Perching Cormorants, Everglades National Park, Florida

Can I Buy a Pretty Dress when People Are Starving in Sudan?

Yesterday, I wrote a blog about my girliness streak (especially in regards to shopping) that I have repressed out of pride or embarrassment for many years. After I wrote that blog, I picked up the Voice of the Martyrs magazine I’d received in the mail.

Eight pages later, I had read about the unbelievable horrors going on right now in Sudan. Genocide. Unthinkable prison conditions. Thousands of refugees. A pastor brutally tortured for eight years who returned to continue to preach the gospel the moment he was released, knowing he could be returned to prison at any time.

(Does this seem like a way-too-abrupt change in tone? I agree, it is. Life will do that to you…)

This happens every single day, and it’s not limited to Sudan. While I’m scrolling through the super-cute dresses and considering spending enough money to feed an orphan for a month to buy something I don’t need, people are starving, desperate, living and dying in conditions no human should have to endure. 

How is that okay?

This is a question that deserves more than a pat answer. I think it’s a question that everyone should wrestle with, and if you’re a Christian, pray about. A lot. What does it mean to be shallow? Is it a sin to want nice things? Are we compelled to give every spare penny to the poor, and if so, what is considered “spare?” How much is enough? Can we ever give enough? 

It’s important that these questions stay personal. Focus on what this questions mean for you. Don’t go railing about Bill Gates or the pope or the “rich people”— if you are reading this on your own computer, you have mind-blowing wealth in comparison to many countries in the world. There is no one-size-fits-all answer, so don’t try to force your answer on other people.

Unfortunately, this issue raises more questions than it answers. But here are some of my thoughts, inspired by the Bible (if you’re not a Christian, you can pretend the blog ends here):

Proverbs 31 is the famous passage that describes “a wife of noble character.” I find it interesting that these ideas in verses 20-22 are clumped together:

Church in Amberg, Germany

“She opens her arms to the poor

and extends her hands to the needy.

When it snows, she has no fear for her household; 

for all of them are clothes in scarlet.

She makes coverings for her bed; 

she is clothed in fine linen and purple.” (NIV)

Generosity is a vital part of this woman’s life, but it’s also clear (from these and other verses in the chapter) that she is wealthy. She isn’t ashamed to wear extravagant clothing (purple was an expensive color in the ancient world), although that is not her defining characteristic. She represents an ideal balance of hard work, prosperity, and generosity. She shows that wearing beautiful clothes and being generous are not mutually exclusive.

Another thing that has struck me as I’ve worked my way through the Pentateuch (the first five books of the Old Testament) is the breathtaking beauty and wealth of the tabernacle. From the priest’s garments and the bronze tent pegs to the intricate tapestries and the ark of the covenant, it becomes very clear that God loves beauty. 

In the book of Ezekiel, God uses vivid imagery to talk about his love for Israel, his bride. He shows his love in tangible ways, and the metaphors he uses are glistening with beauty:

“I clothed you with an embroidered dress and put leather sandals on you. I dressed you in fine linen and covered you with costly garments. I adorned you with jewelry: I put bracelets on your arms and a necklace around your neck, and I put a ring on your nose, earrings on your ears and a beautiful crown on your head. So you were adorned with gold and silver; your clothes were of fine linen and costly fabric and embroidered cloth. Your food was fine flour, honey and olive oil. You became very beautiful and rose to be a queen. And your fame spread among the nations on account of your beauty, because the splendor I had given you made your beauty perfect, declares the Sovereign Lord.” (Ezekiel 16:10-14, NIV)

Of course, it all goes downhill from there, but God first shows the extravagance of his affection for Israel. He is the God of lavish mercy and grace. He loves to give good gifts to his children (even though our understanding of what that looks like is often skewed).

Beauty, wealth, and anything more than our most basic need for salvation are all undeserved gifts. As the Jewish phrase goes, “Dayenu”— “It would have been enough for us.” Living in the reality of that grace gives us a lot of freedom, and a lot of responsibility.

