On the Road: armchair adventures

On this first Friday of the first guest series, I have given the Reluctant Housewife a day off.  She, no doubt, has her hands full keeping track of laundry in varying states of cleanliness having been hand-washed in hotel sinks across Morocco.  But all is not lost.  Today I give you a sister Reluctant Housewife in the form of Maggie. We are both overly-qualified and accidental homemakers finding a bit of contentment, albeit shaky, in ‘working’ from home.  Nothing gets the travel bug going like a good story and here Maggie gives us her favourites.

I’ll admit to being slightly stumped when Ariel messaged me the theme for the guest posts I’d be writing while she’s on holiday (that’s what they call it in the UK, right?). While I’ve done a fair amount of traveling in my time (mostly via the generosity of my graduate program), it’s been a while since I’ve been able to enjoy the luxury of traveling  overseas… or even outside my own state. We went to Florida on our honeymoon. Memorable to us, but hardly the stuff of zany travel stories or frame-worthy, panoramic vistas.

I considered writing out some of my favorite personal memories, but realized most of them are either embarrassing (the time I pulled an accidental Marilyn Monroe-over-the-subway-grate, at the amusement park in Vienna) or funny only if you were there, and possibly also jet-lagged (that day we tried to see everything—and I mean everything—in the Louvre 3 hours before closing time).

So instead, I’ve decided to talk about armchair traveling. If you’ve got the travel bug but no money or vacation time, may I suggest the following books:

-The Art of Travel By Alain de Botton

“Travel agents would be wiser to ask us what we hope to change about our lives rather than simply where we wish to go.” –Alain de Botton, (from another book, A Week at the Airport: a Heathrow Diary)

If you don’t know who Alain de Botton is, you must head to a bookstore or library and immediately to check out his work (my favorite being his semi-fictional works on love). A Swiss writer and philosopher who now lives in London, de Botton’s work is smart, introspective, and will make you think about cliché topics (love, religion, happiness) in new ways. In this particular book, de Botton ruminates on the psychological reasons people travel, how memory and anticipation both mislead and soothe us, how we individually experience the world, and so on. He also references a wide range of poets, artists, writers, and pop culture touchstones. It’s a meaty book, but still accessible and will have you nodding along with his pithy observations.

-The Good Girl’s Guide to Getting Lost: A Memoir of Three Continents, Two Friends, and One Unexpected Adventure By Rachel Friedman

Maybe it’s because my post-graduate school confusion mirrored Rachel Friedman’s own “What do I do now?” post-college turmoil, but I could put this book down. The insights Friedman stumbles onto during her travels aren’t revolutionary, but they’re familiar in a friendly way: “Oh, I felt that way, too!” She has a gift for relating her experiences in a tactile way, so that I often found myself shivering with her as she slogged through a South American bicycle tour in pouring rain or rolling my eyes in sympathy as she endures irritating travel companions. It’s a memoir about feeling lost and trying to find your place in the world, a topic that most twenty and thirty-somethings will instantly understand.

-The Burma Chronices By Guy Delisle

I’m a big, big fan of graphic novels. As someone with a penchant for illustration and a lifelong love of books (especially memoirs), the genre seems to me like an ideal marriage of words and art, each enhancing and refining the other. Guy Delisle is a Canadian graphic novelist who has lived and worked in many different countries. Delisle moves with his wife and child to Burma, so his wife can continue her work with Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders). What follows is partly a serious, intellectual discussion of Burmese politics, and partly anecdotes about his struggle as a stay-at-home dad adjusting to a foreign culture. The Burma Chronicles is actually the latest book in a series of travelogues. I haven’t read his previous two: Shenzhen: A Travelogue From China or Pyongyang: A Journey in North Korea, but hope to get my hands on them soon.

-The Pages In Between: A Holocaust Legacy of Two Families, One Home

By Erin Einhorn

This isn’t strictly a travel memoir, since it focuses largely on the author’s attempt to find out the truth of what happened to her family during the Holocaust. But it is about memory vs. reality, about grappling with the past vs. forward motion, and about what it’s like to visit and live in Warsaw, Poland as an American Jew—a city that is beginning to thrive, but still carries deep scars from the past, like so many other countries in Eastern Europe. It reminded me of my visit to Budapest, a city that I loved, but one that is also still dealing with the after-effects of its tragic past. It’s a captivating, provocative memoir and a worthwhile read.

