Hey Gals! Unattached with no prospects? Yearning for male company without the threat of sexual exploitation? You need a Gay Husband. My Gay Husband is the best and I bet you want to know why:
He likes to do most everything I like to do. We love to travel, hike, eat great food, ride bikes, gossip about all of the crazy bitches we knew in college, and argue over which men are more attractive than other men.
He's super handy to have around. When we went to Peru together, he knew enough Spanish that I never had to worry about getting voluntarily sold into slavery through language barrier induced miscommunications.
He claims he doesn't want kids, but I know he would spoil the crap out of mine.
His sister is the same age as my sister, so the "This is the Annoying Thing my Sister is Doing Lately" conversations are basically endless.
He'll tell me when I'm being a dumb wench, and I need that. I tell him when he's being a snobby brat. He needs that, too.
Y'all just want to hear about Machu Picchu, right? Seems like the first thing everybody has been asking about. After all, it's not every day I get to knock off a bucket list item. So please, read my story:
We got up super early, left our hostel, and started trekking in the dark up the trail to the Inca ruins. We had one headlamp with low batteries (nick's-I gave mine away at the bus accident scene), a cellphone flashlight (nick's) and one seriously runny nose (mine). I was still quite ill with whatever strep throat/sinus infection/ black plague I was suffering from since Lima. Aaron woke up with a case of the sissies and had decided it was okay to take the bus up to the top with the elderly, injured and rest of the tourists who had had too many papas fritas (disclaimer: he did end up getting up later and walking up, but he took the road, which was easier, so I'm still gonna call him out). Spirits were high, despite health being low, and we started climbing up the 2 mile, 1200 foot elevation gain (read:straight up!).
Actually, to be fair, Nick barely broke a sweat. I couldn't breathe through my nose and my throat was on fire so I was sucking wind and pouring sweat. Not to admit weakness, I stuck behind Nick as close as I could, moving slower than usual but only allowing myself two 10 second breaks. We started ducking in front of other hikers, one after another and I got amped knowing that we were making good time and were closer than all those clowns we passed behind. After 75 minutes, we emerged at the top, worn and triumphant, to be greeted by..... Four busses unloading tourists at the top of the hill. Quelle anticlimactic.
I was immediately enraged at the sight of all those freshly showered, powdered, pressed tourists happily snapping photos and chattering about their continental breakfast buffets while patiently waiting in line for admission. My ass got out of bed while deliriously ill, just to shlep up a peak in the Andes mountains in the DARK, and I gotta get in line behind these fools?! In ever American style, I started squawking to Nick that surely there HAD to be some kind of expedited line for the hikers. Isn't there SOME recognition for the actively motivated?! Indeed there is not. .... And in a moment of frightening maturity, I came to a realization. Even though I had yet to even lay eyes on that which I came for, I had to recognize that, just like so many cliches before me, the character and merit of my efforts lay in the journey, not in the destination. My reward had already come to me, in the camaraderie and experience of getting there. The meat of the trip would not be the actual ruins themselves, but everything I had and got to do in order to get there. I laughed and shrieked so many times while biking, hiking, rafting, running, dancing, scrambling, and shuffling through the Andes mountains those four days. Even if the destination was overcrowded and foggy, no freshly groomed and well rested cheesy tourist could ever take that from me.
So I shut up and got in line behind the four bus-fulls of people. And blew my nose into my sleeve.
The ruins themselves? They give you such a weird feeling. Have you been to the Grand Canyon? You know the feeling you got the very first time you leaned over to see exactly what all the fuss is about? That pleasant nausea associated with genuine awe and grandeur? Your stomach kind of drops out your butt, your throat closes, and your knees melt into your ankles. You blink through watery eyes and, when you calm down, you come to the realization that, the little human being that is you is so so small in comparison to the wide wide world? It's like that.
Of course, that's the candid stuff. But I gotta educate you, too.
