10 Years...

San Francisco, CA USA

January 29, 2017
N 37°48.049
W 122°24.580

 

It was ten years ago today we took a final, anxious look around our condo, threw our bags on our backs and headed to San Francisco International Airport with tears in our eyes. We were excited, yet uncertain, what the year ahead had in store for us. We had a rough itinerary, a desire to explore the world, and a bank account that we hoped would last us for at least a year. In the end, we hit 99 cities in 23 countries during our 1 year and 3 days of travel; coming in under budget and we had the experience of our lives. 

 

Cuba 2009

There are days when the ‘Big Trip’ feels like yesterday, other times it feels like a lifetime ago. Travel still helps define who we are as individuals, and as a couple. The excitement, and newness, of landing in a new city, finding lodging, meandering through streets, looking for good coffee, learning the public transit systems, new currencies, meeting people from different cultures and visiting landmarks/locations that we’ve only seen on TV or magazines helps keep us young. Experiences we never imagined we would have growing up.

 

We’re always looking and planning our next adventure. We still envision a time when we can simply be Travelers again; without time restrictions, without the dreaded re-entry, without moving every 3-4 days, but getting to know a city like we know San Francisco, all the good and bad.

 

Madrid 2012

After 10 years the dreaded re-entry phase is mostly in our rearview mirrors, but the memory of coming home and reintegrating into the workplace and “real life” was very difficult for both of us. It was difficult to not feel the excitement and newness of a new place on a regular basis. It was a challenge to be individuals again. We were with each other for 24x7 for 368 days. We were a team; rarely apart for even ten minutes. Strange, I know.

 

Suddenly, after more than a year, we were apart more than we were together with long commutes and even longer work days. When we were home, there was work to be done - laundry, dishes, dinners. Instead of enjoying each other and working toward a common objective, it was almost like a business partnership in the house, instead of the team we were on the road. Each passing day took away another piece away from who we became that year. In the end, it took us some time, but we figured out a new "normal." The re-entry took its toll on
both of us - I said I wouldn’t go through it again. The next time I will be out for good. 

 

Rio 2010

This blog was created to document our journey. Over the past 10 years, we’ve looked back at the blog to see where we were on that day in 2007, transporting us back to that moment in time. We reminisced about the places we want to visit again. 

 

We talk about the people we met, the sites we saw
and the adventures we had. Recently we were in Tasmania where we joked about running into Ralph, a gentleman we met in Patagonia, in the country side as we were driving along a dirt road, sorta like he did in El Bolson a few weeks after we met him. 

Tariffa 2013

 

We talk about Roger and the trek he sent us on to Ba Na to deliver money to his family. The eldest daughter, who was 16 at the time, had an opportunity to go to school for a few more years because of the money we delivered that day. It’s still one of my favorite stories to tell. We felt like we made a difference in that child’s life, that child who is now 26. Roger visited us a few times after we returned. In fact, when Roger visited us last, he brought his new girlfriend, and told us all about his renewed love for travel with his new partner.

 

Queenstown 2016

There are many others we keep in contact via Facebook. We continue to follow Sara Patterson’s adventures.Sara, who we met on a junk boat in the middle of Ha Long Bay, continues to travel and live around the world. We’ve seen her get married, have two kids and live overseas. Her current home is in India, I believe. We hear from Janis on occasion too. We met Janis at the top of the Millennium Hilton in Bangkok during a happy hour where we took full advantage of the free food and drinks to balance our daily budget.

 

The year we traveled, Facebook was in its infancy, blogs were fairly new and not everyone had a Twitter handle. We were pretty satisfied when the views of our blog passed 10,000. Our last update was in December of 2010, yet we now have over 438,000 hits on our site. If we traveled today, documented the trip the way we did, we might have had a larger following. I guess we won’t know… until next time.

Who would you rather be?

December 8th, 2010

Bariloche, Argentina

After an incredible Bife de Chorizo and Malbec dinner last night, we woke up this morning, (well, late morning) to clear skies and ripping winds. Our goal for the day was to complete the Circuito Chico, the circuit around the seven lakes in Bariloche.

