Awesome Travel Stuff

For the last few years, I've been lucky enough to travel to Italy and Greece for archaeological field seasons.  Its been amazing. My first summer abroad, I spent five weeks digging outside of Orvieto, Italy, digging up the Etruscan remains of a road by day, and singing songs with my Italian colleagues at night after dinner. The next three summers, I spent in Arkadia, Greece, mostly in the city of Tripolis, but also in the lovely mountain town of Ano Karyes, which is nestled on the shoulders of Mt. Lykaion, an ancient shrine to Zeus.

Preparing for spending weeks abroad can be daunting. You have to choose your wardrobe carefully, since you'll be limited to what you bring for six long weeks. Stuff gets old after a while. And, if you're like me, you don't want to worry about airlines losing your luggage, so a carry-on is the best idea. That means cramming six weeks' worth of stuff into one (at most) 22" inch suitcase. It can be difficult to select what's worth taking and what isn't, but somehow for the last few years I've managed it, even managing to save room for gifts for folks back home (I somehow got three jars of raw Greek honey packed into my carry-on and they made it home, fully intact!).

This year has been a little different. I am not in Europe this year, sorting potsherds and inventorying ancient roof tiles. This year, my travels took me to Asia for the first time. And I wasn't going to Asia for an archaeological field season. I was traveling for pleasure (imagine that!). My boyfriend's brother was getting married in Bali, so of course we had to go. We also planned a couple of nights in Hong Kong on our way back. Packing for a little over a week was much more straightforward than packing for six, but my choices were no less fraught. What was the weather going to be like? What should I pack for the wedding? What shoes should I bring?? The same has been true for my forthcoming trip to Grand Junction, Colorado to visit my sister. Do I need a jacket? Waterproof or not? Hiking shoes or sandals? Suitcase to backback? Oh the choices!

I'm finding, however, that there were certain travel objects that I have never and would never travel on a plane without, that the destination and purpose of my trip was irrelevant; as long as I have these items, I will be fine. What items, you might ask? These:*

1. My travel wallet - This little Eagle Creek travel wallet is awesome. It holds my passport in a zippered pocket and has various other pockets for organizing other essentials, like cash, ID, and cell phone (if you're traveling with one). It doesn't look like a security neck pouch, which I really like. There's nothing that screams "TOURIST! ROB ME!" like reaching under your shirt for your cash. Instead, its purple and looks like a little wallet purse. If I'm in a crowded subway or train station, I hold onto it (literally, I hold it right next to me as tightly as I can), but for most of the time I travel, its just hanging on my shoulder. The fact that it can function as a wallet or a purse makes it invaluable.

2. My security belt - From Eagle Creek again, this security belt is ACTUALLY A BELT! It has a tiny security pouch on the inside that's just large enough for a copy of my passport and some emergency cash. I wear as I travel and then squirrel it away in my suitcase or hotel room when I'm not wearing it. The beauty of this belt is that it doesn't look like a security belt, so it doesn't draw the attention of ne'er-do-wells. And since I only use it for emergency cash and a copy of my passport, I'm not into it all the time. Wonderful! I get peace of mind and an attractive fashion accessory.

3. My sarong - I was given my first sarong by my cousin, Rica. She had just returned from an international jaunt herself, most of which was in Ghana working for the Peace Corps. I was heading out on a completely different trip, to Greece to see ancient historical sites and archaeological ruins (it was that trip that really got me interested in ancient history!). As she gave me the sarong, she told me hers had been the most valuable travel piece she'd ever owned. That wasn't an understatement. My sarong has been a towel, a beach blanket, a skirt, a head scarf, a dress, a pillow, and a blanket. It does everything! And its so light that it dries quickly and packs down into nothing. Mine is blue, so if I do have to wear it as a skirt, I actually like the way it looks. I wouldn't head out on any trip without packing my sarong.

4. My light scarf - I got this scarf in the Gatwick airport after I had missed a flight to Amsterdam and was waiting for the next one. It was freezing in that airport and I was going to have to sit in it for at least 6 hours. I thought a scarf might help a little, so I shelled out some dough (actually kind of a lot of dough) for this one. I had no idea a scarf could make such a difference! I had been uncomfortably cold before, but once I put my scarf on, I was able to get out my kindle and read, warm and toasty, until my flight boarded. Its really great for warm weather trips too. You can use it as a head scarf (its actually much better suited for this than the sarong) or a sun shade. Its pretty much a smaller version of my sarong and just as versatile.

