The Rain in Maine Falls Mainly In Spain

Last week my dad was in town for some meetings on the other side of the Charles River, so we took advantage of the incredible weather and spent the weekend outside. Saturday morning we picked up a rental car and headed north to Maine, a state I'd never been to. We stopped off in Portland on the water for some lobster and mussels, then headed back south to Kennebunkport (where Bush Sr. always spends his vacays - nice house, Bushie!) and made our last stop in Portsmouth, New Hampshire which, for such a small town, was positively jumping on a Saturday night.

Incredible Maine foliage

My dad ties one on... pre-lobster extravaganza!

This guy was waving at passing cars. We had to get a photo with him. I WANT THAT LOBSTER SUIT!

Lovely little Portsmouth, NH


Sunday morning I played my first soccer match with my new team, Opus County. These players are GOOD. Several all-American and all-state players... geez. I was worried I was in over my head, but two years of playing with boys in Barcelona served me well. And anyway, we only had 7 players against the other team's 14, so we played the whole match down by 4. That's what happens when the Patriots have a home game and people manage to get last-minute tickets, I guess. Football before... football.

In the midst of one of my favorite passtimes...

Anyway, it was a lot of fun, even though I'm incredibly sore today, and the best part about playing a full-length, full-field soccer match at 10am is the brunch that comes afterward! My dad and I headed to Tremont 647 in the South End, where on the weekends all the waitstaff wear their pajamas for brunch. Next time I go there, I'm wearing mine too. Apparently you get free desert! So I guess I need to invest in some PJs...

Good news of the week: My work permit came through from Madrid and I received it on Friday. And today I got my good conduct certificate from the NYPD. So now I have everything I need to start the processing of my visa! In other good news, I'm off to Barcelona on Thursday night for the IESE Global Alumni reunion. So the visa processing will have to wait until next week. Not that I'm complaining!

The view from my apartment

IESE comes to Beantown

It has been a pretty eventful week. First, a colleague came into my office and dropped Business Week on my desk, open to a full-page ad for IESE featuring... my smiling mug. Wow. Pretty intense. Seems that this version is subscription-only though, folks. So I can't get my hands on any other copies aside from this one. So if you happen to get Business Week mailed to your home or office and care to share your copy with yours truly, I'd be much obliged. In case you missed it, here's a scanned copy of what plopped onto my desk on Tuesday morning:

And today I was checking out the IESE website to get more info about next week's global alumni reunion which I'm now fortunate enough to attend in Barcelona and came across a page of IESE recruiting events. Turns out that there happened to be an MBA fair in Boston. TODAY. And that could only mean one thing. That Claudia was in town. So I dropped her a message on Facebook and, low and behold, got a call from her only an hour later. Ah, the wonders of the web. (And our addictions to it.)

I'd already planned on dinner with Madhur, so Claudia was an added bonus. We hit a sushi restaurant and then when that place suddenly turned into a dance club, headed back to my apartment for some vino and reminiscing about IESE. And, more importantly, about how it's good it's only a two-year program. Because after looking back on all the ridiculous predicaments we got ourselves into (Claudia flew off a donkey, Madhur shattered a humongous vase in the middle of Thanksgiving, I bump into things on an hourly basis without the need for vases or donkeys) we figured it's probably best we're back out in the real world where we might not do as much harm to ourselves and others. Anyway, it was fun to look back and laugh and even more fun to run into old friends in a new town.

Mini Reunion and Madhur hits the USA

After a lovely week in Boston, wherein I got further settled in at my office and moved to my new apartment (though I haven't unpacked properly, but threw all my stuff all over the floor), Madhur arrived yesterday from London for a week of training with his new company. He had really wanted to see NYC for the first time, so I agreed to get us some train tickets thinking that even 4 hours on a train would be faster than all the nonsense and delays and security of today's air travel. Especially considering my own bad travel luck.

Poor Madhur. He had just arrived from London when I whisked him away to South Station and put him on a train. We made it with about 15 minutes to spare, enough time to pick up our tickets and some always-necessary trashy magazines. The four-hour train ride from Boston to NYC was one I'd never done before and I have to say that even though it was slow, it was incredibly beautiful. And Madhur hit four states (Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, and New York) by 7pm.

We met Suaye, Carol, Gabe and Mimi at Florent, one of my favorite restaurants in the meatpacking district for a mini-IESE reunion and caught up on our respective work permit troubles (Suaye's beats even mine - he was even deported from the UK a few weeks back!) and apartment and commuting trials (Gabe is in Albany while Mimi is in NYC and even when he's upstate during the week he still has an hour commute each way each day!) We finished off the night with drinks and foosball at Soho House. Fantastic to see everyone again. (Particularly a partial A6 reunion - Gabe, Madhur, and me.)

Gabe, Suaye, me, Carol, and Madhur

So despite the long train ride, the weekend was totally worth it. I even had time to hang out with Annie Bananie this morning, run into an old work colleague, and do a bit of shopping with Madhur today. And then the fun started. First Madhur lost his train ticket... well, he left it on the train yesterday. And after that was sorted out, we got on the train and all was well until we were about an hour away from Boston. The train ahead of us, a commuter train, apparently caught fire. So not only did we have to wait a while, we then had to pick up all the passengers from the disabled commuter train, and then make all commuter stops... like every 3 minutes! So we got to the Back Bay station at 10pm instead of 9 and I missed the whole first half of the Chargers / Patriots game rather than just the first quarter.

Of course now that I'm home they've scored 2 touchdowns... and the first half didn't seem to be something I would have wanted to see anyway. Yikes. So I have bad train luck as well as bad airline luck. But at least I seem to be good at helping my Chargers! For the moment anyway.

