Category: travel

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redeemed by keaton


Happy Wednesday peeps. Before we begin, let me fulfill one of yesterday’s blog’s ending promises and go ahead and link right up-front to the new batch of pictures for July I added to Keaton’s gallery. Check those out and enjoy.

Now that that’s over with…

I spent some amount of time today trying to scheme a way to earn frequent flier miles when paying my mortgage. The idea of spending so much money on a regular, monthly basis sparked the thought: Why not earn free airline tickets at the same time? And, while I was at it, why not pay down my fear-they’re-gonna-live-forever college loans with a mileage card and earn free flights that way too? As those are really my only two large recurring payments, I figured I should do my best to get some bonus when paying them. I’m sad to say, however, that, after much research, I wound up empty-handed. Seems there’s just no real way to earn miles for paying your mortgage… or is there?

On most of the frequent flier forums online, getting miles for mortgage payments is referred to as the “holy grail” of points programs. Apparently, back in early 2002 – some folks did indeed locate that “holy grail,” by way of a Bank of America mile-earning debit card. Being a debit card, and not a credit card, the user had only to have a Bank of America account in which there was money to draw from. Points were earned whenever money went through the debit card. Turns out, some enterprising frequent-flier found out that most merchants who sold money orders accepted debit cards as a form of payment (credit cards are prohibited when purchasing money orders, for obvious fraud concerns, but since debit cards are backed by actual cash – they are allowed). This Bank of America miles-earning debit card user published his miles-for-mortgage exploit: Use the debit card to purchase Western Union money orders, then use those money orders to pay his monthly mortgage. Viola! Miles for mortgage! The scheme made such a splash, it even got picked up by the nations’ most respected financial rag, the Wall Street Journal. The attention, however, prompted Bank of America to quickly put the kybosh on the scheme by denying points for money order purchases. Spoilsports.

So, I was right all along… there’s no way. Bummer.

During my research though, I ran across some detailed discussion of something I’d already heard of before, but only in passing: “mileage runs.” Frequent-flier mile junkies will scout out and recommend the cheapest multi-hop “runs” for miles, breaking the end result down to a cost-per-mile number. Often, these runs can be long, even overnight, trips through four, five, maybe six destinations before returning to home base – but with a price so cheap that the miles earned on the long journey are worth the trouble. Mileage runners often talk about achieving “gold” status simply with a few bargain-basement runs.

If I were single, I think I’d do this. Might be a fun way to spend a couple days: flying to several US cities, eating in different airports, listening to music – all without the burden of a single piece of luggage. And anyway, I like traveling, especially when I’m alone. It makes me feel “important,” or something. Some of these guys even plan mileage run “meet-ups” in airport lounges or bars during plane changes. For some reason, that calls to the entrepreneurial wanderlust in me. Yeah… mileage running.

Sorry I don’t have more. Goodnight!

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travel blitz


Vacation! No, seriously, I’m off all week this week. Prepare for another spate of spotty writing.

Spent Sunday afternoon planning and booking travel for my upcoming sabbatical. In the booked-and-looking-forward-to department: Hawaii for a family getaway on Maui, Florida for time with family, Keaton’s 1st trip to Disney World, and a semi-planned weekend in the Keys (baby with grandparents). In the to-be-booked department: a quick trip to Munich to meet some friends for Oktoberfest, and an on-the-cheap Vegas getaway. Finally, and sadly, in the not-happening-anymore department: the 14 day hike of the Muir trail Anthony and I were planning (his own sabbatical, which was to overlap mine, has fallen through). Yet, in spite of that disappointment, I’m extremely happy about the progress we made today.

It all gets really real when you start juggling skymiles, spending money, and scheduling time – which makes it all even more awesome to think about. Actually, I’m pretty pleased with our financial output in relation to the things we’re planning on doing. Used miles for the tickets to Florida and Hawaii (completely paid for Florida, got Hawaii for $115 round-trip each after mileage credits), paid a buddy for a week in his timeshare on Maui and saved a bundle on the “advertised” rates (which, I’m sure, are totally inflated to begin with), and am hoping to co-bunk and split hotel costs with some fellow Oktoberfest travelers. As a bonus, I was able to tack a weekend in Oregon with my folks onto the end of the Hawaii flights, and, if we do Vegas, Jeff’s got the hookup on accommodations and we can carpool down. So, all in all, it’s a pretty reasonably-priced travel blitz.

