My Favorite States

Why, you ask, have I not visited Arkansas? I'm still trying to figure it out…

Over the past two decades, I’ve been fortunate enough to visit 29 states. I consider this to be a fair accomplishment, although I still have quite a few to go to reach my goal of all 50. You may ask, “Out of all the states, which one is your favorite?” The answer is, without hesitation, “Missouri.” Yes, I know that’s cheating, but it’s true. It’s central, simple, pretty, and my home.

(You might also ask what is my least favorite. I would say, “West Virginia,” for absolutely no reason other than that I get negative feelings every time I hear those words. Am I weird? Yes I am.)

However, if your question is, “Out of all the states you don’t live in, which is your favorite?” I can handle that, as long as you allow me multiple answers. Keep in mind that these are my favorites… not necessarily the best.

Honorable Mentions:

Florida. From the Everglades and the crazy-awesome subtropical trees to Disney World and the wildlife, this place deserves to be a tourist destination— but only, I contend, in the winter. (Also, it contains the Everglades International Hostel, a truly magical place.)

If you get a chance to visit the Everglades National Park, do it.

Colorado. Home to some of the loveliest towns I’ve ever visited (Colorado Springs, Fort Collins), this state also boasts some fantastic geological formations and down-home streams. Oh yeah, and there’s also the Rocky Mountains.

This is the best shot I could find— although I've visited CO three times, I have no good pictures of it!

California. I could give a laundry list of places I love within its limits: San Diego, San Francisco, the entire coast, the Redwoods, the landscapes, the Sierra Nevada Mountains, and so on and so on. Seriously, do you need me to tell you why California is awesome?

I love the scenery around San Luis Obispo.

Now… The Top Three!

Oregon. For several months I harbored a grudge against this state, refusing to believe that it was as wonderful as all the Oregonian snobs said it was. But after being assaulted with stunning natural wonders everywhere I went, from the Columbia River Gorge to the Bandon beach, I realized that I could not deny that this place is pretty much amazing.

A sight to convert even the most stubborn skeptic.

I'll never get tired of Bandon beach.

North Carolina. From the majestic Smoky Mountains in the west to the shimmering beaches in the east, this state has a variety of vistas (and some of the most beautiful Southern accents I’ve ever heard). I love the history of this area, and little details such as tin-roofed buildings and Spanish moss. My ancestors first moved to North Carolina from Europe in the early 1600s, so I have deep roots there as well.

I love walking through downtown New Bern.

Bogue Inlet Fishing pier— my favorite pier.

Washington. This will always be my second-favorite state, if only for nostalgia’s sake. It was my first place I visited out west, the first place I saw a snow-capped mountain, the first place I traveled solo, and the first time I fell in love with a city (Seattle). I love the mix of manageable scenery (rolling hills, small mountains, streams) and breathtaking views (the Cascade Mountains, the Pacific Ocean). Also, Bellingham and the San Juan Islands are two of my favorite places on earth. 

What are your favorite states?

Lost Lake near Bellingham, Washington. Mary and I almost got lost finding it…

The view of Seattle from the ferry is fantastic— and, if you're coming from the west, free!

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Travel Tip Tuesdays: Traveling Solo

“How do you stand traveling alone?”

People ask me this question for a variety of reasons. Some people are scared by the prospect of traveling solo; some are intrigued; some don’t see why anyone would want to. 

For my reasons to travel by myself, see this article. The phrase “traveling alone” doesn’t really apply, because I’m rarely alone. Between couchsurfing, staying at hostels, and doing help exchange on farms and in families, I’m constantly surrounded by people. The question is, how would someone go about trying a solo trip?

Kayaking in the Florida Keys with some hostelling friends

Sign up for couchsurfing and/or find a hostel network. Couchsurfing and Hostelling International have both been essential to me on my solo journeys. If you don’t feel comfortable crashing at a stranger’s house, give a hostel a try— you can stay in a dorm bed or get a private room. Hostel common rooms are often outfitted with books, musical instruments, board games and comfy couches. People are very open at most hostels, so don’t be shy to introduce yourself. You might find yourself drinking beer with a group of Germans, discussing philosophy with a Brazilian and a Swede, or making pancakes for Belgians. Whether you’re surfing or hostelling, you’ll get to meet awesome people who have visited the four corners of the earth. I have yet to meet a boring host or hosteler.

Choose a destination that has some good solo activities. If you have gobs of free time each day, you’ll want to fill it in a way you enjoy. My idea of a fun day is walking and hiking around the city, picnicking in the park, chatting with people on the bus, and returning to the hostel to cook a big meal with whoever else happens to be in the common kitchen. You might enjoy beachcombing, city exploring, riding a tour bus or people-watching. For more social activities, like wine tasting or rock-climbing, try to find some other travelers who will do it with you. You can usually meet someone at a hostel, and couchsurfing.org has resources to help you find people who are willing to come along with you in your adventure.

