I feel the earth move under my feet

So I was in the middle of my flight to Lima yesterday, spending a few poorly-fed stopover hours at Miami International (seriously, Miami, would it KILL you to keep a few restaurants open past 10pm?), when I heard some news...

I guess I sort of knew that Lima had to be near a continental plate because...mountains, but of the potential catastrophes I´d planned for, earthquake was not really in the top ten. I usually plan for Megan-centric problems, like passport loss, hotel confusion, or concussion. Not natural disasters. When I first heard about it, I was obviously worried-the BBC was doing its full-on "QUAKEWATCH: EARTH STRIKES BACK" thing, and they said people were sleeping in the streets in Lima, that cars were crashing, that the electrical system was down and that generally, fire and brimstone were raining from heaven and it was the end of days. But I steeled myself--I figured I had all my camping gear so I could sleep outside if I had to, I had first aid supplies, I had friends in the area, maybe I could actually help some people who had been hurt--and began stockpiling potable water.

My nerves continued until I landed in Lima, at which point...nothing. Total calm. Plane landed fine, driver picked me up, orderly traffic, water and electricity in order, no sign of panic in the streets or fires raging through the city infrastructure. Everything seems...normal. I know it´s not, and I know lots of people were killed and injured, but I think a lot of that must be further south, because I spent all day driving/walking around Lima talking to people, and things are really calm here. Obviously I can´t speak for the rest of Peru, but I´ll keep everyone posted as I head to Cusco and parts beyond.

I now know what an aftershock feels like, which is unnecessarily exciting. It hit while I was taking my morning nap. I expected terror and falling tiles, but I think it was light, because it mostly felt like I was in the bottom of a flimsy bunk bed and the top bunk was climbing down.

Anyway, other than being delicately perched atop sideswiping tectonic plates, Lima is great. I´ve never been to South America before, and it´s a pretty good place to start. Everyone has been so friendly, and I´m really happy with my hotel (beach--and therefore epicenter--adjacent!) and with the food I´ve been able to scrounge. Plus, now the bar for my vacation has totally been lowered--before I had to have great times and take lots of pictures and make magical memories. Now I´ll just be happy if the ground stays relatively steady.

In related news I have an unsettling history of taking international flights just before or closely after terrorism catastrophes or scares. I hit 9/11, the shoe bomber, and the recent liquid explosive scare by less than a week each time (if they had started that terrorism futures market, knowing my flight schedule would totally be insider information). But I´ve never brushed up against natural disasters before. Are my powers of discord and disorder becoming stronger? You be the judge.

Behind the roadtrip

Hi Anna's Readers,

As my first official guest-blogging act, I thought I would add a few stories to her already-stirring account of the road trip. I'm doing this for two reasons: 1) revealing previously unknown information makes you more popular, and 2) revealing previously unknown goofs and follies (mostly by me) makes it seem even more remarkable that the road trip came off well, instead of ending with us placing a late-night emergency call to AAA or being carried off by flies.

Death punch
Anna mentioned that we started out late on our first official day of the road trip because "we" drank too much of the fizzy gin death punch that we brew up once a year to celebrate summer. That was pure charity, folks. Anna drank sensible amounts of death punch. I, on the other hand, chose a very dainty glass and fooled myself into believing this meant I was drinking correspondingly dainty portions of punch. Not so. I threw up generous amounts while still at our host's apartment (sorry Steve) and then even more generous amounts after the walk back to my place. I was incapacitated until 11am, when Anna ingeniously made me bacon to hurry my hangover recovery. An inauspicious beginning, I think you'll agree.

A kindness well repaid
When we awoke the day after our drive to Maine, we were flush with the previous evening's unexpected victory over Maine's high motel occupancy rate. Plus, we had the prospect of Civil War Reenactment fueling our good moods! But when we drove to the place where we'd spotted the reenactment sign the night before, we realized the actual event was at a place we'd never heard of. Never fear, we thought, and drove over to a nearby house to ask a man outside for directions. Anna popped out and he was so nice and gave us very detailed directions. She got back in the car, and as we were excitedly discussing the directions, I IMMEDIATELY backed into his mother's car. There was *maybe* a four second gap between the time he stopped being generous toward us, and the time I collided with his family vehicle. If it had been a conditioning exercise designed to teach him not to be kind to strangers, it would have been enormously effective. Fortunately, I had been going very slowly and there was no damage. His mother came out to inspect the car and, predictably, could not have been more kind. She even wished us a good trip. Thanks, friendly strangers! I'm sorry I wasn't more competent.