Whirlwind

I'm really tired. It's Wednesday, nearly 8pm. I have been in four states in the past four days. I moved into an apartment an hour ago, after a full day at work. And I'm staring at my bags, trying to will them to unpack themselves. It's not working.

But I did sort of bring this upon myself. I wanted to travel and go to live in new cities as part of my new job. And this weekend I totally voluntarily went to Philadelphia to hang with Nicole. Which was awesome, by the way. And on Monday I had to take care of some visa processing which could only be done in Manhattan, so off I went. And as long as I was there anyway, it seemed wise to have some meetings, so that was Tuesday. Which, incidentally was Sept 11 and the New York office, incidentally faces ground zero. But whatevs. I was too busy to think much of it.

Particularly since Sept 11 is a very cool day in my family. Yesterday my grandparents celebrated 59 years of marriage. When I called to congratulate them, my grandfather was upstairs and my grandmother was downstairs. Understood. (Note to self: Marriage requires at least a two-story house.)

Another interesting thing about Sept 11 is that the airports are empty. Particularly the ones in New York City. It took like 5 seconds to get to Laguardia yesterday, which is pretty unusual. And check-in was like a ghost town. Of course, that didn't mean our flight left on time. My airport karma meant that we sat on the runway for 2 hours before taking off. Unfortunately, my boss was sitting behind me and he asked, "Are you responsible for this?" I had to admit guilt. But maybe the other side of the karma means some World Series tickets will find their way to me if the Red Sox make it.... Hmmmmm.....

First Friday At Work

Ahhh I forgot how great Fridays are. At IESE Fridays were bad because we were always nursing hangovers from the previous night's Bar of the Week. And working Fridays can be equally bad, but they're also oh-so-good. And tomorrow morning I'm on an early flight to Philly to hang out with Nicole for the weekend. Yeah!

Anyway.... Overheard today in my office:

Conversation #1:

Female voice 1: "Oh my god, you bought TUSSIN?" (generic brand cough syrup)
Female voice 2: "Yeah, I saved like 3 bucks!"
Female voice 1: "I buy generic medicine, but I would never stoop so low as to buy Tussin."

Conversation #2 (which really isn't a conversation, but more like...)

"LOUD CRASH"
Female voice: "You are SO MEAN!"
Followed by lots of laughing from lots of people. I wish I knew what happened, but I just went downstairs to buy money orders (more money spent on my visa!) and a much-needed coffee and if I jumped up too fast I would've spilled it all over myself and my keyboard. Which I'll probably do anyway.

Incidentally, at the post office I had a very Wayne's World moment. There's a guy working at the post office who has eyes that don't really look at you just like the weird eye guy in Wayne's World! And no one, including me, knows which eye to look at... since neither of them seem to be pointing in your direction, even if his face is.

How To Influence The Market: A Study

Apparently I'm a trendsetter. This is what happens when you return an unopened iPhone.

You see, unable to buck the iPhone craze (and Huy's demands that I buy one while in the US) I folded and while on a Nano-buying spree for my dad, I chucked an 8gb iPhone in as well. Why not? I was pre-spending my first paycheck, that's all.

But buyers remorse sunk in almost immediately. I'm the ultimate impulse shopper and I rarely regret any purchases, but this time it hit. And it hit hard. I'm only in the US for 2 months and who knows when the phone will work over in the EU? Or if my US phone will work over there at all or if I would need to buy an EU version? So I left it in its box, knowing I had 15 days to change my mind and get all "my money" (ahem) back.

Well, I returned it the day before I left San Diego. And what happened just 1 business day later? Price dropped by $200. Evidently someone is watching my every move. And so not only was I one of the "cool kids" who had an iPhone early, I'm so cool I even RETURNED IT! And then the price dropped! Hahahaha. That's one point for Noelle. (Still trying to determine if this relates in any way to my bad airline kharma.)

Citizen of the Universe?

And now a few words on why I need an EU husband. Or at least an EU passport.

The process of getting a visa to study or work in the EU is arduous. And frustrating. You have to jump through hoops, run all over town, deal with grumpy people in windowless, flourescent-lit offices, pay a lot of money, and waste a lot of time. Having already been through the process for my student visa, I was well aware that getting a work permit could be potentially disastrous. Or at least extremely annoying. Even with help from my company on the Spanish side. (Without which, I think I'd jump off a bridge before getting the work permit.)

To get a visa for a work permit in Spain you need the following:
1. A valid passport
2. 3 passport photos
3. 3 original Schengen forms
4. A letter from the "Extranjeria" in Spain saying your permit application has been approved
5. A "Concesion" from the Spanish govt saying it's ok for you to work there (this is new, and how it's different from #4 I cannot say)
6. Proof of No Criminal Record, bearing the Apostille of the Hague
7. Doctor's letter stating you're not crazy or on drugs
8. $100 money order payable to the Spanish Consulate
9. Patience
and, if you're working while doing all of this,
10. A very understanding boss

So I have numbers 1-3 and 7-10 under control. I have a lot of #9 and fortunately also a #10. What I'm still waiting on are the two documents from Spain. And today I tried to take care of #6, the criminal record form, without going to New York. Emphasis on "tried."

You see, in order to get this fancy Apostille, you must first get fingerprinted. Then your friendly local police run your prints and in 10 business days, your form is ready. And THEN you can take your papers to the Consulate, after which you might get your visa in 3 days or maybe in 33 or more. Once you get it, you have only 30 days to split the country or you have to start all over. Tricky, eh?

