Jellyfish

Sunday, April 3rd, 2016.

Portland, OR / Tacoma, WA

It’s 6am and I am tired. I offered Laura a ride to the airport last night and now it’s too late to take it back. I silently curse my past self and begrudgingly get out of bed.

Around 6:15am we approach my rental car and find a parking ticket stuck to the windshield. Ugh. Laura offers to pay for some of the cost but I decline. I am going to let it go and see what happens. After a few wrong turns and a stop for gas I somehow still manage to get Laura to the airport early. She is grateful for the ride and we say our goodbyes.

Now I have about 8 hours to kill before my 4pm flight out of Tacoma, I consider going to brunch in Portland, but instead decide to hightail it to Tacoma and try to hit the zoo before going to the airport. The freeway is gloriously empty and I make it to Tacoma in 2 hours and 45 minutes flat. I now have a comfortable 3 hours to explore the Tacoma zoo and aquarium. I have to stand in line for nearly 20 minutes to get my ticket. I am a solo adult in a sea of small children. I nervously play on my phone and try not to look like a creep. 

Eventually I gain entrance into the zoo and make my first stop in the aquarium. The jellyfish are totally awesome (as always) and I even get to see a few sharks. From here I make a full loop of the zoo and finish up at the polar bears, which are adorably playful.

Around 2pm I am climb back into my Subaru and look for lunch and gas. I end up grabbing Chipotle and gas at a nearby shopping center and then heading to the airport. Around 2:30 I am drop off my rental car. Goodbye blue Subaru; you have served me well. I head into the airport to check in.

Holy Crap. My flight is at 3pm not 4pm! I am instantly resigned to missing my flight but go head and line up at security anyways. I mentioned to one of the guards that I am running late and he insists that I go to the front of the line. I do not argue and waltz right through. From here I break into a full run and make it to my gate with minutes to spare. Ah man, that was scary.

The flight back is uneventful. Eventually I land in Los Angeles and pick up my car in Lot C. 

Visiting Portland was such a great blast from the past; I already want to go back.  

Beer cocktails are the best!

Saturday, April 2nd, 2016.

Portland, OR

It’s 9am and I am slowly crawling out of bed in my Portland motel room. I drove in late last night from a Seattle work trip and booked the cheapest hotel room I could find. It looks even grosser in the harsh morning light. I quickly get dressed, pack my bag and am back in my rental car. It’s a blue Subaru and it’s freaking awesome.  

My first order of business is brunch with Katie, one of my long lost AmeriCorps friends. I have not seen Katie in 10 years, but I am not nervous at all. 

We meet for brunch at a small café in the Northeast part of town. I recognize her immediately and we get right down business. When I last saw Katie she was a recent college grad with a Masters in Biology; now she is a middle school guidance counselor. I am very happy to hear that she absolutely loves her job! I don’t know any teachers, so I have a lot of questions, which she answers calmly and honestly. She is making her career sound very fun and now I am feeling jealous. Soon the conversation turns over to boys. We are both unmarried and dating on Tinder. We are also both having great online dating experiences.

After brunch we make a trip to my old neighborhood, Hawthorne. I haven’t lived in Portland since 2007 but my old neighborhood is exactly as I remember it. We go to Powell’s so that I can buy a new book and then we finally succumb to the bar. It is after noon, so it's okay. 

Katie takes me to a little bar on Morrison where we sit outside (the weather is uncharacteristically awesome) and I order a beer cocktail. I have forgotten how awesome beer cocktails can be and feel sad that I never see them in Los Angeles. After 2 rounds of afternoon drinks we walk back over to my rental, stopping at Powell’s again so that I can buy a copy of Kafka on the Shore, a book that comes highly recommended by Katie. Next I drop her off at her house, vowing to stay in better touch.

My next stop is downtown Portland. My long time travel buddy, Laura, is just finishing up a work conference and is ready to see the town. We are both here on our works’ dime and intend to make the most of it! As I pull up to our hostel/hotel I see Laura sneaking out of the front door and making a beeline for the bar next door. I yell across the street for her to stop. She is happy to see me and turns back around to walk me to the hotel room (To be fair she just completed a 3 day conference on book publishing, so she really needs a beer!).

Unsolicited, I explain to Laura know that the real Portland is located east of the river. She is agreeable so we hop in the Subaru and are off. Katie has suggested that we check out Mississippi Ave, so that’s where we go. We drive around for a few minutes and finally locate a very lively strip of stores, restaurants, and bars with a small brewing district at the end. To the breweries!

As we enter the brewery district, we see a place called Spin; it looks promising. Upon closer inspection it turns out to be a laundromat / bar. We actually consider ordering a beer, but it smells too much like soap. Onward.

