2011 Calendar
12 months of sweet ideas, great quotes, weird-but-real holidays. When you finish a month, flip it over and use the templates on the back to make postcards, gift tags, book marks, greeting cards. More info.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
The Secret Lives of Books
I would like my books to come to life too, please.
Except for Revolutionary Road.
And The Grapes of Wrath.
And A Fine Balance.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Nice work if you can get it: Movie set Caterer
Brekke and Geoffrey Rush became great friends(This is part of our Nice work if you can get it interview series, in which I interview friends of mine who have intriguing, envy-inducing jobs. I've known Brekke since we were tiny blonde girls running through the linoleum halls of the Aitkin United Methodist Church. We even lived together for a summer, during which I coveted her wardrobe and repeatedly tried to clean her room for her. Now she travels the world, cooking for movie stars and breaking hearts. Seems like a pretty nice gig, eh?)
So what's the deal? What do you do?
I am a caterer for movie crews. Everyone on the movie crew, actors and all, get two meals a day. At least two, depending on the number of hours they put into a day. There are union laws dictating time between meals.
Tell us about an average day in movie catering.
We usually show up anywhere between 2 and 3 hours before the first meal (breakfast) which is more than likely served around 6 am. We take the trucks on set and start to serve. Usually just one person cooks the breakfast, to order, as the crew shows up for work..(This service can go on for up to 3 hours) In the meantime, The rest of us prep for the second meal (served about 6 hours after breakfast starts) This involves setting up tables and chairs, setting up a buffet line, and preparing the food. The type of food we serve is fairly high end for this fast-paced, on-the-move, mass-quantity type of cooking. It's non-stop work.
The amount of people we serve can range from 50 (commercials) which takes 2 people to do, to 1000 (Pirates of the Caribbean) which employed about 14.
I've worked on Pirates of Caribbean 2 and 3, Into the Wild, The Dark Night, Die Hard (Live free or Die Hard) and The Longshots.
Did you go to school for this? Or get any special training?
I didn't have any schooling for this, (it's not really necessary). I did, however, have quite a few years of restaurant work behind me.
How did you get into this line of work?
I got the job from my brother who called me up one day with the news that someone had quit on the catering crew for Pirates. So, I was offered an opportunity to go to the Bahamas for 7 months and work. I instantly quit my Assistant GM position at the restaurant I was at, and showed up for work on the island 6 days later.
Are there any drawbacks to working in the movie industry?
We work an average of 16 hours a day - 14 hours is a short day! I have worked a 38 hour day before. This is all with sitting down a total of maybe an hour for break. Three hours of sleep becomes natural, if you want to get anything else done in your day. On Pirates we were working 120 hours a week. So.. the quality of life, or the life -at all- is not there.
What are the highlights?
The income! At the end of the week, when that paycheck comes, you sort of forget how hard you worked and how tired you are. Also... the day off is sort of a celebration every week. Through out the week there is always talk of which bar everyone will go to, then Friday night hits and it's a party! Beyond the hours and the parties, a definite highlight is seeing the movie. Its great to see the places you've been and the people you know on the big screen.
Are there any misconceptions about working in craft services?
Actors, they are not picky with food, or stuck up any more than anyone else is. Its strange how differently I think of actors now, and how star struck I used to be. They really are just my co-workers. Although, don't get me wrong.. I still, 3 movies later, lose all ability to speak when Johnny Depp walks by!
What suggestions would you give to people interested in getting into this?
Make yourself known.. Go where the filming is - Los Angeles, Chicago, Boston, New York - find a catering company, and apply. Most companies don't require schooling, and as long as you prove your determination and work hard, a food service background may not even be needed. This is a great job for meeting people and networking, getting into a different field of the movie business is a huge possibility as long as you get to know people. Catering is a good place to start.
I am a caterer for movie crews. Everyone on the movie crew, actors and all, get two meals a day. At least two, depending on the number of hours they put into a day. There are union laws dictating time between meals.
Tell us about an average day in movie catering.
We usually show up anywhere between 2 and 3 hours before the first meal (breakfast) which is more than likely served around 6 am. We take the trucks on set and start to serve. Usually just one person cooks the breakfast, to order, as the crew shows up for work..(This service can go on for up to 3 hours) In the meantime, The rest of us prep for the second meal (served about 6 hours after breakfast starts) This involves setting up tables and chairs, setting up a buffet line, and preparing the food. The type of food we serve is fairly high end for this fast-paced, on-the-move, mass-quantity type of cooking. It's non-stop work.
The amount of people we serve can range from 50 (commercials) which takes 2 people to do, to 1000 (Pirates of the Caribbean) which employed about 14.
I've worked on Pirates of Caribbean 2 and 3, Into the Wild, The Dark Night, Die Hard (Live free or Die Hard) and The Longshots.
Did you go to school for this? Or get any special training?
I didn't have any schooling for this, (it's not really necessary). I did, however, have quite a few years of restaurant work behind me.
How did you get into this line of work?
I got the job from my brother who called me up one day with the news that someone had quit on the catering crew for Pirates. So, I was offered an opportunity to go to the Bahamas for 7 months and work. I instantly quit my Assistant GM position at the restaurant I was at, and showed up for work on the island 6 days later.
Are there any drawbacks to working in the movie industry?
We work an average of 16 hours a day - 14 hours is a short day! I have worked a 38 hour day before. This is all with sitting down a total of maybe an hour for break. Three hours of sleep becomes natural, if you want to get anything else done in your day. On Pirates we were working 120 hours a week. So.. the quality of life, or the life -at all- is not there.
What are the highlights?
The income! At the end of the week, when that paycheck comes, you sort of forget how hard you worked and how tired you are. Also... the day off is sort of a celebration every week. Through out the week there is always talk of which bar everyone will go to, then Friday night hits and it's a party! Beyond the hours and the parties, a definite highlight is seeing the movie. Its great to see the places you've been and the people you know on the big screen.
Are there any misconceptions about working in craft services?
Actors, they are not picky with food, or stuck up any more than anyone else is. Its strange how differently I think of actors now, and how star struck I used to be. They really are just my co-workers. Although, don't get me wrong.. I still, 3 movies later, lose all ability to speak when Johnny Depp walks by!
What suggestions would you give to people interested in getting into this?
Make yourself known.. Go where the filming is - Los Angeles, Chicago, Boston, New York - find a catering company, and apply. Most companies don't require schooling, and as long as you prove your determination and work hard, a food service background may not even be needed. This is a great job for meeting people and networking, getting into a different field of the movie business is a huge possibility as long as you get to know people. Catering is a good place to start.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Things I love Thursday - By Ashcan Rantings
(Molly waxes hilarious over at Ashcan Rantings. She has phenomenal taste in music, adorable bangs and is not yet out of high school! The mind boggles at what this girl is going to accomplish once she breaks the big 2-0! - Sarah Von)
One of my favourite things about Sarah’s blog is the positivity that it absolutely radiates, starting with the name and going right up to her weekly celebration of what she enjoys in life. If you read my blog or my tumblr, you might already know this, but I love things, too!
Everything about the movie The Big Lebowski
From the Dude’s roadie past to “if you’re not into the whole brevity thing” to the refusal to roll on Shabbos to “I hate the fuckin’ Eagles, man!” to the rug that really tied the room together, what Mona Lisa did for portraiture, the Big Lebowski does for filmmaking.
The way a quote can remind you to let the world take your breath away
I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.
-Vincent van Gogh
Sad, sober friend: I just really miss her, I guess.
Drunk friend: There's no color the sky can't be at any given time. Remember that
- over heard in New York
Oh bliss! Bliss and heaven! Oh, it was gorgeousness and gorgeousity made flesh. It was like a bird of rarest-spun heaven metal or like silvery wine flowing in a spaceship, gravity all nonsense now.
-A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
People can change and grow
I like knowing that I can be anything and anyone I want.
Marvin Gaye’s a cappella version of “Sexual Healing”
The harmonies are all him, baby. A special bonus is the final line, which was understandably cut from the single.
Cultural differences
It makes life seem rich with possibilities to be reminded of what the human being can be capable of believing, creating and being.
What's rocking your world this week?
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
The Soundtrack of your Adolescence
So, we've established the soundtrack of your childhood. There was much dancing and a few themed outfits. But what about those tender years between grades 6 and 12?
- Despite that fact that you are the epitome of white bread, you like to dabble in the hip hop. You've got your JNCO jeans, you've got your oversized 26Red t-shirt, you are totally ready to do the running man to this song at the middle school dance.
- Even though you know it's much cooler to hate this song, you secretly weep to it. At the movie and when you're driving in the rain and when Captain Football dumps you for that girl who will let him get to third base. Sometimes you sing it into the back of your hairbrush ... and really go for broke on that "Iiiiii-eeeeee-iiiiii" part.
- This is the perfect song for making out with that cute, long-haired guy you met at the county fair. Sure, he drives a van with carpet in the back. And, yes, you're fairly sure he's dropped out of school. But he's from Out Of Town! How cool is that?
- You spend a large part of your summer listening to this song and driving to different beaches, stuffed into beat-up hatchbacks. Nudity seems to be a reoccuring theme this summer - skinny-dipping, flashing, getting caught doing the former.
- This is chosen as the 'class song' of your graduating class. Apparently, nobody is aware it's actually about suicide. You don't particularly care, because the other option was 'Standing Outside the Fire.'
What was the music that played while you wore braces?
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
The Soundtrack of your Childhood
No, but I mean really. When your life is finally made into a movie, what's the soundtrack going to be?
Scene: One-bedroom apartment, circa late 70s - early 80s. Mom is tiny in her maroon double knit jumpsuit and Dad is rocking some Alabama Thunder. You are but a wee, bald muffin in a onesie. Mom and Dad are teary and joyful over you and this song.
Scene: You are five and you are an excellent dancer. You love this song so hard! Best dancing outfit: green footie pajamas. Best dance venue: the kitchen while Mom's cooking dinner. Best dancing moves: punching from side to side, marching in place (sometimes in circles), jumping jacks.
