Smells Good in Cuba

After the Christmas crush, hubby and I hit an outlet mall with some holiday cash. We were in search of new fragrances to accessorize the new year.

Quang especially needed a new cologne. He had drained all his bottles dry, including an aerosol can of musk-scented Axe Body Spray.

This can has been kicking around our bathroom for more than a year and it's been empty most of that time. Each time Quang picks it up and tries to eek out a drop or two, he ends up breathing naughty words about how he thought he'd already thrown the can away. Then he promptly turns and dumps it in the trash.

And I go fish it out of the garbage and put it back under the bathroom sink.

It's not that I'm trying to play tricks on him, it's just that I have a soft spot in my heart for that cheap can of body spray.

He bought it in Uruguay, in the town of Punta del Este, and I remember that morning well. After two months budget backpacking in Latin America, he was obsessed with the idea that all his personal belongings stunk -- his shoes, his clothes, his bag. He was desperate to mask what he thought was an obvious odor, hence the body spray.

For the rest of our trip, which spanned six months, whenever he broke out that aerosol can I'd sniff deep and say, "Ummm. It smells like Uruguay."

On our recent trip to the outlet mall, however, I admitted the Axe body spray was good and gone and that it was time to move on.

Quang chose a couple new smells, one which I pushed him to buy: Cuba.

It was packaged in a brown bottle with a gold seal to look like a cigar. I particuarily liked the fact that the "Cuban cigar" was stamped with a picture of Benjamin Franklin.

"Let me guess, you think it should be a picture of Che," Quang said.

"Che would have been more appropriate than Benjamin Franklin," I said. "Actually, I think they should have put Jose Marti on the seal." Jose Marti is Cuba's most beloved poet.

The Cuba cologne was priced really cheap. So cheap, in fact, that we both figured it probably didn't smell very good. Nonetheless, I argued, Quang needed to own it.

When you buy a new perfume, you never really know if you're going to end up liking it or not. Those trial squirts in the store never do much besides stuff up your nose.

Now that a couple weeks have passed and we've had time to adjust to the individual ways that a cologne sinks under the skin, wouldn't you know it...we both prefer Cuba to the other bottles he brought home.

Future Looks Bright With These Kids In Charge

This morning saw the publication of an article I wrote last week about the debate team from an area high school.

Man, were these kids impressive. They were smart, quick, witty, motivated and outgoing. These are exactly the kinds of kids I want to run our country some day.

Their topics for debate at the state tournament?

Would the United States be acting justly if it used military force to prevent another nation from acquiring nuclear weapons?

And

Should the United States substantially increase its public health assistance to Sub-Sahara Africa?

Photo © Lakeshore Weekly News

Busy, Busy, Busy

These past couple days have kept me busy, busy, busy. When people find out that I am a freelance writer, they always ask me how many hours a day I write. I think they have a romantic vision of me studiously pounding away on the keys hour after hour, day after day, week after week, and so on.

That's not how it works.

Before I can write an article, I have to talk to people. And for the past three days, that's what I've been doing ... talking to people. I spend more time talking to people than I do actually writing.

Gathering information is what it's about. I have to anticipate all the questions my editors will ask and figure out which answers I still need. I've got a lot of little factoids rolling around in my head right now. Unfortunately, they aren't all on the same topic. Multi-tasking is the name of my game.

Seeing as how I've got to extract information from lots of different people, I've learned how to ask the right questions, but I've also learned to be a good listener. I'm always amazed at how openly total strangers will talk to me if I smile, nod my head, ask questions and respond appropriately.

In the past few days, I've toured a house that was completely remodeled to be the epitome of green, hung out with a bunch of kids from the local high school debate team and had a phone conversation with an author from Seattle about women and travel.

Each of these encounters was totally engaging in a different way. I must say, however, that I wish I had half the energy of those high school kids.

*Photos
-Live Green Live Smart House Before
-Live Green Live Smart House After
-Cover art for Wanderlust and Lipstick

Mahouts Gone Mad

Sunday, as I was flipping through the New York Times, I was surprised to see this headline:

Caution: Elephants Break for Food on Bangkok's Roads

Of course I had to read the article. It was about how more and more manhouts (elephant handlers) are bringing their animals into Bangkok to earn money from tourists. The manhouts sell bananas and sugar cane to travelers, who then get the thrill of hand feeding an elephant.

Any number of things could go wrong when a giant beast is allowed to roam a city's streets -- traffic jams, human injuries, elephant injuries, damage to private property.

