My luck seems to have run out. Over the last three years since my return to Seattle, I've found it quite easy to find work. Most of it was temporary work, but that's all I was looking for. Not sure of what I wanted to do outside of travel, play and write, temporary gigs were ideal for my lifestyle. With one foot out the proverbial Seattle door, a temp job was preferred over anything too committal.
In the past three years I've been an ESL teacher, a janitor, a receptionist at a theater supply store, a law firm and a seafood company called Ocean Beauty Seafoods (I kept answering the phones "good afternoon, Ocean Booty" and they offered me full time work anyway!), an administrative assistant in the City of Seattle's Engineering Records Center, a Seattle Art Museum librarian assistant and education department admin assistant, a pet nanny and dog walker, and I did market research for WhitePages.com. I was head of programming and development at a non-profit international education organization, catered an event at an art gallery, was a mystery shopper and drove a woman's car from Denver to Seattle.
The jobs over the last three years have been as diverse as my interests in life. Intriguing and entertaining. Unfortunately, the opportunities seem to have come to a screeching halt. No longer are friends or friends of friends tracking me down with the random odd job. Those days seem to be over for this "professional service provider." sigh.
I knew it would all have to come to an end eventually. I was just hoping I could hang on to the multiple thin income strings (or threads rather) a bit longer. With thousands of out of work talent hitting the streets with every layoff announcement, the competition for these and other crap jobs is fierce.
So, as Dr. Phil says, "if you're out of a job, then that's your job!" Oh, the reality of it all. I've been hitting it hard and letting up is not an option. Keeping the momentum up along with the optimism is a full-time job!
Friday, January 23, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Enough with the Tipping
Webster's Definition:
Tip: vb - to give a gratuity to. n- a gift or sum of money tendered for a service performed or anticipated; gratuity.
At what point did tipping transition from it's original intent of an extra amount in appreciation for good service to an obligation, an expected and entitled amount?
Tipping has gotten out of hand. Rather than giving a small amount of change to show appreciation for outstanding service, it's now an expectation in certain fields. And not only is the tip itself expected, but a certain amount is also expected regardless of the level of service provided. That's where I get irritated. Since when are we tipping people for doing their basic job?
The only job the curbside check in fellow has is to check you in and take your bag and the expected tip (posted on the sign in front of his desk) is $3 per bag. Is he doing anything particularly unique from his basic job duties that should require an added tip? If so, I don't know what that would be.
I have no problem giving a waiter/waitress a fair tip based on the service they provide. I can be a little demanding requesting sauces on the side, lemon but no ice in my water, eggs cooked very well done for example. However, 20% is a bit steep. Add that to your bill and a reasonably priced lunch sky rockets into dinner pricing. A friend just informed me that 15% is standard, 18% is above average and 20% is outstanding. Those three amounts are generally listed at the bottom of your bill, too, just to help you out when figuring your payment. Again, I tip according to service, not the price of the bill. In Seattle, the service is usually quite high, so I don't mind tipping accordingly.
Tipping the barista, on the other hand, is minimal if at all. She's making me a latte. There's nothing unique about my latte. I order off the menu. I don't ask for extra foam, or super hot. They don't even put the sleeve on the cup for me. The drink costs $3.56 as it is, I'm not giving an extra dollar because they are doing their job. I know most people do and I'm sure the baristas are spitting in my drink before shoving it over the counter at me.
On my recent trip to Vietnam, there was an exceptional amount of tipping involved. Besides the cost of the trip itself which wasn't necessarily cheap, we were informed that tipping certain providers was expected. The pre-travel information packet laid out who we were to tip and how much was standard. Besides the tour guide, who did his level best to go above and beyond to look after us and make sure our every need was met, we were also expected to tip the bus driver, the bus assistant, the maids, other guides, and anyone else who provided a service.
The bus driver drove us around. He is paid to drive. Is he expected to do anything else? No. Did he do anything else? No. Why are we tipping this person? The suggested tip was $3-4 per person per day. The bus assistant's job was to keep the bus clean inside and out, distribute waters and "cool and refreshing towelettes" to the passengers, assist everyone getting on and off the bus and handle the luggage. The suggested tip for this fellow was $1-2 per day. I had no problem tipping him that amount. I think he pretty much has a crap job and probably is a servant to the bus driver running his errands and getting him coffee. And I can bet his wages are nearly nothing.
There was one tipping incident in particular that left me with a sour taste in my mouth during the trip. My friend and I had a massage at our first hotel. The cost of the massage was $10 for an hour. I told my friend we should probably give an extra dollar for a tip. Based on what we had learned, this seemed adequate. The massage itself was not very satisfactory. The girl sat on my rump while she massaged my back. That alone did not allow me to relax and enjoy the massage. Her movements were quick and the entire massage felt rushed. She slathered baby oil on her hands once before the massage began and never reapplied it again. It felt like a dry massage. The room was stark with no music or candles and you could hear the other employees outside the door chatting and laughing loudly amongst themselves. There was nothing relaxing about the entire experience. At the end of the treatment the girl handed me a receipt book for me to write in my tip amount. I handed her a dollar. She made a face and threw it back at me insisting I give more. I requested to speak with the man at the front desk. I asked him if my dollar was out of line and he assured me that it was absolutely fine and took my money. My friend told me that her girl wouldn't take her dollar, but wasn't asking for more. She simply indicated a tip wasn't necessary. Completely inconsistent.
Here in America the list of professions that we are expected to tip is getting longer by the minute: bellboys, sky cab, taxi drivers, hair stylists, nail and spa services (you tip for a massage, but do you tip your physical therapists? No.), hotel maids, room service, concierge. I was even told that it was good practice to tip the flight attendant- not necessarily with cash, but a gift of chocolates or some other specialty item would be appropriate. Although the thought has crossed my mind, I have never done this. I wonder if the gesture would get me upgraded into a first class seat for free? I'll have to experiment with that in the future.
I would just like to see a day when everyone made a decent enough wage for providing exceptional customer service that it wasn't left up to the customer to contribute further to the provider's income. Ah, in an ideal world.
Tip: vb - to give a gratuity to. n- a gift or sum of money tendered for a service performed or anticipated; gratuity.
At what point did tipping transition from it's original intent of an extra amount in appreciation for good service to an obligation, an expected and entitled amount?
Tipping has gotten out of hand. Rather than giving a small amount of change to show appreciation for outstanding service, it's now an expectation in certain fields. And not only is the tip itself expected, but a certain amount is also expected regardless of the level of service provided. That's where I get irritated. Since when are we tipping people for doing their basic job?
The only job the curbside check in fellow has is to check you in and take your bag and the expected tip (posted on the sign in front of his desk) is $3 per bag. Is he doing anything particularly unique from his basic job duties that should require an added tip? If so, I don't know what that would be.
I have no problem giving a waiter/waitress a fair tip based on the service they provide. I can be a little demanding requesting sauces on the side, lemon but no ice in my water, eggs cooked very well done for example. However, 20% is a bit steep. Add that to your bill and a reasonably priced lunch sky rockets into dinner pricing. A friend just informed me that 15% is standard, 18% is above average and 20% is outstanding. Those three amounts are generally listed at the bottom of your bill, too, just to help you out when figuring your payment. Again, I tip according to service, not the price of the bill. In Seattle, the service is usually quite high, so I don't mind tipping accordingly.
Tipping the barista, on the other hand, is minimal if at all. She's making me a latte. There's nothing unique about my latte. I order off the menu. I don't ask for extra foam, or super hot. They don't even put the sleeve on the cup for me. The drink costs $3.56 as it is, I'm not giving an extra dollar because they are doing their job. I know most people do and I'm sure the baristas are spitting in my drink before shoving it over the counter at me.
On my recent trip to Vietnam, there was an exceptional amount of tipping involved. Besides the cost of the trip itself which wasn't necessarily cheap, we were informed that tipping certain providers was expected. The pre-travel information packet laid out who we were to tip and how much was standard. Besides the tour guide, who did his level best to go above and beyond to look after us and make sure our every need was met, we were also expected to tip the bus driver, the bus assistant, the maids, other guides, and anyone else who provided a service.
The bus driver drove us around. He is paid to drive. Is he expected to do anything else? No. Did he do anything else? No. Why are we tipping this person? The suggested tip was $3-4 per person per day. The bus assistant's job was to keep the bus clean inside and out, distribute waters and "cool and refreshing towelettes" to the passengers, assist everyone getting on and off the bus and handle the luggage. The suggested tip for this fellow was $1-2 per day. I had no problem tipping him that amount. I think he pretty much has a crap job and probably is a servant to the bus driver running his errands and getting him coffee. And I can bet his wages are nearly nothing.