We end up at Ecliptic Brewing. We quickly find a table outside and I order a pilsner with some snacks and Laura orders a beer sampler. She gets one sip of my pilsner and I get one sip of each of her 5 tastings. We enjoy the weather and catch up on life. Laura has recently moved in with her boyfriend and I am being super nosy. Laura obliges my curiosity. 

Eventually we continue our tour to a bar called Liberty Glass. It is quintessential Portland and I immediately love it. We finish our tour of Mississippi Ave at one of my personal favorites, the White Eagle. This is the first bar that I ever visited in Portland (a trip that resulted in me living in Portland for almost 3 years).

The sun is starting to set and we are both starving. I decide that Laura has to see the Kennedy School (its an old elementary school that has been converted in a bar-restaurant-pool-movie-theater building. It’s as wonderful as I remember and we both enjoy our dinner. 

Laura is starting to look tired, but I push for one more stop at the Backstage to play shuffleboard. The Backstage is my all time favorite bar and we both rally for one last round. 

Around 11pm we head back to the hotel. We fall asleep immediately. I have committed to taking Laura to the airport at 7am in the morning and we are both beat.

Perhaps it was the whiskey.

Saturday, March 19^th, 2016.

Belfast, Northern Ireland, UK

It’s about 11am GMT and I am finally waking up. Cate said that we could sleep in, but when I finally shuffle down 2 flights of steps to her living room, she looks like she’s been awake for at least a few hours. Oh well, it’s time to start our day!

Cate makes me a cup of coffee, using her awesome European kettle (seriously it takes like 1.5 minutes to brew coffee in this thing!) We have a long conversation about the existence of half and half outside of the US and she eventually convinces me to give up on the idea. I begrudgingly drink American coffee with whole milk.

There are 2 main options for the day – the black cab tour, which explains the history behind the Troubles or the Game of Thrones tour. The black cab tour comes highly recommended, but I am totally obsessed with Game of Thrones. I start to explain to Cate that I want to choose history over pop culture but... Before I can finish my thought, she has booked the black cab tour. Internal conflict settled.

We have a few hours before the tour starts, so we walk over to the market. It’s a great open-air market complete with crafts and food. I really want to buy some stuff, but it all looks like decorations in my Mom’s house. I can’t find anything that I want to buy, so I restrain myself and buy nothing. I ask Cate what food I should try and she suggests the Belfast bap. Since Cate is vegetarian and I am ordering a sandwich with every animal on the farm, we have to split up to order brunch. I have to fight my way through a small crowd to order my sandwich. A very friendly lady takes my order but I can not understand a word of what she is saying (I swear I speak English?!). I just keep saying “yes” to all of her questions. Ultimately I end up with a sandwich that is taller than it is wide.

Cate and I eventually find each other and she politely gazes around the market while I make the biggest mess of all time trying to eat my sandwich. After brunch we have about an hour to kill, so we walk over to the main town square. We browse through City Hall, which is pleasantly empty. There is an exhibit about World War 2, which is terribly sad. We also walk over to a look out point attached to the main mall, where we can see the ship building yards where the Titanic was built (Belfast is certainly riddled with tragedy.) 

Soon we meet our driver for our black cab tour. He (like everyone in Northern Ireland) is larger than life and is full of jokes and rhetorical questions. He takes us through the Protestant and Catholic neighborhoods and gives a great show of explaining the ethno nationalist conflict between Ireland and Northern Ireland that is only barely resolved (after the tour Cate explains to me that a car bomb went off in her neighborhood only 2 weeks before I arrived.) As the tour comes to an end I feel sad but also very engaged in recent Irish history. I am surprised by my interest and simultaneously disappointed in my disengagement in other ethno nationalist conflicts. 

After our tour is complete, we take the long way back to Cate’s, cutting through Queens University, where she is currently working as a Professor of Sociology. It is now 2 days past St. Patrick’s Day and the campus is an absolute mess of broken bottles, cigarette butts, pants (yes, multiple pairs), shoes, and other assorted relics of total and utter debauchery. Oh, college life.

It’s now approaching 5pm and we decide that it’s an appropriate time to start drinking again (when in Rome…).

We start out at Europa Hotel, which is Europe’s most bombed hotel (my sadness for Belfast has returned full force). I am surprised that it is a very nice hotel. I am even more surprised that they will not accept Cate’s credit card. Apparently it’s a common for bars to accept debit cards but not credit cards. This is irritating to us, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s probably best for a country with a major drinking problem to discourage the purchase of alcohol on credit. Oh well, we pay with cash and are on to the next pub. We go to a traditional Irish pub in the City Center but end up surrounded by non-Irish drinkers. It’s okay though; the Guinness tastes just as good.

Next we go to dinner at Cate’s favorite restaurant. I order the mussels and they are literally the best mussels that I have ever had. Damn, Belfast, you continue to surprise me. 

