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Travel Mom vs. the Toddler

I love traveling, particularly international travel. In my early 20s the travel bug bit me hard and I have been finding ways and means to get myself to locales around the world ever since. After living three years in Japan teaching English, I made the decision to take a year off before graduate school and backpack solo through central, Eastern, and Southern Europe, a little of north Africa, and then parts of Asia. I had the time of my life and easily reached fifty countries visited before the age of 30. At present I could qualify for membership in the Traveler’s Century Club.

When I became pregnant more than a few people implied I would need to cut back on the travel. One friend even said she guessed I would not be making any trips for the next five years. Why, I thought, would I want to stop traveling?

I will admit it; I was a little concerned about traveling with a baby. I thought perhaps those people who had said I could not travel with baby C may have been right. Yet, I did not want to just throw in the towel without giving it a try. So when C was five months old I booked a trip over the Memorial Day weekend from Washington, DC to New Orleans. It was a direct flight, there on a regional jet, back on a larger jet. I brought three bottles, plenty of formula, and all the diapers I we would need for the trip. I brought only the baby carrier – no stroller. I cannot tell you the sense of relief and accomplishment I felt when we returned – I had done it! There was no stopping me now!

Our second trip by plane came five months later after arriving in Ciudad Juarez. This time the trip was to Northern Ireland. This required three flights (El Paso to Houston; Houston to Newark; Newark to Belfast) there and back. This time I added the stroller. Not only did I survive the flights, but I even took C on an all day tour bus from Belfast along the coast to the Giant’s Causeway and another day we took a public bus to Derry. I was doing it, really doing it! Baby C and I were officially travel buddies!

My daughter C is now 2 years and 8 months old. She holds two passports, tourist and diplomatic, and has had them since she was four months old. She has visited six countries other than the United States (Mexico, Trinidad and Tobago, the United Arab Emirates, Panama, Ireland and the United Kingdom. In the UK she has been to Northern Ireland, Manchester, Liverpool, and the Isle of Man) and at least 19 U.S. states. For her second birthday I enrolled her in the United Airlines Mileage Plus program and within five months she had earned silver status. C has got travel creds.

I do not write this to show off. It is more for me. It is a reminder that I could once do all that.

Of course I was never quite sure how things were going to go. Every time I got on a plane for the next trip, it was like traveling with a different child and/or we needed different gear. She went from needing only formula to needing snacks. She went from being content with just a few books and a single stuffie to requiring more books and stuffies and toys. I bought an iPod Touch. I admit it. I bought a one year old an iPod Touch so I could fill it with baby apps to keep her busy and me sane on our long trip to Dubai. Let me tell you C was a champ on every. single. flight.

However, you know, all good things come to an end, right? I thought it might come when she turned 2 and she could no longer travel as a lap child. Suddenly C has own seat and her own luggage allowance, but for some reason she does not as suddenly start carrying her own suitcase and walking through the airport on her own. Yet, the first several trips went pretty well, even when I had to lug the child seat to check in so we could use it while renting a car in Ireland.

But my wake-up call was coming.

So in May of this year we flew from El Paso, Texas to Manchester, England. We then caught a train to Liverpool, spent a few days there, and then took a ferry over to the Isle of Man. Are you with me so far? It is okay to think I am crazy, but stay with me because it is soon afterwards that I too realize that perhaps I am a tad too travel bold for my current status. We stayed in Douglas, the port town and capital of the Isle of Man. I take C on a bus from Douglas to Peel, on the other side of the island. We walk up the isthmus at the end of the beach to tour the incredible Peel castle (I have the stroller) and then stop for a bite to eat at a small, family-run diner. C gobbles up her fried egg and a few veggies. Then she looks at me oddly and throws it up all over me, the chair, the floor. That was unfortunate. Luckily the woman who runs the place hardly blinks and eye and shows me the ladies room where I can clean C and myself up.

C falls asleep in the stroller as I head down to the House of Manannan, a museum focusing on the maritime history and culture of the Isle. I figure the time to visit is while C is fast asleep in the stroller. I have already put the lunch incident behind me. Kids get sick, no worries. The first 30 minutes are fine as C sleeps soundly. Then she wakes up and wants out of the stroller to walk. She promptly throws up again. And again. Luckily a helpful museum employee wanders by and helps find me some paper towels to clean things up. Good thing I have some extra towels for when C throws up yet again 10 minutes later. Time to make our exit.

On the way to the bus station we have another incident. Then at the bus station. Then on the bus. Then once off the bus in Douglas. I cannot fathom how my daughter has anything left in her little stomach. I am trying to stay off my own rising panic. I feel incredibly ill-equipped to handle this. I can navigate bus and train and boat schedules in foreign countries, but throw in my own sick child and I feel exposed as a fraud, and even worse, a terrible, no-good, very bad mother.

I get C back to the hotel so she can throw up a few more times in the comfort of our room (are you kidding me?!). I think of the following day when we will wake up early to take a taxi to the ferry terminal, a ferry to Liverpool, a bus to the train station, a train to Manchester, and then some form of transport to our hotel. I appreciate that I may not have thought this through all that well.

But the travel gods smile upon me and C recovers. I am given a reprieve. We take the taxi, ferry, bus, train, and taxi the next day, check into our hotel and then head to the National Football Museum. For the next, and last, two days of our trip though we stay at the hotel. It is cold and wet; I have come down with my own stomach bug. I feel an itty bitty bit glum that we will not be able to visit the Manchester United museum, but I also sense that this rest time is not only needed but has been imposed by the travel gods. It is my comeuppance.

These days I find it tiring just to go to the supermarket with my daughter. If we have to stop at more than one store then I probably need a nap afterwards. I look ahead to our flight to Shanghai, China in January and wonder how I will survive it. I shake my head. A rueful chuckle escapes my lips.

I have not yet conceded. I am calling this merely a travel hiatus. This is a slowdown, a drawback, but not an end. It helps that I am in language training now where taking leave is generally prohibited. I can circle my wagons, consider my options, and make some adjustments. It will be some time before I attempt another “Isle of Man” but we will travel again. I promise myself.

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Nation’s Tri: The Third Wheel

I belong to a global running group, a community of Foreign Service people who try to take their running on the road, wherever they happen to be. They may be trying to fit in runs in baking hot UAE summers (where you run after sunset when it’s a “cool” 105 degrees) or try to make friends with the treadmill when in places where running outside is verboten or make unexpected stops in locales where herds of animals may cross their path. We are a dedicated bunch of crazy runners. Not necessarily fast runners – though we do have a few who place in their respective races – but committed.

Waaaaaaay back in February or March of this year I responded to a post on our group page asking for a person to run the 10k portion in a triathlon team to take place September 7 in Washington, DC. Yeah THAT September 7, you know, the first Sunday back in the DC area after a whirlwind 60 days of home leave and my first week of Chinese training.

So it seemed like a GREAT idea! I could use it to jump start my running when back in Northern Virginia. This couple, whom I had never met, also would have just moved to DC for training the weekend before. It was PERFECT, right? I mean, that’s the word springing to your mind too, I’m sure! I replied immediately. Pick me! Pick me PLEASE! And they did.

Fast forward six months or so… I have run a half marathon in South Dakota a few weeks before, yet it already feels much longer. I am stressed and tired about the start of language training. I book a hotel in DC for the Saturday night – yes, a hotel away from my hotel, because the logistics of getting up at the butt crack of dawn to drive to DC and try to find parking seemed too daunting. My mom stays with myself and C because I have yet to spend a night away from her and I am determined not to have the first night be for this triathlon. My ulcerative colitis continues to plague me and this 10k runs through urban DC (as opposed to a heavily forested canyon in SD), i.e. few if any trees to hide behind should my UC make a pit stop necessary. I have not met this couple I’m running with. Hmmm…this seems a little less perfect than I originally thought.

