

2008-12-31T18:46:00.000-08:00

I’m not a big fan of New Year’s Resolutions, since they seem to be another way to remind me of how much I suck when I’ve broken all of them by Valentines Day. And besides, for the past 10 years they’ve looked pretty much the same; lose weight, exercise more, finish something, be nicer to Andy & Dylan, blah blah blah. So, this year, instead of looking forward, I want to look back at a few things I’ve actually done in 2008.

#1 Produce less trash: Back in May we wanted to see if we could throw away one 32 gal trash container a month. Not only as a way to cut back on the expense of trash services, but because it seemed entirely possible and I just hate the idea of how much crap we toss out while living in the Western world. So, how did we do? With one exception, we managed to limit our debris to one can a month. Here’s what we threw out after our Christmas morning package opening frenzy.

Large bag is recycling, clear bag is trash.

#2 Write more: While I didn’t send much out to publishers and agents this year, I did add 48 posts to the blog since March, after I decided that even though we weren’t traveling a lot, there was still something to write about. Counting essays, blog postings and other writings, I increased my output by about 150 pages. Those hours spent writing are—according to Malcom Gladwell, author of Outliers—getting me further down the road towards having those 10,000 hours that are necessary to become a master craftsperson.

#3 Volunteer: Actually I’ve done a lot of this—forever it seems. But even though I swear to take that time for myself, I discover that by volunteering, I really am doing something for myself while helping out a cause I support. Obama & Arbor are where I spent most of my time in 2008. In 2009 I have some plans to do a more long-term gig helping recent immigrants adjust to Portland.
While I've yet to nab that nomination for a McArthur Genius Fellowship, perhaps promising to floss my teeth more will provide the motivation I need to make 2009 a banner year.

If Lewis & Clark Blogged

2008-12-21T15:03:00.000-08:00

Sorry it's been a week since our last post, but since last Sunday there has been snow, ice and freezing temperatures which makes the locals confused and agitated. They should see what winter is like for us in New England!

We have been busy building a shelter with a nice, native Oregonian girl;

looking for rabbits & birds to hunt

and wondering if the parcels we've sent back East will make it to our families by Christmas. We keep trying to get a hold of old TJ (Mr. President to you) but it looks like he NEVER checks his Facebook Page. Have him twitter us, eh? (cute thing the folks up North always say--eh, not twitter.)

Signing off!

Bill & Merri

Is it a Wonderful Life?

2008-12-19T19:54:00.000-08:00

‘Tis the season for holiday movies, both sappy and sublime. And it’s also the season for sharing, whether it be colds, or cookies, so I’m sharing with you some of my favorite movies that are set at this time of the year.

The Sappy:

National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation: Okay, Wally World mugs of eggnog and membership to the jelly of the month club may not be your idea of what makes being with family over the holidays special, but hey—the first time I saw this was during my first week of law school finals, and the stress load was pretty intense—so Christmas at the Griswold’s will always feel like a place of refuge for me.

Die Hard: Didn’t you know? Die Hard is a classic holiday story. Bruce Willis saves his wife from an evil, pre-Snape, Alan Rickman, which becomes the highlight of the company party. If only Andy’s holiday parties were so memorable…

Love, Actually: It rivals Harry Potter for the number of huge British stars, and rates high on the sap meter, but when Emma Thompson figures out her husband—again a churlish Alan Rickman—is cheating, while Joni Mitchell sings in the background, well—it’s so sad.

The Sublime:

A Charlie Brown Christmas: Pure 100% nostalgia. Watching it put me back in 1974. Lying on the couch in footie pj’s, giddy with anticipation for Santa’s visit. Linus’s speech, the timeless music of Vince Garauldi, and Charlie Brown’s tiny tree all make this a perfect Christmas movie.

A Christmas Story: Poor Ralphie, all he wants is a Red Ryder BB gun, which his mother (and Santa) are sure will put an eye out. The pink bunny suit, the leg lamp and Christmas dinner at a Chinese restaurant—weren’t these moments from my own childhood Christmases? Funny trivia bit: Peter Billingley, who played Ralphie, has been in Elf and Four Christmases.

The Godfather: Okay, it’s not really a Christmas movie, but it’s such an awesome movie, and there is a scene where Michael Corleone is buying Christmas gifts, only to find out that his Dad has just been shot in what is the beginning of a gangster war. And there’s nothing like a shot-up Don to bring the family together during the holidays.

Hard to Classify:

It’s a Wonderful Life: Hard times due to a banking debacle, and too many real-life Mr. Potters trodding on the small guy makes watching It’s a Wonderful Life especially poignant this year. Sure, there are some sappy moments, and who named their kids ZuZu in 1940? But what I found to be truly heartbreaking is George Bailey’s desire to see the world, go to college and chase his fortunes outside of Bedford Falls, only to be thwarted by circumstance and obligation to family whenever an opportunity to leave appears.

Like George, I too wanted nothing more in my life than to leave my own Bedford Falls, see the world and get an education. It didn’t matter that college was only three hours away, it might as well had been a whole universe apart.

Unlike George, I was able to leave. I went to the University of Montana and then proceeded to travel to over 40 US states and 30 different countries. While I’ve kept a few of my friends from Bedford Falls (they too left, some chose to return), I’ve made friends in all the places I’ve settled.

I don’t know; I have always wondered if George had left Bedford Falls, would he have gotten interested in medicine and found a cure for a type of cancer? Or would he have pursued his interest in building and made architectural masterpieces that the whole world would enjoy? I know that is not the story, but I was never one to assume that his life in BF was the best version out there.

But the message is that a rich man is the one who has a lot of friends, and I heartily agree, friends make life richer, during good times and bad. Happy Holidays to all of our friends in Bedford Falls and beyond.

I Like Reich

2008-12-06T00:28:00.000-08:00

Right now I'm really digging Robert Reich. Why?
1-He's super smart
2-We're the same height
3-His autograph hangs above my desk. (Actually it's on Andy's Dartmouth diploma, which has his signature as one of the trustees) and
4-His blog entries make my economic musings seem downright chipper.

I'm too lazy to get anti-depressants, so when I need to get happy after reading doom and gloom, I turn here for a good laugh. A poetic place to check out for this revolution's Marie Antionette cake-eating moment??

We Get By.

2008-12-05T10:32:00.000-08:00

November’s unemployment numbers came out and they were so bad that Ethiopians are considering sending care packages to Americans.

Not really, but things are feeling pretty topsy turvy. One of the key indicators of the health of an economy is the unemployment rate. If you have a greater percentage of your population employed, that means higher productivity, more tax revenue (presumably for more services) and less cause for concern. But counting unemployment numbers is like taking the temperature of a sick patient. Yes, it will tell you something, but you might also want to pay attention to the blood gushing out of the orifices.

Even with fairly accurate numbers, I don’t think that unemployment numbers are a true gauge of economic well-being, since those numbers are calculated by counting those who file claims for unemployment insurance and a random sampling of households. Sure, someone like Andy—who works as an employee in a brick and mortar business—would be counted as unemployed if he lost his job, joining 500,000 of his fellow Americans in the past month, since his job qualifies him for unemployment insurance. But who isn’t counted?

America has a very diverse work force, and I’m not talking the usual diversities. In a land of Horatio Alger stories, where folks take Horace Greeley’s advice to “go west young man,” and where people can make a million dollars inventing tiny plastic plugs to go into lumpy plastic shoes, many of us are considered either employed or not in the labor force, even if we are making no money or would like very much to be in the labor force. People like real estate agents, contract writers, temp agency employees, in-home day care providers, and the multitude of people who are writing books, starting their own business and working anywhere and everywhere are all counted as healthy parts of the workforce, when they may actually be suffering.

Unemployment may look very different in our country than in others. Scenes like men milling in the streets (Egypt), children begging outside restaurants (Cambodia), and many generations of families living under one roof (Vietnam) may not be so common in the United States. But there are indicators that things here are not well. Unemployment "benefits" will probably run out in California as early as next month. Food banks are reporting a serious increase in first-time users, and even the CEO's of the big three auto companies are taking fuel-efficient cars to DC rather than their private jets.

I'm worried that our country has not reached the full depth and breadth that this economic crisis will throw at us. I wish I could figure out how best to bring a more environmentally sustainable, yet viable, economy to the forefront, but then If I did, my time would be better spent honing my resume and sending it to Obama for consideration for his economic team rather than blogging (thank you Arianna Huffington for legitimizing my electronic missives). In the meantime I plan on paying very close attention to Obama's plan to see if he can create that elusive balance.

For Travelers, the World is Home...

2008-11-29T11:50:00.000-08:00

November 28, 2008

February 16, 2006

News reports out of Mumbai, India in the past few days have been grim. Coordinated terrorist attacks have taken over 150 lives (mostly Indians, though British and Americans were targeted) and injured over 700. Mumbai is a huge city, the population is somewhere over 18 million people, and the sprawl--while not as far-reaching as Bangkok, or even Los Angeles--ensures that while chaos may erupt in one part of town, in the majority of the city life goes on as normal. That is how I would minimize the dangers of traveling to our family and to myself whenever there were worries about our safety in "dangerous" places.

But as soon as I heard that the Taj Mahal Hotel was one of the targets--well, that gave reason to pause. Standing across from the most famous landmark of Mumbai--if not all of colonial India--the Gateway of India, the Taj Mahal Hotel beckoned us with the promise of an air-conditioned respite from the dirt, crowds and heat outside. We didn't need to have a reservation to nod our heads to the regal doorman decked out in full turbaned regalia, or gawk at the splendor of the impressive lobby. We walked leisurely through hallways where silver artifacts from pre-colonial India were framed, and even discussed the merits of buying a drink at the bar. Perhaps it was the high prices, or our limited time with our driver, but we opted to keep moving and go to the outside market instead. For us the Taj Mahal Hotel will always be an island of calm in a sea of humanity. But sadly for many it will a vortex of tragedy.

Maybe Mumbai is not that big. Granted, it's usually the major tourist sites that get targeted in terrorist attracts, or currently, places where westerners congregate--but moments like these only make me realize that not only Mumbai, but the world seems smaller.

How Much Does the Economy Suck??

2008-11-17T10:35:00.000-08:00

Whether this is a true exchange or not, the idea that this guy was hoping to pay his bill with his spider drawing can only make me snort iced tea out of my nose while laughing! Found this via the Consumerist.

Good for you Dave! Maybe I can get Dylan to start embellishing our monopoly money and we can use that to pay for the cable bill.

He’s not the President of the World…

2008-11-06T15:03:00.000-08:00

So why all the international attention?

Readers of this blog know that we elevate the opportunity to travel overseas up there with free cone day at Ben and Jerry’s. Which is why it should be no surprise that I spent yesterday morning reading about the reaction to Obama’s Presidential win in Kenya, Japan, the United Kingdom, New Zealand, China and India. Ranging from words of praise; for the candidate himself, his campaign and the American people voting for him, to concern, to plain curiosity, this election has piqued attention worldwide.

Some Americans might wonder—rightly so—“why do others care? It’s not like we’re electing the president of the world.” I can think of two reasons. The first is that although the United States has a mere 300+ million people out of the world’s 6 billion, when America jumps, the whole world shakes.

I’m not just thinking of our wars waged overseas, or the ginormous influence that our movies have on popular culture, but that our policies can often shape the destiny of another country. Our universities beckon some of the brightest students in the world, yet immigration policies can change with Presidential administrations. Where and how we spend our dollars, for health and scientific purposes, not only benefits or hurts ourselves, but the rest of the world, where borders are often illusionary. Most important, our efforts to install democracy overseas ring less hollow when the rest of world sees the results of this election (a graceful exchange of power, a decent concession speech from the challenger, and a candidate unlike any other).

But I’d have to say that others care because they pay attention. America is a big somewhat isolated country; our only neighbors hail from the north and south and remain fairly friendly. We also have a national myth centered around the type of person who gets away from it all—the mountain man, the explorer, the pioneer—and central to that myth is not really getting involved with the outside world. But the cab driver in Bali, the waiter in Prague and the landlord in Paris do not have that luxury. They not only pay attention to stories that involve the United States, but they also read about their neighbors—which for some places can be a dozen or so countries. Overseas, most people don’t see America as a place that seems far far away—like Italy or China or Peru might seem to us—but as another neighbor in a tightly packed world.

Since Obama has lived overseas, and has traveled extensively, the rest of the world anticipates an America lead by someone who not only can read finely honed nuances, but also is used to having neighbors. Which may help explain why Ethiopian chamber-maids, were as riveted as their sisters in Germany and Australia to America on November 5th, 2008.

Congratulations, Mr. President-elect

2008-11-04T23:16:00.000-08:00

Saw this quote in an Alternet article, thought it captured the mood quite nicely.

"Rosa Parks sat so that Martin Luther King could walk. Martin Luther King walked so that Obama could run. Obama's running so that we all can fly." ---Jay-Z.

Is there something we're supposed to do today?

2008-11-04T07:49:00.000-08:00

Oh yeah--VOTE!!

The stories about long lines of people waiting to vote are promising because it means a lot more folks actually care about who runs this country. They are engaged and willing to wait hours to have their say. But it is a concern if the long lines mean that many cannot vote because they have to get to work, or have young children they must care for.

We voted two weeks ago. In Oregon all of our elections are done by mail-in ballot; there are no polling stations on election day. It's a simple paper ballot, and there are two envelopes for your ballot, one to verify the signature of the person voting and an outer envelope. We could fill out our ballots in the comfort of our home, and either drop it off to one of the many ballot boxes around town (many are in libraries) or mail it in. So, for my Oregonian friends, if you've spent the time to fill out your ballot, make sure you drop it off today! Doh!

