Globespotters

I LOVE THIS BLOG from the New York Times. A little solace for those of us not able to do quite as much pleasure-travel right now. (whimper whimper)

for a visitor

some lesser-known new york (good weather) recommendations:

• walk down a major avenue such as madison, fifth, or broadway above 34th listening to flight of the conchords' "fou de fa fa," with gusto.
• eat a bagel with lox
• eat it standing or walking
• go to central park; lazily enjoy people-watching at sheep meadow and toy boat pond. feel concerned at being misinterpreted for pedophile in wanting to take photos of kids with their frenchie model sailboats and crawling on alice in wonderland statue just north of pond.
• a long walk, such as battery park, east river park, across brooklyn bridge (okay not as lesser-known).
• visit a deli that offers way too many ethnic cuisines under one roof. select from the most credible/benign cuisine. often this means diet coke or bagel, usually you want to steer clear of the indian food that's been sitting under lamps for hours.
• newly opened highline in uber-trendy meatpacking district.
• stroll through williamsburg, the LES, or even (gasp) the east village, secretly smirking at over-done hipness.
• have some frozen yogurt, and/or a cupcake. so hot right now.
• sit in bryant park. suck up the beautiful calm in the storm.
  
• see a free outdoor performance, such as shakespeare or concerts in the park/ on the river.
• buy food from a cart. street meat if you are brave.
  
• ride the subway to one of the outer boroughs. stand clear of the closing doors.
• stand in line for a ridiculous length of time at shake shack in madison park, to be rewarded for your patience with delicious burgers or ice-cream based desserts.
• walk through SoHo, residential West Village, and/or billionaires' townhomes around the Met uptown to marvel the lives of others. it's amazing what other people's walls, light fixtures, and ceilings say about them.

the city life

did I write this? transposed from my mind by others-

from the NYT

hit the ground running

tired and wired, we ruin too easy
sleep in our clothes and wait for winter to leave

Well, winter has left! -sunny and pleasant in my neck of the woods; I also heard that Seattle had it even better today after their recent cold streak.

Teeny and I are catching up on interweb-related activities (and listening to The National, damn I love them!) as we have played host and tour guide to my mother on her first-ever trip to new york city for the past five days. I didn't realize until after getting up early on the last day and screaming around midtown (mother had to get in her Letterman show Hello Deli fix in) before sending her off for her flight, just how completely exhausted I am. Emphasize completely. I literally watched her get in the airport shuttle from my stoop, walked eight steps back into the apartment, and fell asleep on the couch. The woman doesn't sleep.

I took two days off from work at the end of the week to spend more time tour-guiding, but of course they weren't for resting- the Met, Staten Island Ferry, Rockefeller Center and the observation deck, Times Square and a night at the theater, Fifth Ave and Central Park and a few brunches.... we got a good amount of stuff in. Of course you can't do it all in your first trip to a city, but we didn't do so bad in covering most of Manhattan, considering my mom is kinda slow. I love my mom, but she's the first one to admit she's kinda old and broken. ;) I kinda felt like I was dragging her along at times.

Below, a couple scenes from the Kristin and Erika show:







































So I'm actually a little okay with going back to work tomorrow, it will be (initially) a little refreshing to do some sitting.

Give me your tired, your poor...

Mos' def poor after these past few days.

In honor of my mother, who is apparently in love with what Photobooth on my MacBook can do, here we are, blogging and rocking out. the lap was Teeny's idea, she likes to drive (and to rock out); Leo's not quite as fond as being in front of the screen. He's a low-tech boy.

grumble

I'm a little grumpy.

Before I get into that, I just watched a really excellent movie, Quinceañera. Sundance winner, great characters and a beautifully developed story. Of course, as I am wont to do, I had to cry, and now maybe that's contributing to my little cloud.

But I rationalize everything... I think everything into the ground, which can be great and thorough, and can be excessive, needless stewing. I don't think it's just having cried at the movie that made me grumpy.

There are compound factors to said grumpiness. I am starting my period; and sadly, contrary to what I'd like to believe about stereotyping of genders, I turn into an unhappy, sometimes irrational being right before. We also had layoffs at our office again yesterday, which makes for a less-than joyous work environment, on top of me being on a significant deadline to finish construction documents for a playground I'm designing in Queens. Said schoolyard had some significant hiccups this week and I'm feeling a little drained from work. In addition to some completely demanding and loony personalities (still remaining) in my office.

I love what I do but here I am in Type-A New York, working till seven or later commonly because that's how it goes here. And that, frankly, is not very me... I want to do more than work and sleep in this town, goddamnit. I find I'm pretty darn West Coast inside, less stressed over life and wanting to go home at a reasonable hour. Apparently west-coasters talk slower, I've heard. And we certainly don't need a damn straw to drink a can of coke.

