revisiting tourism 101

i left the black cloud that was hanging over me in pushkar and pressed on to jaisalmer. i'd already been warned this place was going to be too touristy for my liking, and being obsessed with the desert as I am, was also informed that it would look nothing like the sahara which had been my first experience and the one to fuel my love for all things unending and sandy. but, i had already come this far and had my sites set on jaisalmer from day one. my backpacker ego was also gnawing at me a bit. i'd already taken a flight, which breaks every hard core traveler rule in the book. somewhere in the back of my mind, i knew i wouldn't return home with anything of value to report if i didn't somehow make myself totally miserable in transit somewhere along the line. so off i went.

i took an overnight "private" bus. while i'm sure at some point in time these were exclusive buses meant for the tourists who paid a premium for the seats, they are now run down rattling beasts stuffed to the gills with any passenger along the bumping road with a few extra rupees to line the pockets of guys running the affair. i had purchased a sleeper berth. again with ample warnings, i was told i was going to freeze. i didn't manage to get my hands on a blanket ahead of time, but did bulk up with two shirts, a sweatshirt plus my fleece, a hat and long underwear. i was feeling particularly proud of myself for having the insight to bring this stuff to the desert, and was sure i wouldn't suffer the previous travelers' fates. but five minutes into the trip i knew it wasn't going to be enough. the still air was probably around 45, but we were moving quickly. no window on any indian bus closes completely, so there was a stiff wind coming in to cool me further. to make things a thousand times worse, i slickly dumped a quarter of my water bottle onto the bed as i climbed in, soaking the entire left side of my body down to my underwear when i laid down. within minutes i think the windchill in my compartment had to be close to 38 degrees. 10 hours. awesome.

needless to say i didn't sleep. the horns on these buses wail all night long. and really, not sure wail is accurate.. it's more like the proud blaring of a peacock, singing with the cheesiest of circus tunes that announce their arrival to anyone within earshot. and god forbid two buses simultaneously approach, as it starts off this competing frenzy of jack-in-the-box insanity as the drivers seem to jockey for some unknown prize. for a moment i thought of my grandfather in the late 70's with his giant white cadillac that had something similar, and how he'd laugh as he'd blast away annoying everyone on the streets. the exteriors of the buses are also so dazzlingly brilliant with bright colors and prominently portrayed tassels hanging from anything offering an appropriate perch, that i also couldn't help think of a favorite National Geographic segment that featured a bird's mating dance, where it squawked and strutted it's best to attract a mate. you laugh at these segments because they are somehow so over the top, and you know the bird is pouring it's ever living heart out, but it just looks so ridiculous that you can't help but feel embarrassed for it. but aside from the horns, there were the people. there isn't much personal space in india regardless of your geographical, physical, and/or vehicular predisposition, and i was grateful for the glass sliding door of my compartment or i would surely have had someone spooning me, but it did nothing to stop people from yelling and bumping against the glass every few minutes- all night long- as people got on and off and took up residence in the aisles once the seats were full. the glass was sort of a one way mirror, so several times i opened my eyes to a man's face staring intensely but unseeing into mine, two inches away, as he straightened up and feathered back his hair.

i arrived into jaisalmer at 6am in a big knot. i had worked myself into a shivering fetal position and covered myself with what clothes i was able to pry out of my bag that had been left under the masses in the main aisle of the bus, which was mostly my pajamas and a tshirt. i unwound myself, put my things back into my now brown dirt and shit covered bag and prepared to get off the bus. i could already see about 15 faces jostling to get a better view of how many goras the bus had delivered that they might whisk away to their hotel. i was ready. i was prepared. i am an experienced traveler and am aware of the tricks. just tell them you have a reservation, find your guy and head straight there. to go with anyone else could mean a circus or an extra tarrif on your hotel room paid to the guy who cunningly brought you there.

"room madaam? room? i have a nice hotel!"
"yes, i also have a nice hotel! come, i will show you.. only looking!"
"very nice hotel! nicest prices, you will see! only five minutes, I will show you!"

"no, thank you, I have a reservation".

"madaam, who is your reservation?"

