Author Archives: Ms. Boice

How one man changed my body snark

26 Wednesday Jun 2013

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Note: Just so’s ya know, there’s lots of full body photos here.

The same week that Sally of Unbrave Girl began her No-body-snark diet campaign, I read this quote from author, journalist, and comedian Paul Krassner

This is a difficult country to look too different in—the United States of Advertising—and if you are too skinny or too tall or dark or weird or short or frizzy or homely or poor or nearsighted, you get crucified.

Ain’t that the truth.

Sally’s challenge was to begin posting full body photos of ourselves, rather than only shoulder-and-above photos. Well, my arm isn’t long enough for a full body selfie, but I did dig through my archives and found that I was pretty okay with the full body photo at age three.

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Red shoes! Love!

Look at that girl! (ME!) Three years old and she hasn’t yet been barraged with all sorts of negative body snark. She doesn’t care that her thighs touch. Or that her toes point out or that the baby fat on her body gives her a double chin. No, it’s all so freaking cute and she knows it!

I can tell you exactly why I started the body snark. If I didn’t do it first, then I beat anyone else to the punch. Laugh at myself, I thought, and then we all laugh together. Bad strategy, I know. That might work well if you trip on a banana peel, and so you laugh at yourself rather than cower into a corner and sob. “Hey everyone, wasn’t that funny?”

But turning myself into a big laughing stock kept me from feeling comfortable as ME. My friends liked me the way I am, why didn’t I?

It wasn’t until I fell in love with this guy when I finally fell in love with myself. (Hang on all you folks who think I’m going down that you-need-a-man-to-feel-good-about-yourself path. I’m not. Hear me out.)

My suitor and I in Palmyra, New York

When I met Steve I didn’t have room for all the negative self-talk about my appearance because I was SMITTEN! Well, at least that’s what I thought at first, but then realized it was it the other way around. Without the negative self-talk I was able to fall in love. And it took me to age 40 when that all happened.  That’s waaaay too long to wait for that to happen.

Feeling more confident in my own in skin not only helped me to find love, but it also led to some crazy activities, all under the influence of Steve. (He now sounds like a drug.)

Lisa zipline

Zip lining in Costa Rica (TOTALLY a fake smile. I’m scared to death, really.) All Steve’s doing.

The suitor TOTALLY dragged me into hiking the Narrows in Zion National Park

The suitor, Steve, TOTALLY dragged me into hiking the Narrows in Zion National Park. I’m pretending I’m so cool about this whole thing but really don’t know what I’m doing.

He also made me walk on a frozen Lake Louise in Banff National Park, Albert

He also made me walk on a frozen Lake Louise in Banff National Park, Alberta.

And then he convinced me that scuba diving was really cool, so I did that too.

And then he convinced me that scuba diving was really cool, so I did that too. I still think it’s cool.

And then he lured me into marriage where I thought, "Hey, I look pretty good in this dang dress, don't I?"

And then he lured me into marriage where I thought, “Hey, I look pretty good in this dang dress, don’t I?”

It’s been a crazy ride alongside this guy and it’s only been seven years now since we met. But here’s my message: don’t wait for a guy to come around to sweep you off your feet to make you feel good about yourself. You have to feel good before you can open up yourself to anyone.

I mean that. Yes, I’m convinced that if I had been still self-deprecating that Steve—the guy above who makes me do crazy things—would never have found me. It doesn’t matter that I’m frizzy, short, weird, or need readers, he loves me. Shouldn’t I do the same?

Yes. Duh.

And besides, if I had screwed up and never liked myself, we would have never made a really cool Christmas card like this, because it takes two people to hold that sign and it only works if you can get a full body shot. Otherwise, it’s lame.

Merry Christmas, y'all.

Merry Christmas, y’all.

Letter to my readers: Some people at TBEX taught me about writing. The good kind.

16 Sunday Jun 2013

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There's not room for two big egos in this photo.

