The Inca Trail: Part 2 - The Trek

On Tuesday, August 28th, we started our trek on the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. We had to be ready for the bus to pick us up by 5:30 am. It was about a 2-hour ride to the trailhead, where there is an official checkpoint we needed to wait in line to pass through. The government requires that anyone hiking the trail is part of a guided group, and only 500 people are allowed on the trail per day.

I think everyone was a little nervous that morning. There were 14 of us, plus 2 guides and 17 porters (including a chef and a coordinator). The photo at right is just our group of hikers, immediately before heading onto the trail.

Some of the chaskies for our group. We always gave way
for them to pass us. 

I immediately gained tremendous respect for our porters. We were asked to use the Quechua term "chaskies", which refers to the Inca messengers that relayed news from town to town with great speed. These men could put any of us to shame by hiking quickly by us with loads of up to 25 kilos (regulated now by the Peruvian government). Most of them only spoke Quechua, but they were always very friendly and helpful.

I included photos of our guides because they were amazing, and without them, I don't think I could have done it. Mike chose to go through SAS Travel for our trek, because of reviews and because they keep the money local, as opposed to guide companies based in the US.
I don't think we realized at the time that we would be getting such a wonderful experience by choosing this company. And I didn't realize how much of a difference that could make. Our guide, Fred, and assistant guide, Hugo, knew so much and were so passionate about this topic that they inspired me to learn more about the Inca culture. Fred is an archeologist with the university in Cusco (Universidad Nacional de San Antonio Abad del Cusco) during the off season, and is involved with expeditions to recently discovered ruins around the region, so he has a lot of info not yet published.

Fred, our fearless guide, lecturing at Machu Picchu.

Hugo, our assistant guide, giving us a talk at
Winay Wayna.

The bridge that separates the checkpoint to enter the Inca Trail
from the actual trail (which starts on the other side).

A brief synopsis of our trek, day-by-day

Day 1: After finally crossing the checkpoint after 9 am, we hiked gradually uphill to a nice little park-like area for lunch. The chaskies were waiting for us and clapped when we arrived. So sweet of them. Lunch was much more elaborate and healthy than what I expected, and that was a sign of things to come. Every meal included a great variety of dishes with lots of veggies. Our guide liked to tell us we were eating exotic dishes, like baby condor in its own blood (chicken in a red sauce), chopped llama legs (lomo de saltado), etc.

After lunch, the trail continued on pretty easily except for a bit more steepness near the end of the day. We camped that night further along than other groups so that we would not be sharing a campsite with so many other people and would be ahead of them in the morning. Our tents were set up when we arrived at camp, and as soon as we had time to clean up a little, we had happy hour in the dining tent, consisting of coca leaf tea, popcorn, and cookies to tide us over until dinner was ready. After dinner, everyone goes right to bed. Day 2 is going to be a tough one.



Day 2: Today we had to climb to the top of Dead Woman's Pass, at 4180 m (a 1000-m increase from camp), then go down several hundred meters before crossing a second pass at around 3900 m. It was a grueling hike to the top of the first pass. I was one of the last in my group to make it up. The funny thing is, it wasn't my legs that got tired. I just couldn't catch my breath. The high elevation and my asthma made it tough. Still, I found someone I could keep pace with most of the time (until the end), and I just stuck with her most of the time.

That's me, following Sharon, who kept a good pace for me,
on the way up to Dead Woman's Pass.

There was a bit of celebration at the top of Dead Woman's Pass before we headed down the mountain towards our lunch spot. I found that going downhill was much easier and more enjoyable for me. I assumed this would be true for everyone, but I was mistaken. I was among the fastest in my group going downhill, because I don't really have too many issues with knees/hips/ankles in that terrain. It made me feel like a powerhouse at those times.

Our group at the top of Dead Woman's Pass, along with our chasky
coordinator.

By that evening when we arrived in the camp that would be coldest, I think we were all exhausted but elated that the most strenuous day was over.











Day 3: This was a relatively short day, with a lot of stops at various cultural sites. We arrived at camp early and had time to visit nearby ruins, which were quite large and extensive, on our own time. This was the camp where everyone stays before passing through the next checkpoint to Machu Picchu early the next morning. We relaxed a bit, had a chance for a very cold shower (which I took), and went to bed early.

A llama just hanging out grazing at
one of the ruins.

Ruins we passed through on the third
day. There were so many that I'm not
even sure which ones these are.

The view from our campsite the third night. Not bad, eh?

The other view of our campsite the third night.
Right above the toilets, making for a wafting odor all night.

Amazing view.

Day 4: We got up at 3:45 and were ready to leave camp by 4:20 am. We had to get up this early to get our place in line to cross the last checkpoint along the trail. The checkpoint doesn't actually open until 5:30 am, so we waited for an hour to get started on our last bit of hiking. It took about an hour and a half to reach the Sun Gate (Inti Punku), the main entrance to Machu Picchu from the trail. We didn't quite make it at sunrise, but just after. Machu Picchu was already getting some visitors riding up on the bus from Aguas Calientes, a town that basically exists because of tourism to Machu Picchu.