Here we are, Top Ten Fun Facts:
10. the Inca ruins were built in the early 1400s and abandoned near 1532, when Peru was conquered by the Spanish. It remained undiscovered until 1911, when Yale prof Bingham stumbled upon it, hoping to find another lost Incan city. The only reason why we have it today is because the Spanish looked, but could never find it. Miracle, huh?
9. Machu Picchu was a palatial compound, inhabited only by the noble and royal Incans.
8. They used wood expanded in water to break stones. Crazy.
7. All of their structures have withstood multiple major earthquakes. No big deal. The ingredients in grout they used for some of their rustic structures remains a mystery. It has lasted hundreds of years, and appears to have not eroded much at all. No one knows whats in it and why it has lasted so long. Scientists tried to replicate it, and their version wore away in 4 years.
6. The Incans did not read or write. There is no documented record of MP. We don't even know what its real name was. MP is what Bingham named it after the term the locals used to refer to the mountain on which it stood, meaning "old mountain".
5. One toilet in the entire city. Used by the King only.
4. No dirt originally found on the mountain when they started building it. All of the dirt there was carried in from Cusco, 80 km away. By humans. Up the mountain. Insanity.
3. Incans paid their taxes in work. At any given time, there were 2000 non residents up there, working to build and maintain the city, paying their dues to their nation. Interesting concept, should be used in the fat America, I think.
2. They split their priority evenly between sacred and necessity; the city contains exactly 80 residential structures and 80 places of worship.
1. 100th anniversary of its discovery this year. What a fun surprise for us :) Make the trek, it's worth it just for the special stamp in your passport.
Our first glimpse of MP. From the backside, down below it, hiking along the river.
At the top. My my doesnt Nick look unexerted. Rude.
First glimpse. Pleasant Nausea.
See this?! Perfectly cut stone, laid to last centuries. Temple of the Sun
The Incan Throne, if you will.
I wish I could capture how it literally sits on top and amidst huge peaks, but you just have to see it for yourself.
If there is anything I love more than taking risks and running mad, it's a friend who is willing to run alongside me. Every friend I have gets asked to do so, so when Stace decided to spend the bulk of her (f)unemployment in LA LA Land with me, I of course presented her with this:
"Oh, come over! We should go skydiving."
See, I have been trying to get up to Santa Barbara to jump for months, and Stace's visit from the ahem, Texas was the perfect excuse. She actually didn't even take much coaxing at all, but see, that was all part of my plan.
When I'm about to make you do something I don't think you'll do, I scheme for days. I will mention it in a manner similar to above and then drop it. You, subsequently think that I have gotten over whatever hare-brained idea I mentioned and also drop it. But then, the day before or day of, I bring it around again. This time you don't have time to think about it too much or argue. It works. How do you think I got my dad to pack up my stuff for me in Spokane? When you don't give people time to think about it, generally they will say yes when rushed. I'm not saying it's right, but it works.
Stace and I had a lovely drive up the CA coast to SB that morning. I told her to call her parents and brothers, just in case. Know what she did? Left a message on her parents answering machine with the main message being "Burn me, don't bury me." Lordy, this girl.
We crawled into the tiiiiiiiniest plane ever that barely fit us plus our tandem divers, and the pilot. Twenty minutes later, we were two and a half miles above the earth and up went the plexiglass garage door. (there has to be a name for that?!) Stace had been in pretty good spirits up until then, and I felt pretty good about dragging her up here to participate in my ridiculousness. However, as she approached the door, the look on her face was horrifying. She was ashen and likely not breathing. My stomach dropped out of my rectum, thinking she was going to back out. My mind was racing with things I could say to her to calm her down. Instead, all I said was: "Jesus will carry you! See ya!" I know, not the most eloquent last words.