Scene: You are seven and totally embarrassed of your amateurish dance moves of yesteryear. You have moved on to a sophisticated ensemble of pink leotard, striped leg warmers and arm poofs. You and the BFF spend your summer choreographing dances to this and forcing the neighbor ladies to watch.
Scene: By 5th grade, you are wicked hard core. You're so tough you listen to rap! You memorize the lyrics to this classic and recite them to kids on the playground for a quarter, which is a pittance for this caliber of entertainment.
Scene: Sixth grade is full of angst (in the form of a triangle perm, braces and glasses) and Kurt Cobain is the only one who can understand you. You wear your dad's flannel shirts and your winter boots all year round because your allowance won't cover a new pair of Doc Martens.
Scene: You know it's deeply uncool, but you really love this song. You even bought the single! On tape! You secretly dance to it every morning before school, but swear allegiance to Pearl Jam when asked.
What music were your formative years set to?
Monday, February 23, 2009
Top 10 Essential Activities to Partake in Before Winter Is Over
(Megan usually blogs at Charade. She a traveler, a student and a general life-enthusiast. She is also a competition level polyvore pro)
So, Christmas is done for, we’re all a little bit chubbier, and the arctic days no longer hold the charm of the festive season, they’re just cold. About now you’re probably demanding the imminent appearance of summer, but hold your horses. We’ve a few months left so let’s use them wisely.
1. Go ice skating, indoor or outdoor depending on your preference/global location. Did you know it’s thought to burn between 250-810 calories per hour?! Bye, bye mince pie muffin top!
2. Walk in a winter wonderland. Long, leisurely walks in the winter have their very own charm. Crunchy, frosted grass underfoot, robins in the trees and the chance of snowfall, how can you resist? Get yourself out there with the promise of a cosy pub lunch.
3. Sit by an open fire, preferably toasting marshmallows. If you don’t own one, find one. I’m serious, beg, borrow or steal to get your butt beside one, you won’t regret that instant nostalgic, fuzzy feeling a roaring fire is sure to generate.
4. Wear Mittens. If you don’t have any, shame on you. Buy some, wear them, and hold hands with a fellow mitten wearer. Be happy. Ear muffs are an optional (but highly encouraged) extra.
5. Eat porridge for breakfast. It’s ridiculously nutritious, tastes of sunshine if you had a little fruit or syrup and will keep you feeling warm and content for hours afterward.
6. Experiment with warm drinks like Hot Dr. Pepper Try a hot chocolate made simply by heating some milk and stirring in a huge chunk of chocolate, or even add alcohol and have a red hot cocktail party with recipes like Hot Buttered Bourbon. You can always make a huge batch of your chosen beverage and utilise a cute flask like one of these when you’re out an about on those extra nippy days.
7. Celebrate the act of wrapping up with Charade’s Chunky Knits feature.
8. Help out your local homeless or elderly. The cold weather may suck for you but think how much more severely it can affect someone without a bed or with weak health. Volunteer at your local soup kitchen or make a donation to a charity like Age Concern
9. Go to the beach. No, I’m not kidding. A beach in winter can be a truly magnificent spectacle; the crash and drag of a roaring sea; invigorating winds; a moody, looming sky and the eerie absence of the general public…
10. Get fit! Summer will be here before you know it and cold weather now doesn’t excuse a jelly belly when you’re in your bikini. Yoga or Pilates classes can be a truly heavenly activity in the winter months, as long as we’re not talking draughty church halls.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Snapshots of South America
The Bolivian Visa Office
The walls were painted bright pink 25 years ago and hung with glittering portraits of the president and a calendar of bikini-clad blondes. One of the visa officers has pumped his office chair up to its maximum height and has made a game of paddling himself around the office by the tips of his polished loafers. Though he stops immediately when he sees you standing in the doorway with your hulking backpack and sheef of forms. You are ushered into a room stacked with empty boxes, blankets, a coke bottle filled with wilting daisies. As you fill out your forms, the officers mime shock and empathy at your $135 visa fee. You realize that this is a month´s pay for them.
Cusco, Peru
A woman dressed traditional clothes rounds the corner of your steep, cobble-stoned street. In her hand, she holds a rope that leads to something coming slowly around the corner. She stops, whispers back up the hill and raises her eyebrows. White nose, black eyes, tall ears, make their way around the corner. Her llama glares down at the diners on the plaza, spitting on the sidewalk to indicate how he feels about this city-walking foolishness.
Desaguadero, Peru
A border town stuffed with vendors, money changers, tuk tuks happy to shuttle you and your backpack the three blocks to the edge of the country. A man with a wheel barrow full of popcorn sells you a bag for one sole. There are small piles of melting snow everywhere and the teenage tuk tuk drivers lob soft snowballs at each other over the crowd. You nibble on the popcorn and watch a nickel sized toad hop into the shadow of your backpack.
Every Hostel in South America
A bed that sags slighty in the middle, sheets transparent with age. Six wool blankets that press you deep into the sagging mattress with their weight. You kick at the blankets and try to maintain the appropriate level of weight and heat but rarely accomplish anything other than untucking the bottom sheet and falling asleep on the bare mattress. You dream of bicycling through pages of books, paddling through sheets of milk. You wake completely entangled in this pile of blankets, your ear sore from sleaping on the pillow apparently carved from wood.
Cusco, Peru
A woman dressed traditional clothes rounds the corner of your steep, cobble-stoned street. In her hand, she holds a rope that leads to something coming slowly around the corner. She stops, whispers back up the hill and raises her eyebrows. White nose, black eyes, tall ears, make their way around the corner. Her llama glares down at the diners on the plaza, spitting on the sidewalk to indicate how he feels about this city-walking foolishness.
Desaguadero, Peru
A border town stuffed with vendors, money changers, tuk tuks happy to shuttle you and your backpack the three blocks to the edge of the country. A man with a wheel barrow full of popcorn sells you a bag for one sole. There are small piles of melting snow everywhere and the teenage tuk tuk drivers lob soft snowballs at each other over the crowd. You nibble on the popcorn and watch a nickel sized toad hop into the shadow of your backpack.
Every Hostel in South America
A bed that sags slighty in the middle, sheets transparent with age. Six wool blankets that press you deep into the sagging mattress with their weight. You kick at the blankets and try to maintain the appropriate level of weight and heat but rarely accomplish anything other than untucking the bottom sheet and falling asleep on the bare mattress. You dream of bicycling through pages of books, paddling through sheets of milk. You wake completely entangled in this pile of blankets, your ear sore from sleaping on the pillow apparently carved from wood.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
99 Red Balloons
Let's ignore any visions of seabirds choking on deflated rubber and enjoy the sheer loveliness of this clip, shall we? It's even in 3D, so you'll have another use for those glasses you got at the Hannah Montana movie!
Friday, February 20, 2009
Nice work if you can get it: Sled dog Vetrinarian
Every Friday we live vicariously through people with particularly awesome, envy-inducing jobs. All of these people also happen to be my friends. Previous interviews include a museum girl and a professional do-gooder. And yes, those are their official job titles.
You know how sometimes you meet someone at a party, and after three minutes of small talk you discover a kindred spirit? You then retire to a corner and spend the next hour swapping stories and periodically yelling "I KNOW!"? This is my story with Justine. If you see us at a crowded house party, we will be the ladies in the corner, talking intensely about what to wear in Egypt. In addition to being a traveler of epic proportions, Justine is an author, a doctor of veterinary medicine and the owner of The Best Dog in The World.
So what's the deal? What do you do?
To "get out of the office," I volunteer as a veterinarian for the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race. I'm one of 40 vets who work to ensure that the sled dogs running this 1,049 mile race from Anchorage to Nome are healthy. We examine all 1500 dogs before the start of the race, and run blood work and ECGs on them to make sure they are fit and well. Once the race starts, I'm then flown throughout bush Alaska (in small 2-man Cessna planes) to various checkpoints, where I work (with a small team of vets) to examine every dog that comes in through the 24 checkpoints. All the dogs are examined at the end of the race also, ensuring dogs are healthy. As vets, we also take care of “dropped” dogs – in other words, dogs that couldn’t continue on with the race for various reasons [like diarrhea, being in heat (and distracting the other dogs), or sore wrists].
Tell us about an average day in sled-dog vetting?
The average day of sled dog vetting includes the following: waking up chilled on the floor of some abandoned building in some small village in Alaska; grabbing a coffee and some instant oatmeal gruel; donning lots of winter gear; going outside in -20F to watch dog teams run in; approaching a sleep-deprived (often grumpy musher) to inquire about his or her dogs; performing physical examinations on the team of sled dogs (typically 14-16 dogs/team); repeating this last step for the next 80 dog teams coming in all day and night long; freezing your hands off; stepping in poop; getting your face licked by lots of sled dogs; getting covered in dog fur/diarrhea/saliva; running to a frozen outhouse to then strip off lots of winter gear; freezing your butt on a frozen toilet seat; donning lots of winter gear; running inside to drink some Tang and hot coffee; grabbing a quick bite; getting surrounded by local Athabascan kids who are excited to see non-villagers; working 18 hours a day followed by an occasional nap, a quick shower every 3rd or 4th day; repeat.
Did you go to school for this? Or get any special training?
I first developed my love for sled dogs at Cornell University, where I attended veterinary school. During my 3rd year courses, I was taught nutrition by a sprint sled dog veterinarian. The world of sled dogs immediately grabbed my attention – I was amazed to discover that Iditarod sled dogs burn approximately 10,000 kcal/day. I was instantly in love with these marathon athletes.
Since then, I’ve done advanced training at Angell Memorial Animal Hospital (associated with the MSPCA in Boston, MA), where I completed my internship, and then went on to University of Pennsylvania, where I completed a fellowship and residency in emergency and critical care. I’m currently a Diplomate of the American College of Veterinary Emergency Critical Care (DACVECC), which means I’m a veterinary specialist. Of course, that’s not necessary to be a sled dog vet – one just needs to have 5 years of vet training, and be adaptable to substandard Alaskan conditions!