 We hiked into Machu Picchu, relaxed a bit, then actually exited the park (or whatever you want to call it), so that we could officially enter with our tickets. We spent the morning with our guides touring Machu Picchu. Then they left us for a couple of hours on our own. We then took a bus down to Aguas Calientes to meet back up for lunch one last time. It was actually sad to part ways with our guides at that time, and some of our group was heading out as well. We shared email addresses and are going to try to share all of our photos. This is a very good thing since some folks in the group are quite good photographers.

The last stairs up to the Sun Gate.

Machu Picchu from Inti Punku (the Sun Gate) in all its glory.

 I added several photos from that day, but if you scroll down far enough, you'll see some from Day 5, when we returned to Machu Picchu to climb Huayna Picchu, which was essentially a watchtower for Machu Picchu and provides extraordinary views of the area.

Our group just after we arrived at Machu Picchu. 

Day 5: We got up Saturday morning and took the bus from Aguas Calientes up to Machu Picchu to climb Huayna Picchu, which has regulated access limited to 400 people per day. Our time slot was for 7-8 am entry, which was perfect to avoid most of the heat of the day.

That little mountain on the right,
that's Huayna Picchu.

The checkpoint to enter the trail to Huayna Picchu.

Yes, that's sweat. It's a LOT of steps to get up to that point!

The view of Machu Picchu from way up there.

Lots of very steep steps. And the Inca apparently had
very small feet, judging by the very narrow steps.

 Okay, if you made it this far, thanks for reading. I know it's a lot, but hopefully the photos were interesting. That was basically the end of our 5-day trip on the Inca Trail. We returned to Aguas Calientes later that morning and took a train back to Ollentaytambo, where a taxi picked us up and took us back to Cusco.

I'm so glad we saw Machu Picchu the way we did, hiking the Inca Trail, instead of just taking a train to Aguas Calientes and catching a bus up to the site. I learned so much more about the Andean people and culture, and about myself. And I met some wonderful people that I think I would call friends, even after only knowing them for a few days. Time well spent.

The Inca Trail: Part 1 - Pre-trek in Cusco and the Sacred Valley

My husband, Mike, and I just completed our trip to Peru to hike the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. It was an amazing trip, so I want to make sure I document it as much as I can now before the details get muddied.

We arrived in Cusco (or Cuzco, depending on where you look), Peru, on Saturday, August 25th, after traveling for 24 hours. We were picked up at the airport by a driver and transported to our hotel. This is when I realized that I would never want to drive a car in Cusco. The roads seem like total chaos, and I just had to have total faith in the driver to not get us killed. I was immediately impressed with how anyone could negotiate the traffic in that town (or any other town we were in, for that matter).

Cusco is at an elevation over 10,000 ft, so I was convinced the horrible headache I developed was caused by altitude. However, after spending most of the day feeling awful, I realized it was actually a case of severe muscle tension in my neck and shoulders causing the headache. Mike worked on my knots, and that made the following day much more pleasant, as we toured the Sacred Valley (guided by SAS Travel) while we acclimatized to the altitude.

Our guide to the Sacred Valley, Martin,
at Ollentaytambo.

I had heard about Machu Picchu, but I didn't realize just how many Inca ruins there are in the area. There are even what our guide called "working Incan towns" (like Ollentaytambo), where the town exists much as it did centuries ago. The narrow roads are still there, and many of the bases of buildings are built on the original stone base. I also didn't realize that indigenous peoples make up a large proportion of Peru, and this area in particular. Our guide was very proud that he was not Mestizo and was pure "Incan blood". In fact, there are areas around the Sacred Valley where most inhabitants do not speak Spanish, but rather Quechua (though in touristy areas, most spoke some Spanish and usually a little English).

On a side note, all streams within towns seemed to be 

channelized like this was, though usually not so elaborately.

We saw a lot of ruins throughout the Sacred Valley that day, and developed a lot of respect for the culture of the people in that area. Farming and handicrafts appear to be the primary occupations in the area, and they are definitely quite dependent on tourism. That's probably why they are so very welcoming to tourists. Many people live in what we would call poverty, though they seem to be relatively happy people. It's hard to know for sure whether they live simply out of necessity or are content that way, but I know they are a lovely, friendly people.

These ladies and kids are demonstrating how they clean 

and dye alpaca wool to prepare it for weaving into 

beautiful products.

If there was one thing I will not miss about Peru in general, it was the bathrooms and plumbing issues. No matter where you are in Peru, there are signs that ask that you not to put paper in the toilets to avoid backups. There is usually a bin sitting in the stall next to the toilet for used paper. Bathrooms often lack toilet paper, so I also had to get used to carrying a little baggy of my own all the time. Most bathrooms in the city and in more modern buildings are otherwise what I was used to, with a toilet that flushes. 

The example to the right is more like what we saw on the trail and in more rural areas at the ruins. Sometimes there is a way to flush, but these didn't have that. Actually this photo is a much nicer example of what we saw on the trail. All I can say is that I'm glad I did all those squats in Crossfit, or it would have been that much harder to use these bathrooms. 

