Intercepted on the North Pole network

Do You Hear What I Hear?

The holidays are upon us and fellow humankind is stressed out!  Perhaps coupled by the unemployment situation in the country, good cheer seems to be hard to come by.  My roommate Emily S and I devised a plan yesterday morning for me to jump her car.  In order to do that, however, I was first going to have to shovel my car out.  Judging by the constant murmur of spinning tires that has serenaded our apartment for the last 4 days, we imagined this could take a while.  We trudged out each with our respective shovels to get to work on our respective cars.  The street was blocked anyway for the time being by our neighbors who were also jumping each other.  All was well until traffic started to back up down the street, horns started blaring, and tensions mounted.  Thank goodness the backed up traffic got back in their cars before any kind of fight went down, but our southern neighbors (the crackhouse, if you remember) can intimidate fo sho. 

I shoveled and scraped away--a good 30 minutes at least--when suddenly Emily drove up beside me saying the neighbors had gotten her out and to hop in.  I threw the shovel and scraper into my car and hopped in hers to begin our errands while her car battery charged up.  At the end of our block I had the dawning realization that I'd left my car running!  I jumped back out of Emily's car and ran back and sure enough, the car was running, and all the doors were locked. 

I had a spare key in the apartment, but no key to the apartment--it was in the car.  Emily couldn't stop driving or her battery would die.  Thankfully, as usually happens in cases such as these, my landlords were home to bail me out.  Got the key, ran back, was stopped by my scary southside neighbor offering to help push my car out.  Maybe he's not so scary after all.  Got the door open, turned off the car, and headed off with Emily to Michaels craft store for last minute supplies.

As Emily pulled up to Michaels to drop me off, the car opposite us tapped a pedestrian crossing the street.  When the pedestrian stood there looking incredulously at the driver, the driver got out and got all up in this guy's face for standing in front of his f-ing car.  When the guy replied, "you hit me!" The driver pushed the pedestrian's chest.  I scurried inside the CRAFT STORE and asked the first person I saw if they had any kind of security.  Why Michaels would have security, I'm not sure, but it didn't really occur to me in the moment.  The store clerk said he would call Bill.  "Bill to the front.  Bill to the front."  By the time Bill got up to the front, the pedestrian and driver were gone, and it was probably a good thing because Bill was about 75 years old.

I'm really feeling the Christmas cheer.  Peace on earth.  Goodwill towards men. 

Visit

Elinore is so excited to come to Chicago for a visit that she packed all her clothes during her alone time today. She packed all of her underwear and shirts into her backpack along with a few other essentials (pink tights, ballet shoes, baby doll), but no pants because they wouldn't fit.

I hate having to tell her that we'll have to put all that away because we still have 5 days until we come.

Haunted Kitchen

Sunday I had 1 loaf of bread left to make to complete this week's orders. I put it in the oven and went to take a shower (I had an hour after all). When I came out of the bathroom, my roommates told me they had smelled burning and gone to check on my bread. The temperature was set at 500 degrees!! Nobody knows how it happened... Needless to say the loaf was BLACK.

Monday I made another loaf and checked the oven every 15 minutes to make sure the kitchen ghost didn't try to pull another fast one on me. My loaf made it unscathed, but probably only because of the vigilance of my eagle eye...

Holiday Program 2008

Last night was the much-anticipated annual Holiday Program for the private Catholic elementary school I've been working with. Given the prominent location for this particular school and it's relationship with one of the oldest and most historic churches in Chicago, it is quite the event.

My job was to run many of the logistics while the music teacher conducted. Thankfully all of the classroom teachers were in charge of corralling their own individual classes, so I was mainly in charge of the boys' and girls' choirs and one accomplished second grader who played the violin on several pieces with the instrumentalists.

Piece of cake. But if that were the case, it wouldn't merit a blog post...

In the morning rehearsal where the children actually performed for the kindergartners, one First Grader (FG) threw up on the way back up the side aisle. Thankfully, I was not in charge of said FG. When the time came, I collected all of the boys' choir boys and attempted to get them into a line and keep them quiet while the second graders sang their numbers at the front of the church. Much to my dismay, my direction, reasoning, shushing, and evil-eyed stare hardly warranted a side-long look from the 10 boys under my charge. When one of the third grade teachers walked pointedly over--finger raised, eyes narrowed--the boys withered under her glare and strict order to "get it together!" and her accusation, "totally inappropriate!" She winked at me as she walked back, but I felt shamed nonetheless. What happened to my assistant principal days when a mere raised-eyebrow look through a classroom window was enough to silence even the most rambunctious class?

On my cue I walked the boys down the aisle and ushered them onto the steps, then went back to line up the 40 girls in girls' choir. Once they were also successfully on stage for the mixed choir numbers, I headed back to listen to the sound. As I listened, I noticed one of the Boys' Choir Boys (BCB) slowly disappear into the sea of children. Heart racing, I put on my superhero cape and walked quickly (but calmly) to the front of the church to rescue the slumped-over BCB. All of the boys around BCB were looking at me wide-eyed as I knelt to look at him. He had not fainted, but his face was white as a ghost and his eyes were glazed. I got him out of the group and instructed him to sit on a pew with his head between his knees. At that moment the song finished and I had to run back to the choirs to lead the boys off and back to their classes. I came back to BCB and walked him back to the back of the church, had him lay on a pew, and got the principal to call the nurse. While I sat with BCB, the music teacher ran over, saying breathlessly that she needed me with the girls' choir--none of the girls knew where to go!

I got the girls safe and sound to their classes, and the rehearsal ended. Oh God, I thought, if this is a preview for tonight, I'm in trouble. I spent the whole day strategizing for just-in-case emergencies.

