UP ♥

Just a quick installment on my continuing love letter to the UP. :)

My truck blew a radiator hose the other day, causing antifreeze to spray out all over the engine–which meant no driving. Today, I brought it up to my brother’s shop, where  one of the mechanics looked at the mess. He found tools, took it apart, found me a temporary replacement part, installed it all so I can drive, refilled the radiator with coolant–and didn’t charge me a thing. All of this at 5:00, on a Friday. I’m sure he wanted to get home, but he chatted cheerfully the whole time and even made encouraging comments about the truck (most people just shake their heads at me). And then, to top it all off, he took the old part and said he’d try to fix it at home–and, failing that, he would fabricate me a new one. (How?) All of this because he’s a friend of my brother and brother-in-law.

These things do not happen everywhere. :)

Finally, an answer to the question everyone asks: what’s next?

First: I’m going to stay in the UP until my lease ends at the end of December*. I am all too aware how precious this time is, when I can be home and run into friends and sit by Lake Superior and make last-minute plans and squeeze my friends’ babies and hug the people I love. Precious, and fleeting.

*This does not, of course, preclude any short trips. A reward trip after the marathon, perhaps? I will be so severely under-trained (thanks to Achilles trouble) come October 10 that I may need a couple of weeks on a beach somewhere. :)

Second: Before long, I’ll be back out in the world. First up is Europe for my sister’s very first international trip. (!! Nothing I love more than introducing people to travel.) We’re flying into Dublin after Christmas and heading up to Northern Ireland and into my beloved Scotland (!!!!!!!) for New Year’s, and then…? Country TBD, depending on fate and fare sales.

Rumor has it that my cousin and assorted friends will be joining us, and that there will be a third week in Finland to visit relatives and make the long-awaited pilgrimage to the town of Kauppila. Stay tuned. :)

And then, it’s off to the other side of the world. India first, and then…? A return to EBC, I hope, and Tibet if politics allow, and Mongolia, and wherever else strikes my fancy. I’m dying to stay in a Mongolian yurt:

But for now, I’m loving every day I get to be home. :)

After roaming relatively unscathed through some of the less-lovely parts of the world, I’ve come to see myself as independent and reasonably capable–that is, until a couple of weeks ago, when I bought a 25-year-old truck with a manual transmission, no gas gauge, and no RPM meter. Combine those “features” with a crippling lack of mechanical knowledge, and you’ve got a recipe for…well, if not disaster, then something equally uncomfortable. Stranded in a parking lot, on side of the road, or in the middle of nowhere, the skills that are so helpful when shouting down thieves in Ecuador or negotiating minibuses in Nicaragua are effectively useless. Can’t talk my way out of a flooded engine. :)

My truck and I–and I still say that lovingly–have been through quite the week together. It’s an education and an adventure, all rolled into one frustrating and delightful package.

Monday: Drove the truck around Houghton and Calumet without stalling even once. False sense of confidence and security established.

Tuesday: Truck floods in a store parking lot. Usually when this happens, it’s a two-person job: one person takes off the air filter and holds open the choke (amazing how quickly I’ve lost my fear of sticking a finger in a running engine) while the other person starts the truck. I was alone, so I figured I’d just let the engine dry out while I did more shopping. A half hour later, the truck still wouldn’t start, and the resourceful Yooper in me kicked in (though belatedly). I bought a wrench-thing, clamped the choke open, started the truck, replaced the air filter on the running engine, and went on my way. It sounds like a small thing next to dealing with thieves and language barriers and foreign transportation systems…but those things, I know how to deal with. And in all of my travels, nothing has ever made me feel as triumphant and capable as starting the truck, all by myself. :)

Wednesday: Truck stalls on my way to dinner, and I roll off of the road into the middle of a parking lot. I hop out, confident in my ability to make it start (ah, false security), clamp on the wrench–wearing a dress this time, which makes the spectacle of me digging around in an engine even more ridiculous–and get…nothing. Now, I hate to depend on anyone and I hate needing to be rescued, but I call my uncle for help because I don’t want to be late for dinner and because I have reached the end of my knowledge. As I’m waiting, I call another brother, who tells me to try flooring the gas pedal while starting the truck. The truck roars to life–another triumphant moment, hope restored–just as my uncle and grandpa drive up.