"jaisalmer view hotel".

all heads swung to one of the cabbies and they pointed at him "this is your man. he is from jaisalmer view!"

they grabbed my bags and put me in the back of a jeep. along came four other tourists. i pretty much figured at that point i made a rookie mistake. no way were we all going to the same hotel and i should not have announced my destination. i made it too easy. tired and cold, i allowed myself to be driven inside the fort area, where i was NOT staying thinking maybe (but knowing better) that it would be a multiple stop journey that would take me where i wanted to go. we were going to be there a few minutes while the others checked out the rooms, so i stepped out to peek inside and catch my first glimpses of 800 year old interior architecture. as soon as i turned, they took out my bags and the jeep drove off. i totally deserved it.

it took some convincing that i did indeed not want to stay in their craptacular "family run" hostel with it's brown, ripped up mattress on the dirt floor. the 12 year old boy that was doing such a fine job of selling his establishment started mocking me when i insisted i be delivered to the hotel i'd reserved. "i have a reservation, i have a reservation.. what do you want, a four star hotel??".

it was the first time i'd been treated with anything but respect in India and it took me by surprise- even more so that it was coming from a youngster. i was also really tired and just not in the mood for more games. "look you little shit.. get a rick for me now, take me to my hotel and let's be done with this. i am not staying here." he gave a little head wave, which sometimes is akin to our "suit yourself" shoulder shrug (except when it means 10 other things within different contexts) and disappeared down the stairs without a word. i walked outside to be greeted by another boy that i had seen earlier peering into the jeep as i was being carted off from the bus station and again as my bags were dropped off the jeep in front of the shady hostel. he said he'd get me where i wanted to go. i looked at him and snarled "why should i believe you". he just laughed and said, "come".

the indian art form of defusing bombs... really, it seems they are rarely set to blow in the first place. there seems little need for anger here and it also strikes me as so.. incredibly out of place. there is only need for patience. i don't know if it's a deep rooted cultural thing or if it's just something that has evolved out of necessity to keep the crowds forced to live so close together from murdering each other, but only once have i heard anyone in this country even raise their voice at another. things that would start fistfights and prompt a stabbing at home invoke a chuckle and perhaps a slap on the back, followed by a cry for "chai!". with the boy's wise little smirk, happy glint in his eye and his soft spoken command, the sum of the entire morning's events were behind us i was suddenly embarrassed for my behaviour.

we walked to the edge of the fort were several rickshaws descended on me for business. the kid spoke something to them in hindi but it was unclear what was happening. in the confusion, a small indian man with bright eyes and beaming smile pulled along side me on a motorcycle and announced proudly "I am from jaisalmer view!". i don't know exactly what it was, i beamed back at him like i'd at last found the long lost friend i'd been searching for.

"get on!"

"on the bike? i can't.. i have all my stuff, we'll fall over."

"I am INDIAN! get on!"

i tried. with my 25 lb camera bag on my back some onlookers tried to wedge my larger travel pack between me and my driver. it wasn't gonna happen. i've seen the rear passengers on these bikes carry a dozen cases of water bottles over 5 feet high, stacks of marble building materials, hundreds of pounds of recycled cardboard roped together, bales of hay and even livestock- but it just isn't in my genes.

"yeah, but i am as white as a ghost- and with this heavy backpack i'm going to fall off like a turtle". the little crowd that had already gathered to watch the gora try to get on the bike and understood enough english laughed, and someone hailed a rickshaw for me. much safer, i piled in and finally made it to my hotel ready for a nap.

(speaking of naps.. part 2 coming soon..)

in search of the real india



it's been another week and i'm still not sure what to write. i will say that expectations can be a dangerous thing. i think i had so many built up in so many places that i really set myself up for a confusing and sometimes disappointing time. i also set out on this trip with a slightly different framework, with my focus being on the volunteer work in mumbai. my time in mumbai really has been great, and working with the organizations around the slums has been incredibly interesting and i'm learning alot. but funny thing about some cultures and countries- the more you learn the more questions it raises and the more confused i become. that's about what i can sum about india. it also doesn't help that "india" changes every few miles. with so many people, religions, castes, income levels.. and i'm sure a million other layers i don't know about.. everyone's india is different.

i'm in puskar, rajasthan. i took an easy flight from mumbai to jaipur. the plane coasted in over beautiful rolling hills, patworked farmland of green and brown and.. space. that was what i noticed the most, was nothing. even on the tarmac in mumbai, the shanti houses of the poorest slums were encroaching on the runway on all sides- it seemed almost as if they wanted to make sure the flights could not leave, or at the very least, sear the memory of the crowding, pollution and poverty into every traveler's mind. flying over jaipur i was able to breath deeply. exiting the plane i was able to look out.. at nothing.. and a nice breeze wafted up the jetway as we exited, which was perhaps the first clean breath i'd taken in two weeks.

