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  • educator
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Coastline and culture in New England

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I've decided that, these days, if I can produce a blog post a month, I'm a lucky gal. Lucky to find breaths between beloved jobs to do similar work of my own volition. Lucky to be able to reflect on experiences and milk what value can be gathered. I doubt the cafe I edited in today for four hours felt lucky to have a table occupied by a one cappuccino gal, but I'm lucky I found that space this month to process my August road trip through New England. What was meant to be a longer trek through areas of Maine and Vermont had to be cut short due to the panic surrounding Hurricane Irene. The trip had no conclusion in real time. It felt like a rush job of a trip, even more so the documentation of it, but what resulted is a video exalting the thing I studied most - the water that I feel sources so much of the grit and character of New Englanders.

I was surprisingly unfocused on my fleeting dollars being allocated to gas, the pile of money I dropped for the rental car, or my lack of accurate driving instructions or lodging reservations. The nausea I usually reserve for typical tourist activity - the expensive kind - took a vacation as well. Instead, I felt loosely propelled by the desire to consume miles of coastline and smell a breeze conceived hemispheres away.

Like gulping sweet water in the middle of the night, driving was refreshing after my nine month car-fast, a guilty binge on air, music, and speed with a known expiration. And with this limited excursion, I caught wind of what a conventional adult vacation smells like - not bad at all, in fact pleasantly normal, if infrequent and savored for its rarity.

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tags: America, Animals, Cape Ann, Connecticut, Culture, Massachusetts, Nature, Vermont, Videos
categories: America, Videos
Wednesday 10.26.11
Posted by Lindsay Clark
Comments: 4
 

Indy to NYC: Flying with Felines

This is a two-pronged post - conceptual and practical - so before you hate on cats, read the first half and reap the benefits. This week officially marked my sixth month living in New York City. Spending $100+ on shipping boxes was a cost I happily incurred, in the moment and in hindsight. Transporting little things on quick trips home was a breeze, especially since I've already weeded through and prioritized my material things in life. But the last step in this transition and relocation was the transportation of my 10 year-old feline, Alli.

Cat eyes with wings

Cat eyes with wings

Owning a cat at this stage in the game is one of the few things that goes against my potential nomadic ease. Three years of college in dorms and sorority houses weren't conducive to hosting her, and post-college travels only had me in her vicinity for 49% of that time. For nearly ten years, my parents were wildly flexible and tolerant to house my shedding ball of love. And when the decision to move to New York called for a serious analysis of my pet ownership, I was overwhelmed at the extent to which I couldn't live without her.

Alli on sedatives

Alli on sedatives

We suburban Midwestern gals tend to grow painfully attached to our household animals, and I assume this touches on a maternal reaction to a dependent's reliance, which we embrace with fervor. We hear and respond to 'the call' - whether it's directed at us or not - to serve other beings. And it hits us with a glee/glum one-two punch; the latter only for the inevitable life choices or threat of loss an invested pet owner must face.

Though I find it a ridiculous debate and one that deserve zero airtime in any arena, I know not everyone enjoys cats, hearing about cats, justifying the existence of cats, etc. And though I am scribing and cutting video with those feline travelers in mind, Alli has been an obstacle to one half of my lifestyle and a beloved necessity to the other.

Dare I say we all have similar parallels?

Unconscious Anchors

I know a man named Jase who could easily steal the "Most Interesting Man in the World" title away from the bearded Dos Equis gent. Though I'm not completely clued in to the inner workings of his life, it appears he has very few factors hindering him from living the life he does: one of unconventional exploration. When he's not driving across continents, he's bartending for first class flyers. Jase is one of the few people I know that can actually live a nomadic existence without a desire for the opposite. He's the exception.

