Put your title here ...

Air Rage. Argentina.

2010-05-09T21:39:00.003-04:00

First, I would just like to say the tone of this post was brought to you by United Airlines. United: Preferred flyer of Oompa Loompas, Amputees, and the Lollypop Guild. If you don’t get there and look like hell, next time you ride in cargo for free.

So, Argentina. That's pretty freakin' far. And when you work for a company that refuses to acknowledge the existence of business class, it's a really really long way. By the time I arrive to the airport I'm in no mood for human interaction of any kind. Well, Argentina has recently decided to raise money through a gotcha tax as you arrive in EZE (the main international airport in Buenos Aires). They say that this amount is in no way a visa but in fact just payback for three crappy governments (Canada, Australia and the U.S.) who have the gall to charge Argentina’s citizens a visa fee. As you enter the terminal now you are immediately herded by nationality into hastily erected payment quarters so that you can be subjected to the $131 fee. There is no warning of this fee before you arrive, no notification on your airline ticket. Not even a mention in flight before you land. Luckily, others from our office had gone before and sussed out the situation post-Jan 15, 2010. So, if you are planning on heading to Argentina, you may want to re-consider and go somewhere else without a reciprocity tax (a.k.a. ”Screw You” tax).

And then there was my immigration officer... Given my unlucky status as an American and requirement to pay the Screw You tax I was near the end of the long line of our flight to come through. From what I could tell everyone ahead of me was also from my flight. So after waiting in my second line of the three line day I come to the immigration officer who decided, with one look, that he hates me. “Flight number.” Jesus, I don’t know, as I try to pull out the correct piece of paper out of my backpack with the 4500 different pockets and zippers. Usually at this point they try to help you out, “where did you come from?” knowing that there are probably only 1 or 2 possible choices for you to choose from. As the airport clearly only had one international flight per provider he could have suggested “United? American?” and used his knowledge from there. No he hummed while I cursed and dug out old boarding passes from the wrong flights. After I successfully located the flight number on a balled up boarding pass crouching in the seam of my backpack I moved onto customs. As I followed the signs to the outside I’m fairly certain I passed through customs without getting searched as the strange looking step-child of a family of Mexicans that I latched onto. I certainly got a raised eyebrow but no one said a word and no one ever even took my customs form.

I did finally make it through the rigmarole and managed to hand over a large portion of the cash I had on me through the various airport schemes. There was of course the ridiculous exchange rate booth, with “no commission” and the “official tax stand” operators who grab your bags and beg for tips. Finally, I was in a cab and on my way to the domestic airport for the next leg of my flight.

Argentina is a mishmash of cultures and I've had the pleasure of visiting a handful of times. They took the foods of Italy, the superiority complex of France, the anal retentiveness of Germany, and threw it all together to create their own anal retentive, taxation and rule crazy, but never on time, striking mess with the party vibe of Brazil and a cowboy history flowing just beneath the surface. I've got to admit it is a blend that has benefits and makes for a great country. The food in Argentina is amazing, combined with the culture and cafes of any good European city, buildings that are well thought out and neighborhoods that are well kept. The people, may believe they are better than you but they are are kind and open to strangers.

These internal conflicts of Argentine culture were evident to me in the orderly traffic on the motorway as I crossed the city that wasn’t at all phased by a motorcycle speeding in the breakdown lane going the wrong direction. Argentina is like that straight-A kid you remember from High School who followed all the rules, but was moonlighting as a stripper for extra cash. You’d never know it to look at her except for the nipple ring that occasionally shows through her top.

I was fairly certain I had asked for the right place but the price was high and my invoice said “Aeroparque” not “Aeropeurto” ….and we were driving, and driving, and driving. The travel agent had said 25 minutes. The flight attendant said 20 … so at 45 minutes I began to get concerned I had miscommunicated something along the way. We drove through the “Parque Norte” (North Park) and I got even more concerned, as we had entered onto a picturesque boulevard that was lined with trees, following the coastline paved with residential speed bumps. Lord help me where have I asked to go?? I was just about to ask for some clarification on the whole “Aeroparque” (literally air park) and “Aeropeurto” (airport) issue. When finally, against all odds, and reaffirming my belief that my Spanish wasn’t so bad that I would end up in a different town I spotted the telltale blue sign with an airplane picture on it. Turns out Aeroparque was a good description, as the airport is lovely, built with the neighborhood in mind with one whole wall of windows overlooking the boulevard and the water beyond. Woo Hoo! I had arrived.

Trying to find a small enough bill to tip with, led to another episode of cursing and swearing my way through my backpack only to realize I didn’t actually have a smaller bill, and thus Part 24 of handing over all unsecured cash to various members of the airport community. A tradition of traveling that truly never ceases to irk me because I’m always, without fail, too tired to fight …except for that time when I was in Cairo and the guy locked my backpack into his trunk after I’d argued with him about the price and then just left. I out waited him, 45 minutes sitting in his cab acting as if nothing was unusual until he relented on the price and took me to my hotel. Alas that is a story for another day.

Upon my arrival at the domestic airport, I managed to get out of line twice after the monitors cycled past the name of the airline that was supposed to be represented at the counter. My slowly awakening mind finally realized the monitor was alternating between two names. Duh. It’s a monitor and I was treating it as if someone had carved it into an ancient piece of stone. When I reached the counter I was met with a quickly spoken question outside of my comfort zone to which I announced “Calafate?” (the city I was trying to get to and my best guess at the first question the airlines usually ask). To which I was greeted with a withering stare and “your passport.” Type type type. “How many bags?” she said in heavily accented English. “None”, I don’t do checked luggage. Our U.S. airlines have lost their minds with their silly fees, and I refuse to take it anymore, so I had everything down to my hiking boots and work clothes shoved into a tiny carryon. “I must weigh it.” …. Du du dududu 21 kg between my carryon and my backpack and a heavy winter jacket. “No more than 5” she says. “What!?” “No more than 5 kg to carry” … Aerolinas Argentinas? Are you shitting me? 10 lbs I’m allowed to carry on? That’s basically a laptop? But did I say that? Did I turn into one of those Americans screaming about stupid foreign rules and customs? No. I started pulling things out of my carryon, knowing this was a battle for another, less sleep deprived, day.

All I’m saying is, if I were president of the world I would get all of the crazy ass airlines and government agencies into a room and I would lock them up there with one word “Decide”. Pick one set of ridiculous virtually pointless rules, that will apply to all the airplanes and airports in the world. Either we have 2 carry-ons or we have 1 (I’m talking to you England). We will have 30 lb carry ons or 10 lb carry ons (crazy Argentina Air). Water bottles or no, shoes on or off? Post security water is okay or still bad? Plastic bags or in your carryon? Cell phones during taxi or no? … And while you are at it demand that ever plane out of production from this day forward can hold the same size carryon. I want an end to gatechecking! Who’s with me?! It’s a revolution! But for now I will just have to do with my camera, a non-functional blackberry, and a laptop without wireless access … because everything else was checked.

Dating Life...

2008-09-13T20:33:00.005-04:00

I'm being stalked by eHarmony.

If a man ever sent me this many emails by now I would have a restraining order, but the problem is I'm leading Dr Neil Clark Warren on. He sends me an email with ... "WE FOUND YOUR MATCH!!!!" and with that many exclamation points I can't help but open it.

Once they see that I peeked they know at some point I will be: drunk, recently rejected, and on email ... it's the eharmony "perfect storm". Then they will have me. I will happily, desperately, hand over my credit card information and dole out the a minimum $60 / month to be able to "nudge" my perfect match.

However, the more I play "hard to get" the harder Neil looks for matches for me, and the more desperate the search becomes ... it's been 2 months and Neil's gotten more and more vague about what these matches could possibly have in common with me and they seem to live farther and farther out into the North Carolina countryside (read: the hills) and I don't mean The Hills with capitals and a great opening theme song, I mean the hills where Dairy Queen and Waffle House are considered gourmet.

A recent match:
Billy Joe (48) 4'4" self-employed,

Billy Joe likes walks down his driveway to get the mail on Tuesdays, lives with his mama and spends most days washing windows for tips at the local gas station.

Billy Joe says: "I'm looking for a woman who can move in and take care of me and mama. I ain't got time for no fatties, and I'd like her to have teeth. I don't want a woman with more then 4 of her own children."

The three things friends would say about Billy Joe:
literate,
good with a gun,
once traveled to Memphis.

Things he can't live without:
his mama,
NASCAR,
running water, and
beer.

Wow, thanks Neil that's hard to resist but for now, I'm still sober and somehow I think I'm going to have to pass.

POEM. To A New Baby.

2007-07-31T22:37:00.006-04:00

In her belly you did surely grow,
But what you would be we still didn’t know.

If you’re a she, as I’m sure you will be,
You’ll be named Lisa, as you’re named after me!

Perhaps to consider, the thought that I’m wrong,
If this should happen then I’d vote for Shawn

Into the future your whole life will be,
Oh the things that you’ll know! Oh the things you will see!

A doctor or teacher, it's hard to be sure
Perhaps to disease, you’ll find the cure

Movies and music you’ll have all your own,
You’ll laugh at our stories of Walkmans and car phones

We await your arrival with excitement and awe
But no one’s as psyched as your mama and pa

Even though you babies, you do cry and poo,
You, little baby, are a little dream come true

World domination got ugly

2006-12-16T14:00:00.002-05:00

When I was twelve I joined my mother on a take your daughter to work day. I was really excited to see where she worked what she did all day, who she talked to. And when I walked into the sparkling lobby with the glimmering marble and shiny elevator doors, I think I was hooked. Next to my drab building where I spent my days in school, this was a beautiful place, full of people that looked like they were important somehow and they all rushed around as if there was somewhere that really needed them to arrive. I wanted to be that important to something. As a 12 year old the feeling that someone is waiting desperately for your arrival and thoughts, it was, for me an amazing selling point on the business world.

So off I went first to an undergraduate degree in Economics, where I learned that everything was perfectly predictable if only the world was predictable. However, in a world that is not predictable, we can still draw graphs without being tied to scales on the axis and make overarching statements, that the more something is demanded, the higher the price will rise, unless that high demand is met with more supply in which case the price will stay the same, or alternatively the high demand will cause supplier to overcompensate driving down prices temporarily, until a time that they are unsustainable, driving competitors out of the market and increasing prices again, unless of course the government won't allow it and then they will stay low ad infinitum. So in a nutshell that was my undergraduate degree. I was hoping that would be enough that people would find me important and I would rush around and they would start asking and respecting my opinion. However, with a B average in Economics and 4,500 classmates I was virtually unemployable as anything more then a part-time burger flipper or Olive Garden waitress. (image placeholder)

With the details of my dreams of greatness slowly coagulating into a solid but malleable mass, I was asked to join a group of test gerbils, to try out the new Master of Accounting program. In return for my participation I would receive 90% of my tuition and the opportunity to increase my value from that of part-time burger flipper - living in my parent's basement between the Barbie Dream house and 12 gnarled boxes of Christmas lights - Olive Garden waitress to CPA – real honest to goodness letters after my name. If that didn't make me important, I don't know what would.

Nearly 2 years after graduating with my undergraduate degree, I started working as a tax accountant at one of the largest public accounting firms in the world. My first tax return ended with my supervisor pretty much redoing all of my work while I was relegated to be staffed on the left over returns or work for people that no one else with any power would. It was a depressing scene in that first year. I had been allocated to the one kind of tax I wasn't interested in … individuals. I was assigned based on - wait for it - the B in my last name. It was the first in my class and the Individual group was the first on the list of departments, so off I went. Soon it was all I could do to get myself unchained from my department without pissing anyone off – but the only manager who was patient enough to deal with my distinct inability to really focus on details was himself a manager in the international individuals department. Finally, in this department I was worthy of rushing, I eventually accumulated some staff to help me and I was close to meeting my goal of importance. But I was worried I couldn't be important enough? (image placeholder) I mean how many famous international assignment services tax managers are running a Fortune 500 company?

In order to reach my goal I would have to breakoff schedule and make a quick pitstop at Servicetown, USA. It's a popular place to stop these days on your way to any high profile graduate program. However, this destination is growing so popular that sometimes you need to work pretty hard to get in, especially if you are hoping to get paid while you are there. My destination was the TFA neighborhood of Servicetown. I had signed up, interviewed, speeched, and dazzled my way into Greenville High School, much to my mother’s horror. I raised the average age in Servicetown by a couple of years, and was happy to share the wealth of life experiences gained from my 4 years partying legally in bars instead of frat parties. It was a two year stint, and it was mighty hard work, but at the end of it, I had what all but the most dedicated find at the end of their trip to Servicetown, a letter of acceptance. In my case it was off to Business School back in Philadelphia.

My MBA built on my knowledge of charts and graphs and broad generalizations. I redefined myself by the rules of this new game, where leadership came in four flavors, everyone lived in boxes and were desperate to get out, and team members should feel free to critique you at any point in order to foster your personal and professional growth. I came out of two years with some Cs Ps and a new appreciation for Excel shortcut keys. I could voice an opinion strongly and without any real foundation, and best of all ... all those charts and graphs I had learned about during my Economics degree I could now translate into 40 colors and make into an animated three-dimensional chart that talked(image placeholder).

