• Home
  • Accidental Birder
  • Accidental Traveler
    • Trips
  • A Travel Love Story
    • Rendezvous Journal
  • About

The baby aspirin years

~ Ms. Boice falls in love, travels and eats her way through life in the post-40 years.

The baby aspirin years

Category Archives: Trips

A life of work or travel?

23 Wednesday Apr 2014

Posted by Ms. Boice in Trips

≈ 15 Comments

Tags

career, economics, Galapagos, nature, travel, vacation, work

DSC_7198

I was floating in the Tiffany blue waters of the Galapagos off of San Cristobal, letting the swells rock me teasingly toward the sandy beach. I want to do this forever, I thought. What if I just don’t return back to life?  I would just float. Yes, float for the rest of my life.

Being buoyant among the sea lions was clearly better than working on PowerPoint back in the office or managing interoffice squabbles like a guidance counselor. Everyday I read blog posts and tweets from people who travel the world, claiming the rest of us are part of the rat race. It’s as if they’re heroes or people who have reached the pinnacle of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, waving down to us poor, downtrodden corporate slaves with shackles on our ankles, rowing like the prisoners in Les Miserables, singing, “Look down, look down / Don’t look ’em in the eye / Look down, look down / You’re here until you die.”

Yes, being held up by water in the Galapagos is way better than copyediting corporate fact sheets or taking mandatory online legal compliance courses. I imagined the ridiculous—texting my boss with a picture of the the turquoise water with the words: “Not coming back. Thanks for everything,” and proceeded to work out in my mind how I would have a little shop selling Panama hats to tourists, customizing each hat with a different color grosgrain ribbon. My husband, Steve, could also chuck away his career and become a bird guide on the islands and we’d eat banana chips by the bagful and my mayonnaise-white skin would turn a lovely cocoa brown and that knot in my right shoulder that I get from working at a desk job would go away forever.

Floating in water like a little piece of jagged driftwood makes you think crazy things.

But I do that every time I travel. In Belize I was going to have a bed & breakfast. In Panama I was going to be a writer. And in the Yucatan I was going to sell tickets for boat rides. Steve, of course was going to be the bird guide in all those places. I can see why those who make their place in another corner of the world, away from office politics and the daily structure at a desk are in a state of bliss, but by no means am I an unhappy occasional traveler who happens to have a demanding job in the corporate world. Full disclosure here: I really like working.

Is traveling more noble than working? 

I certainly regret not traveling more when I was younger–especially international travel. I had neither the resources or the chutzpah to do it sans resources. I’m certain it would have changed a lot of who I am in a positive way, particularly in the areas of confidence and empowerment, and at times I do regret missing out of the romance of making mistakes that make for great story telling as a more mature adult at dinner parties. But I chose a career working for large corporations as my path and took advantage of having my graduate degree paid by my employer. It was a sacrifice, indeed, but I chose the $40,000 free education over backpacking across Europe. Yes, a Master’s degree instead of some wild stories at dinner parties. I’m okay with that.

For me, it was financial security first and travel second. I know nothing is 100% secure. We all watched our hard-earned savings unravel like an old sweater right before our eyes in 2008 and 2009. I admit, it squeezes my heart when I open up statements that show significant losses and I catapult immediately to those daydreams of just walking out of the office and heading right to the airport to fly off to sandy beaches and a hat shop waiting for me.

But I remain committed to working in my career. I remain because I look at long-term advantages and have come to realize that the glamorous life portrayed in travel blogs is truly an edited life of showing the ups and rarely the downs. We all can’t be traipsing around the world with a backpack. Someone has to be back holding down the fort. Who is making the stock market operate and keeping the economies of the world in tact so that there are places to see, vessels to take you there and roads to be maintained and order created in the world? Should we all just up and leave our jobs and wander the earth? Is that the essence of nobility? I’m suggesting that it’s not. There are noble acts both as a traveler and as a financial supporter. Both are doable and it’s not a race of who’s the awesomest.

The economy of travel

For many countries the primary contributor to their GNP is tourism. These countries have tremendous reliance on those of us willing to spend a portion of our salaries in their countries. There are also so many places in the world that need funding and support–the Galapagos Islands is one of them. It takes people with money to do that. Corporations and economies with means to keep forests, jungles and archipelagos in tact. While progress and humans have negatively impacted a lot in the world, funding is helping to restore some of what we have tampered with. If we were all backpacking the world, who would fund the research? Who would be able to financially support change?

