Getting Away

I just returned from a weekend away, and I'm already counting the days until my next trip (nine!). At the same time, I've been scheming (unsuccessfully) to get an overseas business trip. My friend and I are trying to plan a long trip in November. I'm yearning to go visit a bunch of friends I've made on various business trips recently.

Somehow these trips have started to feel more like my "real" life than my real life does. On trips, I work less (or not at all), I grab every opportunity for a new experience, I'm fearless, I make new friends and find opportunities for romance. It's the "me" I want to be.

I wish I could tuck my travel attitude into my suitcase to bring home with me.

Going Home

Going home is usually easy for me, but Mother's Day weekend was rough. It was my first time in my parents' new house, and I kept driving by the house I grew up in, seeing the new owners' moving trucks. It was bittersweet because I do love the new house, which has more room for my brother and his family to visit at the same time as me. This was the first time my parents could have us all visit without giving up their own room.

*snip from original post*

The last year has presented a series of revelations of how fragile life is and how little it takes to turn it upside down: a few seconds in front of a driver who's not paying attention, a phone call with an abnormal test result, and everything changes. Can the good things also strike like a lightning bolt? I'd like to think so.

Red Betty / Red Beauty

There were no grand coincidences, no evidence of the hand of fate at work in forgetting my license on my recent work trip. However, it did lead to some fun moments and my acquaintance with Betty, or Red Betty, as I like to call her.

Betty was rented by a group of Australians attending the same work event as me. The three strapping men were expecting to rent a comfortable four-door car in Salt Lake City when the driver was seduced by the offer of a red Mustang, a classic American muscle car. Over the objections of the guy who would have to cram into the back, they upgraded to the car that was quickly christened Betty.

At the beginning of the week, I learned that they were returning to the airport Thursday night, which was perfect timing for me. I didn't realize when I asked for a ride how much stuff these guys would buy! Thanks to the weak American dollar, they acquired motorcycle boots, new clothes, a PS3, and some kind of large guitar-based PS3 accessory. The car's trunk was full, and the guitar and a suitcase were spilling over into the interior of the car.

We spent a hysterical five minutes trying to cram everyone and everything in. First I was in the backseat with an Aussie and a suitcase, with the guy in the front holding the guitar. However, he once he got the guitar in his lap, he couldn't reach the door handle to pull it shut. The eventual solution was to put me in the front, seat fully forward, and jimmy the two guys into the back with a suitcase and the guitar. They each had an inch of forehead barely peeping over the top of the packages.

By the time I'd spent the hour's ride to the airport getting intimately acquainted with Betty's dashboard, I'd gotten fond of her myself. We arranged for me to take over the rental and "keep her in the family." The guys hopped their plane after a few fond farewells, and Betty and I headed south.

I took many pictures of Betty in Canyonlands and Arches National Parks, and we logged nearly 800 miles together on the road. It turned out to be Betty's last hurrah as a rental car; she was sent off to auction when I returned her to Hertz. I like to think the story has a Black Beauty sort of ending: she's now retired from her hard life of servitude to an easy life of washes and waxes and drives on curvy roads.

New Habits

I've realized this week that I've picked up two new habits:

(1) I've started thinking about myself in the third person.

"Cheryl likes the bubbles that result from setting down the dishwashing soap." "Cheryl wonders why nobody in Provo knows directions." "Cheryl has picked up several irritating new habits."

This is a side effect of increased Facebook usage - the status updates are always written in the third person. The constant vigilance for an amusing update has resulted in a habit distressingly similar to the "royal we."

(2) I cannot set down a small object on a flat surface without deliberation.

Pens, my hands-free devices, lip gloss, anything smaller than a breadbox...they all have a tendency to be treated as toys by the small gremlin living in my house. These "toys" usually end up under the TV stand or a larger piece of furniture, not to be seen again for many months.

Away from home this week, I've experienced this phenomenon with my earrings, eye drops, and the room key. I start to set the item down, hesitate while considering the item's safety, then realize there are no gremlins here. I then set the item down with a mixture of relief and regret. I miss the gremlin.

Not So Bright, Myself

If you've read the previous post, you may find it amusing that I'm not the brightest bulb either. I left town for a week today and didn't bring my driver's license. Oh, I have my passport, so I could get on the plane, but no license, which makes renting a car rather difficult (read: impossible).

