Tag Archives: travel

Jul 28 2014
4 Comments
Wassup USA?

I’m Addicted to Coffee but I Wouldn’t Dream of Changing

coffee

coffee coffee coffee

What is dependency? What is addiction? If I can’t force myself to leave the house without the promise of coffee, is that a problem? If I buy more than one, sometimes more than two, and rarely but not too rarely more than three coffees a day, is that really so terrible? Is it childlike and irresponsible, or is it supremely adultlike and admirable?

If I, after arriving in Boston (the city of my alma mater and priceless collegiate memories), think only of bed and of ending everything because there is no coffee in the house and the nearest coffee shop is across a bridge and through the rain, what does that mean?

My brain is made up of chemicals. My body is an assemblage of elements and amino acids. My hair is a collection of grease, sweat, and whatever kind of weird shampoo I used this morning. Also, it is made of keratin. But my heart is made of coffee. It is coffee that runs through my veins and brings light into the world.

Entire worldviews have shifted because of caffeine-deprivation. Wars have started and / or ended because of the magic bean. And it is the magic bean.

Oh coffee, you make my heart beat faster. You make my veins constrict and make it difficult to focus and my hands shake. You open up entire worlds of possibilities and the ability to love. You make it possible to run across freeways in the sun and find shelter in the rain.

I think I’m addicted, but I don’t want to be any other way.

Tagged , , , , , , ,
Jul 25 2014
2 Comments
Wassup USA?

How to Talk to Strangers 101: Wear a College Shirt

Berkeley shirt

Berkeley shirt

I pack light. For this seven week trip, I brought four shirts, two pairs of pants, some underwear and miscellany. One shirt is for sleeping, one is for exercising, and two are for everyday wear. One of the everyday wear shirts is solid black, which was a great choice. The other is a grey Berkeley shirt, which was not as great of a choice, mainly because the pitstains in it are huge, permanent, and growing.

In spite of the pits, however, it has been an incredible conversation starter. The conversations usually go like this:

Random stranger who sees my shirt: “Did you go to Berkeley?”

Me: “No, I actually didn’t. I found this shirt. In my apartment. When someone left it there who was staying with me. She was Australian.”

Random stranger: “Oh. Where did you go to school?”

Me: “Boston University, but now I live in San Francisco. I don’t know what the red dots splattered on this shirt are. It could be blood.”

Random stranger: “Oh. ”

Me: “Yeah.”

Variations include people who went to school at Berkeley, know someone who did, or wanted to go there. The shirt has started convos with a professor who used to play golf with Christopher Hitchens who stopped me on the street, the bouncer at a bar, a man on the bus and nearly countless others.

I think the moral of the story is that people in D.C. are kind of friendly. Also, shirts are great conversation starters. You shouldn’t be afraid to do it yourself either. In my case, that’d look like this:

Me: “I know I’m wearing this Berkeley shirt, but I actually didn’t go there. I went to Boston University and found this shirt when an Australian who was staying with me accidentally left it. She was studying abroad at Berkeley for the semester or something. The crazy thing is that I actually live in San Francisco now, so I don’t look out of place at all when I wear it there.”

Random stranger: “Excuse me – this is my stop.”

Me: “Wait, come back! There’s more to my story! I’m going to be an improv comedian!”

(Bus door closes)

Works like a charm.

Tagged , , , , ,
Jul 25 2014
2 Comments
Wassup USA?

I was there in Washington D.C. in July 2014

Washington D.C.

Washington D.C.

Washington D.C. has wide streets and there are many trees. The crepe myrtle is blooming with pink and white flowers. This morning it’s not too hot. In fact, it is perfect. The window is open and when the wind blows I can see the leaves on the tree outside rustle. Then I feel the air on my cheeks and it’s refreshing like water.

The streets of D.C. are straight and laid out in an orderly fashion, a mixture of numbers and letters and state names and other names of governmental significance. They all feel very purposeful. They were built in relation to the capitol and all streets lead there if you go the right way.

If you go the right way and go to the Capitol building, you’ll see lawns. You’ll see green. You’ll see landscaping and trees with little plaques on them to tell you what kind of tree it is. At this time of year, there is usually a group of people taking a picture on the Capitol building steps. In front of them and across the street and down the hill there are men and women wearing slacks and dresses and going to work in large white marble buildings.

There are fountains with muscley old men and long hair riding mythic beasts, and beautiful women riding muscley horses. Turtles spout water forever.

People with maps and phones try to figure out which way to go. Air conditioning units work overtime to pump gigantic museums full of cooled air to accept the huddled masses, refugees from the sun and the oppressive openness of the National Mall. Interns are everywhere, but you can’t see them.

I did pushups on the landing at the National Gallery in the morning, and banged on the doors of the Supreme Court at night. I walked the same blocks as people who have their name printed in the newspaper and have many followers on Twitter. I swam in that fountain, the one with the turtles and the horses and a muscley old man.

