Winding Down

This is my last week in DC. Tear! Currently, I'm still on the job hunt, but with a few bright spots on the horizon. I've had interviews at 2 different places that I'm waiting to hear from, and have 3 more interviews coming up. I've applied to several jobs in DC because I love the city and would love to continue to grow the social network I have here. In the name of adventure, however, I've applied all over the country - and by "country" I mean "the East Coast and New Orleans". We'll see.

I'm going home on Dec 20th, and all of my Bing friends will be home, however briefly, for Christmas & the Sparkle Party, so that's very exciting. I'm torn about what to do for New Year's this year. The people I usually celebrate with will be in Wisconsin and NYC, respectively, and I've also been invited down to DC to do...something. Details are unclear. Ideally, I think New Year's would be best spent playing Rock Band in somebody's basement, but people can never be that chill on New Year's.

But more exciting things are happening! For the first time in my life, my birthday will not be spent in Binghamton, NY because on January 11th I will be....

in Ireland!

I'm super psyched. I'm going to visit Ernest from January 9th - January 18th in Limerick, and wherever else we decide to journey - very possibly to Dublin because - OMG - Laura and Sofi might be coming to Dublin from Sweden January 16th - 18th!!! Ernest doesn't know that yet...but I guess he'll find out here. Don't worry Ernest, if it works out that way, they are very cool chicks, I swear.

So, then I return to the great state of New York for about oh, 12 hours, before battling my way back to DC for the inauguration on the 20th. I can't believe after 8 God awful years that it's only 5 weeks away. Should be a romping good time.

And then, hopefully, I start my new job. In DC. Or, you know, wherever.

Pictures

I just spent over 1/2 an hour trying to upload pictures from the last three months on to facebook with no luck. No DC pictures for you!

Okay, a couple.



ACT UP! Graffiti on the Berlin Wall, now preserved at the Newseum.



My pal, author Neil Gaimen reading from his new book way back in September.



A view of DC from atop the Washington Monument. You can almost see my building from there!



A great idea.



And because I can't find the brochure from the Alexandria walking tour, an explanation from Wikipedia:

In 1830, John Hollensbury's home in Alexandria, Virginia was one of two homes directly bordering an alleyway which received an annoying amount of horse-drawn wagon traffic and loiterers. To prevent people from using the alleyway, Hollensbury constructed a 7-foot (2.1 m) wide, 25-foot (7.6 m) deep, 325-square-foot (30.2 m2), two-story home using the existing brick walls of the adjacent homes for the sides of the new home. The brick walls of the Hollensbury Spite House living room have gouges from wagon-wheel hubs, and the house is still standing and occupied.

It's Human Rights Day!

I went to American University today and was mistaken for a faculty member. Awesome!

But more importantly, today is international Human Rights Day, marked to celebrate the signing of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights by the UN in 1948. The day symbolizes both celebration of past accomplishments as well as ongoing struggles. Amnesty International always hosts events around the world, including the Global Write-a-thon. Even if you don't read this until after Human Rights Day, think about writing a letter from Amnesty's action prompts, or donating. Human rights are important every day.

So go celebrate.

I've been thinking a lot about what we call our rights. For example, there's a lot of bruhaha over the marriage equality debate and the use of the words "civil rights". On the one hand, we are talking about marriage which is a civil issue (correct?), and the right to marry. So civil rights. However, the term civil rights is pretty much inseparable from the Civil Rights Movement, and some people feel that it's a word that you shouldn't and can't co-opt because of that - especially in light of all the "blacks are to blame for Prop 8!" crap that came out after the election.

So if not civil rights, then what? Some people seem to think that "human rights" would be a better term. Others argue that human rights are those very basic things: food, water, shelter, medicine, safety from violence. But wouldn't you put "the pursuit of happiness" in that list? Isn't that the point of the list? It's the base of Maslow's triangle! The whole reason for advocating for these things is that people can't be happy without them. So does that mean that the pursuit of happiness is a human right? And wouldn't marriage - or whatever one might call the ability to be with the one you love and have it be legally recognized - therefore be a human right?

I'm still not sure about all this. The best I've been able to come up with is "equal rights". I feel that even if the left can't agree on the names, we can at least agree that everyone deserves equal rights.

free.will.power

Let's talk about NARAL Pro-Choice America's newest project, free.will.power.

The website, myfreewillpower.com, is meant to help young people learn about reproductive rights and how to protect them. It feature lots of cool stuff like videos of spoken word artists, a tee-shirt design contest*, a quiz, and various action alerts. You can also sign the free.will.power declaration. Go check out the site!

*Which is over today at 5, so send your designs quick!

Because one of the only things dorkier than politics is Star Wars

So, the other night Emily called me and left the following message:

"Hello Katie, this is Barack Obama. I was just calling at the request of my secretary, Shmi, she thought you would be an excellent candidate for Top Jedi in my cabinet. So, if you could just give me a call back sometime, I'll probably be up for a while or else we can talk tomorrow night or the next night, just get me back. This is urgent. I need someone who is very handy with a light saber and I think that you would do just the trick. Goodbye, and I salute you."

I salute you. I called her back, and left this message:

"Hi President Obama, this is Katie getting back to you about the position of Top Jedi. I just wanted to say that I think it would be totally bitchin'. I'm going to need somewhere to dock my transport unit, but I figure you probably already have one of those on the roof of the White House. So, yeah, gimme a call back, B-Rock."

So she called me back, and left this message:

"Yo, this is B-rock, not to be confused Brian from the Backstreet Boys. Actually this is your President-elect. And I know that our term in office together is going to be as... epic as this game of phone tag. So if give me a call back I will tell you all about how I've one upped your offer. I actually have a sweet pod fitted with huge like bass speakers, a little handy light saber power-up and also, um...... cool lights that cut through the fog. So, if you want to see that, if you want to take a little joy ride around DC, just hit me back up on my cell. Peace out!"


My favorite part is the sweet fog lights incentive.

Tis the Season

This last week has been spent in Binghamton, baking and filling out job applications in between Rock Band sessions at Rachel's house. I've finally moved up to *medium* on guitar. Take that, actual musicians!

In the name of the season, I thought I'd tick off a few things that I am thankful for.

1. My friends and family. I love my friends, and my family is the most supportive, silly, wonderful family a person could ask for, and I'm glad once again that I got to spend the holiday with them.

2. DC & the last few months. I've loved living in DC, even at the Nunnery. I've gotten to do a ton of news things, I got to work for several political campaigns (most of which won!), I got to be in Washington on the night it exploded with Obama-flavored joy. I've also found that it's been pretty easy for me to meet new people in DC, and while many of them have been absolutely ridiculous, some of them are wonderful friends that I'm so glad I got the opportunity to meet. I have been unofficially invited to friends' weddings in Sweden and Barbados too, so really moving to DC was well worth it.