Thankfully meeting up with my Tri mates proves easy. Though completely unplanned, we find each other the first day at the Foreign Service Institute. We run into each other unplanned each day after that. Even at the packet pick up we find each other at the hotel entrance without arranging a thing. It was rather uncanny.

It is a very good thing we had that going for us because the organization of the packet pick up and staging areas left much to be desired. Racers arriving to pick up packets with their bicycles are turned away as bicycles are not allowed in the hotel (at a triathlon?!). Volunteers at the event appear unable to answer questions. Our cyclist rides his bike down to the transition area to set up only to be stranded down there as the returning shuttles to the hotel stop at 6 pm, although the website and expo announcements say they will run until 7 pm. Then the skies open up and rain pours down. We decide to eat dinner at our respective hotels and meet up the following morning for the next to last shuttle for the start line, departing at 6 am.

That night my mother – a dear woman who agreed to watch Chloe while I run – snores with the force of a fog horn.  (I am sorry mom, you have been outed on Facebook and now in my blog) She tried not to, I’ll give her that. She brought a nose strip, yet it did nothing to stem the tide; I could not sleep. Around midnight, desperate to get some zzzzzs I had an epiphany. I then dragged a pillow and a comforter into the bathroom and set up bed in the bathtub. Yes, the bathtub. Surprisingly, I slept pretty well (I am 5’5” if you are wondering).

I awoke to the news that the swim portion of the race had been cancelled due to a sewage spill into the Potomac River resulting from the previous evening’s heavy rain. After wrenching myself from my bathtub cocoon I head over to the race hotel across the street at a quarter to six. Unfortunately, disorganization continued. Despite being on the next to last shuttle, departing the hotel at six am with the race not starting until 7:15, the bus could not drop participants at the actual start location, just nearby. At the event emcees announced that the “swimmers” would still run into the transition area barefoot. Unfortunately for many relay participants, this was not announced on the website along with the cancellation of the swim portion and some had simply not shown up. Our swimmer was in a dress – albeit a sporty one – and so lined up barefoot with the other “swimmers” to run 500 yards to pass off the timing piece to our cyclist.

Cyclist and I receive conflicting information as to how to reach the hand-off area. One volunteer told us to head in one direction where we met another volunteer who told us to go back where we had come from. We finally just went around both of them, the long way, to find the place, where we waited. And waited. And waited. Though the event started at 7:15, our “swimmer” did not begin her swim-run until 8:23! She was in wave 23, yet between each numbered wave there was also a “named” wave. The first cyclists had returned before 8:15.

At least the weather was perfect for cycling and running. It was cool and overcast – completely different from the near 90 degree and sunny weather of the day before. Still, I had been waiting around to run since 6:15 and with the breeze I felt a little chilled; it was a relief to finally start running around 9:45. Then suddenly, it was all alright. The course was well marked and the volunteers prepared. I ran slowly, without music, my mind occupied with many memories of my previous life in DC. I have run many times in West Potomac Park along Haines Point. I looked across the Potomac to Fort McNair, where I worked as a Research Fellow at the Institute for National Strategic Studies. Across the Potomac in another direction stands Bolling Air Force Base, where I also worked as a defense analyst. The course also covered streets where I trained for and ran the Marine Corps Marathon, my one full marathon to date. I had missed DC.

All in all, I am glad I participated, though I have decided I will not run more races in DC this brief time we are here, and possibly no other races at all after my half in early October. The time is just too short and the logistics for race participation a little too complicated. As a single parent studying Mandarin Chinese in preparation to work in Shanghai starting early next year, I only have so many hours in the day, only so much free time in a week. I need to recognize my limitations.

Hey, and I did it! Right? In the end I think the best part of it was meeting this other Foreign Service couple, also with a young daughter, serving their country, living abroad, and with a passion for running (and swimming and biking) wherever they happen to be.

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Back to School

I am too old for this.

We are told in our language school orientation at the Foreign Service Institute NOT to think this way. We should have an open mind. We should be accepting of everyone’s learning style and pace, including our own. We are reminded this is our job right now. Not only are we being paid to learn a language but the government is investing a lot of money in us to do so. The State Department is counting on us to learn our respective languages to help the United States achieve its diplomatic goals.

But geez, I feel too old for this.

I know I am intelligent and I can do this. I have learned languages before: Spanish, Chinese, Indonesian, Japanese, Korean, and Tagalog. The former three I learned over time and sporadically in long formal classes; the latter three with informal classes and living in country. And yes, you did read Chinese. So not only am I proven to learn a language but I am proven to learn THIS language.

On the first day the highlight of orientation for me was when a woman from the testing unit announced, in a hilarious and inspired presentation, that the test would henceforth be changed. No longer would we be required to speak at length on topics such as nuclear nonproliferation, Congressional term limits, or global warming and yet be unable to buy groceries or conduct visa interviews when we touchdown in our respective countries. In Ciudad Juarez, Mexico, I long waited for the when after approving or denying a visa the applicant would then turn to me and say, well, now that is done, could you tell me your thoughts on labor unions? Needless to say, that day never arrived. A collective sigh and inward cheer was palpably felt throughout the orientation room. The word is that we will actually be tested on conversations related to ourselves, life in our destination country, and our actual jobs. This is thrilling news.

The classes thus far have been great. The Chinese department has developed a class specifically geared toward those of us who have had Chinese in the past. Currently there are 14 of us in this program. I appreciate this immensely as I was in a similar situation when I studied Spanish and the department initially accommodated four of us with our own class. Then after four weeks we were scattered to the wind, placed in other classes, and any advantage we may have had was lost.

The class times fly by. When the teacher tells us to take a 10 minute break or he/she will see us next time, I am surprised. I have had just a few times in class where I felt too much on the spot, but my classmates and the teachers are supportive. Preparation is key though, and I am going to have to step things up.

I have run the gamut of language learning emotions this week. I have felt inspired and insecure. I have felt confident and uncertain. I have felt committed and flustered. I have been energized and exhausted. It has only been four days.

Lots of people would be thrilled to switch places with me; I am being paid to study a foreign language. I completely understand; it’s an incredible benefit and opportunity. I recognize that intrinsically. But studying a language is HARD y’all! I know at some point in the next 20 weeks I will cry as a result of trying to cram Mandarin into my brain, and remove the Spanish that now resides there. I may cry more than once. I am hoping to avoid doing this in front of others as it is not considered a great diplomatic skill to burst into tears.

I try to give myself a pep talk. “Look, last time you were here studying you were pregnant, had the baby, and then had a newborn. And you did it! You rock!”

“That’s all true. I do rock. Wait; now I have a toddler…I cannot see how that is going to make studying any easier.” As expected, C is already proving a formidable obstacle to my language learning.

It is very important I realize this process is not easy for anyone and that everyone has things going on in their lives while trying to study a foreign language. I remember 2-3 years ago while studying Spanish pregnant and then as a single mom of a newborn; I was SO tired. Yet one day I saw a woman, pregnant AND on crutches, studying a foreign language. And about a week later I met a woman on the shuttle bus who was pregnant, had a small child, her husband still at their previous post, AND undergoing chemotherapy, studying a foreign language. Yeah, I try to remember those women and their fortitude when I am feeling sorry for myself. I also try to remember that for everyone that was visibly struggling with something there are those struggling and juggling things not readily apparent. Just like me.

One week down, eighteen to go.* Hopefully I am not too too old for this.