But the biggest learning I took away from business school is the importance of having friends. However, you should no longer have only "popular" friends; you should have friends evenly distributed across all the strata of social acceptance levels from homeless man to presidents alike. During your MBA you find out the more connections you make the better. However, if you are the type of person to really develop deep friendships with a few key people, you may find yourself in trouble. As your social connections may have many, detrimental, "redundant links" and there is nothing more worrisome then the dreaded redundant link ... if I know 1 person who knows all the same people as another well then why the HELL would I spend any of my time (and time is money) talking to person number 2 since he/she is no more valuable then person 1 in my social network. Rationalize your social networks, RATIONALIZE! It's all about efficiencies across all aspects of your life, if you are not efficient then you are destined again to never be important and never be truly respected within the corporate world.

The most depressing learning of my advanced degree was that even in a top rated school there simply weren't enough good jobs to go around and you were forced to battle it out like a scene out of Mad Max, or like in Waterworld when people wanted freshwater and they couldn't drink out of the ocean, yeah, like that almost, except without the water so much, or the post-apocalyptic outfits, because well mostly people just shopped at Banana Republic. But I fear I'm getting away from my story, of how I was struggling my way up the corporate ladder towards a job with real meaning and responsibility. A way to shape the corporate world as I knew it. (image placeholder)

In May of my second year I received confirmation that I had climbed one more step in a long ladder to corporate greatness, or the ultimate destruction of my very soul (depending on who it was that you are talking to). Where had I landed and who had I stabbed in the back to get there? Well, I managed to find a small place in a little strategy consulting firm (read: you have a question? we'll make up an answer) and was absolutely thrilled that my long term plan of 2 years consulting followed by a move into the corporate world, quickly followed by world domination. As for those I'd stabbed in the back, well rest assured they were a fully redundant connection and of absolutely no value to my future.

It was a great start; it seems that in order to really be effective at telling someone else the answer you need to develop your own code language to make sure your client never knows that you are just discussing your dinner plans. The tags and ghosts, and standards ... I never knew I had any bandwidth, only time ... and write down what a random person thought in quotes and suddenly it became "color". Manhattan, wasn't just a place, it was a chart that no one could explain, Harvey's balls were all over the place, and if your bars weren't stacked you weren't trying hard enough to pack as much into a single loop as possible. When the haze of random words, that were used in place of very common, easily understood words, finally began to clear and I found myself looking for Bandwidth to accommodate a weekend shopping trip I thought ... this is a little strange, but I feel like I'm getting somewhere. Certainly everyone important must speak a language no one else understands.
(image placeholder)
When I began I slept easily knowing full well, that when they had hired me they had not just hired a former CPA/teacher/endless student they had hired a person looking for success. Unfortunately, they had also hired someone who was very much used to having a life of their own as well ... hmmm. Depending on your perspective work life here was definitely in balance as long as your life was your work, then you were 100% in line 100% of the time, and I worked with many who were thrilled about it. They could talk about their ability to bring their work home, and call forwarding, as well as the power of the internet to allow them to have a life at work and to work continuously at home. In my master plan, it was never written that world domination would be quite so much work.

The lowest point occurred at the saddest part of the day ... dawn. While in many cultures dawn is equated to rejuvenation, and a re-awakening of the world. Dawn in the business world merely means that you have lost any chance to spend more then a few minutes in bed before returning to work, with even less brainpower. So my personal lowest point occurred just as I was realizing I had hit the 100 hour mark ... there were no taxis to be found at this hour and all I wanted was to be home in bed. About a block up I spotted a blond woman, about 26, getting into a cab, the cab pulled away and I turned around again, hoping to spot another from a new corner. And just as I thought the cab was about to take off it pulled over and the girl climbed back out ... the cabbie inside yells - you go to Lynn Street? I was thankful that a co-worker had called me a cab and got inside. When I noted my thanks, the cabbie stopped me and said, "no, no" I drove you last night - I drive you home again. It seemed my bright pink jacket and a propensity to tip my drivers well, had earned me a reputation with the few drives that were stuck with the night shift work. What do you do when the night shift cabbies know you?

What do you do when you are so sleep deprived that no alarm clock in the world can rouse you to meet a 6am flight? When you are expected to check documents for errors at the point that exhaustion has your eyes slamming shut involuntarily? When you leave work and sleep for 23 hours? When you cry at work more than once a week? How does world domination look when you are just aren't "owning" your position? When you are being told that you just aren't good enough? When person after person says it again and again? World domination starts to look pretty grim. World domination starts to look like a pretty lame plan. Screw world domination. I quit. I'm going home and taking an f-ing nap.

African Adventures in 2006

2006-06-21T23:04:00.000-04:00

5/30/06

greetings from namibia, currently in Sakamond, Namibia (on the west coast of africa in the Namib Desert) the birthplace of baby Jolie-Pitt yesterday (I'm so glad that Angie held out so that I could be here for the birth). In other news ...

1. Threw myself out of a plane at 10,000 feet today over the Namib Desert. very fun. very beautiful. much less scary then bungy.
2. Drove a Quad bike thru the desert this morning at about 60 km/hr lots of huge hills and good bumbs, only nearly ate sand once, didn't flip my vehicle like some others in the group.
3. Went sandboarding this morning from a dune that was about 400 ft high and went straight down, apparently you get upto speeds about 88 km/hr ... again, very very fun. Glad I didn't break my neck.
4. Yesterday went to a seal colony 300,000 seals ... yes the size of Rochester! it was unbelievable, of course i took WAY too many pictures, that I cannot send due to their size, after many many tries. Also hiked up the world famous (apparently) dune 45 one of many many many giant red sand dunes that cover an area of 32,000 hectares!! it is unbelievably beautiful.
5. Two days ago I hiked up another dune, took an hour, lots of wheezing in the dry air but really great views.
AND THE LIST GOES ON. Like bush camping under the shadow of a giant bolder, it was beyond amazing.

Must say. namibia, very very unexpectedly cool. and really easy to get around, I will come back and do it on my own. i will say however, that i should have been a little more respectful of the whole "winter" thing. the desert apparently gets very very cold ... we've been out camping in the middle of no where now for a couple of days in temps that are getting into the 20s ... even in a 3 season sleeping bag, not freeing to death requires me to basically wear every single piece of clothing that i own.

The group is fun, i'm being very anti-social. i think i'm just socialled out. it is 9 english women, 2 aussies, 2 dutch and me ... everyone is about my age which makes it fun, i just wish i felt like partying all the time, i think i'm getting a rep. i just want to be awake to enjoy everything, so i haven't exactly been greeting the dawn with a beer in hand.

My tentmate is Carrie from Bath. She is a vet nurse and hysterically funny, she's the most fun english girl i think ... and reminds me a bit of you Carrie! We have a crappy tent that refuses to "pop" so we swear and kick the damn thing and then whine until the guides do it for us.... that helps.

There's really way too much to tell, unfortunately besides brushing the wire out of my braces one day and losing my water bottle while dune 'leaping' in the desert I haven't done anything too crazy or stupid ... but lucky for you there is still time. i wish this wasn't such a boring email!

Well the baboons were certainly entertaining at the Cape of Good Hope. They break into cars there in such of a sweet snack. We drive up and this large male baboon jumps into one of the tour trucks and what does the guide do? he closes the door locking the baboon in .. not sure what the purpose of that was other then to piss off large strong baboon. Apparently if you try to picnic there they will climb a tree over you and pee on your sandwich so that you drop it on the ground and then they run away with a urine soaked snack ... mmmm yummy.

6/2/06

Yesterday was going to watch wild cheetahs being fed and when trying to get the perfect picture I fell off the truck. Yes people I fell off the truck right smack in front of hungry cheetahs being fed raw meat. Hmmm.... Needless to say I moved pretty quick and made it back in the truck before most even noticed I had fallen!

6/3/06

Greetings from Etosha, Namibia. This is our first place for game drives and so far so good. Yesterday we saw about 47 elephants around a waterhole, even some babies. Managed to get some good pictures without falling in. Apparently now I'm the entertainment of the group. Sounds like I won't be able to stay that extra week which is a disappointment, but I just found out my next hotel nights are in over a month ... so I'll probably be ready for a break from camping by then.

While some people on this list may dissaprove ... contending it is not REAL camping, the facitilities here are amazing. It is basically a compound in the middle of the game reserve. We are the animals in the zoo. They basically close off the gates at sundown to keep the lions out (someone got eaten a couple of years ago ... oops). Apparently the Lions were up and roaring all night keeping everyone awake. I've given up trying to get any sleep at all without my earplugs. The jackels are running rampant around here, stealing shoes, but are pretty much harmless and the waterhole that is just outside the compound is all lit up at night. We got to see a couple of lions and 5 black rhinos (including a baby!) come for a drink after dark.

My camera has been nicknamed "baby" by the group, i.e. "Lisa's Baby" ... most are terrified to touch it. They are starting to understand my sense of humor and have taken to mocking me. Also we have instituted a rule in Uno that you are not allowed to apologize for dealing someone a crappy card ... in fact if you say "sorry" you have to pick up another card. I'm glad I can be such a positive influence on the group.

Let's see ... every time I'm off line I think of things I've forgotten to mention. How about a top ten list of things I've learned, in my last 10 min. of internet time.

10. Cheetahs don't like sunglasses
9. You can find Magnum ice cream bars in any African village, no matter how small.
8. Rock paintings are NEVER interesting, even if they are 3,000 years old.
7. No picture is important enough to get eaten by a cheetah for.
6. Winter means its cold ... even in Africa
5. The smellier your shoes are the more likely they are to get eaten by a jackel
4. Its okay to pee in public
3. 6am is early no matter when you went to sleep.
2. 300,000 seals smell. Bad.
1. $3.30/day can feed me with second helpings.

Okay people. That's about it. Feel free to email me, I like to have the mail to read. For those that have and now feel dissed by my lack of individual response ... SORRY! I'm at an expensive place, but in Livingston I'll have lots of time to catch up on my real replies.

Hope all is well, hope you are having fun ... when you wake up without your nose frozen solid think of me!

6/6/06

Windhoek, Namibia ... the capital city apparently (yes my ignorance is
overwhelming at times)

Well after 45 minutes of trying to get onto my email account, I
finally gave up and moved over here to the "largest internet cafe in
Africa" ... well I'm not sure it is really the largest at all but at
least I can get onto my email account. So I promised a long note for
you all today ... so here it goes.

I brought my journal so that I could see if anything in particular had
happened that you might all care about, that I had forgotten to
mention previously.

Well, the first piece of big news is our leopard spottings have gone
thru the roof! In the 5 years our guide has worked he's only seen 2
leopards. As a truck we've seen 4, including a cub! ... unfortunately
for me I have only seen two, but one of those allowed me to get a
fabulous picture, that hopefully will turn out okay.

Last night was cold, really really really cold. It was not really fun
to sleep in all of your clothes, especially after a few days of 80
degree weather and lots of shorts. So last night, I had my ear plugs
in, as usual. And apparently my tentmate Carrie was in a battle
against her sleeping bag, with me completely unaware. After shivering
and worrying that hypothermia might actually kill her she slept in the
tub of the bathroom poor thing. Meanwhile, I was happily tucked into
my sleeping bag wearing everything I owned with only my nose peeking
out into the tent.

I also never mentioned that there is a petrified forest here in
Namibia. It is filled with Pine trees, now you may scoff, but I
always thought petrified trees were still standing up, so I was very
surpised to be walking around a bunch of rocks with a strong tree
resemblence, but since I had never been before I guess it was still
good, especially since the entry fee was only about a dollar.

The amount of game here in Namibia is absolutely unbelievable! We
have just seen hundreds and hundreds of zebra, giraffe, and elephants,
we don't even wake up for them anymore since they are so prevelent.
One cool thing at the last campsite was the fact that there was a
mongoose family that greeted everyone as they came into the
campground. They were so cute! They ran up and said hello and then
went on their merry way back to doing whatever it is mongooses (yes,
apparently the plural is NOT mongeese) do all day. We also had a
family of worthogs that lived there as well, they were a little more
interested in eating our food then the mongooses and would gentlly ram
your behind through the chairs as a "Hey, you know I wouldn't mind a
part of that sandwich" ... this head butting was not appreciated by
some in the group and the poor Pumba's were run off. Needless to say
Hakuna Matata has been going through my head for days now.

In all the excitment of falling into the cheetahs and nearly getting
eaten (those new to the list, I'll have to fill you in later!) I
forgot to mention my other accident. We went canoeing in the Orange
River (apparently named for the dutch "Orange" family, not the color)
and you know when you are in moving vehicles of anytype with women
steering, there are bound to be issues. Well, two in our crew
although appently believing they are strong canoers didn't get the
whole gist of steering, and while Carrie and I were going at a pretty
good rate of speed we were rammed into a bush. Carrie's reaction was
smart, she dropped the paddle and dove into the canoe to shield her
from the branches ... what did I do? Well, I did battle one on one
with the bush, and the bush won. I had all sorts of defensive wounds
on my arms and nearly took a swim in the ice cold river. However, all
was made slightly better when I turned around and saw that the two
that had rammed us had soon after capsized their vessle and were
floating down the river .... hee hee.

