The Dromomaniac

Khyber Impasse

Frustration leads my brain to dream of escaping. Thankfully, there's National Geographic Traveler to fuel my fire.

This month's issue is about the 50 most interesting tours. I'm not a tour kinda chick, but most of these are far off the beaten path. And some are remarkably affordable. So now, naturally, I'm dreaming of the Silk Road and of Bhutan. 

(Actually, this Silk Road thing is not entirely new. A few years ago, a friend and I were discussing what an interesting project it would be to create a linguistic map of the Silk  Road to determine the lingua francae back in the day. So you see, I must go. It's in the name of academia.)

True Story

Mexico City. 1999.

I'm at the international airport connecting from San Jose, Costa Rica to Los Angeles. I've been out of the States for a few months and have a crappy, dusty backpack to prove it. I stand in a long line for a health check, fretting the whole while: I have a tight connection to make, and as it is now, there's not a chance for me to make it.

The line snakes around several times. I'm internally berating myself for not planning better. After spending so much time in Mexico, I know that schedules mean nothing. "Esperati" means "I'll wait for you", but literally means "I hope for you." This speaks volumes about the national psyche.

I chat lightly with a young Israeli couple behind me. She looks all of 20, small, dirty blond, and carrying a mulish load similar to my own. He's tall and rail-thin, scraggly brown hair curling around his ears. They've been making their way through Latin America and are heading to Argentina. They shrug and laugh when I tell them the time of my connecting flight.

A voice booms over loud speakers. I don't know what it's saying, mostly because the transmission is so terrible. The Israeli woman determines that it's a warning about the rigorous health check for which we are queued. 

A Mexican official approaches me and opens his hand. I give him my passport, which he studies with intensity. "Where were you?" he demands. I tell him. "How long?" I tell him. "Where are you from?" I tell him. He hesitates 20 seconds and waves me along. "All clear, go ahead."

And THAT, folks, is why the swine flu is in Mexico.

Things are lookin' a whole lotta up right about now.

I got some VERY welcome news yesterday. I don't want to go into details as it seems rather gauche to do so, but it puts me in a good position financially this year. I feel almost guilty saying that, given what so many people are up against these days. And I'm not talking about la grippe porcine, if that's what you're thinking.

I also committed to training at the gym. EEEE. GGGADS. I don't know if I'm ready for this, but I need to be. The situation has gotten outta control. It's downright disturbing. I'm excited to start, though; I'll be stoked if this broad can get me even close to where Iva had me, though that's highly doubtful. I was 125 and tight! Ah, the 20s... God love 'em...

Tonight was also the last night of my Global Literacy class. I absolutely LOVED it. I'm so sorry I couldn't take more of the components. I'm also so sorry that everyone isn't legally required to learn from these two women. The depth and breadth of their work is very impressive and I'm flattering myself into hoping that I may be able to collaborate one day. 

Really?

Must I go to work today? It seems so pedestrian.

(42 days to go...)

Summer: Early Edition

After so many months of being sun-deprived, I toss myself into skin cancer potential with reckless abandon. Roswell, I'm talking to YOU.

It's been GORGEOUS here. I'm not an all-caps kinda girl, so you know I'm serious.

I walked ten miles yesterday just ensure I'd get out and get some sun. Since it's so early in the year, I can't get too badly burnt. So I repeated the exposure in the backyard both yesterday and today. I'm a mild strawberry red, nothing too offensive. And I loves it.

Anyway, here are a few pics of my birdfeeder and the lil' lovelies that are brave enough to visit it while I sit like an animal of prey.

Enough!

Yes, I'm going to bitch about the weather. This is reeDEEculous! It's the end of April and it's friggin' freezing out. Today's high is a balmy 43F. Fuck that noise.

In other news, I bought this necklace for the wedding; the previous purchase was leather and I didn't feel right about it. This one works better anyway AND the designer made matching earrings! I wore them all yesterday because I couldn't wait and I love love love them.

Oh, and I only have two weeks of college left.

Oh, and I'm taking a class about Islam and I love love love that as well.

1 Down, 48 to Go

So I only have 48 days of work until summer vacation!

Yes, I'm already counting...

Tweet

We put up the birdhouse!

The backyard is so much fun now. The birds are going hog-wild at the bird feeder, so I couldn't wait to get the birdhouse up. Paul put it up for me this afternoon, complete with straw inside to make nesting that much easier. If I was a bird, I'd totally want to live there. So now I keep creeping back there like the crazy stalker lady that I am and seeing who's pecking away at the feeder. There's a lot of chickadees, so I'm going to try to train some to eat from my hand. I had two carefully considering it just now, but they were still a little too unsure to go for it.

Next up is a birdbath. And a hammock. 

Birdhouse Rocks!

Well, I'm FINALLY feeling better after illin' for a week. I rebounded in time to receive the piles of birthday presents that Paul delivered. Yay! He got me so many wonderful things, but my favorite is a new birdhouse!! It's so amazingly awesome and I can't wait to put it up. I stalk the poor birds in the backyard and get so excited when I see loads of 'em pecking away at my feeder. He also got me a bottle of my favorite champagne (Entre Ciel et Terre by Francoise Bedel) which we're saving for some other time. And by that, I mean to crack when the birdhouse is up.

Parlay!

These pirate stories headlining the news of late would be far more interesting if any of the offenders resembled Johnny Depp in the least. Very inconsiderate of them, I say.