Yet Another Gushing Mother's Day Post

When I was Mom’s-waist-high years old (don’t ask me for an actual age— I don’t remember), I began taking walks with my mother every day. We walked up the dead-end street, around the eight-house neighborhood a couple times, then back home. Eventually that turned into walking down the hill through the woods to the main road, and finally a trek to the Katy Trail, where we strolled under cottonwood trees, past shabby houses damaged from the flood of ’93, and through picturesque Midwest forest. In short, I have been walking with her every day since I was so small that two of my steps equaled one of hers.

I wrote about this last summer, when I hiked about 50 miles on the Katy Trail:

“…I found myself in territory as familiar to me as my own reflection. For most of my childhood, I lived within five blocks of the Katy Trail. When I got old enough, Mom took me on a walk down to it and back every evening. At first we’d walk to the entrance by the railroad ties and turn back. As I got older and my legs lengthened, we walked further. We turned at the border of the woods, then the old bridge, then the lone tree, then the bend in the trail. I passed all of these in turn, turning over details in my mind as I saw them. There, the white black-roofed house with the “Condemned” signs that had been there since I was a kid. There, the shed with a wooden goose picture nailed to the side. There, the row of cottonwoods, gray in this light, but familiar to me in every light. The best is mid-afternoon on a summer day, when the sky is creamy blue— then the leaves glitter in the sunshine, dancing on their long stems in every breath of wind with a clattering rustle.

I thought of the conversations that Mom and I had on this stretch of trail. At first I talked about names that rhymed, and made her listen to extensive genealogies of the story characters I had made up. I see myself growing up through those conversations on every topic imaginable: Star Trek theology, complaints about my siblings, finances, my crushes, ACT scores, my desire to write a novel and then the novel that I wrote, God, life, love. It was here that my sister wrecked her bike and had to be rushed to the hospital for plastic surgery, here that I walked in baby steps with Mom as she recovered from a grand mal seizure, here that I decided I wasn’t going to college. It was here that Mom and I walked under a gray sky and talked about the devastating news that we had to move from the house that had been home to us for sixteen years.

I just realized that I have no good
pictures of Mom and me. Hmm…

Mom walked the last mile [of the hike] with me, just like we’ve been doing since I was barely as tall as her waist, right in step with each other. It was a perfect way to end my hike.”

As most of you know, my mom has spent the last month in and out of the hospital. In the midst of befuddled doctors, violent sickness and emotional trauma, there seemed no end in sight. Today, Dad and Mom and I visited the Missouri River for a picnic. Mom and I walked, very slowly, along the river bank, talking about hiking and travel and how she’s getting better. Here’s to another Mother’s Day (a little early), to a woman who is not only my mom, but my best friend.

~~~

Phase One, in which Lisa Obtains a Ticket to Europe

I stared at the computer screen, trembling all over, and pressed “Complete Transaction.” My debit card was charged more money than I’ve ever spent on anything at one time, and the website sent me an email— a single, abstract e-mail that embodied the dream that I have been actively pursuing since February of 2011. I had done it.

I had booked my flight to Europe.

My travels in the past year alone have taken me 14,279 miles (that’s a very conservative number, by the way). A little over 2,000 have been in the air; the rest have been bus, car, and tour van. In short, I have traveled a distance equivalent to well over half the circumference of the earth— but I still haven’t been outside the United States.

Now that’s going to change.

On July 31st, barring any of those nasty unforeseen circumstances, I’ll be catching a flight out of Chicago, ending up in Amsterdam on the following day. I still haven’t made any plans after that, but I’ll have almost six solid weeks to explore before returning to Amsterdam and catching a flight back to Chicago. 

"Crazy Lisa Face with Ticket to Europe"
(Maybe I should have applied some makeup or
 even combed my hair before taking this shot…)

A few notes about booking my flight:

• I used Aer Lingus, which had been recommending to me by a friend after I found it on a student travel website. When I actually fly with them, you’ll get a complete review.

• I’m flying in after the London Summer Olympics begin, and returning on September 11th, when the fares are much cheaper (can’t imagine why…).

• Although there are flights to Europe that leave from St. Louis, Chicago has a much bigger airport with cheaper fares, so I thought it was worth the bit of effort it takes to get up there.

Now that’s out of the way, and here comes the fun part: actually planning! This is where you come in. Many of you have been to Europe before. Any recommendations?