There’s not room for two big egos in this photo. (Instagram)

Dear Readers,

I started this blog almost two years ago because I wanted to practice writing and get good at it. I didn’t mean for it to turn into a travel/food/my falling in love with my long-distance suitor stories/sometimes rant blog. Some of you are my family and friends and even coworkers who either felt pressured to subscribe or had a real sincere desire to find out what makes me tick. Some of you also follow my other blog The Accidental Birder because, frankly, you probably got tired of my pestering you to follow my badass birding adventures around the globe. To you, I apologize for the abhorrent writing you’ve had to face and the random and inconsistent posts.

Sometimes I vomit out too many adverbs on a page. And other times, I’ve hit “publish” and then gone back three times (at least) to clean up the mess. I know that, and the first step in overcoming any problem is admitting it. The second step, I’m certain, is to go to a conference for bloggers to get some rehab, which happened to be TBEX (Travel Bloggers Exchange).

When people and speakers think you’re weird. And that’s okay.

I was over the moon on my first day at TBEX. It began wonderfully with the writing workshop, led by Pam Mandel, Andy Murdock and David Farley. We broke into small groups of about 12 people and I got a chance to read part of one of my Accidental Birder posts. The look on David Farley’s face when I explained that I’m a global birder was priceless. You know that look someone gives you when they’re not sure you said what you said? Like you were speaking in tongues? I got that look. Turns out I got a lot of those weird looks all weekend. Yes, y’all. Looking at birds around the world. It’s a thing.

Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me.

Pam Mandel, David Farley and Andy Murdock help us not suck as much at writing.

Pam Mandel, David Farley and Andy Murdock help us not suck at writing.

My second small group session during the workshop was with Pam Mandel and we didn’t really workshop anyone’s writing, but rather workshopped ideas and challenges. I received sage advice on how I might tackle my latest adventure in Ecuador where it didn’t exactly turn out so awesome. You, my dear reader, don’t know that yet—the part about Ecuador not being so awesome—because I haven’t had the nerve to write it. I’ve only shown you super fun stuff like the custom-made red boots I got in Quito.

If there was one thing that impressed me most, it was the genuine advice and feedback I received at this workshop and in their follow ups with me. These are the connections that are the most meaningful at a conference like TBEX. I only wish this could have been an all-day workshop.

When people are surprised you don’t make money at this. That’s okay too.

The other workshop I attended was the Instagram walking tour with Katja Presnal. As we were walking around Toronto in the crazy heat and humidity I was having a nice chat with a woman about my Accidental Birder blog when she asked, “So how do you make money at that?”

“Uh, I don’t.”

I thought everyone did this for the love of writing and have regular careers and never have a tidy home.

It wouldn’t be the last time someone would ask me about the business side of my blog. And guess what—there is no business side of either of my blogs.

So, it turns out there were Monetizing sessions at TBEX. I thought that was another conference. (No, not really, but it kinda felt like it.)

Meanwhile, back on the walking tour….

Apparently, reading small print like, “It’s a walking tour so wear comfortable shoes,” got lost on me. Also, rules like “keep up with the group” seem to be important. I got turned around and separated from the group so I walked back to the hotel and noticed that the CN Tower had been stalking me.

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CN Tower is totally stalking me. [Enter creepy music.]

This is how old people party. Or not.

So readers, I hate to report that I didn’t go to any of the parties. Instead I spent the evenings with Steve, the husband, because we’re that weird couple where each lives in a different country. Toronto was a rendezvous point and to be honest, I’m just kind of too old for those parties. But I heard they were really fun.

Did someone lose her shoe? That must have been some party the night before.

Parties so fun that someone lost her shoe. That must have been some party! (Instagram)

I should have been tormenting you differently

Back at the Toronto convention center ranch of 1300 bloggers I stuck to the content track at TBEX, which gave me really good tips and direction to improve my writing, photography, content development, and to be quite honest, make it easier for you to follow along. I even learned, ala Mike Sowden, how to torment you and make you want to read my blogs to the end. I have no idea if you finish reading any of what I’m posting. I’m lucky if I get three comments and I’m assuming those people have read to the end. I think I’ve been tormenting you all along, but not in the way Mike suggests. Sorry about all the bad writing tormenting. (<–See? even this sentence is bad. Ugh.)