I've decided I'm definitly retiring to Namibia, it has all the
amenities, and I've been totally overwhelmed by the amount of animals
in Etosha (named after the salt pan that covers a couple 1,000 acres),
its nearly as good as the crater ... did I mention the 14 lions and
the giraffes drinking at a water hole (really cool pics). There are
beautiful houses you can rent just inside the park (within those
"compounds" I was telling you about with "barriers" that my house cats
could overcome if the right meal was put on the other side). They
have kichens and outdoor seating, everything those who are
"anti-camping" could ever want.

Okay, I have a little more time to answer some emails you all have
sent, I'm going to try to do that for a bit. We are off to Botswana
next (news to me) ... the Okavango Delta. Oh and I'll just throw this
in at the end ... apparently there is some new unnamed disease that
our tour leader mentioned in the same breath as Ebola kicking around
here. We are going into the hot zone ... so I'll try not to bring any
viruses home. No tourists have died, just the locals, so I'm sticking
to my tent and keeping the cipro tablets near.

6/13/06

Greetings from Kasane, Botswana ... just on the outskirts of Chobe National Park. We are here for two days. Yes, it has been a while. My attempt to gain internet access in Maun was failed, and very very sad. Seems we have indeed left Namibia and the comforts of South African wealth behind. Although Botswana is one of the richest African nations, much of that wealth is poorly reflected in the availability of different services (as we have found out!)

Spent the last few days in the Delta. No not that Delta, the Okavango Delta (for those confused, yes the Okavango Delta is created by the Okavango River (this caused some confusion for those in our group). This is the only river in the world to end in a desert, in this case its the Kalahari. And keeping to our theme this trip of ... yes Africa does have winter. We camped out in a frigid 22 degrees one of the nights. That is DAMN cold in a tent on the ground when you get up before dawn!

We survived and are now well on our way to the equator ... hurray! It has been downright balmy here at Chobe Safari lodge, and it is all I can do to stop from being eaten alive by the mozzies (mosquitos). Speaking of which, my tent is perched about 25 feet from the crocidile and hippo infested river. We are supposed to "look around" before climbing out of our tent at night ... yeah. I don't think so ... apparently sticking to the other theme of our trip "how animals can kill you" ... a crocidile recently pulled someone at this campground who foolishly kept their door open out of their tent and all that was found was his head, great. Why does our tour leader Chris tell us all of these things when so many of us are taking Lariam (an anti-malarial that causes vivid nightmares) I'll never understand. However, instead of nightmares about Crocs I just had a dream that my tentmate Carrie was German and refused to talk to me in English anymore.... obviously the scare tactics are no longer working on me.

Speaking of another close call, apparently a group that went to the Delta a week before us were canoing along in their dugout canoes ... now these are REAL dugout canoes. We are talking about out of trees that grow in the Kalahari ... the Kalahari being a desert does not grow really big trees ... the canoes hold two people and a pulla (who is basically like the gondala guy) ... who steers you along. You are about 2 inches above the water line and constantly being bailed out. Okay. So a week ago another overlander trip like ours was heading out for their canoe trip in the afternoon (since the morning consisted of a pre-dawn 10 mile hike across the animal-free delta area (yes 4 hours walking in the sand ... no breakfast, AND they woke me up at 5:30am) .... ANYWAY back to the afternoon

So in the afternoon a week before our own trip the canoes headed out to see the hippos. Well, apparently they came across one that was out of its "domain" (the words of the safari manager) ... well Hippos kill more people then anyother animal in Africa so they are not the funnest animals to accidently run into. The hippo flipped the canoe over and even before the overlanders could react their Pulla (guide and canoe captain) took off faster then a cat with its tail on fire. Leaving the stranded foreigners to figure out how one reacts to a wild and angry Hippo. Again, according to this safari manager ... the Pullas reaction to "flee" was "unfortunate"... hmmm anyway since the Hippo was out of its domain it just ran away again, the manager also chose this moment to let us know that if it had been a Hippo in its own territory "it would have made sure no one was left alive" ... yeah. Thanks for that. So after that lovely bedtime story we head out to see hippos ... IN THEIR "DOMAIN" in DUGOUT CANOES ... we were within feet of them at some points and my tentmate Carrie got so scared she nearly threw herself out of the boat and tried to swim for shore (poor girl) did get some great pictures of Hippos trying to scare us out (and they did a damn good job I must say).

Overall however, the delta seemed mostly overrated, even with the perspective of a flight over it, there was not a hell of a lot living there and you can only go by foot so the ground you cover is minimal, although the fun of being within a couple of feet of giraffes in the wild is pretty cool. This morning it was back to the old 4x4 way through Chobe. Another early morning game drive, but it really paid off we saw a couple of spotted Hyenas, literally drove through a large herd of Buffalo (the second most dangerous animal in Africa) and then topped it off by spotting 4 of the 40 lions that live in Chobe. To put that in perspective picture spotting 4 of the 40 german shepards living in Delaware in a 3 hour period ... very impressive, and they were really close which made it all the cooler.

Next it is off to Zambia and Livingston and Vic Falls, since we are spending a week there I'm probably going to go into Zim to try and get shot at by the locals ... just kidding dad. Most of the other companies are still traveling there, so I've been assured it is relatively safe. I'm going to try and get to some of the parks I missed last time as well as a chance to buy some of the rock sculptures I love.

I'm sure you'll be hearing from me a lot in Livingston since I'll be there for 7 days with no planned activities. Have my fingers crossed the water level will be low enough for whitewater rafting and there is the new "Gorge" jumping that sounds fun so I'm going to do that with the "youngins".

6/16

Well had another two "adventure days" ... after today I think I'm sticking
to the manis and pedis for a while. Well the Livingston side of Vic Falls,
not really pretty, not really a nice town, and filled with "dodgey boys" as
our guide calls them. However, lots of new adventure things to take
advantage of since I left including the gorge swing, absailing, and a zip
line over the gorge.

So that was yesterday. Myself and the German Andrea signed up for the all
day, all you can do package. So that meant after a brief orientation we
were free to take advantage of all the different fun stuff to do. Started
with the regular absailing down about 80 meters (that's pretty freakin high)
... unfortuately once you get down there is no escalator up so we had to
hike back up the gorge (did this 6 times for a total of 130 stories of
climbing by my calculations). Then it was on to the "superman" zip line,
they hook you up to a harnass on your back and then you run 5 meters and
jump off a cliff and go flying out to the middle of the gorge, very cool,
very unscary, no walking involved! Then it was back to the absailing
station for "forward absail" okay this one is a little intimidating, you
have a full harnass and a rope to control your speed and then you run down
the face of the cliff face forward! Ran pretty fast and heated up the
gloves they gave us pretty good, it was a bit scary but in the end fun.
Last but not least, the gorge swing. Basically bungy except with out the
bounce. You jump off a cliff and fall until you hit the bottom of a
pendulum and then you swing back and forth in the middle of the gorge.
ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING ... I went 4 times! One forward, one backward and two
tandems with Andrea backwards (ahhhh). In the video the look of terror on
my face after we push off is priceless. Now suffering from whiplash due to
two bad jumps, I'm quite the picture of health, and my leg pain from
climbing the gorge all those times hasn't even kicked in yet!

So I decided to take it easy today and do rafting down the level 4 Zambezi
(basically level 5 is the highest you can do without always dying) ... it
just opened up today because the water levels have been so high, so the
water was very fast the rapids were much smaller the the whirlpools were
"huge" ... so anyway had my first really close call with any of these sports
when I fell off in a rapid in which our guide "could not guarentee our
safety -- do not fall off the raft" ... yup fell off. Almost held on until
we hit a big wave and the "oh shit" cord got pulled out of my hands and the
raft ran over me ... so that was a little scary because I couldn't find the
edge of the raft ... slightly worse when I DID find the edge of the raft
right in a downward current (probably not a full on whirlpool or I wouldn't
be here) so that pulled me down even farther and I just couldn't seem to get
up, even opened my eyes finally to make sure I was actually swimming UP!
but I was still like 5 or 6 feet down. Finally it just spit me out and I
popped up choking and very ready to come home. A wonderful kayak came and
picked me up and dropped me onto another boat until I could catch up to my
raft. I was very very very shaky but luckily it was one of the first rapids
of the day so that by the end I really had fun, fell in once more "on a safe
rapid" with no real problems.

So there ya go right with the theme of "almost" and this trip. I'm not sure
I mentioned the drunk guy that almost would have run over us in our tent if
not for a small guard rail right outside that he smashed into at a pretty
good clip, or the next morning when a high caliber bullet flew within 2 feet
of a girl from our truck brushing her teeth (about 10 feet from me) at 8:30
in the morning ... we actually heard the damn thing fly by ... Kasane,
Botswana ... not exactly a place for the kiddies!

So basically I have the Brandkamp luck, weird bad things happen but we
always come through unscathed! ... although i think I may have used up all
of my 9 lives by the end of this trip.

I'm off to get ready for our going away dinner, but I will write tomorrow as
I plan a VERY lesurly day nursing my wounds and trying to get my back in
shape again so that I can move my head.

6/21

Hi again from South Luwange, Zambia our latest national park adventure.

This one should be a goodie, night game drives .... oooo ahhhh. We
are also basically camped across the river (no swimming due to crocs
and hippos --shucks) from the park so its "anything" goes in the
wildlife kingdom as we have safety platforms positioned strategically
around the campsite in order to avoid being run over, trampled,
attacked, or eaten by those animals we've come to know and love.

Apparently my reputation has quickly passed onto this new group now
joining us (we are down to a group of 10 after Livingstone ... they
all left of natural causes). The game of "abuse the token American"
has reached a fevered pitch as they find new and more hilarious ways
to torment me including a ban on Americans in any safety platform
(from our Zimbawean tour leader) ... to this I replied "everyone's
always picking on us Americans that's why we are forced to bomb your
countries" ... this was well received by all (even by the painfully
shy Tanzanian cook). In fact any Anti-Bush humor seems to be the key
to the hearts of the African people ... in all of my travels I've
never experienced the directed level of distaste people have for him
as a president. But threatening to call Bush and have their resident
countries bombed never really fails to get a laugh.

However, less political, when we were briefed about the safety
platforms initially I think I asked a smart question, "what if we
climb onto a safety platform in a tree to escape the elephants, only
to find a leopard waiting?" apparently leopard trumps elephant in a
strange game of rock paper scissors and I was told the right answer is
"jump" from our resident Masai warrior/driver/lion spotter. I didn't
proceed onto the more difficult combos of leopard in tree, lioness on
ground ... hmmm I'll have to bring that up at dinner. And yes, my
education continues here as I have been learning hiphop moves from a
real Masai (how cool is that!). In fact I'm told I am even pretty
good for a white girl.

For all you frat boys reading along, one last social commentary ...
posted in the toilet is a sign asking all residents not to leave
TP/loo paper lying around. The reason? apparently Baboons are
working on the same level as 12 year olds and fraternity freshmen, if
presented a lose roll of toilet paper they will happily climb a tree
and chuck it from one to another and watch joyfully as it unrolls
around the branches.... hmm prehaps we are a little more closely
related then previously imagined.

Finally, if you find yourself pelted by nuts while trying to eat your
2,345 sandwich lunch don't drop your lunch and run. That just what
the vervit monkeys want you to do (so they can come and steal it) ...
luckly they at least are a little more clean about it. Apparently in
one park they climb a tree and urinate on your sandwich hoping that
you will react accordingly and then swoop in to steal it ... smart
little buggers aren't they?

I know I said finally but there was just one last note, mainly to
those picking me up from the airport. After washing what appeared to
me to be still fairly clean trousers and turning the wash water black
3 times over I realize that my self-image my be slightly skewed, so
I'll wear my Wharton t-shirt home and you should just look for the
tall African-American girl with braces coming off my flight from
Newark.

Hope to talk to you all soon! Fill me in on interviews, life changes,
moves, Bon Jovi ... etc etc. Heck even world news (with the exception
of the world cup which I have been watching very closely).

Understanding PMS

2006-06-17T04:57:00.000-04:00

You may think you understand PMS but that's not the kind I'm referring to. The kind of PMS I will discuss here is the Primitive Mood-altering Showers of Africa. There are different levels that need to be understood in order to fully appreciate the magnitude of PMS's impact on the women and the world in general.

Level 1:
The tease. You were expecting a hot shower, but after 5 long days and you walk into a dark dirty shack with a fire-warmed gravity shower in a corner filled with territorial spiders. The water is luke warm at best and it is like trying to wash your hair in a rain shower.