I love this sign we saw while we were in Italy; during their election. Not only because we are Simpson fans, but because it's evidence that we live on one very small planet.

It's the most wonderful day of the year!

2008-10-31T22:06:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween!!

The Wicked Witch of the West with Glinda the Good Rat

Medusa 6:30 am

A community organizer, Elphie the Witch and Medusa

Not that there's anything wrong with that

2008-10-30T21:24:00.000-07:00

Remember that classic Seinfeld episode where a reporter thinks that Jerry and George are gay because they faked a same-sex relationship? Only they find out who she really is, and that she plans to write about Jerry and George's relationship which catches them in a quandary. They want it known that they are not homosexual, but at the same time they don't want their denial to mean that they are homophobic, hence, the statement, "not that there's anything wrong with that!"

Charges of socialism and socialist are being lobbed around by the McCain/Palin campaigns in response to Obama's tax plan. In fact, during the third Presidential Debate, while discussing providing health care coverage to those who currently don't have it, McCain stated that it would be a fine thing to do if we wanted to be like Canada or Britain—said like they were democracy's bastard step-children. Those crazy, English-speaking, crap-buying, frumpy, dentally-challenged foreigners!

I've actually visited a number of socialist countries, and some communist ones as well. Countries like Norway, that have the highest literacy rate in the world, some of the lowest infant mortality rates, a universal health care system and cradle-to-grave social services. Walking down the streets in Oslo, there is plenty of commerce. People are out eating, making money, spending money and doing pretty much the same thing that we do here in Portland, except the weather is crappier.

Of course these things don't come free, which is where the socialism bit seems to rile up the American public: they get taxed a lot in Norway. Somewhere along the lines of 48% of income is taxed. Most Americans pay much less than the highest U.S. tax rate, which is currently 35%. Obama has proposed doing away with the tax cuts for high earners ($250,000+ a year) that Bush Jr. put in place during his first administration, which would put the rate at 39% rather than 35%. Yes, that's higher. And in today's stinky economy it would pinch even those who make that much—I guess. It's not like we've ever seen that much money in two years, let alone one.

Yet here is something to digest: historically in the United States, the highest tax rate on the top earners has come at one of the worst economic times and under the the most conservative of conservatives. Even the Freakonomics guys and the Economist are wondering where we stand in comparison to other countries with our tax rates?

But back to our visit to the lands of socialism—or worse, communism (which, given the McCain/Palin criteria, seems to be everywhere but America). We visited health clinics in Australia and New Zealand, shopped in hypermarts in London and Bangkok, had freedom to post our blog from everywhere, except Tibet—and only because we were writing critically about the Chinese while there--and accessed the Internet in every country we visited, and guess what: the planet didn't spin of its axis. People got up, worked (harder than Americans in some places, like Korea & Japan), shopped, ate out and generally seemed pretty sane. While we saw people who were desperately poor, and some with more money than God, what we mostly saw were a lot of folks in the middle. Kind of like a middle class. The same class we are losing in this country, year after year.

I remain stumped when I hear charges from politicians against raising taxes, or that having taxes is akin to socialism. I think of fairly non-partisan things like the police, the fire department, emergency dispatch services, teachers in public schools, medicare/medicaid, social security, stop signs, bridge repairs, and libraries and wonder, who pays for these things if we don't pay taxes? Do I really want to pay as I go whenever I need to call 911 to get the police at my door after a break-in? On the other hand, I understand my taxes are also paying for federal agencies to wiretap private citizens, detain and torture at Gitmo, and wage an unpopular war in Iraq. So if we really wanted to toss ism's around, I could probably find an appropriate label for these things--like, uh, maybe fascism? But when you look at the bottom line, doesn't having a funded government, even when you despise some of the things that government buys, bring a lot more advantages than problems for the general populace?

So, Canada, Britain, Germany, Norway, and the Netherlands, you socialist dens of equality and decency, some Americans will never adopt your compassionate, fair and somewhat cavalier ways. We will always desire to feed that insatiable appetite of our defense industry, needed to battle never-ending wars. We will happily watch as insurance companies deny their insured health care, so long as we know we're going to stay strong and healthy. We will even vote against our own interests time and time again, as a tailsman of our hope that someday, we too may be as rich and powerful as The Donald, or Oprah. Just remember, whether we spend like you or not, don't call us socialist--not that there's anything wrong with that!

P.S. Just wanted to pass along another blog you might enjoy if you find mine the least bit interesting. If I’m only half as spririted as these ladies when I’m 82, I’ll be happy.

Elections from Hell

2008-10-29T10:34:00.000-07:00

Here's an election suggestion: If you think the 2008 presidential election is wacky, and you need a good diversion, netflix Election, starring Reese Witherspoon and Matthew Broderick for some good old political fun!

If only Finnegan could vote...

2008-10-23T22:12:00.000-07:00

It's time Only Planet introduced its newest subscriber, Loey's nephew Finnegan! Nice Bunny ears, Miles!

Travels with Henry

2008-10-14T21:06:00.000-07:00

Last night my friend Ruby introduced me to the brilliance that is Henry Rollins. He did a three hour show in Portland and talked about politics (as expected), his mediocre acting talent, and his forays through the quagmire that is the TSA at most airports. Seems he spends a lot of time at airports, since he’s assigned himself the job to travel where most folks thinks he shouldn’t. Islamabad Pakistan, Phom Penh Cambodia and the very Orwellian country of Burma have been some of his recent destinations.

Henry—man—you’re my kind of traveler! While Italy is very nice and all, and New Zealand is different than Oregon (more sheep in NZ for instance), they just don’t titillate the tiny chunk of my brain that thrives on the absurd, dangerous or different. That’s what I like to gather from my favorite travel destinations.

One place that really sticks out in Henry’s mind is Cambodia. Walking in the “killing fields” of Cambodia, he describes picking up human bones (which still remain after thirty years, despite repeated attempts to gather them up) and leaning them against a tree. Cambodia has a way of affecting those who travel there. I know that for me, the only country I constantly go back to—at least in my mind—is Cambodia. This is a country that killed its scientists, engineers, educators and writers in a great political purge because they were dangerous eggheads—an obstacle to attaining a state for the common people.

How such a massacre could happen seems especially nefarious. Yet Henry drew the conclusions I’ve drawn: we don’t believe that this page of history is something unique to just Cambodians. It may seem a long stretch, but the continual slide towards anti-intellectualism in our country—where evolution is “debatable,” science is derided, math is “too hard” and knowledge of geography is bordering between comic and dismal—makes me wonder. Did half the population in Cambodia wake up on April 17, 1975 and just decide to kill those who wore glasses because they associated wearing them with intellectualism, or was it a slow, herky jerky trip?

Bob Herbert wrote an op-ed in the NY Times today, which travels down that same road of thought with Henry and me. Herbert laments low math scores, disinterest in scientific careers and our desire to amuse ourselves to death. History isn’t mentioned as one of the suffering subjects, but it’s not a favorite subject for most Americans. As Mark Twain said, “History does not repeat itself, but it does rhyme.” Rap, beat or sonnet, this is not a rhyme I think we want to hear from our shores.

Made in Korea

2008-10-09T15:11:00.001-07:00

I read an interesting article today in the NY Times about South Korea's policy to make all adoptions domestic by 2012. Unwed mothers, abandoned babies, overseas adoption, and untraceable bloodlines have been a source of embarrassment, grief, and sadness for many in Korea since the Korean War. From 1958 till present, over 150,000 babies (including yours truly) were adopted by families who lived outside of Korea, a majority of them from the United States.

I often wonder what my life would have been like had I not been adopted in 1969. Given the stigma that adoption held in Korea, if not adopted by another, I would have remained an orphan. Rather than the rich life I have now (complete with education, loving family & friends and abundant calories) I’d probably consider myself lucky if I had a job cleaning bathrooms in the subway, since I would have been denied an education or entry into proper society.

I’m the first to acknowledge that figuring out racial identity—during a time in history and in a geographical space where few look like you–can be difficult. And I sense the psychic wound is not small for my fellow Koreans who try to reconcile their country/themselves being unable to care for so many of its own babies. But something inside me feels an equally deep loss knowing that there could be no more adopted babies—from Korea, and if the trend continues—any other place outside our country.

In Korea adoption is a highly political issue, but at the same time intensely private. While there will always be babies who need homes, and finding families in the country of origin should be encouraged, I fear (pardon the pun) that discouraging international adoptions could be throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

note: Andy and I are cuddling baby boys while at the Holt Adoption Agency in Seoul Korea, 2005.

Friendo

2008-10-08T09:13:00.000-07:00

Did you watch the “debate” last night between Obama and McCain? I did and the one thing I learned that I didn’t know before, is that I’m John McCain’s "friend." In fact, we all are his friend, his bestest buddy and if we only knew that—along with knowing what Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac are—we’d be voting for him, gosh darn it!

Repeatedly last night when answering a question, he’d refer to the questioner and the general audience, which includes us out there in TV-land, as “friend”. While McCain may have thought he was “coming down” to our level by continually calling us friends, what it felt like to me was something Gavin DeBecker in his book the Gift of Fear calls forced teaming. Using this word is trying to establish a pre-mature trust. Hey, we’re sharing a predicament and I’m here to help us out. But it’s a tactic a persuasion-predator uses, says DeBecker. Unlike someone charging us with a knife, what a persuasion-predator does instead is look for someone vulnerable (undecided voters?) who will allow him to be in control, and then attack.

The last time I saw someone calling another “friend” as much as McCain did last night was during the movie No Country For Old Men. In an especially tense scene, Anton Chigurh, the killer and antagonist is having a conversation with the owner of a gas station. He’s calling him friendo, and whether he kills the man or not, depends upon how the old man calls the coin toss, heads or tails. Chigruh was not this man's friend, and I, Senator McCain am not yours.

The outcome of this election feels like it could be determined by the flip of a coin. Call one side and we could see health care as a right and withdrawal from Iraq before the next Olympics. Call the other, and we could see health care as a responsibility (or privilege as it is now) and another 100 years of our troops in Iraq. It does seem that we navigate a balance worthy of Philippe Petit.

In the meantime, McCain’s twitching, his attempts at humor, and his condescending attitude, (Yes Sen. McCain, I actually may know the names and whereabouts of countries we will be in conflict with in the future—hell my friends and I have probably visited them—unlike your vice-presidential pick) left me feeling that perhaps this is no country for old men. Or at least this old man.

Travelin' Politics

2008-10-04T08:17:00.000-07:00

An article that I've written has just been published on the highly-trafficked travel website Bootsnall. I've written for them before and you can find those articles here, and here.

Please check out the article. If it gets a lot of looks, it will be moved high in the queue and sent out to all subscribers to bootsnall's newsletter at the end of the month, which can only help the self-marketing needs of this struggling-to-publish writer.

Do You Think She'll Be My Friend???

2008-10-02T15:03:00.000-07:00

Sarah Palin's Facebook Page (not really, but better than actual one!)

My Facebook Page (Wanna be friends?)

Master Debaters

2008-10-02T11:33:00.000-07:00

Will you be watching the Vice-Presidential “debate” tonight? We will, though I’m not sure that it should be called a debate. See, for four years I participated on my high school’s speech team, in debate and extemporaneous speech. Debate was an event where my partner and I would research a topic (in the pre-internet world) and make reasoned contentions to win talking points. Usually our topics were something of national importance, like the death penalty, or abortion rights or prayer in school. Moments before our competition we would find out which side we had to argue, so we always had to be prepared to argue either side. In competition we would unleash our arguments, not like junk yard pit bulls (we did wear lipstick) but more like tactical surgeons.

In extemporaneous speech I had to be well-read on dozens of current issues (preparation usually included reading Time, US News & Newsweek every week—again the pre-internet world) and then half hour before the event, write and give a cohesive and fairly comprehensive speech about anything from—using current examples—the currency crash in Zimbabwe, to the skirmish in post-soviet Georgia.

Even in law school I participated on the Federal Indian Law Moot court team where over the course of a semester my partner and I prepared a case arguing pro/con about some sort of fuel tax on Federal Indian Land.

All of these events supposed two fairly evenly-matched opponents. Both teams would have a similar amount of time to prepare, similar world experience and maturity.

But tonight, well it will be a different kind of match. After the Couric and Gibson interviews, expectation of Palin are so low, that unless she enters the forum scratching her butt, and dragging her knuckles on the ground, pundits will call her performance a success. Biden on the other hand, has a more difficult job. If we weren’t living in Bizzaro-land we would declare him the victor if he spoke strongly, backed with all of his experience, knowledge and reasoning powers. Hell, he could even lick his finger, sizzle it on his butt, and do a happy dance and we could just chalk it up to be the most entertaining political spectacle in history. But since we are in the United States of Stupid, he’s going to have to balance on a fine line between displaying expertise, without looking like an ass because he knows Hamas has nothing to do with Iran. And avoid being called pompous because he understands that knowing the cause of global warming is the best way to fix the problem.

What would help me during tonight's info-tainment is if they had those little bubbles that come up on some VH-1 shows where you listen to what the people are saying, but actual facts appear in writing. Or something like Stephen Colbert’s The Word, just give us some editorial guidance.

It could be done by Fact Check, or any other neutral organization. But wouldn’t that be helpful?

In lieu of that sort of help, I'm offering a link to your own personal Palin Bingo card, courtesy of my friend Peg. At least it might help alleviate some of the head-banging frustration that has become a symptom after watching Palin's recent performances and allow someone be a clear-cut winner when the debate is over.