See anything good?

I also met some lovely people, one of whom happened to be another birder, Laura Kammermeier of Nature Travel Network. On the first day we had lunch with my husband (the real birder) where we shared stories and adventures. Laura’s insights on the difficulty in networking were spot on when she said:

I don’t know how to break into this group here at TBEX. In the birder world you just go up and say, ‘See anything good?’ and that starts the conversation. Here? I don’t know.

Yeah, I couldn’t figure it out either. Gosh, 1300 attendees is a lot of people and kind of difficult to connect. But there was a really cool sculpture of birds right outside the convention center. Thanks Toronto, that was a swell welcome for us two birders. Made us feel kind of special. And smart because everyone else was calling them just woodpeckers. But we birders were geeking out about it and, of course. knew what species they really were.

In case you didn't know, that there is a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker.

In case you didn’t know, that there is a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker (the other one was the Pileated Woodpecker). You totally want to party with me, right?

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By the way, there was a GOB of construction going on in Toronto. (Instagram)

A cheap date. (Not in the sense that she’s a trashy girl.)

Did TBEX meet all my expectations? Kind of. But it was sort of a cheap date and I got what I paid for. I bought my conference ticket ûber early and paid under $100 for it. I maybe passed out seven of my cards with my blog info because they were people I genuinely wanted to connect with. I didn’t speed date. I don’t even know what the Marketplace thing was. And as I mentioned above, I didn’t do the parties. Or the after parties. I just stayed the course with the content track and felt like I took advantage of 1/5 of the conference, which was okay. TBEX was a cheap date and that’s fine. If I want more out of a conference I will need to invest a little more for that. I don’t need all the other stuff the sponsors were paying for—the parties and the monetization breakouts. Not saying they’re bad, but it just wasn’t my focus.

I took pages and pages of notes, so I know I learned a great deal. Most importantly, I learned to not just slap up crap on my blog just to stay consistent. It’s more important to really work through a piece, edit, sleep on it, and edit some more. So that means I may not post something weekly. It just might even be once a month. I don’t know yet. I liked working in a rhythm, but I was only making incremental improvements in writing, not monumental steps.

You see, it’s about you, not me. That’s a tough thing to learn and rather counterintuitive to personal blogging if you think about it. Blogging started about me, but if this is going to be about engagement I have to respect your time as well and give you something for your time, like something interesting to read. Or something you learn. Or at least one embarrassing photo of me.

And then I’m sure you’ll always finish my posts to the end.

Warmest regards,

Lisa

When my husband went all Tongan on me at the Polynesian Cultural Center

21 Tuesday May 2013

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Tongan man blows into conch shell

You couldn’t get me on stage. No, not even if you promised me a new pair of shoes. I thought husband, Steve, would be the same way. But put big Tongan drums in front of a man and he turns into a boy.

That’s what happened at the Polynesian Cultural Center (PCC) on the island of Oahu. There are villages throughout the PCC, each representing Polynesian islands in the Pacific, specifically, Aotearoa (New Zealand), Fiji, Hawai’i, Samoa, Tahiti and Tonga, and it is the Tongan show that is a big hit with audiences.

The show begins with a man blowing into a conch shell and drummers begin hammering away on the big drums. It’s the hollow beat, beat, beat that swoops through your chest and were it not for my fear of being looked at, I would have stood up, closed my eyes and started dancing.

Tongan Drummer 1

Tongan Drummer 2

The drumming or Tongan ta nafa has five performances a day, Mondays through Saturday.  It’s an opportunity to not just see and hear the drumming, but three lucky individuals from the audience get to try their hand at it as well.

Little did I know Steve had a Tongan drummer spirit within him. Yes, my quiet, engineer-type, bookish husband was called up on the stage and he let loose on the drums.

Oh dear. Take a look at the video below. I think you’ll have a good laugh over this one. Afterward, my mother turned to me and exclaimed, “I had no idea Steve was like that at all!” Nor did I.