Level 2:
The annoyer. It is 25 degrees out and again, you have not bathed in 3 days. You are forced to choose between an outright revolt by your tent partner or showering in an open air shower that anyone interested in looking can see right through. The water is hot, but your neighbor is that guy on the trip that is always singing showtunes off key.

Level 3:
The tear jerker. How to get someone happy to cry ... almost guarenteed. Put them in a hot shower when it is in the low 20's and then break the thermostat on the water heater ad let it go ice cold just as they put shampoo into their hair. If you want hysterical crying then just at that moment someone should open the outer door letting in a cold blast of air.

Level 4:
Warning, those experiencing level 4 PMS should be left alone for at least 4 hours before approaching as they can become suddenly violent and unpredictable. This is a shower that is as cruel as they come. The bathroom is bright and cheery ... welcoming and clean.

You find the anonymous and highly disturbing "Mr Toilet" poem posted at the back of every door as a reminder to keep the toilets clean. There's even loo paper readily available. The water is hot and has pressure. You lather up and put shampoo in your hair then start the arduous task of attempting to shave off a months hair that has grown on you legs. The water pressure suddenly weakens and you turn the warm tap in a vain attempt to relive those glorious moments of water ... when it weakens further you brace yourself for the icy cold water you will have to endure, but when you turn the cold water tap you find yourself stunned by the fact that there is just no water at all.

The tears come as the grim reality sets in that you will have to wipe off the soap and shampoo with your formerly white towel. A white towel can can only be described currently as "off white" displaying a wide variety of browns and other dirt colors. Just when you've completed this horrendous task - the final kick in the gut, the water returns just as you have gathered your belongings and turned to leave.

BELGIUM. Banks and Boogy

2005-06-29T16:47:00.000-04:00

BANKS... It's Friday night after work and I'm keen to get some cash out in order to fully enjoy the sites and sounds of "Liege Dance Party: Love is the Answer." However, Citizens Bank had other plans for me. My American, shortsighted bank, in their infinite wisdom has decided to shut off my card in order to "generate a call". For those who don't speak "Bank" let me translate for you. "Generate a call" is code for shutting off a customer's card in order to inconvenience them enough to force an irate call into your customer service center. Rather then contacting them using the myriad of contact information collected by you, their bank, they wait until you contact them in order to ask whatever question drove them to turn your card off in the first place. In my case it took three international calls and almost 2 hours to get a new card dropped in the mail and have my current ATM card turned back on. My call was "generated" because of my replacement ATM card failing to be forwarded causing the question regarding my whereabouts. I was scolded many times by my bank for not informing them of my travel plans. It seems that my itinerary needs to be forwarded to my bank as well as friends and family because, International Travel still holds an aura of mystique for the US Banking system.

While Monday was spent sorting out everything with my home bank, Tuesday was spend getting everything together to open an account in a Dutch bank. ING was the most impressive and most efficient at driving me out of a bank. At the time of the greeting, and finding out I was an English speaking American, was enough to start the grilling process on all of the documentation I would need to open an account followed by the dramatic search for an opening in their appointment book a sigh, and the revelation that there were no openings for a week.

Given this was the fifth country that I'd open a bank account in, I was not naive to the process. I knew the games to play in opening direct deposit accounts abroad. Rule 1: Never admit that you will be leaving the country permanently in a few short months and at which time you will immediately close your account a virtual guarantee that the bank will lose money on you. Rule 2: Use the receptionists to get you an appointment since they don't know that you are a money losing foreigner. Rule 3: Be Prepared.

In the US "Be Prepared" might merely mean brining your drivers license and a few dollars to open the account. Those who try that approach here are ushered out the door in minutes and told to make an appointment for the following week. To be prepared here requires all of the following in order to ensure the account is opened on the first try. Passport, letter from employer documenting your work, utility bills or better yet a lease documenting your address, your work permit, tax/social security number, and if you want to guarantee your success, bank statements from your home bank documenting your assets. If you follow these rules you to can get a bank account in a single day, even in Europe.

BOOGY ... The whole beginning of this saga started as a trip to get out of Maastricht for a weekend and enjoy a little time in Liege, a city that I had passed through on a number of occasions on the train, but had seen only the platform and construction surrounding the station to this point. The Dance Party was an annual event that turned this small city into an open air dance club with 35 rooms and all the same blaring techno.

The event was kicked off as a parade down the shore of the Canalise River. It was a cross between Mardi Gras and a slow moving truck convoy making its way to the city park. The Mardi Gras part meant that people were throwing things at you (in this case instead of beads there were club fliers), and some of them were naked, but that is where the two diverged. The truck convoy refers to the use of 35 Mac trucks to pull the floats. All of which were spewing diesel fumes, foam and water onto onlookers, and the scantily dressed teenage girls who jumped into the streets to follow behind. Our dedication to the event was significant. We stood and watched all 35 trucks go by and even managed to catch a few fliers. When it was over we were confused by a map printed half upside down and instead followed the crowd along the shore back to our hotel and a cool shower.

Walking along this huge roadway you felt a kinship for the many strangely dressed local Belgian teens, families and the rare tourist. When we arrived at the hotel to steal a bit of cool air before heading off to the next round of dancing we spent some time sitting on our tiny balcony watching the goings on below. While the largest part of the parades followers had long left the route and was in the park enjoying the next phase, there seemed to be an endless flow of parade refuges finding their way down the street. It soon became clear why some of them had taken so long to find their way here.

First came "Shopping Cart Guy" whose inventive friends were obviously torn between staying with an unconscious friend or moving down the parade route to enjoy the next wave of activities. His friends had found an ingenious way to achieve both. They had commandeered a shopping cart somewhere up the road and put the unconscious friend into it. Over the course of the journey they had also prevented more litter from building up on the street by piling their empty cans and bottles on his stomach giving the strange appearance of a homeless persons cart in NYC. They continued on, occasionally slapping their friend to ensure he was still with them and finally disappeared out of view.

Only a few moments later "Light Blue shirt guy" came weaving down the far sidewalk - a danger to pedestrians walking near him as he desperately tried to keep his balance. Unfortunately, for Light Blue Shirt Guy balance was not the only issue he was forced to confront with the pants that just would not stay up. It seems that somewhere along the way he had unbuttoned them and had never remembered to reverse the process. So he stopped to pull them up and together, seemingly to address the button issue but the concentration required for such high level function seemed gone. So he would let go again walk three paces until his pants were again around his ankles and then start the process anew. This continued for most of the time he was within view of our balcony seats. Until finally he seemed to get his pants fully under control (we cheered from our balcony seats) only to walk face first into the light pole bouncing of as if made of rubber.

We eventually found the energy to venture out into the quickly cooling evening air to enjoy the rest of the events planned. Now these weren't the most inventive events. Instead of the parade moving by the onlookers, now the parade trucks were parked and the onlookers moved by the parade. Again the music was mostly the same and the flows of people prevented creating enough space for really enjoyable dancing.

At 10pm ... the final phase. Now instead of techno music being played through speakers on a mac truck, techno music would be played from speakers attached to 3 fixed stages, where DJs could showcase their talents with the aid of a huge projection screen behind the stage. We stayed through 1 round of DJs, 3 rounds of frustrating drink lines, and 1 round of dinner lines. There were lines for everything, made only more complex with two forced currency systems that required the purchase of separately issued drink and food tickets with different values and lines. When it was finally time to leave at 11:30pm our nearly 30 year-old bones were aching and muscles were screaming for relief. It was a cool breezy walk back to the hotel were I washed my blackened feet and passed quickly into unconsciousness dreaming of ATM cards and disco balls.

M[AA]STRICHT. Summer Internship.

2005-06-01T03:25:00.000-04:00

It was just one of those days. I sat down at my little desk, pushed into one corner of the office here in Holland. I had arrived bright and early in an attempt to get on the Internet to plan and book next weekend's side trip before my boss came in and realized I don't really ever have anything to do. I was just about through all of the required reservations screens when suddenly the phone rang and I was informed that I was "meant to be in training 10 minutes ago" ... oops. I quickly untied the sneakers that I was still wearing, slid my feet into one of the six pairs of heels hiding in my otherwise empty bottom desk drawer, and headed downstairs to the library.

For the next seven hours I was tortured into near submission, with only sheer will to get me through. No, it wasn't the physical pain one normally associated with torture, it was instead the mental anguish that accompanies the process of actually getting dumber. My "induction" training included such valuable discussions as Why Customers want Good Service, How to fill out a Package Slip, and my personal favorite and the finale of the show What to do if a Coworker is Taken Hostage (including helpful hints like: call the police, don't go near the hostage taker). When it was all over I was left confused, and afraid for any other people who might be put through that in the future but I was determined to put it behind me.

Apparently, their evil plot to make me dumber worked. At 6pm I left my desk and took the elevator down to the first floor where I hope to sneak out the back, equipped with an electronic revolving door. Let me give you some more information about this door, since I've never seen anything like it. It doesn't actually revolve. It is an electronic door that when you swipe your ID allows the door to go 2 "clicks" clockwise putting you onto the street. If you are on the street and attempting to get in then it allows you to go 2 "clicks" counterclockwise allowing you to enter the building.

Ok. Well I swiped my lovely ID card never looking up and was allowed to go 2 "clicks" clockwise only to look up and see a glass wall had been slid across and dead bolted into place blocking my exit. As I mentioned earlier ... this is like no other revolving door you're ever seen. Since I can't get out I instead try to click backwards (counterclockwise). WRONG. The door only clicks COUNTERclockwise if you swipe your card from the outside so I'm trapped. Yes, my dear friends and family your Lisa was trapped in a revolving glass doorway. Until, that is, I could get the attention of some random employee outside who could swipe their card and let me "click" back ... oh but it gets better.

A kind Belgian woman comes along INSIDE and tries to come to my aid by swiping her card and pushing the door. Unfortunately, that simply left me completely in "the dead zone" now, and the door was getting angry. It sensed someone in there and started to swing back and forth 1 click right, 1 click left ... 1 click right, 1 clik left, forcing me to walk back and forth, pacing like a caged lion to avoid the door smacking me on the head. And by now the crowd has gathered ... looking on in awe at the trapped American in the glass revolving door. Pointing and discussing how on earth to get me out all the while the angry door swings back and forth trying to cleanse itself of me. Feeling the beginnings of a panic attack coming on I found myself starting to gasp a bit just as a beautiful security guard approached with a magical and wondrous key to free me. And how was I to know it was only the beginning of my evening's surprises?

The walk home was uneventful. I stopped at grocery store, and even finally found some stamps (finally)! I got home tired and in a bad mood. Looking forward to an evening of cooking and relaxing I changed into my pjs and unpacked my groceries. I was 90% through cooking my pasta and sauce when the doorbell rang, immediately followed by someone entering and yelling "I'm coming in with a housemaid". I immediately thought, "what an odd time to bring in a cleaning service?" while I desperately tried to clean the disaster that was this tiny kitchen. But when the "housemaid" was introduced to me it became horribly clear that she was hear to stay. Yup, this lovely day was to be accompanied by the arrival of a housemate to my previously empty apartment. Now my food is smoking and I'm running all over the apartment trying to collect dirty clothes from the bathroom floor and everything else that had accumulated in my 2 weeks there. Could my day get worse?

Apparently yes, although at least I got a good laugh from it. As I sat downstairs watching the conclusion of "American Princess" (do you guys get that over in the states?). I hear this pounding and banging from upstairs. All I could think was, I hope she's not always this noisy --when suddenly "LISA!! LISA!!" came from the top floor (glad she remembered my name, because I was so confused at the time I missed hers -- yes I'm living with the "unnamed Dutch girl"). Anyway, I go upstairs to find my brand new housemate trapped in the bathroom. Oops. She'd broken the key off in the door. Yes, it was 9pm and my brand new housemate was trapped in the bathroom, and all I wanted in the entire world was to go, relax and see who was to move on to the next round of the "American Princess" selection process. Instead, the "housemaster" was called in and useing a hammer and chisel, removed the entire lock rendering the door powerless. "Free at last" (I knew how she felt).

M[AA]STRICHT. I'm Going to Disney World!

2005-05-27T10:04:00.001-04:00

Sometimes I get the sense that I may actually be working in Eppcott Center. It’s nearly four o’clock and I just walked through the thick haze of smoke and laughing French accountants lounging by the coffee machine in sophisticated casual wear and designer shoes smoking unfiltered cigarettes. Walking back I hold my breath through the six strides it takes to get across the “coffee” corner and I find myself again surrounded by the harsh calculated movements of Germans in their three piece suits barking orders to underlings back in Bonn. Perhaps of course this is a bit unfair given my lack of understanding of the German language, since to my untrained ear all the conversations seem unpleasant in nature, while in fact they may be speaking only of the weather in Munich. As I sit back down at my desk I overhear two Englishman proselytizing on the many deficiencies of “the continent” including pushy customs officials and a lazy workforce. Only to myself do I comment that to Americans they are all Europeans. At this point in the day a allow the undercurrent of softly spoken Dutch to wash over me lost to understand more than a few of the anglicized words like “workflow” and “implementation.”

