Santiago Saturday

I have thoroughly enjoyed my first day in Santiago. After the very-filling lunch, we drove to Parco Forestale and walked around the city. Santiago is a beautiful place - the architecture is strikingly European, with broad tree-lined boulevards and the signature mix of more classical buildings with apartments and other edificios erected in a 1970s style. It is strikingly clean to me, for a big city. And it feels deceptively small. As we drove around, I felt as if I were in a medium-sized town... but when we ascended the surrounding foothills and I got a view of the city itself, it is expansive, and most certainly an urban center.

We visited the Fine Art museum, which I enjoyed very much, stopped for a coffee, and wandered into a little counterculture shop called The Clinic, where I found some very funny tee shirts and other paraphernalia. We otherwise wandered around for the afternoon.We'll go to a barbecue tonight, and Alvaro's parents will return to town tomorrow afternoon sometime. It has been a lazy day, and it's time for a nap.

Ahi Chileno and Mostaza... Yummmmmmm

I disembarked the plane, paid my $131 reciprocity fee (thank you, U.S. foreign policy), and steered my bags through customs. I'd been stopped at every security checkpoint in Atlanta because I was carrying - get this - a 20-lb portable battery pack, with enough juice for 240 kilowatt-hours. It's also packaged in tight-fitted backpack-ish black and orange zippered case... making it look like a very neatly packaged and massive bomb. (This was an installment from Alvaro, who shipped it to my office with a Puss'n'Boots smile asking, "hey, can you take something back for me?" Twenty pounds and one massive carry-on later, I schlepped my pseudo-bomb for all the inspectors in secondary.)

No one in Chile seemed to care - or notice - what I was carrying.

I'd dressed nicely for the flight - or rather, for being picked up from the flight (I am a proponent of the Bob Hope and Sark theory of pajamas on a plane), since I was expecting to go straight to Alvaro's house to see his mother, and meet his father, sister, and brother-in-law for the first time. This is the only reason I was wearing pressed khakis, a white button-down, a corduroy jacket, make-up, and - the coup de grace - heels. As I teetered along, 20-pound pseudo-bomb in tow, I bubbled with excitement at seeing the boyfriend, and meeting the family.

I met Alvaro at the airport, a touch delirious from the flight, and he gave me a quick tour of the city on the way to his house. I quickly learned that his family was out of town. I promptly removed the heels with a huge grin.

After dropping off the bags, we set off for my first escapade in Santiago. The weather was perfect - around 70 degrees F, streaming sunlight, clear skies, cool breeze. We visited a diner in the Providencia district, very close to his family's home. This place is a true diner, with people sitting on stools at bars lining the walls, and around the bar. The place buzzed with friendly chatter and neighbors who knew each other. Alvaro had spoken highly and repeatedly of a sandwich here - the "Italiano" - which has the pulled pork of a Cuban, tomato, avocado, and homemade mayonaise, on homemade bread. He ordered two, and Coca Lights (I love Coca Light - so much better than Diet Coke or Coke Zero). As we waited on the food, I noticed ketchup and mustard bottles, which he immediately warned me were not ketchup and mustard, but a spicy red chile sauce, and a sweet and sour type mustard. He warned me to steer clear.

The sandwiches arrived, and I enjoyed mine - but something was missing. A certain bite. I decided to try the "ketchup" and "mustard," despite Alvaro's warnings... and boy, I found what was missing. Amazing. It's like ketchup laced with Tabasco, and dijon mustard with the consistency and tang of sweet and sour sauce. It made the sandwich perfect. Really perfect. We decided it would be a great addition to the Vortex menu. And the ahi Chileno and the mostaza will be coming home with me. I will share. :)

And the adventure began in Atlanta

So! I rode to the airport, bubbling all the way. Matt was a wonderful chauffeur. There is something invigorating, tingling, and auspicious about arriving at an airport. This happens for me whether I am the one traveling, or whether I am simply dropping someone off - but it is stronger when I am the traveler. I like the possibility of the airport, and the adventure of travel. Much like Robert Frost's "Birches," it is "good both going and coming back."

I checked in at the curbside Delta spot, where my massively huge bag was overweight by four pounds. The Delta checker gave me a very stern look and asked if I realized that the overweight fee was $200. Dismayed, I said I'd just have to pay it - it was too late to redistribute or take anything back. He then gave me a wink and a smile and said, "you just pay it next time. But rearrange your bags before you return - not everybody is as nice as me." *Relief.*

And I'm off!

Or so I thought.

I arrived at the T-gate in plenty of time ... meaning 3 hours before the flight. I settled in to read my book (The Translator by Daoud Hari - amazing), and people began to filter in. Slowly at first, and then the crowd grew to a dizzying crescendo of disgruntled and panic-stricken stand-by passengers desperate to get on the flight.

I am flying on a buddy pass.

Not good.

I made friends with a Chilean guy about my age - he's from Seattle, and he's spent the past three nights sleeping in airports trying to make it home to Santiago on a buddy pass. He started in Seattle, then New York, and then finally bought a ticket to Atlanta, since it had the least-full flights to Chile.

Three days. VERY not good.

"I've done this for three days," he told me. "And you have to keep talking to the guy behind the desk, they will ticket you faster." So we chatted. A lot. I was a bit skeptical - the American in me knew that we had priority points on each ticket, and that the very harried guy behind the desk, Stephen, was not connecting names with faces, so I doubted that my chatting was doing any good. Each time I looked dubiously at my companion, he had encouraging words. At last he asked, "Have you seen the movie Shrek?" I nodded. "Be Puss'n'Boots... the helpless smile, it will work for you." I at least started laughing.

Both of our names were low on the priority list, and continued to get lower as other bumped passengers showed up. I was nervous and a very unhappy camper. And then the guy at the desk started chatting with us. We just stood in line with ticketed passengers, and he asked to see our tickets. "We're on buddy passes," I said. And, my companion put his arm around me lovingly and said, "we're traveling together." I thought, what the hell? and played along. "Yes," I said, wrapping my arm around my new "friend" and taking both of our passports and presenting them to to Stephen. Who proceeded to laugh out loud.

"Guys, you are not together... you got here separately." We gave the Puss'n'Boots smile as if to say, "c'mon, it's funny." So Stephen the ticket guy gave us a laugh and a wink and took our passes, and entered us in the computer. He said, "Alright, Mr. and Mrs. (forgot the guy's last name), here are your boarding passes ... hey, stranger things have happened in an airport."

After several celebratory high-fives, my near-tearful and sleep-deprived Chilean companion and I boarded the plane. I thanked him by offering him the most valuable thing I had on me - ambien for the flight. :)

I'd hardly eaten anything that day, so I popped the ambien and was asleep before takeoff. I have vague memories of my companion waking me for dinner, and eating something chicken-ish, and sleeping again. I woke up to breakfast wrapped in blankets, my new friend's jacket, and buried in pillows. A very successful flight, indeed.

Thus began episode one.

Ooo, it's been a WHILE!

Hi, everyone... or perhaps just me, since I never update this. It's been over a year - and so much change! I'm still an immigration attorney, and very much enjoying it. True, they "don't call it going to play" - it's definitely work - but I am becoming more adept each day as I venture into the murky and treacherous swamp of U.S. immigration law and regulation... and customary practice.

I'm now co-chairing a nonprofit, GAIN, the Georgia Asylum and Immigration Network. We help coordinate and provide pro bono legal services for individuals in need of asylum and other immigration assistance, and we are soon to expand into VAWA (Violence Against Women's Act) and U and T visa cases. I love working with GAIN, particularly helping steer policy. We assist the most vulnerable subset of an exceedingly vulnerable population. The work is more rewarding than I can describe.

As is always the case when I write, I am about to travel! My last trip of note was last April, when I went to Anna and Phil's wedding in Newcastle, in the UK. I attended the hen night on Friday; traveled through Scotland (Edinburgh and Aviemore and many an Indian restaurant) with Colette and Alex for a week, and then rejoined my girls from France (Anna, Melissa, and Katheryn) for the wedding the following weekend. It was a magical trip - from lost luggage to my first hen night to Edinburgh with Colette to knee-deep snow and scotch-tasting with Russians in Scotland to almost-hare krishnas at Anna's wedding to a deeply moving last visit with Katheryn - the trip was memorable, and intense.

So now - I am off to Chile! Flying stand-by on a Delta Buddy Pass (thanks to Rhett and Melissa O'Brien!), going to Santiago from December 26 - January 3. I am going for my first visit. For the first time ever, travel is boy-motivated. I am dating a wonderful man (man? sounds funny, but is true... I'm 30, after all) who recently moved from Atlanta to Santiago, Chile. This trip is to visit him in his home (he is Chilean) and to meet his family (other than Mom - met her a few weeks ago, and she is delightful. She also seems to like me... Thank God!).

So - I am ready! Have packed and am waiting on my ride to the airport, the illustrious Matt. This trip is very different for me, as it's not motivated by wanderlust or exploring a new corner of the globe. It's so different, in fact, that my traditional buying and scouring of travel books has been somewhat limited. Of course, I bought my Culture Shock! Chile and my Discovery Guide, but I'm trying to develop as few preconceived notions as possible. I want to go into Chile with an eye toward discovery, but more by getting to know Santiago through my hosts' eyes, and through my own eyes, than by reading a book and forming a pieced-together mental picture. I remember when Mr. Tiller advised me about going to France that I should go with no expectations - just let myself discover it, let France just exist, and allow myself to enter the strange expatriate dance. That's what I did, and I fell in love with all the quirks, oddities, and inexplicable idiosyncrasies of the heart of the francophone world. That's what I intend to do again, to simply arrive and float into the Chilean dance. But I still have my book if I need it. ; )

Since I'm flying stand-by, I'll be waiting at the airport for, oh, a riveting 3 hours... so I'll probably post again. Doorbell rang! My ride is here! Here we go!!