That went a lot deeper than I intended to go, but the questions of wealth and generosity and suffering will blow open your world if you let it. I encourage you to take the time to think about it today. And when you do, let me know your thoughts.

~~~

Confessions of a Self-Repressed Clothes-Shopping Maniac

(I considered titling this blog, “Confessions of a Closet Shopaholic.” Then I could just imagine Zachary looking at me with his that’s-not-a-word face and say, “So you’re addicted to shopahol?” It’s an adorable face, but I decided to avoid it anyway.)

I was never a tomboy, but from a pretty early age, I viewed myself as the rugged carefree country kid. With an acre of woods in my backyard, it was true that I understood nature better than most kids who grew up in the city: I could make a cozy wigwam, avoid poison ivy, walk quietly over the leaf litter, and deal calmly with bugs (except granddaddy longlegs, which freaked me out). I usually wore boys’ clothes because they were practical, and that’s what got handed down to me from my brothers. My hair was often a rat’s nest because I hated brushing it. I never asked to play with Mom’s makeup or wear her fancy shoes, and I rolled my eyes at books that seemed too “girly,” and therefore boring. In the stories I told myself, the main characters were usually boys because I thought they were generally more interesting.

How I wish I dressed. (I was seriously tempted
to buy this tunic at Charming Charlie's.)

All in all, I despised “girly-girls.” There they were with their perfectly-groomed hair and cute designer clothes, letting out shrill screams when they were startled and breaking into conniptions when they encountered a bug. I reasoned that I was better than that, with my outdoorsy skills and insect tolerance and carelessness about my appearance. As I grew older and the “girly-girls” transformed into teens at the mall spending hundreds of their parents’ dollars on clothes, I grew even more smug.

How I actually dress. (Let's all take
a moment to thank God my husband
isn't a shallow person.)

And yet, somehow along the way, I still ended up with a streak of girliness that can compete with the best chick-flick-watching-fingernail-painting mall rat among them.

How did this happen? I’m still not sure. In many ways I’m still the same: I recoil from the idea of piercing my ears, dyeing my hair, or painting my nails. I like jewelry but don’t find it practical to wear 99% of the time. I rarely put on makeup and when I do I usually forget and rub it off within ten minutes. I leave my armpits and legs unshaven for weeks at a time. 

But it still surprises me every time I get a sudden and strange urge to shop. I see a dress I like and fall in love with it. I have sudden urges to go out to Goodwill. I even like shopping with my best friend and watching her buy clothes, as long as somebody is buying pretty stuff. Despite all my bluster about not being a girly-girl, and despite the relentless practicality that keeps me from wearing many a cute shirt, I want to look pretty.

Sorry for judging you, girly-girls.

Of course, this manifests itself in a unique way in me. My latest discovery is that I have a swooning reaction to backpacking clothes. Yes, backpacking clothes. Yesterday I was glancing through the clothes on ExOfficio’s site— and drooling. And murmuring, “Oh my gosh, a shirt that’s 100% nylon, SPF 30, with off-the-shoulder seams, tagless, available in that adorable shade of blue, with roll-up sleeves and insect repellent woven into the fabric?!” Things got even better (worse?) when I scrolled through their beautiful, unbelievably functional dresses, my eyes glazing over in wonder. It took a brisk four-mile walk in the soggy heat to clear my head.

My husband should just be glad that I hate spending money. Otherwise, he’d find himself trapped for life with a clothes-shopping maniac.

(Now that I’ve written this blog, I feel like it needs a follow-up. Stay tuned for a companion blog tomorrow.)

~~~

How to Grow Lettuce from a Cutting

I have to admit, growing my own lettuce from the base of a romaine heart was not my idea: I stole it from this article. Considering how much fun I’ve had doing it, I might try some of the other ideas in that article as well.

First, buy a head of romaine lettuce. It’s best to get something from a farmer’s market, but I’m never up that early on Saturday, so I just bought some lettuce from the store.

Next, cut off the base of the lettuce.

Submerge the base in some water and put it in a sunny windowsill. Sprinkle it with a little water every day.

