2013 Wailing, Dancing, Love

"You turned my wailing into dancing;...

Lord my God, I will praise you forever." Ps 30: 11-12

What a year 2013 turned out to be! It certainly shook my foundation at the start. I was betrayed and rejected in my deepest relationship. But throughout the year incredible joy came my way. I got closer to God. My friends and family loved on me. I met new groups of wonderful people and had amazing adventures. It was actually a great year!

My top experiences from 2013:

• Cambria trip with my church Neighborhood group in February

• Visits to friends and family in Texas 

• Paris vacation with my Mom in May

• Reno bus trip with line-dancers in October

• My friend’s first stand-up performance (which I opened for)

• My brother’s 4-day visit in November

• Christmas party with line-dance group in December

The year started with my wife telling me she didn’t want to be married anymore. She didn’t miss me while I was away (for a week). She loved every minute without me. Actually, she never wanted to get married in the first place. (So why did she?) She just got caught up in the whole marriage thing. For the last 12 years she was just deceiving both of us. 

I never saw it coming. OK, a few days earlier something didn’t seem right. I sent her a note reminding her I would do anything, change anything, try anything. I was committed to her and our marriage. Her response? “Oh good, you’re just as unhappy and want out too.” (What?)

The next few weeks I woke up sick to my stomach. Every day. I really wanted to just drink until I was buzzed enough to drown the pain and shock. OK, that’s a bad idea and I knew it. Instead I went running. Physical activity got rid of the shakes. Cool air and the beauty of the river calmed my mind. Giving God an earful reminded me of His love. And yeah, I sobbed, bawled, and wailed - especially looking through 15 years of photos.

My only community in California was my wife and her family and friends. That was all gone. I had to build new community, and fast. Enter meetup.com. It’s a database of social groups. I jumped in and attended a running group, a French language group, and a board-game group (the latter meets at the Yahoo! cafeteria, which I think is cool. Nerdy, but cool.). I saw new-release movies with a movie-goer group and spoke Spanish with a Spanish-speaker group. I sampled delicious restaurants and hiked beautiful trails with a foodies and hikers group.

My family and friends in Texas were a huge support. I flew to Texas a lot. I took my buddy’s kids to try sushi for the first time. The 10 year-old boy and I explored a cave in Cedar Park. I joined in his birthday celebration: an all-nighter of movies, video games, pizza, and root beer. (OK, I crashed out at 2.) We went for runs and we walked the dogs and we talked about how school was going and what they wanted to do when they grow up.

My Austin friends encouraged me to find a church community. I visited Garden City Church and was amazed right away. I had three friends before the service started. A few days later I was in a neighborhood group. Soon I was on that retreat to Cambria. I helped people move. I helped a church buddy reach his goal of trying standup comedy on stage. Within six months, I was a member, I was baptized, and I was serving on the sound set-up team and the greeting team. I belonged.

My church group constantly encouraged me as I worked through my emotions and had a few meetings with Marianne. The most powerful advice they gave me was around forgiveness. “Christians are the most forgiven people, so we can be the most forgiving.” 

Divorce wasn’t the only change. Besides that there was:

• Moving to Mountain View

• Finding a new church home 

• Trying new social groups 

• Buying a car

• Getting a new team at work and a new organization to support

• Getting a new manager and a new VP

The other group of wonderful people God led me to are the local “dancemonsters.” Remember meetup? There was a listing for a Monday Night line dancing group that meets at a Mexican restaurant in downtown San Jose. I hesitated. Who goes out on Monday Night? Is downtown San Jose safe? How do you dance at a restaurant? (Fun folks in their 20s through 60s. Yes. They have a dance floor, duh.) It took eHarmony to convince me to go.

Wait, what? Yeah, I joined eHarmony. Don’t judge. It’s the internet age. After a week of it I realized…I had to meet more people in person. On-line dating is like on-line job searches. You read through a lot of job/relationship postings. You write a resume/profile. You fill out applications/questionnaires. Then you wait to be contacted for an interview/date. I never got a good job online, why would dating be any different? So I committed to go to the next line dancing night. On a Monday. At a Mexican restaurant. Best. Decision. Ever. 

I had no idea I was walking into such an amazing group of friendly people. Or that they were going to welcome me in so warmly. After the lesson they kept encouraging me to get on the dance floor and try the other line dances (the easy ones, anyway).  That led to a Reno dancing trip and Friday nights at the Saddle Rack country dance club. (And some Saturday nights.)

2013 is done. I’m single again after 15 years. That sucks. I miss sharing experiences with someone special. But I’m thankful for God’s blessings. I love my friends from dancing, church, work and Austin. Thank you for everything you did for me this year! 

(I'm excited about 2014. I’m taking vacations to Argentina and France and I’m working on Spanish and West Coast Swing.)

Reno!

“Buy the ticket, take the ride.” (Hunter S. Thompson)

This weekend I took a party bus to Reno and back to dance for 7 hours. It’s the high point of my year. And I almost didn’t go.

I’m not proud that I hesitated. Looking back, I can’t believe it. I was afraid it would be boring on the bus. I was afraid I would be worn out afterwards. Sleep-deprived all week. 

Two weeks ago a young lady at the line dancing group invited me. She invited me again last week. Right in front of the trip organizer. And still I hesitated.

I told my buddy at work that I was thinking of taking a party bus to Reno to go line dancing. He said “no part of that sounds appealing to me.” Maybe I felt contrarian. Maybe I felt risky. Maybe the muse of Mr. Thompson grabbed me. Regardless, it was “challenge accepted.”