The economies of the world are indeed complicated and society as a whole is not mature enough to kindly hold hands and contribute in an orderly manner (nor be able to agree upon structure) to preserve endangered areas and keep National Parks pristine.

It’s okay to travel the world and make that your life. But it’s also okay—actually necessary—to be a part of the world from a desk. It’s not a rat race to help keep the lights on. I’m happy to participate in the process, not just for my sake and my future, but to keep the cogs and wheels moving. Sure, there are days I feel shackled, but it’s not all the time. It’s not even most of the time. You don’t feel shackled if you take a break and travel. We all need breaks. Even travelers, I suppose, need a break from traveling. I’m a big believer in the need for opposition. Good versus evil. Light versus dark. Work versus play.  It would be impossible for me to understand—to appreciate—one without the other.

Maneuvering re-entry

I’ve played for the past 15 days and it’s changed me forever, just like all my travels do. My normally mayonnaise skin is now a light cocoa. I snorkeled and played with sea lions, swam with a penguin, ate more banana chips than I should have, and I didn’t answer a single work email and I didn’t get fired. By the way, that knot in my shoulder? Gone.

I walked into the office after the 15 glorious days abroad and everyone commented on my tan and my big smile. How do I get back to work after these fantastic 15 days? I wondered. I shared my stories around the water cooler and as people dropped in my office to welcome me back. But I had a long, scrolling list of emails to hammer through. And meetings to get to. And problems to solve. It was time to get back to work.

I uploaded the photo of the Tiffany-blue waters to my computer for the desktop wallpaper. Yes, that will help me remember that there are beautiful places in this world that I can support all the way from my office. That, and I’ve already got our next adventure booked.

Share this:

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Pinterest
  • Reddit
  • Tumblr
  • LinkedIn
  • Print

Like this:

Like Loading...

Lessons from a Grand Canyon Helicopter Ride

28 Friday Mar 2014

Posted by Ms. Boice in Trips

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Arizona, Diet, Fear, Grand Canyon, Helicopter, Las Vegas, nature, Nevada, travel, weight loss

Grand Canyon 2I’ve never wanted to get into a helicopter because there’s this thing about the helicopter people needing to know how much I weigh. Something about making sure the weight is distributed evenly in the helicopter. That, or just the plain joy they must get in humiliating people.

Oh, and there’s also that thing about helicopter crashes.

People don’t talk much about the helicopter crashes, but I know about them because on some Saturdays I might get sucked into some cable channel TV show about helicopter crashes in between binging on episodes of “Locked up Abroad,” which, to be honest, freaks me out just a little bit more than hearing about helicopter crashes.

But when husband, Steve, suggested we take a helicopter ride over the Grand Canyon during our weekend stay in Las Vegas part of me thought it was cool and the other part of me was frightened to death—mostly about the being weighed thing. You see, I adore my husband and he can suggest pretty much anything and I’ll go for it. After nearly six years of marriage I’m still like the smitten gal he first met who wanted to impress the socks off of him.

Yet, there was no way I was going to discuss my weight with him or anyone else. I don’t care how official they were and how it impacted a helicopter ride.

Shhh. Don’t tell anyone.

All the way to the little helicopter airport, I went over in my head how I was going to address the weight issue. It’s not like my driver license where the weight listed there is a complete lie. You see, I wrote that down years ago and never really corrected it. But to tell someone at the little helicopter airport? Out loud? If I lied about my weight, I’m certain the airport person would survey me up and down with her eyes and I’d get that “oh, you’ve got to be kidding” look. I couldn’t face that.

I was wringing my hands in the airport in Boulder City, Nevada—which was smaller than my local DMV—and I was still trying to plot out this whole thing. If I just said it super speedy, maybe husband and others would never hear how much I weigh. Or I could write it down on a Post-it Note and give it to the gal behind the counter after I folded it up into a tiny piece the size of a dime. Yeah, that’s what I would do.