On another work-related note, I've begun the process of testing for licensure as a registered landscape architect. That's five tests, which I've decided to spread out slowly in order to study thoroughly. Oftentimes it feels like the process will span an eternity. I just moved here to this amazing city and signed up for years of studying. Boo.

I also haven't gotten a good vacation in a while. I'd say no true vacation for a couple years, and in this economic climate in the town of money-oriented wall-street worriers, and the fact that I'm still waiting for my moving-related expenses to even out, make me hesitant to cast worry aside and book a trip to the Yucatan or Croatia or the Mediterranean (see, I'm dreaming already) as I'd been hoping for. And travel is so goddamn cheap right now it's infuriating. Just a few hours across the Atlantic... I'm even considering going to Savannah, or the Keys for an extended weekend, just for a change. Less jet fuel to consume that way, too.

Part of me, the grin-and-bear-it, so many people have it worse in this world part, knows that I have it okay. This town is incredible. I may be occasionally going stir-crazy in wintry nyc in my closet-sized studio, but I have good things going for me. Even if I were laid off on Tuesday, so what, I have to find someone to take over my lease if I don't find another job, and I get to go back to Seattle? I've already discovered quite a few things that make Seattle irreplaceable since leaving there, aside from my beloved people. Life, I s'pose, will take us where it will.

On the other hand, though, this situation is a bitch. The world is modeling itself after american culture. Money-grubbing, I am entitled-to-anything, over-consuming, irresponsible america. Not the kind-to-thy-neighbor, optimistic, equal-opportunity america, that somehow did not rise to the surface. We have driven the world's systems, economy, and equity into a pit by feeling entitled to a life of luxury, entitled to have and do and go wherever and however. We have a world full of places, including the United States, where the division of resources and power is greater between the rich and the poor than it ever has been before. And now Indian and Egyptian and Chinese children model their ideals after this image of happiness and success. But no one growing up now, not even those of us who've already done most of our growing up, will really be able to live that way indefinitely- those who came before us, sadly our own parents' generation, have done a poor job thinking long-term.

As the next generation, we inherit a degraded earth, an exhausted economy and government, and not enough resources to share. We inherit the legacy of a hunger for the things that got us in this situation- giant hamburgers with piles of idaho fries, large stores and houses and the cushy individual vehicles to move us between them, and the airport that takes us on our company trips, or to grandma's house or the nearest sunny respite from all of the stress of the lives we've made for ourselves.

We are in the hole before we even start. We are a savvy generation, the first to be raised in the age of the internet and personal computer, a wealth of ingenuity, but we live hand-to-mouth with finances and aren't excelling at practicing temperance or thinking holistically so far. We will have to learn to drive the ship in totally different circumstances than those who came before us.

We have no idea what life or the world be like when the reigns are passed on to us, especially given the lack of stability in these times. I predict it will feel like rollerskating in a sandbox at times.

I'm still grumpy. Maybe even more so. That really wasn't effective therapy, but oh well, every reflection I have reminds me to appreciate and try and do right by what I do have, and have opportunities to impact. Keeps me getting up in the morning, and gives me direction. Just do the best you can every time.

Yeah, that's right.

here goes...

I sat down with my superiors yesterday at work to tell them about my desire to move to New York. They were very supportive.

It's like getting on one of those ridiculously frightening fair rides, or on a waterslide, or what more adventurous individuals might attest skydiving is like. You get all full of anticipation in the time leading up to it (oftentimes anxiety in my case, as I am the constant worrier), but then you come to a point where you have to finally make the decision to jump. It was scary right before, but then you just have to take a deep breath and do it, or say it, as the case may be. And after making the decision, the jump, it's exhilarating. I took my coworker I work with most directly out to coffee and told him, and although the first minute was a little awkward, it's so great to have it out there, to have someone I'm close to on board with the plan, and not have to be cagey or unsure about anything.

Of course right now I'm just in that very first few seconds of freefall, which are all glory and excitement, the thrill of getting used to the idea that it's actually happening after all. It's not any logistics or work at this point. I'm waiting to start coordinating the scheduling and details of the transfer, but I'm really excited about the move. ...Of course, this is all contingent upon the office really truly wanting me after all.... I recently found out that the NYC office is very progressive in addition to being successful, and there are many more senior designers, and some very cool policies in effect there. So I'm hoping that the moving arrangements, and the salary adjustment will also be a good deal, and it will all be clearly the right move.