But I was right! Stace dropped out of that plane like a pro and I followed soon after. Perhaps I should have been more concerned with my own welfare, instead of hers. I have a suspicion that my tandem diver had to pull the "oh shit" chute. See, once you fall to a certain altitude, he is supposed to pull the parachute. If it doesn't deploy, there are two back up chutes, just in case. I suspect we had some trouble because we free-falled (sp?) for a looong time. Mind you, I loved it, but it was considerably longer than I remembered. Plus, we were the last ones out of the plane and the first on the ground by a lot, which means we spent much more time falling and less time with a deployed parachute than Stace and her tandem diver. After the chute deployed, I was looking down for Stace and she was actually still waaaaaay above us. I'm not saying..... I'm just sayin.
Ain't life grand? Jump out of airplanes, people. This is the hokey pokey. Go right meow.
Revertigo: n. The state of regressing to the developmental, emotional, intellectual state of one's prior being, caused by the presence of a certain population of one's past. Term coined on television sitcom "How I Met Your Mother" (CBS).
I graduated from the incomparable Gonzaga University in 2007. Despite my frequent travels and nomadic lifestyle across this great nation in the time since, I really have not spent a real holiday surrounded by large quantities of people I went to college with. I have, of course, seen people individually, and in smaller groups. The weddings, girls nights, happy hours, week in random city with an old roommate, etc. have found me in the company of college friends, but not en masse. Thus, I have been relatively immune to the phenomenon of revertigo.
This all changed. I had no idea that I am not beyond the powers of jackassery that propel me back into the 20 year old state of mind, as soon as I am in the company of large numbers of my fellow Zags.
Last weekend was the WCC basketball tourney in Vegas. (WE WON, GO ZAGS!) At the last minute, I decided to go. Packed a bag, drove the 280 miles to Vegas, hung out with all of the peeps. Really, I would recount the fun and philandering that ensued, but I would hate to ruin any shot at public office later in life. So I will just leave you with these gems to treasure:
Really? I graduated four years ago. I have a career. We all do. There is no need to be stealing beers from the suite we broke into and stuffing them down my pants. No need whatsoever. Side note: who was the photog who took the pic and cut out the three beers in my pants?! Actually, thanks.
Apparently, when the sun has already been up and one hasn't been down yet, despite having conversations (albeit shouted over Bruno Mars) with both an Italian and Jewish man, elevator mirror ceilings are endlessly fascinating. People, I went to college.
"David Berry" is Amy's BF. I know not of the circumstances surrounding this photo, I only know that it is inappropriate and therefore must be addressed. Also, I recognize that my ass is flat. I'm asian. This is not new information.
This one is nice, other than my missing right lower extremity. I end on this note. Heed this warning, my friends: we know not the limitations of revertigo, or whether certain aspects are irreversible. Protect yourselves.
Remember Lindsay? We were supposed to gallvant about Europe together last year before that little Icelandic Volcano situation that landed me instead Stateside but in Hawaii jumping out of airplanes? She spent a weekend with me recently, and we marked the end of her visit with birthday cake at Magnolia Bakery in Bev Hills. Normally, crabby face while in presence of red velvet cake is reason for psychiatric evaluation. But maybe I just sang her "Happy Birthday" at the top of my lungs in front of everyone at the (surprisingly echo-y!) bakery. Hey, I just said it and I will say it again. Being my friend means a willingness to be embarrassed at any given moment.
Even passed out at a sink with a rice bag on her shoulders and foil in her hair, my darling Coco is just magnificent. This is was T-minus 30 seconds before I tried to stick my finger up her nose as a subtle wake up. Being my friend is not exactly safe, dears.
When you live in southern california, people are all of a sudden just hugely interested in coming to visit you.
"oh, don't bother coming up here for thanksgiving, Mingni.... we'll just come see you down there!"
sounds pretty sweet and accomodating, right? dont be fooled.
really, what you don't realize straightaway, is that it means that i had to host thanksgiving. turkey and all.
quelle pressure, but i think i pulled it off..... pumpkin cheesecake disaster nothwithstanding.
