Road tripping down the west coast

Yesterday I left Seattle at 6 am, the start of a 3-week long road trip through California. I had as my co-pilot a college junior named Alek going to Humboldt for his spring break to visit friends – Craigslist is always a great place to find rideshares! I figured it would be nice to split gas and not be alone for a 10-hour drive, and I was right on both counts.

I was worried about traffic but, unbelievably, there were more cars at 6 am in Seattle than 9 am when we rolled into Portland – we practically didn’t even slow down. The sky was filled with bright clouds pretty much the whole day, with some rain and snow through Oregon. Luckily, the Siskiyous were bare and dry and we flew through them.

Just as we had entered Oregon at 9 am exactly, the clock turned from 1:59 to 2:00 just as we hooted about the “welcome to California” sign. Mount Shasta was socked in by clouds but we could imagine how cool it looked. Here's a haphazard photo of the lake out the back window:

Two hours after crossing the border we were in Redding, which took exactly 2 tanks of gas to reach. I had assumed this would be my first stop of the day. Alek’s friends were coming from the coast for him in Redding, but I couldn’t imagine stopping at 4 pm just 3.5 hours from my Santa Rosa destination. So I dropped Alek at a coffee shop, gassed up, and pushed through. Alek was an excellent road trip companion and even drove for a few hours. The trip was downright pleasant and flew by. Plus he saved me $50 on gas! Here he is with a truck rainbow behind him - this was a random row of very brightly colored semi trucks without trailers.

I called Meagan to let her know I’d be arriving that night and to find out the best route to take. After 10 hours in the car I was on my own, and I’ll drive almost entirely by myself for the next three weeks.

After another stretch on I-5 I turned off onto 505 south - Meagan chose a slightly longer route for me that didn't go through the mountains and I applaud her choice based on the scenery alone. I had been enjoying the verdant scene outside the windows – sheep in green fields throughout Oregon, moss- and lichen-covered trees in the mountains with some snow scattered through the evergreens, tidy rows of new crops and budding trees in California:


I’ve made this trip probably 15 times in my life as a kid, but always in the summer when the land was scorched. It turns out I-5 can be lovely during the right months! But turning onto 505 was even more vibrant. Suddenly I was on a low country road, feeling like part of a pastoral painting.

I haven’t yet shared the nature of this road trip, but my plan is to visit half a dozen farms along the northern California coast, pick 2-3 of them, and volunteer as a WWOOFer for 3-6 month stints starting in September. Next year I’ll be a farmer, or at least a farmer-in-training, and I'm grateful to finally be able to follow a calling I've felt since I first got excited about growing food many years ago.

Being on the 505 and then again on the 37 driving over the Napa-Sonoma Delta made my whole body tingly. This was going to be my home for a year or more and I felt very welcome. I cruised up the 101 belting out Elvis’s greatest hits, marveling at how fast the day had gone, how soon I would see a dear friend, and how ready I was for this trip and the year ahead.

I made it to Santa Rosa in 12 hours and was enveloped in Meagan’s cozy apartment. She made the most amazing broccoli soup with buttered French bread toast, followed up with homemade sugar cookies and a few episodes of 30 Rock. I retired to the guest bedroom a little delirious and very happy.

This morning I woke up several times and had the luxury of going back to sleep each time, finally hauling myself to the couch at 9:30 to drink tea and write a few emails. I made a massage appointment for 4:00 to work the driving kinks out and then headed to Les Scwab.

I had my tires rotated before I left Seattle and the car was pulling to the right on the trip so I figured I needed an alignment. Here’s why I LOVE Les Schwab – rather than make $80 off me on an alignment I didn’t need, they drove my car around, diagnosed the issue, and fixed it by switching my two front tires. It didn’t cost a dime. Now I’m sitting at the East West Restaurant, eating a falafel wrap and drinking hot chai tea. I think after this I'll take a nap... I’m happy to have this day of downtime before I visit my first farm tomorrow morning, which is a family-run farm and small dairy operation in nearby Petaluma.