Sabbatical cannot come soon enough.

Well folks, I’m off. Goodnight.

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better in the cubicle than on the road


Wednesday and I’m back to work through Friday. Let me tell you, trying to get motivated in three working days sandwiched between week-chunks of vacation time is a tough thing to do. I sit here thinking about how, come Monday, I’ll be off for another week and won’t have to worry about all the moving and shaking at the sawmill.

I really am starting to get concerned with my level of “don’t give a shitism” lately – it’s becoming a bit more prevalent than even I expected it might with my sabbatical looming. It’s kind of like a long drive home late a night: The highway deserted and all those little white lines steadily disappearing under the car at that fixed rate; the road’s unintended pendulum lulling you to sleep. I’m driving that road here at work, doing my best to keep my chin from dropping as the monotonous day-to-day and the prospect of a warm bed (read: two months vacation) hypnotize me into autopilot. So I’ll do the same thing I do when I’m driving those late-night highways: Keep my right eye open so my wife can see it and know I’m alert, while letting the left eye slip. It never works, by the way – you always end up snapping your head up and popping your eyes open in shock: “How long was I out?! Oh God, that was close.” Let’s hope I’m better at it in the cubicle than I am on the motorways, shall we?

Anyway, I’m in Oregon again, this time just for an overnighter. I was so proud of myself, I managed to pack everything I need for the trip into my laptop bag so I didn’t need to carry any additional luggage. When I bragged about my packing accomplishment to Sharaun, she was less than thrilled. But, to me, it was quite the task. I saved room by deciding to re-wear the same pair of shoes (figured I could pull of black shoes with khakis as long as the accompanying shirt and belt were also black) and the same undershirt (hey, who’s going to know?).

I carefully tucked a pair of slacks, a polo shirt, and a fresh pair of boxers into my bag, and filled the outer pockets with the barest essentials of toiletries: brushes (of the hair and tooth family), deodorant, a tiny bottle of gel for my do, and my daily regimen of vitamins. Everything fit just perfect, even with my recently downsized and slimmer laptop bag. To me it was a testament to efficiency, everything I needed for 36hrs packed into something smaller than a briefcase. I was even further pleased with my minimalism in not getting a rental car (spent ~90min on public transit from the airport to work) nor a hotel (crashing at the folks’ place instead). It’s the small things that make me happy, really… it doesn’t take a lot.

Remember I had these big plans to watch movies on my iPod all the way to Oregon? Well, being that I had to rise bright and early at 4am to make it to the airport on-time for my departure, I opted to instead catch up on some sleep as I flew. I did, however, use the public transit time between the airport and sawmill to get mostway through Michael Moore’s SiCKO. Man, that flick is pretty powerful. Much better, in my opinion, than his previous stuff I’ve seen. And, by better, I mean less childish and defensive-seeming – but still just as indicting. The film didn’t come off nearly as self-righteous as I remember his others seeming, and was more a portrayal of our dismal system than a finger-pointing fest. I would actually recommend people watch this, it’s a rather self-supporting (not to mention scathing) commentary on our nation’s health care system, and is pretty compelling viewing. That’s not saying it’s right, or it’s perfect, or I’m on the Moore bandwagon (which, is kind of a loony-tunes bandwagon, if you ask me), but I’d still recommend it as interesting and enlightening.

Goodnight.

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monday in oregon


Sunday in Oregon, and I don’t know if I’ll get past this singular sentence and be able to actually write something worth posting (I’ve tried now three times throughout the day without success, so I don’t have high hopes for inspiration). Came up Friday night to hang with my parents and brother this weekend, and do the working-stiff gig on Monday and Tuesday. As usual, I’m not at all looking forward to working tomorrow… but I do rather enjoy the public transit ride in – makes me feel “green” and “metropolitan.” Plus, I always like a chance to listen to music on the iPod and people-watch – and the train is an excellent place for both of those. Anyway, I’ll put in my two days, work as hard as travel-me does, and we’ll be off back to Northern California.