The article reminded me of a movie we recently watched called The
Protector. It features Tony Jaa, a Thai martial arts star. Jaa specializes in Mui Thai, a rather violent form of kickboxing.

In the film, Jaa plays a mahout gone mad when two of the elephants in his charge are kidnapped and stolen away to Australia.

Poor Sydney has no idea what damage is about to befall it when a worked up, revenge-minded Jaa comes to town.

Last year I saw Jaa's other film, Ong Bak, and was quite entertained, so I had high hopes for The Protector. Unfortunately, those hopes were dashed. The storyline wasn't very plausible, and given that I've seen a number of martial-arts films, I'm used to going along with the outrageous family-revenge theme.

There were some wicked fight sequences and as far as action-packed goes, The Protector certainly was. It wasn't the worst way to pass a Friday night and we did get quite a few laughs -- even if those laughs were from the far-fetchedness of it all.

* Photos
- elephant close up taken in Thailand
- The Protector cover art

Oh, Those Hot-Humid Days of Yore

It's really cold here in Minneapolis. Sub-zero cold. Negative-30-degrees-wind-chill cold.

It's that time of year when I ask myself, "Why do I live here?"

And yet, I kinda like the frigid temps. Not because I'm a glutton for frostbite, but because life indoors turns all cozy and comfy. The freezing air is a logical, perfect reason to stay at home, eat hot soup, stay in my pajamas all day, drink loads of coffee and read books (as if I needed an excuse to read books).

My most recent read took me someplace far away and far hotter than home: Burma.

I snuggled up with my doggies and Emma Larkin's book Finding George Orwell in Burma. The title had been on my radar since its release for a couple of reasons.

One - It was written by a woman and I'm always interested in travel tales penned by the ladies.

Two - It was about George Orwell and his life in Burma. One of my all time favorite pieces of writing is an Orwell essay called "A Hanging", which takes place there.

Three - I went to Burma and love to read about places I've been.

Four - This past fall, when Burma (also known as Myanmar) was making daily headlines, a friend asked me what she could do to help the Burmese. I think, the best thing we can do, is to first inform ourselves about what is going on there, to really understand the problem.

After reading Finding George Orwell in Burma, I feel like I understand the country's situation much, much better. Having been to the country, I was totally blown away by the author's travel courage.

When my hubby and I look back on our one week in Burma, we often say that we can't believe how lucky we were to have gotten in, gotten around and gotten out without any major problems.

We were smart travelers, used to the road and used to hassles when we landed in Burma, and still, the country knocked us flat. It was an emotionally draining place to be a budget backpacker. The heat, the culture, the inequity, the level to which the country was under-developed, all of it seeped into our heads and muddled our thoughts and yet we knew that in such a different, different land, we had to remain alert.

For anyone looking to learn a little more about Burma, I highly recommend Larkin's book. It is intelligent, well-written and incredibly interesting.

* Photos
- cover art for Finding George Orwell in Burma
- my own foggy shot of a fisherman on Burma's Inle Lake

Seeing Double?

Am I crazy, or am I a LeeAnn Chin model?

Check out this gift card being sold at LeeAnn Chin. I was there the other day and when I got to the register, I saw four monster stacks of blank gift cards baring this image just waiting to be sold.

I thought, Oh my, God! That's me and my hub!



Having trouble seeing the resemblance? Check out these shots. Granted, we're not eating, but am I the only one who sees it?

Top Five Reads of 2007

It's a new year, which means it was time to go back over my list of reads from the past 12 months and select my five favorite books of 2007.

It's a fun task as I get to review all the great books that have graced my nightstand.

Some years it's hard to narrow down the field, but this time the titles jumped right at me. Take a swing by my site to see what made the cut.

Good Friday

It was a good Friday in Kelly's freelancing land.

GoNomad published another of my articles, a compilation of 10 book reviews featuring titles all penned by women travelers. It's called Girls on the Go.

Plus, I got word from the education department at the Loft (a local literary center), that all four of the course proposals I submitted for its summer youth programming were accepted.

Besides an SAT grammar and essay prep, I'll also be offering a class on travel writing for kids and a workshop on keeping a family travel journal for parents.

And I was also contacted by two area community education programs to offer courses in upcoming sessions.

All that, and I finally finished an article I've been working on for what feels like forever. Yippie. Time to log off and do something non-computer related!

Zenn and the Art of Zero Emissions

Back in November, I got to drive an electric car. It was a test run to help me write an article that was published this week.

Zenn and the Art of Zero Emissions just appeared online.