How did you get into this line of work?
I’ve always loved animals, and knew I wanted to be a vet since I was 7. I didn’t discover the world of sled dogs until later in my life, but have always loved and respected the different relationships and roles that animals and humans have with each other – whether or not it’s for companionship (like my dog sleeping in my bed with me) to working police dogs or sled dogs, I knew I wanted to be able to provide the highest level of quality care for all of them.
Are there any drawbacks to working in this field?
Aside from being sleep deprived, constantly cold, reeking of dog, craving a salad after 10 days of ramen noodles, going 5 days without bathing, and having frost-nip on the tips of my fingers?
What are the highlights?
My two favorite parts of working as a vet for the Iditarod Sled Dog Race are my colleagues and the environment. I work with wonderful, compassionate, fun-loving, adventurous vets that I typically would never meet otherwise (like horse vets from all over the country or Texan vets trying to survive a temperature below 70F). We’re able to work together, share floor space in an abandoned, cold gym or wall tent, and bond over frozen supplies and fingers while exchanging funny work stories. Next, bush Alaska is beautiful – the trail is constantly variable – you may be at a checkpoint that is a deserted ghost town, or at a large fishing village along the frozen Bearing Sea, or at the base of the Alaska Range.
Are there any misconceptions about working in this field?
The biggest misconception is that it’s a glorious position. You’re working like a dog, 18-hours a day during the middle of the night, hungry, dehydrated (no! not the frozen outhouse seat!), sleep-deprived, dirty, cold, and sweaty, and now you’re surrounded by grumpier, dirtier, people.
What suggestions would you give to people interested in getting into this?
If you’re a vet, I’d recommend attending the annual International Sled Dog Veterinary Medical Association (ISDVMA) pre-race training seminar (in Anchorage, AK). This is held just days before the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race (which starts on the first Saturday of March), and offers you the opportunity to learn more about sled dogs. I’d also recommend joining the ISDVMA (www.isdvma.org) which works to ensure the highest levels of quality care in this field. Veterinary race applications are typically available through the ISDVMA newsletters or via the chief veterinarian.
If you’re a vet tech, or just curious, I’d recommend going to the Iditarod website to check out how to volunteer – it’s competitive, but once you’re on the trail, you won’t regret it!
Any would-be vets out there? Any questions for Justine on how to wrangle Huskies?
You know how sometimes you meet someone at a party, and after three minutes of small talk you discover a kindred spirit? You then retire to a corner and spend the next hour swapping stories and periodically yelling "I KNOW!"? This is my story with Justine. If you see us at a crowded house party, we will be the ladies in the corner, talking intensely about what to wear in Egypt. In addition to being a traveler of epic proportions, Justine is an author, a doctor of veterinary medicine and the owner of The Best Dog in The World.
So what's the deal? What do you do?
To "get out of the office," I volunteer as a veterinarian for the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race. I'm one of 40 vets who work to ensure that the sled dogs running this 1,049 mile race from Anchorage to Nome are healthy. We examine all 1500 dogs before the start of the race, and run blood work and ECGs on them to make sure they are fit and well. Once the race starts, I'm then flown throughout bush Alaska (in small 2-man Cessna planes) to various checkpoints, where I work (with a small team of vets) to examine every dog that comes in through the 24 checkpoints. All the dogs are examined at the end of the race also, ensuring dogs are healthy. As vets, we also take care of “dropped” dogs – in other words, dogs that couldn’t continue on with the race for various reasons [like diarrhea, being in heat (and distracting the other dogs), or sore wrists].
Tell us about an average day in sled-dog vetting?
The average day of sled dog vetting includes the following: waking up chilled on the floor of some abandoned building in some small village in Alaska; grabbing a coffee and some instant oatmeal gruel; donning lots of winter gear; going outside in -20F to watch dog teams run in; approaching a sleep-deprived (often grumpy musher) to inquire about his or her dogs; performing physical examinations on the team of sled dogs (typically 14-16 dogs/team); repeating this last step for the next 80 dog teams coming in all day and night long; freezing your hands off; stepping in poop; getting your face licked by lots of sled dogs; getting covered in dog fur/diarrhea/saliva; running to a frozen outhouse to then strip off lots of winter gear; freezing your butt on a frozen toilet seat; donning lots of winter gear; running inside to drink some Tang and hot coffee; grabbing a quick bite; getting surrounded by local Athabascan kids who are excited to see non-villagers; working 18 hours a day followed by an occasional nap, a quick shower every 3rd or 4th day; repeat.
Did you go to school for this? Or get any special training?
I first developed my love for sled dogs at Cornell University, where I attended veterinary school. During my 3rd year courses, I was taught nutrition by a sprint sled dog veterinarian. The world of sled dogs immediately grabbed my attention – I was amazed to discover that Iditarod sled dogs burn approximately 10,000 kcal/day. I was instantly in love with these marathon athletes.
Since then, I’ve done advanced training at Angell Memorial Animal Hospital (associated with the MSPCA in Boston, MA), where I completed my internship, and then went on to University of Pennsylvania, where I completed a fellowship and residency in emergency and critical care. I’m currently a Diplomate of the American College of Veterinary Emergency Critical Care (DACVECC), which means I’m a veterinary specialist. Of course, that’s not necessary to be a sled dog vet – one just needs to have 5 years of vet training, and be adaptable to substandard Alaskan conditions!
How did you get into this line of work?
I’ve always loved animals, and knew I wanted to be a vet since I was 7. I didn’t discover the world of sled dogs until later in my life, but have always loved and respected the different relationships and roles that animals and humans have with each other – whether or not it’s for companionship (like my dog sleeping in my bed with me) to working police dogs or sled dogs, I knew I wanted to be able to provide the highest level of quality care for all of them.
Are there any drawbacks to working in this field?
Aside from being sleep deprived, constantly cold, reeking of dog, craving a salad after 10 days of ramen noodles, going 5 days without bathing, and having frost-nip on the tips of my fingers?
What are the highlights?
My two favorite parts of working as a vet for the Iditarod Sled Dog Race are my colleagues and the environment. I work with wonderful, compassionate, fun-loving, adventurous vets that I typically would never meet otherwise (like horse vets from all over the country or Texan vets trying to survive a temperature below 70F). We’re able to work together, share floor space in an abandoned, cold gym or wall tent, and bond over frozen supplies and fingers while exchanging funny work stories. Next, bush Alaska is beautiful – the trail is constantly variable – you may be at a checkpoint that is a deserted ghost town, or at a large fishing village along the frozen Bearing Sea, or at the base of the Alaska Range.
Are there any misconceptions about working in this field?
The biggest misconception is that it’s a glorious position. You’re working like a dog, 18-hours a day during the middle of the night, hungry, dehydrated (no! not the frozen outhouse seat!), sleep-deprived, dirty, cold, and sweaty, and now you’re surrounded by grumpier, dirtier, people.
What suggestions would you give to people interested in getting into this?
If you’re a vet, I’d recommend attending the annual International Sled Dog Veterinary Medical Association (ISDVMA) pre-race training seminar (in Anchorage, AK). This is held just days before the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race (which starts on the first Saturday of March), and offers you the opportunity to learn more about sled dogs. I’d also recommend joining the ISDVMA (www.isdvma.org) which works to ensure the highest levels of quality care in this field. Veterinary race applications are typically available through the ISDVMA newsletters or via the chief veterinarian.
If you’re a vet tech, or just curious, I’d recommend going to the Iditarod website to check out how to volunteer – it’s competitive, but once you’re on the trail, you won’t regret it!
Any would-be vets out there? Any questions for Justine on how to wrangle Huskies?
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Things I love Thursday: Peruvian Edition
There are many a thing that I love about this crazy place that I´m currently padding around, but please allow me to all the very best bits!
The Sweetly Soft-Sell Vendors and Touts
The Sweetly Soft-Sell Vendors and Touts
After the touts of SE Asia (who will swarm your bus, smashing their signs against the windows and pull you by your backpack towards their taxi) and the vendors of Fiji (who will corner you in their booth and follow you yelling ever decreasing prices) the sales people of Peru are demure, sweet little things. "Hostel?" they´ll whisper. "How much you want to pay, Miss?" they´ll shyly murmur. Sometimes you can graze over their wares for an hour and the most you´ll get is a "Hola, amiga." So well-mannered, these Peruvians!
Peruvian Food
Peruvian Food
Avocados everwhere! Let´s stuff an avocado with cheese and corn and call it a salad! Delicous salty cheeses, hot chocolate, yummo vegetable soups and heaps of vegetarian options.
I can´t say much for the coco tea, though.
Best Busses Ever
Best Busses Ever
Dear America: This is how you do it. With fully reclining seats, movies, stewardesses and food. All to the tune of $12 for 6 hours. Although I am slightly unnerved by the security bit where they stalk around the bus videotaping all of the passengers before we take off.
Llamas
Llamas
Guys, they are everywhere! Living on Machu Piccu to maintain the grass. laying on the sidewalks of dusty rural towns, poking around big cities with women dressed in traditional garb in antempt to get their photos taken for a few soles. I even tickled a llama under his handsome chin on my way to breakfast this morning. He even had an earring! For realz!
finally acclimating to the altitude, slowly improving my Spanish, plotting blog giveaways of Peruvian goodies (!), sharing all this travel fun with my mister, pan flutes, hats with ear flaps, finding my dog twin, planning for carnival!
What´s good with you kids?!
What´s good with you kids?!
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
English names chosen by my Chinese students
- No no
- Yo yo
- Eel
- Eudora
- Apple
- Cash
- Handsome
- Fish
- Simba
Occasionally, a student would start school without an English name and their parents would ask me to choose one. After thinking long and hard about this, I decided to name an 8 year old girl after my BFF, Darcie. This suggestions was met with much embarrassment and head shaking.
Apparently in Chinese, Darcie translates to "hit and kill."
What verb/noun/adjective would you choose for a name, given the option?