Of course it's hard, especially for me, to leave so much behind. To acknowledge that you are choosing to leave is a big deal. And though my friends, family, and coworkers have expressed that they'll miss me, everyone has been so supportive in agreeing it's a great opportunity. I think they have to counter my guilt in "abandoning" things. My concern was in leaving my project work, and closest colleague, behind. And though he acknowledged that it will take some finessing to transition my projects out (I serve a kind of unique role in a few of them), he expressed a lot of support as well, and it is such a relief to have that over with. I'll miss some of the privileges I've had in our small Seattle office, and definitely the great people, but I am very excited for the opportunities that await me.

Onward and upward! Yay!

Now I just have to get the NYC office to respond to me in a timely manner. They're pretty hard to track down, I've found.

Hopefully, to use the jumping-off analogy, I won't smack into anything on the way or toward the end. Should be a decent process, given the policy of the firm supporting movement between offices, and paying for moving expenses. And hopefully, unlike a slide, I won't end up at the other side with a wedgie.

déménager

Well, I've been somewhat vague about it for months and it's getting to a point where it feels silly anymore to not be completely clear.



I'm leaving; it's time for a change. I really love Seattle, and I'll come back, but things feel a bit stagnant. I will miss everyone here very much- I have a lot of great people I'll be leaving; but life in Seattle the past couple years hasn't been fabulous (though I'm not intimating that there haven't some great times), so I'm turning over a new leaf.

This sounds kind of like a breakup letter to Seattle.

Seattle, we're not breaking up, we're just on A Break. And I will always, always be faithful to you. I will never, ever believe that any other city has more intelligent, humorous, though down-t0-earth citizens. I will never praise any other town's espresso over yours (well, american towns- we didn't invent it in the US, after all). I will never be convinced that there is any other city that has as stunning natural surroundings, and so close to the metropolitan area. If I do, you can write me off at that point; I am not deserving of you. But I won't, so don't give my seat away.

If you've not heard me belabor the point already, you may ask... where? What place, what city, what locale are you embarking on this affair with?

Good question- I'm not entirely positive. I'm not sure which is my better option, but it's looking like New York City. Paris is still in the running, but my options might be better in NYC. Not only do I have a good job assured there, but I have some very good, close friends in the city who would be my instant support circle.

However, anyone who knows me knows my longstanding love affair with France, especially Paris. It's my goal to get myself there at least once again to spend a significant amount of time in the city of lights and cheese and love and Amelie, and I'm not getting any younger. New York might be a stepping stone to Paris, really, if I end up there first, so why not go straight there if I can? I've found a couple of very interesting firms in Paris.

There are a lot of reasons to go either way, really. My friends aren't going to be in NYC forever. Having a guaranteed job in NYC, and likely my moving expenses paid for, is an opportunity that is good as well and won't be around forever. After all of the difficulties of the past couple years, I'm hesitant to isolate myself in a new career/culture/language so far from my support circle and what I'm familiar with. However, I do want to settle down and get married/have children someday, and I kind of view the moving and the long-term international as something that will slow down if not end when that time comes, so I can't stretch this out forever. I'd like to eventually raise my own children here, and as much as I am impressed by those who have children later in life, I don't want to have my kids past thirty-five. I argue with myself about what I need at this point- how cautious, how exciting, how independent, how brave do I want to be in this move?

(If you're coming Friday, feel free to give your thoughts.)

In all respects, I'll be leaving in October. Yes, cats and all...I might be leaving the left coast, I might be leaving the country. It's very exciting. Turn On The Bright Lights.



At some point I'm going to have to tell my bosses and coworkers this. Which isn't an exciting thought.

beijing

I, like many skeptics, have been somewhat hesitant to embrace the olympics. Between the commercialization and the controversy this year with China's environmental and human rights/political controversies, I found the entire situation to be a little unsettling.

However, viral circumstances caused me to cancel my plans tonight for a date with kleenex and remote, and I ended up planted in front of the 2008 Olympics opening ceremonies.

I cried. I oohed and ahhed. I vowed to go to China. I've never been all that interested in going to China, but those ceremonies made it seem pretty kickass.

Though I do have an odd weakness for on-screen sentimentality, the presentation of the ceremonies was really phenomenal and well thought out in its own right. China is at a very crucial time in its development as a modern country, and it's really interesting to see how they choose to present themselves as a culture and nation given all that they're dealing with.

The ceremonies were stunning- a great show of firepower, technology, and artistry. Fireworks, dancers, LCD projections, people on cables flying through the air- it had the elements you expect, but were unusually uniquely and well-woven together with impressive artistic and technical craft. It told a story about China's history and culture and its future role in the world.