Mileage: I started the day at 118,023. The Matrix made it 350 miles on the first tank, about 30 miles a gallon. We filled up again at 118,650, only 277 miles on that tank but it was through the mountains. Gas is about $4.35 a gallon here. I ended the day at 118,870 – 847 miles in 12 hours, more than 70 miles per hour! Dang good time if I do say so myself.

Special shout out to my mom and brother and sister-in-law, all of whom bought me treats for the car that more than sustained me (and Alek) through this leg of the trip, with enough bounty to last many more legs.

Next stops after Petaluma are Big Sur and Cambria before spending about 10 days with family and friends in Los Angeles.

California, here I am!

Vagabound

Tonight is my last official night as a Capitol Hill resident. The movers come tomorrow at 2:00 to scatter my few belongings across three households. Earlier this evening my friend Mark came over, and after a long day of packing while watching intermittent snow and driving rain I was happy to get out of the house during a sun break and walk around my 'hood with an old friend. We ended up where I usually end up on Broadway, at Pho Cyclo. Here I am with a sudden snowstorm behind me:

Mark satisfied after a big bowl of pho:

Once the snow let up we made a break for it. Here, the wide blue sky we'd been walking under collided with a snowy, rainy sky near my apartment:


It's cheesy but I was nostalgic thinking this was the last time I'd walk around as a local. I doubt that wherever life takes me it will bring me back to this neighborhood. I'm too damn old here, and I'd rather be young somewhere else. Still, I have enjoyed myself. Between a fantastic apartment and a central location surrounded by worthy establishments, I've had a pretty memorable year and a half.

I wasn't really sad until this evening when friends came to take the big split-leaf philodendron that has grown from a two-leaf whippersnapper into a massive man-eater in its sun-drenched spot above a steam heater.

The corner was so empty without it there, and it sank in - I'm leaving this place! I know this feeling won't last much beyond Thursday at 5:00 when I officially have to hand over the keys, and then it'll just be another in a long line of wonderful places I have lived (I really do get lucky with housing). But tonight I plan on being a nostalgic sap and blubber about my boxes before curling up in my bed - the last time I'll be able to say I'm sleeping in MY bed for who knows how long (the luxuries of moving into a furnished house mean a better bed awaits me).

Owning an apartment's worth of furnishings has been an experiment this last year and a half, and even as I fought against it I knew the vagabond instinct would reclaim me. Still, I lasted longer than I thought I would... I lived here almost a year longer than anywhere else during the previous six years. That's progress, right?

Kony 2012

I've been doing a lot of crying lately - what can I say, there's a lot going on - but today it felt good to cry about something that wasn't mostly or even partly about me. Since I'm not on Facebook I'm possibly the last person in the U.S. who hasn't heard of the Kony 2012 project, but here's what I learned in the past 30 minutes by watching this powerful video:

• Joseph Kony has been committing unspeakable crimes against humanity for more than 20 years in Uganda and other African nations
• Due to a massive group - primarily teenagers - started by Jason Russell, enough visibility was brought to the issue to sway American policy and deploy military advisers to help with the capture of Joseph Kony in 2011.
• Kony is still at large, and visibility among Americans must remain high for the government to continue supporting his capture, hence the Kony 2012 campaign.

This has tremendous significance outside the scope of bringing justice to the hundreds of thousands of people terrorized by Kony over nearly three decades, though that unto itself would be well worth it. But what's especially powerful about this movement, to me at least, is that it highlights the technological revolution we're all a part of, one in which borders and nationalities are irrelevant and real change can be enacted by the majority - yep, that 99% everyone was talking about a few months ago. If this works, it will be a dramatic step toward yanking some of that power away from the few, the rich, the corrupt, and giving a loud voice to a population that is increasingly demanding one. I want to be able to say I was a part of that voice.

The teenagers who overwhelmingly comprise the support for this campaign already get it - not because they're young and idealistic, although that helps, but because they are the first completely internet-based generation. To them, using social media to spread a message for change is the most logical thing in the world. Older generations are struggling to keep up, asking questions like: How could you use the internet to enact global change? Meanwhile, the teenagers are staring them down in impatient disbelief, asking: How the hell else would you do it?