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
How to Survive a Road Trip with Your Grandparents, or Why I Believe in God. Pt 2
(This is part 2 of Erin's tale of dealing with geriatric travel mates. Usually, she blogs at The Fierce Beagle. Also, she can probably out-dance you.)Uncle R: Every time we go on a trip, we stop at Mickey D’s ‘bout ten for coffee, orange juice and some fries, right, Mom?
Grandma: [fumbling with the digital controls for the air conditioner, which is on full blast] What?
Uncle R: [unfazed] Every time we go on a trip, we stop at Mickey D’s ‘bout ten for coffee, orange juice and some fries, right, Mom?
Grandma: [louder] WHAT?! [Pushes wrong touch-screen button; snow is now starting to form around the window panes]
Uncle R: [unfazed] Every time we go on a trip, we stop at Mickey D’s ‘bout ten for coffee, orange juice and some fries, right, Mom?
Grandma: [louder still] WHAT?!? [pushes two or three more buttons; air conditioner shuts off in flourish of industrial-grade noise]
Uncle R: [unfazed] Every time we go on a trip, we stop at Mickey D’s ‘bout ten for coffee, orange juice and some fries, right, Mom?
Grandma: [with exasperation] What’s “Mickey D’s?”
I was in no mood to appreciate the absurd humor of this exchange between my uncle and grandmother, and not just because we were deep into a road trip that I was sure would end in mortal catastrophe. You see, we had just spent the night with front-row seats at the second circle of hell.
Aside from hopping in the van and conquering long-distance travel for the fun of it, my apparently younger-than-me-at-heart grandparents also love spontaneity. Though we had embarked on a three-day tour of New Mexico, they hadn’t planned so much as what towns we would stop in for the night, nevermind made reservations at a hotel. So after our rather fascinating trip into the Carlsbad Caverns, our spur-of-the-moment plan to find lodging in Alamogordo went to pot upon discovering that every hotel in town was booked solid because of some biker convention. Or, to clarify, I should say every reputable hotel in town was booked solid.
After inspecting and dismissing more than one motel, the grand’rents decided on a rinky-dink motor inn near Holloman Air Force Base that was clean yet kitschy. Like in a movie, I told myself. And for a good two hours, it was like being in a movie: We watched TV on an old 13 incher, and cuddled up in a bed that looked and felt like it could belong in your sweet Aunt Mildred’s attic guest room.
Then our neighbors arrived. And suddenly, our wholesome family film turned into a horror movie of the Zodiac variety: No calamity befell us (the protagonists), but the feeling that we were on the cusp of something terrible hovered constantly. Especially after the tone of the terrifying sounds emanating from just inches on the other side of the wall changed suddenly and ominously after we called the front desk to complain. To this day I don’t know exactly what was going on in the room next door or the parking lot outside, but I do know that we had stumbled into a favorite locale for some of the guys from the base to party with their hookers. ’Nuff said.
One benefit of traveling with elderly grandparents is that they just don’t question your motives when calling their motel room at 6 a.m. and asking if we couldn’t leave already.
One disadvantage of traveling with elderly grandparents is they take life at a leisurely pace when you just want to get the hell outta dodge.
Lucky for us lucky lucksters, Denny’s was open. So instead of adiosing Alamogordo posthaste, we sat down to a three-course breakfast. My uncle, who eats excruciatingly slowly, ordered the biggest meal of all: a short stack (with whipped cream), eggs and bacon. Four hours later (or so it seemed) we were finally on the road again. For about 15 minutes. Because then, Uncle R’s watch went off.
The sun rises and sets according to Uncle R’s watch. When the alarm goes off at 5:30 p.m., he makes his way to the table with the conviction of a farmhand who just heard the dinner bell. So when Uncle R is tasked with timing the grandparents’ two-hour driving shifts, he takes that job Seriously.
When that wristwatch alarm went off barely a quarter of an hour into our second day on the road, I foolishly dismissed it. When Uncle R dutifully uttered “Mom?” I still didn’t clue in. But when my grandmother pulled over to the shoulder to switch seats with my grandpa, comprehension dawned: She had just completed the final 15 minutes of the previous day’s two-hour shift.
Truth be told, after that, the last leg of our trip was fairly uneventful: We frolicked across the dunes of White Sands National Monument; we indulged my fantasy of visiting the Very Large Array outside Socorro (where Jodi Foster discovered the extraterrestrial broadcast in Contact).
By the time we were pulling back into Albuquerque, I erroneously believed we were in the clear and started jovially chatting with my grandma while my grandpa eased the ship safely into harbor. Then the van (and my stomach) lurched as we swerved across three lanes to make the exit to home; my grandma forgot to shout her driving instructions from the back row since she wasn’t paying attention, and so my grandpa wasn’t paying attention either.
So, how exactly does one survive a road trip with elderly grandparents? Put simply: Prayer. Start praying before the trip, if possible, so God knows you’re serious. If you’re Catholic, I might even suggest having a ritual Mass done on behalf of your upcoming journey. And if you’re not much of a religious type, a road trip with your elderly grandparents is definitely occasion to reconsider.
Monday, February 16, 2009
How to survive a road trip with your grandparents, or why I believe in God - Pt 1
(Erin usually blogs at The Fierce Beagle. She is a travel editor, former Irish dance champion and police wife. Not someone to be trifled with, eh? - Sarah Von)
It all started with a ski excursion, cancelled at the last minute. Being in college, other people’s generosity, and occasionally the kindness of strangers, was a necessary component of most of our traveling. So it made perfect sense to transfer our plane tickets and spend spring break week sleeping on my grandparents’ sofa bed in Albuquerque. (Noah had never been farther west than St. Louis, and that was purely accidental, since apparently I wasn’t as familiar with the Chicago-Nashville route as I had thought.)
My grandparents are pretty active, and by “pretty active” I mean they do things that would probably be deemed illegal in some more rigidly policed countries. These are folks who would rather, at their tender ages, drive 1,600 miles over the hills and through the woods than take a four-hour plane ride (due to a single incident of lost luggage). When they suggested that we all take a three-day road trip around New Mexico in the ol’ Honda Odyssey (complete with outdated GPS), our desire to see more of the Land of Enchantment outweighed the risks involved.
I’m only sorry that the fact of me writing this story is a total spoiler, because I’m certain that by the end you won’t believe we survived.
Before we begin, it’s important that I tell you our party also included my 50-year-old uncle who, due to a pretty severe case of cerebral palsy, has always lived at home. Uncle R’s level of intelligence is pretty astounding—for instance, he learned how to speed-read at a young age—but due to the limitations caused by his disability, he also has a lot of time on his hands. Literally. More on that later…
Our day trip to Santa Fe went relatively well, thus lulling us into a false sense of safety. It only took us 30 extra minutes to get into town, despite my grandmother refusing to believe that the little woman in the GPS telling her to take that exit—which one? Yeah, the one we just blew past—knew what she was talking about. She subsequently refused to believe that the adjusted directions were correct. Nevertheless, we had a nice day and got some great photos. So far, so good.
The plan was to drive through Roswell, stop at Carlsbad Caverns, skip through White Sands on our way to Socorro (bypassing Truth or Consequences, because who really wants to face that?) and land safely back in Albuquerque shortly thereafter. And I use the term “shortly” very, very loosely.
Passing through Roswell where, incidentally, Noah’s mother was born (explains a lot…just kidding Debbie!) was a bit of a letdown for Noah. The only alien sightings were the ones painted on Wal-Mart’s exterior fascia. And the streetlamps-cum-alien heads.
We ran into our first problem between Roswell and Carlsbad Caverns: Random and Extreme Depression of the Brakes. It was my grandma’s shift, which presented its own set of risks. My grandpa, through either old age or simple resignation, relies on my grandma’s irritable backseat driving, so when she’s not paying attention, neither is he. But my grandma. Well, my grandma has trouble telling right from left (more an annoyance than a hazard) but also tends toward hallucinations, even when fully hydrated. Because suddenly, without warning—and on open, straight, flat highway—the car fishtailed in a cloud of dust and shrieking, grinding metal-on-metal.
Noah and I, after checking each other’s vitals, searched the landscape for some wayward tortoise or misguided roadrunner—a TUMBLEWEED, even—but nothing. My grandma, with an astonishingly cavalier “Oh,” quietly began to resume speed. Even more frightening was my grandpa and uncle’s response: nada. They didn’t even flinch. Which was a pretty good indicator that we could expect similar episodes in the near future.
That’s when we started praying.
My grandparents are pretty active, and by “pretty active” I mean they do things that would probably be deemed illegal in some more rigidly policed countries. These are folks who would rather, at their tender ages, drive 1,600 miles over the hills and through the woods than take a four-hour plane ride (due to a single incident of lost luggage). When they suggested that we all take a three-day road trip around New Mexico in the ol’ Honda Odyssey (complete with outdated GPS), our desire to see more of the Land of Enchantment outweighed the risks involved.
I’m only sorry that the fact of me writing this story is a total spoiler, because I’m certain that by the end you won’t believe we survived.
Before we begin, it’s important that I tell you our party also included my 50-year-old uncle who, due to a pretty severe case of cerebral palsy, has always lived at home. Uncle R’s level of intelligence is pretty astounding—for instance, he learned how to speed-read at a young age—but due to the limitations caused by his disability, he also has a lot of time on his hands. Literally. More on that later…
Our day trip to Santa Fe went relatively well, thus lulling us into a false sense of safety. It only took us 30 extra minutes to get into town, despite my grandmother refusing to believe that the little woman in the GPS telling her to take that exit—which one? Yeah, the one we just blew past—knew what she was talking about. She subsequently refused to believe that the adjusted directions were correct. Nevertheless, we had a nice day and got some great photos. So far, so good.
The plan was to drive through Roswell, stop at Carlsbad Caverns, skip through White Sands on our way to Socorro (bypassing Truth or Consequences, because who really wants to face that?) and land safely back in Albuquerque shortly thereafter. And I use the term “shortly” very, very loosely.
Passing through Roswell where, incidentally, Noah’s mother was born (explains a lot…just kidding Debbie!) was a bit of a letdown for Noah. The only alien sightings were the ones painted on Wal-Mart’s exterior fascia. And the streetlamps-cum-alien heads.