So I called the NYPD yesterday to find out if I could get fingerprinted in Boston and then mail the prints to NYC. The surprisingly friendly and helpful person on the other end of the line said that I could, as long as the Boston Police put a stamp or a seal on the paperwork. Easy! So I called the Boston Police, where another surprisingly nice person told me that I could indeed get printed here even though my last US residence was New York, as long as I first go to the FBI to pick up a federal fingerprinting card. No sweat!

So this morning I (and my flip-flops) took a $10 taxi ride to FBI headquarters. I guess my new thing when I go to a city is to visit as many bureaucratic government offices as possible. Call it a hobby. At the FBI I walked through a metal detector just to talk to someone at a bullet-proof window. Then the woman behind the window gave me the card I needed and I was in another $10 taxi on my way to police headquarters. Which was loud and crazy and exactly like police headquarters in the movies, and much cleaner than the one at Police Plaza in New York.

At or about this time, my luck started to run out. A woman at police HQ asked me for an ID, which I presented: a California drivers license. She asked if I'm a resident of Boston and I said yes, but I just moved here 2 days ago. She asked for proof of residence. Um, I'm staying in a hotel until next week. She said fingerprinting is only for residents. I explained that I had spoken to someone on the phone and had explained my situation and had been told I could get printed here even as a resident of New York. She asked who I spoke to (What?! I called police headquarters... how would I know?) and clearly felt pretty badly for me as she told me I could go to another fingerprinting place AROUND THE CORNER FROM THE FBI BUILDING and get printed there.

So, unable to swallow another $10 taxi ride, I decided to venture onto the T. Where I bought a $10 metro ticket. Makes sense, right? By the time the train came I was already an hour late for work. Now despite the frustrations of the morning, I might go so far as to say it was totally worth it for the place I saw next. I wish I had taken pictures... I might have to go back. Because I wasn't sent to another police station but to a random basement fingerprinting place run by a little old guy with a really strong Baahston accent. He was awfully nice to me, especially as it dawned on me that in no way would I be able to get a Boston Police seal on my fingerprints at his place. He brainstormed for a few minutes about how I might get myself out of this no-current-residence catch-22 (I mean, NYC hasn't even been my residence for the last two years!) and finally just took my prints and my $20 and I was back in another $10 taxi to the office.

So by 11am I was $60 poorer, 2 hours late for work, certainly very frustrated, and more than a little hungry. And after all that, I will still have to go to New York to get printed again. And then wait 10 days for them to be ready. And then I can go back to NYC to pick up the prints and then wait in the extremely long line at the Spanish Consulate...... wheeee! Immigration is fun!

By the way, the rest of my day was much better. Lunched with my new boss, met lots of cool people in the office, and heard about some nice little projects I can work on while I'm here.

Back to Reality or How I Survived Mr. Bloody Head

In the 10 years I lived in New York City, I never once saw a mugging. Not one shoot out. No riots. Nobody dead on the street. Not one body floating in the river. Not even a body part!

But on my way to my very first day at work here in quaint little Boston I saw a man lying on the sidewalk, oozing blood. Awesome! But I'm way ahead of myself.

I went straight to the Spanish Consulate this morning, as suggested by an assistant in the Barcelona office, only to find out that everything I suspected is true. Not only can I not get a police record here in Boston (since, as I suspected, I have to get it in my last place of US residence - New York City), but I can't do any of my visa processing here. It must all be filed in NYC.

Okay so I spent nearly 2 hours there to learn that I can't get anything done there, but that's fine because I wasn't really ready to start work anyway. At 11, however, it was time to head to the office. But first I had to stop at the pharmacy to buy emergency band-aids for my already-aching feet. New shoes AND new job? Too many new things all at once. New city too!
And much more early-morning, humid, high-heel walking than I'd planned for. Oof.

My detour took me right past a fat man lying on his back next to the pharmacy with blood draining from his head, across the sidewalk (I politely stepped over it in my NEW SHOES) and toward the street. How very unexpected. A crowd had gathered, someone called an ambulance... this all seemed quite fresh. Anyway I couldn't even wait to get out of
the pharmacy to slap some band-aids on my blistered heels (even though this dude probably needed them worse than I did) and then I was back on my way to work. I was almost hit by a car as I waited to cross the street because the driver was so intrigued by Mr. Bloody Head.

But soon I was in the safety of the office building at the Prudential Center and in my new boss's office, where we tried to brainstorm what I could possibly be doing here for the next two to three months. We figured out some cool-sounding stuff by the end of the day, which includes plenty of travel to NYC so I can get my visa AND get some work done. Crafty, eh?

Tomorrow morning I get to go to the FBI! And then police headquarters for fingerprinting for my work permit. Another exciting morning ahead. Tomorrow I'll wear flip-flops.

Labor Day

It's Labor Day here in the US, which marks the unofficial end of summer and, unfortunately, the official end of my life as a student. New things are always a little daunting, and though I've started several new jobs before, starting over again tomorrow is no different. I am looking forward to getting back to work, however, and meeting some new people, learning some new stuff, and ... well, earning some money again.

So after a beautiful day in Boston (if you have to spend two months in Beantown, you couldn't do any better than September & October) during which I wandered my new neighborhood of Back Bay, did some last minute "business casual" shopping (so complex!), and ate clam chowder, I think I'm ready at last to spend my last night as a student. By being reasonable and responsible and GOING TO BED!

Hey Now, Don't Dream It's Over

After two absolutely perfect weeks in my hometown of San Diego (where, believe it or not, I didn't take a single photograph - I was too busy just enjoying it) I am now in Boston. My post-MBA vacation is over and reality is about to set in. On Tuesday I will start working and the first part of my job will involve trying to finalize my Spanish work permit, which to date has taken two months to acquire and will possibly take two more by the time everything is said and done.