There has been speculation, especially since this video is gaining so much attention, that this whole thing is a scam. I did a fair bit of reading on the accusations and feel comfortable that this is a legitimate organization that is making real inroads toward global awareness, something we need to fight the Konys of the world. You can read the organization's response to the negative press here.

If you're interested in learning more or want to get involved, watch the video or go to http://www.kony2012.com/. And keep your eyes trained on the streets when you wake up on April 21... if this goes as planned, you should see Kony everywhere.

I quit

The title isn't meant to be clever in any way. I literally quit my job and today was my last day. After 8 years with Apex I decided it was time to do something new with my life, so about 5 weeks ago I gave my notice, helped them train my replacement, got as many of my ducks in a row as possible, and exited gracefully and not too drunkenly after two loving farewell happy hours. On Monday I will wake up and have absolutely nothing to do. I can't be sure how I'll react to that, but I bet it will be pretty awesome.

To all my coworkers past and present, thank you for helping me grow up. Personally and professionally, I am a different person than I was when I started as a college intern at age 22, when the company itself was also young. I should have been fired on more than one occasion, but both times (maybe three...) someone saw my mistake as an opportunity to help me mature. I tried to quit so I could move to South America, and was met with the shockingly simple "why not just work from South America?", allowing me two years to live a totally different life while still remaining financially stable. As the company has grown, I've had multiple positions at every office we've ever had (Bellevue, Seattle International District, downtown Seattle, Philadelphia), and I've thrown a lot of company parties. In some ways Apex and I grew up together, and this feels like high school graduation where we each go our own ways to start down the path toward the adults we're destined to be - we'll still keep in touch and have many fond memories of each other, but it will never be the same.

Today I throw financial stability to the wind. I don't have a job lined up and I don't plan on looking for one any time soon. Instead I will drastically cut my living expenses by moving back in with K, M, and Toddler J (what joy is all of ours!) and providing occasional childcare in exchange for reduced rent. I can't tell you how often during the past month I've fantasized about the spring and summer ahead, evolving our three-year-old garden, going swimming and reading books and eating fresh fruit a three-year-old I love like a nephew just helped me pick. Tomorrow morning, my first Saturday of funemployment, I will wake up and head to their house to start planning this year's crops and do some winter weeding in preparation for spring. It all seems a little too bucolic to be real, but here I am.

It's funny how people react to news like this. "What do you mean you won't have a job?" "So you're just going to do... nothing?" "Oh, to be young and have that freedom!" But by far the most incredible reaction has been the overwhelming endorsement from my close friends and family. I was expecting no small amount of skepticism, but they have been nothing but enthusiastic and supportive. To know that the most important people in my life have complete faith in me... I tear up just writing about it.

So there you have it. I, Elizabeth Archer, am officially unemployed. So why do I feel like I just won the lottery?

A week in which I learn what it means to relax on vacation

My week in Chacala, Mexico near Puerto Vallarta with Jacob was as pleasant as it was short. I don't think I've ever done so little in seven days. Our life consisted of reading by the pool, reading by the beach, swimming in the ocean, eating seafood, drinking watermelon smoothies and instant coffee and sweetened condensed milk iced lattes (my Spanish-country specialty), and watching movies on his laptop at night. Even if we had wanted to do more we really couldn't have as there is virtually nothing noteworthy near this tiny enclave by the ocean. Here's how the trip went down. (Caution: if you're new here, be warned that I document my life with minute and irrelevant detail. Like Tolstoy, only less Russian. And less, you know, masterful.)

Day 1: Saturday, February 4. Drunk at 8 am.

Here's what I packed, plus my dope pedicure that was sullied very quickly by a never-before-witnessed (by me) type of sand that seemed normal but stuck like glue:

I had two guest passes to the Alaska board room which we took full advantage of at 8 am before our 9 am flight. Did you know there is free food and booze there?? We had two Bloody Marys apiece and I had pancakes from a fascinating pancake machine, plus yogurt, a hard boiled egg, and a bagel to go. We were reasonably drunk by the time we sat down to our uneventful and homogenous flight; I've never seen so many old white people on one plane. We both slept and then waited in a pretty long customs line where the tourists were getting angry - we couldn't get away from their bad vibe fast enough!