Best Friends: Am I missing out, or does it just feel that way?

Times have been stressful in my life lately, and I finally put my finger on what is making it hard to shed some of that stress. I used to have a best friend, that one point person I could go to whenever I had something really good or really bad happening in my life just to talk it over. It was a mutual thing. He still lives in Kentucky, and although we are still friends, our relationship has changed drastically since I moved.

I no longer feel like I have someone in my life that I can call a best friend in that way. I have friends, but not really a go-to person I rely on. I also don't feel like I am that person for anyone else right now. I miss that, but it has to be organic. It's not like I can decide this or that person is my best friend. It has to just happen, and it just hasn't. Still, I find myself actually being a bit jealous of those that seem to find that relationship with someone else.

I feel like I have separated people in my life into compartments, and in a lot of ways, that has to be a choice I have made, even if a subconscious one. By doing that, though, it means there is no one that really knows me as I am in all of those compartments. I suppose that could be one way of protecting myself from getting hurt by keeping myself distanced from everyone to some extent. Nevertheless, I miss feeling like I can be completely at ease with another person. I guess I want my cake and to eat it, too.

What I ask myself, and you, readers, is whether a best friend is necessary? What purpose exactly is served by having a single best friend? Am I truly missing out, or is it really a double-edged sword?

The anti-joiner

I have to make a confession that will not come as a surprise to many that know me. I am an anti-joiner. I am the opposite of someone I would refer to as a joiner, someone that likes to be a part of trends or big movements or just "the cool kids".

Don't get me wrong. I like to feel like I fit in somewhere, and I like to be amongst friends. However, once a group or movement or whatever gets to a certain size, I stop wanting to be a part of it. I lose interest, and the more I am pushed to join a group, or just do what everyone else is doing, the less likely I am to do so.

I noticed this most recently with my Crossfit group, which is what inspired me to write this. They are planning a trip to Bend next weekend to compete in the Oregon Crossfit Games. There are currently 22+ members of our box going, mostly staying together in one house. I am not going. At this point, I feel very left out, which makes me sad, but also glad I am not going.

This is a confusing set of emotions, but if I think about it, I can lay out emotional process.

1) I get lost in large groups of people. I don't mean I can't figure out where I am geographically. I mean that I tend to become quiet and even more introverted than I normally am. I start to feel isolated, even among friends.

2) I tend to avoid competition, so in a large group of people, I will not compete for attention. This may be a debit in the presence of a lot of extroverts, mostly because I tend not to have my opinion heard in these situations. Then I stew and become more and more irritated that "no one cares what I think".

3) I despise peer pressure, and I despise the thought that I would give in to it. And yet I know I do sometimes. In such cases, I will go along with the group, not having had my voice heard, even if I am miserable. I am never the decision maker in a large group, because I am never the most vocal one. When possible, I will often decide to do my own thing silently, and just become annoyed at everyone else who seems to be following along.

4) Sometimes, not always but definitely sometimes, I just become contrary and ambivalent. I dislike large groups so much that I begin to dislike any decision that is made, regardless of its merit.

I think the main source of all of this mental drama is the fact that I am an introvert. I am introspective and contemplative, and I need to feel like I am making my own decisions, not just being led along by others. To me, that is a weak-minded way to live.

I know some extroverts that cannot understand that being introvert is not a personality disorder. They want to "fix" me by encouraging me to be more like they are. Sometimes I wish I WERE more like them. I would be more gregarious and thrive in the large groups I often end up involved in beyond my control. But at the same time, I kinda like being the black sheep, I suspect. It's way more interesting long term than fitting in.

In the case of this weekend, I think I'll probably feel a special bond with those folks that aren't going. We're all kind of the black sheep. Yeah, that will be my new group until that gets too big or popular.

Thanks for being such a jerk...

This time of year, I usually look back on the previous year or two and think about watershed moments. Sometimes this involves a falling out with someone that includes burned bridges. Usually, I can actually appreciate that I am better off without them after some time has passed. Although even seeing mention of these people can still sting, I realize that I am happier because they are no longer around to crush my self-esteem over and over. This makes me appreciate the event or behavior that caused the falling out.

So here's my question: how can I thank someone for treating me so poorly without being facetious?  I imagine some of my attempts.

"Thanks for being such a dick when I was struggling with depression...it was just what I needed to realize that I didn't need you around."

"I can't thank you enough for being so bitchy that one time when I needed a friend rather than a critic. It made me rethink the people that I wanted to surround myself with."

"I really appreciate that you were so awful to me, because it gave me the courage I needed to walk away from you for good, instead of feeling like I had to keep giving you more chances."

Okay, so none of these would probably go over as hoped. They all sound pretty bitchy, in fact, but I am truly thankful when someone finally lets me take a step I might otherwise feel too guilty (over giving up on someone) to take. Maybe I don't need to thank them. Perhaps they are thankful for the separation as well, and wondering how to express that themselves.

Have I become Salem Woman?