This is Smelly (Melly, Melissa!). She was my very first college roommate. She's currently on an adventure of her own; road tripping from Seattle to Mesquite, NV and was lovely enough to stop by my new habitat for conversation and camaraderie.
Funny how I feel like I can say anything to her, mostly because she's lived with me? Smelly was the roommate everyone wished for when they got their housing assignments, but no one got. Everyone else's roomies actually smelled. Mine was steak sauce.
Meeting an old friend in a new place, sharing a lovely meal together, and taking a picture to capture the moment....in a parking garage.
This is Sarah, and her mom, Margie. A parking garage photo really just says it all for us. When Sarah and I are together, we can rarely get our crap together....but we always have sooo much fun.
Sarah and I lived together one summer during the college years (so she says; 'and everyone wanted to be our friend.'). She, her mom and bf came to KC for a weekend visiting family as I was finishing up my assignment. She got me thinking about all of my favorite friends, which led to the realization that for those favorites, it's always love at first sight.
I seem to know what I like, and can spot a kindred spirit from afar. Any of my closest friends I became close to quickly. We meet, exchange some friendly fire, and BOOM, I want you in the club. The oldest friend I have, Andrea, and I met in the fourth grade. We hated each other for a minute, and then were inseparable for years. TL and I met the first day of high school in math class, and knew everything about each other by the time that bell rang. Kirsten and I met while I was working at Sacred Heart. I just liked her based on what I could tell from the 7 minutes I occasionally spent giving her report at the beginnings and ends of my shift. Sheriann and I decided we were soulmates after one blubbering art class enroller (me) needed to be talked off of her edge by one entirely too calm accounting major (her). There are a million more examples.
I actually don't remember how Sarah and I met, but it must have been fun because I moved into her house about a month later.
Cure it with a fun friend from Omaha and a flouncy skirt. Rehabilitation guaranteed with wandering Westport and watching grannies bump and grind on the dance floor. True story.
You MUST go. It's so silly and fun. New Orleans is full of fun accents, gorgeous architecture, and whimsy. Don't bring up Katrina. You'll spoil it. I know, it was terrible. No reason to not wear mardi gras attire, sing karaoke, and flounce about in the streets. While you're at it, you should sample the beignets at Cafe du Monde. If you're there with a supergreat friend like Coco, she'll find you a awesome plank painting leaning against a storefront, steal it, and give it to you. Warning: don't try accidentally/on purpose to go into a strip club. They won't let you in without a male in your entourage. Whoops. I consider it serendipity. Yikes. Another warning: watch for falling beads thrown from balconies above. They kind of hurt when stupid guys THROW THEM AT YOUR HEAD.
Stace and I like to do childish things. Labor Day weekend in Houston was no exception. We played on the boardwalk, rode the trolley, ate disgustingly delicious food, and shrieked at the aquarium. Eek Sharks!
Last weekend, one of my best friends Rachael got married to Andy Byrdin Chelan, WA. For those of you who don't know, Rach is one of my favorite friends, and definitely one of the inner circle. Eek. Adulthood is creeping in on me! I was pretty thrilled to get to play bridesmaid and have VIP access to this event. It was a superfun weekend filled with water, small town dive bars, and quirky family dynamics. Although I did not give a toast at the reception, I totally think I should have. I might have said this:
"With Rachael and I, it was definitely love at first sight. We were sophomores at GU and living across the hall from each other. We had both gone to small private high schools, we both liked to have dance parties in the dorm, and we both think racial jokes are funny. She likes to act asian, I pretty much act white. But more than these similarities, we also shared a similar outlook on love and relationships. We were young, charismatic independent women, damn it. While the idea of twitterpation and dinner-for-two is appealing, we were just as happy being single and free. .....but then they came. The boys in Rachael's life took over and I teased her incessantly about how she had gone soft. I might have even used the word 'pathetic'. Then she found Andy and declared him the One..... and I had a seizure. But the truth of the matter is this: as much as I might roll my eyes and gag at their goofy love, if I could find a love so giving and committed..... well, I guess that would be okay."
