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empty armchair 3

Give It A Rest

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Sometimes it dawns on me that I’m probably an armchair adventurer.  You want the best trip into the wild?  Read someone else’s account, complete with beauty, hardship, awe, and maybe a little disaster thrown into the mix. 

Early on in this particular hike the heat and sun were getting to me.  Why had I left cooler Hollywood to head inland to the higher, and in the summer, hotter mountains? I was lucky I brought my hat and yet the sun was still making me squint and I was feeling the precursor to a headache.  I finally relented to using my sunglasses, but I always find they make my world feel completely different.  I like the idea of them, but I always feel a bit out of it when I wear them, and I don’t think they help with the headache.

As I’m walking I wonder what brought me out here.  What made me leave my apartment on one of my few days off to hike alone into the mountains during the heat of the day?  Then the summit feels closer, I can see the radio towers up top and they are closer than I would have expected.  I also notice a single track trail heading off into the woods.  I take the detour and relish the change in direction.

I am starting to enjoy myself until the bugs reach me.  My head is swarmed by small flies and gnats that are infatuated with my eyes and ears.  I had had a massage the day before and realized how tense I had been.  On the walk I am trying to relax however, the bugs make me crouch forward, ready to flinch.  Still somehow, I feel I should keep going, that I’ll enjoy the experience more in retrospect than if I simply turn around.  At least there’s some shade and I’m pretty sure I pass both bear and mountain lion scat. 

I haven’t seen any hikers in at least an hour and so am surprised when I come across a few older women.  They warn me of a rattlesnake and lots of poison oak ahead.  This only makes me more committed to going further.  I’m careful to avoid any plants and am on the look out for the snake that I assume will not be an issue.  I pick up a few dry pieces of grass to wave around my head to keep the bugs away. 

Finally, more of a rhythm.  I hear water and know there must be a creek ahead.  When I arrive I am surprised to find a pristine camp site, but as I near the creek the water seems shallow and the bugs make me think twice of going in.  Still I realize it’s early, I have plenty of water, and it doesn’t feel like time to turn back.  The trail is less defined and I’m hoping it will lead to the steep ridge I spotted earlier that looks like it might be passable with a little scrambling.  The terrain is dense with chaparral though and I can never tell if the trail is going forward or about to switch back again to climb higher away from the creek. 

Reaching the top of a different and much lower ridge, I’m blasted again with heat.  I try to figure out whether there are more bugs in the shade or heat.  I don’t think it matters. It seems impossible to escape them either way, and yet, I can’t seem to ever get used to them.  I’m always tense.  The sound of one buzzing toward my ear instinctually feels awful. 

The trail begins to descend again and I hear the familiar sound of water- now this will be a good place to take a dip and call it a day before turning around.  However, as I approach the creek I see it is barely a trickle.  It is less than three feet wide and no more than 8 inches deep.  Furthermore, it looks oddly yellow.  I wonder if the color is somehow related to the regions up stream that were burned during the great forest fire last year.  Still, I sit down to get the rocks out of my shoes and decide at the very least to put my feet in.  I move into the sun and realize after a few minutes, the bugs don’t seem to be around as much.  Could something so simple as stopping for a rest have allowed them to become bored with me?

I’m always amazed at how water that can feel so cold when you first put your feet in can start to feel fine and I’m convinced that I should attempt to sit in the creek.  I take off my shirt, face the sun and slowly lower myself in.  The water is so low it doesn’t even cover my legs, but it feels good.  I take another look at the creek and decide I should lie down. Now getting my back and chest wet sounds like torture, but I know that as soon as I turn around I’ll be as hot as can be once out of the trees.  So slowly I lower myself into the water.  I cringe at the cold, but try to relax telling myself soon it won’t be so bad. I lower more and more until all but my head is in the water.  Finally I put my hands behind my head and fully lay down.

 And there I am, six miles from the trailhead, in the middle of the national forest, lying down in a tiny creek. I feel like a reptile, a cold blooded animal whose top half is baking in the sun while my back is cooled by the water.  I have a Zen moment.  The intense cold, the insects, the comfort, the ability to relax are all one.  The absurdity makes it all worthwhile.  It also somehow makes it feel real.

As I get up to leave I’m in a remarkably more upbeat mood.  I know soon I’ll be hot again, and I’m willing to bet the bugs will feel unbearable once more, but in the moment and on into the future I know it’ll have been worthwhile to give the old armchair a rest.

-Martin-

Krakov Square from Wikipedia

Take the Blessing and Run!