Saturday morning I got up before it was light out. The white load that I left in the dryer last night wasn’t dry. I needed it. Panic. I guess I’ll wake up my housemates. 

I drove half an hour southeast to the bus rendezvous with the sun rising in front of me. Gorgeous. And there were people there! The extrovert in me totally woke up. The young lady arrived and said “You’re already loving this, aren’t you.” Yes, I was. 

The bus seated 50 passengers and had 6 seats reserved for snacks, booze, and jello shots. Not to mention the overhead bins. One guy played the role of flight attendant. He mimed a safety announcement about seatbelts, exits, and oxygen masks. My friend was reminded of the new Virgin America flight safety video.

The organizer had activities planned for the whole 5-hour bus ride. I’ll call her the organizer. We got little goodie bags. They had raffle tickets, hug coupons, and bead necklaces. A few had lotto scratcher tickets. The games began. If you caught someone saying the word “drink” they had to give you their beads.

As soon as we got seated on the bus I could tell everyone was reverting to adolescence. The crazy t-shirt contest got started early, with several gals putting balloons under their shirts for an extra-busty effect. One of them had fake quintuple-D inserts covered by a thin t-shirt that read “wet t-shirt contest winner”. She accessorized with a viking helmet and fake blond braids.

An hour after departure, the fruit punch was passed around. It was frozen, and spiked. Hard. An hour later it was time for jello shots. Then we stopped at the Walmart in Vacaville. That’s french for cow-town. Or Italian. Had I already had that much to drink? The viking was riding in a Walmart shopping cart, standing up, like a voluptuous dragon boat. 

Some ladies bought sippy cups for their fruit punch. I asked what they were going to use them for. “We’re going to drink out of them.” I won beads and lost friends. “We thought you were a nice guy.” I guess not.

We stopped for lunch in old town Sacramento. It’s a touristy spot. The coffee shop had a chocolate chip cookie dough mocha on special. I got a double. 

We got back on the bus. We played a game where we learned interesting facts about people, like the couple that was in prison for 4 years. (They were in WWII internment camps.) We learned people’s nicknames. Boo Boo and Amberlicious were good ones. 

Pretty soon we were headed up into the Sierras. There was snow. There was the Donner Party memorial. There was a bathroom break. Then we were pulling into the parking lot of the Grand Sierra Hotel.

Amberlicious handed out bottles of Shock Top beer to me and Boo Boo as we wobbled through the lobby to check in. It was 4 pm. Or maybe it was 5. I was back downstairs in time for dinner at 6. Not that I was hungry at all. (Remember, 6 seats of snacks) 

I roamed around the casino after dinner. There was a booth where you could play tic-tac-toe against a chicken. It was behind plexiglass. For its safety. There was a little metal privacy shield so you couldn’t see which move it was going to peck. That chicken played for the tie every time.

The time to dance was approaching. I changed into a Nordstrom shirt, dark Levi’s and my 15-year old cowboy boots. We went to the “Wet” bar which had sheets of plexiglass with water pouring down them and waitresses younger than my boots. The latter were dressed in shimmery blue, clingy mini-skirty dresses, evoking mermaids. 

Here’s how the next 5 hours played out.  Take over the 10’ by 10’ dance floor, line dancing to the latest pop music the DJ was spinning. Go to the other side of the casino and realize the country band was really blue-grass, and we couldn’t line dance. Or hear. (I shoved napkin bits in my ears,) Go back to the Wet bar for shots of some blue drink, and request the Beastie Boys. We could no longer line dance there, either. Go back to the bluegrass side, find everyone had gone to their rooms, drink some water because we were getting dehydrated. Go back to the Wet bar for another shot and request Sir Mix A Lot. 

It’s approaching 2am. It reaches 2am. It becomes 1am. Daylight saving time is over. We go upstairs to check out the designated “game” room and get threatened by security for being too loud.

My friend wanted to go downtown to try other dance clubs. After a while she started singing “I don’t know why you don’t take me downtown.” by Lady Antebellum. So me and another guy agreed to go. He's the coolest cat in the Cali-Nevada region. We leave the hotel lobby. No cabs. A college kid was standing there saying his ride had left him behind. I walked over to the parking lot and found all the cabs waiting in the dark. We took the kid in our cab and dropped him off in the suburbs, then turned around the opposite way to get downtown. Instead of a navigation system, the cab driver had a screen playing rock music videos. Is that legal?

We arrive at the Eldorado casino downtown and look for the Bullion club (or something). It’s closed. So we go to the Brew Brothers club because they have a…DJ. The dance floor is bigger and less crowded, but the 3 of us aren’t going to be line dancing there. So we club dance. My buddy gets in a dance-off with some kid. Behind them a dude gets knocked out cold in the fastest fight ever. And some girl starts yelling at me and giving me the finger while her boyfriend pushes her out of the club. We stay until the last song ends at 3am.

After a cab ride home I’m in bed by 4am. I wake up every hour to drink a glass of water. I’m downstairs by 8am, just inches away from a hangover that I’m holding at bay with a bottle of Powerade. 

We leave at 9, and I just enjoy watching the mountain scenery, until I start to doze off. Lightly, so I can wake up before anyone pours hot sauce on my lips - which I would actually enjoy - or draws something embarrassing on my face. 

We stop at the outlet malls in Vacaville and a few of us get lunch at Freebirds, which carries a surprising amount of emotional attachment for me. With an entire steak burrito in my belly I start taking my dozing seriously until we get back to South San Jose. 

I say goodbye. I tell everyone I won’t see them for a while. I’m going to skip the Monday line dancing so I can recuperate. I should go home and do laundry. I don’t. I go to church and just barely make it in time. Then I go out with a church buddy to a bar for dinner.