Bicycle! Bicycle! (Channeling Queen)

2008-10-01T09:09:00.000-07:00

In case you haven’t heard, there are some pretty huge gas shortages in the Southeast part of our country. For a couple of weeks now there have been reports of long lines, tapped out pumps and angry people wanting their gasoline. I feel like I’m having a bit of a flashback to 1979. But a couple of things come to mind when I read about this. First—though this story did make the mainstream news the last couple of nights, this has been going on for weeks. And there’s barely any coverage. I know, the bail out and the news that our economy is going down the drain is getting a lot of press, as it should. However, since gas is second in importance to Americans—after water—why such little reportage?

And second, driving for hours to look for a station with gas seems kind of counter intuitive. Perhaps it would be best to just say “what the hell”, and pull out a bike to get to work, school, etc. Except that we’ve developed a country where sprawl, private humvees, and mini-mall blight dot our landscape. Who has time to bike when the kids have to be dropped off to school, home is a twenty mile commute from work and dodging clueless drivers adds hours onto an already packed day.

The 2008 Bike Commute challenge just finished and Andy has placed second at FEI for racking up the most miles ridden to work during September. Over the course of the month he’s ridden 500 miles, and 60% of his trips to work were on a bike. The guy who ranked #1 rode 544 miles and did 94% of his trips to work on a bike. As you can see, he lives much closer to FEI than Andy. Andy usually bikes from home (In NE Portland) to Goose Hollow, gets on our light rail (MAX) and takes that to Hillsboro where he bikes the last leg to work. Sometimes though, he bikes all the way home from work—which is a 20 mile commute. Since June he’s been biking more than driving which makes him happy, saves money on gas and leaves me the Prius for my own lazy drives around our hood—however I did bike to Milo’s yesterday! Give the girl a medal.

Whatever the reason for gas prices, or shortages, there needs to be some deliberate, thoughtful dialogue happening. I’m afraid we’re not going to get that given our current leadership and our future leadership options. The degrees to which there may be changes from either McCain or Obama will be different, but both are playing within the same paradigm--a world where EVERY American (with the exception of the blind and those with DUI's) must drive everywhere.

Reality Travel

2008-09-27T09:14:00.001-07:00

The NY Times had an article this morning about traveling Paris through the eyes of a Fashionista. Normally that article wouldn't capture my attention, say like an article about a chef's view of Paris, but since watching the last few seasons of Project Runway, that has changed a bit. As anyone who knows me can attest, on the Fashion Spectrum, I'm pretty challenged. I kind of have Aspergers of Fashion. I'm not so dire that old ladies do interventions on the street, but lets just say once--while in college--I thought it would be a cool experiment to see if anyone noticed if I wore the same outfit in a row for a whole week, and no one did!

Checking out my custom couture jacket at the Shanghai Fabric Market

But one evening, while bored I switched on Project Runway. While I couldn't give a rats ass if monochromatic was in or out this season, and couldn't pick Micheal Kors or Heidi Klum out of a line-up, this little show was fun. I especially loved how creative the designers had to be with some pretty interesting limitations. Bravo also does Top Chef and they have some good production guidelines for some of their shows. (Others, like Shear Genius--a hair stylers challenge--are really as sucky as they sound)

This season doesn't have the entertaining personalities of last. I really enjoyed Chris March and his fab drag outfits and watching Romi's ability to drape damn near anything. And Mr Christian "I'm so Fierce" Siriano was a perfect blend of reality show personality and actual talent rolled into one. Right now we're down to hometown girl Le Ann, obnoxious Kenley, a little too serious Korto and the one I'd want to pack up and take home with me, Jerrell.

Back to travel. So if I went back to Paris, I might pay a bit more attention to some of the fashion icons and scenes then I did before. It's interesting how media can form the ideas of what you will see before you travel. The movie Amelie was fantastic in providing a surreal, pop vision of Paris, complete with a heartening love story. The scenery from The Lord of the Rings Trilogy has prompted many to check out New Zealand. And who hasn't visited New York City without a few million movie images in their head.

Our favorite travel/reality show obsession starts this Sunday. The Amazing Race is off again and we'll be watching the drama and the sites (hopefully a few we've seen--actually it ends in Portland!) go racing by. The Amazing Race won it's 100th Emmy last week, which is a testament to what a pain in the ass it must be to produce that show. I'm still wondering why Phil (the Philemanator) Keogh wasn't co-hosting rather than Heidi Klum. I just have to say, watching William Shatner tear off Klum's clothes at the Emmys was one of the most disturbing things I've seen on TV in a while.

Not Quite Pitchforks and Torches...

2008-09-25T10:49:00.000-07:00

The Iraq war didn’t do it, well kind of but gawd it’s been five years…
Suspension of Habeus Corpus didn’t do it….
Guantanamo and Abu Ghraib didn’t do it…
The Abolition of Posse Comitatus didn’t do it…
Wire-tapping private citizens didn’t do it…..

However, the idea that Congress will pass what is essentially a three page proposal from Treasury Sec. Hank Paulson (which has within it this sweet rider that allows him complete control over the financial system with NO oversight from any judicial branch, check out section 8!) to bail out a very fracked-up mess, while trying to find some dupe to buy what are essentially boxes of sawdust being sold as tarnished Oscars, looks like it will be the final bird that buries the hip-hop-a-potumus.

It seems that now people are getting pissed. Really angry. You mess with general liberties, freedoms and privacies and there’s a healthy dose of moral outrage, but touch my purse and I’ll smack you upside the head. It’s always economics. Didn’t we learn that from the Germans who suffered serious financial difficulties, rampant inflation and unemployment after World War I which, in a severely weakened state, helped them stumble into Hitler’s arms.

Don’t let the public nature of this bail out fool you, this is disaster capitalism at it’s finest. Naomi Klein’s book The Shock Doctrine, the Rise of Disaster Capitalism might help you navigate what is truly going on right now. It’s not quite pitchforks and torches yet, but a journalist has organized a protest on Wall Street today that includes literally dumping junk. Another phenomenon--folks figure if we’re going to sell crap on Wall Street, we might as well sell our own personal crap online? The protest probably won’t be covered at all by the mainstream media (who also ignored an anti-Palin rally organized by her sisters in Alaska) but a million bloggers in the Ethernet are paying attention.

Economics Gone Wild, or Why Sarah Palin Depresses Me.

2008-09-23T14:27:00.000-07:00

I know that ostensibly this is a travel blog, but sometimes you don’t have to travel at all to be taken for a ride. I’ve been on a bit of an emotional ride for some time now, but it’s gotten a lot bumpier lately, maybe it has for you as well. Here’s what’s eatin’ me.

A long time ago, in a distant past (say the 1970’s) us kids were told that if we ate our vegetables, didn’t torture animals, went to school and worked hard, we could have all the goodies that mommy and daddy had. A home, a car, some money for that once-in-a lifetime trip to Disneyland and maybe some day retirement—just like that old multi-millionaire tending his tomatoes in The Godfather. Oh yeah, there was also that one nation stuff—we weren’t divided into rural and urban, red and blue, democrat and republican so much as we were summed up by the TV shows we watched. There were those who watched M*A*S*H and those who watched Hee Haw and yes the twain did meet.

But in the past thirty years the goodies got more numerous, and things that were once luxuries (microwave ovens, a second car, cell phones, internet access) became needs. House prices wildly outpaced inflation (in fact, inflation is tied to the price of rentals and not home mortgages) and maybe the American public got into a financial bind a little over their head. In the meantime other things were going on, like funky deregulation (which near as I can tell, began with Reagan telling the air traffic controllers “strike and you die”—or something like that) some totally boring legislation got passed (NAFTA, Glass-Stegall) and to make a very long story short, we ended up at last Friday.

Yup, a huge can of whup-ass is getting served on our financial system and the best solution out there is a $700 BILLION bail out for the likes of Morgan Stanley and AIG? (Does this remind you of another quickie bill that managed to get put together in days?) Oops, I think AIG got its own little package. Add this to the 152 billion dollar stimulus package that was supposed to massage us into spending more this summer and the “off the books” war in Iraq and I’m getting a little pissed. It’s not like I see ALL of our money disappearing because of this, but the repercussions for every one of us is staggering. Look, if banks are tightening up and credit is scarce and businesses aren’t growing/hiring, and people aren’t working (what is a job-less recovery anyway) and thus aren’t spending, at some point the game stops.

Hey, I would be thrilled to have a few million tossed my way, but we don’t need a bail out—at least not yet. What we do need are friends and family members with universal health care. Really, these home appendectomies are taking a toll on our kitchen table. And how about spending some money on our schools and bridges? Need we wait for the Sellwood Bridge to collapse before paying attention? (to be fair, it’s on a “to-do” list). The list can go on and on with what I can envision a much better use of $700 BILLION dollars, but what the frack!

So, why does Sarah Palin depress me? She might be nice enough person, or not. She might be able to squeeze out five kids while running a town/state and have enough time to think of ways to put American women on par with our lucky sisters in Afghanistan, that’s her shtick, I get it. I’m from the Wild West, where we say live and let live, but dammit, know what you’re doing. What is depressing me, is that there are soooo many people in our country who actually want to see her run them and the rest of us, an idea that simply sends me into wonkish shock.

Come on folks, executive experience matters, but it’s the type of executive experience. Being female matters only if you have done the same work expected from a man and you have earned a spot at the highest table in the country. Is our country so tricked out, flashing boobies and sucking down beer bongs that just being a hottie is a requirement for the White House?

If that’s the case I want Christian Bale to be my candidate*, at least he could re-enact some of his best scenes from American Psycho and we could laugh about the excesses of Wall Street, which would make it a "Bale out" I could live with.

*Thanks to the Constitution, neither I nor Christian Bale can be president, we were both born overseas.

For Everything Else....

2008-09-02T10:03:00.000-07:00

Aeropostale Sweatshirt & bookbag:$30
Claire's Headband & shoes:$10

School supplies, including class kleenex box:$100

Looking cool for her first day of Middle School: Priceless.

Yes, Dylan is a 6th grader now. They're called Seniors at Arbor and they get more privilages and more work, including a fair amount of summer homework, that was finished yesterday! I met one of my dearest friends in 6th grade. Her name is Susi and we're still friends to this day, standing up for each other at our weddings, calling sporadically--but able to pick up where we last chatted. She was a Wigger; I was a Werking, so we sat pretty close to each other. I thought she looked kind of sweet, in spite of--or maybe because of-- the tight bun at the top of her head, complete with a chopstick sticking out the side.

Twenty eight years later and the only fight we've ever had (while in 6th grade) was over a pair of shoes. Dylan's made some dear friends that she still wants to see all the time. She met Aditi when she was five months old, Sophia the day she (Sophia) was born, Emma in Preschool and Ruby in Kindergarten. Maybe she'll be able to carry some of these friendships into her old dottering 40's.

In the meantime we get to navigate the choppy waters of Middle School and hope for a clear landing on the shores of High School.

RIP Lili Rat

2008-08-01T08:49:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we were out enjoying the scene at Last Thursday (A free-for-all on Alberta Street). Dylan had a successful night selling jewelry she made and I had so-so success selling cookies. Even with the Baking for Barack sign, there were too many treats for sale, so the sugar cookies didn't fly like I thought they would.

Lili, our beloved rat, had been sick for the past few days. Our home diagnosis was that she had a respiratory infection, which we knew couldn't be fixed by a visit to a vet, given how advanced it seemed. Dylan gave her lots of hugs and loving these past couple of days, but we didn't think she was going to be gone so soon. The minute we arrived home, I saw her in the cage and thought, "oh god, it's bad."

The next two hours consisted of serious mourning, combined with funeral arrangements. I was in charge of fixing a shroud for the rat, while Andy dug a fairly big hole in the back yard. We laid her in her grave, threw dirt on her and said a few nice words. That wasn't too hard, Lili was the sweetest rat we've ever had and by far my favorite of the girls. The entire time Dylan was sobbing and at the point of hyperventilating. It was a cruel lesson of death's permanence. Dylan was wishing all the snakes and terrible people died before her ratties. Not an unreasonable desire. We still have Lili's sister Lyra, who we hope hasn't caught whatever her sister had.

So, we begin this first day of August in mourning. RIP little rattie.

Christmas in July

2008-07-14T13:18:00.001-07:00

Christmas came early for me this year. Saturday night our new recycling/yard debris bins were delivered, an event that has filled me with a little less anticipation than our trip to Bali and a little more, than the start of the fifth season of Project Runway. It kind of ranked right up there with the release of the new Batman movie.

Why is my life so pathetic that this got my heart all a twitter? If you can recall, we've been trying to get by with throwing away 1 32-gallon can of garbage a month. For the first month of this experiment we did pretty well, even though the lid to the can barely fit, we managed to last four weeks. Then three weeks later we had to wheel it out for pick up, not because it was full but because it smelled something awful. Could have been the raw chicken bits baking in the sun for three weeks. Phew!

The new bins allow us to recycle a few things that would have been thrown away, like yogurt and sour cream containers! And rather than schlep all of our old plant pots back to Portland Nursery for recycling, we can dump them in our new container, which cleared out our garage. Every bit helps when you're down to one small can! And they are such a nice bright blue and green, they roll, and are far bigger than the old yellow bins.