And so I'm in a hotel. A nice hotel near the river. And since tomorrow is Labor Day, I am starting my new job right: with a holiday! I think the last time I was in Boston was in 1995 when I was looking at colleges, so even though I've spent quite a bit of time here in the past, it was certainly a while ago and I'll probably be spending the better part of my day tomorrow remembering how to get around. Next week I'll move into an apartment for the remainder of my stay in Boston.

It's a little strange being here. I was trying to think of the last time I felt this way and I realized I probably haven't really. Every time I've moved to a new city in the past, aside from Bucharest last summer, it was for school, and there were lots of events to attend and people to meet. So I guess my closest experience to this would have to be my summer in Romania... and at least here I can speak the language!

Being from California, there's also always something about heading back east, particularly in late summer, when it's still warm and humid but you know fall is just around the corner. No matter how many times I've flown east, I still always have a strange sense of nostalgia that I can't quite put my finger on. Maybe it's just something to do with the fact that I didn't sleep enough last night because the power went out for several hours and I couldn't finish my laundry and packing until 3am.

Anyway, it has been an incredible summer. I've been to some pretty amazing places, seen lots of old friends and made some new ones, laughed a lot, and definitely made the most of it. I certainly won't look back on this summer with any regret... it has been absolutely perfect, and I think I might ALMOST be ready to (gulp) start working again. Happy Labor Day, everyone!

August 23, 2005

Perhaps it's a bit of last night's whiskey still burning in my veins, and maybe it's something about being home in San Diego for the first time in a year, but I'm feeling rather nostalgic at the moment. I was looking back at some old posts on the blog and thinking that it was right around this time that I arrived in Barcelona two years ago. And then I realized... it was actually on this very date, August 23, that Nicole and I landed in BCN and I met Marco and George for the first time. Well, we met George first, because Marco was sleeping off a night similar to the one I had last night.

Anyway I remember wondering as I settled into my room that day and started unpacking what life might bring in the next two years. I was certainly a bit nervous, definitely knew I would miss some people back home, and absolutely oblivious to just how difficult the first year of school would be... and that's probably for the best, or I wouldn't have done it at all! But now, with two years of memories (some better than others) and a couple hundred friends from all over the world, I'm of course very happy that I did it. I wouldn't trade these two years for all the tea in China. And anyway, what would I do with all that tea?

The Noelle Show, now in Atlanta. One day only!

Modern travel is an exercise in emotional control. Witness the emotional rollercoaster on which I rode en route from Lima to Atlanta:

1. Arrive at Lima Airport, where the line to check in at Delta is like 6 hours long. Lower lip quivers.

2. I'm PLATINUM, biatch! Skip to business queue, wait 5 minutes, get free pass to fancy lounge. Big smile. (Especially after free wifi is secured!)

3. Time to board! Cool I'm Zone 2! This means I will definitely have space for my wheelie bag. I win!

4. I get called to board quite quickly, give the guy my boarding pass and I'm about to board. NOT. A last-minute security desk has been hastily installed right in between the ticket desk and the jetway. And the woman decides I look like trouble. So much for getting space in the overhead bin. I open all my stuff AGAIN as this woman paws through my trashy magazines. She asks me stupid questions about if I have coins in my bag three times. Ugh! My rollercoaster has hit rock bottom and I'm seriously peeved. I huff my way onto the plane behind like 60 other people, a little black cloud forming over my head.

5. Score! My seat is in front! Doh! This means I REALLY need the overhead bin, not just for my wheelie bag but for everything. I find space a few seats back and sit down, spending the next 15 minutes dodging swinging bags and being stepped on. But it's ok... in 15 minutes it will be over and I have more legroom than anyone. Things are looking up.

6. A woman appears at the door and I hear her say my name. Instant panic. They're going to pull me off the plane for being rude to the last-minute security lady! I will never get to San Diego! I avert my eyes and try to camouflage myself into the seat. But she looks right at me and says... "Miss Sadler, your seat is in business class, please follow me." HAHAHAHA security lady! You thought you could get me! Current state: somewhere between hysteria and delirium.

7. I don't remember any of the flight, really. In the first few minutes I helped an ancient Peruvian man with shaking hands and hearing aids fill out his immigration forms. Then I konk out for the rest of the flight. I wake up for long enough for the old man to tell me I'm an angel, which leads me to help him try to get a wheelchair after getting off the plane. And this is where I get really pissed. People working in Atlanta airport are so rude. As I walked with the man toward immigration I asked two people WHO WERE PUSHING WHEELCHAIRS TOWARD OUR GATE if they might be for him or if they might radio for someone to send one for him. One flat out ignored me. The next yelled over her shoulder something unintelligible. I finally found a bunch of wheelchairs with an airport guy standing nearby, and when I asked if he could help the man through security with a wheelchair, he suggested that I take care of the man all the way to his next flight. Hmmm. Interesting. First of all, he is Peruvian, I am not. We can't even wait in the same immigration line. Second, I don't know this man. I'm happy to help him, but I'm afraid I can't be responsible for both of us making our flights to separate cities, including collecting and rechecking everyone's luggage. Fortunately the guy understood and now I can only hope that the old Peruvian guy is on his way to New York. The immigration people were even more rude, if that's possible. My blood was boiling by the time I got to baggage claim....

8. Where I saw a beagle sniffing everyone's stuff. No! He will find my contraband ham sandwich! I am so illegal! Minor panic.

9. But my bags are the first ones off! Instant relief as I skirt the beagle (and laugh at him, just a little) and sling my bags onto a trolley and head for bag recheck and security. Woo hoo, ever closer to San Diego now!

