Tuesday Travels: Stranger in a Strange Land

Several years ago, I wrote a monthly eco-travel column called “Green Footsteps” for The Ecotourism Observer, a now-defunct e-zine operated by The International Ecotourism Society. Topics ranged from biosphere reserves to adventure travel for women.

Lately, I’ve been preparing these articles for my travel website, and I recently discovered one that was written in early 2002 and never published. As the subtitle indicated, it was intended to share “things everyone should know about transporting alien species between regions.”

Since I had so much fun researching it – and never got the chance to post it – I thought I’d share it with you now. Let me know what you think (and bear in mind that the information might be a little out-of-date)!

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Do you recall that final heart-wrenching scene between E.T., the Extra-Terrestrial, and the hapless family who loved him? When I was younger, their tearful farewell made me weep like a sprinkler, but upon a more recent viewing, I couldn’t help but wonder: What exactly does that little girl think she’s doing, offering an earthly flower to a gullible member of an alien race? Call me an incorrigible ecotourist, but imagine the ecological repercussions of such a gift.

It’s tragic enough that, just by spending several days with a few well-meaning Earthlings, tromping through the unhygienic forest around their suburban neighborhood, and exposing himself to intrusive government scientists, E.T. could be unknowingly transporting any number of germs back home. In fact, unless he’s planned to submerge his entire body into a vat of bleach during his ascent to the mother ship, some damage will undoubtedly result anyway. But, even worse, when he chooses to accept Gertie’s yellow geraniums with spindly open arms, despite any microscopic spores or bacteria hidden among the petals, he could be subjecting his planet to a lethal foreign entity, which could very well decimate his entire species.

Scoff if you will, but oftentimes, the introduction of even the smallest rodent, fish, plant, insect, microbe, or other exotic organism into a foreign ecosystem can have devastating consequences for native inhabitants.

For instance, consider the effect that Formosan termites have had in the United States. Arriving accidentally via American ships returning from the Pacific during World War II, these super-termites have spread so furiously that they’ve now caused millions of dollars in damage, repairs, and pest control throughout the historic French Quarter of New Orleans. Sadly, that’s only one of countless alien organisms currently plaguing America’s agricultural industry, national parks, and fragile hinterlands.

Beware the exotics

Such aliens, also known as exotics, nonnatives, or invasives, are an extreme problem throughout the world. Global trade and travel have helped to spread these nonnative organisms at an incredible rate in recent years.

According to Frank McDonough, a botanical information consultant at the Arboretum of Los Angeles County, invasives “present a control issue in areas where they’re not wanted.” Without natural enemies in their new habitats, exotics have quickly proliferated, threatening or destroying countless established species. Once ensconced in a virgin territory, they are usually free to prey on or hybridize with native populations, pollute food supplies, degrade native habitats, and introduce fatal pathogens. They can also damage crops, increase pesticide use, and contaminate drinking water supplies.

This “bioinvasion” is one of the most significant detriments to native biodiversity, second only to habitat loss, and can ultimately alter the species composition of an entire ecosystem. According to David Pimentel, an ecologist at Cornell University, invasives have contributed to the decline of 42% of America’s endangered species and caused more than $137 billion worth of damage to crops, cities, and wild areas.

By their very definition, alien species are those that have evolved elsewhere and migrated to a region unaccustomed to their exotic needs. Although some insects, plants, and other pests have spread from region to region by wind, water, or birds, many potentially harmful organisms, from parasites to weeds, have reached U.S. coasts and inland regions by human error, either accidental or deliberate.

Most unwanted alien species, like Formosan termites, have invaded America as stowaways within ships, trucks, trains, and airplanes from other countries or regions. Other unintentional introductions have been transported by unknowing recreationists, travelers, and consumers of exotic pets and horticulture. Anglers have transferred parasites from shoreline mud to healthy waters via infected boots, boats, trailers, and equipment. Globetrotters have dragged home virulent insects and spores from foreign destinations via their luggage and clothing. Families have released unwanted goldfish, cats, and other pets into the wilderness, where they’ve spread harmful microorganisms or mated with native species. Homeowners have used water hyacinths, Japanese honeysuckle, and English ivy to ornament their gardens, despite their tendency to proliferate and suffocate other flora.

