Student Life

Lately, I have been getting in touch with my former student self.  Well, actually, given that I took night classes after undergrad, then went back to grad school for 4 years, took the New York bar exam and have since taken (read: registered for.  Not so much with the follow-through on these) numerous courses in Spanish and French, not sure I really ever lost the student in me. 

I certainly never lost the “Oh crap, I’m down to last $40 and you just know that is going towards beer” budget. (although, let’s be honest.  It now goes towards a juicy, cold-climate pinot noir) And, sadly, I have Dominos on speed dial and still feel the need to spend entire days moving from my bed to my couch and then back to my bed.  So, maybe I am just getting more in touch with the high school side of my former student self. 

Or, at least, that is the last time I babysat.  And, rode a bike.  (except that time in Napa Valley on a vacay extension to a work trip, when I had the brilliant idea that my work colleagues and I would leisurely meander through the grapevines, quaffing wines and sampling gourmet cheese and crackers.  Yeah?  The reality?  My poor friend Payam trying to carry back the 5 bottles of wine we’d decided to buy (in the interest of avoiding drunk cycling) while navigating the single blacktop scorching two lane highway that ALL cars are forced to traverse to go from winery to winery (hence the no-go on the drunk cycling).  And, my other lovely friend (who shall remain nameless!) who decided she had had enough and flagged down our other friends in an SUV to give her a lift home.  So much for the leisure, meandering, quaffing etc.

But, I bought a bike last spring, fully intending to cycle to and from work.  The money I would save!  The time and fitness I would regain!

Then, the reality of the limbs I would lose, sobered me up. 

So, I never did actually get on the bike.  Well, once.   When I had to get it home from the shop.  (really, they should deliver those things! I mean, trying to balance my shopping bags filled with my fancy lock, helmet, new cycle clothes, etc and ride the damn thing.  It’s a wonder I ever got on it again.)

But, then the tires went flat from lack of use.  So, I took that as a sign.  But, lately, I have been re-inspired.  Several of my friends cycle to work.  And, London sponsors a day where they close the main roads and let the cyclists take over.  This seemed like as good a time as any to get back out on the open road.   Luckily for me, I have two good friends who guided me to and from the closed roads and there were only a few scary moments.  Probably the worst of which was when some freaky dude asked me to go for a drink as I was trying to avoid being hit by a bus.

So, I was sure I was ready to cycle to work the following Monday.  But, as luck would have it, I actually was being a student again.  Because I am a big nerd, I have decided to become admitted to practice law in England as well as New York, so I have been taking the required exams and the last of them (unless I failed it, which, given that it was legal accounting and ethics (could there be more of an oxymoron??) is very possible) was that very week.  Which, turns out, was a good thing.  Because that Monday there was a tube strike.  Now, I know that I would have been all prepared with my shiny newly inflated tires, helmet, clothes etc and eager to hit the road.  But, so were about 300 extra busses, taxis and scary novice cyclists.  So, maybe not the safest.

And, by the way – how civilized is this?  All the tube strikes in the UK are planned.  Meaning when they start AND when they stop.  It’s a very polite, (insert chipper Britishy accent) “Oh, yes, we are so so sorry to disrupt your commute, perhaps if you could just stay home, or take one of the remaining non-affected lines or an additional bus for the next 24 hours when normal service will resume? Cheers!”

I remember when I was living in NYC and the subway AND busses went on strike.  Those people were like, “deal with it.”  And, you know what dealing with it meant?  Yep, extortion.  It was something like $10 per person per block from taxi drivers. And, it was snowing.  Yeah, and there was no stopping planned until demands were met.  Or, the head of the union was arrested, which is, in fact, what happened. (Sometimes you gotta love New Yorkers!)