The next night was Monday, and I couldn't wait to see everyone again. So I didn't wait. Buy the ticket. Take the ride.

First Flight on My Way to Paris

My flight to Paris started off early. Too early. My iphone sleep monitoring app woke me up right on time at 4am, although I wasn't out of bed for at least another 10 minutes. My bleary red eyes were not pleased that I was leaving at 4:30. But when you have a 7am flight out of SFO, you do what you have to. 

Thankfully my ride was there on time. It's a true friend who will give you a ride that early. Although it's one of the rare times he gets to drive 101 to SF with no traffic.

I was certain I'd forgotten something critical, but I had no choice except to leave and make do later. I  had to go to the check-in counter because I was checking a bag. With my recent platinum status,   my bag was on its way in less than 30 minutes - hopefully to Paris - and I was through security, with my hopes of an upgrade to business class crushed. 

Now I was getting hungry, which meant sniffing around all of the overpriced, unsatisfying options for food. I settled on a breakfast sandwich and also picked up a muffuletta to have for lunch on the plane. The breakfast sandwich was pretty good - with thick slices of applewood bacon (I have no clue what that means, or how it magically emerged 5 years ago.) Then I got to the end of the sandwich where the eggs were cold. Ugh. I ate it anyway. Every last bite. 

I spent the remaining hour calling people at work, trying to fix the one item I left unfinished yesterday. Then I headed onto the plane, with no last minute reprieve from coach. That was fine; I'd already spent money on meals that would be unnecessary if I got upgraded. 

The awkwardness began before I even boarded. I was one of the last passengers to line up. It seemed like the agent was annoyed, although I'll assume he was just distracted. When I said good morning upon showing my boarding pass, the response I got was "yeah", like " yeah, whatever."

I looked forward to my aisle seat. I was flying a 757 with a 2-3-2 setup, so 4 aisle seats per row (44%). I sat down and said hello to the young blonde woman in the middle seat next to me. She quickly admitted her English wasn't very good - although it was - and we switched to her native language, French.  Of course I refuse to excuse my currently terrible accent and pronunciation. 

Onward to discomfort. The plane was stiflingly warm - did it just land from the Sahara? On went the overhead air vent. The seat was shockingly uncomfortable. I couldn't even get back relief using the blanket for lumbar support. (What is a lumbar? Was Dr. Lumbar the guy who discovered how to make seats that create backaches?) Soon the temperature plummeted to standard airplane arctic levels. Off went the overhead air vent. And we were off. 

After beverage service they started a movie that was not the one listed in the airplane magazine. (Could I subscribe to the inflight magazine for home delivery? Then I could sit on my uncomfortable couch and read it with an extra belt on.) By this point the mademoiselle has her eye cover on and is in full REM sleep, including sudden head drops every two minutes which are violently overcorrected, without her showing any signs of waking herself up. Then the movie started. It was supposed to be some awful mother-son comedy - which I would have watched, and I just now realized would have been appropriate for this trip. Instead it was about retired musicians living in a nursing home and it was so boring I nearly fall asleep during the opening credits, violent head nods and all. 

But wouldn't have lasted long, since there was soon a cacophony of sound effects to keep me alert. A woman 5 rows back was sneezing the loudest "Ah!-Choo!s" I've ever heard, not bothering to muffle any of them, even when there were five in a row. There were children who begin screaming, either because they were denied the parent's iPhone - which is the 5-year old version of crack cocaine and the only thing that will possibly make them happy for the rest of their lives, ever! Or they were hit by their sibling, or hit themselves, or hit their sibling, and required the world to know how unjust their life-shattering pain was.  My padded headphones only slightly muffled these piecing sounds.

Next up, turbulence. Not severe, but strong enough to get my attention. It made me a little queasy since I was playing a game on my iPad. The real annoyances were the repeated stern reminders that when the seat belt sign is on everyone is supposed to be wearing theirs, which requires them to not be walking down the aisle headed to the restroom. 

After I passed through emotional, physical, and auditory torture, it was time for the visual assault. With the movie over, programming  switched to The Office, known for "grimace comedy". It's my most detested show. And it was on 7 screens in my field of view, ensuring no reprieve. To make it worse, it was a lice episode, with folks shaving their heads, or shampooing with mayonnaise (is that a real remedy?). There was even a bright yellow hazmat suit. And plenty of close ups of grimaces. (Not the Ronald McDonald character, who would only be a slightly better option.)

You know what? In spite of it all, I can't wait to do it all again. 

 

Cherries, Jesus, and Paris!

Yay! It’s Cherry Season! My two favorite fruit seasons are Cherries/Blueberries in the summer and Pears in the winter. During the interminable dry spells between them, I’m forced to subsist on Fuji apples, grapes, and pluots (plum-apricot hybrids full of sweet juiciness). Oh, the humanity!

Car update: If you want a used car for less than 10 large out here, from a private owner, you better have an envelope of cash the day it goes up on Craigslist. No taking it to the mechanic. No paying by cashier’s check. I spent a week chasing cars to learn this. I would get a call back that day, but they’d be sold within 2 days. So I’m moving on to dealer used cars, in the next price range up. Then the next, then the next...

Divorce update: We both signed the settlement agreement. Now our file waits for a court clerk to check it and stamp it. I will be single on August 13. I wish there was a way I could stop the divorce. Even if I refuse to sign anything, it would continue on anyway. All it takes is one person’s determination. 

This isn’t how I wanted it to be. We both ruled out divorce as an option when we got married. We both fought through plenty of conflict and baggage. I will never truly know what changed in Marianne. Instead I will inevitably invent an explanation to simplify the story for myself and to answer the questions I will get about it.