Lunch was a different story however, as I sat at a table in sea of accented English. Seven non-native speakers searched for commonalities and conversation in the only language they hold in common, English. With eight nationalities represented it was as diverse as the UN: Italian, Turkish, Singaporean, Finnish, Belgian, Dutch, Brazilian, and of course, myself your friendly local American. On the downside, while working at Eppcott would mean getting to enjoy Memorial Day and the 4th of July I’m left with the stingiest of holiday allocation combined with a timing of this internship leaving no remaining European bank holidays to enjoy during my three months here. It seems for the Dutch everything historically exciting took place in late April and early May just before I began.

European Sophistication?

I love the bicycles of Holland, unlike the desperation and poverty of the third world, the Dutch and their bicycles seem classic and joyful. In places like India or Africa , bikes are ridden by people in ragged clothes with a day's supply of wares strapped to their backs while here bikes are ridden by ladies in skirts , sitting up properly-their shoulders back , dressed in fashionable clothes alongside men in suits and leather shoes. Women with a baby strapped on the front and a toddler behind. In the developing world bikes seem to illustrate the determination and desperation of humanity to scratch their way out of poverty , here it is a sophisticated choice, an opportunity to bask in the sun and enjoy a beautiful day .

And yet this seeming sophistication lies in stark contrast to a local grocer's endless promotion of Hamstre Wekend ... who in the marketing department elected a rodent to represent their store? And as if just the name and the endless commericials featuring your favorite rodents weren't enough. They greet you at the door of everystore? Waving happily and pointing you inside. I may just be taking the imagery too far but I couldn't help trying to visualize a NYC grocer nomintating a Rat as the store mascot and forcing some unsuspecting 16 year-old summer temp to wear the suit, wave, and hand out coupons for cheese outside your average Manhatten Fresh Grocer.

UC APPLICATION. For the Love of Diet Coke

2004-12-11T15:07:00.000-05:00

I would imagine the sun rose just like any other day ... given my near certainty that there has yet to be a day where the sun has not risen - but I digress. On this particular day my life would be changed in a significant way. For the world, it was a day that would begin to reduce the value of morning coffee. This is the day that would bring forth the invention of Diet Coke.

Unfortunately, I can’t really be more specific in the whens and whos of this most monumentous event. Because this day, like hundreds of others, is shrouded in a veil of corporate secrecy. Over the course of my research I found many websites of dedicated fans such as www.jonsullivan.com, but for all their D.C. knowledge and resources, they offer no names or dates. Coca-Cola Corporation has built no monuments, given no credit. There seem to be no names at all associated with this most awesome creation, and the faces have been lost to time.

The creator eludes me ... who was this individual, or was it a group? Is there a small plaque dedicated to them in the Coke’s Atlanta headquarters? Did they understand the addictive qualities and the joy it would bring the world? For a product that inspires this kind of loyalty and dedication, how can we have no name to the inventor that brought it to us?

Am I merely a case of highly successful marketing turned bad? Do I suffer from an addiction? The signs are there. A material percentage of my weekly wages are spent in support of my habit. Every desk and workspace seems destined to drown in the sea of empty cans that accumulate behind and underneath. I need a can as soon as I wake up, and with every meal from there. It is as much a characteristic as my height and eye color, the red and silver can clasped in my right hand is just part of who I am.
And then there are the more subtle symptoms of addiction, including skillful avoidance of questions regarding the state of my health and diet, as well as consciously disregarding stories of its carcinogenic nature and the possible long-term damage to my liver.

It is for this reason that I hope that I can be boxed up and shipped back to the beginning of a new age, a time just before the world would come to know sweet cold refreshment without the 150 calories of guilt (only the distant ache of irreparable liver damage). I would find the person or people whose work has given me such happiness, and simply say, “thanks”.

MI[SS]ISSIPPI. Testing, Testing, One, Two ...

2004-01-22T15:37:00.000-05:00

I'm testing this all out today. Looks like I finally have got the hang of this whole modern "Blog Thing". Now I just have to upload all my essays from years past in an attempt to archive my mundane history for the ages.

It's been a tough week. In T[F]A you never know when your kids are going to love a new project and when they are going to hate it. Well, writing our own fairy tales this week ... apparently is a "HATE IT". It's been nothing, but pulling teeth. Trying to decide what to do about it, and thinking that a dose of 90 minute typing marathons to show them how typing class COULD be might just work the whine right out of them.

Looking to the future ... I think my computer applications class is going to try out this blogging thing in order to find out what it feels like to feel published on a real website. I'm looking forward to seeing how that all works.

CHRISTMAS CARD 2003

2003-12-24T19:13:00.001-05:00

Dear family, friends, and random strangers,

This year has been another exciting chapter in my life. I’m finishing up with Teach
f[o]r America and moving on from saving the children in Mi[ss]issippi to adventures in business school. I was accepted at W[h]arton just a few days ago, and am about 90% certain I will be returning to Philadelphia to start the two year MBA program there in September. When I was confronted by my abandonment of good works in order to be "the man" I really had to be honest and admit that "the man" paid much better.

"The children" (14-20 year olds) keep me constantly challenged and entertained, because apparently I work them too hard and purposely keep my room "hot as an oven"... "Ms B! Ms B! Ms B I’m ‘bout to fall out. Why you keep it so hot up in here?," they shout. "To torture you, and make you miserable and hinder your ability to learn," I tell them. "What’s ‘hinder’?" ... ahh sigh.

Upon returning to the Delta this August I was greeted with a roster of 30 children in "Keyboarding" with a room of 6 working computers ... when I brought this issue to the attention of the administration I was told that perhaps they could "share". So I have a new technique for keyboarding that requires oversexed, sweaty teenagers to sit one next to another and type using one hand at a time.

In reality it hasn’t been all bad this year. My computers did eventually get repaired (I finally had 18), and I made nice with a counselor who magically makes all my bad children "disappear" into other classes ... when asked where, I have to honestly say ... I don’t care.

Along those same lines, in the news there was recently a case where two teachers in Florida were arrested for duct taping their children to a wall. Those of us in T[F]A were applauding those teachers for their restraint and ingenuity and really cannot understand where they went wrong (judgmental parents I suppose). I now take out the duct tape and often tell my students that story in order to inspire them to "be all they can be".

As far as a social life I am still trying to figure out where I can buy one at a good price. The mulleted hair cuts and gun racks of the Mi[ss]issippi Delta men has done much to encourage me to seriously consider lesbianism. Hopefully, the men situation will pick up at business school, where at least if I’m not financially successful, he may be. Please feel free to send any friends, family, or males of any kind my way. I’m single with low expectations.

Much love to all in the New Year!

Lisa

LONDON. Hostel Life

2003-06-06T16:23:00.000-04:00

This lovely hostel definitely comes alive at night. Last night I walked into a scene of about 20 people chatting and drinking in the main stairwell (a.k.a. "the lounge"). Two locals had followed closely behind me and were walking in to yell at the night manager for the guitar music that had apparently been coming from upstairs in the hostel and driving them nuts next door for hours on end over the last two weeks.

The manager said it wasn't from our place but as I rounded the fourth floor I realized it was coming from my neighbors room, and as I walked into my overcrowded hole I was greeted by Robbie "the Scotsman". In his boxers on the top bunk smiling at me while smoking a cigar in bed he yelled out, "hope you like guitar music" to which he immediately followed up with a shout of, "stop that fucking noise!"

Introducing himself as Robbie, the Scotsman part became evident with his following comments about the "bloodiest ugliest fucking city in the UK, perhaps the world" (and London resident for the past 5 years). He was fairly quickly cutoff by Englishman Kevin whose eyes peered out from beneath the baby blue blanket he'd been issued upon check-in. "You just believe that Scotland is superior in every way" ... turns out Kevin is an ESL teacher who is currently trapped in this "shady shithole" due to his financing difficulties. Brad, "with the very American name", failed to join in the conversation, I do believe out of a fear he might say something that would lead the islanders to throw something at him. Basically, although Kevin didn't believe London was a "complete shithole" I was still definitely mistaken when stated that London was a great city.

Later that evening I earned back any points I'd lost when my feminine wiles made me a success with my 5 male roommates, because the party that was had previously been down on the ground floor "lounge" moved up to our neck of the woods around 2am. I was soon irritated enough to stick my head out the door and plead for them to move it back down to someone else's backyard (let them deal with it). I was thanked by the Spaniards for the "beautiful smile" I used to make my request (little did he know I was merely squinting to see in the bright lights).

Apparently this compliment was partly in reference to Robbie's previous attempts to move the Spaniards by opening the door and shouting "shut the fuck up you stupid wankers" ... In fact as a prize for my loveliness it was requested that I immediately join them in order for them to get to know me better. I declined, given my distinct lack of clothes and sleep and promised to join them this evening instead.

Well I'm off to see ... "Home Again", a new musical. I'll let you know if the Spaniards take me out on the town this evening.

MISSISSIPPI. Why are they all singing?

2002-10-30T14:53:00.000-05:00

Am I on an "American Idol" ? Why are all of my students suddenly auditioning to five or six different tunes, almost with out fail completely out of key ... and all as Mavis (our typing software) pushes them merrily through their lessons.

As I yell out orders like, "be quiet! we are not in the cafeteria" from the comfort of my padded chair at the front of the class I can't help but wonder ... why am I obsessed with making these kids do so much for a grade in Keyboarding?

It's an obsession that TFA has pushed upon us since the application process, the need to exceed every expectation. It is an obsession that TFA tattoos on our forehead as we leave our summer in Houston and it is an obsession that keeps me coming up with interesting things to do with my kids during their 2 and a half hour typing classes.

INDIA[NA] JANE

2002-05-05T17:41:00.000-04:00

Hello all. Well, today was my first real outing by myself. Promit's parents are wonderful and I'm having a great time here with them. Promit called today and I informed him that I'm electing myself as his replacement. I could definitely get used to a chauffeur and housekeeper that does everything from make your bed to leaving cold water by your bedside after turning down the bed for the night.

The rest of my journey is pretty much finalized. We have been dealing with a travel agent here that is setting everything up, including about a million flights and hotels. There isn't much by way of tours according to her (given the strange time of year) so mostly it will be me, a 3 star hotel and a driver ... needless to say the dreams of $40 a day were soon dispelled.

I could probably argue, but I figure that they know better than I when it comes to what to expect ... and given the distinct LACK of any other foreigners in the country I think finding reliable sources of transport to get around the sights might indeed be tricky. Not to mention the fact that you very quickly become accustomed here to being treated like royalty ... "yes madam," doors opened for you. People running ahead to get the car door open... very nice. I didn't know I had it in me!

Anyway. Driving in Mumbai isn't as bad as I had been told. In fact even in my first real cab of the day there have been very few near misses. I think the problem seems to be is that everyone here understands the code of constant horn blowing that comes across as simply utter chaos to any outsider! It is deciferable if you really pay attention.

Anyway, onto my journey. I went to Elephanta island ... after paying for my "luxury" 1 hour boat ride I joined shuffle, and was shuffled right on to a third class ferry, (minus the promised guide) and full of Indian tourists who looked at me as if I must be mentally deranged to be on this boat. Noone spoke. They just stared.

upon arrival to the island. I was still under the impression this was indeed the "luxury" crowd, and chased the rest of the boat down, because I figured they held the secret to our illusive guide ... so when a guy came up and send "I guide you" .. I breathed a sigh of (temporary) relief knowing that all was well, and these ancient Buddhist carvings would soon be explained to me without further cash outflows ....

HOWEVER, soon it was very clear this gentlemen had it only in his MIND that he should guide me while in fact ... I had been gypped and there was actually no guide accompanied my "luxury" vessel (only to find after trying to board another 3rd class ferry for the return journey and being hurried off that I was on the wrong boat).

... Ooops

How were the caves you ask? Confusing. Lots of really long names of people related to Buddha and various other deities, killing, marriages ... Given I had no guide I did my best, and decided instead to go get some lunch. The one fun part about Elephanta was the fact that here in India I am very much the equivalent of a rock star. Everywhere I go people stare and say hello to me, not to mention that I had 3 different families pose to have their picture taken with me ... strange.

I love to think of myself appearing in family albums across the nation. I could be some sort of American Mascot for India. Promit seems to believe it is due to my height.

I also took my first cab ride. Uh. interesting. There were exhaust fumes poring through the glove compartment (funny how I don't remember that in most diagram of the exhaust systems in my cars). And black smoke poring out the back... but this little old man, God bless him, had that pedal down to the floor as we took off into Mumbai traffic horns blaring as we went from 0 to 30 in 5.4 minutes. Hell it was a 20 minute ride that came to a grand total of a buck twenty. How can I complain??

