Archive for the ‘Op/Ed’ Category
Saturday, April 26th, 2008
For about two years, I’ve blogged about travel for BlogHer, the women’s blogging network. I started as a volunteer writing about Europe while I was in Austria - I was bored and lonely, it seemed like a good use of my time. I tendered my resignation once, shortly after I’d returned to the US, but the landscape had shifted at BlogHer and the travel slot was open - I was excited to take it. Not long after I switched to writing about travel, BlogHer started paying their writers - a generous per post amount by the standards I’ve seen. While I’ve had random bouts of fatigue, in general, I’ve really enjoyed the gig. Not that long ago I dropped a line to the BlogHer founders thanking them for keeping me on, that’s how much I liked it. Writing about travel for BlogHer has been natural work, easy for me, and given my erratic work history, I’ve really appreciated the small but steady income stream. It’s been a great little gig. (more…)
Posted in Op/Ed, Werk | 9 Comments »
Tuesday, September 11th, 2007
Where’s Osama?
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September 11
Posted in Op/Ed | 1 Comment »
Monday, September 3rd, 2007
“It was shocking, really, shocking,” she says to me. This is my delightful 19 year old niece who’s been visiting from Austria for the past month. The source of her surprise? The civility at Bumbershoot, a famous Seattle music festival. What on earth could be so shocking about a music festival? “Well, for starters, everyone was sober.” That’s not the only thing that’s left her shaking her head. There are whole entire families on the grounds, a lack of obvious police presence, and she’s allowed to carry her backpack in, unquestioned by anyone in security. “In Austria, I would be allowed some cash and my ID. That’s it. There would be police everywhere and people would be drinking, heavily, from early in the day…”
We’ve had a lot of conversations like this over the last month, most of them starting with Niece V’s response to… well, it could be just about anything. The way the bus driver said good morning or my friends’ unconventional family structures or the food on the table. Anything and everything is cause for discussion and comparison. “In Austria,” she would start, and then we’d fill in the blanks.
It is almost as good as traveling, having this foreign guest in my home. She gives me cause to open my eyes and think about things I take for granted, the opportunity to explain the grand experiment of “My America.” And I do refer to it as My America, because I think it’s also important that when we talk about the US, it’s clear that were she with a farming family in Oklahoma or a line of blue blooded North-easterners, her experience would be wildly different.
On her third or fourth day here, I asked her what ’s surprised her about the US most so far. Her answer both breaks my heart and swells it. Back home, very few of her people thought that going to America was a good idea. According to her sources, we are an unfriendly, violent, dangerous, and unpopular place (never mind that her grandmother was here a few years back and had a lovely time). We are a television America, rude and packing weapons. None of these things have manifest themselves to V. We are friendly, easy going, all kinds of good things, us Yankees. While we’re having this conversation, a uniformed officer comes in to the coffee shop. “She’s got a gun,” I say, pointing to the cop, but V. says the officer doesn’t count. “Sorry, that’s the best I’ve got,” I respond.
I wave my arms around a lot about the critical need for Americans to get abroad more. I’m always standing on some virtual soapbox ranting about citizen diplomacy as the solution to most, if not all of our international woes. It is possible that I am shamelessly naive in this, but also, these are convictions I feel from my heart to my shoes. And each time I watch yet another negative American stereotype debunked in front of the eyes of my young guest, I am filled with joy. I imagine sending my niece, this unsuspecting victim of my insidious propaganda project, back to her home country with an idea of America that is completely different than the one she set out with.
The time I’ve spent sharing My America with my niece has made me think more about travel from the other side, from the view of the host country, for a change. It seems as critical that we get ourselves abroad as is does that we open our doors to people who want to get a look at us.
The other day a guy from the Democratic National Committee was on my front porch. We had a long talk about lots of things - I couldn’t, as usual, shut up - including the damage that Homeland Security has inflicted on accidental diplomats like my niece. I mentioned how I thought it was a damn shame, a tragic waste, really, that we are treating tourists like criminals when mostly, what they want to do is go shopping in our malls and take pictures of our national parks. How was it helping our lousy image, one spoiled by war and imperialism and entitlement, to put an obstacle course between tourist and their goals of driving giant rental cars up and down our open spaces and eating giant burgers at roadside diners?
Shortly after US troops invaded Iraq, I was in Italy. I was talking with a German gentleman, a sixtyish professorial type who’d lived in Eugene, Oregon once. I asked him if he had any interest in going back. He dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand saying that “he didn’t think much of America anymore.” I confess, I wanted to punch him. Europeans do like to accuse us of being undereducated yokels with no history, and here is this German, from a nation with some of the ugliest modern history on record, telling me he didn’t think much of us because of our government. I walked away but I did not forget the insult.
“It’s not at all what I expected,” said Niece V. last night as she told me how very much her parents needed to come to the US next, how much they would enjoy traveling here. Granted, the Pacific Northwest and my version of it is an island of lefty liberalism, natural beauty, and mellow civility. Granted, other places are very, very different. And granted, with very little objection, America is a deeply flawed nation. But it’s got a very bad rap from the rest of the world.