Thursday: I have to do the wrench thing again, the truck starts, and I go on my way. Driving 55+ on the highway, my hood–which I didn’t latch fully–catches the wind and blows up against the windshield. I stomp on the brakes (remembering to keep the clutch in!), swerve across the center line as I try to peer through the crack, and finally come to a stop safely on the side of the road. Heart pounding, I get out to find that the force of the wind and speed have bent the hood so that it will not close. A very short, very slow drive to another parking lot and another call to my brother, who suggests I bungee-cord the hood shut. After some fiddling, I find that I can shut the hood only by putting my entire weight on it. Good enough. Success!

Friday: At 7:30 am, in the pouring rain, my darling truck stalls precisely two blocks from a gas station. I roll off of the road, try to clamp the choke, put the pedal to the floor, switch gas tanks–nothing. The familiar sinking feeling of helplessness returns, and the only possible remaining solution (that I know of) is that I am out of gas. Instead of calling for help, I stomp over to the gas station–to say I am not a morning person is putting it lightly, and stalling only compounded the rage–buy a gas can, spill gas all over my hands trying to get the cap on, and trudge back to the truck, which starts immediately. Lesson learned–don’t believe the seller when he tells you a 25-year-old truck gets 18 miles to the gallon. And don’t forget to fill up the second tank. :)

…what a week.

It’s a vicious cycle: confidence–> problem –> despair –> success. I’m so grateful for my brothers, who are always patient with my endless “Um, I’m stalled in a parking lot and [insert problem] is happening. What do I do?” calls.

We’re still on good terms, my truck and I, though I am cautious. It’s hard to anticipate problems that I’m not aware of, much less devise solutions for systems that I don’t understand. You don’t know until you know, I suppose.

And now, when I’m traveling in a developing country, I won’t be afraid to rent an old truck, because I’ll know how to deal with it. :)

Summer lovin’

Each time I run into an old friend or acquaintance in the UP–which is a frequent, always lovely occurrence–I hear, “What are you doing now?” Sometimes, the question is posed with excitement by a person who hopes to hear details of an upcoming adventure in Antarctica or wildest Africa. Sometimes it’s a tentative, nervous query, as though the person fears that I will be heading out on an ill-advised, poorly-researched trip to a place where dangerous locals will surely try to sell me into slavery or chop off my head.

Upon learning that I’m staying in the UP for a few months, the former gapes in disbelief and barely concealed disappointment, while the latter lets out a she’s-finally-come-to-her-senses sigh of relief.

Usually, my reaction to staying in one place is overwhelmingly negative, and this time was no different. There were a few weeks of sheer panic at the beginning of the summer, when I’d wake up shaking after terrible nightmares and end up feverishly searching Kayak for flights at 3am (nothing like a late night impulse-buy).

I got over it. :) It’s hard to be freaked out for long when there are sunsets and bonfires and friends and family and performances and rehearsals to attend to.

There’s a line from a song in the musical Cabaret that contains the phrase, “lady peaceful, lady happy,” which just about sums up my (post-panic) summer in the UP. People seem to have difficulty figuring out what I do with myself when I’m not traveling (do you have a…job?)…so, lest the month expire without a post (How is it nearly August?), here’s what I’ve been up to:

1. Not unpacking. New strategy: avoid my apartment so I don’t have to deal with it. At least my books are halfway to a bookcase!

2. Spending quality time at Lake Superior, my favorite place in the world.

3. Hanging out with family and friends…

4. …and my oh-so-cute godson, RJ, who has learned to make the Kauppila rat face and the “you wanna hear the most annoying sound in the world?” noise. :)

5. Eating the delicious Yooper foods that are so hard to find out in the world. Can’t get enough pannukakku, pasties, and thimbleberries.

