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Posts Tagged "adventure"
I love birthdays. I really do. And not just my own. Birthdays are a time for self-reflection, for declarations of love, for yourself and for others. They are a time for new experiences and the search for new passions, for surprises and for new beginnings. I celebrated my 25th year a few days ago, and am happy to say that it was, by far, the best birthday I have ever had. Friends and family traveled distances to party it up with me on Saturday and to brunch with me on Sunday. It was a weekend filled with so much love. Unbeknownst to me, my boyfriend, Shannon, had something up his sleeve that would prove to be some seriously amazing icing on the cake. At 5am on Monday he woke me up, piled me into the car, and we headed for the airport. Thoughts raced through my mind: Where were going? San Francisco to visit old friends? Finally using the savings we’d been putting aside for a trip to Hawaii? Nothing could have prepared me for what he had planned for us that day. We hopped aboard a flight to Los Angeles (visiting family? sailing? …(gulp)… Disneyland?) and two and half hours later we were driving to an undisclosed location. As we headed south, Shannon instructed me to open a big box that he had put at my feet, and to unwrap the three gifts inside sequentially. I carefully picked apart the tape on the first, and pulling back the paper found a CD with a picture of me in a Steerman Biplane on the front of it (I took Shannon flying in Sonoma for his birthday a few years ago). I popped it into the player and was blasted with Berlin‘s Take My Breath Away. Laughing off what I had prematurely deemed as incredibly cheesy, I opened the second gift: a pair of aviators. At this point, Kenny Loggins‘ Danger Zone begins to play and I begin to understand that we might be headed for some more air travel. It wasn’t until I’d opened the third gift, a bomber jacket sent with us from my family and the Top Gun Anthem started to play, that I came even close to piecing together what was going on. We turned onto an airfield in Fullerton and drove past a giant sign that read Air Combat USA. In front of us sat a pair of Marchetti SF-260′s, Italian fighter planes originally certified in the 1960′s. I, of course, immediately began to freak out. While I adore flying, I was in no way prepared to be manning the plane myself (that’s right, you read correctly… myself!). Was I capable of safely operating this machine in mid-air? Did I trust myself to do so, not only for my safety, but for Shannon’s… and, perhaps, the people on the ground below? Let me tell you, knowing that you have an hour to prepare for such a feat forces you to ponder a wide spectrum of questions and possible outcomes. We were welcomed by two former military pilots, Nails and Smudge, who set us up with our own flight suits and ushered us into a small room with a couple of couches and a big white board covered in diagrams. You can imagine that I had a bit of a hard time concentrating on what was being said during this hour-long “flight school”, which was fine, in the end, because most of what we were learning were tips and tricks on dogfighting instead of how to, say, FLY THE PLANE, or what to do if the engine stalls (which happened to Shannon’s aircraft… fortunately, Smudge, who was seated next to him, flipped a couple of switches in the cockpit to connect to another fuel tank. Phew.). The only thing I really took away from flight school was that anything goes during combat and that cheating is a-okay. After donning a couple of Mae West’s and parachutes, Shannon and I kissed each other goodbye and hopped into separate planes with our coaches. I waved to him through the canopy while Nails, squished into the cockpit next to me, went through checklists, reading each aloud. We were in the air sooner than I had hoped, but as the ground fell further and further away I could feel my anxiety go with it. We flew ten or so miles out to the coast, at which point I heard Nails’ voice over the intercom, “Okay, Erin, it’s your plane.” I tentatively gripped the joystick. It is true what pilots say about the need for finesse when controlling a plane. Shannon told me later that Smudge was flying theirs with just his fingers and very slight pressure. While I have much to learn about this so-called finesse, I surprised myself in that moment with how at ease I felt, and after a couple rounds of practicing our yo-yo’s and split-s maneuvers, we were ready for our dogfight. And off we went! Zooming and tumbling after each other, Shannon and I listened to our respective coaches over the intercoms for guidance. Flying at around 200kn and experiencing almost 5g at some points, I experienced what is called “grey-out”. My color vision would go, then so would my peripheral vision, even when practicing a technique they taught us to keep the blood in our heads, which was to tense up like you were constipated (true)… I’ll have to work on that one for next time. Trying to keep Shannon’s