When the doors opened 30 minutes before the program, I literally had to leap out of the way of the crazed parents in all of their finery who bolted in to get the best seats in the house and throw coats over adjacent pews for their grandparents, second cousins, neighbors, etc etc. Just before the concert started, the mother of the 7 yr-old violinist came to tell me that contrary to the rehearsals (which she attended. All of them.), she would not be leading her daughter around from place to place. She was relying on me to take care of her. Ok, I said, smiling politely.

The show began without a hitch. BCB and FG stayed home. The first time I guided the violinist down the dark aisle, she was so nervous and fidgety that she had to sit down halfway there. I coaxed her up to the stage, and then later almost lost her as I led the boys' choir down one aisle and the second graders filed off the stage down the opposite. I went racing down the church aisle after her, knocking over the second graders in my way as I went, and I almost crashed into her and her mother coming back down the aisle. Her mother had her lips pursed as the put the girl's hand in mine and said firmly, "She almost got all the way back down the stairs. Guide her, please."

Retort, I did not. Last night I was a yes man.

One little Girls' Choir Girl (GCG) in the front row cried through the entire 2 girls' choir pieces. I sat on the floor in front of the first pew right in front of the choir, and called her to me. She sat down with me, and I made her take deep breaths. I thought she was nervous. I sent her back up to sing, but she kept crying. I called her back down, and this time her mom appeared next to me. It turned out that GCG's sister is also in the choir and when GCG found her family in the audience, they were all looking at her sister and not at her. (Poor thing. She's probably a middle child.) She got up to sing the last verse of "Bleak Midwinter" -- "What I can I give him, give him my heart," but the daggers in her eyes were something fierce!

To close the concert all the children sang together, "Let There Be Peace On Earth," and it rang out sweet and clear. Nobody fainted. Nobody threw up. Nobody missed their songs. All was well, and for a moment there was peace on earth. At least in that little slice of Chicago.

What does your umbrella say about you?

We decorated our REAL Christmas tree last night!

And this morning I participated in the morning rush hour for the first time since June. Tomorrow is the holiday program for the elementary school where I am assisting/accompanying, and so this morning I had to arrive at 8:15 am for rehearsal. Even though last week we had -4 degree wind chills, this morning it was pouring down rain. I was pleasantly surprised to spot so many colored umbrellas among my fellow Chicagoans! Black were still the majority by far, but I wasn't the only one carrying color.

As I walked, the rain slowly soaking into my weather-proof boots, I tried to theorize about the people who carried the pinks, blues, greens, reds, and yellows. Where they also the people who wore colored coats? Sometimes, but not always. Where they young? Sometimes. Where they trying to stand out in another way? Sometimes, but again not always. So it seems that it's random.

I did, however, notice a correlation between the SIZE of the umbrella and whether the person carrying it was walking toward Union Station or coming from it. The commuters carrying the enormous umbrellas--the ones that can probably fit 2-3 regular umbrellas underneath and really only fit one per sidewalk--were all coming from the station, meaning they were suburbanites. Does it rain harder there? So hard that they need their own personal awning?? I arrived to work wet, but proud of my little Swiss umbrella that Etel and Adrian gifted me over the summer.

At the end of the day, the rain had turned to sleet and I set out clutching my red umbrella. Even though I had turned my umbrella against the wind, lest I be swept up in a gust a la Mary Poppins, the wind was so strong that my umbrella rattled on it's handle. The metal hinges creaked and groaned as the wind tried to force it closed. One little Chicago storm and my little red umbrella didn't stand a chance. Maybe the Swiss should stick to watches, knives, and chocolate. Maybe I should invest in an awning.

Tulips

I wanted to post a photo of our new stained glass. In our study we have a picture window that doesn't open or close. It is up high enough that it doesn't need a curtain, but we wanted to do something with it. My grandpa makes stained glass things, so we asked him if he would make us something to put in the window. We gave him the dimensions and over the summer he made this for us. It looks beautiful in the window, and tulips are so fitting for Holland! I've been meaning to post a photo of it for awhile. Thank you so much, Grandpa!!!!

DIY gone wrong. As usual.

I saw in a magazine some beautiful, inexpensive Christmas ornaments made from dried citrus slices. I have a gift exchange tomorrow at a holiday party with a budget of $3 and a rule of no junk gifts. I thought dried citrus ornaments would be a great little eco-friendly gift.

I think they burned. Crispy like potato chips.

I guess I'll get a bar of chocolate for the exchange.

Thanksgiving Delights

Here's a glimpse of our Thanksgiving feast.
And the leftovers.

Black Friday

Just how far do we have to come as a society that people are trampled to death by mobs in pursuit of STUFF on sale for Christmas? Just more stuff to fill the voids in our lives and any extra space in our storage units. That's right, spaces we actually pay for to hold all the stuff we've bought, but don't need. Our unique relationship to the stuff that fills our lives is ironic enough that it can be comical, but when our obsession for material goods actually results in the horrific death of a store employee, we've gone WAY beyond crossing a line. Is that really what the holidays are all about?

An exerpt from the NY Times article:
"Some shoppers who had seen the stampede said they were shocked. One of them, Kimberly Cribbs of Queens, said the crowd had acted like “savages.” Shoppers behaved badly even as the store was being cleared, she recalled.

“When they were saying they had to leave, that an employee got killed, people were yelling, ‘I’ve been on line since yesterday morning,’ ” Ms. Cribbs told The Associated Press. “They kept shopping.” "

The beauty of the whole situation is that nobody has to take responsibility for that man from Long Island's death. Everyone can point to the person behind him or the person behind HIM or the frenzy created by a mob of emotionally charged individuals. The Midwesterners can point their fingers and decry those crazed New Yorkers, the New Yorkers can say "it wasn't MY fault." But it was their fault. It is all of our fault. Our fault for letting consumerism replace rational thinking and a sound perspective on what we TRULY need to be happy and fulfilled.

