Festivals

Whether you're in a small town in rural America or a big cosmopolitan city, local festivals are pretty similar. You have local guys in hokey costumes honoring their heritage, silly games that help raise money for something locally meaningful.

You'd think that when you're wandering around like we have been, you'd lose a sense of belonging & community. It's not turning out to be so. In the first place we have great friends everywhere we've been, so there's a warmth & welcome that might not be present if we were strangers on our own. But I think it's also that these humble little celebrations grant some escape from our gadget laden, time pressured, bling studded daily lives & bring us back together in a way that's not so common these days. The guy in the dunk tank could be the owner of the local hardware store, or a farmer, or a Silicon Valley millionaire. Or just the poor schmuck whose wife was in charge of the dunk tank this year ;p They throw out the same candy in the parade that they did when I was a little girl excited for Blossom Time. I'm not sure some of that candy hasn't been in the cupboard that long. And kids of all ages, still get all excited about seeing who can get the most.
At the Columbus Day parade the tossing got pretty humorous. The Columbus meat company was tossing out (individually packaged) salami sandwiches, which were very popular. The parade came to a virtual standstill while they competed to see who could throw the most sandwiches into a 2nd floor window above our heads. It wasn't the guy whose sandwich landed on my head. They even had a karaoke singer belting out Italian - well, Italian American, maybe, in the style of Deano & Frank - tunes.

The Oktoberfest in Campbell wasn't quite as authentic or nostalgic. German food & culture were in short supply, and virtually the only people in "folk dress" were some young ladies who bought their dirndls at Fredrick's of Hollywood. But there were fun bands, good beer & good friends in a cute little downtown. Overall, a fun time.
The Polk Street Blues festival was a few weeks ago and I'm delinquent in writing about it. It was in the Russian Hill neighborhood of San Fran, where we were staying. Big city, and you can still run into people you know at the neighborhood festival, even when you're new. That was followed by the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival in Golden Gate Park. No silly games at these unless you count "try to avoid letting the homeless guy crush your feet while dancing." But what could be a more classic San Francisco experience than watching Joan Baez in Golden Gate Park, while surrounded by hippies and "incense?" I didn't know if it was 2010 or 1970.

All these experiences take me back to a time when life was a little simpler, I didn't care about the corporate ladder, and it was easy to just let go and have fun. It's good practice.

Because we can

Carpe diem! Seize the day! How many times have we said it, read it, applauded it? How many times do we DO it??

Believe it or not, it's been hot in the city for several days. We were parched at the Festa Colioniale Italiana and the Polk Street Blues Festival on Saturday. Took it easy yesterday to recuperate. Today, I woke up and saw a crystal clear sky without a shred of fog, and the weatherman said it was going to be the warmest day all week, even at the coast. So I pushed aside all the research I was going to do on target companies, and said Let's go to the Beach!

We went to Point Reyes National Seashore once, years ago, with our dear friends Rhonda & David. We never got all the way to the lighthouse, because it took so long to get up there and around, and we just ran out of daylight. Today we made it. We did a great hike down the Laguna Creek trail, walked the beach along to Limantour, and hiked back up the Coast trail. The trails were HOT, but we had them to ourselves (passed 1 guy with his 2 kids). The beach was amazing. Endless stretches of sand, a seal bobbing in the waves, warm balmy breeze. I could have laid in the sand and read a book for hours. Except I was already getting sunburned, and we still wanted to make it to the lighthouse. We drove back out to Olemma, took a short break for ice cream, then drove on up to the lighthouse. We actually had to put our jackets on up there, it must have been 20 degrees colder! It wasn't a front that moved in, when we got back to Point Reyes Station it was back to almost 80. We had a lovely dinner (best oyster stew I never dreamed of!) and headed home. Perfect day.

How many people just stick their nose in their computer every day, beating out meaningless words and numbers, while a beautiful day like this passes them by? I realize it's a luxury that I am able to seize a day like this and savor the best it

can be. It makes me think about other days when I truly could have and didn't. I know this much for sure. When I'm breathing my last breath, I will be much more thankful for days like today than for all the days at work.

It's days like this that give me the fortitude to buckle down and work on finding the next great adventure.