i jumped into the taxi and sped away to my guesthouse. i was grateful i had secured a room. with xmas, everything was booked. i was excited to see it- the photos seemed nice. the city seemed magical- lonely planet promised romantic forts and an ancient "pink city". as we got closer the guest house, the air started to turn brown. my driver hacked as he talked about jaipur and how it's the most beautiful city in the world, and wouldn't i like to stop and see a textile shop? i'd been warned plenty about the touts here, and the commission they get from every sale they get but was still amazed that i got it right out of the gates, and from the driver sent by the guest house. it pretty much set the pace for the next two days.

i met two nice australian gals five minutes after checking in. we went to a xmas eve party at a neighboring hotel. the owner of hotel, who is hindu, throws a big xmas party every year for his international guests. we payed 10 bucks to get in, but the food and drink were free flowing. the music was insanely loud, but while few tourists danced, the owner and the staff twirled and jumped around on the dancefloor. there is something about indian music and dance that is intoxicating. there is so much energy, so much HAPPINESS in each movement that it's impossible not to get caught up in it. watching Mr. Singh and company dance with such pride and enthusiasm in front of thier guests put a huge smile on my face. aside from the dancing, music and food, we met a handful of other travelers from all over the globe and i talked myself hoarse. we limped back to the hostel at 3am.

i woke up with a nasty cold. my new friends were all moving on. my stomach wasn't right. half way through the day after putting one foot in front of the other into the pink city, deciding finally that i hated it .. i decided to hire a rickshaw to take me to the amber fort. my last minute decision put me in a bad negotiating position and i paid for it. but, if i wanted to go, i had to pay, and i did want to get out of the busy streets and pollution that i can easily find in mumbai. the waiter at the restaurant told me i needed to get out of there to find the real india.. so he called his friend and off we went. i was happy to get up and out of the crowded downtown area, but landed right back into a horde of tourists. i was besieged by students. i have no doubt they were for real, but the poor kids were in a terrible spot along side the touts. one kid was persistent, and finally just stopped and said "why do you hate indians so much that you won't talk to me?". though i'm sure he's used this a million times every day it's hard for it to not stop you in your tracks. so i did. we chatted. he wanted to trade english for hindi lessons. not easy when your rickshaw driver is waiting outside, you have a sore throat, your stomach is questionable at best and you've already caught a glimpse of the non-private public toilets. so, i eventually wrenched myself away. i saw the inside of the fort over dozens of other heads, and wandered back out. my rick driver and his friend wanted to party. no matter how many times i told him i was sick, there was no sympathy. no problem, i see you at 6 ok?

a dark cloud hanging over me, i hopped a bus the next day to pushkar on a "tourist" bus. it was packed and they seated me next to one other white guy. we had four hours to chat and i made my first travel friend. ellian is from france and his english is not so hot, but he's really trying. my brain would explode if i had someone chatting at me for four hours in a language i don't really understand, but he bought an english/french dictionary and just tunes in and out at his leisure. at our guest house we met another great gal who is from holland. the three of us have taken it reaaally easy the last few days.


pushkar is considered a holy place but it's also incredibly touristy. within five minutes i was accosted by gypsies and their henna, and before i could react they'd dragged me into an alley with my hand half already painted. of course then the bargaining for their "services" started. i told them they should pay ME as they'd done up my right hand and therefor couldn't work for the next hour while the brown goo dried on my hand. they'd done such a complete job even the tip of my index finger was covered. you know.. i never realized how impossible it is to shoot with your left hand.. there must not be too many right-handless photographers out there.



pushkar is a potentially lovely town. there are temples and ghats around a holy lake, and it's expected that every hindu make a pilgrimage here. i of course saw a photo of the amazing architecture and a bright blue lake and made my decision based on that.. but we arrived in town to find that there is no water. our Lake View hotel was more like the Mud Puddle View hotel. still, it's been a relaxing place to chill out. the main street is lined with stores all hawking the same crap and i wouldn't have any idea how to discern the real from the fake. the food has been good though and people are super friendly once you get off the main tourist drag. every building has a rooftop with great views and i've found real coffee enough times to make me happy. i switched guest houses to a cozy, family run hostel with a nice little roof deck. i come up at night, read and watch the neighborhood kids fly kites on the horizon. i think what i will remember most about Pushkar is the flap flap flap! sound of the home made kites whirring about at sunset.



