Breath-taking

Our Labor of Love 

I'm pretty much over reading wedding blogs, but today I clicked over to this via Simple Lovely, and was astounded at these gorgeous images.

To be wed in Marrakesh, amid camels, candles and loved ones... now there's an adventure! More here.

Oh, and: the bride didn't wear white! Check it, Sera.

Not what I expected

Our first anniversary, in my imagination: us, together.

A funky-chic B&B in the redwoods.  Fancy clothes, frozen cake. Sipping Champagne on the deck, watching the sun sink into the Pacific Ocean.

source

Our first anniversary, in reality:  me, myself, on a plane, somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, headed for Asia.  Delay-plagued Skype calls home.  Meetings into the evening.

Remembering the words of advice friends shared at the wedding:

"Love does not consist of gazing at each other (one perfect sunrise gazing at another) but in looking outward together in the same direction."  (Anne Morrow Lindbergh, A Gift from the Sea)

"... And stand together, yet not too near together,
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow."

(“On Marriage,” from The Prophet, Kahil Gibran)

This is the lesson I learn again and again:  It won't look like you expected.  It may not bear any semblance to your imagination.  It may be better than you ever imagined.  It takes audacity to shape a marriage into your own.

(The redwoods and frozen cake can wait...)

A honeymoon 'du

Suppose you were to go on your honeymoon to Nepal.  You would choose autumn, of course, because the skies are the clearest, and the chance of rain the lowest.  On good days, you would glimpse the snow-covered high Himalayas from Kathmandu Valley.

Before trekking around Annapurna or up to Everest Base Camp, you might choose to stay at the Godavari Village Resort, on the outskirts of Kathmandu, where you would find splendid views of idyllic rice paddies and hills, and possibly the high peaks glistening in the distance.

You could go for a morning walk through the mist, as farmers prepare for their day's labors in the fields.

On such a walk, you might come across a fertility temple, where Shiva lingams bless those hoping for children.

Making your way back for breakfast, meandering among the rice paddies, you could marvel at the mysterious placidity of the landscape...

And wonder if you might stay a bit longer to savor all the delights of a magical land.

I do, I do, Kathmandu!

Newly-hatched ducklings fall for the first thing they see - mama duck or not - and will follow whoever, or whatever, this being is wherever it goes.  The ducklings imprint on the first being - dog, duck or human - they lay eyes on, and that becomes central to their understanding of the world.  

Or so I learned in high school biology.  This theory may have been overthrown by now, but at the time I was fascinated by the idea that one brief experience could so profoundly shape the trajectory of the duckling's life.  

I think it's the same with international travel.  Wherever you go first, as an impressionable young thing, shapes all future approaches to travel.

Oddly, my first significant overseas trip (beyond the family jaunt to England when I was six) was to one of the least developed countries, half a world away.  It now seems strange that growing up in a midwestern suburb, I would set my eyes on Nepal for my college semester abroad.  Couldn't I ease into foreign travel, like my friends who studied in Florence and London?  No, my rationale was that those places would always be there, but I would only be young and adventurous enough for the remote corners once.  

 

I dove into the deep end, a distant place, foreign to my experience in every way, that expanded my brain until my ears were ready to pop off the sides of my head.  The city was green, cows and bicycles vastly outnumbered cars, huge smiles lit the faces of everyone I met.  I was in the thrall of the exoticism of the place - fragrant smoke from temples and kitchens hung in the air, around every corner lay a surprise, some curiosity I had never dreamed of - and being so far from home for the first time.

Since then, returning to Nepal, and especially to Kathmandu, feels like a sweet, crazy reunion, like re-meeting an exotic, jet-setting spinster aunt, whose bracelets jangle and whose sentences never quite make sense.  

More than a decade after my college experience, a research fellowship granted me a year in Nepal, during which I kept a flat in Kathmandu, and spent months in the mountains.  I fell in love with the city, even as it had grown choked with villagers fleeing Maoist rebels in the rural areas.  

Car and motorcycles clogged the streets, the two-stroke engines causing a thick pall of pollution to fall over the bowl-shaped city in the winter.  White shirts were grey by the end of the day, and a trip into the city center would result in hacking up black phlegm. 

The friendliest people in the world were now suffering a deep depression as a civil war wracked the country and the throngs of tourists stayed home.  No one wanted to take a vacation in the middle of someone else's war, much to the detriment of the Nepali economy.  Despite the violence, pollution, curfews, and demonstrations, Kathmandu was still magical, the colors of saris and salwars a delight to the somber Western eye, the juxtaposition of religious monuments with urban squalor a constant reminder that enlightenment would not happen at some future place or time, it had to happen in the midst of the chaos of life.