plane in sight at all times, I did my best to follow what I had been told in flight school earlier: Cheat. So I did. I took surprise attacks whenever I could, faked him out every chance I had, and pushed him further and further toward the hard deck so that he would have nowhere to go. And you know what? I won, 3-2. Bang, bang! Never, ever in my entire life have I experienced anything that even came close to this. Despite my description above, there are truly no words for it. In a note that we received today from an acquaintance who’d helped set this up for us– a former pilot and father of a retired Blue Angel– the experience was summed up best: All of us who spent years doing this for a living always love to share it with people and let them experience the unbridled thrill of racing around in three dimensions, looking outside, checking your fuel, not stalling or running the airspeed to zero, not hitting the ground or each other, maneuvering the airplane into just the right spot for a shot, then coming back and landing and taxiing in to park. Walking away from the airplane after challenging yourself in so many ways at the same time was always a terrific feeling [...] It’s strong medicine for sure. It takes everything you’ve got – both mentally and physically. And it’s so true. After the dogfight had ended, we sidled the planes up next to each other and buzzed back to the airfield. After an hour of air combat and not knowing which way was up, all I could do was sit in my jumpseat and quietly relive my time in the air. We landed in formation back in Fullerton and taxied to the hangar. I felt such emotion all at once and it took every ounce of strength I had left inside of me not to dissolve into tears. I had done it. I had flown a plane… and not any plane, but that plane. That beautifully crafted Italian fighting machine. And I’d done it well… I’d even won the fight! I was ready to take on the next 25 years of my life with vigor and tenacity and a keener sense of self. Nails patted me on the knee and his voice came on over the radio. “Great work, girl. Great work.” Best birthday present ever, right?
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One of my favorite meals of all time is a pasta dish made with linguine and freshly dug manila clams from Desolation Sound. We made it one night while boating in the area last week… so delicious!
1lb. dried italian linguine saute the sliced garlic in olive oil until tender, over low heat, so as not to brown. add white wine, chili flakes and simmer 5 minutes over low heat. serves 4 to 6.
Dearest Adventurers, I will be away for a bit doing what I do best: eating, playing, foraging, cooking, and, most of all, swimming (I think I am part fish). For the past thirty years, my parents have taken their boat up to British Columbia for the entirety of the Pacific Northwest Summer (July through September) to putt around the warm waters and vertiginous landscapes of Desolation Sound. I’ve been lucky enough to have accompanied them for the majority of years in my lifetime– every experience topping the last, and always something I look forward to with each boating season. We cook what we catch and spend every minute of daylight exploring the wilderness… It’s pretty much the best vacation EVER. I could go on and on about the beauty of this pristine area and the abundance of wildlife has to offer, but that would, in my opinion, take away from what the true experiences are for each individual who spends time there, you know? So, until you make it up there yourself, here are some pictures to hold you over. And remember, when you are able to go, leave no trace of your travels! It’s always so important to remember this, no matter the place. Keep the world beautiful for everyone and everything. See you when I get back! xx efg
Hullo Adventurers. I have just returned from a few days in the grasslands. The weather in Beijing seems to have diffused into a mild smog – I can at least see the sun now. At university, I took a lot of classes regarding China. Classes on feminist theory in the Qing dynasty, on postcolonial literature in the revolutionary period, on environmental technologies in the Yuan. I dreaded the History of China classes because the professor was a bore. He always insisted on wearing this awful blend of silk and plastic in the form of a waistcoat, and refused to make eye contact with… anyone. My environmental history class, however was another story. My professor was a recent grad from Harvard, who was extremely easy on the eye – I’m glad that I never missed a class. The North and West borders of China have historically been militarised through agricultural incentives – a strong presence on the borders against Russia and the various Turkic states was maintained by offering soldiers their own plots of land. As the climate and geography paled in comparison to the fertile paddies of the South, new technologies were quickly invented to sustain life on the edge. From my sojourn to the West, I see that this seems still to be the case. I