Next we meet her friend, Eoin, for a few rounds of whiskey. Eventually it hits midnight and I am strangely not drunk, but am definitely tired. We take a cab back to Cate's and I force myself to shower and pack as I have a very early flight tomorrow.

My time is Belfast has come to an end and I feel very accomplished. The whole experience felt more fulfilling than fun. I can’t quiet articulate my feelings, but I know that I am somehow wiser than I was 2 days ago. Perhaps it was the whiskey.

It's Tradition.

Friday, March 18^th, 2016.

London, UK / Belfast, Northern Ireland, UK

It’s about 6pm and my (company-provided) chauffer is pulling up to Heathrow. It’s the end of a full work week in London and now I am off to enjoy a weekend to myself. I am catching the last flight to Belfast to visit another long lost AmeriCorps friend, Cate and her 2 American cats.

Checking in at Heathrow is uneventful. I have arrived very early and now I am bored. I find a café and order cake and coffee (I’m officially on vacation, which means I get cake.) About an hour before my flight leaves, I make a quick stop at the airport bar to grab a half pint of Guinness. I have heard that it tastes different in Ireland and I want to test that theory. The airport-Guinness tastes pretty good, much better than in California.

After waiting nearly 2 and a half hours for a 45 minute flight, I am boarding Aer Lingus and am on my way to Belfast!

The Belfast airport is tiny and deserted. It looks old, but I decide to withhold judgment for now. Cate has instructed me to take a cab to her flat so I look for the cab line and am completely surprised to see my entire flight in line for a cab and no cabs. Slowly, the cabs trickle in. It is freezing outside, but the girl in front of me is wearing a short skirt with no tights, so I try to not feel so sorry for myself (In true LA fashion, I am wearing boots, jeans, a long sleeved shirt, and a peacoat.)

Finally I get into my cab. I cannot understand a word that the cab driver says. I’m pretty sure that cabs work the same in Northern Ireland so I just smile and give him Cate’s address. Eventually I end up at her flat. Hooray!

When I arrive Cate and her friend, Marseille, are finishing up a very late dinner. They are worried that I am tired, but I am not. To the pub!

Today is the day after St. Patrick’s Day. So it’s “slow”. As it turns out, a slow day in Ireland is like a very busy day anywhere else! The pub is packed and very, very loud. I decide to order a Guinness to test my theory. I want to order a half pint, but Cate does not let me. I acquire my first ever Irish Guinness and it does not disappoint! I make a big deal about the wonderful creamy flavor for all of my new Irish friends, but honestly its anti-climatic because it tastes just like the Guinness at Heathrow. 

After a pint, we move to another, quieter pub. Here, we get a whole table to ourselves and proceed to talk about our favorite topic – boys! Cate is single, Marseille is married and I am dating two lawyers. We have lots to talk about. After we finish this round, Marseille has to go home, but Cate and I are up for one more pub. She decides to take me to the oldest pub in Belfast. It is adorable and a little bit smelly. Oh well, time for more beer!

This pub is kind of awesome. It’s almost empty, but there is a group of locals playing traditional Irish music in the corner. We order 2 beers and I finish mine way before Cate. I tell her that I want to order a whiskey to sip on while she finishes her beer. She encourages me to do so, but when I go downstairs to put in my order to bartender insists on selling me 2 whiskeys (she does not want Cate to be left out). I finally give in and return with 2 whiskeys. Cate can’t stop laughing. She has been struggling with this Irish tradition for over 2 years now.

Eventually we finish all of our alcohol (fulfilling yet another Irish tradition) and walk back home. Cate’s flat has 3 stories and I sleep on the very top. It was an awesome evening and tomorrow I have 1 full day Belfast. I can not wait.

The most bizarre side trip of all time

Saturday, January 30^th, 2016.

Los Angeles, CA / Santa Ynez, CA

It is 7am and I am rushing out of my house to pick up my date on the way to beautiful and amazing Santa Ynez wine country. The sky is overcast but I don’t care. It’s my first mini vacation of 2016 and I am ready!

Around 7:45 I pick up Chris and we make a quick stop at the Santa Monica airport. He needs to drop off the keys to airplane that he rented the night before. My date is an amateur (but licensed!) pilot. This means that he enjoys flying teeny, tiny planes far below the altitude of commercial airplanes. I am an amateur passenger, which means I sit quietly in said planes and try not to cry or puke.

We have been dating since Thanksgiving. We are not boyfriend-girlfriend, but we are not seeing other people (we are dating in our thirties and not big on labels).