5. My Kindle - yeah, yeah, I like real books too. But its just not practical to lug around all five of George R.R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire books. Or the Complete Works of Polybius. Or all seven Chronicles of Narnia (those might not be so bad). Or the new Michael Pollan book on food. Or Patrick Rothfuss's New Infuriating Novel (Confused? see this! And this!!) UNLESS THEY'RE ON A KINDLE. I suppose any e-reader would work, but I prefer my Kindle for a couple of reasons. I can buy books internationally (an option that I discovered mid-trip was not available through Barnes&Noble's Nook), I can store up to 3000 books, and my Kindle weighs 8 oz. Its light and its stores a ton! I opted for the 3G model, which gives you access to Amazon's store pretty much anywhere there's cell service, a feature which came in very handy in rural Greece. Kindle's electronic paper is really nice too, since it doesn't tire out your eyes the same way an LED screen will. I still prefer paper books, but when I'm travelling, my Kindle is a must.

6. My Smartphone - When you're travelling, you really should switch stuff off and enjoy what's around you. But my smartphone has been invaluable to me and to the peace of mind of my mothers (my sister is really a second mother in some respects). If I'm travelling internationally, I don't use it as a phone since its prohibitively expensive, but since its so smart, it does lots and lots of other things for me. Its my international clock, so I can keep track of what time it is back home and where I am. Its my alarm clock. If there's wi-fi (and there was wi-fi most places in Greece and Asia), its my internet connection so I can send a quick email to Mom and Dad (and Mom #2) or figure out where I am on Google Maps. I can play games on it if I'm bored (though usually I just read one of my 3000 books stored on my amazing Kindle). If I ever remember to take pictures (and I almost never do), I can take them with my phone. Its really been invaluable everywhere I've gone.

Of course, its always a good idea to pack things like pants and underwear and maybe a toothbrush too.

*Most of this is really great for international travel, but works for the overly paranoid likes-to-be-comfortable domestic traveler as well.

DANCE ANGER POST

So I'm going through my normal morning internet routine this morning: webcomics, the NYTimes, my plethora of emails, facebook, etc, when I see this: 

http://whatshouldwecallswingdance.tumblr.com/post/55806472244/1-feeling-like-you-cant-say-no

My calm morning reverie is blasted away by a wave of scathing anger at the self-absorption of that post. I will try to be reasonable. I will try to remember that I've been guilty of some of the things that I'm railing against. I will try to remember that this human being, whose ideas I'm gnashing my teeth at, is probably good and great and awesome in many respects. But I make no guarantees. Mom, I will probably use the f-word a lot. 

Look, I get it. Sometimes you don't want to dance with someone. I've been there. We've all been there. Its really fucking hot. You're really fucking sweaty. You just want to hang out with your friends. Your potential partner is a creep. Your potential partner is one of those people who thinks yanking your arm out of its socket is awesome and great. Nobody should feel like they can't say no to a dance. I get it. I GET IT.

But you know what? ITS STILL FUCKING RUDE. Especially if you're one of those assholes who turns down a dance with someone to dance with someone else. That's probably the rudest thing I can think of. Why? BECAUSE YOU'RE AT A FUCKING DANCE. People are there to dance, and (shocking!) to dance with you! So how do you think they feel when, after you've politely told them 'no thanks', they see you swinging your fucking heart out with someone else? I'm pretty sure that's the definition of rude.  That's like canceling plans with one set of not-as-fun friends and then making plans with your more-fun friends AT THE SAME PLACE. And that's shitty. How would you feel if someone did that to you? You'd feel shitty, right?

Look, I'm not saying you have to dance with the creeper. You can politely turn them down. Same with the arm-buster. But then at least have the common decency to sit one out. Seriously, people? Are we so self-absorbed as a society that we don't care if we make other people feel bad, just as long as we feel good? Is ONE FUCKING DANCE too high a price to pay to spare someone's feelings? Just politely say no, thanks, and SIT DOWN. Better yet, strike up a conversation with someone else who is also sitting down, and make a goddamn new lindy friend.

I'm not saying you have to find your reject later, either. Maybe they're so wrapped up in their lindy joy that they could give a fuck whether you find them for a dance later or not. Maybe they'll forget they even asked you. Maybe they only asked you in the first place because you were right there, and why the hell not? So you don't have to feel obligated to ask them again. You don't even have to feel obligated to promise another one later. Like I said, nobody should feel like every single request for a dance is a command. Its not and you can say no.

But if you say no, make sure you have a little compassion for the person you're turning down. If you do have a good reason, you can share that with them. If you don't, just a polite no, thanks, not this one is fine. You don't have to dance with anyone you don't want to. You also don't have to say "thank you" to the barrista who just made your mocha frappacino, but isn’t the world a better place when everyone does? When courtesy is the norm and not the exception? So lets try to keep that in mind.

