So I'm not sure what day it is, or what time it is. But I do know where I am. Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania.
Tomorrow morning we hop a flight to Kili, and begin our climb. Updates likely to be sparse (i.e., non-existent), hopefully followed by a picture of Mr. and Mrs. Ox on top of Kili.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Poking the bear
So a couple of days ago, before everything went skidding off the rails, I promised a picture of the bear we saw on the way out of Allenspark. Here you go:
Ok, I kid. Here's the real picture:
He caused no shortage of excitement, since we were on the way to the kennel with Jackson and Sydney in the back of the car. They wanted to play.
To some extent I feel like this bear - only if the bear were being poked with a sharp stick by AA. The metaphor fails, of course, because if you did poke the bear with a sharp stick it would simply maul you (and you'd learn not to do it again).
After the last post, we actually got a plane to show up. Unfortunately it was only there to taunt us. First they were cleaning it, then they were waiting on an extra pilot, and finally around 10 pm they canceled the flight outright.
No explanation, no warning, and of course no other options.
They told us to line up and that they would rebook us and give us hotel vouchers, and then followed that up with a display of gross incompetence.
Thankfully Jen was able to get through to American on her cell phone by getting their number off of the internet. Although the people working the desk repeatedly told us to call to rebook (to avoid the line), they neglected to give out the number.
Having rushed to get in line, I expected to be one of the first to get a voucher. After an hour+ of waiting, I hadn't moved. Then, I looked behind me to find out that they sent people from the back of the line to another gate, where they were taken care of. Essentially the people in the middle of the line (i.e., me) got hosed.
Finally we gave up in frustration and I booked a room at the Hilton - at the rate American was going it would have been another 3 hours, and we needed to sleep.
At the hotel I spent about 2 hours trying to decipher the itinerary that Jen put together, and was left feeling like the unfrozen caveman lawyer:
I tried to call AA to see if they could help straighten out the connection with the RTW tickets which are on BA (ostensibly part of the OneWorld alliance), but to their credit they told me up front they couldn't help me.
We slept, got up this morning and went to the airport, where Jen was able to get in touch with BA, and rearrange at least enough of the itinerary to get us to Dar es Salaam. Hopefully we'll be able to work stuff out with the remaining airlines and the trekking company.
I'm going to stop talking about AA after this post - it's probably not interesting and doesn't help my frame of mind. Maybe after a little while I'll try to put together a lessons learned - although that would require us to learn lessons.
Ok, I kid. Here's the real picture:
He caused no shortage of excitement, since we were on the way to the kennel with Jackson and Sydney in the back of the car. They wanted to play.
To some extent I feel like this bear - only if the bear were being poked with a sharp stick by AA. The metaphor fails, of course, because if you did poke the bear with a sharp stick it would simply maul you (and you'd learn not to do it again).
After the last post, we actually got a plane to show up. Unfortunately it was only there to taunt us. First they were cleaning it, then they were waiting on an extra pilot, and finally around 10 pm they canceled the flight outright.
No explanation, no warning, and of course no other options.
They told us to line up and that they would rebook us and give us hotel vouchers, and then followed that up with a display of gross incompetence.
Thankfully Jen was able to get through to American on her cell phone by getting their number off of the internet. Although the people working the desk repeatedly told us to call to rebook (to avoid the line), they neglected to give out the number.
Having rushed to get in line, I expected to be one of the first to get a voucher. After an hour+ of waiting, I hadn't moved. Then, I looked behind me to find out that they sent people from the back of the line to another gate, where they were taken care of. Essentially the people in the middle of the line (i.e., me) got hosed.
Finally we gave up in frustration and I booked a room at the Hilton - at the rate American was going it would have been another 3 hours, and we needed to sleep.
At the hotel I spent about 2 hours trying to decipher the itinerary that Jen put together, and was left feeling like the unfrozen caveman lawyer:
I tried to call AA to see if they could help straighten out the connection with the RTW tickets which are on BA (ostensibly part of the OneWorld alliance), but to their credit they told me up front they couldn't help me.