I saw a tweet from a Portlander this afternoon that simply said, "Salem is a shit hole". My first gut reaction was to take personal offense, because how can I not take a rude statement like that personally? I wanted to say something nasty about Portland in response, but after a little reflection, I stopped myself from stooping to her level. I realized that 1) I don't care what she thinks about anything, 2) she said that out of ignorance, 3) there probably aren't enough strip clubs and addicts in Salem compared to what she's used to, and 4) she's always seemed to be kind of bitter and lonely, and that probably had something to do with what she said.

While I was walking my dog, though, I started thinking about all the reasons I like living in Salem, and the reasons I really don't care for Portland beyond a place to visit occasionally. I do like the size of Salem, which is mostly what makes it a much friendlier town than Portland (in my opinion and experience). In a sprawling town like Portland, with endless suburbs, there is little real sense of community like what I feel here in Salem. It was the same in Cincinnati, and the only truly friendly places I experienced were certain eclectic neighborhoods inside the city, like Northside. Otherwise, people pretty much know they'll probably never see you again, so why be friendly?

In the process contemplating all this, it hit me. My inner voice sounded a lot like 'Salem Woman' from Salemia (www.salemia.net)! If you haven't seen the show, Salem Woman has a bit of a Salem chip on her shoulder, and this makes her and Salem Man kind of possessive about their town and unfriendly to folks from Portland.

The more I think about it, maybe I'm not quite so like Salem Woman after all. I mean, it's not as if I'm blind to the negative sides of Salem. Every city has them (yes, even Portland - gasp!), and they are slightly different in every city or town. Seedy parts of town. Small-minded, hateful, ignorant people. Outdated laws or ways of doing things. Every town has some of all of those things, whether they admit it or not. The thing is, I mostly cannot change those things, so I have to either embrace them as part of the fabric of my community, become very bitter about them and fight a futile battle to change them, or move away. I think I have no choice for my sanity but to do the first. I have to be able to acknowledge and laugh at those things I cannot change.

So wait, does that make me Salem Woman after all?

On being an orphan over the holidays

When my husband and I lived in Ohio, we usually did Thanksgiving on our own after his parents moved to Florida. Occasionally, we spent it with other people who were also from other places and invited us into their home. Since we moved to Salem, we've been lucky enough to be a part of an orphan Thanksgiving each year. I find this ultimately much more relaxing than any Thanksgiving with my family or my husband's. Not that I don't love my family, but because anytime I am visiting them and usually staying with my parents, I don't just get to go home at the end of the day. It ends up being just a bit too much time at a stretch with them.

For Christmas, things are a little different. Before we moved, we rarely just stayed at home over the Christmas holidays, except for health reasons a couple of years. Usually, we drove down to Georgia to see my family, then headed to Florida to see his parents for a few days, then back north through Georgia with another stop to see my family again. It was truly exhausting, and those few years we didn't travel were, aside from the health issues, more relaxed and pleasant for me.

Since we moved to Oregon, it's been different each year, and this year is no exception. The first year, another couple invited us to join them and some friends at the Grand Lodge in Forest Grove for Christmas Night. It was wonderfully empty and quiet, and we were able to just eat, drink, and be merry all over the hotel that night, followed by the hike the next morning. Last year, my husband had coworker that was on her own for the holiday. We invited her to go with us to a play (A Christmas Story at Portland Center Stage) and a meal in Portland on Christmas Eve, then spend the night with us and hang out on Christmas Day making a meal we would share that afternoon. It was very low key, and I like that on a holiday.

This year, she has travel plans, so we are once again on our own. It feels like being an orphan, even though there are two of us. We are still going to a play, a different one, trying to decide if this will become a tradition for us, but aside from that, we are winging it. There is little to no likelihood of traveling back east for the Thanksgiving/Christmas holidays anytime in the near or far future, so I guess new traditions are in order. If you really believe home is where the heart is, then this is my true home, because this is where my heart lies. So new traditions should start where my heart is, right?

Rising from the ashes

It's been quite awhile since I posted, but we're coming up on the two year anniversary of arriving in Salem. It's left me wanting to document my thoughts about how much things have changed.

Over three years ago, my husband and I made the decision for him to take a job in Salem, a decision we knew would create complete upheaval in our lives. In the time between that decision and actually moving 15 months later, I spiraled down into depression and was so caught up in it, I didn't even realize how bad it was.

That depression made me long for deep connections to people I was leaving behind, as well as those people I met here in Oregon. I think in a lot of cases, I attached far too much significance to those relationships, and sometimes I got burned. Severely. In those cases, I had poor judgment and sometimes did very stupid things, and as I look back, I'm stunned at some of the sacrifices of myself I made to feel like I fit in.

I feel like I have finally emerged from that dark time into a me that I can respect. It took me awhile, but I gradually figured out who my real friends are, and got rid of those people both here and in Cincinnati that were toxic to me, those people that kept me feeling bad about myself. Some people I have not kept up with as much I thought I would, but that's okay. It's good to be selective about who gets to be in that inner circle, or in any circle, for that matter.