Contrarian

Contrarian

As my dad likes to diagnose, I have a tendency to be a contrarian, not only in the sense that I follow an unconventional job path but that I lean toward what's underrepresented in any sphere. I was a grungy nomad with a Blackberry, a sorority girl in art school. I summon a Devil's advocate response to any topic, but I don't put on black lipstick and call myself a nonconformist. These aren't conscious decisions. I keep my emotional eggs scattered in many different lifestyle baskets, to stay balanced and maintain the ability to relate to diverse people. My cat acts as my personal weight toward a more stationary and conventional path, for which I do have lingering desires. And I think most of us do, if not for that then something else.

Individually, we all tend to dabble, desire what we don't have, and wish to do it all. If you live a committed and routine life, you probably have the occasional hunger for wildly-dangerous spontaneity. And I've met plenty of travelers who can't silence the impulse to nest. Had I given Alli away in the move, I would have lost the sometimes necessary 'ball and chain', not to mention something I love. And had I merely left Alli where she was in Indiana, my move would have seemed an uneasy balance of two lifestyles: a nest with a false bottom or a trip that lasted too long. I desire a lifestyle that doesn't overindulge or invest in one way but moderates with many, because things change quickly and constantly.

Never letting the dust settle doesn't necessarily mean movement. It means variety. It means evolution. I'm not dedicated to being a nomad or a cat-wielding spinster, I'm just open to being influenced by the things, beings, and experiences that matter to me over time.

Guide to Flying Stateside with a Carry-On Cat

For those of you who don't like cats, stop reading. This is the practical part where I cringe over the amount of bad websites on this topic in existence and my subsequent call to make my own wee guide. This being a strenuous experience for human and feline alike, the only thing that will make you feel more comforted and secure is preparation. Don't take this situation lightly. The following relates specifically to flying with Delta, but most airlines will require some variation of these steps. And obviously, these were my steps, but everyone has differing opinions over big or tiny details. Ask your vet for reassurance.

Alli cat in her kennel at the airport, pet travel

Alli cat in her kennel at the airport, pet travel

  1. When booking your ticket, ask to reserve a spot for your cat as a carry-on in the cabin. Each seating area only allows a certain number of animals on a flight. Do yourself and kitty a favor and book a non-stop.

  2. Flying across state lines is surprisingly a Department of Agriculture issue. Research what is required of the destination state in terms of pet inoculations and documentation. Frequent your veterinarian to receive a Certificate of Veterinary Inspection (or a health certificate), and expect to pay $30+ for these pieces of paper along with any necessary shots (often rabies). These are only valid within 10 days of travel, so schedule this visit a couple days before the flight.

  3. Purchase a soft kennel to ensure its fit under the seat in front of you. I dug into the airline's website to find out the specific model of airplane I was flying and the measurements of the foot storage. First shopping online makes finding specific measurements and reviews easier than at a physical store, but before I bought the kennel, I had my cat 'try it on for size' at the store. Some may frown on that. I smiled at it. After purchase, stick one of the health certificate carbon copies in the kennel pocket.

  4. Leave the kennel out for a couple days prior - to make travel less of a shock and give kitty more time to familiarize with her carrier. I lined the bottom with an old mat that she recognized, along with a maxi pad to make me feel a little better about potential accidents. Packed in my other carry-on were additional mats and pads, along with food and a copy of the health certificate.

  5. Arrive 90 minutes early for check-in, pay your animal carry-on fee, and to ensure getting the best seating arrangement. Having an empty seat beside you is optimal. And make sure you pass through security during a lull. One TSA agent asked me if I wanted do the screening in a closed room, in case she breaks loose. I felt confident I could hold onto her and take her through the metal detector. At these low traffic times, someone should be able to help you return the cat into the kennel, if that's usually a struggle. Thankfully, Indianapolis' TSA agents are wonderful people.

  6. When at the gate, appeal to the attendant (if you haven't already at check-in) to make sure your seating situation is that which will provide the least amount of discomfort for fellow travelers.

  7. Take-off and landing are both awful, because kitty will be hyperventilating and without your assurance that everything is okay. During the flight, put the kennel in your lap, make sure enough air is hitting her, and insert your arm through the flap to hold her close to you, petting the entire time. This works for my cat, who clings to me at the vet's office. And don't be surprised if she slobbers excessively. Mine wouldn't accept any water or food.