It will sprout after a few days. (You’ll notice I’m also trying the same technique with celery.)

After a week, plant it. I used some loose filler in the bottom of the pot, and potting soil in the top. (Note: this is older than a week. I just forgot to take a picture.)

Keep it in a sunny location and water frequently. 

I have yet to taste my romaine, but I’m just happy to be growing some green stuff. It’s a pretty decoration for my front stoop, and I get to eat it when it’s full-grown. It’s like magic, and I didn’t even have to buy seeds!

Travel Stories: Audience Wrangling for British Jugglers 101

The San Francisco farmer’s market at the ferry plaza is quite the experience: it’s a bustling Saturday marketplace with dozens of vendors selling everything from organic oranges to artisan cheese. My favorite part, however, were the street performers.

In February of 2010 (yeesh, was it really that long ago?), Mary and I were strolling around the market, waiting to meet our cousin and her fiancé. This is what I wrote about the experience:

There are several musicians out; a group of five pounds on homemade drums; a ten-year old in a sharp suit plays the trumpet. There’s also a vaguely androgynous man who is “contact juggling” a glass orb, making it appear to float and stick to his hand, moving it fluidly over his arms in ways that seem to defy gravity (he’s from Bellingham, which makes me happy). 

Then we see a crowd and discover three English acrobats-in-training. The front man (we call him “William”) is compact and muscular with an eyes-in-the-sun squint and light brown cornrows. His brother (we call him “Tom”) is skinny and less handsome, playing the comic relief. Their sister, the third, is short and pretty, with striking blue eyes. She doesn’t talk at all. They perform impressive feats, everything from dancing on their hands to running atop a ladder to balancing on a ten-foot-tall unicycle. 

For some reason, in my diary entry I neglected to mention the most interesting part of the show: the audience reaction. For the first ten minutes, the audience was silent and dead, like couch potatoes watching a TV. Mary and I whooped and applauded as much as we could, but the audience at large was strangely still.

He proceeded to do a handstand on his sister's stomach, but my camera died right after this shot.

At the ten-minute mark, a guy on the front row pulled out a cell phone and answered it. “William” zeroed in on him, strode over and snatched it out of his hand. The audience came to life in an instant, tension crackling. William playfully yelled at the guy for answering a cell phone during a show, and the guy stuttered out that his mom had called. William spoke into the phone, and seemed surprised that it actually was the guy’s mother. “Yes… thank you, I like your accent too,” he said into the cell. 

The audience erupted with laughter, and I felt a noticeable shift in their energy. William made the guy help him with his next trick, and then sent him back into the now-laughing-uproariously crowd. For the rest of their show, the audience cheered, whooped, and clapped at every trick; they laughed at every joke; they were at ease and responsive. It was fascinating to see the sudden shift that came from the simple act of embarrassing an audience member.

By this time, Mary and I both suspected the guy was a plant, which we later confirmed by catching a glimpse of the acrobats’ next show. But in an odd way, that made it just as fun. These acrobats had figured out that doing great tricks or even being great showmen wasn’t enough— they had to reach out into the audience and wake them up.

At the end of the show, “William” holds out a bag for donations, saying in his lovely English accent, “If you can give a five, brilliant. If you can give a ten, even better! And if you can give a twenty—” Here he lifts his shirt to show off a ripped six-pack. “—you can take me home.”