 

 

*turns out unlike during my Spanish training, the Christmas week off is not being counted as part of our training time this go around. Yay!

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Temporarily Permanent

In my last installment of my home leave epic my 2 ½ year old toddler C posed this question to me “Where is home?”

Good question sweetheart.

I am not sure what concept of “home” C may have though it felt different from her earlier requests to “go to hotel.” What sense of permanence does such a young person have considering their age and that in the previous 9 weeks we stayed in a total of 15 different hotels and five different homes of friends and/or family? Was she tired of moving? I cannot really say, but I know that as much as I enjoyed my Home Leave, towards the end I certainly craved something more permanent.

Now here we are in Herndon, Virginia, moving into an extended stay hotel. Right, a hotel, but it will be our home for the next 21 weeks (and just 21 weeks provided I pass my first Chinese test…Please let me pass it, please. End fervent prayer).

21 weeks.

Most people would not find this a particularly long time. It isn’t really. When I break it down and think about how much Mandarin Chinese I have to cram into my brain in such a period I panic at its incredible briefness. And yet, at the same time it feels luxuriously lengthy.

I can buy food. Lots of it. You know, like salt and pepper and sugar and soy sauce and butter and grapeseed oil for cooking. And peanut butter. And salad dressing. And eggs. And Claussen Kosher Dill Spears. And cheese. Lots of cheese. Because, you know, I have a fridge. And Q-tips and shampoo and conditioner and saran wrap and dishwashing soap because this is more than just a way station. I even bought multivitamins, so you know I mean business.

I spent nearly $275 my first trip to the store. That is just the beginning. I probably bought only half the things I wanted. This is one of the reasons per diem is so much higher at the beginning because starting from scratch is not cheap.

21 weeks.

I have so many plans!

I plan to run. I am thinking an average of 10 miles a week. On actual running trails. Surrounded by trees and stuff. I might even run with other people and I do not mean running near people in a big race but actually running with them. The novelty. Go big or go home, you know? Or, er, go big or go elsewhere when home is a frequently shifting concept. I am already signed up for a 10K the first weekend of September. That would be next weekend, yes. I also have a half marathon on the schedule in October.

I have so many plans for C. I want to take her to the National Zoo, the National Children’s Museum, and the Udva- Hazy Center of the National Air and Space Museum. I want to take her to carousels in the area at Glen Echo Park and Clemyjontri Parks. I want to take her to the Frying Pan Farm Park and the Reston Zoo as these are places I visited when I was a little girl. I want to take her to Cox Farms Fall Festival because I took my niece a few years ago and we stayed for HOURS. I want to sign her up for toddler and mommy swim classes. Also her cousins, one of which is just 4 months older, live just 4 miles away from our hotel home. My parents live 6 miles away. I want C to spend time with her family before we head to China.

I also want to catch up with friends in the area. Many are back in the area for training of their and some of my closest friends are assigned to Washington, DC right now. It is not often so many of them are in one geographic area so I want to take advantage.
Somewhere in all of that there is this HUGE thing I am supposed to be doing. I am being PAID to do: Studying Mandarin Chinese.

When I think about studying Chinese the 21 weeks feel so very, very short. The first week is only 4 days and the first day is orientation, so really only 3 days. So, it’s 20 ½ weeks. But Columbus Day, Veteran’s Day and Thanksgiving take away those 3 days. So it is just 20 weeks. My 21st week is supposed to be my week of packing out for Shanghai and taking care of last minute details and possibly meeting with relevant offices in DC. So it is just 19 weeks. But the teachers of FSI are actually on leave the two weeks of Christmas and New Year’s, so it is really just 17 weeks. Seventeen weeks of classroom instruction. A regular course of Chinese is 44 weeks. Panic sets in.  It is not enough time!

So I have 21 weeks to do it all in. That’s a lot. And a little. We are at least “home,” for the time being.

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NY: The Final Frontier (Sixth and Final Phase of Home Leave 2014)

We ended our vomit-free home leave streak the same day as my toddler asked me “Where’s home?” These might be two clear signs that it is time to bring home leave to a close.

Our trip to NY was primarily about visiting family and friends with a side trip to Niagara Falls (because who could resist?).

The night before beginning our Sixth Phase we arrived at my sister’s place after midnight but were up the following day and on the road to western New York by 11 am. We were on our way to visit C’s dad and paternal grandparents who live on the  Allegany Indian Reservation. C’s grandfather is a member of the Seneca Nation, one of the six nations of the Iroquois Confederacy. C is 1/16 Seneca Indian, though as its matrilineal, neither she nor her father are members. Though C is not a member of the tribe and therefore will not receive annuity checks or qualify for scholarships, I still find knowing this part of her genealogy interesting.

I convinced her dad to go to Midway State Park where, yes, you may have guessed it, there is a carousel. The park dates from 1898 and therefore is one of the oldest continually operating amusement parks in the United States. So it is on the National Register of Historic Places. I’ll be truthful; it looked a bit neglected, there were not many people there. Yet C doesn’t give a hoot if a place is popular or not, as long as there are fun things for her to do. She enjoyed the 1948 Herschell carousel and other kiddie rides.

After visiting her dad, we then headed to Niagara Falls. Wow. Just wow. The Falls are another place I have long wanted to visit. I took C on the Maid of the Mist boat trip though I had had some reservations about standing on a crowded slippery deck with everyone wearing the same blue ponchos. Still the ride is just 20 minutes total, which is just about as much time as a toddler (or her mom carrying her) can stand. We skipped the Cave of the Winds as I had heard it was definitely not the kind of place to take a real little one (read: wide “safety” bars with plenty of space for intrepid, independent toddlers to slip through = one of mommy’s greatest nightmares). I was so glad we took the Maid of the Mist ride soon after arrival on Friday as the weather was bright and clear and warm (i.e. perfect) and there was almost no wait to board. The following day it was overcast and the crowds were in force (the next to last Saturday of summer). C also woke with a fever.

Since C was not feeling 100% we took it easy the second day, though she still insisted we go “see fish,” so we did head out for a trolley ride to the Niagara Aquarium. I would not give the aquarium a good rating as it was really, really small. Still C liked the seal and sea lion and spent all her time just watching them, so whatever, she was happy.

I also indulged my new carousel obsession and drove to North Tonawanda, New York, just 20 minutes from Niagara to visit the Allan Herschell Carousel Factory Museum. Yeah. Can you believe it? Until San Francisco I liked carousels, but now I am finding them EVERYWHERE! The Factory Museum is also on the National Register of Historic Places and, naturally, includes an antique Herschell Carousel, from 1916. C rallied long enough to ride once around and some of the other kiddie rides. She even allowed me about 30 minutes to browse through the museum part.

Then we visited historic Fort Niagara, another State Park. Unfortunately C was much less keen, so we did not have much time there. It is located at a beautiful spot at the mouth of the Niagara River and Lake Ontario and is also listed on the U.S. National Register of Historic Places and a National Historic Landmark (two for one!). On the way back to our hotel we stopped at the Whirlpool State Park, to view the large swirling waters of the Niagara River as they churn downstream from the falls and watch the Aero Car cross perilously above the whirlpool on the Canadian side. As it was Home Leave we stayed entirely on the U.S. side, but I would love to return and spend some time across the border.