For more on the Polynesian Cultural Center, see also my other post, Islands of smiles and brothers connected by an ocean.

Also, visit their website at http://www.polynesia.com.

Islands of smiles and brothers connected by an ocean

12 Sunday May 2013

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This is the first part in a series of blogs about the Polynesian Cultural Center in Laie, Hawaii (on the north shore of the island of Oahu).

Swirling hips. Tossing sticks. Chest beating. Tongues hanging outside mouths. But most of all smiles. So many smiles. The sun is beating down on all these performers and they’re smiling from ear to ear.

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The rapid fire swirling hips of Tahiti

This happens at 2:30 every Monday through Saturday where native Polynesians float down the lagoon at the Polynesian Cultural Center (PCC) in their traditional costumes. It’s a parade and visitors are here to get a sampler plate of the culture represented at the Center as the performers float by.

Stick tossing (Aotearoa - New Zealand - Maori)

Stick tossing (Aotearoa – New Zealand – Maori)

The Polynesian Cultural Center, located on Oahu’s north shore in Laie, Hawai’i is a place for cultural immersion not just of Hawaiian life, but of the Polynesian islands in the Pacific, specifically, Aotearoa (New Zealand), Fiji, Hawai’i, Samoa, Tahiti and Tonga. And it’s not just about putting on a show for visitors. This place is unique and there’s a big reason why you see the smiles.

Tongan smiles

Tongan smiles

Tahitian smiles

Tahitian smiles

The Polynesian Cultural Center is actually a nonprofit center dedicated to helping preserve the cultural heritage of Polynesia while providing jobs and scholarships for students at the adjoining Brigham Young University-Hawai‘i campus. Yes, 100 percent of PCC’s revenue is used for daily operations and to support education.

  • Smiles from Fiji

    Smiles from Fiji

    More smiles of Fiji

    More smiles of Fiji

Many of these students would have not had the opportunity for an education otherwise. Most students attend the University year-round and try to complete their degree in three years–what would take most of us four years to do. They do that because oftentimes they just can’t afford to go home for holidays. No weekend trips to go have mom do your laundry. Not even to go home for Christmas. For most, the next time they go home, they’re going home with a Bachelor Degree and the ability to help their community.

And of course, the smiling faces of Hawai'i

And of course, the smiling faces of Hawai’i

Samoa

Samoa

Where else in the world do you find a University that’s sole purpose is to bring together students from the far reaches of the the Pacific to help educate them and to give them an opportunity to share their culture with others as a means to pay for that education? It’s a true benevolent way of education and the benefits reach far beyond just the classroom.

They look fierce, but they still smile. (Aotearoa - New Zealand - Maori)

They look fierce, but they still smile. (Aotearoa – New Zealand – Maori)

I sat down with Delsa Moe, Cultural Presentations Director at the PCC where she described her own experience with self-identity and learning of different cultures. Delsa, who was born and raised in Samoa calls herself half taro and half potato (her father is Samoan and her mother is from Blackfoot, Idaho). She not only attended BYU-Hawai’i as a student, but also worked at the PCC where she fell in love with dancing and performing, and has now been at the PCC for 34 years.

Video is only two minutes, so worth a look at.

This year, the Polynesian Cultural Center is celebrating 50 years of perpetuating and preserving the cultures of Polynesia. All year, the PCC will have special pricing and promotions, so check out their website at www.Polynesia.com.

Picturing Quito

05 Sunday May 2013

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It is big. It is colorful. It is busy. And it is full of children on this particular day. It must be the day for field trips to Quito. Children, led by a leader, form a long chain as they hold hands through the busy streets and sidewalks. They are here to learn about Old Town in Quito like me.

Children on a field trip to the "White House," where their country's president resides.

