Washington, DC, four weeks ago. I love the Castle at the Smithsonian. My wife bought me a really cool pin from there, too, which features the Castle.
An Underground Wanderlust.
I love where I live. I love Baltimore. I love my job, the places I get coffee during the day, my bike ride to work. I love my friends and family and social networks in Baltimore. I love my apartment and relaxing and reading here.
But I feel deeply infected with some kind of restlessness. Maybe it’s because it’s summer and I work in higher education. Maybe it’s the whole trying to have a baby thing but of course not knowing when/if it’s worked. Or it could even be that I haven’t been able to get away from my normal life for more than a day or two at a time for too long. Even that the stupid person who ran my foot over prevented me from going on my favorite camping trip of the year over Memorial Day.
I can’t tell where this wanderlust is coming from or what will slake it. Extended travel is out of the question for at least the next year, save a trip to Illinois for dissertation defenses. We might be able to get away for a day or even a long weekend, but that’s it. I don’t think I’m going to get to go camping until October, and then I have to help run a large camping trip — so it will be more work than relaxing.
I know — who gets to travel as much as they want to? I should feel lucky that I get to travel the little bit I do.
Washington was awesome, but now I’m sick!
I will certainly get to posting photos/etc. from my short trip weekend. But now I’m tied to hankies, tea and athletic shorts. I’m ignoring all warnings about the bad flu, but remind me I said that.
You might think someone who’s “into” cycling would have a lot of those tight pants. Nope. None. The only ones I have a loose and light. What’s funny is that all the athletic type shorts I own are gifts and also from the universities/college I attended. My undergrad ones are missing and, frankly, illegible. My MA pair, well, I can’t wear them outside. They cling, uh, the wrong way. It’s not decent. No. Not at all.. I’m wearing my Doc pair tonight. You can kinda read them. I got them for my 24th birthday. Six M-F-in years ago.
What the hell do I need all these nylon shorts and degrees for?
My brain is a little fevered. Excuse me.
Off to DC for the weekend.
Trains, relaxing, hotel, museums, concert, walking, people watching, exploring, book shopping, coffee and tea. It’s going to be a nice weekend.
I hope yours is, too.
Off to New York for a day.
Getting away for a day before the great MOVE-NEXT-DOOR. Wish it were for longer. See you soon.
Randy in the morning.
(That title sounds dirty.) You know that scene in A Christmas Story, when Randy was all bundled up? Someone walked by him and knocked him over after he paused to yell, “Hey, guys, wait up!” He chided, “Hey, kid.”
And then he couldn’t get up. “I can’t keep up! I can’t get up! Ralphie!”
After rolling around and not sleeping again until 3:30 am, I felt like Randy this morning. But I’m taking three vacation days this week. So, essentially, today is Friday for me. Rest of the week:
Wednesday: New York City
Thursday: Ikea
Friday: MOVING
Saturday: Hon Fest Party
It could all be much, much worse.
House of Our Own books.
Last weekend, in Philly, we went bookstore hunting, among other things. I had written down a lot of stores and addresses. We only actually went to two of them: Book Trader in Olde City, where I went in August when I was there for a week; and House of Our Own, an independent shop in West Philly.
House of Our Own had a second floor full of used books. Within two minutes of getting there, I had an arm full of Michael Chabon and was mourning having to leave behind Hemingway’s works on bullfighting. I’ve seldom been to such an organized bookstore, and the lady working there was incredibly nice. They had sections for everything: American Radicalism, Economics, Ecology, Eco-Economics, Peace Studies, Nonviolence, Gandhi (!), Community Organizing, etc.
Our train was leaving shortly, and we had a long walk to get there. So I didn’t get to check out the first floor or hang out in the reading nook. They put bookmarks in the books for you, which is one of my favorite things. I buy a lot of books when I travel, and it’s nice to remember where I got them.
Coffee in Philly.
Old City Coffee is the freakin bees’ knees. I had coffee from their shop in Old[e] City when I was in Philly this past August for a week-long training on how to be a good VISTA. I remember delicious coffee, a cute logo and fantastic cookies. Unfortunately, due to limited seating and my desire to get out of my hotel each morning for breakfast, I didn’t really get to eat breakfast and/or chill there in August. I won’t say which chain coffee place I did eat breakfast at more regularly during that trip. But they did have ample seating, even on the sidewalk.