Interlude to Peruvian Exploration

It has been quite a long time since I've written - and so much has happened! I've gone and returned from Peru (and likely parts of Bolivia, but that's another story...); completed Disciple I and joined my church; gone to Caterina and Samuele Sangiorgio's wedding in Modena, Italy; moved from my matchbox condo into a three-bedroom house with Kameko and Suzanne; started teaching Disciple I at my church; quit my job as an IP lawyer; spent a month in Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, and Tokyo (one very unplanned day in Tokyo, but we'll get to that, too...), mourned --and am still mourning-- the death of someone I love very deeply and, as of today, started a new career as an immigration attorney.  But all of these changes have been so good - overwhelming at times, and frightening at times, but oddly - in the midst of this - I am not reeling. I am anxious about stuff - sure! - but also very much at peace, very happy and fulfilled with the changes. Change is scary, even change in the right direction. But I'm sure I'm moving in the right direction. 

I want to write and process all of this as it happens to me, in chronological order. So oddly enough, the first post I'll make after all of this is about Peru! I'm really ready to write about it now. It was a lot to process at the time it happened - partly because it was my first venture into true poverty, and partly because of all of the changes beginning to stir in my life. 

So - Peru. I'd always wanted to go to Peru - but of course, the fact that I wanted to visit a place didn't make that place special at all. I want to go everywhere! But I wanted to go somewhere vastly different from the life I know. The point of travel for me is to understand and experience life differently. I say "understand" and "experience" because I don't believe that, on the level of possible human experiences, at least, that I can truly understand something until I've experienced it. I can read books, watch the History Channel, listen to countless tellers of tales, but for as far as my mind can carry me -- I cannot understand someone else's perspective until I live their experience - or as close to their experience as is possible. So Peru, the land of the Inca and, I was sure, a thousand other mysteries I didn't know about, was alluring to me. But more than Machu Picchu and the Andes and the Amazon, what really drew me is Peru's cultural distance from my American life. I wanted to taste and smell and sweat a different way of life. And Kameko invited me to go to Peru - so I signed on immediately. 

We flew into Lima to spend our first night. Our flight arrived late in the evening - maybe 9pm? The airport is a bustling heap of steel, escalators, gleaming tourist shops, posh Latin forms gliding through the crowds, and shabbily clad masses swirl and flow like river currents through the chaos. Our driver met us when we arrived and escorted us to our tour bus - a minivan, if I remember correctly, which was very nice. He drove us through the roads from the airport to Lima, about 20 minutes away, in the dark, pointing here and there to interesting places that were no more than hazy spots in the black around us. We squinted and nodded all the same, though, wanting to take in as much as possible. I asked the driver if he knew of a particular restaurant out on the Pacific that my Peruvian friend had recommended. He exclaimed in happy recognition and took us on a 30-minute detour, so we could drive past the ocean and the restaurant. We saw a lit terrace that seemed to hover over the water. Unfortunately, they require reservations, so we continued into the city of Lima, to our hotel. We did quiz our guide about places to eat and go out in Lima, in our area, and he recommended a particular district -- and I have completely forgotten its name. Argh. I can look it up. *Note: this will occur to me at about four this morning and I'll wake up and have an "aha!" moment and then go back to sleep - and it will be gone again.* Five minutes later: LARCOMAR!! Ha!**

Our hotel was in a tourist area, and was about like a Best Western or Holiday Inn... don't remember the name. It was humid - incredibly humid - and a slight salty smell pervaded the hotel, at least to my nose. We showered and threw on some clothes to go out. We walked first in the wrong direction (yes, I was partly responsible for that - I have zero sense of direction, I know) and found a Hyatt or other equivalent hotel. Surely, we thought, this isn't it... I was sorely disappointed, thinking that if I'd wanted to go to a Hyatt, I'd have driven to the one in Atlanta. But we kept trudging and asking questions - in surprisingly quiet and deserted, humid, hot streets - and walked our way to five or seven tall lighted towers-- called LARCOMAR!!! (yay, memory! I am SO not thirty yet...)-- and saw them overlooking some water. They were striking, but quiet, though we saw people walking toward them. We meandered in that general direction, taking pictures of a cool, if not dull, area. 

The few people we saw seemed to walk toward Larcomar and disappear into the shadows. We finally followed (stalked?) enough locals that we finally saw a stair leading underground. We followed them - and found the PAR-TAY! Restaurants, bars, clubs, shops - it was all there! Larcomar appeared to be a construction on top of an underground - and pretty hoppin' - hotspot. Nice!

We wandered in and saw the name of the bar our guide recommended. We filtered in and up to the bar. Wall-to-wall Peruvians! Everyone was laughing, dancing to lilting Latin music, drinking - we had FOUND it! This was the first night our whole group -- Kameko, Suzanne, Laura, myself -- were all together. But we had an early morning - 5am- flight, so Kameko and Suzanne just wanted to go out for one drink, to get a taste, so to speak, of Lima, and then turn in. Laura and I were "in," and while part of me had the energy to go out, I was mostly exhausted. 

We made it to the bar and managed to meet a local guy along the way - everyone was very friendly, and not just to us (though we did seem to be the only caucasians in the joint). Our handsome friend - black hair, sable skin like silk, piercing chocolate eyes- chatted easily with us, and asked, "do you know pisco?" 

"Pisco? No. What is it?" I asked

"Ah, you must know pisco. Pisco- the drink of Peru. Pisco sour. I order pisco sour for all. Yes?"

As four heads nodded, our friend gestured to the glowing Latina bartender, and four pisco sours appeared. Pisco is like the grappa of Peru, but much, much, better than real grappa (Sorry, Cate and Samuele, but my stomach threatens to leave me via my throat every time I even THINK of grappa.) (And grappa is like the clear equivalent of moonshine: smells, tastes, and hurts just like rubbing alcohol).  Pisco, like grappa, is a white lightnin' clear liquor made from grapes. Pisco, though tastes a helluva lot better. 

And the pisco sour, when I tasted it, was the best drink in the world.  It's pisco mixed with straight fresh-squeezed lemon juice, with a little water and -- in Peru only -- an egg white blended in, for thickness and to cut the acid of the lemon juice. Finish off with three drops of bitters, and voila! 

A note about drinking:  every drink I know that has the name "sour" in it is, to put it bluntly, a drink for those very new to alcohol. Weak, sweet, a little tart, and much more like candy than a real drink. If you have had enough amaretto sours to be drunk, you will have consumed enough sugar to hate yourself - and your amaretto sour - well into the next afternoon. So when it was a pisco sour, I thought - "hey, I know this game!" So I had three.

That would be mistake number one. And two. I'd originally wanted to go sleep - but after the first pisco sour I thought, "oh, why not another? It's our first night in Peru! Viva!" And I felt warm and wonderful in this underground local joint in Lima with three friends and Latin music flirting in our ears, and beautiful Latin faces (and men - let's be real) everywhere, half-talking, half-dancing.

Kameko and Suzanne, after our first pisco sour and trying to yell over blaring music (that realistically wasn't so much flirting as it was screaming) announced that they would go back to our hotel. I tried to reluctantly agree, but Laura - who had kept up with me drinkwise - and I exchanged a fun smile that said, "Oh, we are SO staying out...." and we did. Our third pisco sour later and suddenly it was 3am, and we had to be up at 5. Laura and I giggled our way home (very short walking distance) and crashed. We asked for a wakeup call. See? We are so responsible!!

So when the phone rang at 5:15, and Kameko and Suzanne were downstairs waiting with the cab, we were kicked into action. Oh, we got our wakeup call -- and I promptly hung up on the poor guy at the front desk. We took three-minute showers trying to wash the smell of pisco and smoky bars from our skin and hair. I felt surprisingly wonderful. I was thinking, "I am in Peru! I'm about to fly to the rain forest! ... uh-oh, I shouldn't be this happy... damn, I'm still drunk!" 

So I did my best to hold it together while we descended the stair and slipped clumsily into the van. We were welcomed by Suzanne and Kameko into our minivan by, "You guys smell like alcohol!!" Nice. And we did. But I was determined to (1) be (ok, act) sober, and (2) not complain. So we flew through the streets of Lima, back toward the airport, with me trying not to grin in the back seat. Score. =)

So we got to the airport and checked our massive packs. By this time - I needed food. And water. Badly. We found a McDonald's in the airport. A word: I hardly ever, ever eat at McDonald's in the States, but when you're away and need a taste (or hangover remedy) from home, it's predictable, greasy, salty, and it won't bite you back. So I gladly ordered a breakfast egg sandwich combo. I finished my meal - only I couldn't bring myself to eat the egg- and still craved hash browns, which I had downed with gusto from my combo. But the girls each ate theirs, except Suzanne, who took pity on me and gave me half. But there was a table of people next to us eating their combos - all except the hash browns! Selfish b@stards. How can you leave a hashbrown? Kameko and Suzanne egged me on, "Tif, why don't you just ask for it? I bet they'd give it to you. " It started as a joke. I even laughed at the idea for about half a second. And then, let's face it - I was a desperate woman, and I knew where those hashbrowns had been - and more importantly, where they HADN'T. There wasn't time enough to stand in line and buy more. So I staked out the hashbrown-forsaker table with shifty eyes and a slightly drool-dribbled lip. As they got up to leave, taking the UNTOUCHED hashbrown to its untimely end, Laura (God bless her) stopped laughing long enough to get up and ask, "Hey, excuse me. My friend is starving. And drunk. Could she have your hashbrowns?" The two people - as it turned out, native English speakers - looked around awkwardly (probably for hidden cameras) and said, "umm, yeah. Sure." Laura thanked them and laughed as she took the hashbrowns. Kameko and Suzanne laughed rioutously as I pounced on and devoured those hasnbrowns. They were the best hashbrowns I ever ate. Ever.

We boarded the plane, and I fell asleep instantly and slept the ENTIRE way to the small airport that would take us to the rain forest.  I tellya - three hashbrowns, two huge bottles of water, two advil, and four hours of undisturbed sleep on an airplane will cure a three-pisco-sour hangover. (I haven't re-run that experiment - once was enough).

Our trip to the Amazon will have to wait... I'm sleepy and it's time for bed. Goodnight, guys. Sleep well.

Peru: Pensive Impressions

Hi, everyone.

It's been three months since my Peruvian adventure, and I haven't yet written about the trip. That's been on purpose. It's not that I haven't had any thing to say - the trip was amazing - but I had to figure out what to say. This was a different type of journey that I'd ever taken. It's taken quite a bit to process.