Chuckling, Mary and I gave them what would have been our bus money, and then wandered onward into the marketplace. It was a nice day.

~~~

Travel Tip Tuesdays: Dealing with Illness When Traveling Solo

Hugging the toilet in a communal bathroom at the YoHo Hostel in Salzburg, I wished I could die. The sausage and cheese I had brought to Austria had sat in my backpack too long, and that, coupled with the unusually hot weather, was taking its toll on me. I had already thrown up once and was dying for this to all be over.

I’ve been sick more than once while traveling solo. Sometimes, such as in the case of the debilitating cold in Wyoming or the perpetual cough in Florida, I was staying with people who took care of me (and sometimes forced me to drink tea and chicken noodle soup). However, in Hamburg and Salzburg, Bellingham and Chicago, I was on my own. And trying to make medical decisions when you’re out of your mind with fever is not easy.

The best way to deal with these issues is to prevent them as much as possible. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. (I wrote a blog about this a while back.) To prevent illness, keep yourself from getting stressed out, eat healthily, drink enough water, avoid questionable foods, and know what makes you sick. 

This is how I felt when I was waiting for my flight to Europe.

But if you find yourself afflicted by an illness, it’s time to move from prevention to cure as quickly as possible. Have a game plan ready so you can remember what you’ve already decided instead of making it up as you go. Here’s the game plan that has served me well on my travels.

Don’t panic. When I woke up soaked in a feverish sweat the morning of my flight to Europe (and I was in Chicago, five hours from home), I freaked out. This is natural, but you have to fight it. Unless you’re having a heart attack, five minutes won’t make a difference. Sit down, clear your mind, and focus on your body. 

Assess your symptoms. Pain and discomfort are your body’s ways of telling you what’s wrong, so listen to them. Try to figure out why you’re feeling sick and what might be causing it. If you start to panic again, slow down and just breathe for a while. Start considering what the best course of action is. 

Find a pharmacy. In the case of my Chicago trip, I took a friend’s suggestion and walked to the nearest Walgreens. I told the pharmacist my symptoms and he assured me there was nothing to worry about; I just had a cold running its normal course. He suggested a non-prescription drug to help with the symptoms. I bought a thermometer there that confirmed that I didn’t actually have a fever. A pharmacist isn’t a real substitute for a doctor, but they’re great for any minor conditions.

Get medical attention, if necessary. It can be difficult to decide when an illness is serious, so listen to your body, try to think clearly, and use outside advice (such as the aforementioned pharmacist) to make your decision. My family has generally been the kind that avoids doctors like the plague— but after both my brother and my mom nearly died of burst appendixes within three months of each other, I’ve gotten a bit more paranoid. If you need to go to the hospital, go to the hospital!

Hydrate and rest. This is good advice for almost any malady: there are exceptions, but as a rule, these both will help. Sip water rather than chugging it and focus on relaxing your mind as well as your body.

Take a shower. If you have the option to take a shower, do it. This helps break a fever, ease menstrual cramps, moisten your sinuses, soothe an upset stomach, or relax tight muscles, and generally makes you feel more human.

Try to talk to someone from home. My dad knows a lot about health and wellness, so I usually would call him and try to get his opinion. However, even if the person knows nothing about your condition, it’s good to hear a familiar voice. It makes you feel less alone. Sometimes you have to get a little creative— when I was out-of-my-mind sick at the hostel in Hamburg, I got on Facebook, opened up the chat box, saw that my sister-in-law’s mother was online, and chat-messaged her asking if she could call Zach to ask him to get on Skype. It worked, and five minutes later I was Skyping with my fiancé. Yay technology!

Being sick on the road is no fun, but you can make it easier by preparing for it and keeping calm while you’re weathering out the illness. With any luck, you’ll be back to your solo adventures by the next day.

~~~

Living in a Body

Usually I forget how strange it is that each person inhabits a squishy blood-and-guts-and-spirit-infused bag of skin. I’m usually quite happy in my fluid-filled home, but every once in a while it strikes me that my body, while part of me, has quite a mind of its own, and it’s an experience to slow down and savor (or grit your teeth through) a physical experience.

A couple days ago I sat on our front stoop after saying goodbye to Zachary, sitting on the concrete with my bare feet planted on the steps next to my potted marigold. Since our townhouse stand on top of a hill, I have a good view of the sky through the telephone wires, and I watched a storm roll in. Chalk-white cumulus clouds roiled upwards, stark against the gray clouds pushing them toward my corner of the world. The warm air swirled and gusted around my bare legs. I felt eddies of cold air searching their way through the breeze as the light grew grayish-yellow and the smell of damp grass rose from the lawn. Thunder rumbled. Chimney swifts wheeled through the sky. At last, large sparse raindrops plopped down from the sky, flicking the white clover blossoms in the front yard. Drops splashed on my feet, beading up on my waxy skin.