10. Security, by the way, smells absolutely disgusting. I am grumpy as I am told to take off practically all my clothes and open every bag I have with me. But I get less grumpy once I think about the fact that I only have to endure this agony for a few minutes. The security people who work there have to smell stinky feet (we're talking cheese feet here) with absolutely no ventilation for EIGHT HOURS. I pity them, even though they annoy me.

11. And that brings me to here, gate A30, stocked with trashy magazines the likes of which I haven't seen in 6 weeks, and full of my contraband Peruvian ham sandwich (illegal stuff just TASTES better!) and a big coffee. Only four and a half hours separate me from 2 weeks in paradise. I'm happy to be back in summer, happy to be back in San Diego, happy to have two more weeks still before.... work starts! Current mood: sheer fright! Hahaha.

A final note: On my way to my gate I saw an enormously obese man wearing a humongous t-shirt that read, in big block letters, "SIZE DOES MATTER." Shocking.

Impressed

It's 8am in Santiago de Chile airport. I just arrived here from Buenos Aires (EZE airport - who knew Easy E would one day have an airport named for him??! Awesome.) and I'm about 10 minutes away from boarding my next flight to Lima.

I'm surrounded by rescue workers and EMTs, all of whom are waiting to board the same flight as me and who are clearly headed to Pisco and Chincha, where this week's earthquake hit the hardest. But these people aren't from Chile. They are from Madrid. How cool is that? Traveling all this way to help people in need. Much respect.

Farewell BA, Hello Lima!

Hard to believe, but my two-week family vacation in Argentina and Uruguay is coming to an end, and in 24 hours I'll be on a flight back to Lima, where I'll spend the weekend before heading home to San Diego. What can I say ... Argentina and Uruguay are awesome (even if I've still only managed to see little parts of each) and I'm certainly planning to come back.

What have I learned on my trip?
1. I LOVE SOUTH AMERICA. I want to live here! If my company decided to post me in Buenos Aires for a while, I would definitely not complain.
2. Uruguay is THE most underrated country on earth. What a little gem! I'm sure they do this on purpose. They don't want everyone coming to their cool little place. We should have done the same with San Diego... instead everyone bragged about how great it was and there is too much traffic.
3. Meat is good. In general. And down here in particular. If you're a vegetarian and you come here, I'd suggest just closing your eyes and chewing for the extent of your visit. It's too good to miss.
4. Winter is cold here. Very cold. I should have gone skiing.
5. But it's warm in the jungle! Our trip to the Iguazu Falls was like a vacation from our vacation. And it was brilliant. Definitely a bit overcrowded in places, but the second morning we got up really early and had almost the whole of Isla San Martin all to ourselves. I was tempted to strip down and jump around like a native but I resisted.
6. Family trips are the best. As long as your family is cool... I guess I'm lucky.

Photos and more to come.

Blog on Vacation: Argentina & Uruguay

So the blog is resting right now... sorry. I know, I still haven't updated anything about Cuzco, Machu Picchu, the crazy antics that ensued at Aguas Calientes (what a misnomer, by the way) or my violent illness that prevented me from joining Benj & Anders on the trek.

But that's because I'm now in Uruguay with my parents and my sister, having arrived yesterday from Argentina. We've been kinda busy sightseeing and gorging ourselves on steak and wine. But I've been taking plenty of pictures, and there are lots of stories to tell, so I promise to update at some point.

I've also been occupying myself with the Joost Blog and so if you're really having withdrawal, you can go there for some fresh entertainment. Actually, I'd appreciate it if you would!

Peru Part 1: Titicaca

Wherein we learn the following:
1. Lan Peru has nice new planes and fantastic service, but they can change your flights at the last second. Literally.
2. You don't have to be an American to be a gringo. I had to fight Benj on this one big time. I won. French people aren't gringos? As if!!!
3. You can get high, like 4200M high, without drugs. And it's gloooooorious! (After the headache goes away.)
4. Taking photos can cost you. 1 Nuevo Sol, to be exact. So have change handy!
5. Every song on earth has been covered by a Peruvian flute group. Makes excellent muzak, and a fantastic game to play when you're at breakfast... name that tune... I challenge anyone to a duel, I am the master.

So Benjamin and I started our trip rather uneventfully. Just kidding. Chaos ensued before we even got on the plane. Because as we were waiting to board, I had a strange feeling... don't ask me why. I asked Benj to go to the desk to see if everything was all set and next thing I knew the gate agent was crossing out the flight numbers and seats on our boarding passes and writing in new ones by hand. He then told us to RUN not walk to a different gate upstairs because we had been put on an earlier flight that was leaving in about 90 seconds.

There we met 2 disgruntled gate agents who were really pissed off when we asked to have our seats together, as we'd had before the scribbling-on-the-boarding-passes incident. We were told huffily that the flight was overbooked and that we should be happy we were on it at all. When we explained that we were on the flight leaving 10 minutes later and had never asked to switch, a smile appeared, the demeanor changed, and 2 seats miraculously became available together.... in the exit row, no less. Airlines work in mysterious ways.

All this was fine until we landed in Juliaca, where the person who was supposed to meet us at arrivals was nowhere to be found. Nor was he reachable by mobile. A very kind lady offered to try him for us, had no luck, and then said we could go in her bus with her group and that she'd drop us at the hotel. Alone I never would have agreed. But with Big Brave Benji along for me to protect, well, we went for it. We didn't realize until we finally met our host Filipa at the hotel a few hours later that the problem had been caused by our last-second flight change. Oops.

Arrival at Juliaca. Altitude pills were consumed beforehand!

En route from Juliaca to Puno

Perurail! (Which will play a part in our story later, of course.)

Ladies in the town of Puno

This mode of transportation is only bested by the mototaxi... how I wish we'd taken one.