Speaking of garbage, we saw Wall-e last week. The story is that the human race has made such a mess of the planet with all their crap, that they have taken refuge on a huge spaceship a couple of galaxies away. All fine and dandy. Wall-e was cute--in a robotic sort of way--and the message about the human race becoming fat and lazy was unexpected, yet entertaining. However, when we bought our ticket we were handed a cheap non-working watch--must have been a promo. It was a craptacular piece of marketing that lay forgotten in Dylan's cup holder at the theatre, only to see the trash bin moments after we left. Can you say dripping with irony?

An aside note: this is my 100th post on Only Planet! We're still traveling, (Dylan & I to Colorado & Andy to North Carolina in the next week) and still hopefully finding something interesting to comment upon. Namaste.

Dancing Through Life

2008-07-08T09:48:00.000-07:00

Did you see this article in the New York Times? After reading it, I had to check this guy out and watch him dancing around the world. He's whimsical, fun, and yes dorky at the same time.

Video brings another dimension to the traveler's tales. We can tell you that there seemed to be no one on the Great Wall of China when we visited, but you can see it yourself when you watch the video we have of Dylan running down the wall. Somehow smaller moments, like dancing in the street, take on a larger meaning when captured on video.

While we value the movies we took on our trip, it's also important that you set aside the camera and just allow the moment to happen--because often those are the ones we remember most.

A nine year old's ode to American food, recorded in Kilkenny Ireland.

A summer reading list

2008-06-26T22:25:00.000-07:00

We originally began our blog--Only Planet--because we wanted to chronicle our huge trip, and thought it would be a way to keep in touch with the folks at home, and truthfully, it wasn't a hard sell to get me into the blogosphere. While the idea of reading someone's log, complete with every burp, fart and grunt emitted during their day seemed a self-indulgent bore-fest; some bloggers could be funny, clear thinking and most importantly good writers, and I could only hope to join their ranks. Recently Alternet, which is not a blog, but a newsgroup subscription I receive, had an article about the death of the blog. While I've not noticed a death of blogs, I have noticed a phenomena where many start, only to stall out. Which is kind of a death in the blogosphere. We had our own hiatus, and I can't even begin to count the number of blogs I've visited where the last entry was in 2004.

There are some amusing and useful blogs that I regularly enjoy reading. Not that you've asked, but I'm happy to share. My topics of interest range from appreciating all aspects of cupcake consumption, to the musings of Clinton's former labor secretary, to local politics, to national politics, to a sociological study of white folks, to the little moments observed by my writing instructor, to the political choices involved in my food. I like to think of my blog choices akin to viewing someone's pile of magazine subscriptions. You can tell a lot about a person by the magazines they have laying around--whether it be Outside, Oprah, In Style, The New Yorker, Mother Jones or the Rolling Stone. Are there any blogs that you find compelling and wish to share?

Will I keep blogging, even if it's no longer cool? Probably, since my idea of cool is singing Bohemian Rhapsody at a karaoke bar (which rates a 3 on the cool-meter!), but mostly because I am a writer, and writers write. It's what I have to do, kind of like breathing for some folks. It's especially nice to have an audience to write to, but not necessary, as demonstrated by my hundreds of pages of journal entries I've kept over the years. So, I will continue blogging and reading blogs I find entertaining, or compelling or useful, because more than being a writer, I'm a reader.

She's Leaving on a Jet Plane

2008-06-12T11:31:00.000-07:00

Dylan left this morning for a one week trip to Boston to visit her cousins. She's not alone, her grandparents (Mike and Phyllis) are taking her, but it's the first time she will be away from home without her folks. There are lots of plans during her trip. A charity bike ride, a piano recital, meeting her newest cousin Oliver, a Dad's day BBQ, lots of play time and warm summer weather, which we've sorely lacked here in Portland. We expect it will be a fun-filled visit and that the time will pass more quickly for her, than us. If her trip is anything like my first trip away from my folks--it has the potential to be life-changing.

The year was 1979. Lines at gas stations were blocks long, since people were being told when they could fuel their cars. Gary Sandy & Loni Anderson were starring in the hit TV show WKRP in Cincinnati, and New York City was not hosting family-friendly performances like The Lion King, but reckoning with its reputation as a the kind of place where movies like The Warriors felt like documentaries, rather than matinee entertainment. A family friend invited my parents to send me (age 12) and my two brothers (ages 8 & 9) to visit him for two weeks--the time to be split between his apartment in Manhattan and his summer home in New Jersey. Coming from our pretty provincial town of Glenwood Springs, Colorado to NYC was terrifying, but at the same time also exhilarating, and hooked me on the idea that travel was something I liked to do.

Not only was this our first plane flight, (with the exception of that little trip I took across the Pacific when I was two) but we did it without our parents. Our strongest memory of that flight were the inedible rolls TWA served. My mom's strongest memory was leaving the airport in tears because I had complained about being hungry and while she went looking for food, our plane boarded, the door shut behind us and she missed being able to say a last "goodbye."

The trip was fantastic! Our host was friends with Gary Sandy, and we met him and Loni Anderson while they were out on a night about town. We were allowed to raid the grocery store for whatever food we wanted to eat the whole time we were there--I recall eating a lot of frozen waffles, we had a paint fight, went to a cheesy amusement park and my brother Miles, true to his name, wandered off a great distance and got lost somewhere in the New Jersey woods.

We're sure Dylan will have her own memories and tales to tell. While my trip at the age of 12 ignited a life-long case of wanderlust, there's no telling where this trip will take her mind and heart. In the meantime we plan a night at the coast, watching R rated movies before 9:00 pm and (hopefully) getting lots of little things done--like finding a job! Yes, it's summer!

Where's your stimulus check going?

2008-06-05T20:48:00.000-07:00

I'm sure many of us have been watching gas prices creep up. I've seen them jump almost 10 cents per gallon in one afternoon. This Shell is located just a couple miles from our home and it's probably not the most expensive out there. I'm not sure how rising gas prices might be changing your behavior but we seem to be trying to drive less overall. The minivan, which was bought expressly for carpool use, often sits in the driveway since it cost 58 bucks every time we fill it up.

Incredibly, it wasn't even high gas prices that motivated me last fall to help work towards getting a bus service that would transport Dylan and her cohorts back and forth to Arbor every day, but a pleasant side effect will be getting rid of our behemoth of a vehicle. The most environmental thing about the bus is not only will it cart 34 kids back and forth--reducing at least 8 separate car trips--but it's fueled with used vegetable oil, our way of making environmental amends for sending our kid to a school 20 miles away... By the way, if anyone wants to buy a 1996 Nissan Quest with 160,000 miles, it will be available Thursday!

While many have been bemoaning the rise in gas prices, I found this article ,which seems kind of amusing given today's prices. So in 2000 we were freaking out over $1.54 gas? What I wonder is, what will today's article look like eight years from now? Will $4.00 gas seem cheap by comparison?

Much of the conversation about fuel prices in our country seems to be centered around two camps; the "good prices have gone up, we've gotten it too cheap and I can just ride my bike," group and the "this is America, dammit, not Europe, we live in the sticks and it's my god-given right to drive everywhere" gang. Yes, the United States is not Europe. We've been there--a couple of times--and European cities have some of the most excellent mass transit systems in the world. Another charming thing about Europe is that trains run from the major cities to many, if not all, of the smaller towns. My guess is that it wouldn't have been possible to build a town unless it was by a train--how would building materials get there? So in Europe there are alternatives to driving. I remember blogging two years ago about the price of gas in London, and at that time it was reaching $6.50 a gallon. Between that and the surcharge to drive into the city, you'd have to have a fair chunk of change to drive yourself to Picadilly for lunch.

But here's something else about Europe, even before the Euro started trashing the US Dollar. Everything is expensive. Transportation costs, labor costs, taxes, the whole apfel strudel, is reflected in the costs of food and goods. And that is what's happening here. Friends who run restaurants tell me their food prices are getting higher, even food's plastic packaging (created from petroleum) are driving up costs.

I personally don't believe that we'll ever go back to 2000 prices, it was artificially low then and once people are used to paying a price for something, it's becomes the new norm. As avid travelers, we understand that taking the trips we have taken, may move from being upper- middle class luxuries to the old fashioned kind of luxury that the millionaire class could only afford. Remember stories about the Grand Tour? I don't--it wasn't the sort of thing about which the crowd at the Night Owl in Columbia Falls tended to wax poetic, but hopping on planes gets harder to do when there are fewer of them around.

Speaking of driving, tomorrow we head out to Kahneeta, for a camping trip we bought at the Arbor Auction. I'm still struggling to understand the appeal of packing all one's crap into a car, only to drive a long time, unpack it, hang out for a day and then head home. Americans are so crazy!

Just Another Face in the Crowd.

2008-05-19T10:12:00.000-07:00

My weekend was highlighted by serpentine lines, filled with sweaty folks, enjoying their right to assemble during this hot political season.

Portland Wows Obama is the headline in the Oregonian this morning, the image of Barack Obama standing in front of 60,000 people grace the cover. Another 15,000 stood outside the park, winding their way in a line that snaked through downtown, or on the Hawthorne Bridge, hearing nothing but the cheers of the crowd. That’s where we were yesterday afternoon. While we wanted to see Obama, the idea of standing in line for hours before the 12:30 opening (Obama came on around 2:45 pm) seemed a waste of a beautiful morning perfect for gardening, but we did think we could show up at 2:00 and hang on the outskirts—maybe catch the speech from the street or something. No such luck.

Andy’s folks (Mike and Phyllis) are in town and they were excited just to see the crowds and hear the cheering that greeted Obama. I commented to Phyllis that the last time I had seen so many bikes was at the main train station in Amsterdam, where they were stacked in a multi-level bike parking structure.

Friday night Viggo Mortensen was in town reading from Voices of A People’s History of the United States. I didn’t think there could be anything hotter on that steamy Portland evening than Viggo (Aragon, the King of Men) reading from Howard Zinn’s (Professor emeritus at Boston University, who is best known for putting the story of the common man/woman in the pages of history) companion piece. I was wrong. It’s Viggo singing a cappella, Bob Dylan’s Master of War. Big sigh….

Although Viggo’s appearance drew me to this—along with my adoration for Zinn’s material, he was not what I’ll remember most. Michael Ealy (star of Sleeper Cell, and also in Barbershop and Barbershop 2) positively channeled the energies of Malcolm X when he read from “A Message to the Grass Roots.” Shontina Vernon sang Billie Holiday’s Strange Fruit, a song I never got the full implications of until hearing Vernon sing it that night. And performance poet Staceyann Chin brought the house to it’s feet with her amazing performance of Cindy Sheehan’s “It’s Time the Antiwar Choir Started Singing.” Eddie Vedder, (of Pearl Jam fame) was a surprise guest (I thought it might have been Barack or Hillary who would surprise us) and he sang The Long Road, dedicated to Zinn’s wife who died earlier this week.

It’s great to live in a place where the people come out for something as unsexy as a primary race, or a speech first given in 1811. But that’s Portland and we are—as the Chinese curse goes—living in interesting times.

Victory for the Czech Republic Cheezits!

2008-05-11T16:50:00.000-07:00

Maps are kind of a gateway drug for those of us addicted to travel. Nothing stirs the wanderlust like pouring over a map, tracing the rivers and borders, and imagining what life is like in Tashkent, or Taipei. So when Dylan came home announcing that her class was having the first-ever Arbor World Geography Bowl, I had to see what feats of geographical knowledge these kids could perform.

It was a tense first match. The Czech Republic Cheezits (Dylan's team) started off ahead of the Manchester Misquitoes, but soon got behind, the third question was a doozy. What was the latitude of the Tropic of Cancer and Tropic of Capricorn. (Answer 23.5 degrees). When the question--Bangkok is the capitol of what country--came up, Dylan had the answer before the question ended. The Cheezits pulled ahead and managed to win the first round by 80 points, even though they did not answer the final question, name at least two countries that were part of the former Yugoslavia. (I had Croatia and Bosnia Herzogovina, but apparantly there are quite a few out there)

The final round was between the Cheezits and the Vicious Himalayan Snow Duckies--a team that sadly had a missing player. (Each student had an area of the world they would study extensively, so this was a serious disadvantage). It was a much closer game between the Snow Duckies and the Cheezits, but the Cheezits managed to pull off a 20 point victory, even without being able to completely answer the final wager round question, actually, the Snow Duckies had a problem with that question as did this reporter. The question: For whatever you want to wager, name the thirteen original US Colonies.

An "Oscar" moment

2008-05-05T21:27:00.000-07:00

I don't exactly love trash, but it's kind of hard to ignore if it's strewn all over the side of the road (India, China), lying on the sidewalk in wimpy plastic bags (like it is in London) or part of the soccer stadium (Seoul, Korea). Actually the Koreans not only used the site of a former dump for their stadium, but power the lights from its methane-producing refuse!

Recently we made a couple of electronic upgrades. Nothing exciting, just a cell phone for me and smart phone for Andy. But what to do with the old ones? I don't like to think too much about what we throw away, but if there is not a wormhole at the end of our garbage truck's route, our trash is still on this planet, right?

Speaking of trash, we've noticed for the past few months that we aren't filling up our 32 gallon can each week. Without pushing anything down, it ends up being half full. I called the trash service and discovered that we can go from paying $41 a month for once a week pick up, to $12 for just one pick up a month. So we're giving it a try.

Can we get by with just one garbage can full of trash a month? Portland has an awesome recyling system: paper, cardboard (paper on steriods), glass, metals and plastics with a screwtop neck are picked up for free every week. They get put out in our yellow bins--soon to be replaced by the city with fancy-wheeled blue carts. We also have a compost bin in the corner of our backyard where we can get rid of all veggie, fruit, paper towel, tea bag and egg shell waste. So come to think of it, our biggest amounts of trash are used kleenex and the dirty rat bedding.