We slept, got up this morning and went to the airport, where Jen was able to get in touch with BA, and rearrange at least enough of the itinerary to get us to Dar es Salaam. Hopefully we'll be able to work stuff out with the remaining airlines and the trekking company.
I'm going to stop talking about AA after this post - it's probably not interesting and doesn't help my frame of mind. Maybe after a little while I'll try to put together a lessons learned - although that would require us to learn lessons.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
My day with American Airlines
My day with American Airlines
Having spent the last 17 years in Dallas, most of my travels have been
on AA. The combination of the Wright Amendment and the presence of
AA's corporate headquarters near DFW made them the only game in town,
unless you were willing to deal with the rigamarole of booking two
separate tickets on Southwest, and actually gathering up your bags at
an intermediate airport
As a result, out frequent flyer miles are all with AA so when we put
our Round The World (RTW) itinerary together we went with the OneWorld
Alliance, and used our miles to get business class tickets from Denver
to London Heathrow.
We got to DIA about an hour and a half before scheduled departure and
everything was great until we got on the plane. There's no delicate
way to put this - it smelled like a septic tank (I fell into one once,
I should know).
At first I just assumed one of our fellow passengers was experiencing
a bout of intestinal distress, something I'm all too familiar with.
After an hour of an all-out assault on my olfactory nerve, though, it
was clear something was horribly, horribly wrong.
Thankfully I was able to sleep through most of the flight. Jen wasn't
as lucky and later told me that she held her glass of O.J. up to her
nose in a futile attempt to escape the stench. As we left the plane
we heard the flight attendant complain to the pilot that "the new
chemicals aren't working."
Thinking that we had crossed the required unpleasant flight experience
off of the list for this trip, we had some lunch and went to the
Admiral's club to hang out.
I wouldn't describe the experience there as unpleasant, necessarily -
"Yankee" is the word that comes to mind. No one was outright rude,
but they weren't helpful either.
After several hours in the club we went down to our gate. We saw on
the displays that boarding was delayed by 35 minutes, but decided to
just wait it out.
After getting on the plane, the flight attendants came by to ask what
we wanted for dinner. Except what they really meant is what that we
have left do you want for dinner. Both my first and second choices
were already taken. I tried not to sulk, unsuccessfully, so I was
already in a bad mood when the captain made an announcement that there
was some sort of maintenance problem.
My mood blackened further about an hour and a half later when he made
the announcement that we would need a different aircraft. Confidence
was not restored when he came back on and said that maintenance had
fixed the problem while he was making the prior announcement.
Being the eternal optimist, though, I thought we were finally out of
the woods, and would get to London just a couple of hours later than
expected.
Of course we got out onto the runway, only to have an announcement
made that we needed to go back to the gate, but that it would be at
least 30 minutes before a gate would be open.
3 hours after boarding we got off of the first plane, and were told
our new plane was at gate K19. We needed to go straight to the gate,
neither passing go, nor collecting $200.
I'm typing this 4 hours after boarding the first plane, sitting at the
gate. Since they served neither food nor beverage during the 3 hours
we toured the O'Hare tarmac we grabbed some McDonald's, so I'm
actually feeling much better now.
The latest irritation is the gate agent's insistence that our plane is
at the gate, when you can gaze over her right shoulder and see the
empty jetway.
Hopefully we'll get out of here soon...
Sent from my iPod
Desperate plea for bag of holding falls on deaf ears
Alternate title: Laws of physics fail to yield to fervent prayers
And I thought this would be easy.
There's no way to pack enough clothes for a month, and I know we'll have to do laundry, so there shouldn't be any temptation to overpack, right?
Wrong. I'd say we're 90% done, but:
1. Check out the timestamp, and
2. There's a pile of stuff I'm not taking that's the same size as what I am taking.
Hopefully this month-long trip will help us evaluate what we really need when we leave for 8 months in September.