Several of America’s most troublesome alien species have been deliberately transplanted to provide sustenance or stimulate the economy. For instance, the Polynesians and Europeans who settled in the Hawaiian Islands carted ashore many exotic vegetables and animals from their homelands. Many of these introduced pigs, boars, cats, and mongooses eventually escaped or were released into the jungle, where they’ve spread deadly mosquitoes, cleared pathways for exotic plants, and preyed upon fragile mints, orchids, ferns, petrels, and nene geese.

To sustain certain U.S. industries, wealthy landowners and fur entrepreneurs imported Indian peacocks and Argentinean nutria during the late 1800s. Peacocks, prized for their ornamental feathers, now run amuck throughout countless zoos and sanctuaries, uprooting or smothering fledgling plants. Nutria, whose low-quality fur proved too expensive to produce, soon spread to southern marshes, where they’ve devoured fragile flora and removed critical habitat for many birds, shrimp, crabs, oysters, and fishes.

Of course, not all introductions are dangerous. Without such exotics as honeybees, kiwi fruit, soybeans, and tulips, American consumers might still be limited to the several dozen crops that existed prior to 1492. Still, no matter the advantages of certain exotic species, all such aliens can affect the present balance of nature, often in negative ways.

An alien invasion

When Yellowstone’s endangered grizzly bears emerge from hibernation in late spring, their first priority is to find a hearty meal. To replenish energy supplies exhausted during the winter months, approximately one-fifth of the park’s grizzlies head for the shallow tributaries of Yellowstone Lake, prime spots for Yellowstone’s native cutthroat trout, whose spawning season usually begins just as grizzlies emerge from hibernation. Grizzlies aren’t the only ones who benefit from such crowded streams. Bald eagles, river otters, black bears, coyotes, pelicans, ospreys, mink, and numerous waterfowl have also used cutthroat as an energy-rich food source.

Trouble arose, however, in 1994, when an angler presented park officials with a large nonnative lake trout, which he claimed to have reeled in from Yellowstone Lake. Ecologists were concerned, aware that lake trout are voracious predators of the cutthroat and, therefore, a threat to the park’s associated food chain. After subsequent investigations, officials surmised that an angler had illegally introduced the nonnative lake trout to Yellowstone Lake three to five decades earlier, a despicable deed that Tony Jewett, the Yellowstone Regional Director for the National Parks Conservation Association, calls “a classic, dark-of-the-night act by an uncaring individual.”

Jewett laments the ferociousness with which the introduced lake trout have devoured the native cutthroat, apparently rather easy prey for the invaders. “It was like dumping a starving man,” he says, “into an acre of apple pies.”

Still, as lake trout prefer deeper, colder waters during the summer-only fishing season, it’s plain to see how they escaped notice from anglers and park monitors for so long. If left uncontrolled, lake trout could come to dominate Yellowstone Lake. Given that they spawn in deeper water, they would be unavailable as a food source to most of the park’s wildlife, especially grizzlies that have come to depend upon cutthroat trout for post-hibernation sustenance.

Although Jewett admits that, given the lake’s vast size and the park’s limited funds, “it would be biologically incredibly challenging to eliminate all lake trout,” officials have done an admirable job of restraining the population. By imbedding radio transmitters on captured lake trout, officials have been able to track them to several spawning beds, where they’ve used industrial-strength gill nets to capture thousands of them. In addition, the park has opened fishing season earlier every year, when lake trout are in shallow streams and more vulnerable to angling efforts. As the lake trout population continues to grow, the park may be facing an expensive, never-ending program of species control, without which the country’s most viable population of cutthroat could disappear.

Despite this threat, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service recently decided not to list the subspecies as threatened under the Endangered Species Act, claiming that viable stocks remain widely distributed throughout the cutthroat’s historic range. So, park visitors are needed to protect Yellowstone’s dwindling cutthroat population by catching and keeping lake trout whenever possible. Otherwise, the loss of cutthroat trout, along with threatened whitebark pine trees, Army cutworm moths, and bison, also staples for grizzlies, could drive these sacred bears in search of other natural foods, which might lead them closer to humans and, therefore, closer to death.

An ounce of prevention

Even harmful invasive species can be advantageous for the environment. Peacocks, for instance, hinder pesky insect populations, while smothering vines can attract eye-pleasing butterflies. Such benefits make perfect sense to McDonough, who dislikes the word “nonnative.” According to him, every plant, animal, and insect is native to Earth and might, even without mankind’s help, travel from its common home to another region. When, however, such exotic migration happens faster than it might naturally occur, Americans’ health, homes, and natural heritage are often severely crippled.

