'Round the World in 56 Days

It's been about two years since I last posted, maybe longer, and I can tell you that, though things might have happened since then, it's all been in anticipation of this summer. Ever since returning from a field school on Catalina Island during the summer of 2010, I've been obsessed with the notion of traveling around the world. One of the girls taking part in the field school experience was dating a young man who was several months into a round the world itinerary, courtesy of www.oneworld.com. The moment I started playing with the booking tool, I was hooked. I had to do this.

My life has been centered mostly in and around the town in which I grew up and while there is nothing wrong with that (Thanks to the influence of my newest fictional idol, Leslie Knope.), I read entirely too many books and daydream for too many hours to be wholly satisfied. The idea of being able to fly around the world for pennies on the dollar haunted me, gnawed at me, there was no way I could not do this. I mean, out of school, no kids, no house or other debts, no career or career path to speak of, I am the perfect candidate for this excursion!

The last year has been a monotonous routine of making money. I am so incredibly lucky my parents were kind enough to let me live at home for extra cheap in order to help me out with this trip (And incredibly lucky to have parents that support such endeavours!) and incredibly lucky to receive a tip about a job opening that would be the ultimate source of trip funding. Sure the job oscillated between mind-numbingly idiotic and soul-crushingly despairing, but it direct deposited twice a month and that was all I needed.

So this is where I am. I have two 'round-the-world tickets (my dear boyfriend is accompanying me) and the roughest of plans. I depart July 9th and this is where I'm going:

Spain (primarily Barcelona): 07/10-07/17
Switzerland: 07/17-07/24*
Germany: 07/24-07/31*
Nepal: 08/01-08/08
China (primarily Shanghai): 08/09-08/16
Japan: 08/16-08/26**

Add two days of rest in Honolulu and I will be home just in time for my family's Birthday Extravaganza Month, and how sweet it is.

My dilemma now is this (aside from how many kickass outfits I can cram in a carry on): what should we then do? I have resources (1000 Things to See Before You Die, the interwebs, etc.), but so far most of the recommendations fall either into an "Eat, Pray, Love" rich folks on safari category or "WOOO! WE GONNA GO PARTY!!" asinine drunkenness. I ain't rich, and I can get hammered just fine here, thanks. Give me historical sites, breathtaking interactions with nature, a few good nights out on the town, and a dash of adventure.

So heed my call, nay, my challenge: what should we absolutely make sure to do?

*I expect to be doing a lot of travel by train during the majority of the continental Europe portion, and am not entirely certain if we will stay within the boundaries of these countries during this time. A co-worker recommends Gothenburg, Sweden.
**Potentially will include a jaunt to Seoul, South Korea to visit boyfriend's former roommates and classmates

Things I Want

I want this.

"Pregnant Women are Smug"

You laughed. Do not lie, because you laughed. (I laughed the hardest at the boy/girl, baby names, baby father interlude.)

Plus, it falls under the category of "funny because it's true"; we have all known pregnant women who automatically assume that because they are pushing out a baby (like everyone else in the history of life), they have attained a position of privilege and wisdom that the rest of us plebs cannot possibly understand. Just mention that you don't have any plans to have kids and watch their eyes widen as they contemplate what a miserable, lonely, selfish bitch you are. I actually did mention that I wasn't 100% sold on having kids of my own to a friend and her then-fiance, now-husband. He seemed horrified, she looked confused. As if my opinion was suddenly rocking the world they had, until then, assumed operated in a certain fixed and unmovable sequence involving the imperative that women MUST want kids and MUST be excited over pregnancy and MUST be counting down the days until they too will have their very own pwecious-wecious, itsy-bitsy baby...waby. Erm, no thanks. I like kids, I really do, they can be funny and creative and excited about life, but at the end of the day I'd really like to hand them back to their keepers and then do things I want to do. Personal freedom, suck it world!