Children on a field trip to the Palacio de Gobbierno or Presidential Palace

School children navigate Old Town Quito

School children navigate Old Town Quito

Quito was really a pause between adventures.  We had just spent a week in the Amazon in Ecuador and we had two nights in Quito before we were headed to the Andes. I had seen pictures of Quito and read my travel guide. There is plenty to find out on this UNESCO World Heritage Site. But one day wasn’t enough to take it all in. Oh to be a student again and I would spend a semester here and become part of the cement or the cobblestone or the walls. I’d be able to learn more about the religious history of this area and the struggle to hang on to one’s beliefs. That struggle has been there for centuries and continues. Quito is evident of that both historically and today.

Madonna statue atop El Panecillo

Madonna statue atop El Panecillo (the tallest Virgin Mary statue in the world and only one, it seems, with wings.)

There is a mix of the traditional and the modern here in Quito

There is a mix of the traditional and the modern here in Quito

It was the day before Good Friday in Quito and the city was preparing for the big celebration the following day. Churches were mostly closed and benches were being set up to prepare for the procession Jesus del Gran Poder, one of the biggest processions in South America for the Easter holiday.

One of the many churches in Old Town Quito

One of the many churches in Old Town Quito

A man sings in the streets.

A man sings in the streets.

View of Quito from El Panecillo

View of Quito from El Panecillo

Looking at Quito through the “retro lens of Instagram” helps me keep Quito preserved in the past. I think I like it that way and hope that all the little children who walk through Quito hand in hand will remember it that way too.

Old Town Quito (Instagram)

Old Town Quito (Instagram)

My favorite photo of Quito that I took looks just like an old postcard. (Instagram)

My favorite photo of Quito that I took looks just like an old postcard. (Instagram)

The Tree Tomato Welcomed Me to Ecuador

28 Sunday Apr 2013

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I’m in love with the tree tomato.  Really in love with it. It was my first greeting from Ecuador, as it was the first thing I tasted that was new to me. It told me that I had arrived in a foreign country.

We were at breakfast at the Turi Quindi Guest House in the Los Chillos Valley, just southeast of Quito and about 40 minutes from the new Quito Airport. Since we had to go back to the airport in the morning to catch our flight to Coca (see earlier post about our travel to Sacha Lodge), it didn’t make sense to make the long and arduous journey into Quito. The new airport had only been open a month, but there are no hotels nearby nor is the new main highway to the airport anywhere near completion.

Needless to say, not just visitors, but Ecuadorians are also peeved about it.

Yet, I’m not sure I would have gotten a lovely breakfast like I did at the the Turi Quindi Guest house had we gone into Quito. This family-run guest house has beautiful grounds and a wonderful breakfast. The grandmother makes breakfast and serves your eggs any way you’d like. I didn’t know Spanish for “scrambled,” but a simple wacky hand gesture of crazy whipping in circles got the point across.

But it was the juice that caught my attention. Steve and I couldn’t figure out what it was. We were guessing and then popped in one of the sons, Jose Andres, who pointed out that it was tree tomato, or Tamarillo.

It was like a tomato juice but sweeter.

Juan-Andres holds up a tree tomato, also known as a Tamarillo

Jose-Andres holds up a tree tomato, also known as a Tamarillo

Tree Tomato Juice

Tree Tomato Juice

Later on during our trip, I would have tree tomato juice again (at Sacha Lodge), have it as a dessert (Tandayapa Lodge) where the cook had baked it in cinnamon and some sugary syrup (sigh), and as a salsa on top of baked chicken at a hotel in Quito.

Oh tree tomato, I love you.

And I miss you terribly.

Tree Tomatoes at Otavalo Market

Tree Tomatoes at Otavalo Market

Nickle Lauritzen and the Afterlife

24 Wednesday Apr 2013

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My friend’s blog post–this one here–was just Freshly Pressed by WordPress. It’s a beautiful read and that’s why I’m sharing it here.

slcantwell25's avatarOne Boy's Way of Knowing

Looking_good_in_a%20_hatIn 1990, my friend Nickle Lauritzen was diagnosed with Motor Neuron Disease, a rare form of Muscular Dystrophy, similar to Lou Gehrig’s Disease, a terminal disease that works inward from the extremities—first the hands, then feet, legs, and arms—muscle strength and control gradually failing until you fight for every breath and finally suffocate. Nickle would describe her predicament in just such harsh terms. She wanted the bare truth out there where she could keep an eye on it. “I know how I’m going to die,” she told me soon after we met, before I really understood her illness or knew her well at all. “I will wake up one moment unable to take another breath,” she said. “And that will be that.”