At Zion Canyon in Utah with my couchsurfing family

If you’re an introvert, learn to reach out. If you’re an extrovert, learn to enjoy being with yourself. I’m an extrovert, so my biggest challenge was learning to enjoy my travels by myself. It was easier than I thought, and I realized the benefit of inhabiting my own space for a while, experiencing things solo rather than as part of a group. For the introverts out there, traveling solo is the easiest time and place to reach out to other people. Travelers at a hostel or couchsurfing hosts don’t often small-talk: you might be discussing global economics or humanist philosophy within a few minutes of meeting them. No matter your personality, traveling solo makes you more available to other people, and you can stretch your mind and meet interesting people you’ll remember forever. 

If you have fear about traveling solo, just take the leap. If you’re intrigued by it, give it a shot. Even a weekend trip to a nearby city could give you memories to last a lifetime.

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What are your travel questions? Leave a comment and I'll answer them!

How to Look Photogenic

As a little girl, I was a blonde-haired blue-eyed beauty of a child, with curly locks and a sweet smile that looked like the cover of a parenting magazine. Somewhere around the age of eight or nine, that started going downhill. First I forgot how to smile, and instead bared my teeth. Then I started dressing myself, which resulted in ensembles involving red sneakers, sea-green sweat pants and hot pink turtlenecks (you think I’m exaggerating— I’m not). And to top it off, I had braces and Moe-worthy bowl-cut bangs. Over a decade later, I’m still reeling from the fallout of those disastrous adolescent years. 

Before I started traveling, I had little to worry about. But when I was taking pictures of myself up to twenty times a day for posterity’s sake, I soon learned that well over half the photos would look bad… and I could either embrace my lack of photogenic quality, or spend all my time worrying about it.

Thus, I started using the “Lisa Face,” which looks something like this:

This ensures that I always look peppy, even if I don’t look pretty. I soon realized it was the best face— people giggled when they saw the photo, and their attention was drawn to my crazy expression rather than my frizzy hair or the conspicuous lack of makeup. Since the first try was so well-received, I came out with several variations. These include but are not limited to…

The Greyhound Face. That blasted-out-oh-my-gosh-I-have-been-riding-the-Greyhound-for-eight-hours-and-they-suddenly-for-no-good-reason-marooned-me-in-Amarillo-Texas expression.

The Crazy Face. Similar to the Greyhound Face, it conveys that blasted-out-oh-my-gosh-I-have-been-riding-the-Greyhound-for-sixteen-hours-and-now-I’m-at-the-largest-McDonald’s-in-the-world expression.

The Sexy Face. In which I attempt to look as alluring as possible (Mary does it better than I do).

The I’m Lost Face. Sometimes I can make it look like I don’t even realize I’m taking my own picture, such as this moment in Spanish Fork, Utah, where I had no clue where I was.

The Moo Face. This rare expression pops up inadvertently whenever there are cows around, such as downtown Denver.

The Unawares Face. This (usually) only occurs when someone else is taking my picture, especially if, say, I’m wandering around a park in Seattle and impatient to stop the photo-taking and find a bathroom.

The Food Face. Yes, hamburgers do taste different in different places! (Especially at Hodad’s in San Diego.)

And finally, the Homeschool Face. This is more an entire outfit than a face— proof that I still have not gotten over my adolescent self. I can’t possibly think of anything dorkier than a backwards fanny pack worn askew.

But you know what? Today as I perused my iPhoto files for the most unflattering pictures, I found myself laughing again and again. Although the everyone-smiling shots keep a clear record of who was present, the goofy ones are infinitely more interesting. The next time you take photos for an event, please don’t worry about whether or not your hair is in place. The key to being photogenic? Purposefully try not to be.

Photo by Amanda Curry

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Hospitals

Dragging words out of my body feels like squeezing water out of granite. The past few days have been spent in and out of the hospital waiting rooms as— predictably, considering my family— my mother deals with complications on her appendectomy. Is this what traveling is like, meeting new people all the time, making conversation with strangers, experiencing new wonders and spending a lot of time on a bench waiting for something?

My solution to this problem has thus far been homemade popsicles and waffles, as well as a good dose of family love and putting together a puzzle of two goldfinches. My writing energy is sapped. I just want it to be over.

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Announcing Travel Tip Tuesdays

For several weeks now, I’ve had the idea that I would like to start a regular column that gives travel advice, gleaned from the many trips I’ve taken, both solo and otherwise. However, I don’t want this advice to be coming from a vacuum, so that’s where you come in. 