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You know it’s true, you really can get used to being the square peg in a circle town.  It might have taken a year, but hearing my name on the street finally feels ordinary.  Groups of “We Real Cool” teenagers greet me in German or Japanese, in any foreign language they know.  Gazes and stares blink out “Incredulous!” in some Ukrainian Morse code when I ask for strange spices like clove and ginger at the shop.  Little starfish-shaped children all bundled up for winter yank at babushka’s coat sleeve and whisper, “Missamanta, tse missamanta.”

Yes, that’s right, here I am.  And here, in Ukraine, that is what I am: Miss Samantha, the rootless and forever smiling foreigner-in-residence.  With her excessive use of ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ her USDA-approved toothpaste, and a checkered coat that just screams, “I’M FROM AWAY!!” With all that noise, it’s a wonder I can hear myself think.

Considering the frequency with which I write about running in Ukraine, you may have been persuaded to believe that it is a national pastime, that Ukrainians are a lot who take to the streets in sneakers and tracksuits on the daily.  I assure you, this is not true.  So, if you are sitting there fancying Ukraine to be such a place, please accept my humblest apologies.  It seems you have been misled.  It seems, what with all my talk of running on icy patches past grazing goats, I have led you astray because a runner’s country Ukraine is not.  In fact, I’d bargain that there are more people running around the Charles River in Boston on any given day than there are running in the whole of Ukraine.

Any takers?

No, seriously.

I’d bet my last jar of peanut butter on it.

Needless to say, here I am running again in a place where people don’t run.  The truth of it is, though, that’s why I love to do it.  When I’m running in Ukraine, it’s not me who’s foreign but what I’m doing.  It doesn’t matter that my coat is checkered or that I’ll never properly pronounce the word for love, it doesn’t matter that I’m an American; I am a runner and that is foreigner enough.

Now, while Ukrainians may not be wind-sprinting down Carl Marx Street, that’s not to say they aren’t active participants in my physical training. (You may, oh diligent reader, remember a previous incident wherein I participated in a pas-de-deux with an inebriated fellow I encountered while out running in the fields.)

“Here’s another one,” I say to myself, looking ahead down the road.

A man in a bright pink, green and blue MembersOnly jacket rides his bicycle toward me.  In his limp, fish lips he dangles a cigarette. He has the kind of hair that people sported to look cool back before I was born; nappy waves to the shoulder – distant listlessness in his eyes.  Just the kind of character I try to avoid when I’m out running on my own.

But, I’m so intrigued.  It’s the jacket that really gets me – especially since here, in Ukraine, the color spectrum usually dies out somewhere between dark purple and black.  This jacket would have been Thrift store find-of-the-semester in college.  He rides the way you imagine people riding in places that don’t allow cars – like Fire Island or Put-In Bay,  like some college kid who’d started riding one day and never quite figured out where he was going.

Despite the jacket,  I brace myself for another unpleasant interaction on the road.  I clench my jaw a little, stare straight forward and speed up, annoyed that yet another drunk ne’er-do-well is messing with my runner’s chi. As we draw closer, I plan escape routes, ways to avoid his attempt to engage me in another two step.  He’s getting ready to do something, I can tell, and I practice my…er, yoga moves in my head (and promptly make a promise with myself to do more kickboxing).  Just a few feet ahead of me, I catch his creepy, off-the-deep-end eye and immediately wish I’d been born a boy. I’ve got chills and not just because it’s below zero.

And then, out of the blue, it happens just like that.

“God Bless ya, young one!,” he says.

Say what?

“May God give you health!” He shouts again, almost toppling sideways off his bicycle.

Yup, definitely drunk, but not nearly as harmful as expected; in fact, kind of sweet in his own way.  More “Weekend at Bernie’s” than Freddy Kreuger for sure.  My gate slows and my fists unclench; I’m nearing the end of my run anyway.

And here I am smiling because that’s the thing about Ukraine – when you learn to take the good and trust that the rest will right itself eventually, it becomes a pretty amazing place.  Sure, the sun sets at 3:30pm but have you caught the blaze in which it goes?

Let’s just say, these days, I’m learning to take the blessing and run.

“You too!,” I shout back, though I doubt we’re close enough anymore for him to hear.

 -Sam

ps – Sam is currently serving in the Peace Corps in Ukraine.  You can follow her blog at: http://atyourperilmisspeace.wordpress.com/

NOAA Map of US for 12.13.10

Sunny Spot: MIDWEST, USA

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NOAA Map of US for 12.13.10

SHOUT OUT to our fans in the MIDWEST, USA.   First let us say that  in the world of EntertainingYourself.com, a Sunny Spot is really a state of mind.  Therefore, not every Sunny Spot is necessarily warm, or even sunny for that matter!  In the Midwest this week, you are in the midst of a Winter Wonderland! Perfect for Entertaining Yourself indoors and out!  With so many flights cancelled, traffic delays, school and business closings, not to mention really chilly temperatures (friends in South Dakota reported wind chills of minus 35degrees F) it makes sense that many of you would be snuggling up inside, sipping hot chocolate and what else?  Surfing the web of course!    