There was one tipping incident in particular that left me with a sour taste in my mouth during the trip. My friend and I had a massage at our first hotel. The cost of the massage was $10 for an hour. I told my friend we should probably give an extra dollar for a tip. Based on what we had learned, this seemed adequate. The massage itself was not very satisfactory. The girl sat on my rump while she massaged my back. That alone did not allow me to relax and enjoy the massage. Her movements were quick and the entire massage felt rushed. She slathered baby oil on her hands once before the massage began and never reapplied it again. It felt like a dry massage. The room was stark with no music or candles and you could hear the other employees outside the door chatting and laughing loudly amongst themselves. There was nothing relaxing about the entire experience. At the end of the treatment the girl handed me a receipt book for me to write in my tip amount. I handed her a dollar. She made a face and threw it back at me insisting I give more. I requested to speak with the man at the front desk. I asked him if my dollar was out of line and he assured me that it was absolutely fine and took my money. My friend told me that her girl wouldn't take her dollar, but wasn't asking for more. She simply indicated a tip wasn't necessary. Completely inconsistent.
Here in America the list of professions that we are expected to tip is getting longer by the minute: bellboys, sky cab, taxi drivers, hair stylists, nail and spa services (you tip for a massage, but do you tip your physical therapists? No.), hotel maids, room service, concierge. I was even told that it was good practice to tip the flight attendant- not necessarily with cash, but a gift of chocolates or some other specialty item would be appropriate. Although the thought has crossed my mind, I have never done this. I wonder if the gesture would get me upgraded into a first class seat for free? I'll have to experiment with that in the future.
I would just like to see a day when everyone made a decent enough wage for providing exceptional customer service that it wasn't left up to the customer to contribute further to the provider's income. Ah, in an ideal world.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Home From My Holidays
Vietnam turned out to be even more than I had imagined. We started our tour in the busy northern city of Hanoi where the streets are bustling with hundreds of motor scooters and the "honk honk beep beep" of traffic coming and going in every which direction. Crossing the street took an act of bravery - or stupidity- and some skillful eye/feet coordination. Although some of our fellow travelers were afraid to make attempts, I found the challenge exhilarating. Tall skinny houses lined the streets of Hanoi where we were told not one, but up to seven families may be living per household. People crowded the sidewalks crouched on small stools eating food prepared right there on small cookers. This, our guide explained, was due to the crowded kitchen inside the house. With seven families sharing one kitchen and one bathroom, it just makes sense to eat on the sidewalk (comparable to our version of an outside BBQ or having a picnic on the porch while we watch passers by).
Throughout our trip we continually were witness to so many contrasts. For example, the people take their shoes off to enter their home, yet at the end of the day, they park their scooters inside the house. Safety reasons. There is a helmet law for drivers, but apparently not for passengers. We'd see a helmeted driver with his entire unhelmeted family of five strategically stacked on the scooter with him. And Christmas decorations adorned every window, hotel, street corner in this mainly Buddhist country. Western dressed woman donned traditional conical hats.
Other highlights of this interesting city included a Cyclo tour of Old Town - another contrast of old vs new transportation, a visit to the Temple of Literature where I rubbed a turtle's head for good luck in my upcoming studies, an entertaining water puppet show, the French Quarter, Museum of Ethnography and some wonderful Vietnamese food.
After a few days in Hanoi, we headed to Ha Long Bay for an overnight trip on a traditional Junk boat. The weather was unseasonably cooler than expected, but we managed to get this far without actual rain. We were four days into the trip by now and I was still wearing the same top I flew over in! I hadn't been able to break out any warm weather garments yet and only took a couple of long sleeved tops because it wasn't suppose to be this cold. I had borrowed my niece's windbreaker for the trip and I was so glad for it.
From the very majestic Ha Long Bay, we headed back to Hanoi for our in-country flight to Hue a little further south. Warmer, but rainy. We visited the Thien Mu Pagoda (Pagoda of the Heavenly Lady) which overlooks the Perfume River, the magnificent Hue Citadel and the Forbidden Purple City which took us back in time. Our guide shared detailed stories of past Kings, Queens and residents and their impact on the history of Vietnam. Although the weather was inclement, this kept the crowds at bay and the rain actually accentuated the peacefulness of the temple and the Hien Lam Pavilion.
From Hue, we headed south to Hoi An, a nearly Venice-like town in Central Vietnam (complete with regular flooding and small boats to haul you around) just south of the famous China Beach and Lang Co Beach. We took some time and stepped out on the beach to dip our toes in the sea. Tired of the cooler weather and rain, we were excited to finally see a bit of sunshine and sandy beach. Upon reaching Hoi An and checking into the resort hotel perched on the river, we were greeted with yet another amazing Vietnamese meal (there were many of these and my rather snug trousers are proof) and then a walking city tour weaving our way through the alleys and narrow passages of this cozy little town. Here we also participated in a Vietnamese cooking class where loads of laughs were had while we learned to make fresh spring rolls, banana flower salad and grilled tuna wrapped in banana leaves.
The rains picked up as we trekked through the ancient My Son ruins of the Champa Kingdom. Again, it wasn't enough to spoil the day's activities. On the way to the ruins we stopped at a local market that isn't used to tourists. This was a highlight for all of us. Our guide walked us through the market explaining all the unusual 'treats' and how they are prepared. My travel buddy and I sampled the juice of a duck egg that had been boiled just three days prior to the duck being born. It tasted like chicken broth. Then we ate the duck fetus. No, not the yolk, the actual baby duck that was scooped out of the shell. Yeah, this from the girl who'd prefer china plates with food separators like a two year old so nothing touches. Later my friend tested Beattlenut. After watching her basically get stoned, I laughed my tush off as her entire mouth turned a bright red. The market ladies had fun at our expense. I'm not sure who was more entertained, them or us.
Our next destination was the beautiful seaside town of Nha Trang where we'd spend a couple of days relaxing on the sunny shores of the China Sea...or just walk along the beach in the rain. By now we were getting a little discouraged by the "unseasonably rainy weather" we were experiencing and our guide was getting nervous. His job was to make us happy. My travel buddy was having her period and was seriously crabby by this point. After spending five hours digging her car out of her snow-filled driveway and driving from Spokane to Seattle to fly out the next day, this was suppose to be her tropical sun-filled holiday. The rain was bothering her much more than me (hard to believe, I know) but I didn't want to agitate her by patronizing her about how it could be so much worse. After lunch she found a bit of alone time to walk on the beach during a brief clearing, meet a local woman cooking lobster and take a "happy pill." She came back refreshed and smiling. We then hopped a scooter taxi and headed up to the beautiful Cham tower still in operation. We decided to walk back to our hotel and no sooner than we headed back, the rains began again. We spent the evening drying out in our hotel room which had an amazing view of the stormy sea, sipping rather poor Vietnamese wine and reading our books. We went to bed dreaming of a sunnier tomorrow. Or at least high clouds.
We were granted high clouds for our boat trip to a local fishing village, a ride in a round basket boat - an actual round boat woven with bamboo used mainly to fish for squid, and finally a relaxing afternoon on a private beach where we were able to swim in the China Sea and enjoy massages and pedicures on the beach....until a sprinkling of rain drove us under the thatched umbrellas. All in all it was a great day even without the sun.
Our hotel hosted a New Years Eve Gala which was basically a flop. The Gala took place on the rooftop off the second floor. Rather than mingling with all the other guests as I had hoped, everyone sat at their perspective dinner tables watching the dancers on stage perform routines to songs from ABBA and "We Are the World." They were trying to promote unity, but everyone just sat and stared at them. The best part of the night was viewing the growing crowd of locals gathering on the street below. Thousands of people jammed the streets outside the hotel and stood staring up at us-staring back down at them. Everyone watching and waiting for something to happen. Nothing ever did. Prior to the countdown balloons and confetti were released from the top floor windows, but the wind had picked up substantially and rather than fall downward, they were scooped up over the top of the building and carried who knows where. There was a giant disco ball, but it never got lifted and dropped at the appropriate time. I'm not sure it got lifted and dropped at all. After midnight, they announced all night dancing in the lobby. We all shuffled down there for some dancing, but the music wasn't set up yet. We waited around til almost 1.00 when we decided to call it a night. Happy @#$ing New Year.
After Nha Trang, we headed into the mountains to the city of Dalat. Unfortunately, after an hour of driving we learned the mountain pass we were headed to was closed due to flooding (imagine that) and we had to turn back and take another route. Seven hours of bumpy, jiggly, uncomfortable bus ride later, feeling completely beat up, we pulled into the stunning French style village of Dalat. So different than any other town we'd seen at this point. Highlights here included a scenic gondola ride through the lush mountains to visit the Truc Lam Zen Buddhist Pagoda and beautiful gardens, Dalat Cathedral, Xuan Huong Lake, exploring the village and seeing how the locals live, a home hosted dinner, visit to the University of Dalat to talk to local students and a visit to the Lat village to enjoy music and dance performance by the indigenous residents. That was great fun as we laughed and danced along learning their stories and traditions.