Mt. Everest, the world's tallest peak, viewed from a plane.

A few years after that, I returned again, for a winter holiday break from my Himalayan research.  Kathmandu, with its cosmopolitan tourists, banana pancakes, North Face gear, and trendy restaurants was the best approximation of home I could devise. I meant to attend a friend's wedding as well, though, confusingly, information about the date and time never materialized. These things happen in Kathmandu.  Time is a malleable concept when living in the present.  On New Year's Eve, the streets were packed with revelers from all over the world. 

New Year's Eve, 2007, Thamel, Kathmandu

A week in the big city, receiving the ministrations of an ayurvedic spa, eating good food and shopping for gifts left me considerably restored and ready to return to work after the holidays.

Now, once again, my bag is nearly packed with two methods of water purification, a voltage adapter, an unlocked cell phone, sunscreen, layers, long pants, and plenty of books to keep me busy on the 14 hour flight.  Kathmandu, here I come!

What a difference a year makes!

Psyche!  This is not a wedding anniversary post.  For that, you'll have to wait a couple more months.

This is a doctorate anniversary post.  Equally significant in my mind.*  The last academic hurdle: now I get to learn to be the expert.  Sure, there are other hoops to jump through:  tenure/ contract renewal, The Book, this #@$)~*%# article that's been torturing me all summer.  For now, it's nice to know that I've got the Seal of Approval, entitling me to take on such projects.

Last year, I didn't even know it was summer.  The only evidence of change was the creep of the afternoon sun up my office walls, where I was cloistered, 12-18 hours a day, pounding away at the dissertation that I had rashly promised my future employers I could complete in a year.

That hasty promise, made months before I began writing, before I even began analyzing the data, while I was, in fact, still in the field collecting data, came back to bite me in the butt** last summer as I typed furiously to meet a deadline that my advisor had initially said was impossible.  I met it without a day to spare.

As 18th century author and lexiographer Samuel Johnson said, the prospect of a hanging concentrates the mind wonderfully.  Indeed.  I've always been deadline driven, and the biggest writing project of my life was no exception.

But, I missed some of my favorite things in life: ice cream on warm evenings, chatting with friends over cold drinks, travel, mountain hikes.  All was put on hold for the tyranny of my final academic deadline.  The constant panic and anxiety I felt spurred me on to work harder - when it didn't paralyze me. I was happy to have wedding planning as a constructive distraction when the dissertation felt just too weighty.

This summer, though, this summer... it's SUMMER!***  Though Eric had his own major deadline this summer, we've made the most of our freedom from strict schedules.  We started out here, in May, following a work-gig that took Eric to Milan:

Bonus points if you know the locale.

Hint.  (They clearly have great taste!)

By early June, we were soaking in art in Florence.

On a tour of a Tuscan castle winery, surrounded by a bunch of 20-something honeymooners from the States, we realized that it wasn't too late to consider our trip Part III of Multi-part Global Honeymoon Tour.

Former family home to the namesake of the Verrazzano Bridge

Next stop on the Global Honeymoon Tour was Seward, Alaska, where the food didn't exactly live up to that of Italy.

 The best and biggest dinner around.

We earned our dinner by hunting the ever-elusive Loch Ness Monster...

(Ok, you got me.  It's really a mother and baby humpback whale playing.  Nessie prefers the Atlantic.)

....communing with friendly marmots (which apparently could grow to super-size with climate change)...

and visiting yet another receding glacier****...

Where it was in 1926

The Seward Exit Glacier today.

One of my work projects this summer took me to this spectacular spot, where people live off the grid, dependent on the sun for all their energy, and the mountain snowmelt for their all their water, including for the organic gardens. I was able to unplug from internet and gaze at the Milky Way each night for an entire blissful week.  What a treat to have work that requires being in these beautiful mountains!

Lama Foundation, New Mexico

Finally, back home, we took in some local nature, at the awesome National Seashore just north of our wedding site.... more on that tomorrow.




* And all the sweeter (and way more bearable) for having someone to share it with.  I cover my ears when he makes noises about getting a PhD.  Does he really want to enter that special hell???


**Quite literally. I developed a tailbone injury from spending so much time sitting!  My one break from the desk chair was to see the physical therapist who insisted that I get more exercise.