Perspective

How many times have I counseled team members about the value of changing your perspective to see things in a new light? Couldn't begin to count them. It's one of the reasons I travel. Every time I come back from a new place I see "home" differently, notice things I didn't before or hadn't thought about in a long time. So I'm not really surprised to be realizing that right now, but I'm noticing it and learning it all over again.

There's the obvious new perspective on this magical place. I've been to San Francisco a dozen times before. I'm not at all surprised that living here has helped me to see it / know it differently. I've always been intrigued by the "slow travel" concept. Inspired by the Slow Food movement, slow travelers believe in longer vacations where you stay put and experience the place like a local, savor it like a good meal. No "if it's Tuesday this must be Belgium" tours for this crowd. Most Americans don't have the luxury and/or don't prioritize vacations like that. If you're intrigued, check out their website at www.slowtrav.com. But I digress.

How different this city is up close. No less charming or beautiful. In a short time I feel like I'm really getting to know the neighborhoods, and their unique character (and characters). I'm finding hidden nooks and crannies, parks & lanes & beaches completely empty of tourists. The Golden Gate Bridge is stunning from the viewpoint on the north side - it's a hell of a photo opp if you can photoshop out all the tourists. But the view of that bridge from my window, with a hawk hanging in an an air current about 30 feet away - now that's something special to behold. The "squiggly" block of Lombard is cute, but it's even more entertaining to sit on the hill leading up to it and watch the tourists burn out their brakes & clutches.

The much more enlightening change of perspective is more personal. The way we've lived since we hit the road is so different than our lives have been for a long time. Not better or worse, but different. Camping out in the spare room of a friend or relative, or even living in a 1-bedroom apartment, really makes you look differently at what stuff is required in your life. Hanging out with our niece the recent college graduate in her first job reminded me what it was like when there was nothing but possibility and adventure ahead, and 10% of what I now earn seemed like a fortune. Living in a place that takes my breath away and makes me smile every day is a constant reminder not to settle for someplace that doesn't.

Sonoma Valley Crush

That's the name of the harvest festival in the Sonoma Valley. 16 wineries participated, and you could visit any ones you wanted for tasting (all for one low, low price!). We had a lovely day with our dear friends the Cantwells.

We started our Crush with a flashback. We had to pick up our tickets at Landmark Winery, and when we got there I realized I had been there before, for an ARAMARK meeting. They have a beautiful hacienda in a park-like setting, with a pond and bocce ball court next to the vineyards and views of the surrounding hills. We played a game of bocce and then, alas, time to hit the road and the next winery.

I tried barrel samples at Kaz - yuck! I like grape juice, and I like wine. The stage in between is pretty rough. The stuff we tasted will probably be bottled in the next year. They had great meatballs there though, and the people were great.

Not all the stops were very memorable. Some were more notable for the surroundings, like wine caves, the "temple of oak," or their views than their wines. I loved VJB, which specializes in hard to find Italian varietals, made in the old world style.

I really love the wine country. Make no mistake, a vineyard is a farm and that means hard work at the mercy of the seasons. I decided pretty early in life that I didn't want to farm for a (try to scratch out a) living. But when I think about the type of place I can see myself retiring, a place like Sonoma doesn't sound half bad. You get the idyllic setting, gorgeous weather and a year-round growing season, about an hour from a major international airport (important for gypsies). I could be pretty happy with a little cottage at the edge of town with a little garden and views of someone else's farm!

Another day in the City by the Bay

Just back from the "Pig Out" at Betelnut, a very trendy PanAsian restaurant on Union Street. On the way, a young woman sweeping the steps of her store stopped to let us pass without being dusted and said "Sorry, please go in peace." Toto, we are not in Philly anymore!!

The Pig Out was tonight's special, roast suckling pig - tender and juicy, complete with little crunchy cracklings. It was served with romano beans sauteed with tofu and ginger, rice, and a sauce of soy sauce, chicken stock, and ginger & chilies steeped and removed. Asian Pear Kimchee was a menu addition that we took advantage of - a delightful sweet, tart, spicy combination. And I enjoyed the spicy Pinot Noir they chose to pair with the meal. Portions were perfect - we left very satisfied but not stuffed. And we only spent $40. Who says everything's expensive here?

This afternoon we wandered the Russian Hill neighborhood. We found McCondray Lane, a hidden little alleyway of adorable homes that used to house very famous people (Jack Kerouac for one).

When we got back this evening, the fog had rolled in and swallowed up our views. No new pictures for this post!