Leaving Dalat by plane, we headed to our final destination of Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) for the last three days of our tour. Saigon was the city I had expected it to be. Somewhat more modern than Hanoi, but not much. More busy scooter traffic (my travel buddy and I were seasoned street crossers by now), lots of shops, huge market, coffee shops and beautiful buildings. After some consideration of our finances, we decided to take the optional tour of the Cu Chi Tunnels with the group. It turned out to be well worth the money. We were able to explore the tunnels first hand as a group and even had the opportunity to drop into a trap door and crawl through a portion of the tunnel alone (except for resident bat). This was actually a bit creepy as you put yourself mentally in the shoes of those who lived in these tunnels 40 years ago.
Next day was a visit to My Tho for a boat trip along the Mekong Delta which included a stop off at a local bee farm for some exotic fruit samples; dragon fruit, longan fruit, rambuton, coconut, jackfruit and something that resembled grapefruit, but not really a grapefruit. We visited a family owned coconut candy factory where we saw the very labor intensive handy-work of making different types of coconut candy.
I am still skeptical about the 'tour group' method of travel, but it does come with pros, as well as cons. Our guide was informative and relayed entertaining stories of the history, traditions, superstitions and culture of the various regions of his country. I am certain I wouldn't have been able to cover as much ground and see all the sights we saw in the same amount of time if I had attempted the trip on my own. I'm not sure, however, I'd book a trip with Overseas Adventure Travel (OAT) for the next 30 years. Seems to be an older crowd who frequent these particular tours. My travel buddy and I deemed the acronym Old And Tired people upon meeting our fellow travelers. There were 16 travelers in our group and our youthful 45 years of age brought the median age down to 60 years old. Our guide informed us that ours was the youngest group he had ever hosted.
By the first day we had everyone pegged. The overly optimistic person who clapped her hands and squealed 'yea!' about everything (no this wasn't me!), the professional photographer who got into every local person's face with her rather invasive camera equipment, those who continuously asked every ridiculous question because they either liked to hear themselves talk or just refused to pay attention to our guide. We dubbed these gals as Numbers 1, 2 and 3 so we could gossip about them in code. This kept us equally annoyed and entertained at the same time. At various points throughout the first week or so each woman would shift on the totem pole of Most Annoying depending on what irritating thing they did or said that day. Yes, an awful game to play (we were clearly the young bitches of the group). However, I dare anyone to spend nearly three weeks with 14 total strangers and see if you don't start inventing inappropriate games. I'd never make it on "Survivor." Even if I didn't get voted off right away, I'd volunteer to leave after a few weeks. By week two, Numbers 2 and 3 were growing on us more and more. We were finding them almost delightful. We also really liked their husbands and thought we better make nice with these wives. By the end of the trip #3 was hugging us goodbye and calling us her daughters in her Philadelphia Jewish Lady accent - "dawwters". Just goes to show we need to give people a chance. It was a bit challenging for this introverted extrovert to be corralled with 16 people all day every day. My travel buddy and I managed to get away on our own on a few occasions but not many. It was a full schedule.
Overall it was a good trip and we had a great time and lots of laughs. And more importantly, I'm so glad I got to experience this amazing country - the beautiful rice paddies, colorful markets, children riding water buffalo, and farmers working the fields- before commerce and fierce development step in and turn the unique farm villages and seaside into tourist resorts and the cities become just another Asian hot spot of night clubs, bars, glitz and glitter and overpriced shopping.
Throughout our trip we continually were witness to so many contrasts. For example, the people take their shoes off to enter their home, yet at the end of the day, they park their scooters inside the house. Safety reasons. There is a helmet law for drivers, but apparently not for passengers. We'd see a helmeted driver with his entire unhelmeted family of five strategically stacked on the scooter with him. And Christmas decorations adorned every window, hotel, street corner in this mainly Buddhist country. Western dressed woman donned traditional conical hats.
Other highlights of this interesting city included a Cyclo tour of Old Town - another contrast of old vs new transportation, a visit to the Temple of Literature where I rubbed a turtle's head for good luck in my upcoming studies, an entertaining water puppet show, the French Quarter, Museum of Ethnography and some wonderful Vietnamese food.
After a few days in Hanoi, we headed to Ha Long Bay for an overnight trip on a traditional Junk boat. The weather was unseasonably cooler than expected, but we managed to get this far without actual rain. We were four days into the trip by now and I was still wearing the same top I flew over in! I hadn't been able to break out any warm weather garments yet and only took a couple of long sleeved tops because it wasn't suppose to be this cold. I had borrowed my niece's windbreaker for the trip and I was so glad for it.
From the very majestic Ha Long Bay, we headed back to Hanoi for our in-country flight to Hue a little further south. Warmer, but rainy. We visited the Thien Mu Pagoda (Pagoda of the Heavenly Lady) which overlooks the Perfume River, the magnificent Hue Citadel and the Forbidden Purple City which took us back in time. Our guide shared detailed stories of past Kings, Queens and residents and their impact on the history of Vietnam. Although the weather was inclement, this kept the crowds at bay and the rain actually accentuated the peacefulness of the temple and the Hien Lam Pavilion.
From Hue, we headed south to Hoi An, a nearly Venice-like town in Central Vietnam (complete with regular flooding and small boats to haul you around) just south of the famous China Beach and Lang Co Beach. We took some time and stepped out on the beach to dip our toes in the sea. Tired of the cooler weather and rain, we were excited to finally see a bit of sunshine and sandy beach. Upon reaching Hoi An and checking into the resort hotel perched on the river, we were greeted with yet another amazing Vietnamese meal (there were many of these and my rather snug trousers are proof) and then a walking city tour weaving our way through the alleys and narrow passages of this cozy little town. Here we also participated in a Vietnamese cooking class where loads of laughs were had while we learned to make fresh spring rolls, banana flower salad and grilled tuna wrapped in banana leaves.
The rains picked up as we trekked through the ancient My Son ruins of the Champa Kingdom. Again, it wasn't enough to spoil the day's activities. On the way to the ruins we stopped at a local market that isn't used to tourists. This was a highlight for all of us. Our guide walked us through the market explaining all the unusual 'treats' and how they are prepared. My travel buddy and I sampled the juice of a duck egg that had been boiled just three days prior to the duck being born. It tasted like chicken broth. Then we ate the duck fetus. No, not the yolk, the actual baby duck that was scooped out of the shell. Yeah, this from the girl who'd prefer china plates with food separators like a two year old so nothing touches. Later my friend tested Beattlenut. After watching her basically get stoned, I laughed my tush off as her entire mouth turned a bright red. The market ladies had fun at our expense. I'm not sure who was more entertained, them or us.
Our next destination was the beautiful seaside town of Nha Trang where we'd spend a couple of days relaxing on the sunny shores of the China Sea...or just walk along the beach in the rain. By now we were getting a little discouraged by the "unseasonably rainy weather" we were experiencing and our guide was getting nervous. His job was to make us happy. My travel buddy was having her period and was seriously crabby by this point. After spending five hours digging her car out of her snow-filled driveway and driving from Spokane to Seattle to fly out the next day, this was suppose to be her tropical sun-filled holiday. The rain was bothering her much more than me (hard to believe, I know) but I didn't want to agitate her by patronizing her about how it could be so much worse. After lunch she found a bit of alone time to walk on the beach during a brief clearing, meet a local woman cooking lobster and take a "happy pill." She came back refreshed and smiling. We then hopped a scooter taxi and headed up to the beautiful Cham tower still in operation. We decided to walk back to our hotel and no sooner than we headed back, the rains began again. We spent the evening drying out in our hotel room which had an amazing view of the stormy sea, sipping rather poor Vietnamese wine and reading our books. We went to bed dreaming of a sunnier tomorrow. Or at least high clouds.
We were granted high clouds for our boat trip to a local fishing village, a ride in a round basket boat - an actual round boat woven with bamboo used mainly to fish for squid, and finally a relaxing afternoon on a private beach where we were able to swim in the China Sea and enjoy massages and pedicures on the beach....until a sprinkling of rain drove us under the thatched umbrellas. All in all it was a great day even without the sun.
Our hotel hosted a New Years Eve Gala which was basically a flop. The Gala took place on the rooftop off the second floor. Rather than mingling with all the other guests as I had hoped, everyone sat at their perspective dinner tables watching the dancers on stage perform routines to songs from ABBA and "We Are the World." They were trying to promote unity, but everyone just sat and stared at them. The best part of the night was viewing the growing crowd of locals gathering on the street below. Thousands of people jammed the streets outside the hotel and stood staring up at us-staring back down at them. Everyone watching and waiting for something to happen. Nothing ever did. Prior to the countdown balloons and confetti were released from the top floor windows, but the wind had picked up substantially and rather than fall downward, they were scooped up over the top of the building and carried who knows where. There was a giant disco ball, but it never got lifted and dropped at the appropriate time. I'm not sure it got lifted and dropped at all. After midnight, they announced all night dancing in the lobby. We all shuffled down there for some dancing, but the music wasn't set up yet. We waited around til almost 1.00 when we decided to call it a night. Happy @#$ing New Year.