*** You'd never know it from the foggy, chilly weather here in the Bay, though.

**** The cynical among you may be asking what my contribution to climate change is, with all this flying around.  This issue continues to vex me.  My work and family life are both international in scope, and it's hard to reconcile keeping up with my family and my field while being worried about climate change.  When I'm home, I rely on my bike and hope that it offsets my plane travel a little.

Furla Fashion Fumble

After two weeks in Italy - which included four days in Milan, the fashion capital of the WORLD, and home to the flagship stores of such luminaries as Dolce & Gabbana, Prada, Versace and Emilio Pucci - I came home empty-handed. Somewhat unbelievably.

When we left for Italy, my plan was to buy a decent handbag to upgrade my professional image, and more than likely, a pair of shoes, because, well.... I love shoes and Italians make wonderful shoes. With a plan and a full day on my own while Eric was lecturing, it seemed to be a foregone conclusion that I would score some stylish Italian accessories.

But: NOTHING!

My tour of the "Golden Quadrangle," Milan's fashion center, left me feeling a bit out of my element. If Gucci and Prada don't fit my lifestyle at home, what was I doing at these glitzy stores in Milan? When a $1200 evening gown at Valentino began to look reasonable (because, uh yeah, I have so many black tie events to go to...), I knew I had to get out of the neighborhood.

On the way to yet another cathedral, Eric and I passed a Furla shop. Angels were singing and a beam of light landed on a perfectly balanced, stylishly simple handbag. Laaaaaaaaaa!

I lust after these Italian handbags, but at $400-500 in the US, they're quite a bit out of my price range. When we stopped to admire the bags, I noticed that they were around 200 Euros. Still expensive, but far less than at home.

Much to my dismay, I paused. I choked.

My shopping karma deserted me.

We kept walking. I didn't throw down my credit card for one of those buttery-soft leather confections.

Now I see delicious handbags everywhere,

patkas, via Simply Lovely

Morelle, who is sadly closing her shop.

or maybe it's still open here.

but they do not measure up to my Furla dreams.

Today's travel lesson: Know your exchange rates inside and out, so you can quickly calculate in your head (200 Euros = $247, fully half the price of a Furla bag purchased in the US!).

Also, know the approximate cost of things you are thinking of buying, easy to research on the web. I didn't fully realize the price differential between a Furla purchased in Italy and one purchased in the US until I got home and checked Furla US's website. Had I been aware of this difference, I might not have choked!

Honeymoon, Part III: How to choose a destination

If you've read the last two posts about our Patagonian honeymoon, in which rarely saw the sun, wore down jackets 24/7, and traveled with four other women, you might be thinking that we were a bit unclear on the concept.

Fact is, we had already slightly shortchanged ourselves on the most important purpose of a honeymoon: a time to relax and reconnect and revel in being married, after the stress and busyness of a wedding.

Though we took a few days to rest and revel on the California coast right after the wedding, our respective teaching obligations required us to be back at work after three days. It's very difficult to take time off in the middle of the semester.

By the time the end of the semester rolled around, and we were ready for a bigger trip, we had also been reveling in being married for three months, and felt less of a need for a lazy or romantic trip. We were eager for the activities that had been put on hold while I was writing my dissertation.

We also wanted a trip that was high on our Life Lists (funny, looking at it now, I don't see Patagonia, but I know it was there). Neither of us had beach vacations on our lists. Though Hawaii is relatively close and convenient, and has good hiking, Eric isn't keen on it. So... to the mountains we'd go.

Choosing a honeymoon destination is also another opportunity to practice the discussion, decision-making, and collaboration skills that prove so valuable during wedding planning.

As I mentioned earlier, we each made a list of places we'd like to visit, and then harmonized those lists, prioritizing places we both wanted to visit the most.

We also made lists of what we wanted to get out of the honeymoon. We realized that we'd be tired after hiking and trying to speak Spanish for a couple weeks, so it would be nice to have a place to relax before jumping into spring semester. The parameters for that place were that it should be:

• warm (no more down jackets!)
• sunny (no more rain and snow! rainy Hawaii was out)
• English-speaking (no more Spanish! Mexico was out)
• near water
• uncomplicated (Jamaica was out; all inclusive resorts were in)
  
• warm, no I mean really warm (I can get cold in 75 degree weather)
• require no more than two plane flights to get to
• not too expensive

We got a guidebook to the Caribbean, and realized that all our parameters pointed to the island of Antigua. So went went, uncharacteristically for us, to an all inclusive resort, and lay on the beach drinking daiquiris.

(We were so relaxed, I don't even have photos!)