was pleasantly surprised to see alternative and sustainable technologies used in the most innovative way, harking to those written in my environmental history text book – from solar panelled street lamps, to acres of wind turbines. That is not to say that there was not pollution – the speedy development of cities such as Hohhot and Baotou has its consequences – but the edges of the Middle Kingdom seem to be where these technologies run rife. We stayed at a sustainable farm, a few hours out of Hohhot. I could see turbines for miles around. My mother, sister and I all bunked in one tent – our hosts, and my father in another. Dinner was outside, with roving chickens and pigs weaving between our feet. We feasted on gargantuan racks of roast lamb, fresh boiled mutton and wild grass and flowers. I drank copious cups of salty milk tea – flavoured with freshly churned butter, fermented milk skin, and toasted millet. I also drank a lot of bai jiu – a transparent liquor distilled from grain – to help the meat go down. I was already familiar with most Chinese customs – waiting for the host, or guest of honour to sit down first, eating last (on account of my age), standing and maintaining eye contact when toasting. I did, however, learn the Mongol toast which is four fold – to bless the sky, the earth, oneself, and then the person you are toasting with. At a table of ten, where each person toasted each other (anticlockwise, of course), I was soon very giddy – and slept very well that night despite the storm outside. At the end of the meal, fireworks exploded in the vast expanses of the night sky in honour of the farm’s new guests. We danced around a giant fire pit in the centre of the courtyard to shrill haunting songs sung by one of the workmen. At the end of the night, popular Chinese folk songs were sung in unison. I woke up early the next morning to raging winds. The weather had turned over night. Mists were rolling over the grasslands as the horses were being corralled back from pasture by men in cowboy hats on motorcycles. The turbines turned menacingly in the background; on my walk around the fields I was constantly accosted by giant emerald crickets and minefields of dung. The next day was focussed on horse riding. Whilst at boarding school, I spent every Saturday at the stables, riding well trained ponies in dressage competitions. I thought that I’d have no problem. However, the horses up North don’t do dressage. The woman whose horse I was riding was sceptical of my abilities. She squinted when I got onto her first horse and promptly told me to get off. A few minutes later, she brought back a bigger horse. Unsurprising – my hosts are by the large a foot shorter and fifty pounds lighter than me. I accepted this new arrangement and named him Wilbur. We rode through the fields up into the forest of wind turbines. Up close, they towered over my head. Note – do not to get too close to the powerful rotating blades – it’s a sure fire way to lost a limb. Riding horses here is nothing like back at the Amersham stables. For a start, I’m pretty sure that Wilbur had the equivalent of horse dreadlocks. In short, Adventurers, Inner Mongolia is a must-go for those that have a taste for good food, fresh air or an interest in sustainable technologies. It is not for the faint of heart. I am quite sure that the lamb my sister called Billy ended up as dinner. Other activities include: rock climbing, pig wrestling, sand dune tobogganing and visiting the many temples they have in the mountains. For those who prefer a city escape – I recommend Baotou. The New York of Inner Mongolia if you will. All signs are in both Mongolian and Chinese. The police women wear short skirts and thigh high leather boots (Seriously). The hotels have fewer beetles and puddles of horse dung. There are showers. For the sceptics: see the photos.
This is Gao Gao, reporting from Beijing. Until next time, Adventurers, from Korea, where I will be joined by our foreign correspondant!
Can you believe that I was in Paris for almost ten days, and the only photo of any food I ate during my trip was of an ice cream cone? Granted, it ranked at the top of a long list that I keep entitled Best Ice Cream I’ve Ever Had, but I was disappointed in myself when I scrolled through the pictures on my camera during the flight home and all I saw were monuments and landscapes. Fortunately, I kept a detailed account of the restaurants, bars, and shops we visited which I have prepared for you to use whenever you please, and especially the next time you visit The City of Light. …Listed by neighborhood… Le Marais:
Saint-Germain de Pres: Montmartre: Grand Palais:
If you are interested in seeing dance, try Theatre de la Bastille or Menagerie de Verre, and if you’re up for it, pack a picnic and head out to Versailles one day where you can rent a bicycle and tour the expansive gardens. If you’re looking for a friend in Paris, get a hold of Morgane, our French Adventurer for Life. Remember to send The Adventure School a postcard! Bon voyage!