~~~

A Walk in the Woods

Yesterday, Zach and I hiked an 8.3-mile loop trail in the Weldon Spring Conservation Area. We wound through thick but airy forest, clattering over limestone pebbles, entertained by dozens of flitting butterflies, watching frogs leap out of our way. I was reminded of how grateful I am to have a boyfriend who loves hiking as much (and more!) than I do, and how much I love Missouri. After a month spent visiting Mom in the hospital, it was a welcome break.

The Missouri River, from one of the cliffs. (Get a shirt that fits, Lisa!)

I love little stream beds like this.

Tree mosaics have always been one of my favorite things to look at.

Travel Tip Tuesdays: Safety Tips for a Hostel

“How do you stay safe in a hostel?”

Four-star luxury hotel? Nope. Chuck Testa.
(I mean, the Downtown Hostel in Sacramento, CA.)

The word “hostel” often evokes terrified reactions (mostly from people whose experience is limited to that one stupid movie). Who would ever choose to stay in one of these thief-and-rapist-infested houses of horror? The other common reaction is a look of confusion and a comment about hospitals. I always sigh sadly at both reactions, because it means that the person I’m talking to has never experienced this wonderful kind of accommodation.

These cheaper alternatives to hotels let you pay about $20-$35 a night for a bed in a dorm-style room, often located in the hearts of downtowns or scenic vistas. I’ve stayed in almost a dozen hostels during my travels, and I never found a bad one. Some people seem to think that all hostels are hotbeds of crime and prostitution, but this simply isn’t true. Here are three tips for having a safe hostel experience.

Do your research. First, find a hostel through Hostelling International, or Google-search “hostels in [place you’re going].” In the era of the World Wide Web, no hostel can run a prostitute ring and keep it a secret. Look up “[Hostel name] reviews” and look at third-party sites (tripadvisor.com is my favorite) that let anybody comment on their experience. These reviews are often broken down into categories such as safety, location, cleanliness and friendliness. Pay attention to the dates: be sure you’re looking at the most recent reviews. If eight dozen people from all over the globe give a hostel a glowing review, chances are you won’t get axe-murdered in your bed.

It's hard to get much cooler than a lighthouse complex
that's been turned in a hostel! (Point Montara, CA)

Choose your room carefully. A hostel may be clean and safe, but it might not be the kind of place you want to crash! If you’re a hardcore partier, don’t stay at an HI hostel, which are all alcohol-free. If you would rather sit and quietly read a book, stay away from the party hostels. Again, look at the reviews. (If a hostel is mentioned in several reviews as “boring,” I often find that a point in its favor.) Hostels generally have gender-specific dorm rooms, as well as co-ed dorms and private rooms. Co-ed rooms are notorious for hook-ups, so if you want a good night’s sleep, it’s best to stay in a room with your own gender. If you want a guaranteed good night’s sleep, get a private room.

Note: When you book a room, be sure to call the hostel for specific guidelines. Some are exclusively for youths, and some United States hostels don’t accept Americans, as my poor sister found out when she went to California.

Have some common sense. Don’t leave valuables beside your bed, keep your wallet and passport with you, and make use of the lockers that most hostels have (bring your own lock or rent one from the hostel). If one of your roommates has a creepy vibe, feel free to ask to be moved to a different dorm. Talk to each of your roommates when you see them: this will give you a feel for their personalities and how much you can depend on them. If you have seven roommates and six of them are good people, they will look out for you if the seventh turns out to be a thief. Hostels thrive on an atmosphere of mutual trust, so find the honest people and be their friend.

I love the Pike Place Market in Seattle, and the
Green Tortoise Hostel is right across the street!