Time for bed for me. I have to be up early and finish off my last day here with some chores. ... I'll leave you with this parable from the Indian History Museum this afternoon...2 Brothers fighting for the key to happiness and success. Their parents (deities of some sort in this case) said "He who goes around the world 3 times shall be the recipient of this great key". Well one brother hopped onto the back of his eagle (or some local bird) and started off on his journey. While the other brother who only had a hippo (i.e. large local creature) knew he could not possibly beat his brother. So instead he walked around his parents three times and asked for the key. They said "you haven't done as we asked, why would we give you the key??". He returned some nonsense about his parents indeed being the center of the world and he could see no further. Well, what kind of parents would argue that? And he got the key. While his brother was out there slaving around traveling around the world 3 times and stopping at all the temples along the way to pray for guidance.

How did THEY interpret the moral? ... sometimes brains can overcome physical lacking, and you parents are important .... blah, blah.

How did I interpret the story? ... suck up to your parents successfully and you will find nothing but success.

9/11. A Poem.

2001-09-13T17:15:00.001-04:00

Our Mother Liberty stands sentry to the gates of America
Yet watches helpless as her children tumble from a cloudless sky

Brothers and sisters all - a nation of castaways and slaves
never to forget
our shield of freedom can be pierced by hate

In our enemies failure we find our greatest success
for Democracy is not bounded by buildings
it is within us.

And when we can see only sorrow and pain
We turn again to Mother Liberty

May we find strength in her embrace.

AFRICA.

1999-07-15T19:06:00.000-04:00

Greetings all. I hope that you are all well. I'm now sitting at a one terminal "internet" cafe in the middle of the business district of Dar Salaam, Tanzania. This also happens to be spitting distance from one of last years bombings at the American embassy. So far Africa is as stunningly beautiful as I ever could have hoped and the Sarengeti was beautiful.

Now we are off for a few days of R&R over on the island of Zanzibar and then it is off to Malawi. The people on this leg are great, and we are having a wonderful time abusing all sorts of substances. The camping isn't bad at all, thanks to some air mattresses.

The animals are of course the most incredible part so far. We spotted a leopard lounging in the branches of a tree. Some saw a rare Rhino with a baby. We also watched a lion just after she had taken down a baby wildebeest in a river just a few feet from the truck. They barely even notice the cars in the Crater.

We camped right by the home of a family of elephants so we heard them talking all night. At one point I'd walked off to use the toilets and heard what sounded like the growl of a very large cat. I nearly peed myself and ran in the opposite direction, only to find out later it was just the elephants talking to one another. We had another campsite where the zebras were grazing right next to our tents and you could literally walk right up to them. It was absolutely amazing and I can't wait to come back. Once we get down to Zimbabwe, I've been told that I can't back out of the whitewater rafting, even after what you've said Seb. So this may be my final note for that reason alone.

Mom and Dad -- you need not worry about me but I can't call because it costs 8 dollars and minute and you can't pay for anything with credit cards here.

I've found out that my outfits will soon be totally inappropriate because you can't wear tanktops in all of my next countries so I'll have to figure out where I can get my hands on some new shirts to wear so that no one gropes me (I've heard many a story about that, it seems especially bad in Egypt). So far no Malaria in the group but usually 3 people come down with it so I've got a pretty good chance. However, the new medicines make it a 12 hour bug so not to worry.

GALAPAGOS ISLANDS. My Journal.

1999-06-10T19:04:00.000-04:00

I’m here and it’s the second day of our journey here in the Galapagos. My parents are probably pretty worried since I haven’t been able to call and won’t until mext weekend when we are again on dry land. My biggest worry thus far is running out of money since about double the amount I allowed for has been swallowed by unexpected expenses. I’m trying not to allow myself to dwell on it since I will hopefully be able to get some money in Buenos Aires. I was shocked by the differences here from other cities. I had tried to prepare myself for “3rd worldness’ but everything looking like East LA to me made me very uneasy.

The group of 16 has been split into English and Germans with the language barrier separating us. There is also a Frenchman so hopefully I’ll be able to speak to him at some point.

Yesterday we went to our first island and saw pelicans, iguanas, and red crabs all along the rocks. This is my kind of place, all the crabls are land and stay out of the water. There were also pink flamingos in the water. I saw sea eninamies (however you spell it) and some fairly run of the mill fish.

Today it was off to a sea lion haven. At about 8 am we went on a walk and saw lots more lava flows and some Black land crabls (very exciting). There were also some gekko type lizards. The fun part was being in the water. The fish were enormous. I was swimming and nearly had a heart attack when a penguin (about the size of the Australian fairy penguins) swam right under me. There were two swimming aroudnd looking for food. There was a baby sea lion there too. He was hanging out with his mom and dad.

Sambraro Chino.

Two obeservations at night. Flying over Quito it looks like someone left piles of diamonds lying in a valley. For some reaon the city had almost a perple shimmer to it. It was absolutely beautiful.

There were also these birds with 2 long legs that escort the boats everywhere [Friggit birds]. Then the pelicans that are also everywhere. They hang out with the boats trying to steal the penguin's food and seem basically just pretty happy to be here.

This afternoon are more penguins to be seen and a view of something (the famous Galapagos view I guess). Ta for now though. It is time for a quick siesta before then.

Later ...
Well, we went for our snorkel at Bartholemew and I went too far with Gayle. Getting back against the current without flippers was very tiring. The snorkeling here isn’t great except for seeing penguins and sea lions swim by. There was one really confused penguin that seemed to be in a trance on a rock we were there for 2 hours and it didn’t even move a little. I’m exhousted after the swim back to the beach that was faster and harder than I’ve had to swim in a long while.

When we got back from this afternoon’s adventures we all decided to jump off the boat from the second story. It was the highest I’d ever jumped from. I went twice, it was great fun.

MAY 25

Still here in the Galapagos, I think this was the best morning yet. We got to see big colonies of Sea Aguanas bathing in the sun. They are fabulous to photograph because they sit perfectly still. Hopefully my two pictures of the sea turtle coming up for air in a little water hole will turn out as well. This morning we stopped at St James, a black sand beach much like those found in western New Zealand. The snorkeling there was fabulous.

Anchored right near us was the owner of the Orlando Magic. He ahd his $26 million dollar yaht and another charted to house the crew.

I’m subsisting on vertually no food especially given the amount of exercize during the day. If this trip doesn’t allow me to drop a few pounds then nothing ever will.

All the people here (in my English speaking group) are really nice. My roommate is Sarah from Northern England her Dad is from Scotland and looks a lot like Sean Connery. Gayle and another Sarah room together. Gayle has been living in Minneapolis and Sarah goes to school at the other U of M. Matthew is a friend of Sarah and a dental student at UM. He’s kinda cute but very obviously not interested. I must say this trip has placed my fears very much into the background. It's kinda nice to let someone else do the worrying and leading about and just sit and follow directions.

Oh well Siesta time again, so I’m going to sleep.

MAY 26

This morning I finally got some money!! $174 which should last me a bit longer (covers my plane ticket at least). I probably should have gotten a bit more but it felt so strange to put in 1.6 million of any currency that I kinda wimped out. Still haven’t managed to phone my parents, hopefully I can do that when we are back in Quito for the day.

This afternoon was fairly dull we went to the Darwin Institute and saw some fairly dull looking tortoises. Poor English Sarah fainted from dehydration so we pumped her full of water and salts.

I still have a cold and its making me tired and listless as well as taking away my thirst because of a sore throat. And dinner tonight was wonderful fried rice and some pudding pie.

This is quite a fun group of people to be with I enjoy all of their company imensly. Maybe I’ll even get out to MN some time to visit Saray and Matt.

Yesterday might I was miserable with sea sickness I just lay there all night wanting to be on land and hopeful my stomach would stop turning. I ended up sleeping in my clothes. Tomorrow we go to look at hammerhead sharks which I’m not looking forward to. I hate sharks and do not want to be in the water with 12 hungery ones.

They asked me to come into town with them but I declined. It doesn’t sound like much fun and I need no extra urges to spend my few dollars. Not to mention the cold I’m trying to fight off.

I’m very hopeful that all the exercise I’ve done here is going to help me make the Inca trail without dying.

Today some newcomers joined our group. There is an Australian couple and an American father who look like Willie Nelson and daughter.

MAY 29

Well today has been fairly uneventful. We went to see and feed tortoises and buy postcards at Floreanna. I saw the tortoises there and met a dog named Whiskey. This afternoon we dropped of the postcards and then went to see the ’invisible’ hammerhead sharks of the ‘devils crown’ crator. It was pretty neat swimming.

I feel a bit badly. I said I’d jump off the top deck and when I saw the height from there I wimped out. I hurt my ankle diving from just the second tier so as stupid as it probably is another reaon is the fact I can’t get hurt yet – not even a minor injury because I have too much to do.

Dread is setting in about the Inca trail. I’m not sure where my desire to do it came from, now I just hope I’m not struggling the entire way.

Gino (the tour guide) always comes over to chat me up. All I can do is sit there I’m a bit like Rebecca I am so worried aobut sending out signals my butt won’t cash that I come off as a bitch.

It’s a bit odd to think about what people are doing back in Ann Arbor. Its hard to believe haw far away I am. I find it continually amazing that while I’m on a trip I’m always counting the days til the end. I guess its because even though I’m only 22 I’m road weary. Its hard to get excited over stuff that more and more has become standard fair (I didn’t even get out of bed for dolphins this morning).

I thought of a book title form my travel stories I want to write up. “the Long Way” or “Disapearing Ferries, Closing Airports and Tropical Disease”.

MAY 28

This morning we were up at 5:30am with the boat moving all night I barely got a wink of sleep. Thus this will be quick. We went to Espanola, home of the blue footed boobies, masked boobies, and the albatross. There was also a blow hole which was pretty cool but trying to keep my eyes open through it all was a battle.

This afternoon was uneventful except for the sea lion that took some time out of his day to swim with me, which was pretty neat.

I still haven’t phoned my parents. I figured I’ll allow a bit of extra time at the airport on Monday to do it.

I lost big at memory tonight – my brain is in permently shut off mode. Dinner was really bad and now I’m starving!

Oprah says you should keep a thankful list.
1. Having the ability to pay for this
2. Great people on board.
3. That people think I’m interesting

Not looking forward to Inca trail and the countdown begins!!

MAY 30

Its been a couple days and I’m on my way back to Quito. My ticket of course got screwed up. But Gino, our guide managed to sort it out in the end.

We’ve seen the blue footed boobied mating dances they stop their feet and spread their wings. And swistel like a badly played flute. Then they also quack like ducks.

I also saw the yellow version of my fish “Lisa Ribido Amillo” the yellow mullet fish. They sit right near the surface and look like seaweed.

My plane probably won’t leave until late tomorrow so I’ll have to find a way to kill the day without spending money (that ought be interesting). My money situation is pretty bad. I didn’t realize all the tipping that would be involved with the guides and trips.

Today we went to an island full of friggits in the midst of mating season. They blow up this red balloon on their neck and show it off to the women. Then the happy couple sits in the tree and the male even appears to have a wing around the shoulder of his new girlfriend.

Also saw some eagle tipped rays. They seemed to be all oer the place yesterday when we went snorkeling off the boat at Santa Fe. I’m told there was a shark right in front of me there as well but I couldn’t see it.

My brand new camera also seems to have hit a hitch and doesn’t want to take photos anymore. I’m hopeful the manual I brought will shed some light on the issue.

Oh well we’re hitting some turbulance so I’ll write a bit more later.

PS Don’t forget to use purified water when you brush your teeth.

Later ...

Well, Galapagos is officially over. I said goodbye to my friends yesterday. I also managed to get in touch with my parents (although we were disconnected after aobut a minute). I figure that at least they know I’m alive and I’ll call them from the airport this afternoon.

I managed to get on the right plane back to Quito after all and we all went on a tour of old town here and went to the equator as well. Old Town was incredible we drove through the market is was filled with people carrying their whole store fronts on their backs. Most of the merchandise was black market forgeries of US names, Levis etc. People were burning things in the streets. It was just controlled chaos. Then we went through San Fransisco cathedral which was absolutly amazing! Built in the 16th century the insides were all gold in that ultra gawdy style, but the effect was incredible. Inside there was a mass going on which made the others really nervous, but I just hought that made it even neater to see that people were still using it regularly and it wasn’t just a tourist trap.

After that it was off to dinner. We were all starved because the last meal had been around 10am in the plane. We were walking down the main street (Avenue de Amazons) and were practically accousted by the waiters there hoping we would sit down and eat. We did, and I got a full meal for about a $1.50. The six of us ate for $24.

Oh on the town the guide also mentioned the fact that unemployment was 37% (the Great Depression’s high was 25%).

I also net a very peculiar Franch woman on the plane who was thrilled I could speak French (she was from Leon) although she kept saying she was Belge. She was talking incessently about her husband who she had been separated from as they got onto the plane open seating here). I had to negotiate with a bitchy flight attendant about letting her up to try and find him (I’m not surprised he hid). Then we got off and she found him (he looked closer to a sons age) and he didn’t say a word just lookced at me and kept walking. VERY STRANGE PEOPLE!!

I’m finally at the airport on my way to Lima. Looks like its going to be a long night and I won’t get into Lima until almost midnight. I’m not sure why all the flights are so late at night it doesn’t really make any sense.