What I really liked, though, was that for as "westernized" as we say China is becoming, this wasn't just a big generic happy show overlayed with silk and calligraphy. There were impressive undertones of significantly Chinese nature- the repeated scenes of 2008 (in quantity) perfectly-synchronized dancers, drummers, and martial artists all spoke loudly of the traditional significance of the group in asian cultures, and of communism. Opening with the many many drummers was so intense it was intimidating, but it was entirely fascinating to see those incredible group scenes operate en masse with such military precision. There was also a clear message about the children being inheritors of our legacy and environment, which was kind of poignant. In my interpretation, the way that the designers choose to tell their story is a fascinating statement about the culture in itself.

As a sidebar, one of the scenes was when they had 2008 people come out onto the floor with parasol-like contraptions that expanded into these big round photographs of faces of smiling children from around the world. Sounds kind of cliche, but it was pretty cool in reality, and of course, made me cry.

Of course, as a designer who works in Asia and other foreign locales upon occasion, I thought the whole design element of the production was fascinating as well. I've found that the Asian aesthetic oftentimes tends to be much more bold and colorful than those of most western cultures. A lot of our design packages going off to or being done withinin China or Korea end up looking like Fantasia to me compared to the stuff we do here in the Northwest, so I was curious to see how the presentation played out. It was certainly bold, and very colorful, and very impressive, but it was really well done so as to not be excessive or gaudy, while still being notable, and I was impressed. Just the design of the new stadium, the Nest, as it's being called, is amazing and iconic.

My sketchy memory may work to my statement's advantage, but this seems significantly more notable than any other Olympics design or presentation before. It's a momentous point in China's history, and they're really trying to live up to it.

Now if only they will use that momentum, and implement the magic they're able to work in pyrotechnics, fancy LCDs, and rhythmic determination into their air and water quality management soon, and stop bulldozing ancient traditional homes for giant high-rises, and let the poor Tibetans decide what to do with themselves, and...

tetris apartments

no, really. not a euphanism. Ljubljana, Slovenia.

I've never thought much of traveling to Slovenia, but this gives me some sort of inkling that I could get along there.

Yes, Please, to public housing like this. I'd get in line for one.

[more here]

Adams photos

Can be found at these links-

Nanako's shots
additional link to mine

head out of the clouds

summit report and Mt Adams reflection


Well, here I am, sitting in one of my favorite rest positions- at a cafe table at Ladro. I've not blogged in a while, as the clusterfuck of illness and mountain-climbing sapped my brains, will, and time. I'm mostly recovered. But I do kind of feel like heavy physical exertion makes you dumber for a while. Maybe just me; I won't make generalizations that may offend.

I climbed Mt. Adams. It was awesome, but I was sick. Real sick. So I had to make the call to not climb Rainier. I'll get to the Rainier discussion later, but I'm trying to feel good about the fact that I did climb Adams, and not dwell on the fact that I didn't do the other.

We (best friend from highschool Nanako, also hschool friend Alicia, two ladies from San Diego Celeste and Lourdez, our guide, Mick, and assistant guide Grant) set out from Seattle thursday the 3rd on a trek down to Adams, which is a 5-hour drive, and an hour east of Portland just north of the Oregon-Washington border. We camped at Lewis and Clark state park, which I believe is near Chehalis. I was super sick, the constantly-coughing-up-fluorescent-mucous kind of sick. We slept on the ground in our sleeping bags, sans tents, and by the time we got up at seven (didn't sleep so well with the coughing and the early light and the goddamn tweeting birds {what is this, Snow fucking White? I've never heard so many goddamn tweeting birds in my life.}), I had created a charming cesspool beside my cocoon. Had bag-packing 101, weighed in (I had the lightest pack, at 42.5 pounds, woo!), and set off on our way toward the mountain.

Mick told us to hydrate up on the way, and I obediently did, apparently to excess, as I was in a lot of pain on the drive from my peanut-sized bladder being over capacity. I made the caravan stop twice (via text-message), once with me comically hurtling toward the rest stop restroom only to end up standing in a line, and the second time even more comically bailing from a moving vehicle at the main intersection in Hood River to bulldoze my way through some kid's pizza party, in so much pain I couldn't even fathom stopping to attempt to form words to ask permission from the management (my apologies, Andrew's Pizza and Bakery). We were behind schedule to begin with, and combined with confusion after loss of cell reception, and at the ranger's station, we ended up a few hours later than desired at the trailhead.