We ran into our first problem between Roswell and Carlsbad Caverns: Random and Extreme Depression of the Brakes. It was my grandma’s shift, which presented its own set of risks. My grandpa, through either old age or simple resignation, relies on my grandma’s irritable backseat driving, so when she’s not paying attention, neither is he. But my grandma. Well, my grandma has trouble telling right from left (more an annoyance than a hazard) but also tends toward hallucinations, even when fully hydrated. Because suddenly, without warning—and on open, straight, flat highway—the car fishtailed in a cloud of dust and shrieking, grinding metal-on-metal.
Noah and I, after checking each other’s vitals, searched the landscape for some wayward tortoise or misguided roadrunner—a TUMBLEWEED, even—but nothing. My grandma, with an astonishingly cavalier “Oh,” quietly began to resume speed. Even more frightening was my grandpa and uncle’s response: nada. They didn’t even flinch. Which was a pretty good indicator that we could expect similar episodes in the near future.
That’s when we started praying.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Notes from the Road - Death Cab for Pukey
So. The Mister and I decided to take a slightly less beaten path to Machu Picchu. And if you´re wondering exactly what that means, it means we followed the directions in the Lonely Planet under the heading "Off The Beaten Path." So it was just us and 400 other travelers attempting to get away from it all.
Though we were probably the only ones who didn't have dreadlocks and were over the age of 23.
Instead of spending $100 on 12 hours of train ride, we spent several days riding $1 local buses through The Sacred Valley, poking through sweet little towns and drinking a lot of coco tea. All was going quite well, all paved roads and flush toilets and such, till the last leg of our journey.
We discover that we need to take a taxi to the little town of Santa Theresa, where we´ll hike along an abandoned railway for three hours till we get to Aguas Calientes. We pair up with a Chilean couple so that the two hour taxi ride will run each of us $5. We pile into a slightly beat up Toyota station wagon for what I´m sure will be a pleasurable ride filled with small talk and travel stories. Maybe we´ll all be Facebook friends after this!
Our driver pops in his only CD (UB40´s Greatest Hits) and we turn down a narrow, rutted service road. I dutifully gulp down a Dramamine as I am The World´s Best Puker and have experienced the wonder of Peruvian mountain roads before.
Sam chats with the Chileans in the back seat while I notice that this washed out road? With all the bumps and total lack of shoulder? It´s been going on for quite a while. But whatever, right? I survived six hours of this between Siem Reep and Bangkok, it´s all good. This is but another badge on my Girl Scout travel sash, right?
And then we start up the mountain. We are driving through the Andes at 30 miles an hour on a road with no shoulder, no guard rail and one lane. The driver occasionally tries to engage me in conversation, looking at me and smiling as I whisper scream "Fala Portuguese! No Espanol!" and point at the road. He kindly swerves to avoid particularly deep holes which sends me into poorly managed hysterics. The steering on the car is so loose that turning the tires necessitates what appears to be a 90 degree turn over the cliff. The first few times this happens I do that bit where my hands fly up to cover my face and then spontaneously smooth down my hair. Every time we round a corner, he honks to alert on-coming vehicles.
We begin to meet other vehicles on the road, which results in a lot of honking, flashing of lights and our driver staring down other drivers. Eventually they all back up into someone´s driveway three miles back and we speed past them waving nervously.
As we get farther up the mountain, we begin to encounter waterfalls. All this necessitate fording six or seven inches of water and crossing bridges that appear to be, somehow, actually narrower than the car. I begin to write a news clip in my head ¨American Couple Dies in Andes, Attempting to Save $60" and I look back at Sam and see him eying all the possible exits and testing the release button on his seat belt.
Just as I begin to question my Agnostic religious stance, we turn the corner into Santa Theresa. Though I have pitted out my last clean shirt and probably lost three years of my life to worry, I´m alive! Dusty and dirty and a total nervous wreck, but alive!
I should have known it would turn out alright. I saw the driver cross himself and kiss the Mary hanging from his rear view mirror before we took off.
Got the travel bug? Check out my ebooks and podcasts on making long-term travel a reality! Only $15 forpetessake!
Though we were probably the only ones who didn't have dreadlocks and were over the age of 23.
Instead of spending $100 on 12 hours of train ride, we spent several days riding $1 local buses through The Sacred Valley, poking through sweet little towns and drinking a lot of coco tea. All was going quite well, all paved roads and flush toilets and such, till the last leg of our journey.
We discover that we need to take a taxi to the little town of Santa Theresa, where we´ll hike along an abandoned railway for three hours till we get to Aguas Calientes. We pair up with a Chilean couple so that the two hour taxi ride will run each of us $5. We pile into a slightly beat up Toyota station wagon for what I´m sure will be a pleasurable ride filled with small talk and travel stories. Maybe we´ll all be Facebook friends after this!
Our driver pops in his only CD (UB40´s Greatest Hits) and we turn down a narrow, rutted service road. I dutifully gulp down a Dramamine as I am The World´s Best Puker and have experienced the wonder of Peruvian mountain roads before.
Sam chats with the Chileans in the back seat while I notice that this washed out road? With all the bumps and total lack of shoulder? It´s been going on for quite a while. But whatever, right? I survived six hours of this between Siem Reep and Bangkok, it´s all good. This is but another badge on my Girl Scout travel sash, right?
And then we start up the mountain. We are driving through the Andes at 30 miles an hour on a road with no shoulder, no guard rail and one lane. The driver occasionally tries to engage me in conversation, looking at me and smiling as I whisper scream "Fala Portuguese! No Espanol!" and point at the road. He kindly swerves to avoid particularly deep holes which sends me into poorly managed hysterics. The steering on the car is so loose that turning the tires necessitates what appears to be a 90 degree turn over the cliff. The first few times this happens I do that bit where my hands fly up to cover my face and then spontaneously smooth down my hair. Every time we round a corner, he honks to alert on-coming vehicles.
We begin to meet other vehicles on the road, which results in a lot of honking, flashing of lights and our driver staring down other drivers. Eventually they all back up into someone´s driveway three miles back and we speed past them waving nervously.
As we get farther up the mountain, we begin to encounter waterfalls. All this necessitate fording six or seven inches of water and crossing bridges that appear to be, somehow, actually narrower than the car. I begin to write a news clip in my head ¨American Couple Dies in Andes, Attempting to Save $60" and I look back at Sam and see him eying all the possible exits and testing the release button on his seat belt.
Just as I begin to question my Agnostic religious stance, we turn the corner into Santa Theresa. Though I have pitted out my last clean shirt and probably lost three years of my life to worry, I´m alive! Dusty and dirty and a total nervous wreck, but alive!
I should have known it would turn out alright. I saw the driver cross himself and kiss the Mary hanging from his rear view mirror before we took off.
Got the travel bug? Check out my ebooks and podcasts on making long-term travel a reality! Only $15 forpetessake!
Peruvian Photo Dump
Friends! What did you do on Valentine´s Day? The Mister and I got up at 430 and trundled onto a bus with heaps of other slightly smelly and hopeful travelers to watch the sun rise over Machu Picchu. We followed around a few tour groups, usurping their information and learned all about sun dials and mountain eneregy and Incan Baths. I´m afraid I got quite sunburnt and we didn´t get back to our hostel in Cusco till 730. So we´ve decided to reschedule our personal Valentine´s Day for today, when we´re not quite so exhausted and peeling. Here are but a few of the millions of photos we´ve been taking.
A close up of the doors in a 15th century mission we visited. Apparently, the second child of every family was expected to become a nun or a monk, and the daughters of the richest families went to this mission, where they had servants and generally partied like rock stars.
The walls of the mission were painted blue and red and yellow.
One of the gorgeous old churches in Cusco.
The terrace atop our favorite hostel in Arequipa. We nibbled on rolls and freshly squeezed juice here every morning. I plan on hanging here for a week or so once The Mister heads home mid-March.
Before the sandboarding.
Awesome wee tuktuks that are too small for us with our giant backpacks.I´ll have heaps more (and better) photos once we find an internet cafe with fast enough internet to do any real uploading!
Friday, February 13, 2009
Nice work if you can get it: Professional Do-gooder
This is part of our series of interviews with people who have fantastic, envy-inducing jobs. They all also happen to be my friends. I met Meghan while we were both teaching English in Taiwan. After we left the R.O.C., we traveled through Thailand and Vietnam together, dodging motorbikes and taking over-night trains into the mountains. Now she lives on a swanky island, house sits for millionaires and saves the world one kid at a time.
So what's the deal? What do you do?
I am the Director of a Youth Centre built by the AIDS Awareness Foundation in Providenciales, Turks and Caicos. TCI is an independent country, in the Caribbean in which struggles for identity. Provo (the main inhabited island) has grown astronomically in the last 20 years and so there is no strong foundation of culture on which the younger generation has to build. The Centre I work for fills a massive void as there really isn’t much for the young people of this island to do in their spare time. We target teens from ages 12 and up.
My job has changed from week to week since I began just over 6 months ago. I went from being handed an empty group of buildings to running drop in hours (after school and Saturdays) and searching the Island trying to find donations and volunteers to run programs of any sort. It’s sort of like being a school principal, teacher (and janitor) all while trying to search out funding sources.
Tell us about an average day in life of your job.
My day begins as most others would, checking email, seeing if the Centre is clean, getting art or office supplies, etc. Then there is a never-ending list of things to be done: check in with local schools, pay bills, advertise events, find sponsors/donors, fine-tune Code of Conduct/Discipline Plan and other standard protocols, call parents etc etc. I choose whichever of these is highest on the priority list on the day and plug through whatever I can. After school is out for the day and kids start arriving, there is the business or supervising and/or the running of programs myself.
It all changes again during Christmas and Summer Break – we open all day so I try to squeeze all my other tasks while leaving volunteers in charge from time to time.
Did you go to school for this? Or get any special training?