Next on the docket was a visit to Rochester to visit two friends of mine – one RH, I have known since she was 7 or 8 years old (I used to be her babysitter!) and the other MF is a friend from Indonesia who is studying for her Masters at the Rochester Institute of Technology. I have been looking forward to seeing these ladies for a long time. RH has two children of her own and although they are 5 and 13 years old, C bonded with them almost immediately. She ran to the younger boy, arms outstretched, as if she had known him a long time. Still, by the time we left she seemed more attached to the older child. While in Rochester we visited the Ontario Beach Park for a little time on the playground and several spins on the 1905 Dentzel carousel (!) and also visited the amazing Strong Museum of Play, rated as one of the country’s top children’s museum. Two and a half hours there (including lunch is the fabulous café in a 50s diner car located in the front atrium) gave us only a little time to scratch the surface. Just before we left we did have enough time to ride the 1918 Herschell carousel, also in the atrium.

Our final stop was Hamilton, NY where I met my cousin MK and her two kids. Or rather she is the cousin of my cousin and her kids the 2nd cousins once removed of my cousin, which makes them C’s 2nd cousins of her 2nd cousins. Following? It took me awhile to work that out in my head. For simplicity sake MK and I are going to be “CC’s” and the kids will be CC’s squared. We just enjoyed getting to know each other, including a fabulous home cooked dinner that included MK’s parents. MK lives just outside Hamilton, the location of Colgate University, on a lovely hill with a breathtaking summer view of the central New York countryside.

On our way home from Hamilton we stopped in Broome County, NY where six antique Herschell carousels are located. It is the only such place in the US where so many such carousels are concentrated and they are FREE for everyone to ride. I thought we might first just visit one or two, but once I learned that if we collected a card at each location we would earn a button at the end, I was committed. http://gobroomecounty.com/files/countyexec/GBVC%20Carousel%20Guide.pdf

And so ended the super amazing Home Leave 2014 adventure.

The Stats:
Total days: 60
Number of books finished: 10
Number of Children’s Museums visited: 5
Number of carousels ridden: 17
Miles Driven: Just over 5,000
Miles Flown: 15, 101
Miles Run: 62.2
Total number of States visited: 12
(TX, LA, MS, AL, TN, VA, HI, NC, CA, SD, WY, NY; 14 if you count driving through MD and PA to get to NY)

One EPIC Home Leave complete!

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Running with the Leading Ladies

I have a little problem. I suppose it is more passion than a problem. I am not referring to my desire to travel to just about all the countries in the world. Nor to my enjoyment of visiting aquariums everywhere I can find them or taking my daughter to as many children’s museums as possible. Not even the new fascination with historic carousels. This is my love of running half marathons. Not really a love, more a love-hate, which is even stronger.

I started in 2006. I joined a group to help me train for the Baltimore half marathon to raise money for the Whitman Walker clinic in Washington, DC. It was not easy, but I had a good time. The following year I signed up to do the same thing for a full marathon. That was even harder. I pulled my IT band about eight weeks before the run. It took me an hour longer to finish than expected. I went back to the halves. Again and again and again…

I have one of those vague plans now to run half marathon in each state. Vague because I do not know how many I have run so far and just about every time I am in preparation or at the start line or somewhere around mile 5 or 9 I think it might be the last I run. I do not count how many I have run thus far because when I start thinking of where I might run next, I realize there are far too many left to know if this thing is possible.

So home leave 2014 approaches. I schedule out my trips, buy my plane tickets. I hope to keep running along the way when I can, when I am able to get child care. I just out of curiosity decide to see if maybe, just maybe, there might be a half marathon in the area of South Dakota where I will be visiting, when I am visiting. Wouldn’t you know it, I found one. So then I had to sign up for it.

The Leading Ladies Marathon and Half Marathon is held in Spearfish, SD. It is an all women event. The half is completely downhill through Spearfish Canyon, named the most magnificent canyon in the west by Frank Lloyd Wright when he visited in 1935. This sounded so incredibly awesome.

My first issue was child care. I am a single mom with a 2 ½ year old toddler. In the past I have found licensed and bonded child care services that send sitters to hotels, such as in Las Vegas and Cincinnati. However, a fairly in-depth online search indicated there is no such thing in west South Dakota. Makes sense, these are not large cities. Lucky for me, I floated an idea with my aunt and it turned out she and my uncle were very interested in visiting this part of the country. Score.

Then wouldn’t you know it, in late May my ulcerative colitis starts to flare up. You may or may not be aware of UC – it’s an Irritable Bowel Disease like Crohn’s (which in my experience more people are familiar with). It is as unpleasant as it sounds. I have been fairly lucky with my UC. I was diagnosed in 2000 while traveling in Tunisia. Yeah, long story. It has been active about five times including this time. So I increase my medication and pay more attention to my diet – but things are stressful. In June I am packing out of my residence in Mexico and preparing to be on the move for nine weeks until training begins in September. Not exactly easy to be on my best diet behavior.

My plantar fasciitis, which first occurred in late 2010, makes a daring comeback the day before Christmas 2013. I have been running on that heel for months. Sometimes it is absolutely fine. Some days, not so much.

Then I develop a cold two weeks into my home leave that Will. Not. Go. Away.

Training is spotty while on the road.

As we drive from Deadwood to Spearfish we take the scenic route which passes through the canyon. It is lovely, but what I see are a lot of trees. Lots and lots and lots of trees. And a winding road with a narrow shoulder. It occurs to me I am a very urban runner. When not running outside on streets full of pedestrians or busy roads, I am inside on a treadmill. I also have an OCD habit of counting things when I am getting tired or need to focus or zone out. I wonder, how long it will take till I am tired of counting trees?

Two nights before the run, the eve before the eve, I am lying awake. It is midnight and then 1 am. I am thinking I am really not ready. The previous half marathon is three and a half months before. I have not run more than six miles in a single go since then. There is the UC and my fasciitis and my cold. It is warmer than in average years (usually 44 at the start and 75 by noon but this year it is 60 something at the start and possibly in the upper 80s by noon – not that I would finish at noon). My heart pounds in my chest. I cannot remember being so nervous before a half since my first half.

I remind myself what I have going for me. 1. I have run this distance before. 2. It is all downhill. 3. There are not that many participants (less than 500 total for both events) so no real lines for the port-a-potties. 4. I do not need to set a PR. 5. I do not even have to run the whole thing if I don’t want to. 6. I do not *have* to do this at all. 7. My daughter will be waiting for me when I am done. After reaching out to my sister and a good friend and two online groups to which I belong, I feel good enough to fall asleep and feel calm the following day.

And I did it.

And it was lovely.

I ran the whole thing – with only walks through the water stops and one longish wait for a bathroom break. The first six miles seemed to fly by. I felt good, really, really good. I took it slow the whole way and despite it being all downhill I found that easy enough to do. I had my iPod with me and I remember a few songs, but not most. By eight miles I made a deal with myself – to run just one more mile and then see how I felt. I reached nine and made the same deal. Again at ten. By eleven I knew I would finish. I also knew it would be a PR – for my slowest half ever – and I was fine with it.

So another half completed in another state. Right now I still do not know how many more to go to reach all 50. I move to Shanghai next year with complicates things. I think I have at least one more in me though.

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Black Hills and Bad Lands (Home Leave Phase Five)

South Dakota. I have had this on my list of must-sees for a long, long time. I remember even when living in Japan in the late 90s, plotting out a possible visit. Way back then I barely had an email account and there was no internet in my small 2DK (two tatami mat room with dining room and kitchen) apartment on the Western Japanese coast. It was just me, some maps, pen and paper. Needless to say I did not go then, but the planning continued.

Of course I have had loads of opportunities to travel in the past but I am, or at least was, more prone to travel outside of the US than in. Lured by exotic locales like Cambodia and Thailand or Italy and Croatia or South Africa and Moldova, I just could not resist. (Yeah, Moldova; I’ve been there.) Home Leave however must be taken in the US and from the beginning I knew mine this summer would include South Dakota. I worked all the other destinations around it.