The recruits who brought down the North
As soon as we arrived at the civil war reenactment, we were again overwhelmed by enthusiasm. After funneling this enthusiasm into trying on Civil War outfits and learning trivia, we accepted their invitation to fall in and do some Civil War-style marching. The first thing that was required of all troops and recruits was to stand in two parallel lines and count off by ones and twos. Unfortunately, this was beyond us. I immediately forgot my number and had to ask the woman beside me what it was, causing her to hiss "don't forget your number!" at me at appropriate intervals during the entire rest of the half-hour exercise. Anna also immediately forgot her number. She also asked the people beside her for assistance, but actually confused them and caused them to forget their numbers as well. A job well done by both of us! We both giggled a LOT when we realized we'd made the same mistake. On the plus side, we did get to give three cheers for Lincoln at the end, which I have always wanted to do.

The assault on our ankles
Upon arriving at Anna's great aunt's home in Isleboro, we had some time on our hands so we went for a walk down to the beach. I happily skipped stones along the water while Anna lounged nearby on rocks, patiently listening to me ask if she saw *that* awesome skipping effort. What we did not realize was that Maine, in a stern, New England-like fashion, austerely rejects casual interlopers into her environment by deploying swarms of vicious bugs. By the time we finished our evening of girlish frolic we were both covered in bites from our ankles to shins, and I had some sort of mysterious half-inch-long series of 3 gashes, as if a moderately sized fly had grown T-Rex claws and attacked my arm with them. We were both up half the night scratching, but tried to keep it a secret, because Aunt Mimi had repeatedly emphasized that we were to wear bug spray at all times.

I give into my natural urges
We're both key, wallet and cellphone losers, so it was near-miraculous that we didn't lose any of those items during the trip itself. However, as soon as we arrived back in New York, I immediately let my baser instincts overcome me and locked the keys in the trunk. We didn't discover this until the next morning, when we turned my apartment upside down looking for them and even embarked on a search through the recycling bin (where I thought I might have thrown them away) and my dirty laundry (where I thought they might have fallen out of the pockets). Luckily (again!) Budget had given us a car with a keypad on the door, so we were able to open the door without resorting to a locksmith or (my suggestion) crafting our own slimjim. I actually went so far as to look up the New York penal code to see if possessing a slimjim would be a crime, and I think it might be.

All this and it was still a fantastically successful road trip! We were both immensely thankful for our good luck, and I hope said luck extends to my as-yet-unplanned trip to South America. I head to Lima in a few days, followed by Cusco, a hike on the Lares trail, a trip to Lake Titicaca, and then to Buenos Aires. Prepare for lost keys and minor motor vehicle mayhem, South America!

we'll meet again...don't know where, don't know when

The Daft Punk show was AMAZING. We got there a bit late, and I had to sprint all the way from the subway to the concert, and tripped and skinned my knee in the process. I didn't even notice I was bleeding until after the 90-minute set -- I was too focused on jumping up and down and screaming, "We love you, robots!" I had thought the show would be a bit of a letdown, since my expectations were so high after Coachella, but that was not AT ALL the case. Good lord, do I love those robots and their sweet hott french glam dance pop.

The next morning I got up at five to catch a flight out of JFK, but ended up missing my plane. The LIRR website says it's a 35-minute trip from Penn Station to the airport, but apparently that does not include the 20 minutes it takes to get from the LIRR station to the actual airport. Oh well. The flight I did get on was delayed on the tarmac for two hours, during which time the babies on the plane decided to have a crying party. Fun! In the end, it took 15 hours to get from Megan's doorstep to my own.