“When pests travel over a land bridge,” McDonough explains, “they tend to bring their parasites with them.” The problem, then, may not be the invasive species themselves but rather that their unexpected arrival in an area previously devoid of them tends to give said habitat little time to adapt to the new competitor. Melaleuca trees, for example, may be prized in their native Australia, but in the Florida Everglades, where they were introduced in the 1930s, they have become a severe detriment, having evolved into immense forests that eliminate any nearby native vegetation.

Once an exotic species arrives, multiplies, and settles into a new ecosystem, ecologists must often utilize extreme solutions to eliminate the problems that arise. As with cancer cells in a human body, the complete removal of an invasive organism may only be feasible in the early stages or in a restricted area. In larger, more problematic domains, such as Hawaiian jungles and Florida marshes, biologists merely hope to contain each “bioinvasion” with human labor, pesticides, natural enemies, and environmental manipulation.

In Hawaii Volcanoes National Park, rangers must simply trap feral cats and pigs, an expensive labor-intensive method of control. In the Everglades, biologists have struggled to fight the melaleuca with herbicides, managed fires, and melaleuca snout beetles. Unfortunately, they’ve discovered that trees can become resistant to herbicides, fires can actually spread the seeds, and released insects can attack non-target organisms.

Because nonnative species don’t recognize regional borders, the key to limiting the harmful impacts of invasives is to prevent them from becoming established in the first place. Since most exotic species don’t pose a threat until years after they’ve been introduced, it’s crucial for humans to pursue activities that guard America’s distinct lands and waters from such exotic critters.

“This is one of those major environmental issues,” says Ann Bartuska, Executive Director of the Nature Conservancy’s Invasive Species Initiative, “where individuals can contribute to the solution.”

As voters, we can support legislation like the National Aquatic Invasive Species Act and push countries to regulate troublesome imports, inspect airplanes and trucks for unwanted stowaways, and force ships to release their contaminated ballast water into the open seas instead of virgin ports.

As consumers, we should be bold enough to ask questions and utilize such knowledge accordingly. Before sprucing up our gardens with certain ornamental plants, we should find out if they’re indigenous or alien. Bartuska suggests that we question nurseries about the origin of such species and the potential effects of growing them in a foreign region. She also blames the proliferation of invasive plants on our ability to purchase such exotics through the Internet and advises consumers to thoroughly research nonnative flora before inviting ornamentals like English ivy and water hyacinths to flourish where they’re not wanted.

As pet owners, we should avoid bringing exotic animals, including fish, birds, and reptiles, into a nonnative environment. If we already own pets, from cats to iguanas, we should never release them into the wild, no matter the reason. “I live in a college town,” Bartuska laments. “People are throwing out animals all the time.” She acknowledges that people have a tendency to free pets when they’ve become boring or unmanageable. As an alternative to releasing domesticated animals into fragile jungles, deserts, woodlands, and waterways, she proposes that communities create pet recovery programs instead.

As recreationists, we need to be aware of our own practices as well as those of others. Jewett and Bartuska concur that, whether we hike, fish, or hunt, we should inspect our boots, our clothing, and our boats for unwanted seeds, spores, insects, and weeds whenever we travel between geographically isolated areas. We should also note any hikers, anglers, or hunters who may be participating in a "bioinvasion," such as the angler who dumped a few “harmless” lake trout into Yellowstone Lake. “Anybody who witnesses what is basically a criminal act should report it,” Jewett advises. “Such activities can knock normal processes out of whack.”

As travelers, we must take care not to bring any nonnative species along for the ride, whether traveling home from an exotic island or exploring a national park just across the state line. For globetrotters, this may mean, as Pimentel suggests, first checking that any exotic animals or plants acquired in other countries have been approved by the United States Department of Agriculture or other appropriate agency. It could also mean checking our clothing, luggage, shoes, and tires for any unwanted seeds, spores, or insects before arriving in a new region.

Otherwise, native plants, animals, and ecosystems may feel the effects of our visits, long after our global treks or family jaunts have become distant memories. If only E.T. had listened to such sage advice and left the seemingly innocuous geraniums in Gertie’s capable hands, his planet just might have been spared.