I’m beginning to realize as Bob says “Why S. America is not a super power.” You know how its frustrating as all hell when a person seems to be moveing at half speed. Picture an entire nation moving at quarter speed. You just want to shout but you don’t know any good Spanish obsenitites.

The taxi ride on the way here was fabulous. We went around the entire city it seemed. The hills (or mountains is better) surround the city and limit it to an area of about 8 km wide.

My stomach is rebelling today I just wish it didn’t have to do this so after its like torture to walk around and try to function like a human being.

I got ripped off by the (Cambio de Exchange) which REALLY pissed me off. The woman gave me back about 20 10,000 sucre bills, but woundn’t lower the size of my $100 bill. BITCHY!

JUNE 2

Here in Peru is very different. I got ripped off in Lima $30 from the airport and I tipped him! WHY OH WHY!!

We went to the meat market and saw llama fetuses, guinea pigs, cow heads … you get the idea. There are some beautiful churches in the plaza.

Julie and I took a cat up to Sacsayhuaman 5 soles what a deal! (3 soles to the dollar).

JUNE 4

Well, today was the big day. Yesterday was hard enough but at 7 am we headed off on 1000 meter climb nearly straight up. I thought I was going to die. It took me 4 and a half hours. I was dead last. Everyone and their grandmother passed me. Jo (this nice Australian lady took pity on me and waited a half an hour so that we could go up together). That was over the first mountain to Dead Womans Pass. I decided to prove to myself that I wasn’t a total looser and made it up the next mtn first by nearly a half an hour. Jo was pretty quick too. I was proud of us.

I’m falling apart and grumpy. My nail fell off and there seems to be blisters growing under some of the others. That makes it more painful to go downhill for tomorrow. Tomorrow hot showers at the campsite!!! Woo Hoo!!! I can’t quite distinguish between the dirt line and the tan line. In Africa I’ll definetly have to start wearing sandels because I have sock lines from hiking.

Jo and Ian are such nice people. They're my parents age and the are always looking out for me and trying to pep up my spirits.

I can’t wait to check my email when I get back to Cuzco. I sent out a really long message to everyone I knew and I’m hoping to get a reply back. Its unfortunate that Africa probably won’t have the same access.

It’s going to be a really cold night. We’re on top of a mountain near Runkuragay it's about 3800 meters up and completely exposed to the wind.

I can’t believe that the GAP brochure lists this as ‘reasonably fit’ every corner you turned there seemed to be another wall of stairs to conquer.

JUNE 5

The words never, never, never again jump to mind when describing the last few days. Yesterday was over 1000 meters straight down a mtn in a seemingly endless dirt track with twists and turns. I thought I would die before seeing the end.

Then 4 o’clock in this morning to walk to the sun gate to watch the sun rise. After yet another sleepless night this one with Seb up all night puking and crapping I barely got a wink of sleep. By the time they woke me I couldn’t give a crap about the sun gate (pouring rain and no sun rise by the way) or even Manchu Pichu for that matter so I trudged up the mountain dreading every rotten step of it. I had no energy because dinner was late and I skipped it because I was totally exhausted then breakfast I was too scared to eat anything because I was worried aobut this flu bug.

I must admit however Manchu Pichu was quite impressive it housed over a thousand people and was abandonned for no apparent reason. The temple of the Condore and the Temple of the Sun were the best parts because of the amazing stone work. The two stones were stacked on top of one another with a little water, bronze, clay and sand and pushed back and forth until the fit was perfect. [I always thought all the stone work was like that, but the Incas weren’t crazy. Only the temples had the good stuff, the houses were all just primitive stone and mud].

The toilets before Manchu Pichu [the place where the hot showers were supposed to be] were completely atrotious. Some were turkish styple with no doors or covering at all. Covered in mold and smelly … the smell was almost indescribable. There was one womans toilet for the whole camp and by 7 pm it was plugged up and disgusting as well.

Tonight was the best of all. True to Lisa form, the car (mini-van) that picked us up at Ollyumbtytombo and was supposed to bring us back to Cuzco overheated and they seized the engine. So we spent about 15 minutes pouring in any bottled water we had and made it another 5 minutes up the road. About another 30 minutes later a cattle truck was just a bit bigger than a pick up and was amost completely open to the elements.

We were all huddled under the sleeping bags we had between us and went on the 40-50km we had left.

The locals looked at us like we were crazy. 10 pm and a cattle truck full of Gringos pulls through the tiny cobblestone streets of Cuzco!

The stars out there were incredible during the ride. And under my nice warm sleeping bag I even fell asleep until Carole fell asleep on top of me and caught my shoulder.

Whoever thoght I’d be riding through Peru in a cattle truck in the middle of the night sitting on an old sugar bag full of m belongings for the Inca Trail.

The Infamous Porters

They would run up and down the paths with all of our crap in shoes made out of old tires carrying 30 – 40 kilos for $6 a trip plus tips. One marathoner made the 50 km trip in three and a half hours.

Tomorrow is more ruins …

Oh yeah. The train ride. It was full of people. We paid $5 to get reserved seats so no pushing and shoving. There’s almost a carnival atmosphere about it. As people walk around tring to sell you candies or a plastic bad full of tea. You need a window seat to enjoy it .. or you end up with your head in someones armpit the whole trip along with bags hitting you in the head the entire trip. The train shudders so hard sometimes it seems like it will come right off the tracks. There was a band playing beatles melodies in the aisles for a few soles.

And before that there was the ride down from Manchu Pichu to Aguas Calientes. We took a bus and a little boy ran down the side of the mtn and kept up with the bus for a few soles.

When we got to Aguas Calientes it was really strange little town built almost on top of the realroad tracks with no real road of its own. The mkt was outrageously expensive so hopefully at Cusco I can find my rug/wall hanging thingy.

JUNE 7

This morning I’ve been farily good about getting things done I went and did some email although it took forever to get through. The laundry cost me $5, for it ironed, folded and finished it in one day. Not a bad deal I say!

Today we are going off to see more ruins, but on horse back which should be pretty fun. At least here’s no walking involved my legs felt almost crippled this morning when I woke up.

I’ve decided to get my carpet thing now I just have to find it an do a bit of bargaining to get the price down to a suitalbe level (Yasing says I should be able to find one for 60 soles or $20)

I thought of something I’d forgotten … Nope it’s gone again …

Oh the constellations are upside down here. Like the big dipper and you can see both hemisphere’s constellations. I ate nearly an entire pizza yesterday, it tasted wonderful. I’m finally getting my appetite back.

Seb said that in Africa everything that can go wrong does, twice. Broken axles, tires, stuck in mud. Well, it sounds like an adventure alright. I can’t wait.

My Dad says he hasn’t heard anything about my car yet. Hopefully [Bubba] will be there when I get home. I guess Sally is very sick my Dad couldn’t save her transmission. I don’t think it was anything I did in particular, but she’s very old.

JUNE 8

Yesterday was horseback riding. Well, we went and had a ‘typical’ Peruvian meal. It was in a courtyard/ barn area with dogs, lundry, scraming little boy with diareahea butt. I ordered a Sprite because I wasn’t going to risk vomiting the night away (since I got my own room yesterday night). The horses were scary for me, mine almost threw me. Twice. The temples were interesting although there was a lot of same ole same ole. The temple of the moon was interesting. Its like in a cave and full moon lights it up. The guide told us that a few years ago a little boy was sacrificed there.

We also saw a sun temple which was where virgins were sacrificed. The bled to death and the blood was poured down channels that ran into the caves. YUCK.

It seems my emails were a hit. People are even forwarding them to other people.

JUNE 10

We are sitting on a boat on our way to Tequille island from Puno. We stopped at 2 islands that had been built during Incan times so that they could hide out. The last of this race died in 1965, but people are still building their own islands completely out of reeds that grow in the shallows.

You can feel the ground moving because it take a couple of years for it to ‘land’ when the reeds sick enough to hit the ground.

One group had recently decided to break off from the others so that they could have solar power. So they just cut their half of the island and pushed themselves away.

I must say I’m tiring of this part of the journey and I can’t wait to get to Africa and go do some new things.

Tonight we stay with a family apparently there’s no electricity and little running water. I don’t think any of us are really looking forward to it. Especially since we’ll be put into 3’s so one of us singles are going to get stuck with HP and Carole. I guess I’ve been elected to state that none of us will spend the night with them.

Seb tells me Buenos Aires is pretty westernized with hopefully means finding good food and books in English. Mabe even a post office.

PERU. An Interesting Meal.

1999-06-08T17:12:00.000-04:00

Today we went on a trip out to Pisac to visit the market that is very famous there. I had so much fun bargaining. You just get the shopkeepers to tell you a price and then halve it, by the look on their face you can tell how insulted they are (since these are usually handicrafts). It's only through this method that I can figure out the true prices of the goods. It's my own stubbornness that doesn't allow me to pay more then the local price for a good.

In the end I got a little chess board where the Incas and their llamas are battling the Spaniards (it was about 5 dollars). The rugs are absolutely beautiful and wonderful to look at but were just too much for my meager budget to handle, both in weight and money, even with some tough bargaining. My other purchase for the day was a little bronze llama, I think that's it for Peruvian keepsakes. With another 3 months to go space is at a premium even in my endless crusade to find more great "Crap from Around the World" (you should hear the echo effects of that in my mind for the full effect). Tomorrow we leave for Puno, I have no idea what's there, or even if its in Peru or Bolivia (go figure).

On our way back from Puno market we had originally planned to take the public bus but a taxi driver came up and offered to take us back for $1.50 each. However, since the public bus was only 50 cents we walked away. Now mind you this is an hour long drive over a mountain and the bus we would have had to take would have been packed into with close to a 100 locals and their market purchases. And no offence to the locals, but Ban Deoderant definitly has not made any great strides in convincing the market of their need for their product.

Finally, we got him to agree to 80 cents each for the ride -- not bad. It really seems ridiculous when you could afford to pay so much more, and certainly would in the US, but it becomes the principle of the thing --- not to pay more than the locals. He didn't spend all that much on gas however, on the down side of the mountain the engine was cut and we rolled into our final destination in neutral.

The four single people on this trip are all fun and we all get along really well so its been a lot of socializing and great to have other people to have a meal with for once. Eating alone is just depressing, and it's only magnified a thousand times in a beautiful foreign country where unmarried 20 year-olds are considered hopeless spinsters. However, while eating alone is definitly depressing, yesterday's meal would be memorable regardless of the company.

It was definitly a learning experience. We went horseback riding to various ruins the names and signifance of which are now all completely muddled in my mind. Well, it was someone's idea to stop and get some food before we started the tour. We were lead into what looked like a barn or courtyard area (it was owned by the people who were going to rent us the horses). There were dogs running around, hay in the corner, you could smell the horses and their were bottles of beer lying all over the place. We were told that "The Menu" cost 1 dollar (soup, drink, main dish, and dessert). Personally, I took one look around and ordered a sprite, but the others decided to risk their stomachs and ordered lunch.

While we sat there and waited for the food. Seb noticed the little boy of about 18 months running around screaming at the top of his lungs. Then he leaned over to play with something. Well, there was a little plumbers crack, but that's really cute, right? Not when your waiting to eat and their is green poo hanging out of it, BUT WAIT, it gets better.

The soup comes out, very good they all say. Ate it up, no problem. Then the woman of the house walks out of the kitchen with a bunch of meat in her hands. She walks over to a big rock in this courtyard-barn area and tenderizess the meat with another rock that's sitting on the ground next to the big flat rock. Okay, well that's a little gross we all think but its still okay (I'm just glad at this point I passed on the food). Remember the dogs? Well, of course they wander over and start licking the remains of the meat juice that was on the big rock. At this point the Prissy Englishman with us starts freaking out and even our guide whose fairly used to this decides to pass on the food. They decided that they could deal with dirt but not food that had been indirectly licked by the dogs.

The horses from there were a treat as well. Two of them hated each other and H.P. (aka "the prissy Englishman") had no idea how to ride so his horse would gallop up to the one it hated and try to bite it. Once almost throwing him off a steep cliff although I can't say we would have minded a small injury keeping him from the rest of the trip. The owners were there as well and would bring the horses galloping up behind and those in front would take off. The horses also had absolutely no concept of a two-legged rider and mine pinned me many times, not to mention often leaving my leg stranded at the back end of another persons horse (luckily for me none of them went to the bathroom).

It was a bit scary because these had to be the stupidest horses on earth and they kept bolting, especially when any one of the nine spotted a patch of water.

I guess I missed out on some of the fun because at summer solstice all sorts of cool things happen at the Inca sights. They were made to use the sun and the moon, especially in the temples. So during summer solstice at a lot of the sights the sun will hit the rocks just right and create the image of a puma or shine into some caves at just the right angle to light them up.

Im not sure if I will find email, in many other places and it will probably cost more than a dollar an hour so this might be the last in this series of stories but I will do my best to keep you all up to date on my adventures!

Lots of love,
Lisa

PERU. THE INCA TRAIL

1999-06-06T18:47:00.000-04:00

Again, greetings from Peru. Given the fairly positive response I received from the last addition of "a day in the life ... " I'll send out another generic response.