In any event, I did not commute that week as I was busy studying – and babysitting!   Yes, friends, someone I know entrusted me with their precious cargo.  (Well, me and my childcare social worker friend with a masters’ degree.)    And, babysitting nowaways is cool.  No such thing as a $20 and the number for Dominos (which, you may recall I already had)…oh no!  When you babysit for a chef, you get homemade pizza with fresh basil and buffalo mozzarella.  And, made from scratch brownies.  And, two bottles of prosecco to wash it all down!  No complaints here. 

And, the beauty of being a 37 year old babysitter?  When the child does something that requires the experience and knowledge of an actual mom, I got a whole arsenal at my ready.  No more do I need to call MY mom and ask whether a hiccupping baby can lie on her back!  Nope, all my best girl friends are armed and at the ready even if I am not. (btw, thanks Libs!)

So, after an exciting week of babysitting and cycling (oops, I mean studying!) I did finally take the exam.  Which, was odd, as it was in the bar for the private boxes at Emirates Stadium (home to the Arsenal football club).  While, I am not sure if the clinking of the glasses will be of a benefit or hindrance to me, I did get some pics and will surely get some mileage out of those!)

And, a few days later, I decided to brave the cycling commute!  Decked out in my high-vis (that is code for fluorescent, I know I look like an a**hole, hopefully so much so that big trucks and busses will see me) vest, helmet and flashing lights I hit the road.  And the commute in was pretty good. Went to the gym, showered, locked up the bike, went to work.  Felt like a champ.  Until it was time for the ride home. 

And, it was raining.  And, rush hour.  And, getting dark.  So, I got a little flustered.  And, lost.  And, ended up on the Old Street Roundabout.   (for those non-British of you, a roundabout is a centrifuge-like death circle of speeding and honking cars, busses and giant trucks built to avoid intersections – why?  WHO knows.  But, in any event,  NOT where you want to be on a  bike.) So, I did the only sane thing and got off the bike and walked it round through the cross walks.  Crisis averted.

Until it really started to bucket down.   And, my glasses fogged up.  And, then I got a flat tire.

Which, as fate would have it, happened right near my favorite juicy, cold-climate pinot noir store. 

And, lucky me, I still have $40 in my account.

Travel Nice in the Sandbox

Recently I had the pleasure of going on a weekend trip to Dublin with some friends.  And, I thought I would have a lot of stories to tell.  But, turns out, my stories are all about travel MIS-adventures.  And, this trip was pretty perfect.  Good friends, lots of laughs, awesome dinners, fab cocktails and great shopping.  So, it got me to thinking, why was this trip so great when I've had others (even to Dublin) that were just so-so?  And, I came to the conclusion that it is all in your travel companions.  You can be sitting on your own private island in the Maldives with a man at your beck and call, bringing you fruity umbrella-d cocktails, but if you end up with an incompatible travel-mate, you may as well be sitting in your backyard in the baby pool with a Natty light.

So here for any of you interested in traveling with me are the rules that made this last trip so great and so many others, not so much!

1. Don’t pack more than you can carry.

I gotta give credit to my dad for this one.  And, when you think about it, as the only man in a family of 3 women (can you say packmule?), this rule was a necessity.  And as my mother is from the old school where women don’t carry anything but a tiny makeup bag and the tickets, my sister and I quickly learned that we were on our own in schlepping business.

Now, as an adult, you would think I would be a pro.  But, somehow, not. 

Because, while I had grown up an Army brat, moving every 3 years, traveling with my family by train all over Europe and boats and planes all over Asia, somehow I failed to pick up the packing gene.  I may have mentioned one family trip where my mother (foolish woman!) allowed me to pack my own suitcase only to discover when we got to our destination that I had brought an entire suitcase full of stuffed animals.  (Ah, but see the laugh was on her, because I then got a new wardrobe out of it!   This McFetridge isn’t so stupid after all, eh?)