.... to find a place in the world that is everything I love about China, and few of the things I abhor, I'm having a hard time expressing it. To sum things up, three weeks was not enough. As I leaf through my journal, there are literally twelve blogicles that can be formed using just the first week. Thus I admit overwhelmedness and give you my Top Ten of Thailand. As I reminisce and give myself time to really write, I will give details, quips, narrative, and incidents ad nauseum. Look forward to stories about the girls at BHJ and perhaps even a run in with the Thai health care system. Promise. For now, behold:
10) Gorgeous. The majority of the Thailand is lush, green tropics. We took a night train to and from Chiang Mai, where BHJ is, and my favorite part of the journey was getting to see the landscape of the Thai countryside. Furthermore, our four days at the beach in Koh Chang couldn't have even been wrecked by the torrential downpour happening the entire time. The beaches, mountains, wildlife, and water will take your breath away.
9) the monks. They are SO CUTE. It is customary in Thailand for people to never look directly at them, and to always keep our head below theirs. In Chiang Mai, across the street from our guest house, the monks would walk through the market early in the morning on their way to the temple. I wanted to hug one. Uncle Steve said no. Dang it.
8) Sustenance. Man cannot live on bread alone. I get it, but I also take it literally. Eating good food is one of my favorite parts of being human. Thailand was only too accommodating. The food I ate off of a cart on the street was better than any takeout I had ever purchased on this side of the Pacific. There were so many things to eat, you could easily suffer from stimulation overload while walking through the markets. Uncle Steve and I were pretty brave food adventurers, making a point to never miss out on weird food opportunities. We weren't ever sorry. The kids and I even effectively applied for Thai citizenship by daring to sample the exoskeletonous snacks (read: deep fried bugs). Side note: lots of weird and delicious tropical fruit to be had there. one of my favorites was salak palm fruit, which tastes like tropical starburst (i know, ew right?). a major bonus was that I didn't know what it was called, and my agriculture extraordinaire dad didn't know either. he had previously never been stumped. booyah.
7) Rotee. this is technically a food, but requires its own distinction nonetheless. Rotee is ala fried crepe, but so much better. They fill them with whatever you want, fry it to a golden brown, and then cover it with chocolate sauce and condensed milk. The first time I saw it made (on a cart streetside, mind you) I was mortified to see the lady bathing it in hot oil before serving it to me. As soon as it hit my mouth, all such moments forgotten. I joked that I couldn't go to sleep in Thailand without one, but lived like the joke was real. I'm salivating as I type this. Drool on the N key.
6) Transportation. People are so much better at getting around everywhere outside of the US. In Thailand, the majority of average citizens travel by motorbike or song tow. A song tow is a taxi, of sorts. Basically a pickup truck with a canopy and benches lining the truckbed. No meters, you just tell the driver where you want to go, bat your eyelashes a bit, and barter for the price. The more people you have, the cheaper it will be. It was so pleasant to travel this way, we just all piled in like clowns at the circus and that was that. While in Chiang Mai, we hired a driver, SuBin, to chauffeur us out to BHJ every morning and bring us back. Not only did it cost us about 2.50 us dollars a day yo do this, but he was a superhero. We all became quite fond of SuBin, and depended on him to keep track of us....maybe pull a gadget or two out of his rig.
5) Eh-yaphants. That's what Maya calls them. She's 2. Elephants have been my favorite for a long time, ever since I cried my way through Dumbo as a preschooler. Thailand is known for its indigenous elephant population, and I was able to buy elephant paraphernalia of all kinds. More significant, while on Koh Chang, we visited them at an elephant reserve camp. These Thai people live in this camp, take care of the elephants, and lead tourists through the jungle while atop Babar. Not only did I sit in a magical basket and ride an elephant, but we were able to feed them and get in the river to bathe them. I could just squeal thinking about how fun it was and how cute they were. They're smart, and cheeky creatures to boot. They get each other riled up and think it's funny to spray water all over the farangs (white people). I think it's funny too.