  8. Upon disembarking, be prepared for someone to pull you aside to inquire about your cat's health certificate. Though no one asked for mine, I think we'd all rather pay $30+ for nothing than get pulled in by the USDA.

  9. Once at the final destination, make sure before the cat is let free that she knows where to find her water, food, and litter box. I recommend trying to maintain as much continuity as possible from her pre-flight norms - litter brands, food type, bowls, comfort toys or blankets. My cat needed a serious wipe-down out of the kennel, as she urinated a tad and slobbered her mat damp. Post-travels, it will take a while for kitty to feel comfortable and recovered from the traumatic experience. Thankfully, it's all over now.

Updated Information

Flying with Felines

Flying with Felines

Kitty ended up having to relocate back to Indianapolis because I got another traveling gig. On this leg, I consulted with a vet about giving her a mild sedative, which she took right before leaving for the airport. We tested the drug on her a couple nights prior, and it hit her like a brick within 20 minutes. Unfortunately, when it came to flying time, the pill didn't dissolved quickly, and its effects hit her five hours later back at home, swerving like a drunken sailor.

Crush up any sedative you give your cat into soft food she will easily digest. Test this practice a couple nights prior and make sure she has supervision the entire time. She will try to jump, and she will not be coordinated enough to succeed.

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tags: Airplane, Airport, Animals, Flying, Indy to NYC, Lifestyle, Relocation, Transit, Unconventional
categories: America, Conceptual Travel, Info + Advice, Videos
Sunday 05.22.11
Posted by Lindsay Clark
Comments: 3
 

Tido Knows What's Up. Africa! Day 33

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I fear the worst has happened. As we sit here bunkering off the coast of Cape Town, South Africa, with the entire skyline in view, I cannot begin to summon up my most exciting and memorable experiences into a simple Word document. I am accustomed to and comfortable with the unfathomable, the exotic, the unique lifestyle I have developed in the past thirty-three days. Maybe it is because the fear for my own life was not a dominant emotion during this port, as it was in sunny, dangerous Brazil. Through this port, I knew the spoken language and spent a good time isolated and guarded by mall security and rangers on a safari. Upon my first step off the gangway, I celebrated my first moments on a new continent and ran to make the most of the first day. Camera poised and eyes engaged, I waltzed down Long Street, only after many long, unwanted delays from the boys gawking at every American store we passed.

The unimaginable occurred as we walked down the busiest street in Cape Town, I had money…in my pocket. No money belt here! I was smooth sailing, shopping without a care, talking to the taxi drivers about things to do, life was great. I'm setting myself up for a harsh downfall with this build-up, but one needn't worry, I'm still alive.

After my friends left on a Kruger safari, I wandered without a destination throughout a very wet Cape Town with a calling card and umbrella in hand. Never have I been alone on the opposite edge of the Earth and met up with an old high school and college friend…until now. Julie and I found each other at the wharf, enjoyed some leisurely walking, shopping and some intense, gluttonous activity.

After delighting the spirit of Sir Fidel, I flew across the nation to visit his relatives, the wild lions of the African bush, only to find that I didn't enter the Manyeleti Game Reserve so much as a Pottery Barn catalog. Waterfall showerheads and plush down comforters hardly screamed "safari" to me, although my limited knowledge of safari norms comes from childhood viewings of the Lion King. Aside from the rangers and reserve staff, we were the only human beings inhabiting the reserve those few days, but sadly, the number of different animal species I spotted in the wild dwarfed the number of people in my group with whom I enjoyed conversing.

Seated atop an open 4x4 land rover, I positioned myself near the ranger, the tracker, and the rifle, in case there were things to be learned or approaching predators to be shot. I didn't want to be slipped off the back seat by a mischievous baboon or an elephant momentarily turned carnivore.