-How Did You Get This Number? By Sloane Crosley

This one is pure fun. While Sloane Crosley’s previous book, I Was Told There’d Be Cake, is a bit more giggle-inducing, these essays are breezy and entertaining, all loosely strung together on the theme of travel—and the inevitable misadventures it inspires. To give you a taste, here’s the opening line: “There is only one answer to the question: Would you like to see a three a.m. performance of amateur Portuguese circus clowns?”

-Marrying Anita: A Quest for Love in the New India By Anita Jain

I’m kind of obsessed with books on Indian matchmaking practices. Seriously. Name a book on that topic, and I’ve probably read it. This is a lightweight book about dating in India, more personal than scientific, but it really presents a close-up look at what it’s like to live in India nowadays, as an Indian-American single woman (not always easy). It’s dishy, honest, and fun; kind of like chatting with a girlfriend about her dating life, wrapped up in a discussion about the globalization of India and how things have changed—or haven’t.

On the Road: home sweet home

 

When I sent out the requests to some of my internet friends to write about traveling I should have been more clear.  I know the go-to thought when one hears ‘travel’ is exotic locales and strange foods and while I admit to this thought-process as well, there is plenty of ‘travel’ to be had at home.  For me, travel is an escape, but an escape does not always have to be dramatic or scenic.  Emily escapes from the mess of DC with a good beer and pizza.  What’s not to love about that?

Hi!  I’m Emily.  Ariel asked me to write about traveling while she is, in fact, traveling!

However, I had some trouble writing about this because, well, I haven’t traveled much.  I’ve never left the east coast of the United States, except to go to Ohio.  Let me tell you, that definitely isn’t something to write home about.  So instead, I’m going to tell you about the trips I haven’t taken.  Believe me, you don’t want to hear about Ohio!

If you can believe it, I’ve never seen New York City.  I currently live a few hours away from the Big Apple and can’t seem to find the time (or money) to get away for a weekend.  I’ve never tasted a real New York pizza or bagel, though I hear they’re both fantastic.  I have, however, eaten at Mellow Mushrooms across the American South, and I must say, that pizza will be hard to beat.

I’ve never seen the Eiffel Tower!  Except in pictures, of course; I’m not that sheltered.  I have tasted macarons, but they were from a French bakery in Savannah, Georgia, not Laduree.  My French baguettes have, sadly, always come from Panera or my local grocery store instead of a café where I can sit and enjoy them with chocolate or butter…or both.  (Side note: my five-year plan is to visit Paris, mostly for food-related reasons.  Notice I didn’t mention anything but food and the most recognizable landmark when talking about the city.)

India is nothing to me except a backdrop in The Darjeeling Limited.  The colors, sights, sounds and smells are all about as abstract as they can get—I’m sure that whatever I imagine is nowhere near the truth.  I’ve never even eaten Indian food.  Though I do find this culture very inspiring, it just hasn’t happened yet!

While I’m not so sheltered that I haven’t tasted beer (I know some of you are reading this and are completely appalled—but I assure you, I’m living my life!), I’ve never had a Guinness, and I’ve surely never had a Guinness in Dublin!  I love my American craft brews; why would I cheat?

The families my boyfriend and I grew up in didn’t value traveling; our vacations were spent either at home or at our extended families’ houses out of state (Ohio and South Carolina for me; North Carolina for him).  We didn’t venture from those destinations often, except to take a daytrip here and there.  Our parents haven’t done much traveling, either; mine haven’t seen New England or much of the west coast, though my father travels for work, and the furthest away from American they’ve been is the Virgin Islands and Puerto Rico.  It isn’t seen as a priority, though I know we’re in the majority in that regard!

As I said, many readers (and people I know) are completely stunned by this lifestyle.  They ask, what is there to live for if not traveling?  What do you do with your vacations?  Well, I mostly take that time to see family or to focus on myself.  I’m a homebody who likes to cook, bake and sew—sometimes all at once.  I would love to have the time and money to travel to Europe, or even just the west coast, but until those happen, I’m content to spend my time in my apartment, curled up on the couch with a magazine and my cat.  Seeing the sights and learning new street names are fun and exciting, but home is exactly where I want to be.

On the Road: the power of travel

H and I are pen pals.  I know.  In this day and age, who knew it was still possible.  We were linked up by the Mess that is Alyssa and I can’t wait to meet up for real and enjoy a decadent brunch and proper moan about the hell that is the PhD dissertation.  Yes, another academic.  What can I say, we are a self-selecting group.  Following on from Petite’s checklists to advert disastrous encounters in dark alleys and absentee house fires, I bring you Heather’s insistence that while home is lovely, and leaving it scary, adventure awaits.