3. Upcoming adventures. After Dec 20th, I don't know what I'll be doing, but I'm sure it's going to be interesting. Plus, I still have several friends I want to visit in Wisconsin, Ireland, Sweden, NYC, and, you know, Ithaca.

So, now I'm thinking of Christmas gifts, but I'll be skipping out on Black Friday this year, unless shopping at the Philadelphia airport counts. Happy Holidays everyone - it's officially the Sparkle Season.

Update!

I'd first like to acknowledge that yesterday was my friend Rachel's 22nd birthday, so happy birthday Rachel!

And now the news from Washington. Things are a bit melancholy tonight. My good friend Laura is flying home to Sweden tomorrow, and we don't know when we will see each other again. I'm getting job hunt fatigue from trying to figure out the future (soon to be present...). My friend Juliana is moving next weekend to Virginia which, at least when compared to Sweden, isn't really all that far away.

On a happier note, the Prop 8 & Frienemies protest in DC was awesome. Somewhere between 5,000 and 7,000 people were there with some of the most creative protest signs I've seen. We started out in front of the Capitol Building, where I got an incriminating picture taking. I was climbing up a lamp post to try and spot my friend in the crowd when some freelancer took my picture. I'm sure it's floating out there on the internet with the caption "CRAZY GAY PROTESTERS ATTACK PUBLIC PROPERTY!!"

From the Capitol Building, we hit the Washington Monument and eventually the White House. It felt very surreal, after all the MLK references with Obama, to be protesting (at least for a short period of time) in front of the Lincoln Memorial. I suppose it's fitting. We've made a lot of great strides - particularly this month - but there's still all sorts of injustice. Separate is still not equal.

It was interesting to hear people's reasons for coming to the protest. One man spoke about his friend, who was denied bereavement time to go to his domestic partner's funeral in Florida. His domestic partner was his girlfriend. Obviously laws like Prop 8 and the rest are wrong because of the basic rights they deny to LGBTQ people. But the story is very telling about how when you mess with the laws to hurt one group, you risk hurting everybody.

Pictures to come, because they don't seem to be loading properly.

Back on the Hunt

Is it that time already?

Things are going great here in DC, mostly because the city is fabulous and I've met a few good people. Unfortunately, my internship (you know, the part-time-non-espionage-related job) finishes at the end of December, and with Christmas creeping around the corner, it may be time to consider my up & coming future. You know, beyond working at Russell's.

Have resume, will travel.

So expect some updates on that, as well as write-ups on the DC Prop H8 Protest and pictures from the campaign trail.

I originally intended to fill out some job applications tonight, but working 8:45 - 6 coupled with Tuesday's root canal has made me into a semi-lifeless blob, good only for sleeping and watching House reruns.

Speaking of grumpy old men, if anyone's looking to watch something either awful or hilarious, O'Reilly's going to be on the Daily Show tonight.

Fired Up & Ready to Go

No rest for the weary.

If you are a human who believes in the basic rights of other humans, and you are currently in the United States, you should join the impact. You can even join it on facebook.

There is going to be a nationwide protest of Prop 8 and related amendments on Saturday, November 15th. There is literally at least one protest in every state plus DC. Most states have multiple cities participating - I'm proud to say Upstate NY will be there in style.

The way I see it, we just went through a very dramatic election that showcased the power of a lot of people who get organized and get their voice heard. So now that we know we can do it, let's keep doing it.

Remember, Remember the 4th of November

My generation woke up different today.

I've always been proud of where I come from - as long as we're talking about New York. If you were an Austrian or a Brazilian or a Swede, I'd tell you I come from New York. New York is a place people are proud to be from and a place that the international community respects, unlike the US as a whole. If I ever plainly said that I was an American, it was with an apologetic shrug and a promise that No, I didn't vote for Bush.

I think a lot of people have felt that way for a long time. The difference is that while older generations had some sense of what they had lost, we didn't. We came to political consciousness in the age of George Bush and fear politics; in the time of Katrina, global warming and radical conservatism; of Guantanamo Bay and two seemingly endless wars. In the grand scheme of history, these are all very recent events. To my generation, however, they are the only thing we have ever really known. We don't remember trusting our government. We don't remember not fearing our leaders. We don't remember when we could say we were Americans without a sense of shame because for most of us, that time never existed.

I don't mean we haven't been proud at some points. We are the post-9/11 generation, afterall. In the wake of a Tuesday in September, we watched rescue workers scoured the rubble and save people day after day. We watched strangers take in strangers in the wake of tragedy. We tried to contemplate, without reference, how everything was changing.

I was 15 at the time.

I felt a sense of pride in my country then. I think a lot of young people did. Watching national neighbors band together in the face of adversity was heartening and most definately something to be proud of. But it was a pride grown from despair, piled on top of emptiness, hurt and above all, fear. We were proud of "our fellow Americans", but that pride and unity toppled like a deck of cards under the weight of fear and anger.

Until November 4th, 2008.

At 11 o'clock last night, I felt something different. I felt excitement as I jumped on the furniture in Capitol Brewery. I felt joy as we celebrated in the streets. I felt love as 93% of DC went out of their way to express gratitude and relief. I felt pride.

All around the world, leaders and civilians alike are lauding the election, proclaiming a new day for absolutely everyone. We chose a leader based for once not on fear, but on hope. My generation ran to the polls after years of being told we didn't care. My country chose a leader who is intelligent and well-spoken, considerate and ready to lead not just to a select group of U.S. citizens, but the world. I really believe that. I think a lot of us do.

On November 5th the older generations of America woke up with a sense that things were finally getting back on track, that we could be proud again.

Most of my generation, however, awoke for the first time with a sense of national pride based not on what was done to us, but on what we did. For the first time, ever, I and others like me were truly proud to be a part of the United States of America.

And that itself is change indeed.

Three words, USA:

Yes
we
did.

It's time to vote.

Go vote.

I saw Obama speak at his last campaign event in Manassas, VA tonight with 80,000 of my closest friends. I was at the rally for 6 and 1/2 hours, total, after canvassing since 9am.

Obama spoke for 45 minutes.

It was worth it to be able to say, in the very near future, that I saw the last 2008 campaign speech of the President of the United States.

If you haven't already done so: go vote today, people. Stand in line if you have to. If someone tries to turn you away from the polls for whatever reason, call a local campaign office, the board of elections, your lawyer, or any number of volunteers (legal and non) that will be working from when the first polls open in Maine until the last polls close in Hawaii and Alaska.

Find your polling place at www.voteforchange.com

We write history today. No more, no less.

Happy (post-) Halloween!

I wandered around half the city tonight with a limp and an orange prescription bottle full of tic tacs. Happy Halloween! I was House. :)

What'd you do?

