pineapple tidbits

i'm two days back from my two-week trip to Hawaii. i woke up this morning again not knowing where i was for a moment and then feeling a little disappointed to discover i was in my own bed. the trip was better in every way than i had anticipated, but i couldn't help but compare it to the trip to Greece (more entries on that still pending).

in Greece, i was alone for almost the entire trip, separated from nearly everyone by a language i don't understand, while on this trip i shared a house with 10 friends and my alone time coincided with my limited unconscious time. in Greece, i had my choice of what to do, eat, and see, while in Hawaii decisions were made by committee. it was one of the most informed, effective committees i've ever seen, but a committee nonetheless (picture of one deliberation at right). in Greece i was responsible for only my own entertainment and could change my mind on the spur of the moment, while in Hawaii i was the driver of one of the three rental cars and the owner of the only in-car iPod hookup which bound me to the desires and needs of others (and there are strong opinions when it comes to music choices). my time in Greece was inward and meditative, while in Hawaii my energy was almost always focused outward, which was sometimes stressful. when i'm surrounded by friends i can't help but attend to and be strongly affected by their moods and amusement, and there were many moments of tension and disagreement. i kept a journal in Greece. i didn't even send postcards from Hawaii.

the question this raised in my mind was, which did i like more: being alone or having the benefits and drawbacks of company? and i realized this isn't just a trivial travel-related question. i am single and living alone for the first time in my life, and over the last 14 months i've come to rather enjoy the perks of this lifestyle. the thing is, while there were a few moments of frustration and strife on the trip, i am deeply grateful to those with whom i shared the many fantastic moments, and those bright spots cast all the rest in a warm glow. hands down, i would take companionship any day.

so that's the big thought. here are snippets for some of the highlights of the trip: "nonacid" white pineapple (the "champagne of pineapples"). banyan trees. floating in warm ocean water, watching the sun set behind kiteboarding sails. late-night games of mafia. the most sincere, touching, and unique wedding i have been to. really good mai tais, blue hawaiians, and lava flows. watching a sea turtle swim. partying all day on a sandbar, surrounded by ocean. doing karaoke with the local characters in Kona. sucking on fresh sugar cane. walking on the crater of a breathing volcano. a full rainbow across a barren lava field. tons of laughter and good conversation. finally getting to bond with long-time acquaintances.

but still i haven't seen liquid hot magma, dolphins, or a big waterfall up close. and i need to work on my surfing skills. so, who wants to go with me next time?

notes from Greece (after the fact) - day 2

some people swear by melatonin or Xanax, but i think my weapon of choice against jet lag is sleep deprivation and unsatisfyingly short naps. to my amazement, i almost slept straight through my first night in Greece, despite the 10 hour time difference, and woke up to my alarm, refreshed, at 6am. the word is to go to the Acropolis early or late in the day, and try to avoid the hot midday hours. especially good advice, given the minor heat wave while i was there. i wish i could tell you how hot it was, but i don't remember, the temperatures were always in celcius and every time i started to work out the conversion i was distracted by something shiny. (i missed the worst of it, apparently. a couple days after i left, it was above 110 and fires were raging.)

by 8:30am of my first full day, i was walking the hill up to the Acropolis, stopping to look at the sites along the way, like the Theatre of Dionysus. it was the prototype for all the theatres in ancient Greece and apparently for Berkeley's Greek theatre as well (if you click the pic at right for a larger view you can see the throne chairs just below the main stands, just like Berkeley's). this was my second time to the Acropolis, and just like the first it activated my imagination. i worked to imagine what the buildings would have been like whole and the crowds of young philosophers in togas and sandels gathering on the steps of the Parthenon. i also struggled to imagine away the scaffolding and hoards of tourists. and i tried to put back in the Temple of Athena Nike, my favorite Acropolis structure, which they apparently dismantled and took away for repairs.

being at the Acropolis alone among so many families and tour groups was my first taste of what it meant to travel alone. one upside was that i didn't have to take pictures of my family or friends in front of the Parthenon like these giddy fools. the downside was that i didn't get to take pictures of my family or friends in front of the Parthenon like these giddy fools. i made a couple rounds and ducked and weaved my way back out amongst the snapping cameras.

i spent a few more hours wondering the Plaka neighborhood near the Acropolis and some other ancient sites. i hit the Roman Agora (agora being the word for markeplace), then the Ancient (Greek) Agora, which was the political and commercial center of ancient Athens. it was amazing to think i was standing on the ground from which our culture grew.

in the afternoon i went back to Christos' and Efi made me more food, including tiropitas, savory cheese-filled pastries, just like my grandmother used to. then i napped through the hottest hours of the afternoon, and after i got up, the Papadimitrious family arrived home. i was more relieved than i expected to speak again in full, English sentences. that night they had a small dinner party out by the pool (they live in a small enclave of duplexes clustered around a clubhouse and swimming pool). everybody there spoke English, but most of the conversation was in Greek. it was actually fun to figure out the tone of the conversation, if not the subject, from the pattern of interactions between the nine people at the dinner table. every once in a while Christos' daughter (who goes to an English-speaking school) would lean over and fill me in on the current topic. i went out that night with a guest from the dinner party and her cousin to the patio of the Hilton's top-floor bar, where i sat in the warm night air, sipped Jameson and looked out over downtown Athens. he's from South Africa, living in England, and she's born and raised in Athens, just back from university in England and working for Coca-Cola in Athens. our main topic of conversation? American politics.