Fortunately, it's not a total disaster. My hotel is within walking distance of where I'm working this week, so the only hard part was getting to the hotel, which was an unfortunate $120. Ouch. A very dear friend is Fed Ex'ing the license so I'll have it in time for my bonus weekend at the national parks a few hours away. So really, it could be worse.

What's amazing is that I had so many opportunities to bring a license and still ended up here without. I actually have two licenses at the moment because I lost one, replaced it, and then recovered it. One of the licenses is sitting in a small pile of items from my last trip, the pile of items that was considered and rejected for the current trip. I supposedly had my other license, so why bring a duplicate?

The license that I thought was in my purse is actually in the back pocket of the jeans I wore Friday night. I came this close to bringing that pair, but ultimately pruned them from the suitcase because they were long and I expected to wear flats this week.

These are the kind of circumstances that will make a really good story someday if something happens that would only take place without having a car: I avoided an avalanche where I would have been hiking today, the cab driver later this week ends up being the man of my dreams or a long-long cousin, that sort of thing. I'm still watching for the hand of fate and will keep you posted. In the meantime, I'll be doing a lot of walking.

Right vs. Left

People in Provo, UT don't seem to be able to tell right from left. I've had to ask for directions three times today, and 100% of the people I've asked (only two people, but still!) have gotten right and left backward.

With the first girl, on the phone looking for the hotel, I thought it was just a curious mistake. "Turn right at the light and the hotel is on the left" should have been "Turn left at the light and the hotel is on the right." I shrugged it off. But then 20 minutes later, after checking in, I asked for directions to the elevator, and she got it wrong again, and then I knew something was up. For someone working at a hotel, where many guests are presumably unfamiliar with the area, this is a significant handicap. Later, at a restaurant, I asked someone else where the restroom was, and the right/left aspect of the directions were wrong again!

For fun, I'm going to start asking people directions to locations I already know, just to see what they say.

Treated Like Royalty

I recently took a trip to an Asian country for a wedding. I've met the groom a few times, but I was really going because I'm friends with his sister. She's been telling me about "home" for many years, and we've always tossed around the idea of me visiting. This seemed like the perfect opportunity, since there would be lots of wedding-related festivities and other out-of-towners, so I bought it ticket and took a week-plus off work.

My friend's brother is a politician who is apparently fairly well-connected, so I stepped off the plane to someone in uniform holding up my name at the end of the jetway (post-security). He led me to the politician, who remembered me from visits to the states and greeted me kindly. I sat in the President's Lounge (literally) with him, sipping ice water and waiting for my friend's plane, while someone waited in the customs line and retrieved my suitcase from baggage claim. Once my friend arrived, we climbed into an SUV that was waiting in a "no parking area" right outside the airport, and we were whisked off to her mother's house.

At the house, as at every meal I had on vacation, we were served a feast. Dish after dish...steamed fish, grilled fish, giant prawns, mango salsa, dried fish, various types of rice, and (oddly) spaghetti alla carbonara. Maybe the Italian food was served in case I was a spoiled American brat. I had only a little and dug into the other food, so after that night, I never saw anything on the table that didn't look like a local specialty.

After a few days in the big city, we flew off to an island on a chartered flight. Sun, sand, mojitos, spectacular service at the hotel, and fun times with the stag party of 30 guys, several of whom I had met previously. Two of them (one of whom I had met briefly in the past) were kind enough to pay for my plane ticket! The only disappointment was the day I thought they were going to spear-fish our lunch, but instead they just bought it fresh from the market. It still tasted great!

The wedding itself was beautiful. Late afternoon sun slanted in through the partially open church, the bride and groom both looked wonderful, and the wedding guests made a special point to speak English when I was around. I met a couple that lives a mile from me at home; they're the parents to two people I know in the States. Small world, huh?

The next few days were mostly family time, and by the end, I felt like I was part of it. As I was leaving, my friend's mother pressed a bracelet on me with religious icons. It's very attractive and has become part of my standard flight attire (with the yoga pants and warm socks). I've flown safely so far.

I met up with my friend tonight for the first time back in the States and was invited back for a longer visit in the summer of 2009. Hooray!