Phone Freak Outs and Blogger Greek Outs

I think that I've mentioned this: a big portion of my internship is helping run nightly phone banks for Obama & friends. The phone banks, I feel, are fun, important and always provide some good stories. For example:

I called a family tonight and asked to speak to one woman. The man who answered the phone told me "Yeah, you better because we are a household divided. I just donated $100 to you guys to mess with her. SHE'S voting for the other side!!"

Another guy told me "I might vote for Obama on the pro-choice, but I think he has a liberal agenda and he's going to drive this country into the ground so think about THAT!!" *hang up*

Or, everyone's ridiculously overzealous favorite: "I'd rather die than vote for ______!" Really?

Anyway, tonight one of the bloggers from feministing.com came and called with us. I was totally star-struck. Feministing was/is a fundamental part of how I learned about feminism and became a feminist rock star myself. Obviously it was a very big deal to me to meet someone who has unknowingly had a pretty big influence on my life. True to that unknown part, I don't think she realized that she was a really big deal to me. Which is clearly for the best, because one of the only things lamer than geeking out about meeting Barenaked Ladies or Neil Gaimen is geeking out about meeting a blogger.

Greetings from New York!

As David Letterman calls it, the greatest city in the world.

I'm in New York City visiting friends and reveling in the glory that is High School Musical 3: Senior Year. My friend Renee and I love the High School Musical series. When we found out the end of the trilogy would be released in theaters, we agreed to see it together rather than dragging people kicking and screaming to see it. It was absolutely amazing. The boys are back. Sharpay was ridiculous. Ryan was adorable. Troy was full of angst. Oh, and don't worry - I'm not judging you just because you haven't seen it yet.

Here's a few things that are different between DC and NYC:

1. DC is shorter. Manhattan is the home of the skyscraper, while DC is "the American Paris" with a sprawl of low buildings. There's several reasons for Washington's midget status. The short story is that it is illegal to build a building taller than the Capitol Building (289 ft). The longer story is here.

2. The Metro is cleaner. That's just a fact. That said, the subway has far better hours so you generally *don't* end up stranded the way you can in DC.

3. How to cross the street is a regional thing. At Cornell, it is the cultural expectation that pedestrians will prance out into the road at will, without looking - ever - and that cars will stop. It's death defying, but it almost always works well. In NYC, "waiting to cross" involves getting about halfway out into the first lane and eyeballing the traffic in a tough guy sort of way. No cars? Continue. Cars? Stand still - they'll miss you. This is not the case in DC: stepping too far off the sidewalk ends with people staring at you. This includes DRIVERS, who may actually stop their cars and wait for you to get back in your place. I've had this happen at least twice. In DC, it's best to stand on the sidewalk and mind your place until it's time to cross. More or less.

4. The words. In Eat, Pray, Love Elizabeth Gilbert talks about how everything ultimately has one word that describes it better than anything else. DC's word is Power. The city vibrates with it and spits it out all across the country and the world stage. At the same time, DC residents and representatives are struggling to get the same power as their 50 state counterparts.

I don't know what New York's word is. I always want to say Culture, but that's not it. What name goes to the city that consciously effects the lives of billions? Washington's got the power to change every life on Earth, but people generally don't pay it *that* much attention to it. But everyone pays attention to NYC. To the culture, the cool, the style, the entertainment. Most people want to be a part of NYC in some way, even if only as a tourist. So what do you call that? Synthesis? Popular? Pull?

No Zombies, No Voldemort.

I got a part time job at the Spy Museum. It's sweet.

I'm training to guide Operation Spy tours, "a one hour interactive tour" where visitors become spies. Basically. I've been there for a little over week, and my excitement about spies is at the same level (ZOMGSPIEZZ!!!), but my perception of them is slightly altered. It was a sad and startling realization that real spies are not James Bond. Real spies are by-the-book ordinary schmoes who don't draw attention to themselves and when you ask, tell boring stories such "Oh, you know, I worked a little in the US then just ended up here." However, as only a part time spy, I get to use a walkie-talkie and that's awesome.

Last night I did some non-walkie-talkie phone banking for Obama and on Saturday I'm going door-to-door with a friend in Virginia. I keep getting emails from various Obama-supporting groups that read "On the morning of November 5th, do you want to be saying you wish you'd done more? Go do ________." No, I *don't* want November 5th to suck! They're very convincing.

More importantly, this entire weekend was spent not working because MY FAMILY WAS HERE! My mom, brother, sister-in-law and nephews came down and we had several full days of going to the Zoo, the Air & Space Museum, and a bunch of monuments. The highlight for my nephews was seeing as orangutan at the zoo pick its nose. Seriously. They applauded. The highlight for me was the following:

After seeing the Washington Monument (Gavin, George Washington was the first president) and the Lincoln Memorial (Gavin, Abe Lincoln was a great president), we pointed out the White House. Being the smart kid he is, he applied his logic.

Becky: "Gavin, that's where the president lives."
Gavin: "Oh. [pause] Is he dead?"

No zombies in the White House. Not in 2008, not ever.

We also ordered out from Five Guys. Have you ever been to Five Guys? I hadn't either. It's a burger place and that's about it (although some of them now offer "VEGGIE DOGS!"). Sean psyched it up to be this awesome experience, and we went and ordered greasy, artery-clogging food for the whole family. A little of this, a little of that, plus five orders of fries.

Now, I don't know about you, but when I order fries, I expect them to come in a little box, maybe a paper cup. Call me old-fashioned. And I don't know what the cause of this was: maybe they are being green by cutting down on waste. Maybe they were frustrated with Sean for ordering so slowly. Maybe they were trying to mess with us. Whatever the cause, we ended up with one grease-stained grocery bag entirely full of several pounds of french fries...and nothing else. No box, no cups, not even a napkin.


Five ketchups just didn't cut it.

Fund raising, raising hell and trying to raise the bar

Before getting into the bulk of the post, I present my cewebrity debut (and don't worry, it's plenty embarrassing). I'd also like to take this time to stress that we are a non-profit and that while some of my friends work for high-end screen and stage producers I, uh, do not.

Anyhow, view it here: Liberty Lowdown: Election Day

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Three stories in three paragraphs.

On Saturday, I went to a fund raising dinner with work for the Human Rights Campaign. It was by far the fanciest dinner I've ever been to with lots of tuxes, heels and oddly shaped salads. When Joe Biden didn't show due to family illness, the crowd rejoiced when "his good friend" Hillary Clinton took his place. She delivered the best line of the night: "John McCain isn't a maverick. He's a mimic." Suze Orman, who received the National Equality Award offered up a great soundbite as well when she declared "I don't want to be a lesbian who is tolerated."