I suppose it should be mentioned (although it is obvious without saying) that not all pregnant women are, in fact, smug. My sister-in-law is a shining example of this: she hasn't had the easiest pregnancy in the world and I'll be impressed/intimidated if she goes for it again, but she continues to be the kind, compassionate, thoughtful woman she is, all with a sense of humor. She would laugh at this video, I hope, not taking offense at any of the jabs and maybe adding an observation or two of her own.

In defense of the pregnant women out there, I must say that you all seem to be handle the worst invasions of privacy and personal space that occur in the most casual of ways: belly-rubbing/touching. Oh. My. Gosh. I would freak the hell out if anyone attempted to pat my belly and give advice all while I'm wondering who the fuck these people are and why are they talking to me. I don't even like it when people are invading my personal space for routine chitchat, let alone touch me, and I'm not even dealing with incubating a baby with my body! (The worst violations of my personal space always occurred at church. No lies, people have no problem getting all up in your face when they're in JC's house. I don't know if it's an expression of community, lack of manners or asserting authority/dominance, but it's rude. Back off.) I seriously think it stems from an outdated assumption that these women, as baby-makers/breeders, are no longer subject to personal privacy; their decision to have a child puts them into a realm of public opinion and physicality, with no space left for the woman as an individual. This mindset, of course, is all the result of the long history of women as property and marriage being an economic arrangement, etc., etc. Are there any pregnant women who have let others know that their touching, comments are not welcome? I'd love to hear those stories.

A baby winked at me the other day

At Robert's sister's graduation luncheon (Korean BBQ, always a winning choice) I was winked at by a baby. And it was totally in the correct context!

Let me back up a moment here...at the table was Robert's mother, his two aunts, one of his younger cousins and his baby cousin, Angelito. Little Angel isn't even two yet, can't speak and sits in a high chair where he was content to wave happily at anyone and everyone he saw. After gorging ourselves countless plates of BBQ (myself, I stuck to massive amounts of kimchi), I got up to go get an ice cream cone with the little girl cousin and brought one back for Angel who lit up like Christmas when he saw it. Gazing rapturously at the cone in silence for a brief moment, the baby lifted his eyes to me and his expression seemed as if the Virgin herself had delivered unto him that double chocolate fudge cone; he watched as I made my way to my seat on the other end of the table before taking the first few bites and gurgling happy baby noises.

The next time I looked his direction, Angel was smiling full force at me, coyly "hiding" behind his ice cream cone and peering around it before diving behind the shelter a waffle cone provides. Aha, I thought, peek-a-boo! I returned the gesture with a smile of my one, noting that kids have always had an affinity for me, when Angel peered out from behind his ice cream again, looked me directly in the eye with a mischievous smile and winked. I'll repeat that in case it didn't quite hit you: a baby, who cannot even say "mama" yet, winked at me. Winked at me after I had brought him an ice cream cone. Winked, flashed a smile, and then lifted his ice cream aloft as if he was toasting me.

You know how in Star Wars much is made of Luke Skywalker's innate connection with the Force? Yeah, this kid is clearly in touch with the Game on a similar level. (And by Game, I am referring to the one that players are always exhorting us to transfer our hate to.) Perhaps Angelito may never be a doctor or a lawyer, but how many of us can remember Casanova's church career? Destiny, little Angel, destiny.

I don't have a plan.

Not really. I mean, I have ideas, allusions, inspirations, but despite my love for all things organized and categorized, I personally swirl about in a semi-solid cast of decisions. No map, just taking things as they come, with speculations abound. I don't know anyone who has a plan, or that actually sticks to one step-by-step, maybe those gloriously dutiful people exist somewhere out there in the blogosphere or maybe they too are a myth like the Loch Ness or Lindsay Lohan's comeback.

I'm clever, but not nearly clever enough and I do know that I can toe the line of being cloyingly precocious. The kind you want to punch in the teeth. I like to think of myself as intellectually capable, but I wish I had genius. Genius is sexy. Genius makes money.