Saturday morning Benj and I wandered, like two white giants, into this market. Miles and miles of produce, meat, and furniture. This is a market for the locals, not like the touristy ones you find in Cusco.

At the market

Saturday afternoon we went to Sillustani to see some ancient burial sites. Beautiful scenery, breathtaking views of Lake Titicaca, and our first encounter with French tourists... we didn't realize we'd be surrounded by them for the rest of the trip!



This cost me one sol. (At least he smiled.)

So did this. (Maybe a smile costs 2.)

This one was free!

On Sunday we took a full-day boat trip to visit the Islas Flotantes (floating islands) inhabited by the Uros people and then to Isla Taquile. It would have been just a half-day trip but honestly these are The Slowest Boats In The World, so it takes 3 hours each way to and from Isla Taquile.

The floating islands are absolutely incredible, though we did have a strange sensation there. Not seasickness... something to do with the over-exploitative nature of the growing tourism business here. Benj and I both felt uncomfortable with it on several occasions.


I bought this! She made it! Blue flamingos! How cool!

They start learning the hard sell at an early age.

Fortunately Benj is a master negotiator. Two for one!

We left our floating island on a cool reed boat.

Like this.

From Isla Taquile we had this amazing view of the Bolivian Cordilleras.

And of this Telefonica satellite dish. Which tells me 2 things. 1) Telefonica is everywhere. 2) This island is pretty well-connected, and not just by slow-moving vessels.

Ah yes, here I am.

And here is Benji, my fantastic travel companion.

On the way back to Puno, around 5pm.

One last view of the floating islands as we return to our hotel.

Watch Joost!!!

Before I get into the nitty-gritty of my recent trip through southern Peru with Benj, Anders & Quentin, it's time for a little cross-promotion.

I have been asked to lend my multimedia mania and my blogging skills to the all new JOOST BLOG, and I'd appreciate it if you'd check it out. So far I'm just at post #1, but I'll be updating it regularly, and I promise it'll be good!

But not only will the blog be good, so will Joost itself. If you've never heard of this cool new internet-based TV application, it's time to jump on the bandwagon because it's pretty amazing. It's straight-forward and user-friendly and will be even more so when the blog kicks off, since the idea of the whole thing is to help people navigate their way through all Joost has to offer. And just like with my regular blog, you'll be able to make comments and provide feedback, so if there is a particular program that you'd like to bring to my attention and make sure everyone sees, you can easily let us all know! Pretty cool, huh?

So check it out. And thanks in advance for reading and watching!

Titicaca cha cha cha! Machu Picchu cha cha cha!

It's time to leave lovely Lima in search of greener (or bluer) pastures. In an hour I'm off to the airport with Benjamin (who, despite flying into Sao Paolo the day of the crash managed to miraculously avoid all contact with it) for our flight to Juliaca. We'll spend the weekend in Puno and check out Lake Titicaca and then head by train to Cuzco, where we'll meet up with Anders and see the sights before heading off on our four day trek to Machu Picchu.

Needless to say, I won't be dragging my laptop around the Andes with me, so posts will have to wait until Aug 1 when I return!

Greetings from Sunny Lima!

Just kidding! I haven't seen the sun since I left Barcelona on Friday. Lima is CLOUDY. And damp. And cold! And pretty dirty, too. But I like it! The people are nice, the food is fantastic, everything is cheap, and the wifi at Starbucks is FREE! Which is the main reason I'm sitting in one right now, looking out over the cliffs at the Pacific Ocean, which I hadn't seen since August 2006.

And so, life is good. Spent a restful weekend eating and wandering around Miraflores and Central Lima. On Sunday I checked out the Inquisition Museum, which wasn't as exciting as I'd hoped (meaning not as gory as I'd hoped), and then sort of accidentally took a tour of this old monastery, which turned out to be the Monasterio de San Francisco and which is quite stunning. We were lured in by a sign promising a visit to the underground catacombs, which - I'm not kidding - were straight out of Indiana Jones. Bones everywhere... thousands and thousands of people down there. Most of the bones were just in piles, strewn about, but thousands of them were neatly organized. Or at least the femurs were. How they know which femurs are pairs, I don't know, but I didn't inspect them too closely.

This delightful adventure was followed by a stroll through the Plaza de las Armas, where I realized that what one taxi driver said is indeed true: Lima is much more beautiful by night. At night, with the city gently illuminated and glowing, you don't see the dirt and crumbling buildings so well and it really seems like an entirely different city. It's downright beautiful.

Yesterday I embarked on an entirely different type of adventure, one which I certainly never saw in an Indiana Jones movie. You see, I got scolded at Immigration in Atlanta on Friday for having only 2 spaces left in my passport, so I decided it was time to pay a visit to my local US Embassy. Apparently the Embassy used to be more centrally located, but a few years ago they moved it verrrrry far away to the neighborhood of Surco. Not sure if this was before or after a car bomb went off there in 2002 to "celebrate" the visit of one George W. Bush.

Anyway, after agreeing on the fare with the driver (very interesting) I took the long ride to the massive, rather ugly and very well protected embassy. I'll take ugly any day if it means I get efficiency in return. I don't think I waited more than 10 minutes altogether. I just walked in and told them I needed more passport pages. Filled out a form and was told to come back in the afternoon. Incredible. Even more incredible is that when I went back in the afternoon, MY PASSPORT WAS READY! Granted, it kind of looks like I might have put the pages in myself, but no matter. It has an official sticker saying I didn't.

Back to the taxis. This was daunting for the first five seconds. But actually it's great because you know you're not going to get driven around town and ripped off because there's no point - you've already agreed on the price! And everyone is exceptionally friendly. Service here kicks the butt of Spanish service... which, I should point out, is actually an oxymoron. "Spanish service." Ha!