We jumped in our rental car (we'll get back to that in a few minutes) and headed out on the road. Our Casita is just off the circuit, so it made it easy to get going. Our first stop was Llao Llao an amazing state built hotel with panoramic views of the lakes and mountains -we were already impressed. However, as the day went on, every stop we made was more beautiful than the last. The best looking back toward Llao Llao, seeing the beautiful hotel from afar AND all of the panoramic views.

We stopped in Colonial Suiza, or Little Suzy to us, a place we visited on our Big Trip... now almost 4 years ago. The small little town, discovered by Swiss immigrants has grown a lot since our last visit, it now has 4-5 restaurants along the one and only dirt road and even a microbrewery. We visited the campground where we spent two nights and reminisced a little before heading back to the main 'stree't for lunch.

Over lunch we talked about how we never go back to places and do it all over again, we prefer to make new memories. That's true with a few exceptions. Little Suzy isn't a place we want to rush back to, but overall Bariloche has been beautiful and we are happy to experience it in a different season, Spring.

Back to the car, yes we rented a car. This is a true luxury and something we definitely couldn't do on $100/day. We keep finding ourselves going back to that point in time, the time of the trip, when we had to decide to do something or not. Do we pay $20 to ride to the top of the mountain, do we have the nice bottle of wine with dinner? Do we eat Clif bars or grab a real meal? When we were travelers we didn't do any of the extras, but now we are on vacation and can splurge a little more. Who would we rather be?

On the Road...

December 7th, 2010

Bariloche, Argentina

It's truly great to be back on the road again. When I say back on the road, I don't mean on another business trip where I stay in a generic room for a night or two before moving onto the next city. I mean traveling with Marc, something we enjoy doing together.

The pure exhilaration that hits the moment we get off the plane, trying to navigate our way into a new town, or in this case, our transportation to Jorge Newberry airport from the International airport. It doesn't matter how many hours we've been traveling, how exhausted we might be, we have to pull it together until we get to our final destination.

After a grueling 28 hours of travel door-to-door we arrived in the beautiful lakeside town of Bariloche, Argentina.

Bariloche is one of the towns we visited in 2007 for a few days. We knew we wanted to come back and in August we decided to do just that. We found a little Casita on the lake for a reasonable price and booked it.

Today, we are looking out at the lake from a love seat in the Casita. There are bay windows that allow us to take in the view, instead of staring at a television. The weather is temperamental - sunny and clear one moment and windy, overcast with light showers the next - changing the streaks of color on the mountains, evolving the scenery.

An intriguing yellow flower borders the yard and is almost blinding in the direct sun. The various shades of green near us and across the lake on the snowcapped mountains are beautiful in contrast to the crystal blue lake.

As we hiked one of the mountains today,we enjoyed the lake views from a higher vantage point and getting a little exercise. It's days like this that make being on the road worth it. Plus, I can clear my mind and see...

A San Francisco 4th of July...

San Francisco, CA

July 5, 2008

The city was jam packed all weekend long with tourists in town for the long weekend. After a short run down the Embarcadero; avoiding the steadily growing crowds along Fisherman’s Wharf and Pier 39, we headed into Trieste seeking refuge, coffee and some conversation.

We sat down at a table with Karen and Brian—a local couple we met at Trieste a few years ago and caught up on their busy lives of work and training for a marathon. Even though it was a holiday Karen had to head out the door for a day in the office, we shook our heads in pity, and turned back to our conversation with Brian.

A man in his mid fifties with a heavy beard and hat sat down next to us. He wore jeans and a flannel shirt to keep him warm with the foggy chill in the air. He took off his leather vest before he dumped out the contents of his canister of French’s Potato Sticks. Inside the container were dozens of dollar bills folded into different shapes—origami like. Some of the shapes were hard to distinguish, such as Yoda, but others looked like flowers, hearts, or insects.

