Trunk or Tail?

A few years ago, a friend of mine came back from Thailand with a very important question.

If you could have either a trunk (like an elephant's trunk) or a tail (like a monkey's tail), which would you choose?

We debated about this for weeks.  I was firmly in the "trunk" camp, and after seeing an elephant trunk up close this week, I'm even more convinced that having a trunk would be AWESOME.

Let me tell you why:

• More muscles in the elephant trunk than in the entire human body.
• Showering -- you could control the water pressure AND the height of the showerhead, two things that constantly annoy me in showers
• Vacuuming made easy
• Drinking made easy
• Throwing people across the room made easy.  No more need to learn tricks like putting your car keys through your fingers or poking attackers in the eye.  Trunks are powerful, yo.
• Reaching things up high
• Some people argue that when it comes to kissing/love life, a trunk would only get in the way.  But I say it could also make things more interesting.  In any case, there are at least as many advantages as disadvantages in this area.
• It's like having an extra hand.
• I have never seen a tail on any animal as cool as a trunk on an elephant.
• Trunks can do everything tails can do PLUS snort things up inside.

I mean, just look at these trunks.  Trunk all the way, baby.

48 hours

During the last 48 hours, I have:

• Seen a lion
• Had a strange woman ask for a bite of my candy bar as I walked down the street
• Seen a stack of sheep heads on a street corner
• Been offered marijuana twice

Going solo

A person is a person through other persons.  –Desmond Tutu

Traveling alone is sort of a love-hate thing for me. 

For example, today I loved taking my time making decisions and going up to Table Mountain when I was ready.  I loved not having to make conversation with anyone on the drive there or discuss whether we were going to wait in the 60-minute gondola line to ride to the top or not. 

But I hated not having anyone next to me I could poke and say, “Hey!  The floor of the cable car is rotating!” or “Look!  You can see Cape Point from here!” or of course, “Take a picture of me pretending to fall off the edge of the cliff!”

Instead, I asked a couple of strangers to take a few pictures and then perched myself on top of a large rock looking out over the mountain dropping into the ocean.  I had just settled in to eat my dark chocolate seed bar (it was amazing) when two guys clambered up next to me and actually asked me in  to move so they could take have their picture taken where I was sitting.  Dude, seriously?  There are approximately one million rocks all together right here with almost exactly the same view, and you want my rock?  Can’t you see I’m sitting here far away from other people eating my lunch and having a moment?

Later, as I walked in the Company’s Gardens, a gangly man with one eye and a limp (and alcohol on his breath) pointed out the South African white house and a couple other sites to me.  I tried to shake him, but he kept walking with me and to be fair, he actually showed me some interesting things, like old apartheid benches with “non-whites only” still painted on them and the way into Desmond Tutu’s church.  But I was relieved when I finally gave him a handful of change and we said goodbye.

I spent the day warily keeping people outside my bubble, enjoying the sights but also enjoying being inside my own head.  But by the time I sat down to dinner at a restaurant called Fork, I felt a little lonely.  In Shall We Dance, one of the characters says in effect, “We have relationships in order to have someone to witness our lives.”  And when I travel alone, I acutely feel the lack of a witness.  If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear the sound, did it make a sound at all?  If I eat a fantastic asparagus and parmesan stick and no one is there to witness it, did I really eat it?  I thought of trying to replicate the meal later in my own kitchen just so that I could share with someone else how tasty it was. 

I glanced over at a window and noticed my own reflection, looking like a ghost sitting at an empty table.  And I felt like a ghost, like someone who breezed through this city today without leaving a mark, someone who was almost here – but with no one to witness it, was I really here at all?

Halfway through the meal, a new server started waiting on me.  She laughed when I told her that I almost licked the plate clean and her eyes got round as she described which desserts were “to die for.”  She brought me the strawberry and lemon curd pavlova along with tea made from fresh mint leaves.  It was divine.  I told her if I lived in Cape Town I would eat there every single day, and she laughed with real delight and said, “Yes!  I know what you mean!”  And for a moment someone witnessed my life.  I realized I didn’t want to be in a bubble, I didn’t want to be a ghost, I wanted to witness life, to participate in it, to leave a mark.

I left an overly generous tip with a note: “Thanks for the great service, and for your smile and laugh.  Best wishes.” 

Sunrise, sunset

My summer is now a nearly perfect palindrome: Russia sandwiched between trips to Utah and the Outer Banks on the front end, and trips to Utah and the Outer Banks on the other end.

Beach highlights: Watching the sun rise, watching it set.

(Am I getting old? Who says things like that? In my defense, I also helped bury C. in the sand, played Frisbee and ate fresh shrimp. And it was FUN. I never, ever want to go back to work.)