America, you should be ashamed of yourself.

Sadness, remorse, sympathies and prayers for the spirit and family of Jdimytai Damour who was trampled to death yesterday in honor of Black Friday. Black, indeed.

The numbers are in..

And after my first 25 loaves, countless trips to the grocery store, hours and hours of baking, and a few minutes spent scraping dog crap off my show, I have made.....

..................................

$4.00.

Bakers, take your mark.. Get set...

A turn of events has set me back to square one as far as my job search goes. Since I decided to start teaching piano lessons, I've planned on piecing together several different part-time jobs. I added accompanying an elementary school choir downtown and teaching a parent & tot music class at a local church to the mix, but still I wasn't making enough to cover my living expenses.

By luck, circumstance, entrepreneurial creativity or sheer insanity, I decided to get myself through the holiday season by selling holiday breads to my family, friends, and former coworkers. I took samples of my different breads to my former workplace along with flyers and sent out an email to everyone else. Friends passed around the flyers and forwarded the email, and orders trickled in one by one. Before I knew what was happening, I suddenly had orders for 40+ loaves of bread!

I am a person blessed with lots of ideas, but usually I think about them until they go away. I jumped into this endeavor, however, with both feet and figured I would figure things out as I went. I took the weekend to collect myself and make a plan. 25 of the 40 loaves were for Thanksgiving, so I had agreed to have them ready for delivery on Tuesday or Wednesday. Since we were out of town all weekend, that left Monday for grocery shopping and baking.

Monday came, 3 grocery stores, and our heads spinning from converting weight measurements to volume (just how many cups are in a 5 lb bag of flour?), I was on my way to home to let the baking begin. I had planned to start as soon as I got home and bake all night if I had to. Halfway to Chicago I got a text message from one of my roommates inviting me to eat dinner with her and her boyfriend in our apartment. It was at that moment that I realized my plan didn't take into account the fact that I share my kitchen with two other people. Thankfully we found resolution, though I sense (both intrinsically and because they told me) that they are less than thrilled with my complete take-over of the kitchen.

At the apartment I had so many heavy groceries (15 lbs of flour, 10 lbs sugar, a can of pumpkin the size of a bowling ball, etc.) that I had to make 4 trips up the 3 flights of stairs to my apartment. On the third trip I stepped in dog poo.

Finally at the top, the woman who had agreed to cover my music class so I could bake, called saying she was sick. So I put the groceries away and headed off to sing with the babies. When I got back, there were two loaf pans in my mailbox left by a caring friend! Unfortunately they were 9 x 5, and the only boxes I was able to find after days of searching measured 9 x 4.5. I plowed ahead anyway.

The 7 loaves of pumpkin bread went off without any major hitches. On to the 7 loaves of apple... For some reason I decided to fiddle with the baking rack to get the loaves good and in the center. Bad idea. An hour later I had to pry them out of the baking pans, and the bottoms were scorched. Not good when you're on a schedule and bought for just the right amount of ingredients. I set them aside and moved on.

By the time I was done grating carrots and cooking and mashing sweet potatoes it was closing in on 2 in the morning. I decided to bake just 1 loaf of each carrot and sweet potato to get me through Tuesday. At 3:30 AM I turned off the oven and went to bed.

This morning I woke up, got more loaves in the oven and then started wrapping and packaging the cooked loaves. The 9 x 5 loaves are tight in the boxes, but I shoved them in anyway. No more Miss Nice Girl. Then I ran out of ribbon. Who knew a 9 ft spool would only wrap 2 boxes?! Anarchy.

At 12:30 my first customer dropped by to pick up her breads. I met her at the curb with her boxed and adorned breads, we exchanged pleasantries, she payed me, and it was done! And then I realized that I'd forgotten to bring down my keys, and I was locked out of the apartment.

!!!

The Alchemist says that when one goes in search of their personal legend, all the universe consipires to help them. I'm wondering if all the universe also conspires to let one know they've gone astray.

Ok, Universe! I get it already!

I've got another 11 to deliver tomorrow, and then I think I'll take Thanksgiving to reevaluate and see if I'll break even. Perhaps baking isn't my destiny. Good luck to me.

ELINORE!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELINORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Christmas Readings

I thought I'd post a Christmas list - some good books to read:
1. Radical Evolution - Joel Garreau - $10.85 Amazon
2. The Singularity is Near - Ray Kurzweil - $13.60 Amazon
3. Leadership and the New Science - Margaret Wheatley - $14.25 Amazon
4. Intelligence - Jeff Hawkins - $5.06 Amazon
5. Earth: The Sequel - Fred Krup - $16.47 Amazon

The general theme is one of future change due to convergence of environmental issues and influence of information technology on human evolution. This ought to really scramble my brain.

First Snow

I just wanted to announce it!

List

It's that time of year, here's my list:

Long underwear shirt
a new wallet
Pure beech sateen sheets--gold
field coat
cardigan sweater
waffle maker
hypoallergenic earrings--I've recently developed a copper allergy and all my earrings are making my ears swell and bleed
-mainly studs for the earrings
My amazon wishlist
you have to type my name to search for it, mine is the one with the mention of horses
a good book


that's all for now but tune in for possible additions...

Bean Soup Dilemma

The air is crisp.  The sky is clear.  The few leaves that still cling to the trees have turned.  The ground is frosty in the morning.  We are waist-deep in fall and last night visions of bean soup danced in my head. 