To be honest, I didn’t set out to do this. I studied Biology and Psychology at University but always had a strong desire to help others one way or another. I’d volunteered in various positions since I was a teenager from feeding elderly in the hospital to some of the experiences mentioned below, but only had brief stints of training specific to the tasks I was to perform
How did you get into this line of work?
To be honest, one thing just led to another. After my Bachelor’s degree, I went to Taiwan to teach English and pay off my student loan. During that time the Tsunami happened in South East Asia. I visited Thailand the following May and was touched by the community surrounding the rebuilding. I quit teaching December of that year after saving a little extra money and went back to volunteer for 2 months.
After Thailand, I traveled and then ended up in TCI working as a yoga instructor. But my last volunteering episode only made me want to go back to do more. I applied for and was selected to go to South Africa with Grassroot Soccer (www.grassrootsoccer.org), the NGO that taught me the most about the non-profit world. I fundraised over $10 000 to support my stay and spent just under a year with them. Before I went to Africa, I had made connections with the AIDS Awareness Foundation in TCI as Grassroot Soccer dealt with HIV prevention. I interviewed for the job at the Centre while away and came back this past May to TCI to help open the Centre.
Are there any drawbacks to working in this field?
It can be very overwhelming at times – generally non-profit organizations are understaffed therefore employees and volunteers will have to work very hard to keep it afloat. But I believe the community will come together if there is a good plan and a solid foundation behind the organization.
You can also feel like there is so much to be done, that it’s not worth the difficulties at times. But I think most jobs and even daily tasks are like that to some degree.
What are the highlights?
To be part of something much greater than yourself is an amazing feeling. To simply know that whatever you do, no matter how trivial the task, there is a greater purpose behind it and your work will make the world a better place. To be able to do that every day is a great reward.
There are also the little things. To see the smile of a grateful participant, to notice positive change in a regular youth member, those things keep me going.
What are the misconceptions about working in the non-profit sector?
That you can’t make a living or that it’s all volunteer work. There are a great many jobs being offered through grants issued to Orgs. The Clinton Foundation and the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation have brought a lot of publicity to the area in recent years. You don’t have to be in the field doing the dirty work either. Non-profits need to run like businesses as well, there is lots of admin work, marketing, PR, HR etc. These days you could be doing almost anything you want while helping a good cause and building your career.
What suggestions would you give to people interested in becoming a professional do-gooder?
If I were to do it all again, I would have looked into classes in International Development at University. There are certainly times I have felt under-qualified and a background education would have helped to overcome that. However, I truly believe that volunteering for causes you believe in, without any ulterior motive but purely because you want to help for the greater good, it what will help you see a path to get you where you want to go.
So what's the deal? What do you do?
I am the Director of a Youth Centre built by the AIDS Awareness Foundation in Providenciales, Turks and Caicos. TCI is an independent country, in the Caribbean in which struggles for identity. Provo (the main inhabited island) has grown astronomically in the last 20 years and so there is no strong foundation of culture on which the younger generation has to build. The Centre I work for fills a massive void as there really isn’t much for the young people of this island to do in their spare time. We target teens from ages 12 and up.
My job has changed from week to week since I began just over 6 months ago. I went from being handed an empty group of buildings to running drop in hours (after school and Saturdays) and searching the Island trying to find donations and volunteers to run programs of any sort. It’s sort of like being a school principal, teacher (and janitor) all while trying to search out funding sources.
Tell us about an average day in life of your job.
My day begins as most others would, checking email, seeing if the Centre is clean, getting art or office supplies, etc. Then there is a never-ending list of things to be done: check in with local schools, pay bills, advertise events, find sponsors/donors, fine-tune Code of Conduct/Discipline Plan and other standard protocols, call parents etc etc. I choose whichever of these is highest on the priority list on the day and plug through whatever I can. After school is out for the day and kids start arriving, there is the business or supervising and/or the running of programs myself.
It all changes again during Christmas and Summer Break – we open all day so I try to squeeze all my other tasks while leaving volunteers in charge from time to time.
Did you go to school for this? Or get any special training?
To be honest, I didn’t set out to do this. I studied Biology and Psychology at University but always had a strong desire to help others one way or another. I’d volunteered in various positions since I was a teenager from feeding elderly in the hospital to some of the experiences mentioned below, but only had brief stints of training specific to the tasks I was to perform
How did you get into this line of work?
To be honest, one thing just led to another. After my Bachelor’s degree, I went to Taiwan to teach English and pay off my student loan. During that time the Tsunami happened in South East Asia. I visited Thailand the following May and was touched by the community surrounding the rebuilding. I quit teaching December of that year after saving a little extra money and went back to volunteer for 2 months.
After Thailand, I traveled and then ended up in TCI working as a yoga instructor. But my last volunteering episode only made me want to go back to do more. I applied for and was selected to go to South Africa with Grassroot Soccer (www.grassrootsoccer.org), the NGO that taught me the most about the non-profit world. I fundraised over $10 000 to support my stay and spent just under a year with them. Before I went to Africa, I had made connections with the AIDS Awareness Foundation in TCI as Grassroot Soccer dealt with HIV prevention. I interviewed for the job at the Centre while away and came back this past May to TCI to help open the Centre.
Are there any drawbacks to working in this field?
It can be very overwhelming at times – generally non-profit organizations are understaffed therefore employees and volunteers will have to work very hard to keep it afloat. But I believe the community will come together if there is a good plan and a solid foundation behind the organization.
You can also feel like there is so much to be done, that it’s not worth the difficulties at times. But I think most jobs and even daily tasks are like that to some degree.
What are the highlights?
To be part of something much greater than yourself is an amazing feeling. To simply know that whatever you do, no matter how trivial the task, there is a greater purpose behind it and your work will make the world a better place. To be able to do that every day is a great reward.
There are also the little things. To see the smile of a grateful participant, to notice positive change in a regular youth member, those things keep me going.
What are the misconceptions about working in the non-profit sector?
That you can’t make a living or that it’s all volunteer work. There are a great many jobs being offered through grants issued to Orgs. The Clinton Foundation and the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation have brought a lot of publicity to the area in recent years. You don’t have to be in the field doing the dirty work either. Non-profits need to run like businesses as well, there is lots of admin work, marketing, PR, HR etc. These days you could be doing almost anything you want while helping a good cause and building your career.
What suggestions would you give to people interested in becoming a professional do-gooder?
If I were to do it all again, I would have looked into classes in International Development at University. There are certainly times I have felt under-qualified and a background education would have helped to overcome that. However, I truly believe that volunteering for causes you believe in, without any ulterior motive but purely because you want to help for the greater good, it what will help you see a path to get you where you want to go.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Web time wasters: Valentine's Day Edition
Marian Bantjes writes love letters to everyone in her life - her mother, father, friends and lovers. She writes them on cakes, in water colors, in ink. Gorgeous.
These are the sorts of wedding photos I can get behind! Hoola hooping guests, groomsmen on a trampoline and a real shotgun wedding!
If you'd like to give your S.O. something homemade and personalized, but you're not too handy with the glue gun. Check out these flip books. You email this company your video clips, and they break them down into individual photos and bind them into a flip book. So cute!
If you are a bit more crafty, try your hand at this cute heart garland. Or write a letter to your lover and then etch a bottle to hide it in. Or mix up a batch of very sexy honey dust, to be applied with that feather duster you never use.
Hilarious! Though more so if you're single. Tainted Love: History's 7 Most Terrifying Romances.
A graph that shows you exactly what you need for Valentine's Day.
Do you and your favorite have A Song? Now you can also have A Music Video. Animoto makes video-editing easy for the rest of us. Just upload your photos, add a song and a mushy, mushy note and it'll be sent right to their in-box.
I never expected romance and environmental protection to go hand-in-hand, but they do at tree-nation. Forgo the over-priced chocolates and buy your lover one of eight million trees being planted in Niger to form a heart-shaped forest.
What ridiculous things do you do with your lover? Apparently, a lot of us try to communicate only through cat noises. *cough*includingme*cough*
Oh my. Have you been to I love you more than? Read them all and weep a little bit. Then send in one of your own! My favorites are: I love you more than canceled class. I love you more than warm pj bottoms out of the dryer. I love you more than pistachio icecream.
These are the sorts of wedding photos I can get behind! Hoola hooping guests, groomsmen on a trampoline and a real shotgun wedding!
If you'd like to give your S.O. something homemade and personalized, but you're not too handy with the glue gun. Check out these flip books. You email this company your video clips, and they break them down into individual photos and bind them into a flip book. So cute!
If you are a bit more crafty, try your hand at this cute heart garland. Or write a letter to your lover and then etch a bottle to hide it in. Or mix up a batch of very sexy honey dust, to be applied with that feather duster you never use.
Hilarious! Though more so if you're single. Tainted Love: History's 7 Most Terrifying Romances.
A graph that shows you exactly what you need for Valentine's Day.
Do you and your favorite have A Song? Now you can also have A Music Video. Animoto makes video-editing easy for the rest of us. Just upload your photos, add a song and a mushy, mushy note and it'll be sent right to their in-box.
I never expected romance and environmental protection to go hand-in-hand, but they do at tree-nation. Forgo the over-priced chocolates and buy your lover one of eight million trees being planted in Niger to form a heart-shaped forest.
What ridiculous things do you do with your lover? Apparently, a lot of us try to communicate only through cat noises. *cough*includingme*cough*
Oh my. Have you been to I love you more than? Read them all and weep a little bit. Then send in one of your own! My favorites are: I love you more than canceled class. I love you more than warm pj bottoms out of the dryer. I love you more than pistachio icecream.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
How to Rock Valentine's Day
Now, V-day doesn't have to be all about person who's on the receiving end of your batted eyelashes. However! If you are a traditionalist/romantic a few ideas to fill your days with more kisses than usual:
Tell them you'll cook what ever they want in the kitchen and do what ever they want in the bedroom. Or maybe combine the two (winkity wink!)
Eagerly and uncomplainingly attend an event of your partner's choosing. Yes, this includes movies starring The Rock, professional sports games, sports bars, hiking trips and video game marathons in his BFF's basement.
