Life of Wry

Trip Days #1 and #2

Our first day started on March 30, but ended on March 31.  So, this is a post about the first and second days.

After a couple weeks of committing to the trip, un-committing to the trip, and re-committing to the trip, I had only a month to make lists, read travel books and blogs, plan, shop, get shots and prescriptions for all manner of maladies, train as best I could–in flatness and in rain–and acquire and pack embarrassing amounts of gear.

This being Nepal and a trek among the highest mountains in the world, I also wanted to have certain info handy:

– I made a chart of our day-to-day itinerary–mileage, mountains we’d see, rivers we’d cross.

– I made a schematic of all of our elevation gains and losses along the way.

– I made a list of the peaks we’d see on this trip and their world ranking in terms of elevation (for the record, we’d see the 1st, 4th, 5th, 6th, 15th, 20th, 24th highest.. wowowowow!).

– I made a handy conversion chart for both meters-to-feet and celsius-to-fahrenheit.

(Nevermind I also felt compelled to clean out the refrigerator, sort the coins in the spare change basket, call the dishwasher repair guy, finish up the unsent Christmas cards, file all the items in the to-file box, clear out the hat and coat area, sweep the porches, plus things up to which I will not fess… all to ensure that was leaving an orderly world for Peter and Jim while I was gone.)

I could finally say, for better or for worse: I’m ready to go to Nepal!

In uncharacteristic fashion (on time even!), we (Jim scored lots of husband points for driving me to the San Francisco Airport) left home in a cloud of calm and headed to Starbucks for the traditional road trip coffee & pastry.  At Starbucks, I chatted with people I knew in line, saying things like, “Me? Oh, I’m on my way to Abu Dhabi.”

All was good.

Mostly.

Before we’d even gotten to Dixon, I spilled non-fat cafe au lait all over my new fleece jacket.  A few cinnamon swirl coffeecake crumbs, too.  Let The Dirtiness Begin.

But then.. this happened.

We ran into a major snag around Richmond: a huge, miles-long traffic jam on I-80–the result of a big rig fire.

This traffic jam–which had brought the westbound lanes of I-80 to a complete and total, panic-inducing stop–threatened all my careful planning.  I might now miss my plane to Frankfort, which would result in my missing the connection to Abu Dhabi, which would mean I’d miss all that camaraderie-building and pre-trek bonding, plus, missing my flight might even screw up my Kathmandu arrival, which would mean I’d potentially miss the orientation and welcome dinner,  and hell, I may have to rethink the whole trek to Everest Base Camp…. this is BAD.

So, yeah… I sent a panicky stream of update texts to Karen, who was already at SFO, already at our gate.  And all I could do was stare plaintively at the traffic, trying to will it to move, and think, really?!  REALLY universe?  A TRA.FICK.JAM? Today? Now?

And, in the end, it was all ok, because they cleared a couple of lanes after about an hour, and traffic again flowed, and my texts to Karen–who was frantically texting messages back to me with lots of exclamation points and instructions to breathe–got less hysterical, and it was all fine.

Then, at the airport, after bidding a happy and relieved goodbye to Jim, I ended up in the wrong check-in line.  An honest mistake, as I had a ticket to Frankfort on Luftansa, dutifully stood in Luftansa’s Frankfort line with lots of other Frankfort-bound, German-speaking travelers, but, in fact, I should have been standing in the United line–for reasons that still baffle me.  After 30 minutes of blissful (if unwarranted) confidence, Luftansa officials kindly told me to go to a whole nuther check-in station two bays down. But, thankfully, it turned out to be a non-issue as United had no line at all (because I was so late) and I checked my bags uneventfully and took off to find Karen… with whole minutes to spare before my gate would close.

Meanwhile, she’d been texting me all along with excited sentence fragments like, “They’re calling your name” and “OMG, a double decker!!!,” and other things like that.

I arrived at the gate and saw Karen immediately, a beacon of green, which I would later learn is her color, and we were all, “Hi! How ARE you? YOU MADE IT! You look great!  How long has it been? Is that all you’re carrying? Are you ready?  WOW! Are you excited?  I knew you’d make it. I thought I’d never make it. Where are you sitting?  Which boarding line do we get in?  I got an aisle.  Are your bags checked through to Abu Dhabi? This is going to be great. I got a window.  You can relax now. I can relax now. Whew!  Whew!”  ETC.

Moments later, we boarded the giant, double decker 747, I dashed off a Facebook status update (of course), and we were off.

I didn’t see Karen again until we landed in Frankfort, Germany…. sometime the next day.  (Here we are having a snack in the airport in Frankfort.  See?  Green!)