Are Christians Anything Like Jesus? Gateway Church commissioned a study to gauge if Christians’ attitudes and actions were more like Jesus or more like the religious leaders of his day, the Pharisees, who opposed him. I won’t spoil the findings, but being a Christian doesn’t automatically turn you into a perfect person. And it’s still too easy to focus on other people’s weaknesses, rather than our own. And too easy to get caught up in rules rather being loving. Click to read the results or take the survey.

Other topics that caught my eye this week:

• How to be Decisive - might have helped me with my car search.
• Fluent in Context-ese - good reminder that you don’t have to understand all the words in a foreign language.
• Lessons from Traveling - some useful trips for my next trip...to Paris!

In less than a week I will be in Paris! With my Mom! Speaking French! Eating French food and drinking French wine! In cute outdoor cafes or in the park! Seeing French people and sights! Can’t wait! Au revoir!

Austin! Georgetown! Jacksonville! Cedar Park!

I just got back from my third trip to Austin this year. I’ve made one trip a month so far, and next month’s trip to Paris will make it five for five. Or cinq sur cinq. Airfare feels cheap compared to what I’m paying for rental cars. Sure, it was a fun-to-drive little red Kia Forte with a bluetooth phone connection and satellite radio, but it cost me twice what my airfare did. Of course, I don’t get bluetooth on the airplane, so maybe the higher price makes sense after all.

My new Austin destination is Bangers on Rainey street, with gourmet sausages and 100+ taps to choose from. I made it my first stop after picking up the rental car. A buddy met me there and I had a nice wheat beer with my venison sausage sandwich. Or maybe I had a nice venison sausage sandwich with my wheat beer. Maybe I did both.

It’s bluebonnet season in Texas, which is just too cool. Best flowers ever! (Although the blue fireworks flowers in California are a close second.) Definitely a true Texas experience; there are photos of me as a two year-old sitting in a field of these beauties. (Blue is my color, after all.)

The downside to the four-hour drive to the Chance Ranch in Jacksonville is that I don’t have the emotional constitution for being alone that long. Pitifulness warning: I got sad on the drive thinking about all the times Marianne and I made the trip (nearly a dozen times over 10 years). I hope I’m now inoculated against it for the next trip, but I’m sure there are more memory triggers around the corner waiting to pounce on me with gloominess. Yay.

My parents noticed I’ve been more into wine lately, so they scouted out the East Texas wineries. One of them had a nice little self-guided walk through the vineyard after the wine tasting. I liked their port (of course). The other one was...well...interesting. “Interesting” as in “I can’t stand your sense of decor, but it’s a free country and you certainly didn’t do it half-way.” They specialize in sweet wines and...junk. Er, formerly useful tools that are now strewn around in a manner intended to be decorative. It was East Texas shabby chic - minus the chic. 

Back in Austin I worked out of the local Cisco office (saving vacation days). I enjoyed going out for lunch with co-workers and friends. I saw two action movies at Alamo Drafthouse, where the beer makes bad movies worth it. (Delicious Pecan Porter). I had several relaxing dinners with the Cannons, along with an ice cream celebration for Devin’s grades. Devin and I even went to Outback Steakhouse so he could get his sirloin fix. (I prefer filet mignon) We followed that up with a visit to Main Event for air hockey, rock-wall climbing, glow-in-the-dark putt-putt golf and a virtual roller-coaster that brought me closer to puking than a real one ever has.

Now a highlight of some things I read or heard this week that might be educational or entertaining in some way. No promises. Well, I found them educational and entertaining.

• zenhabits: Work Mind and Vacation Mind, Simultaneously

• Fluent in Three Months: Fail Fast and Fail Often

• NPR: Wait Wait...Don’t Tell Me

• Gateway Church: Refrigerator Rights - What’s That Smell?

• New York Times: New Culprit in Heart Disease

On Saturday Devin and I went to the Cedar Park Cave Day, where we found a really cool cave to climb down into - right behind a subdivision of houses. That evening we sent his parents off on a date. We ate at Kerbey Lane and then brought back Ben and Jerry’s ice cream to enjoy with our movie, Battle Los Angeles, which was quite good. Lesson: “Go left or go right. It doesn’t matter which, but make a decision.” (And - if aliens can land on earth, they probably brought aircraft, not just ground troops.)

On Sunday I went to Gateway Church. As part of their Refrigerator Rights series, they had an actual refrigerator on stage, of course. They talked about letting a few people into your life who can get to know the things about you that you usually hide because they stink. (The things, not the people.)  The pastor pulled a “prop” tupperware dish from the on-stage fridge. When he sniffed it - theatrically - he found that it contained some prop food that was actually stinky enough to get his attention. Good prank by his staff.

In the failure-to-communicate department, Derry proposed a hike along Bull Creek as our penultimate Austin activity. I heard hike as in “on a trail”. He meant hike as in “bushwhack our way along the bank of the creek, crossing it randomly, and scrambling up and down rocks and slopes as needed regardless of the terrain” He had hiking boots and cargo shorts. I had running shoes and old jeans. I came away with a few bruises, but avoided landing in the creek or contracting poison ivy. We had some good conversation, saw a few fish, and returned sweaty, Gatorade in hand.

And after a day of planes, trains, and automobiles, I’m back in Mountain View doing laundry and scoping out a restaurant for dinner. I’m thinking Ramen.

