Breaking the Self-Imposed Book Rule

I LOVE stories. I LOVE books. I have to read almost every night to get to sleep. Because of this, over the years I have accrued my Favorite Books. My Favorite Books have really old ugly covers, bent out of shape. They have a shelf to themselves. I read them over, and over again. These are the books that accompany me on business trips; a little consistency with newness all around. As I am someone that always likes to try new things, these books are really the only form of entertainment that I come back to regularly.

My Favorite Books (In Approximate Order):  

1. Treasure Island, Robert Lewis Stevenson 
2. The Westing Game, Ellen Raskin
3. A Wrinkle in Time, Madeline L'Engle
4. The Scarlet Pimpernel, Baroness Emmuska Orczy (I'm may or may not be a little embarassed)
5. Lord of the Rings, JRR Tolkien
6. The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle, Avi
7. The Best of Isaac Asimov, Short Stories by Issac Asimov

Hm, what do these have in common? Adventures naturally, told with beautiful words. Imperfect characters that create incredible circumstances. Overcoming. Love. Trial. Faith. Sacrifice. Joy. Mystery. Humor. Creative characters. Human condition.

Books traditionally only make it to Favorite Book status over the course of several years; they are time tested. BUT. Announcement, breaking Lisa news. I think I've just added another, in record time. In a matter of one month, the Hunger Games trilogy has been inducted. I have already read all three books twice, and decided that, in addition to everything from my list above, the trilogy also has war, culture, food, rebellion, symbolism, love triangle, family, destitution, fashion....these books have it all.

Artwork by Marbi, courtesy of www.Mockingjay.com

       8. The Hugner Games Trilogy, Suzanne Collins

Only time will tell if it stays on the list. It may fade to second tier as I change, like Pride and Prejudice did, but I wouldn't be breaking the rules if I thought it was going to do that.

Moral of the story; read The Hunger Games!

The Art of Living in Cincinnati

I love moments that remind me that I LIVE already in a city where adventures, culture, and community can be experienced. I've learned that, for a city of it's size, Cincinnati is passionate about the arts, and supports, participates and honors them all. Not only is Cincinnati going to be hosting the 2012 World Choir Games (the first ever American city to do so), but smaller events happen all over the city. Two examples:

http://vimeo.com/15898724
The Paint the Street event in Over the Rhine (one of my favorite neighborhoods in Cinci). Sorry, they don't allow the vid to be embedded.

And also the Splash Dance (more often called flash mob) on Fountain Square, the central hub of downtown. The image below was used on the Cincinnati Fine Art Fund fundraising post cards this year. The spectators were great at this event....but the dancers were even better. Members of the Cincinnati Ballet coordinated and led the dance themselves.

Image Courtesy of The Cincinnati Enquirer

You can see my girl Amy in the second group that starts dancing; blond in the white shirt. All of the music is by Cincinnati musicians and groups!



Moral of the story : do you know your city?

Alternative Family (Photo)

Family is a word that means a lot to me; I don't really use it lightly. Sister, brother....they are strong and loaded words.

I believe there are many kinds of family to be assigned, claimed, or given.  There is biological family (which you can't choose, but I would have chosen mine anyway). There is church family (a beautiful societal support system). And there is friend-family. This is a shout out to my friend family.

I think friend-families develop when a bunch a people that somehow found each other, and found an interest in each other, start to take on roles traditionally attributed to biological family. Trust, encouragement, loyalty, safety...taking care of one another.

My husband and I are fiercely blessed, living away from all (but one - Double L!) of our biological/in-law family, to have a group that functions this way. 

The majority of the people I consider my friend-family are not in this picture, but I felt strangely happy to set up this alternative family photo at a church fall harvest party last weekend (think haystacks, campfires, and pig roast). We hopped right in line with the families of children and grandparents, the only group of adults, and said "cheese" for this exaggerated, ridiculous family photo.



Photo Borders
I am very grateful for all you friend-family people in my life! You are darling nuggets, and I'm glad you are in my adventures.