I experienced this all with a sense of wonder. There is nothing unusual about a storm rolling in (especially this time of the year), but taking the time to slow down and experience things through my senses was almost trippy. 

It reminded me of why I’m so glad we get new bodies in heaven— that bodies are something good and wonderful and part of being human, even in the life to come. Experiencing ordinary wonders with a body that doesn’t wear out or break down is going to be incredible.

~~~

Flaming Gorge National Recreation Area, Utah

I Walk

A few days ago I was on my way to the library, listening to iTunes shuffle through my earbuds and speed-walking in time to the beat down shady suburban streets. I wore an empty backpack for my books, and my pace glided over the gently-sloping asphalt. Despite the 90-plus temperatures, I hardly broke a sweat. Sometimes I forget how easy walking is for me. 

I used to say, “I can’t do a push-up, but set me on a road and I can walk forever.” Now, that statement has been modified to, “I can’t do a push-up, but set me on a flat road with a light backpack and adequate water, and I can walk forever.” Not very catchy, I know, but more accurate.

In short, I’m an accomplished walker, but I’ve quickly learned that I’m still a beginning hiker.

Yes, I can walk 13 miles with a 15-pound backpack through rugged terrain (though hardly any elevation gain). That wipes me out. My muscles ache. I pant for water and get a headache and sometimes I feel too sick to eat. If you throw any hills in there, I can barely walk 50 yards without stopping to gasp for air. I’m a walker, not a hiker.

This gives me something to shoot for in the next year: become a good hiker. With limited long-distance hiking trails available, this is a challenge. But I’m determined to make it happen.

~~~

100-Word Memoir: Chelsea

When Chelsea joined our homeschool group, she was, as usual, the only other girl in the group. “Be friendly,” Mom said. 

When Chelsea and I talked, she said I was sheltered because I didn’t watch violent movies or go to sleepovers at other kids’ houses. As one eight-year-old to another, she said I needed to be independent.

I played it cool, giving her nonchalant glances (like Jimmy Stewart in Destry Rides Again) as I explained that I didn’t feel the need to assert my independence from my parents (I might have even used that phrasing).

Later, I bawled.

~~~

Happy Birthday, Zachary!

My best friend turns 23 today! Happy Birthday, dearest, and many more!

Zach's birthday 2012

FAQ about the PCT

As the year strolls along, my attention has focused more and more on Zach’s and my big goal for 2014: hike the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) from beginning to end. Although there are countless factors that might keep us from actually finishing (or starting) this expedition, we’re going to give it our best shot.

Whenever I talk to people about the trail, a string of questions inevitably comes up. Many of these questions make me think that I must not be explaining what we want to do as clearly as I should. Therefore, I give you, Frequently Asked Questions about the Pacific Crest Trail!

Forest near Timothy Lake, Oregon,
where Zach first discovered the PCT.

Q: What is the PCT?

A: It’s a backpacking trail that starts on the border of Mexico and winds its way up through California (passing through the Mojave Desert and Yosemite up the Sierra Nevada range), over the Cascade range in Oregon and Washington, ending a couple miles into Canada. 

Q: How long is it?

A: Approximately 2,660 miles.

Q: Wow, that’ll take you, like, at least three or four weeks to hike, right?

A: *blink blink*

I don’t even…

What?

Q: Why are you looking at me like I’m stupid?

A: You’re not stupid. You have just managed to completely and utterly baffle me.

*awkward silence*

Q: So how long will it take?

A: If we go at a decent rate, about five months.

Q: Five months! How will you make money during those months?

A: We won’t. 

Q: So will you do your online teaching job while you’re out there?

A: This is one of those questions that makes me think I haven’t properly conveyed what hiking the PCT actually looks like. Even if I could afford the extra weight (my computer weighs more than our tent), and be sure that my Macbook could stay dry, and have enough battery power to keep it going, I wouldn’t have time to edit when I’m hiking ten hours a day. So no.

Q: When will you go?

A: The kickoff date is in late April.

Q: Will you take breaks?

A: Maybe a day here and there, but we’re hoping to hike straight through (as opposed to “section hiking,” where you hike it in chunks over a longer period of time).

Q: So you’ll be stranded in the wilderness for weeks at a time?

A: Actually, no. We’ll be stopping into towns every four to five days. We’re also likely to meet a lot of other hikers on the trail.

Timothy Lake

Q: How will you carry enough food?

A: We’ll be mailing ourselves packs of shelf-stable food to the different towns. 

Q: You’re going to take a cell phone or satellite phone, right?

A: We haven’t decided yet. A cell phone would be basically worthless, and a satellite phone probably wouldn’t be worth the weight.

Q: Why are you so obsessed about weight?

A: In backpacking, every ounce of pack weight counts. Have you ever tried to bench-press a one-pound barbell? Easy, right? Now, do 40,000 reps. That’s approximately how many steps we’ll be walking in one day. Every extra ounce adds up quickly.

Q: What happens if one of you gets injured?

A: Probably cry. And then we’d use our wilderness first aid skills to figure out what to do. Like I said, we won’t be too far from civilization at any given time, and there are other hikers on the trail.

Q: What happens if you have to call the whole thing off?

A: Head to the nearest family member’s house (there are many on the west coast) and book a flight home.

Q: Are you really hardcore enough for this?

A: Well… I don’t have an answer to that yet. A triathlon champion reportedly went home crying after a week on the trail, but a nine-year old girl hiked the whole thing with her mother last year. We won’t know until we get there. And that’s half the fun.

Did I miss anything? Do you have any more questions about the PCT?