Mexico City in March

So, I love to travel. Especially to another country. This time is was Mexico. I think it's still a separate country - they stamped my passport. I was even fine traveling in coach, what with the crossword puzzle in the airline magazine, and a game and movie on the iPad. On the leg from DFW to Mexico City I caught up with 3 guys from work, all of whom were wearing blazers. Made me feel under-dressed in my casually untucked travel shirt. Oh well.

The first night was a bit rough as I had a little too much wine, which didn’t go well with the altitude (~7000 ft). Around 3:30 I hit a deep sleep, but the hotel alarm clock - set by a previous guest/sadist - jolted me up at 5:30. 

We had all-day meetings in a fancy hotel for 3 days, where they catered breakfast, a morning snack, lunch, and an afternoon snack. For dinner the first night we were treated to a cooking class in the hotel kitchen. 15 of us made shrimp ceviche and a beef loin "unrolled" and stuffed with mushrooms topped with poblano pepper garnish and a poblano pepper cream sauce. Yummy! The only weird part was that the mushrooms were a mexican variety that grows on corn.

I managed to get up for a workout on Wednesday, on the 15th floor of the hotel. The mountains were beautiful, when they weren’t hidden by clouds or smog. 

Besides cooking, the highlight of my trip may have been the search for post cards - just because I got to speak a lot of Spanish. I probably sounded like a 5-year-old, since I could only remember the present tense, and hardly ever got my verbs and nouns and adjectives to agree. (Argumentative lot they were.) I had a great conversation with a taxi driver about marriage, family life, the new pope, etc. Or at least I think I did.

It turns out there’s not a lot of demand for postcards in the business district where our hotel was located. So not a lot of supply either. I went to a department stored owned by the richest man in the world, Carlos Slim. They had 6 copies of a single version of a postcard of a soccer stadium. The 2nd taxi driver suggested I try Wal Mart. No luck there either.

On Thursday I took my 2 postcards of the stadium and called a taxi to take me to the post office. It turns out the demand for a post office matches that of post cards (not sure why those would be related). It was bad news when the driver looked at me and said he’d go back into the hotel to ask for directions. At least he came back. 10 minutes later, more directions. Then more directions. Back the same way we came. More directions. Some discussion about why nobody gives good directions and why the post office is hidden (I think that’s what we were talking about. Maybe it was the new pope instead.). I had a meeting to get back to soon, and I began to understand how contestants on the Amazing Race feel when their taxi gets lost and they don’t understand what’s going on. And then we found it. There was no line - I guess no one else could find it either. 15 minutes later I was back at the hotel for lunch.

The next day I took the hour-long cab ride to the airport - dodging upcoming demonstrations over labor contracts. I got in trouble at security. I couldn't leave my laptop in my special leave-your-laptop-in-the-backpack backpack. Out it came. So did the iPad. Then they gave me a massage. I think they called it a pat-down. Then they had me open up my backpack and rifled through the tangle of chargers and cords. The rubicks cube probably didn’t help matters. Then I was through, and with a quick stop for empanadas I made it to the gate and on the plane for more travel time with a new airline magazine, an iPad game, and “Wreck-It Ralph” (which I liked.) 

I can’t wait to travel again to a place that humors my language ability. (Like Paris. Or even East Texas.)

Cambria

Note: I'm letting too much time pass between an inspiration to write and actually publishing something. I'm working on it. This actually took place the weekend of March 1.

Last weekend I had a delightful and uplifting time with my church neighborhood group. 10 of us went on a retreat to Cambria, CA to unwind and get to know each other better. Cambria is a cute little town on the coast with great views of the ocean. (OK - coast and ocean views kinda go together, but it's still worth mentioning.)

We arrived at our rental house on Friday after a 4 hour drive from San Jose. I rode with the couple who leads the group. We spent a lot of time talking about my divorce, God's will in marriage, and the idols we each have. We stopped in town for a late dinner and ate in a fancy restaurant in the cute little downtown area. I had to try the seafood pot pie. The filling was based on their clam chowder and the crust was delightfully flaky.

The other groups rolled in over the next few hours, and we stayed up talking until midnight - which required some effort given my standard 9:30 bedtime. Besides me and the lead couple, it was mainly young women in their mid-20s. I shared a room with the one single guy in the group.

On Saturday we had banana pancakes and then hiked a trail along the ocean down to the tide pools. The views were gorgeous. Then we went to see the elephant seals. The beach had hundreds of baby elephant seals, who are as big as normal seals. There were some adult males, who are about 10 feet long and weigh 5000 pounds. Their backs are covered in scars from fights they’d had.

For lunch we went to yet another scenic ocean outlook and ate sandwiches. A ground squirrel kept creeping up looking to steal a meal, causing the occasional shriek from the nearest startled sandwich owner. It reminded me of the voracious - and uninhibited - squirrels of the UT campus main mall area who would brazenly crawl into backpacks looking for food, regardless of any attempts to shoo them away.

After lunch we visited a winery where we tasted 6 wines for $5. The chardonnay and cabernet sauvignon didn’t really do it for me, but I enjoyed the sweet Riesling and the Port. Once again, the views were great. The owner came out and showed us the barrel room and the the area where they receive the grapes, crush them and then ferment the juice.

We drove back to downtown Cambria and walked through shops. I got bored of that pretty quick, but perked up when we decided to go to the bakery for pie. I chose the blueberry peach pie - a la mode of course.

When we got back to the house that afternoon, half the folks went for a run, while the rest of us took a nap. We also had to solve the kitchen disposal/drain clog. It came down to unscrewing the u-shaped pipe section which was full of shredded paper and egg shells.  

After a dinner of homemade burritos, we played a game called Resistance. It centers around figuring out which players are "spies" trying to sabotage the rebel missions. Not exactly ideal for building trust, since you begin to suspect everyone is lying.  Once again, we stayed up until midnight.