(hey bio-family, I am exorbitantly grateful for you to, of course. I will post about your awesomeness someday too...you deserve your own post :)

The Missing Photograph of Cheese Days

The Clock-tower in downtown Monroe, WI, below this building thousands of cheese lovers are swarming. Photo by Kirsten,   I think.

There are very few cultural things I feel really attached to, but cheese is one of them. My dad grew up in the town of Monroe, WI, where the last Limburger cheese factory still operates, and where the biannual Cheese Days Festival draws thousands of cheese lovers from all over the country.

Though my cheese-mania experiences were limited to visits to my grandparents house growing up, I still have a sense of family pride in, and even a snobbishness for, good, Wisconsin-made cheese.

Annie's Cheese and Salami Sandwich. Basic but awesome.

This September, my ENTIRE immediate family (it's only 6 of us, but it's still tough for us all to travel together), went to Monroe, WI to visit my grandparents and attend the Cheese Days Festival.

One of the cheese sampling tables in the Cheese Tent

The festival was all I hoped it would be. Swiss culture, hundreds of artisan cheese makers and other cheese based foods, local crafts (of which I always have a love-hate attitude toward.) We toured the Minhas Brewery which has been in operation for over 165 years and holds the largest beer memorabilia collection in the world (the whole basement room is surrounded by a wooden beam suspended from the ceiling, and on the beam are thousands of tap heads for thousands of beers). It was the quintessential Wisconsin experience...cheese and beer in a town square flavored by red brick and swiss stylings.

Memorabilia Mimics (no flash allowed around the treasures)

But. All that culture, food, and activity isn't what I enjoyed most from that weekend. That Saturday night, my whole family sat down around the table to play a word game...Blurt or something. I remember my sister's voice projecting over everyone else, my dad playing when it wasn't his turn, and my grandpa, who's struggling with short term memory loss and general health, randomly throwing in correct answers when none of us "younger folk" could come up with them. My grandma sitting near, content to watch us be the maniacs that we are.

THAT is the picture I want! I wish I was Cam Jansen. CLICK.

Lesson from Cheese Days: Local festivals are always worth checking out because you get a sense of American culture or history. Also, family wins.

A Dairy Adventure

My husband and I are quite familiar with the stretch of Highway 65 from Indianapolis to Chicago. We used to drive it all the time in order to see each other over the weekend when we were in a long distance relationship. When it was only one of us in the car, we'd be in a beeline to get to the other; high efficiency travel. Now that we are married, though, and most likely traveling together, we've allowed ourselves to take in the surroundings.

And we found FairOaks Farm, right off Highway 65, in the middle of are we there yet Indiana. 

As you pull in, the sign reads "FairOaks Farms : A DAIRY ADVENTURE". You understand why we had to try this place!

The "Udder Heights" Climbing Wall

The facility operates on a HUGE dairy farm. A dairy museum tour is available for a small fee; there are milk, cheese, and cow themed playgrounds (Including the Dairy Air jumping pillow and String Cheese Maze). The actual cheese making is visible through glass walls of the gift shop and restaurant during week days. Oooh the restaurant; farm fresh ice-cream, cheese samples, and simple, homemade (down to the cheese and bread itself) grilled cheese sandwhiches. Heaven on earth.

After eating, we picked up some smoked gouda...

 

Not a whole $500 dollar wheel though. Just a wedge for us.

The real adventure of FairOaks Farms, is the birthing barn; where cows go to give birth. There are two stalls full of hay, and one-way glass on one side to allow the audience to watch. On the path to the barn is this stoplight : 

Nope

Hooves

It's a (83lb.) Girl!

Nope, Hooves, and Head! Illuminated to let the crowd know when to come inside and watch a baby cow pushed out by her mother. Sorry I didn't get a "Head" photo...we wanted to watch! The poor cow mother made me both proud and horrified to death as a fellow female. However, as the cow babies are born every 30min to an hour (they must have so many cows!), it made me feel amazed watching such and important part of the lifecycle. It was my first live birth experience of any kind.

Any combination of dairy and adventure is bound to be a positive experience, but FairOaks Farm was a real treat...especially in the middle of a multi-hour drive. The food is phenomenal, the education is experiential not cheesy (haha, okay it is cheesy in a literal way), and the setting is really very beautiful.

