Traveling with Aeri

Arizona. You were a blur.  I arrived thinking “I have two whole months to take in your arid beauty. Your dusty desert hikes, your blooming cactus, your choya, your locals and your snowbirds.” And then suddenly I have one week left and I’ve barely gone hiking, I haven’t gotten my night desert pictures, and I won’t have time to go to the canyon lakes.  Argh.

But the months weren’t without entertainment.

There were the full moon drum jams and the weekly music circles.  There was the rodeo.  There was that cowboy.  And there were a couple trash bag tutus.

Have you ever heard a melancholy middle eastern song played on a violin, accompanied by a wash tub base? I have!

The campfires filled with music, stories, and jokes are part of what make this world so wonderful.   Like a group of old cowboys sharing warmth and light, rennies from all walks come together around a fire to share their talents and energy. Sometimes the fires are right in the campground, in a special pit that has been built by fellow travelers over time.  A slowly hollowed out circle of stone seats with a fire pit in it’s center.  Sometimes the fires are out in the desert, preceded by a long hike through moonlit washes and around spindly desert trees full of slumbering birds who chirp sleepily as we pass.  The walks, the music, the community- it’s all there and it’s all great.  I can even work on my own drumming skills, knowing that if I’m being listened to at all, it is to offer constructive advice rather than criticism.  In honor of my return to Arizona, I’d like to quote myself here, pulling the following from a post I wrote about my first drum jam last year  in a discontinued blog :

“…With this drum, I took it and started hitting it. I started hitting just the base note, one hit each measure. Practicing getting the nice dong sound to come from the drum. Then I added other beats as I felt able to do. Sometimes I messed up, and sometimes I lost the beat, and I’d go back to just keeping time for the other drummers. But I could hear my drum mixing in with all those others. And then, later, after I’d warmed up or gotten comfortable or what have you, I started hearing my drum on top of the others instead of below them. Were they following me? Was my beat steady enough for the other drummers to build off of its base and settle into my rhythm? Could I actually be good at this drumming thing? This is amazing! This is great! This is so much fun! I didn’t want to stop and I couldn’t wait for the next time.

I like this concept of learning in the presence of others. In a community of people who have been there, and can remember what it was like to start.

So here’s to doing more than dancing to the beat of your own drum, here’s to sharing that beat with others.”

Its just great energy out there.  The rodeo, however, was great energy of an entirely different sort.  It was indeed my first rodeo.  It was lively. The horses were beautiful.  I wore my cowboy boots and I drank bud light.  I yeehawed at the bull riders and barrel racers.  And then I went to the after party to mingle with the cowboys, and ended up meeting a country boy instead.

Giddeup lil'horsie!

Now let me specify, as defined by this Country Boy, a country boy “can do everything a cowboy can do, maybe better”, but he’s more modest about it.  He’s a good ol’boy with a heart of gold beneath that tanned and toned chest of his.  So we’re supposed to think, at least. Well anyway, this Country Boy was nice enough, and after a chat in the bar about his horses and his tour business, we agreed to meet that next week for a ride through the desert.

So a few days later Mindy and I found ourselves atop Tequila and Smoke, two frisky mustangs ready to ride out. We rode through the desert, the horses daintily picking their way around cacti, until we came upon a ghost town.  Parking the horses out front, we went in for a few more cold buds.

Horse Parking

On the ride home the horses wanted to run, and we let them.  Cantering through the sandy wash, barely maintaining my seat and loving every moment of it, I thought again about how important it is to meet the locals when you travel.  What might be a crazy once in a life time experience for you, is just the daily grind for them.  They might just love to share the experience with you.  After all, seeing what you take for granted through the fresh excited eyes of a stranger can refresh your energy and make you grateful for the life you live.  I know that’s how it works for me!

If Aeri the Faerie is in a Trash Bag TuTu, does that make her a Litter Bug?

One evening out we went to a male burlesque show.  The costumes were amazing, the dancers were adorable, and I fell in love with a trash bag dress.  It had a bustle and a train, it was flowing and couture and completely 100% plastic.  I knew I had to make one.  So, for the rennie dance, the “funky formal” as it’s called, I knew it was time to be inspired.  So above, you can see my disgustingly adorable trash bag tutu that resulted.  It has a hot pink and leopard print duct tape waist band. I had to be taped into it that night, and cut it off of me when I was done.  It was hot and sticky while I danced, but the awesome swishing fluffy-ness of it outweighed any discomfort.  Litterbugs Unite! The trash bag tutu has some serious potential.