we rented scooters yesterday- my first time on one EVER - and i felt like i was 10. i can't believe how much fun it was. we went out of town in search of a few temples, though it was mostly about the drive. it was nice to get out and just see farm fields. we stumbled into a few villages and chatted as best we could, but after having that little motor under me and the wind in my hair, it's all i want to do. they don't allow foreigners here to buy motorcycles. it's probably a good thing or i'd be racing across the desert by myself and would probably have a brilliant wreck somewhere along the line and my body picked clean by wild dogs before anyone found me.



tomorrow it's decision time. i feel my time is up. i dont't know that i'm going to make it to jaisalmer. for as much as i want to see the real desert, i'm being told i will only be disappointed. the real sand dunes are in the sahara, not here. it's also new years, so i will be following the hordes. so, i'm not sure what's next. i'm honestly not sure what i'm even looking for anymore.

mumbai with a view




most of what i've seen of the streets of mumbai look like this. actually, this is a better view than what i ususally get, which is from inside a rickshaw that has a very view-restricting low-hanging tarp. this city is huge and it's hot, and much more easily traversed by cheap private transporation. i walk out the front door, stick my hand out and someone picks me up and drops me off in front of where ever it is i want to go. that is, if i have good landmarks. there are no addresses here and no one knows the street names. if you don't speak Hindi, or even if you do but are going somewhere for the first time and can't give directions, you're in for a ride. everyone's address literally includes something like "next to Mehoob studios across from the British chemist". I am by three major landmarks (one being the ocean) and had a rick pick me up last night who did not know a single one. and of course they won't tell you this when they agree to take you in. after driving in circles (and down a busy one way street the wrong way) i finally jumped out.

the traffic reminds me alot of cairo. no lanes, no signaling, just sneak into whatever space ahead of you can and honk continuously. there is a language to the honking, which i'm picking up here and there, much more so than Hindi unfortunately. honk to let someone know you're behind, honk to let them know you want to pass, honk to tell pedestrians you're not going to stop and then there's the universal, pointlessly irritating honk-for-no-reason other than you're stuck in traffic and just want things to move.

unlike cairo, which is mostly cars and micro busses, you have cars, SUVs, taxis, motorbikes, rickshaws (three wheeled open air vehicles that remind me a little bit of a souped up go-kart), busses and bikes. it's a little harder to be a pedestrian here because there are multiple sized and varying speed vehicles that you can be struck by. amazingly i've only seen one fender bender so far. someone - maybe my roommate- said there's no such thing as a 'near miss' in india because there is no space to begin with. they know exactly where their vehicles begin and end, and with a physicists' precision, calculate every trajectory of every vehicle in front, along the side and behind without thinking. it's an amazing (and frightening) thing to behold.

the only real accident i almost saw was nearly caused by yours truly.. crossing the street i hesitated, not realizing all 15 vehicles coming straight at me had already mapped my path. when i hesitated, a few cries went out and everyone swerved causing an unpredictable moment for a half dozen vehicles. i learned my lesson fast, and now just walk right into it - everyone is somehow safer for it.

hello world. again.

hello world!

i'm working on firing up the old blog. forgivie the cobbled together banner which i stole from screen shots off my own flickr site. the links are old. the archive is out of control.. i'm afraid i have hit the limits of my html editing skills, so this is what it's gonna be for awhile. i'm just grateful that my little nook in cyberspace is still in existence after all these years of neglect. i can't believe this thing has been around since 2003. like any journal, i have no doubt that 75% of what i've written would embarass the hell out of me if i went back and read it right now- but that's sort of the fun of a journal, too. this one just happens to be public. it's part of the fun.

it's been a long long long time. with the advent of flickr and facebook and my own professional site, there are so many means of communication. but.. i also haven't traveled in a long time and now that i'm out and about again, i'm finding i do want a space to keep a travel journal, post photos and say things that i don't necessarily need the professional world to view. i'm in India. this place is wonderful and confusing, and things generally are not as i perceive them the first, second or even third time around. i'm gonna make mistakes, use bad words and possibly make a few insulting observations without intending to. after struggling with that for a few weeks, i've decided i'm okay with it. i see through western eyes and there is nothing I can do about it, but most of my friends are also in the west, and i think you all will be able to relate to what i'm seeing. i just want a safe place to do it and want you to join along. i'll make corrections and apologies as i learn more, but i think and hope it will all be part of the experience.

xoxo,
kim

the fondest pictures are vivid memories

i did something special today. i accidentally deleted all of my photos from texas to just outside of gallup. and for what? for this shot. hardly an award winner. i'll be taking donations of photos of the Cadillac Ranch and various segments of Route 66.