Peru is very different than other places I've traveled. It is beautiful - there's no question about that: lush rain forest, murky swirling rivers, dramatic skies, brightly-clad campesinos and campesinas, sheer grey rock cliffs, vapor waterfalls plummeting to tumultuous rocky pools; glowing and tanned-faced children with mesmerising brown eyes; wooly llama and alpacas ascending rocky paths with surprising agility; sad-eyed artists with calloused hands displaying vibrant paintings that pulsed with life and hope. It is a land of unbelievable contrast.

The contrasts, while aesthetically beautiful (really - there's very little about this place that's not aesthetically mesmerising, in a good way) --are, for me, at least, psychologically riveting. I was staggered by the poverty and beauty that not only coexisted, but were unified.

Let me explain: we flew into Lima. We drove via taxi from the airport to the center city. On the way, I saw hills in the background, rising out of the polluted haze. These hills glowed with flat patches of pastel color, as if it were a painting in which Van Gogh's broad oil strokes met Monet's soft colors. It was beautiful. I wondered what this was? We drove closer. Then I saw-- these were shantytowns. Like in City of God, or any documentary about South America's urban poor. I was stunned, and a little disturbed, I have to admit, to realize that I'd found poverty-abject poverty-beautiful.

So I suppose my impression of Peru is that it is many-layered. Beauty covering poverty covering beauty covering more poverty. I've never seen such coexistence. So it's taken some time to process the contrast, and I'll be writing the story soon.

It was an amazing trip.

Spring Break '07 and Porn Stars

Hi, all ...

We had a great time in Miami. We're at the airport now and in the customs line from hell.

Awesome restaurant last night - barton g was the name. We ended up meeting an ex-"sex industry worker" - heather vietch - who now owns her own ministry, called jc's girls, to help women in the sex industry get involved in church and out of the sex trade. She still looks like she's, umm -- well, we thought she was a stripper or porn star when we first saw her, but then she started talking to us and told us about what she did. I googled her on my blackberry and sure enough - she's the founder of jc's girls.very cool lady. Fascinating.

Then we went to have drinks and meet friends at the delano- ben and chris, it was awesome. Thanks for the recommendation! And we ended up meeting one of scott zweigel's friends there - small world.

So we checked out of the clevelander, which is spring break fabulous. It is seriously a hugr bar with a semi-nice hostel upstairs, basically.

We spent the day shopping (zara!) And on the beach, and we're heading to peru tonight. Woo hoo!

Will post from peru if I can...

T

PS - so glad we missed the freezing weather in atl!

Happy birthday to ivy and julie + chang ... Tenny tenny chang chang, have fun at the party!

Liz hollander - thanks for meeting us in sobe last night! Looking forward to seeing you at the wedding!

T

Miami

Miami

We made it to Miami at one this morning. We were supposed to arrive at ten last night but our flight was delayed. We were hurtling down the runway for takeoff when the pilot threw the brake and we stopped. A "check parking brake" light came on and it had to be checked. To make a long story short, we sat on the plane on the runway for two hours while a mechanic determined that it couldn't be fixed. So we got off the plane and went back into the airport. I was pretty happy about that - we hadn't eaten dinner and I was STARVING. We ate at the Krystal in the airport (who knew Krystal was in the AIRPORT?) And boarded our second plane of the night.

We made it to Chrissy's be two in the morning and conked out. But bow, this morning, we're finally on vacation. Two days at South Beach, then Peru Saturday night. We're hoping tha we already met our quota of travel drama and the rest will be smooth sailing.

We decided that the theme of this trip is "it'll be FINE." We said it when Traveland folded. When the Peruvian agency almost didn't come through. When Kameko lost her passport. When the plane was broken. About Laura (our fourth travel companion - she's meeting us in Miami today but we have no idea when. It'll be FINE...). The Force be with us!

T

PS- Saw Mom, Jennifer, Will, and baby Manuel in the Atlanta airport! They met us at out gate. All are well but very tired from the trip to Guatemala.

Let the Games Begin

And begin they did, as soon as I got home from (a completely kick ass day at) work.

I went to the storage space for my apartment and dug out my pack - my beloved, wonderful blue-green pack that has been with me since my senior year of college. I love my pack. I bought it in the early spring of 2001. Leslie Buschbom - who is now Leslie Cadle - and I were planning our first European backpacking foray. I was about to graduate from undergrad; Les had a semester to go, but I would soon be moving to France. We decided that this was our do-or-die travel time, and we'd go to Europe for about a month.

Tingling with excitement and Delta Sky Miles one spring day, we solidified our travel plans and began shopping for our adventure. We drove up to the North Georgia Premium Outlets off Georgia 400, at Dawsonville. We felt and examined every article of backpacker-type gear at L.L.Bean, Timberland, and the North Face outlet - having no idea, honestly, what we were looking for, but thrilled and eager just the same. We bought the last two correctly-sized women's packs they had at North Face and drove home, wild-eyed and planning our trip.

We made it deliriously back to Athens, unloaded our treasure on the floor of my apartment, and did what any sensible women do with new purchases: we tried everything on, ran around the apartment doing the happy dance, and took our packs completely apart and reconfigured them in every way we could think of. Kind of like leggos or construx that you can wear. How cool is THAT? What an awesome day ... and thus began my pack.

That pack saw me through the month we spent backpacking: through the Five-Star Ferry ride from hell (which included cattle, pigs, Australians, Swedes, Greeks, a recently divorced and rather chatty-about-her-personal-life British woman, 23 hours, and more liquor than I ever dare consume again); through shady hostels in Prague, through falling asleep on the train in Florence and waking up in Rome (oops!), through hours and hours and hours of waiting in airports, at bus stops, and at train stations- including the most frightening place on earth, La Spezia at 2am; through train wrecks in Germany; through the worst train trip ever (that began with my discovery of Bob Marley ended in the worst red wine hangover ever); through Tiffany's stuffing jelly-sized packets of Nutella in her shirt and making a break for it (don't ask); through my discovery of ouzo and grappa; through "the cool thing about Salzburg;" through Greek beach paradise (Corfu - everything Jimmy Buffett ever wanted the beach to be); through Sarah cutting my hair on the beach; through Leslie losing her last shred of clean clothing ("Dammit, Smith, that was it for me!"); through the Augustiner Biergarten and the strongest and best-tasting beer I have ever encountered; through quiet Italian nights and sunsoft Mediterrenaen days. That pack's been there for my best adventures. So taking it out was like seeing an old travel buddy. I'm ready to go!

So I began packing for my next adventure, determined to take only the essentials - which is difficult when the "essentials" include massive, six-pound knee-high rubber boots. But these are indeed essential if they will help me avoid snakebite, so they're getting crammed in there. I proceeded to wash clothes, iron (don't ask) and participate in the ritual "try on every stitch of clothing I plan to take with me." This included a quality hour spent dancing around the house to Indigo Girls while wearing pink pajama shorts, a black yoga top, my new yellow and white rain jacket (which I love love love - thanks, REI), and my black knee-high rubber boots. Man, I was HOT. Okay, not really ... but I sure had fun! I will never as long as I live outgrow playing dress-up! Especially when the dress-up is a self-congratulatory "I'm going on vacation" dress-up. :')

About that time the phone rang - Kameko! One of the travel buddies and originator of this trip. Tingling with excitement and questions about what she was packing, I answered. The conversation went something like this:

Tif: Hey! What are you packing to wear in Miami?
Kameko: I haven't gotten to that part of packing yet. I've had the worst day ever.
Tif: Well, tomorrow will be better. What happened?
Kameko: No, it won't.
Tif: Of course it will! It'll be your birthday and we'll be in Miami, on our way to Peru.
Kameko: Not if I don't find my passport.
Tiffany: (meaningful silence)
Kameko: My boss is out of town and it really hit the fan at work. I erased all the music on my iPod - like ten gigs. I ruined a pair of pants. I haven't eaten. I'm not packed. And I lost my passport.
Tiffany: Umm...It'll be fine. When did you last see it?
Kameko: November. But I have a driver's license. Maybe I can go with a driver's license. I mean, it's South America ...
Tiffany: Getting there shouldn't be a problem. It's getting back into the U.S. that could be tricky.
Kameko: Oh, if I get stuck in South America, f*ck it! I just want to GET there. Do you understand that if I don't get to go on this trip I will have a complete meltdown? (NOTE: This is why I love traveling with Kameko. No way in hell are we turning back once an adventure is in place - it's "get there or bust" time. We have the same bald determination to make it happen.)
Tiffany: Yes. That's why we're going to find your passport. Umm, call the airline and check to see what documents you need.
Kameko: Yeah, I mean, I have a Georgia driver's license...

Kameko is much better traveled than I -- I think she's visited six of the seven continents, and most of them multiple times. She's had the Day from Hell and has managed to lose her passport and is clearly distraught because she's talking about using a Georgia driver's license in lieu of her passport. Hmmm.

She calls back.

Kameko: I'm a moron. Of COURSE I need a passport.
Tiffany:I was afraid of that.
Kameko: So Miami has a passport office. We could change our flight and go down early and see if we can get one issued on an emergency basis ... but they'll be closed for Good Friday... so we'd have to go tomorrow, if they're open...
Tiffany: I can leave whenever - just give me time to get to the airport and I'll go early with you. Umm... Have you looked in the trunk of your car? Your purses? Under your car seats?
Kameko: Yep. This can't be happening! (Minor meltdown) I'm going to keep looking ...
Tiffany: Hang in there. It will be fine. I know it will. (thoughts: please please please let it be fine...)

I keep packing and start trying to cull my appointed clothes. Kameko's situation is nagging at me ... what would we do without Kameko, our partner in crime? It will be fine ... of course it will be fine. There's no other option, now, is there? My pack is pretty full, but if I dump the rubber boots and cut some airholes, Kameko might be able to fit in there and survive the flight. Then again, I don't want to be arrested for human trafficking. I'm sure we could explain everything and avoid involving Peruvian law enforcement, Interpol, and the DEA. I mean, what good is a law degree if you don't put it to practical use, right? And talking us out of involvement in the slave trade *definitely* qualifies as practical. Hmmm... The phone rings again.