But when I stepped outside at the Oakland Airport, it was all OK. California is always beautiful in clutch situations, I've noticed. Every time I visited here before moving, it was sunny, breezy, crystal-blue. People told me about the fog, but I secretly didn't believe it, because California is crafty about hitting you with amazing weather just when you need it. My arrival home was exactly like that. The sun was warm, the breeze was cool, everything smelled good, and I've never been happier to be home.

So we've reached the end of my travels, and thus, the end of my travel blogging. I may revive my interweb memoirs for future adventures, but for now I'm going on hiatus. I'm happy to announce, however, that my ex-roommate and recent travel companion Megan will be guest-blogging during her travels to South America. Those of you who know Megan already know to look forward to her reports from the Inca Trail. To those of you who don't, I can promise that if you've enjoyed my blogging, you'll love hers, too.

So with that, I'll sign off. Thanks to everyone who read my blog while I was away. It helped my homesickness a lot to know you were keeping tabs on me. Au revoir!

the invasion of italy, peanut butter pie, and the new world order

Megan and I had the best road trip EVER. The crazy part is, it was almost totally unplanned. We coasted on luck and street smarts (mostly luck, really) and it was incredible.

After going AWOL from the 3rd Maine's civil war re-enactment, we headed up to Islesboro to stay with my great aunt Mimi. She's 90, way sharper than I am, and full of fantastic stories. For example, she and her friend took a trip though Germany in August of 1939. That's the month before WWII broke out. The trip consisted of buying a row boat, meandering downriver, renting rooms in farmhouses, and having ridiculous adventures like getting chased down a mountain by a drunken Nazi officer. She makes our road trip look lame by comparison, doesn't she? And that's not even her best WWII story! She served coffee at the invasion of Italy! For real! As if that's not enough, in addition to having been in the shit, Aunt Mimi has a great sense of style. She rocks yellow ballet flats like nobody's business. Megan and I really want to grow up to be her, but since that civil war re-enactment is the closest we've come to battle, I don't think it's in the cards.

Aunt Mimi wanted us to see Acadia National Park, but since we knew from previous experience that Maine is full in August, we went inland from Islesboro instead. On our way, we randomly happened upon the A1 Diner in Gardiner, Maine. I feel confident in saying it is the best diner in the world. It's in an old-school diner car, offers five kinds of soup, and the lunchtime music selection includes Thelonius Monk. Apparently it's been there forever, but a gay couple from Boston bought it ten years ago, so the menu is a hybrid of city slicker staples like tofu and diner classics like peanut butter pie. Also, our waiter had a soul patch and is trying to launch a career as a singer-songwriter. The diner could not have been more perfect - my heart almost exploded.

In New Hampshire we stayed at the resort in Breton Woods where FDR convened the international conference that set up the IMF and World Bank. It looks like the hotel from The Shining. Megan and I meant to start a new world order, but we had a bottle of wine and several Miller Lites instead. The next morning we got up and hiked part of the way up Mount Washington, which is beautiful. Verdant woods, crystalline streams, you get the picture.

And now I'm back in NY, and my trip is almost over! Daft Punk is tonight, and then tomorrow I'll be back in SF. I didn't confront the German army or anything, but still, I think it's been a good trip.

things look grim, but the drive-in makes everything better

On Thursday night Steve hosted us for a rousing night of extremely vengeful charades, fueled by Megan's famous Fizzy Gin Death Punch. We lost at charades, but we took home the gold medal in Death Punch consumption.

As a result, our road trip started sloooooooooooowly. We didn't get on the road until after lunch, and it was almost 9 when we rolled into Saco, Maine, our destination for the night. Why Saco, you ask? It's the home of the nation's second oldest drive-in, and we'd never been to a drive in. As a bonus, they were staging a civil war re-enactment at the local high school. Obviously the real question is, Why NOT Saco?

