travel | Anglo Adventure

April 17, 2014
by HalmCreative Leave a comment

Confession: I’m Strangely Attracted to the Roaming Gnome

Hot. He’s not giving the finger, he only has three.

When I was about nine, I had a crush on Michelangelo. Not the artist, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. Words like “rad” and “cowabunga” rolled off his tongue. He carried nunchucks, arguably the best weapon. And he could ollie on a skateboard even with that cumbersome turtle shell. Total bad boy.

But love is fickle. And judging by his lack of response to my frequent letters, ours remained unrequited. Faster than the time it takes to say, Cowabunga! I moved on to fellas who were more loquacious, less green. Rider Strong. Devon Sawa. Mr. T.

In my preteen years, all it took was a deep middle-part or a Mohawk to make my heart flutter.

After a few years putting myself out there only to be crushed by zero responses to my proclamations of deep, unfaltering love, I had given up on celebrity crushes. That is, until I fell for Travelocity’s Roaming Gnome.

And he travelled right into my heart

Son of a… Well, good for him I guess. | Photo from: VegasChatter.com

I loved the Travelocity Gnome before he started doing commercials, when he was just a small town garden gnome, hanging out with Amelie’s Dad. Of course he’s been around a lot longer than that. A little Wikipedia work tells me that the roaming gnome prank started in the 1980’s in Australia.

He’s adorable. Sure, he’s probably at least 100 years older than me. But there’s a worldly twinkle in his wide-set eyes. And then there’s the remarkable achievement, the staggering genius* of his beard.

He broods. He’s really quiet, which leads me to believe he’s pontificating on life, love, the pursuit of happiness. When he speaks, his voice has a charming, indistinguishable accent, a subtle lilt reminiscent of the English countryside. Where are you from, Gnome?! My guess is that his accent is a delightful melange of countries from years spent travelling. Continue reading →

April 3, 2014
by HalmCreative 6 Comments

Translation Thursday: What the Heck is This?

My sister is in Japan, lucky duck. Her hotel has been leaving the above on her pillow every night.

Without being too egregious, please translate the text on the package and tell me what this thing is.

Some ideas:

a). A wasabi-scented item for use in the bedroom (wink). Now x5!

b). A magic robe that gives nerds chest hair.

c). They’re obviously chips. Musk-scented, of course.

d). A diet pill that gives people a hollowed-out chest cavity.

Add yours. I’ll reveal what the product actually is in the comments later.

March 27, 2014
by HalmCreative 6 Comments

Maybe Your Bliss is Following You

I believe in following dreams. It’s what will keep you moving, getting up day after day. I believe in traveling the globe, in adventure, in opening your mind to new experiences.

And…

I believe know there’s no glamour in financially struggling.

Following is an honest look at “following your bliss” into dark corners. A recent experience led me to believe that sometimes, your dreams have to be put aside for awhile, at least until the ship rights itself, ’til the storm is over.

You’ve seen the Pinterest boards of the blue car on the wide open road with a nice Kerouac quote: “Live, travel, adventure, bless, and don’t be sorry.” These Pinterest boards all have us wanting to sell our stuff and take to the open road.

You’ll serve rude people pie and work on your writing. Looked good in that movie, right?
You’ll tootle around the country in a jeep for a year
You’ll publish a novel about your life on the road. Because no one’s done that yet.
You’ll become a famous blogger. There aren’t many travel bloggers right?

All of these things sound great.

Read no further if you’re currently sitting on a stack of dollar bills. Or if your name is Richard Branson. If you are either of those two people, please by all means, follow your bliss.

For the rest of us, consider this:

Maybe your bliss is just where you are.

Continue reading →

March 12, 2014
by HalmCreative 7 Comments

Before You Apply to the Amtrak Writer’s Residency, Let’s Talk

As a travel writer/literary scribe/nonsense poet, I know what happened when you read Amtrak’s description of their new writer’s residency. Oh you haven’t heard? Amtrak is offering writers the opportunity to ride the rails for a few days. Must have mad writing skills and a substantial social media following.

Sound like you? Great. But there were also some questions about the rights of submitted writing samples that might have you rethinking jumping aboard. Last I heard, Amtrak is working out the legalese.