Monday Munchies: Dark Chocolate Offering

If the comments on this blog are any indication, I apparently make a lot of folks hungry with my frequent food descriptions... and images. So, for today’s “Monday Munchies,” I thought I’d thank all of you for being such amazing followers of my newbie blog with a nice piece of Ghirardelli’s Twilight Dark – an intensely dark chocolate, made from 72% cacao, with just a hint of sweetness. Mmm, so tasty – and a terrific stress reliever to boot (as one clever character, Ginger the tea shop owner, indicated on Come In Character today). So, if you’ve become a follower of this blog, ever left a comment, or just visited once, consider yourself worthy of this yummy piece of chocolate. My only advice is to nibble it slowly... and enjoy every last bite!

Dark chocolate just happens to be one of my and my hubby’s favorite guilty pleasures. We’ve both been eating it for years – so imagine our delight when we heard that there were actually health benefits to consuming dark chocolate. When eaten in moderation, it’s been known to lower blood pressure – and as a potent antioxidant, it can also curb heart disease and other ailments exacerbated by nasty free radicals. No wonder it’s such an amazing stress reliever! So, it’s not just because of the psychological boost.

Perhaps due to such benefits, there’s been a serious manufacturing trend toward dark chocolate these days. Everything from Peanut M&Ms to Snickers now has a dark chocolate version – and Dan and I couldn’t be happier.

So, I hope that you enjoy today’s yummy treat, offered to show appreciation for YOU, my lovely readers. Now, if for some crazy reason, you’re not a fan of dark chocolate, I’ll squelch my desire to beat a little sense into you and instead offer you any other (legal) treat that comes to mind. Let me know what you’d prefer, and I’ll do my best to get it for you. Just bear in mind that I’m in the boonies at the moment, so things like caviar and monkey brains might be hard to come by!

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Additional gifts, as requested in the comments section:

Good evening, Steph D. Here's your glass of red wine! I agree that it will go quite nicely with the dark chocolate. As a bonus, I've included a wooden wine stopper from New Orleans. The inscription reads "Laissez les bons temps rouler" - which translates into "Let the good times roll," the unofficial slogan of the Big Easy.

Weekend Mishmash: Fortune Cookies

My husband and I share a lot of common interests – not the least of which is a fondness for Asian food. Wherever we’ve traveled, from London to San Francisco, we’ve tasted an assortment of Asian delectables, including sashimi, pad thai, pot stickers, and almost everything in between. Usually, our meals end with a fortune cookie – a crispy little treat made from fairly basic ingredients (flour, sugar, vanilla, and butter or oil) and wrapped around a small piece of paper that typically contains six lucky numbers (used by some – not us, I'm afraid – for the lottery) and a vague prophecy, character assessment, or wise saying.

Not surprisingly, fortune cookies are more prevalent in America, Canada, and England than in China. Although the origin of fortune cookies is unclear, various Japanese immigrants claim to have popularized them in California in the early 1900s. After World War II, Chinese manufacturers took over production of the cookies, which are now available as complimentary desserts in Asian restaurants all over the world.

According to Dan, the “fortune” inside a fortune cookie will only come true if you choose the cookie pointing directly at you, read the piece of paper aloud, and then consume the entire cookie (no matter how stale it is) before leaving the restaurant. I’ve heard a few other myths, too, like having to select a cookie with closed eyes, choosing a cookie for someone else, eating the entire cookie before reading the fortune, not eating the cookie if the fortune seems unlucky, and refraining from reading the fortune aloud.

No matter how we handled our fortune cookies – or whether we believed the enclosed fortunes or not – one fact held true in my family for several years: Dan’s fortunes always made way more sense than mine. Without fail, mine were always silly adages, while Dan’s actually applied to his life. Once, when he was in the midst of building and selling homemade camera stabilizers, he received one fortune that promised he’d succeed as a purveyor of wacky inventions.

It became a running joke with us – how, no matter which cookie I picked, the enclosed “fortune” would be some trite adage like A person is never too old to learn or a confusing statement like A perfect statue never comes from a bad mold. That is, until I started editing my first novel, and I kid you not, Fortuna began to smile on me. My “fortunes” suddenly seemed to hint at my ultimate writing goals.