You want it? We have it in spades. Every week, The Adventure School is quoted in several national internet publications about wedding planning and event planning in general. The latest slew of articles are all about adventurous honeymoons. So, if you are in Philly or Chicago or San Antonio you will get some tips from me! But, faithful readers, of course, your best source for Adventure Tips is right here on the adventure blog. With that being said, right now (and always) I am in to saying to people, start your marriage right . . . with a wicked awesome ADVENTURE! A quote from the source article . . . “Go scuba diving and snorkeling in Puerto Rico: it is tropical and beautiful with extremely consistent perfect summer weather year-round. Easy-going honeymooners can choose this option using USA driver’s license and dollar bills as it is an American territory that feels like a far-flung land. The beautiful diving spots offer fun for honeymooners who are doing it for the first time or are very experienced, lovers might spot bluehead wrasse, French angels and batfish or sea horses, coral shrimp and arrow crabs! Puerto Rico has some of the best beaches in the world and it’s just a short flight for under $100 from NYC. Drink rum and luxuriate after a long day of floating in warm tropical waters. Your own secret tropical land! If you want to revel in time alone together head to Big Sky Country and bike Montana for your honeymoon. An economical choice that is anything but short on beauty and luxury. The www.visitMt.com website lists more than 38 scenic bicycle tours rated from easy to experienced for both road and mountain bike riders. Spotting Elk, Bighorn and Buffalo by day and relaxing in gourmet steakhouses and top-notch lodges by night is the ultimate start to a marriage full of all types of experiences from 4-star massages to teamwork on the roads! Very adventurous lovers should hike Kilimanjaro! It is Africa’s highest summit surrounded by wildlife preserves. You can do double duty by rounding out your hiking adventure honeymoon with a safari through the Serengeti Plain and Ngorongoro Crater. Every marriage should start with an epic story, for those who honeymoon in Tanzania, it won’t just be about who obsessed over the sunscreen it will be about who was the best at spotting lions from the jeep”! ADVENTURE EXPERTISE, get into it!!
MANVENTURE This weekend was especially manly.
Molvar and Nora came to visit. They are cool.
we partied
and then they left for Bellingham.
That’s when the real MANVENTURE began.
Four of us tough dudes met in the grocery store parking lot. We drove to a secret place in the mountains
and with a flick of the wrist
we were sporting
and everything was magical and fun.
Tennis, like shooting skeet, is fun and manly. SO IS TYPING IN ALL CAPS. MANVENTURE is for women too.
NEXT WEEK ON MANVENTURE: ROBOCOP FANFICTION
The title of this blog is “MANVENTURE™”. This blog is all things manly. This is my blog.
Today was my first day in The Adventure School office! I had basil seed drink from Isaac Cohen, and also met Karen O’Connor (she’s cool).
BLOG!
Being a proud holder of the Jet Blue All-You-Can-Jet pass, it was only natural that I would give in to the urge to head to one of their more far-flung destinations. While I could not justify going with my original plan of heading to Bogota for three days, I thought, hey . . . Aruba? Since I chose to do no research and just head south equipped only with the Beach Boys ‘Kokomo’ as my mental soundtrack my experience was a little uncomf/adventure-y!
Like, who knew (probably everyone but me?), the entire island is crawling with newlyweds, some of whom are carrying embroidered ‘Bride’ totes, and the rest of the gang on the island are basically people from the Eastern Seaboard who maybe, wanna gamble? Fun . . . but not what I expected. Having spent a month on the nearby island of Grenada, that post-independence experience was diametrically opposed to this Kingdom of the Netherlands Caribbean Isle which felt more like Pinocchio’s bizarro Pleasure Island. Not necessarily, my cup of tea. But, can I argue with heading to a place for two days that is just 21 miles long and just 17 miles north of Venezuela? Certainly not! Adventure on dudes! Sand, sun and sea? Holler at your girl!
I spent 80 percent of my time immersed in the beautiful Southern Caribbean Sea. I swam, and snorkled. And generally, chilled. When coolin’ on the beach wasn’t in the cards, I ventured from the beach to the island’s capital, Oranjestad. Here I found bright colors, Dutch snacks and lots of languages.
It is an election season in Aruba right now and people are SERIOUS about showing their colors. They are super down with car/flag and car/decal technology and I was more than impressed. American sports fans need to catch up. Arubans are choosing right now, and the two largest parties are the front runners, the AVP and MEP. MEP currently holds the most seats in Parliament and is led by prime minister Nelson Oduber. AVP is the challenger, and Mike Eman is their man.
Oh, to be back in the sea!
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