~~~

Travel Tip Tuesdays: Hand-Washing Laundry Techniques

Most of the time during my travels, I’ve used a washing machine, because I usually stayed at someone’s house, or else let my clothes accumulate and had the free time that makes it pleasant to curl up on top of a washer and read a book. However, when you’re traveling at hotels or hostels, it’s often best— and much quicker— to hand-wash your clothes in a sink. Here are some tips.

I do admit that washing these in a sink would've been rough.

Plan to hand-wash your clothes frequently. Hand-washing a large batch is way too time-consuming: you’re better off running a load of laundry at that point. But if you just wash some socks, a pair of underwear, and a shirt or pair of pants every night, it’s quite manageable.

Pack a travel-sized spray bottle of laundry detergent. If you check your bag, you can bring something bigger. Spray bottles are the best because you can just mist your clothes. If you squirt or dump detergent on your clothes, you’ll end up with way too many suds that are hard to wash out.

Bring fast-drying and wrinkle-free clothes. I’ll admit, I usually pack jeans and cotton t-shirts because they’re easiest to find at the thrift shop. But they take ages to dry, and if you’re in a humid climate, they may not dry at all. You’re much better off with some sort of synthetic blend like polyester. Whatever kind of clothes you take, be sure that they hold up with hand-wringing and don’t wrinkle too much: otherwise you’ll look like a complete wreck all the time.

Wash your clothes in the sink or the shower. Stop up the sink (some people buy universal sink stoppers, but I just wad a sock into the drain), fill it with water, spray it with detergent, agitate the clothes, then drain the sink and rinse them with cold water. For larger items, I prefer washing in the shower because you can splash water everywhere and it doesn’t matter.

Wring out the clothes thoroughly before hanging them up. Not only will this help them dry faster, but no hotel or hostel owner wants you dripping water over everything. Try rolling each item in a microfiber towel after you wring it out for added absorption.

Hang the clothes carefully. Turn your clothes inside out so the inside will dry first (after all, you don’t care if the outside of your pants are a little damp as long as the inside is dry). Avoid placing the clothes on surfaces that will stain, such as wood. Some people buy clotheslines to hang in their hotel rooms, but I’ve always gotten away with stringing my laundry over the backs of chairs and on the railings of my hostel bed. Again, be sure that they’re not dripping!