Astonishingly, I didn’t have to do any of that. I didn’t have to lean over the check-in counter at the little airport and whisper my weight into the ear of the lady. No, I just had to stand on the magic tile on the floor in front of the counter—a tile that looked like all the other tiles on the floor—and it weighed me and secretly put my weight number into her computer. Not on a big, flashing display for all to see, or shouted out to the whole airport, like I feared. My weight number just magically slipped through some tiny wire or cable into the lady’s computer. It’s like I didn’t weigh anything AT ALL. The number was imaginary. I could pretend I was 30 pounds lighter if I wished. And the lady didn’t look at me in a judgy way either.

It was our secret.

It’s actually possible to feel lighter than air

Riding in a helicopter

When it was our time to go, we loaded into the helicopter by assigned seats, which I’m told had something to do with our weight. I couldn’t figure out the rhyme or reason as to who sat where and the math of it. I was just happy they didn’t make me wear my weight number around my neck or on a shirt. After a brief instruction and snapping into the seat belts, the helicopter lifted straight up as if we were pulled by a string. No barreling forward at high speeds like a jet to race up to the sky. Some skilled (and giant) puppeteer had us by a string and was taking us for a ride on a beautiful day with cyan skies above the reddish-brown landscape. I felt light! I was up in the sky and apparently wasn’t so heavy that I kept the helicopter from rising.

I followed our helicopter’s shadow over the dusty desert of Nevada as we headed toward Arizona. This desolate area was free from the shiny, glittery loud Las Vegas we just left. In the headphones our pilot narrated where we were, but mostly I heard the whirring engine of the helicopter and felt like a baby who was comforted by the vibrations of a car. The only reason I wasn’t lulled to sleep was I couldn’t keep from looking out the window at the tiny rocks, mountains that looked more like hills, and itty bitty cars on what few roads there were.

Of course, I’d been in a gazaillion airplanes and have looked out the window at tiny Monopoly-sized homes and streets and baseball diamonds, but being in a helicopter provides a certain intimacy with the ground. Airplanes are so high maintenance and complicated to get up off the ground and back onto it. Helicopters, on the other hand could take off and land in a jiffy. No matter how much I weigh. (Actually, that’s not true. I’m sure there are limits.)

We hovered over the Hoover Dam and took a peak at the wall of concrete with its arms wrapped around it’s little section of the great Lake Mead reservoir. Having just stumbled upon birding over the last seven years, I wondered if this was what it was like to be a bird, soaring over the earth. I know being in a helicopter is not exactly soaring, but it’s not a jetliner either. To be above the earth and feeling weightless was startling to me. Startling that I ever cared about the weight thing.

The 30-minute highlight

picnic at Grand Canyon

After a 40-minute flight, we landed at a part of the Grand Canyon, not in the National Park area, but at an Indian Reservation. This was supposed to be the highlight of the trip, according the tour’s brochure. We had 30 minutes on the ground at the bottom of the canyon, so we snapped a few photos, had a picnic lunch of a sandwich, Lays potato chips and a little brownie bite in a plastic cup. Not the meal of a dieter and certainly no one was weighing us to get back on the helicopter, so I didn’t care.

Our time at the bottom of the canyon felt cut short. We couldn’t hike and explore. Being in the air was what took my breath away. Peering into the canyon from the South Rim a few years earlier was heart stopping. However, being on the floor of the Grand Canyon was more about looking up and around. There just wasn’t enough time to absorb it. No time to stoop on a rock and rest my chin on my fist and do some contemplating. None of that. Just time to gobble down the cute little picnic and look quickly at my surroundings.

Grand Canyon 1

 

Grand Canyon 4

Lessons learned from helicopters.

Our pilot called for us to get back to the helicopter and the propellers began to spin and we were lifted up in the air again. We didn’t take the same route back over the Hoover Dam, but headed straight toward Boulder City. I peered down at the ground, looking for Mule Deer or Mountain Sheep, but they were out of site. Unlike dramatic Saturday television shows, we didn’t crash our helicopter and, really, no one cares how much I weigh except for me. It made me think of how many other things I’ve avoided because of what I feared and that maybe I cared too much about what people might think of me or how I look or how much I might weigh. I mean, really—no one cares.

