crazy cat lady

is this what it has come to? me writing about my cat? i guess now that i'm in situ, my topics of interest have waned considerably. i do want to give a shout out to my lungs for no-complaint performance during the inhalation of a significant amount of toxic paint fumes over the past few days and another to the muscles of my forearms and right hand for expert wielding of the crowbar and staple puller during floor removal. but, back to the cat.

she's a pretty stellar cat, as far as cats go. somewhat stupid and completely un-stealthy, she is generally good for hair loss and hilarity (like when she decided that our air ducts would be fun to play in. ha. ha.). when i picked her up in baggage claim she was calm, unruffled, and covered in her own...well, it was eight hours. gross. i immediately tossed out her nasty fleece bed, gave her a bath in the airport bathroom, and went on my way.

the next day i picked up a super plush microfiber bed at target. soft, comfy, and $15. she hated it. pushed it off chairs. never sat on it. didn't even use it to scratch up or piss on. stupid cat. instead she camped out on top of our suitcase or curled up in a giant box of crumpled paper leftover from our moving process.

i went to the store on thursday and found a bed similar to the one she destroyed over the atlantic. i sprayed it with a bit of catnip, put some treats in it, and set it on top of her favorite suitcase. (yes, we are still living out of our luggage.) she still hated it. i left the tag on, thinking that this might happen. just as i was about to put it back in my "return" pile, dan's genius took over. he went to the garage, pulled out a wad of moving paper, wrapped the bed in a crunchy duvet, and it was like flies on stink.

now, every night around 2 a.m. i hear "crumple, crumple, crumple" as she makes herself comfortable in her new home. next step: try to help her overcome her fear of the Great American Outdoors.

fin

i am in America. no, wait. i LIVE in America. although the jumble of my life will most likely remain, the location will cease to be so exotic.

when we moved to the U.K. 41 months ago, our goal was simple: fill the passports. i hoped to average one trip per month over (what was originally supposed to be) 32 months, instead i averaged 1.25 trips per month during our year-point-five and had to have extra pages sewn into my passport. (i did make the mistake of totaling the "travel" category in our Quicken budget. but, really, i would rather have my full passport than that brand new car i could have paid cash for had i spent every night at 39 Garland Street.)

it was bittersweet leaving the island, with no return ticket booked. no more cask ale and $40 flights to dublin. no more weekly market and queues, bins, rubbish, cricket, footie, give-ways, tubes, and half-pints.

now we need to make a new goal. hrm. this could be tricky.

the final list -- number indicates overnight trip, cities during trip next to number, "A" for airport.

1. london
2. canterbury, dover
3. venice (A)
4. tonbridge, hever
5. sevilla, granada, marbella, nerja, gibraltar (A)
6. hong kong, chengdu, tongren (A)
7. k-town, portland (A)
8. dublin, cashel, killarney (A)
9. amsterdam (A)
10. brugge
11. rome (A)
12. edinburgh
    >> end of 2007
    
13. mannheim
14. boleslawiec (A)
15. naples (A)
16. prague (A)
17. dublin (A)
18. san francisco, santa rosa (A)
19. brugge
20. florence, pisa (A)
21. portland, k-town, boise, CDA, las vegas (A)
22. the cotswolds, stratford-upon-avon, warwick
23. rome, amalfi (A)
24. istanbul, ephesus, mykonos, santorini, crete, alexandria, gisa, corfu, olympia, athens (A)
25. stonehenge, salisbury (day trip)
26. zurich, lucerne, interlaken, murren (A)
    >>> end of 2008
    
27. provence (A)
28. bath
29. copenhagen (A)
30. madrid, segovia, avila, toledo (A)
31. london
32. paris
33. rothenburg, bavaria, munich (A)
34. wales
35. kas, turkey (A)
36. scotland (A)
37. yorkshire
38. boise (A)
39. normandy, brugge
40. heidelberg (A)
41. morocco (A)
42. krakow (A)
43. chiavenna, italy (A)
    >> end of 2009
    
44. london
45. las vegas (A)
    
46. norway (A)
    
47. south africa, zambia (A)
    
48. washington, d.c., las vegas, oregon, road trip to north carolina (A)
    
49. romania (A)
50. red sea, egypt (A)
51. brugge
    >> end of 2010
    

at sea

a cruise:

The practice of loading up an enormous floating replica of Las Vegas with a bunch of fearful Americans and whipping them past a dozen tourist-oriented ports of call at thirty knots. (Michael Chabon, Wonder Boys)

true.

although i enjoyed my one cruise immensely, it was exhausting trying to escape the throngs of shipmates to find a secluded spot to enjoy a Greek afternoon, just to turn around and sprint back to the boat before sunset. i believe that on a truly luxurious vacation, one shouldn't have to wear a watch.

on our one cruise, two of my favorite words were "at sea." this simply meant that we could sleep late, eat lots, lounge by the pool, and not worry about Heraklion's shitty museum or getting the Pharaoh's curse in an Alexandrian alleyway.

another Corona with lime, please, waiter.

if i played up the adventurer in me too much in the last post, i would like to apologize. for every yin there is a yang. and after five days of navigating the backwoods of Transylvania, we were ready for seven days of sunscreen on the shores of the Red Sea.

hello, Hurghada.