As the man meticulously set-up his arrangement of dollars, he turned to Marc and said, “wearing that hat is like wearing a dead baby on your head.” Marc, who was wearing a Nike running hat, calmly listened to the man for a few minutes as he continued his rant about Nike’s unfair labor practices. He explained that Nike buys children from China and South East Asia and has giant sweat-shops where they are forced to make their shoes and clothes. He went on to pontificate on how Nike is enslaving African Americans for advertising dollars —last I heard LeBron wasn’t complaining! Marc turned to the guy and said, “Dude you can stop. You convinced me when you said I was wearing a dead baby on my head.” We quickly finished up our conversation with Brian and headed out—we had other things to do besides support child labor.

The streets buzzed with activity when we left Trieste and headed for home. People with maps stood on almost every street corner—trying to navigate their way through the city while taking in all the sites. The day was perfect to be a tourist—not too hot, not too cold. Regardless, we decided to get out of our neighborhood for a round of Disk Golf in Golden Gate Park.

The crisp air in Golden Gate Park was refreshing. The fog lingered throughout the 18 holes of Disk Golf, but you could feel the warmth from the glow of the sun hiding under the protective blanket. I tried to perfect my throw, still taking 3 shots to get down the fairway, and laughed the whole way. Well, maybe there were a few curses under my breath.

When we made it back to our neighborhood we were pleased to find no cars blocking our driveway. We were concerned with the 4^th of July parking frenzy, already underway, that someone might “mistake” the empty space in front of our garage for a legitimate spot.

As the day started to turn to night Michael T., Mama T. Marc and I headed over to Angela’s house for the main event—no, not fireworks—the incredible spread at Angel’s of Russian Hill. Being around a group of great people, eating incredible food prepared by Angela and was a perfect 4^th of July. Well, minus the fact that this year’s fireworks display was trapped behind the blanket of fog that still lingered in the bay. As luck would have it, an hour after the grand finale, the fog lifted and treated us to panoramic views from one of the best views around the world.

The night was termed Angela’s Independence, or Ange-Palooza and re-release into society—very similar to Mitch-a-Palooza without Snoop or… streaking. (Sorry, no shirts)

For fun, we published "A Very Happy Redneck Third of July" from 2005.

A Very Happy Redneck Third of July...

This is an all time favorite story that was originally posted July 3, 2005.

Background

For the long Fourth of July weekend this year, we decided to visit my mom in the green state of Washington . My mom and step dad live in Westport , WA , a small fishing village southwest of Seattle . They have a cute place in the middle of “downtown” Westport right across the street from the harbor and Float 3. If you enjoy seafood, you can walk across to Float 3 and buy fresh crab, tuna, prawns, or salmon. My nephew and two of his friends, all 15, joined us at my mom’s house.

Prior to arriving at my mom’s house, my nephew’s dad took them to the local Indian casino to purchase fireworks. The local Indian casino is in a town called Tokeland and it is approximately 20 miles from Westport . I should note, everything is legal on the Indian reservation, and they carry everything—bottle rockets, M-80s, etc. The boys had bags of fireworks and at least 50 books of matches stored in their bedrooms.

When purchasing their fireworks, the boys learned there was a fireworks show on the third of July. The boys really wanted to go to the show and they wanted to make sure we left earlier enough for them to light off some of their fireworks. I think the boys were interested in seeing the pyrotechnic display, which was designed by a professional this year, not by one of the chiefs, but I think the real goal for the boys was to add to their own collection of fireworks.

The Main Event

The seven of us crammed into the minivan—the three boys, mom, Jim, Marc, and me—Marc was driving, and we made our way towards Tokeland. Approximately 12 miles into the ride we pulled over to let the boys let off some of their fireworks. There were groups of people on the beach, some around bond fires, all lighting their share of fireworks. Some even thought the fire was a perfect place to light the fireworks—I am not kidding—they were mostly firecrackers, but one group put one of the spinny things that shoots into the air in their fire. The boys only brought one bag each—they called this their warm-up for the 4th—now I think it was a warm-up for what was to come.