Then there are the brave souls that are willing to bundle up and get outside.  We’ve heard tales of 7 -10 ft drifts in places like Wisconsin and Minnesota, with snow quickly piling up in the Dakotas, Iowa, Illinois, Indiana, Michigan and Ohio too!   

 

 If you dare, it is the perfect weather for hiking, snowshoeing, cross country and downhill skiing, snowboarding, tobogganing, sledding, snowmobiling, skating and the old standby’s: building snowmen and waging snow ball fights!   

Once you’ve had a chance to warm up again, we’d love to hear from you.  What’s your favorite way of entertaining yourself on a cold snowy day? 

-EY Staff 

ps:  Over the coming weeks and months, EntertainingYourself.com will showcase indoor, as well as outdoor, recreational activities and hobbies.  Look for articles ranging from Brewing Beer to playing indoor Hockey (both ice and field)!  Stay tuned… 

 

Sukhbaatar Square Celebration

Second Chances: UB Mongolia

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Sukhbaatar Square Celebration

August 24th, 2008 – a symphony of fireworks exploded over Ulaanbaatar, (or UB as it’s locally known), as crowds jumped and shouted in the streets. 

Passengers slapped high-fives with strangers from car windows; horns blared; people danced across the sidewalks. Mongolia, a nation of three million, had just won its second Olympic gold medal ever—its second of the Beijing Summer Games—and the city’s population had gone bananas in a wildly infectious way. 

Standing amidst a swell of humanity in UB’s Sukhbaatar Square, I contemplated how incredibly fortunate I was to experience this celebration and how second chances have a peculiar knack for emerging soon after you think you’ve really blown it. Just 10 days ago I’d felt differently when Mongolia won its first gold medal and I had foolishly missed the festivities.  

 That proved particularly painful because I’d come to Mongolia specifically with the goal of chronicling the nation’s Olympic aspirations and hopefully exploits. During my last semester of college, I’d made up my mind to work for a Mongolian-owned, English language newspaper (yes these actually exist) in Ulaanbaatar, inspired by my love of sports journalism and my anthropology advisor’s passion for all things Mongolian. 

 After making contact with one of two such papers in Mongolia’s capital, I sent out my resume and secured a spot as an English editor, booking a plane ticket for the summer. Within weeks of my arrival at Genghis Khan International Airport, I found myself in the ideal situation, covering Mongolia’s national team of pistol shooters, wrestlers, boxers and other athletes from my office in Ulaanbaatar as they represented their country in Beijing. 

Perhaps the best part of my job was getting to watch broadcasts of Mongolia’s athletes with their compatriots in my host country at the Grand Khan Irish Pub. The nation had waited its entire forty-five year Olympic history for a gold medal, and virtually everyone seemed hungry for success.   

And then it happened. On August 14th, an unknown judo wrestler from the city countryside Tuvshinbayar beat a series of heavily favored opponents. I watched the final match at a gym, enjoying the cheers and laughs of my fellow spectators. That was nice, I thought, walking back to my apartment, where I promptly climbed into bed, exhausted after a long day of work. 

As I drifted off, I noticed the city’s perpetual honking sounded unusually consistent and loud, and some popping in the distance that could have been fireworks. The next morning I found out in my office that those noises I heard were the entire city of Ulaanbaatar, the entire nation of Mongolian, locked in celebration. Over 10,000 people had taken to Sukhbaatar Square where the city exhausted its fireworks supply for the year, and rival politicians toasted one another and their suddenly ascendant homeland. 

Well, I thought, that’ll never happen again. What a remarkable moment to sideline myself in an apartment. I spent the next few days alternately covering the remaining Olympic events and kicking myself for my missed opportunity. And then, that second chance presented itself. 

Mongolia’s boxing prodigy E. Badar-Uugan won his gold medal match, and after waiting its entire Olympic History for one gold medal, Mongolians saw no problem holding a second celebration. 

The match ended at 2:30 pm and the horns, high-fives and shouts didn’t end until early the next morning. I had learned my lesson. When something important happens, go to Sukhbaatar square. That evening, a raucous crowd surrounded the courtyard’s statue of Sukhbaatar, Mongolia’s great revolutionary hero. 

People climbed on top of one another, danced, and sang as they waved Mongolian flags and embraced. An old, intoxicatingly happy man approached me. “This is a great day for Mongolia,” he said. “I am very happy.” 