None of that matters, of course. None of it, except this:

Grand Canyon 3

 

Share this:

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Pinterest
  • Reddit
  • Tumblr
  • LinkedIn
  • Print

Like this:

Like Loading...

When the clouds parted

31 Friday Jan 2014

Posted by Ms. Boice in Rendezvous Journal, Trips

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

dating, memoir, Narrows, nature, photography, relationships, travel, Utah, Zion National Park

Zion National Park Rendezvous

You would have never known that 24 hours earlier you couldn’t see but five feet in front of you. But that was Bryce Canyon National Park the day before and this day we were at Zion National Park and it was a bright, warm October day.

Uh, yes.  That's me in front of Bryce Canyon

The day before. What do you mean you can’t see Bryce Canyon?

And the next day there were clear skies.

The next day: Zion National Park’s clear skies show no hint of the neighboring fog.

This was day two of my third rendezvous with Steve. To recap, just six months earlier we met in Scotland, then met up again three months later in London and Bath, England, and three months after that we were rendezvousing in my home state of Utah, discovering National Parks just four hours sound of where I live.

And things were going very well.

So well that I took the clouds parting as a sign. A sign that I was officially in a long-distance relationship, which was something I swore I would never do.

I swore I would never do a lot of things.

Like date online.

Fly across the ocean to another country to meet a guy.

And, yeah, find myself in a long-distance relationship.

A long-distance affair.

A long-distance affair.

Walking the trail, hand in hand with Steve, I couldn’t feel more lucky to have ignored all my “rules.” This is perfect. Absolutely perfect. The trail ended oddly at the bank of a shallow river and as I began to turn around to walk back to the trail head I was being pulled in the opposite direction into the river.

“Wait! We’re going into the water!” I felt the water up to my calves.

“Of course,” Steve said. “Let’s hike it.”

“No we can’t,” I insisted. He still was pulling me along. Do I stop him? Do I follow him? I don’t want him to think I’m not fun.

“Sure we can. Everyone else is,” he assured me.

And that’s when I noticed that there were others hiking the river. (I later learned that this was called “Hiking the Narrows.”

Trying to look cool as I hike the Narrows.

Trying to look cool as I hike the Narrows.

The water was cold but after a few minutes I didn’t notice it any more. The bottom of the river was full of pebbles and rocks and I might as well had been walking on marbles. Everyone else made it look so easy. I was desperate not to look stupid. I wanted Steve to think this was no big deal, like I do it all the time.

Posing in a kettle during our hike.

Posing in a kettle during our hike.

After awhile I began to get the hang of it. Just walk slow and steady. Keep your balance, I kept telling myself. Just pretend you do this all the time. Because normally I would never do something like this. I never thought of myself as an adventurous person.

But getting on a plane to rendezvous with a stranger in Scotland was adventurous.

And so was repeating that in Bath, England.

Plus that whole long-distance relationship thing.

Sometimes people drag you into the river to go on an adventure and experience something new on a warm October day with cobalt blue skies.

Steve takes a break on a rock in the Narrows.

Sure, I’d follow this guy into a river. Anytime.

Share this:

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Pinterest
  • Reddit
  • Tumblr
  • LinkedIn
  • Print

Like this:

Like Loading...

I wouldn’t mind re-doing 2013 and it’s not just because of the typo

22 Sunday Dec 2013

Posted by Ms. Boice in Trips

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

2013, bird watching, birding, birds, Canada, Ecuador, nature, Ottawa, Panama, photography, Toronto, Wildlife, Year in review, Year wrap-up

Curse the typo.

In the last couple of weeks I have at least three friends who posted on Facebook that after they printed their holiday cards they noticed a typo. It’s a shake-your-fist-at-the-sky moment for anyone who has done this, and I venture to guess that we’ve all done this at least once in our lives.

As I write this post there’s a present under the tree for Steve, which is a calendar I made for him using iPhoto on my Mac. I’m sure he knows it’s there because he requests this each year.

The printed calendar arrived from Apple last week and I was beaming as I opened the crisp white packaging (because it’s Apple, ya know) to check out my creativity, my work of art, my museum piece.

And then I saw it written right on the front in 60 pt. font: 2013.

%&#$@!

Thankfully, I did produce the calendar with all the proper 2014 dates and holidays. It’s just that I wrote 2013 on the front. Oh, for Pete’s sake.