After Nha Trang, we headed into the mountains to the city of Dalat. Unfortunately, after an hour of driving we learned the mountain pass we were headed to was closed due to flooding (imagine that) and we had to turn back and take another route. Seven hours of bumpy, jiggly, uncomfortable bus ride later, feeling completely beat up, we pulled into the stunning French style village of Dalat. So different than any other town we'd seen at this point. Highlights here included a scenic gondola ride through the lush mountains to visit the Truc Lam Zen Buddhist Pagoda and beautiful gardens, Dalat Cathedral, Xuan Huong Lake, exploring the village and seeing how the locals live, a home hosted dinner, visit to the University of Dalat to talk to local students and a visit to the Lat village to enjoy music and dance performance by the indigenous residents. That was great fun as we laughed and danced along learning their stories and traditions.
Leaving Dalat by plane, we headed to our final destination of Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) for the last three days of our tour. Saigon was the city I had expected it to be. Somewhat more modern than Hanoi, but not much. More busy scooter traffic (my travel buddy and I were seasoned street crossers by now), lots of shops, huge market, coffee shops and beautiful buildings. After some consideration of our finances, we decided to take the optional tour of the Cu Chi Tunnels with the group. It turned out to be well worth the money. We were able to explore the tunnels first hand as a group and even had the opportunity to drop into a trap door and crawl through a portion of the tunnel alone (except for resident bat). This was actually a bit creepy as you put yourself mentally in the shoes of those who lived in these tunnels 40 years ago.
Next day was a visit to My Tho for a boat trip along the Mekong Delta which included a stop off at a local bee farm for some exotic fruit samples; dragon fruit, longan fruit, rambuton, coconut, jackfruit and something that resembled grapefruit, but not really a grapefruit. We visited a family owned coconut candy factory where we saw the very labor intensive handy-work of making different types of coconut candy.
I am still skeptical about the 'tour group' method of travel, but it does come with pros, as well as cons. Our guide was informative and relayed entertaining stories of the history, traditions, superstitions and culture of the various regions of his country. I am certain I wouldn't have been able to cover as much ground and see all the sights we saw in the same amount of time if I had attempted the trip on my own. I'm not sure, however, I'd book a trip with Overseas Adventure Travel (OAT) for the next 30 years. Seems to be an older crowd who frequent these particular tours. My travel buddy and I deemed the acronym Old And Tired people upon meeting our fellow travelers. There were 16 travelers in our group and our youthful 45 years of age brought the median age down to 60 years old. Our guide informed us that ours was the youngest group he had ever hosted.
By the first day we had everyone pegged. The overly optimistic person who clapped her hands and squealed 'yea!' about everything (no this wasn't me!), the professional photographer who got into every local person's face with her rather invasive camera equipment, those who continuously asked every ridiculous question because they either liked to hear themselves talk or just refused to pay attention to our guide. We dubbed these gals as Numbers 1, 2 and 3 so we could gossip about them in code. This kept us equally annoyed and entertained at the same time. At various points throughout the first week or so each woman would shift on the totem pole of Most Annoying depending on what irritating thing they did or said that day. Yes, an awful game to play (we were clearly the young bitches of the group). However, I dare anyone to spend nearly three weeks with 14 total strangers and see if you don't start inventing inappropriate games. I'd never make it on "Survivor." Even if I didn't get voted off right away, I'd volunteer to leave after a few weeks. By week two, Numbers 2 and 3 were growing on us more and more. We were finding them almost delightful. We also really liked their husbands and thought we better make nice with these wives. By the end of the trip #3 was hugging us goodbye and calling us her daughters in her Philadelphia Jewish Lady accent - "dawwters". Just goes to show we need to give people a chance. It was a bit challenging for this introverted extrovert to be corralled with 16 people all day every day. My travel buddy and I managed to get away on our own on a few occasions but not many. It was a full schedule.
Overall it was a good trip and we had a great time and lots of laughs. And more importantly, I'm so glad I got to experience this amazing country - the beautiful rice paddies, colorful markets, children riding water buffalo, and farmers working the fields- before commerce and fierce development step in and turn the unique farm villages and seaside into tourist resorts and the cities become just another Asian hot spot of night clubs, bars, glitz and glitter and overpriced shopping.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
The Weather Outside is Frightful- Make that Delightful
"December Storm" 2008 is underway, and just like every year our fair city can't handle the flakes and shuts down almost completely. Lack of snow removal equipment, a surplus of steep hills and drivers who, frankly, just aren't used to driving in inclement conditions result in a dysfunctional city when the snow arrives.
This year schools decided to mitigate damages by cancelling school on Wednesday because it might snow. It didn't. By Wednesday night the storm (second one in a week) came through and blanketed the region with a few inches resulting in school closures on Thursday and offices being closed.
I was downtown finishing up some errands and shopping for my trip and, although there were a few people walking around, it was sparse enough to be a bit eerie. As if the retailers weren't suffering enough, now we have a snow storm that keeps people housebound. I walked through Pike Place Market and the few vendors who did make it in to open their stall, looked very maudlin. The looks on their faces said "please, buy something- anything."
Personally, I love the snow and even the cold doesn't bother me much. I find this weather so much more inspiring than the usual torrential rains we get this time of year. It's, of course, easy for me since I don't actually need to be anywhere and my business isn't losing money. So, sure, I can have my Polly Anna positive outlook while others are suffering.
The complaint I can't buy, however, is how after one day at home several people have moaned about being a shut-in. C'mon, it's been a day. One day. You mean to tell me you can't just enjoy one day at home alone? You can't find things to keep you busy if you're a Type A individual? You can't just take the opportunity to hunker down with some tea and read that book you never seem to have time for? I could stay home for a week alone and never get bored. Walking in the snow is invigorating and if bundled properly, very safe. I've got a Dr. Seuss stack of books to read. That pile of movies the Lacey man sent me is still unwatched. Plus, Christmas is approaching. Bake cookies, get creative with your Christmas wrapping, make your New Year's plans. I don't know. Just embrace the situation and stop complaining. It's what is so, so enjoy it!
This year schools decided to mitigate damages by cancelling school on Wednesday because it might snow. It didn't. By Wednesday night the storm (second one in a week) came through and blanketed the region with a few inches resulting in school closures on Thursday and offices being closed.
I was downtown finishing up some errands and shopping for my trip and, although there were a few people walking around, it was sparse enough to be a bit eerie. As if the retailers weren't suffering enough, now we have a snow storm that keeps people housebound. I walked through Pike Place Market and the few vendors who did make it in to open their stall, looked very maudlin. The looks on their faces said "please, buy something- anything."
Personally, I love the snow and even the cold doesn't bother me much. I find this weather so much more inspiring than the usual torrential rains we get this time of year. It's, of course, easy for me since I don't actually need to be anywhere and my business isn't losing money. So, sure, I can have my Polly Anna positive outlook while others are suffering.
The complaint I can't buy, however, is how after one day at home several people have moaned about being a shut-in. C'mon, it's been a day. One day. You mean to tell me you can't just enjoy one day at home alone? You can't find things to keep you busy if you're a Type A individual? You can't just take the opportunity to hunker down with some tea and read that book you never seem to have time for? I could stay home for a week alone and never get bored. Walking in the snow is invigorating and if bundled properly, very safe. I've got a Dr. Seuss stack of books to read. That pile of movies the Lacey man sent me is still unwatched. Plus, Christmas is approaching. Bake cookies, get creative with your Christmas wrapping, make your New Year's plans. I don't know. Just embrace the situation and stop complaining. It's what is so, so enjoy it!
Monday, December 15, 2008
The Current Job Sitch
The opportunity for picking up the odd temp job here and there has decreased drastically this month. With the sudden surge of unemployed workers in the area, there are a lot more of us out there vying for the same crap paying jobs that are available. Plus, with my pending Viet Nam trip lasting almost three weeks, I'm not exactly the ideal candidate for employment. Employers want someone to start immediately and work through the holidays. Imagine that. Personally, I thought working three weeks, taking three weeks off and then returning to work was the perfect scenario. Not so.