Funny though, whenever I mentioned South Dakota as part of my Home Leave, it’s this part which received the most quizzical looks. Why South Dakota? Wow, really? Have you looked at a map? The concentration of National Parks / Monuments / Forests / Grasslands / Landmarks / Natural Sites near Rapid City is amazing. It’s an area steeped in tangible American history and incredible natural beauty.

Our transition from San Francisco to west South Dakota was not so smooth. Our flight out of SFO departed two hours late so we missed out connecting flight. Luckily there was a second flight soon afterwards, which departed on time. However, my aunt and uncle, who we joining us on the phase, had their flight out of Chicago cancelled arriving at midnight instead of 4:30 pm. A Juarez colleague, also on an amazing home leave, sent me a message to tell me not to forget to relax (which is not easy when traveling to so many amazing places and seeing so many amazing things). I thought then C and I would have a quiet first evening but less than 10 minutes in our hotel room and C fell off the settee (the cushion slid out from under her) and she hit the base of the bed, hard. A ping pong sized lump swelled up on her right temple. So being the relatively new mom I am I rushed her to Urgent Care. Thankfully she was fine but that was all the excitement I needed for our first day.

We had an amazing trip! Although I had planned to see many of these sights for years, I did not fully grasp how extraordinary it would be to actually see them. Badlands National Park and Devils Tower National Monument were incredible. I loved visiting Mt. Rushmore (although the parking charge of $11 seemed excessive to enter an otherwise free park– I hope the money does go to the NPS). I have heard people express disappointment with how small the monument seems in person. I was not disappointed at all. Not even when we could not complete the Presidential Trail, which takes visitors closer to the monument. The walk with 250 stairs was a bit much in the heat for my uncle who has a heart valve and me with an active toddler who wants to climb 20 steps and then beg for a “huggie” (pick me up) the rest of the way.

My aunt and uncle selected our accommodation for our third and fourth nights at the Blue Bell Lodge cabins in Custer State Park. We entered the park by a scenic back road after visiting Mt. Rushmore and had lunch in the park at the State Game Lodge, a historic building which once served as the Presidential summer residence for Calvin Coolidge and F.D.R. There are four lodge areas in the park and we stayed two nights in a cabin in Blue Bell Lodge area. It too was very lovely and our cabin came complete with 2-3 cotton tail bunnies that lived under the porch and which C enjoyed chasing.

The park is beautiful and teeming with wildlife. We took both a late afternoon and early morning drive along the Wildlife Loop Road and saw prairie dogs, mule deer, Pronghorn deer, wild burros, wild turkeys, and bison! Seriously, bison! Who does not get excited about seeing bison? And I had zero idea I would be seeing them in South Dakota as I have only ever associated them with Yellowstone. But there were A LOT of them in the park and not just along the Wildlife Loop road. We also saw them grazing on the grounds of the State Game Lodge and other campgrounds. It turned out they were hanging outside our own cabin at night as we heard their heavy footfalls, pawing at the ground, chewing, and snorting in the night!

We also visited Wind Cave National Park just south of Custer State Park. Unfortunately, we did not go inside the cave, one of the largest in the world, as the shortest tour, an hour long, did not seem the best of ideas to do with C. When we inquired if a ten minute “toddler friendly” tour might be available the park ranger had a good laugh at our expense. Well, we tried. Still, we did walk out to the small (dare I say *tiny*?) natural entrance to the cave where a strong cool breeze blew. We also saw bison and prairie dogs and every place you can see those gets high marks.

Our next stop was the Mammoth Site in Hot Springs. Originally, when it was just C and I on the trip, I had planned on staying in Hot Springs. I am SO glad my aunt and uncle joined us and suggested the state park. Hot Springs looked really tired. So, I started to worry the Site too would be a disappointment, but it turned out to be very interesting! It is designated a National Natural Landmark and is where the most mammoth (Columbian, not Wooly) bones have been found – an estimated 61 different animals! It’s an actual working archeological dig, museum, and research facility.

We passed the Crazy Horse Memorial in-progress on our way from Custer State Park to Deadwood. I had wanted to visit but the price tag, level of completion, and the number of museums C would no doubt not really let me see made the decision to stop for only a from-the-highway-photo easier.

Deadwood too is of course a famous historic area, even more so since the airing of the incredible HBO series, which I finished up just weeks before leaving Juarez. The entire town is designated a National Historic Landmark. I just wanted to stroll the streets where the likes of Wild Bill Hickok, Calamity Jane, and Seth Bullock had once frequented. I took part in a reenactment of the shooting of Wild Bill at the reconstructed Saloon #10 (though not at the original location). I rarely put my hand up for such things, but there I was, at the poker table posing as Charlie Rich, who refused to switch seats with Wild Bill (and I have no idea how to play poker, which may have been the funniest part of my reenactment). We took a tour of the Victorian Adams Mansion (a 45 minute house tour with C!!) and visited Mt. Moriah Cemetery.

Spearfish followed Deadwood. From here we visited the Devils Tower National Monument in Wyoming and the Center of the Nation monument in Belle Fourche, the town founded by, yes, Seth Bullock of Deadwood fame. The town is the closest to the actual geographic center of the nation including Alaska and Hawaii. Then I ran a half marathon down Spearfish Canyon, decreed the most magnificent canyon in the west by Frank Lloyd Wright after his 1935 visit. You did read that right though. I ran 13.1 miles through the canyon from Savoy to the Spearfish City Park. Not on my own, mind you, it was an organized run. A crazy idea that turned out really well.

On our last day we stopped by a fish hatchery in Spearfish before returning to Rapid City for our late afternoon flight. A fish hatchery! Yet while in the Tri-State Visitor’s Center in Belle Fourche, we learned that our darling Seth Bullock helped to secure this federal facility. Today it is a Historic National Fish Hatchery and on the national register of historic places! We spent over an hour there and would have stayed longer if we had not needed to catch our flight.

I am tired. I will not lie about that; this home leave plan of mine is a little daunting. Yet it is also so amazing. This week in South Dakota exceeded all of my expectations. Our country is incredible.

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Phase Four: Bay Area Go Round

I have been to San Francisco before. Many many moons ago I spent a month training for my certificate in Teaching English as a Foreign Language at an institute on Market Street. I also attended graduate school in Monterey and spent a weekend or two in the Bay Area. I have been to Alcatraz and Golden Gate and Fisherman’s Wharf; I visited Chinatown and the fortune cookie factory; I rode the cable cars; I hesitantly enjoyed my first Japanese bath experience in Japan town; and I salsa-ed the night away in the Mission district. My biggest reason for visiting San Francisco was to meet up with some friends I had not seen in awhile, so entertaining C with fun activities was just icing on the cake.

We went places tailored for toddlers that I had never been: the Aquarium of the Bay, the Children’s Creativity Museum, the San Francisco Zoo, and the California Academy of Sciences and Koret Playground in Golden Gate Park. Second day in and my friend D.O.1 points out my four planned destinations all include carousels. Who knew San Francisco is a carousel mecca? Not me. But C is a horse/carousel lover, so that works out well.

Since we ended up taking part in an unexpected and enchanting tour of San Francisco’s four carousels (Pier 39, Yerba Buena Park, San Francisco Zoo and Golden Gate Park) I might as well review them.

We first rode the Italian-made double decker carousel at Pier 39, one of the country’s most visited attractions. Thankfully we were visiting on a Monday so the crowds were at a minimum, including a short line for the carousel. As carousels go, this is a young one, designed in the 2000s specifically with San Francisco and Pier 39 in mind, carved with iconic city landmarks and themes. It’s beautiful. The second level is not full, but more like a loft.