We should be at the airport in 5 and a half hours. Good fortune permitting I'll post a picture of the bear cub that crossed the road in front of us today.
Posts may be sporadic for the next couple of weeks, though. I'm not sure what sort of Internet access is available on Kilimanjaro.
And I thought this would be easy.
There's no way to pack enough clothes for a month, and I know we'll have to do laundry, so there shouldn't be any temptation to overpack, right?
Wrong. I'd say we're 90% done, but:
1. Check out the timestamp, and
2. There's a pile of stuff I'm not taking that's the same size as what I am taking.
Hopefully this month-long trip will help us evaluate what we really need when we leave for 8 months in September.
We should be at the airport in 5 and a half hours. Good fortune permitting I'll post a picture of the bear cub that crossed the road in front of us today.
Posts may be sporadic for the next couple of weeks, though. I'm not sure what sort of Internet access is available on Kilimanjaro.
Monday, July 14, 2008
A guest posting
This post brought to you by "No, Sydney $%&@!!*! Hodges".If there's one thing my almost fifty years (Ed's note: Dog-years) on this earth has taught me, it's that the two legged creatures just love it when you're unpredictable.
Sure, I've had some great moments - making the one called Jennifer chase me through the neighborhood in her pajamas after the wind blew the fence down, or even making the one called Chad assist me in passing the sheet I ate (while he was wearing his bathrobe and geisha slippers of course). But the last 10 days are my piece de resistance.
It seems the ones called Doug and Betty are accustomed to imprisoning my comrades-in-arms, Gracie and Rosie. They were not, however, prepared for my canine wiles. After they constructed the initial barricade I lulled them into a false sense of security, only to escape by squeezing myself between the steps up to the deck.
Once they closed that escape route, I managed to squeeze underneath the fence at another point. Having that blocked by rocks only increased the satisfaction I felt, squeezing out at another point. Regrettably I was captured before penetrating the second fence, once in a truly despicable ruse involving the opening of a car door (I loves me some car rides).
My antics were not limited solely to escape, however. Like all good guerrillas I took the fight to the oppressors, by urinating (repeatedly) in the master bedroom. These tactics, coupled with Comrade Jackson's whining and hallway defecation are sure to strike terror into the hearts of the oppressors.
Neurotically yours,
Sydney
Saturday, July 12, 2008
What to do when you can't make the OCD work for you
I used to joke that being OCD helped me in my job. If there was a difficult technical problem I'd obsess about it until it was fixed, a trait that made me very effective.
On sabbatical, though, these tendencies are not quite as helpful. It's similar to when I was a kid, without enough to do. I had a little Kodak disc camera, and would spend hours on our porch trying to get good pictures of hummingbirds.
If you know much about photography, you know it didn't work out so well. Somewhere in the storage facility (hopefully not at Amy and Bruce's house) there are lots and lots of pictures of blurry hummingbirds.
Well, here we are 20 some odd years later *gasp*, and I'm back to my old tricks. Except now I've got a better camera, and it doesn't cost me anything to take the pictures. Hence, the hummingbird gallery.
Enjoy.
On sabbatical, though, these tendencies are not quite as helpful. It's similar to when I was a kid, without enough to do. I had a little Kodak disc camera, and would spend hours on our porch trying to get good pictures of hummingbirds.
If you know much about photography, you know it didn't work out so well. Somewhere in the storage facility (hopefully not at Amy and Bruce's house) there are lots and lots of pictures of blurry hummingbirds.
Well, here we are 20 some odd years later *gasp*, and I'm back to my old tricks. Except now I've got a better camera, and it doesn't cost me anything to take the pictures. Hence, the hummingbird gallery.
Enjoy.
Technology is hard with hooves for hands
Ok, so it proved to be more difficult than expected, but I've got the Man-Ox slideshow working (to the right of your computer screen). Initially I tried to set it up using Flickr, so I could be hip like the cool kids, but wasn't able to restrict it to just my pictures.