notes from Greece (after the fact) - Day 1

anyone who wonders why making Guantanamo detainees maintain fixed positions without sleep for long periods of time constitutes torture never flew coach in an aging 737-300 for 12 hours after one hour of sleep. (i'm not saying that air travel approximates our country's interrogation techniques, just that it can take a lot less than you'd think to weaken your spirit.) 24 hours after i left my home (and after only 4 additional hours of sleep), i arrived at Christos' home in Kifissia, Athens. (who's Christos? a professor at Berkeley, a key member of my "band", and one of the most surprising and awesome people i have had the pleasure to meet.) i was greeted by Efi, the Papadimitriou family's long-time friend and household assistant. she showed me around, made me dinner-breakfast-lunch (they barely feed you in coach on airplanes, even when you're at their mercy for 17 hours), offered me everything in the kitchen, and told me a bit about her history with the family. this was all done in pantomime since Efi doesn't speak a word of English and i speak only 20 words in Greek (almost all food words).

at Christos' place i had a room to myself off the kitchen, which is where Scarlett hangs out. Scarlett is a Persian that looks like a cross between Mr. Bigglesworth (pre-freezing) and Salvador Dali. my picture doesn't fully capture the unlikely curve of her whiskerstache.

+

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(for those interested, there's an entire book on Dali's mustache.)

i laid down for a couple hours, and dragged myself out of bed around 5pm (an attempt to get on Greek time). after a "shower" where 1/3 of the water ended up on the other side of the bathroom (i still don't understand the fixtures in Greece), i caught the subway to the Acropolis. i got there too late to get in that night, so i walked all around and then up the hill across from it. there i sat on a warm rock and watched the colors of the setting sun reflect off the Parthenon. after dark i walked through the Thission area back to the Metro. it was a weeknight, but the cafes, bars, and restaurants were packed and the night was filled with Greek conversation and laughter. only a few hours in Greece, and already it was amazing.

please report unattended baggage

my trip to the DC area this week began with a 4am Bayporter pickup. it would have been 3am, but i had words with the operator (why on earth would i need 2 hours to get through Oakland airport before the sun is even up?). still, 4am hurts.

i get to OAK, scarf down a breakfast burrito and wait at the gate, resting my tired head in my hands. i look up, and count the young children. it occurs to me that there's no way i'm going to sleep on this plane, which means i won't get thesis work done either. weariness is setting in, then inspiration strikes. back up to the counter. yes, i have enough miles. yes, they have first class seats open on both legs. i relax instantly. now if only i'd planned ahead, i would have saved room for the mimosas and fresh-made french toast.

something about first class makes me feel very strange. is it the lovely, free wine served in a real, stemmed glass? or the napkin laid down before my hand-cooked meal is presented? it doesn't make sense, these aren't very luxurious things. it isn't that i stick out, it actually isn't all white business men. there are a couple college-aged girls in sweats and an older couple that could have been a quieter version of George Castanza's parents, among others. but i still find myself thinking, maybe i should have put in my expensive earrings or put on make-up. or showered. maybe it's because i'm thinking of all the souls riding in the back, wishing they had a drink of water. i overcompensate for my guilt by being more deferential than usual. i thank my seat-mate something like 10 times for letting me go to the bathroom.

from Reagan airport i hop on the Metro. when i'm on public transportation and i don't have something to read, i like to occupy myself one of two ways. either i sneakily observe details about other people or i stare off at a point in the distance and try to look like i'm contemplating something deep so that, if anyone else is observing me, they'll wonder what it is i'm thinking about. joke is on them, though, i'm just thinking about how to make then wonder what i'm thinking about. sometimes i get really into it, like i'll lean my head against the pole and stare off, squinting my eyes and pursing my lips, but just a little. really, i doubt anyone is actually paying attention, but i'm amused. i have another game kinda like this i play when i have to wait at the DMV.

i make it to my mom's house, and the social whirlwind begins. in the next 3 1/2 days, i'll drive all over the county and into Maryland to squeeze in quality time with my mom, dad, sister, cousin, college friends + baby, and high school friends (plus helping my sister with a catering gig in Baltimore), and in the gaps i'll try to post to the blog, maintain e-mail correspondences, and keep up with NPR before it swallows my hard drive. oh, and finish my thesis, which i've promised to give my committee in a week.

postscript: i didn't get around to tying in the title when i first posted. while i didn't leave or lose any suitcases, i did spend a good part of this trip thinking about my unattended baggage, perhaps spurred by hearing that message repeated a dozen times while i was waiting to board my flight. heavy on my mind was a new friendship, one that has been steeped in murky waters from the start, and an old friendship, which is simultaneously one of the most meaningful and most painful relationships of my life and has probably affected every relationship i've had since i graduated from high school. i sat at the gate, thinking, perhaps we should have that announcement playing throughout our daily lives, barely audibly, in a sweet, soothing voice. it could be a gentle reminder to sort our shit out.

the other inspiration was an article i read on the plane in The Week titled "The land of lost luggage" (there was an Atlantic Monthly article by the same title from back in 2002). where does lost luggage go? Scottsboro, Alabama, as it turns out. (as the article points out, in the parlance of the industry, it's not "lost", it's "unclaimed", as though the owner decided they didn't want it any longer.) there, United Baggage Center, a family-run monopoly since 1970, buys the bags by the pound and sells off the contents in a department store filled with lost treasures. among others, the article lists Dolce & Gabbana handbags, a 41-carat emerald, ancient Egyptian artifacts, used underwear, the guidance system for an F-17, and MC Hammer's concert backdrop.