The upsides: it is easy to pay for it with three separate token machine, which accept cash and credit cards. There are also a wide variety of animals to ride and even “tea cup” seats that spin and benches that swing. C rode a horse and then a zebra and planned on a dolphin before I carried her away kicking and screaming…

The downsides: $3 a token or $5 for two tokens, yet if you want to ride twice you need to disembark and get in line again. We were lucky our day as the lines we not long and we could ride again right away. However, I imagine on many days, especially weekends, the wait could be quite long. Also, parents, even if just standing next to their toddler need to use a token as well.

Then we rode the carousel at Zeum/Children’s Creativity Museum. This lovely carousel dates from 1906. Carved by a renowned craftsman in Rhode Island specifically for San Francisco, the great earthquake and fire of the same year sent this carousel first to Seattle and then to San Francisco in 1913. It had several homes in the city until moving to it’s current location in 1998.

Upsides: The carousel is housed in a glass enclosure which not only preserves the artwork, but makes it more an all weather attraction. Its mostly horses, but there is a row each of goats, giraffes, and camels. There is one stationary lion and benches with a carved dragon. It costs $4 for two rides, and only $3 if you show your ticket or hand stamp from the museum. You purchase the ride at the carousel. There is no need to get off between rides and standing adults do not need to pay!

Downsides: Only that the seats are a bit large for a toddler and there are no seatbelts (which the Pier 39 carousel has). I attribute the larger seats to the times in which it was designed. I would expect more adults than children rode carousels in the past.

Third in our quest was the Golden Gate Park carousel. This large and beautiful carousel dates from 1912 and is also housed in an enclosure. There were quite a few animals to choose from including two cats, two dogs, two pigs, and two frogs. There was also one each of a rooster, an ostrich, a lion, a ram, a zebra, a giraffe, a deer, a tiger, and a camel. Also every horse appeared unique including one with medieval armor. (outer most animals do not move). Tickets were purchased from a nearby snack shop and cost $2 for 12 and up and $1 for ages 6-12. Under 6 ride free with an adult. C rode a horse, a cat, and the ram. I found no downsides to this carousel though I read it’s not open daily outside of the summer months despite the covering.

We then rode the carousel at the San Francisco Zoo. This 1921 antique has been located at the zoo since 1925. A little smaller than it’s Golden Gate counterpart, it too had some unusual animals to ride. There are pigs and cats, also a giraffe, lion, tiger, and deer. In addition there are two ostriches and two rabbits. It is $3 per ride and standing adults ride free. I paid for the first two rides at the entrance when I bought our zoo ticket, and the third ride in cash at the carousel. I imagine it’s not cheap to keep an antique carousel in working order but I thought this pricey per ride, especially on top of the zoo entrance fee ($17 for me).

By this time I am hooked. Now I have discovered there is a National Carousel Association. It focuses on keeping the remaining antique carousels in operation. Who knew there is such an organization? Well, I did not, but now I do. And now I have a teensy weensy infatuation with carousels.

My aunt has said addictions run in the family and that we have “addictive type personalities” in the sense that we can easily become fixated. I rarely drink alcohol, I don’t smoke, I have never done any harder substance. I love Diet Coke but even that I keep to no more than two cans a day. Yet I still have my addictions, though many are travel related. (Such as visiting as many U.S. National parks, UNESCO World Heritage Sites, aquariums, children’s museums, and now carousels, as possible)

So on Friday the original plan was to head over to Berkeley to have dinner with friends. I emailed my friend to ask if she might consider driving C and I over to Tilden Park to visit the 1911 carousel if we arrived a little earlier… And she did! This 100+ year carousel is on the National Register of Historic Sites and has been located at it’s current location since 1948. Like several of the other carousels this one also had unusual animals including cats, dogs, and frogs. There is also a spinning cup, which I had only found otherwise on the one at Pier 39. I did not much care for the pricing: $2 per ride or 7 rides for $10. The seven rides sounds a great deal except that adults have to pay to ride and must stand alongside kids under 42 inches tall. And I’m not sure about you but after three rides on a carousel I start to feel a bit queasy.

And on the sixth day…
I had no specific plans for Saturday other than treating D.O.1 and D.O.2 to dinner for their incredible hospitality – they put us up for the whole week! The couple knows all about travel obsessions so were more than willing to enable my new carousel fixation. So off we went to the Oakland Zoo, where one can find the “conservation carousel,” and includes animals such as rhinos, gorillas, leopards, and giant pandas. This is a modern metal and fiberglass carousel, though it mattered little to C who is always game to ride. She rode an elephant, a zebra, and a horse. I suspect V is a traditionalist. She’s fine with trying another animal but she always wants to ride a horse.

The carousel is located in Adventure Landing, which it turns out, does not require zoo admission. We did not know that and paid the $15.75 per adult entrance fee. ($11.75 for kids 2-14) Regardless, parking is $8. The carousel is $1.50 per ride and adults standing next to small children do not have to pay. It’s a nice carousel. There were always children ready to ride but we got on each time. The biggest drawback to this carousel would have to be the music. I had paid little attention to that of the other carousels – they sounded just as expected, the classic cheerful organ music that makes you think of carnivals and cotton candy. Yet the conservation carousel turned only to a single sugary French pop song, which played over and over and over again.

So six days and six carousels!
Overall, the Golden Gate Park and Children’s Museum carousels are tied as my favorites. Given that days later C still babbled on about riding the blue horse, I would say she found Golden Gate her favorite.

I loved our week in San Francisco. The carousel hunt added an unexpectedly fun element to an already cool place.

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South Again (or Home Leave 2014 Phase Three)

Driving south from northern Virginia, as I begin the third phase of my home leave, I feel, I don’t know… The word that comes to me is decadent. It has been nearly four weeks since I departed Ciudad Juarez. Four weeks since I stopped adjudicating visas and, well, let’s be frank, since I have not been working. I have had the fabulous opportunity to travel for weeks, even months, at a time in the past. For example, after I finished my three years teaching in Japan and before starting grad school or during breaks in graduate school. But I have not taken this kind of time to travel in the United States. I sort of feel, well, guilty.

I have to remind myself I earned this time off. This time off is mandated by CONGRESS. It is OK.

Yet, I still find myself thinking more about the fall, the language class that awaits me. The language class I am sort of dreading. I think about how home leave is not exactly easy. I know, I know. How many other people will have eight weeks of paid leave this year? Not many. I do not mean it is hard in the sense that I am having a miserable time. Gosh, no. However, it does, at least to me, feel a bit strange. I am itinerant, roving, nomadic. I almost want to be in language class, moving into my temporary quarters for five months, because it is for five whole months! It is easier to buy groceries when you are in one place for five months instead of five days. C is a champion. I could not be more proud that my daughter is taking this in such stride, that she is such a good traveler. But yeah, sometimes I feel guilty about that too.

Our drive destination: New Bern, North Carolina. Before I started plotting out my home leave I had never heard of New Bern. However, my long-time friend CZ had moved to the town about six months before. She was due to have her first child in May and I wanted to spend a week hanging out with her. As I looked online for things to see and do on our visit, I discovered there is quite a lot to New Bern.

New Bern was settled in 1710 by Swiss and German Palatine immigrants and is named for Bern, Switzerland. It is the second oldest European-American colony in North Carolina and served as both the capital of the colony (from 1747) and the state (from 1789) until it was moved to Raleigh in 1794. The 1770 Tyron Palace that served as the governor’s residence was reconstructed in 1959 and is the historic center of the town. Having attended the College of William and Mary in Williamsburg, Virginia, I felt an affinity for New Bern. Williamsburg too was one of the first settlements in the state and also served as both the colony and, briefly, the state capital. Williamsburg too has a governor’s palace.