After the boys messed around on the beach, throwing firecrackers in water, skipping the flare things across the water, and throwing firecrackers at each other, we all piled back into the minivan. At this point I was very thankful nobody got hurt.

The next part of the story is told best by Marc, but I will do my best to paint a vivid picture of the scene.

Marc is gliding the minivan down the road towards Tokeland. It is about 10pm and it is finally starting to get dark, dark enough for the main event. We come around a curve in the road and immediately see a blue and light flashing light, smoke is everywhere, and there are people on both sides of the street. Marc immediately suspects there is an accident up ahead, and proceeds with caution. We get up closer to the red and blue flashing lights and realize the lights aren’t even on an emergency vehicle. Instead the lights are strategically placed on top of a hut type structure selling fireworks.

We pass the hut structure and continue towards the casino. The dark streets are lined with people on both sides, firecrackers are exploding in front of the minivan, and people, with their kids, are dodging in front of the minivan to cross the street. A lot of the people have a cold one in their hand. I think if it wasn’t for the boys and their desire to see the fireworks show, we would have found the first place to turn around and got the heck out of there.

We make our way to the casino without getting hit by a firecracker or hitting a pedestrian, we pass the casino, find a place to turn around, and actually find parking. We are maybe an eighth of a mile from the casino.

After we parked and were attempting to get out of the van, a jeep headed in the opposite direction drove by with a group of rowdy guys. The jeep didn’t have a top, so they all jumped out. I am in the back of the minivan and get out just as one of the guys is walking by. He has a cold one in his hand and is saying, “fuck yeah I am going to walk down the street and drink my beer. I wouldn’t leave it in the jeep.” That sets the tone of what is yet to come.

We get everyone together and start walking towards the casino. The casino is now on our right side. There is smoke everywhere, bottle rockets going off overhead, M-80s in the very near distance, the spinny things in the middle of the road, kids crying and peeing their pants, and dogs barking. A firework show is a great place to bring your pitbull. I think I can say this is true chaos.

Marc has the best description for the chaos. Think about the bridge scene from “Apocalypse Now.” Martin Sheen gets off of the boat and turns to one of the soldiers, “hey, who is in charge here?” The soldier turns to Martin and says, “I thought you were sir.” No one was in charge, and that was apparent at the Tokeland Casino on the 3^rd of July.

We left the boys at the fireworks stand and told them we would be back for them in a few minutes; we were going into the casino to use the restroom. The walk from the stand to the casino was maybe 50 meters, but that 50 meters was full of excitement. People were sitting in the back of their trucks, drinking Budweiser, fathers were teaching their 3-5 year olds how to light fireworks, a man walking by with a young girl on his shoulder looks around the parking lot and says, “This is just like Viet-Nam.” Fireworks are exploding everywhere and you have to worry about the stand at the end of the parking lot catching on fire.

We get to the Casino and the police squad for the whole town is out front, there were three cars, and these officers weren’t moving. Marc thought it would be a better idea to go back and keep an eye on the boys instead of going into the casino. He headed back to the stand and stood there waiting for the boys to wheel and deal. It was at this point Marc saw something he says helped define the evening and the clientele frequenting the show. A younger couple was walking towards him. The guy had one arm around his woman and a beer in the other hand. He was wearing a t-shirt, obviously homemade, that said, in black block letters, “I have the DICK, so I make the rules.” Marc couldn’t wait to tell me about the shirt.

The main event started, the launch pad was placed right in front of the casino. I am sure this was the safest place. It was so loud, louder than before. I go back to the stand to check on the boys and Marc. The boys finally felt they purchased enough fireworks and wanted to put their purchases in the minivan. The five of us walked back to the van and Kyle, my nephew, turned to Marc and asked if it was okay to light off a firework or two. Marc, in a serious tone at first, fading into a little laugh, said, “No, Man, it isn’t okay.” Kyle laughed too and threw a firecracker into the bushes.