Kameko (screaming hysterically): I found it! I found it!!
Tiffany and Kameko: (mutually deafened by the other's squealing)
Tiffany: Where was it?
Kameko: In my old purse! I'd already looked in there, but there's this zip pocket ... Now I have to pack! OMG, OMG, OMG...

See? Already an adventure - twice or three times over, when you count the Traveland SNAFU. Wonder what will happen when we actually LEAVE HOME...? We'll find out tomorrow ... we fly out for Miami at 8:21 pm. To celebrate Kameko's birthday in South Beach. With her passport. Woo hoo hoo!
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On a more sentimental note, I'm so happy. I have that wonderful, peaceful, "I'm about to go discover something amazing" feeling. I'm off to enjoy my last night of dreams in my own comfy bed.

T

Itinerary ... and The Humorous Side of Adventure

Woo hoo hoo! Peru is happening! This post is our itinerary and then my take on some of the travel tips ... the humorous side of adventure.

ITINERARY

The travel agency came through and we have a paid, confirmed itinerary. Here it is (I highlighted the cool stuff):

LIMA / PUERTO MALDONADO / CUSCO / LIMA
8Days / 7 Nights

April 07 ...../Lima
Reception and transfer from the airport to your hotel.
Arrival Flight 917 with American Airlines at 21:50pm
Overnight in Lima at La Hacienda Hotel

April 08 Lima / Puerto Maldonado
Arrival & Reception by Guide. Our guides are biologists, tourism professionals, or community members. Unless noted otherwise, our guides speak English. Transfer Airport to Puerto Maldonado Headquarters., we will welcome you at the airport and drive you ten minutes to our Puerto Maldonado headquarters. While enjoying your first taste of the forest in our gardens we will ask you to pack only the necessary gear for your next few days, and leave the rest at our safe deposit. This helps us keep the boats and cargo light.

Puerto Maldonado to Tambopata River Port. Skirting Puerto Maldonado, we drive 20 kilometers to the Tambopata River Port, entering the Native Community of Infierno. The port is a communal business. ( 2 hours 30minutes ) Tambopata River Port to Refugio Amazonas. The two and a half hour boat ride from the Tambopata Port to Refugio Amazonas will take us past the Community of Infierno and the Tambopata National Reserve´s checkpoint and into the buffer zone of this 1.3 million hectare conservation unit. ( total is 04 hours more or less Puerto Maldonado port to Refugio Amazonas )Boxed Lunch. Orientation. Upon arrival, the lodge manager will welcome you and brief you with important navigation and security tips. Dinner.Caiman searches. We will be out at the river's edge at night, scanning the shores with headlamps and flashlights to catch the red gleams of reflection from caiman eyes. Overnight in Refugio Amazonas.

Itinerary:
Lima / Puerto Maldonado Flight 073 Departure : 0905am Arrival : 1135am

April 09 Puerto Maldonado
Breakfast. Sachavacayoc Oxbow Lake: A two hour hike takes you to Sachavacayoc Lake. You will then paddle around the lake in a catamaran, searching for the resident family of five giant river otters (seen by about 30% of lake visitors) and other lakeside wildlife such as caiman, hoatzin and horned screamers. We hike out at dawn - when otters are active. Don't forget the two hour return hike! For those who do not want to take the long hike Condenado Lake, thirty minutes from the lodge, is an option.

Farm Visit and Ethnobotanical Garden: Five minutes downriver from the lodge lies a farm owned and managed by charismatic Don Manuel from the neighbouring community of Condenado. He grows a variety of popular and unknown Amazon crops - just about every plant and tree you see serves a purpose. He has also identified and cultivated many of the medicinal plants used in the region in a little backyard garden.

Brazil nut trail and camp: A few minutes hike from the lodge is a beautiful old growth patch of Brazil Nut forest that has been harvested for decades (if not centuries) where the precarious remains of a camp used two months a year by Brazil Nut gatherers can still be experienced. We will be demonstrating the whole process of the rain forest's only sustainably harvested product from collection through transportation to drying. Includes Lunch and Dinner.

Night walk. You will have the option of hiking out at night, when most of the mammals are active but rarely seen. Much easier to find are frogs with shapes and sounds as bizarre as their natural histories. Overnight in Refugio Amazonas.


April 10 Puerto Maldonado

Breakfast. Parakeet clay lick: A fifteen minute boat ride and sixty minute walk from Refugio Amazonas is a parakeet clay lick. From a blind you will see parakeets descend on most clear days to ingest the clay on a bank. Species such as Dusky headed and Cobalt winged Parakeet descend at this clay lick. We visit the lick at dawn, when parrots are most active or in midmorning or early afternoon, when they are active.

Mammal clay lick: Twenty minutes walking from Refugio Amazonas is a peccary clay lick. These wild rain forest pigs show up in herds of five to twenty individuals to eat clay in the late morning. Chances of spotting them are around 15%, but well worth the short hike. Other wildlife also shows up including deer, guan and parakeets. Lunch.

Canopy tower: A thirty minute walk from Refugio Amazonas leads to the 25 meter scaffolding canopy tower. A bannistered staircase running through the middle provides safe access to the platforms above. The tower has been built upon high ground, therefore increasing your horizon of the continuous primary forest extending out towards the Tambopata National Reserve. From here views of mixed species canopy flocks as well as toucans, macaws and raptors are likely. Dinner.

Tambopata National Reserve Lecture. Nightly lectures prepared by the staff of Refugio Amazonas cover conservation threats, opportunities and projects in the Tambopata National Reserve. Overnight in Refugio Amazonas


April 11 Puerto Maldonado / Cusco
Breakfast. Transfer Boat - Refugio Amazonas to Tambopata River Port. Transfer Tambopata River Port to Pto Maldonado Headquarters. Transfer Pto Maldonado Headquarters - Airport. We retrace our river and road journey back to Puerto Maldonado, our office and the airport. Depending on airline schedules, this may require dawn departures. Boat Transportation. All our boats are 20 foot long, roofed canoes with 55 hp outboard motors. Daily arrivals and departures from every port are scheduled to meet every airline’s arrival and departure with a maximum two hour wait.

Upon arrival reception, assistance and transfer to your selected hotel
Visitors should take a short rest in order to adjust to altitude.

Between 13:30 hrs: City Tour visiting the Cathedral, Korikancha and main streets and the nearby ruins: Sacsayhuaman, Kenko, Tambomachay and Pucapucara. Return to the hotel. Overnight in Cusco at Hostal Cusco Plaza I

Itinerary:
Puerto Maldonado / Cusco Flight 074 Departure : 1200pm Arrival : 1250pm

April 12 Cusco / Machu Pichu
Breakfast at the hotel.

Between 05:30 to 6:00 hrs. departure from your hotel to the train station for a full day tour of Machu Picchu, the "Lost City of the Incas"" one of the most renowned examples of Inca architecture, due to their constructions entirely of stone, bearing in mind that modern mechanical devices were unknown in the era in which this monumental work was executed. Surrounded by lush cloud forest, the citadel perches in a mist-shrouded mountaintop.
13:00 hrs. Lunch included at Hatuchay Tower Hotels in Aguas Calientes
Afternoon at leisure.
Overnight in Aguas Calientes at Apu Majestic Hostal

April 13 Machu Picchu / Cusco
Breakfast at the hotel.
Morning at leisure.
5:30 hrs aprox: Train back to Cusco. Arrival and transfer to your hotel in Cusco.
Overnight in Cusco at Hostal Cusco Plaza I.

April 14 Cusco / Lima.
Breakfast at the hotel.
At proper time transfer to the airport to take the flight to Lima.
______________________________________________________________

Okay, so I'm ridiculously excited about this itinerary. We are spending three days in the Amazon Basin and rain forest - and we'll hike! I am so looking forward to packing in and out, night treks in the forest, canoes across the Amazon, climbing in the canopy. I've always wanted to do this -- it's kind of unreal that I'll be there in just a few short days. My office feels quite far away from this other world.

The Humorous Side of Adventure...

So along with our itinerary, we received a page of Travel Tips. I've included the more humorous of them below, along with some commentary:


Travel Tips

Broad-brimmed hat - Rain suit or poncho - Insect repellent - Small denomination bills - Small daypack Can anyone say "Deet"?

Luggage is hand-carried at various stages in the trip for long distance. We strongly recommend you limit your weight to 15 kilos (32 pounds a piece). If you are visiting other destinations in Peru that require different kinds of clothing, you can always pack separate bags and safely leave them at our offices in Puerto Maldonado on the first day so we won't be carrying them around uselessly. Your bag will be waiting for you at the airport the day you leave. Umm, yes. I learned my lesson when in Europe last time schlepping that huge, stupid, stupid behemoth of a bag that just about outweighed me. No more. I am taking my pack and the bare essentials.

Yellow Fever Inoculations Yellow : fever inoculation is required for travel to Tambopata. Done. And it hurt.

Emergencies In case of emergencies we have a first aid kit that is equipped to deal with most cases that may reasonably arise in the area. Our guides are all certified by the Red Cross, which means they are prepared to deal with foreseeable emergencies (broken bones or snake bites, for example) but not complex emegerencies (such as an appendicitis). For snake bites, we have a stun gun, extractors and an anti-venom at the lodges. In case of evacuation, we need to travel by boat by to Puerto Maldonado. During the day, evacuations take about 20% less time than our regular boats. During the night, evacuations take about 30% more. In Puerto Maldonado there is access to a state clinic. OH. MY. GOD. Snake bites are foreseeable in the Amazon - I get that. But not a "complex emergency?" I can promise you that if I ever get bitten by a snake, that qualifies in my book as a "complex emergency." And stun gun??? What the hell kind of snake needs a STUN GUN? Wait, don't answer that ... I'd rather not think about it.

This reminds me of the book A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson. Bryson was preparing to hike the Appalachian Trail and began reading up on various safety measures he should take, which naturally included precautions against mountain wildlife. He ran across a book warning him, "If you see a bear, don't run." His response was, "Right. This is clearly the kind of advice given by someone sitting at a computer when he gave it. If you see a bear, run. You might as well. It will give you something to do with the last seven seconds of your life. And when the bear catches you, as he most assuredly will, remember this: you don't have to outrun the bear. You just have to outrun your friend." Here, here. Maybe I'll start reading up on what to do if you encounter Amazonian snakes in the rain forest. If the answer is "scream like a girl and run," I'm *golden.*

Use rubber boots when heading to the forest or gardens at night. They reduce the risk of snake bites. Umm, yeah. I take it we're quite concerned about slitheries. I'm packing full body armor.

Guests Code of Conduct and Security Recommendations (Highilghts)

1. No smoking in the forest, nor in the boats (which carry gasoline). Clearly. I'm presuming that "fiery inferno on the Amazon" is one of those "complex emergencies" that they're not really equipped to handle.

3. Do not harrass wildlife - when sighting wildlife follow your guides instructions. No wildlife collection or manipulation, unless specifically authorized by Inrena. If you should come across hurt wildlife, leave it be. It is part of the natural processes of the wilderness. Yes. I will refrain from harassing or trying to help injured wildlife. Because what THIS American would *really* like to do is get Amazon wildlife good and pissed off just to test the warranty on those snake boots and the response time of the crack emergency team.

7. The lodges are highly flammable. Do not leave candles unattended and locate the nearest extinguisher. Why wouldn't "flammable" suffice? "HIGHLY flammable?" I guess if I am bitten by a snake, lighting up to calm my nerves wouldn't be such a good idea (No, I am not a smoker. But I could see how an Amazonian snake bite could make it comparatively not a bad immediate option).

8. Never go swimming on the Tambopata without a guide. Excuse my language, but no shit.

10. Always use life jackets on the boat, and wear light shoes that are easy to take off. Never have rubber boots on when in the boats. Okay, so we're concerned about the seaworthiness of our craft. Inspiring. And as for the "never have rubber boots on when in the boats:" Yes, but what will protect me from the fishies with razor sharp teeth in case of a capsize? On second thought, seeing as how many of those fishies will be as big as I am, the rubber boots wouldn't do much good anyway. Drowning might not be such a bad option. Maybe I'll invest in some shark mesh and a SCUBA tank.
__________________________________________________________________

Well, those are highlights from our itinerary and travel tips. This is going to be such an adventure - I am tingling with excitement! In my pre-trip reading, I learned that of the 103 ecological zones in the world, Peru boasts 83 of them. And 60% of the Peruvian population still speaks Quechua as a native language - Quechua being the language of the Inca. It is evidently a land of diversity, mystery, ancient civilizations, globalization and poverty, and precarious hope. I can't wait.

T

Peru!

Hi, everyone--

It's been an eternity since I've updated the blog, so I figured it's high time. Particularly since I'm leaving for Peru next Thursday!

I'm heading out on Thursday after work with my friends Kameko, Laura and Suzanne. It's Kameko's birthday, so we'll fly to Miami and spend Thursday and Friday nights in South Beach celebrating. Then Saturday morning, we wake up bright and early and fly to Lima. From Lima, we will travel to Cusco, Machu Picchu, and finally - the part I'm so excited about - the Amazon.

This trip has already been an adventure. We booked back in December with a company called Traveland, an American company with which Kameko had previously traveled to Brazil. She had a great trip. Based on her past positive experience, we decided to go with Traveland for Peru. We paid our money and were ready to go.

We thought.

About three weeks ago, Kameko got an email from Traveland entitled, "End of Operations." It read, "Dear Traveler - Traveland has reached the end of operations. By law, airlines are required to honor your flights. Please contact your travel insurance carrier for information." Except we didn't purchase travel insurance. So we started with Traveland. We called. The phone wasn't operable. We emailed. The emails bounced. We visited the website. It was gone.

Not good.

This happened immediately before the four of us were taking a girls' weekend trip to the mountains, so we got to powwow and figure out what *exactly* was going on that weekend. Essentially, we discovered that Traveland had, in fact, reached the "end of operations." We don't know what that really means in the business world, but what it translated into for several unlucky travelers in Colombia - who we found on a Traveland blog - was that they were stranded in Medellin. And drinking heavily.

Lest the same fate befall us - being stranded in South America, drinking pisco sours into oblivion while surrounded by alpaca and llamas, we decided that we'd have to come up with an alternate plan.

We called our various credit card companies and filed claims for reimbursement, and set about the task of figuring out what we were going to do in Peru for 8 days - where none of us had been before, without any reservations, without any of us speaking Spanish. Clearly, all four of us were determined to still make the trip, reservations or not. Kidnapping insurance be damned. We're going to Peru! This makes me think of the Guinness commercials -- "Brilliant!"

I'd recently made friends with a Peruvian guy, Benito - and I mean, I'd met him that same week - and so naturally, being the shy person that I am (haha) I called him to ask what we should do. In contrast to our bald determination to get to Peru sans travel plans, Benito WAS brilliant -- his mother and sister still live in Peru, his uncle owns a hotel in Lima, and best of all, one of his close friends has a travel agency. Within a few days, Benito had contacted the travel agency and we'd begun ironing out our itinerary. All the details aren't completely worked out yet ... umm, we haven't exactly booked, but we're working on it ... but we're going to Peru!

Wow, that doesn't sound as smart as it did in my head. But we're going to book soon - like today - as soon as the Peruvian travel agency confirms the reservations.

Actually, when I say it, it kind of sounds like we're still at the "Brilliant!" phase and just taking off for Peru with no plans. Guess we kind of still are. Hmm. And I've just realized that I will *not* be able to post this until itinerary IS booked, lest my parents have a stroke and kill me before I have a chance to hop the country. Damn. And I was all excited about posting, too.

Anyway - utterly undaunted - we're booking soon and regardless, flying off into the distance on Thursday! Miami promises to be a story in itself. We originally hoped to spend a few days with friends in the area, but that fell through. So we've booked a tiny hotel room in South Beach, ata place called the Clevelander. I picture something akin to college spring break. We have one room and two double beds for four girls. We're calling it Spring Break '07 ... in honor of our takin' it back to college days, I'm going to get an airbrushed tee shirt with fringe and beads. Kameko has already informed us that if anyone in Miami asks, she's turning 19 and we're all on Spring Break. Woo freakin' hoo, baby! Sippy cups on the beach. Score, bitches.

And Peru happens Saturday morning. While no vaccinations are required by the CDC, the portions of the Amazon we will visit are high-risk zones for yellow fever, typhoid and malaria. I got my vaccinations this morning (ouch) and they'll be effective within ten days. We reach the Amazon 12 days from now, so that's perfect timing.

Well - I'll keep updating, particularly once we have our itinerary booked with the new travel agency. Please, please, please let that come through ...

Tif

OK- so the itinerary just came through! We're on our way, and we have confirmed reservations. Yay!

Long Lost Update

HI, all!!

Anna, my British friend, this one's for you! I miss you!

I'm so sorry that I didn't finish the final trip update! The quick, quick version is that I went to Paris; saw Jean-Claude and Marie-Claude (which was absolutely delightful); went to Le Mans and visited Danielle Galloyer (one of my favorite people of all-time and an old French friend); and then flew home. I hate to say it, but I had the first horrible Parisian experience of my life. I have been something of a francophile and have always fiercely defended the Parisians and the French at large when those of other nationalities have criticized them for rudeness or giving them the "cold shoulder." First of all, that is not very French at all--they are a delightful, warm people; you've just got to know how to unlock the mysterious puzzle of social formality. It takes a while to make a French friend, but once you've made one, you have a friend for life. It's sealed. The French are beautiful people--Parisians can be somewhat questionable, I'll grant those critics--but the true French people of outside Paris? Wonderful. And I'd always thought (and experienced, truth be told) that if you know the language and some cultural cues, you can unlock the heart of the stoniest Parisian and thoroughly enjoy any sojourn in Paris.

I hate to say it, but I no longer defend the Parisians. This time when I was in Paris, I was traveling alone and much more cognizant of my surroundings and how people interacted around me. There was no travel companion to watch my bags when I ran somewhere, or help me carry things, or to help with the myriad details of travel. No biggie--so it makes life a little more time-consuming, but when you're traveling alone, time is all you've got! So I tried to settle into my rhythm of taking care of all the details patiently and alone, really just enjoying the time to tool around a beautiful city with no plans in particular. Note that when I travel alone, I make an effort to dress conservatively and wear nothing that is in any way revealing. I just don't want to call attention to my single femininity when I'm traveling alone. Being alone can invite unwanted attention, and I wanted to minimize that aspect of it as much as possible. Note also that my large eyes, dark tan, brown hair, and Middle Eastern background all culminated to make me appear distinctively Arab-Caucasian in Paris.

On seven different occasions (SEVEN!), I was approached and propositioned by older Arab men. My appearance and demeanor, I reasoned, must be sending some sort of cultural message in Middle Eastern terms that I was looking for companionship, or that I was something of an object. I was beyond affronted--I moved between livid, intimidated, somewhat nervous, and frustrated--what on EARTH was up? What could I POSSIBLY be doing to invite this? I wasn't smiling at people; I wasn't making eye contact; I wasn't doing anything but walking alone in nice areas--Tuileries, Louvre, Rive Gauche. But this was a special cultural circumstance, I decided, and most certainly not a reflection on Parisians. These were immigrants mistaking me for something I was not.

And then we came to the Parisians. On so many occasions I needed help--even someone in a restaurant to call me a taxi, when I was carrying heavy bags and late for my hotel--and people who are supposed to do those sorts of things (restauranteurs, etc.) were singularly unhelpful, and bordering on amused by my predicament. For example, when I realized that I may be late for hotel check-out, I had Danielle phone the hotel to ask if they would charge extra. "Oh, no," they replied, " the hotel isn't full. Just come back whenever." So when I came in later, after a very difficult day, the hotelier was angry and managed to charge me 100 euros extra--a whole other night!!--for being a few hours late to check-out, all this after I'd expressly been given permission. I spoke French. I knew the culture. And still they were right b@st@rds.

I was angry enough to go to my room and cry and camp out there long enough to make SURE that they wouldn't be able to prepare the room in time in case someone else wanted it for the night. I paid for it; they were NOT going to profit twice from taking advantage of me. No, sir. I was too tired and frustrated to make a huge scene and refuse to pay. I did argue over the bill, but the hotel clerk and the manager threw a bewildering barrage of French at me... and honestly, I just wanted to get out of there and go home.

The French outside Paris were beyond wonderful--Danielle even wrote a nasty letter to the hotel and called them, and even the Parisian taxi cab driver who took me to the airport was super nice. But truly--my patience for Parisians in general has worn thin. After years of giving them the benefit of the doubt and taking it upon myself to try to "unlock" them and--what's more--to defend them to critics, I abandon ship. If people think Parisians are nasty--well, it's just up to the Parisians to change their minds. I'm done with them. I'm joining the ranks of the critics. I kind of feel, in an odd sense, like the Parisians have betrayed me--I fought for them for so long! But to hell with it. Screw 'em. Give me the rest of France and the rest of the world--I've had it with Paris. You can't even find decent (remotely affordable) food there anymore, it's become such a tourist trap. So that's it for me and Paris! Pity the shopping's so good, though. ... well, maybe I can hold my breath and run through long enough to go to Galleries Lafayette, Zara and Mango...

Well, I got home and started work! I really love my job. I mean, a lot more than I thought I would. It's interesting, engaging, challenging, rewarding, and the people are so supportive and straightforward. I really like working as a real associate as opposed to a summer, because (1) I'm no longer on a job interview, and (2) I'm not being doted on. I'm really loving it! I love being settled--the continuity of existence, not broken up into semesters and exams and finite units that start and stop on a schedule. There's no rush to this existence--work is work, and it will (hopefully?) be there forever. It will ebb and flow, but I have a routine and a place that will be mine for (hopefully) a long time. I love the rhythm of it. It's peaceful, comfortable, and it feels like the race of "study so you can get good grades so you can get a job so you can..." is over. I've got the job and I like it. If any of that changes, we'll deal with it when it arises. For now, I'm quite a happy camper.

My birthday is coming up next week, and the girls from work and I are going to dinner. I'm also going to my parents' lakehouse with some friends. I went to the symphony last night, and I've started going back to yoga. Susie Pup is fabulous. My bed is soft and comfy and I've discovered a great new writer, Tom Holt. I've learned how to make espresso the real Italian way. I love my mom, dad, family and friends. Life is good. : > )

Paris!

Hi, everyone! I made it to Paris! I have plenty of time for the internet here since I am traveling alone, but it is supremely frustrating: the keyboard is different--many letters are in different places--so I'm typing slowly and between swearwords, which the other folks in the cafe find highly amusing.

Highlights include:

TAXI!! I arrived last night, very tired, at about 8h30 pm. I didn't have time to change currency and ended up in a taxi at 10pm that I couldn't pay for. I was concerned since Parisian taxi drivers are notoriously nasty. To avoid getting chucked out of the taxi, alone in the middle of Paris at 10pm, I decided not to mention the currency thing until we reached my hotel. We chatted--a lively conversation in French--on the way. I started to feel bad, though, since he was warming up and confessed that I had no Euros, only American dollars. He seemed a little irritated at first and then winked at me, telling me it was alright. In addition, when we neared the hotel and found the streets blocked off and police cars everywhere, he stalled the meter and snaked his way through the back streets to get me and my stupid behemoth of a bag as close as possible to the hotel. When we saw the police cars, he winked in that French way and said, "perhaps it is the Da Vinci Code?" since most of its beginnings took place in Paris. I laughed appreciatively-I had made friends with the impossible of impossibles--the Parisian taxi driver in August, late at night, driving an American! I gave him 20 dollars, which he almost refused and gave me too much back in change. What a welcome!

FLOWER BEDS? I walked through the Tuileries Gardens today, a large public park with impressive fountains and landscaped gardens. There aren't really any flowers, but the bushes make fascinating mazes to get lost in. As I walked, I noticed an elderly couple, probably in their eighties, inching along with their walkers. As I heard them speak, they turned out to be British. The woman stopped for a moment, took a critical and bewildered look around, and turned to her husband and said, in beautifully clipped and disappointed British English, "I thought there would be flower beds." I almost died. Hilarious! I immediately thought of you, Mr. Tiller...

I'm currently exploring the Latin Quarter, after visiting the Musée d'Orsay. I love this area, but I am always too excited about it and end up a little disappointed. All the street artists seem to paint the same scene, kind of destroying the point, you know? But it's fun to wander. Soon I'm headed to the best chocolaterie in the WORLD--La maison au chocolat on the Champs-élysées. Then I'll shop some and probably call it a day.

I'm meeting Jean-Claude and Marie-Claude for lunch tomorrow, and then I think I will go to London to visit my friend Katheryn. I want to go to Mont Ste Michel, too, but I'm not sure if I have time. Life is good...

Farewell to Scandinavia

Well, I'm off to Paris today. Andi and I got back from Sweden last night, and it felt so nice to get back to her home instead of the hotel room. There's just somthing wonderful about a home. We bought some duty-free champagne and chocolates (filled in the center with Remy-Martin... yum...) and enjoyed our train and ferry ride back heartily. We got back to her house around midnight and amused ourselves quite a bit... when you're a little tipsy, Danish is a really hilarious language. So Andi read random newspapers and magazines to me (she now speaks Danish) and we laughed and laughed and laughed and finally fell asleep around two.

Leaving Scandinavia, my impressions are mixed. I don't think I had much of a preconceived notion of what Scandinavia would be like--precise (as in, nothing is ever late, or dirty, etc.), eating a lot of fish, outdoorsy folks, cold weather, and beautiful landscapes. These impressions were all pretty accurate. Trains are so often on time that there is no mechanism for notifying anyone if a train is late--it just doesn't happen. There's simply no need for it. And everyone, EVERYONE speaks English. So that helps.

I was surprised that in order to get authentic food, you have to go to someone's home and have a cooked meal. Scandinavians are very thrifty and just do not eat out unless the food is foreign--kebabs, thai, etc. I was also surprised by how sensual the culture is. Danes and Scandinavians are very comfortable with the sexual side of human nature, and it is very openly and clearly expressed in everyday society. Nothing is lewd or prurient "improper"--it's just that a wider range of the gamete of human emotion is acceptable to express in everyday society, male and female sexuality. How to explain... for example, lyrics in a song by the musician Shakira that is very popular here is not considered racy or sensual; it's just honest--the lyrics say, "Underneath your clothes / there's an endless story/ there's the man I chose; there's my territory/ and all the things I deserve for being such a good girl, honey." There is no catcalling and no inappropriate behavior, but couples are very affectionate in public. Sixteen year-olds openly invite girlfriends or boyfriends to spend the night, and parents are entirely open about this behavior; it's just considered normal. Children are given an inordinate amount of autonomy and freedom, but in this culture--largely of similar values, greatly homogeneous and very compact and small--it's safer than in larger socieites. It's odd--ESPECIALLY with people so young-- but it is a very open existence. People talk about sex and sexuality in normal dinner conversation. It's strange, but very open and honest.

Oop! About to leave for the airport! Paris, here I come.

Something is rotten in Denmark

Actually, there´s nothing rotten in Denmark, but there´s plenty of stinky stuff in Sweden... primarily pickled herring and sketchy cheap sushi! Andi and I are in Sweden and enjoying it--except, of course, the food. Since Scandinavians rarely go to restaurants, there´s no way to buy authentic Scandinavian food, so we´ve been eating Thai, Kebabs, and sushi... I´m lobbying for more yummy Thai today.

The landscape is absolutely breathtaking and the air and water are so fresh and clean that it´s truly amazing. The people are so trusting and open--mothers frequently leave their infants in baby strollers outside the grocery store, unattended, while popping in for shopping. It is absolutely and completely safe (of course, there are random violent crimes--a few people remember 3 years ago when there was an armed robbery...!!!).

We are off to Scandinavia´s largest shopping mall today--not such a shameless place to spend a day since it is raining cats and dogs--we wouldn´t be able to see anything touristy or historical, anyway, if we tried. The weather is "chilly" for summer--sixty degrees or so. I´m cold! At first the contrast was nice compared to the sweltering heat in Puglia and the Georgia heat that awaits me back home, but now I´m ready for some good hot weather and sunshine, appropriate for water skiing and a day in the park.

Leslie Buschbom, Andi and I miss you so much! We thought of you yesterday when, to "warm up" we each drank a 50-cl bottle of Bailey´s and wandered around random haunts in Götheborg, stumbling (quite literally) upon botanical gardens and British rock climbers--who incidentally invited us to a party that night, but we didn´t make it. We drink to you! and sometimes excessively. and BTW, Andi told me about the yummy chocolates with whisky in them that she sent to you. She asked if I tasted them and my eyebrows furrowed and I squinted at her. " She didn´t share," was my only comment. You are SO not getting ANY Scandinavian chocolate from me when I get back, so you can just quit hoping. ;) Oh, Andi is reading over my shoulder and just told me it was a wedding present. So you can scratch that last comment--you´re not required to share wedding gifts. But I would have loved. And maybe, just maybe, I´ll bring you back some more. This is a perfect place for Beer Club. Ahh, missing the days...

I´m off to Paris on the 26th and will wander around the city shopping, eating crepes (just for you, Lauren! and yes, I registered the Stephane comment... ;)), and maybe popping to London for the day to see my friend Katheryn, and down to Le Mans another day to visit the city whre I used to live, even though no one is in town and they are all on vacation. I may also go to Mont Ste Michel, a place I always wanted to visit but never made it. I love traveling with friends, but it will be really nice to have 3-4 days alone to think and putz around and just enjoy my own company before teh onslaught of work.

Looking forward to being home soon!

A day in Como

I spent the next day in Como on the lake with Caterina. When we left Modena, Caterina became quiet and a little withdrawn. She buried her nose in a book and explained at the train station, "I am always a little bit depressed to leave Modena, my friends and family." This is another reason I love her so much! She is loyal and loves her family and friends dearly, and is straightforward enough to pipe up and tell her travel companion why she's a little withdrawn. I had guessed that's what it was, but I was glad to hear it all the same.

We arrived in Como that evening and took a taxi to her home. Cate studies in Milan but works in Como, so she bought an apartment in Como--Milan is exponentially more expensive and Como is exponentially more beautiful! She lives in a little top floor apartment in an old apartment building with a courtyard. The buliding is that beautiful signature Tuscan yellow, and everyone has flowers and herbs growing in windowboxes or on balconies. We trekked the 3 flights of stairs up with my 25-kilo bag (stupid, stupid, heavy behemoth of a bag... why, why, why did I pack so much?). We unlocked the door and I stepped in, and I loved it. Staying at Caterina's parents' home in Modena was wonderful--it was comforting to live with a mother and father and the normal goings-on of family life. But Cate's room was that of her childhood and had not changed much from when she was twelve. Her apartment was wonderful--it exuded her personality. There was hard wood, high ceilings, exposed brick walls, and a small but well-stocked kitchen. The ceilings had exposed wooden beams, and since the apartment was on the top of a building, many of the ceilings were slanted, as they were tucked immediately inside the slanting roof. It was cozy and inviting and filled with books, art, quotes, photographs, and sentimental trinkets. I was immediately and completely at home!

That night we boiled some pasta with pesto and lay down on the couches with the intention of watching a little TV or something... we ended up exchanging brain teaser / riddles, talking about board games, friends, family, and faith until 3am! We staggered to bed and slept well.

The next morning we woke up and went in to town. Her apartment is right in the city center, and I envy her easy walking distance to the Como lake and beautiful shops filled with Italian leather, lace, and fresh whipped gelato. We walked around the awe-inspiring lake tucked in the mountains / hills of the region. It was so gorgeous. I now see why George Clooney moved there! We strolled around the lake, looked at villas (many of which were used to shoot Ocean's Twelve, the film), window shopped, and stopped for lunch.

Now, lunch was an adventure. I hadn't eaten much breakfast and neither had Cate, but neither of us were very hungry. We decided to stop for an aperitivo first. Caterina had a flute of prosecco and I was torn between having an alcoholic drink or a LemonSoda--the world's best, fizziest, freshest, tart lemon drink (it even has lemon zest floating in it!). I soon remedied my problem when I ordered a vodka and lemon soda, with a twist of lemon.

And then the games began. I had forgotten how hard alcohol hits me when I've eaten nothing. Cate too, apparently, because after a little while sitting at a cafe on the bank of the Como lake, we were laughing, telling corny jokes, drunk dialing friends in America, and singing songs on the phone to the American friends. We had no intention of drinking much--and in fact, each of us only had one drink--but the rest of the afternoon was quite interesting and fun. At least I'm a happy drunk. Mostly I just told everyone how much I loved them. Good thing is, I mean it! As my drink was stronger than Cate's, I was drunk longer--and consequently, that much more effusive with my drunk-dialed friends. Cate couldn't stop laughing at me, rosy-cheeked, blurry-eyed and declaring my love for and peace with the world at 2 in the afternoon (which, incidentally, was all the more fun for my American call recipients--it was 10am there and I'm sure drunk dials to professional offices at 10am are just that much more amusing). The more effusive I became, the more Cate laughed, "In vino, veritas." In wine, truth. And it IS true-- I'm just that enamored of the people I love, and I'm generally just that happy with my life.

Even though we still weren't hungry--and at least one of us (an American who will go unnamed) voted to just keep drinking and forget all about food-- we did make a heavily Italian-influenced policy decision to get some lunch. Cate and I split a sandwich, and we met one of her friends from Como--ironically, named Caterina--at the cafe. Caterina 2, we will call her. Cate 2 spoke good English but excellent French, so the rest of our meal was spent with Cate 1 and me speaking English; the two Cates speaking Italian; and Cate 2 and I speaking French. It was really fun--and really challenging--to switch languages so rapidly. We got some really great stares from passers-by, who couldn't quite figure out just where we were all from.

Caterina 1 and I went to stroll around Como (and continue to sober up) and Cate 2 ran some errands. Cate 2 invited us to eat at her house with her parents that night, and we gladly accepted. She picked us up outside Como's Duomo (it is fabulously beautiful), and we got in the car to drive a little into the countryside.

The Tucci family lives in a restored 16th century villa that is beyond fabulous. There are vineyards; a 5th century church across from the grounds; an interior courtyard that used to be the marketplace in the 16th century--it was amazing. Cate2's brother, Paolo, was there as were her parents, who are both doctors. Her dad is an OBGYN and used to practice in San Fransisco (but they are all Italian by birth), and her mother is a neo-natal M.D. who also does emergency type work and just received a doctorate in homeopathic medicine. They were the kindest, most fascinating people! Once I got over the grandeur and splendor of the home, I was again immediately at home. We talked and ate until about midnight that night--it felt so nice to be with a family.

One thing that makes me feel so at home with Cate's family and friends is that all of them belong to a particular movement within the Catholic Church, the Communion and Liberation movement. Its emphasis is on experiencing Christ's love through community--spending time together, praying together, and on learning as much, both intellectually and philosophically, as you can about your own faith and other world religions. It is a beautiful balance of spirit and intellect, and questioning is encouraged. Everyone is very real and very warm and inviting, and the Puritanical repression that is so often associated with strong organized religion is markedly absent--of course, we drank wine; we told dirty jokes, even, and just enjoyed ourselves. I am not Catholic and do not profess the same beliefs as does Catholicism, but I have great respect and admiration for this movement and the people I have met who are in it. It is a beautiful thing to see communities of faith--REAL communities--all over the world.

Cate and I finally dragged home sometime after midnight, and the next morning we made a quick dash for the market and gelato before catching a train and bus to the Bergamo airport, where I would fly to Germany and then take a train into Denmark. It is always so hard to say goodbye to Caterina! I am always surprised at how easily we talk and coexist (we shared a room this entire trip), and how deep a friendship has sprung up between us. It is amazing to me that I can live with someone in the States for one semester, have very limited contact with them for several months, and then pick up as though no time has passed at all and spend two weeks in constant contact, with absolutely no tension or friction. We said a very hurried goodbye at the airport--I didn't want to cry. I will see her again soon, though, as she is studying in Baltimore some this fall. I'm lobbying to get her to spend Thanksgiving with us in Vidalia, and if she doesn't go home to Italy for Christmas, she will come to Vidalia. Friends are just magic. As sad as I am that so many of my friends live around the world--L.A., New Jersey, Washington DC, India, Denmark, France, Italy--I am so happy to know such interesting and wonderful people. Plus, I get to go visit!!!!

I took the plane to Hamburg and caught the bus to the train station. On the bus I met a very nice guy--a Swiss / French guy named Walter, who is studying environmental engineering in Germany. He accompanied me to the train station and helped me work out my schedule and ticket. He invited me even to stay with him and go to a French party in Hamburg that night, and catch the train the following morning to Denmark. I declined politely, but I was quite tempted! Europe is exponentially safer--in general personal interaction--than the States. The culture is simply not violent. I'm sure I would have been perfectly safe that night had I stayed, but I am cautious enough to avoid a situation like that as a female traveling alone. It's just not as safe as it needs to be... but it's always fun to think about a random, fun night in Germany with the college set before moving on to another adventure!

I met two Italian men (cyclists) on the plane, and they also accompanied me to the train station. We ended up sitting together on the same train into Denmark and we laughed and chatted the whole way. They work in Milan and were taking a trip to Copenhagen to cycle with a big group of Italians. I think the two of them were a couple, since they seemed to take a lot of pictures of each other and they talked about previous vacations they'd be on together before. They carried my huge, stupid behemoth of a bag, and I offered to buy them beer in exchanged. Mario refused flatly and flamboyantly. "No, no! No beer!" he said and laughed. I insisted. "No--only one beer is not enough. That bag was HEAVY." I loved it--We laughed and laughed, and I bought them each a beer.

I changed trains in a little station called Ringsted at midnight. I got off of the train with my bags and waved goodbye to the Italians, and realized that the train station was completely and totally deserted. I was the only person on the platform at midnight on a chilly Danish summer night. I was a little uneasy at first, and then it was just fantastic. Denmark is a remarkably safe country (and anyway--there was absolutely nothing I could do about being alone except wait on my train. It was coming in half an hour. And I mean, where was I going to go, anyway? So I decided that being scared wouldn't do any good and I'd enjoy the solitude and the odd situation while I was in it.). I took pictures of the deserted train station at midnight. It was really quite beautiful to sit outside alone. About 10 minutes before my train came, people started shuffling in, seemingly from nowhere. Apparently the train station is hoppin' for the 1am train! I got on the cleanest and most wonderful train I'd ever been on and continued my journey.

The train was running a little late, and I got to the Fredericia train station at about 2am. Andi and Soren--both clad in pajamas and glasses--were waiting for me on the platform. I can't believe they picked me up! I had offered just to stay the night in Germany and take the train the next day, but they were having none of it.

Andi and I talked the entire way home, and stayed up until 3h30 or so chatting. We were staying with Soren's (her husband) parents and his two younger brothers, and one of teh brother's girlfriends, Karen. The house is beautiful. Many years ago, Soren's parents bought a run-down shack in a very rural area. Each year they renovated a little more of it, and now it feels like a fabulous country retreat, with huge windows, hardwood everywhere, a lake, a garden, orchards, and wheat fields. Denmark has new legislation protecting the landscape of the area, so no more houses can be built in their area. It was like going to a little mountain bed & breakfast. Andi offered me leftovers from dinner--pasta and duck and fabulous whole grain bread and cake and wine... we stood in the kitchen and snacked, and I fell in bed. We spent the next day walking around the Danish countryside and eating.

That evening, we drove to Aalborg, where Andi and Soren live. This is my second day in Aalborg, the Athens college town -type place of Denmark. It is on the ocean and has beautiful shops and architecture. Everything is so unbelievably clean and well-designed. Their apartment is wonderful--small, but absolutely wonderful--and is in the city center. While Soren travels (guys trip to Amsterdam this week) and Andi goes to language classes, I wander around the shops. Everyone speaks English and they are very warm. Andi teaches yoga, and I went ot her class last night. Then we ate the best doner kebab in the world--it even puts Achim's to shame, and I thought that was patently impossible.

Tonight, I'm cooking dinner while she's at yoga and we're bringing the food to one of her friend's houses. Her friend's husband is traveling with Soren this week, and the girl has an injured back. We're bringing dinner and wine over and having a girls' night. And I made the meatballs Caterina's mom taught me how to make! Danish grocery stores are interesting --mostly because i have no idea what I'm buying and don't speak a WORD of Danish--but beautiful. I'm also making frissa, a southern Italian bread dish much like bruschetta.

Tomorrow, Andi and I leave for Sweden. Then I come back Thursday or Friday morning, and Friday evening I fly out for Paris. I'll then meet some friends for lunch on the 28th, and I may go to London for a day to see my friend Katheryn. On the 31st, I fly home! Life is good.

This update is so long, by the way, because Andi and Soren have unlimited internet access and I'm currently home alone, cooking and putzing around. Life is VERY good!!

Valley Girl

Hi, all... So it's time to update you on my rock climbing adventure in the Dolomiti. Caterina's father, Massimo, is an avid hiker and rock climber. Caterina showed me pictures of their excursions while she was living with me in the States, and she commented that her dad was something of a daredevil--when he climbs, he doesn't use any equipment: no climbing shoes, no helmets, no ropes or carabiners--nothing. He says that changing the carabiners and re-hooking only slows him down, and the ropes are really only useful for recovering corpses (gasp!). Surely, I thought, this must be exaggeration.

So when Massimo offered to take me for a hike in the Dolomiti, I was quite enthused, mostly since I though it would be predominantly a hike, and maybe, if I were lucky, I could do something of a beginner climb. I was thinking something like climbing a 10meter face, with all manner of equipment, for a novice's first experience. When we told the family (Caterina's mother, Fiorella; and her sister, Angela) that we were going hiking, they all laughed and smiled knowingly. They described the hikes as "exhausting," and when I thanked Massimo profusely for the offer, they all grinned and said, "oh, wait on the gratitude. We'll see how you feel tomorrow when you're done hiking." I was a bit anxious--I felt particularly out of shape, since I hadn't done yoga or pilates in a good two months, and the last real run I had was the Peachtree on July 4--but I was enthusiastic about trying.

We awoke at 6h30 the next morning and left the house by 7am. We drove two hours into the Dolomiti, where the landscape became increasingly dramatic as we neared our destination. We saw sheer faces; beautiful trees; and awe-inspiring rocks jutting out of the mountains, leaving all vegetation behind, approaching the clouds. It was beautiful. I've read so many travel narratives and works of historical fiction that describe mountains as "treacherous" or "looming," but that seemed too naturalistic and fatalistic for what I saw. It was beautiful; peaceful; raw nature, and it beckoned.

We parked at the foot of the mountain, completely in the valley--as in, next to the stream that ran in the lowest part. Wow, I thought. When he meant hiking, he meant hiking. Clearly there would be no using funiculars or driving part of the way up--we were going to do everything on foot. We started before the trail began--most people were taking the funicular to an elevation of about 1800 meters. We forged our way through cow pastures and old, winding roads until the trail began. An hour and a half later we reached a beautiful rock outcropping with an iron statute of an eagle, about 4 meters tall, perched atop it. We sat down to have a break. I wondered how near our destination we were--surely it was close, since about 200 more meters up the trail seemed to end and all I could see was rock face. We hiked higher and stopped for lunch. "Is this the summit?" I asked, thinking that the hike had actually not been tiring, compared to what his family had warned me of. Caterina and Masssimo grinned and averted their eyes from mine. I heard Cate stifle a giggle and Massimo say, "No. This is the beginning."

I looked up at sheer rock, devoid of any vegetation--even moss or lichen-- and saw no discernible trail. "Look there," Massimo pointed to two tiny ant-like figures clinging to bare rock, moving toward an iron rope girding a rock. I looked up. "Yes?" I said, not quite sure what I was looking for. The rangers? A rescue expedition? "That's the trail," he replied. Oboy, oboy, you are KIDDING, I thought. As I squinted harder, I made out more figures inching their way up and around a dramatic group of cliffs. They were dizzying to look at, zigzagging up and down. There were no clouds, so when I looked down, there was nothing obscuring my view of the craggy rocks below ... or the distance back down to the valley. Wow. Well, I thought, this must be a beginner climb. We'll go a little ways. It should be fine.

Four hours and many silent prayers later, we were still climbing. I was really terrified. Though Caterina and Massimo do not use equipment, I asked if I could use a rope and carabiner. I was just in my running shoes, so I was afraid of my foot slipping on the rocks. They lent me a rope and belt equipment and we kept climbing. The higher we went, the thinner the crowd of people, the steeper the rock, and the more equipment other people had. I felt vastly underprotected with my scant rope and no helmet, especially after I slipped a little and banged my elbow against the rock. I'm used to Georgia clay, which is soft and crumbles at slight pressure. This mountain did not resemble Georgia clay in the slightest, as our climb was entirely on stone. When I hit my elbow, I realized just how hard the stone was, and how futile the ropes could be. Even if I slipped and the rope caught me, I realized, I had a pretty good chance of not surviving when if my body swung against the rock. It would be so easy to break a bone or get seriously hurt just falling a foot or so if I swung against a rock. Oboy, oboy. As I climbed--and it's funny now, looking back--I kept thinking, "Hmm... if I slip and fall without the rope, I plummet to my death. Relatively qiuckly. If I slip and fall WITH the rope, I swing against this stone and probably break my neck. I might not die, but if I don't, I might be a vegable... which is preferable? [climb, climb, trudge, trudge], being a vegetable or just getting it over with?" I was really terrified. Awestruck, but terrified.

The climb took all of my strength, flexibility, endurance, determination, concentration, and courage. I really just didn't give heed to my fear--it wasn't going to help me. I observed that patience often masquerades as skill--meaning that even one who is entirely unskilled and untrained in something, like me in rock climbing, if you go slowly and deliberately enough and focus all of your concentration on the present moment, and make only tiny steps forward, you look much more skilled than you actulaly are--and you are safer. Rock climbing is an incredible way to exist in the present moment. It is imperative that you do so... or at least, it felt that way to me.

We finally reached the summit, and it was amazing. I was surprised by how small the summit was, and how steep the fall off of it was. We were 2,800 meters (roughly 8,000 feet) above sea level, and it was breathtaking. We stayed at the summit for a while, and I called Mom. She can tell you the details of that conversation!

I quickly learned that going down is much, much more frightening than going up. There were black rain clouds looming, and we had ot hurry back down. This was much worse, as I had to constantly look down, and often go backwards, almost like rappelling off of the rocks. On our descent, we passed a gravestone (admittedly, from 1965, before any iron ropes or safety measures were added). "Oh," I thought, "Fan-freaking tastic..." Caterina caught my eye and explained that the man probably got caught in a storm. I looked up at the rain clouds and raised my eyebrows. We both started laughing.

We finally reached the halfway point and vegetation returned. I've never been so happy to see grass and moss in my life!! I thought, "Please, God, let me get off of this mountain. I will be so completley thrilled to be called a valley girl..."

That night, I was actually too tired ot eat. I bit into an apple at 9pm or so and realized that I couldn't even chew it properly. We returned to Modena at 10h30 or so, and I staggered into the shower. It was easily one of the best 3 experiences of my life to sit in a warm tub, safely on the ground, and know that I wouldn't be falling anywhre. It was beautiful. Absolutely perfect.

Throughout the climb I kept telling myself, "Okay, Tiffany--do this and do it right and do it now, because you will NEVER do this again. EVER." But after my shower and after a hot meal of steaming pasta and meatballs, I started thinking, "Hey, that was AMAZING." I looked at all the photos we'd taken, and thought about how I hadn't believed I could truly scale an Alpine mountain. The photos were beautiful. My sense of accomplishment was almost unparallelled. It didn't feel like Relay for LIfe or anything, which took long planning and other people--it was a physical, spiritual, and mental feat to have climbed like I did. It was actually pretty emotional.

At dinner, Caterina's dad told me what a great job I'd done. I commented that for a novice trail, it took all my strength to do it. He smiled and the family exchanged looks again--a sure sign that I was mistaken about something. "This trail was not for beginners. It ranges from intermediate to difficult climbing." Wow! So I'd done an intermediate - difficult ALPINE rock climb! I felt proud, and afraid all over again. Later, Caterina told me that I'd done well, too. She and her dad said that most of the time, even some minimally experienced climbers reach that rock and freeze and refuse to go on. But I'd done it! Without complaining, without going back, without even asking to. Yipopee!

So I'd like to do it again. No, not of the same difficulty level--but something shorter and easier and safer, with more equipment. It was an amazing experience. And when we drove through the mountains later, and when I flew over them on my way to Denmark, for the first time, they loomed. They looked treacherous. I have a healthy respect for mountains now. I felt chills on my spine when I saw the mountains and felt all the same fear again. But I did it. I hope mountains will look peaceful again to me one day, but I think that's unlikely. One thing is for sure: All of the talk about nature being peaceful and free and careless and wonderful--in the vein of Thoreau and other transcendentalists--is really a load of crap. Nature will eat you if it gets the chance. It's not personal, it's just the nature of the beast. And that deserves caution and respect. And equipment. And after that, grappa. Lots of grappa.

I'll do my best to post some photos to the web, but there are a jillion of them. Oh, and I took some stones from the summit, to be paper weights on my desk next year. When I think I'm having a hard day at work, I can look at them and remember, and think, "Oh, this is NOT a hard day. If I can climb that mountain, I can ABSOLUTLEY do this research..."

quick, quick update

Hi! I´m in Denmark now... I pay by the minute for internet, so here´s the fast update:

• went rock climbing. For real, with rope and carabiner, 2,800meters, from 7am to 10pm. it was terrifying but amazing. i have never been so happy to get back to LAND.
• went to Como with Caterina and met some of her friends. They live in a restored villa from the 16th century and it is amazing. They were great and had us over for supper. Como is my new favorite Italian city.
• went to Denmark and arrived at 2 this morning! had lots of fun on the trip. traveled alone but met some very nice folks. i love collecting new friends when i travel.

we will go to Aalborg tomorrow, and then try to plana trip to Norway and potentially Sweden. This is my first time in Scandinavia! It´s great. Weather is cooler and sunny, and the food is great. It´s wonderful to see andi and Soren.

will write more when it´s cheaper! i don´t want my hosts to pay too much.