The city had literally exhausted its fireworks, so the scene was not as raucous as it had been the first night, but the earnestness and joy of the celebrations made the night a magical one, and the perfect ending to my coverage of Mongolia’s Olympic endeavors in 2008.

-Will

Organ Pipe Cactus

Sunny Spot: Scottsdale, Arizona

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Organ Pipe Cactus

SHOUT OUT to our fans in Scottsdale, Arizona.  Thanks for checking out EntertainingYourself.com – now we want to check out what you’re up to.  So far, it’s clear that you are a Mecca for outdoor enthusiasts.  #1 – SUNSHINE!  For this first week of December you’ll be SUNNY (mostly) with temperatures in the 70’s.  Nice!   #2 - Amazing Parks.  You’re known for having the largest urban wilderness area – with over 60 miles of trails!   The 3rd Annual McDowell Sonoran Challenge  which will include Mountain Biking (30K course), Running (15K) and Hiking (9 miles) will take place on January 29, 2011 (on the McDowell Sonoran Preserve – almost 14,000 acres of open land).   Sounds like an awesome way of Entertaining Yourself in the new year!   They tell us that the premiere trailhead, their “Gateway to the Preserve,” is located at 18333 North Thompson Peak Parkway.  #3 – World Class Golf Courses.  The International Association of Golf Tour Operators voted Scottsdale 2010’s Top North American Golf Destination!  #4 – (if the other 3 are not enough) Scottsdale is just a 4 hour drive from The Grand Canyon.   So tell us  – what is your favorite way of Entertaining Yourself in Scottsdale?

Great Falls Park, VA

Sunny Spot: Reston, VA

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Great Falls Park, VA

SHOUT OUT to our fans in Reston, Virginia.  You’ve been loyal followers of EntertainingYourself.com website since we first went live.  We LOVE it and wanted to find out what you’re up to there! Today’s weather (11/24/10):  Sunny and 53 degrees.  Perfect for the countless outdoor activities within and surrounding your community.  Other Fun Facts:  You are just minutes from Great Falls Park on the Potomac River and less than 20 miles from our Nation’s Capital.  Seems like you have everything you need for Entertaining Yourselves right at your fingertips:  history, museums, outdoor recreation and lots of shops, to name a few.  So Reston, what are your favorite ways of Entertaining Yourselves?

045

Life After Graduation

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For recent college grads it’s widely believed that finding a job is hard work—economic crisis or not— but the world is vast, and if you’re open to traveling, it’s possible to find your niche in some pretty unexpected places. That’s how I ended up in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia’s capital, writing about the nation of Genghis Khan winning its first two Olympic gold medals.

As an aspiring journalist, I’d long imagined reporting from abroad for the New York Times or the Washington Post, and admittedly working for a Mongolian-owned English-language newspaper hadn’t crossed my mind. But in a way, my first true post-collegiate occupation was a dream job: I was writing about sports, I was exploring an unfamiliar city and country, and I was learning about a culture I’d only read about in books.

Who says anthropology majors don’t have excellent prospects?

Plus, your search for opportunity doesn’t necessarily require a ticket to the other side of the world; the U.S., once dubbed the land of opportunity, still has plenty to offer. For a friend of mine, graduating with a psychology degree from a good Minnesota college and subsequently learning he was not needed or wanted at Target (a company with Twin Cities roots I might add) inspired him to chase his passion for film out in California.

After sending out a wave of resumes, he finally got the call he wanted and just finished working on the set of Iron Man 2. And, despite the long hours, he managed to find time to train for and run the San Francisco marathon—his first—finishing first in his age group. Not too shabby for a guy rejected by a company that employs 350,000 people.

So what does it take to make life after college an engaging push for fulfillment instead of a brutal attack on your self esteem?

First and most importantly, it really helps to pursue a job in a field that you love or that really interests you. There’s certainly no guarantee a job offer will immediately appear, but if you know the goal you’re after is worth achieving, it will make the hard work you put in seem all the more rewarding. Remember, being turned down from the job you know will probably hate the first day you start, is not necessarily a bad thing.

Second, just because things look bleak in one place, doesn’t mean the sun isn’t shining somewhere. Sometimes, getting forced out of your comfort zone is the best thing that can happen to you.

Lastly, small steps can get you where you want to go. My friend isn’t the next Martin Scorsese (yet), and I haven’t had my first article published in the Times, (yet), but we both had the opportunity to work in the fields that excite us, and as a recent college grad, what more can you ask for?

So if you can’t find your dreams at home, think creatively and don’t be afraid to look at the wide world around. Opportunities are out there, even in some of the least likely places.

-Will