But up we went, enjoying the nice weather from our stylish plastic boots. Plastic boots hauling novices and their fifty-pound packs up the slope, in combination with backcountry wayfinding makes for a really-ephing-slow trek. We made only about 2000 feet of elevation gain that afternoon before needing to set up camp for the evening. We dug out platforms for the tents and had a delicious protein and carbo-load feast of sausage-pesto pasta, soup and bread.

To our pleasant surprise, Mick extracted champagne and sparklers from his pack in honor of our true Independence, and we celebrated the Fourth from our camp at treeline overlooking White Salmon and Hood River. I thought I saw some flashes, but there wasn't anything spectacular to see from above in the form of pyrotechnics. Mick's sparklers saved the day for backcountry patriotism; whew.

Clouds blew in that night and we woke up to an overcast setting. My plastic boots were rubbing my feet and ankles raw in a couple of places, and by the end of the previous night it couldn't be avoided that something more than my band-aids had to be applied, so in the morning we tried to bandage them up. Initially Mick thought the best thing we had was duct tape, and he wrapped a layer of that around my ankles, but then it turned out someone had sports tape, and we added some of that as well. It was awkward, and a little uncomfortable, but better than the painful rubbing. (this, erin, is where you snicker at my shoe-foot catastrophe legacy.)

After breakfast we packed up camp and slogged through our first couple of snowfields in the increasing precipitation. We stopped at lunch for snowclimbing 101. The weather had turned kind of miserable, to some mist and hail/sleet business (well, we were in the clouds, after all), and it wasn't letting up. Though I was kind of feeling like a lame duck with my phlegmy wheezing and slowness, I really enjoyed and kicked ass in the snow climbing department. Perhaps it was because I got to take off the pack. We learned different step techniques (one of them, called the French Technique, haha, I enjoy and am quite good at), learned how to use the ice axe, and also learned self-arrest (handle running across the chest from shoulder to hip, between the boobies, then you flip over to throw a tantrum in the snow). We learned how to glissade, which as I'd like to provide some trivia, is French for "slide," which is exactly what it is- a fun way to efficiently descend (and your knees thank you). Woo! I was also very successful and enthusiastic at that. After lunch we gained about another thousand feet and set up high camp at the toe of the White Salmon glacier in preparation for our summit attempt the next morning.

High camp was at maybe around 8500 feet, with tents dug into the base of the glacier, the camp "kitchen" on the rocks overlooking the woods and vague notions of civilization to the south, the "gear-age" with all our junk in another area on the rocks. Pottying occured downslope on the rocks. Gotta love being above treeline; it redefines privacy.

Pooping in the backcountry occurs one of two ways for the responsible hiker/climber- burying or carrying. Though I've heard typically the "blue bags" on other mountains are just a bag for your poop, on Adams the rangers distribute an elaborate "waste pack-out system:" ziplock bag with paper bag containing kitty litter, paper towel, and printout with instructions on one side, large target on the other. You can either go onto the target, or pick it up using the paper towel. It's pretty awesome. Especially awesome if your body freaks out and refuses to go for days like mine did, then has to go three times on the last day. We buried it all in the snow until the last possible minute, but the descent back into the balmy July heat made the packs less than pleasant as we headed back down later. Yick.

Before heading to bed early that night in preparation for our 2am summit attempt, we all learned to rope up as a team, tied our prussiks, and selected positions on the rope with a setting of a stunning sunset drawn out behind cirrussy clouds. Then we attempted to get a few hours of sleep.

Sadly, I was really really freaked out, between the ankle/foot issues, which had added bruising in addition to the rubbing at that point, and the sick issues, and I didn't get a wink of sleep.

I got up feeling even more neurotic than the night before, but after a wimpy "I'm not so sure about this" to a guide who didn't respond, along I went. We roped up and headed straight up the glacier in the darkness, headlamps gleaming like some sort of candlelight procession. It got gradually steeper and steeper, and I could feel the effect of the altitude in combination with my cold in my wheezy breathing and lack of endurance. I guess that we were moving along more of a 45 degree slope in the end, but some suggested that may have been an exaggeration. May have been less, but it was definitely steep. As it got steeper and we got slower, it evolved into a sort of comedy of errors. We had a ridiculous amount of ice-axe-dropping incidents along the way, due to our newness in using them and lack of wrist straps (I was the only one who had one, but Mick told me not to use it in order to learn how to use the axe properly). Then something was rolling down the slope, and there was this big commotion which I couldn't understand because it was very windy and we were twenty feet apart, but someone yells to catch it, and as I'd offered to take the rear position, I was the last hope, so I dive to catch it like a goalie, and I do. But I pick it up, and look at it, and it's a fucking rock. Small boulders were falling down the slope. On its trip plummeting down the slope at a good clip, this one had hit Celeste, two people ahead of me, in the calf before continuing on its way. She was okay enough and highly motivated, but they kept falling and we were tasked with the job of dodging them and yelling to warn others down the slope. For some reason Alicia dropped her gloves and I caught those too, in an even more impressive goalie-dive. Maybe I should have taken up a different sport.