And then this thought popped into my head: I’ll just tell Steve I loved 2013 so much I want to repeat it.

So yes, let’s repeat 2013 because it really was a great year!

So good that I have here the highlights in a little photo essay.

Stuff I bought at NatGeo

When in DC for business I swung by the National Geographic headquarters to visit someone I met on Twitter and also saw the Birds of Paradise exhibit. Oh, I got all this stuff, too. Oh, and called Steve and made him a little bit jealous.

My mention in Nat Geo Traveler

And what a coincidence that the day I was visiting the National Geographic HQ their latest issue of National Geographic Traveler hit the streets and I was quoted in it.

Patagonia State Park

In February Steve and I escaped our winter homes and headed south to Patagonia State Park in Arizona to do some birding.  Yes, it is just this beautiful.

Birding at Whitewater Draw

We are smiling because we’re at Whitewater Draw, AZ and just saw a gazillion Sand Hill Cranes. Oh, and there’s sun on our faces and we’re not wearing winter coats. Yeah, that.

On the canopy walkway at Sacha Lodge

In March we headed really south to Ecuador where we climbed towers and canopy walkways in the Amazon…

Custom boots made in Quito

…got me some custom boots made in Quito….

holding a hummingbird

…held a beautiful hummingbird in my hand in the Andes…

kissing across hemispheres

…and kissed across hemispheres (Steve never crossed over to the south. Okay, he did. But barely.)

SL birding festiva

In May I went on my first birding field trip without Steve. This was the Salt Lake Bird Festival and these Yellow-headed blackbirds were at Bear River National Wildlife Refuge. Yeah, I was pretty proud of myself that day. 

Canadian Parliament building

This is the Canadian Parliament building in Ottawa where Steve and I visited late May as I toured the area where he spent a lot of his childhood. I have to say I’m rather fond of Ottawa. In the summer, of course.

TBEX writing workshop

Hey guess what, I want to be a better writer! So I went to TBEX (Travel Bloggers Exchange) in Toronto and I learned from these great writers. I have more to learn, but this was a big milestone for me. No more throwing up adverbs all over my posts. Promise.

mom and me with makeovers

During the summer I invited my mom to move in with me while Steve is in Canada. It’s been loads of fun. We go to Las Vegas, get makeovers at Nordstrom and probably shop a little too much on QVC.

Jasper National Park

In the cold months Steve comes south to Utah to visit me, but during the summers I go North and this is why. This is Jasper National Park in Alberta and it’s what heaven is going to be. If not, I’m going to change my ways.

Buffalo at Antelope Island

This is what buffalo look like when they’re trying to look pretty. It’s why Steve and I visit Antelope Island State Park in Utah during October. It’s not so birdy at this time of year but the yellow salt bush makes up for that.

On the Continental Divide in Panama

Why, of COURSE we went back to Panama in November This is me standing on the Continental Divide at La Fortuna. Steve and our guide are looking at a hawk and what do I do? Well, I take a selfie because I have no idea what kind of hawk it is.

Rufous Motmot

But when birds in Panama are this gorgeous (like this Rufous Motmot), you don’t take selfies. You pay attention.

So, let’s do 2013 over again, shall we? Really, I wouldn’t mind.

0.000000 0.000000

Share this:

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Pinterest
  • Reddit
  • Tumblr
  • LinkedIn
  • Print

Like this:

Like Loading...

Want to hear some Howler Monkeys?

13 Wednesday Nov 2013

Posted by Ms. Boice in Trips

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Costa Rica, Howler Monkeys, nature, Panama, video, Wildlife

Last big trip for the year is coming up: Panama (cue Van Halen song)

My twitter pal, Natalie (@_nctaylor) is in Costa Rica right now and has had the pleasure of discovering Howler Monkeys, which of course is cool, because I love it when anyone finds Howler Monkeys interesting. (Who wouldn’t?)

Sharing in Natalie’s excitement over Howler Monkeys, combined with my own thrill in preparing for our upcoming trip to Panama prompted me to dig up this video from last year’s trip to Panama. You can hear (but not see) the two groups of Howler Monkeys battling it with their lungs in a bit of a territory dispute as we listened atop the tower near the Discovery Center at Pipeline Road. They’re in the distance, but imagine being in the very same jungle with these guys. My heart was beating very fast with both joy and terror. But mostly joy because I wasn’t in the way of these howlers.