City by the Bay

Yipes, so much for writing regularly.
So we've made it all the way to the west/left/best coast. After hanging out in my friend TJ's cottage while we looked for rentals,

we've settled in the city of San Francisco.

We're renting an apartment in the Russian Hill neighborhood. It's small, which is good, because it's confirming for us that we don't need such a big place to live. It has amazing views of the San Francisco Bay, the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz and Marin County across the Bay.

We are really fortunate to have so many wonderful old friends in the area - it's really made it easy to feel comfortable, and more at home than I did in 3 years in Philly.

One of those friends, who's also relatively new to the area, suggested I make a point to record my observations about the city daily. I'm not sure I've got that kind of discipline at this point, but am at least going to use this blog to do it a little more frequently than I have been! So here are some of the things I've noticed in my first week in San Francisco.

The fog is a living creature. We often sit and watch it, gape-mouthed, as it sneaks with amazing speed into the Bay like a cheetah after a gazelle. It can seem to swallow up the bridge & Alcatraz.

The city actually feels bigger to me than Philadelphia in some ways. It feels more spread out. I think it's because the parts of Philly I'd be caught dead in are a relatively low percentage of the total city space, and I probably spent 95% of my time in a very compact center city. San Francisco is a little more spread out and most of it is quite habitable and lovely. It's actually quite a bit more dense than Philly, but doesn't feel as crowded or stressed out. It's cleaner by a long shot, and has wider streets. I will say that it often smells like pee - a combination of a large dog population and water restrictions, and a preponderance of multi-unit buildings that don't have someone taking charge of hosing off the sidewalk every morning. But hey, at least there's no one puking on the doorstep (that happened to my neighbor in Philly). There are homeless people, but they're not taking up the whole sidewalk like outside my office in Philly.

You can't walk very far here without encountering something beautiful. It goes without saying that the city's surrounded on 3 sides by water, and since there are so many hills you're often at a vantage point that provides a great view of some section of the bay. If you're not looking at the Bay, there are beautiful buildings in a variety of architectural styles. There's a pretty fair amount of green space. It's not Denver, but every neighborhood has a park of some sort. Thanks to the US military, there's a ton of great park and open space around the Presidio and Ft. Mason.

The produce all around this area is incredible. The farmer's market in San Rafael is as big as every other farmer's market I've ever been to put together. The organic produce available at Whole Foods is more than the whole produce section at the Whole Foods in Philadelphia. Even the little neighborhood groceries have gorgeous local tomatoes and organic fruits.

Can I say how nice it is to pick up a bottle of wine for dinner at the grocery store, rather than traipsing to some special (not in a good way) state controlled lame selection???

Well that's it for today. I'll try to make my updates and observations more frequent.

Overcoming Nature Deficit Disorder

Straight from Wikipedia:

Nature Deficit Disorder, a term coined by Richard Louv in his 2005 book Last Child in the Woods, refers to the alleged trend^[1] that children are spending less time

outdoors,resulting in a wide range of behavioral problems.

I don't know if anyone has studied the impact of a lack of interaction with the natural world on adults, but I have experienced them first hand. Philadelphia is assuredly not the least green city in the world. The historic parts of town have a fair number of trees, and residents have planted cute little window boxes of flowers and greenery. William Penn built some nice parks & a parkway into his master plan for the "faire greene towne" (t

hough only a couple of them survive today). And it does boast the largest park within a U.S. city limits (Fairmount Park). Every once in awhile you run across a "pocket park," where a house fell down & someone was kind enough to turn the empty lot into a little open space with playground toys and benches. But the weather just plain sucks, inhibiting the frequency & quality of interaction with nature, and most of these spaces are quite manufactured, not truly "natural." So in our 3 years there, I can definitely say we had fewer and lamer conversations with mother nature.

I firmly believe that we both became crankier and more "half full" people than we used to be. We took

to drinking coffee almost daily, after 45 years of not even enjoying the bean. I also saw how other residents felt and behaved, and compared it to other places I've lived. There's less respect for the earth, the environment, and the few wild places left. There's a lack of awareness of how our own actions connect to those things. I lived on a street where everyone was of above average income & education, yet several of the families didn't even bother to do simple recycling - they generated more trash each week than we did in a month.