---

It was dinner time at the nunnery and a heated debate was taking place. Unfortunately, (or fortunately) for once it wasn't republican vs. democrat - it was liberal vs. liberal. One of the girls at the table announced that she was undecided, which prompted another to announce that "if Sarah Palin becomes my Vice President, I will vomit all over the White House". A hilarious image (I thought), but the diatribe quickly crumbled under claims that both Palin and McCain are "whores" with bad accents. "That doesn't help our side!" one person said, while the other argued that she was just expressing her personal opinion. And there in lies the rub. The personal is political, and so is how you express it. Whatever your personal feelings about a candidate, calling the other side whore, Barbie, terrorist, etc doesn't help senators become presidents - but it does make their supporters look like jackasses. And when you're trying to sway every last swing voter, it does matter how your supporters present themselves. Just ask the guys supported by Rev. Wright and the worst president in U.S. history - winning people over when your base embarrasses you is tough work. This election is going to continue to be a circus. It's time we all start performing at our best.

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I went to an exhibit at the Smithsonian on Saturday about Jim Henson and the muppets. They had some of the puppets on display, including Kermy and Gobo (<3)from Fraggle Rock. It was amazing to see the sheer volume of work that this man produced. From 8-second commercials to multiple full-length feature films, Jim Henson changed the face of pop culture - and that was what was even more amazing. Every single person at the jam-packed exhibit was talking about their favorite muppet, arguing over the best muppet movie (it's Muppet Treasure Island) and talking about how much Labyrinth f-ed them up as a child. People reminisced about Sesame Street, relived Dark Crystal and wondered out loud what the hell was up with The Cube. We have to thank Jim Henson for raising the bar in terms of children's programming and in turn having a profound effect on millions. Face it - all of us have shared childhood memories because of this man. And I have to personally thank Jim Henson for potentially one of the most fulfilling moments of my life; because let me tell you: you honestly haven't lived until you've sung the entire Muppet Show theme song with a room full of strangers.

Before I was famous...

This just in: tomorrow I will be starring in my first film since we shot that "Worst Day Ever" movie for English in 6th grade where a fake bird shat on Rachel's head and we wrote the credits on a roll of paper towels.

My follow-up role is going to be starring as a "what not to do" voter in a short viral video about election day. And don't worry, I promise to post it here, even if it's embarrassing.

Time for Another Edition of KHB Fun Facts

After that heavy political post (think about it - if it's impossible for you to stop thinking about the election wherever you are, imagine being in DC), I figured it was time for some light-hearted facts about my first week here. Sorry about the swearing, Mom & Dad.

Firstly, I have run into more Cornell folks then I know what to do with. I met a guy who is a junior in ILR because we were both wearing Ithaca garb at the gym, I met two dudes on the street who were talking about applying to Cornell (again, ILR), and at the Book Festival, I met a family of former Ithaca residents who's little girl was wearing a map of I-town on her shirt. Ithaca isn't just gorges, Ithaca is everywhere. (Important to note: why has no one in Ithaca mailed me an "Obama is Gorges" shirt yet???)

Other fun facts: every day on the way to work, I walk by a private elementary school that is entirely arts-based. They have some awesome artwork hanging up outside the school, so I can't wait to go to the open house they're having next week.

I've applied to a couple interesting jobs including some at the Smithsonian and, importantly, at the Spy Museum.

I found a used bookstore and a gym a couple blocks down the street from me. What could be better? Probably my boss taking me out to California Pizza Kitchen instead of working (don't worry, we made the time up...), and then going salsa dancing after work.

Tomorrow I'm going up to Adams Morgan for an "alternative crafts fair" called Crafty Bastards, and on Monday I'm going to see Rusted Root at the 9:30 Club. Life is awesome.

38 days to go

I live on Capitol Hill now. Not like the lawmakers and policy pushers that live in their offices and work on Saturday nights, of course. I actually live here.

Last night there was a seemingly endless array of cop cars parked on every street surrounding the Capitol Building as the People Who (are supposed to) Represent us duked it out. The tension is absolutely palpable around here. Republicans prattle into cell phones about how the House is making the bail out impassible; protesters preach outside on the lawn waving signs that say "No bail outs for billionaires". Strangers wearing Obama gear give each other sly thumbs up. People wearing no political garb at all stop me in the street to tell me how my Obama pin makes them angry. Last night a bouncer told me "I'm pro-life and I'm voting for McCain. What are you gonna do about it?" Mostly just pay you $5 to get into your bar, but, you know.

It rained on the National Book Festival today, but I stuck it out and met Neil Gaimen without embarrassing myself (seriously! I was so proud) and heard R. L. Stine read from the latest Goosebumps spin-off. When the rain cleared, there was a beautiful rainbow that landed right in a big pot of gold - the Senate side of the Capitol. Everyone in line with me started joking "It's a sign! The economy's fixed! Rainbows don't lie!"

Everyone watched the debate last night. Unable to bear the thought of watching it with the building's plethora of Republicans, I went to Adams Morgan with my new friend Laura from Sweden to watch the debate with her friends. All of her friends are from outside the US, so the crowd was completely pro-Obama (doesn't that say something?) and putting a lot of pressure on me to vote (come on!). It really puts things in perspective, doesn't it? I was in a room of maybe 15 people, all from entirely different countries, and all of them care about our presidential race.

Tonight I sat through a painful dinner conversation as the R's I live with spoke their warped view of the world. Some of it was interesting - they admitted being disgusted with Bush for lying about why we are in Iraq, though they do believe we need to be there. Some of it was boring - Obama's foreign policy sucks, from the mouths of people willing to vote for Sarah Palin. But some of it...some of it is just down right mind blowing.

"I think a terrorist attack would be really good for John McCain's campaign," said one of his supporters tonight. I know, I know - McCain's adviser said it first. But hearing from the mouth of someone I share a dinner table with is different. It's not some ambiguous politico talking head anymore. It's a person. And I sit there, screaming on the inside, HOW can you support him when that's the line, that's the truth? How can you know that having a couple thousand people die will help your candidate and not realize that you are supporting the bad guys? How can you sleep at night? What is it going to take, voters of the once-United States? What is it going to take?

Working at my internship does make me feel better and even, as Obama would have it, hopeful. My job is to help our activists campaign for Obama, by giving them materials, resources and different ways to get involved with the campaign. I talk to people every day that have gotten so fed up with our hands-off political process that they feel compelled to get involved personally and bring about (another great Obama word) change. They're sick and tired of living in fear of Bush: the Second Coming, and they are starting to demand action from their friends, classmates and neighbors. Every time I speak with a volunteer, I feel like we're going to win. Maybe we've all been down so long it just looks like up to me.

Or maybe by one vote, one phone call, one person at a time, we're actually going to win.

Finding Balance in Washington D.C.

It's official; I'm in Washington. So here are some basic updates.

Living('s easy): I moved into the place that I'm staying which will henceforth be referred to as "the nunnery". It's extremely close to the Capitol Building and all the Senate offices. As a result, the street is patrolled 24/7 by the DC police department AND the Secret Service. Now, I know the Secret Service aren't there to protect me, per say, but it is rather reassuring to know that were something to go down, everyone and their mom would be there to step in. It's a nice building and I've met lots of people. A lot of them are Republican, which I honestly wasn't expecting. As a bleeding heart liberal, feminist, anti-capitalist, environmentalist troublemaker, this is very, very different for me. I've always been surrounded by people like me (except for that time I accidentally dated a Republican. Read my lips: never again). I'm learning to adapt. Just the same, I cannot tell a lie and none of them seem impressed by...