FairOaks Farm Cheeses

Lesson from FairOaks Farms...if you see something intriguing from the road...STOP! You might get eat fresh farm foods!...or see cow innards.

http://fofarms.com/

What Kind of Haitian Name is Steve?

Meet Steve, my Haitian love. 

He is 8-12 years old, so (duh) I am not talking about romance. But this kid, though he has no idea, is in my prayers every day. After meeting him at a dump, I love him.

Here’s all I know about Steve:

• Steve is shy
• Steve forages for food, clothing, and money at a Haitian garbage dump
• Steve wears mismatching flip flops
• Steve has the most beautiful smile
• Steve is dirt poor
• Steve does not go to school
• Steve hangs out all day with 40+ men and women that are all trying to feed themselves and their families
• He also hangs out with 300lbs. pigs and hundreds of goats
• Steve carries everything precious to him around in a zip-lock bag because it’s the only place he has to keep it safe.
• His ziplock bag has some coins, other knick-knacks, and a Kreyol gospel booklet.
• Steve represents Haiti to me: survival, smiles, poverty, hope.

When I think of him, I wish I had hugged and kissed him more and made sure that he knew I would be praying for him. It’s hard to understand and process everything that you see in a new and struggling country in the moment.

I really hope I’ll get to see Steve again.

Favorite Photos of Haiti 2010

These pics are my favorite from the recent Haiti trip. I like these photos because I feel they reflect something about Haiti that I want to remember. Enjoy! My favorite one is the very last. (Also please note, when I make the pics XL, as I've done here, my blog cuts off the left side....I'm working on it, but make sure to click on the last pic to see the whole thing. There's another beautiful smiling girl on the side.)

Steve Living off the Dump

Boy in His House

Boy at Church

Nuggets Waiting for Candy

Masses of Children to Love

Poor School Boy with Coloring Book

Playing Games

Asking for Treats

Runner Up for My Favorite Picture : Dod is Dood

Port au Prince Destruction

My Favorite Pic! Cuties Laughing!

For the Love of God

Do you ever think about orphans?

Orphans are just children. Sweet children. They have no parents. They have no way to provide for themselves. There is no one to answer for them, stick up for them, or look out for their well-being. And they are only CHILDREN.

Adriano - Lighthouse Boy

How scary and lonely that must feel for a seven year old. The world is scary enough when you have a home, a family, and an income. I've taken those things as granted all my life.

We met two orphans in Haiti, brothers MacKenzie and Robinson, that survived together in the woods for two weeks after the earthquake killed their parents.

My encounter with these precious Haitian orphans made me finally realize the following : A. There are orphans. B. They need love. C. They are rather helpless.

Remember this verse about what God sees as pure and faultless religion?

James 1:27
Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this:to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.

Just something to think about!


Here's pictures of sweet Haitian orphans just being kids:

Lighthouse kids playing with their new soccer ball

"Climb on Cee'Jay" was a popular game

These beautiful girls live at a state-run orphanage that houses over 120 children.

Orphaned nuggets with bubbles

Reggie and the Pop Bottle Boys

If you got my recent newsletter, you may have seen a section about the last night we were in Haiti.

It was glorious! After dinner, all 18 boys started drumming away with their empty pop bottles and spoons, while shy Reggie transformed into a show stealer!

This video doesn't convey how loud it was, or how happy and focused all the boys seemed. Notice the two boys on the floor behind dancing Reggie. They were banging out rhythms on a cooler.


Did I mention that this was spontaneous and that, according to our host, it happens frequently? I love a culture with rhythm in their souls!

Thanks to Myles Beeman for taking this video and letting me share it!

Another Way to Say "Welcome to My Country"

Have you ever been carried like a baby across a raging river by a Haitian bodyguard wearing a rainbow speedo?

I have.

Oh yes, let me set the stage:

We are on our way to visit a rural village outside of Port au Prince, Haiti. To do so, we need to cross a river, swollen and fast because of recent rains. Truly, it looks intimidating.

As my American friends start to roll up their pant legs, I step away from them, down the bank, to take some photographs. Click, click, new angle, click. I remove my eye from the viewfinder only just in time to see what is about to happen.