Last week, I had an interview as a sales associate at the top bridal shop in the area. That would have been entertaining. During the interview while talking about my own 1980's wedding, I caught the interviewer's eyes go straight for my left ring finger. "Oh, you won't find anything there," I said with a laugh. Aside from the fact that I might come off as a cynical old divorce amongst a room full of tittering young brides and bridesmaids, we really hit it off. She showed me a photo of a relative's 1986 wedding and we commiserated over the classic 80's gowns and big hair.
She gave me a tour of the facility which included individual full sized bridal rooms complete with everything the bride-to-be would need to accessorize her try-on experience, a daylight room, and a runway! As she walked me through the hundreds of gowns, she was dropping names faster than I could pick them up, Alvina Valenta, Sally Crew, Paloma Blanca. While I tried to appear knowledgeable in the area of wedding fashion designers, I'm sure my face said "who are these people?"
In the end, she told me she would have loved to have hired me, but she needed someone here through the holidays. Understood. Clearly that wasn't the most ideal job for me regardless. Me, assisting rich, young brides in buying something that I now know is the most ridiculous expense in a girl's life? My own gown is still in my closet mocking me - and taking up valuable space. But I could have faked it and it would have provided so much fodder for my blog!
Next experiment- "Mystery Shopping." I'd heard of it and wondered how it worked. I register on the site (this in itself is a time consuming process) and sign up for my first shop. It's a Greyhound Bus assignment. All I need to do is call Greyhound, find out when the bus to Vancouver or Spokane leaves, go down to the station with a large piece of packed check-in luggage (full enough to be believable) and buy the ticket for either city. I must arrive at least 30 minutes before the departure time, but no earlier than an hour prior. While there I'm to check out the station, the restroom, count customers, take certain mental notes and leave. Come back to the house and complete their report. Simple, this ought to take an hour of my time and it pays $22.
I pack my luggage, haul it to the #8 Metro bus stop two blocks from my house, walk five more blocks to the Greyhound station, stand in a very long line (40 minutes so far). Time is ticking and the agent calls out "anyone waiting for the bus to Vancouver, BC?" BC? Crap, I'm suddenly not sure if I need to buy the ticket to Vancouver, BC or Vancouver, WA. The instructions didn't say. But they did say, "You must follow the instructions exactly or you will not get paid or reimbursed for your ticket." Oh dear. I'm panicked now. What do I do? It's finally my turn and I ask the agent what time the next bus leaves for Spokane. Not until 5.30 p.m. I'm four hours too early. That isn't part of the instructions either! Crap crap crap. I can't think. I buy the ticket to Spokane.
I have to inspect the restroom and where is it? UP a flight of stairs! I haul my believably heavy luggage up the flight of stairs and do the inspection. I leave the bus depot and head back to catch my #8 bus home. While I'm waiting, I'm also stewing about this ticket I bought. I'm just certain they are going to claim my shop invalid and deny me payment or reimbursement. I can't afford a bloody $42 unused bus ticket! I march back to the bus depot, my believably heavy luggage in tow, gave the agent some story and asked for a refund. It was a convincing tale, so she didn't suspect a thing. I finally got home THREE hours later, unpacked my bag, completed my report explaining the discrepancy between the two Vancouver's. They actually paid me.
I decided not to sign up for any more shops that required me to actually purchase anything I didn't want. My next shop was to pose as a wealthy homeowner planning a bathroom remodel job. I was told to, dress up a bit, and have the name of a made up architect or designer to appear more believable. I had to make an appointment with a sales associate at a high end tile store and spend 20-30 minutes discussing my plans and wait for the associate to write up an estimate. This shop did take about an hour and it paid $15. But the guilt of wasting the woman's time ate at my conscience. And I now have a bag full of sample tiles.
The following three shops required me to assess the Green Peace guys on various street corners downtown. I was to spy on them from afar first and note how they approached different people, then walk past and let them snag me, listen to their entire spiel paying attention to all the details, and then leave them stranded without signing up (actually, signing up was an option, but I opted out.). Again, I felt a bit bad about wasting their time, but I'm getting used to this gig by now. These shops were also $10 each and each took about an hour plus my walk downtown (30 minutes).
My final shop last week required me to inquire about and then purchase an eggnog latte at Peet's Coffee & Tea on Upper Queen Anne. Why the eggnog? Blech. Any other holiday latte, but the eggnog, please! I did the shop, bought the latte, and it was actually drinkable. I had a nasty cold and couldn't really taste much, so that probably helped. Again, that shop was fairly easy and painless and also paid $10.
Final consensus? It was a lot of running around town for a total of $77. I'm sure there is an easier way. Like maybe actually working at Peet's Coffee Shop for minimum wage. I'll re-visit that thought after my three week vacation.
Last week, I had an interview as a sales associate at the top bridal shop in the area. That would have been entertaining. During the interview while talking about my own 1980's wedding, I caught the interviewer's eyes go straight for my left ring finger. "Oh, you won't find anything there," I said with a laugh. Aside from the fact that I might come off as a cynical old divorce amongst a room full of tittering young brides and bridesmaids, we really hit it off. She showed me a photo of a relative's 1986 wedding and we commiserated over the classic 80's gowns and big hair.
She gave me a tour of the facility which included individual full sized bridal rooms complete with everything the bride-to-be would need to accessorize her try-on experience, a daylight room, and a runway! As she walked me through the hundreds of gowns, she was dropping names faster than I could pick them up, Alvina Valenta, Sally Crew, Paloma Blanca. While I tried to appear knowledgeable in the area of wedding fashion designers, I'm sure my face said "who are these people?"
In the end, she told me she would have loved to have hired me, but she needed someone here through the holidays. Understood. Clearly that wasn't the most ideal job for me regardless. Me, assisting rich, young brides in buying something that I now know is the most ridiculous expense in a girl's life? My own gown is still in my closet mocking me - and taking up valuable space. But I could have faked it and it would have provided so much fodder for my blog!
Next experiment- "Mystery Shopping." I'd heard of it and wondered how it worked. I register on the site (this in itself is a time consuming process) and sign up for my first shop. It's a Greyhound Bus assignment. All I need to do is call Greyhound, find out when the bus to Vancouver or Spokane leaves, go down to the station with a large piece of packed check-in luggage (full enough to be believable) and buy the ticket for either city. I must arrive at least 30 minutes before the departure time, but no earlier than an hour prior. While there I'm to check out the station, the restroom, count customers, take certain mental notes and leave. Come back to the house and complete their report. Simple, this ought to take an hour of my time and it pays $22.
I pack my luggage, haul it to the #8 Metro bus stop two blocks from my house, walk five more blocks to the Greyhound station, stand in a very long line (40 minutes so far). Time is ticking and the agent calls out "anyone waiting for the bus to Vancouver, BC?" BC? Crap, I'm suddenly not sure if I need to buy the ticket to Vancouver, BC or Vancouver, WA. The instructions didn't say. But they did say, "You must follow the instructions exactly or you will not get paid or reimbursed for your ticket." Oh dear. I'm panicked now. What do I do? It's finally my turn and I ask the agent what time the next bus leaves for Spokane. Not until 5.30 p.m. I'm four hours too early. That isn't part of the instructions either! Crap crap crap. I can't think. I buy the ticket to Spokane.
I have to inspect the restroom and where is it? UP a flight of stairs! I haul my believably heavy luggage up the flight of stairs and do the inspection. I leave the bus depot and head back to catch my #8 bus home. While I'm waiting, I'm also stewing about this ticket I bought. I'm just certain they are going to claim my shop invalid and deny me payment or reimbursement. I can't afford a bloody $42 unused bus ticket! I march back to the bus depot, my believably heavy luggage in tow, gave the agent some story and asked for a refund. It was a convincing tale, so she didn't suspect a thing. I finally got home THREE hours later, unpacked my bag, completed my report explaining the discrepancy between the two Vancouver's. They actually paid me.
I decided not to sign up for any more shops that required me to actually purchase anything I didn't want. My next shop was to pose as a wealthy homeowner planning a bathroom remodel job. I was told to, dress up a bit, and have the name of a made up architect or designer to appear more believable. I had to make an appointment with a sales associate at a high end tile store and spend 20-30 minutes discussing my plans and wait for the associate to write up an estimate. This shop did take about an hour and it paid $15. But the guilt of wasting the woman's time ate at my conscience. And I now have a bag full of sample tiles.
The following three shops required me to assess the Green Peace guys on various street corners downtown. I was to spy on them from afar first and note how they approached different people, then walk past and let them snag me, listen to their entire spiel paying attention to all the details, and then leave them stranded without signing up (actually, signing up was an option, but I opted out.). Again, I felt a bit bad about wasting their time, but I'm getting used to this gig by now. These shops were also $10 each and each took about an hour plus my walk downtown (30 minutes).
My final shop last week required me to inquire about and then purchase an eggnog latte at Peet's Coffee & Tea on Upper Queen Anne. Why the eggnog? Blech. Any other holiday latte, but the eggnog, please! I did the shop, bought the latte, and it was actually drinkable. I had a nasty cold and couldn't really taste much, so that probably helped. Again, that shop was fairly easy and painless and also paid $10.