Get a membership/subscription to something that's meaningful to both of you. It could be a season pass to the roller derby or the art theater, as long as it's something you like to do together.
Recreate your first date, down to your outfit and what you ordered. Ours was a late, weeknight drink at The Turf Club followed by pie at Perkins. Que Romantico, no?
Get a calender made featuring photos of all the fun stuff you've done in the past year.
Plan an escape. It doesn't have to be extravagant! It could be camping in your neighborhood park and zipping your sleeping bags together. Or having a dirty weekend at a sleazy hotel with bad florescent lighting. Getting out of the house is sexy.
Write your partner a letter about the day you met them - what the weather was like, what was going on in the rest of your life, what your first impression of them was.
Get something meaningful engraved into something ridiculous - a spork, a guitar pick, their cleats, the handle of a screwdriver. You get the idea.
Make customized fortune cookies. I've done this in the past by microwaving fortune cookies for 30 seconds, pulling out the factory fortune with a tweezers and then stuffing my own inside.
What will you be doing with your special someone?
Eagerly and uncomplainingly attend an event of your partner's choosing. Yes, this includes movies starring The Rock, professional sports games, sports bars, hiking trips and video game marathons in his BFF's basement.
Get a membership/subscription to something that's meaningful to both of you. It could be a season pass to the roller derby or the art theater, as long as it's something you like to do together.
Recreate your first date, down to your outfit and what you ordered. Ours was a late, weeknight drink at The Turf Club followed by pie at Perkins. Que Romantico, no?
Get a calender made featuring photos of all the fun stuff you've done in the past year.
Plan an escape. It doesn't have to be extravagant! It could be camping in your neighborhood park and zipping your sleeping bags together. Or having a dirty weekend at a sleazy hotel with bad florescent lighting. Getting out of the house is sexy.
Write your partner a letter about the day you met them - what the weather was like, what was going on in the rest of your life, what your first impression of them was.
Get something meaningful engraved into something ridiculous - a spork, a guitar pick, their cleats, the handle of a screwdriver. You get the idea.
Make customized fortune cookies. I've done this in the past by microwaving fortune cookies for 30 seconds, pulling out the factory fortune with a tweezers and then stuffing my own inside.
What will you be doing with your special someone?
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
The Best Date Ever
(Natalie usually blogs at the chronically adorable Pony and Pink. She's an art student, polyvore genius and champion dress-wearer. I think she's the girlfriend you call when you want to scour that vintage boutique, and then eat finger sandwiches and catch the Beirut show - Sarah Von)
I don't take myself out any more. Not on dates. I forget to buy myself pink carnations. I convince myself I'm too busy to go the movies alone.
I think this happens a lot. We make excuses. We work hard all day until all we want to do of an afternoon is drink a beer and fall onto the couch. And we rely on coupledom to propel us out into the world and rescue us from this behavioural rut. Rely on the people we date to, well, take us out on dates. Provide the romance. And I think there's something wrong with this picture.
I am, as of now, going to take myself out for dates more often. And - naturally - dress up for the occasion.
So, in case you're in need of a little romance, here are some ideas for solitary dates ... and, because I am a self-confessed style fiend, some Polyvore outfits I'd love to wear during these fabulous solo expeditions.
I don't take myself out any more. Not on dates. I forget to buy myself pink carnations. I convince myself I'm too busy to go the movies alone.
I think this happens a lot. We make excuses. We work hard all day until all we want to do of an afternoon is drink a beer and fall onto the couch. And we rely on coupledom to propel us out into the world and rescue us from this behavioural rut. Rely on the people we date to, well, take us out on dates. Provide the romance. And I think there's something wrong with this picture.
I am, as of now, going to take myself out for dates more often. And - naturally - dress up for the occasion.
So, in case you're in need of a little romance, here are some ideas for solitary dates ... and, because I am a self-confessed style fiend, some Polyvore outfits I'd love to wear during these fabulous solo expeditions.
Ride a carousel (or maybe a ferris wheel?) while eating a tub of Turtle Mountain Peanut Butter Zig Zag with a glittery plastic spoon. Wear the kind of dress that flutters when you walk - but maybe wear a petticoat underneath, unless it is your most heartfelt desire to re-enact The Seven Year Itch. Insist on drinking everything through a pink straw, and call strangers "dollface". If sugar floats your boat, eat a stick of fairy floss (candy floss, cotton candy ... you know the drill) and take photographs of yourself with a half-eaten cloud of spun sugar and some very, very sticky lips.
Drive yourself to a lookout point in your city just as it's getting dark. Watch all of the streetlights illuminate the landscape. Wear heart-shaped glasses and buy yourself fragrant flowers before you go, so the scent wafts through the car. Think about ten things that have made you happy today, and turn up the stereo. I hope it's playing Iggy Pop or Bow Wow Wow. Your mileage may vary.
(Though, please, sweeties, lock your car doors. Just in case.)
Ride a gleaming bicycle to your nearest, geekiest museum - say, the Butterfly and Insect Museum in Honduras. Put streamers in your bicycle handlebars before you go and whistle as you ride! Take an audio tour of the museum - and don't forget to buy a postcard in the gift shop. Send it to someone who shares your entomological passions!
What dates do you take yourself on?
What dates do you take yourself on?
Monday, February 9, 2009
This is What Joy Looks Like
Oh Dudes. I got to pat my first llama. I got so excited I think I mashed her bangs over one eye.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
When Things Shouldn't Be The Same.
Be honest, the first time you heard Bright Eyes on the radio did you think to yourself, "Robert Smith!? What is wrong with you? Are you feeling alright?" And then the DJ came on in a couple of minutes and was all, "blah blah blah A song from Bright Eyes. Up next, some other crap." And then your heart broke just a tiny bit?
Because this bright eyed guy? He's not The Cure. He just wants to sound like them for a while, until all those new little girls are hooked. Then he's going to pull a 180 and turn on a little of the alt-honkey tonk sound to start ripping off Wilco. Those adorable tender little nubbins will layer a flannel over the fishnet, buy some thrifted cowboy boots and maybe lighten up on the emo mascara until the next thing comes along.
I know Robert Smith is fat and old now, and that Connor Oberst is sort of young and good looking. However, to all those girls, I want to send you an mp3. It's called "Boys Don't Cry" and it will change your life. We've all been there, right? At that adolescent cross roads where what we like and who we want to be are confusing and counter-intuitive? Where Love Hurts and Roses Have Thorns, et cetera, et cetera In the Midst of Life We Are in Death...you know.
Anyway, the point I'm driving home here is unclear at best. I wish Connor Oberst no ill will, those songs have even grown on me. Basically, I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'.
What new musicians sort of insult your teenage you?
Because this bright eyed guy? He's not The Cure. He just wants to sound like them for a while, until all those new little girls are hooked. Then he's going to pull a 180 and turn on a little of the alt-honkey tonk sound to start ripping off Wilco. Those adorable tender little nubbins will layer a flannel over the fishnet, buy some thrifted cowboy boots and maybe lighten up on the emo mascara until the next thing comes along.
I know Robert Smith is fat and old now, and that Connor Oberst is sort of young and good looking. However, to all those girls, I want to send you an mp3. It's called "Boys Don't Cry" and it will change your life. We've all been there, right? At that adolescent cross roads where what we like and who we want to be are confusing and counter-intuitive? Where Love Hurts and Roses Have Thorns, et cetera, et cetera In the Midst of Life We Are in Death...you know.
Anyway, the point I'm driving home here is unclear at best. I wish Connor Oberst no ill will, those songs have even grown on me. Basically, I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'.
What new musicians sort of insult your teenage you?
posted by darcie
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Notes from the Road: Sandboarding and Whitewater Rafting
"Say, what´s that a picture of?" is what you´re probably asking yourself right now, eh? Or maybe "Is Sarah still trying to impress us with all that talk of sand boarding?" Or probably "What happened to that guest poster La Bellette Rouge? When´s she coming back?"
Well, I´m going to go ahead and ignore those last two questions and pretend like you´re thinking about the first, mmmmkay? That photo is us, risking our necks to slide down The Biggest Sand Dune Ever.
Dudes. Not one iota of exaggeration: that dune was at least 20 stories tall.
In the event that you were concerned, I did not, in fact, die while sand boarding. Though according to that Nervous Nelly, The Lonely Planet, I could have. Here is a video that someone with exponentially better video editing skills than I possess put together that documents the sand boarding experience. (You might want to turn your speakers down or ignore the laid back hippie music. I´m pretty sure a Mountain Dew-esque, mid-90s guitar riff would be more appropriate)
So how does one not die while sand boarding in Peru? I can assure you success if you follow these simple instructions:
- While the dune buggy driver is driving sideways up giant dunes, scream your head off and white knuckle it on the roll bars
- Upon arrival at the dunes in question, reconsider your decision but allow your pride to convince you not to be That Girl who chickens out
- Rub an old candle on the bottom of a homemade snowboard
- As per the instructors directions, lay on your stomach, grab the bindings of snowboard, push yourself up onto your elbows and lock your arms in this position to funnel as much sand as possible into your cleavage
- Slide down a giant sand dune, not even screaming because you are too busy trying not to die
- When you reach the bottom, try not to act overwhelmed and respond nonchalantly when an Aussie snowboarder asks what you secret is to get going to fast.
- Lather, rinse and repeat eight more times.
And, friends? I would do it again. But maybe only once more.
As you read this, The Mister and I are headed for some whitewater rafting and then a nine hour bus ride to Cusco, where we'll head up the Inca Trail. Apparently, Cusco itself is at such a high altitude, one might be inclined to get altitude sickness. Which one might then treat by drinking tea made from coco leaves.
Indeed. Here's hoping I don't develop a nasty coco tea habit that leads to bloody noses and visions of grandeur!
Got the travel bug? Check out my ebooks and podcasts on making long-term travel a reality! Only $15 forpetessake!
Got the travel bug? Check out my ebooks and podcasts on making long-term travel a reality! Only $15 forpetessake!
Because walking is soooo last year
Whatever.