(But seriously, have you ever watched an entire sunrise or sunset? Like, start to finish, all 45 minutes, or however long? Just watched?)

Sunrise

Sunset

Utah

Creative uses for items from mom's garden:

1) Cucumber and mint face masks!

2) Zucchini cobbler! No, seriously:

http://allrecipes.com//Recipe/zucchini-cobbler-2/Detail.aspx

What a great week. Nothing compares to the healing power of facials, mani-pedis, gardening, sleeping in, new recipes, satin sheets, bike rides and MOMS. I'm still processing, still sorting out this whole Russia experience and not sure what to make of it all. But I do know that It's really, really, REALLY good to be home.

A supposedly fun thing I'll never do again

Add to the list of supposedly fun things I’ll never do again: A 22-hour road trip with 45 friends on a bus. Add in Soviet-era roads; waiting four hours at the border between Russia and Ukraine; two group sing-a-longs; and rest stops with squat toilets that you have to pay to use, and you have an idea of the luxury travel I enjoyed this weekend.

Trip highlights included:

*Rest stops. And not just for the rest. It was amusing to watch the mothers and grandmothers in the group venture into the bushes to avoid paying a 50-cent fee to use the bathrooms. That was the first rest stop. Later, after dark, we pulled over for another rest stop, and as I got out of the bus I realized that there was no rest stop at all. We were pulled over onto the shoulder of the road and people were scattered among the trees doing their business like it was the most normal thing in the world.

*Eating kolbasa sandwiches and sharing a teacup of juice with the Hausbiulins, each drinking out of a different side.

*Showing Roma the PhotoBooth application

Funny thing is, when they all got back on the bus tonight to head back to Russia and I stood waving and blowing kisses on the sidewalk, I actually felt a pang of sadness that I wasn’t going back with them.

But I guess that didn't really have anything to do with the bus.

Non-chronological post with beach pictures

It turns out I have approximately one million pictures on my computer that I've been meaning to post ... including some from a beach vacation back in June that I still smile when I remember. (This was the second of two Outer Banks treks this summer, this one with some old, dear friends that I don't get to see nearly enough -- read more here.)

"And here we have Idaho, winning her way to fame"

Family Reunion! In August, we packed the fam into cars and drove up to Stanley, Idaho to the cabin my grandparents owned throughout my childhood. Pictures this small probably won't do it justice -- the mountains, the sky, the lake are all breathtaking. And could my nephews get any cuter? Seriously.

Groove is in the heart

Just had to post a couple more pictures from my trip to Denver:

(That's me, Marlise, Janson, J.D., Jen and Marie)

There's just something about old friends -- people you've laughed and cried with, who've seen you at your best and at your worst and still love you anyway, etc. Few things in life compare with talking long into the night with friends like that. It was also fun to get to know the rest of the Smurthwaite fam better and experience what a special, amazing family they are.

And ... I hope Marlise doesn't mind me posting this video, but I can't resist ... it just reminds me too much of all the awesome impromptu dance parties we had in our house, right down to the song! It feels good to know that the tradition is being passed on to the next generation.

Happy Birthday, Linds

Say not in grief that she is no more
But say in thankfulness that she was
A death is not the extinguishing of a light,
but the putting out of the lamp
because the dawn has come.

-Rabindranath Tagore

On Saturday I visited my sister Lindsay's grave for the first time in at least three years. Jen and Marlise, former roommates of mine in Washington, DC, have been hearing about Lindsay for years, and since we all met up in Colorado last week, they got to come with me. I loved sharing something so special to me with dear friends; it was almost like I was finally introducing everyone.

I brought Lindsay some lilies -- my favorite flowers because of their strong, sweet smell. I took a moment to trace my finger over the image of the bleeding heart plant on her headstone and looked at the dates under her name: November 18, 1980 - December 28, 1997. She would have been 28 today.

We stood there watching a colorful sunset and I spouted a few memories; then we sat on her bench talking about life and made sure to sing her Happy Birthday before we left.

And I know it seems slightly irreverent to strike a silly pose in a cemetery, but trust me, Lindsay would appreciate it:

The next day, on my way home from church, I couldn't help stopping by the cemetery again. This time, I plopped down cross-legged in front of her headstone and stared at it for a long time. There were some bees crawling around on the flowers, and I watched them come and go, their legs heavy with pollen. I thought Lindsay would have been interested in them, and I wondered what she would be doing if she were still here. I felt the gaping Lindsay-shaped hole in my life, the one I don't think about very often, thought about the confusion and crossroads of my present life, and had a good hard cry for several minutes.