The African bush presented a surprise to all of us expecting rolling grasslands and Bilbao trees decorating the sunrise landscape. I had my eyes peeled as if I could track those clever animals myself, trying to peer through the thick shrubbery for a glimpse of a zebra stripe. Even if I was looking in the direction of a herd of wildebeest, it was only after the tracker, seated on the hood of the vehicle, spotted them from a mile away, redirected our route to an off road path closer by, and situated us within a few yards of the creatures that I could actually notice their presence among us.

The most impressive spotting occurred in the black of night, when the tracker raised his hand, screeched our progress to a halt, and walked halfway into the bush only to emerge with a five inch chameleon he found in a tree. After we snapped numerous photographs of his findings, he placed the little amphibian back on its territorial branch, walking through Black Mamba infested grasslands in the process.

Five game drives, each including a break for tea or cocktails, resulted in an extensive animal sighting list: a pride of lions, hippos, a massive herd of buffalo, hyenas, a Black Mamba, a Pufferhead, wildebeest, zebras, elephants, leopard, giraffes, owls, impala, kudus, water buck, crocodile, chameleon, mongoose, and baboons. Our only viewings of ostrich and springbok, South Africa's national symbol, were in the form of filets, finely sliced and garnished with parsley and sweet potatoes.

One of the most shocking personal revelations I had on this safari was the fact that twelve hours of travel by air and bus to and from the reserve didn't phase me in the least bit. When an afternoon nap at sea can be marked in nautical miles, it's actually more shocking to stay put.

As enjoyable as it was to experience an African safari with some of the most knowledgeable rangers on the continent, I counted down the hours until my social circle reunited. Upon returning to my shipboard cabin, I learned a valuable lesson about eating before taking malaria medicine, but no amount of unpleasant gastro-intestinal activity can keep me from living my South African days to their fullest.

The next morning sped toward us in what felt like minutes, and we arrived at the Clocktower Mall just in time for a township visit. Entrepreneurs decorated the paved streets of the Langa township selling barbequed sheep's head, used dress pants, and assorted homemade goods off the bordering fences and poorly constructed booths. I kept my camera rested in hand to minimize my game drive tendencies because even though I was, once again, invading a new community, I was there to experience first-hand instead of just observing the oldest tribe of people in human history, the Xhosa.

A woman lovingly entitled "Mums" invited us into her two room home where she houses a family of six and her own jewelry business. As she showed us her scrapbook and explained the Xhosa rituals, we attempted to mimic her spoken clicks that seemed to flow off her tongue much easier than ours. Hugs, pictures and jewelry purchases brought a close to our home visit as we began our walking tour of the Langa township.

We could sense a definite feeling of community among neighbors that we agreed was lacking in America. Robb and I found ourselves willing and eager to live in these conditions if it was possible to experience their simple and proud lifestyle. While walking through a butcher shop/smokehouse/bar/living room/convenience store, Alexis and I could have sworn we were walking through a fraternity house and nearly felt comfortable enough to plop on a nearby emerald couch.

Odd sights of stylish Mercedes driving by roadside sheep's head BBQs and sounds of American house music blaring from twenty square foot shacks were just a few of the surprises on our way.

A large barbed wire fence came into view and soon a stampede of preschool children ran to the four American kids approaching their gate. One child appeared uninterested as he rolled a wheel about the playground, but the remaining one hundred forty-nine eager students ran towards us as soon as Robb's stickers emerged from our pockets. Even though there was a horrendous language barrier between us and the children, they understood what our cameras were doing and that tens of stickers could cling to the face with a simple press of the thumb. Those kids marked a highlight from Cape Town for all of us.

We capped the Cape Town experience off with dinner on the wharf, a couple of beers, and a last sunset that silhouetted our ship to an orange sky. And with a final toast of our massive mugs, our foursome made a vow that Cape Town would see us again, united and eager to share another amazing time together, and that time will be the 2010 FIFA World Cup.

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tags: Animals, Safari, South Africa, Study Abroad
categories: Africa, Semester at Sea, World Narratives
Thursday 03.22.07
Posted by Lindsay Clark
 

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