Because I was slow and wheezing and kept calling "zero," the code to stop, I managed to lose any good pace and drifted a little over and down too much and found myself having to cross this big crack, a mini-crevasse, that no one ahead of me had had to. So I stop the team, and ask Mick what to do, as we'd had no crevasse training, and he just yells to jump. Kind of expected "idiot" to follow his response, the way he said it. But I was really tired, and he didn't give me a rest as I think he just wanted to clear all of the falling rocks coming down the slope. So I jumped, but the upward incline and the fatigue got to me and I made it only as far as the opposite edge, and my boot hit the edge of the surface and sent me ricocheting backward. At which point I of course drop my ice axe, it skitters down the slope fifty feet, and I catch myself from sliding by hanging onto the downslope edge of the crack. Tired and hurting and very disappointed, I had to take that moment to put my face into the snow and sob.

That only lasted for a few seconds, however, and then I was back up and leading my team back down the slope toward my ice axe. As I stop to turn around and descend, a large airborne rock whizzes between Alicia and I, passing me by only eighteen inches or so. I had only a last-minute warning on that one, and was told that my half-assed jump to the side looked like something from a cartoon. Alicia, more cautious, nervous, and new to climbing than even me, took this moment to announce dramatically and loudly that that was it, she was done and not going further.

It was an epic few minutes. Mick announced that he had already decided to continue by leading us a different route, but we had to persevere on, and we hauled our asses up the remaining, steepest slope, and collapsed into the rocks on the ridgeline at the top.

Our (lack of) speed and the presence of many objective hazards, Mick said, caused him to decide to continue no further, not even as a smaller team. We'd made it to nearly ten thousand feet, with a summit at 12 thousand, and it was fine by me. I was in not-so-good shape, and the view was pretty damn awesome from where we were, anyway. The weather was good that morning, and we could see Mt Hood, and a beautifully clear Mt St Helens, emerging from seas of tiny pipe-cleaner-like trees and soft clouds. We fueled up, Nanako took an emergency pee in the open air on the ridge, and we began our descent.

Much of the descent back to high camp was scree, a combination of fluffy mineral soil, rock, and boulders, that we had to get through with crampons on pretty steep slopes, and it was tricky. I don't think there's a lot of allowance for clumsiness in successful mountaineering. Alicia actually took a dramatic, rolling fall down a steep slope. But we also got do descend on snow, both on foot, and by glissading, yay. The main snow slope we descended was very steep, and looked nearly 100 percent vertical from camp (it wasn't of course). That was pretty cool.

We had a snack, took a nap, and then broke down camp and began the final descent. Putting the full packs on (summitted with about ten pounds) and descending back into the vague backcountry was pretty arduous. We may have glissaded too much directly down, which caused us to not traverse enough, and stuck us on the wrong side of a steep, rocky drainage (and its siblings), which was kind of a bitch to traverse across in order to find the trail back. We were hot, tired, and dehydrated by the time we hit the trail. Mick kept passing streams in order to keep us moving toward the trailhead, and we deliriously wanted to kill him by the time we finally did get a drink. My feet were so bruised and sore, and I was so tired and thirsty that I turned into a zombie, trying to tune everything out in order to focus my energy to getting to the car. After I saw a recognizable point I remember passing not too long after the trailhead when we set out, I began dreaming up car mirages in my mind, thinking they'd just be right there, right after the next bend... time seemed to cease.

The trailhead did eventually come, though! We gathered, took a group photo, deposited the bags of poop, took off our boots, and gathered to have a celebratory beverage. My ankles were so disgusting. The duct tape had caused nasty abrasions that were getting all gross and infected, and I had a few rubbed and blistered areas. I felt pretty shitty with my cold, but was very happy to have done it. We gave the group gear back to Mick and headed out to Hood River for dinner together along with a debrief. It turns out that there was a significantly easier route along the south slope that requires no roping up and not much crampon use, in retrospect. Mick had decided to take us up a very difficult route to give us experience for Rainier. I wished he'd briefed us initially as to his approach to everything, I kind of went a little crazy after hearing this as I'd been thinking I was a major weenie and was very disappointed how everything went.