In the river, only a few feet away, is Marc, our bodyguard.  Marc is muscular beyond reckoning and walks with a strong-man’s swagger. But now, Marc no longer is wearing his pants. Though I try not to notice, his speedo-style underwear is rainbow stripes in color.

What? Where are his pants? Why is he walking toward –

And I am swept up into his arms, cradled like a child (or fire rescue victim), seemingly as light as a backpack. Marc carries me this way across the turbulent river without even stumbling.

Half-naked Marc carries the females through all four river crossings that day.

They didn’t put that in the brochure.

Oh Haiti. Oh butch people. So was Marc being a foresighted gentleman? Or a bit of an exhibitionist? Either way, my shoes stayed dry.

So did his pants.

Here are some pics from the village we visited that day: 

Pick your Poison

At mid to high range, coastal, Chinese restaurants, you are greeted by tanks upon tanks of live entrees.

Yes, you literally get to point and pick your evening meal. Our host took us to this restaurant in the downtown area of Fuzhou, China. Being a born and bred midwestern girl, I couldn't even name half of the creatures in the murky tanks. When my host gestured to the whole room and said, "what for dinner?", all I could do was smile and say, "fish!", and trust the rest to luck.

That night we feasted on warm corn juice, boiled whole flounder, seahorse soup, veggie jello pizza (my best guess), and beef tail. Not too bad considering my earlier generalization!

The seafood chefs at our restaurant in Fuzhou

Dinner a la live crabs

The chopping block : Public viewed fate of all seafood previously pictured

Travelista Tip #2

Do what the locals do.

Sometimes, when you are in a country where you cannot speak the local language, the best move is to follow the lead of those who can understand their circumstances.*** Develop an eye for the body language, movements, emotions, and habits of those surrounding you. Then mimic them. This will allow two advantages : 1. You can respond to situations without truly understanding the situations. 2. You can blend into the scene more successfully, attract less attention, and get a better sense of the true culture.

Case Study:
Finally it is time for me to leave Fuzhou. Climbing onto the Apollo Hotel bus is the first leg of my trip home. The "Airport Bus" leaves every 20 minutes for Fuzhou Changle International Airport, and is already packed to the brim. Again, I am the only foreigner.

BUMP.

I compare driving in China to stampeding in Africa, and now I am about to reep the ramifications. 10 minutes later, our bus gently collides with a green taxi, on a 4 lane road, in the middle of an intersection. As the taxi passengers bail and run best they can to the sidewalk, our bus driver shuts down the bus, grabs his cell phone, and exits. I can feel stress tempting my stomach for control, but I watch the other bus passengers. We all have the same destination, and we all have deadlines.

At first, my busmates talk quickly and lean to see the impact point. When the police arrive, one man grabs his bag, ready to make a rapid get away. I don't know how this works, or what will happen next. Suddenly a passenger at the front of the bus speaks, and the whole bus settles. Around me, everyone's eyes glaze back to patience, and their agitation subsides. No one leaves. They are content to wait, and therefore I wait.

15 minutes later, another Airport Bus pulls up in front of us. We deboard, grab our bags, reboard, and continue, just a little off schedule, to the airport.


***Please note, this strategy only applies when there are many locals surrounding you. Don't do what individuals do. Do what the masses do. (You can assume that the masses are doing what is generally best...you cannot assume the same thing about an individual!)

Wolf girl at the bus station

3:30pm, January 17, 2010, Songbai Bus Station, Xiamen

I am waiting at the outskirts of Songbai bus station. My boss has gone to a ticketing window with a written request to get seats on the top level of the bus that will take us back to Fuzhou...His success is unlikely.

I stand with all of our baggage like a fortress surrounding me. It is winter for this part of China, and all of the Chinese are in coats and sweatshirts. Even the merchants of cheap food around the edge of the bus station are bundled. I, however, am in a 3/4 sleeve fashion jacket. Winter for this part of China is still about 30 degrees warmer than the weather back in Cincinnati. I barely feel chilled.