I’ll let you decide whether it’s a good idea to apply or not. I am here to talk truth about train travel.

The Truth About Train Travel

Me on a train. Don't laugh. No one looks good on a train.

Me on a train in NYC. Don’t laugh. No one looks good on a train.

You visualized yourself sitting in a plush, reclined seat, scenery zipping by your window, glass of wine in hand as you type the next great American novel. You picture telling the other oh-so interesting passengers you’re there to write a novel, a play, a…blog post.

Don’t lie. Some of the fun of being a writer on a residency is saying you’re a writer on a residency. “I wrote it all…on a train!” Cue applause at the well-attended reading of your new train mystery series, Snakes On A Train.

The passengers you picture come straight out of the golden age of train travel. Everyone carries a boxy suitcase and has a charming old-timey accent. The gals wear mink shrugs and derby hats; the gents don fedoras and skinny ties. Except for the ting of silver spoons and platters, it’s quiet as the train chugs along, breathtaking scenery zipping by out the window.

You have more than enough space for your laptop or even (guh) your typewriter. You put your feet up and type away to a special playlist you created for the occasion.

Runaway train, never goin’ back
Wrong way on a one-way track…

That is what I envisioned before I took a four-day train cross country from Chicago to San Francisco. That’s not quite what happened. I am not saying train travel is awful, not at all. I am simply saying it may not be what you think it is.

No stranger on a train.

What I envisioned.

At age 21, I rode the rails from Chicago to San Francisco and back, paying for it using my paltry tax return. It was a family trip; my mom, younger sister, uncle and I headed out to California to watch my oldest sister graduate from law school.

My mom refuses to fly and so she takes Amtrak everywhere. None of the following experiences have anything to do with Amtrak or Amtrak service. From what I remember, the service is pretty darn good, the people are nice, and it is a unique experience that everyone should do once.

This is about my romanticized view of train travel, what I thought it was (the Orient Express) and what it actually is (not the Orient Express).

The Deluxe “Sleeper” Car.

THIS is exactly what happened to us.

When my mom said she booked a deluxe car (for the three of us), I envisioned a hotel-sized room with a big window. I pictured plush beds and chocolates on pillows, gourmet food on silver platters, a little table set up next to the window with a vase and a single rose. Along with little luxuries like a ceiling high enough so that I could stand completely upright. Continue reading →

February 26, 2014
by HalmCreative 5 Comments

That Time I Sent a Fax & Other Adventures

The boston terrier in his natural habitat.

I hesitate to call anything a series because it’s such a big commitment, but yes, periodically, I will be rounding up all the little everyday adventures in my everyday life.

What lucky duck won my blog giveaway?

First of all, I’d like to announce the winner of my first giveaway. Congrats Caitlin of Caitlinstern writes. She writes about writing, shares a lot of great short stories and journals her thoughts about writing. She’s also one of my first commenters from way back when this blog started.

She will be getting a copy of I Thought We Agreed To Pee In The Ocean by Alena Dillon. Even though you didn’t win, pick up a copy of the book, it’s a fun read.

Here is my three-part everyday adventure round up:

I sent a fax.

I know what you’re thinking: why, the f*ck would anybody send a fax? To weed out ~~most of America~~ certain types, a prospective employer asked applicants to fax, mail, or drop-off applications.

“This position requires some travel. Like back to 1993.”

Not knowing anyone with a fax, I went to our local mailing center. Mailing center dude hovered over the machine as it jerked the pages through then spit out a confirmation letter typed in a font I am sure no longer exists:

Your fax didn’t make it. We cannot tell you why. Please shove all 12 pages back into the machine. And make yourself comfortable. You’ll be here for awhile.

Mailing center dude threw up his hands in frustration as I scrolled through in-real-time status updates on my new iPhone. After three attempts, four apologies to him, and $5, I ended up mailing the darn thing.

That’s right. I used a second antiquated technology because the first didn’t work. Continue reading →

January 30, 2014
by HalmCreative 8 Comments

Hoofin’ It: Teenage Walks to Remember

: Walking: my version of flying.

Before Wild and the blogger who walks the coast of Wales with a donkey, there was pre-teen and teenage me, who walked all over Chicago’s far South Side.