The real treat, though, is Steve’s spot-on impersonation at the tail end of this. Go ahead, give it a play. It’s short and totally worth it if you’ve never heard a howler monkey before. (Or if you’ve never met my husband either.)

Yeah, that’s my husband. He’s a Howler Monkey. And this is him birding, too:

ZZzzzzzzz

ZZzzzzzzz

Share this:

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Pinterest
  • Reddit
  • Tumblr
  • LinkedIn
  • Print

Like this:

Like Loading...

That time when everyone else but me knew that you need a travel visa for Australia

27 Sunday Oct 2013

Posted by Ms. Boice in Trips

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Australia, travel, travel visa, vacation

“You have a visa, right?” the Delta ticket counter lady asked me.

“Like in the credit card?” I thought that was weird because I had already paid for my ticket. “Is there another fee?”

“No,” she said, realizing I was confused. “A travel visa.”

Her words punched me in the stomach and I couldn’t breathe and I know my eyes got big as I started to say, “I need a travel visa to go to…?” Ticket counter lady cut me off and explained, “You can get one right now. You’re lucky because Australia is the only country where you can get a visa within minutes and on the Internet.”

“But my plane leaves in two hours. No one told me I needed a visa.”

Clearly I hadn’t been listening to what she was telling me, so she repeated herself. “Really, all you need is the Internet and you can get a visa and then you give me the number. You have plenty of time.” She wrote down the web address on a little square paper and then I dragged my bags and myself away from the counter, crestfallen with tears welling up in my eyes, and plopped myself down on a bench near the window. I called Steve who had just dropped me off at the airport and told him of my stupidity and asked him if he could hurry up and get home and log on to the computer to help me out. He would be there in about 20 minutes.

Look, I’m a pretty savvy traveler. I’m not new to this, but how could I miss such a vital piece of information? I guess I thought because I was visiting a country under the British Crown that it would be like the others I’ve been to—namely Canada and the U.K.—where, I might point out, I didn’t need a travel visa. Those countries never wanted to strip search me to get into their country. Why is Australia being so fussy? (I’d also like to blame all others who have been to Australia before who I talked to prior to my trip and never thought to mention this pretty important piece of intel.) It didn’t matter what I thought. I was the travel dork here.

Stupidity notwithstanding, I was a bit panicked. I was meeting my mom in Sydney and our flights were arriving around the same time. She had spent the last 18 months in Melbourne on a volunteer mission for our church and she didn’t have a cell phone. There would be no way to reach her to tell her I wasn’t coming and I was imagining her wandering around the airport in Sydney for hours trying to find me and then having to get to a phone somehow to call back to the U.S. to find out what in Sam Hill happened. I sat there and stewed for about 2 minutes, feeling sorry for myself, worried that I wouldn’t be able to pull this rabbit out of a hat, despite what the confident ticket counter lady told me. But then it hit me—I have an iPhone! I found the web address on my phone, tapped in my personal information in the little boxes, paid only $20 with a credit card, and voila! I had a travel visa!

Because why not? People can become a wedding officiant by clicking a few boxes and putting in their personal info on the Internet, so why wouldn’t one be able to get a travel visa too? Yeah, makes total sense.

I walked over to the ticket counter again and showed the ticket lady my phone with the visa number and she punched the numbers into her computer and, just like that, I was on my way to Australia.

Now I’m feeling like a super hero because it was so easy peasy. Really, what’s the point? If getting a visa is that easy, why require it at all? But hey, I was just glad that I had a smart phone with me and I was certainly glad Australia let me into their country.

I called Steve, overjoyed not only by my new visa to Australia, but by my cleverness in doing it all on my iPhone. I checked my travel guide when I settled in my seat on the plane and it seems as though it did say something in there about getting a travel visa.

Next time I’ll read the travel guide more closely before I leave on my trip.

Lisa at the Sydney Opera House

Hey look, guys! I made it!

0.000000 0.000000

Share this:

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Pinterest
  • Reddit
  • Tumblr
  • LinkedIn
  • Print

Like this:

Like Loading...