although "five-star" in Egypt is more like "4.5 star" in America, it was still FOUR.POINT.FIVE.STAR! marble, a/c, cold beer, all-you-can-eat, sun loungers, palm trees, and so much luscious green-grass sod in the middle of a Saharan landscape, that it made Las Vegas look eco-friendly. the hotel even sort of looked like a huge boat.

ahhhh....decadence.

here's what we did:

• apply sunscreen
• eat
• sunbathe (three days), scuba dive (three days)
• read book
• eat
• float the lazy river (our pool had a LAZY RIVER)
• drink
• eat
• drink
• sleep

talk about well-rested.

today begins day 1 of "Operation Move to America."

as they say, the party's (nearly) over.

time travel

there is something about "backpacking through europe" that appeals to most Americans. i think we may be stuck on a 1970s adventure ideal where the exchange rates were favorable, backpacking involved backpacks, and there were no motorways, McDonald's, or mobile phones.

for better or worse, the idealistic adventure has somewhat faded. now, with an international plan on the iphone, a rental car, and a GPS, one can travel through europe in nearly the same manner as one can travel through Texas. book online, set the route, order a big mac.

in many ways, this is nicer than times past. there is much less stress for the newly initiated traveller, and they still get to experience French hospitality, German castles, Spanish sangria, Roman ruins... but, lately, we've been seeking outings that inject a little tiny bit of the adventure back in - the mountains of Morocco, a village in Turkey, the African bush, and now, Romania.

for the first time since 2003 on a trip to mainland europe i felt like i was sort of backpacking, albeit via rental car. we were challenged, lost, and mildly uncomfortable. it was more travel, less vacation.

our trusty GPS only had major roads on it, and by "major" i mean paved, of which there were just a smattering. we had to actually purchase a map. we could never find our lodgings and had to call people, converse with them (mostly pointing since few spoke english), ask directions, and interact.

driving 100 miles took three hours, at least, but we enjoyed gawking at roadside prostitutes, crumbling pastel-colored buildings, and massive abandoned factories. the wreckage of communism.

we passed farmers on their way to work, riding along Romanian highways in their horse-drawn carts. we saw people stacking hay and digging potatoes by hand.

we sat in clouds of cigarette smoke and ate pizza or potatoes and drank Ursus pilsner at less than $2 per liter.

we saw houses with no electricity, roads with no pavement, and grannies wearing wool leg warmers.

the locals were grim faced, mostly, but who wouldn't be if your occupation involved a wooden rake?

we got the stink-eye for 400 miles in our Avis rental, but we pressed on.

Romania today may be that hybrid between 70s backpacking and the Eurostar to Paris. one foot in the EU and one foot out. although we didn't eat a big mac on the piazza in Sibiu, we could have. but, at the same time, we couldn't have found an english menu within 100 miles in Maramures.

for the medium-core adventurer like me, this dabbling in a foreign place was just right.

the loophole of monogamy?

there was blood everywhere.
my liver, in attempt to escape the prison of my body, had fashioned itself a shiv made from cirrhosis scar tissue and the crystals formed when alcohol mixed with advil. the poor organ wanted out, bad.
luckily, the thought of leaving a comfortable ménage à trois with my kidneys, combined with my sincere begging and pleading, helped convince her to give me another shot.
off to buy some new sheets and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide.
what a mess.
at least that's what i imagine would have happened if my liver had opposable thumbs.
it all started innocently enough last saturday morning with bottomless mimosas at 11 a.m. it was "girl's weekend" with our visiting friend Nora* from Boston* (*you know who you are).
from pizza and champagne to pedicures and beer, the day was off to a roaring success.
as our male roommates have mentioned many times over the past few weeks, "you women sure know how to talk."
it's true.
Amy, Nora, and i drank, ate, and talked our way across NW DC for eight hours.
around 7 o'clock, over beer and oysters at Harry's in Dupont, the talk turned (back) to s-e-x. namely how yours truly isn't getting any.
"well, let's go to a strip club!" Nora says. "it's sexy, it's safe, it's interesting. it's the loophole of monogamy!"
the theory goes: since i am affection-starved and can only hug Amy so many times before she becomes uncomfortable, i should supplement my needs through purchasing.
need a hug? go get a massage.
need a cry? go rent a sad movie.
need an active listener? go see a counselor.
need some attention? get a pedicure or see a hairstylist full of flattery.
so, when it comes to the intimate, strippers are as close to acceptable as i am going to get. or so goes the argument.
(what about the part where i'm not gay? not to worry, these ladies are hot enough that it's not so much about the gender as it is about the gyration. how do they do that? wow.)
off we go on a daylight sojourn to DC's finest full-nude establishment. oh, the decisions we make when we've been out in the sun too long.
as promised, the ladies were gorgeous, but the beer was $7 a bottle, and there are no lap dances in the District. (the girls did enjoy chatting with us instead of the creepy fat guy eating a steak across the room, though).
it was quite an interesting experience. yep, there is some sex on sale at Camelot on M Street, and like Playboy and porn, it can fill a certain void in a person's life when called upon.
but i'm not sure it satisfied my core problem: i miss my husband.
although i understand the commodification of certain types of attention (foot rub? yes, please!), i think i'm going to have to add intimacy to the list of things that money just can't buy.