It was a very long, late, delirious drive back to the Puget Sound, and we ended up getting in at 2 am and I spent the next two days slightly comatose and recovering. I was pleasantly astonished to know that my training was quite effective as I had no soreness following the hike, just tight calves the next morning. Still surprised about that. I'm no athlete by nature, so that's a victory for me in itself.

In the end, I was really frustrated by my situation, but had to make the call not to do Rainier due to my cold, my ankles, and the fact that we had barely three days of downtime to regroup. My mind was not ready to do it, apparently, as I had to let Mick and my friend and coworker Sarah talk me into feeling capable, and then had a meltdown the night before leaving for Rainier. I drove down to Gig Harbor that night, just to see if I felt better, but I didn't. I'm generally bummed, but I know I made the right decision.



I'm reminding myself that climbing Adams was awesome in itself and I do really feel good and right about my choice not to do Rainier. I realized a lot about myself, through the training and climbing. One thing is that the exercise in training was not only great for physical health but great for the brain. I had no realization just what the adrenaline and endorphines would do for my state of mind, but it's like nothing else. However, I established, during my Adams climb, that I'm not the kind of person that really thrives on adrenaline enough to want to do it a lot. Intense mountaineering seems to require an efficiency and brain-focusing that doesn't fit my personality really well. There was not enough resting, no contemplating, not enough discussion for me to really truly love it like I love a lot of my pastimes. I loved it, but it was grueling, and I wanted to also be able to stop and appreciate the surroundings and experience more than we were able to. I'm also extremely deliberate, and I like to be able to think and talk things through before doing them, and you can't, quite as often, as you have to keep pace to make your goals. We did have some time-management issues that might not manifest themselves in all trips, but this trip also made me appreciate the less-intense day hikes and backpacking that I've done before, and in training, and make me want to do more of them now in my free time.

I may still do Rainier someday, but I know I won't be dong a major mountain every weekend. This has made me remember other things I love, too- I miss my family, and friends, and art and travel and swimming and books and movies and gardening. I have other things I want to pick up again. I want to begin the process of planning to move to New York.

The remaining four went up Rainier to stunningly beautiful weather this weekend. I kept my eye on that perfectly clear mountain from the city all three days they were up there.

It turns out they all, minus one, got sick with my cold. I feel super bad about it (guess I should have been slathering on the Purell; I thought I was way better before I got on the mountain). They were slow and felt terrible and must have been cursing my name. Nanako and Mick summited alone out of the group, almost to the top minus six hundred feet, both super sick (he had a fever) on a beautifully clear Saturday morning. I'm very proud of them (in a non-condescending way).

And now, just a few minutes ago, I saw in the news that Adams is spewing smoke from a 500 acre forest fire at the trailhead (Cold Springs) we left from and the Forest Service closed the area. WTF?!

Straaange world.

sasquatch!

sunshine
sunblock
rock, rock, and more rock
Iraq
stealthy rain
Rainn Wilson
sweaty sunglasses
visible asses
sunburns
Sani-cans
Canadians
aliens
aviators
fornicators
foreigners
guitars and guitars
bright stars
politics
psychadelics
spandex
pirates
robots
road kill
levitating wet tent
12" unknown meat
hillside wedgies
dead budgies
dead batteries
witty tees
cameraphones
doritos and oreos
I'd hit it.

It was an epic event. "I'm not surprised... but I am quite sleepy." So, more to come.

new york i love you

(you aren't bringing me down)

When I came to this town for the first time last September, I had little to no preconceived notions or concrete expectations for what New York City would be. For all the opinions and impressions you hear from others of the city, it takes going to a place to understand it. I'm not sure if this makes more or less sense that I would become enamored, but that's how it played out.

Compared to other cities, New York is a constant festival of anything goes; of peoples of all cultures and colors, and backgrounds. The sheer variety of people, and the density with which they're at, is fascinating and lovely. On top of that, the setting is pretty cool; every imaginable type of urban neighborhood and architecture, connected by the subway network. And I'm not sure if it's the weak dollar and the cheap american goods, but there are French people EVERYWHERE right now, which was overstimulation for a francophile like me. At first it was exciting, and then it was just bizarre, having French seem equal to the background of constant English noise in Manhattan. Sure, I was hearing some Chinese, Japanese, Italian, and German, as well, but nothing like the onset of the French on the town. Love the diversity.

I started this post when I was there last week, and now things are a little blurred, unfortunately, and living as a fuzzy glow in a repository of memories. It was a wonderful break; meeting up with old and newer friends in the context of such a dynamic, lovely place. The weather was mostly beautiful, with the flowering cherries, redbuds, and apples in bloom in Central Park, and the whole world out promenading to see them and eachother. Apparently the weather had just turned in the week before my arrival, and the Northeast had just come out of hibernation. It certainly brought me out of hibernation.