Sunday morning I finally pulled on my running shoes and headed out for a jog. My sense of direction failed me totally and I ran away from the coast - and its gorgeous views. But with the fog on the ocean, I didn’t miss much. I did see a few wild turkeys and even found a dirt trail into the forest. There were lots of inclines and declines, so I got my workout.

When I got back it was time to packing lunches and bags, clean up the house, and close it up for the week. We headed back on a scenic drive over the green mountains and then up the valley, enjoying the beauty of nature and the new friendships we had formed.

Language Hacking Success - Brazil

I'm back from Brazil now, and I have to say that Language Hacking really worked well for me. Kudos to Benny the Irish Polyglot. After two months of studying, I was able to have simple conversations and get complimented on how good my Portuguese was. In particular I was able to:

• Order and pay at restaurants - including asking about an incorrect bill
• Buy baked goods and other items at grocery stores
• Ask for directions
• Check into a hotel
• Get help shopping for gifts
• Ask people about themselves and their families
• Ask to have my flight changed to the same itinerary as my wife's
• Joke around

Brazilians make it very easy to practice Portuguese. They aren't uptight about the language and they love it if you smile and joke around. When I went into stores, very few people spoke English, which is really helpful. It avoids the situations where they feel the need to put you out of your language misery by speaking your native tongue. Instead, we would just smile and laugh while I used filler comments called connectors until I figured out another way to say what I wanted.

I was amused by the number of people who asked me if I used Rosetta Stone to learn Portuguese. They're definitely doing their marketing well - I even saw a kiosk in the airport.

Here are the learning techniques I used to prepare before the trip - mostly taken from Fluent in Three Months:

• Studied a Lonely Planet phrasebook for Brazilian Portuguese
• Found a co-worker who speaks Portuguese and had three conversation sessions with him
• Practiced greetings and pronunciations with a Brazilian vendor at the local farmers market
• Learned numbers, colors, food, phrases, and pronunciation from a language CD by Euro Talk Now
• Watched Brazilian movies from Netflix, first with English subtitles, then with Portuguese subtitles
• Used Anki Spaced Repetition Software (SRS) flashcard program and iPhone app to study connectors, phrasebook vocabulary, and finance-specific terms
• Wrote emails in Portuguese to co-workers in Brazil using Google Translate as a supplement
• Changed my iPhone, iTunes, and Facebook language settings to Portuguese

Once I arrived, I just kept in mind that I had to go out and speak in order to improve. And I had to replace the anxious look I get when I can't find the words or understand everything. Instead I focused on smiling, nodding, and using filler comments.

As an aside, some of my favorite words are "otimo" (o-chimo), meaning "great"; "legal" (lay-gow), meaning "cool", and "moleza" (mo-lay-zah), meaning "piece of cake". I also like that futebol (soccer) is pronounced "fu-tchy-bol" and PowerPoint is "powerpoin-tchy".

I can't write about a trip without a section on food, so here goes. I had amazing pizza there (who knew there was such a huge Italian influence?). I ate delicious cuts of meat at the Fogo de Chao churrascaria (Brazilian barbecue). Every lunch buffet was full of deliciously savory sauces and spreads. We went to a great sushi restaurant (who knew there was such a huge Japanese influence?).

The draft beers ("choppe") were heavenly smooth - with Devassa's Negra as my favorite. But the best was the Pao de Queijo - cheese bread. Not just lower-case cheese bread. More like a glorious merger of light francese rolls and melted longhorn cheddar cheese at perfect nacho consistency so that it pulls away in a long string and falls all the way down past your chin when it finally snaps. Good thing I have a ten-year visa, because I may have to buy another ticket soon.

I thoroughly enjoyed learning Portuguese, but it was even more fun to learn so many tips to learn any language. I plan to shift my focus from Portuguese, which means it will join my ever-fading traveler's knowledge of Italian. We're traveling to Zambia in two months, so I'm going to apply all the techniques I just learned to my study of Bemba. I want to see if I can accelerate my learning pace. At the same time, I'm going to start brushing up on Spanish, with a goal of being conversational by next summer.

What language would you like to learn?

Update on Brazil and Portuguese

Full disclosure - I wouldn't be writing this post if Benny the Irish Polyglot hadn't told me to. I'm reading his Language Hacking Guide and I reached the section where he said I had to start a log of my language journey. I resisted for about four hours. Since I paid money for the book, I might as well try what it says.

This morning I asked a few questions in Portuguese while taking to the guy working the hummus stand at the farmers market. His name is Gilbert ("Zhilbayr"), he's really friendly, and he's from Brazil. Those last two comments seem to always go together. Brazilians have a reputation as being very friendly. My extensive data sample of three supports this generalization. Gilbert loved the questions I had and completely ignored my mistakes. The whole interaction was a lot of fun and very encouraging.

The part I'm struggling with is around Benny's advice to have a few main goals, some mini-goals that will get me there, and a plan for how to do it. Articulating my main goals specifically is not turning out to be so easy. I'm just going to have to jot something down and refine it as I go. Vaguely, I want to be able to get around Sao Paulo on as little English as possible. That's three weeks from now. I'll have some business meetings with a few people who speak no English, so I want to be able to talk about accounting and processes as much as possible with them. Also - I want to know enough to win over the visa officer at the Brazil consulate in San Francisco next week so I can get our visas issued as quickly as possible. (Otherwise I can't even go on the trip.)

I like Benny's book and the advice on his blog. (I even wish I had thought of it years ago.) Finding the discipline and the time to follow his recommendations isn't easy. But the easy way - not having goals or a plan - won't result in any language progress at all. So I'll keep reading the book, resisting his advice because it requires effort, and then caving in and following it after all.