This weekend, we hit the Reading Terminal Market (at the recommendation of the dude who makes the best bike shirts ever) and scored coffee from the cart. It was delicious and definitely what Mr. Brainpan ordered after waking up at 2:30 am. We got to relax at a tiny table and enjoy the coffee, saving a sugar packet with the logo for gluing into our travel journal. The line increased soon, as we got there at the opening on the market. The larger Old City Coffee stall had an enormous line that stretched a good two dozen deep by the time we left the market. They must have a good following.
There were tons of Starbucks joints and Dunkin Donuts palaces. For being as tired as we were, we didn’t really drink that much coffee on our trip. Which probably explains — at least in part — how I dozed off on the short train ride back to Baltimore long enough and deeply enough that Mrs. P had the time to be tempted to take a picture of me passed out on Amtrak, to pull out her camera, to take the picture and to put it away, repressing what I assume was massive giggling. But, the joke’s on her. The picture came out blurrily. (Maybe she should have had more coffee.)
[Photo Friday: Morning Routine.]
Off to Philly for V Day.
I’m off on a 6am train for Philly today. We’re spending the day in the city of brotherly love, going book shopping and drinking a lot of coffee. Between being excited and my neighbor’s early Valentine’s Day…banging around under my bedroom, I’ve been up since 2:30.
Happy V Day, if you’re the sort to like that.
(Yes, that’s a Moleskine City Notebook for Philly.)
Dusk on State Street.
Four feet in Walden Pond.
Mrs. P. and I in Walden Pond last month.
Photo Friday: Relationship.
We had fun in the Village.
We had a blast in the Village two weeks ago. Our hotel was in midtown, near the train station. We walked down 8th Avenue after we got in, with our crap still on our backs because it was too early to check in. We were starving, and I had to pee. So we scored some coffee and treats and a nice clean potty. Kept walking South. Went past Madison Square, Union Square and its farmers’ market, the Flatiron Building, all sorts of awesome stuff on our way to hit The Strand.
At first I was disappointed because I went upstairs looking at art books, in which I have very little interest. But then I found the fiction section and had to hold myself back. After a long time browsing, a heavy hand basket, the traveler’s activity of buying T-shirts that don’t make you look like a tourist, we paid our large bill and left. My formula for knowing if you spent too much money at the bookstore: If you leave more (usually twice as much) in cost on the shelves/tables than you actually purchase, you’re not spending too much money. I mean, in that case, with that formula, I don’t think I could ever spend too much money at The Strand. I could list all the books we bought there, but they’re in a pile with all the books we bought in Boston, too.
We bought Cokes and sat in Washington Square Park, after a short rainstorm from which we hid under the shelter outside The Strand. The arch and fountain were surrounded by fencing because they were being worked on. We dried off a green bench with a hanky we found in a backpack, since I was closely-budgeted on my pocket hanky.
We walked around for a long time, checked out some stationery stores, etc. We came back the next day, walking all the way from 81st Street. We walked around a lot and hit the park to chill. This time, there were more people around, and there were tables with people gathering to sing, play guitar and bang on drums as the sun was going down. I didn’t want to go when it came to be time to walk back to Penn Station to catch our late train to Baltimore.
Now we have a huge stack for late summer and early fall reading, from New York and Boston. I’m very stoked to dig in. Oh, and I scored my new Moleskine at The Strand for $9. Sweet:)
It rained a lot in Boston.
A lot. This was the end of the first day. But, while it was wet and while my sandals were full of grit and gook, it was cool. I wore a flannel that day, all day. That was pretty awesome.
The morning we were leaving, this little gal/guy came out in North Quincy. He was out further, but I scared him when I took his picture.
I’m back, mid-August edition.
Back from a week for training in Philly. I slept for almost eight hours last night like, well, like a stone at the bottom of Walden Pond. I actually had a lot of fun, learned a lot, met some nice people, got charged up for my “year of service” and got to explore Philly a bit. Among my other adventures, I broke a Teva, rather than my foot, walking to a cool bookstore in the dark with my mind on musty volumes. I have to get new sandals before reporting to my office Monday. But it beats, you know, having a broken foot or toe[s]. And I have to get my bike all commuter-ready this weekend. I think I might finally put that milkcrate on. I don’t know. It would make changing a tire harder. But that stinky Slime did last week. I’ll write about that on the bike blog.