Patagonian Honeymoon, Part II

Patagonian Icecap

After drinking our fill of Pisco sours on the estancia, and touring the glaciers and fjords, we met up with four friends from home who were hiking the Circuit in Torres del Paine National Park. The Circuit, which requires more than a week, traverses wild Patagonian backcountry, and sees relatively few visitors.

We joined our friends for the "W", along the "front" of the Paine massif, where you can hike from lodge to lodge, sleeping in comfort. We didn't need to carry sleeping bags, tent, stove, or food. At the refugios, we got hot showers and hot meals at the end of the day. We were even able to order glasses of Chilean wine - or Pisco sours - for a civilized toast at the end of each day. When we set out the next morning, the lodge staff provided a packed lunch - sandwich, fruit, chips, drink, cookie - for the next days' hike. This was luxury backpacking! Meanwhile, our hardcore friends were camped out in the incessant Patagonia wind, heating up freeze dried food with their tiny gas stoves.

A rare moment of sun outside Lodge Paine Grande

At most of the refugios, we stayed in bunk rooms with four to six other people - not exactly the most romantic honeymoon setting! However, in addition to the bunk rooms, Refugio Los Cuernos had several small private cabins, with views of milky blue Lago Nordenskjöld below, and, through a skylight, the jagged Cuernos (horns) del Paine, above.

Even better, though, was the open-air wood fired hottub. After four hours of stoking the fire, the water was finally warm. On one of the few clear nights, we luxuriated under the stars, letting the heat soak exhaustion out of our muscles.

views of Los Cuernos from Valle Frances

On the final day of the hike, Eric and I rose at 4:00 am to climb a few thousand feet to the top of the ridge, where we could watch the sun illuminate the park's namesake Torres. The images of these iconic peaks had seered in my mind from the mountaineering literature that I consumed voraciously during college and after - stories of rock and ice, early starts, howling winds, and harrowing ascents.

Though Eric and I have nowhere near the technical skill - or, after experiencing the atrocious Patagonian weather, the desire - to climb these peaks, they remained lodged in my mind as one of the Natural Wonders of the World, like Half Dome or the Everest region, that I simply had to see.

The view did not disappoint. After bearing with weather that changed on a whim, even in the austral summer, from clouds to rain, to wind, to sleet, to wind, to snow, to clouds, to sun, to rain, during our two weeks in Patagonia, we were suddenly blessed with a brief respite of sun.*

The golden beams graced the Towers right at sunrise...
... just before another snow storm blew in.





*Being near Antarctica, Patagonia is reknowned for some of the worst weather on the planet. The winds are so strong that some town plazas and sidewalks have ropes for people to grab to avoid being blown into the streets.

Honeymoon: Patagonia!

Glaciar Francés

Travel, hiking and generally being outdoors are among are favorite activities. When we met, I was about to depart for fieldwork in the Himalayas, and I think Eric was intrigued by the adventure of it all.

Fast forward two years: sitting in an airport in Argentina on our way home from a friend's wedding, we decided to make lists of the places we'd like to visit. We each wrote down ten places we'd like to go, in rough order of importance. Comparing our individual lists, we found that Patagonia and Italy were near the top of both.

Lago Nordenskjöld

In the eight months that we've been married, I'm pleased to say that we've managed to visit our top two spots! We are fortunate that the academic schedule allows for long breaks between semesters, that we have two incomes, and that Eric was invited, fortuitously, to give some lectures in Italy.

Both of these trips came about somewhat serendipitously. I have to believe that part of the reason the trips came together this way is that we had clearly articulated our desire to visit these places, to each other and to the universe. Thus, we were ready to jump on opportunities when they presented themselves.

Cuernos del Paine

When a mutual friend starting recruiting people for a trip for a backpacking trip in Patagonia's Torres del Paine National Park, over the winter holidays, we jumped on board. I'd wanted to go to Patagonia ever since reading Bruce Chatwin's In Patagonia, and learning about giant sloth and the wild lands of the estancias.

Joining the group trip meant sharing our honeymoon with four other women!* To preserve some couple time, we ended up visiting an estancia and touring glaciers first, and then meeting the rest of the group half-way through their hike.

Estancia Balmaceda -

where Turismo 21 de Mayo took us horseback riding

A boat trip across a windy lake took us to the base of Glaciar Serrano...
... which is sadly receding because of climate change. The glacier used to flow right into the lake, but now has receded hundreds of meters up the cliff, leaving an exposed scar of raw, bare rock. Locals say that the glacier is receding 10-20 meters a year.