6. Buying my dream Yooper truck. (Isn’t it perfect?) Incidentally, this is the single source of stress in my life. I’m grateful to have brothers and friends who will rescue me when I flood the truck in parking lots, follow me around with jumper cables, and bravely ride along as I learn to drive a manual. :)

7. Singing! The greatest joy of being home–aside from being home–is the endless stream of opportunities to sing. I’m rehearsing for the Calumet Players’ show (Once Upon a Mattress, come see us in September!), filling in in ensembles, and singing various solo stuff as often as possible. Can’t get enough of the people who make up the music and theater community in the UP…they are unfailingly welcoming and wonderful.

8. Jumping! For joy, of course. :)

Happy Father’s Day!

All of my siblings but one happened to be in town today, so we had a picnic at the beach…Happy Father’s Day, Dad!

Okay, so the sign wasn’t actually that big, and Jake wasn’t actually there–note how he’s wearing a hat and jacket at the beach in June–I photoshopped both of them in. The sign is actual size below. :)

And the requisite jumping picture:

Road trip photos

Quick update: left NYC, flew to LA, met cousin Jerry north of LA, visited Happy Camp in northern CA (where we lived when I was 5), hung out with some locals, went running in a place called “Cougar Gulch,” drove to Oregon along the lovely coast, spent a night in Portland (which I loved), hung out in Seattle for four nights for Sheena’s cousin’s wedding (good people, fun wedding), and then sped across the country to get to Houghton in time for a baby shower last night.

Now I’m in the UP, looking for a $5000 house in Calumet to replace my storage unit. :)

Pictures from the road trip:

http://picasaweb.google.com/eekauppi/RoadTrip2010?feat=directlink

Road Trip 2010

More NYC ♥

More photos from lovely NYC, including a quick visit from Steve and some jumping in Central Park. :) I’m now on the west coast, roadtripping from LA to Portland to Seattle to Montana to Minnesota to Michigan.

http://picasaweb.google.com/eekauppi/NYC2?feat=directlink

NYC2

http://picasaweb.google.com/eekauppi/NYC3?feat=directlink

NYC3

I ♥ NY

I’m in New York, once again plotting to move here. It’s hard not to love a city that has something going on 24 hours a day, plus a fantastic host of loonies and characters (my favorite: the grown man dressed as a fairy, complete with wings and fake flowers, clomping along ungracefully in the subway). I do love a character.

http://picasaweb.google.com/eekauppi/NYC1?feat=directlink

NYC1

South Beach Bum

When last I left you, I was dreading the week and a half to come. Now, I’m writing from South Beach in Miami, a few days older and a million times happier. Amazing what a location change can do for the spirit. :)

Endless delays in the Cali airport allowed plenty of time to research possible options for activities around Bogota–and to realize that I couldn’t muster up interest in any of them. Taking this uncharacteristic lack of enthusiasm as a sign, I called Expedia on Skype (yay, free wifi), found out that the change fee was only $50, and immediately rebooked my flight to Miami for the next day.

That night, to add a few more insults to the pile of injuries for the month, I was 1) chased by a bum while out hunting for food in the middle of the night in Bogota, 2) only able to find a disgusting hot dog (with CHEESE on it, and some kind of potato chip flakes), and 3) locked out of the hostel. South America was not going to let me go without a final kick in the pants.

I could have kissed the ground when my flight landed in Miami the next day. :)

So I’ve been in South Beach for the past week, spending as much time in the sun as my skin can bear (slathered in sunscreen, of course), eating food that won’t give me intestinal issues, and enjoying the return of my normal good mood. I’ve been running on the beach at night without worrying that someone is going to knife me for my iPod and walking down the street without being mercilessly harassed.

Leaving South America early was the best decision ever.

And so begins the month of being a tourist in my own country! Tomorrow I’m flying to New York for 5 days, then to LA to meet Sheena, and then roadtripping up the coast to Seattle before driving across to Michigan.

http://picasaweb.google.com/eekauppi/Miami?feat=directlink

Miami

Final Ecuador Pictures

http://picasaweb.google.com/eekauppi/HastaLaVistaEcuador?feat=directlink

Hasta la Vista, Ecuador!