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The Amazon and Sacha Lodge: Getting there is half the fun (as long as there are toilets)

12 Friday Apr 2013

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It had been a long day already. We flew from Quito, the capital of Ecuador, to a city called Coca, which actually was bigger than I thought it would be. I expected a little town with only a dilapidated tin-roofed store where a few locals would hang out, sipping colas. I imagined it quiet and sleepy.  Instead, it was a city with busy streets—one right after another, in a proper grid—where people took their lives in their hands when they crossed the street. There was a man in the middle of one street juggling three machetes. (Note to self: Don’t cross the street there.) Taxis zoomed by, cars were hurriedly negotiating the streets without much concern for anyone else (in other words, get out of the way), and a fish market with a long row of vendors cutting and displaying their catch took up two blocks, attracting a multitude of buyers. This was not a quiet, sleepy town.

I was in one taxi and Steve was in another. I don’t know what taxi our bags were in. The folks from Sacha Lodge had met us at the airport and quickly shuffled a group of us—six new arrivals—in random taxis as if we were planning to escape the country in a hurry. Yes, in taxis. At the edge of the Amazon Rainforest. With Gangnam Style blaring on the radio of our taxi.

That’s how I arrived in the Amazon Rainforest.

Coca is actually Puerto Francisco de Orellana, the capital of the Orellana province in Eastern Ecuador, and is located right where the Coca River meets the Napo River. We were there to take a motorized canoe on the Napo River (the largest tributary that feeds into the great Amazon River) to get to Sacha Lodge.

Excited to begin our adventure in the Amazon

Excited to begin our adventure in the Amazon

We’re totally in the Amazon!

It had just occurred to me that morning that we were going to the Amazon. A place on this planet I never thought I’d ever visit. Mostly because it’s my husband’s fault. Had I not met him, I would probably just do artsy-fartsy stuff like go to museums, tour old European villages and lounge around on sandy beaches reading a book.

No, none of that. Instead, he’s lured me into adventure travel via global birding.  Yes, bird watching is pretty badass. (See my other blog, The AccidentalBirder, where I documented about when we needed armed guards in Belize while we went birding and chasing a swarm of army ants in Panama. Yes, totally badass.)

We didn’t have our luggage on our canoe ride. It was all taken to Sacha Lodge ahead of time so it would be waiting for us in our cabin. (Sacha Lodge is owned by the Swiss.  I would expect nothing less from the Swiss.)

When you arrive at the airport a person from Sacha Lodge puts tags on all your luggage. They're very organized.

When you arrive at the airport a person from Sacha Lodge puts tags on all your luggage. They’re very organized.

After my rear end was numb from the two-hour canoe ride we then arrived at what I thought was our final destination.

Hooray! We're here! Actually, not really.

Hooray! We’re here! Actually, not really.

Getting there is half the fun, or so the saying goes.  Well, that’s only if there’s also a bathroom on that journey. Thankfully, there was a bathroom (flushing toilets!), which I ran to once the canoe docked. There was even toilet paper. (Aw, those Swiss think of everything.)

Now, there’s a reason there’s a bathroom here. Turns out our journey’s not done.  We then had to walk about a mile in the jungle. Over a boardwalk laden path and sometimes over the swamp. Awesome! Kind of.

This trail became known affectionately by others (and us) as the Death March. This was not the only time we would walk this path.

This trail became known affectionately by others (and us) as the Death March. This was not the only time we would walk this path. It’s just long and arduous (for me, at least). And doing it at 5 a.m. in the dark in pouring down rain (which is what we did one morning) makes it seem endless.