My Work: I started my internship on Monday, and so far I've been enjoying it. On the plus-side, I'm helping promote the Obama campaign and working to assure that we are not ruled by vengeful overlords come January. On the negative-side, it is very, very office-y - biz cas, inter-office memos, and lots of copy machine problems.

Pluses being what they are, I would still probably punch myself in the face if I had to go to an office every day. For that reason, I'm looking for a non-office based ppart time job. So I'm going to be crazy busy (at least I don't have prelims, bwahaha!!), but I think that they will all balance each other out after a while.

The Yin and the Yang. Office and outside. Young Republicans and bleeding heart liberals.

It's going to be an interesting few months.

Obama's Heading to Washington and so am I

Many of your may already know this, but I thought I'd give an update anyway.

On Saturday (so soon!) I'm moving to Washington D.C. to work for a non-profit. I'm going to be interning in their Affiliate and National Programs Department, which is more interesting than it sounds, I promise. Basically I'm going to be working with volunteers, doing trainings and canvassing supporters in an effort to protect and secure women's reproductive rights nationwide and help get Obama & Biden elected.

I'm very excited about the internship and think it will provide me with a lot of really great experience. That said, it pays basically squat. Therefore, I'm looking into other part-time jobs. I've applied a few places including the National Council Against Domestic Violence, a few after-school youth programs, and Greenpeace.

I'm living verrrry near the Capitol Building, which is going to be interesting. I can watch all those politicians that rule the world walk around during their lunch hour and get bagel sandwiches like the rest of us. Maybe I'll get to harass some of them on behalf of women or human rights or the environment. Maybe I'll meet Dennis Kucinich! <3 National Book Festival (so I guess that's just really, really dorky love). It happens on the National Mall, which by default is also near my abode, and even though it's hosted by Laura Bush, I'm going. I need to meet Neil Gaimen to get his autograph and R.L. Stine to discern that he's real. Let me know if you want signatures, Goosebumps fans.

I'm be in D.C. during the biggest, weirdest election in memory. That in mind, I'm headed down to the County Broad of Elections to get my absentee ballot - don't forget to register for an absentee ballot if you won't be home to vote! I would remind everyone else to remember to vote as well, but I honestly don't think anyone could "forget" during this particular scenes-from-the-apocalypse election cycle.

Fish Out of Water

I'm a vegetarian. I stopped eating meat at 14, mostly out of novelty. After eight years of veg-life, I've found plenty of my own, more convincing reasons to keep livin' meat free.

I also work at a steakhouse.

By any stretch of the imagination, I shouldn't be working there. I don't know a lick about fine food, I have no idea what's on tap at a bar. I don't care about cooking. I have close to no restaurant experience, and I think $60 for a two person dinner is highway robbery. Even though we serve it, I still don't really know what Orange Roughy is. I'm worse than a fish out of water. I'm a vegetarian at a steakhouse. But the shifts are fun, the people and stories are hilarious and the pay, as far as restaurant work goes, is fabulous.

Recently, I was exposed as a veggie when the kitchen staff saw me picking meat off of a piece of pizza (Yes. We're a nice restaurant, and the staff orders in pizza). The reaction of the crowd was insane.

"Why are you working in a STEAKHOUSE?!"
"Why are you a vegetarian?"
"Is it cause you like animals?"
"Do you think we're gross for eating meat!?"
"Why are you a vegetarian?"
"Are you vegan? Don't be vegan!!!!"
"She's a vegan!" (*No, I'm not.)
"WHY are you a VEGETARIAN?!"

I've been asked all of those questions a million times before, but never all at once. It was really more than I wanted to deal with, and ultimately waved everyone off with the classic reason that human beings do anything.

"Because."

So I was outed, and it was overly dramatic. Such is the world of food service.

On Friday, the head chief pulled me aside to show me the appetizers he had made for the bar that night: potato skins with cheese, chives, sour cream and bacon. Um, swell. Thanks for showing me. But wait...what's that in the corner?

"I made those without meat for you," he said, pointing.

Nothing makes you feel at home like someone cooking for you.

Thoughts on the Blog

If I'm going to do this thing right, I may as well get organized.

I'm thinking that I will create some semi-regular features, in addition to just adventure stories. Maybe things like highlighting friends that are doing particularly interesting stuff with their lives at the moment, and some posts on the practical stuff in taking a year (or whatev's) off - planning, interviewing, finding stuff to do with my new mess of a life (like blog about it). Perhaps other things. I realize I'm making this sound very formal, but let's face it: I have time on my hands.

Finally, if you start reading, be sure to say hi to me here or on facebook. I want to know who I'm talking to!

Musings on the "Real World", or You're Already There, my Friend.

I can't say if the concept of "delaying the real world" was made popular by Collen Kinder, but the phrase certainly was. It seems that more and more people are "delaying the real world" in hopes of something more rewarding. Why? I dunno. Maybe our generation is lazy and foolish. Maybe we've watched our parents' job-related unhappiness fester for too long. Maybe delaying the real world is just new hype on a very old story.

You can't answer a question like "why?" without first defining "what?". So what is the real world? What makes your post-graduation life "real" in comparison to your madcap college days? MTV never seemed to find much of a difference, anyway.

Here's the way I understand it. The real world involves most or all of the following: a belief that you are an adult, a belief that adults have "real jobs", a steady paycheck, a 9-5 schedule, Tuesday morning sales meetings, a 401k, commuting, marriage, kids, retirement, death and most importantly, a cubicle. That's the real world, that's the scary-ass fate that awaits us once we toss up our mortarboards and eat our last graduation weekend mini-quiche. Right?

Get real! Every part of your stupid little life is your real life, this is your real world. All of childhood, all of college and God forbid, everything you do after college. It's all you've got to work with. So it doesn't matter if you sign up for a 401k and a i-banker's salary at JP Morgan, or if you hop on a boat and sail down to Peru to help orphans. Both are very real, very important parts of the world. Referring to one path as "real" automatically implies that the other is somehow unreal. And for so many reasons, that is whack.

Placing disproportionate values on jobs has landed us with too many lawyers, politicians and celebrities and too few teachers, nurses and community organizers. It's also left my entire generation with a complex. We're trying to balance an impossible set of scales. On one side we measure trading our souls for the security of 9 to 5 jobs and the beginnings of student loan payments. On the other side, travel, adventure, a job that doesn't pay well and makes your heart sing, and a whole lot of pressure and ridicule. For being lazy, or quixotic, or selfish, or unrealistic. For being young at the turn of the millennium. We're trying to be practical and true to ourselves and trying to find something that matters and something that makes money - ideally something that does all of that. Those are the choices we're trying to balance.