Anyway, as I said, we got to Saco at 9, which coincidentally is the time that all the restaurants close. We then discovered that thousands of other people had also decided to make a weekend of it in Saco, and finding a hotel room would be nearly impossible. Maggie even helped out over the phone, looking on the internet for miles around town, but everything was booked. Our spirits were low, and it appeared that our visit to Saco would be a disastrous failure. Fortunately, the drive-in cheered us up hugely, because it is awesome. You can talk as loud as you want, and they have cheese sticks and really salty chili. Mmmm. The third Bourne Identity movie confused us (Wait, who's that dude chasing him? Why is Julia Stiles so zombified?) but it didn't even matter, because the drive-in rocks so hard. I also think drive-ins might be lucky, because after the movie we stumbled upon a Best Western where someone had just cancelled a room. We were so happy we lept through the parking lot like drunken wildebeests, braying with triumph.

The next morning, we stopped by the civil war re-enactment, which was TREMENDOUS. I highly recommend attending one if you have the means. The Confederacy wasn't represented, because we were in Maine, but our boys in blue made a good go of marching around and firing their muskets more or less in unison. We even got to march with them and try on their extremely sweaty wool jackets. Then their youngest member, a teenager named Jared, gave Megan a tour of his tent and explained what a "gum blanket" is. It was a moment of pure road trip bliss. Now, onward to Islesboro!

false start

On day 1 of our road trip, Megan and I failed to actually leave New York City, or rent a car, or even leave the house before 11. We woke up with terrible hangovers, and then the house we were going to stay at in Vermont with Ginny turned out to be full of people, and everything just kind of unwound. We decided that instead of going to Newark to pick up our car, we'd have lunch at Roy's and then head up to the Bronx Zoo. By the time we arrived, the zoo was closed, but we snuck in by pretending we desperately wanted to go to the gift shop. Most of the animals had gone inside for the night, which freaked Ginny out a bit. She was worried that the lions were hiding from us so they could pounce from behind a nearby rock or soft-serve ice cream truck. We managed to escape un-mauled, though, and we did see the sea lions, a hilarious little moustachiod monkey, and a flock of flamingos.

america, f*** yeah!

Nick and I spent our last 24 hours in London enjoing the Indian food and the Tate Modern. Thanks for the advice, all. To be completely honest, though, London was a bit of a letdown after Paris. Summer in Paris turned Nick and I into horrible city snobs, apparently. I think it'll be a while before Paris's rosy glow wears off and we can learn to love another landscape.

But now I'm back, and it's great! My mom and I went out to the Northern Virginia hinterland to visit the area's sole remaining Roy Rogers yesterday. I scarfed down some fried chicken and an extra large fries, and suddenly the fire of my soul was relit. Mmmm, fried.

Some things about the US have been a bit of a shock, admittedly. Public transit here blows, for example. I miss the Paris Metro. And wow, look at us with the capitalism! Nick and I observed often on our trip that no one in the world gets capitalism like the US. In other countries, shops are closed even when I'm desperate to acquire their goods, and waiters are totally indifferent to my needs. By contrast, in the US when I'd like to acquire a good or service, 99.9% of the time someone has figured out a way to sell it to me. America is all about beating its way to your door with a better mousetrap, and that's awesome. On the other hand, the unrelenting zeal with which Yanks are encouraged to consume is kind of crazy, when you think about it, which you do when you return from a two-month absence. I walked into a Banana Republic yesterday to kill time before meeting a coworker for some drinks, and I had to leave immediately because I almost had a panic attack. I suddenly felt deeply threatened by the borg-like homogenizing power of this season's cute new apple-green silk wrap dresses. Back off, The Man! I need some time to readjust before I can suckle at your teat again. I can't wait to get back to San Francisco, where I'm a total moderate compared to all the other crazy-crunchy-granola-off-the-grid commies.

Before that, though, I've got my road trip through New England with Megan & Ginny. New Englanders, please advise. Alex, I know you'll have wise words to share about Maine. What about Boston? What should be on our to-do list there? And is the Cape or Nantucket worth the detour? I'm sort of tempted to visit the Nantucket airport because that's where the TV show Wings was filmed, so clearly I need ideas for better ways to spend our time, so that Megan is not forced to beat me to death with her bar review books.