The first was a compliment: You have a charming way with words. The second was a reminder to quell my perfectionist tendencies: It could be better, but its good enough. (Funny that “its” is spelled wrong, thus illustrating the point of the fortune.) The most recent three have all given me hope that my dreams will someday come true: Be patient – think, listen and heed signs for personal gain. Endurance and persistence will be rewarded. Allow yourself time – you will reach success.

So, it looks as though my luck has finally turned – at least where fortune cookies are concerned. All five of these fortunes are now taped to my laptop, as not-so-gentle reminders whenever I’m feeling stressed or glum. I’m grateful for their hopeful words...

Well, what about you? What’s the silliest saying or most meaningful prophecy you’ve ever found in a fortune cookie?

Friday Fantasies: Movies to Inspire Writers

Note: I apologize for the lateness of this post. It might be time-stamped with Friday’s date, but obviously it didn’t go live until midday on Saturday. Given a missing dog and visiting friends, it simply couldn’t be helped. I’ll try hard not to let it happen again, though I can’t make any promises. I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me – and that you’re having a groovy weekend, wherever you are!

Novelists and screenwriters have long been fascinated with telling stories about writers, which seems a rather obvious fascination, given the conventional wisdom that writers should write what they know. I guess it might also seem obvious that, as a guidebook author and aspiring novelist, I adore such stories – in print or on screen. Even the gloomiest tales work their magic on me, inspiring me to be a better writer, encouraging me to experience life more fully, and giving me hope that my dream of being a published novelist will one day come true.

Although I’ve read my share of writer-centric stories, most of my inspiration has come from the movies – whether original screenplays or adaptations of beloved novels. It’s a known fact that, whenever I’m feeling down about the publishing industry, my own writing ability, and my slim chance of success, all I have to do is watch one of my favorite “writer” flicks and I feel energized again. Now, such films run the gamut, from dark tales of screenwriting dreams gone awry (Sunset Blvd. in 1950) to exciting adventures about shut-in novelists learning to live (Nim’s Island in 2008). Some have been biographical in nature, like Out of Africa (1985), Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil (1997), Under the Tuscan Sun (2003), Finding Neverland (2004), and Miss Potter (2006) – some of which were based on previous material. Some have featured wannabe writers, like Alex & Emma (2003); some have focused on successful novelists in tight jams, like Her Alibi (1989); and some have just been downright weird – Cronenberg’s Naked Lunch (1991) comes to mind. But, of course, Stephen King is probably responsible for most “writer” movies – including the award-winning Misery (1990), The Dark Half (1993), the absolutely dreadful Secret Window (2004), and the surprisingly creepy 1408 (2007).

For me, though, there are ten films that I routinely use to stimulate my creativity and quiet the voice of doom:

The Shining (1980) – I’m one of those people that actually like both the Stephen King novel and the Stanley Kubrick film, even though I’ll be the first to admit that Kubrick took some serious liberties with the source material. The visuals – like the elevators spewing forth a torrent of decades-old blood – are just too incredible to forget, and the sense of isolation is palpable. Of course, you might be asking yourself how this tragic tale of an alcoholic writer, husband, and father who goes mad in a remote, psychically-touched Colorado hotel could possibly be inspiring to me. Heck, what wannabe novelist wouldn’t want the opportunity to write all day and all night, with nothing to distract her but a few hungry ghosts? I say, sign me up!

Romancing the Stone (1984) – You might scoff, but I freakin’ love this movie, and I watch it any and every chance I get. As Nim’s Island did several years later, this film reminds me that sometimes a writer has to emerge from her comfort zone, explore the world, and perhaps find herself in a wee spot of trouble in order to fully realize her stories – and herself. And, come on, who isn’t at least a little entertained when Joan Wilder’s status as a romance novelist saves her and Jack T. Colton from the wrath of a drug lord in the hinterlands of Colombia?

Gothic (1986) – Hands down the best Ken Russell movie ever, this bizarre film explores the stormy drug-filled summer night during which Mary Godwin, Percy Shelley, and Lord Byron amused themselves by creating ghost stories, one of which would eventually become Mary’s Frankenstein. I watched this disturbing movie when I was very young – which perhaps explains a lot – and ever since then, I’ve longed for a night equally as inspiring, memorable, and just a little mind-bending.