All in all, I think the most important thing I have gained from my experience is perspective. I know that my journey through life is as unique as I am, but I also realize that many other people have to struggle with the same things I have. In a way, we are all both very alone and in the company of many other good people in the adversity we face as we go through life. If I had to go through what I did to gain this perspective, I'm okay with that. Hopefully that perspective will help someone else I know, and that would make it all worth it.

Flighty or obsessive?

I have known for a long time that my husband and I have very different personalities. He tends toward obsessiveness over a particular activity or interest (at least for some period of time), whereas I fall at the opposite extreme. Call it flighty, but I like to think of it as dabbling. It's exciting to try new things, but I rarely want to actually commit to anything beyond doing it very casually, usually once or twice.

I've always been this way, but I'm just noticing how strong and pervasive this tendency is in my life. I've started to grow more and more non-committal as I realize how many times I've invested a lot of time and money in some new activity, only to lose interest shortly after I've made that investment. This is why I'm not a good sports fan. I am almost incapable of becoming obsessed with a particular team or sport, even though I enjoy seeing a match or game or whatever, every so often. It's why I never pursued roller derby more than I did and why I don't go online to watch bouts all the time. It's why, when I reached the top of Mt. St. Helens, my first thought was not to find another mountain to climb (as it probably was for my husband). Rather, I thought, "that was really cool, and I'm glad I did it, but I do not feel the need to ever do that again".

That pattern is evident in my work life as well. I was never going to be a great dedicated scientist that developed a research interest that I pursued for the rest of my life. In my last position, I was always anxious to get done with whatever project I was working on to move on to something else. My current position suits me much better, because I am able to move from project to project and not spend too much time focused on one activity.

In fact, the more I look at my life, the more aspects it seems to affect. It would be rather alarming, I suppose, if it didn't provide some comfort in explaining much of my behavior.

Our extreme differences in personality might seem to make it hard for my husband and I to get along. To the contrary, as long as we understand each other, I think it works out better. If we were both obsessive, it would likely be about different things, and that would be a major problem. This way, as long as we acknowledge that we don't have to always share interests, it works just fine.

That hill was more like a ramp...

You know how people joke about being over the hill when you hit 40? I think I kind of used to think that...before I actually turned 40. You're supposed to settle down and relax at 40, right? Yeah, I don't think so either. I think that instead of feeling like life is downhill from here, I have treated it as a bit of a ramp, an impetus to try new things.

Sure, I did some things since my birthday last December that were more superficial in nature, I suppose, like getting another tattoo or getting waxed for the first time. But I also set some goals for myself this year that I never would have anticipated completing a year ago.

On June 18th, Mike and I participated in Mud Run MS, a fundraiser put on by the National MS Society, obviously a cause close to my heart. It was a 10k run, with over 30 military-style obstacles and tons of mud and water. I trained for months worrying I wouldn't be able to run the 6 or so miles. In the end, I realized it wasn't about how fast I did it. It was about completing it, and I did. It took my husband and I 1 hr, 40 minutes to finish. It was a rainy, chilly day, and we were both freezing by the time we finished. I stood by one of the food carts that came down from Portland holding my free Ninkasi beer while my hand shook so much the food cart guy gave me a bowl of soup for free. Even so, I'm so glad I did it, and I plan to do it again next year.

We had two weeks to recover from the Mud Run before we were to climb Mt. St. Helens, and I was really nervous about it. We purchased our permits to climb several months ago, but I didn't think about it much until the time got close. Whenever I'm nervous about something like that, I become really ambivalent. I didn't want to think about it or even pack for it until the day we left. However, once we got into Cougar, WA, where our cabin was, I was feeling a lot more excitement than dread. We had our permit to climb for July 1st, a beautiful, clear day. We took 6 hours to get to the top, and during those 6 hours, I thought of giving up at least a couple of times. I'm glad I didn't though. I kept pushing on, even when our water supply got low. It was worth the tremendous effort. The view was amazing, and so was the high of getting up there. The trip back down to the car took another 3 hours, and we were both in pain by then.

Probably one of the big highlights (is there such a thing as a lowlight?) of the trip back down was when I had to pee so bad that I had to resort to crouching next to a pile of rocks in the middle of the big barren landscape. No one was nearby, but it was still a little surreal to be squatting out there in the wide open.

You'd think after all that, we'd relax the next day. We can't seem to do that. We toured the other side the mountain, the side that blew off with the eruption, on Saturday.  Then we headed to a place called Ape Cave. Lower Ape Cave is an easy hike, so we chose to do Upper Ape Cave, which is considered strenuous. It was the most fun I've had in a cave, scrambling over rocks and up an 8 foot wall. I felt like a million bucks after we got out of there. It was tough, and we both had injuries we were nursing from the climb on Friday, but it felt good to conquer that cave.

After succeeding at those two goals that were looming over me for most of the first half of this year, I feel like I can do anything. I am more fit and stronger than I've ever been in my life. I am motivated to try all sorts of new things now that a month ago, I would have considered out of my reach. Maybe turning 40 was just the push I needed to start living again and stop just existing.