As it turned out, this first day of travel would be a very well-orchestrated first day–a string of perfect connections.  The incidents that lead to the pair of near misses were the last close calls on the entire three and a half week trip.  Thereafter, we’d make every bus, plane, appointment, event, tour, meal, meeting…all of it.  Our itinerary would unfold exactly as planned, unaltered by weather, injury, sickness, traffic jams or failed alarm clocks.  Amazing!

But.. I’m getting ahead of myself…..  let’s move on to trip day #3…

Read the rest of this entry »

Even though Peter is ignoring me here (and, adding insult to injury, is probably watching a re-run of one of those animated shows that makes him laugh ’til he cries but runs utterly contrary to everything we’re trying to teach him about humanity), I’m totally going to miss him.  Going to miss Jim too, and our sweet home (as the saying goes), and my friends and coffee mates, and baseball, and Mishka’s poppy seed muffins, and a whole bunch of other things.  In the course of three and a half weeks, I’m expecting some world record home sickness.  But also, of course, expecting to have my mind blown.

Very excited.

So, no time to write this morning; got a plane to catch down in San Francisco.  I’m taking a journal and will jot down a few (gazillion) things (visions of my former self, pre-laptop days).  Have six very sharpened pencils — wheeee!  But, I may also post a time or two from the road, and trail, and various world capitals, as I stumble into wifi zones… we’ll see.

In any case, Life of Wry is on break.  I will back-load some photos to make up for it upon my return.

: سي يو ليتر.

(I couldn’t find a Nepali translator quickly enough, so please settle for Arabic.  In English: see ya later, aligator!)

Should have known when this turkey fluttered across my path this early morning it might be some sort of omen on the day.

It’s had its high points for sure, but oh my lord what a difficult day. Somehow, by tomorrow morning, I’m to be ready to ship out to Abu Dhabi and beyond?

Ok, 7:00pm.  Let’s get this packing thing wrapped up, shall we?

A flat tire.

As if to say, whoa there, cowgirl, take a breath…

For the last few weeks, I have definitely been in that manic pre-trip state of mind… you know that world of lists and errands and last minute acquisitions.  Reading all the travel books and travel blogs.  Thinking about what to take, what to wear, what to see, how best to get the most out of the experience.

If you’re me, that manic place is made more frenetic by my tendency to over-plan.  For example, I’ve made a nice chart of our day-to-day itinerary–mileage, elevation gains, mountains we’ll see, rivers we’ll cross.  I’ve done a schematic of our elevation gains and losses.  I’ve written the addresses of all who shall get postcards and all who shall get gifts.  I’ve made a list of the peaks we’ll see on this trip and their world ranking in terms of height (for the record, we’ll see the 1st, 4th, 5th, 6th, 15th, 20th, 24th highest.. wowowowow!).  I have a handy conversion chart for both meters–>feet and centigrade–>fahrenheit.. because, well…   I like to know these things.

It gets worse.

I tend to organize and prepare for my departure in a way outside-the-lines kind of way.  I’m the one who, before she goes on a trip, has to clean out the refrigerator, sort the coins in the spare change basket, finally call the dishwasher repair service, finish up the unsent Christmas cards (the ones that were owed long personal messages), file all the items in the to-file box, cull the hat collection, sweep the porches.  Plus things up to which I will not fess.   I go fully, deeply, painfully, into the detail and logistics zone.  And the clean, cull, organize and straighten up zone.  And a whole bunch of other places that make me feel ready, and confident I’m leaving an orderly world for Peter and Jim while I’m gone.

But.

With only a day and a half before departure, I’m also, gratefully, in the what will be will be zone.  I’m finally in that window where things are coming OFF the table.  There is no more time to train.  There are no more electronic gizmos I could possibly, reasonably expect to acquire and learn before I go.  I can not make any more trips to REI.  I cannot lose another pound (which means I can eat that piece of shortbread because one piece of shortbread is not going to make a difference now).  I’ll have to make do with what I’ve got and let the rest go.

It’s almost like the trip has begun.  Not quite, but almost.

Taking a deep breath…

I’m really just going to let this go without comment.  Well, except to say that using one of these things is an acquired skill.  And I guess I need to be a little more patient with Peter… realizing now just how challenging it is to hit one’s target.

Definitely need more practice.

I will also say there are no shortage of products out there designed for this purpose.  (Really, do a search.)  I ordered two–P EZ (above) and P-Mate (below).

Helps to have a sense of humor.

May I just say, I am grateful for the school’s music program.  The quality of the program was on shining display today as we sat in a beautiful, acoustically sophisticated performance hall, listened to a very classy selection of music, and gazed upon our children, smartly dressed in their finest white shirts and black slacks, looking so very elegant and grown up.