Don’t have a whole lot I have to do this weekend, which is awesome. You should see the stack of books we bought on our travels. Or how much coffee I drank in Philly. I was so dehydrated that I drank a wine bottle of water before bed last night and didn’t have to pee this morning. I know you want to hear about my urinary tract. Right. I haven’t had spicy food since Monday! Need. Peppers. You should also see my pepper crop. Holy hot sauce! I am getting a new camera for my birthday, if heads have to roll. Too many of the photos from our trips didn’t turn out. Thank you, and good day to you.
Also for Photo Friday: Garden.
Training up to Philly.
For training until Friday around dinner time. I know that’s New York in the photo. I didn’t go to Philly yet. I was asleep on the train both times we passed through last week, too. Turns out I didn’t have much time to format and post photos from our traveling last week. I will, though my “year of service” starts the Monday after I get back (one week from today, that is) and though I really don’t fancy spending that weekend on the computer.
There’s an issue with my tickets, that being that they were delivered but disappeared, all while I was away, despite providing another address and despite the fact that said carrier was supposed to get my frikkin signature and obviously didn’t. There’s another reservation for me, but I’m nervous that there will be crap about it. So I’m getting to the train station with more time to kill than my trip will actually take. I have a lot of good books to read and haven’t had time to read lately. So I’m very Okay with this.
I was told by three people today that my hair has gotten too wild and needs to be cut. I think this is funny.
I wonder what the reaction of my assigned roommate this week will be to the idea that I don’t use deodorant or toothpaste in the usual sense. I wonder if he will want to try my peppermint soap or my baking soda.
I get to put some miles on my Klean Kanteen that someone who is very nice bought me two weeks ago. I like to take tap water from one city to another. I once had a canteen of grotto water that I kept for a year or two, taking sips of the sweet stuff from time to time. I still have this canteen, though it’s plastic and has seen better days. I like the water in Baltimore city. It is a grotto in its own right. The water fountain at Druid Hill Lake is my favorite in the world. Right now.
I am tired and stressed out. This VISTA thing requires a hell of a lot of paperwork, online paperwork and a lot of rules. They make sense and all. It’s just a lot to remember. I will not convert anyone to my religion (whatever that is) or campaign. Okay. I can handle this.
I think the coffee I just drank is putting me to sleep.
Be back Friday, if there is no peep tomorrow before I leave.
I’m back, early August edition.
Got back home last night/this morning at about 2:30am. Took a nice cab back from Penn Station from Amtrak from Penn Station (NYC) from the Acela from South Station (Boston) from MBTA Commuter Rail to and from Concord from North Station (Boston) from Amtrak from Penn Station (Baltimore) from a late cab from my home from a cab that night from a concert at Pier Six. I slept like a rock that drank a case of beer last night. Seven and a half hours of the closest sleep to death I might ever have slept. That’s overly dramatic. But, seriously, that was good sleep.
We walked everywhere this week. All over the Inner Harbor/downtown Baltimore Tuesday. We walked to Walden Pond. Walked all around Boston, only taking the subway when rivers were involved (Quincy and Cambridge) and the train to Concord. Walked so much all over New York for two days that I should get to be on TV. We only got on the MTA subway once, to go from the garment district to the Natural History museum to save energy. Then from there through the park, through midtown, all the way to the village. Then back to midtown for our late train. That was after two walks from midtown to and around and through the village the day before.
Only one twisted ankle, one twisted foot (on the way out of the apartment and to the train station) and one broken/bleeding toenail. Not bad. I did a much better job of staying hydrated than I usually do when I travel, too, which is good. I’m not sitting here suffering through a mock hangover.
And we were smart enough to mail home the books we bought in Cambridge, dirty clothes and Walden Pond goodies/gifts from the post office right near South Station, since we literally carried everything for four days. We scored a lot of good reading, including two by my favorite other worshipper at the altar of the god of walkers. I’m stocked up until the cold comes, I think.
I hope I get time to post some photos soon. We had a great time, and I’m outta here again from Tuesday until Friday for “business” in Philly. I think I’ll get some freetime while I’m there, though, to explore a place I’ve really been wanting to go for a while.
Shipping up to Boston.
Tomorrow, I go to a few meetings that are work-related. Then a concert at Pier Six at night. Then a 3:55am train to Boston! We’ll be in Beantown Wednesday and Thursday. Of course, I’ll be making my pilgrimage to Walden Pond, but I don’t think I’ll have time to take the long B Train out to where I went to school. We’re staying at the Adams Inn in North Quincy, right near where I lived for two years in North Quincy, a block from the beach.