Requested recipes from the party

At the request of a few people at the cookout last weekend, I am providing two recipes: kale salad and the chocolate chip cheesecake spread.

First, the kale salad. I'm not going to pretend I came up with this. I didn't. I just switched out the peanuts and used almonds instead this time. Here it is (http://www.thekitchn.com/thekitchn/salad/autumn-salad-recipe-kale-slaw-with-peanut-dressing-099767):

Kale Slaw with Peanut Dressing
(serves 6 to 8)

2 large bunches curly or lacinato kale, about 2 pounds
2 red bell peppers, cleaned and cut into fine strips
1 large carrot, peeled
3/4 cup roasted, salted peanuts, divided
1/3 cup vegetable oil
3 tablespoons cider vinegar
1 tablespoon packed light-brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon coarse salt
Pinch red pepper flakes (optional)

Fold each leaf of kale in half lengthwise and slice out the center rib. Discard ribs. Roll a stack of the leaves up and slice in half lengthwise, then crosswise into very fine ribbons. You will have 10 to 12 cups of finely chopped kale in the end. Wash and rinse thoroughly in a salad spinner.

Toss the kale with the sliced bell peppers. Slice the carrot very thin, either by creating curls with a peeler, or by running the halved carrot lengthwise down a mandoline. Toss with the kale, red pepper, and 1/2 cup of the peanuts.

In a chopper or small food processor, briefly puree the remaining 1/4 cup peanuts, oil, vinegar, sugar, salt and pepper flakes. Pulse it just a few times; the peanuts should be partially pureed, but with some nibs and nubs still left in the dressing. (The texture difference between the whole peanuts, ground peanuts, and pureed peanuts in the sauce is one of the things that makes this slaw so wonderful.)

Toss the dressing with the slaw and let it sit for at least a few minutes before serving.

Now for dessert, which comes from our friend Sarah Oakes.

Chocolate chip cheesecake spread


8 oz package cream cheese
3/4 c confectioners sugar
1/2 c butter
2 Tbsp brown sugar
1/4 tsp vanilla
3/4 c mini chocolate chips
Cream butter & cream cheese. Mix in sugar and vanilla. Stir in chips.  Chill for a couple hours before rolling it into a ball.

ENJOY!

The double-edged sword

I've been thinking lately about getting my feelings hurt by people that I opened myself up to and trusted. It's happened a few times in the last few years, sometimes with eventual reconciliation, sometimes not. What's odd about it is that for about 95% of my life, I never really experienced such rejection and pain that probabloy a lot of people experience. I think it's because for about 95% of my life, I never made myself vulnerable the way I have in the last few years.

For most of my life, I just never opened up to other people. I never really trusted anyone enough to do that. Instead, I kept my feelings locked up tight, and no one ever had a clue what was going on in my head. Thinking about it now, I realize it was just a way to protect myself from being hurt. If I never trusted anyone with anything, I couldn't get hurt by them. And to tell the truth, it worked for a long time.

A couple of years ago, though, something clicked, and I changed. A lot. I became a much more open person, someone that shares a lot more of myself than I ever did in the past. Some would argue I share too much, and I suppose there is a happy medium somewhere, but when I find someone I trust, I tend to open myself up and become very vulnerable. This is not always the best decision, I'm finding.

While I would not go back to the closed up version of myself in a million years, being open has its drawbacks. For one thing, it's easy for me to get my feelings hurt when I share deep things with someone and then they turn out not to be who I thought they were. I also tend to feel like I have invested a lot in someone when I share my deepest thoughts with someone, and when they don't appear to feel the same connection with me, I end up feeling foolish and naive.

I'm not saying this has happened to me a lot in the last few years, but more than it ever did while I was protecting myself from being hurt by being a closed book. Often, I don't think it's intentional or purposely hurtful on the other person's part. It's just that the connection I feel is not mutual, and that alone tends to hurt my self-esteem.

I'm not entirely sure this experience is an altogether bad thing. Sure, it hurts, but it also gives me some perspective I've never had before. In some ways, it eventually makes me develop a thicker skin. I don't want to be one of those people that "doesn't care what other people think", because that's a lot like I was before, and my life is much richer now than it was before.

I think if I can get through this with some of those people that I feel have hurt me, then I think we will understand each other better than before and can move on as better friends eventually. Or I'm being naive. I'd like to think it's the former, though.

Unhealthy attachment

I had to turn my back on Twitter yesterday, for as long as I can take it, because it was proving to be an unhealthy part of my life again.

All told, I really don't have that many friends here. I really only know a small handful of people well. The rest are what I would consider acquaintances. They are friendly to me and I like them, but they really don't care if  I live or die, or at least wouldn't notice for awhile. I tend to become too attached to people, especially if I feel some sort of kinship with them. When it becomes clear to me that it is not mutual, my self-esteem gets squashed. That has happened more than once recently, and I don't think I can handle any more of that right now.