The truth is, I’m quite the homebody. I love making my home “just so” with my comfy sheets, quilted fluffy mattress pad, oscillating fan that is there for the sole purpose of white noise, and I love the feel of my little family all tucked in and safe. It makes me feel like the safest securest person on the planet.

And, so, when I’m pulled to travel, and I’ve made all the necessary arrangements, and it’s the eve before the journey begins, I often have these few moments of “Oh, no, I have to leave this. What if I can’t sleep? What if there is no fan? What if there are bedbugs? What was I thinking traveling to ­<insert practically any destination here>” It is then that a panic creeps up inside and I feel scared. I don’t feel like traveling at all. I feel like staying tucked into my cozy 2 bedroom with my cobalt blue accents.

And that’s the moment I know I need to GO. The moment where I’m scared to do something for fear of being uncomfortable reminds me that I need more than anything to get a little uncomfortable. And usually, once the anticipation of the journey turns into the actual journey, the fear is overwhelmed by the adventure itself and I can’t believe I ever thought anything different.

Case in point, a backpacking trip with a dear friend of mine. Actually, let’s back up, she became a dear friend on this backpacking trip. I didn’t know her that well before I agreed to meet her for a few days while she trekked through Colorado. I had never backpacked before. I had never traveled with this person before. I had never carried what I need to eat on my back. I had never been at the mercy of nature. Somehow none of this occurred to me until the night before I was setting out to meet with her and suddenly I worried that I wouldn’t be able to sleep, that I would be hungry, that I would be tired, that I would encounter some wild animal. But knowing I couldn’t go back down, I succumbed to this thought, “Well, if nothing else, it will be an adventure.” An adventure. Thinking of it that way makes it OK, maybe even expected, that things are getting to get all sorts of screwy at some point in the journey and flexibility is going to be necessary.

Looking back now, I can’t believe all the things that “went wrong” but I do not see our trials and tribulations as wrong now and I did not see it that way then, either. I did not sleep well the first night. Unlike my traveling companion, I had not hiked miles and miles and could not force sleep at sundown. We hiked a long while in rain and cold. (And, after a long while, even shiny new raingear gets tired of the rain.) We knew we could not set up camp in a downpour so we happened upon a family and hitchhiked to a small town nearby. We stayed in the seediest hotel I’ve ever seen. I was so hungry at one point that I ate my protein bar after I dropped it on the ground. We hitchhiked back to a trailhead with some guys who were going hunting. With guns. We encountered a bear. We had to make up miles due to rain and hiked 17 miles in one day. On the last night with my friend, we giggled and giggled as we recounted our adventure. I fell asleep shortly after sundown.

I didn’t just survive. I thrived. I was living. My dad came to collect me, and the next day, the two of us decided to hike Colorado’s tallest peak. I know that this isn’t the case, but in my memory, I practically ran up the mountain.

“Adventure is a path. Real adventure – self-determined, self-motivated, often risky – forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world. The world the way it is, not the way you imagine it. Your body will collide with the earth and you will bear witness. In this way you will be compelled to grapple with the limitless kindness and bottomless cruelty of humankind – and perhaps realize that you yourself are capable of both. This will change you. Nothing will ever again be black-and-white.” – Mark Jenkins

On the Road: the checklist

To kick off the first guest series here on ArielGraphy, I give you Petite Chablis.  I don’t know how we found each other, but as a fellow academic we have much in common.  Although Petite continues on in academia while I observe, she does so with a great number of cocktail recipes in hand, which has to make the experience slightly easier, if not more entertaining.  However, she is also enduring a long-distance marriage.  All the more reason to drink, in my opinion.  Here is Petite’s guide to dealing with frequent travel anxiety.  Take note.

My husband and I have been juggling a long-distance marriage since ... well, pretty much since we tied the knot in 2009. He got a job in Boston; I was still in grad school in Jersey. A year later I finished my degree; the only job I was offered was in Toronto.  Since I took that job I estimate that a full 25% of my pre-tax income has gone directly into the pocket of Porter Airways to fly us back and forth from Boston to Toronto.  (I love you, Porter!)

Sound stressful?  Yeah, it kind of is.  What makes it even more stressful is that I have terrible travel anxiety.

I'm not talking about fear that the airplane will crash.  My fears are much smaller and far more legion.  What if I forget my passport?  What if I forget my wallet?  What if I left milk in the fridge?  What if I left milk on the counter?  Did I turn off the stove?  Did I remember turn off the coffeepot?  Where is my birth control?  For the love of God, DID I TURN THE STOVE OFF? Any time I fly or take the train or hop on a bus, I spend the day beforehand nervous and jittery and obsessively checking to make sure I've packed my passport and toothbrush.  When you travel as often as I do, that's a lot of passport-checking.