I was hung over from the morning's drinks, and we were both hungry and more than ready to start our beach vacation, so instead of dealing with an annoying makes-a-stop-every-mile local bus I talked a cab driver into taking us to our destination 1.5 hours away for 1,000 pesos (about $80, definitely worth it). We dropped our bags in our beautiful house and got to the beach at sunset, where we promptly ate fried fish, lobster, and shrimp with our toes in the sand. There's virtually nothing to do in Chacala at night and we were pretty beat so we watched Lord of Illusions and passed out. That is a freaky movie.

Day 2: Sunday. All our days looked like this.

Having gone to bed at about 10 pm (9 pm Seattle time) we woke up early and ate breakfast at Chac Mool, a beachy restaurant that became our spot for the week. We went to nearby Las Varas to get groceries via colectivo, a fixed-rate taxi that drove the 9 kilometer road to the highway and then the 2 kilometers into town. Seeing that there wasn't much to do in town we hightailed it back, stopping at a roadside fruit stand to get a watermelon for about a buck fifty:

We were on the beach by noon and spent the rest of the afternoon on the sand, buying tamales from a beach vendor and testing out the warm waters. We spent the day in a fairly giddy state.

Jacob went swimming in the ocean for maybe his first time ever - this was his first tropical vacation and his first time to Mexico! The water couldn't have been better, rolling waves and zero undertow. There was a boat towing a long banana-like float which took about 5 people at a time for mini joy rides through the bay, eventually stopping long enough to get the rope at an awkward angle and then gunning it to whip them all into the water. We watched this go on all afternoon and it never got less funny.

That night we had a large fish for dinner cooked sarrandeado (barbecue) style before watching the second half of the superbowl at Chac Mool (I was elated to see the Giants spank the Patriots yet again). Jacob met some Mexicans visiting for the weekend from Guadalajara and drank Jack Daniels late into the night with them, language posing no barrier to friendships forged over whiskey. The next morning there was a half a bottle of Jack on our counter.

Day 3: Monday. Starting to feel like Groundhog day.

Another breakfast at Chac Mool kicked off this lazy day spent reading poolside and at the beach. We had the great fortune of a house to ourselves for the rest of the trip since our place, split into three apartments, was vacated by the other occupants on Monday morning. (Interesting side note - nearly all tourists here are from the west coast of the U.S. or Canada, and the family staying above us was actually from Edmonds, a stone's throw from where I grew up.) Here is Casa Monarca, where every detail was accounted for. The massive jugs of filtered water were truly a blessing!




Although we benefited from the house to ourselves, I did feel bad for the owners. Apparently there is reduced tourism from years past, and lots of houses - including Casa Monarca - are for sale. It's unclear if there's any one reason for this but it's probably a combination of a bad economy and the U.S. travel advisory against Mexico.

Monday was a holiday so the beach was still crowded. Jacob got a floaty after giving up on going with his new friends to Guadalajara, and we spent a good amount of time in the water. After our ocean swim we had lunch, delicious fried shrimp and a disappointing ceviche made with sierra in which the fish is ground instead of cubed. That afternoon we had incredible massages in an open tent on top of a hotel with a view of the ocean - I'm still kicking myself for not getting a photo of the view. For dinner we laid off the seafood and had super cheap tortas, Mexican sandwiches, in the one place in town it looked like the locals might eat. The night was warm so we got pillows and blankets and watched El Matador snuggled up on chaise lounges by the pool. Here's Jacob getting us set up:


Day 4: Tuesday. We tried to do something and failed.

The day of false starts. We cooked breakfast at home - a mushroom, poblano pepper, and onion scramble with bacon and toast. Then we tried to hike to a nearby beach, which was a no go since the trail was extremely complicated. Then we went to the dock to see if someone would take us to the beach by boat, but no one was there except the pelicans:

Feeling we'd given productivity the old college try, we settled for laying on Chac Mool's ocean-side chaise lounges, drinking liquados (smoothies), sharing a burrito (they catered to North American tourists but it was a damn fine burrito), and going swimming. It had been a three-day weekend so the beach had been relatively crowded, but on Tuesday it was all ours:

That night we went to Las Varas to participate in their annual fiestas patrias for their patron saint Guadalupe. On our way out of Chacala we caught the only sunset we saw all week (the weather was such that the days were half cloudy, half blue skies, with clouds generally masking the other sunsets).
Once in Las Varas, we scouted what looked like the best place to eat at the festival and settled here:

We limited ourselves to two tacos apiece so we could eat two more at another stand, just for comparison. The first one won by a long shot. Jacob waiting patiently:

We had gotten there fairly early so by the time we were done eating the parade was just starting, and we watched a long procession of people holding candles led by a small brass band and a man who lit bottle rockets by hand. Every now and then they'd stop and this same man would light a long firework rope on fire and then, along with a kid (probably his), they would swing it like a jump rope until it burned out. Jacob loved this - "You can't do this in the U.S.! We're so over-regulated!" The parade ended with a float with the Virgin Mary and a biblical scene playing out behind her. It wasn't until we saw them up close that we realized these statues were actually live actors, mostly teenagers. We pondered whether or not this was an honor or an annoyance for these kids.

Afterward I decided I wanted to play a dart game and won some chocolate wafers the first time around. Then I wanted to win dominoes and played twice more at another stand, during which I feel I was lied to by the carney and argued with him (which Jacob got on tape). Finally, in my last ditch effort to get my way, I exclaimed, "But I'm a tourist!" (There weren't many of us there.) To which he stoically replied, "and I'm a business man." Jacob had a good laugh over that one once I translated for him.

Then Jacob decided he wanted a big fancy drink. Result: this piña colada, which came with a complimentary festive plastic glass which I decided to model. I'm sure you'll be impressed by how tan I am:

As we drank it we watched some kids perform typical Veracruzan dances on the main stage, during which Jacob traded his empty plastic tumbler for a beige ceramic glass filled with tequila and something sort of cinnamony. That was enough festival for us and we caught a cab back to Chacala and watched a movie before going to bed.

Day 5: Wednesday. Attack of the hives and urchins.

This morning I woke up to discover with horror that my entire face had broken out (zits? bug bites? chicken pox? all three?) and my shoulders and upper arms were covered with hives. Awesome. We ultimately decided our sunscreen was the primary culprit, which I had been using a lot more liberally than Jacob. After assuring me that I was not, in fact, terrifying to look at, Jacob and I cooked breakfast at home - the same scramble plus a watermelon smoothie - before going to the dock for our pre-arranged private boat tour. We started with the nearby beach Chacalilla and its neighbor El Caleta which is supposed to be some of the best surf in the area. There were surfers out but it was a full moon which I guess makes smaller waves:

Another boat passed us and hollered excitedly, "ballenas!" Whales! Sure enough, we turned to see humpbacks breaching in the distance. It was easy to convince our 18 year old captain to take us closer and I'm sure he would have gone even without the promise of a good tip. Unfortunately by the time we got there they had moved on, probably my biggest disappointment of the trip.

From there he dropped us at Las Cuevas, a small private cove with caves lining either side. He left us with snorkel gear and the promise to return in 2 hours. Most of the time we were at this beach we had it entirely to ourselves, which is always a special feeling. That's Jacob on the beach:

I taught Jacob how to snorkel in the murky water, warning him that snorkeling in the Pacific is never that exciting but that it would be a valuable skill to acquire anyway. He was doing well until he ran into some sea urchins hands-first. Poor guy, I should have spent some more time instructing him on maneuvering. Back to the beach he went but there wasn't much to do until we got back to the house. Luckily our young captain was prompt. Once home Jacob performed surgery on his hands using the rudimentary tools at his disposal: tweezers, fingernail clippers, a sewing needle, razors pulled out of a face razor, and the bottle of Jack Daniels. An hour later he had only gotten about half of the little bastards out.

That night we ate on the beach with an older Canadian couple we had met on the beach the day before. Jacob had surf n turf and quite a few drinks so that he was increasingly animated throughout the evening. I had sopa de mariscos (seafood stew) plus a piña colada. Jacob is convinced the Canadians were entertained; I just hoped they weren't offended.