The weather here was nice yesterday, warm and mostly sunny, only clouding over at night and raining just enough to release that earthy rain-on-concrete smell before the sun went down. We took Keaton down to the little playground that’s part of my parents little neighborhood in the late afternoon. She went on the slides. Today it rained for real, so we kicked it indoors – opting to sit around and read and surf the internet and seamlessly drift from nap to waking. It was a good weekend, for sure. Then, we capped off the evening with a nice family dinner out at a local eatery… twas quite nice. Oh, I also got some time do some blog maintenance I’ve been wanting to do for a while – going back and adding titles to my ooold blogs. I’m almost done, if you care.

Ten o’clock now and I just don’t have the heart to write anymore. Goodnight.

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62% drunk and full


Second night in Germany :: Last night in Germany. Short trip, writing with heavy, drunken fingers. Outside my hotel window rises a chorus of drunken German men singing at an open-air eatery, no doubt they’re all smoking: so Europe it hurts. I did some quick math today at the bar: of my time in Germany, 3hrs was spent presenting, and probably 2hrs in “prep.” That’s 5hrs total of work. I slept for 6hrs last night, and will get about 5hrs tonight. The other time was spent eating and drinking. This means that my trip could be summarized as such: working – 12%; sleeping – 26%, drunk and full – 62%. Man, that’s pretty good math for 2.5 litres.

I honestly don’t have much to write, I had this big ambitious piece asking why Christianity seems to be the only religion which “evangelizes” to such a high degree – but there’s no way I’m polishing that in this state. So, instead, I’ll post some quick images from the trip. Nothing fancy, mind you, I left the “real” camera at home with Sharaun so she can document Keaton’s each and every day (a far more worthy cause), and had only my 2MP cellphone with which to document my short stay in Bavaria. But, I did manage to get some decent shots, I reckon. Check it:



The “pork platter” at the local bar: pork sausage, pork liver “dumplings,” pork leg, pork chop, and back-bacon. (Portion for three, but comical when posed as a meal for one.)



4.5L “jug” of dunkles-bier from the local bar. Oh good God…



I really appreciated the pork platter…

Well, yes… I should be getting to bed then, shouldn’t I? Seems I am due to be off to the airport at 6am tomorrow morning, 200km/hr on the autobahn again. I really should get some sleep before I leave, of course, that’s after I call the wife and flip back and forth as fast as possible between the porn channels (which give you a ~2sec preview each time you pass by them) to try and catch an entire scene. Germans sure do love their porn…

Goodnight.

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on the strasse


Feet on the ground in Duetschland. Picked up my Mercedes E-class and hit 200km/hr on the autobahn between Munich and the hotel. Sunroof open, radio tuned to the local “hits” station. Funny what you’ll listen to when the alternatives are slim. I found myself quite enjoying some Prince and Fine Young Cannibals. Well, OK, I really only enjoyed the Prince – I was just too damn nervous to fiddle with the radio while going 200km/hr. It’s a gorgeous day here in Bavaria, the sun is out and the sky is blue. Germany is is just as gorgeous as I remember it being last year this time. I honestly think I could pick up and move here, I really like it that much. Maybe it’s the German bloodlines of my family calling me home, but this place is like fantasy-land to me. Meat-loving, beer-loving people who enjoy being outdoors, driving nice cars, and value efficiency. Yeah, these are my people… where do I sign up?

The flight was so-so. I sat next to a hulking German man who kept trying to elbow his way into my space. I also got screwed with a window seat, which, actually, didn’t end up that bad as I could lean my head against the wall and try to sleep. As for sleep, I got a little, but it was less than ideal. The movies they were showing were still the same batch I saw going to Shanghai last month, so I tried to nap then. Finally, for some reason, I wasn’t in much of a music mood. I couldn’t find anything that sounded right, nor that I wanted to listen to. Finally I settled on making a playlist of a bunch of Silver Mt. Zion albums and just putting it on random. And, some eleven hours later, it was over.

Speaking fog flying: Sometimes I wonder, as the plane I’m sitting in banks for a hard turn and I can look down the length of the wing at the near-perpendicular ground below, how come the thing doesn’t just “slice” through all its lift and simply fall out of the sky. I had a friend once who was fascinated that ships as big and heavy as modern-day aircraft carriers manage to float. To her, something that heavy just shouldn’t float. That’s kinda like me with airplanes. Although I learned in school just why they really do stay in the air, I’m still amazed that they actually do. A little floating village, brilliant.

Well, it’s time to off and get some beer at the local brewpub down the road – I’m tired of waiting for my fellow traveler to wake up so I’m just gonna go get it done.