Final consensus? It was a lot of running around town for a total of $77. I'm sure there is an easier way. Like maybe actually working at Peet's Coffee Shop for minimum wage. I'll re-visit that thought after my three week vacation.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Dating in Seattle- Or Not
I've pulled up my line from the 'Barrel of Fish' and put it away for the season. Internet dating just isn't my thing. I'm not sure how I'll meet my mate, but there's got to be a better way. I will say, however, that one of my man pals met a woman from the POF site. She lives in Vermont, he in Seattle. She flew out to meet him face to face this weekend to see if they are 'a match.' I'm dying for the consensus. I love hearing success stories.
'Tis the season. My friend, the Culinary Queen, met her man in school at the start of spring quarter and they announced their engagement just before Thanksgiving. My San Diego pal is jetting off to Jamaica for the holidays and plans to pop the question- or at least broach the subject - to her fella. I'm secretly suspecting at least one or two more announcements by the time 2009 rolls around.
I was telling an old high school friend, who is married, about my lack of dating luck and she says to me "do you text?" I don't and apparently that's my problem. "All the single people I know text to date," she said.
She's right. Singles aren't asking each other out on proper dates. It's a text message "are you going to be out tonight? You want to hook up later?" or the ever famous, yet irritating and grammatically incorrect, "where u at?" That's exactly right! Remember the POF guy who sent me a 'spontaneous' text message at 4.45 p.m. asking me to dinner right then? If I'm going to date, I might have to put my old fashion ways aside or be stuck dating geezers. Even using the word "text" as a verb drives me insane. My hairs go up especially fast when someone says "he texted me..." "Texted?" You've got to be kidding.
On Friday I had dinner with my friend whose husband died suddenly a year ago August. Her five year old son asked her recently when they were going to get a new daddy. Heartbreaking as that is, my friend keeps her sense of humor. Her son even came up with a list of criteria:
1. He must not be married
2. He must not be related
3. He must not be in jail
Hmmm....smart kid. Maybe I need to keep my criteria as simple as that.
Nah. I'll stick to the list that's as long as my arm. I enjoy a challenge.
'Tis the season. My friend, the Culinary Queen, met her man in school at the start of spring quarter and they announced their engagement just before Thanksgiving. My San Diego pal is jetting off to Jamaica for the holidays and plans to pop the question- or at least broach the subject - to her fella. I'm secretly suspecting at least one or two more announcements by the time 2009 rolls around.
I was telling an old high school friend, who is married, about my lack of dating luck and she says to me "do you text?" I don't and apparently that's my problem. "All the single people I know text to date," she said.
She's right. Singles aren't asking each other out on proper dates. It's a text message "are you going to be out tonight? You want to hook up later?" or the ever famous, yet irritating and grammatically incorrect, "where u at?" That's exactly right! Remember the POF guy who sent me a 'spontaneous' text message at 4.45 p.m. asking me to dinner right then? If I'm going to date, I might have to put my old fashion ways aside or be stuck dating geezers. Even using the word "text" as a verb drives me insane. My hairs go up especially fast when someone says "he texted me..." "Texted?" You've got to be kidding.
On Friday I had dinner with my friend whose husband died suddenly a year ago August. Her five year old son asked her recently when they were going to get a new daddy. Heartbreaking as that is, my friend keeps her sense of humor. Her son even came up with a list of criteria:
1. He must not be married
2. He must not be related
3. He must not be in jail
Hmmm....smart kid. Maybe I need to keep my criteria as simple as that.
Nah. I'll stick to the list that's as long as my arm. I enjoy a challenge.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Home Stretch
Here we are two days in. Into December, that is- the home stretch of 2008. Suddenly we are reminded of those New Years resolutions set way back in January. What were they? Simplify life. Have a plan by fall. Ummm, I think that is all I could muster up at the time (http://wandrwoman.blogspot.com/2008/01/happy-super-new-year.html) and even that was pretty undoable as it turns out. Well, if by 'simpler life' I meant work less and have less, I guess I have accomplished that much. And if by 'have a plan by fall' I meant come up with an outline of a variety of possibilities, then, okay, I've got that covered too. Can't totally beat myself up, now can I?
Besides entering the month of holiday hub bub, which I could simply do without, we're also entering the month of too much spending, family stress, overbooked social calendars, head colds, and an overload on Christmas music, Christmas related foods and Christmas decorations. I know I know, I sound like Eb Scrooge. I'm not really a Scrooge (well, maybe a tiny bit), but I just think so much of the season is lost on us as human beings during this month. I witnessed one interviewee tell a news reporter that things are so tight this year she is going to have to reduce the gift to her sister from $200 to $100. Okay, 'Sister McCain,' get a grip. I realize everybody has different spending habits, different incomes and different expectations, but wow. No offense, Friends and Family, but I'm not sure even if I had the money, I'd spend $200 on each of you. Sorry, not a Scrooge, just reasonable.
I so enjoyed the holidays when I lived abroad. For one thing, I never heard the phrase "Happy Holidays" until about three days before Christmas. Although there were holiday decorations sparkling throughout the major cities' squares, people put their Christmas trees up a few days before Christmas, not four weeks prior. Our trees are practically dead by the time Christmas rolls around. "Johnny, don't bump the tree or the needles will drop!" Hell, the needles will drop if you just walk past it too quickly.
Although the Christmas frenzy and commercialism give me a bit of angst, there are a few holiday traditions I do actually enjoy and embrace. Last Sunday some friends invited me to join them for the "Festival of Trees" at the Fairmont Hotel and the Gingerbread House Exhibit at the Sheraton. These are free exhibits open to the public and truly amazing and inspirational.
I also enjoy homemade Christmas cookies...a lot. Not a lot of cookies, I just enjoy them immensely. And most of all, I love the classic holiday movies "White Christmas," "Gift of the Magi," "It's a Wonderful Life, "Home for the Holidays," and, of course, "How the Grinch Stole Christmas."
So even though this Grinchy Scrooge is flying away for the holidays to avoid the whole routine, she does have a special place in her heart for the Space Needle all lit up-a beautiful scene!
Friday, November 21, 2008
On the Road Again
I spent the last three days driving a woman's car from Seattle to Denver. She's relocating to Vale, CO but didn't want to drive there, so she hired me to transport her car. Being the somewhat adventurous woman that I am, I figured it'd be a bit of a gas. I'd see some parts of the country I hadn't seen before and it'd be an interesting experience. I didn't plan how many miles I'd drive each day exactly, or where I'd stay each night. I barely plan my life, why would I plan a three day car trip. I knew I needed to be at the Denver airport at 11.00 a.m. on Friday. What more did I need to plan?
Somewhere between Pendelton, OR and Ogdan, UT I began to realize there was a reason I hadn't been to this neck of the woods til now. After half a day driving through the desolate sage brush country of Eastern Washington, I landed in Pendelton ready for a comfortable bed, a hot meal and some exploration. It was nearing on 7.00 when I rode into town and the entire place was buttoned up tight as a drum by then. I found a cheap, yet comfortable motel, "America's Best Value Inn," and wandered out to find that hot meal. After a satisfying Mexican meal I asked the waitress if there was a grocery or drug store nearby I could walk to. She explained that her town only had a Safeway and a Walmart and they were both very far. I could not walk there. I decided to take a meander around myself. I needed the exercise after all day driving and the Mexican food needed a chance to settle. It wasn't all that far before I ran into an Albertson's.
The next day I headed out in good weather toward La Grande, pronouncing it in my head with a Mexican accent, trilling the 'r' a bit and emphasising the 'e'. I hit some serious fog going over "Dead Man's Pass". The truckers and I were creeping along gripping the steering wheel. Well, I was gripping mine, I can't speak for the experienced truckers. I caught a glimpse of a sign that read "View Point" and had a tinge of annoyance. Sure, I finally come across something worth viewing and I can't even see the hood of my car. The creeping went on for what seemed like hours, but it was probably only about 45 minutes or so. When we get out of the fog and back into daylight, I drive into La Grande for refueling and a latte. I'm actually in search of a Starbucks which I find a bit humorous considering the size of these towns. Unlike good 'ol Seattle with a Starbucks, Tully's or Seattle's Best on every corner, the rest of the country pretty much serves coffee from a pot that's been on the burner far too long.
While entering the town, I switch the radio station to an audible one and hear the announcer talking about La Grande and he's pronouncing it like, well...a hill billy. La Grand- with a real emphasize on the AND. I laugh a little at my assumption of how the town would be called. And I laugh a little more when I find a Starbucks. Yes, inside the Safeway store. Yea! Pumpkin Spice Latte and hit the road.