Back in the EEUU

I'm sitting in Atlanta International Airport, waiting to board my flight to Lima. This is the first time I've been in the US since January 10, over six months ago... the longest I've ever spent away from the states. It's nice to be back. Airports in the US are really great. There was a woman playing a baby grand piano in the food court when I arrived. Who doesn't like a little tinkling of the ivories with their Big Mac? Super classy, I was impressed.

I landed here from Barcelona four hours ago, and I have nearly two hours still to go. No problem, I have internet access and there is a newsstand with trashy magazines (US Weekly! People! Star! Awesome!) dangerously close by. Larry King is on the flatscreen overhead, interviewing people who swear the saw aliens at Roswell. And I'm at a gate that hasn't had a flight in it for the past three hours, so it's nice and quiet. Ahhh, I love airports. Not enough, however, to stay here past 11:30, so I hope my flight leaves on time.

While I'm excited for my upcoming trip, it's weird to know I'll be away from Barcelona for three months. It has really become my home in the past two years... especially now that I've finally settled into my new flat. But that new flat is all packed up again and waiting for my return in October. In the meantime, I'll be "doing the Americas." Time to head south of the equator!

On Haggis and Mars Bars

It was only a matter of time before I got around to a more serious post... Scotland. Please do not allow me to dispense of any rumors you may have heard about Scottish weather. It really does suck as much as everyone says it does. Sorry, but I have to be honest. The funny thing about it is that, as a result, the second the sun comes out and the weather gets above 50F, everyone seems to take their clothes off. Very interesting phenomenon.

But I digress.

Because it rained nearly the entire time I was there, it was difficult to do outdoorsy things which I so love. Believe me, I tried. I climbed up that Arthur's Seat thing (or at least tried) and had to turn back without reaching the top - something I really hate doing - because I was soaked through to my underwear after only 15 minutes and knew I still had to go those 15 minutes back, plus the other 30 to Andy's house. My ipod shuffle suffered more than I did... It was in my pocket that day and now the "play" and "forward" buttons no longer work. The "back" button does, but that doesn't seem to help when you can't even play anything in the first place. Ah well.

So yes I did manage to take in some culture (though I avoided Glasgow, much to my chagrin, due to fiery Jeep attacks and Glaswegian responses - not sure which is scarier) and managed to go to Edinburgh Castle and all its associated museums, Rosslyn Chapel, the art museum, and the natural history museum. And, more importantly, I caught up with old friends from Rockstar, some of whom I hadn't seen in four years. So despite the weather, I managed to have a grand old time, which culminated in an incredible Wednesday night, the day before I left for London.

After an incredible dinner with my friend David at Martin Wishart, the only restaurant in Scotland to boast a Michelin star (we did the 7 course tasting menu - surprisingly filling considering each course is literally a TASTE), we met up with Sandy, Chloe, Duncan, Allan, Kevin, and Andy at a local pub near the office. They were all very intrigued by Martin Wishart and all, but were still upset that I had yet to try haggis or a deep fried Mars bar. In fact, I'd somehow managed to avoid typical Scottish fare altogether. With Andy as my host, I'd had fantastic Japanese, Chinese (in a secret underground restaurant that you need a password to get into - HOW COOOOOL), Indian, Thai, and Mexican food, but no haggis. Shame.

The secret underground Chinese restaurant. To most people, it's just a takeaway place, but if you're in the know you can go through the kitchen to this big dining room downstairs for the most amazing food.

So despite my already bloated belly, off we went to the local chipper, and that's where all hell broke loose.

First we started off with a little arm wrestling in the pub.

Then it was time for DEEP FRIED HAGGGGGIIIIIISSSSSS!

Look how excited I am!

The haggis stood no chance. Poor haggis.

Can you believe we ate this?? Ugh. Seemed like a good idea at the time...

So excited.

And of course no trip to Scotland is complete without a deep fried Mars bar!

And of course, my kind friends all insisted that it would be a wise idea to wash it all down with some "Irn Bru" (pronounced "iron brew" - catchy, eh?) to fend off any possible hangovers or indigestion.

After 3 sips of this super-powered orange soda I figured my intestines were probably a nice shade of flourescent and thought it was time to return to normal beverages. Like Guinness!

And cider!

Needless to say, I was feeling a little worse for the wear on Thursday morning when I met David at the train station for our trip to London. I slept almost the whole way and only caught the occasional half glimpse of the beautiful passing English countryside. Of course it was sunny in Edinburgh that day. And rainy in London.

Incidentally (incidentally, my new favorite word is incidentally), another thing that tastes really good the day after a haggis-and-beer-fueled night is "Lamb & Mint" flavored chips. Honestly, the first taste is revolting. But then it's rather addictive! I wish I had some now...

On karma and conspiracies

If you're more a fan of karma than conspiracy theories, you might like this. I was talking with my dad, trying to figure out my recent spate of bad air travel karma, when I realized I might be looking at things all wrong. Maybe I had never done anything bad to anyone at an airport. Maybe I was being repaid for the bad airport karma in good alternate karma ways. Life is just a matter of looking at the right side of things. Or having a trust fund. But you can still go to jail with one of those.... if only for 24 days.

Picture this. My dad and I walk through Gate 5 at Wimbledon on Sunday, completely psyched knowing we're treading on hallowed grounds of tennis tradition and, more importantly, fully aware that we're about to witness potentially the greatest showdown of tennis history. My bag is searched in true Wimbledon tradition, our tickets are torn, and we are in. We take in a couple of junior matches, a couple of Pimm's, and a couple of sandwiches, and before we know it it's time to head for center court. Sorry. Centre court.