Our friend Amy told us about a family who is trying to get by with just one can of garbage for the whole year. Wow, we Portlanders are really earnest folk! We're hoping to do our best and promise not to make any late night additions to our neighbors' garbage cans or threaten a "pack it in/pack it out" rule for visitors in order to make this work.

Found.

2008-04-24T14:27:00.000-07:00

For some reason, rattling inside the depths of my brain, the date April 24th had some significance to me. No, it wasn’t my niece Sophia’s birthday—that was last week. I don’t think it was the anniversary of our first date, hmm… what could it be?

Today the mystery was solved! Tonight’s the first new episode of Lost since late February. Wahoo! Though I don’t carry too many fears while traveling, one of my deep-seated, almost Freudian worries is that I’ll be on an airplane that crashes on a deserted island and will survive. In fact one of the scariest movies I’ve ever seen is Castaway, when Tom Hanks had to do his own dental surgery I pretty must lost it.

But Lost takes that fear and makes it “scary haunted house by Joseph Campbell and Ray Bradbury“ fun. While I wonder if I’m going to feel duped for spending so much time watching it, so far the story is compelling. Questions like: what will it mean that Desmond is Daniel’s constant, will the Oceanic Six go back to the Island, will Charlotte explain why there is a polar bear on the island, and what exactly is the Island, will hopefully be answered by the time the show is over. One place that might hold these answers is Television without Pity. My friend Luann turned me onto the site, warning me that its addictive properties is pure crack to anyone wanting to know more about their favorite TV show.

Speaking of TV, and islands; Kiwis have been featured in a couple of our recent favorites. On Top Chef, one of the competitors is from New Zealand. Dylan found his resemblance to a Hobbit uncanny, and has given him the nickname “Happy”—as opposed to Merry.

The other Kiwi sensation is the duo from Flight of the Conchords. Take Judd Aptow’s devotion to the under-thirty male and take away any snark and you have the adorable Brett and Jermaine. They’re either playing themselves, or two hapless immigrants trying to break into the music business. They are constantly stalked by Melanie, their one fan, and are directed by the least capable band manager in the world ( A guy named Murray whose day job is working some New Zealand tourism board or consulate. Murray must take roll every time they meet, no matter that it’s always just the three of them.) “Happy,” Jermaine & Brett all have to encounter people who think they’re Australians, which must be a running joke at American’s dismal grasp of geography.

This is not a Kiwi!

Working on my platform

2008-04-22T12:39:00.000-07:00

One of the things I have learned about being a paid writer is that people aren't likely to pay you to write, unless they know that others want to read your stuff. So, the beginning writer often does a lot of "freelance," with a heavy emphasis on the FREE, work.

I've been doing some writing where I can pick up the gigs, including doing feature articles for a health-based user group and a popular travel site. Here are just a couple samples of my recent work (health & travel)--see, not all the time I spend at Milo's is spent chatting with the staff!

Another leg to the platform that professional writers are expected to have these days is the blog. Of course you're aware of this blog since you're reading it now, but there are tons of blogs out there that are really great. The book Julie/Julia was inspired by the blog that the author wrote while tackling every recipe from Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking. I'm using this blog as a launching off for my own book, which is being reworked yet again. Should be a little less messy than pulling feathers out of ducks, right?!

Just Another Day on Planet Earth…

2008-04-22T11:41:00.000-07:00

I have a hair-trigger reaction that involves cringing whenever a “Day” is proclaimed. Whether it be International Women’s Day (March 8th—My birthday, Yeah!), Grandparent’s Day (September 7), National Teacher Day (May 6), American Recycles Day (November 15) or even Penguin Awareness Day (January 12) my first thought is what are they trying to sell me? My second is, does that mean the other 364 days of the year we don’t give a hoot about these things?

Speaking of giving a hoot—and special days—today is Earth Day. Even though the planet’s been around for 4.5 billion years, for the past 38 years Americans have noted April 22nd as Earth Day, complete with celebrations, conferences, and plenty of Earth-friendly products to consume. Back in 1992, I was on the planning committee of an Earth Day celebration at the California Institute of Technology (Caltech) where I spent my time working at the Caltech Y: organizing events, checking out sleeping bags and watching Oprah. Even then we were worried about the amount of trash in landfills, air pollution (evidenced by the ride-share booth and tree planting) and a resource-lite diet (turkey dogs anyone?) but looking back on it, our concerns seemed so—well—academic.

Fast forward sixteen years and if food riots in Haiti, rice hoarding in the Philippines, American gas prices reaching all-time highs, and the environmental costs of the war in Iraq don’t get your attention, perhaps this will. A hundred years ago there were around 100,000 tigers living in the wilderness. Now there’s around 3000-4500 with the South Chinese Tiger numbering less than 20. Great, so every 5th grader at Arbor could get their own Chinese Tiger, but no one else. The South Chinese Tiger is doing marginally better than its Bali or Javanese cousins--they’re extinct.

Seems like part of the blame for the troubles has landed on China’s door. With a continually growing middle class, the Middle Kingdom is partaking in a few Western luxuries: more meat in their diet, more driving, and more consumption of natural resources with chilling results. But who are we to say that the Chinese can’t have our standard of living? In the brief time that we visited China we gained the strongest impressions of our entire trip. Dirt everywhere,

rudimentary plumbing, a whole nation driving their new cars like four-year-olds behind the wheel of a bumper car, extreme heat, and the people--god the people!

Let's just say a billion people is truly theoretical until you are pushed, pulled and body slammed by a few hundred while trying to get your order at a McDonald’s counter. Other countries--Korea, Thailand, Malaysia, Egypt, Cambodia--are lifting themselves out of extreme poverty and they are heralded for their development. I have to say, if I were living in China and knew that I could have air conditioning, my own car, a bit more protein in my diet and even the luxury to travel within my country—I’d go for it. Can you blame them? They are doing what we’ve been doing in the West for years.

Aye, there’s the rub. We can’t really talk about population and consumption until we understand what and how much the population is consuming. So, rather than thinking only about American Priuses and biofuel consumption perhaps we should be thinking of global standards of living. It's going to take more than one day to figure this out--until then, instead of clinging to the American, or Chinese, or German way of life, we have to think about the surviving way of life. Whatever the case, barring a huge asteroid hitting it, the planet will survive. The question remains: how well will its residents fare in another sixteen years time?

For a truly excellent view of the glory of our planet, check out the Planet Earth series filmed by the BBC. We’ve netflixed the entire run and have watched it over the past couple of weeks. The recurring words out of our mouths are “awww,” “how’d they get that shot” and “that is amazing.”

Reach out and Touch Someone

2008-04-13T22:44:00.000-07:00

Remember the old AT&T ad from the early eighties that sang "reach out and touch someone?" Of course we've come a long way since then, when it was a big deal to call grandma on the rotary phone, but it wasn't until we really started traveling in the past couple of years, that we realized how connected the global population has become. While we debated taking a phone on our 2005 trip (we were going for the least amount of weight to pack as possible), it soon became clear how necessary a phone is when traveling. We were in Shanghai, riding in a cab that would hopefully follow our friend Andrea's (she had her mom, baby and a big stroller so there was no way we could all fit into one cab) and somehow our cab driver dropped us off about two miles in the wrong direction from our rendezvous point. Fortunately we had a cellphone, and after we hailed another cab, we called Andrea and she told the driver-- in Chinese-- where to take us. Imagining that we would still be on the corner, lost in China if we didn't have that phone, we've become adamant about carrying one overseas.

Cabdrivers, apartment managers, friends we've made while on day tours, even our hotel driver in Bali have been able to find us on our cell, which has increased our freedom to ramble. Even Andy's parents have phoned us while we were being biked in a rickshaw in Lhasa! So it was with great interest that I read this story from Sunday's New York Times Magazine. Seems that we're not the only ones benefiting from our cell. All I want to know, is how can I get that guy's job?!

Andy is buying a SIM card for our cell in Vietnam. Most places we bought a SIM were like this place, small and in random locations.

First You Eat, Then You Shop

2008-04-07T22:25:00.000-07:00

A friend of ours writes and produces some sweet, cheeky, purse-sized travel guides that are all about eating and shopping in locally-owned businesses, which for some travelers might be incidental to seeing the Smithsonian or Louvre. However, if there ever was a city that needed an Eat. Shop. edition, it would have to be Hong Kong. While there are a few notable things to do or sites to visit, anyone who loves the city as much as we do knows it’s all about two things—eating and shopping!

After leaving calm, blissful, beautiful Bali we dove head first into Hong Kong’s densely packed streets to sample as much shopping and eating we could in three nights and four days. It helped that we spent a full week in Hong Kong in 2005 and knew the lay of the land and could also avoid the “kid centric” Ocean Park and Disneyland, since we did them before.

Hong Kong covers three different areas and is made up of four different regions, Hong Kong Island, Kowloon, Lantau and the New Territories. We made our home base at the YMCA on Salisbury situated on the Kowloon side of the city. As soon as we dropped our bags off in our hotel room, we ventured out to meet the crowds. It was dinner time and raining and about thirty degrees F cooler than Bali and it took about ten seconds for me to realize I was underdressed and that my flip flops—so useful for walking on the sandy beach—were no match for the rainy sidewalks, where it seemed that three centuries of oil and dirt were flowing down the street making it impossible for me to walk. Grasping Andy’s arm, we navigated up, away from the harbor and towards a mass of every type of restaurant in the world. We had to walk past it a couple times, but finally settled on a tiny noodle shop with no western signs, and no English menu-the only thing attracting us was a picture of a huge bowl of noodles and dumplings simmering in a beige broth. Sitting on tiny plastic benches, we crowded in with a dozen or so others and sucked our noodles and slurped our broth with the finesse any of the locals watching me glide to our seat. Ahh, yes, it was good to be back.

We insisted on visiting some haunts we enjoyed our last time and added some new favorites to our list. If you’d like to read more about these, I plan on sending an piece in on the website Bootsnall, where I have already written an article, and will send a link when it’s posted.

Dylan and I got a bit of food poisoning or something during one of our meals (could have been something in those noodles….) and spent a better part of two days looking for bathrooms throughout Hong Kong. Now, while conditions of everything in Hong Kong are markedly better than in mainland China or some parts of Bali, you do not want to spend more time than you have to in the bathrooms. Many of them are what I call squatty potties which are a serious disadvantage for girls who have to get down low and not only balance while doing their duty, but do so without 1-falling into the toilet, 2-be able to aim your used toilet paper into the basket which is never in an easy-to-reach position (most of the plumbing in Asia cannot handle modern amenities like tp) and 3-not gag from the 643 terrible smells emanating up from a toilet that has been there since the 1800’s, and not “cleaned” since the handover to China (1997). I exaggerate, but not much. It’s bad.

A few cruises back and forth on the Star Ferry, a day trip to Lantau to see one of the largest Buddhas in the world

and Dylan snapping up every ratty thing she could afford (including a stuffed panda dressed in a rat costume) and we were done. Originally we chose Hong Kong as a layover because it is the Year of the Rat

and so our rat-loving kid could further feed her obsession. But we soon realized we didn’t need an excuse to go back to Hong Kong, it’s a city that once it has it’s hold on you, never lets you go.

We made it back home sometime after two in the morning yesterday and jet lag is hitting hard this time. Falling asleep at 7:00 am only to get up at 2:00 pm isn’t too disruptive, but it has made it hard for me to fulfill my Bene/iced tea craving at Milo’s, maybe by Friday I’ll see the crack of noon!

Bali Endings

2008-04-01T02:42:00.000-07:00

Is it auspicious that on our last day in Bali we witnessed our first cremation? The lady who braided Dylan's hair said that it was lucky to see one, and today two people were cremated next to a tiny shrine that overlooked the sea. To one side was the shrine, surrounded by four foot high tables overflowing with offerings. To the other, a small line of shacks that housed two food stalls (called warungs here in Indonesia) and couple of clothes stalls where Dylan could get her hair braided. Since the braiding took two hours we had plenty of time to watch the puppies fighting in the yard and the kids rolling in the dirt (or was it the other way around) and see the first of hundreds of scooters arrive with people dressed in colorful sarongs.

Eventually a processional of a hundred or more, each carrying an offering or playing an instrument, surrounded those carrying the body wrapped in a shroud, as they marched to what looked like a small log cabin. It was actually made of green palm trunks and big enough for the body, which was set inside. An enormous propane torch lit the body inside and for an hour we sat there and watched the structure burn. Many of the mourners quickly lost interest and wandered off to grab lunch or sit and visit with friends. One of the deceased was a young woman, maybe in her mid twenties. Someone carried a large picture of her, and a wreath of flowers that said "Surfer Girl" stood next to her pyre. The other deceased was an old man, who was laid to rest in a deer shaped structure.

The only place in America where death and the mourning process is so public and accessible may have been in the jazz funerals of New Orleans, but usually it's a private matter for friends and family. But life is more public in other parts of the world. Newly married couples parade down the street in Italy while onlookers cheer them. School children in Japan start their first day of school lugging all their supplies with them, including a futon, as they negotiate the streets. And in Bali, the whole community (and a few wandering travelers) usher the dead to their final journey as they rise with the smoke above the shoreline. This is why we travel, to witness how (as the Thais say) same, same--yet different we really are.