I'm an inherently social person. I need that personal interaction, and before all this social media, I actually had more of that than I do now. It's easy to feel like you know someone based on their tweets, particularly if you interact with them a lot. However, realistically, this is a delusion. You can't know someone based on an online personality. Still, I get caught in that trap of thinking that someone cares about me as much as I do them. I invest a lot of time and effort in what I believe is a genuine friendship, and then they disappear or stop talking to me. I'm sure for many people, this seems trivial, and I would argue that those people have a much larger support network, and social media is just a small component of that network. Still feeling like a newbie to town, mine is pretty limited, and, I'm realizing, woefully inadequate.

Revelation: Order from chaos

I absolutely thrive on creating order out of chaos.

I just had this revelation about myself on the way home from the roller derby scrimmage, at which I was serving as penalty tracker. When I think about, I'm overwhelmed by all the aspects of my life to which this statement applies.

The things I am relatively good at include statistics, database management and creation, programming, and apparently being a non-skating official (NSO) for roller derby. At home, disorder drives me crazy, so I am always thinking of how to organize things or put them in some sort of order. Even when I do something that initially creates a mess, I only find peace when the project is done and everything is back in order.

This might seem trivial, but it's kind of amazing to realize that what brings me peace is so simple and yet sometimes so hard to achieve. I also recognize that some people are best at creating that chaos that I feel a need to find order in. Now I wonder if I actually need those people to feel like I'm actually achieving something by organizing the chaos they produce.

In any case, this is a big eye opener for me. In fact, this might even manage to create some order in my often chaotic mind.

The hardest thing I ever have to do

Up until now, I've been fooling myself, and not very well at that. I have been telling myself I can do it all. I can handle organizing the Walk MS for Salem mostly on my own. This hasn't been the case, even though it was what I expected originally, because the guy that was the chair last year kept saying he wouldn't be around, etc. However, in the end, he's done a lot of connecting with businesses that the chapter failed to follow through with.

Last year, I focused mostly on trying to create a raffle where none had existed, by getting donations from a handful of local businesses. I kept telling myself that I knew so many more people that I would be so much more valuable to the walk this year. I am finally having to admit that I don't have that many connections of that kind as I thought I did after living here for another year.

My biggest problem is that I have a horrible time asking for donations from businesses I don't patronize, or at least that I don't patronize much. This is a sign of bigger issues for me. I have always had a hard time asking for help, even when I arguably needed it the most. My husband and I have been through serious health issues in the past 10 years, but I never let myself ask for help. I had a hard time accepting it even when it was offered to me, even in seemingly desperate situations. I finally had a friend and former boss of mine tell me that people wanted to help and I needed to let them. It worked at the time, but I still have a hard time with that.

I am not living up to my own expectations of what I should be able to achieve for this walk. I want it to be special for the people that care enough to participate in it. I wanted to find a drumline or something similarly dynamic and exciting that could start the walkers this year. So far, I have failed in my attempts to get anyone at local schools to respond, and I am out of ideas. I also hoped to get a lot more gift certificates to offer as raffle prizes, and while those that donated last year have agreed to do it again, it's way fewer than hoped.

I have come to the conclusion that having a committee of one or even two is just not enough. We need more help. But for this year, it's probably too late for that.

Here is my plea, for any that see fit to read this and think about responding. If you or someone you know has a business that would be willing to trade a gift certificate (nothing big) for free and positive advertising at the walk, I would love to hear from you. Also, if you or anyone you know would be willing to play long enough to start off the walkers on April 16th at Riverfront Park, I would be most grateful.

That is one of the hardest things for me to do, and it will pain me just to post this, but I'm not doing this for me. I'm doing it for the walk, which is way bigger than me.

The joy of Grace

This is a short one...just a couple of videos of my dog Grace. She gets such joy from such simple activities. These made us giggle. Hope you enjoy them, too. This is classic Grace.

The pros and cons of seeing the pros and cons

I admit freely that I am a nerd. I have very strong analytical tendencies, which have come in handy and made me very good at math and science. I know lots of other people with similar tendencies, which got me thinking over the last few days about both the positive and negative aspects of analyzing everything, almost compulsively.

Here is my take on some of the pros and cons of being such an analytical person:

Pros:
1) I'll never waste money gambling or playing the lottery, because I know how tiny the probability of coming out ahead over time actually is.

2) I'm very good at organizing things, which means that I actually enjoy keeping things clean and tidy (although I don't always make the effort).

3) I'm very financially responsible and good at saving, because I think about all the negative and positive effects of spending money on something.

4) I'm good at problem-solving and a complicated challenge excites me, even if I can't always carry out the solution to the problem.

Cons:
1) I overanalyze every interaction I have, often making interpretations that aren't warranted.

2) If I do happen to act on an impulse, and the outcome is not as hoped, I can't let go of my lapse in judgment for a very long time.

3) I avoid committing fully to creative activities and individual sports, because I am too much of a perfectionist to really enjoy the learning process for very long. 

4) I have no idea how to truly relax, because I am always thinking about what I could be getting done or new places I could be visiting.