We walked back to the meeting place and Marc suggested I go find my mom and step dad. I find my mom and send her to the meeting place and go back to find Jim. After searching for approximately 10 minutes, I find him standing very close to the launching pad and right underneath the fireworks. I grab him and bring him back to the meeting spot. The show was still going on and we were still a few minutes away from the grand finale, but we convinced everyone to pile into the minivan and head home. We didn’t want to be on the road after the show with all of the drunken rednecks.

If you ever want to celebrate a very happy redneck 3^rd of July, you know where to go— Tokeland , WA . Or if you ever forget who makes the rules, check to see if you have a dick.

God Bless America !

Back In the Moment..

Emigrant Wilderness, CA

June 6-8, 2008
N 38°08.030
W 119°50.170

It had been more than a year since we set up a campsite, something we became very good at doing during our travels and something we instantly realized we missed. We forgot the process as we unloaded our tent from the backpack, pulled out the various pieces and fumbled for a few minutes before everything we learned during our time in South America and New Zealand slowly came back to us.

We commented we were lucky it wasn’t raining or snowy and the 40 mph winds we battled in Patagonia were no where to be seen. We were about 10 miles deep in Emigrant Wilderness with vast granite mountains enclosing us in a valley, with a crystal clear, ice-cold, gushing creek preventing us from setting up camp any deeper in the backcountry. As we stood there, we felt “in the moment” for the first time in months; probably since our return to society on February 1, 2008.

Emigrant Wilderness has to be one of the most beautiful places in California, possibly the United States. The vast forest is somewhat unexplored, especially compared to nearby Yosemite Wilderness, and as you wind your way through the trees, creeks and granite it’s possible to go a whole weekend without seeing anyone else.

On this particular trip, early in the season, we crossed paths with only six other adventure hikers like us. The backcountry of Emigrant Wilderness isn’t someplace you get to by accident… a 3 hour drive from San Francisco; through the small Central Valley towns of Escalon and Oakdale, winding your way by the Sierra Foothill towns like Jamestown and Sonora, and finally another 60 minutes down fire-trails and gravel roads off Highway 108 in the Sierras you’ll eventually find Crabtree Trailhead, an entry point, or true gateway, for backpackers into the wilderness area.

The clear blue skies and warm temperatures made the trip to this pristine part of California even more incredible. During the day we waded across the knee high, ice-cold creeks (it felt like my toes were going to fall off) to explore different areas of the backcountry. We struggled across large sections of snow; the sound of running water below us, driving our hiking poles into the snow ahead of us with each step in order not to fall through an ice shelf.

At night we pulled on a few more layers and started a fire. We slept comfortably under the Milky Way and chalky light from the quarter moon, the sound of the breeze rolling over the top of the pines and the gurgling of the creek in the background.

Our sub-par dinners took us back to our time in Torres del Paine when we had to choke down the rice and soup mix to fill our empty bellies. At least we didn’t have the cumulative nights of rice and soup mix, only two, and with some trail mix, salami, cheese and Clif Bars we were far from starving.

As we basked in the sun on the shore of the creek, we discussed our favorite dishes at various restaurants, including the succulent salmon rolls from The House, which made our mouths water for something more flavorful than cardboard—it was only a day away.

We reminisced about where we were a year ago, Hanoi, Vietnam, and the heat we experienced as we trekked through the city, drank beer on the streets, drank coffee overlooking the lake and, most importantly, spent time with Bob, Teddy and Elise.

Of course we discussed our next travel plans. Should we go to Mexico? Thailand? Indonesia? Unfortunately, we have to figure out what is next for us in terms of jobs. For now, we will enjoy our time at Emigrant Wilderness and know we still have a lot to see in our own backyard.

Note: To the person who inquired about purchasing our blog for a measly $50. The answer is definitely NO.

A Final Step Back...

