Traveling Vicariously

A friend of mine is currently on a cross-country trip of a lifetime. Her office shut down, her Brooklyn lease expired, she bought a car and started driving. At the send-off party she had a little book for people to write suggestions in for destinations. Maybe she'll hit them all, maybe she'll find some little town somewhere and start a new life.

I've always loved to travel, and I do so whenever I can get enough free time and money simultaneously. But to really cut all ties to a home and set off across the country alone is both admirable and frightening. The kind of thing we only talk about doing.

As my friend swung up through New England, and west through Ontario, she found herself in my home state. Following her Twitter updates, I saw she was minutes away from my mother's house, and helped orchestrate a bed to sleep in that night. I suggested she head through da UP and got to Houghton, and sketched out a true Copper Country Cruisin' route that took her through many of the best sites of the Keweenaw.

The strange thing is that it made me feel...what? Is this homesickness? I can't say I've really felt it before, but I suddenly have this incredible longing to ride a bike around Milford. Or to build a bonfire on the shore of Lake Superior. Or to just drive long and far, through all of the familiar sights of a place that was once mine.

My friend, meanwhile, has crossed the Mississippi in Minnesota and is headed to "all points West." She blogs about her adventures here.

Back from Boston

Watching the marathon was surprisingly good. I had sort of figured I would wander around Boston until I had a chance to see my uncle run past and that would be it. Instead, I ended up staying along the rail on the course the entire time until he came by. It was fascinating to watch all the runners, 25,000 in total, come through. Even more fascinating were the variety of attitudes. Some were weary, some determined, but many were downright celebratory. A large number of the runners were smiling and waving to the crowd. One guy even did a cart-wheel to the cheers of the spectators. I was amazed at the amount of positive energy, and that made it a lot of fun to watch.

I know, being a New Yorker, that it's my duty to downplay Boston as the quaint little town it is. But I have to say, when it comes to the subway, I found it to be pretty lacking. From where we were on the race course (near Boston College), we took the green line into the Back Bay area where the finish line was. Outside of "downtown" this train is on the street level, and it stops for every traffic light and any pedestrians who feel like standing in front of it. It took us more than 45 minutes to travel a distance of four and a half miles. There were two women jogging along the street parallel to our train, and they pulled ahead of us at each stop for about six stations before they were so far ahead that I could no longer see them. Boston, you need express trains.

The attempt to live blog the marathon turned out alright. I couldn't get the "Publish" button to appear on my blackberry, so I had to create new posts instead of editing the first post I created with updates. And as my battery wore down quickly during the day, posts went from short narratives to as few words as I could use. Once I find a better delivery method, and another event worth of the effort, I'll try again.

Live Blogging the Boston Marathon

I'm travelling to Boston to support my uncle running in the Boston Marathon. I'm going to try something new and see if I can live blog it from my blackberry over on the family blog: Boston Marathon

The Holiday Traveling Show

Occasionally, this blog sits around for a while. Generally I'm either distracted by shiny objects elsewhere, or simply can't think of anything about which to write. Not this time, though. Things have really just been a whirlwind of activity.

Lynn and I spent Thanksgiving in Michigan, flying out there for about four days. We were lucky to spend some time with some of the Flemings in Ann Arbor, and visit with them a bit. Thanksgiving dinner itself was at my mom's house (a first, since we've always had a big Soave family dinner) with several members of a new branch of the family. The next day we had dinner with some of the Soaves, and soon after flew back to New York.

Christmas was similar, as we found ourselves out with Lynn's family for Christmas, and up in the Catskills to my dad's place the next couple days. Fortunately, we had a brief layover in Connecticut on the way back home where we enjoyed the whole house—empty—to ourselves. Don't think I'm complaining, though. These holidays were our first as a family, and to spend them with all of the extensions of our families showed us just how lucky we are.

All the while, and in between, we've also played host to several friends who've come to visit or have been passing through the city. Many of Lynn's singer-friends have come to town for the audition season, and several others have been through just to say hi and spend some time with us. November and December have been an almost continual progression of traveling and hosting, and what could be better than friends and family at this time of year?