You'd be surprised at how many pictures on Flickr match the description Man-Ox, or the user chadwickh. I had nightmare visions of one of my more mischievous friends posting something either obscene or embarrassing (or obscenely embarrassing) that would show up in my slideshow. Hello, Mom!
Things have been relatively low key the last couple of days - I took a hike by myself from the Allenspark Trailhead to the Calypso Cascades on Thursday, and yesterday we greased the wheels of commerce. I got a new Olympus camera, which is shock-, water-, and hopefully ox-proof. I'll be using it while Jen uses the "nice" SLR camera. I did not, however, get one of the new iPhones. Although I'm consumed with geek lust for it, I just couldn't see waiting in line for 3 hours to get one. I'll try again on Monday (nothing like putting it off until the last minute).
Jen's friend Cari came by today, and it looks like tomorrow we'll all hike the Twin Sisters trail - which means more man-ox pictures.
Speaking of pictures - Jen got a great shot of one of the divers at Chasm Lake - I'm not sure what would possess you to do this, since Snow is God's way of telling you it's cold.
Tomorrow the tale of Sydney the devil dog.
You'd be surprised at how many pictures on Flickr match the description Man-Ox, or the user chadwickh. I had nightmare visions of one of my more mischievous friends posting something either obscene or embarrassing (or obscenely embarrassing) that would show up in my slideshow. Hello, Mom!
Things have been relatively low key the last couple of days - I took a hike by myself from the Allenspark Trailhead to the Calypso Cascades on Thursday, and yesterday we greased the wheels of commerce. I got a new Olympus camera, which is shock-, water-, and hopefully ox-proof. I'll be using it while Jen uses the "nice" SLR camera. I did not, however, get one of the new iPhones. Although I'm consumed with geek lust for it, I just couldn't see waiting in line for 3 hours to get one. I'll try again on Monday (nothing like putting it off until the last minute).
Jen's friend Cari came by today, and it looks like tomorrow we'll all hike the Twin Sisters trail - which means more man-ox pictures.
Speaking of pictures - Jen got a great shot of one of the divers at Chasm Lake - I'm not sure what would possess you to do this, since Snow is God's way of telling you it's cold.
Tomorrow the tale of Sydney the devil dog.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Signs and Portents
This picture is from the Chasm Lake trail. The title of this blog post is an allusion to Babylon 5, one of my favorite television shows.
This was our second hike to Chasm Lake. Last time after taking a photo of the sign we were caught in a hail/lightning storm above the tree line. It's funny, we had just crested a hill and saw a Boy Scout troop headed up toward Chasm Lake. The lightning hit, and they all turned tail and ran. Of course we did likewise. Approximately 3 hours to get up the mountain, and about 1 hour to get down (running through the hail in our Parkas).
Last time, the lake was frozen over, so we ate a quick lunch and headed back down. This time not only was the lake not frozen over, there were some guys actually jumping in for a swim. Granted they screamed like little girls every time they jumped in, but still. Jen's mom actually offered me $60 to jump in, but due to modesty concerns I had to decline.
Here's the requisite pic of Jen and I at Chasm Lake. It was significantly warmer than I expected, but hey, at least I didn't get a sunburn.
I've got man-ox pics from Chasm Lake, and from The Loch, but I'll save them for a man-ox gallery (as soon as I figure out how to do that).
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Rocky Mountain, Hi!
Happy 4th of July, everyone. Things are finally starting to calm down after the move, and we've spent the last two nights in Allenspark, Colorado near Estes Park.
We're going to spend the next week or so getting acclimatized to the altitude here before we head off to Tanzania to climb Kilimanjaro, and having spent the last 17 years in Dallas the altitude here is killing me. It's a struggle going up and down stairs. Each morning, though, we get up and take a hike with the in-laws (and the dogs) and we gradually increase the length and altitude differential. The picture below is from Lake Isabelle, "in the heart of the Indian Peaks." The amazing thing to me is how much snow there is on the ground at the beginning of July. It's also surprising, especially since my dog Jackson pulled me off of my feet at one point.