Suddenly, one of these merchants is at my side. It is a man above 40. He is speaking to me, but I do not understand. He beams with a gleaming eye, and I recognize that he is amusing himself. Uncertainly I smile back, and the smile encourages him. Lo and behold, he reaches out and strokes the top of my forearm!

I am accustomed to attention of various degrees while traveling because of my youth and gender, but actual physical contact is very rare. Sensing my discomfort, the merchant speaks quickly to me and again strokes my forearm. He then proceeds to lift his own sleeve and stroke his forearm. As he meets my eyes again, hoping for some comprehension, he laughs and gives me a big thumbs up.

Two possibilities occur to me. This merchant might be complimenting me on my skin tone and quality. More likely, however, he is impressed, if not shocked, with the amount of hair on my female forearm.

It's true the difference between our hair quantities is dramatic. My dark winter hair is visible from 10 feet away, but in terms of hair, this man's arm more closely resembles my forehead. The Chinese are notoriously hairless, and likely, this Chinese man is admiring my body hair in terms of strength and masculinity.

In China, I am wolf girl.

Ode to Nancy Drew

I apologize for this entry; it's a bit of a misfit in a travel blog. HOWEVER, it was Nancy Drew that first inspired me to adventure and exploration. She taught me not to be afraid! So, enjoy my Ode to Nancy. (Book cover images courtesy of Amazon.com)

I never idolized movie stars. I never had much faith in sports heroes. My pastors, teachers, coaches and other role models were important but never beyond my own understanding. From all outward appearances, I have been an independent, peer-pressure resistant, and capable individual. I am now 26, and hindsight is 20/20. I did have an idol. Her name is Nancy Drew. 

From the ages of 7 to 14, I saturated my brain with the Nancy Drew stories. I soaked in her perfection and wholesomeness.  I basked in the convenience of her innate wisdom and supernatural ability to know exactly what to do in every situation.  Everyone loved and trusted Nancy Drew, and she led a life of adventure and surprise. Nancy’s biggest fault was her over-developed sense of humility.

This model of female of perfection became my idol. I ached to be as adored and capable as Nancy. Unwittingly I began to define my success in terms of relational and situational perfection. (Is this similar to how girls can idolize Barbie physically? Maybe.) My life became unfulfilling without an adventure surrounding every new acquaintance. Because Nancy was poised and beautiful (and only her sidekicks were chunky or boyish,) I linked success with external appearances. Somehow I got trapped in a mental cycle between the need to be overtly optimistic and personal critiques of my inability to be everything.

But Nancy instilled other things as well. Girls can be capable AND feminine. The brain is a girl’s biggest asset to solving cases (also, life situations). Leadership requires kindness and sacrifice. Success is not exclusive of humility. A little bit of karate knowledge can save your life. If you get a bad feeling, you are probably about to uncover a dastardly crime.

Nancy, for better or for worse, you have made me who I am today.  Your blue convertible, shapely legs, and random survival knowledge have set a standard for me that I will never reach. I will forgive you however, because YOU caught my attention and admiration. Instead of adulterous movie stars, drug dependent athletes, or self-serving leaders, I idolized a smart, young girl who loved her friends and had her priorities straight. 

Thank you Nancy Drew! By driving me to moral and relational perfection, you helped me avoid more dangerous personal and cultural pitfalls.  I still admire you, and hope your purity and logic can survive the literary future. 

...Can’t you just mess up once though? Go ahead; snap at Ned. Tell Beth she’s being an idiot, and tell George to put on a dress. 

Why, hello kitty

9:30pm, Jan. 13, 2010. Puxi, Shanghai

Someone please explain to me, the westerner : the Chinese adore Hello Kitty. She is cute enough, but why the obsession? In my understanding, Hello Kitty is a proportionately inaccurate representation of a girl kitten that can change clothes (but not postures) and has a very limited vocabulary. (hello.) Yet, they love this little feline. I learned that they love her enough to justify a store front in the busiest shopping district of Puxi, Shanghai, named after her and selling nothing but her.