I am now licking my wounds in the El Capitain Motel in Gallup, MN, manned by a giant guy that could have been mistaken for Santa Clause had it not been for the missing teeth, absessed gums and pizza-stained white Hanes Tshirt.

other than the last minute delete fest, today was fairly uneventful other than a few quirky little things so i made mental lists.

things I read today:

-"Present this room key to claim your free 72 oz steak"
-"Welcome!" and.. "This establishment protected by Smith and Wesson"

Food-related talk today:

-"I'd like to have the 12 inch veggie delight with no cheese please". Response. "Are you serious?"

-"I'd like to have the bean curd with stir fried vegetables in brown sauce, please". Response. "Is that actually on the menu?"

Something I overheard today

-says half-in-the-bag grungie dude to his cute 6 year old girl outside a massive rest stop, "here, go eat your candy while mommy and I go into the casino".

Things that ran in front of my car today within 3 minutes of each other:

-a deer
-a cow
-a turtle

Gas Station Coffee

i made it out of arkansas without any further mullet sightings. i think the guys had all gone to work by the time i left. the parking lot, which could have doubled for a chevy dealership dealing only in used white trucks, was empty.

i got a text and two phone calls about the weather today. not a single website or weather service seemed to know what was up for oklahoma. weather.com had a 1000% chance of death from above, NOAA thought there would be softball sized hail, the weather channel predicted anywhere from 30-50 tornados, and the OK weather service simply said "a 30% of showers". so, i was a bit confused and concerned over what to do. after a few phone calls, and no one really being able to tell me what to do, i just floored it. i decided to skip 66 around OKC and head for amarillo, where it was reportedly sunny and 80. im glad i did. as soon as i cleared city limits, i passed a wall of clouds and then... nothing but blazing sun. i cranked up the ipod, rocked out and sped along I-40, watching the grass and trees become a bit scruffier and the land flatter.

i pulled off the hwy in a few places. there's a frontage road along most of it. it's right there, but getting off the highway made me feel a bit more off the beaten path. it was fun zipping around corners and over little hills, and cruising along side the endless farmland.

i've always wanted to go running willynilly through the long wispy fluffy grass. i got out at one point to climb through some of it to take a pic. let me tell you, it's not fluffy, folks. i was instantly afraid i'd be eaten by snake, and i spent an hour pulling prickers out of my socks before i finally tossed them out. i got back in my car, pulled out, and a roadrunner ran in front of my car. a roadrunner! they seriously exist. it was just so stereotypical texas i laughed my ass off. it reminded me of ten years ago, driving through a fairly developed area of las vegas when a tumble weed half the size of my vehicle went, well, tumbling, in front of my car.

i haven't taken many photos. the weather has not been on my side, and really, the view from I-40 is not so hot, unless you like mcdonald's signs and gas stations. even the burger king's have left me, along with the chance to get a veggie burger and not have to eat the cardboard box that once held my precious last miniwheats. i'd kill for a starbucks at this point. and i hate starbucks. the flat farmland has it's charms, though.

i took a few detours after i was sure i wasn't going to get swept away, but so far, the "old cool dead towns' are just old dead towns, and downright depressing. i feel like taking pictures is almost an insult. there are still a few people there, but i don't know how. there are a handfull of crappy motels, and endless gutted cement block buildings housing rusted out cars.

but, i'm in amarillo right now (executive hotel for those keeping track), and tomorrow should hit some good parts of the old route 66. I'm in an even skeezier hotel with the chairs against the door and my padlock holding together the inside door bolt. I went to two other hotels (yes, both managed by indians- which has me intensely curious at this point) that were sold out, before finding this gem. i don't think the water in the sink works.