Every Tuesday, I’ll answer one of your questions. You can leave a comment on my blog (or my Facebook, for my FB followers) with a question about travel. If I have some advice to offer about it, I’ll write a blog about it. If I don’t, I might still write a blog about it. 

To kick things off, here’s a question I get a lot:

“How do you pack so light?”

Three tips:

1. Realize why packing light is so wonderful. The first solo trip I took, I was weighed down with a duffel bag, a backpack and a purse. When I was trying to lug it all up a half-mile hill from the ferry landing to the hostel, I cursed myself for dragging along so much junk. Now, I travel with one backpack, and getting anywhere is a breeze. When I’m riding those scary Greyhound buses where I have no idea where my baggage might end up, I can take mine as carry-on. I zip in and out of airports ahead of the luggage-carrying passengers, and if I get lost in a city, I can carry my belongings rather than dragging them behind and making myself a target for thieves. Packing light takes some practice, but it’s more than worth the effort!

2. Only bring three changes of clothes. Women especially may freak out at this idea. They can’t imagine only packing three changes of clothes for a weekend getaway, much less a two-month excursion. However, I promise you, it is entirely doable. If you make sure every article of clothing matches all the others, then you’ll have more than three outfits. Do laundry frequently (I like to wash my clothes in the sink every evening and air-dry them overnight). If you are a business traveler, you can’t avoid filling up a lot of your suitcase with business clothes, but for the leisure traveler, you don’t need that much. I have often overpacked on clothes, but I have never underpacked.

Catching a train last-minute is easy if you carry everything on your back

3. Ideally, everything you pack should serve more than one purpose. Don’t bring a pair of heels if you’re only going to wear them once. Don’t bring a towel unless you’re going to use it as a picnic blanket. Multipurpose items, like an iPod Touch (mini computer, alarm clock, MP3 player, notepad, mini Kindle, dictionary), bandanas (decorative item, bandage, napkin, handkerchief, scarf, cooling device, instant bag), and  a sarong (blanket, towel, sheet, scarf, skirt, dress, head covering, wash rag), are essential. You can consolidate toiletry items as well: shampoo and body wash, conditioner and lotion, etc.

Additionally, here’s a list of what I usually pack, to help you see how you can cram all the essentials into one fair-sized backpack. When you learn to travel light, you may never go back.

Don’t forget to leave comments with your travel questions! Until next week… Travel Tip Tuesdays. (Cue peppy theme song.)

~~~

Unintentional Hiatus

Nothing can shake up your schedule like a family member landing in the hospital. On the evening of Maundy Thursday, my dad rushed my mom to the emergency room, and it’s just been a party in the park since then. One appendix surgery and three and a half days in the hospital later, she is back home, and I can think about my normal life again.

This is all to say, I shall return to blogging tomorrow. Today, I’m just too tired.

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"Why Would You Host?"— a note about Couchsurfing

My regular readers are probably tired of hearing me rave about the wonders of couchsurfing. The skeptics still worry whether or not it’s safe, and saner people wonder why I don’t just save up for a hotel. After surfing with Zach through the Southwest, I believe in this project more deeply than ever before.

The West is a very big place, and we barely had enough for gas money, so it was couchsurfing to the rescue again! We had two hosts: Brent in Flagstaff and Vanessa in Albuquerque. Both were above and beyond incredible. Brent fed us supper, fixed us hot chocolate, then let us toast marshmallows over his buckstove and make s’mores. Vanessa gave us each a huge bag of candy (“I don’t like Snickers but I got some for my birthday,” she said), and let us raid her fridge for a breakfast of eggs and turkey bacon before we headed out. I’m used to hosts being hospitable, but their generosity was overwhelming.

It’s easy to see how couchsurfing benefits the surfer, but more than one person has asked me, “Why would someone want to be a host?” There are dozens of answers to that question, but two stand out. The first is a general view that it’s nice to do good things, and that you should “pay forward” the good that you have received in order to make the world a better place. The second is that individuals are valuable: each one has a background, a culture, a worldview that can enrich you, just as your own story can enrich that person. 

I certainly don’t think that everyone should be a couchsurfing host— I am not currently, although I plan to be in the future. However, there is something extremely valuable in opening your home to a stranger, no matter what form it takes. Invite a friend to bring a friend to your house. Welcome a new person into your social group. Get to know the people on the fringes of your life. Learn to make cookies (even if you just use a frozen tube of dough) and share them.

If you are a Christian, welcoming strangers has deep spiritual significance (the Bible makes it clear that this is a major part of hospitality). If you are not a Christian, it is still an act of kindness that can, little by little, change the world. If we truly believe it’s more blessed to give than to receive, a great place to start is giving of ourselves.

“Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.”

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A Simple Desultory Philippic (except not really)

Zach and I drove from Sacramento to San Diego in a single day (March 14th, for those who are curious), winding our way through barren mid-California hills. I spent most of my time editing, and then listening to Beatles albums while we discussed how we’d avoid LA rush-hour. Our solution to the latter problem was a two-hour stop at Wendy’s just outside the city limits, where we successfully waited out the traffic that clogs the 16 to 18-lane highways. 

I picked up a student-written newspaper that Wendy’s had sponsored, and found a cartoon of a dog named Ed with a white space all around him. I had a pen with me, and my mind was addled from squinting at my computer screen in the sunlight. The rest is history.

I left the picture for the help to see, perhaps to convince them that not all the crazies are in California… you find them in Missouri, too.