I'm also starting a regular feature, called where in the world is Man-Ox. The T-shirt in the picture was given to me for Christmas by my good friend Jeremy, who moved to San Francisco at the beginning of this year. We ran together, and he had the good grace to encourage me and slow his own pace to match mine. I choose to believe that he gave me the T-shirt because of my unusual strength, and not because I am hirsute, or because my "running" resembles the plodding of a beast of burden.
We're going to spend the next week or so getting acclimatized to the altitude here before we head off to Tanzania to climb Kilimanjaro, and having spent the last 17 years in Dallas the altitude here is killing me. It's a struggle going up and down stairs. Each morning, though, we get up and take a hike with the in-laws (and the dogs) and we gradually increase the length and altitude differential. The picture below is from Lake Isabelle, "in the heart of the Indian Peaks." The amazing thing to me is how much snow there is on the ground at the beginning of July. It's also surprising, especially since my dog Jackson pulled me off of my feet at one point.
I'm also starting a regular feature, called where in the world is Man-Ox. The T-shirt in the picture was given to me for Christmas by my good friend Jeremy, who moved to San Francisco at the beginning of this year. We ran together, and he had the good grace to encourage me and slow his own pace to match mine. I choose to believe that he gave me the T-shirt because of my unusual strength, and not because I am hirsute, or because my "running" resembles the plodding of a beast of burden.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Hubris
Monday was moving day, so when Tuesday dawned with a 24-foot U-Haul truck in the driveway it was a sure sign things weren't going according to plan.
Some background: I moved a lot growing up. Russellville, Rogers, Fayetteville, Terrell, Green Forest, and Berryville by the time I was in the 4th grade. After the last couple of days, I don't know how my parents did it. Maybe they had a system, or maybe they had magical moving gnomes, but either way I have a new-found appreciation for what they went through.
Back to my narrative, though. Monday dawned full of promise. I had a few minor tasks to take care of before Bruce came by, and they were handled without issue. We got the U-Haul, and other than the sheer panic I experienced at the manly task of drving the behemoth there were no issues.
We even managed to get the first couple of loads into the truck without a problem. Then it was time for the piano.
In my defense, I was lulled into a false sense of security by my Dad, who managed to load the piano into a U-Haul by himself. What I didn't realize is that while I'm roughly the same size as my Dad, I'm nowhere near as strong. My career to date has made me a much more proficient typist, but that is not a skill that's useful when moving a piano. We probably should have thought better of the task when I nearly crushed Bruce's head between the piano and our front door, but at some point you just decide to press on, regardless.
We got it most of the way into the truck, and then the second furniture dolly started slipping off of the ramp, out from underneath the piano. I'm sure a camera would have captured everything in slow motion - the strain, the paniced shouts, muscle, sinew, skin, and bone. Ok, there wasn't bone, but it's a minor miracle their wasn't. The stupid thing went over onto its back. If it hadn't been mostly into the truck then I would have been crushed. Instead I've just got some very interesting bruises. Yesterday I wasn't sure if they were bruises or if I was just dirty. Today, after two showers I'm convinced they're bruises.
We both survied, though, and managed to stand it back up. It's in surprisingly good shape, although it will need some work once Jen and I land in our permanent place.
After lunch, and finishing the loading process, Ray joined us and we went to unload the larger contents of our home into the spacious 10x20 storage space. That's right - 200 square feet of surface area, plenty for your average 3-4 bedroom home. Except we have a 3-4 bedroom home and there's no way we're fitting all of our stuff in there without doing some serious damage to the furniture. Of course this doesn't become apparent until after the office has closed, so there's nothing to be done but load up what doesn't fit into the U-Haul, go back home and try the next day, after acquiring more space.