That’s right. I was way into extreme walking before it was cool.* Because I didn’t have a car until I was 19.

Walking is essential to my well-being. I’m not much of a hiker; I’m a city walker, a promenader and pontificator. Seattle is one of the best walking cities; there’s water everywhere, our gentle weather rarely interferes with a good stroll, and it’s only the most beautiful place on the planet.

But Chicago is where I learned to walk. First to our coffee table, then to the end of the driveway, then to my little brick school, and then to everywhere.

Ode to Travel on Foot

: What’cha doin’ sittin’?

Sometimes, I didn’t walk, I ran down city streets, avoiding garbage cans, almost crashing into pedestrians. I ran so fast I thought my lungs would burst. I wish someone would have warned me that running would never feel That Good again. Sure, a run feels good and necessary, but it not like a teenage anything-can-happen run, a run where you’re laughing so hard tears stream down your face, a run where your only goal is to topple into your best friend or escape some kind of trouble.

I walked with friends, a big group of them. I walked to their houses miles away, in the next neighborhood. I walked in red Chuck Tailors or heavy black boots. Sometimes we’d meet at halfway points, usually a cemetery or a fast-food restaurant or a pizza place. We didn’t have enough money to do anything but walk. It led to the greatest teenage adventures. Screw the boring old scheduled parental drop-offs at the mall, we were wild and free. We strutted under star-sprinkled skies like we owned the world. We walked to train stations that would whisk us into downtown, where we’d walk some more.

I walked to Chicago’s South Side Irish parade, not the one where they dye the river green, the one where they start drinking at noon. It was one of those must-not-miss events where every.single.person you knew would be there and they would all be wearing Notre Dame sweatshirts, green wigs, and shamrock stickers. (Side note: this parade was cancelled because it got too rowdy.)

I walked before iPods, no Walkman, just me and a cracked sidewalk, sprinklers, sometimes yells from passing cars. I walked through my own perpetual inner dialogue, through corridors in my mind. I walked until I came to conclusions, epiphanies, inventions. All forgotten when I returned. (I wonder if Einstein was a walker?)

: If you don’t notice this stuff, you’re doing it wrong.

I walked into characters; an old woman who fed about fifty cats in her yard everyday. Once she put down the food, they would come from all angles, mewing and rubbing against each other. Then there was the complete stranger who leaned over a fence and asked me if I wanted a job taking care of his bed-ridden wife. (I declined). Continue reading →

November 16, 2013
by HalmCreative 2 Comments

Seattle’s First Secret Supper, All the Juicy Details

“You’re invited…to Seattle’s First Secret Supper”

Moi? Invited? To an exclusive event? I felt like the time this mean girl Lauren invited me to her 10th birthday party as a joke. It’s ok, she peaked in coolness at age 10 so I am pretty sure she went downhill and is now living in a cave or something.

The invite came from Dishcrawl, a social networking organization for food lovers with chapters all over the country. No joke, I was going to my first Secret Supper and had no idea what to expect.

Dishcrawl Seattle organizes (get this) dish battles, a Secret Supper Club, and cocktail wars, where participants sip cocktails from renowned mixologists and then vote on their favorite concoctions and who they think is hottest bartender.

It is the best way to get awkward Seattelites to sit down and socialize. During the Supper Club, you eat with strangers united for a love of food. And the chef comes out between each course to tell you his-her inspiration.

Hold up! What is a Secret Supper?

Real salmon. None of that weak farm-raised stuff.

In general, secret supper clubs and underground restaurants have been “a thing” since the 40s. Wikipedia defines it as an eating establishment run out of someone’s home to avoid zoning and health-code violations. Like a really good dinner party.

I should mention that the Dishcrawl Secret Supper takes place in a real restaurant and I am pretty certain no health codes were violated.

How can I get into such an exclusive event?

I like food, so I signed up for Dishcrawl’s email subscriber list. Julia Simpson, Dishcrawl’s Community Manager says that’s the best way to find out about Secret Supper. She also relayed that this was the first of many and they’d have about one a month. It’s not heavily advertised though and tickets are limited.

Also, words of warning: picky eaters need not apply. This is adventure dining with a special menu created for the event.

How adventurous are we talking?

The mystery locale, underground restaurant

Can’t believe this is my life.