New Bern is also the birthplace of Pepsi, first invented as “Brad’s Drink” in 1893, the inventor renamed it Pepsi Cola in 1898. The original pharmacy where Caleb Bradham sold his digestion drink still stands at the corner of Middle and Pollock Streets downtown.

Additionally New Bern is also the location of the state’s oldest chartered fire department, which is also one of the nation’s oldest.
Turns out Nicholas Sparks is also a long time New Bern resident and set several of his books in or around the town, including The Notebook.
I could hardly believe I had never heard of this town! This is the beauty of home leave – the opportunity to spend time in some of the unique, beautiful, and historical places in our large and diverse country.

We visited Tryon Palace, the North Carolina History Center, the Firemen’s Museum, took the historic trolley tour and visited the Birthplace of Pepsi. Do not give me too much credit; these were toddler-driven tours. So for example, I would have loved to visit the inside of Tryon Palace. Unfortunately that is only by guided tour, lasting 45 minutes. Yeah… The woman at the North Carolina History Center ticket counter suggested we watch the eight minute long orientation video first, as many people decide if they will get the interior palace tour after watching the film. C and I walked into the film room and in less than a minute C began repeating “No movie, no movie, no movie…” So I had my answer. If I could not watch an eight minute film with her, then there was no way we would survive a 45 minute guided tour! So instead C allowed me approximately 30 minutes to circle the palace via the gardens. The 90 minute trolley tour was only possible through the magic of iPad videos. And still I missed the two stops at the historic Cedar Grove Cemetery and Christ Episcopal Church as a certain toddler in my care wanted nothing to do with them.
Yet we easily spent 45 minutes to an hour at the Birthplace of Pepsi, which is a small space including a soda fountain area where Bradham’s original pharmacy once stood and an area with Pepsi souvenirs. This is no World of Coke. But C savored her first ice cream float, one spoonful at a time.

We also went to the Aquatic Center to swim and spent the day at Atlantic Beach. We hung out with CZ at her home, C playing in the backyard pool with another friend’s son. We went out on the Trent River in CZ’s sister’s boat with her sister, brother in law, nephew, and boyfriend and saw Nicholas Spark’s home while snacking and swimming. Well, CZ swam with C as I am not keen on swimming places where the water is not clear.
It was a fantastic week.

And now I am preparing for Home Leave Phase Four. One month down and still a month to go!

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Two Weeks Backpacking in Portugal, June 2002

As part of my blog I am adding edited excerpts of emails I sent on past travels.
In June 2002 (between my first year of graduate school in Monterey, California and the start of my one year of study in Singapore) I backpacked through Spain, Portugal, Gibraltar and Andorra for a total of six weeks. Two of those weeks were in Portugal. I entered the coastal south of the country by bus from Seville, Spain and departed from the midsection by truck to Caceras, Spain. I visited Tavira, Lisbon, Sintra, Obidos, Nazare, Porto, Viana do Castelo, Coimbra, Evora, Portalegre, and Marvao.

It was a fantastic two weeks, I think in a large part because I traveled about one week of it with CH, a woman from New York I met in a hostel in Lisbon. I remember us heading to a small bar/restaurant in Lisbon to listen to Fado music. In Obidos we stuffed our faces with plums we stole from someone’s tree. In Porto we took a wine tour and watched the US beat Portugal in a World Cup match shown live in a local theater. In Viana do Castelo we strolled through the old town and skipped rocks on the beach. And the most memorable part of Coimbra was our drain-less shower in the hostel! CH and I are still friends to this day.

I also particularly remember Portugal because I hitchhiked there. Twice! I still have a hard time believing I really did that, but I did. I have only done so maybe 5 times in my life (twice in Japan and another time in Taiwan).

Day One
I entered Portugal from Seville to stop first at Tavira on the south coast. I am sure I stopped here for historical reasons and chose to avoid the more touristy/more popular town of Faro on some kind of principal. Unfortunately I did not like Tavira. Perhaps I was too tired from the bus ride and the already two weeks backpacking in Spain? The only thing I wrote about Tavira was “Great if you like absolute Boredom! OK, I am not good at relaxing. I was so bored I paid 2 euros to ride toy train about town. And the town was so small they even took us to some run down parts which you wouldn´t think would be on any tourist toy train trip.” Ouch.

Day Two
I took the train to Lisbon. Part of track was broken, so at one point the whole train load had to get off and take buses to the next part of the track. Then we changed later to a boat to take us into Lisbon. Lisbon is nice but I was tired. It was an easy day.

It does not sound easy when a train has to unload and then take buses to the next part of the track and then load back onto the train and then change to a boat, does it? However, in my travels I have found I am often amused and delighted by such things as train delays. In my day to day life this would drive me nuts, but I am willing to accept and embrace it when traveling. I remember when I took a bus from Sydney to Canberra in 2000 and the bus broke down. I recall it being fun.

Day Three
Lisbon. I visited the Aquarium. I had to since I attend graduate school in Monterey where there is a popular aquarium. I also visited the Monastery at Belem-beautiful. I took a tram up the windy streets to Sao Jorge castle, but disembarked early because of an overzealous American hater. I only asked him if this was the way to the castle and I got a monologue ‘I don´t know. I have been going nowhere for 20 years. My wife and I love Portugal, come here every year (and yet he does not know where the castle is?). We just were in Paris, but are stopping here for a week. Best place, Lisbon. Up ahead on the left is a church where they had the body of the king of Romania for years because no one else wanted him. [I interject with a “wasn´t he executed?] What? No! They never execute anyone here, not even the bulls…..Where are you from? America? They don´t much like Americans here, and I agree. That crazy president…’ As he simply continued on and on I got off the next stop I could. That night I went to see Fado, a traditional Portuguese song and music, with two girls from the hostel. Really nice Fado, really bad waiter.

Day Four
I visited Sintra, the former summer residence for the monarchs of Portugal. It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. These days I absolutely love visiting UNESCO World Heritage Sites – I thought I was at the time I visited Sintra as well. Yet the only thing, and I mean the ONLY thing I wrote about the town was that it is “Beautiful, but COLD.” It must have been quite cold. I do have a pretty strong dislike for the cold and apparently it can blot out memory of all else. Perhaps I need to visit Portugal again?

Day Five
Obidos and Nazare. I took a bus to Obidos, a really nice town, with two women from the hostel – Sun Hua from Korea and CH from New York. We left our bags at a grocery store and explored until the bus to Nazare arrived. As we walked around the town we found a plum tree. CH marched up and plucked a plum and ate it. So soon we were all robbing the tree of its fruit and stuffing it into our bags and mouths, though mine all went into my mouth. We walked atop the town walls and met a nice American couple and did the obligatory photo exchange. Then we happened upon a guy below the wall behind a house doing the same as my man in Seville. The guy was busy exciting his equipment in full view of the wall, and it brought more excitement to him that we came upon him. I couldn´t believe this, two guys in less than a week. I am sure this happens frequently enough, but I don´t usually happen upon them! We took off as quickly as the thin walls with a 10 foot drop would let us hurry, though later we thought we should have heckled him or something.

We then caught the bus to Nazare, known for its traditional dress of seven petticoats, and for the most aggressive housing ladies in Portugal. I was a bit disappointed that only one lady, with big hair, gold teeth, and lots of gold jewelry, met our bus. She was aggressive, but after all only one. We got down to the main street and then we were swamped with offers of places to say about every few feet. It was difficult to walk the 10 minutes to the tourist office, because we had to stop every few feet to find out about some place to stay. I was very keen to take the funicular car up the hillside for the great view, but of course it was broken! So we walked up. Nice view though. Cute little town, and the older women really do wear the traditional clothing.