"But it's not cut and dry like that, fool!" you cry. Of course it isn't. And that's my point. I've had friend after keyboard-hunched friend ask me a few variations of one theme: what's it like to be a grown-up in the real world? I don't know - but it feels a lot like being a kid in college, don't you think?

I don't want to delay or fight the real world anymore, I want to change the conversation and the vocabulary. I want to know how your life is, not your new life as an adult. I want to hear about what you're doing, the honest-to-goodness valuable thing in your life, not "the real world". Because let's face it. Regardless of where you are in your life, this is the real world and you're in it. And there's no way to delay what's already in progress.

Roadside America (pictures pending!)

My Grandparents live in West Palm Beach, FL. It’s sunny and filled with strip malls in the way only Florida is, and it’s a long way from home. So when someone ends up in the hospital, it isn’t necessarily easy to figure out what to do next. Which is why, with my grandfather’s 88th birthday approaching and his frequent trips to the hospital, my mom and I hit the road: Great American Road Trip style.

If you’ve never driven from New York to Florida, you’ve really missed out on some fantastic lapses in the time/space continuum. Because of the sheer volume of tiny states in the Northeast and Mid-Atlantic, the first several hours breeze by. We’re in New York! No, Pennsylvania! West Virginia, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina! In the Carolinas and Georgia the states get bigger and things slow down a bit until you arrive in Florida. “We’re here!!” you think, and if you’re going to Jacksonville, you really are. West Palm Beach, on the other hand, is at the bottom of Florida and reaching it is a lot like driving to the Northern most point of Canada, or to a White Castle in New Jersey: sure, you could do it – but why would you want to?

When we arrived in West Palm, everything was fairly quiet. Happily, Grandpa got out of the hospital in time to celebrate his birthday at home with us, and even though Tropical Storm Faye brought the rain and blew into the hotel to knock over our continental breakfast, things were relatively quiet.

But life is about the journey, not the destination. So here are a few things we found along the journey.

NATURAL BRIDGE

Natural Bridge, Virginia is home to one of the Nine Wonders of the World. It is a gigantic rock formation over a small river that forms a land bridge. This bridge is big. It’s large enough to support a low traffic highway, which thanks to our burning desire to experience nature without ever having to leave our cars, it does. Thomas Jefferson is the first recorded owner of Natural Bridge. A teenage George Washington is rumored to have vandalized it by craving his initials into the stone back in his wild and crazy days. Now flocks of tourists arrive every day to ride the complementary bus service, visit the wax museum and the haunted house, ogle the roadside attractions, stay at the nearby luxury hotel, watch the nightly light show and, if there’s time, see the bridge.

FOAMHENGE

While most of Natural Bridge seems to be based on the classic roadside attraction economy, one back road monument over shadows them all.

As we drove down the road, we saw a sign of stone with the chiseled words “Foamhenge” peeking out of the brush and there on the hillside, silhouetted in the afternoon sun, was Stonehenge. Sort of.

Turns out Foamhenge is the only Stonehenge replica in North America made entirely out of Styrofoam. It was created by a local artist for the purposes of “education and entertainment” and hey: one out of two ain’t bad. But Foamhenge is no laughing matter: vandals are threatened with legal fines and counter-vandalism should they take to craving the great Styrofoam cups, under the warning that the artist “hides in the woods” and is “crazy enough to do it!!”

After reading a list of threats written by a crazy man from the woods, I walked about 3 feet and promptly got the roadside-loving crap scared out of me: there was a large man dressed in all black, arms outstretched to strangle me. It was the artist come to kill me! I lamented the fact that Foamhenge would be the last thing I saw.

He held still, careful not to agitate me into a fury of Styrofoam slashing panic. In fact, he didn’t move at all. Turns out that he was a life-sized replica of Merlin, fabled builder of Stonehenge

SOUTH OF THE BORDER

South of the Border, South Carolina (hereby referred to as “S.O.B.”) is probably the most well known roadside attraction in the country, largely because they want you to know about it. S.O.B. billboards begin about 200 miles from the actual site in either direction, translating to 400 miles worth of advertising. When you round the turn on the highway and see that fateful sombero-shaped water tower, it’s nearly impossible for the average road warrior not to stop. We were no exception.

Pulling off the highway into S.O.B is a lot like stepping through a time machine into a 1970’s town populated entirely by a stereotypical and racist “Mexican”-looking cartoon character named Pedro. From it’s humble beginnings as a crap store, S.O.B. has grown into an entire crap town, including highlights like “Pedro’s Gasolina”, “Pedro’s Bowl-a-rama”, “Pedro’s Amusement Park”, and “El Drug” (the drug store). There’s also a couple motels and a camp ground, tucked disturbingly close to a gigantic fireworks store. The streets were lined with gigantic plaster sculpture of animals on parade in no particular order, and a giant mushroom presides over the campground. Everything is brightly colored. Everything is covered with this racist cartoon. Everything is child-like. Everything is about consuming. It was not like the two worlds of New Orleans, but more like watching a production of Jekyll & Hyde where Dr. Jekyll only makes a cameo appearance.

So hats off to Natural Bridge for being beautiful, and to Foamhenge for being exactly the sort of roadside attraction one dreams of finding. And if you ever find yourself lost in a South of the Border, remember: I-95 is just past the fireworks store and straight on til morning.

Long before the SuperDome, where the Saints of football play...

I’m having a hard time writing about my time in New Orleans. I’ve been trying all day and things just don’t seem to be coming out right. I think maybe the whole beast is a little too emotionally charged for me to process at the moment. For one thing, my grandfather was in and out of the hospital while I was there, ultimately cutting my time there short. For another, the organization I was working with just didn’t seem to be that coordinated anymore. I won’t be using the group’s name. There was a lot of down time and a big disconnect between the volunteers and the people in charge. The whole system was very disappointing because there is so much work to be done.

It’s been three years since Katrina rocked the Gulf. Looking at the Lower Ninth Ward, it could have happened last week. In the area directly near where the levees broke, the neighborhoods are completely wiped clean. Cement foundations and overgrown grass are all that’s left. In other areas houses still stand, completely gutted and sagging. The front walls are marked with large X’s indicating, among other things, how many dead bodies where found inside. Inspectors painted them in the weeks after Katrina. Residents still see the body count every day. Walking through parts of the Lower Ninth is like walking through a war zone. I kept feeling like I was somewhere in a small, foreign county in a town that hadn’t been rebuilt yet after the latest civil war. It was always a shock when I reminded myself that this is the same country I call home.

And then you head down to the French Quarter; hit Bourbon and Frenchmen St. Check out the colleges, visit the river walk. The city lit up, vibrant, bustling. There’s jazz again. There’s a sense that things are somewhat back to normal. It’s a divide like I’ve never experienced, a city that is living halfway between a constant party and a war zone.