We cruise up the 101 and despite some coastal fog, the view is beautiful and the drive is lively. It’s Chris’s birthday and I have agreed to stop at the Santa Barbara airport on the way to wineries so that we can do a quick fly over the valley. Soon we arrive at that tiny airport and have to wait outside for the owner to come and open it up (to be fair it's only 10am). The wind is terrible and sky is still overcast. My date casually mentions that he may not be allowed to operate the plane without an instructor present (due to current conditions). He suggests that I do a “discovery” flight, since the instructor will be in the plane with us anyways. He explains this means that I will sit in the pilot’s seat, which sounds totally fun, so naturally I say yes.

As we are checking into in the airport the instructor is asking me all sorts of questions about my feelings concerning flying. I am getting the impression that the “discovery” flight is veiled attempt at selling flying lessons, but I don’t really care. The instructor and I chat happily while we finish up our paperwork and walk out to the plane. Soon I am climbing into the pilot’s seat, the instructor into the co-pilot seat (which has a full set of controls), and my date into the back seat. I glibly ask him to hold my purse… this is going to be awesome.

As we are taxiing to the runway the instructor tells me that I am going to push down on the throttle and then pull the steering wheel towards me until the plane lifts off of the ground. Wait. What?! 10 full seconds of shock pass. Before I know it, I am flying the freaking plane.

Through a state of utter shock I am slowly realizing that “discovery” flight is code for “you’re-gonna-fly-the-plane-and-should-have-been-a–better-listener-earlier-today-when-we-discussed-this”. Ha, touché birthday boy. I’m flying an airplane!

I keep a calm face and silently follow the instructor’s directions. She is very clear and emotionally supportive. I am grateful for her composure but I am still freaking out inside. Eventually the plane hits an appropriate altitude and I am instructed to follow the coastline north to a small bay. At the bay I turn the plane around in the widest 180-degree turn of all time (oh my God, I am still flying!). 

20 minutes or so has passed and we are approaching the Santa Barbara airport again. The instructor tells me that I have done great job and that I can let go of the controls now. She is going to land the plane (thank God!) and my new job is take pictures (which I do!).

Now we are on the ground again and Chris and I politely sit through a half hour sales pitch on flying lessons. I feign some interest and eventually we leave. Soon we will be back on the road to wine country. That was officially the most bizarre side trip of all time.

We stop at the harbor for a quick lunch and a strong cocktail. I definitely need a drink! Once lunch is over we continue up the freeway to our first winery, Gainey. We taste a few wines and Chris picks up his wine shipment; he is a member. Next we head over to Foxen Canyon where we befriend a 30-something woman who seems to be wine tasting alone. She tags along for the rest of the day (let the record show that I am not threatened). We end the day at Kenneth Volk. I try all sorts of Italian varietals and am bordering on drunk by the time we check into the hotel.

We have an hour or so to recover before dinner. We are meeting Chris’s friend, who is also a vineyard owner. I want to be impressive, but I am drained and half-drunk. Nonetheless I rally and attend the longest dinner of all time at the Hitching Post. Around 11pm we arrive back at the hotel. We are exhausted and I am fast asleep by 11:01.

Tomorrow morning we will head back to Los Angeles. Chris will be 39 years old and I will have flown an airplane. What a day.  

Hooray for targeted advertising!

Monday, May 25th, 2015.
Chicago, IL / Los Angeles, CA

It’s 9am again. I am just now getting used to Chicago time and it’s already my last day here. My flight is at 3pm, so we have half a day to kill. Erin has left this day open. Our only objective is to get a Chicago style pizza. Luckily, Erin knows just the place!

We walk over to the main strip in Erin’s neighborhood. I convince everyone to make a quick detour to Starbucks and then we are off to the pizza place (because coffee and pizza, right?!). Lunch service is just beginning, but they are already packed. There is not an open table, but the host proceeds to take our order anyways. It will take almost an hour to cook our pizza (I am so excited about this!). After 30 minutes of Kelly and Erin watching me drink coffee, we finally sit down and order a salad to accompany the unhealthiest pizza we could possibly order. We talk politics for a little bit (amongst AmeriCorps alumni its hard not to). When the pizza arrives, we take several photos and then dig in. It does not disappoint!

Now that lunch is over we still have a few hours to kill. I have been bombarded with commercials for Goose Island IPA on my Hulu account for the past month, so I suggest we go to the brewery, which happens to be located in Chicago. I can’t tell if Hulu somehow knew that I was going to Chicago or if it just knows that I like good IPAs; either way, 1 point for targeted advertising!

There is actually a real “Goose Island” where the Chicago River splits near the east side of town. The Brewery is located close to (but not actually on) the island.  Despite false advertising, Goose Island Brewery turns out to be pretty cool. I try all sorts of interesting beer and buy some souvenirs to take home.

Eventually it’s time to head back to the airport and I am definitely sad. I say goodbye to Erin at the curb and Kelly at airport security. I drink one more Goose Island IPA in the terminal as I wait for my flight. Eventually I make it back to LAX hassle free. My car is parked in Lot C and soon I am on my way home.