San Francisco, CA USA

April 11, 2008
N 37°48.049
W 122°24.580

Simply said, I can’t sit still for long. This became more apparent the last few weeks as I anxiously waited for job interviews and offer letters. I sat in the coffee shop, tried to write stories, but my clogged brain couldn’t focus on anything except for the task at hand—finding a job. Then, as the prospect of a job started to become a reality, I took off to Las Vegas for the CTIA Convention and now I’m spending my first week of my new job in London.

Being on the road is part of me… no matter how much I miss Marc, I don’t think I can sit behind a desk and punch away at a keyboard every day.

Yes, it is difficult being back in the work environment; yet another step in the re-entry process, maybe the final step. However, since I am spending my first week on the job in London it still feels like I am traveling. As soon as I stepped off the airplane knowing I had to navigate the train station and then the underground, my heart started pumping—I was back in the action. Of course, an obvious piece was missing, Marc who had to stay home at a mundane job of his own.

I popped out of the London underground at Oxford Circus wheeling my small, carry-on suitcase and headed off to find my new office. This is when I realized I didn’t have one of my most trusted traveling devices—my compass. Initially, I headed off the wrong direction before realizing my mistake and backtracking. It felt good to be back in the game.

After my first day in the office, I knew I needed some fresh air to fight off the effects of jet lag. Plus, I had to stay awake until at least 10:00 PM in order to completely adjust to British Daylight Time. I pulled on my running shorts and shoes and headed out to Regents Park, to take in the spring flowers, crisp evening air, and enjoy the company of other runners. As I stopped to look at the tulips in bloom, I reflected on my life over the past few months, and the leisurely hours I spent inside around North Beach and Café Trieste.

Marc told me over and over to document some of the stories of the day… they really were memorable. Of course, not all were grand. Especially when Elvis Christ, the local drunk who is arrested daily for being drunk in public, jumped MoMo, another local favorite. After the incident, MoMo explained to anyone that would listen, he wasn’t taking any more shit and was going to start carrying a butterfly knife to fend off Elvis. I hope this story doesn’t end in a dark alley in North Beach with MoMo in prison and Elvis Christ dead.

Over the past few months I frequented Little City Market and kept Ron and Mike, the local butchers, on their toes. I visited the market before our trip, but not as often since Marc was only occasionally eating meat on the weekends. However, since I have been home and cooking regularly, I visit Ron and Mike a few times a week.

On one visit I was showing off the market to a former colleague, on the next day I rolled in with a stroller while I was babysitting Sadie Jordan. Yet, on another day I walked in with Marc. After shuttling in so many different faces it took me a few more visits to get the story straight with Ron and Mike… no, the baby isn’t mine… that that is a former colleague… and yes, Marc is indeed my husband, but no that wasn’t his baby either.

Saving the best for last, the most memorable story of late was the morning I sat outside Trieste in the crisp air and a young, Norwegian tourist stumbled up looking for his hotel. He never made it home the night before and couldn’t remember how to get to his place. I gave him directions, asked a few questions and he stumbled on his way. I continued sitting there, sipping my coffee, when the guy next to me screamed out, “wow, look at them soar.” I looked up and saw a few pigeons flapping in the air near the church across the street. “They are such beautiful birds, those hawks, there… oh my, they are making love right now” he exclaimed, “sometimes I feel like I relate more to birds than to people.” I looked up again, looking for hawks, but still saw only pigeons and wondered if I am the crazy one. As I peered into the guy’s eyes, it was almost as if I could see his imagination flowing freely, and knew he really believed there were hawks in the air. I was pretty sure some mood enhancing drugs were involved. I have seen bird man a few more times since the initial meeting; he is always very courteous, we have engaged in some interesting conversations about local politics, jobs and the neighborhood in general. I felt he related pretty well to me… and I am not a bird.

Since the end of our trip I have met new people at Trieste, at Little City Meats and had the opportunity to watch a beautiful 15 month old girl, Sadie Jordan. Even though the last two months weren’t relaxing as I was living them, I will look back on the time fondly, especially now that I am back in the game.