Here's an excerpt:

It’s a thrill to drive such a cute, zippy, little machine that turns heads and makes you the center of attention. “It’s like a puppy,” Kobs joked. “Take it out, and you’re guaranteed instant social success.”

Photo by Paula Keller

Of Dogs and Travel

I'm a bit of a dog fanatic. Ask anyone who's ever traveled with me, and they'll agree. When I'm away from my own poochie-poo, I fixate on other doggies.

This could mean puppies in pet store windows, dog-walkers in big city parks, sad-looking strays digging through piles of garbage. Doesn't matter. If it's a dog, it's got my attention.

This got me in trouble once. Years ago I spent two weeks studying Spanish in Guatemala. The school arranged a home stay with a local family and I was thrilled to discover my assigned family had a dog - Pasita.

Pasita, it turned out, was a flee-breeding machine. I didn't know that when I befriended her and invited her into my room. One particularly adventurous flee made it from Pasita's tail to the covers of my bed. That was a miserable night.

But I still love dogs. In fact, here's a travel secret of mine that (until now) only my closest travel companions knew: I carry dog hair with me whenever I roam far from home.

That's right. I carry dog hair with me. Not just a few random strands that stick to my sweater, but an actual snippet of hair.

That snippet of hair is from my now-dead dog Sadie. Sadie was a sheltie, one of those pretty dogs that look like a miniature collie. Sadie had ample hair.

My mom is a bit of dog nut, too. For example, she appreciates a birthday card signed by her dog. It was no surprise to me, therefore, that when I went off to college, my mom started mailing me cards from the dog. Sadie always signed her cards with a snippet of Sadie hair.

My college roommates teased me about these snippets of dog hair that floated about my desk drawer. I couldn't bring myself to throw any of them away as the act would be equivalent (in my mind) to throwing out the dog.

Sadie was still alive when I caught the travel bug. Before each big trip abroad, my mom would slip me a snippet of Sadie hair as a reminder of home and the loved ones that held me dear. I faithfully carried those clippings through each of my journeys. They became my talisman and I fully believed in them. If I ever felt a surge of homesickness, I would take them out and play with them, much to the horror of all my travel companions.

Sadie is gone now, but her snippings of hair are not and neither is my wanderlust. Even though she was dead, I carried her hair on my last big trip through Latin America and Southeast Asia. In this way, I guess, Sadie has seen the world.

Yet someone had to fill the Sadie void. Enter Aries and Abby. They live with me, not my mom, which means that now I can't just pack up and run off to Timbuktu. I have to find a dog sitter.

As I've recently returned from a trip to San Diego, I've also recently had a dog sitting experience. Talk about guilt. I felt guilty when I dropped them off. I felt guilty when I picked them up. And when Abby spent yesterday messing all over the house because her digestive track had been upset, I didn't complain or yell. I simply cleaned it up with a heavy, guilty heart.

And then I sat down to read the newspaper's Sunday travel section and started inspecting the airfare ads and scheming of my next trip. London, maybe. Amsterdam in the spring?

And then it hit me. The bill I just paid for dog sitting would have bought me a ticket to France.

Wishful Thoughts for a New Year of Travel

I've always thought that we kiss our honey-pie at the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve to usher in the coming year and ensure it is spent in love and harmony with that person.

Does this hold true for whatever it is you do on the first day of the year? If you spend January 1 comfy and cozy at home eating good food and reading good books, is that a foretelling of what is to come in the new year? Can you shape your year-long destiny by choosing your day-one activities wisely?

If so, my 2008 will be filled with hassle-free travel.

Hubby and I packed up and shipped out for San Diego early on the first. We arrived at the airport with ease, boarded the plane without a problem, took off and landed with nary a care, and collected our checked luggage sans snafus. We returned home five days later in the identical fashion.

While we were in Ca-li, we mostly chilled with relatives. We ate at Lucky Buck's, a burger joint in San Diego's Hillcrest neighborhood adorned with signs of all sizes proclaiming it the best burger spot in town. Our cousins thought so too as they were the ones who took us there.

It's a small, laid-back place where you order at the counter and pick up your basket-o-food when it's done from the kitchen window. The waffle fries are worth the price upgrade and the spiked lemonade was quite tasty. Yum.

Our trek to Lucky Buck's occurred on the only warm and sunny day we were there. We spent the rest of our days donning layers and ducking in and out of foggy drizzle.

Yet the travel gods smiled on us again. As soon as we stepped foot on Oceanside's Pacific pier, the clouds parted and the late afternoon sun accompanied us on our stroll out and over the cold winter waves.