This was the annual adjudicated festival for 7th, 8th and 9th grades bands from three schools.  Each band was given an hour.  During this hour, they performed three practiced pieces, received critical evaluation from two judges, replayed those pieces under a guest conductor, and sight-read a brand new piece.  We sat in the audience very duly impressed.

The whole time I thought, wow, what a great education.  This is an experience that will serve Peter well his entire life.   Laughed to myself, too, realizing he knows way, WAY more about music than I ever will.

As I said, grateful.

Conversation went something like this, maybe an hour after Peter had gotten home from school:

Him: Oh, by the way mom, don’t pack milk in my lunch again.
Me: Why?
Him: It exploded.  I don’t know how it happened.
Me: What exploded?
Him: The milk you put in my lunch.
Me: Wait, what?
Him: It just exploded and there’s milk all over. I don’t know how it happened.
Me: You said that. Where’s your backpack?
Him: Um, I don’t know.
Me: Get your backpack.
Him: [Gets backpack, brings it to me, dripping white liquid.]  Here it is.
Me: Aaaaahh!  Peter!
Him: Sorry!
Me: [Takes backpack. Rushes it to sink. Opens it.]  Oh my god. There’s milk everywhere..
Him: That’s what I told you!

And there was: A pool of milk at the bottom of the compartment where the lunch goes.  Milk soaked through papers and books.  Wet pencils, binders, granola bar wrappers, erasers, felt pens.

It was gross.

Backpack’s now soaking (above).

Papers and books are drying.   

So, yesterday?  I needed to go to Elk Grove for an eye exam (there is just no end to the to-do list when preparing to be gone for a month).  As I came out of my appointment and headed toward my car, I noticed the sky was a serious shade of black.  As I began to drive home, it started to rain.

This spring has seen a lot of rain.  Really a lot.  And I’ve been out in it.. also a lot.  But I’ve seen nothing like this.  This big black cloud unloaded drops the size of marbles that splatted so hard on my windshield I worried for the glass.  Really, I’ve never experienced such big water falling from the sky with such violent force.  These drops bombarded my car so relentlessly I started to laugh nervously.  I’d look into the windows of other cars and the reaction was the same.. we were all kind of hysterical.  Nobody could see very well–the lane lines were buried under water–so we all either stopped or drove on very, very slowly.  You could see it’d end, because there was light to the west (see photo), but it was also clear we were caught in the middle of a ferocious storm cell.

Just then my radio program was interrupted by that emergency broadcast signal we’ve all become so familiar with, but I had a sinking feeling this one was not “only a test.”  No, it wasn’t.  A guy came on and warned of isolated storm cells and severe thunderstorms, and essentially said, GET OUTA DODGE!  Then he issued an additional warning to people in Yuba County that funnel clouds were forming and a tornado was possible, and that people were advised to get to safety immediately, meaning a basement or some other safe, secure structure.  Which made me kind of look around and think… uh… basement anyone?  Please? Yuba County’s well to the north, but, you know, what do you do?!

My five minute story ends here, because I then drove right out from under that nasty cloud and was suddenly surrounded by a whole bunch of sunshine and a radiantly clear, blue sky.  Huh.

So.. this shot was taken as I’m driving north on I-5, just minutes later: sun (glorious sun) to the west of me, storm cell (thankfully) to the east.

Plus, a cheery, happy rainbow–most of which I missed, fumbling for my camera.

Anyway, a welcome sight.

You know you live in flatsville when a railroad overcrossing is the highest point in town.

In my earnest, yet somewhat vain, attempt to squeeze 6 months of recommended training into 3 weeks, I hit the overpass at Covell and F again today, this time with a backpack full of books (please don’t try to picture this).  I think we ascended–a word that will take on entirely new significance in about 2 weeks–the pass 12 times today.  We being Lorilyn and me.  Twelve was all that we had time for, plus, OH MY FREAKING LORD it is monotonous.  Having someone to talk to is a good idea.

Last Monday I bagged the pass 14 times, and a few days before that, maybe 12.  With nobody to talk to.

I tell you, this is training at its most desperate.

For your information, it takes exactly eight minutes to cover the distance between the bus stop across the street from the Davis Art Center and the fire hydrant near the corner of J Street.  That provides you with two go-ups and two go-downs.  The west side is steeper, and the railing, pictured above, is a perfect place to do a whole bunch of stretches.  While you stretch, you can take in a very nice view of the thoroughly rain-soaked Little League fields.

And that’s just about all there is to say about that.