Once we finished our mile-long walk I thought we’d be at Sacha Lodge. Not yet, folks. We then got into canoes–not motorized this time, but instead two Sacha Lodge guides paddled us to the lodge through a creek for about 20 minutes and to a lake right outside the lodge. And then there it was–Sacha Lodge. Finally.

Praise the Lord. We're here.

Praise the Lord. We’re here.

Our group of six—they call us “newbies”—had a briefing in the main lodge. We were told the food was all safe (meaning we could actually eat salad), there would be morning wake-up calls (knocks on our doors), always be careful where you put your hands (I didn’t want to know) and then I asked my question:

“Uh, what’s the password to the wi-fi?”

The guide giving the briefing chuckled and said, “You’re in the Amazon. There is no wi-fi here. But there is a shared computer where you can pay $5 for 30 minutes, but I think you’ll be fine without the Internet.”

No wi-fi?  What is this? The jungle?

At least we have toilets.

Oooh! Some bonus video here:

To give you an idea of how large the Napo River is, here’s a very short clip of our ride. You’ll notice that it’s about as wide as the Mississippi River (well, for those of you who know all about the Mississippi River).

This next video shows our arrival at Sacha Lodge on the non motorized canoe. You can hear our guide, Marcelo talking to Steve and asking him if he’d ever seen a Hoatzin (that’s a very strange bird).

Yes, I got me some Custom-made boots in Ecuador. Uh-huh. Big surprise.

11 Thursday Apr 2013

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“…Oh, and there’s this place in Quito that will custom make boots!”

As soon as Olga said that I perked up. We met Olga and her daughter while staying at Sacha Lodge in the Ecuadorian Amazon. They had spent some time in Quito and my husband and I were listening to their itinerary to get ideas of what to do during our couple days in Quito. But boots! Custom made! 

It’s shoes, my friends.  And when it comes to shoes I just melt into a blob.

The following day on the way to our hotel, I saw it:

El Palacio de le Bota Españolas

El Palacio de le Bota Española

What girl would pass this up?

What girl would pass this up?

Clearly, it was meant to be, since it was only a few blocks from our hotel in La Mariscal neighborhood of Quito. When Steve and I went inside a wave of the musky, leathery smell hit me in the face. Oh, this place smells yummy.  I picked up a tan pair of boots. Nice quality and stitching, I noted to myself. There were cowboy boots, riding boots and fashionable ladies boots with heels of all heights. They were all simply lovely. Steve sat down, obviously uninterested in my shoe shopping. This happens all the time. Last time I went shoe shopping at Nordstrom, this happened:

This boy can sleep anywhere. Even at Nordstrom. Where there are SHOES. Who sleeps when there are SHOES?!

This boy can sleep anywhere. Even at Nordstrom. Where there are SHOES. Who sleeps when there are SHOES?!

An Ecuadorian woman and her husband began showing boots to me. Actually, not just showing them, but putting them in my hands, pulling one after another off the shelf and offering them to me while speaking Spanish, of course. They spoke no English and I spoke no Spanish. There was pointing and grabbing a lot of boots and then I found a pair I really liked–a low heel with a strap and buckle. I put them in the woman’s hands, pointed and nodded my head and said, “Sí!”

Yes, please.

Sí, por favor.

She then took me to the back room where there were remnants of all sorts of leather on a big table. Oh, she wants me to choose my color, I realized. There were many colors of tan, brown and even different shades of black.  And then I saw it: Red

Ahhh, red leather! Yum.

Ahhh, red leather! Yum.

I have to have that red!

I nodded my head, pointed and said the one word I know perfectly in Spanish: “Si!”

Then before I could even leave the back room, the Ecuadorian man brought out a big paper tablet and pointed to pages that had foot outlines drawn on it. Oh, he wants to draw my footprint. Of course!

Wasting no time, I took off my shoes and socks and placed my foot on the paper where the man drew a line around my foot, then pulled out a measuring tape and measured my width, my instep, my ankle and my calves. So old school. So simple. Why can’t all my shoes be made this way?