Oy.

I actually have a lot more to say, but I'm so riled up, none of it is able to surface in any coherent manner. ARRGGGGHHH.  Eventually, I'd actually like to discuss this in a respectful, cogent and thoughtful manner, so if you have thoughts, leave them!

Ramblings and thoughts on Retail and Trayvon Martin

I've been thinking about education a lot lately. Mostly about what its limitations are, but also because school is right around the corner, the Trayvon Martin case and how education has played into the discussion surrounding it, my work situation.

Lets start with the least fraught of those, my work situation. I've spent my summer working retail at the same establishment I've worked at for the last seven years (it'll be eight at the end of August). For me, that establishment (which shall remain nameless in this post, but doubtless you all know the place) has been a safety net. I worked full time for a long time, but haven't been full time in years. I could never quite let go and just quit. The people were amazing. I had a 401K I wanted to keep contributing too (despite the stupid stock market). It was a change of pace from my regular job. And essentially, it was, it is, easy.

Retail is easy in lots of ways. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out how to help folks pick a backpack. You can usually figure out how a GPS function from reading the box. Its not difficult in an intelligence sort of way. You could probably be dumb as a rock and still be good at retail. A fact that makes me, a Master's degree holding, dead language teaching, book loving, dilettante of all things intellectual, well, it makes me a little sad sometimes.

The thing that makes someone good at retail is the caring part, which is the thing that makes it decidedly not easy. You have to care what this person, this stranger, wants and then you have to care enough to make it happen for them (if you can).  You must do this even when they're rude, when they're critical, they're indecisive, dismissive, and even when they themselves don't know what they want.  Keeping a level of interest against all those obstacles is difficult. The added burden of keeping the store clean and presentable doesn't help. Again, its not hard to dust. But its hard to care about dusting.

Its the caring that got me wondering about education. I work with highly intelligent people, many of whom are also well-educated. What makes or breaks them in the retail world is finding significance in their daily retail grind. What helps them, what has helped me do that? Is it the caring part? Or the education part? Or is it just plain old smarts?

That got me thinking about what makes a successful retail employee, the type of employee that sells the pants off of good products and does it day in and day out without succumbing to burn-out and boredom. There are a few at my retail establishment and I've worked with them for a good amount of years. I've watched them work. Its the caring that really gets them going, but why do they care? And how do they care without caring? If you care and then the sale goes, it sucks. If you care, and the person you're helping is an asshole, that sucks too. If you care, and all you get to do all is dust because its slow and there aren't any customers, that sucks most of all. So, the caring yes.

The intelligence helps a lot. Problem solving and creativity are a salesperson's friend. And education doesn't hurt either. I love talking to people about the places they're going and the sites they'll see. I mostly know about that stuff from reading about it or learning about it in a class. So education helps a lot. But mostly its the caring.

Here's where Trayvon Martin comes into the mix. I wonder about empathy and retail and stereotypes. You learn quickly in retail not to give into your first impressions, since people often surprise you. Not always, but often enough that you learn to give everyone, the same welcome and the same service, regardless of physical appearance. The grungy cowboy? A millionaire rancher willing to buy three pairs of boots at a time. That little old lady who looks like she's got oodles of cash? Not willing to part with any of it unless those pants fit her 70-year-old parts perfectly. The filthy 20-something kid who looks like he's going to rip you off buys tons of gear to replace his old stuff for his next thru-hike. Its just not worth it to assume you know what a customer is going to do based only on what they look like. So you greet everyone with the same smile, the same offer of help.

I've gotten so used to questioning my first impressions that I often find myself doing so outside of the store. That homeless guy might be a druggy, but he might also be an out-of-work IT guy who didn't make it through the recession. Maybe that mom with all the screaming kids is just lazy, but maybe she's been working all day and all night in order to feed her kids and she just doesn't have the energy. A Hispanic guy in work boots and dirty jeans? Maybe he doesn't speak English and does yard work and construction and maybe he was born here and is working on his house in his old work boots and dirty jeans. And that black kid walking down the street in a hoody and jeans? Maybe he's got his hood up because its raining and he doesn't want to get wet. Maybe he's got skittles and iced tea in his hand, and maybe George Zimmerman should have worked a little retail before he trusted his first impressions. Because his first impressions were wrong, and the cost wasn't a missed sale or an unhappy customer. The cost was a kid's life.