~~~

Danger in Sunny San Diego

As I crouched down in the backseat of the car, pure fear pounding in my head, the tucked-away part of my mind whispered, This might make a great blog once I’m safely home.

I was sitting in a car in a parking lot in a safe touristy area of San Diego around noon on a sunny day when I met the first real danger I’ve ever encountered on my travels. I’ve nervously eyed a druggie couple in a shouting match at a bus stop, picked my way along a treacherous cliff, and been suspicious of the broken deadbolt in a hotel room, but I had never actually run into a truly dangerous situation… until now.

“That guy has a gun,” was the first thing Zach said.

I looked up from the pamphlet I was reading. Since my sister Mary had been navigating, I was sitting in the backseat. She had gone to run an errand and would be right back, leaving Zach and me sitting in the car in a mostly-empty parking lot. In the nearby marina, boats bobbed peacefully. My intelligent response to Zach’s statement was, “What?”

“That guy, over there. He has a gun.” His voice was strained.

I looked over my shoulder just in time to see a young man step into the backseat of a car parked about ten yards away. There were two cars, actually, and for the first time, I noticed that people were sitting in them. 

“What? Are you sure?” I asked.

“I’m sure.” The tone of his voice left no room for doubt.

My heartbeat sounded loud in my ears as I sunk further down in my seat. “Uh… let’s get out of here.”

Zach turned on the car and we drove away, trying to be casual, trying to get out of the unexpectedly scary situation. I peeked over the back of the car, watching as the two cars in turn pulled out of their parking spaces.

And they started following us.

Maybe they weren’t really. We’d just turn left, and they’d turn… no. No, they were following us.

Every Rockford Files episode I have ever seen raced through my head. This was it for us— the mob was after us now, and they would stop at nothing to kill us for what we had seen. There would be a lengthy car chase… they would shoot at us… they would… I squeezed my eyes shut. 

“Are they still following us?”

I opened my eyes a bit. “Yes.”

Zach abruptly turned onto a side lane marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. The cars followed us, trailing along behind us with ominous shadows thrown over the faces in the windows. We passed a sign that said NO PUBLIC ENTRY BEYOND THIS POINT. Surely a security guard would come running out to confront us! Surely we would be stopped and able to point out the crazy people following us! But no, not a guard in sight. Zach kept driving with determinedly calm terror, and I cowered in the back seat and felt like my face would explode with blood. 

Whenever I’m alone on the road and I see someone, I size him up, thinking about whether or not I could take him in a fight. When the other person has a gun, there is no second-guessing.

I looked back again, and the scales tipped. The cars abruptly swung around, peeling out back from whence they came. My breath came out in a long dragging gasp.

“Do you remember what they looked like?” Zach asked.

“Uhm. They were Hispanic. A green car and a gray car.”

“I thought it was a brown car and a gray car. Did you get the license number?”

“No… No. We need to go find Mary. Can you give me your phone?”

We drove out of the Authorized Personnel Only area without ever seeing security of any kind. My hands were steady as I dialed Mary to let her know we were no longer in the parking lot, my I felt like all my innards were shaking. The shock reverberated for a long time, and I spent most of that time kicking myself for being a lousy public servant. And all the the while, part of my mind analyzed the situation and tucked it away for the blog I am writing right now.

No matter where you are, no matter what you’re doing, you might run into danger. Yes, it’s important to be smart, but ultimately, there’s no way to be safe all the time, no matter how conscientious you are. This can either make you paranoid, or set you free. Go ahead, take a risk— you take one anyway every time you step outside your door.

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Back in Black

Hello, blog.

This is your author.

I have neglected you.

I’m sorry.

I want to explain.

You see…

I’ve turned Goth.

And I won’t be blogging anymore.

Love,

The Mandolin

P.S. See you tomorrow.