Except that there's only one air conditioned space left in the storage facility, and it's 5x10. I'm not the best at spatial relations, but some quick math: My big couch is roughly 9' x 4', which as any good 4th grader can tell you is 36 sq. ft. Hmm, that's not going to work, but (as with the piano) at some point you just decide to press on regardless.
We got all of the big stuff in, and even managed to make another box trip lugging what was packed as of about 8 pm. The Sunday Night Dinner Crowd (I've always thought it looked better with Capitals) came by and there was one last get together. Our cats, Ginger and Tabitha, went to their new home with the Beckers and I'm sure they'll be happy there.
Jen and I'll be up most of the night pre-packing the car for the road trip to Colorado and getting the rest of the stuff for storage together. Bruce and Ray are coming to help with the last load - I can't say enough how much their help has meant, or how impossible this would be without them.
Some background: I moved a lot growing up. Russellville, Rogers, Fayetteville, Terrell, Green Forest, and Berryville by the time I was in the 4th grade. After the last couple of days, I don't know how my parents did it. Maybe they had a system, or maybe they had magical moving gnomes, but either way I have a new-found appreciation for what they went through.
Back to my narrative, though. Monday dawned full of promise. I had a few minor tasks to take care of before Bruce came by, and they were handled without issue. We got the U-Haul, and other than the sheer panic I experienced at the manly task of drving the behemoth there were no issues.
We even managed to get the first couple of loads into the truck without a problem. Then it was time for the piano.
In my defense, I was lulled into a false sense of security by my Dad, who managed to load the piano into a U-Haul by himself. What I didn't realize is that while I'm roughly the same size as my Dad, I'm nowhere near as strong. My career to date has made me a much more proficient typist, but that is not a skill that's useful when moving a piano. We probably should have thought better of the task when I nearly crushed Bruce's head between the piano and our front door, but at some point you just decide to press on, regardless.
We got it most of the way into the truck, and then the second furniture dolly started slipping off of the ramp, out from underneath the piano. I'm sure a camera would have captured everything in slow motion - the strain, the paniced shouts, muscle, sinew, skin, and bone. Ok, there wasn't bone, but it's a minor miracle their wasn't. The stupid thing went over onto its back. If it hadn't been mostly into the truck then I would have been crushed. Instead I've just got some very interesting bruises. Yesterday I wasn't sure if they were bruises or if I was just dirty. Today, after two showers I'm convinced they're bruises.
We both survied, though, and managed to stand it back up. It's in surprisingly good shape, although it will need some work once Jen and I land in our permanent place.
After lunch, and finishing the loading process, Ray joined us and we went to unload the larger contents of our home into the spacious 10x20 storage space. That's right - 200 square feet of surface area, plenty for your average 3-4 bedroom home. Except we have a 3-4 bedroom home and there's no way we're fitting all of our stuff in there without doing some serious damage to the furniture. Of course this doesn't become apparent until after the office has closed, so there's nothing to be done but load up what doesn't fit into the U-Haul, go back home and try the next day, after acquiring more space.
Except that there's only one air conditioned space left in the storage facility, and it's 5x10. I'm not the best at spatial relations, but some quick math: My big couch is roughly 9' x 4', which as any good 4th grader can tell you is 36 sq. ft. Hmm, that's not going to work, but (as with the piano) at some point you just decide to press on regardless.
We got all of the big stuff in, and even managed to make another box trip lugging what was packed as of about 8 pm. The Sunday Night Dinner Crowd (I've always thought it looked better with Capitals) came by and there was one last get together. Our cats, Ginger and Tabitha, went to their new home with the Beckers and I'm sure they'll be happy there.
Jen and I'll be up most of the night pre-packing the car for the road trip to Colorado and getting the rest of the stuff for storage together. Bruce and Ray are coming to help with the last load - I can't say enough how much their help has meant, or how impossible this would be without them.
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