Stand by Me (1986) – My connection with this classic coming-of-age tale is twofold: The book from which this story came, Different Seasons, inspired me, at a very young age, to pursue a writing career, and the movie continues to inspire me. For those of who haven’t seen this gem – Really? Could there be anyone out there who hasn’t seen it? – the entire story is told in flashback, from the point of view of Gordie Lachance, a writer who has just learned about the death of an old friend, propelling him to recall a boyhood adventure, during which he and three pals go in search of a dead body... and grow up a little along the way.

She’s Having a Baby (1988) – This might seem like a strange choice, but as I get older, I find this John Hughes flick more and more “educational.” After all, it’s essentially about an advertising copywriter (and wannabe novelist) who tries to balance his dreams with the real-life issues of being a new husband and expectant father. Although I don’t plan on having children any time soon, I am married – have been for nine years – and I struggle every day with the desire to write constantly and the reality of marital compromise. (But, if you’re reading this, Danny, you know I love you – and don’t begrudge the struggle at all!)

As Good As It Gets (1997) – I love stories in which curmudgeons see the light, so it’s no surprise that this movie would appeal to me. After all, it demonstrates how one grouchy, bigoted, misanthropic, obsessive-compulsive author learns to get over himself, with the help of a straightforward waitress, a homosexual artist, and a little scruffy dog. Sometimes, I feel a powerful need for such outside help – to get over my own nonsense. Thank goodness for my hubby and kitty, who keep my grouchiness and obsessive-compulsive nature in check, especially when I’m in the midst of writing something – fiction or otherwise.

Finding Forrester (2000) – One of my all-time favorites, this small gem of a film tells the story of a young black basketball player and aspiring writer, who wins a scholarship to a prestigious prep school in Manhattan and subsequently befriends a reclusive white novelist. Through this unlikely friendship, both characters change, grow, and assist each other: The man helps the boy improve his writing skills and cope with bigotry, while the boy helps the man emerge from his self-imposed solitude. While watching this tale unfold, I always wish that I could’ve had a mentor like William Forrester – and though it’s too late for that, I take comfort in knowing that there’s still time for me to help young writers like Jamal Wallace in the future.

Wonder Boys (2000) – By far, my favorite “writer” movie ever – and quite possibly one of my favorite films of all time – this quirky comic drama chronicles one weekend in the life of a college professor with writer’s block and a host of other dilemmas. It’s hard not to be inspired by a man like Grady Tripp, a one-time, critically acclaimed novelist struggling to finish his never-ending follow-up while juggling the needs of his disgruntled wife, pregnant mistress, washed-up editor, infatuated tenant, and suicidal student, who’s responsible for accidentally killing the dog of his mistress, the married chancellor of the Pittsburgh-area university where he teaches. If you’ve never seen this film, drop what you’re doing and watch it... right... now. No matter what kind of funk overtakes me, this movie never fails to chase away the doldrums and put me on the writer’s path again. It doesn’t hurt that it cracks me up on a regular basis – or that it’s based, in part, on novelist Michael Chabon’s own misadventures following the success of his first novel. And don’t tell him this, but as much as I love the book, I adore the movie even more – maybe it’s just the perfect casting that’s to blame.

Sideways (2004) – This choice might confuse you. I mean, isn’t this a film about a wine lover’s misadventure with his philandering, soon-to-be-wed best friend? Well, yes, but the wine lover in question also just happens to be a struggling novelist, with a passionate agent and no hope of snagging a publisher. That might sound disheartening, but what I like about this movie – besides the obvious hilarity of the absurd situations – is that Miles manages to impress a beautiful, vivacious woman with his story, proving that even if a novel remains unpublished, it still has the power to touch someone.

Becoming Jane (2007) – Although historians question the accuracy of this film, which chronicles the elusive Jane Austen’s first and only love affair – the one that presumably inspired her much-studied and much-lauded collection of romantic novels – I really love this movie. First, because it demonstrates how a writer’s upbringing, family, and environment can influence her stories, and second, because it shows the sacrifices that a writer must often make to pursue her art. May I have the strength to do the same...

If none of those work for you, here are a few more suggestions:

The Lost Weekend (1945)
Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961)
Somewhere in Time (1980)
Best Seller (1987)
The Accidental Tourist (1988)
Funny Farm (1988)
Barton Fink (1991)
Bullets Over Broadway (1994)
In the Mouth of Madness (1994)
Little Women (1994)
Mrs. Parker and the Vicious Circle (1994)
Shakespeare in Love (1998)
Sliding Doors (1998)
Breakfast of Champions (1999)
Girl, Interrupted (1999)
Adaptation (2002)
Orange County (2002)
Love Actually (2003)
Swimming Pool (2003)
Stranger Than Fiction (2006)
Atonement (2007)

Of course, there are even more than that, but I’m tired of typing – and frankly, itching to watch a movie!