Day Six
Porto. It was raining, a bit of a disappointment. Porto is supposed to be really nice, but at first it was hard to tell in the rain. And it was a bit COLD. What in the world, it was JUNE! We found a nice place to stay though, the woman there was so super. Smiles all the time. Really sweet. She more than made up for the rain. So we rested. I was still traveling with Sun-Ha and CH. In the evening Sun-Ha fell asleep really early, but CH and I took advantage of a lull in the rain to take a bit of a stroll about town. The big bridge over the river was beautiful at night.

Day Seven
Porto. We caught the Portugal-USA World Cup game for free at a theater, where a wide screen television was set up. We got all kinds of stuff, whistles and some plastic things to beat together, as well as a game schedule. It was quite fun, but as you can imagine since the US won, the mood was a bit somber as the crowd filed out. We tried to get on tv, and they did come over to us, but then proceeded to ignore CH and I in order to interview Sun-Ha. What! South Korea wasn´t even playing! Then we headed over to a Port wine cellar for a free tour and free samples. None of us were wine drinkers but we each had a taste. It was fun, and the weather was very fine! We walked back over the top of the bridge (all the wine cellars are on the other side of the river because the temperature and soil are better or something). I want to go back someday in September when the grapes are harvested so I can take part as some wine houses we still do the wine processing the traditional way-with feet! I want to do that! We also visited some sights in Porto, including a tower and the old Stock exchange. A very good day.

Day Eight
Viana do Castelo. It rained for much of the morning and early afternoon. I was thoroughly disappointed that once again the funicular which was to take me to a top of a hill for a beautiful view was out of service. What is it about the funiculars in Portugal? CH and I had an adventure trying to find the supermarket, but we took a wrong turn and it seemed everyone had been sent to avoid us. We saw an old man who looked as though his path was going to intersect ours so we slowed down to time it right. CH went up to ask him and he ignored her! She said ‘Pardon’ about three times before he seemed to notice we were there. CH and I took a stroll around the old town, which seemed deserted, and skipped stones by the beach.

Day Nine
Coimbra. I had not intended to visit Coimbra, but I wanted to head south to the city of Evora next and the trip by bus was going to take me 8 HOURS from Viana. I just couldn´t face it. So I decided to rest a day in Coimbra before venturing on to Evora. Coimbra is home to Portugal´s oldest university. Of course it was cold and raining when we were there. We still went up to the University and checked things out. But even with umbrellas the special sideways rain soon has us soaked and we took refuge in the Geography building, or it could have been the Science building. Anyway, we joined the ugly, unfriendly dog already hiding out there, and hung out and sang songs and watched the antics of the dog and his little dog friend until the rain subsided. The most memorable thing about Coimbra was the dog.

Day Ten
Evora. Evora is supposed to be Portugal´s premier town, a UNESCO world heritage site. For me a backpacker now on my own again, and really needing to pee, it was a nuisance. After hopping off the bus, I inspected the bus station toilets, which were horrible. Squatters and each with a little surprise pile in the middle of the toilet. I thought I would just walk into town and find a place to stay and go there. Yet it took me one and a half hours to locate the tourist office and a place to stay. The youth hostel was booked up, and so were all the other cheapies. Luckily there was a public toilet I could use and I didn´t have to wait the whole 90 minutes and the place I found. I paid 22 Euros for it, the most so far! And it was bare. No sink, no toilet, just a bed and a night stand. Though it did have a tv with CNN, so it was okay. The shower was a trickle, and there was this annoying ritual to get into my room. The room I was staying in was in another building from the reception. So I had to go to the other building first to have them let me into my building every time. I asked why we couldn´t have a key to other building and just received a withering glance from the 14 year old boy running reception. So I often went to the public toilets instead of back to my room for emergencies while strolling about. And there were no grocery stores. I had to eat in restaurants! The shame of it! 🙂 I have just been eating cheaper recently. The one grocery store had about three little aisles, with old vegetables, candy, a few blocks of cheese, and a whole aisle for detergents and stuff. Not exactly a place to stock up on food. There was the Roman era Temple of Diana; that was nice. The center of town was nice too. I followed the aqueduct out to an old poorly cared for fort, and that was it. So I decided one day was enough in Evora.

Day Eleven
Portalegre. I caught the bus from Evora here. I was going to continue on to Castelo da Vide, but since I had to wait several hours for the connecting bus I gave up and decided to stay. Besides Portalegre looked appealing as we drove up on the bus. (It had finally stopped raining when I was in Evora). And they had a REAL supermarket. So, I stayed the night there. I walked around the nice center of town and found it more pleasing than Evora.

Day Twelve
Castelo da Vide. I was the only person on the bus from Portalegre to Castelo da Vide. A whole 20 minute trip that I waited overnight to do and paid 4.80 Euros. Robbery! I paid 11.70 Euros for the four hour bus trip from Coimbra to Evora, and I paid only 1.10 Euros for the 50 minute train ride from Lisbon to Sintra! In C. da Vide I put my bag down in the tourist office, picked up my tourist map and had a look about town. It is a very nice town. Again, I enjoyed it more than Evora. I left my bag at 12:30 and was to pick it up at 2 pm when the tourist office opened again, but I caught the last 30 minutes of the Portugal-Poland game in a smoky cafe, where I was the only woman. I got a few looks, but I didn´t care. It was a great last 30 minutes.

Then I had to decide what to do next. I wanted to go to Marvao, a town about 12 kilometers from C. da Vide, but it being a holiday there were no buses, only taxis. Sso I decided to try hitchhiking. I had a black marker and I printed in big letters MARVAO on a piece of paper, then I headed down the road. I figured even if I was unable to get a lift, it would only take me FOUR HOURS. Surely I could not be so wimpy as to be unable to walk for 4 hours with my pack on, could I? Off I went. I sang songs to myself and amused myself with thoughts as I walked. When I heard a car approaching from behind, I would hold my sign up over my head. I managed to sing the whole of 100 bottles of beer on the wall! It was warm, there was shade and the walk was not all that unpleasant. After one hour of walking I got a ride! Three siblings, two brothers and a sister, picked me up. They live in Lisbon but have a house in Marvao, which is a small hamlet of only 187 souls perched high on a hill, with almost everyone still living within the old medieval walls. As we drove up, I thought I would have never made it up that hill… The siblings not only gave me a lift but also invited me to dinner and to stay the night. So I stayed with them. I took a stroll around the town, which is applying for UNESCO status, and again, I liked it more than Evora.

Day Thirteen
Return to Spain. Now Marvao being near the border as it is, of course has no public transportation to Spain. There was only one train leaving from another town 9 kilometers away, departing at 1 am. Very convenient. Since I thought the border was only 5 kilometers away, I was resolved, with my success from the day before, to walk across the border and get a bus there, or to get a ride all the way to Caceras in Spain, just 100 kilometers away. I made a new sign CACERAS-ESPANA and started to walk. But at 10 am it was already hot and there was no shade. I quickly doubted this was a good idea. Still, I kept going. But lucky me because a Spanish truck driver stopped for me just 20 minutes into my walk. As he was heading to Valencia he agreed to take me the whole way. We conversed about the EU, the possibility of a Mexico-US alliance like the EU, jobs, the differences between cows, and the like in Spanish. It took a bit longer to get to Caceras because the truck was old and he had to pull over and check the tires and other parts a couple of times. Yet he did take me all the way to the center of Caceras, shook my hand, and then was off. But now back in civilization where buses roam, I will be back to buses.