I soaked the beans overnight and made a trip to the grocery this morning to pick up the requisite carrot, celery, and bell pepper.  I got back and got busy chopping, dicing, and mincing and one by one added ingredients to the crock pot.  The pot got fuller and fuller, and with each ingredient the concern that it wouldn't all fit became a little more realistic.  But I held onto hope. 

After I added the tomatoes, however, I couldn't pretend any longer.  I still had to add 5 more cups of broth, and my soup was already at the tippy-top.  I don't know if I'm just forgetful or in denial, but this happens to me every time I use my miniature crock pot.  So, I resigned myself to cooking in my stock pot.  I transferred the soup ladle-full by ladle-full, made a mess, and then added my last 5 cups of broth.

While washing the crock pot and restoring it to the pantry, I tried to devise my stock pot plan.  It was only 11 AM.  I couldn't leave the soup simmering all day because I'll be out from 3-5.  I couldn't put the whole thing in the fridge until later because it was too heavy.  I had lunch while I thought some more.

Then I realized that since I threw everything in raw rather than sauteeing the celery, onions, garlic, etc first, I would HAVE to cook it in the crock pot.  Ladle-full by ladle-full I transferred the soup back into the clean crock pot and put the rest in a tupper in the fridge.  And made a mess.

The outcome?  Half a pot of delicious bean soup that will be ready at dinner time, another quarter pot of raw soup in the fridge, a quarter pot splashed all over the kitchen, and more dirty pots and pans than I know what to do with.

Global Crisis

On Monday this past week, I made my special muffins---Morning Glory Muffins--I made these on my last day in August and everyone has been on my case to make them again since I've been back. So I finally made them and I sent an email to let everyone in Business Operations know that they were on the back table. About 10 mins later I got an email from someone named Jerry Lapour--he's an MDM or manager for a particular region of the country--saying thanks for including me in the email. Not too long after that someone from Marketing upstairs came down and took 4 muffins. I was pretty confused until my boss emailed me and said "I think you meant OB_CS2_ALL" or something along those lines "OB_ALL is the entire company." I then received an email from an IT guy who works from home saying thanks for the muffins. So I sent the email, not just to the entire Oak Brook branch of Elkay, but to the ENTIRE COUNTRY. Jerry Lapour is not from IL. Embarrassing to say the least.


Here's the recipe for the muffins:

Morning Glory Muffins

2 C flour
2 tsp ground cinnamon
2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 1/4 C sugar
1 tsp vanilla
2 C shredded carrots
2 large apples cored and shredded
3/4 C coconut
1/2 C raisins
3/4 C oil
3 eggs

Preheat oven 375
Combine the flour, sugar, cinnamon, salt, and baking soda in a bowl and set aside. Shred carrots and apples and combine with coconut, raisins and dry ingredients. Mix well. Add vanilla, eggs and oil and stir just till combined. Line a muffin tin with papers and fill with batter 3/4 of the way full. Bake for 18-20 mins. Makes ~2 dozen

Dia de los Muertos

I made a Day of the Dead shrine this year in honor of my favorite Spanish professor, Dr. Sonia Riquelme, who passed away a few weeks ago from pancreatic cancer. You are supposed to put food and drink that the person liked in the shrine, but all I had were almonds and limes. I'm sure she liked almonds and limes. Who doesn't like almonds and limes, right? I know she would be tickled to think that someone made a dia de los muertos shrine for her. She would laugh.

You can also see my poor shriveled pumpkin on the lower left. Pretty spooky, eh?

Our pumpkin

Elinore wanted a witch after she say Grandpa's. Thanks, Dad. Here it is, and I must say that Kevin is very proud of it.

Naperville in the Fall

Here are some photos from when we were in Naperville a couple weekends ago.
Elinore getting lots of help painting her pumpkin at the arboretum. What a gorgeous day.
Caitlyn decided to try wearing Tobin on our walk along the Naperville riverwalk. I felt eerily naked without my boy in my arms, but it gave me a little break.

After our walk we took the tour up the bell carillon. We learned a lot of things about bells and how they work. Some of them are really massive. It was really interesting (and freezing with an icy wind blowing).

We had a lot of fun, and felt like we were able to do a lot over the weekend. Plus, we can't thank Mom and Dad enough for the amazing dinner they sent us to as a late anniversary gift. The food was divine, and we are still talking about it. Maybe you should send us there every year...

HALLOWEEN TIME

I love Halloween, pumpkin carving, dressing up, candy bars...it's pretty much great. Dad and I had a pumpkin carve-off and these are the finished products. Can you tell who's is who's? I think they're winners!

Hit By a Car

Yesterday, I was hit by a car. 

I thought, what a great post for the blog! 

And then I almost forgot about it.

I was walking across a side street at a 3-way intersection.  The street I crossed had a stop sign, the one I walked along did not.  As I moved out into the street in front of the car waiting to turn right, I thought briefly that they might be annoyed with me--waiting to turn right, finally getting their clearing, and then having to wait for the pedestrian who walked in front of rather than behind their car.  I did not expect, however, to be suddenly pushed sideways by the car that seemingly decided to take the clearing anyway. 

As a reflex, as I was being knocked to the side, I held up my hand to the driver like a crossing guard.  Like a crossing guard.  A CROSSING guard.  With the bumper touching my leg, I was a crossing guard.  There's authority for you.  How I wish now I would have smacked the hood of the car like they do in New York!  Let's just say for the purposes of this story that I whacked the car. 