Not everyone thinks it’s worth it to do laundry in a sink, but when you’re traveling light, this is a great way to save yourself some money and time. Think about it: how many cookies could you buy with the laundry money you saved?

~~~

Pacific Madrone Tree, Bellingham, Washington

100-Word Memoir: The Barbie Tornado

My sister Mary’s Barbies were having a good day, picnicking on a stack of my Jacques Cousteau books. Then I decided I wanted to read those books— all of them. I stole the stack, disrupting the game, and began reading.

Mary was silent for a few seconds. Then she smashed her fist through her Barbie picnic and yelled, “There’s a tornado! Everybody dies! And it’s all Lisa’s fault!” She leaped up, dashed into the closet and slammed the door. I placidly continued reading. 

After a few minutes, I heard, “Lisa?”

“Yes?”

“Sorry for yelling.”

“It’s okay.”

“Lisa?” 

“Yes?”

“I’m stuck.” 

~~~

Where to Go: Scripps Park, La Jolla (San Diego), California

If you ever find yourself visiting San Diego on a budget (or even if you’re not on a budget), be sure to take a few hours to visit Scripps Park. Located in La Jolla (northwestern San Diego), this seaside park is a great place to spread out a picnic, gaze out at the ocean, explore tide pools… and look at amazingly adorable seals!

The harbor seals are the stars of this park, and you can see them everywhere along the shore, looking like oddly adorable slugs with dog faces. If you come at the right time of year you can even see seal pups wiggling around on the beach. (I’ve posted a blog and a video about this before.)

If you’re taking public transit, bus line 30 will take you there from most places in the city. Otherwise, here are driving directions. 

This park is a sample of what makes San Diego great: palm trees, ocean, tide pools, and cute animals. Be sure to work it into your schedule!

~~~

Ten Thousand Ticks and Maybe More

Well, can't say they didn't warn us.

I’m sure you’ve all been waiting with bated breath, hanging off the edge of your chairs by the skin of your teeth, for this blog that chronicles the exciting events of Zach’s and my 13-mile hike at Giant City State Park!

No? Oh well, I’m going to tell you about it anyway. (Read Part One here.)

After Zach and I camped the night, we crawled out of our tent into a “misty, moisty morning.” A blanket of gray clouds smothered the sky, making us wonder if the promised thunderstorms would come. Everything was still wet from the rain the night before. 

We packed up the tent and tossed a couple water bottles, some trail mix and PBJ sandwiches, and a two-liter of water into my spiffy new backpack, which I was eager to try out. (My verdict at the end of the day was overwhelmingly positive: it felt less like I was carrying a backpack and more like I had just gained 20 pounds of fat on my back.) Then we were off to the Red Cedar Trail, despite the campground host’s warning of rugged conditions and ticks.

The trail ran through typical Midwestern forest: youngish maples, oaks, and other hardwoods with lots of underbrush on rugged, boulder-strewn ground (there were never any cedars, incidentally). The trail was a bit rocky, but easy to follow— at first. It didn’t take long before it delved into thick undergrowth, and we soaked the fronts of our pants wading through the rain-soaked foliage. Still, the sun came out and a cool breeze rustled through the forest, making a pleasant hike despite our struggling.

We crossed some pretty streams on our path, which ran over beds of sandstone.

The trail also ran alongside several picturesque fields.

I look at these photos and remember that the trail was pretty. I have to remind myself because most of the experience on the trail was pretty awful. It wasn’t just that we were fighting through underbrush or wading through waist-high grass the entire time. It wasn’t just that the trail took an unmarked turn every few minutes that had us hunting a 100-yard radius in search of a blaze. It wasn’t even the fact that we missed a turn and trudged down a mile-long detour in armpit-deep grass.

See the trail? Yeah, me neither.

It was the ticks.

We were about four hours into the hike when we noticed them. At first we just found a stray one here or there, crawling on our pant legs or arms. We flicked them off and continued hiking. Then we started to notice they were showing up more and more. Then I pulled up my pant legs to check my ankles, and found a family of ticks camping out in my leg hair. I squawked and plucked them off, tossing them into the grass. 

With growing horror over the next hour, we discovered that the grass and underbrush we were wading through was swarming with these little bloodsuckers. And when I say “swarming,” I’m not exaggerating. There was a plague of them in those woods. For the final three hours of the hike, Zach and I stopped literally ever 100 yards to pluck a dozen ticks off our pants and ankles. We did a more thorough search every 40 minutes or so, where we pulled them off our kneepits, necks, and underwear lines. We’d walk and I’d see three huge ticks latch onto Zach’s pants as he walked in front of me and swarm up his legs at an alarming rate. Sometimes I asked him if he wanted to stop for a break, and he’d say, “No, let’s just get out of here!” 

The trail became a breathless nightmare, excruciatingly slow because of the tick-plucking rest stops. I began getting phantom tickles all over my body, making me jerk and scratch and freak out at anything that looked remotely tick-sized.

When at last we stumbled up to the end of the trail, I was covered in rashes and scratches, hot and breathless, still picking ticks off my legs. I wondered how humans had managed to survive on planet earth this long. Still, it was a good opportunity to ham it up for a few photos.

Zach and I both took long showers, and I picked off six tiny red ticks that had attached to my ankles. On the drive home, I found two more crawling around, and when I got home, I picked off another one. Do you ever want to become hyper-aware of every sunspot and mole on your body? Then hike in tick-infested woods for seven hours.

On the way home, Zach and I agreed that we would not be hiking the Red Cedar Trail again. But I said, “This is going to be an awesome blog.”