Until tomorrow sometime then.

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wash for show


Made good on my promise and stayed home from work today. Too bad, though, that it did not excuse me from working. In fact, I busted my butt today at home working on material for the presentation I’m giving Thursday in Germany. It’s coming together, but it’s still in the “gathering content: ugly” phase, and I have all the “content defined: window-dress” work ahead of me. I’m not too worried, as I have tonight and the plane trip over, plus about 24hrs on the ground in Germany prior to the actual meeting. I also found time to mow the lawn, something I had to do prior to leaving unless I wanted to come home to the Serengeti. And, once again, lawn mowing becomes blog fodder – although this time for a slightly different reason.

As I pushed the lawn mower around the grass, cutting in vain a living growing organism which would just grow right back again, I couldn’t help but notice the activity across the street from me. My neighbor, whom I’d never really noticed before, was out washing her car. My neighbor, whom I’d never seen before, was wearing tight black pants, a pink shirt, and had her long blonde hair up tied up. My neighbor, whom I’d never seen before, was reaching and bending and stretching in all the ways that one would reach, bend, and stretch while washing a car. Now, I set the scene like that because I wanted to acknowledge the fact that, yes, I noticed. What red-blooded male wouldn’t. I mean, my neighbor (whom I’d never seen before) seemed to be in her thirties, and quite well-maintained physically. So yeah, I noticed. But, I didn’t ogle. Well, until… that is… until…

While I was first noticing my neighbor, I very distinctly saw my neighbor notice she was being noticed. In fact, several times, when I made a neighbor-facing pass across the turf, I caught her watching me to see if I was watching her. Now, who was really watching who is hard to say, but I got the feeling that I was not being watched because I was watching, I was being watched to see if I was watching. What I mean was, this wasn’t a woman casting nervous glances over her shoulder to see if the masher across the street was mentally undressing her, this was a woman who was stretching and bending and reaching and knowing she was watched. Again, I have no real proof, but check out this.

As I once again turned to cut a swath that cast my eyes in her direction, she offered a short wave and a smile – a gesture which I returned, all neighborly-like. Then, much to my surprise, she walked away from drying her car. She walked up into her front lawn, where the sprinklers were sprinkling. She stood there, in the sprinklers, and began to untie her hair. Once her hair was down she shook it out, first side-to-side and then up-and-down in some slow-motion head-banging action. As she tossed her hair around, she held her hands out to gather the spray she stood in. She took her hands and proceeded to wipe her face and hair. All the while, I was trying not to fix my gaze on this display.

I’ll admit, it was hard. Here was a scene right out of a movie, here was a my neighbor standing in her sprinklers tossing her hair around. What’s more, she waved to me again; in the middle of all the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue posing. That wave sealed it for me: she was putting on a show, for my benefit. I was even more convinced as she began to set about seemingly pointless yardwork which required her to do yoga-like feats of bending and squatting and stretching. Yes, my friends, this was a peacock’s plume, a lizard’s throat-thing, a cricket’s call… I was being courted from afar.

Now, this doesn’t just happen to me. I mean, I’m not exactly the picture of a hot young Latino gardener. I admit, my voluminous t-shirt could’ve adequately hidden my gut. Plus, we were at that special distance where you can’t quite make out the definition on someone’s face, and I had a blue bandanna tied around my head (hiding my growing baldness). Furthermore, I don’t think you could see the yellow armpit stains from that distance, especially as they were obscured by my mowing posture. So, perhaps, just perhaps – she mistook me for a strapping young buck out displaying his ability to work. Either that, or it’s one of two things: I gravely misinterpreted the situation or she’s seen me around and has had enough time to fall madly and secretly in love with me.

In the end, I chose not to mate with the female. I mean, the circuits in my male brain which were programmed when my ancestors still lived in caves and wore animal furs were all lit-up and green for “go.” But, the more refined gentleman in me decided to pass on this opportunity. Good to know I still got it, though.

Well, it’s 10:30pm and my workday is over. 7am to now, working pretty much solid but for a few short meetings, a lawn-mowing, about an hour-and-a-half of play-time with Keaton, and some quick meals. I figure it was well over a 12hr day, and I’m tired for it. Yet, still I have to pack, which I’ll likely put off until tomorrow morning… and still have plenty of work to keep me busy on the plane…

Until Germany then, gutenacht.