The driver, a college-aged girl, looked up sheepishly, still yacking away on her cell phone and gave me a little apologetic wave.  As if she had accidentally cut in front of me in line at Starbucks.  I shot back a you-disgust-me face and went on my way.  I did not scream obscenities nor shake my fist.  I tried to intimidate her with my gaze.

It was kind of exciting actually.  I suppose every city-dweller at some point carries the battle scars of their pedestrian vs. vehicle stories.  But if this was my test for having grown thick city-skin, I think I failed.  

Opinions

I've been a bit annoyed today with the radio. All day there have been broadcasts about Jennifer Hudson and the tragedy that has happened with her family. It is not that I do not sympathizes with her and feel disgusted that something like this happens, because I do feel that way, it is that such a big deal is being made about her family. It bothers me because if her mother, brother and nephew were just any other family in the South side, no one would bat an eye, no would take any notice at all. Oh sure there would be a brief blurb on the news about another shooting in the South side, but the FBI wouldn't be involved and there wouldn't be alerts like there were for the missing child. The thing that really gets me is that everyone on the radio was suddenly concerned that Chicago is the number 1 city for murders, which is deplorable and bothers me too, and wanting to know how we can fix this. To me the answer is simple: you have to care even when the person who is killed isn't famous or very wealthy. If you ignore the Joe No-name that was gunned down and only care when it is someone famous there is no way you can ever hope to solve the problem. The only good thing that could have come from this highly publicized series of murders is that now people are paying attention...I just hope it is not short-lived and people start making an effort to really care and do something to help.

Happy Halloween!

Emily (one of the two current Emily-named roommates) and I went to Colleen's (former roommate) apartment today to eat chili and carve pumpkins. Happy Halloween!

Noticing Things

1. You can't hurry down the busy, windy streets of downtown Chicago when you are carrying a disposable cup of hot coffee. Maybe all commuters should be required to carry disposable cups of hot coffee so they have to walk slower and look around more.

2. Trees are trees, no matter what kind they are. Then you have maples, oaks, ginkgo, cherry, birth, ash, pines, etc. Then let's just say maples--there are sugar maples, Japanese maples, other kinds of maples. Then let's just say Japanese maples--think of all the different Japanese maples in the USA, in Illinois, in Chicago, in Lincoln Square, on my street. Then let's pick one on my street--it probably has a couple hundred leaves, and every one is different. Is unique. Is unlike any other EVER. There must be trillions and trillions of leaves every year in the world AND EVERY SINGLE ONE IS DIFFERENT. Happy Fall! To celebrate, I made leaf rubbings today.

3. I firmly believe health insurance companies make it that hard to understand so that you give up and they can charge you whatever they want. Their customer service reps are trained to make you feel stupid, so you will give up and call your mom to cry instead.

4. If you vote early in Cook County, you don't get a sticker. You get a piece of paper telling you that you better not even try to show up on election day and vote again or you'll go straight to hell. I mean jail.

Official Worst Journey Ever

Despite MANY obstacles, I have arrived safe and sound in Chile and am tucked away in my friends' apartment to rest before tonight. The event that foretold it all was when my alarm did not go off like it was supposed to yesterday morning for me to put the finishing touches on my suitcase and head out the door to the airport. Good thing my roommate, Illy was home and had agreed to take me to O'Hare. If she hadn't woken me up, I might have slept through the flight! As it was we actually arrived a little early. Traffic was better than I imagined.

I leisurely bought myself a McDonald's breakfast and coffee and sat at the gate while classical music played. We boarded on time, pulled away from the gate on time at 10:05 am, turned around, and came back. The pilot explained that they were having an electrical problem with one of the indicators on the plane and needed the electrical team to look at it. Wait, wait. The electrical team has called specialists to research the problem. Wait, wait. We've determined we need a new part, so we have a team getting that part for us, so sit tight. Wait, wait. We got the new part, but the problem still isn't solved. This flight is officially out of service, everyone get off the plane. We'll try to find another aircraft, but don't know anything yet. Anyone with connections in Miami (aka: everyone) needs to see the ticket agent at the gate.

There were 200 of us, and one of her. Wait, wait. Good news, we have another aircraft! Bad news, we don't know how long it will take to arrive. Wait, wait. Get back in line for new boarding passes and seat assignments. Wait, wait. Since I don't know how long it will take for the flight to arrive, I grab lunch at the closest place I can--McDonald's. yet again. Wait, wait. Check the clock. My connection from Miami to Lima leaves at 5:00 pm. It's going to be close.

We board, take off, fly, arrive in Miami at 5:40. My Lima flight has been delayed to 6:00, but the doors are already closed and they won't let me on. I am rebooked on the 11:40 pm flight to Lima which will arrive at 4:15 am. I call my Peruvian friend, Ana Ce, to tell her I won't need lodging tonight in Lima afterall. My next connection is from Lima to Santiago, Chile at 7:30 am. Wait wait wait wait wait wait for 6 HOURS, ride trains to different terminals, walk, go outside security, eat Cuban food, come back in. I wonder if I'll end up like Tom Hanks in the movie The Terminal. I take note of various corners and supplies I might need to make use of if push comes to shove. Wait, wait, wait.

We board at 10:30 pm. At midnight, we still haven't left the gate. The pilot comes on to explain that there are problems with a gasoline tank and balance on this plane. YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME. I want to cry, but I don't. I finish the Nanny Diaries that I borrowed from Illy and started reading that morning in Chicago. At 1:15 am we finally take off, fly, land in Peru at 5:30 am! We get to the gate, stand up gather our things, and wait, wait, wait for 30 MINUTES because the ground crew can't get the jet bridge to work. Of course.

Is it just me, or are the travel gods following me around from country to country, year to year to put a trip cord in my path as I walk by?