Someone told Jacob that soaking his fingers in vinegar would dissolve the remaining spines, so we set up shop on the rooftop patio with lounge chairs and the laptop and watched Collateral while Jacob cursed about how much the vinegar stung and finished the rest of the Jack Daniels. The vinegar didn't seem to do much and I advised him that his body would push them out on its own and to stop worrying about it. He was skeptical until two mornings later when he woke up to find the second to the last piece literally sitting on top of his skin and was forced to admit I was right, which he did very good-naturedly.

Day 6: Thursday. Wish we had a do-over for this day.

We decided to hit up the weekly market in nearby La Peñita, so we woke up early and got out of dodge without even having breakfast. There was brief thunder and light rain during the cab ride there but the sun was out by the time we arrived. First impressions were lasting - a run-down town piled high with old white tourists and Mexican residents who resented them while trying to make money from them. This symbiotic relationship has always been sad to observe and I'm always left wondering, what was life like for these people pre-tourism? I felt it strongest in Peru.

We bypassed the tourist restaurants and sat down at a long table on the sidewalk for a breakfast of birria (stewed meat) tacos and pozole (tripe soup). By now I'm used to getting strange looks when I eat where the locals do. When it has a good vibe the people love it, maybe giggle at me a little, sometimes ask questions. When it has a bad vibe I get bad service, suspicious looks, and an inflated bill. This place definitely fell into the latter category when we were blatantly charged double.

I normally love a good market but this one was depressing. Here is Jacob, getting the fear:

The combination of old tourists, Mexican vendors yelling in broken English, the heavy breakfast, and the previous day's alcohol consumption proved a perfect storm for Jacob and we hightailed it from the market to the beach. More disappointment here. Apparently the beach was heavily damaged in a storm several years ago and never rebuilt, so that half-intact ocean-side buildings are filled with trash and dead fish.

We had considered walking to nearby Rincon de Guayabitos on the beach but the high tide and the never-ending pilgrimage of more old white tourists from Rincon to La Peñita dissuaded us. At the end of their march there was an estuary they had to scramble across, which reminded me of crabs scurrying over rocks:

This photo is my favorite thing to come out of our ill-fated morning:

We threw in the towel, negotiated a cheap cab fare, and went back to Chacala to recoup from what seemed like a stressful morning. We laid by the pool and then in front of Chac Mool where we ate another burrito.

That night we had reservations at a private residence next door to our house, where a woman named Doña Chabela cooks for tourists twice a week. We had signed up the first day we arrived, figuring it would be a funny experience with good and cheap food. Little did we know we were in for an Awkward Evening. For the low low price of 60 pesos each (about $5), we were treated to fish meatballs in tomato sauce, a glass of jamaica (hibiscus) juice, a squawking bird, a mosquito attack, and a bunch of head-smacking white tourist moments. The jamaica was the highlight by far. We got out as quickly as we could and debriefed each other on the horrors of our individual conversations (we politely moved seats so other people could sit with each other). I had to deal with three contenders for World's Least Engaging Human with a side of Negative Nancy, forcing me to flex every small-talk muscle I have, and Jacob was stuck with a part of a group of 11 middle-aged women (and one dude) there for a yoga retreat who were 1) angry when they arrived late and yet couldn't be seated together... on a 20-seat patio, and 2) insisted they pay with dollars because "we've been paying with dollars everywhere!" (I'm sure they were very popular with the locals.) With our faith reaffirmed in each other's company as ample social interaction for the week, we watched Slumdog Millionaire from the comfort of our beds.

Day 7: Friday. Who knew a coffee plantation looks like this?

For our last full day of vacation we arranged to go on a coffee plantation tour with some old white tourists. Our 7 am wake up call wasn't too bad since we'd been going to bed so early anyway, and once I compulsively checked to see if my skin had worsened (bless you, Jacob, for saying to me every morning and even a week after we got back to Seattle: "Your skin totally looks better!") we ate a leisurely breakfast before getting underway. Luckily the two Canadian couples in our car were hilarious; we were spared the Americans in the the other car, two of whom asked incessant questions and one of whom repeatedly said, "muy gracias." (If you speak any Spanish at all, you're cringing right now.)