So where do you even start? How can we still be asking that question?

I did do some positive work while I was there. I worked on a home in the Upper Ninth Ward, which was also hard hit. The home is being refurbished by NOLA 100, a group who will repair and rebuild 50 green homes in 100 days. I helped put in the insulation, paint the outside and fill/caulk all the cracks. I “mowed” a bunch of lawns. Most lots are so overgrown they are now filling, by no exaggeration, with small trees. Thus “mowing” involves several hours of whacking the crap out of nature with a machete. On one memorable day I even helped do some replanting in the wetlands outside the city. Hopefully that helped make it up to Mother Earth after the whole machete thing.

I met some really interesting people there, too. I explored the French Quarter with the “Frenchies”, three students from France who met for the first time at our volunteer site. I met an anarchist poet from New Orleans and a former 9-to-5-er turned Tokyo resident turned consultant from Birmingham. I was only in New Orleans for a week, but thanks to the city and the people I met, I came back with enough creativity and excitement to power me for several months.

New Orleans is still alive, still powerful. Some areas are deserted, some literally hum with volunteer word. Some neighborhoods, like Habitat for Humanity’s Musicians Village, are rebuilt and absolutely stunning. There’s a lot of drive for change and a lot of people who are hungry to make it happen.

And good thing, too, because there’s so much work to be done.

Chocolate, Watches, and Mindy's Notfall

From late June, 2008:

After the hustle and bustle of Italy's most touristed cities, we headed for the hills. Our destination was Grindelwald, Switzerland, famous for high peaks and back story dark super wizards.

Unbelievably, we were able to purchase a ticket at the Termini and took an overnight train back North. We shared a Ladies Compartment, where we met two girls from Hong Kong, and two girls from Finland. Mindy and I embarrassed ourselves by trying to learn Chinese, and everyone became slack-jawed as we talked about college. The Finnish gals were mystified by how everyone in the US can afford to front 40k per year to go to college (Surprise, we can't!), and Mindy and I felt personally insulted by the fact that in Finland, college is free. Always.

In Grindelwald, we lived the free lovin, diplomacy toutin Swiss way. We ate chocolate! We tobaggoned! We listened to two Koreans dudes complain about how boring Norway is! What a watch wearin, goat herdin, great Swiss time it was.


Until Bort.

Bort is a "town" just up the "hill" from Grindelwald. To translate, Bort is a cluster of four or five buildings (really) on the side of one of the lower mountains above Grindelwald. The easiest way to get there is by cable car (the cable car station makes up one of the five buildings in town). We rode the cable car up, and decided to hike the nearby Flower Trail. "It won't be bad," we thought. "Look! The brochure says 'good for elderly hikers'!" Two and half hours of nearly vertical climbing later, we decided the brochure actually meant "elderly Swiss hikers who grew up in the mountains and eat towns like Bort for breakfast".

One of the strangest things we found in Europe is that no matter how remote the trail, someone has built a small restaurant somewhere along the path. The Bortanese Flower Trail was no exception, and after two cheese sandwiches and a few botched translations, we were on our celebratory way back down.

Until Mindy fell. It was not a dramatic fall. She did not tumble down the mountain side, or fall screaming over a cliff. It was a simple trip and stumble that went something like this:

Mindy: "I hear cows!"
Katie: "Oh, cows."
Mindy: [falls] "Oof! My ankle!"
Katie: [thinks: OMG SHE'S BROKEN HER LEG AND WE ARE ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS I'M GOING TO HAVE TO FASHION A CARRY OUT OF TWO WATER BOTTLES AND A PURSE OMG] "Are you okay?"
Mindy: [holds ankle] "Um...yes."



Eventually Mindy got up and hiked very slowly down because she is a champ. The next morning Mindy's ankle was roughly the size of Mindy's head, so we boarded a train and hopped off in Bern, were we went to the tourist office to get directions to the hospital.

They directed us to an outpatient emergency room, which much to our hilarious delight was called "City Notfall". The nurses were nice and gave Mindy polio crutches despite turning down our insurance.

After our thrilling 2 hours in Bern, we headed to Geneva. Mindy received somewhat horrified looks from passers-by, and I checked out the Fete de Musique, which was reason enough to visit Switzerland. We also stopped by the UN, where we found a peacock with a broken leg that had been hit by Nicolas Sarkozy, president of France. Really. At the Red Cross Museum, we ran into the girls from Hong Kong that shared our Ladies Compartment. What a small, unexpected world. We also saw the Olympic Museum in nearby Lausanne, which then had lots of information on Beijing. I'm going to guess that the museum is now filled almost entirely with pictures of Michael Phelps.

And so it was that on June 25th, 2008, we boarded a plane bound for New Jersey. Ladened down with memories, worldly knowledge, and Mindy's 40 franc crutches, we declared our transatlantic mission a success.

Weaving through Venice and Popeing in Rome

From late June, 2008:

From Austria we headed to Venice, for which I can say one thing without a doubt: it's really weird. I mean that in the most positive of fashions.

For example, it's very difficult to get directions in Venice, because after several hundred years of floating on sea garbage, people still aren't really sure where everything is. If you want to hit tourist areas like Piazza San Marco and the Rialto, there are some signs to lead the way. For every other destination, a Venetian will give you directions that sound something like this:

Venetian: [orients themselves in their mental "map"] "You go that way. You see it." [waves in general direction]

The end. This is largely because there are a thousands of tiny streets, many of which would be too small to even be considered an alley in New York City. So you just weave in the general direction of what you want to see and there's maybe a 50% chance that you will find it. All that weirdness, and I didn't even mention the canals. That said, St. Mark's and the Doge's Palace were beautiful, and we got to enjoy the single most personalize ghost tour ever - because we were the only ones on it.


Mindy and I stayed on Lido, one of the islands outside of Venice, and also visited Murano, an island filled entirely with glass makers and angry waiters who hate when Americans share a pizza pie. This meant we rode on a LOT of boats EVERYDAY. We did not, however, ride on a gondola, because the prices border on extortion. Gondola or not, we found ways to entertain ourselves.


From Venice we took the train to Rome, where we sat with an extremely tense woman who spent the whole time fiercely creating a powerpoint about the post office. This should have been a warning to us: Rome was full of angry, tense people, who perhaps were made that way by their very confusing postal service.

But what is important is that we saw the Pope. Apparently, he's a man about town (in the Vatican at least), and gives a blessing every Wednesday in St. Peter's Square. As a lapsed Catholic and a former Catholic schoolgirl, we felt it was our duty to idly sit on some cobblestones and watch the devoted cheer for Pope Diddy like preteens at a Jonas Brothers concert. And sit we did. The Pope speaks at least seven languages and delivered the blessing in all of them. Despite six other options, the call and response at the end was in Latin - so we were all given cue cards. Really!