And that about sums up my stay in Arizona.  Of course there was work, but who wants to hear about that anyway?

Up next, a 17 hr drive down to Waxahachie, Texas, for the Scarborough Renaissance Festival.  What new adventures are in store?  I’ll find out soon!

Much Love,

Aeri

Last week I was in Paris and I spent $280.00 (Well $279.55 to be exact). That is amazing, even to me. That works out to be $40, or less than 30 Euro, per day. How did I do it?

Friends. Friends saved me in Paris, a city of $6 coffee and harmless restaurants that blind side you with $20 glasses of house wine. Ah, I love Paris. So much coffee, wine, and cheese; parks and museums; and now home to so many close friends.

I arrived on November 30^th and took a 9.10 Euro train ride to my friend’s apartment. I would be staying with her and her mother this week. I was greeted by warm smiles, big hugs, and good smells. We sat down to the task of catching up, which transitioned into the task of eating dinner. And I have to tell you, all week long, Cloe’s (my friend’s) mom out did herself with her French feasts. That night we had pig cheeks. Other nights were fish, froi gras, snails, buttery creamy side dishes, always accompanied by a cheese plate and fresh (and homemade) bread. I have never feasted so well in France as I did this week, at the generosity of my wonderful hosts.

Sadly, Cloe and her mom had to work the next morning, so after dinner we retired early. I was left to my own devices the next day. I wandered down to the nearest Metro station and picked up a “Paris Visite” card. (Since my hyperlink function is not working this morning, here is the website: http://www.ratp.fr/en/ratp/c_21894/paris-visite/) It seemed like the best option. Five full days of unlimited travel within Paris for 30.70 Euro. That worked out to be about 6 Euro, or three rides, per day- a minimum average I certainly exceeded.

I wandered for a bit, enjoying the architecture, while making my way to another friend’s apartment. Elise was hosting me for lunch. On the way I stopped in a market to pick up a bottle of wine for our reunion. Said bottle of wine, and a full meal later, and we were still catching up. We continued our day by browsing the winter markets that spring up all over Paris in December. Vin Chaud in hand, we browsed past stalls of scarves, jewelery, and other knick-knacks.

That night another friend, Sandra, was coming into town for the weekend- flying in from Zurich where she works with the IronMan Triathlon organization. We all met for drinks at a centrally located rum bar, deftly selected by Elise.

The weekend was spent enjoying the sights (we went to MontMatre, Sacre Coeur, a Dali exhibit, and Versailles), catching up with friends (some more old college pals had come up from South of France for the reunion weekend) and absorbing the city. I don’t have many travel tips for this week, because this week for me was more about reuniting with old friends than powering through the sights and smells of another new place. One lucky coincidence I can relate. In Paris, in the winter, the first weekend of the month, is free museum weekend. Many of the museums and famous sites are open and not requesting admission fees. Even the big ones like the Louvre and Versailles Palace participate. Since my Parisian friend Cloe was more interested in Versailles than the Louvre (and since I had been to the Louvre the last time I was in Paris, but had never seen Versailles) we decided to go with the palace. Because of my Paris Visite ticket, it only cost 3.40 Euro for me to get out the the palace, and free entry to enjoy the rooms, paintings, and the extensive garden. So, while you can’t plan your trip around these wonderful days, my tip is to always check the local happenings when you arrive. Perhaps your stay overlaps something rare and interesting and it can help guide your itinerary.

All too soon the weekend was over and my friends, who had traveled from Switzerland, Southern France, and Belgium, and all to meet in Paris for a few drinks and a good meal, had to return to their homes and prepare for Monday morning obligations. It was short, sweet, and wonderful, and made the trip worth every penny. Midnight of my last night I found myself with local Parisians Elise and her Fiancee, watching the Eiffel Tower sparkle in the night, competing with the stars in the sky.

Paris, I love you, but without friends like these, I could never afford you.

Au Revoir,

Aeri