The stats:
Families visited: 5 (all out own!)
Friends hosted: 7
Distance travelled: 1,750 miles

The fun continues as we'll be up in Boston for New Year's, and then off to Killington for some fun in the snow!

Clearfield, PA

Last weekend, Lynn and I took a whirlwind road-trip to Michigan and back for a wedding shower. We borrowed her parents car on Thursday night and parked it in the city so we could leave right after work on Friday.

Friday afternoon, we left New York around 3pm. Expecting a ten-hour drive, we hoped to get to the Detroit area by 1am. Then we'd have plenty of sleep before Lynn went to the 12:30 shower (I was to show up only at the end to say hello to the relatives and family friends). The first part of the drive was uneventful, we flew through Jersey into the wonderful (but long) stretch of I-80 through the Pennsylvania mountains.

About a third of the way across the state, and firmly in the middle of nowhere, we got a flat tire. The car we had borrowed was nice enough to have tire pressure sensors, so the light came on and we had plenty of time to get off the next exit before the tire deflated significantly. So, off we went down the ramp of exit 120 and into a small gas station.

Now, of all of the great state of Pennsylvania, there has been only one location that I've stopped while passing through. This particular exit of the interstate has a little local restaurant called the "Dutch Pantry" that has good food and nice service. This restaurant is the half-way point between Catskill, NY and Detroit, MI, and so is the place where my father always stops when driving back to Michigan to visit his family. So, having been on many of those drives myself, I've been there more than a few times. So it was only natural that our flat tire would leave us nowhere else but the exit with the Dutch Pantry, at the gas station right next door.

Having had a couple flat tires in the past (once I lost both back tires at the same time!), I knew I could change the tire and we could go as far as we could on the spare. Opening the trunk, we saw that we had a full-size spare tire and were delighted to think that in fifteen minutes or so we'd be back on our way to Michigan. So, I pulled out the jack while Lynn went to grab us some dinner. It didn't take me long, however, to discover that I was not going to get that flat tire off the car.

This particular brand of car has a special lug nut (one of the five) that requires a special key to get it off the wheel. We did not have this key. We turned the car inside out, but no key. So, we called AAA to ask them how we could get the key to get the tire off. They politely informed us that the car company does not release universal keys, so our only option was to take the car to a dealership. They were also kind enough to point out that the nearest dealership was 120 miles southwest of us in Pittsburgh.

By this point, the sun had set, and hours had passed.

Around 10pm, it looked like all hope was lost. A tow truck was on the way, but it could only take us to Pittsburgh. We had tried calling car rental companies to get us moving again, but on a Friday night they were all closed (and we were nowhere near an airport). So, the tow truck would take us to Pittsburgh, we would stay in a hotel, and when the dealership opened Saturday morning they would replace the tire. Then we would have to turn around and go home, since we would certainly miss the shower.

Hope arrived in the form of John, the driver of the tow truck. He looked at our locked lug nut, and offered the one thing we hadn't considered: to simply break it off. He hammered a larger nut over the locked nut and unscrewed it. After that, our full size spare tire was on and road-ready in a matter of minutes. John assured us this method would ruin the locked nut, but that didn't even happen--it was only slightly scratched.

With a perfectly fine tire on the car, we were back on the road again. After a long night, we pulled into my mom's driveway around 4:30am. It was more than worth it. The shower was lovely (well, at least what I saw of it), and it was great to see family and friends even if only briefly. All too early Sunday morning, we were heading east again--but with a car full of presents.

Now the car has no locking lug nuts at all, only plain ones that can be easily removed by the wrench in the trunk.

A Gradual Catching of Breath

Autumn is a great time of year--my favorite. I love the colors, the smells, the cooling temperatures. I love apple cider. I really love apple cider.

It's also been an exciting time of year for me this particular fall. I returned, relatively unscathed, from the trip across Italy and Paris. I'll try to write more about that as time permits. Not long after that, I was down in New Brunswick opening a new Chapter of my Fraternity. And perhaps the biggest change in my life thus far, this weekend my fiancé moved into my apartment with me.

Fortunately, it's a two-bedroom apartment, so we'll have plenty of space. It's an adjustment, and one that is not completely without a bit of turmoil, but it's one worth making.