"See You Later, Alligator"

2008-04-01T02:07:00.000-07:00

Ketut Liyer, the 9th generation medicine man featured in Elizabeth Gilbert's runaway hit Eat Pray Love, is grasping my hand tightly and peering closely at my brows. His voice is a sing song patois of English accompanied with clicking noises and some Balinese thrown in for good measure. I think he just quoted a song lyric "Let your conscience be your guide," as well as wishing someone goodbye saying,"See you Later Alligator!" Yes, he did say that and now he's telling me I have really good karma while he proceeds to read my palm.

If you've read the book you already know Ketut's story and how he played a role in Gilbert's Indonesian adventures. Ketut was originally planning to be an artist, but his life took a different turn and he ended up taking the path of a medicine man. Thanks to the book he's become very popular for wayward travelers like ourselves, and having a rich history of visiting a few psychics/fortune tellers/astrologers in my days, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to meet with Ketut.

"You are very smart," he says, "your weapon is your brains. But you're impatient. This is your first marriage, and you'll only have one. You've had four lifetimes, and you love to travel," which did seem a given since I was sitting on his front porch 8000 miles from my home. It seemed he said things that were common knowledge to those who know me, perhaps a feat for someone who just met me? But I was there less for the veracity of his reading than for the experience of sitting with this revered octogenarian in a world so remote from my own.

He read Dylan's and Andy's palms and gave them some pretty good news, except that he did seem to pause when he read Andy's marriage line. "You've been married once" he said, "Maybe one wife," looking at me he nodded, "yes one wife, long life." He was the third psychic I've visited who insisted that I was going to have, or already had, another child--a boy. Given that I'm beyond thrilled that my baby days are long over, I think it's time to teach Ketut another American phrase, "No way, Jose."

Ketut posing with us and a picture he painted, our favorite memento from this trip.

Mad Dog Photos

2008-04-01T02:00:00.000-07:00

Here are a few photos to help illustrate the previous post.

Offerings on the hotel van for a safe trip

On the sidewalk in front of a business

Monkey on Ganesh's head, Bathing Temple, Monkey Forest, Ubud

On the way to a ceremony at a temple

Neither a Mad Dog or an Englishman

2008-03-31T04:40:00.000-07:00

At least we try to adopt the local pace and stay out of the noonday sun. It's not too difficult, we are in bed by 9:00 pm each night, rise early each day awoken by a cacophony of some pissed ducks and take an 11:00am soak in the pool. It's not so much a luxury as a necessity since the mercury reaches in the mid nineties by 8:00 each morning.

The ducks are mad because they know something is up, their friends keep disappearing and we've seen evidence of where they go--there's too many menus featuring crispy duck for it to be a mere coincidence.

Most mornings we go for a walk, either along the beach to watch fisherman start their day or through a heavily forested road, where monkeys swing over our heads. After a simple breakfast of Nasi Goreng (Indonesian fried rice) or Jaffle (no that's not a misprint, its some sort of pastry that looks like an overly buttered pop tart) we head out to our first activity which has included zip lining through the forest, having our palms read, or looking for someone to braid Dylan's hair.

It's good to be back in Asia. Though we've never been to Indonesia, so much reminds us of Thailand, Vietnam, Malaysia, or Cambodia. A million motorcycles or scooters tearing down the road, followed by cars that have their own rules--a never-ending game of chicken. The heat that saps our strength by midday. Broken up sidewalks where water from the rice paddies flows under unstable grates. Touts every 20 feet asking if we want a taxi ride, a tour, something unnecessary to buy. Mosquito coils burning by our dinner table and a patina of dirt covering everything. Toilet paper, ice, air conditioning and a decent napkin are a luxury. Flowers, cheap massages and smokers everywhere, are a given. We've often caught ourselves forgetting that we've ever returned home, but rather feel like we've been in Asia since 2005, it's amazing how quickly we've gotten used to these quirks.

But Indonesia, and specifically Bali, has its own unique charms. Incredibly friendly people always asking where you've come from and where you're going to. Everyone asks what country we're from, and when we say America we're kind of an oddity. We've been asked why more Americans don't visit, and whether we like George W. Bush. Our answers to that are "Americans don't get a lot of vacation, it's expensive, they think it's far away and some are afraid of Bali because of the terrorist attacks," and an empathic "No we can't stand the man!" When I yelled "Yeah Obama" we got a healthy applause--guess he can be considered a local boy, he did have a few years studying in Indonesia!

Bali is an island in more ways than one. It's uniquely Hindu in a country that has the highest Muslim population in the world. Unlike most countries in Southeast Asia that are Buddhist, Bali goes further back, to Buddha's roots as a Hindu and it's evident in the multitude of statues of Ganesha (the elephant god--remover of obstacles)and Saraswati (goddess of wisdom and the arts) dotting the landscape. Tiny offerings are everywhere--baskets woven from palm fibers holding flowers, incense and rice--on motorscooters, dashboards, driveways, store counters, wherever the gods are welcome.

Dogs are in front of every home and they know they own the road since they don't bother to get out of the way of cars until one is bearing down, just inches from their paws. Then maybe, if the offending car or motorcycle has nowhere else to go, they might deign to scoot their butts off the street.

Sarongs are worn by many--especially in the tourist industry, but on a festival day almost everyone is sporting a sarong and for the men a headpiece. Women create their own headpieces by placing whatever they need to carry on their head and moseying down the street.

Bali feels like a country in itself and if we return to Indonesia and visit Java or Sumatra or even Lombok I'm willing to bet it won't feel like we're in the same country.

We've got some awesome pictures but are having technical difficulties, will post soon!

Greeting the Sun in Bali

2008-03-27T19:05:00.000-07:00

Living in SIN

2008-03-27T18:30:00.000-07:00

If you have to travel and your travel time is somewhere along the lines of 39 hours from door to door, there is no better way to go than Singapore Airlines with a layover in Singapore's Changi Airport. We've flown over 25 airlines in the world and have heard amazing things about Singapore Air, so our hopes were as high as our cruising altitude.

Stepping on the plane I wondered if we had stumbled upon a Miss Pan-Asia contest. Every female flight attendant was suited in a form fitting two piece long dress, their hair in a perfect french knot, and if too short for that, elegantly styled. Each was an equisite beauty and it seemed their only desire was to make sure you were a happy traveler. The guys didn't get off so easy as they were uniformed in a powder blue blazer, a color not seen since my cousin Jess' wedding in 1976, but they were also professional and very attentive.

A stack of newspapers greeted us as we stepped on the plane, and we discovered the most incredible piece of mechanics I've ever seen on a plane--a foot rest--even in coach! Unless you are under 5 feet tall, this might not seem to be the exciting event it was for me, but after too many flights with my feet dangling off the side of the seat, my feet could touch something! While my friend Steve regaled me with stories of eating lobster--or was it crab--on his Singapore flight, I ended up with fish. But it was one of the most delicious pieces of fish I've had in ages. The other six meals and snacks weren't too bad, we all dined on an especially nice plate of noodles during one of our three breakfasts, and the steaming hot towels that they brought at the begining of each flight only lead me to sigh--"Oh why haven't Americans figured out the rejuvinating joys of a hot washcloth?"

We had four hours to kill in Changi and entered the new terminal which was opened this January. Mind you we had spent a number of hours at Changi in 2005-2006 and were already impressed with the airport. Really, we loved you, you didn't have to get better Changi. With the full chaise lounges, the quiet music, and the unlimited shopping it was a pretty comfortable airport. But the new terminal exceeded any expectations a traveler should have. We tucked into a quiet corner of the terminal where a line of "beds" faced a small stone babbling brook. Quiet piano music could be heard in the background and there were none of the annoying calls over the loudspeaker that every other airport has asking "Mister Bom Bom to please pick up the white courtesy phone." Throughout the airport were islands of computers offering free internet time, which I gladly used to post to the blog. Dylan discovered the free movie theatre and swimming pool a little too late for us to enjoy them, but if she's given the choice of a destination in the future Changi is looking pretty good to her. Actually it looked pretty great for all of us, and if we were choosing a place to live in Sin, SIN (Singapore's Changi airport code) is as good a place as any.

Scrum at Gate 9

2008-03-25T22:22:00.000-07:00

For many, a trip starts when they arrive at their destination, for me the trip begins when I walk out my door. I knew we were going somewhere different when we got caught up in the scrum of humanity that pushed itself towards the airplane at our San Francisco departure gate for the Singapore Airlines flight to Hong Kong.

A few years ago while planning our China trip, we met up with our friend Kara's brother Tom and his wife Andrea. While having lunch I asked them what the biggest surprise or difference was that they noticed between China and America. They turned to each other with knowing grins and said something about the concept of personal space and how it takes on a totally different meaning in China--and as we discovered, throughout most of Asia. To demonstrate, Tom got up and walked as close to Andy as possible (who wasn't part of the conversation since he was paying at the counter) and body slammed him. Well, my response would have been shock, or nervous giggling, but Andy just turned and pushed Tom--a guy he had just met--out of his way! Yes, they said, Andy would do fine in China. After five weeks there, and five months in Asia we were jostled, pushed, and herded through lines, onto buses and over tourist sites more times than we could count.

But after a couple years at home, where we have our own personal space to spread out, we forgot about the land where push can come to shove, until yesterday. I'm not sure why this difference exists. I can postulate many theories but my favorite is that a combination of a huge population, and limited resources creates some sort of Malthusian law that states if you don't get in there and fight for your space on the bus (or plane in our case) you might never get on. My only warning is to watch out for the five feet tall grandmas, they have elbows that can really jab in painful places.

Sunday, Sunday...

2008-03-23T21:45:00.000-07:00

One of our challenges while traveling in different countries was dealing with Sundays. In big chunks of the world, especially Australia, New Zealand, and most of Europe, we got used to stocking up on food, and not making any plans for shopping or sightseeing on Sundays because most places would be closed. Add in a holiday and even London, the cosmopolitan crossroad of the world looked as dead as the day after a zombie uprising. At least that’s how it seemed a couple of years ago when we landed at Heathrow on Easter Sunday.

Coming from the United States, home of the 24/7 economy, we’re a bit spoiled knowing that at any moment we can get our fourth meal at 3:00 am, or buy a flat-screen TV whenever we damn well please. Imagine our surprise when wanted to go to Old Navy and Target today for a few last minute things for our trip and found out they were closed. What??? Was there a holiday or something? Okay, maybe Easter is a biggie on the calendar, but for the born-again pagans in the room, not to mention the Jews, Muslims, Hindus and Atheists in our country, it seems a little unfair that things don’t close down for Yom Kippur, or Eid Al Fitar, or even election day.

But all was not lost. Kinkos was open so we could get more business cards made and Powells was not only open, it was teeming with everyone else in Portland who needed to get out of the house. If you’ve never been to Powells City of Books, it’s something akin to a Mecca for bibliophiles. As the biggest independent bookstore in the country (it might even be THE biggest bookstore) there’s not much that you can’t find at Powells. Our quest involved finding some books we wanted to read during our upcoming 33 hours of travel and subsequent beach lounging. Since we’re committed to traveling light, the criteria of our reading material was not only that it was mildly entertaining, but be something we’d be happy to leave along the way—our own little bookmobile.

We're Baaaack....

2008-03-20T21:28:00.000-07:00

Yes, it’s been ages since my last post. In fact, for what it’s worth, in the blogosphere I might as well have last posted in the Jurassic age, but this week seems as good as any for a re-birth of our blog—Only Planet. Eleven short years ago we embarked on the adventure of a lifetime, parenting a tiny bundle of baby who we named Dylan, after one of the greatest poets in the modern age. We’ll let you guess which one. After a rockin’ birthday party at the climbing gym this weekend, Tuesday saw a quieter celebration, with dinner at Mio Sushi (our favorite Portland sushi) and a macaroon from Pix. One birth among billions, yet for us, it was the birth of a universe—the parenting universe, and so we think about beginnings.

Ostensibly we started Only Planet to record the trip of a lifetime, or at least, our lifetime. Even though the trip eventually ended, there still seem moments I find worth writing about. They may not be as exotic as balancing on a wobbly camel in Cairo, or as disorienting as seeing Thais wearing white wings bowing and wishing you a “Happy Valentines,” but there are still snapshots worth noting as we throw ourselves through the ultimate journey—this modern life. And since I’m a writer, and writers write, whether about dashing through airports or the Arbor carpool line, I know there are stories I need to tell.

But I should come clean: we are traveling again. Spring Break starts Monday and Dylan’s school has a two week vacation, a truly civilized amount of time to go somewhere. Since we had enough airline miles on United to fly to the moon and back, or maybe Antarctica, we spun the globe and our finger landed on Bali for a destination. While we’ve seen much of Asia, we didn’t venture to Indonesia on our Trip (capitalized in our minds as the TRIP of 2005-2006), for various reasons. But I’m glad we didn’t, because now I feel rested, fresh and ready to tackle any of the challenges thrown our way… Another full body massage? Don’t mind if I do. Hot humid weather? Bring it on. So if you’re interested in following us as we do a little bit of praying, and a whole lotta eating and loving through Bali (with apologies to Elizabeth Gilbert), check out our blog for our many ponderous posts. With any luck there might even be something from the Travel Rat. It’s good to be back. Namaste!

A Final Thank You from Only-Planet & Travel Rat

2006-06-15T12:31:00.000-07:00

A journey is best measured in friends rather than miles. --Tim Cahill

Not only have we made new friends, we’ve also reconnected with old friends. Our too-few, too-infrequent, but much-cherished visits with friends were wonderful and they all deserve a hearty “thank you.”