Today, Lindsay's actual birthday, I came home from work and found a candle burning in my room. Next to it was a white mug with blue snowflakes on it and a canister of Stephen's gourmet hot chocolate. And on the bed was a blanket with a yellow note and a yellow bow. It took me a moment to process (and to realize I wasn't being stalked or seduced), but I recognized the blanket as the afghan Lindsay started knitting, with stripes of different colors for each of her friends. It was a perfect, utter surprise, and some combination of a long day, the recent visit to the cemetery, and the unexpectedness of something so meaningful triggered a fresh set of tears. So, since I was already in the mood, I dug out the tape of Lindsay singing "Breath of Heaven" that she sent me just before she died, wrapped myself up in the blanket and listened to her sweet voice.

I don't often cry when I think of Lindsay, and her birthday isn't normally sad for me. In fact, we like to have fun with it. It's been almost eleven years, and it's gotten easier with time, but somehow this year, Linds, I miss you more than usual. Thanks for the blanket. I love it.

Death is not the end
Death can never be the end.

Death is the road.
Life is the traveller.
The Soul is the Guide

...

Our mind thinks of death.
Our heart thinks of life
Our soul thinks of Immortality.

-Sri Chinmoy

Roots

I didn't expect anything special when I walked into church on Sunday with Grammy. I hadn't been to the Littleton 5th Ward since my parents left Colorado several years ago, so I figured I'd probably see a few people I knew but mostly just look around and reminisce about my high school years.

It turned out to be so much more than that. Not only did I know everyone on the program (my dear laurel adviser spoke, a boy I used to babysit was reporting on his mission, and so on), but I was also just overwhelmed with the love I felt from and for so many people -- people I haven't seen in years. People who grabbed me and hugged me with tears in their eyes; people who sat and talked to me about my life and career decisions; people who were anxious for news about my family.

I have been thinking about this ever since Sunday, about how profoundly it affected me to remember that I have deep roots in a community. As a single person in a city of transients, I have grown accustomed to constant change, to getting new roommates and new jobs and new wards almost as often as new clothes. My family has always been a constant, but on Sunday it was like I visited my village. The ward where my dad was a bishop, where people rallied around our family when Lindsay passed away and Mom broke her neck, where Zach and I left on missions and came home again, where Emily got married. I didn't realize until I was there A) that I actually had roots like that, or B) how much it meant to me. I don't know when it will be, but I'm looking forward to the next chance I have to go back.

Back to my Roots.

Window on Wadi Musa

(Go ahead, click on it. That's right, there are 400 itty bitty trip photos in there. I'm not gonna lie, I'm kind of impressed with myself right now.)

Favorite Mideast memories, stream-of-consciousness (aka, How I spent my stimulus check and tax refund)

• The warm, gooey perfect falafel we bought just outside the Western Wall
• Making a human pyramid at the pyramids
• Referring to any food we didn't recognize as "wikipedia"
• Singing hymns in the matchless acoustics of Saint Anne's church
• Laughing, talking, sipping lemon tea and eating wikipedia crackers and white pomegranate at the hostel in Petra, afternoon sunlight streaming in through the perfect window
• Matt's spirited rendition of the Lion King in the Petra monastery
• Floating down the Nile talking with dear friends and watching a slow sunset
• Wandering through the tunneled streets of Acco at night
• Dumping piles of dust out of my shoes after a day in Petra
• Falling asleep on a horse and buggy ride around Luxor from sheer exhaustion
• Sinking in up to my knees in mud at the Dead Sea
• Paging Andrea over the airport intercom in Amman
• Praying in the church on the Mount of Beatitudes
• Getting lost driving in the West Bank … I'm not sure where we are but there’s a sign to Ramallah … yikes ...
• Rusty and Dave pelting each other with olives all along the Jerusalem city wall
• Jewish men and boys singing and dancing their way to the Western Wall at sunset
• Wading through knee-deep water in Hezekiah’s tunnel
• Camels everywhere! I heart camels
• Getting proposed to by my camel driver (he offered 1 million camels for me!)
• Being told by my donkey driver that my donkey was slower because I was too fat
• All the homos – I mean hummus – I could eat. I heart hummus
• Being nearly accosted by Egyptians for money
• Melt-in-your-mouth Egyptian pizza
• Randomly meeting someone from the Cairo ministry of culture who got us reserved seating at the whirling dervish show
• Matt reading us select verses at Biblical sites in and around Jerusalem
• Walking smack into a wall in the Masada museum
• Shekels!
• Dinars!
• Hearing the call to prayer virtually everywhere
• Sprinting through the old city with a djembe and a backpack full of dishes and scarves
• Losing half my body weight in sweat at the Valley of the Kings
• Gaining it all back eating pita bread and every kind of salad imaginable

Salaam alaykum

This is how awesome/nerdy my family is: A week or so after I got home from Egypt, Jordan and Israel, we used freeconference.com to set up a conference call. It included a web feature where they could all see my desktop, and I walked them through roughly 400 (out of 1500 ... ) pictures I'd taken. And not only were they actually interested right up to the end, they were jumping in with additional wikipedia info on things I didn't know!