(On the other hand, genius can also mean that one minute you are an unbelievable chess champion, the next a bitter, old anti-Semite, like the late Bobby Fischer. I, on the other hand, am a really nice person, is this my trade-off?)

Not entirely certain why I felt like bringing this up, but I guess I just cannot get this simple, meaningless exchange out of my head. I was at a childhood friend's wedding the other night (which was absolutely beautiful and I am not one to gush about weddings) and I was chatting with another old friend of mine, complimenting each other's sundresses when her new husband pointed at my shawl and asked what was on it.

It is a printed green shawl, with images of Ganesha stamped on it and Sanskrit lettering* and I told him as much, with a smile until he pointed to the lettering and asked, "So, what does that mean?" Here his tone turned mocking as he continued, " 'Cows are God?' " He laughed a bit at that, I cannot remember what his wife did, nor can I picture what my expression was (I have this gift of conveying instant disgust or offense), but I did manage another, sweeter smile and corrected him on its meaning, while adding that Ganesha brings joy and good luck, perfect for a wedding.

And here I have to ask...why did he have to say that? What purpose was he trying to achieve by sounding ignorant at best and extremely rude at worst? After all, he had no idea why I was wearing it, he has no idea what my personal beliefs are. I mean, I shouldn't be surprised at him making assumptions about my religious identity-- everyone there is or was raised in a Protestant Christian household-- but why go the extra mile and sound so narrow-minded and chauvinistic? I would never make an insulting remark about another faith in mixed company, although hopefully I would refrain from being insulting in all occasions, but the glaring cultural insensitivity struck me. This is from a guy who is supposed to be a leader at his church? Yikes. Let me clarify, I wasn't personally offended, just kind of embarressed to be in a converastion with someone who approaches anything "other" with that kind of childish mentality.

I find this attitude running rampant through those tightly-knit communitites where any interest in what may lie outside of the established orthodoxy is viewed with suspicion, shock and disdain. It reminds me of another religiously-themed discussion that took a sudden detour into the judgmental and ignorant: I was talking to a friend's mother when I was 17 about the book I was reading (which happened to be the Dalai Lama's autobiography, "My Land, My People") and had barely noticed her look of discomfort as I was mentioning the architecture of this Buddhist temple that has been across the street from my childhood home from the last 20+ years. I wanted to discuss religious architecture in general and its influences and similarities and had literally said, "The inside of the temple gives off this feeling of..." when she cut me off with a snap response: "Evil!" I was not quite as composed at 17 as I am now (was anyone?) but I did manage to respond with, "Um...no. Not at all." I then quickly mentioned the high ceilings that are so common in religious architecture of all faiths to convey the transcedence and permeating presence of the ineffable before scuttling off to talk to a friend of mine.

So I guess...wtf people? Why the fear and intolerance?



*I was informed by a gentleman in Laguna Beach that the Sanskrit more or less meant "hare Krishna", which in turn is translated, in its full devotional form, to "O energy of God, O God (Krishna), please engage me in Your service". I do not claim to have bought this shawl specifically for the lettering beyond its aesthetics, but I think it's only fair to understand what I'm wearing in a cultural context. Plus, how much smarter do I appear when I can translate the Sanskrit on my wrap?

My knee hurts from standing too long at work. Or maybe because I'm starting to feel a little aged. Speaking of age, I finally figured out why I like all the technicolor dream prints at work laid over cheesy-ass tiger/leopard/zebra print...two words: Lisa. Frank.

My girls of the 90s will know what I'm talking about. (They'll also know these initials: JTT. How's that blast from your tween past for ya?) Lisa Frank and the orgy of ponies, dolphins, tigers and unicorns frolicking through an LSD-wonderland all over our trapper keepers (Damn, these references just keep rolling along, don't they?), pencils/pencil cases/erasers, and other lumps of pink sparkle plastic masquerading as school supplies.


(Isn't that dolphin picture amazing? What would the world be like if we contemplated that for a half hour a day? I'm up for hearing some suggestions!)


Um...are they pooping shards of rainbow?