Now, I'm generally not one to lose track of such important things as Wimbledon tickets, house keys, my pants, or plane tickets. But I swear my ticket stub - the only way to get into center court - vanished from my pocket. Trying not to panic, dad and I went through all the possible hidden ticket locations, and finally asked a guard what to do. He sent us to lost and found. I figured the likelihood of it being returned was about 0.000000376%.

So we headed for lost and found, where a very kind lady looked through everything with no luck and then suggested we go to the ticket booth where we MIGHT be able to work something out. I've never felt so stupid in my whole life. Except for the first term of the MBA... I felt so badly for my poor dad, who offered to share the seat and swap places every few games, and who had been so kind to invite me as his "date" when he got the tickets from a friend. I was crushed.

But as we walked out of lost and found, who should appear but the guard we had spoken to just moments earlier. "Is this what you're looking for?" And indeed it was. A woman turned it in, miraculously to exactly the same guard, just moments earlier. And so as my dad and I strolled into center court, it dawned on me. The bad airport karma is not payback for some horrible airport wrong I did in the past. Rather, all the lucky things that happen elsewhere are to make up for the bad airport experiences. Or that's the way I choose to look at it, anyway. And I'll take it gladly... This kind of luck has not only returned a missing Wimbledon ticket, but only weeks early magically got my wallet back to me when I left it on a Norwegian train just an hour before my flight to Barcelona was due to take off. But that's another story altogether...

By the way, the match was incredible. Total nail-biter and definitely the best match I've ever seen in my life... maybe the best match I'll ever see!

You win some you lose some. (Or, a conspiracy theory)

Today was yet another test of wills as I got a rematch in Noelle v. Airlines.

I should have known it was all too easy. My taxi arrived right on time, there was minimal traffic en route to Paddington Station, and the Heathrow Express only took 20 min instead of the expected 40. (Talk about express!) I checked in, got a sweet aisle seat in the exit row, and life was looking good. I noticed that the 4:50 flight to BCN was delayed nearly an hour, but thought nothing of it. Silly me.

At 5:45pm I looked up at the boards and realized that my flight was closing in less than 10 minutes, so I ran (sprinted, really) with all my stuff from one end of the terminal to another. Made it to my gate in the nick of time, only to realize that the woman had just ripped the stub off my ticket... for a different flight. The late one to Barcelona that was supposed to leave 2 hours earlier. I calmly hauled it back to the main terminal area in order to check where my flight was... Ah, of course. Two hours delayed!

Feeling rather sweaty and more than a little parched, I bought myself a nice big bottle of water, had a few sips, and contented myself with my internet addiction until my flight was finally called at 8:30. I walked to the gate area, where I was met with a massive queue. Believe it or not, we were being marched through security. AGAIN. And my lovely 1 liter bottle of Volvic and I had to part ways. Of course, there was no warning of additional security. But there was definitely water for sale (at extortionary prices) on the other side of the metal detectors!

Thus, I believe this is a conspiracy on the part of the bottlers, water companies, and soft drink makers. Work with me, people! I'm not crazy!!!!!

Anyway, the only good thing about your flight being 4 hours delayed, is that you think you'll arrive and find no taxi queue because it's 1am. Wrong. It seemed that 1am was suddenly prime arrival time, and the queue for taxis at Terminal B stretched about half a kilometer (I'm not joking) and looked like it would take at least an hour to get through. So I pushed my little trolley over to Terminal A. An extra 5 minutes of walking got me to a beautiful, empty taxi stand and a dozen waiting cars with the green "empty" light on.

Airlines 1 : 0 Noelle
Airports 1 : 0 Noelle
Other travelers 0: 1 Noelle
Water companies 1 : 0 Noelle

I guess it could've been worse. I had no strikes to deal with....

07/07/07

I promise some good haggis-filled photos upon my return to Barcelona, but for the being I'd like to point out that there is nothing quite like sitting on a train out of London, looking out at the passing countryside while listening to Hall and Oats. If you've never tried it, you should. It's one of those not-to-be-missed life experiences.

I'm now about an hour outside of London, staying with some old family friends, and tomorrow I will be at Wimbledon with my dad for the men's final. Shocking that there is actually a men's final tomorrow, considering that the tournament was 177 matches behind just a few days ago... but I'm delighted. It will be my first Wimbledon and I'm absolutely thrilled to be going.

Back to Barcelona on Monday night, where I'll have 3 days to prepare for my three months away, starting in Peru on Saturday morning!

FYI

In case anyone is concerned, I have so far been unaffected by the nailbomb-filled cars, fiery Jeeps driving into airports, and controlled explosions that have filled the news this weekend. While it may force me to adjust my plans and possibly not head to Glasgow tomorrow for the day, it certainly hasn't affected me as much as the unusually crappy Scottish weather, which has called for mostly heavy clouds and chilly temperatures, with the occasional torrential downpour.

Having said that, I have managed to visit Rosslin Chapel (of Da Vinci Code fame) and, more importantly, have caught up with old friends from my Rockstar days. I've had a really great weekend, and today I plan to do more touristy Edinburgh things while the guys are all at work. (Haha! Work!)

I'm planning to take the train from Edinburgh to London on Thursday with an old pal from NYC (we thought this would be cooler than flying long before the Jeep crashed into the airport) and it will be interesting to see how security is stepped up in the wake of all this nonsense now that we're in a "Critical" state of alert. Critical is the highest, so I'm wondering now what happens if things get really out of control... SuperCritical? Megacritical? Stay tuned...

Oh and yesterday we escaped the rain at Allan's for a bit and played video games. I lost.