The coffee is planted from 600-1,000 meters in the shade of taller trees wherever they can - no rows or fields, just haphazard plants scattered up and down ravines that people have to get to as best they can to pick. Apparently last year they had a bumper crop but this year, due to bad weather and some other circumstances I couldn't quite divine, was poised to be no bueno. I have to admit that there was a seeming lack of urgency; our guide calmly informed us that at this point, a large enough amount of rain would ruin the now-ripe beans, and with a week's worth of rain forecast I'm shocked there weren't more people harvesting from the many trees we saw loaded with beans.

Incidentally, did you know that coffee beans picked ripe from the tree are actually pretty tasty? Each fruit contains two beans nestled inside a faintly sweet flesh that you can chew on. The raw beans themselves aren't palatable. This plantation grew several varieties of arabica.

Unfortunately, although this area was filled with hundreds of wild orchids, none of them were flowering. Our guide pointed out other interesting plants that apparently cure cancer, relieve throat irritations, assist with blood clotting, and help women produce more breast milk. He also told us there used to be jaguars and other big cats in the area but they were hunted into the deeper interior. It is still populated with jabalí, wild boar, that locals hunt for food.

I felt fortunate to speak Spanish since the rest of the group was reliant on a nice gringo with intermediate Spanish skills for translation. I didn't want to make him feel bad so I only stepped in when his translations actually misinformed the group. Jacob got the benefit of the whole story from his own personal translator, though.

After a long walking tour through the jungle-y plantation, we went to the family coffee stand where Jacob and I ate the bacon-avocado-tomato sandwiches we'd made that morning and had truly delicious lattes. We each bought 2 kilos of their shade-grown, organic coffee that had been roasted the day before. Yum.

We were back by 3:00, but the weather never fully cleared so we spent the rest of the afternoon reading at the house. In addition to packing, I'm pretty sure we watched a movie that night. Here is Jacob deflating his inner-tube:

Day 8: Saturday. Back to the grind.

Another day of rain but we chose the right time to visit with the full week ahead forecast for storms and grey skies. Good for us, bad for coffee harvesting and newly-arrived tourists.

We had carefully allocated our remaining pesos to leave the house cleaner a tip, with 100 pesos (about 8 dollars) left for breakfast. Of course we had to go to Chac Mool. Our entrees took up 85 of those pesos (I had molletes for the third time, a favorite I always forget about once stateside - bread with refried beans and cheese put under the broiler until bubbly and brown). We wanted to tip of course so we didn't get drinks, which is unusual so I explained to the waitress that it was our last day and we were down to our last 100 pesos. She very sweetly brought us two cups of delicious coffee, on the house. Small acts of kindness like this make my heart sing.

We shared a shuttle to the Puerto Vallarta airport with (surprise!) some old white tourists. We had to check a bag since we'd bought a ton of hot sauce, but somehow it only cost us $20 (and a thorough search). I usually travel alone so no one is familiar with how aggro I get at airports, but Jacob bore it incredibly well in both SeaTac (where I had to go through the #$&* naked-body scanner and complained bitterly about it) and in Puerto Vallarta (where my bag was searched coming AND going, and every single person annoyed me, but somehow not Jacob because he intuited that this was not the time to heckle me or really do anything but be extremely nice and patient with me - thanks bro). We had an expensive and mediocre meal at a generic airport restaurant where at least one annoying American was taking shots of tequila. I'm all for getting drunk at the start of a vacation, but on the way home?

Our flight was uneventful and blessedly short. We were in and out of customs in 12 minutes, and not only did they not search our bags, there wasn't even a scanner to put them through which I found strange. We didn't care, though, since they didn't hassle us about our six bottles of hot sauce or 10 pounds of coffee. Jacob had parked at his parents' house so his dad picked him up and Amber came for me. To my delight she had cooked dinner at my apartment for us - roasted root vegetables and mouflon steaks that she shot and butchered herself, the second time we'd had this incredible meal in a few weeks. All in all a very relaxed week worthy of being called a true vacation.