Thoughtful Thursday: Yoga, Interrupted

For the past eight years, I’ve had an on-again, off-again relationship with my yoga mat. It’s not the yoga mat’s fault, of course. It’s just a basic blue mat that has served me well over the years – from my first attempt at “downward-facing dog” beneath the awning of our former travel trailer to my umpteenth “warrior” pose in an apartment above Bourbon Street. No, it’s not the mat’s fault that our relationship has been rocky – it’s mine.

Ever since I learned a few basic yoga moves from this teeny how-to book, Collins Gem Yoga (HarperCollins Publishers, 1999), that Dan, the non-yogi, ironically owned, I’ve enjoyed every minute of my yoga routines. Unlike other forms of exercise – especially anything that involves running, jogging, or sprinting – I’ve always felt good while doing yoga... and for a long time afterward. Gently pushing myself to stretch into the poses – even some of the tougher ones – has improved my strength, my flexibility, and my mental health. No other activity provides such equal benefits to my body, mind, and soul.

In the beginning, I relied on blocks, straps, and other accoutrements to complete some of the poses, but nowadays I have no need for such crutches. I simply unfurl my trusty yoga mat, pop in one of several DVDs I’ve procured over the years (or opt for Wii Fit yoga instead), and start bending. I’ve even attempted, on occasion, to use weights with my routine – something that one book dubs Iron Yoga (Rodale, 2005).

The problem is that I have yet to be consistent with my exercise. Sometimes, I’ll do my yoga poses every day for weeks on end, and then suddenly go several months without once unfurling my poor mat. It has nothing to do with the yoga itself – it’s my schedule (or lack of one) that’s usually to blame. When I’m under deadline for a travel guide, for instance, all else seems to fade away – including my beloved yoga. Sadly, I’m not the only writer who allows stress to usurp exercise – Susan Mills (a.k.a., Lazy Writer) lamented this very thing the other day on her blog.

I’m trying to make a concerted effort to create a schedule for myself – one that includes a round of yoga every morning – if for no other reason than that I want to feel good every day – that, and I’m hellbent on maintaining a “raven” pose for longer than two seconds. But these days, I have another blockade to my yoga consistency, and it’s in the form of a small furry creature named Ruby Azazel. I don’t know what her deal is – but ever since she came into our lives ten months ago, she’s been obsessed with my mat. Every time I unroll it, she emerges from her hiding-place-of-the-moment and starts messing with it. She’s even been known to hide underneath it, preventing me from getting started. Even after I manage to coax her off the mat, she’ll return a few minutes later, only to bite my ankles while I’m trying to do my “sun salutation” or an equally meditative pose. Perhaps she doesn’t think yoga’s good for me. Perhaps she’s worried that I’ll one day rival her in flexibility (fat chance!)... All I know is that it seems awfully unfair for a girl who was born with the innate ability to do “downward-facing dog” (not to mention lick her own arse) to prevent me from giving it a go myself. But try telling her that!

Whimsical Wednesday: My Favorite Spot

On Wednesday, I typically focus on something unusual – a hobby or an interest or something even quirkier – but I’m feeling a little meditative today, and my brain is focused on one of my more pervasive interests... the desire to live an uncommon life – if not rich in tangible wealth, then at least rich in experience. Luckily, my husband feels the same way – we even giggled at our wedding, when we each had to speak the phrase “for richer, for poorer.” Apparently, we knew then – nearly nine years ago – that we were each destined for the spare, if fulfilling, path of a wanderer.

So, for four years now, Dan and I have lived a strange, nomadic existence, spending winter in Los Angeles, spring and fall in New Orleans, and summer in northern Michigan. We make our modest living through a combination of ways – most notably from our film festivals and my travel writing. At first, our parents were less than pleased with the direction our lives had taken – but we see them more often now than we ever did before, so they’ve learned to accept it. Besides, they finally seem to “get” our wandering natures, which have led us full circle from our yearlong RV journey across America to settling down in California for a while to hitting the road again. Frankly, I think we’ve worn them down.