I won't put all of you through that, but I will post a few pics and highlights here (an even better album of the best pictures with soon-to-come captions is here here):

What I did on my summer vacation

This awesome video of Memorial Day weekend pretty well sums it up, from spoons to Kitty Hawk to lots of sun and sand to MIKA and Ken Lee. (The only thing missing is all of the nutella I consumed ... which is probably better left out ... ) Shout out to Emily for putting it together and taking some great shots, including the one below -- you're amazing!

How do you beach?

During my first job out of college, I kept a little window open in the corner of my computer screen with a live beachcam of Waikiki Beach. I just checked, and it still plays Waikiki Baby and Rhythm of the Ocean ("Hear it calling your name ..." ) over and over and over, which is funny to me now. Anyway, when work was just too irritating, I'd click on the window and look at all the little people on vacation and daydream about my upcoming trip. (I believe this type of behavior is also known as "going to your happy place.") When I finally made it to Waikiki a few months later, I stood in front of that camera and waved encouragement (or gloated? not sure which) to whatever beleaguered office peon might be watching at that moment.

These days, my happy place is still the beach. After two sublime beach vacations in two weeks, I'm back in the office wishing for a live beachcam of the Outer Banks. But this time, I'm reading beach poetry, too ...

This first one is dedicated to Rachel and to walking until we can't walk anymore. In beaching and in life, I think I'm a walker.

The second is dedicated to John and his drip sand castles. And it is simply the essence of my very happy place.

Beach Glass
by Raymond A. Foss

How do you beach?
Sorry, don't want to get
Too personal
Just asking, to get a perspective
To put us on the same page.

Do you lay in place
drink in the rays, melt the stress?
Or maybe play – ball, Frisbee, or V-ball?

Not me. I walk, the length of the beach
Too restless to sit
Lost in my own thing
Looking for shells, people,
and beach glass.

Taking in the scene;
Hoping I remember where I left her
on my return.


Beach Sand
by Raymond A. Foss

Maybe it is the memories
the change of pace that brings us there
the sense of vacation
maybe the smell of the place
the sights of the gulls, the dunes, the grasses
but oh it is the feel of it,
the crunch and slide of it
the feeling of beach sand
so different from dirt, soil, loam
no, not earthy, moist, rich,
but oh so granular and gritty
even when wet,
moveable paper spreading under toes
sliding beneath the soles
smoothing my skin
clearing my mind
unburdening me of the rest
drawing me to the tactile, the feel
of beach sand

More New Orleans Pictures

The Big Easy

New Orleans top ten highlights (I attended the AAPOR annual conference last weekend, and also found plenty of time to play tourist. I became unexpectedly fond of this city):

10. Being in New Orleans during a flash flood warning

9. Not tripping over my feet or my words in my first professional conference presentation

8. Bourbon street. Yikes! (Anyone who has been there knows exactly what I mean.)

7. Room service :)

6. Getting trapped momentarily in an elevator just below the 27th floor of the hotel (hey, it could have been worse)

5. Balconies! Everyone in the French Quarter seems to have them. I want one. With plants.

4. Lafayette Cemetery No. 1. Have I ever told you that I love cemeteries? New Orleans cemeteries are known as Cities of the Dead because they look like streets with rows of buildings. This one is in the beautiful garden district.

3. Sitting in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant watching a man at the next table use his shoe to smash a giant cockroach on the wall, then hearing the bartender scream out a moment later, "What did you do to Frankie?!" (Seriously, though, the food all weekend was excellent. Jambalaya, gumbo, seafood and po'boys, mmmm!)

2. A driving tour, offered through the conference, of areas affected by Hurricane Katrina, most of which are still in various states of disrepair. Conducted by a non-profit group called Women of the Storm. Sobering and inspiring all at once -- these ladies saw something that needed to happen in their community and just started doing it. I want to do that. (I also heard heartbreaking stories from my taxi driver and others I met along the way who lost friends and family, who tried to rescue who they could, who pulled together with others through the storm. It all put my life into perspective. I thought my basement flooding a few days before this trip was something, but compared to this, I am not complaining.)

1. Live jazz. I can't describe this in words. Click on these links to have a listen yourself:

• New Orleans Jazz 1 (Panorama Jazz Band playing at the Spotted Cat)
  

• New Orleans Jazz 2 (Preservation Hall Jazz Band playing at Preservation Hall)

And I didn't even get to take the plantation tour or the swamp tour or help rebuild a school or house! All in all, I highly recommend N'Awlins as a destination. Interesting history and culture, great live music, and they need the money coming into their economy. Let me know when you go and I might even come with you!