Save a Horse -- Ride a Cowboy

Life is good, isn't it?

Somehow, after all the music I've heard this weekend, that's the song that sticks with me. I'm currently reading Blink and after I ripped through the first two thirds in about 3 days, I was afraid that it would be toast by my first layover on the way to New Mexico, but I was mistaken. Instead, I was found in my seat, mouth open, and fast asleep.

This weekend was a whirlwind of activity since I was work/playing at an industry conference. Yeah, I pulled several 12+ hour days, but they almost invariably involved a water slide, and last I checked you're not allowed to complain about that. So I didn't.

Back to life. Back to reality for me.

Productivity

Because I'm obsessed with the title of this post, I've decided my next book (to read) should be something pedagogical. So I'm reading The Omnivore's Dilemma to learn more about food in the U.S. (or as the author refers to it: America). I've been interested for a long time in where it comes from, what is better for me, what is better for the environment, organic or local -- does it matter?, and other related things so this should be a good start.

However, it's not quite as motivating for reading as good fiction, so I've decided that I get to read something fun next.

My New Best Friend

I'm not sure what was wrong with me for so long, but I just discovered that books are my new best friend. Or maybe a long lost old friend. Either way it feels new and I love it.

Currently reading: The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver

Privacy in NYC

Don't worry, it's actually an oxymoron.

I've been pondering the idea of privacy in this city lately as I find myself in an odd position -- or at least it's odd if you live anywhere else. I currently live in a one bedroom apartment with another young woman who is about my age. My room is separated from the living room by 4 enormous red canvas curtains that start about 1 foot from the ceiling -- so I am acutely aware of the problem. But from the conversations I hear other people having, I'm not the only one with issues.

Cell phone conversations and things overheard in restaurants range from what you ate last night, to how bad your feet smell, to who you had sex with last week, to how you're feeling about your relationship with your inner child. It's sort of amazing.

Additionally, there seems to be a lot of exposure of private parts.

There was one week probably in late spring when I saw no less than three penises in broad daylight on the sidewalk. Well the penises themselves weren't on the sidewalk. Rather, I was walking along the street minding my own business when what to my wondering eyes did appear but male genitalia shown without fear.

It has also come to my attention that functions that are normally private events (like urination and defecation, as my previous paragraph alluded to) are more frequently done in public here. Nose picking is huge -- maybe because the polluted air causes more build up in the nasal cavity. Just the other day, I saw a man go two knuckles deep to remove what must have been an atomic wedgie. A couple of nights ago, I saw someone who was at least dressed as a woman, wearing naught but a lacy thong and a ridiculously transparent tube of red fabric.

And to my chagrin, and potentially to the chagrin of many others, it seems that young men in this city have a habit of needing to have their hands down their pants. Now I can understand if it's cold out and you're standing on a Frisbee field and that's the warmest place on your body. However, this is New York City in the summer. It's already hot. You don't need to keep your extremities from getting frost bite. In fact, down your pants is probably the swampiest, least comfortable place to be.

I don't know if it's a lack of privacy that causes them to do this or a general numbness to the fact that when you're standing on a subway platform you actually are not surrounded by your own personal, private bubble, but when a young man stands for over 10 minutes waiting for a train with his hand down his pants, you have to think he's doing something more than separating his sweaty balls from his leg.

Delicious Meat Free Meat

Amid a long day of studying for what quite possibly is the world's most boring exam (Series 6), I made plans to meet up with an old friend from the Boston days. He is vegan, which I can't help but to give him a hard time about, and likes to do vegan things. So we went to Moo Shoes, which is a vegan shoe store so that he could buy some crunchy shoes for his new job. Then we went to Red Bamboo, a store specializing in turning things that are decidedly not meat (soy) into things that taste like meat. It was surprisingly delicious. It really tastes and has the consistency of chicken. Crazy Asians! (My only complaint is that they didn't have a single spicy dish in a 4-page menu)

I have a few questions from my experience:

1. Wasn't McDonald's the master of the meatless patty? What was so bad about that?
   
2. Are plastic/rubber shoes any more sustainable than leather ones?
1. Cow herding generally means colossally bad land management practices (water, rainforest, to name a few)
2. The methane that bovine produce is pretty toxic to the environment
3. Some find it inhumane to kill animals
4. If they're being killed for food, isn't it better to at least use all parts? Do we do that?
5. (Yes I understand that if you don't kill for food, then you don't have that problem, but damn cows taste good)
6. The rubber industry is riddled with problems ranging from child labor to deforestation to toxic dumping and other environmental degradation
   
7. Plastic is made out of oil. Need I say more?

Those are the things I can think of to at least start. Anyone have evidence one way or the other? It's definitely partially up to your personal preference on the meat eating issue. I used to be a vegetarian -- for 5 years. And then I went to college, decided I needed to try new things, and gained 20 pounds. Maybe that vegetarian thing was a good idea after all.