How to Learn a Language in a Month (I Hope)

I’m headed to Brazil on a business trip next month. I love to travel, so I’m totally stoked. Most of all, I love going to countries with foreign languages. Every time, I dream of being fluent in the language. But it’s not that easy, is it?

Failure of Spanish Classes

I took Spanish in the eighth grade, and loved it. My suburban Houston neighborhood was not what you would call diverse. My Spanish class opened my eyes to the reality of a different culture and language. I had never realized how surreal it would be to express the same thought in two different languages. Doing so was like solving a cryptogram puzzle. And every day, every lesson, brought an exciting new technique for solving them. Every homework was a new set of cryptograms that we had just learned how to crack.

There’s a problem, though. After four years of classes, I couldn’t carry a conversation. I was – and am – intimidated by the awkwardness of trying the first clumsy sentence. So it’s easier to speak English, even around family members who are native Spanish speakers. Twenty years ago I had – or should have had – the keys to the language. But I could never get the lock to turn.

Now I want to learn Portuguese. I only have about three weeks. Four years of classes aren’t an option, even if I thought they would work this time. Should I spend a four hundred bucks on Rosetta Stone? Practice all 300 words and 20 phrases on the EuroTalk CD that came as part of a 33-disc set? Subscribe to a Portuguese podcast? I know, buy an app! Hmmm.

How I became fluent in French

I started learning French in the eleventh grade. I actually walked around the corner from my sixth-period Spanish III class directly to my seventh-period French I class. I spoke a lot of Spanish to my French teacher, much to her annoyance. Every lesson was just as revelatory and every homework just as much of a delightful puzzle as Spanish was. And after finishing French IV, I was…not fluent. Barely even conversational. I got college credit, read some cool stories by existential French authors, and was too intimidated to speak to French foreign exchange students. Same approach, same outcome.

But I am fluent now. I got there, but how? I know it happened in the Peace Corps, but why?. During training, they made us follow “immersion”. We couldn’t speak any English to anyone while we were on the campus. Only French. It was not fun. We hated it and complained. Of course, we were also hot, homesick, feverish from the vaccines, and cramping from intestinal revolts. So Mr. Immersion did not come along while we were at our best.

But we did speak French. We didn’t feel ready, and we weren’t. We still had more lessons to take, more grammar to learn, more vocabulary to remember. But we spoke it anyway. And everyone we spoke to would only speak French back to us. They didn’t even know English. (Or rather, they lied and said they didn’t.)
Immersion certainly worked. It succeeded at the task that an hour a day of exposure in a high-school classroom failed to achieve.

For the next three years I refused to speak English to my Beninese co-workers. I told them it would hinder the language mastery I needed in order to educate the students we shared. Every night I wrote out lesson plans in French. I read French translations of novels I enjoyed, like Jurassic Park. And I let my students correct my mistakes. Until by the end of the school year I was correcting their mistakes. (The class applauded the first time I did so.)

So how does this help me with Portuguese? My co-workers at the office certainly aren’t going to switch to speaking only Portuguese with me. Even if they did, I need something to study, and I need more time – at least six months.

A Different Approach

Right after I downloaded a few iPhone apps with Portuguese vocabulary – they were free – I ran across something useful on Twitter. (Yes – it happens. You don’t think the Library of Congress is archiving the whole thing for nothing, do you?) It was titled “The Learning Secrets of Polyglots and Savants.” It described someone who learned enough Icelandic to hold a conversation after just one week - with an interview to prove it. OK, it turns out the guy is a savant who memorized pi to a gajillion places. (Which I’m totally jealous of, by the way.) But the next guy mentioned was just a regular Irish guy who learned enough Dutch to hold a conversation after only two months - with an interview to prove it. That’s twice as much time as I have, but still gives me hope.

The article described some memory techniques I’ve read about in the last few years. Our brains are wired to be really, really good at recalling places and images, especially when they involve action. Spend an extra 60 seconds coming up with an action image that represents what you want to memorize, and it will stick with you for hours and days, not just a few minutes. Another technique is graduated-interval recall, which involves reviewing the material at ever-longer intervals in order to lock it into the next level of memory, with the least amount of repetition.

Even with these optimization techniques, I’m going to have to prioritize. That’s a dilemma on its own. What do I focus on? Vocabulary covers a lot of ground. Should it be verbs? Travel phrases? Food? Numbers?Days?Colors?Animals?Shopping?VerbTensesPronounsPrepositionsPartsofspeech?????

I googled the-Irish-guy-who-learned-Dutch-in-two-months. He calls himself the Irish Polyglot (a more concise title), and has a website titled Fluent in Three Months. He travels to a new country every three months to learn a new language. I’m even more jealous of him than of the gajillion-places-of-pi guy.

His website gave me one validation and two clues to resolving my dilemma. The validation is that you simply have to start speaking the language. From Day One. No waiting until you’re “ready.” The first clue is to memorize phrases and vocabulary from a phrasebook like the ones by Lonely Planet. The other clue will cause raucous laughter from friends who’ve heard me try karaoke: put the phrases to music, and sing them. For the good of society, I’ll just try that in my head, not out loud. Much.

Implementation

So I’m totally stoked. I bought the Lonely Planet Brazilian Portuguese phrasebook. It totally reminded me of the LP Bengali phrasebook that some friends brought on a mission trip, from which we learned the phrase “Careful. The monkey is stealing your food.” I’m going to create action images, and set them to music (in my head). I’m even going to write my own dialogs and memorize them, the way I prepared my lessons in the Peace Corps. And I’m going to be mentally prepared to just start speaking the language. First with the hummus vendor at the farmer’s market; then with everyone I meet when I get off the plane in Sao Paulo. The only problem is that I’m much better at creating a plan than following through. And I need plane tickets.