Now, as my favorite season comes into its own, I can work on the little things. I can build a daily routine; something I've been waiting for quite some time to do. I can rediscover my city. I can upload some pictures of my trip. I can settle into a home that's new, despite my seven months of living there. I can buy some apple cider at the farmer's market. Things can slow, things can settle. Contentment is just over the horizon, and it smells like autumn.

My How the Time Flies

Alright, time to write in this thing before a whole two months go by (again).

A good many of the reasons that I haven't been writing lately is simply that a whole lot has been going on. Here's a quick re-cap for those who've been wondering.

Shortly after my last post, I drove down to South Carolina for my Music Fraternity's annual National Convention. It was an absolutely amazing time that included some wonderful music, catching up with some fantastic old friends--oh, and also being elected National President of the Fraternity. It's a great honor, and I hope to make the Fraternity proud.

Shortly after that trip, my boss offered me a full-time position at my office. Up until then I was technically a freelancer, meaning I was paid hourly and didn't receive any benefits. Now I'm an official employee, with business cards and health-care, and all. An apartment, a job--I'm practically a real person.

Then there were a slew of friends' music recitals, and folks visiting the city, and catch-up dinners.

Then that good friend who came out to interview at my office starting working with me. They chose me, of all people, to train him. It's fantastic to have a familiar face around, and while I know he's still a bit nervous about things, I know it's working out wonderfully. (I hope you're reading this....)

Next up was my house-warming party, and only seven weeks after I moved in to the new place. Good times all around. And finally, some more outings with old friends, and even seeing one up on stage at a comedy club. It's good to say positively that we laughed at her, none of us ever expected her to take up comedy as a career.

I guess that about wraps things up. I'll have to go into more detail later....and that means getting in the habit of writing more. We'll see if it actually happens.

Drove Through the Desert in a Car With No Name

Ok, so it had a name. The gloriously trendy, painfully yellow Chevy Cobalt with a spoiler practically begged a name. And so one was granted. For two weeks, I drove the Baby Bumble Bee all around southern Arizona.

Most of the time, observing runs occur strictly on whatever mountaintop your telescope happens to be located. However, when you've got a rental car, an adventurous companion, and two weeks of telescope time, there is room for a little exploration. Let me tell you a story:

The setting: The Sonoran Desert, home to the Tohono O'odham people, packs of coyotes, wild horses, and the ubiquitous saguaro cactus--the state tree of Arizona.
-MDM Observatory, located on the southwest ridge of Kitt Peak.
-Tucson, part cowboy town, part artsy city, all dusty and brown.
-The Mexican border, or, the wide open gate in the barbed wire fence miles and miles from nowhere.

The characters: Two students from the big city, exploring the far bigger desert.
-The grad student, desperately trying to get work done, but constantly distracted by better and more beautiful things.
-The undergrad, the ex-Marine/astronomer/journalist/photographer/composer/race car driver/etc.
-The Baby Bumble Bee, cutest little car in the west.

As our story begins, our two heroes meet in the Tucson airport. They pick up a rental car, a beautiful white Monte Carlo, and begin their adventure. Spirits are high as they head off into the sunset, quite literally, up to Kitt Peak to begin their observing run on the 1.3-meter telescope. Settling in, they begin working on their observations.

One fine day, they decide to go for a drive. For reasons not likely to become clear in this narrative, they stop at the airport rental place in Tucson and trade in their wonderful car for the Baby Bumble Bee. It took quite an effort to stifle their laughter, but they managed, and continued on their drive. West of Tucson, they were startled by the beauty of the desert. Rolling foothills, with cacti of all shapes and sizes peaking up through the dirt and rocks. "Wanna take a walk?" one asks the other. The Baby Bumble Bee obligingly pulls over to the side of the road, and off they go. They didn't have much water, and so figured they'd only walk for a bit away from the road, and then turn around. But as they crested some small foothills, and lost site of the car, they decided to just continue exploring. After all, they could always summit one of the hills to find the car later. It's quite hard to miss in the middle of the desert. Their walking took them all the way to the nearest full-grown mountain and turned into hiking. Along the way, they encountered numerous dead saguaros, and discovered their tree-like secrets. Continuing higher, the hiking turned into climbing, as they grew nearer the summit. Finally, reaching the top, they surveyed the desert around them. It was stunning. They had climbed a mountain without water, but there was no question about the worth of the climb. When the vultures started circling, however, they decided it was time to head back.