The good news is that NDD is curable. I felt it slipping away even as we were driving through the hills of Western PA. The waves and breezes on Lake Michigan blew more of it away. The rolling farmlands in Minnesota soothed the ragged edges. I slipped into an agricultural coma driving across South Dakota - cornfield, soybeans, wheat, corn, corn, corn, soybeans, corn, wheat, more corn ... zzzzzzz

They we got to Rapid City, turned left, and within minutes (after fighting its suburban rush hour traffic for oh, maybe 4 minutes) we were looking at hills and pine trees again. I opened the sunroof and smelled something familiar. Wow, it smelled just like Colorado! My heart lifted instantly. At that moment, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that we were going in the right direction.

We stopped in a kitschy little tourist trap of Keystone so we could see Mt. Rushmore

for the first time. While certainly impressive, it's again man-made. It's natural setting is incredible so it still felt good. The next morning we drove through Custer State Park, the breathtaking beauty of which is surprisingly underpublicized. The wildlife and landscapes served to confirm the feelings of the day before, and say "Welcome home."

The power of water

No one would mistake me for a fish. From the start, I was afraid of water. Not just being in it, but even getting it in my face. Drove my mom crazy at bathtime as a wee child. Scottie Fishburn loved it. My first best friend & playmate, he was only a month younger but way smaller, and the only way he could every win a fight was if there was water around that he could splash in my face.

So how is it that water brings me such feelings of peace & well being? Whether it's Lake Michigan or the Jersey Shore (which I don't even like at all), being at the beach calms my head & refreshes my soul.

Add to the paradox - I get seasick. Left to my own devices, almost any trip on a boat will make me feel really lousy, if not lost my lunch. Kudos to the folks who invented dramamine & scopalomine. A little patch behind the ear & we were able to thoroughly enjoy an afternoon of sailing on Lake Michigan with our friends Sandra & Buzz Duncan. I love summer in St. Joe!

First Pause - St Joseph, MI

They say you can never go home again. I don't know about that. Home is certainly never the same once you've left for awhile. Like anywhere else, your view of it changes as your perspective is altered by new experiences and new people and places to compare it to. But for me, there are some things that never change. And there are some people who will always be there for you.
I know that my mom is there for me at any time, no matter what I need. It will come with a heavy dose of opinions, most of which run pretty different from mine, but she'll always support me nonetheless.
I grew up in (actually 5 miles outside of) a SMALL farm town near here. Galien isn't much of a town today. The only business from my childhood that's still operating is the Bungalow Inn. That's its picture in the dictionary next to the definition for the phrase "Dive Bar." Hasn't changed much since I was a kid. Same jukebox, same beers on tap, same good burgers (and only $3.50 for a double). They do have some pretty fancy new HD TVs, and they've remodeled the bathroom. Most of the kids I started kindergarten with also graduated from high school with me. And most of them still live pretty close to home. And I know that if I ever needed any one of them, they'd be there for me. I always try to make time to get the gang together when I'm back here, and am always a little sad when it's time to share a last round of hugs and go home.

a unique opportunity

When I graduated from college, I had a job all lined up. For the next 20 years, if I changed jobs it was because I got recruited away. The next step was always just there.
I've always admired people like my friend Rhonda who just picked up and moved somewhere to make sure the next step happened where they wanted to be. She graduated from high school in a very small rural Michigan town, and at the age of 17 headed for California. Her brother was there in the Navy so she had some moral support, but she found a job and created her future. How brave!
I'm feeling a little like that right now. I've always considered myself to be pretty confident, so this is a very new experience. Our niece just graduated from college & is in the position of deciding where she wants to go and what she wants to do. How funny that we are in such a similar stage yet 26 years apart in age! Main difference is that I have way more crap to store &/or move, and way more baggage cluttering my mind as I try to envision the possibilities.

The journey begins

I'm not sure I even want to do this, but this phase is all about new beginnings, so why not begin this.

Here I am in mid-life, perched precariously at the top of the career ladder. I am definitely at the top of one ladder, and not sure where to go next. All I know for sure is that I need to get off of the ladder that's standing in Philadelphia, and make my way to another ladder out west.

So off we go. We found a lovely family to rent our house, and with it in good hands we're packing and storing everything but clothes, bikes and hiking boots, pointing the car westward & heading outa here!

Because contrary to a popular cable TV show, it is NOT always sunny in Philadelphia - but this blog is going to be about moving forward, not grouching backward.