I could totally do that. I just don't want to. I mean, come on. I was reeaaalllly good at round offs in third grade.
Just sayin.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Nice work if you can get it: Museum Girl
It seems to me that Fridays are a day largely devoted to doing as little as possible and maybe hating your job a tiny bit. That co-worker who steals your Lean Cuisine? Kind of want to shank them. This ridiculously small cubical? Totally over it.
Thus, it makes perfect sense to spend a bit of your Friday reading about fantastic and envy-inducing jobs that you could pursue instead of this one with the small cubical and the annoying colleague. This will be a weekly series, and I promise you some doozies. Opera singer! Handbag designer! Sled dog veterinarian!
So without further ado, the first in our series: Nia M. - Museum Girl.
I met Nia when she was a wee fourteen years old, the younger sister of a friend of mine. She turned out to be significantly cooler than said friend and we spent much of high school engaging in shenanigans, deep in the woods of Palisade, Minnesota. These days, Nia rides her bike everywhere (even in the snow!), knows about everything that's cool three weeks before you do and hangs out with bearded hotties.
So what's the deal? What do you do?
I work at the Natural History Museum. I make science programs for the public and help to design exhibits.
Tell us about an average day in life of your job.
The average day: sit at the computer, email scientists, read some things about science, write event copy, talk to my colleagues about random things, drink coffee, sit around a big table "brainstorming" about...science.
How did you get into museum work?
Kind of by accident. I wrote a paper about habitat dioramas (those old school natural history museum displays) for a class I was taking on science and the humanities. In the course of my research I met the curator of the Bell Museum, and got interested in museum history and display techniques. After that I elbowed my way in as an unpaid intern, and eventually they offered me a job.
Do you have any special museum -related training?
Not really. That's the thing about museums - there really isn't an option for formal training, unless you want to be a curator. I studied comparative literature and the history of science, which I guess is good preparation for thinking about museum content and how to engage visitors.
Are there any drawbacks to working in at a museum?
I'll never be a millionaire.
I'll never be a millionaire.
What are the highlights?
It's a creative job, and it allows me to make use of my brain and my communications skills on a daily basis. Plus it's fun to see your ideas come to life and to know that people appreciate what you do - and hopefully, they learn something too.
What are the misconceptions about this kind of work?
That museums are full of stuffy academics. There are a few stuffy academics, but its mostly alcoholic academics and misplaced artists.
What suggestions would you give to people interested in working in museums?
You have to be willing to work hard and contribute your creative energies without any real individual recognition, but as long as you're okay with that, it's a really fun job. It helps to have a genuine interest in the public good, whatever that might mean to you. And you have to like working with other people - it's definitely not a good job for people who tend to work best on their own.
Any Museum lovers out there? Any queries for the lovely Nia?
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Peru and Paris
La Bellette Rouge is one of the funniest, most honest, most talented writers I know. Though I might be partial because she loves weasels and dogs. She's a fellow former expat, though her heart belongs to Paris, while mine belongs to anywhere that's hot and jungle filled.
I was tickled to bits when Ms. Sarah Von asked me to write a guest post for her lovely blog while she is on her sojourn. I said “si ,seguro” immediately, or for you francophones, I said “oui, bien sur”. As Sarah’s destination is Peru, I got to thinking about what I, a die hard Francophile, know about Peru. Because of the movie “Better Off Dead” I have forever linked Paris and Peru. In the film, a fete is hosted for a French exchange student to make her feel more at home. The menu: “Fronch fries, Fronch toast and to drink Peru.”
Let me translate for you who don’t speak Midwestern. What was served was: French fires, French toast and to drink Perrier. Because of this, I call Perrier “Peru” and have forever linked things French and Peruvian. I know this association is irrational and capricious, but it is mine.
I have never been to Peru and I am not sure I ever will, but I am going to share with you all my Peruvian associations and what Peru and France have in common in a classic, compare and contrast type style.
1. I had a Peruvian high school boyfriend named Enrique. Well, he wasn’t so much a boyfriend as a swimming, shaved-armed, bare-chested, and bare-legged Peruvian-like god. He dressed very GQ and we danced on a TV dance show for a high school audience called MV3 . Yes, I was a TV dancer when I was 17. I bet you´re surprised by that. I know I hope that the video tape of this show was forever lost in a fire and that I will never be subjected to seeing myself dancing my heart out to Depeche Mode with Enrique.
2. Magical Peruvian lettuce salsa. Oh my gosh, this stuff is so good. You could put it on paper and it would make it taste good. My favorite Peruvian place in L.A. is El Pollo Inca and they have the best Magical Peruvian lettuce salsa. If you have not tried Peruvian food you must do it. Get the chicken, the plantains, and the Inca Cola. Me gusto. Esta es muy sabrosa.
3. Shirley Mac Claine. Way back in the 80’s she wrote “Out on a limb” and the one thing I remember from reading her rant on reincarnation is that Shirley went to Machu Pichu on her path to enlightenment and that she was so cold that she slept naked in a cave. I think of that every time I get really cold. I wonder if I would be warmer if I was naked. It seems illogical to me, kind of like a friend who swore up and down to me that water boiled faster if you start with cold water. But, I am not one to trust people who claim to have past lives as royalty. So, as of yet, I haven’t taken Shirley’s advice.
4. I asked my hair dresser if she knew where Peru was and she asked if it was in Egypt. I told her I didn’t think so.
5. Peruvian fashion is much bolder, brighter, colorful and more affordable than French fashion. Sarah, be sure to pick up a poncho and one of those hats everyone buys when they are in Peru. Best not to wear that hat when you return to the states. It is kind of like wearing Mickey mouse ears outside of Disneyland.
6. Both Peru and Paris start with the letter P. Huh? Yes, I am desperate and reaching. But, wouldn’t it be great if Paris Hilton had a sister named Peru. Peru is hippy dippy and green and environmentally friendly and smells of patchouli oil and would never wear pink as it isn’t green. Peru eschews her family’s hotels in favor of youth hostels and backpacking. She is a vegan who is into hemp, natural fibers, colonics, whole foods and juicing. There is a video available of Peru doing amazing things with a broccoli, wheat grass juice, and kelp. You can order it for $29.95 and all of the profits go to Save the Peruvian Rain Forest.
7. Peruvians chew coco leaves. Parisians eat chocolate. Both elevate your mood and may be equally addictive. I imagine that the chocolate is more tasty and less likely to lead to a stint in rehab.
8. Peruvians are fond of the Peruvian pan flute. Parisians are known for their love of the accordion. I like both of these instruments when I am in the appropriate context (i.e. Peru, Paris, or restaurants that are hitting home the point of “yes, this is a French restaurant and so we play Edith Piaf and accordion music”).
9. There are llamas in Peru. There is Laduree in Paris. I like both llamas and Laduree. I, for a short while, thought I might want a llama. I liked the looks of them. But then I met one and realized that they are not an animal with a whole lot of personality and there is the matter of where I would have put my Peruvian pet. I think that the llama fantasy fits in with my desire to have a horse and a tractor. As tempting as that farm life fantasy is, I think it will remain in the realm of fantasy. I prefer the macaroons from Laduree to a smelly pack animal with a propensity for spitting.
10. Peru has Machu Pichu and Paris has the Eiffel tower. I don’t imagine there is an elevator that will take you to the top of Machu Pichu or a four star restaurant that takes months to get a reservation at.
11. In Peru I can say “yo quero une café” and in Paris I can say, “je voudrais une café”. Yes, oui and si, I am tri-lignual.
Sarah, I hope you have a fantastic time in Peru and I hope your posts from Peru will enlighten us with more than the scant information I have shared.
Are there any similarities I missed?
Notes from the Road: Haucachina, Peru
Friends, here are some things that I am not:
1. an extreme athlete
2. an eater of ham
3. a lover of tapirs
And yet, despite all of this, I am seriously considering taking a dune buggy to the top of these giant, giant sand dunes and sandboarding all the way down, back into the tiny oasis of Huacachina, Peru where we are currently drinking a lot of pisco sours and sleeping on hard, sandy beds.
In answer to your question: No, I have never sandboarded in my life. Or really dabbled in boarding of any kind. But this is what holidays are for, yes? Doing ridiculous things slightly outside of your comfort zone, wearing the same clothes day after day and developing travel hair (the deeply sexy combination of sun screen, salt water and sand)
Other adventures thus far have included: poking around the cliffs and beaches of Lima, eating at The Nicest Restaraunt Ever, built out over the ocean, to the tune of $15 each, tiny Peruvian girls singing Sesame Street songs to me in an attempt to prove their English capabilities, five hour bus rides featuring stewardesses and music videos from the 1980s, climbing the sand dunes and watching the sun set, navigating the city with a head lamp when the municipal generator dies, remembering to throw the toilet paper in the garbage and not in the toilet, remembering not to drink the water, and ordering a ´jam and cheese sandwhich´only to discover that ´jam´ is apparently ´ham.´
Post sandboarding, we board a bus for 11 hours and head to Arequipa. I have high hopes for more 1980s videos.
In answer to your question: No, I have never sandboarded in my life. Or really dabbled in boarding of any kind. But this is what holidays are for, yes? Doing ridiculous things slightly outside of your comfort zone, wearing the same clothes day after day and developing travel hair (the deeply sexy combination of sun screen, salt water and sand)
Other adventures thus far have included: poking around the cliffs and beaches of Lima, eating at The Nicest Restaraunt Ever, built out over the ocean, to the tune of $15 each, tiny Peruvian girls singing Sesame Street songs to me in an attempt to prove their English capabilities, five hour bus rides featuring stewardesses and music videos from the 1980s, climbing the sand dunes and watching the sun set, navigating the city with a head lamp when the municipal generator dies, remembering to throw the toilet paper in the garbage and not in the toilet, remembering not to drink the water, and ordering a ´jam and cheese sandwhich´only to discover that ´jam´ is apparently ´ham.´
Post sandboarding, we board a bus for 11 hours and head to Arequipa. I have high hopes for more 1980s videos.
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