Luckily I got through Peruvian customs no problem, claimed my suitcase, exited, turned down all the taxi drivers hoping to make a sale, checked-in, paid the tax to leave the country, and went through international securtiy. I now have a Peruvian entry and exit stamp in my passport, both marked Oct 2, 2008. The flight to Santiago was delayed about 30 minutes, but nothing out of the ordinary. For some reason the Chilean authorities did not ask for the $100 tax that all American, Canadian, Australian, British, and Mexican citizens have to pay to enter (I'm not complaining!), and when I left, my friend Erick was there waiting for me!! Oh, the joy of a familiar face!

Erick and Angela set me up with a Chilean cell phone, a metra card, and a bedroom in their apartment while I am here, so it's already like I never left! After I take a shower and a nap, I'm sure the airport blues will fade...

I'M ENGAGED!

I just wanted to share the good news with everyone! This morning around 11am Mike asked me to marry him and I said yes!! He set up a surprise picnic in the nature center at Albion, where we were both visiting for homecoming. Afterwards we went to the football game where he had arranged to have the commentator congratulate us, only there were some mixed signals and the commentator announced our names and then asked that everyone's attention be at the score board, where they flashed "will you marry me?" So I guess he just wanted to be extra sure that I was saying yes.

The End

Last Swiss post! And just in time too, because I leave for South America on Wednesday! The day before I flew home I went to the French-speaking part of Switzerland on Lake Geneva. Lausanne was the name of the town and everything I read raved about its charm. I arrived and immediately took a train to Chateau-de-Chillon to visit the castle there. This sounds simple. It was not. I accidentally took an express train to the end of the line, which I didn't realize until we zipped past the castle I was supposed to be visiting. Fortunately the train finally stopped not to far from the castle, and I decided to walk back. It took 45 minutes, but I walked on a path along Lake Geneva and it was a beautiful day.

The castle itself was gorgeous and so romantically situated on the lake with the Alps in the background! This was the castle which Lord Byron visited and subsequently wrote the Prisoner of Chillon:

"...And mine has been the fate of those

To whom the goodly earth and air

Are bann'd, and barr'd -- forbidden fare.."

When I had my fill of the castle, I checked the train schedule and realized the next train back to Lausanne didn't leave for another hour. I decided to walk to the next town, Montreaux, which was bigger and try my luck there. It took me another hour to walk to Montreaux, but again, it was along the lake, so enjoyable. Once I got to Montreaux, however, I had no map, and I was starving. Finally I found a place to stop for lunch, sat down in the cafe and asked for an omelette. The server wagged her finger at me and explained that the kitchen was closed by this time (it was around 3) and I could only choose from the pastry counter. Disheartened, I chose a piece of quiche and an apricot tartine. The apricot thing was amazing and quickly dispelled my frustration.

I asked in French how to find the train station, got a string of French and a series of hand gestures in return, and acting a lot more confident than I felt, set off in search of it. After some wandering I found it and boarded the train to Lausanne. In Lausanne, I couldn't orient myself for the life of me! I was holding Rick's map, peering at my surroundings, taking a few paces in a certain direction, changing my mind, trying another street, and NOTHING made sense. I couldn't find the metro station he kept talking about from which he listed directions to all his points of interest. There was an art museum I wanted to see, so I tried to find it on my own. An hour later, frustrated, I gave up because it would be closing momentarily anyway. I tried to do his walking tour, but couldn't find the starting point. Finally I stumbled on a mid-point and did the tour backwards. The other landmark (besides the art museum) that I really wanted to see was the Evangelical church--it was supposed to have great artwork and an impressive organ. By the time I found it, it had closed. I was so frustrated that I didn't even take any pictures.

Luck was not on my side in Lausanne. Back at the bottom of the hill, I sat on a bench near the metro station (that I finally found), debating whether to eat dinner there or get on the train back to Bern to eat with Etel. Just then an African guy came up to me speaking in French. I explained that I didn't speak French and he switched to English. He was holding a parking stub and explained that he couldn't find his car--he'd driven in that day, parked, and gone off for a job interview, and now he couldn't find the lot he'd parked in. I laughed, told him to join the club--I'd been lost all day, and he sat down on the bench to talk with me. Instinctively I held my bag closer, but he seemed harmless.

We ended up having dinner together, swapping life stories and email addresses--he was born and grew up in Rwanda, moved to France with his family when he was 12, got a degree in mechanical engineering, works in Geneva, but looking for a supplementary job in Lausanne. I felt like I accomplished my goal of finally meeting a young person while traveling alone. Hooray!

Switzerland was a great time--I enjoyed visiting with Etel, loved experiencing the Swiss culture, and learned that I can travel alone, but I prefer to travel with someone. I'd like to go back in the winter to see everything covered in snow.

As an update, Etel had a healthy baby boy last week! Gabriel Lorenzo. They are both home from the hospital and doing well. I also just got a postcard in the mail from Etel's mother-in-law Maria. It is written entirely in German, so I need a translator, but it was such a nice gesture!

Until next time...

Luzern aka: Lucerne

With Rick Steves to guide me I ventured out to Luzern (or Lucerne in English) next. Adrian watched the weather the night before so warned me to bring my umbrella. I started out in Luzern with the Rick's self-guided walking tour. As I got my bearings outside of the train station, book in hand, holding it out in odd directions trying to match my surroundings with his map, it began to rain. Never fear, I pulled out the old umbrella--living in Chicago, I've become quite dextrous maneuvering with an umbrella in one hand and something else in the other. In this case Rick and his maps.

Most of the time I don't enjoy rain when I have to be outside getting wet, but occasionally the heavy gray weather is an unexpected relief. I resign myself to getting damp (or dripping) and start to feel my muscles relax under the weight of the laden sky.