Send me to a new and unknown destination, and the nagging worries get even worse.  I worry that the hotel has lost my reservation, or that I won't be able to figure out the public transit, or that my flights will get screwed up and I'll be stranded in an unfamiliar airport, or that the person who's supposed to pick me up at the airport won't show, or that I will inadvertently wander into a scary back alley and be gruesomely murdered because I'm in a strange city and OBVIOUSLY that's what people in a strange city do, they murder people who don't know their way around.

Other people breezily tell me "but you travel so much!  You'll be fine.  What's the worst that could happen?"  This does not help quiet my travel demons.  Instead, I have developed the following type-A coping strategies.

1.  Over-prepare.  

I own a small, inexpensive green binder.  When I travel to a new location I print out everything I can get my hands on about where I'm going, punch it with a 3-hole punch, and put it in that binder.  And I do mean EVERYTHING.  Hotel reservations, flight information, a list of contact numbers, public transit maps, Google maps of the area -- anything that might possibly conceivably come in handy.  Ninety-five percent of the time I barely crack the green binder, but those times when the hotel's internet isn't working and I need directions to where I want to go?  I get to feel pretty damn smug about the green binder full of Google maps.

2.  Make checklists.  

After a rather embarrassing incident that involved me calling our Boston landlord in a panic because I thought I might possibly maybe have left the oven on (I hadn't), I started making a checklist for when I leave an empty apartment.  I go through this checklist before I leave the apartment, and yes, I physically check things off so I can be extra-sure I did them.  Now, when I get halfway to the airport and wonder if I remembered to turn off the A/C, I know that I completed everything on the checklist, so all is well.  Phew.

3.  If possible, fly in the morning.  

No matter when I fly, I rarely sleep well the night before.  But, if I fly in the afternoon or the evening, I also spend the entire day prior to the flight wondering if my flight is going to get cancelled or if the public transit will unexpectedly break down or oh my god what if I forget my passport AND leave the stove on?  If I fly in the morning, I can wake up, have breakfast, go through the checklist, and get out of the house before my brain is awake enough to start freaking out.

So there you have them, the type-A-crazy-person coping strategies I use when I'm on the road again.  Anyone else find that a busy brain makes getting there and back again a bit of an ordeal?

Buckle up!

Hello dear readers, to make up for my relative silence the last two weeks and to keep you occupied the next two, I have instituted what I hope will be the first of many (or at least regular) guest series.  I convinced five lovely ladies (and my parents, just for kicks) to write about being on the road, again.  The resulting series spans the spectrum of travel from the armchair to family vacation to machete-wielding provinces.  I hope you will stick around. 

I haven’t really written about my travel here and part of that is because some things aren’t for sharing, but more than that, I truly don’t remember a lot of details from my travels.  I have travelled more than I ever thought possible for a little girl from Sheffield Lake and I don’t intend to stop anytime soon.  There is a wide world out there that is constantly changing and I MUST SEE IT ALL!!!! 

What can I say, I’m an only child, the selfish thing rears its head in weird situations. 

But back to my lack of detailed memory of my travelling adventures.  I don’t believe it is due to frequency or overload.  I believe it is because I get overly excited and try to take everything in and inevitably don’t give my head time to really comprehend what it is I am seeing.  I’m also usually sleep-deprived.  I can barely sleep at home, imagine what I’m like in a hotel room overlooking the Grand Bazaar or in a campsite surrounded by a very active nightlife or a stifling bedroom with no screens on a mosquito rich farm.  I’m working on it.

This is not the case with what each place felt like.  I have very distinct feelings about each place I have visited and those stick with me much longer than the details.  For instance, Croatia = car sick, Paris = aloof (and rain), Eastern Africa = love and awe, Istanbul = colour (and stomach parasite), etc. 

I have no idea what Morocco will bring.  I have wanted to visit this place since I was a little girl.  I have no idea how I first learned about it, but it has been on the Wish List for a very long time.  This is a bit dangerous.  I hope I haven’t built it up too much in my head just to be disappointed by how built up it is in reality.  I remember Pete shattering my view of Cairo and the pyramids after he visited and saw the pyramids in what appeared to be the middle of a landfill. 

I still want to go. 

Sometimes I worry for my future children and their travel experiences.  I travel to escape to see something new, to get a bit of perspective.  More and more the places I go, get more and more familiar.  There are good aspects of globalization, but there are heartbreaking ones as well. 

But this is not the place to lecture on Globalization, I recommend you go out and see for yourself and make your own opinion. 