How to learn about your husband

22 Sunday Sep 2013

Posted by Ms. Boice in Trips

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Ashbury College, Canada, Gatineau Park, Kingston, Ontario, Ottawa, Parliament, RMC, Royal Military College, Toronto, travel

Flipping back the pages in the Book of Steve is fascinating.

We had this epic long distance courtship for two years and while we spent that time trying to really get to know each other (mostly finding out that he hates crowds, is not a picky eater, doesn’t stress out over things he can’t control and, of course, is a avid birder), I really didn’t know that much about where he grew up. Sure, I met his family a couple of times while we dated, but that didn’t reveal too much to me. You see, I grew up a West Coast gal and Steve grew up on the East Coast. Not only that, he’s Canadian and I’m from the U.S.

See? Way different. So, when I learned I had a conference in Toronto Steve suggested we visit places in Ontario so he could show me around, which was a great idea because who was this guy I’d been married to for five years?

Let’s start with church

Now, I always love visiting the Anglican Church he attended when he was a child. (It makes my mother-in-law very happy too, when we visit.) Steve gave me his own tour of the Forest Hill neighborhood church and showed me the places where he would hide and eventually get into trouble. What I learned about my husband: He was a normal mischievous boy.

Grace Church-on-the-Hill Forest Hill neighborhood in Toronto. Founded 1874.

Grace Church-on-the-Hill Forest Hill neighborhood in Toronto. Founded 1874. Instagram

Now let’s get political

For anyone getting an immersion into their husband’s Canadian life, head to the nation’s capital, which is what we did. We toured the Parliament buildings and even listened in on a session of Parliament, which aside from the occasional French, seemed awfully like a session of congress in the U.S. in that the left was arguing in favor of taxes on businesses and the right was vehemently opposed. What I learned about my husband was this: He likes to listen to the French interpretation on the headphones.

Parliament. Ottawa, Ontario Canada

Parliament. Ottawa, Ontario Canada Instagram

Time to eat

This part isn’t new. Both Steve and I love to eat. Ottawa is packed full of lots of fantastic restaurants and our first night there we stopped by an Ethiopian restaurant, which was highly recommended by our bed and breakfast hosts.  To be honest, I’ve always found the idea of Ethiopian restaurants odd because all during college all I heard about Ethiopia was that the people were starving. This can’t bode well for a restaurant idea, I thought.

But an Ethiopian restaurant fit perfectly with the theme of this trip: Steve is going to teach me something new. Even if it means eating with your hands. (I had to check around in the restaurant to make sure that everyone else was eating with their hands because, yes, it wouldn’t surprise me if Steve just made that whole thing up about how to eat Ethiopian food.)

And no, we didn’t starve here. The food was pretty fantastic and there was plenty of it. What I learned about Steve: He can’t complain anymore if there isn’t a clean utensil in the house.

Steve demonstrates with great effectiveness on how to eat Ethiopian food.

Steve demonstrates with great effectiveness on how to eat Ethiopian food. Instagram

My husband got sent to Boarding School

When I first met Steve he told me about how he went to boarding school when he was a kid. “Were you bad?” I asked.

“No, why do you ask that?” He really was puzzled.

“Because in the movies when the kids are bad they are always threatened by some adult that they’ll be sent to boarding school.” I explained. “Have you never seen The Sound of Music?”

Turns out Steve loved going to boarding school. Essentially they’re prep schools for über smart kids. What I learned about Steve: He’s über smart. (Okay, I already knew that.)

Ashbury College Ottawa

Ashbury College Ottawa

This is a really old boarding school. And as you can see, hockey has been around for awhile.

This is a really old boarding school. And as you can see, hockey has been around for awhile.

There’s a family cottage, natch.

Not only is there a family cottage but it’s in Gatineau Park and not in Ontario but (gasp) Quebec. I think. I couldn’t tell when we actually were in Quebec or in Ontario. I mean, there were French signs everywhere, but I never was clear on where the actual cottage was, except it looked like this:

View from the cottage at Gatineau Park.

View from the cottage at Gatineau Park.

The lake right outside the cottage.

The lake right outside the cottage.

So does it really matter which province? I didn’t think so either. What I learned about my husband here: He comes from a family of cottage owners so I need to stay on the good side of everyone.