Something Else

Madame or Monsieur Anonymous is ready for me to post something else. I've been debating lately whether this is still the right thing to do. It has come to the point where this blog comes up in google searches when you put in all or part of my name and while I was kind of keen on that idea at first, it poses a privacy issue. I (used to) tend to write much more personally here, but I can't be quite so candid any more. Also, I can't write about work at all because I work in a highly regulated industry that would frown on that kind of activity. And since I haven't been any more creative than that, I haven't posted anything decent in a long time.

I have posted some stuff to flickr lately. Well, more lately than this.

Anyway, Anonymous, point taken. I'll try to be more creative.

Nicaragua and Niger

While in Nicaragua I kept finding myself saying "In Niger..." because I found so many things similar between these two worlds-apart nations. Leslie (who lives in Nica) pointed out that this might be due to the developing world landscape which includes Blue Bird school buses converted into city buses among other similarities shared by the "third world".

Some of the things we noticed in this category:

1. The lack of washing machines and the necessity to handwash one's clothes (or pay someone else to do it)
2. The need for talc powder to walk comfortably or ride on a plastic bus seat for several hours
3. Shared taxis
4. Donkey carts among taxis, cars, buses, and trucks
5. The ability to ride in the back of a truck standing up, packed in like a sardine
6. The necessity to sweep one's house at least once a day to avoid the dreaded black foot
7. The broken bottles set in adobe walls as barbed wire substitute
8. The willingness and necessity of people to protest
9. That nearly all tourists and homeowners in the nicest tourist spots are extranjeros (foreigners)
10. Terrible beer (at least at first... until you realize it's cold and has alcohol in it... then it's delicious)
11. Frequent marriage proposals

On the Road

My first full day in Nicaragua was another day of travel. After picking up the necessary sunscreen and bug spray, we hit the bank, and then hit the road. The road consisted of a taxi (20 cordobas), a bus (60 cordobas), another taxi (12 cordobas), a very small motorcycle-toting ferry on a ridiculously rough riding lake (50 cordobas plus the cost of Laura's lunch, which we lost), another bus (18 cordobas), and feet (3 kilometers). 160 Cordobas is just under $10.

We stayed at Finca Magdalena, a cooperative organic farm on Volcan Maderas for $2.50 a night with a view of Volcan Conception in front and of the coffee drying flats in back. (I thought I'd posted the pictures, but apparently not). After a restful night on a cot and a belly full of gallo pinto, we set out on a hike. I should have been wary when our guide asked us "don't you have any shoes?" that the hike would not be so easy in Chacos, but alas, on we went.


The hike was beautiful if treacherous.


And after our guide, Freddy, finally realized that we would make it in our stupid gringa shoes, he was really sweet.

Only the Second Most...

Apparently San Salvador, El Salvador is the second most dangerous city in Latin America. That little unknown fact did not stop me from using my 7-hour layover there to do something other than window shop at Duty Free. I got there and decided to go to the beach. So I grabbed my bags, went though immigration and customs ($10) and set off to the beach. I was greeted by what seemed like a sea of small El Salvadoran people lined up at semi-permanent fences in bleacher-like formation. Then I was greeted by some pretty aggressive "taxi" drivers. After getting someone down from $25 to $16 for a 35k trip to the beach (La Libertad), I headed out to the parking lot with Manuel. Then he unlocked his white, unmarked, Toyota pickup truck and told me to get in. So I did. Gotta live, right? So as I tried my best to memorize our route (it was only 2 turns), we drove toward what I was desperately hoping was the beach. Otherwise, I would have a few people angry with me. Luckily, he was not a killer, rapist or abduction artist, and I made it to the beach in one piece with a little Spanish practice in for the day. I gave him a $2 tip for not killing me or taking me to an undisclosed location. Then I hit the beach... but I had my bags, which I didn't want stolen, so I was a little weighed down... which made beaching a little difficult, so I lunched. I ordered pescado (fish) without seeing the menu, and then realized about 20 minutes later what took so long: my food came to me wearing a toothy grin and a glimmer in its eye. I hadn't eaten a whole fish since I was in Benin, so it was a little shocking, but tasty.

Then I met William, the Salvadoran Surfer, and after a nice conversation he helped me find a bus back to the airport. About 45 minutes and 95 cents later, I was at the airport 1.5 hours before my flight. So I made it. I flew into Managua and the next day, we started our journey to Ometepe, the volcanic island in the middle of Lake Nicaragua, which is the 3rd largest lake in Latin America, and the 21st largest in the world.

This One's for Media Concepts

NicaraguaRebel 009
Originally uploaded by MotleyPrincess.

My friend Matt enjoys bumper stickers--especially political ones--and even more especially than that, he likes anti-Bush stickers. So I thought he'd really enjoy these I found in Nicaragua near the beach in San Juan del Sur. It could easily be a gringos car, but I don't know. Take special notice of the sticker running up the right side...