I know everyone is up in arms about the Zimmerman verdict. I'm not a legal scholar or even anywhere close to one. The legal standing of the case don't really matter in the face of the larger social issues: that when we see certain people we assume certain things based on gender, race, clothing, cars, shoes, hairstyles, whatever. I don't think that's ever going to change. Its probably one of the things that helped humans survive, since being able to tell the difference between a friend and an enemy quickly, without thinking, was probably the difference between life and death. But we don't live in that world anymore, and today it makes a lot more sense to take a moment and question those first impressions, especially if you're carrying a gun. That's what bothers me the most, I suppose. That we don't take the time to think about people's circumstances or connect with them in a meaningful way. Instead, the tendency is the think the worst of people. Add deadly weapons into the mix and you get a case like Trayvon Martin's. Awful.

And I wonder, as I always do in the face of awful events, how to make it better, how to make people see past stereotypes. Maybe we should all work retail for a year.

Musings on Dancing and Life

 I went dancing this weekend, as I have several weekends for the past ten years. Admittedly, my weekend dancing forays have become less frequent than in the past and I'm just as likely to be found chatting with my friends as busting out some sick lindy moves. But I've noticed something about my recent dance adventures. They've become deeper, more meaningful, and much more centered.

I really hate it when people start to wax deep about their chosen hobbies. I usually cringe when I hear climbers talk about how climbing is some sort of metaphor for life..."like, its just you and the rock. You either climb or you fall and its so pure." Or cyclists and runners that go on about how the uphills are the best because of the challenge, man, the challenge. I tend to just roll my eyes and move on. 

This distaste usually even extends to lindy hop, my own personal addiction. The swing out has never been some deep metaphor for the vicissitudes of life to me, nor has the ephemeral nature of dancing been some commentary on the brevity of existence. Lindy hop is fun. It always has been for me. And while I like talking about why its so fun, I haven't ever thought about its fun because it's taught me deep valuable life lessons. Its fun and that's it. Usually.

But lately, I've become much more aware of how my approach to dancing is reflecting a general shift in my approach to life. Here is my moment. The moment I've been avoiding. The moment when I join the ranks of those whom I've derided and lose any claim to superiority (if I ever even had one). OMG. DANCING IS LIFE.

When I first started dancing lindy hop in 2003, I fell head over heels in love.  I remember the first time very clearly. I was spending my first summer in Flagstaff, working at a downtown futon/gift shop called Zani and living with my friend Gen in a tiny studio apartment. I heard there was a free swing lesson on Heritage Square. I found out both my neighbor and my co-worker both knew how to dance and were willing to go with me. The universe was practically shouting at me, "GO!" I got dolled up, just like beginners now still do, and took my first lesson.

I was entranced. The music was so happy. The movement felt right. So right. It was as though I had been a swing dancer in a past life, it was so natural. Sure, the dance phrases were in six counts and the music in eights, but that was the only hiccup, and easily forgotten about in my joy. My first social dance was with Bill, who lead a move that hadn't been taught in the class, and as I followed it without even thinking, he laughed happily and said "We've got a natural!" I was confident and happy and never ever going to stop.

For the next few years, I was obsessed. I started dancing whenever I could. I started a venue with Bill of the First Dance. I even practiced in the shower (please don't, its dangerous). Every dance was an opportunity to dance with as many people as possible. Everyone was a friend. I traveled to Phoenix, to Utah, to Tucson, just to dance. And to dance with everyone. I spent the next two years immersing myself in lindy culture and honing my dancing skills.

Things eventually cooled a bit when I moved to Tucson. There were other hobbies, other families here that I built. Graduate school, the Summit Hut, choir...they all had their distinct people, and the lindy community here was a bit more fragmented than in Flagstaff. I made dance friends here too, but they were just one community of several.

Over the last few years, though, as many of my communities have shrunk, and as I realize I've met and lost more people than I can remember, I've started to value the ones who really matter more. Each individual community of several has shrunk to an important few. And I've prioritized keeping them, rather than meeting new people.

And as I was dancing last night, I realized that's how I've begun to approach dancing too. I'd much rather have good dances than lots. So much of that means shedding unnecessary movement and simplifying in order to listen better. The metaphor is so apt that I'm not even sure if I'm talking about dance or life. Because DANCING IS LIFE.

Dancing is like life too, I realized, in that I needed to find my center. Of course, physically, that just means knowing where your center of gravity is and keeping your weight over it. Metaphorically speaking, though (I cringed as I typed that), in life, it means knowing where you are in relation to nature, to society, to your loved ones, to yourself. It sounds simple in concept, but it can be difficult to do. In dancing, leads are constantly telling you where to put your body and the trick is to know where you are so you can know where you're going...just like life is constantly offering circumstances that threaten to pull you off balance.

So dancing, at least for me, really has become a reflection of how I want to live life: centered, meaningful, and connected.