You will likely eat something you’ve never had before. For me, it was persimmon ice cream. For others, it could be boiled crickets or monkey brains or a sheep’s head.

Ok, I don’t think they go to those extremes, but you don’t get to view the menu ahead of time. It’s all kept a great big mystery, but you are able to send in your dietary restrictions. Might be a good time to mention your “allergy” to baby animal brains.

The secret location is unveiled a day or so before and you don’t get a peek at the menu until that night. They also let you know the style of food you’ll be eating. Continue reading →

October 29, 2013
by HalmCreative 4 Comments

Paris Travel Photo Essay, Film Noir Edition

Paris is pretty.

Sure, it smells of urine in some spots and there are piles of dog merde everywhere, but I barely even noticed because there is so much pretty to take in. It is so gorgeous, I broke my rule about living through the lens and filled up my camera’s CF card the third day in.

This is the first of my Paris photo essays, the Film Noir edition, otherwise known as the day I tried to be artsy by snapping photos of statues and strangers in monochrome.

Paris travel photos

Artists and students everywhere.

Model or street sweeper?

There it is.

Montmarte.

At Le Louvre.

Paris travel photography in black and white

October 23, 2013
by HalmCreative 1 Comment

Halloween Travel: Braving the Paris Catacombs

Notice the mad organizational skills. If wonder if I could get a catacombs grave maven to organize my closet.

The scariest part of the Paris Catacombs around Halloween is the warning before you even get to the ticket booth. “Not for people with heart conditions or who have nervous dispositions.”

What do they consider a nervous disposition? I scan the sign but there’s no indication. And heart condition? A few weeks ago, after inhaling a pile of tacos, I felt like a giant was using my heart as his personal stress ball. Thump, thump, the-ump.

How embarrassing would it be if I had grabber (heart attack) in the tunnel and tried to tell one of the guides. “Je suis malade! Mon coeur, mon coeur!” (Or is it ma coeur?)…

Madam. Did you not read the signs?

These chicly dressed guides I envision laugh at my pronunciation and shovel my corpse on top of a bone wall as a warning for thoughtless tourists and travellers who dare go into the catacombs with occasional bouts of heartburn.

“Do you think you could handle this?” The Husband points to the sign making my already-nervous disposition grow ever more … nervous.

“Shoot, I don’t know. Once, I cried at a haunted house, until the clown took off his mask to show me he was a normal guy. Only he had no teeth. I started screaming and we had to be escorted out.”

“But that was when you were a kid.”
“That was two years ago.”

I mentally list all the Totally BadAss Things I survived, excluding haunted houses. Trapeze. Cliff diving. White water rafting. A high school that could have been the setting for Dangerous Minds: metal detectors, roaches, knife-wielding teenagers and all. Like I said, Total BadAss.

A badass who just happens to have a nervous disposition. Continue reading →

September 24, 2013
by HalmCreative 2 Comments

Travel Pictures: Put a Bird on It

You know what turns a boring, mediocre travel photo into something beautiful? A bird. It doesn’t even have to be a rare bird, a scrappy seagull or downtrodden pigeon can make your travel pictures stunning.

Below is a travel photo narrative of bird photo bombs.

Elsinore.

Denmark.

London.

Seattle

South Dakota, Badlands

In Quebec, near the river

B.C. Birds (Victoria)

Victoria, China Beach

Travel photography tips

My number one travel photography tip: the best photographs happen by mistake.

I learned this while walking through London in shoes that pinched my feet. The clouds parted and a rainbow arched over the city. Freakin’ magical. I turned all the way around on a crowded street, snapped off a few pictures of the rainbow.

The he man behind me asks, “Blimey, don’t they have rainbows where you’re from?” his lips curled in an I-Hate-Tourists sneer. He looked so mad, I feared he would reach out and smash my camera. I felt like the biggest rube. There I was in my holy jeans and stupid shoes with a giant camera strapped to my neck getting called out by a real Londoner.

But it was worth it because I got a bunch of really great photos of a rainbow over London, including the one above with the bird flying across the square. My point is this: take a lot of photos. Don’t live through the lens, be in the present moment, but be ready to snap away the moment a great scene reveals itself.

Anglo Adventure

Travel with a sense of humor

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