In any event, when I decided to go off into the wilds of Costa Rica (OK, not so much with the “wilds” there), I knew I needed to only bring what I could carry in my recently purchased shiny new trekking back pack.  Now, because I was a novice at traveling on my own, I paid a ridiculous amount of money to go on a sponsored volunteer trip.  (Yes, I realize now how utterly indulgent and ridiculous that sounds.  I mean, do you have to pay to join the Peace Corps?  No.  Enough said.)

But, in my delusional state, I imagined we would be digging wells and treating malaria patients, sweat pouring from my brow while I brought civilization to this poor underprivileged nation.  (OK, again with the ridiculous.  Trust me to “volunteer” in a tropical paradise and think I am actually doing good for anything other than my tan.)

In any event, I only packed the absolute necessities.  Like a shovel.  Water purification kit, tourniquet, snake bite kit, sleep sack, bug hut etc.  And, before you ask, no, I wasn’t actually camping.  (although, oddly, there seemed to be a slew of toilet seat-less toilets.  I still can’t figure out if there was some sort of a discount if you bypassed the seat option.)

And, yes, there was clean, running water, hospitals and real buildings with roofs and all!  And, shockingly, no need for a shovel.

Here is what I did not bring: nice shoes, make-up or jewelry.  Now this will come as a surprise to all y’all who know me. And, this was an important lesson.  Because after two weeks of “volunteering” (read: holiday-ing) and suffering with toilet seat-less toilets and other non-5 star amenities, I decided I needed, guess what?  Yep, a 5 Star hotel.  So, I checked into the best hotel in the capital, took a hot bubble bath and then decided to treat myself to a fancy dinner and bottle of wine in the restaurant.  But, not having brought any shoes other than flip flops, no jewelry other than a sport watch and no make-up at all, I felt dowdy and underdressed.  Two things I hate.

So, by the end of my three months, I no longer had a shovel, water purification kit, tourniquet or snake bite kit.  But, that was alright, because they made room for my new collection of silver jewelry, cute shoes, lip gloss and mascara.

In any event, I was able to carry it all.  Of course, I had to load-shed some not so important stuff in order to do it. (like the bags of sour patch kids and starburst I had my friends bring me. And, add a new monogrammed Lands End bag that said friends also brought me along with some new Victoria Secret pajamas and make-up)  But, nevertheless, I was able to lug it all by my lonesome. 

So, to any would-be travel companions, take heed: you don’t need 5 pairs of shoes for a weekend or three changes of clothes for every day.  But, if you really think you do, then make sure you can carry it all, because you’re on your own.  Oh, and be particularly aware of this rule if there are multiple busses, trains, planes, boats, or metro/tube trips involved.  Because all those mean stairs and, if you're traveling with me, probably, at least once, sprinting to catch one of the above! 

Rule 2: It ain’t gonna be like home.

That is why it is called “traveling.”  See?  You go somewhere different and you experience new things and you learn from it: either that you got it better at home or maybe home should/could change.  In any event, if you’re English, no, they can’t make tea.  And, not everyone serves omelette and chips or has Sky sports.  And, if you’re American, no, there is no Hilton, Starbucks or McDonalds on every corner.

And both of y’all -- sometimes you aren’t allowed to flush the toilet paper and not everyone speaks English.  (shocking, I know!)

Some of us think that this is kind of the beauty of it.    So, please, if you only eat free range organic iguana slaughtered by the light of the full moon and blessed by a shaman, pack a supply because you ain’t gonna get it anywhere else.  And, here’s a heads up: in Spain, it’s all pork. In Germany and Hungary, it’s all meat.  None of it is halal or kosher or organic or free range.  You can’t get fresh vegetables or fruit if you’re camping in the Serengeti.  There is no carb-free, wheat-free or sugar-free anything ANYWHERE.   Sometimes, all you get is instant coffee.  Deal with it.

Because you know what you do get?  The Al Hambra, Budapest by night, the remnants of the Berlin Wall, seeing a cheetah hunt a gazelle and walking among Greek ruins from thousands of years in the past. 

Not much of a trade-off in my book.

Rule 3: Roll with the punches.