Ipod Song of the Decade of the Day

I dumped a bunch of old faves on my ipod a few weeks ago. every so often an album or song will come on that throttles me back. this particular song came on today as i was making my way out of Oklahoma. I started crying. it was the strangest thing. i was suddenly bombing around in my mom's volvo, shaving my head in the garage, cutting off the sleaves of the Tshirts I screen printed in graphics class... and sneaking off to see Social Distortion play the Odd Rock in Milwaukee.

it was going to be one the biggest days of my life. i had no idea where this band came from or where albums were born, but the songs off this album were my favorite thing ever, and they were miraculously coming to town. there was no way i was going to miss it, parental forbidenness aside.

i set up an alibi with a friend, and snuck out to meet my boyfriend, Lee. we cruised downtown in his crappy little brown dodge. there was a massive crowd outside already and we managed to wedge ourselves in. i dumped a bunch of quarters into Galaga and tried to ignore the usual verbiage growing louder between the skins and punk rock kids.

about a half hour in, there was a ruckus. the cops busted in. they grabbed one kid with a mohawk, cuffed him and threw him down the stone steps that exited the club onto the sidewalk. it was about a half second to ignition. i got seperated from lee, but ran out as soon as i could. in a few minutes the whole milwaukee police department was there in riot gear. i could barely see anything, other than batons flying. between legs i saw a girl getting dragged, cuffed, by her feet, face down and tossed into a truck. i didn't see him, but apparently a friend of mine from my geometry class was already inside the truck. lee managed to find me and we made off in the dodge just as i watched the stop sign bend under the surge of bodies. the explaination later was that the crowd was too large and violated the fire code. i'd never seen anything like it- i can't believe what a huge match police lit by sending in the riot squad. lawsuits were filed after the fact, though i have no idea what ever came of any of it.

needless to say, it made the news. i got busted, and was grounded for a year and proved to be the start of the final chapter of my life in milwaukee. sad thing is, I never really got to see them. they came to green bay years later, but i wasn't so into the new stuff at that point and i don't even remember the show.

I still love this album. I'm psyched it brings back such crazy feelings. just a little unexpected is all.

"I can't wait til the show tonight, when i'm with my friends everything's alright"

morrilton

wow. what can i say. i'm a little freaked out. i made pretty good time today, despite a slow start yesterday, putting my car in park on 66 at 2.30 in the afternoon for no apparent good reason, and then running into a truly impressive storm somewhere in the middle of virginia that once again put me in park on a highway. and now. i'm in morrilton. arkansas.

i pulled off at about 8. im not a huge fan of driving after dark, and i did put in 11 hours today. i tried four hotels before finding one wedged between a liquor store, gun store and the highway that wasn't completely full of white chevy trucks and sold out. sold out? morrilton? apparently the boiler broke down at the paper mill, so every able-bodied boiler cleaner from the surrounding states is here to clean and fix it. i've never seen so many MEN in one place at a time, and definately never so many mullets. they're draped off the backs of trucks and over the railings of every motel in the area. i really don't know what to think of it. i'm not sure if i'm amused or scared out of my wits. perhaps a little of both.

i'm staying at yet another fine establishment, the Scottish Inn, run by another indian dude, and likely given the "it's getting dark, you're alone, obviously tired and the next town isnt for another 30 miles" price. it's not nearly as much fun staying skeezy places when you pay too much for them. but hey, i got internet.

A Double-Header, a Header, and a Bag of Organic Spinach

I can’t think of the last time I’ve fallen down. Ignoring sporting-related spills, I’m going to have to go with my senior of high school when Mark Beneshek took me out with his car. And I’m not sure that even counts. Falling as a kid is an every day thing. Falling as an adult is an event. Falling into the middle of a grand reception for all the world to see carrying $6k in gear is near-catastrophe I wish to block out. But, I won’t, so I mind as well make fun of it.

This was my first two-wedding weekend. I was sooo excited about it. The first was a truly DC wedding, with a big church, monument and even a tour bus. The second was held at one of my recent faves, the Woodend Mansion in MD. I even bought a 70-200 for the occasion. But man.. two weddings in two days can take a toll.

Saturday was amazing. The weather was perfect, the couple was lovely and the entire wedding party was just very good natured and a lot of fun. The kids were also cute enough to take little bites of. The reception was held at the DAR (Daughters of the Revolution) which is just off the Mall. It’s a gorgeous building with all of the period architecture in place and in pristine condition. It has vaulted ceilings, intricate moldings, huge windows, and marbled floors and pillars. It also has a teeny tiny step between the dining hall and the exterior patio. It’s this detail that I might remember most when anyone ever mentions the DAR again.