I am walking through said shopping district. I enter said Hello Kitty store.  Stuffed Kitties bump my head where they hang from every ceiling space. Floor bins full of small dolls lead deeper into the chaos, and I follow because I expect each bin to contain something that will unmask this obsession. By the time I can no longer see the street entrance, I realize that each bin only holds Kitty in a differently colored shirt. The eager clerk moves nearer, presumably to sell me one of 50 sticker sets lining the walls. I turn back, looking forward to the scratch-n-sniff free air again. There is nothing but masses of white and pink, interrupted only by the jet black hair of the shoppers seriously perusing the merchandise.

What is it about that creepy Kitty!?

There is another mystery from my night of street walking in Shanghai. This entire distance of this highway is lit from beneath with blue rave-ish lights.  Is this meant for function or beauty?  I have a sneaking suspicion it is meant for beauty, but again, I don't quite understand! The lights turn everyone walking beneith into aliens or sickly smurfs.

 

View from pedestrian crossing near my hotel

Travelista tip #1 : taxis

ANY time you are traveling internationally, create a list of all your hotels and contacts before you even get on a plane. After you arrive, carry it with you at all times.

If possible, write the hotel names in the local language, and always include the hotel phone numbers. Taxi drivers, even if they don't understand the name of the hotel, can call the phone number and get directions. Cell phones numbers are internationally legible.

In my last trip to China, this phone number trick potentially saved my life 3 times.

Dirt and diesel

Equitorial Hotel. Shanghai. 9:05pm 

It amazes me that a city can smell like dirt and diesel equally and at the same time. The smell pounded me as I finally conquered customs at Shanghai International Airport. When it hit my senses, I smiled and inhaled...I'm in China again! Every major Chinese city seems to smell this way. I suspect the source is the smog that never lifts and turns all my photography grey and non-descript.

(I heard once that "they" still use photography of China from 20 years ago for marketing materials. The smog no longer allows for stunning, flattering pictures. I believe it.)

The last 6 hours have been full of smells. The final airplane meal of fish and rice certainly saturated the cabin with a distinct flavor. My new RMB from the currency exchange counter smelled of freshly-pressed cheap paper, and the handsome Israeli man in front of me in the customs line was not so handsome after I got close enough to smell him.

I think I currently smell like detergent and chapstick...I give off the aroma of chemically created heath products. Who knows, the Israeli man in front of me may have found that perturbing as well.

 

Picture from internet of Hong Kong Harbor

Picture I took in 2007 of Hong Kong Harbor on a sunny day

Anticipation and Continental 87

I am somewhere over northern Russia, but I can't see the country below. For a flash, I envision the Huns chasing Mulan over the mountain passes below. Far less perilous is reality; the inside of the cabin is dark, thick, and subdued. I can't tell if it is day or night outside. Four hours remain of my flight, I have watched four movies, and I've slept for 6 hours with the assistance of original formula Dramamine.

It is strange, but sitting in economy class for 14 hours is preferable to my desk at work. Self-actualization = I may be a variety addict.

I am en route to China. It is my first visit north of Xiamen, and my first trip alone. Already I'm feeling stirrings of anticipation. The boarding process illicited memories of my former China experiences as the Chinese travelers amased near the gate with no consideration for cues and the boarding clerks made announcements in beautifully tonal Mandarin Chinese.

I do feel a slight apprehension about whether I should have checked a bag after all. The complexity of organizing myself with all my bags in a way that allows me to walk at a normal speed and fit through the customs line may not be worth the assurance of having my tooth brush when I arrive. Only time will tell.

Cordially,

Varietolic

big wheels keep on turning

New experiences in travel always change me a little bit. They expand my perspective of the world and of myself. In a pleasurable way, travel is an instructional tool. The cultures, food, flora, irony–the diversity blows my world view out of the water every time. And it puts me in my place. To see things beyond my sphere of life allows me to know:
1. I actually have a sphere of life (contained by my relationships, interactions, and circumstances)
2. In the grand scheme, it is rather limited.

When I think about what I don't know, that is glorious or humorous and yet obscure to me, I can barely avoid time stealing to browse expedia for cheap flights and food network for restaurant reviews.

As German beet farmer Dwight Shrute once said, "I've got nothing on my horizon, except everything."

In this blog, I hope you can see little parts of the world that I've experienced in my travels.

Mmmm...travels.