People are always shocked that this is one of my rules.  Now, I know I can be a little demanding.   And, I have even been referred to as “fussy” on occasion.  But, I like to think that I drop all that once I hit an airport.  Because, you know what?  Shit happens when you travel.  Bags get lost, flights get cancelled, hotel brochures are misleading etc.  If you really get all worked about that stuff, traveling ain’t for you. 

Probably the best example of this was when I went on a trip with MBA class to Europe – now they all flew from Dallas, but I had decided I needed to go to Austin for a concert so I flew from Austin.  And, we had donated tickets from a major airline, so we had a bit of a circuitous route….to the tune of: Dallas to Chicago, Chicago to London (6 hour layover in London) and London to Stockholm.  So, tack on my Austin connection and you just know those bags ain’t gonna make it. 

And, sure enough, they did not.  For 2 days. 

Now, lucky me, the airline gives you an amenities kit.  Which is great if all you want to do is brush your teeth (once) and sit in your new cotton granny panties.   Um, surprisingly, as it was my first time in Stockholm, that wasn’t on my shortlist.  So, I just got on with it.  Wore the same clothes for a few days cycled through the new panties and the sink-washed originals and, thankfully, had had the foresight to pack a few toiletries in my carry-on and a spare pair of underwear.  (wow – that rhymes, catchy!)

All my classmates were shocked at this new laid back Kristin.  But, what are you gonna do?  Sit around and complain that it ain’t like home (see Rule 2) or enjoy the time you have and the mileage you're gonna get out of those stories?  (Case in point right here!)

Rule 4: Be OK being on your own.

If you decide to travel with other people, which most of us do, realize that we don’t all want to do the same things.  And, guess what?  That is just dandy.  Because, nothing is more annoying that passive aggressive types who don’t want to do what you do, but will just because they can’t stand being on their own.  I know I might be unusual in that I like being alone.  I like shopping alone and I am always happy to read a book or listen to music. 

So, if you want to get up at the crack of dawn and walk 20 miles in a downpour to see a church, fabulous!  But, please, don’t expect me to come along as I am perfectly OK not seeing another church, building, museum blah blah blah.  I am perfectly happy to sleep in, go for a run, do a little shopping and have my own little wander. 

I know that makes me a bad tourist in some eyes, but I can live with that.  And, if you really do like company on your hours of trekking across a new city seeing all there is to see, make sure you have someone else in the group to share that with.

And, don’t worry, I’ll meet you later for cocktails and you can tell me all about it.  And, show me the pictures.  So, really, it’s like I went, too, so, turns out, I didn’t need to go after all.

Rule 5: Remember, we are ALL on vacation.

Unfortunately, most people I know don’t get to bum around Europe on yachts or ski slopes or lounge in spas in Bali or Thailand for a living.  (But, if any of you do and you need a travel companion, I so will ignore any of my rules if you’ll take me with you.)

But, for the rest of us, we all have a finite amount of time and cash with which to enjoy ourselves.  And, if we’re on a trip together, then, you know what, it is because we like each other enough to choose to share that time and money together.  So, I promise not to make my drama yours.  (OK, that is a bit of a lie. Being a drama queen, I really LOVE when things go wrong (see Rule 3 if you are confused about why), so I will make you share my drama, but hopefully, with laughter.  No one likes a complainer.  Unless they are funny about it.  And you all know how funny I think I am!) 

So, maybe I should just say, don’t make your drama mine. (Unless of course, you’re funny, too. Which you probably are if you’re friends with me.)  But, if you’re not (i.e someone else brought you along on the trip), then don’t whine to me about losing your favorite lip gloss, having your wallet stolen because you set it down in a crowded bar, paying too much for a taxi or meal or not having anything to eat (Again, see Rule 2).  I’ve done all those things and I survived.  And, so can you.  And you know what? 

If you can laugh at it, so can everyone else. 

Maybe even in a blog.