Then we are taking the Acela Express to New York early Friday Morning, staying at The New Yorker and returning home to Baltimore late Saturday night. Two days at home, and then I’m off to Philly from the 12th to the 15th for some training. Then I officially start my new job on the 18th.
Awesome all around, though it means most of two weeks away from my beloved bike.
To amuse yourself, check out the video to the awesome song by the Dropkick Murphys — who are from Quincy, where I actually lived.
This weekend, in my mummy bag.
The forecast called for cold nights this weekend in the city, so I knew it would be colder where we were camping. I took my mummy bag accordingly, a sweet army surplus bag I inherited/stole from my Dad. My usual sleeping bag would hold two people. While comfortable, it’s not a great option when the temperature dips under 50. With this particular mummy bag, you really need to pull it up over your head even if you’re not that cold. You can unzip it a bit, if that helps. I did. It was chilly but not cold when I went to bed. But each night I woke up with my face sticking out of the bag, all zipped up, my large nose very cold to the touch. It was awesome. I actually crawled entirely inside and made a tent of hot breath and my hairy arms.
Friday night, I used my cell phone as an alarm clock. I wanted to get up first, get a shower, make coffee, etc. I had it inside my sleeping bag so as not to wake anyone else up. But when it went off, I was on top of my arms, which were asleep and numb. I could not move them to shut the dang thing up.
Maybe I’m the only one that thinks this was funny.
I damaged a few pieces of gear this weekend, which usually drives me batty. But I didn’t really care. Could it be that I am getting closer to relating to my possessions like a normal person? At least, the utilitarian ones?
I figured out the source of the bruise on my rear: when I kept falling on top of my metal flashlight during a skit about beans. The flashlight looks like it got run over by a small car or several bikes from my big butt hitting it repeatedly on top of rocks.
Come on, that’s funny.
Rocket man, now with suit!
At the Smithsonian this winter. I give you the rocket dude. He really caught my eye because his shoes were basically white Chuck Taylors with a side zipper. Even if these rocket packs caught on, at $4 a gallon, I think they’d all be grounded.
Photo Friday: Fire.
Anatomy of Restlessness.
I am finishing up Bruce Chatwin‘s Anatomy of Restlessness. Being jobless and stuck in my apartment most days while Mrs. P is at work, I found this book both thrilling and depressing. I am a big Chatwin fan, but I especially enjoyed this posthumous publication because of the honesty of a few of the pieces, such as “I Always Wanted To Go To Patagonia” and a letter wherein he spells out the plan for his great book on nomadism/restlessness that never got written. I mean, Chatwin was a little…pretentious at times, such as when, in The Songlines, he spelled out how awesome his black notebooks were in such detail that an Italian company was able to reproduce them ten years later. I mean, I confess an addiction of sorts to those little treasures, so I think this is a good thing. But in an interview, maybe. In the main text? Pretentious? Or maybe brave? A little soul-baring? Chatwin says that the man he was talking to looked at him, when Chatwin told him about his precious notebooks, as if he had never heard anything more pretentious. Did that happen, or did old Bruce imagine that in some kind of self-consciousness?
Maybe even when he is fictionalizing his “stories” he was still honest to some degree, more so than one would believe when I started writing this post. Maybe he was a complete liar. I don’t know. Either way, you should still definitely check out this book. Or anything else by Chatwin you can get your hands on. I found this book, first edition, sitting on a stack when I walked into Normals one day this fall, after looking for that book for a long time. I exclaimed out-loud, “I’ve been looking for this! It’s like it was here just for me.”
But now I am restless. Very. When I read the first essay last week, I went shopping when I was pretty sick (and got sicker) because I could not stand the idea of staying home all day after reading something like that. Is that sad? I have finally gotten around to filling in a travel journal from our research trips in fall 2006. They were a bit of a pain at the time, when I was trying to get a dissertation written. But now I wish I could go back to New Haven for another chilly Friday morning wishing I brought something other than sandals. Or to New York for a thunderstorm on Broadway, ducking into the largest Barnes and Noble I have ever seen. Or to Boston, within a mile of where I lived for two years, remembering all things I loved and hated about that place. Hours at my favorite cafe’ there.
For now, I have to settle for books and other people’s experiences. And, of course, remembering my own.
[Larger images here.]