I had just finished shooting inside the beautiful dining hall when I looked out the giant doors. There is a grand 3-story rotunda soaring over you as you step out. Beyond it is a massive marbled patio with a lovely view of gardens and the Washington Monument. There was also an armed guard roaming about, and he was the last thing I made note of as I felt the ground give way, my ankle roll over, and witnessed my cameras slinging across my body into the marbled floor. I distinctly remember thinking I’d sacrifice my head to catch just one of them, but I wasn’t successful. The clattering of plastic lens hoods was carried quite efficiently by the marble and rotunda. All of the groomsmen who’d I’d bonded with earlier and the videographer who I’d been tiffing with, as well as the bride’s father, were suddenly over me. “Anything broken?”

“I don’t know yet”. I sat there and collected my gear and turned everything over.. it all looked okay, which really made no sense.

“No, YOU. Did you break anything?”

“Oh. I don’t know yet.” I haven’t had many sudden injuries, but they usually go “accident, brief pain, no pain, wait an hour, then throw up and pass out before sudden onset of pain”.

My ankle hurt. They offered to help me up, but I declined, just wanting to sit for a minute hoping the pain would pass. It really didn’t help I was still in the middle of the reception area with a hundred people looking on and all I wanted was a tiny black hole to open up in the marbled floor and take me away. But, after a minute, the pain went away. They helped me up. I told them only my ego had been bruised, which at the time was true. It wasn’t until the last dance hours later that I went to put my foot firmly down that a sharp pain hit me. I waited to throw up, but my desire to retain my weekly cake intake prevailed.

The best way to take the fun out of something you love is to do it again the next day on three and half hours of sleep and in pain. Fortunately when I got up the pain really had subsided, meaning I could put weight on it without getting sick. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it could’ve been. MK was wonderful and had bought an ankle brace for me before we met up in Bethesda for the Sunday wedding. It helped a bunch. But, the rest of my body was just turned into a wreck as the day went on, which was something I hadn’t thought about. Ankle-injuries aside, it’s a lot of weight to carry around for 10 hours, let alone two days in a row. There were muscles in my back screaming that I didn’t know I had. Doing it all on one leg made it particularly unhappy.

But, all ickiness aside, it’s all about the people getting married. I think no matter how many times I end up shooting weddings in my lifetime, I’ll always be struck by the importance of that day to the individuals and families involved. Or if I do forget, it’s time for me to get out, because it’s really an amazing thing and is what makes it so much fun. It was a beautiful day, the couple was amazing and the family and friends were just straight up some of the best people I’ve encountered. The cupcakes were also awesome.

No Desert For YOU

in my attempt to escape winter, winter has come back with a big screw you. i'm stuck in new york. surely there are worse places. actually, i'm sitting with a good friend from boston who i hadn't expected to see, and with whom i should probably be conversing instead of blogging about.

i'm a little hesitant to pen this. but i actually missed my flight. i have no idea what's wrong with me these days. i almost missed my train up here cuz i had the wrong day. i had an interview at cornell on thursday, and i showed up at the wrong campus. then i had it in my head that my arrival time in san diego was my departure time. all morning i sipped coffee and relaxed, thankful that for the first time ever i didn't have to rush to a new york airport at 6am. when really i should've.

but, someone's looking out for me this time. i called the airline and told them i wasn't going to make it. she said she'd get me on the next flight.. but then all the flights were being cancelled. my flight was going to be the last flight of the day to get out. bye bye trip to the desert. it's all i've been thinking about for the past two weeks. carrie's sick of the links i've been inundating her with about joshua tree. i even had a special holga made and overnighted so that she'd be desert ready by tomorrow. but no. i wasn't going because i screwed up royally. the airline told me they couldn't get me out until saturday night, and it was the last seat she could find for the whole weekend. i cried for a minute. i screw up. alot. but nothing quite like this and never three days in row. i'm starting to think i'm going to have to start checking every day to make sure my underwear's not on the outside of my pants or that i'm not wearing two different shoes before i walk out the door every morning. even then, i'll probably continue to lose my keys every day.

i obsessed a bit. i checked my flight status for a while. it hadn't left by 1. nor by 2. i kicked myself harder, thinking i could've made it anyway. but i realized it was probably sitting on the runway. for four hours. then a giant "flight cancelled' flashed on my screen. i almost cried again from relief.

i'm still not at the desert. but it's not my fault (right?). the biggest bennie is that i didn't trudge to the airport, sit in the plane for four hours, and i don't have to sleep in the aiport for the next two nights hoping to get a standby flight. i suppose it all worked out for the best. but still.. underwear checks. i'm going to have to start doing them.