Never mind. I’m doing what I can to undo that, one conversation at a time. It’s a lot of work. Early this morning at the airport, I gave V. a big hug. “I’ll absolutely be back, you can be sure of it.” she said, and headed off to get her plane.
The guest room is empty. That’s one, there are only several billion to go. Next, please?
Posted in Op/Ed, Passport Travels | 10 Comments »
Tuesday, August 28th, 2007
Prerequisites:
- When I first moved to Seattle, I drove a Citroen 2cv, a funny little French car. I returned it to my ex a little bit before our divorce was final s. There are, I think, no standard parts on that car, every single item has to come from a specialty shop.
- I blog about travel for BlogHer. I attended the BlogHer conference in Chicago this year.
- I made quite an amazing curry for dinner last night. I might have eaten too much of it because it was so delicious. Note: You can substitute tofu for potatoes, it totally works. Yo, locals: today (Tuesday) is a good day to come to lunch at my house. Call me.
You should skip this post if you’re not interested in BlogHer. Read this hilarious thing about Burning Man on McSweeney’s instead.
Our babysitter, Luna, is awesome. She said we don’t need to eat our vegetables, because they represent agronomic tyranny. And she’s taking us to a rave later.
(more…)
Posted in Op/Ed | No Comments »
Tuesday, August 14th, 2007
I Will Survive [3:53m]:
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I try to avoid the me me me sort of stuff that fills a lot of blogs. If I’m writing about something, I exert a little effort to transcend the mundaneness of daily existence. That’s why when I write Fish Wednesday, I frame it in the context of environmentalism or cooking. Or if I go do something, I don’t write about it unless I want to warn you to avoid it or think it’s something you’d also enjoy. Occasionally, I’ll step up on the old soap box and rant about the political, but even that I keep to a minimum. Rambling editorializing about crap that’s only interesting to me is boring to you. So I beg your forgiveness while I wander off on a brief diversion that goes as follows: F*ck this, I am falling apart. God dammit.
Last week I had a little medical issue. I’ll spare you the details and thankfully, it turned out to be almost nothing. Woot. But here’s what pissed me off about it. The doc, upon diagnosis of my common non-issue said this: “You know, when you get to be about your age [fill in the blank].” And I am aggravated about that.
Then, today, I went to have an eye exam. About a month ago, I noticed that my glasses were just not working so good any more. Nothing tragic, but what the hell? And what does my doc say to me? He says, “You’re - oh, look. Usually this happens a year or so earlier. I’m not surprised at all…you are going to need bifocals.” He sent me off, pupils dilated like a junkie that just found a twenty on the bus, with a script for new lenses. “You’re probably going to need bigger frames than the ones you’ve got,” he said, condemning me to the rest of my life in frames that make me look like Dustin Hoffman in Tootsie rather than the Euro-Japanese hipster look I favor. Damn you, eye doctor! Damn you Father Time! [Insert fist shaking to the heavens here.]
Next week, I’m off for a physical. And I just know my doctor, well meaning as she is, is going to mention some kind of offensive crap about my slowing metabolism and bone density and a bunch of other things I do not want to hear one tiny word about. Not one. We are going to have to talk about the fact that my gene pool is ridden with all kinds of hereditary evils. Good brains and teeth we got, but the rest of it? A Chernobyl cocktail of central European slush. Bleh. I am going to scowl at her, refuse medication (and resuscitation), and stomp out of the office in a teenage snit.
I whined about my declining youth to two friends, both very close to me in age. One told me that had we been born several generations earlier, we’d be dead by now. My other friend told me that it’s all downhill from here. Both responses are completely accurate but neither implies a course of action, and I’m an action figure kinda person. I am not quite ready to buy a skirted tank swim suit and start taking water aerobics. I am also not interested in getting a convertible and a trophy boyfriend, well, not in any more than an academic way, though I look okay and am very funny and any young man would be lucky to… no, let’s put a stop to that line of thinking. Plus, oh, yeah, married. No, those are all bad plans.
Not to worry, I’m on it. Last week I borrowed an electric uke on the loan-to-own plan. And yesterday, I picked up an amp. Dude, it’s really loud, and yes, I said “Dude.” I’ve been messing with it, seeing how much distortion I can get out of it without having an effects rack and yes, I said effects rack. I realize that my mid-life crisis is kind of a weird one, but it would be so boring to go mainstream. Tennis pro? No thanks. Convertible? Fun, but I’m not in to cars. I could quit my job and go see the world, but that’s something I do regularly anyway.
Nope, I’m going to work through this phase by playing bluegrass versions of disco tunes on my electric uke. I’m going to memorize the chords so I don’t have to wear glasses to read the music. I’m going to dress in black like Johnny Cash because it goes with the uke. I’m going to fight it all the way. If I’m going downhill, I’m going downhill swinging, without dignity or shame. Time, you might be after me, but you bastard, you’re gonna have to catch me first.