I sat in the Jesuit church for a while, listening to the organist practice and then strolled over to Luzern's most famous landmark--the chapel bridge. The bridge stretches diagonally across the wide river and is original from the early 1300s! All along the inside of the bridge are panels depicting various scenes from the city's history in the 1500s. In 1993, however, a portion of the bridge caught on fire. They rebuilt it, but did not replace the paintings in that section as a reminder for what happened.

It was crowded on the bridge because it was covered and more than one tourist was taking refuge from the pouring rain underneath. The paintings were interesting. Each one depicted a normal village scene, but a skeleton was present somewhere in each one. Sometimes it was dancing with a person, sometimes standing behind them, sometimes sitting watching from afar. It was a reminder that death is always present for every person--young, old, weak, strong, rich, poor--no one is exempt.

I stopped at a cafe for lunch and to dry off a bit. Though I was getting more used to being by myself, it still felt slightly uncomfortable to get a table for 1, especially in Europe where everyone shares the tables anyway. There was a group of people sitting right next to me, but the seat across from me was free. Having people so close to you when you're alone somehow makes the aloneness active--exclusion--rather than passive--just minding your own business, being alone. Everyone told me I would meet all kinds of other young people traveling alone in Europe because people do it all the time, but that was just not the case. Everywhere I looked my fellow travelers were retirees. Perhaps the economy, perhaps the time of year, who knows.

I ate and flipped through my book to see where I'd go next. Just as I was finishing a young, handsome guy walked in to the cafe, clutching none other than the Rick Steves Switzerland book! He found a table and sat down and I started gathering up my courage and figuring out what I would say--I have the same book! Ha ha! Let's see the rest of the city together! And I thought how proud Mom would be if my great love story were: we met because of Rick Steves! And just as these thoughts were beginning to settle in my head in an organized fashion, a female travel companion walked over and sat down across the table from him. DARN! Should have known he wouldn't be traveling alone. Probably on their honeymoon. How sweet.

I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering alone through the Old Town in the rain, admiring the many murals on the building facades. I actually had to stop and buy a scarf because it was in the 50s. The only store I could afford was H&M--I know, not authentic. The $ to the Swiss Franc is about 1:1, but the Swiss make up for that by having everything twice as expensive as it would be in the states. My last goal was to find the famous lion statue. It really was a compelling sight--a great stone lion carved into a stone cliff with a reflecting pool underneath. The lion lay dying with a broken spear in its side, tears streaming down its face. It represents the valor of Swiss soldiers killed in combat, and was really quite moving.

While waiting for Adrian, Etel, and Adrian's 8 yr old son, Janosh, to come meet me for dinner, I sat down at a cafe to have apple strudel. It was delish. Adrian, Etel, and Janosh then took me to a restaurant that does a folklore show. We dined on fondue, rosti, and veal while a band played Swiss folk music. They played the water glasses, the cow bells, the saw, the accordian, the Alphorn, and got the whole crowd singing Edelweiss and yodeling their hearts out. When they brought out the Alphorn, they pulled people up on stage to try their hands at blowing it. I was one of the lucky guests to get to try, and I got the horn to sound, but it was anything but melodic!

Matterhorn, Zermatt, Raclette, Oh My!

My first day trip alone in Switzerland took me to the little town of Zermatt on the Swiss-Italian border. My only goof along the trip was hopping onto the first class car by mistake when I changed trains, and getting escorted back to second by the conductor. Apparently she didn't trust that I would make it on my own. The train ride itself was gorgeous as we went up into the mountains.

Upon arrival I headed straight for the ticket window for the Gornergrat Glacier. Adrian recommended I take the train up to Gornergrat, from which there is a great view of the Matterhorn, and then hike down to Zermatt. The weather was supposed to be great, and he said it would be a couple hour hike. It had snowed in the alps the week before I arrived, so all of the mountain tops were clothed in white. The sky was deep blue, and some clouds were just beginning to creep around the tip of the Matterhorn. The glacier was vast and breath-taking. I stood at the top of viewing point for a little while, smiling at the tourists having their pictures snapped with St. Bernards with wooden canasters strapped around their necks. I bought a cheese sandwich for a little snack on the way down since it was about 11 AM, but I figured that I could eat lunch once I arrived in Zermatt.

I started down. It was my first time hiking alone. Once I stopped to turn around and look at the glacier behind me, and I was struck by the silence. It was so quiet! As if the air and the ground and the mountains and the glacier were sucking the sound right out of the world. I could hear my own breathing and feel the rhythm of my heartbeat, and I thought about the natural rhythm of the universe and of how out-of-touch I am when I am home going through MY daily rhythm. In that moment I felt very connected to the soul of the world. Profound, yes. But did you see the mountain I was hiking toward?? If there was ever a cause for inspiration, that was it!

I hiked happily down the path. And hiked and hiked. And hiked. 4 HOURS LATER I arrived in Zermatt. I was very tired and hungry, so I stopped at the cafe Rick Steves recommended and had a huge plate of rosti (the hashbrowns). Zermatt itself was a bit disappointing. I had high expectations because we'd actually been here for Christmas when I was just 2 years old, and it had been immortalized as a darling little town. Over the last 20 years it has grown to become a tourist haven without its own character and soul--I did walk around and see the English church, where 20 years before Jennifer and I practiced skiing down the alley.