Approximately five hundred miles of brown sage brush and rolling lifeless hills of McCain Country later, I land in Ogdan, UT. For some reason I had the idea this would be an actual town. It was a suburb at best with a couple of four lane roads lined with fast food joints and chain restaurants. My slumber choices were Motel 6 or The Royal Inn. Believe it or not the Motel 6 looked the least seedy. I was starving by now and wanted a hot sit down meal before crashing for the night. Clearly there was to be no nightlife or exploration in this town. My sit down dining choices consisted of Chili's or Applebee's. I flipped a mental coin and chose Applebee's. I'd never actually eaten at either. It was about how I'd expected. Dark green carpet, chairs with wheels on them, those hanging stained glass lamps over every table and a lot of poor food choices. I ordered off the "Weight Watcher's" menu and had a grilled chicken, roasted potatoes and broccoli. It was hot and filled me up. Except for the satisfying part, mission accomplished.
I then headed on to my Motel 6 experience. The last time I stayed at a Motel 6 I think I was about 18 when I snuck off with my boyfriend. Not much has changed except the price. Instead of $13.99 the room rate was $43.99 plus tax. I paid the extra $2.99 for internet, but then it didn't work, so got a refund. Upon taking stock of the room, I realized what I got at the "Value Inn" for an extra $20.00- shampoo, conditioner, body lotion, coffee, microwave, refrigerator, king sized bed, hair dryer, and internet connection. It was my feeling that Motel 6 prided themselves on a clean sparse environment for which to sleep, shower and leave promptly in the a.m. No problem since that was my plan anyway. I actually slept quite well. But then after 9 hours in the car anyone should sleep well.
Next day consisted of 8-9 hours of ...you guessed it, more sage brush, more brown fields of nothing as far as the eye could see. By now I'm hoping my 'employer' doesn't have an Obama sticker on the back bumper or I'm going to get shot for sure. I'm starting to get a bit rummy by this point. Other than my one proper meal per day at dinner time, I've been sustaining on a diet of car snacks: cheese and crackers, trail mix, a couple of apples and some supposedly healthy fruit snack moms guiltlessly feed their children that are really nothing more than candy. I've listened to more country music and Christian stations than I ever knew existed. I think we might have one of each in Seattle. I heard young country, fresh country, old country, best country. It was getting to the point where I actually knew the words to some of the songs by this point and was singing along. I was also making up stories about my fellow drivers. Each day you'd get into a clump and drive with the same people all day long. I'd pass Ms. Florida, then stop at a rest stop, get back on the freeway and Ms. Florida would soon pass me. It would go on like this all day. Where is Ms. Florida headed? She has a mattress in the backseat. Is she moving back to Florida? Oh, there goes Mr. and Mrs. Utah for the third time today. They are going east. For Thanksgiving maybe? See the grand kids? Then, of course, there are the truckers hauling who knows what in those trailers. More stories to invent. Oh, here's my favorite country song, yet again.
I arrived in Golden, outside of Denver Thursday night and stayed at my cousin's house before meeting my car's owner at the airport in the a.m. It was a good drive. The roads were clear, the weather optimal and I got here safely. Would I do it again? You betcha.
Somewhere between Pendelton, OR and Ogdan, UT I began to realize there was a reason I hadn't been to this neck of the woods til now. After half a day driving through the desolate sage brush country of Eastern Washington, I landed in Pendelton ready for a comfortable bed, a hot meal and some exploration. It was nearing on 7.00 when I rode into town and the entire place was buttoned up tight as a drum by then. I found a cheap, yet comfortable motel, "America's Best Value Inn," and wandered out to find that hot meal. After a satisfying Mexican meal I asked the waitress if there was a grocery or drug store nearby I could walk to. She explained that her town only had a Safeway and a Walmart and they were both very far. I could not walk there. I decided to take a meander around myself. I needed the exercise after all day driving and the Mexican food needed a chance to settle. It wasn't all that far before I ran into an Albertson's.
The next day I headed out in good weather toward La Grande, pronouncing it in my head with a Mexican accent, trilling the 'r' a bit and emphasising the 'e'. I hit some serious fog going over "Dead Man's Pass". The truckers and I were creeping along gripping the steering wheel. Well, I was gripping mine, I can't speak for the experienced truckers. I caught a glimpse of a sign that read "View Point" and had a tinge of annoyance. Sure, I finally come across something worth viewing and I can't even see the hood of my car. The creeping went on for what seemed like hours, but it was probably only about 45 minutes or so. When we get out of the fog and back into daylight, I drive into La Grande for refueling and a latte. I'm actually in search of a Starbucks which I find a bit humorous considering the size of these towns. Unlike good 'ol Seattle with a Starbucks, Tully's or Seattle's Best on every corner, the rest of the country pretty much serves coffee from a pot that's been on the burner far too long.
While entering the town, I switch the radio station to an audible one and hear the announcer talking about La Grande and he's pronouncing it like, well...a hill billy. La Grand- with a real emphasize on the AND. I laugh a little at my assumption of how the town would be called. And I laugh a little more when I find a Starbucks. Yes, inside the Safeway store. Yea! Pumpkin Spice Latte and hit the road.
Approximately five hundred miles of brown sage brush and rolling lifeless hills of McCain Country later, I land in Ogdan, UT. For some reason I had the idea this would be an actual town. It was a suburb at best with a couple of four lane roads lined with fast food joints and chain restaurants. My slumber choices were Motel 6 or The Royal Inn. Believe it or not the Motel 6 looked the least seedy. I was starving by now and wanted a hot sit down meal before crashing for the night. Clearly there was to be no nightlife or exploration in this town. My sit down dining choices consisted of Chili's or Applebee's. I flipped a mental coin and chose Applebee's. I'd never actually eaten at either. It was about how I'd expected. Dark green carpet, chairs with wheels on them, those hanging stained glass lamps over every table and a lot of poor food choices. I ordered off the "Weight Watcher's" menu and had a grilled chicken, roasted potatoes and broccoli. It was hot and filled me up. Except for the satisfying part, mission accomplished.
I then headed on to my Motel 6 experience. The last time I stayed at a Motel 6 I think I was about 18 when I snuck off with my boyfriend. Not much has changed except the price. Instead of $13.99 the room rate was $43.99 plus tax. I paid the extra $2.99 for internet, but then it didn't work, so got a refund. Upon taking stock of the room, I realized what I got at the "Value Inn" for an extra $20.00- shampoo, conditioner, body lotion, coffee, microwave, refrigerator, king sized bed, hair dryer, and internet connection. It was my feeling that Motel 6 prided themselves on a clean sparse environment for which to sleep, shower and leave promptly in the a.m. No problem since that was my plan anyway. I actually slept quite well. But then after 9 hours in the car anyone should sleep well.
Next day consisted of 8-9 hours of ...you guessed it, more sage brush, more brown fields of nothing as far as the eye could see. By now I'm hoping my 'employer' doesn't have an Obama sticker on the back bumper or I'm going to get shot for sure. I'm starting to get a bit rummy by this point. Other than my one proper meal per day at dinner time, I've been sustaining on a diet of car snacks: cheese and crackers, trail mix, a couple of apples and some supposedly healthy fruit snack moms guiltlessly feed their children that are really nothing more than candy. I've listened to more country music and Christian stations than I ever knew existed. I think we might have one of each in Seattle. I heard young country, fresh country, old country, best country. It was getting to the point where I actually knew the words to some of the songs by this point and was singing along. I was also making up stories about my fellow drivers. Each day you'd get into a clump and drive with the same people all day long. I'd pass Ms. Florida, then stop at a rest stop, get back on the freeway and Ms. Florida would soon pass me. It would go on like this all day. Where is Ms. Florida headed? She has a mattress in the backseat. Is she moving back to Florida? Oh, there goes Mr. and Mrs. Utah for the third time today. They are going east. For Thanksgiving maybe? See the grand kids? Then, of course, there are the truckers hauling who knows what in those trailers. More stories to invent. Oh, here's my favorite country song, yet again.
I arrived in Golden, outside of Denver Thursday night and stayed at my cousin's house before meeting my car's owner at the airport in the a.m. It was a good drive. The roads were clear, the weather optimal and I got here safely. Would I do it again? You betcha.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Forget Paris
And Prague, Amsterdam, Lisbon, Athens. I don't actually need to forget Paris, or any of my other favorite travel destinations, but I need to find another way to remember them.
I seem to have lost track of time. I'll be telling a story of my six month sabbatical when I traipsed off to Europe after my divorce in 2002. The six months that turned into three plus years. Someone will ask me "when did you return to Seattle?" Ummm, errr, eh hem...two and a half years ago. Two and a half years ago? Already? How did that happen? It seems like only yesterday (or maybe a year ago) I landed back in Seattle, set up a "temporary" apartment where minimal wall hangings have been hung, and told friends and family I'd be out of this city in six months. Bags would be packed and I'd be off to explore new territories, delving into another adventure. Or at the very least, setting up camp in a new city.