Other Roman highlights include seeing the Pantheon, which was very round, and the house of Augustus, first emperor of Rome, which was very old. Amazingly, Casa di Augustus still boasts the original paint job.


We also saw the Colosseum, the Spanish Steps, the Fountain de Trevi, and even had time left over to take in a flick. One particular day it was so bloody hot that even bold tourists like ourselves couldn't stand the heat. We went into a movie theater to sit in the air conditioning and saw the only movie available in English: The Incredible Hulk.

Finally, a word about the Rome Termini (train station): it's horrifying. Finding a train out of Rome was made nearly impossible by the unhelpful Termini staff who were plainly frustrated with all these idiots trying to ride their trains. I saw several break downs, two yelling matches, and dozens of people literally begging to be helped. And this was just to try and get in line.

Suffice to say Italy was great in unexpected ways. Just leave the trains to the Italians.

Germany, Austria and oh, the Sound of Music

From slightly mid-June, 2008:

After visiting the Danes and the relatives, we headed south on a train and two more boats, eventually landing us in Siegen, Germany. My friend Kalina, who is a physics genius, was working for a university there over the summer, figuring out a way to use magnets to create super computers. But she took some time off from aiding our eventual species-wide submission to robots to show us around Siegen. We saw another castle, watched the absolute madness that is Europe during a soccer game, and hung with two Turkish guys, one Bulgarian and a handful of Americans at a bar called Bar Celona. Perhaps if you are working to be an ex-pat, university life is the way to go.


We bid Siegen auf wiedersehen and headed to Grassau, Bavaria to met another almost relative. Margrit is the cousin of my dad's ex-wife. Our relationship is thus: I am related to my half-brothers, they are related to their mom, Uthe, Uthe is related to Magrit. Another way to say this is "we got nothin". But regardless, Margrit welcomed us into her home, watched soccer with us and showed us a castle (I'm beginning to detect a theme), and facilitated our trip to Munich.

Munich was rainy and fascinating. In a plaza outside the former royal palace, we found a woman holding up a sign that said "Free Tour". Joining was inevitable. We learned about the guy who started Oktoberfest*, the subtle monuments to Nazi resistors, and the Munich Beer Hall push. We also saw the Toy Museum which was weird, the Glockenspiel which was full of gawking tourists, and the nearly invisible "monuments" to the White Rose. If your ever in Munich, go see them.


Then it was back on the road headed for Salzburg, Austria. That is a beautiful city. Yes, it looks just like the Sound of Music, which was largely influenced by the fact that we took the Original Sound of Music tour, where we saw the (movie) Von Trapp house, the glass gazebo, the wedding church, etc. If your ever in Salzburg, shell out for the tour. The small child inside you and your flamboyant tour guide will thank you. In Salzburg we also saw Mozart's house, which was yellow and swarming with people, and rode the "funicular" to the fortress that overlooks Salzburg (also available for viewing in The Sound of Music). But nothing puts the FUN funicular like gigantic Austrian preztels.


*Incidentally, the former King of Bavaria and I share a similar dream: to host an event as fun, silly and full of light-hearted debauchery as a wedding reception, only without pain of the actual the wedding. The difference between us to date is that he actually accomplished it.

Adventures in the Great, Very White North

Summer started out as any great summer should: with Mindy and I nearly missing our flight to Switzerland because Newark airport couldn't be bothered to make boarding calls. But nonetheless, we prevailed and soon after (9 hours and many complimentary episodes of House later) landed in Geneva Switzerland, where we when to the grocery store and promptly left the country.

We took an overnight train to Copenhagen, where we shared a cabin with a nice guy from Syria and a pair of complete sketchballs from Germany. Out of the kindness of his heart, the conductor moved us to what he called "The Ladies Compartment" (gigity gigity), where we met the world's most stereotypical German woman (think Augustus Gloop in Charlie & the Chocolate Factory), her 2 zany, stereotypical German kids, a nice lady from Denmark, and her gigantic cello. And we all shared a tiny sleeping compartment. Ah, to be young and cheap.

We got to Copenhagen, wandered around to various hostels begging to be taken in from the cold, dark night (it was 9am). Ended up staying at the DanHostel, where we met a woman from Taiwan. She asked us if we'd heard of Taiwan, and then showed us her magic spoon which plugged into the wall and could boil a small pot of water in 5 minutes.

During the 3 days in the city, we went on a castle tour which included the castle that serves as the setting to Hamlet. From that castle, you can see Sweden...which has cannons pointed at it. Apparently the Danish are still a bit leery after an attack from across the water several hundred years ago. We also went to the Glyptotek, which actually isn't a crazy European rave, but an art museum (that's free on Sundays!), and Tivoli, the greatest small-scale amusement park ever. Think of the giant swings at a carnival, then raise them up several hundred feet so that your wild, spinning ride involves looking out over an entire city. Mindy summed it up nicely: "We can figure out the whole bus schedule from up here!"

We also saw Christiania which the guidebooks recommended and I don't.


After Denmark, we hit the high seas and took a (gigantic, utterly fabulous) boat to Norway, home country of my people (or at least the people of my grandmother). We stayed with my great aunt Unni and her boyfriend Jan in Oslo, and enjoyed the comfort of staying in one of the most expensive cities in the world for free. We went hiking the first day we were there at a local park. We were told it'd be an easy hike, no need to bring water. 6 miles and one piece of cake later, we found out that it was 90 degrees in the shade and passed out.

Other things we did in Norway included riding on a lot of boats around the Oslofjord, seeing an 11th century nunnery (which has seen better days), climbing the Holmenkollen, and eating prawns. My time there taught me that I will never be a ski jumper, and that prawns aren't worth the work.


From the top of Holmenkollen, my last thought as a ski-jumper: "OH GOD OH GOD NO NO NO NO NO!!!!"

Now, re: the title. I might not have noticed this, had my uncle not pointed it out. My uncle Lars and my grandma are the only relatives State-side that actually have Scandinavian blood, and it shows. That said, I still didn't understand what my blond-haired, blue-eyed, very tall uncle meant when he said "Norway doesn't look like a viking ship anymore."

What he was referring to was immigration. Even though Grandma Solvieg crossed the pond and preserved her Aryan supermodel making genes, Norway itself has supposedly mixed it up as people have immigrated in droves, presumably looking for some Norwegian version of the American dream. From what I understand, a lot of people are coming from Pakistan. My relatives laid out the Norwegian immigration debate pretty plainly - and it's the same one we have here. "Immigrants are lazy and they fed off productive citizens!" "But immigrants are here and they are an important part of our society, so we need to provide jobs and welcome them!" I'm not sure what we can take from this experience, other then some people are going to be (unnecessarily) awful to immigrants everywhere.

That said, let me be clear: at least Oslo and Copenhagen still look A LOT like that metaphoric viking ship, except now instead of great horned helmets, everyone has health care.

But everyone still eats prawns.