I can’t say enough good things about hostels: I love the sense of community and the dozens of new and interesting people you can meet there. Next time you’re traveling, give hostels a try— you might be glad you did!

~~~

Just Keep Breathing

Yesterday, my brother got hit by a truck. He was on a bike at the time, though he hasn’t so much as a bruise on his left side where the truck hit his 6’6” body full-on. We visited him in the ER before church and observed his gout-like right ankle, swollen because of a broken bone in his foot.

As of today, I’ve been dating Zach for six months. We ate breakfast together and took a power-walk in the spitting mist to the library and back, and I made him chicken quesadillas to take to work for lunch. 

Today I discovered that my blog views broke the 10,000 mark.

I also edited late papers and listened to the Big Fish soundtrack and cried.

You don’t need to travel to realize how weird and disjointed life can be. For some reason, though, it seems stranger when it happens at home.

It seemed somehow appropriate to include this drawing from 2010. Nothing emphasizes your point better than a big Jaffa saying "Indeed." Seriously. (Incidentally, you get all the kudos if you know who this is.)

~~~

Where the Heck is St. Louis, Missouri?

If there’s one thing I’ve learned on my travels, it’s that people have no idea where St. Louis, Missouri is. While I don’t blame the Europeans for their ignorance (it’s not a particularly noteworthy city, after all), I always feel a bit baffled that nobody seems to have the slightest idea of where Missouri is, except “the Midwest”— which, as the common conception goes, is a barren wasteland of cornfields with bitterly cold winters. Living in a hilly, forested area where snow falls only about five or six times a winter, I find this amusing.

My sister sent me this YouTube video that pretty much sums up the way Californians seem to react about anywhere outside of California. I laugh every single time I watch it.

~~~

A Picture of Food

I just finished processing a bunch of produce that was languishing in my family’s fridge. I chopped and froze peppers, cut the brown spots out of cauliflower, and put the grapes on a bowl on the table so somebody will actually eat them. It got me thinking about food, and I realized that I have a photo habit even greater than my duck obsession: taking pictures of my food.

Consider this breakfast at Shari’s that a friend’s parents bought for me in Roseburg, Oregon.

I ordered this ensemble at a fast-food joint in Salt Lake City called “Greek Souvlaki No. 1.”

Mary and I made this tasteless pasta when we were staying at the Point Montara Lighthouse Hostel (the ocean view was more than worth the lack of accessible groceries).

This isn’t actually my food— but I got the next size down at Fat Smitty’s in Port Townsend, Washington.

I had my first panini at Village Books in Fairhaven, Washington.

And seriously, if you’re going to eat hot dogs in Hollywood, you have to take a picture of them.

Sometimes when I look back at my travel pictures, it seems silly that I’m taking pictures of food. And yet, there are entrees that I miss: the ratatouille the two French women made for me in Monterey; the Easter dinner I cooked for the L’s in Utah last year; the giant “mancakes” that I fried for my friends at the Everglades Hostel every morning. I guess that seeing the pictures brings back memories, just like anything else. You don’t always have to have a scenic background or a goofy face to take you back to a place you’ve been.

~~~

Have a travel question? Leave a comment and I'll answer!

A Few Travel Quotes

I like writing down quotes— although I have a couple pages from famous people, and 19 pages of Tolkien quotes, many of my quotes are things my friends have said. I have an entire document of funny travel quotes. I shall now share the non-R-rated ones. (People in the real world swear. A lot. Sometimes it’s funny. But that’s not blog-appropriate material.)

(From my trip to Washington with World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms):

“I was talking about aliens. I know Lisa was talking about God, though.” ~Bernadette 

“Man, this is cool… and we aren’t even on ecstasy!” ~Erin

“I am capable of using complete sentences without swearing. I just have to think really hard.” ~Bernadette

(From my trip to Florida:)

Me (to my German friend Matthias): Well, I’m glad you’re not a Nazi.

Matthias: Ah, yes. Not for several months. My hair has grown back.

Matthias (to my Israeli friend Raz): Now we must fight! …Oh wait, we should not. That would be too cliché.

My WWOOFing girl friends!

(From 11-year-old Aaron, while I was tutoring him in Utah:)

Me: "It's always nice to have a ‘best friend’ character in a story."

Aaron: "Yeah, 'cause then you can kill them off."

(From my trip to Oregon:)

Zach’s four-year-old brother Calvin, pointing out a Holstein in a picture book: “That was you, back when you were a cow.”

Calvin (holding up a stuffed dog): This is Bob Dylan!