Join in on the chorus, okay? Dm>Gm7>C>F>Bb>Eb>A>A7
Event Note: Our “band”, the Flip Flops, is the opening entertainment for Rainbow Bingo on Friday night. “You don’t have to be gay to play!” Drag queens, the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, and Fabulous Prizes. We’re on early, at 5:30, playing mostly 60’s beach tunes. Afterwards, we’re going to trash a hotel room.
ukulele, aging, bifocals, disco
Posted in Nerdio, Op/Ed, Uketopia | 14 Comments »
Saturday, July 28th, 2007
Or, Best Blind Dates Ever.
It’s one thing to go in with an agenda, another entirely to stick to it. I was happy to let go of mine, after all, it wasn’t a very clear one to begin with. Letting it all go meant I had time for some off-the-grid activities. They weren’t entirely out of scope - the people I spent time with were bloggers that I’d not met before in 3-D.
What’s better than when your blind date for dinner shows up in the lobby of the hotel carrying a Fish Wednesday ID Badge? Not much, unless you count getting to tag along with that blogger and her groom to be to an old school Italian restaurant. We chowed down on giant plates of pasta at Volare, at the best table in this busy place. Sinatra played over the sound system at the bar. It was great to hang out with Chicago locals and hear about life in the windy city. N, who prefers to blog anonymously, writes Kinetic Loop, a blog about Chicago with lots of interesting links to stories about - um, killer bunnies and photography. I don’t read her enough - the blog is funny and snarky and smart and the links are really interesting. There was much talk about how to avoid the bridal industrial complex, life without cars, what to do in Chicago, blogging, photography, and lots of other stuff. Good company and a fine feed at a place I’d probably not have found on my own. Good luck, you two, and don’t get suckered into registering for crap you don’t need or buying a 4000 dollar dress that you’re only going to wear once in your life. You won’t, I know it.
This morning, I breakfasted with Mr. Virtual Tapas Bar himself. It’s truly serendipitous that he was in Chicago during the brief time I’m here, and he was a great sport and agreed to drive in to the city to meet me at 8 am. We ate at West Egg, as recommended by last night’s dinner hosts but I gotta be honest, I couldn’t tell you what the food was like because I was too busy noodling with Mr. Virtual Tapas Bar’s new ukulele. Plus, we’ve been email pals in the virtual world for a year and half and fellow sufferers of expat life, so we had what I believe would be best called A Lot To Talk About. (Di, Christina, I so wished for you to be with us!) After breakfast we sat in the lower lobby of the hotel and I insisted that Sal play the uke for me. For the record, he sounds pretty good for a self taught guy. Expatapalooza Chicago Lite 2007 rocked the house.
Fortified by what I really like about blogging - that it allows you to connect with likeminded people you’d never otherwise meet - I headed back into the fray. I wandered off track for a while under Chicago’s many elevated roadways through weird intersections made out of rivets and I-beams. Finally, I found my bearings and was back at the conference center. I attended two sessions that I rather enjoyed, one about podcasting, the other about food photography. I fear I was obnoxious in the photography session, throwing up my hand every three minutes because, duh, I had questions. Are glam Fish Wednesday pictures in our future? Here’s hoping.
At the end of the day - and I’d really stuck it out - I went to the keynote address where I was, sadly, disappointed and bored. I’ve heard Elizabeth Edwards speak before, I was excited to see her in person because she struck me as funny and smart. That didn’t shine through in this Q&A session at all. I kept drifting, every now and then I’d see someone get up and walk out, someone would ask a question and Ms. Edwards would take a long walk around the issue at hand… I was relieved when it was over. Then - I was really determined - I went to the after party. I was so grateful when a woman I met wandered by and said this: I hate everything about this. Because while I was enjoying the company of some terrific people, everyone was shouting, the space was packed, it was a chore to be in the space. Hearing her say that made me realize that I didn’t like it much either, so I squeezed my way out into the warm Chicago evening.
Was it worth it? Did I learn anything? Well. Yes and no. I rather enjoyed the conversations I had with the people I met. But I’ll admit that now that I’ve been to BlogHer, I’m still not clear on the value. The focus - women who blog - remains too broad for me to get behind. This was something we discussed at Volare, Kinetic Loop and I. Get two women together, she said, and there’s no guarantee they have anything in common. Women are wildly unalike as a species. Men are a bit more like each other. I’m inclined to agree. Just because you’re a woman with a blog, doesn’t mean we have common ground. I know that makes me sound cranky, but so be it.
Will I attend next year? That depends. One of the things I enjoyed seeing was the panels that were focused on subject matter. Food blogging got some good play. A conference that tracked by subject matter would be wildly appealing to me. I’d love to attend the travelbloggers conference, you know? Bundle workshops that teach writing about travel with workshops about travel photography, pitching your stories to travel publications, and technical issues - your travel kit, what makes a good travel blog, cool plugins for travel sites, that sort of thing… I’m there. If I see a sharper focus in next year’s program, I may jump in again.
I don’t feel like I got any closer to answering the questions I had about the organization, but it was fun. I’m glad I went.
Posted in Administrivia, Op/Ed | 7 Comments »