Any ideas for how I can make a living by traveling and learning languages?

What I Miss About Austin

Having lived in Austin for ten years until just recently, I often get asked what I miss about it. I still think it’s weird that I hardly knew Austin existed until the University of Texas invited me to come visit as a Junior in high school. I went on to spend a total of 15 years there, with a break in the middle for Peace Corps and graduate school. I’ve got the traveling bug, so I don’t know if I’ll ever stay that long in one place again. Here’s what I miss about Austin.

College Buddies 

James and Derry are certainly at the top of the list of what I miss about Austin. We went through UT together, living in Jester Hall and working as Resident Assistants. We watched each other graduate, get married, and find “real” jobs. I went off and wandered around the globe for a bit, but when I came back, they were still there for me.

Each week I’d get together with one or the other of them for lunch. (It was more of a one-to-one setup than all three of us together.) I really miss those lunches.  They were always a great break from my day (and my desk). Sometimes we’d talk about important stuff like work, marriage, families, or dreams. Sometimes we’d just go on about goofy stuff.

Besides lunches, James was always up for finding the best beer Austin had to offer. Derry was more of the adventure type, including a kayak trip we took down Lake Austin. And either one was happy to catch a movie at Alamo Drafthouse.

Alamo Drafthouse 

This place gets its own section. What a great concept! Take out every other row of seats in the movie theater and add skinny tables and walkway for the staff. Serve food and beer before and during the movie. Compile a bunch of clips from movies and TV that are related to the feature being screened, and show them as pre-movie entertainment.

Once you’ve been to one of these, a regular AMC or Cinemark just feels mundane. I’m jealous I didn’t think of this first. I would totally want to start one of these somewhere, except I’m not willing to commit to one location for that long.

Fast Food 

That’s right. I miss Austin’s fast food. Not greasy burgers, greasy chicken, or greasy pizza. I miss Freebirds, Which Wich, and Taco Deli.

Freebirds was a hilarious find because it started in Santa Barbara, where my wife went to college. Boy was she surprised to see one in Austin. Why do I miss it? They had the amazing idea to offer barbecue sauce in their burritos. My favorite: spinach tortilla, half rice, black beans, steak, pico de gallo, guacamole, lots of barbecue sauce, and a few dashes of death sauce. Serve with Fat Tire.

Which Wich Superior Sandwiches took some time to grow on me. You design your own sandwich by selecting from different options for meat, cheese, spreads, and veggies. The toasty bread was what kept me coming back until I found my favorite combination. I call it “The Italian Burn”: Start with a Grinder (Salami, Pepperoni, and Capicola). Add cheese: Mozzarella or Provolone. Select Dijon mustard, but skip the mayos, spreads & sauces, and dressings. Onions: red. For veggies, pick: lettuce, tomato, olive salad, hot pepper mix. At this point, the oils and spices don’t matter much, but it doesn’t hurt to add some oregano, garlic, salt, and pepper.

You make your selection on a paper bag that you can watch make it’s way down the line. It helps to draw something on the back so you know which one is yours. Once it’s gone past all the stations, wait for them to call your name. Then enjoy your Burn.

Taco Deli didn’t become a hit with me until our last few months in Austin. That’s when I tried the original location, right next to the apartment we rented after selling our house. I was soon hooked on both the Mole Tacos and the Adobados tacos. Top them off with some hot green salsa and I was a happy camper. And you couldn’t beat the location next to the Barton Creek green belt.

Walnut Creek Park and Lifetime Fitness 

I never thought I’d miss a park. Maybe it’s because it was walking distance from our house for seven years. Maybe it’s just because I went there every week. Regardless, it was the best place to go for a run. Ever. Except during allergy season. When the weather was hot, the park was shady. The trails were dirt, so they were easy on the knees, but fun for the feet. There were butterflies and squirrels and rabbits, so I was always on the lookout. And the terrain never got boring.

I also never thought I’d miss a gym. Lifetime was pricey, but it was worth it. It was just down the street from my office, so I could go before work, at lunch, or after work. It had so many weight benches and treadmills that I almost never had to wait for anything. I loved the outdoor lap lanes in the summer time, and I appreciated the indoor lap pool the rest of the time. That made it really easy to train for my triathlons.

Comedy
A couple of years before I left, I joined a really great Toastmasters group called Laughing Matters. Every Thursday I'd have blast telling jokes and laughing at hilarious speeches from a great group of friends. The Black & Browns were a great addition.

Laughing Matters was also a great place to practice the material I was working on for my showcases at Cap City Comedy Club. I began taking classes there in October 2009, and did three spots before I left. Each one was less than five minutes long. Getting big laughs from a few hundred audience members is a huge rush.

Small Groups 

Lastly, I miss the small groups of friends from church that we met with on a regular basis. I had a great bunch of guys to meet with for a season to talk about what it truly meant to be a man and a husband. Then we had some groups of couples where we focused on our marriage relationship. Our last group explored the meaning and practice of being Christ-followers and supporting each other. We haven’t yet found that kind of community here in our new home, but we’re still looking.

Austin wasn’t perfect (e.g. 100+ degree heat in the summers), but it had lots going for it. Even though I miss friends and food and even a park or two, I’m glad we came to California for a season, and I’m looking forward to the next place we call home for a bit. And I’ll be visiting Austin soon.


What would you miss if you moved from where you live?