Me: He doesn’t look very much like Bob Dylan.

Calvin (pauses, sniffs the dog): But he smells like him.

(On the drive home, after suffering several hours on Highway 1:)

Me: Bet you didn’t get highway hypnosis on Highway 1.

Zach: No, it was more like highway getting-beat-with-a-stick.

(From the Insomniac Folklore tour:)

Everyone in the band, at various times: “We’re not in Kansas. We’re not on a bus in Kansas. And we don’t have ulcers. Today is a great day!” 

~~~

A Mother's Work Is Never Done

I never quite realized how much stuff my mom does. It’s not just sweeping the kitchen floor, teaching piano students or taking care of her cockatiel. With her in the hospital, the house experiences entropy at an alarming rate, and the cause is not always clear. 

Why is there a pile of junk on the table? Because Mom sorts the stuff every night. Why are there 47 unread messages in the AOL inbox? Mom keeps up on email. Why do the bathrooms look terrible? Mom wipes them down every other day. Why is Dad’s hair getting so long? You guessed it…

Actually, I'm pretty domestic when I'm on the road, too.

The entire family has been scrambling to pick up the slack. I find myself doing more chores than I have in many years. Yesterday, wearing a long skirt and an apron, cradling the phone on my shoulder talking to Mary while sweeping the floor, I felt incredibly domestic. 

I have become the Stationary Mandolin once again. For the moment, my life is cooking and cleaning and editing papers, and I try to take time to write down the memories of a different world, full of bus-catching and couchsurfing and meeting new people. I don’t necessarily like one world better than the other. One is just easier to write about.

~~~

Travel Tip Tuesdays: Methods of Transportation

“Which do you prefer for traveling long distances— airplanes, buses, trains, or a car?”

Good question. The answer is, I enjoy all four. Here’s an overview:

Airplanes: If you’re flying from one major city to another (for instance, St. Louis to San Diego), this is often the cheapest option. I swear by Southwest Airlines, which consistently have the lowest fares of anywhere I’ve looked. To be honest, I don’t like bargain-hunting and scrambling around on several different websites poking around, so I’m happy to stick with the airlines I know. The downside of Southwest is that they only fly to major cities, and the seats are pretty small. I’m skinny so this isn’t a problem, but it would be pretty uncomfortable for someone of larger girth. All in all, airplanes are the quickest and most convenient way to get to any city, but not always the cheapest.

Buses: I have tried charter buses before, but honestly, it’s better to ride the train if you’re going to go for that option (see next point). Then there comes the big issue of Greyhound. Most people would rather walk over hot coals that set food on a Greyhound bus, and horror stories abound. That said, I still consider Greyhound a valid (and often fun!) way to get around. Between medium-size and small cities, it’s usually by far the cheapest, and if you buy tickets more than three weeks in advance, you can often get fantastic deals (I got from St. Louis to Miami for a grand total of $74). If you have a calm disposition, a don’t-mess-with-me attitude, a good dose of patience, and something to occupy your time, you’ll be fine. Warning: if you get carsick easily, do not take the Greyhound under any circumstances. Also be prepared to take a shower after reaching your destination.

Trains: Oddly enough, this is consistently the most expensive option of the three— I’m still not sure why. It’s also one of my favorite ways to travel. It’s smoother and less cramped than a Greyhound, but still has the amazing “road trip” feel. When I traveled by train in California, we departed from the highway and ran through open fields next to the Pacific ocean, giving me breathtaking views of ocean, mountains, and waving grassland in between, a maze of rills with remnants of old towns standing stark brown against the green. If you’re traveling a direct route, it’s worth it to give trains a try. However, if you live somewhere off the main path, give up on getting anywhere for less than two hundred dollars one way. 

Car: What can I say? Road trips are amazing, but they’re best when you can share them. If you have two or more people wanting to travel a long distance, this might be cheaper than buying flights or bus/train tickets. Use Gas Buddy to calculate what your trip will cost, then stock up on non-perishable snacks and hit the road!

The short answer to the question is, I love many different kinds of transit, but Southwest Airlines, Greyhound and Amtrak are my three go-to options for solo travel. What are your favorites?

~~~

Have a travel question? Leave a comment and I’ll try to answer!