4) Not a Baht. Thailand is ideal for the economical adventurer. To paint a picture, I spent three weeks traveling on trains, eating, buying things, staying in guest houses, and having interactive activities in a foreign country. I spent less than 700 dollars. Just can't go wrong. With the exchange rate being about 34 Baht to one dollar, dinners in Chiang Mai cost me about $1.36. How could I leave, you ask? Very hesitantly.
3) GDH. This last winter, I read a book called the Geography of Bliss. In short, a grumpy man visits all of the most allegedly happy countries in the world and try to figure out why they are so. Thailand is included, and notably practices GrossDomesticHappiness. It shows. The people of that little nation are just so darn great. You know how annoyed we are at the tourists in all of our major cities that clog up our transportation systems, yell in indistinguishable languages, and wear horribly offensive clothing? Thais are more mature than that. We dumbass Americans were welcomed everywhere we went. No matter where we were, we got help from the locals before we could even sheepishly ask for it. Our housemom, PiDang, probably saved me from a horrible fiery death (more on that later...). Our driver, SuBin, could be found on numerous occasions pushing BHJ girls on the swing, making ballon animals, holding yarn to be braided, hammering the swingset, or generally being a superhero. Look for him at night, flighting crime and wearing a cape.
2) Those girls. Of course, the girls at BHJ were just it. I wish there were words that would help my family and friends understand, but to know them is truly to love. They were just delightful. It's quite unfathomable to tell you how simply they live their lives, and even more still to tell you about their joy. They find joy in everything we barely recognize. Please, please, if you ever remember while standing in front of me, ask me about them. Watch my face light up.
1) Still about me. Prepare the cheeseball. My favorite part of my Thailand trip is me. I feel different, energized, and anew. I feel badass and softened all at once. I feel appreciative and socially annoyed. I feel educated and bewildered by my naivete. All of these are productive.
Since my arrival in Texas, everyone has told me how much I will like Austin. Stace made the above comparison. I had six days off last week and so I headed the five hours north to the city they hope to "keep weird". We spent an afternoon floating the river ala college life, complete with a bag of franzia and a cooler intertube. Cowabunga, dude. Afterwards, I was introduced to the infamous sixth street. We spent the night ducking through crowds, yelling whoohoo, and chasing the after bar-night grease. The night ended with a guy asking me for my email address. I thought texting was the most non committal way to contact someone. Again, wrong. Perhaps even sadder is the fact that I gave it to him.... and was somehow even glad he asked. Ew. The live music capital of the world is now on my list to work in. It gets longer every day. At this rate, I will be a travel nurse for roughly twelve years. See ya.
I've still never gotten over my parent's refusal to buy me a pony for the backyard. Thankfully, I am now gainfully employed in the Lonestar State for five more weeks, where one might satisfy all equine cravings. Horses on the beach doubles my pleasure and fun. Tammy and I rounded out the day with a visit to the sea turtle rescue center to oogle over the little funny-finned fellas and a meal on the water. Good Morrow, fellow earthlings.
An enthusiastically noncommittal post-grad's take on all things annoying, adventuring, growing up/never growing up, the gypsy life and having the balls to try.
This just means that I love you to love it. Share at will, but don't jack it up, abuse it, or forget to give credit. I will do the same, and spread the good cyber karma.
What She Said?
The Deal
I work: PICU nurse.
I play: comic, improviser, actor, yogi, and travel fiend.
I have been a travel nurse for a while, hopping from hospital to hospital across the US. I grew up in Spokane, WA and have lived in NYC, PHX, TX, Kansas City, and on a farm in Carnation. I've just moved to Seattle after being in LA for 3 years, where I studied at UCB, improvised with my team Reply All, did standup comedy around town, and ran around intoxicated on sunshine. I am now likely making too much noise somewhere, with galoshes on my feet and a laptop tucked under my arm.
Posted by