I was lucky to leave a rainy Seattle and land in a warm and sunny New York, and leave in a torrential downpour to land in a clear, beautiful Seattle. The good times were following me. As it always should be...

landing and flying

The close to my cross-country flight from New York back to Seattle was lovely. After chasing the sun westward for hours over a smooth, milky atmosphere, it was finally clearly in the lead as the sky grew a deeper shade of blue, and the low angle of its rays from the horizon gleamed brightly on the front of the plane's wing and jet casing to the right out my window.

Though occasionally the plane of white below would thin to reveal a geometric, waffled landscape of mid-western hedgerows dusted with drifts of snow along their bases below, it wasn't until the 737 began its descent that the scene outside became anything more than a simple abstraction of a field of white below, blue beyond, and a sharp slice of metal piercing between (on the upturned tip of the wing, the airline's web address, for immediate reminding of how to arrange yourself such a wonderful experience again- regardless of the fact you won't be online soon, given you're stuck inside the plane). As we got lower, approaching western Washington, the pale of the atmosphere became richly defined: more and more so as we sunk toward it. It was like a children's cartoon, or a television advertisement for whipped yogurt or cream cheese. The blue of the sky and clouds, with the soft, peachy hues of the beginning of sunset, reminded me of a powder room decorated around nineteen-ninety, with colors you'd see in large floral patterns, or beach-themed schemes involving waves and the interior of a clamshell. Oddly, and astoundingly to me, it truly, and sadly unoriginal-soundingly resembled cotton candy. In both colors, pink and blue, the soft mounds were uncannily like the carnival snack, right down to the wispy, transparent tufts pulled gingerly first from the edges.

As the plane lowered to their level and grazed the stratosphere, we sliced through the clouds. As experienced and jaded a traveler as I am normally and tend to behave as, there was a bit of thrill in this experience. I watched the precipitation stick to the curve of the rim on the jet casing, and then streak back over the riveted sheet metal as we re-emerged from a cloud. At some points the voluminous cumulus clouds would stretch out into stratus and cirrus form, resembling unrolled batting waiting to become a quilt, or cotton pulled from a bottle of aspirin.

The light was changing and soon the sun was rocket-pop red, burning itself down into the horizon at a pace noticeable to the naked eye. A minute or so later we emerged beneath the clouds, and there it lay before me- a dusky, sleepy, Pacific Northwest. And something surprising occurred. Immediately after coming through the clouds, I saw the northern edge of what I guessed to be Lake Washington, and was able to identify absolutely everything as we flew over. Juanita beach at the top, Third Place Books nearby, Lake City Way reaching southwest, the Roosevelt Reservoir, North 65th Street, I-5, Greenlake, Woodland Park with floodlit baseball fields, Phinney Ridge, Aurora bridge and Ballard's fishing boats, Lake Union with Queen Anne hill behind, even my apartment building on its south slope thanks to the giant white retirement home two blocks downhill. Flying beyond the Space Needle, downtown, the Port of Seattle's red cranes and the Duwamish River, I truly realized something I'd been coming to for a while: after eight years here, I know this place entirely. It is my place; beautiful, comfortable, home; and full of people, customs, and places I understand.

But what I've also been coming to realize is that right now I need more. I need the new and different and something to learn from and about, before I come back home and let my life settle into a calm course for the long run. I walked off the plane and found out that I had been sitting directly behind the grandparents of a good friend from the town I'd grown up in an hour's drive away, and I thought, yes, it's time for a change. This will always be my home, and I'll come back, but perhaps it's time for me to try something new.

Beirut

love him... listening to Nantes right now

Well it's been a long time, long time now
since I've seen you smile.
And I'll gamble away my fright.
And I'll gamble away my time.
And in a year, a year or so
this will slip into the sea
Well, it's been a long time, long time now
since I've seen you smile

Which reminds me that I want to go to Nantes, still; it's Seattle's French sister city, after all. Coastal, grey, a bit arty- supposed to be pretty cool.

http://travel.nytimes.com/travel/guides/europe/france/brittany/nantes/overview.html

bittersweet

I'm in Portland again to hang out and catch up with some friends.  On the train ride down my throat started vaguely hurting and now here I am on a weekend trip, pretty damn sick.  I had had visions of strolling around town windowshopping and sipping cocktails nonstop, but now here I am, back before last call, already in yoga pants and a borrowed sweatshirt, sneezing and coughing away.  Boo.  Well, at least the weather is lame, also, here.  Rained buckets this afternoon.

And apparently lovely in Seattle.  Ha.