Didn't we do this in kindergarten? Ahh, good times.

Didn’t we do this in kindergarten? Ahh, good times.

Measure twice, cut once, right?

Measure twice, cut once, right?

¿Cuánto cuesta? I asked. (Okay, I also know how to ask how much something costs. I’m a seasoned shopper, no?)

Originally the woman had written down $180, but then the man pointed to my calves and said, “Grandé.”

Yes, my calves are grandé. You see, that’s the whole problem with me and boots. It’s the grandé calves, and that’s why I was here. But it turns out, having grandé means it costs more. $20 more.

They had me choose the style of my toe (pointed? round? squared?), choose the buckles out of a cardboard box and then I paid a deposit of $50 and from the sign language and my guess at Spanish, figured that it was going to take four days for the boots to be made. No problem, we were heading to the Andes and wouldn’t be back to Quito for seven days.

So for seven days and nights I dreamt about red boots.

On our last day in Ecuador we picked up the boots. They were displayed in the window when I arrived, and that made me secretly happy to know that others might have walked by with envy. I slipped on the boots and the leather was buttery. My foot fit perfectly inside and zzzzzziiiiip! It was easy. Not a struggle at all! And the boots weren’t cutting off my circulation. They felt divine. I purred inside like a kitten.

I now have red boots. Jealous y’all?

Keep your paws of my red boots.

Keep your paws off my red boots.

Here they are: Luis Arias, who made the boots, and his wife who so patiently helped me out in spite of my very lousy Spanish.

Luis A. Arias, Propietaro and his wife

Luis A. Arias, Propietaro and his wife

You, too, can get your own custom-made boots (for men as well as women).

El Palacio de las Botas Españolas
Reina Victoria E7-14 y Wilson
Quito, Ecuador
Telf: 2567 205
email: elpalaciodelasbotasespanolas@hotmail.com
They’re also on Facebook

A couple tips for traveling with electronics

17 Sunday Mar 2013

Posted by in Trips

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You’d think I was some great photographer. Or a very popular blogger or tweeter.

Not really any of those.

But if you were to open my travel bags, you’d say, “My goodness, who is this person?”

I tend to travel with so many electronics and cameras that I realize it’s probably impractical. Especially since I’m a novice photographer and just do it for fun, and when I blog from the road it’s just more of the hobby thing. This week we leave on another adventure—to Ecuador—and this time it’s no different. When you have a camera bag as hefty as mine with two DLSRs, an underwater point and shoot, and a Go-Pro-like camera all the cords get mixed up. I don’t have a problem with my white Apple cords (for iPhone and iPad), but it’s all those black cords that cause me great consternation.

And who wants to be consternated on vacation?

Solution: Colorful electrical tape!

The solution to my troubles exists in 3M’s Scotch electrical tape, which I found in the hardware section of a Kmart where they had all these colors conveniently in one package. (Hey, full disclosure here: I actually work for 3M, but I bought these and paid full price for them, just so’s ya know. Plus, I don’t even work in that division, so I’m not doing a shameless promo here.)

Colorful Electrical Tape

Colorful Electrical Tape

With the tape you can color-code your cords. For my Nikon D7000 I use red for the battery charger and for the USB cord. For my other Nikon I use white for both its USB and battery cords. For my Olympus underwater camera I use blue.  You get the picture. Now you don’t have to figure out which cord goes to what gadget.

My color-coded cords

My color-coded cords

Pack a power strip. Trust me, you’ll thank me.

Also, I wouldn’t dream of traveling without a power strip. I have too many electronics and can’t rely on just one or two outlets, which often seems to be the case. Besides lack of outlets in some hotels or other lodging (especially cruise ships), my travel guidebook warned that in Ecuador there are often power outages resulting in power surges, so traveling with a power strip with surge protection can also help with some added insurance.

My one essential travel item

My one essential travel item

Perhaps one day there will truly be one device that can do everything I want it to do, but so far that hasn’t happened. Let’s be honest, I’m just not going to be one of those people taking a photo with my iPad in the jungle.