I didn’t have any pockets so I shoved coins down my pants to have something to remember the moment by. I took a penny and a quarter. But then I accidentally flushed the penny down the toilet, and without thinking I put the quarter into my purse with all the other coins, so I don’t know which one it was even though I probably still have it.

And somewhere in the National Air and Space Museum, a raw almond rests underneath a display case, accidentally dropped from my hand and then kicked out of sight to rest forever until vacuumed up.

Tagged , , , ,
Jul 22 2014
3 Comments
Wassup USA?

When Truth Hits You Like a Freaking Lightning Bolt Out of the Noonday Sky

woman in the hat selfie

woman in the hat selfie

I was walking today, just doing my tourism thing in Capitol Hill and walking in the general direction of my destination but not too set on it. Like, I’m open to other adventures and stuff because if traveling isn’t about having adventures then I’ll just go ahead and eat my socks.

So I was walking today and noticing how the buildings in my neighborhood are so put together and made of brick, and how they all kind of remind me of senators from the 17th-18th centuries or whenever they still wore wigs. And I was just walking along doing my thing when I notice some free stuff on the road, like there’s a cardboard box full of cookie cutters and a desk and then there’s also this hat.

It’s just a sunhat that’s Columbia brand and either dark khaki or light green but it looks like it’s in pretty good shape, and I have pretty fair skin and was planning to be in the sun all day so I thought this was a fairly wonderful find. I put it on and was so stoked about it and kept on thinking to myself, “I found a new hat!”

And I wore the hat around all day and it was kind of a funny thing, you know. Like, I don’t usually wear hats. In fact, I’m a little weird about them. I think the people who wear them have some sort of ego complex. I always think, “Who do they think they are wearing that hat? Where do they get off accessorizing to such a high degree?”

But today, I was the woman in the hat. I wore that hat around all day and loved it. But the thing is, if someone saw me today they would just think that I was a hat-wearer by nature and that this was just something that I do, even though nothing could be farther from the truth. They wouldn’t know the difference. They would just think, “There goes a woman in a hat.”  Or they wouldn’t think anything at all and would just continue on with their lives like I do when I pass people on the street.

I assume I see people the way they are, but the reality is I know nothing. I don’t know what they usually eat, what their friends are like, if they come around these parts often, or if they wear hats. I can only see them in one moment and in one place. Maybe she just got that tattoo against her boyfriend’s wishes. Maybe he’s had those shoes for six years and can’t bring himself to throw them away. Maybe she just got back from a 11 month trip around the world and is experiencing massive culture shock.

I don’t know. So that’s the truth that hit me today: that I am the woman in the hat and I don’t know. Also, my hat is pretty awesome.

P.S. The selfies are out of control

Tagged , , , , , , , ,
Jul 21 2014
1 Comment
Wassup USA?

Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory of the Cushioned Lawn Chair

Cushioned lawn chairs.

Cushioned lawn chairs.

I have been there. I have seen the nation’s Capitol. I have walked the red, white, and blue pathways between trees and gardens and courtyards and hotdog stands and even more trees and tourists wearing tennis shoes and little dogs and bigger dogs and barricades and motorcades and esplanades and ice cream trucks.

I have sheltered myself from the hideous rays of the sun, cursed myself for wearing black skinny jeans and a grey shirt that shows sweat faster than I can produce it, and talked to my mom on the phone in the National Gallery after seeing masterpieces by Monet, Manet and other people that I can’t remember.

Yes, I have seen the glory. Yes, I have seen the power. Yes, I have seen stacks on stacks of marble buildings sandwiched between lawns that know no end. Yes, I have seen the irony in buildings dedicated to populations we have decimated and yes I have seen the waves of government workers in their slacks and white shirts and polished shoes going to do the will of a people that has forgotten to vote.

Seek, they say, and you shall find. Go, they say, and you will arrive. I tell you this, that I sought treasure and I have found it. I went to find destiny and I have found it.

In the courtyard in front of the U.S. Botanical Gardens there is a bounty beyond worth to a weary traveler, something so delectable and holy that only a few know about it or experience it.

It is cushioned lawn furniture, and it is heaven. This is not just a park bench. This is not merely a wooden chair. Nay, my friend. This is a park bench and a chair with a thick green cushion on it, free for anyone to sit and rest on for as long as they like and contemplate the likeness of President Garfield, who was assassinated not very far from the spot.

To one used to the concrete wastelands of San Francisco, the idea of a public, cushioned park bench is almost as loony as free coffee at a physical library. For this is not a world of free lunches, free back scratches, or free cushions. Unless, of course, they’ve already been paid for through taxes.

I wish I could comment on the brilliance of a Degas that I saw today, or perhaps the strange nature of travel and how it both brings you closer to people yet also distances you from them. Instead, I can only think – nay, I can only dream – of the lawn furniture at the U.S. Botanical Gardens. Such plushness. Such wonder. Such glory. Amen.

Tagged , , , , , ,
← Older posts
Newer posts →
Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started