The effects of climate change are being felt the most at the high altitudes and latitudes. Though Chilean Patagonia is at sea level, it is quite close to Antarctica and the South Pole. At these extreme reaches of the Earth, climate is changing much faster than at the moderate latitudes. Average daily temperatures have increased more than 1.8 degrees Celsius (over 3 degrees Fahrenheit!) over the past century.

The boat dropped us off at a small dock, where a Zodiac took us into Parque Nacional Bernardo O'Higgins, reachable only by boat.

Because of the cold and windy weather, and the near freezing water, we suited up like giant orange penguins for our ride in the open Zodiac. Even with all of our clothing (windpants over fleece pants and long underwear, fleece tops and down jackets), it was still cold in the Zodiac.

We walked to a lake at the foot of Glaciar Balmaceda,

and hopped into another boat to get a closer view of the serrated edge of the glacier.

After spending the night in a remote lodge, we rode the Zodiac up Rio Serrano into Torres del Paine National Park, where our friends were partway through their hike.

*One of them, who'd been on another couple's honeymoon, declared it The Best Honeymoon Ever. Two honeymoon, and neither was her own!

Old world elegance

I believe that's what we were aiming for here. It's not a common idiom for us - goofy is more like it - but rediscovering this image among the 944 (!) that Kate Harrison sent us makes me want to frame it.

Having just returned from a two week trip to Italy - Milan, Turin, Venice, Florence - we may now be slightly more in touch with our elegant selves.* Italians are unbelievably stylish and sophisticated. Everywhere we went, I was admiring the elegant ensembles of men and women alike. I never saw anyone looking sloppy or less than put together. California-casual doesn't promote such elegance - if you're not wearing flip flops, you're formal enough to go just about anywhere - but I'd like to absorb a bit of Italian style.

*A perk of academic life is being invited to give lectures in exotic locales, and getting your travel expenses paid! Eric scored a sweet deal when a senior colleague was unavailable for the engagement.

Dr. Cowgirl rides again!

In the midst of all the thoughtful and personal discussions about body image, self perceptions and photography going on, I feel a little bit funny about re-posting these photos that recapitulate the slim-white-attractive paradigm. I'm not at all saying this is what a wedding should be -- though it's what a wedding could be. And it's certainly not the fact that these two happen to be utterly adorable that makes them worthy of posting on my blog.


However, this was one of the most fun weddings I went to last summer.* Mountains, fields, camping, thunderstorms, hail, sundresses & down jackets, cowboy boots, wildflowers, gin and juice, and dancing in a barn to the most kickin' bluegrass band ever.


Dr. Cowgirl and I shared the journey through rings, dresses, location, decor... all of it. We tried on countless dresses together, visited Mercurio Brothers** to order our invitations together, shared schemes about vases and bottles for decor.

I've showed you a bit of her wedding here. Those few snapshots hardly did justice to the beauty of the ceremony, the generosity of her family, and awesomeness of the Rocky Mountain landscape. So when Dr. Cowgirl forwarded the link to some of her photos by Katy Gray at The Bride's Cafe, I knew I'd have to post some here.

Her wedding took place at her parents' property in Tetonia, Idaho, just west of Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks.
Guests were invited to camp on the property, overlooking the Teton River and the mountain ranges. It was convenient to be so close to the festivities in a tent with a view. We would have been there all weekend, too, if it weren't for a ridiculous storm blowing in...

Dr. Cowgirl's niece read a lovely passage from Where the Sidewalk Ends, that I posted here.

The skies finally cleared in the evening. Shouldn't everyone have an Airstream trailer glowing in the moonlight?

See more of Katy Gray's lovely work- including more Airstream shots, and a couple great claw-foot bathtub images - here.

I should also mention that these photos - plus my own, by Kate Harrison - have convinced me of the value of a professional photographer. Initially, dumbfounded by the expense involved, I was planning to forgo the professional and count on the cameras of numerous family and friends. However, I have come to the conclusion that a talented pro can capture the fleeting moments of intense emotion in which the beauty and drama of the wedding shine through. I have never considered myself photogenic, and neither has Eric. Both of us dislike having our picture taken. However, I am mightily pleased by the images from our wedding, feeling that they capture a beauty I never knew was there. That is the alchemy of a talented photographer.

*One of the five best weddings I went to last summer, for sure.***
**Gorgeous, affordable letterpress, doncha' know!
***Total number of weddings attended last summer: 5. All so, so fun and perfect in their own way!