That being said, travel doesn’t necessarily mean leaving the house.  It is about physical escape for me, but escape and perspective can also be gained from the comfort of home, but it must be sought out. 

I beseech you to search it out.  There is a lot out there in our world to fascinate  as well as make your everyday problems seem small potatoes.   Go forth and explore. 

Thus concludes my public service announcement on the importance of Geography education.

Please join us for the rest of the week (and next) as my lovely guests take to the road, again. 


*photo of Pete's family's farm in Croatia.  The village of his father's childhood, Vrgorac, in the distance

Storm before the calm

AAAAHHHH!!!!  The house looks like a bomb exploded.  The living room is occupied by two half-packed backpacks and numerous piles of to-be packed items.  Toiletries in various states of fullness and size are waiting on the bathroom floor to be consolidated and packed away.  Documents are laying waiting to be copied and filed away safely in separate locations. 

The house is waiting to be cleaned but I reckon I only have time to do one room.  I’m leaning toward the bathroom.  After two weeks of Moroccan facilities I think I may appreciate a clean bathroom on return. Of course, it may also appear clean by comparison as is.  Tricky. 

In lieu of vacuuming, I have decided a light ‘DustBusting’ session before turning in will have to suffice.  That is if I can get up the energy to care by the time we head to bed. 

With that, I leave you.  There is a fridge of perishables waiting to be eaten through. 

But don’t despair!!  While I am away I have wrangled some friends and family to keep these pages occupied.  Stay tuned for the next two weeks for my first guest series!!!!

a word on movies and marriage...

Yesterday I went for a run.  I was thinking it would be my last chance before heading off to Morocco.  And the way my knee is feeling today, I might be right. 

At just past the 3K mark, just over halfway, I was ready to be done.  As usual.  Then the music kicked in. 

Beastie Boys Sabotage. 

Nice. 

While I powered on, I began thinking about a movie I had watched twice in the past two days.  The new Star Trek.  I guess it isn’t new anymore, but relatively speaking.  Before I go on, I have a confession to make. 

I am a bit of a Trekkie.  Yes, I am a shoe-aholic and a Trekkie.  It is totally possible. 

I’m not the type of Trekkie that has memorized every episode or gets too bent out of shape about improper quoting, but I am Trekkie enough that I had the Starfleet Academy sticker proudly displayed on the rear window just below my actual University. 

I remember being slightly concerned with the prospect of a new movie.  I needn’t have worried.

Have you seen J.J. Abrams’ take on the franchise?  You should.  Immediately.  Go. Now. Watch. 

Not only is it just awesome.  It also incorporates just enough of the old to be perfect.  Those beeps and bops and breathing new life into those trademark lines.  I mean who knew ‘Live Long and Prosper’ could equate to ‘Go F**k yourself.’  Brilliant!!!

And, getting back to the original spark, any movie that incorporates Sabotage into the opening exposition is already in my good books. 

This movie may become my new go-to favourite.  Do you have these?  Surely you do.  Those movies you put on in the background or watch when you need a little comfort. 

My husband doesn’t really have this need.  He can’t understand watching a movie over and over until you can recite it in your sleep.  As I may have done with The Princess Bride, The Breakfast Club, The Cutting Edge, The Sandlot, numerous Robin Hood movies, Footloose, etc. 

Speaking of, have you seen the previews for the Footloose remake?  Please Do Not.  Look. Away. Now.  It is sacrilegious!!!  I do not think I am alone in this thought.  

I digress.  Back to the good stuff.

The Goonies.  What child of the 80s doesn’t have The Goonies ingrained into their very being? 

I’ll tell you, shall I?  It is disturbing and a bit embarrassing to be honest.   

My Husband. 

I know. 

I have married a man that doesn’t appreciate the brilliance and magic of The Goonies.  It was on TV the other day.  I got very excited.  His response?  “You love The Goonies too much.”

I’m just going to blow past this.  It’s too distressing.  I can’t think about it today.  I’ll think about it tomorrow. (Yet another movie committed to memory.) 

We watched Star Trek instead.  A very pleasing evening was had by all.  I think my husband has the makings of a Trekkie.  He probably won’t admit to this and I did catch him questioning the physics of the movie, but I think there is potential there.  We may not agree on which captain is the best (I’m Picard all the way, I have a feeling Pete would go the Kirk route, although he does enjoy Patrick Stewart in American Dad, so it could go either way) but this shared SciFi (SyFy?) movie interest will go a long way to redeeming ‘the comment which shall not be repeated.’

So go on.  Confess.  What are your embarrassing go-to movies?