Why I will always get the Royal Treatment

There’s a reason why Steve makes the bed with hospital corners, why he likes a list of things to do (he actually loves the Honey-do list, guys), and why he likes to watch war movies. It’s all because he went to the Royal Military College. That’s why he wore this uniform to our wedding:

Steve sports his RMC uniform at our wedding.

Doesn’t he look dapper? (It’s all so Downton Abby, doncha think?) He nearly upstaged me. Nearly.

Touring the campus of the Royal Military College in Kingston, Ontario was a real treat. We met up with his old college buddy who took us around some of the buildings. But most of all I remember the story he told about how the Canadian flag came about, which is not completely recorded on the plaque below and apparently involved a great deal of liquor. But don’t quote me on that. I’m not Canadian and I probably shouldn’t know that little bit of info.

IMG_3533

Part of the story about the Canadian flag.

Royal Military College, Kingston Ontario

Royal Military College, Kingston Ontario Instagram

Steve finds two great uncles listed on the Memorial Arch at RMC.

Steve finds two great uncles listed on the Memorial Arch at RMC. Instagram

What I learned about Steve here: This stop explained a lot about my husband. His long family legacy in the military and his love of country. Plus, he looks so damn good in that uniform for our wedding.

There’s no way to rewind a movie and playback all the events in Steve’s life, but walking in the shadows of where he once walked enables me to understand him a little bit more. It has given me perspective and understanding that no amount of conversation would have opened up for me.

And we’re going to be eating with our hands from now on. In uniform. In a cottage on a lake somewhere. Speaking French.

43.689388 -79.410390

Share this:

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Pinterest
  • Reddit
  • Tumblr
  • LinkedIn
  • Print

Like this:

Like Loading...

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

21 Tuesday May 2013

Posted by Ms. Boice in Trips

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Hawaii, Oahu, PCC, Polynesian Cultural Center, Tonga, travel, vacation

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.

Share this:

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Pinterest
  • Reddit
  • Tumblr
  • LinkedIn
  • Print

Like this:

Like Loading...

Islands of smiles and brothers connected by an ocean

12 Sunday May 2013

Posted by Ms. Boice in Trips

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Brigham Young University Hawaii, BYU, BYU Hawaii, Hawaii, Laie, Oahu, Pacific, PCC, Polynesia, Polynesian Cultural Center, polynesian islands, traditional costumes, travel

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.

DSC_0445

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.

Share this:

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Pinterest
  • Reddit
  • Tumblr
  • LinkedIn
  • Print

Like this:

Like Loading...

Picturing Quito

05 Sunday May 2013

Posted by Ms. Boice in Trips

≈ 26 Comments

Tags

Ecuador, El Panecillo, madonna statue, Palacio de Gobbierno, photography, Quito, South America, travel, unesco world heritage, unesco world heritage site, vacation, world heritage site

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)

Share this:

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Pinterest
  • Reddit
  • Tumblr
  • LinkedIn
  • Print

Like this:

Like Loading...
← Older posts
Newer posts →

You give me your email address and I send you an email when there's a new post. Easy peasy.

Join 1,308 other subscribers

The Accidental Birder

Follow my birding-around-the-world adventures on The Accidental Birder blog

My most recent stuff

  • When in Isla Contadora
  • I turned 50 and this is how it went
  • Keeping Big Bend a secret
  • What Marfa can teach us
  • Confronting the enemy
  • Purging time capsules
  • The technicolor world of Bisbee, Arizona
  • Thank you, Utah.

Accidental Tweeter

  • A chorus of chainsaws this morning. #texasicestorm #icestorm 3 days ago
  • As I hear all the tree branches breaking off on our property, this little Orange-crowned Warbler cheered me up. We… twitter.com/i/web/status/1… 4 days ago
  • The shepherd’s hook holding the bird feeder took quite a hit. #TexasFreeze #icestorm https://t.co/NZfHItELh4 4 days ago
Follow @MsBoice

Older stuff (archives)

Ms. Boice

Blog at WordPress.com.

  • Follow Following
    • The baby aspirin years
    • Join 619 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • The baby aspirin years
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar
 

Loading Comments...
 

    %d bloggers like this: