Portrait of the artists as young women

Portrait of the artists as young women

Originally uploaded by pumpernickel

It was good to see Katie again. Unbelievably, it’s been over 5 years since we shared a tiny bathroom at Baker College at Rice. As usual, the serenity in the photo belies the hectic shenanigans that occurred hours later (1 canceled flight + 1 missed flight = 2 extra days in Philly!!!). I’m not complaining, though.

Practicing again

I’m collecting instruments like stamps. The old keyboard died; parents helped me buy a new one. Now, I have no excuses – I’ve got to practice the piano. It was a rough start over the past year, sometimes furiously hitting the keys every day, sometimes letting dust settle on the pedals… but now, I’m working on stuff more regularly. I had a recital with a friend a month ago, and so I was practicing the flute pretty hard-core for about three months prior. That’s the first time I’ve seen so much practice actually pay off. I’m usually not very motivated (well, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak, as they say). The guitar that Brandon left in my care before he moved back to China 2 years ago has moved from its obscure corner in my office to a more visible spot (about two feet away from the other area). The hope is that one day I’ll get so fed up with tripping over the thing and will just pick it up and start learning out of frustration. I think there’s a recorder around here somewhere, too. And then, there’s the violin I’m attempting to learn for the second time in 2.5 years…

CHI2008: Day 1

Alice and I dragged ourselves to the conference location, the Fortezza da Basso, at 8 am to make sure we beat the rush to register and pick up our conference swag. Sure enough, as soon as we had cleared the line, a flood of people gushed into the main hall and waited to do the same. Why, we asked, would a 16th century fort (complete with moat and turrets) be a convention center? Thankfully, this old “prison and slaughterhouse” has been converted into a pretty neat venue. A beautiful day had dawned on Florence and we were going to be inside soaking up all the amazing CHI vibes and knowledge.

Bell towers, bridges, and crazy statues of men with tails

So, Florence. Florence. FLORENCE.

I finally crawled out of my jet-lagged haze on Sunday (after having slept almost all of Saturday) and moved from the hostel to my hotel for the conference week. It was then, on the 15 minute walk through town, that I caught my first glimpse of the town. I can’t really say that it knocked my breath out of me, but it was interesting. Beautiful, in it’s charming, meandering way (there is no concept of a ‘grid system’ in this town, as with most European cities). With each step bringing me closer to the epicenter of tourist and commercial activity, however, I became more and more excited. The city began to breathe on its own without the aid of all the guidebooks I’d read.

Day 1: Gypsy travels

It feels great to be sitting still.

 

Work has graciously sent my co-worker, Alice Bradford, and I to Florence, Italy, to attend the CHI2008 conference. (www.chi2008.org).  I left on Thursday and will be conferencing through next week.  I also have a couple days at the end where I’ll be doing a little exploring on my own.

 

Here we go again!

As usual, I’m way behind schedule. Clothes are piled up on the couch like old receipts that I can’t get rid of. My backpack is on the floor, empty and waiting to be filled. The little Ziploc baggie with miniature bottles is standing at the ready in the bathroom. I’ve got my passport – I’ve got my itinerary. I’m procrastinating, like a child who desperately wants to drop off to sleep but instead fights the drowsiness because she knows that it’s much more exciting to be awake. Basically, my mind is a jumble of anticipation and the scraps left over from haphazard planning.

This time, it’s another part of the world. The break is so abrupt, though, that I feel strangely homesick and I haven’t left yet. The windchimes on my patio sound so sweet – do I really want to go a whole week without hearing their clamor?

And then, I think – “You’re silly. Go to sleep, finish packing, and get on that plane. There’s another dimension to explore and you’re worried about when you’ll hear your windchimes again!!!”

Everything is different, it just looks the same.

It’s November. The crisp night air swirls around my ankles and I wonder if I can get away with sleeping with the window open for just one more night. My body aches with the sweet exhaustion that only an overdue workout can provide. I’m tired. My brain flits from one unfinished topic to the next one, context switching before I can get anxious about any one thing. The result? I’m anxious about it all.

I guess a number of things have happened since I touched down in the great state of Texas after the two weeks in Scandinavia. Most people make one life change at a time – get married, or buy a house, or try a cuisine from a far-off land. I, however, chose to make as many life changes as possible in one go. In the span of 1 month, I quit my stable and long-ish term job at Freescale, I graduated with a Masters degree, I traveled thousands of miles to breathe in the air of a beautiful place, and I started a new job in a very different (but, as always, since I can’t seem to make a clean break of anything, related) direction. And now, I’m tired.

Day 8, or The Journey Continues

OK, so I checked my email early this morning and found my passport number from Petrine. Thank God. At least if worse comes to worse I can beg and plead at immigration. I managed to sneak out of the room and strip down the bed before checking out this morning. The sun was just peeking over the industrial landscape as I followed two girls to the train station. I stopped inside of the bus station to see if the Swebus counter was open for inquiries before heading to the train station (they weren’t). I found the train station, got my paper ticket, and boarded the train…and hoped that no other passengers sat near me. For, you see, I was a bit smelly, in the Biblical sense. As Lazarus, being dead three days, was described to the Lord as, “His body stinketh.” Nah, it wasn’t that bad, but I had been two days without a shower, deoderant, or a change of clothes. I kind of sat there for the next 7 hours, festering, and counting down the minutes to a hot shower.

Despite the…hygenic disturbance, the NSB Oslo-Bergen line provided a cheap (again, traveling on a MiniPris CHEAP ticket) way to see the Norwegian interior. The landscape changed so many times. From Oslo, it flattened out in to lush green farm land. Then, majestic pine and birch forests. Then, as we ascended, rockier brush land. We actually went over a mountain…and it was snowing!!!!! I have photos that I will post here later. On the other side of the mountain, past Myrdal and Flam and on the way to Voss and Bergen, we returned to the green forests, waterfalls, and lovely little towns.

**I’ll have to dig up my notes on the rest of this. I can’t believe it’s been over two months since I went on this adventure. Perhaps I’ll come back to this in the future.**

Update: Safely in Austin

Well, the Scandinavian saga is now over. It’s 11 pm CST and I’m finally sitting down to a stack of mail and two open suitcases. I’ll get around to unpacking…sometime this week, I hope. It feels good to sit on my own furniture after two non-stop days of travel.

Anyway, I know that there are many holes in this narrative. I plan to sit down and fill them in (with photos!) this week, God willing. There is much writing to catch up on!

Thanks for staying with me through this adventure. Onward! )

Correction: Lumberjacks

I stand corrected.  The lumberjack from the snoring concert two nights ago is the same one from last night.  It was a man, the other half of the newly married Wisconsin couple.  What a story!  One which I will have to finish writing a little later…after my nap….