On another day, they decided to drive through Tucson and up the mountains to the east. They stopped briefly in town to experience a little of the local culture. Finding little indeed, they continued up the mountains. Once again they were entranced by the beauty of the place. So harsh an environment with so much life that survives despite. About 5,000 feet up they stopped at an overlook. But they never made it to the overlook itself. Rather, they started climbing the rest of the way up the mountain. Surely, they thought, the view would be even better from up there. This climb was a little more difficult, but all the more worth it. When they finally reached the top, they were rewarded with a full view of the valley below, and more mountains to the east. They felt on top of the world, and as the ground fell steeply away from them on all sides, justifiably so. They agreed that there is simply no other feeling like reaching the top of a mountain on your own power and surveying all the Earth below you.

Not all days and nights were grand adventures, of course. In the more calm of times, the grad student quietly worked on his research while the undergrad etched out the details of a libretto he was writing for an opera. They drove up to the Kitt Peak summit for dinner, meeting other visiting astronomers and sharing stories. They stood on the western cliff of the mountain and watched the most lovely of sunsets every night before opening up the telescope dome for observing.

The last adventure of the trip was mostly a road trip, no mountains on this particular day. This time, our two friends decided to explore the Native American reservation on which Kitt Peak sits. The reservation belongs to the Tohono O'odham, or Desert People, who have lived in the Sonoran Desert for over two thousand years. Our heroes first drove west to Sells, the capital of the reservation. A sleepy little town, they almost missed it entirely. Here, however, they turned south in search of smaller communities and the Mexican border. Smaller communities they found, three or four houses grouped together in the middle of vast expanses of desert. As the road turned to a dirt two-track, they encountered a pack of coyotes, cattle roaming free, and drove alongside wild horses in full gallop across the desert valley floor. After seemingly endless miles, they finally reached a small barbed wire fence with a gate. The gate was wide open. They had no map with them, but they had measured the distance to the border on a map, and they had gone further than they thought they had to to reach the border. At first, it seemed odd that an unguarded gate should be left wide open, allowing anyone who likes to walk right into the US. Looking around, however, they realized that no one walking through this gate could have come from anywhere close, nor would they reach anywhere soon. The vastness of the desert would certainly forbid any human from walking through this gate.

Turning around, they headed back northward. Along the way, they cut eastward and found themselves heading up the base of Bobaquavari Peak, the most sacred ground of the Tohono O'odham. It was here, according to their beliefs, that L'litoi the Creator lived, and from which he created the universe. They stopped at the base, and stared up. The large rock dome on the very peak certainly struck a sense of awe into anyone who would be looking up at it. They could understand the holiness of the place, and left it in peace.

Eventually, the undergrad had to leave. The grad student was left alone on the mountain for the last five nights. He worked, he read, he played with Google Earth far more than he should have. His last night was plagued by bad weather, beginning with hail and ending with a humidity level to high to risk exposing the telescope mirror to the air. So he reflected, he smiled, and he wrote.

The end.

A Few Thoughts.

Once again, I'm motivated to update simply by too many people noticing that I haven't. Ah well. Where to begin?

This blog turned one year old last month, with little fanfare. It still feels like it doesn't have much of a purpose, but then even in the beginning I never stated a purpose. Poor little blog, lost in the wilds of the internet searching for meaning in life.

Onward.

I had an observing run at the Very Large Array (VLA) in New Mexico. Pictures can be found here, for those of you who have asked.

Weddings. So many weddings this summer. Why do you people all have to get married? Sheesh. Truly, though, I'm very happy for my friends and family members getting married. And hey, they are more excuses to travel. The current list has two weddings in Michigan, one in North Carolina, one in Florida, and possibly another in Iowa. Add to that a trip to Wisconsin, another observing run, and possibly a conference in Canada, and my summer already seems completely full.

This is the perfect time of year to be in New York. All the trees are in bloom, the weather is warm--but not so warm that you over-heat walking around town. I wish it would stay in the 60's all through the summer.

Work needs to be done. This needs to be updated later.