The next day after a lazy day in Bern, Maria, Fritz, and Adrian's sister Miriam came over to the apartment for dinner. After our cocktails and appetizers we moved into the dining room to start cooking raclette! Normally there's an apparatus where you put a hunk of cheese under a kind of burner. When the top of the cheese is browned the way you want it, you tilt the wheel and scrape the melted cheese onto your plate. As you eat the cheese on your plate, the next bit is heating up for you again. However, we had a different version-- a hot plate with little compartments underneath where we each stuck a slice of cheese in a tray and slid it under. On the top of the hot plate we cooked up chicken, beef, and sausage at the same time. When the cheese was bubbly, we took it out and scraped it over boiled potatoes. Then the whole process starts over. It was delicious and so much fun! All of the Liechti's were trying to instruct me in raclette etiquette at the same time all in a mixture of German, English, and Spanish, so we had to pause and appoint one person as my guide. Miriam showed me the way, and my plate was soon empty!

New Photos!

I'm doing this out of order, I know, but I just put up some photos on my Rome post. Scroll down...

Switzerland begins!

Switzerland was a much more relaxing pace than Italy had been. I alternated days of adventure-filled trips to different cities and days of lazing around Bern with my friend, Etel. Etel is my Argentine friend who was the first person I worked with at my last job and the person who introduced me to tango. Last summer she married her Swiss fiance, Adrian, in Las Vegas and they moved to a village just outside of Bern, Switzerland shortly after. She began intensive study of the German language, started working at a bilingual daycare, and then became pregnant with complications and had to stop all of her activities. I think having a visitor was a real treat for her, especially since her activities were so restricted, and just to have an old friend to share all of her excitement about her pregnancy. We had a wonderful time!

When we spent lazy days in Bern, we woke up when we felt like it (and when the church bells from across the street wouldn't let us sleep anymore--they chimed every 15 minutes all day and all night), had breakfast of fresh bread, honey, jam, espresso, juice, etc for hours as we chatted away. We took the bus and train into Bern (about 15 minutes), strolled along the streets from the new town to the old town, passed under legendary clocktowers, peered into the greener than green Aare River which loops around the town, stopped and had lunch somewhere, strolled some more, stopped and had a piece of chocolate or a coffee somewhere, went home, rested, cooked dinner, ate with Adrian, watched TV, went to bed. Ahh the life of luxury.

Switzerland is such an interesting country. After spending time in Italy I welcomed all the little signs everywhere telling you exactly how long it would take to walk from that point to another. There were trekking paths and bike paths everywhere, and regardless of where you were in the country--even right smack in the middle of Bern, the capitol city, you could see green space in the distance. The Alps were never too far off, though you couldn't see them if the air was hazy. Seeing so much green and open space is really refreshing. Somehow it made me feel like my lungs expanded further, and I could breathe all the way down into my toenails. Switzerland charges residents for trash pick up, but not for recycling. There are recycling drop-offs everywhere, and you can imagine how much more conscientious the people are there. They have all kinds of gadgets and gizmos in public places to ensure hygiene.

It is illegal to let your vehicle idle at red lights or anywhere else. You have to turn it off to reduce air pollution. They only raise happy cows and chickens (the kind that have space to roam, live on small farms, etc) for meat, eggs, milk, etc rather than the mass production we employ in the US that often means a poorer quality for us since the animals are kept in poor conditions. Etc, etc. Interesting country.

Adrian's parents live about 3 blocks away from Etel and Adrian and are just as doting as Swiss parents-in-law could be. They don't speak a word of English, and German is a MUCH bigger stretch for me than Italian was, but that didn't stop them from making sure I had the best possible time in their country. My first trip out of Bern, Adrian's dad Fritz, drove Etel and me to the town of Emmental. Yes, that is the town where Emmentaler Swiss cheese comes from! The whole drive was nothing but green rolling hills, the occasional village perched in the distance, and happily grazing sheep and cows. We toured the cheese plant, which was just one room with a few things of cheese-making equipment inside. We toured the old house where they still make one kind of cheese in a huge kettle over an open fire. Then we sat down to brunch--coffee, croissants, a plate full of all kinds of cheeses to try, and rosti--the Swiss version of hash browns. We ate and ate and ate. All the cheeses were good except the goat cheese, but I didn't eat that one.

When we'd had our fill, and I mean our FILL--we could hardly breathe for how full our stomachs were, we got in the car to drive back. Fritz chose the scenic route as I snapped scenery pictures from the back seat. Fritz found this amusing. He decided to make a detour to the Kambly factory, home of a brand of well-known Swiss cookies and chocolates. When we got inside there was aisle after aisle of half-kilo bags of different shapes and sizes and flavors of cookie. Every single variety had a basket filled with samples sitting next to it. How could you not go row by row sampling them all? We had no choice, but we really thought we were going to be sick. They were all good, despite the fact that we had vowed only 30 minutes before to never eat again.

We drove a little further and came to a beautiful, tiny, old wooden church from the 1500s. Everything inside was carved out of a light-colored wood, and someone had taken care to decorate it with fresh sunflowers. The organ was beautiful, too, and Fritz said that people come from all over Switzerland to be married there.

Last stop of the afternoon was back in Bolligen at Fritz and Maria's garden plot. They had sunflowers, potatoes, cucumbers, squash, tomatoes, raspberries, carrots, herbs--all kinds of overflowing from their little garden plot. Each plot also had a little shed and a cement patch outside of the shed. Fritz and Maria had a table and chairs set up on their cement patch and inside the shed, in addition to gardening tools, was a portable cook stove and utensils. It felt like we had just joined Peter Rabbit in one of Beatrix Potter's books as we pulled out the utensils and set the table for afternoon tea. Grossly exaggerated facial expressions, gestures, and lots of laughter made communication with Fritz and Maria no problem. By this time some of our appetites had returned, so we took advantange and snacked on fresh raspberries and cherry tomatoes.