In Japan:
ESI friends Nishio-san, Kozo-san and Kamo-san
Don & Pauline Hess at the World Friendship Center
Masatoshi Yonenaga & family

In Korea:
Kim Joong Young & family
Kim Kyoung-ja & family
Roh D-Young & family
Dr. Choi Keun Jin

In China:
Tom, Andrea & Roger Phillips
Don Eggert, Nancy Schmaus & family
Wendy & Andy in Lhasa

In Thailand:
Steve & Bua Cohen
Samai
P’tu
Tom Jackson for his wonderful recommendations in Bangkok
Emma Greenaway (in Singapore too)

In Australia:
Peter, Lynn, Rebecca & Megan Williams
Norman, Charmaine & Sebastian Krueger
Graeme & Dianne Burch

In New Zealand:
Helen & Trevor and grandson David
Guy & Usi Mannering & kids
Jarg and Margaret Pettinga

In Vietnam:
Bay Bristol
Loi, Lein, Vu, Thanh and Bichney

In Germany:
Ute Spiess & family

In France:
Felix Leonard, Nicole Jourdan & Oliver

In Switzerland:
Kurt & Elsbeth Wigger
Aunt Hilda

In Norway:
Sidsel Knutsen
Norunn Svendsen & Victoria

In the USA:
Barbara & John Palmer
Marty & Heidi Wells & family
Frankie Werking
Grandma Bertha Werking
Grandma Vi Lake
Jess & Deb Gieck & family
Rhonda van Diest
Susi Wigger
Chris Johnson
Tori & Glenn Gilbert & family
Marianne & Loren Skogland and the crew at Milo’s for having the iced tea ready on our return
Kerry & Stephanie Vaughn-Matthews & family for receiving all of our mail
Tina Needham
Charity Adolf
Deborah Mandelsberg for her patient communications for Dylan’s schooling
Everyone who let us stay in their homes last summer (arigato, gracias)
Our friend who greeted us back with huge hugs

Around the world:
The loyal followers of the blog.
If you fed, housed or helped us and we neglected to thank you again, we thank you with heartfelt apologies.

And finally to our parents, Phyllis, Mike, Stormie and Scott, who housed us, fed us, and provided a patient ear when we called with our travel woes. We love you.

The Only Planet/Travel Rat Index: the numbers behind the stories

2006-06-15T11:57:00.000-07:00

Countries Visited: 28 where we either stayed the night or got passports stamped:
Japan, South Korea, China, Tibet, Hong Kong, Macau, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Australia, New Zealand, Vietnam, Cambodia, India, United Arab Emirates, Egypt, Germany, France, Italy, Vatican City, Switzerland, Netherlands, Belgium, United Kingdom, Ireland, Norway, Czech Republic, USA

Total distance traveled: 78,405 km (48,719 miles) That’s over two times around the globe
Time to circle the earth: 298 days
Average speed: 11.0 km/h (6.8 mph), or 8:48 minutes per mile if we were to run the whole time
Farthest travel in one day: 8408 km (5224 miles), Christchurch New Zealand to Singapore
Number of train trips: 17
Distance traveled by car: 3519 km (2187 miles)
Number of Ferry Trips: 4
Number of Plane trips: 39
Number of Camels ridden: 1
Number of Elephants ridden: 1

Total number of days homeless: 365 before returning to Portland, where we’re still counting
Places stayed from 6/12/05 until 6/13/06: 101
Weight of packs:
Day of departure: Andy 20kg (44 lb) Dylan 8kg (18 lb) Loey 12kg (26 lb)
Day of return: Andy 18kg (40 lb) Dylan 4kg (9 lb) Loey 9kg (20 lb)
Number of shirts we each packed: 5
Number of boxes mailed home: 85 (half for us, half as gifts for others)

Most expensive meals: Gordon Ramsay’s at Claridge's & Nobu, both in London
Cheapest meal: other than when someone hosted us, the MBK food court in Bangkik Thailand. For US$5 we ate like kings!
Places we ate Mexican food: Chengdu China, Hong Kong, Chiang Mai Thailand, Singapore, Paris France, and Cork Ireland
First meal upon returning to USA: Europa Café, NYC, an American breakfast!
Best popsicles and bubblegum: Korean bottle popsicles, Chinese Babol gum, Japanese green apple gum

Number of Pictures taken: 18,000+
Places Andy had his hair cut: Beijing China, Saigon Vietnam, Florence Italy, Glenwood Springs Colorado USA

Museums visited:

Japan: Edo Tokyo Museum, Studio Ghibli & Hiroshima Museum

China: Shanghai Museum, Forbidden City

Thailand: National Museum

Singapore: Asian Civilizations Museums

Macau: Macau history Museum

Australia: Natural History Museum, National Maritime Museum

New Zealand: Te Papa, Christchurch Art Gallery, Antarctic Center, Kelly Tarleton

India: Mahatma Gandhi’s residence

Egypt: The Egyptian Museum

Germany: Pharmacy Museum in Heidelberg

France: Musee D’Orsay, Louvre

Italy: Vatican Museum, Uffizi

Switzerland: Bern Historical Museum

Netherlands: Anne Frank House

Belgium: Chocolate Museum

United Kingdom: British Museum, Tower of London, Imperial War Museum, Tate Modern

Ireland: Blasket Island museum, Queenstown Experience

Czech Republic: Mucha museum, Museum of Communism, technology museum

Monuments & Must-do’s:

Japan: Todai-ji Temple, Tsukiji Fish Market, walking in Shibuya or Shinjuku, Kyoto, Silver temple, Gion, ryokan

Korea: Insadong shopping, Lotte World

China: Peace Hotel, walking along the Bund, Shanghai Acrobats, Yu Yuan Gardens and dumplings, Temple of Heaven, Forbidden City, Summer Palace, Duck dinner Tiananmen, Lama Temple, dirt market, Great Wall, visiting a Hutong, haircut on the street, Terracotta Warriors (over-rated, but if you’re in the country…) Panda Reserve, Chengdu Peoples Park (with sugar rats)

Tibet: Portola Palace, Jokhang Temple, walking the Bharkor

Hong Kong: taking the tram to the top of Victoria Peak, just to see the buildings looking like they’re sideways. Tea at the Peninsula, window shopping at Shanghai Tang, Dim Sum at Maxims, Star Ferry, Escalator, Ocean Park Aquarium

Macau: St. Joseph's

Thailand: Wat Pra Khaew, Wat Pho, Wat Arun, the carriage room at the National Museum, eating at MBK, the floating market at Damneon Saduak, Chiang Mai. Erawon Temple

Malaysia: The Petronas towers, staying at the Mandarin Oriental

Singapore: tea at Raffles, lunch on Serangoon Road, shopping for a sari in Little India, walking on Orchard Road, fortune telling parrot

Australia: Koala Sanctuary, Australian Zoo, Melbourne Zoo, driving the Great Ocean Road, Sydney Harbour and Opera House, QVB, The Rocks, Sydney Tower, Powerhouse

New Zealand: Tamaki Maori Experience in Rotorua. Zorbing, swimming with dolphins

Vietnam: Reunification Palace, Cao Dai Temple, Cu Chi Tunnels, crazy house

Cambodia: Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom, the Bayon

India: The Gate of India, Taj Hotel, Dhobi Ghats

Egypt: The Sphinx, the pyramids of Giza, the ancient bazaar

Germany: Schloss Auerbach, castle in Heidelberg

France: Notre Dame, St. Chapelle, Sacre Coeur, St. Sulpice, St. Eustace, catacombs, Eiffel Tower, Pere Lachaise, Parthenon, Arc de Triomphe

Italy: Trevi Fountain, St. Peters, Pantheon, Palatine, Coliseum, Spanish Steps, Capucine Church, Pointe Vecchio, Boboli, Baptistery, St. Croce, St. Marco, Rialto Bridge, just walking around

Switzerland: Bern clock, Bahnhofstrasse, altstadt

Netherlands: Red light district, boat tour

Belgium: Grand Place, Mannequin piss

United Kingdom: Buckingham Palace, Kings Cross station, Millennium Bridge, Foyles at Charing Cross Road, St. Pauls, London Eye, day trip to Oxford

Ireland: Trinity College, Page of Kells, Guinness Factory, Blarney Castle, Peat house experience

Czech Republic: Jewish Cemetery & Synagogues, Prague Castle, Charles Bridge

Portland Oregon USA: The final dispatch

2006-06-15T11:38:00.000-07:00

Most of us have dreamed, if just for a moment, of chucking life's encumbrances and wandering free through exotic ports of mystery and magic.
--Theodorea Nelson and Andrea Gross

How do you end a trip like this? A trip that circumnavigated the planet, with enough total miles to circle the earth more than two times? A trip where we touched down on 28 countries, learned how to say hello in over 20 languages, and where we come back, to quote my friend Chris, “with a whole basketful of experiences”?

We return to where we started. It’s a bit anti-climatic but more poetic to go back to the city we love, where we have friends, where everyone knows your name (at least at Milo’s) and where we had made a home during the previous 12 years. We returned to Portland Oregon on June 13th, exactly a year from the date that we handed the keys over to our home and set out on this adventure. The first part was house-sitting, couch surfing and massaging the overseas part of the trip into launch mode while in Oregon, Colorado and Montana, but then we got to finally board our first international flight of the trip last August and the rest, as they say, is history.

Like every traveler, from Ernest Shackleton to Edmund Hillary, from Captain Cook to the fictitious Phileas Fogg, we set off to seek the world and came home only finding ourselves. Even now--before getting jobs, housing, cars, and all the accouterments of the American life--we realize how easy it seems to slide back into the place we were before. We have different priorities now: a smaller home is fine, renting is fine for a while, and we aren’t in a hurry to open up the storage unit full of boxes, let alone add to the piles of stuff in there. Chucking life’s encumbrances seemed easy and freeing and I think we kind of hesitate to embrace them again since that means the trip is truly over.

The immediate fears we had about getting hurt, getting really sick, or even getting killed on this trip were never realized, thank the gods, but what is more liberating is that we no longer have the fear of not having done it. For that reason alone we have no regrets and it was worth the money, the time, the frustrations, the bouts of homesickness, the culture shock, the sense of discombobulation and the fact that most of the time we lived with no more than we could carry on our backs. In fact, if we have any fears now, it’s that we didn’t stay away long enough, that we didn’t see every place we wanted to see, that we didn’t try harder to find a home overseas and that we let our time in Asia (mostly China) rule how we reacted to the rest of the trip.

What can we say? We’ve seen so many places, the historical and the modern. We’ve encountered so many people, 99.9 % of them pretty friendly and helpful, and we’ve come away with the most important lesson of all, that we are not the only people on this planet. Of course, intellectually you don’t need to travel as we did to know that, but the lessons really hit home when you are looking at clear cuts in New Zealand being sold to the Chinese, or anxiously awaiting a stop light to change so that you can get by the seven year old beggars who keep tapping at your car window while sitting in traffic in Mumbai. However we paint the picture, it will look different than life here in the USA, and in most cases there are no judgment calls to be made of better or worse, just different. Perhaps Mark Twain summed it up best when he said “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow-mindedness.” We can’t say that we’ve conquered all of our prejudice or narrow-mindedness (we still wonder at the lack of root beer or a decently cooked egg in most of the world), and we feel like we’ve barely scratched the surface in learning who we are as Americans and where we fit into the rest of the world, outside of the Bush/Cheney agenda of American hegemony. But for ourselves we know that we will soon pick up where we left off in Portland, seeing friends, arranging play dates for Dylan, going to work, the whole kit and caboodle, and the trip will be condensed to stories we remind each other about, stories we share with others, and stories we hope to create as we continue to cast our nets out into the world. Because once you’ve gotten wanderlust, it never goes away and there will be another trip--in a month, a week, a year--that demands to be taken.

Until then, the first order of business is to get a place to live. Since we sold our house (a decision that we don’t regret in the least), we need a new place to call home until we can settle into work and hopefully a new house.

But we come back to changes. Dylan will be attending the Arbor School in Tualatin starting in September, after sitting three years on a waiting list. While she is hesitant to leave her friends once again, she is at least willing to give it a try. The fact that there was a pet rat in a classroom when she visited Arbor doesn’t hurt.

Since we’ve joined the ranks of the 45 million uninsured Americans and also hope to buy a house again, Andy is already working on a job search. It helps being in Portland where he can follow up on applications and make appointments for interviews and networking.

As for me, well, there’s a lot on my to-do list. I have plans to write a book about the trip, not only because my wonderful friends and family keep encouraging me to produce one based on the blogs, but because once you start fulfilling one dream, the others seem do-able, and I’ve been dreaming of making writing my “paying” career for a long time. Should the needs arise (private school, a new home) with the money slow to appear, I may find myself working the stacks at Powell’s, or pushing KitchenAid mixers during the holiday rush, but my priority remains to make the writing a paying gig.

Sharing our adventures has been one of the joys of our trip and we thank you for subscribing, reading and passing the blog along to your friends. We are especially grateful for the emails we received on the road, encouraging us when we were down (like in Cambodia or Xi’an China) and sharing the “local” news. You were touchstones for us at very lonely times and we are grateful for your support. Our final word and caution is to not take all we say to heart. Don’t judge a place by what you’ve heard from us or by what you’ve read, but if you desire, get out there and see it for yourselves. It may deplete your pocket book but it only makes you richer. Until then, safe journeys to wherever your final destination may be…

New York, New York: Start spreading the news…..

2006-06-01T05:48:00.000-07:00

However you count it, 10 months, 44 weeks, or 315 days overseas and just a couple weeks short of a year of being homeless, we’ve brought our adventures back to the land we know so well. And what better place to have America greet you--with all of its glory, angst, food and shopping--than New York City!