~~~

Travel Tip Tuesdays: Seven Tips for Sleeping When You Travel

I’ve slept many different places throughout my years of traveling: spare bedrooms, Greyhound buses, hostel bunks, tents, backseats, a beach, a picnic table, an RV couch, a sailboat, a concrete rest stop floor, and more couches than I can count (but never, incidentally, a plane). It can be difficult to settle down and rest when you’re in an unfamiliar bed, but there are things you can do to encourage your body to take some much-needed rest.

1. Eat your vitamins. Don’t neglect your health when you’re on the road: getting proper nutrients will help you feel better overall and sleep deeper. (See Seven Helpful Travel Foods.)

Mary has the right idea.

2. Keep physically active during the day. I’m convinced that many people who have sleep problems could do away with their insomnia if they were more active. When you’re on a trip, take a brisk walk, play in the ocean, stretch while you’re sitting on the train, stop at a rest stop and throw a frisbee around. Getting out in the fresh air and sunlight will help, too.

3. Have a bedtime ritual. Your body thrives on habits, so if you give it consistency, it’ll be happier with you. Try rubbing a fragrant lotion on your face just before bed, or always going to sleep right after you brush your teeth. 

4. Listen to a specific playlist of music. When I started traveling, I’d often listen to a mellow album of piano music when I was trying to get to sleep. I did it so often that every time I hear those songs now, I get sleepy! 

5. Wear a blindfold and/or earplugs. I learned to sleep with a bandana tied across my eyes when my sister and I had a difference of opinion about the lights in our room. Now I have a hard time sleeping without one. I’ve only used earplugs while sleeping in a campsite with friends at a music festival— when I’m solo I tend to be a bit paranoid, and like to be able to hear what’s going on around me.

6. If you can’t sleep, meditate. I have a lot of trouble sleeping in a car, and have never been able to sleep on a plane, so I spend a lot of my time with my whole body relaxed, concentrating on my breathing and allowing my consciousness to focus more and more inward. If I do it right, I can reach a state where I’m completely relaxed. Even though I can still hear and feel things, this meditative state is good enough to substitute for a nap.

7. Allow yourself enough time to get a solid eight hours. In high school when all my friends were bragging about their three- and four-hour nights, I gladly admitted I was clocking 10 hours a night. I know this essential to my attitude throughout the day. Sometimes on a trip you need to sacrifice sleep to get an opportunity, but remember: sleep is important. Make it a priority, and you’ll have a lot more fun doing everything you want to do on your trip.

~~~