General observations on Chacala compared to other parts of Mexico:

• Unlike most Mexican towns, Chacala is not arranged arround a main plaza, but instead is built around two roads that run parallel to the beach. Everything was done in cobblestones, which are horrible to walk on and hell on a car's wheels. I can't remember seeing cobblestones anywhere else in Mexico.
• Also unlike other areas of Mexico, the dogs seemed well-fed and the streets and highways were free from piles of garbage. This was not an unwelcome difference.
• Like Mexico, there were roosters everywhere. I think they're my least favorite animal. The roosters, combined with the trucks with speakers attached to them that drove around relentlessly each afternoon selling produce, or shrimp, or tanks of gas via pre-recorded and scratchy tapes, prevented me from getting a single nap on my whole vacation!
• The food in Chacala was disappointing compared to some of the incredible eats I've had elsewhere in Mexico. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't bad, but just not filled with 'ohhhh daaaamn that's the best thing I've ever eaten' meals like most of my trips have been.

If, after reading this, you are still not satisfied that I provided enough detail... I suggest you take up Tolstoy immediately.

Happy = successful (not the other way around)

I sent this to a bunch of people over the weekend - including my entire work team - but I can't stop thinking about it so here it is in blog form.

In this video, Shawn Achor talks about how happiness inspires productivity. The whole 12 minute talk is interesting and funny, but the real meat of his message starts around 4:15. If you only have a few minutes, start at 7:30 or 9:15.

Some great quotes from the talk:

"It's not necessarily reality that shapes us, but the lens through which your brain views the world that shapes your reality. If we can change the lens, not only can we change your happiness, we can change every single educational and business outcome at the same time."

"75% of job successes are predicted by your optimism levels, your social support, and your ability to see stress as a challenge rather than a threat."

"We need to reverse the formula for happiness and success... which is if I work harder, I'll be more successful. If I'm more successful, then I'll be happier. The problem is, it's scientifically broken and backwards.... If happiness is on the opposite side of success, your brain never gets there."

"By training your brain, we've found we can reverse the formula for happiness and success and by doing so, not only create ripples of positivity but create a real revolution."

So, how to "train the brain?" By doing one or more of these five exercises over 21 days:

1) Write down 3 new things you're grateful for every morning; your brain starts to retain a pattern of scanning the world not for the negative but for the positive.

2) Journaling about one positive experience in the last 24 hours allows your brain to relive it.

3) Exercise teaches your brain that your behavior matters.

4) Meditation allows your brain to get over the cultural ADHD that we've been creating by trying to do multiple tasks at once, allowing your brain to focus on the task at hand.

5) Random acts of kindness or conscious acts of kindness; when you open your inbox, write one positive email praising or thanking someone in your social support network.

I'm going to do numbers 1 and 2 for the next three weeks. Let me know if you try any of these and what the noticeable results are!

A proud day for equality in Washington state

Today, Washington became the seventh state to legalize same-sex marriage with the signing of SB 6239. Although Governor Christine Gregoire isn't necessarily popular with many of her constituents on either side of the aisle, today she made us proud.

Gay rights is the most current in a long line of civil rights movements, all of which have shown that through hard work and patience, change can be accomplished. Like other civil rights movements, there is strong opposition. But the LGBTQ movement is no different from feminism or racial equality - the core message is that everyone deserves to be treated as equals.

This is a big country with diverse values. Unfortunately, the rights of various groups are often subjected to values debates. I don't believe in universal values; I have my own set that I abide, as does everyone. It's not up to me to tell someone else what they can or cannot value, because each person has the right to his or her own beliefs. People don't have to support gay marriage, but they don't have the right to dictate anyone else's values or actions.

A lot of the opposition comes from Christian groups, even though according to the Bible, God created us in His likeness. I don't believe in any one religion's version of the higher power that created and governs us, but I hope that the loving, peaceful God of the New Testament is close to the truth and today is smiling down on Washington for taking a step in the right direction toward love and acceptance for all His creations. I also hope that the Christians who wave the Bible screeching that homosexuality is an aberration can take a deep breath and study the Bible for the ever-present evidence of a God who loves and accepts all.

Congratulations to Washington, the LGBTQ residents who are one step closer to their deserved equality, and all us heteros who are overjoyed that our right to marry is shared by all.