I'm reminded daily of my past European days and how long ago they actually were. The pajama bottoms I bought in Prague in a very cold 2002 winter are beginning to fray around the waistband. These flannels got me through some horrifically cold nights abroad. My well loved bikini from the Greek Island of Skiathos purchased the summer of 2003 has faded from its vibrant royal to a dull sea soaked drab, blotchy, bluish tone. The funky stylish shoes I bought in Amsterdam for New Years Eve 2004 have walked equal distance from the Netherlands to Seattle. I'm still wearing them, but they really should retire. To be honest, I'll probably squeak one more season out of them, though. The red Haviannas (Lisbon, Spring 2004) are still some of the most comfortable flip flops in my collection - and I do have quite the collection. However, they are beginning to show some serious signs of wear and tear. The lining of the winter coat bought in Turkey November 2005 has long since torn and I've lost my keys or other precious objects through the holes in the pockets more times than I can count. The zipper finally broke altogether last season and I was forced to bid it a farewell.
And my most coveted item, the jean jacket given to me in Prague by my favorite travel buddy the spring of 2003, is held together by mere threads. The pockets boast flag pins of the places I lived during that wonderful and memorable period of my life. I can't wash the jacket or it will disintegrate completely. However, if I wear it any longer, my Seattle friends will pick it off my body like a vulture picking at a weak crow. I'm sure they can hardly stand to see me donning that garment at this stage. I try not to wear it, but sometimes it's the only thing that seems to suit my mood. The fabric is so soft at this point, the comfort is warming and the memories it brings are soothing.
I guess it's time to bid ado to many of these old European garments and look ahead to the future. It's okay to keep the stories of my life abroad, tell a tale or two now and then when appropriate. But clinging to the scraps of threadbare fabric can't be healthy for a woman trying to move into the next phase of her wonderful life and stop re-living the last episode via her clothes.
I seem to have lost track of time. I'll be telling a story of my six month sabbatical when I traipsed off to Europe after my divorce in 2002. The six months that turned into three plus years. Someone will ask me "when did you return to Seattle?" Ummm, errr, eh hem...two and a half years ago. Two and a half years ago? Already? How did that happen? It seems like only yesterday (or maybe a year ago) I landed back in Seattle, set up a "temporary" apartment where minimal wall hangings have been hung, and told friends and family I'd be out of this city in six months. Bags would be packed and I'd be off to explore new territories, delving into another adventure. Or at the very least, setting up camp in a new city.
I'm reminded daily of my past European days and how long ago they actually were. The pajama bottoms I bought in Prague in a very cold 2002 winter are beginning to fray around the waistband. These flannels got me through some horrifically cold nights abroad. My well loved bikini from the Greek Island of Skiathos purchased the summer of 2003 has faded from its vibrant royal to a dull sea soaked drab, blotchy, bluish tone. The funky stylish shoes I bought in Amsterdam for New Years Eve 2004 have walked equal distance from the Netherlands to Seattle. I'm still wearing them, but they really should retire. To be honest, I'll probably squeak one more season out of them, though. The red Haviannas (Lisbon, Spring 2004) are still some of the most comfortable flip flops in my collection - and I do have quite the collection. However, they are beginning to show some serious signs of wear and tear. The lining of the winter coat bought in Turkey November 2005 has long since torn and I've lost my keys or other precious objects through the holes in the pockets more times than I can count. The zipper finally broke altogether last season and I was forced to bid it a farewell.
And my most coveted item, the jean jacket given to me in Prague by my favorite travel buddy the spring of 2003, is held together by mere threads. The pockets boast flag pins of the places I lived during that wonderful and memorable period of my life. I can't wash the jacket or it will disintegrate completely. However, if I wear it any longer, my Seattle friends will pick it off my body like a vulture picking at a weak crow. I'm sure they can hardly stand to see me donning that garment at this stage. I try not to wear it, but sometimes it's the only thing that seems to suit my mood. The fabric is so soft at this point, the comfort is warming and the memories it brings are soothing.
I guess it's time to bid ado to many of these old European garments and look ahead to the future. It's okay to keep the stories of my life abroad, tell a tale or two now and then when appropriate. But clinging to the scraps of threadbare fabric can't be healthy for a woman trying to move into the next phase of her wonderful life and stop re-living the last episode via her clothes.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Plenty Off Ish
As much as there has been a certain amount of synergy happening in my life, it hasn't been in the area of romance, that's for sure.
I had my first date with a guy from Plenty of Fish (a.k.a. Plenty Off Ish) last night. This guy contacted me first. Then he suggested we meet. This was about a month ago. Due to a variety of circumstances we haven't been able to actually hook up since our first interaction on the internet.
Last night at nearly Five Oh Oh, I get a text message...yeah a text message...asking if I'd like to join him for dinner. I didn't actually see the message until a little after five and I didn't reply right away. I had to hem and haw and stew about it for a few moments. 1. a text message? 2. at five o'clock in the evening? 3. a last minute invitation for dinner? 4. how soon can I be ready? I was sort of in the middle of something 5. I was planning to go to yoga. Do I want to forfeit my yoga? 6. OK, we've been trying to meet, let's just go with this and be spontaneous!
So I call him back, not text. He doesn't answer. I leave a voice message. He calls me back and asks me where would be good for dinner. He asks me to dinner and then doesn't have anything in mind? I get really tired of always having to do the work when it comes to dating.
We were discussing a good meeting spot when I almost said "wherever is convenient for you" and stopped myself short. No, no, no. There I go being all accommodating. I'm the one without a car. He asked me. Let him come to me. And he did come to my neighborhood. I suggested a variety of restaurants, he picked one and we met there. Perfect.
The man was pleasant enough. Isn't that just how you'd want a date to describe you, "pleasant enough?" At the end of the meal (which he paid for), he asked if I wanted to go for a coffee, so we did. He nodded to his car parked across the street obviously making a point to work it into the conversation somehow. I glanced over and said it was nice. However, honestly, I had no idea what it was, but it did look nice. I was looking at it from the side and had no clue of the make or model. I'm not into cars anymore. I used to be years ago. Now I don't even own a car, so I'm really not into them. If they have wheels and an engine, I think they're fantastic. So I fessed up and asked him what it was. He laughed at me and told me it was a Mercedes. He also said it was a very rare model. So I committed the ultimate faux pas by not knowing what the car was and failing to show just how impressed I was. I forgot about men and their cars. Oh well. I think by that point, we knew we were not a match anyway. Yup, that's dating. I'll keep at it.
I had my first date with a guy from Plenty of Fish (a.k.a. Plenty Off Ish) last night. This guy contacted me first. Then he suggested we meet. This was about a month ago. Due to a variety of circumstances we haven't been able to actually hook up since our first interaction on the internet.
Last night at nearly Five Oh Oh, I get a text message...yeah a text message...asking if I'd like to join him for dinner. I didn't actually see the message until a little after five and I didn't reply right away. I had to hem and haw and stew about it for a few moments. 1. a text message? 2. at five o'clock in the evening? 3. a last minute invitation for dinner? 4. how soon can I be ready? I was sort of in the middle of something 5. I was planning to go to yoga. Do I want to forfeit my yoga? 6. OK, we've been trying to meet, let's just go with this and be spontaneous!
So I call him back, not text. He doesn't answer. I leave a voice message. He calls me back and asks me where would be good for dinner. He asks me to dinner and then doesn't have anything in mind? I get really tired of always having to do the work when it comes to dating.
We were discussing a good meeting spot when I almost said "wherever is convenient for you" and stopped myself short. No, no, no. There I go being all accommodating. I'm the one without a car. He asked me. Let him come to me. And he did come to my neighborhood. I suggested a variety of restaurants, he picked one and we met there. Perfect.
The man was pleasant enough. Isn't that just how you'd want a date to describe you, "pleasant enough?" At the end of the meal (which he paid for), he asked if I wanted to go for a coffee, so we did. He nodded to his car parked across the street obviously making a point to work it into the conversation somehow. I glanced over and said it was nice. However, honestly, I had no idea what it was, but it did look nice. I was looking at it from the side and had no clue of the make or model. I'm not into cars anymore. I used to be years ago. Now I don't even own a car, so I'm really not into them. If they have wheels and an engine, I think they're fantastic. So I fessed up and asked him what it was. He laughed at me and told me it was a Mercedes. He also said it was a very rare model. So I committed the ultimate faux pas by not knowing what the car was and failing to show just how impressed I was. I forgot about men and their cars. Oh well. I think by that point, we knew we were not a match anyway. Yup, that's dating. I'll keep at it.
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