It took only minutes after landing at JFK, during our passport inspection at immigration, to be reminded of what it’s like to be in America and be Americans. Armed with a combination of a mandate from the Department of Homeland Security and a strong curiosity, our immigration officer certainly took his time with us. When he asked how long we’d been out of the country, we all turned and looked at each other and said, “A long time.”
“How long?” he asked (this was his official job duty).
“Uh, we left the US on August 16th and this is our first time back.” He was incredulous. “Were you working?” he wanted to know.
“Nope,” we said.
“Where did you go?” he asked.
“Do you want us to list all the countries?” we replied.
We were given an affirmative reply, so we started, “Japan, Korea, China, Tibet, Hong Kong, Thailand, Malaysia…” at this point he could tell this was getting long.
“So where are you coming in from?” he interrupted.
“Prague” we said, “via Frankfurt.”
“So was that as far east as you made it?” Relative to where? we wondered.
“You know, was Prague the farthest east in Europe you got?”
“No, we’ve been in Ireland, Norway, England…” but he cut us off again.
“Okay,” he wanted to know, “are you rich or something?”
“No, we sold our house and car and furniture.”
“But are you going to get a job?” he pressed.
At this point we knew we weren’t being grilled because we were suspicious persons entering the country, but because we were curiosities. Or perhaps we weren’t the least threatening people, but he had gauged our danger to be negligible, with Dylan looking groggy after the eight-hour flight and Andy and me having an abundance of determined optimism. We may have been misguided, pathetic, and goofy looking, yes. A domestic threat? Nope.

We could tell that he was truly baffled. Who were these crazy, seemingly clean-cut middle-aged folks with a small kid, and what were they doing? Part of it was his New York-ness, part of it was good old American friendliness and the idea that there are almost no questions which are off-limits, and part of it was that perhaps we weren’t what he usually saw coming down his line at the immigration stand. Welcome to America.

We must note that of all the immigration entries we’ve been through in all of the countries we’ve seen, including communist Vietnam, the United States is the most intimidating country to enter. The forms were a source of confusion for many of the people traveling with us--the Uzbeks next to us were having a particularly difficult time filling theirs out--and a combination of the video instructions for the forms and the impression that answering a question wrong (either by mistake or by having the wrong nationality) would get you a fast pass to Guantanamo Bay, caused a great deal of worry. But then, in classic American form, once the immigration procedures were completed on the plane, they put up a big sign welcoming people to the US and stating that they had the right to a courteous greeting, among other things (unfortunately I couldn’t take a picture due to security regulations), as they tried to soften the severe procedures.

Since we had visited NYC a couple years ago and seen all the major sights then, we felt no compulsion to do anything touristy. My friend Rhonda came up from Washington DC to spend the weekend with us, and we shopped, ate, and talked. It was wonderful. Most of the clothes I’ve been wearing have been in my pack since August and so I couldn’t get to an Ann Taylor Loft quick enough to get something new to wear. We satisfied some cravings for things we can only find in America (eggs benedict, iced tea, root beer, limeade) and made a couple pilgrimages to huge bookstores. Dylan had her own agenda, off to the American Girl Doll Store and Dylan’s Candy Bar!

And the conversations! Rhonda and I had long, drawn-out conversations that lasted four days, meandering their way from topic to topic in a way that is impossible to do on the phone. They were soothing to my travel-weary psyche.

We love New York! But it’s not time to come home, not yet. It will be a while before we get back to Portland. Our plans are to explore the United States for a few weeks. First we go to Florida to see the final Disney on our to-do list. Then take a trip up north to visit the Boston Wells, and make a stop in Colorado to see most of my family. Once we get back home, we know that it will be a while--at least a few months--before we get to travel, so we’re ending with a bang!

Upcoming: our final posts of the trip: what’s it all about, was it all worth it, reflections from Only-Planet and Travel Rat, and where do we go from here. Also the Werking Wells Travel Index, the numbers behind the story.

Prague, Czech Republic: A Postcard from Prague

2006-05-25T02:09:00.000-07:00

Greetings from our first formerly-communist country on this trip, the Czech Republic. Prague is a beautiful, ancient city that has managed to not be destroyed through its tumultuous history. It’s about as modern as other places we’ve been in Europe and getting around is easy, but the Slavic language remains totally incomprehensible to us.

We’re here with Andy’s parents Mike and Phyllis, and they are getting up early and scoping the sights out, while we sleep in and then meet them later in the day to pick and choose among the best things to see.

They are great tour guides (it’s their first time here as well!) and we’re having loads of great food, beer and fun together.

Andy celebrated his birthday here, complete with chocolate cake in an incredible art deco style tea room.

Wish you were here. Must run, the Museum of Communism is calling…

Kristiansand Norway: On top of the world, living at the top

2006-05-19T10:35:00.000-07:00

It must be hard for Norway to avoid feeling a bit smug, seeing as how it’s constantly ranked in the top three by the United Nations as the country with the combination of best life expectancy, education levels and income. Our expectations were high for this small country of 4.5 million people, where there is a 100% literacy rate, all Norwegians learn English, and your average taxi ride for six blocks costs US$12.

We came to Norway because a friend we met in Portland, Norunn, lives here with her daughter Victoria, and she extended an open invitation to visit her in Kristiansand.

Dylan and Victoria were in a playgroup together when they were a year old, and other than a short visit a few years ago we hadn’t seen or talked with Norunn until this spring, when we were making our plans to travel around Europe.

She was a great host to us, ensuring that we got a full dose of Norwegian culture, sights, and especially food while we were here.

Norunn encouraged us to come for Sytten Mai (17th of May), the national constitution day holiday, where the children take to the streets in the national costume, waving flags and singing songs. Interestingly, this is the only national day we’ve heard of which is not marked by military pomp and circumstance, guns, or veterans of wars. It was impressive to experience such a fun celebration of national pride.

Indeed the most energetic displays of Norwegian craziness were by the high school seniors called russ, who wear red overalls to identify them as the trouble makers they are, yelling in the streets, blowing whistles, spraying silly string, and throwing out their name cards to people along the street. But even they are not a permanent fixture, for once Sytten Mai is over, they hang up their pants and resume the orderly Norwegian life expected of them.

Some critics say that it’s social engineering that has brought about the high standard of living. Mothers receive a nine-week mandatory paid maternity leave; the payment schemes for job severance, child care and all the cradle-to-grave services boggle the mind; and the expenses for such an affluent country are truly stroke-inducing for those of us from countries where you can pick up a flat of food at Costco for less than a couple of bags of pasta here. Although we could get used to the fantastic scenery, the rocky granite coastlines and the clean orderliness of Norwegian cities, we have problems accepting the fact of a US$26 hamburger and fries, or a US$10 salad at McDonalds.

After learning that Norway is at the top of the livable countries list, we checked out the UN web site and discovered that we’d visited countries at both ends of the rankings. And that is one of the most incredible things about this trip: seeing the great range of what we can do as humans.

Dublin Ireland: Tragic angst need not apply

2006-05-14T03:46:00.000-07:00

The rainbow stretching over the parking lot of the tiny Kerry airport was an auspicious omen for our arrival to Ireland. I told Dylan that we should watch out for the leprechauns guarding the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, but after the incident with the hamsters (or lack thereof) in Amsterdam, she wasn’t in a mood to believe me. We did find the gold, however, but it took a few days.

We decided to “go rural” in Ireland and rent a car so that we could travel at our own pace and not be on one of those huge bus tours through the Ring of Kerry and the Dingle Peninsula.

From Killarney we drove to Cork to kiss the Blarney Stone,

and then to Kilkenny before stopping in Dublin for a few days.

Although Ireland has been on the top ten list of countries I’ve wanted to see, there weren’t specific castles or historical sites beckoning me. I wasn’t even sure what the Ring of Kerry or the Dingle Peninsula offered the explorer. But what I saw kept me saying to Andy that this Ireland wasn’t what I was expecting, and he wanted to know what it was I had hoped to see in Ireland.

It wasn’t a thing, you see, but a feeling. I was looking for the Ireland of tragic angst. The Ireland of gray rainy days, ducking into a pub with your mates and hearing a band like the Chieftains merrily playing along. I was looking for the poor but scenic Ireland with tiny ramshackle houses, recently left by immigrants to the New World as they sought their fortune. I was expecting to see the Irish of the famine, with cheeks hollow and bodies bent from hard work and hunger. Not really the last one, but this was not the Ireland that Michael Collins, James Joyce, or even Van Morrison led me to believe existed.

No, this Ireland was filled with hundreds of new homes in every town, folks driving Mercedes Benzes and other fancy cars, and the girls were more than well-fed, more often than not sporting muffin tops dangling over their low-rise jeans.

Since the 1990’s when the economic powers of the Celtic Tiger became evident, Ireland has seen a surge in immigration, employment (it has one of the lowest unemployment rates in Europe) and development, which in turn feed the economy. In Ireland it is now possible to get a Mexican dinner in Cork and a Vietnamese meal in Dublin. We know, because we’ve had both!

We weren’t sure we were gauging the mood in Ireland correctly, but actually in The World Is Flat, Tom Friedman says that “Ireland today is the richest country in the European Union after Luxembourg. Ireland has a per capita GDP higher than that of Germany, France and Britain. Today nine of the world’s ten top pharmaceutical companies have operations in Ireland, as do sixteen of the top twenty medical device companies and seven of the top ten software firms.”

Believe it or not, Ireland had more foreign investment in 2004 from America than China did! Dell computers are the largest export from Ireland and Ireland hopes to double the number of PhDs in science and engineering by 2010. Even Subway sandwiches has lofty goals and hopes to have 2010 Subway franchises open in Ireland by 2010, a dubious side effect of all this development. The gold was at the end of the rainbow, but it wasn’t in a black pot, but scattered all over the country, as they scurry to modernize, develop and ride this Celtic tiger to its next stop.

It took a little more digging than I thought it would to find the Irish of yesterday, or more accurately the Ireland of Guinness advertisements.

Arriving in Dublin in a blinding rainstorm, we heard a radio report that Ireland has an unusually high number of suicides, so there must be some amount of angst. The news of the number of road fatalities that weekend was given in an Irish lilt, and we did eat soda bread, stew and boxty, a dish developed as a result of the famine, where scarce potatoes were grated and filled like a crepe, but with filling meats for us rather than the nettles which might have been served during the mid-1800s.

We’re learning that it’s painful to have too many expectations when we travel to another country. That traveling through a different land usually does not mean time traveling, and that the place you were inspired to visit because of the novels, music or history often does not match up to the modern reality. And why should it? Kipling’s India, Dickens’ London, and Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Minnesota just don’t exist like they did. Time marches on, but I can’t help to feel that something is being lost in the quest for globalization, because if Tom Friedman is correct and the world is becoming flat, then doesn’t that mean that it is also becoming homogenized? Or as Joni Mitchell sang, “They paved paradise and put up a parking lot.” Perhaps for centuries travel writers have been bemoaning the march of progress in such scenic places as Ireland, while embracing the tools (jet travel and email are great). But for now we say, get yourself out there, and see the windswept coasts, the emerald green fields, and the ragged rock walls before they become somehow changed, like the other parts of Ireland we fear that we missed.

London, United Kingdom: It’s not easy being green

2006-05-02T03:05:00.000-07:00

Our friend Amanda, who’s currently using our blog as a teaching tool for her 4th and 5th graders, emailed us with a question from her class, asking us what’s the price of gas in London? Good question class. Here’s your answer:

That’s 94.9 pence per liter. 94.9 pence is US$1.74. There are almost 4 liters to a gallon, so that ends up being US$6.96 per GALLON, kids. This is the most expensive we’ve seen. New Zealand and Australia were almost US$4 per gallon. Not only does gas cost a fair bit, but there is also a surcharge on cars found within the city limits of London during the prime hours (7am-6:30pm Monday-Friday ) of US$15 because there are so many cars on the road that they figure charging a lot will help deter drivers and relieve congestion.

Here are a couple of other interesting things we’ve noticed about London that you wouldn’t find in the guide books. It’s not the most environmentally green place. For one of the largest, richest capital cities in the world, there are a few things that leave us floored. There are signs that say recycle your cans and bottles but we’ve found no recycling receptacles anywhere. There are no trashcans in the Tube, but more than anything, I think that is an anti-terrorism measure. Trash is left in plastic bags on the side of the street, to be picked up every morning, and as far as we can tell there are no charges for the number of bags you leave. In Portland, we are charged by the amount of trash we throw away, as judged by the size of our garbage can, and a separate truck handles paper, glass, and other recyclables, which are free. In fact, there is a heavy demand among Portlanders for recyclable soft drink cans since they are worth money, but no such luck here.

There is no charge for water usage here. Britons are not on metered water systems, so no matter your use (refilling the hot tub every other day, having toilets that flush for 5 minutes, watering the garden during one of the omnipresent rain showers), no one is the wiser. And unlike other European countries, there are no charges for bags in the grocery store, like we found in Germany and Switzerland.

I guess I’m not the only one who’s felt like London is quickly becoming America. Andrew Sullivan wrote this article in yesterday’s London Times, which mirrored many of our thoughts, down to me facetiously calling the UK the 52nd state (after Canada—ooh, I’m gonna get some glares for that one…), though I wasn’t aware that some Americans loathe the US more than the British who were polled. Remember kids, play nice. It’s a small world we live in after all. Off to the greener hills and a wee bit of the blarney in Ireland.