As you’ve probably figured out, we conveniently skip the worst climates: summertime heat in New Orleans and wintertime snow dumps in Michigan. Beyond that, however, we do this to avoid boredom. After all, the scenery continually changes – and so do the neighbors. Of course, some things remain constant – like our family of three (me, Dan, and Ruby the kitty), our mutual passion for life, and our support of one another.

Still, moving around so often definitely has its drawbacks. The packing, for one. The unpacking, for another. Leaving one set of friends and/or relatives for another set of loved ones. And yet, as exhausting as this nomadic existence can be at times (and as frustrating as it is to forget what’s been stored in which storage unit), we’re grateful for the uncertainty that it brings – we never know what we’ll encounter along the way, and there’s a comfort in that. Besides, we tried living in one place for several years, and it just didn’t stick. I don’t think it was the place's fault either – though Los Angeles can be a trying city, it also offers a wealth of natural and cultural diversions. I think it’s us. We just don’t like staying in one spot – any spot – for too long. We enjoy it while we’re there, and then it’s off to experience something completely different. All I can say is... no wonder we don’t have children – we’re just not the settling kind. And yet part of me still hopes to be a mother someday. Ah, what a tangled web we weave.

Since we’d surely go crazy if we didn’t travel, we’ve come to embrace the oddities and blessings of our imperfect life together. Of course, it helps me to have a place in each region that makes me feel a bit more grounded – a bit more connected to our present home. In Los Angeles, it’s the upper meadow in the Arboretum. In New Orleans, it’s a bench in Jackson Square. And in Michigan (where we’ll be for only three more weeks), it’s the hammock that sits beside Big Bear Lake.

Several times this past summer (though not nearly as often as I should have), I walked down the hill and headed to the little beach, where my in-laws’ beloved hammock sits. There, I’ve watched the eagles circling the lake and meditated on the serenity of nature. There, I’ve read many a book. There, I’ve contemplated my next steps in life. And, yes, on occasion, I’ve fallen asleep there, too, only to be awakened some time later by the call of a loon, the chill of a breeze, or the nudging of my hubby. What can I say? It’s a very comfortable hammock, and I’ll miss it when I go.

Tuesday Travels: Chicago Delights

Normally, for “Tuesday Travels,” I would wax poetic about some aspect of traveling, share a few memories of past misadventures, or, in the case of last week, contradict a curmudgeon’s perspective of a place I love. But, alas, I must interrupt today’s regularly scheduled programming for a shameless plug.

For the past week, I’ve featured the glorious city of Chicago in a six-part series on my American Nomad travel blog, and if you have absolutely nothing better to do today – and have never been to the Windy City before – I encourage you to check it out. I fell in love with Chicago in the summer of 1993, when I went for a five-week Radio/TV/Film course on the campus of Northwestern University – and I’ve been in love ever since. Although I moved from Chicago in the fall of 2000 to kick-start this nomadic existence that my husband and I currently embrace, I have never forgotten the wonder of living in the Windy City – and Dan and I have returned whenever we can.

In the first post – “A Windy City Weekend: Getting Started” – I offer a few basic tips for traversing the vast tapestry of neighborhoods and suburbs known as Chicagoland.

In the second post – “A Windy City Weekend: Strolling Amid Masters” – I explore the eclectic art scene, from the masterful paintings at The Art Institute of Chicago to the contemporary sculpture of Millennium Park.

In the third post – “A Windy City Weekend: Stepping Back in Time” – I venture inside the tremendous Field Museum, one of my favorite natural history museums in the whole wide world.

In the fourth post – “A Windy City Weekend: Stuffing Face Chicago-style” – I describe my favorite Chicago treat: a stuffed spinach pizza from Giordano’s.

In the fifth post – “A Windy City Weekend: Catching a Ballgame” – I share my fond memories of watching Cubs baseball games at legendary Wrigley Field.

In the sixth post – “A Windy City Weekend: Exploring the Nightlife” – I encourage folks to experience the theater scene, listen to live music, and visit one of my favorite haunts, the romantic restaurant where Dan gave me a plush Eeyore on my twenty-third birthday and asked me to be his bride.

Well, I hope you haven’t minded this shameless plug. I promise to return next week with more poetic, revealing, or embarrassing notions about my myriad travels. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this comprehensive tour through Chicago, which is second only to New Orleans as my favorite city in America.