Well, obviously I lived through the Inca trail. Although, it was close at times. We walked more than 30 miles over three mountains in 3 days. The first day as I huffed along behind even Jo the Australian (who is 55, by the way). I spent most of my time thinking, "What the HELL am I doing here!" Then that "1/2 mile" straight up the second day turned out to be a 4 and a half hour climb up a virtual stairway (and closer to a mile).

I was behind everyone by an hour, Jo waited for me so that I wouldn't look like a loser. THEN after lunch we walked down the same bloody mountain and up another (I was first up this time) where we camped for the evening (on the edge of a cliff in 10 degree weather with wind gusts up to 40 mph).

Those poor souls that were still drinking that coca tea got water poisoning (you have to boil it longer at 15 000 feet) and were puking and crapping the entire night.

Meanwhile I managed to infect almost the entire group with my cold just as I'm getting over it (I'm really popular now). There was hope in the supposedly "easy" third day. Lets define 'easy', shall we? To me it is not a 3 hour hike up yet another mountain followed by 4 1/2 hours climbing almost straight down over 3,000 feet. You could see the valley below the whole time your ankles and knees are screaming that you couldn't possibly walk another step.

I was near tears by the end and found myself passed by some crazy German who was doing this two months after breaking her ankle. At the end of all this we were supposed to find hot showers, but instead paid 5 soles to be dribbled on by luke warm water. Given that we hadn't seen running water in 3 days it was still wonderful at the time.

There was one toilet there for about 60 campers, unless you call the cement structure with a hole and completely open to the world, covered in a green fungus of some sort, smelled to high heaven because people were afraid to get too far in, a toilet. (Seb told me there was crap of every color and consistency, puke and urine covering them as well).

unfortunately, we were also camped on a cliff ledge and there was nowhere to pee. After no sleep for the 3rd night in a row, and a couple more of our group get water poisoning, they wake us up at 4 am for a 3 hour climb in the pouring rain to see the sun rise (obviously there was some confusion about sunrises and cloud cover). We walk to the "sun gate" which is totally obscured by clouds. I was so tired and pissed off I barely stopped and just headed down to Manchu Pichu. To get to the end we again had to face a never ending climb down the side of a mountain. Our guide told us to wait in the restaurant at the bottom of the hill.

Did I mention that Manchu Pichu is at the top of said hill? I was wondering what the hell that was all about, because I certainly was not going to climb down just to climb back up again ... but that's what we did. All of us were pissed off, completely exhausted, dehydrated and needing a real bed. My only thought was NEVER AGAIN, NEVER, NEVER , NEVER. AGAIN.

Anyway, we saw Manchu Pichu which is really quite impressive (I should note here that you can take a train there, not to mention the fact that the Incas themselves took a short cut through the valley). We finally got on a train back to Cusco.

We had to pay 3 dollars extra to get reserved seats. It was quite an experience. The vendors follow you on board and walk up and down the aisles with sweets and plastic bags full of warm tea. A band was also in the aisle playing Beatles tunes on traditional instruments. The B.O. was horrible for those stuck in aisle seats because most of the locals had to stand and being in the aisle meant sitting just at armpit level. Then there was the fact that the train shook so badly I thought it was going to derail! We got off a stop early because taking a bus back to Cusco was actually shorter (usually ... IÂll explain why not in this case).

We get on a bus for the 2 hour ride back to Cusco. The minivan/bus overheats. We all jump out and offer our water, the driver knows nothing about cars and Ian is screaming at him inEnglishh not to put the cold water in there without the motor running. Well, they finally get it cooled down and we go back on our way ... for about 5 minutes. Then the engine seizes and we pull off the road in front of another dead bus that has beenabandonedd. Well, we all jump out and people were taking pictures and looking up at the stars (which are beyond incredible).

Thirty minutes later when no one had come to get us we started to get cold andwhinyy it was now after 9 and we had been up since 4 am. Then a cattle truck slows down and drives by and we all think well at least we weren't expected to get in that. SURPRISE! It turns around and comes back and stops in front of our bus. I think someone said, "you've got to be kidding" but they weren't.

Thirty miles away Cusco sits and they are loading our luggage and us into the back of a cattle truck that didn't even have a roof!! It was a 40 minute ride and freezing cold, but highly entertaining. We put all of our clothes on and spread the sleeping blankets that we had out for everyone. Then we drove through a police check point looking like refugees and finally into Cusco where people looked very surprised to see a bunch of gringos standing up in the back of a cattle truck!! The hotel personnel was a bit surprised as well.

Well, needless to say it was nice to be back in the warmth of a hotel, with cable even! I also dropped off my laundry and will get it back to day, 50 cents a pound -- they wash, dry and iron your clothes for you and get them back in a couple of hours ... you've gotta love the prices!

I'm too quickly out of time, and I was hoping to send some personal messages, but this was the latest!!

EQUADOR.

1999-05-19T18:59:00.000-04:00

I was on a plane circling the Quito airport. I had never set foot in a country less developed than Canada and was terrified of what I’d find waiting for me. Knowing my own limitations for fear tolerance, I was scheduled to meet up with a small group of independent travelers to tour with in a couple of days. I feel guilt even today for my occasional reliance on tour companies to lead me, and keep me relatively safe, because any true traveler would wince at the thought of a scheduled adventure of any kind.

I try to downplay this reliance on a tour since I know many travelers, at the mere mention of tour, the image of a huge gas guzzling bus lumbering down only the smoothest of highways carrying camera laden retirees around to all the sights within a days drive of the 5 star hotel. Upon arrival, they jump out of the bus, take pictures of themselves smiling mechanically in front of anything that may or may not have significance, and finally having exerted themselves, they run back to the bus to sip Evian water and wait for the stragglers that got lost looking for the bathroom.

But I digress. I’m on the plane. It’s late night in Ecuador and I look out the window to take in the sights of the city from my window seat. What I see is spectacularly beautiful. Quito is a narrow city squeezed into a valley high in the Andes. The city lights shimmered with almost a purple luminescence and looked like the sparkle of a million jewels. Our plane finally landed and we made our way off the tarmac and into the customs and baggage claim area. Once the formalities were dealt with I ventured out into the main airport area where I was immediately surrounded by fifteen to twenty cab drivers all vying for my fare. I picked the first one and got in, giving him the name of my hotel I hoped he could find it since he spoke no English and I hadn’t yet gotten my Spanish under control enough to attempt even the simplest of sentences.

We drove out of the airport into what looked like another world. A world I’d only visited in Mad Max and apocalyptic movies. The houses looked to be near collapse, and I felt immediately out of my element. We went through two police checkpoints where two officers with machine guns took my drivers papers and regarded me through the rear window. The country was obviously experiencing the kind of economic hardship that is almost incomprehensible when viewed through western eyes. I learned later that the unemployment rate was 30% (5% higher than what the U.S. experienced at the height of the Great Depression) and the government would be overthrown only a few months later.

My taxi arrived at the hotel without incident and I walked up the steps where I was greeted by the night manager and asked to sign in. I walked up the stairs to the fourth floor where I was staying and walked into a rather large room with a shower! Although the hotel was rundown, the accommodations were certainly better than any hostel I’d ever stayed in, although there was no phone in sight. Unfortunately, in the days to come I was to find that the a working phone with the ability to connect to an English-speaking operator would become my obsession.

After a long day fearful to venture too far out into the city without a guide I went to meet the group that would be accompanying me to the Galapagos Islands for my first trip. It was to be a whirlwind ten days/ten island trip. We would talk a bit about our travel experiences and I’d meet the Australian who’d infect me with a cold that lingered throughout my 4 weeks in South America.

But tonight I was tired and slept like the dead, feeling virtually no effects of the altitude. Perhaps I have mountain people in my genes. I was to find out the boat lovers of my German ancestors certainly didn’t pass on any theirs.

It was to be ten days that will always stay with me. The wildlife is extraordinary from bright red crabs to marine iguanas to penguins swimming alongside you these islands are everything an animal lover could ever want. I actually found myself stepping over sea lions without a second thought (although the bulls still could make me jump with a quick turn of the head) as they sunbathed in our path. We spent our days hiking in the morning cooling off with a snorkel in the reefs off-shore, eating a gourmet meal followed by a nap in a lounge chair until the heat of the day had passed. If it hadn’t been for those nights we traveled over rough waters or anchored outside the harbor the trip would have been as perfect as any could be.

The

AUSTRALIA. PARADISE LOST

1998-08-15T19:01:00.000-04:00

It had been the perfect dessert to a lovely four weeks in Australia. Four days on a small beach resort in the middle of the Coral Sea. Home to the world's largest reef, and the millions of fish that made it one of the Seven Wonders of the World. My main purpose during my visit to South Molle was to relax. I'd been traveling across the outback on every kind of transportation known to man, and for four days all I wanted was for someone to cook me a real meal three times a day, and enjoy the fabulous winter sun.

It was August, and in the depths of the Australian winter I found the East Coast of Australia at its very best. During the summer months temperatures often get well into the 80s and 90s with nearly 100 percent humidity. It's enough to make even the most dedicated of sunbathers wilt in their loungers. This is without even mentioning the Killer Jellyfish as I refer to them. They come with the summer currents and make swimming on many of the Australia beaches dangerous and occasionally deadly without the protection of your mother's pantyhose.

It was my second night on South Molle I found the energy and enthusiasm to venture to the other side of the small island. Largely rainforest, it was home to hundreds of beautiful tropical birds including the Kookaburra, and the Cockatoo. It was around four o'clock and I hoped to get to the beach on the far side in time for sunset. My resort held the only humans on this island so there was very little chance of running into anyone else during my journey. In fact, as I checked into the resort I'd made a mental note of the note to all guests to please alert the staff when journeying out of the resort so that they could search for you if you failed to return.

That was not on my mind as I pulled on a pair of comfortable shoes and made my way to the edge of the resort and began my walk. It was a great evening with the temperatures already cooling. I looked at the dense canopy all around me and listened to all the birds high up in the trees. The amount of vegetation on this tiny little outcropping of reef was truly spectacular and I was surprised that the rainforest is so largely ignored by visitors to the Queensland coast.

The path was fairly wide and looked as if it was occasionally used by the resort's four wheel drives to get to the island's west coast although for what purpose I don't know. Occasionally some other hotel patrons drifted past on their way down to the evening meal and we nodded a hello. I was staying in this resort alone and had become famous for it within my 48 hours on the island.

I trod on, surprised at how long it was taking me to get to the other side. It had been nearly and hour bdidn'the island didn't look like it could be more that a mile and a half wide. Most of the climb was uphill so I attributed much of my difficulty to that, and finally almost without warning I broke out of the dense vegetationoutcrop grassy outcrop overlooking one of the beaches. This first beach looked to me to be largely inaccessible so I followed what seemed to be a well-worn trail on to the next. I made it to the next beach just as the sun was turning pink and I quickly pulled out my camera and began snapping pictures, then sat down to enjoy the view.

As the light faded I walked down a step trail of loose stone to the beach below. The sand was more course here, but the water was beautiful and I waded up to my knees watching the sun slowly sink behind the horizon. Then it dawned on me. The other portion of that soon to be infamous "Message to Our Guests", We also have flashlights available for our Guests when Needed for Night Hikes.

That was what I'd forgotten. In my sudden hurry to see a lovely sunset I had forgotten that the rainforest was completely unequipped with street lamps. After growing up and forever living in a city or suburb, a world without constant illumination was foreign and almost even inconceivable to my brain.

Having come to this rather abrupt conclusion I jogged hastily back up to the beginning of the trail into the forest, but the light was already failing. I made it only about 10 minutes before the canopy had blocked out all the light. The Cockatoos that had seemed so tropically beautiful to me only a few hours before now terrified me to the depths of my soul as I stumbled blind along the trail. They screeched and swooped but couldn't darkness I couldn't gauge how closely they were coming to me, obviously upset that I had interrupted their peaceful night. Making things worse were the unidentified creatures that scurried slithered and scampered out from under my feet as I tried to feel the trail ahead. It was a slow and adrenaline pumped journey, and I had yet to see even a flickering of light in the distance to mark my return to civilization. I sang loudly to ward of the fearsome Cockatoos. I sang badly and waved my arms above my head to make sure that nothing could peck my eyes out. If someone was watching with night goggles I would have been a sight to see. A crazy American drunkenly singing and waving her arms as she crept along a forest trail on a moonless night.

After two excruciating hours I finally saw the lights of the tennis courts, but I had couldn'the trail and couldn't figure out how to get out of the last hundred yards of forest. Due to a steep drop, there was only one place had a set of stairs to climb down. I was now near tears, but then I saw the trail. It was on the other side of a tree I'd passed twice already. I stumbled down the stairs and practically tore out of the forest feeling as if it was reaching out to grab me back. A couple of people regarded me strangely but whether it was because of the terrified look on my face as I ran out of the forest or if it was only the fact I had traveled here alone, I'll never know.