I'm sure there are many more in each category, but these are the ones that strike me now.  Just the fact that I made a pros and cons list must be a sign of my nerdiness. I'm sure I'm not alone in this personality trait, but it often feels like it when I start to believe no one else thinks like I do.

No time for contemplation

When we first planned to move from Cincinnati, Ohio, to Salem, Oregon, I assumed I would spend some period of time unemployed after we arrived. I worked for the federal government, and despite what some people think, there is no such thing as a transfer with the government. At least not for people at my level. I knew I would have to actually quit my job at some point, and I had no prospects for another job, no matter how hard I tried to look from 2500 miles away. I actually grew to like the idea of being unemployed and taking some time to figure out what I wanted to do.

Well, nothing ever turns out as we plan it, it seems. Right as we were moving, a position in the agency I was already in opened up, and I applied for it before we moved. I still didn't think I had a great chance of getting it, but there was no huge rush. I was already committed to working from home (in Salem) at my Cincinnati job for 3 months, until some projects I was working on could come to completion. I'd like to think that I could just quit my job and explore other opportunities, but the whole experience has shown me that for me, the compensation is not nearly as important as the benefits with a job. For both my husband and I having serious chronic illnesses, good health insurance is the most important benefit we have, and the only place I could get that would be the federal government, where they can't impose lifetime maxima on coverage.

In the end, I think I missed out on time that might have benefited me to spend doing some soul searching for stability in my health insurance. I no longer seem to have time to relax or even think about what's important to me. I have too much going on and not enough time in a day to do it. It's too late to go back and change any of that now. I guess I need to take some time off from the world soon, before I lose the motivation, and think about what it is I really want from life. I spend so much time doing, and not enough time thinking about what I want to be doing, and I am paying for that emotionally now.

(Ir) rational (?) anger

The BCS football game has brought out some very ugly and disturbing feelings in me this week that surprised even me. It wasn't the outcome of the game, really. I'm not really into football, and I'm not a true Duck fan quite yet. However, I did root strongly against Auburn, based on principle. What principle, you may ask? I view Auburn as representative of the American South, and I will never support any team or school or pretty much anything else from that region.

I grew up in the south, outside of Atlanta, to be specific. I spent my formative years there, moving there from Cincinnati at age 4 and getting the hell out at 17. I was very lucky that my parents could afford to send me to college by the time I finished high school (the only one of 4 that went) and that they were Ohioans by birth, so they were willing to send me to Ohio State. I was anxious even then to get out of the south. I left for school near the end of my 17th year, and, except for summers and breaks, I never returned.

For me, it's not just that racism is still rampant there and everywhere else in the south. It's not just that politics are ultraconservative there and go against the values I hold so dear. It's not just that the religious right is prevalent, judgmental, and unforgiving there. It's not just that being passive-aggressive is an accepted approach to others there. No, those things are all very important in forming my opinions about the South, but they pale in comparison to traumatic events that occurred during my childhood there. It doesn't matter what those events were, really. It only matters that they are linked forever in my heart to my life there and my view of that part of the country.

I have two good friends, two brothers, a sister, and parents still living there, and if not for some of those people, I probably wouldn't visit there at all. It leaves me feeling that much disgust, that I would be willing to write certain people out of my life to be able to avoid going there.

Is that an irrational way to think of an entire region? Perhaps. However, I think it might just be my way of protecting myself in the long term. It's not like I don't remember my past, but I don't need to relive it by having to be exposed to the sources of painful memories.

So there it is. Yes, I was a bit unreasonable in my disgust for Oregonians that would stoop so low as to support Auburn, but there is an underlying reason. And I have to say I think it's a better reason that those people had for supporting that team.

Stop yer bitchin' and do something!

Admit it, we're all guilty of it. It's way too easy to sit back and bitch about things we don't like about the way the world works. The problem is that, too often, that's all we do: complain. Some of us spend a lot more time bitching and moaning about how bad this or that group is, but we often fail to get off our asses and do anything to change it.

To me, sitting around tweeting or blogging or otherwise voicing your opinions is really pointless if you don't back those words up with actions. By that, I do not mean go shoot people because you disagree with them, like the imbecile this weekend did and like some politicians seem to advocate. This is an immature, inappropriate, and wholly unproductive response, even to people that have ridiculous points of view. No, I mean putting your money where your mouth is, so to speak. If you believe in something and have the time to write about your beliefs, you have time to put them in action. I think the smallest actions make the biggest difference. If I could profoundly affect the outcome for a single person by my actions, I would choose that anyday over making some large statement that wouldn't really impact any one person in a meaningful way.

I'm not saying I am not guilty of what I am complaining about. We all are, to some degree. What I'm advocating is getting of our collective asses and doing something for someone else that will truly change their life. There are innumerable ways to support a cause or set of beliefs in a very concrete way. Mentor a child, clean up at a park, volunteer to serve meals to the homeless...the possibilities are really endless when you think about it.

I'm sick of rhetoric. It's pointless, and it doesn't benefit anyone except the egos of the self-serving people that spew it, in my opinion. I think, if all you want to do is complain but do nothing to change the situation, you need to shut the fuck up (pardon my French).