Orioles Magic...Feel it Happen

It's been many years since Baltimore had a baseball team that caused any excitement. But this weekend, Oriole fever was back, as Baltimore went crazy in support of hometown hero Cal Ripken (Jr.), who was inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame.

When I was growing up -- and an Oriole world championship was still fresh in the city's memory -- we kids fell into two camps: Cal Ripken fans, and Eddie Murray fans. Cal, of course, was the beloved shortstop and number 3 batter in the lineup. Murray was the cool first baseman, and batted fourth, clean-up. I suppose someone could make up a theory that who you liked more said something about your personality: either you were a fan of the quick and talented shortstop, a hometown hero; or you were a fan of the cool powerhitter, who could always be counted on to bring in the winning runs. Me -- I just liked Cal Ripken because he was cute.

I was working in the Camden Yards warehouse building in 1995 when Cal Ripken broke the iron man record. The feeling around the stadium was electric, and the celebration seemed to last for days. From my cubicle in the warehouse building, I had absolutely no view of the baseball field -- in the pre-law school job, my view was of various medical dictionaries and the men's restroom. But, we would go downstairs at lunchtime to grab a dirty water dog for lunch and enjoy the crazy anticipation of Cal's triumph over Lou Gehrig's longstanding record.

This year, I'm far away from Camden Yards and did not partake in any celebratory activities. But, on Friday night I had a dream about Cal. (Completely G-rated, I promise.) I dreamed that I went to an after hours club on Friday -- that part actually happened -- and when I emerged from the club, someone had manufactured a snowstorm like they did in Dubai, all in honor of Cal's induction. There were piles and piles of fake snow, and Baltimore folk were wearing Orioles jerseys and tossing snowballs at each other. In my dream, I dropped onto the snow and started doing snow angels for Cal.

When I woke up on Saturday morning, two thoughts came to mind. First, I thought it's too bad that Baltimore doesn't have any oil-rich princes/Oriole fans who are willing to sponsor a snowstorm in honor of Cal. That would have been cool. It also occurred to me that perhaps that last beer was not as good an idea as it seemed at the time. (Of course, without the last beer, there would have been no inspiration for the fauxstorm.)

I Dreamed of Africa

It's painfully quiet here in Maryland this week. I've been working with travel agents to plan my next trip -- Africa -- and the planning is moving at a snail's pace. At this rate, I'll be visiting Africa in 2009, and none of the countries will have the same names anymore.

Last week, I took a quick trip up to NYC to see some friends, which was weird. Not the friends, but being back in NYC. Within hours of arriving, I felt my blood pressure jump sky-high. There's something about being back that makes all my anxieties and neuroses boilover. So, for that reason I'm glad I've moved. But, I do miss my friends. And, all that hustle and bustle of the city reminded me that I'm not doing anything right now.

After years of a stressful job and the otherwise hectic pace of NYC, I had thought that doing nothing would be delicious. And it was, for a few days. But, now I'm anxious to start traveling again.

I had made myself a list of everything I planned to do in my down time, which included, among other things: watch the first two seasons of Lost; take up yoga; learn to cook impressive gourmet meals; have a torrid affair, preferably with someone foreign; learn Spanish (possibly in furtherance of the aforementioned affair); read Walt Whitman; organize all the stuff in piles spread throughout my parents' house; knit a scarf; shower daily; build houses for Habitat for Humanity; buy a bike; go hiking; oil paint; read all seven of the Harry Potter books; go running; play tennis; see Canada; moisturize more; write a book; etc.

So far, I've learned to make garlic bread, watched four episodes of Lost, read a few chapters of the new Princess Di biography, and launched a vigilant campaign to rid my parents' house of the pests and pestilence that have recently descended upon it (strangely coinciding with my return). Oh, and I secured my sure damnation with an insincere promise to accept Jesus Christ as My Lord and Saviour while serving as my nephew's godparent at his christening last weekend.

Somehow I feel like I could be doing something more. I'm entertaining suggestions...

Shut Up and Dance

So, now that I'm home from Asia and other foreign and exotic lands, I'm a little bit at a loss about what to write. I'm in the midst of planning the next leg of my trip (to Africa), but it looks like I won't be heading out until at least mid-August.

I spent the past few days enjoying various festivities at my friend Megan's wedding. I have known Megan since about two hours after I arrived at college. Megan had the room right next door to me in my freshman dorm, and walked over that first afternoon to introduce herself and check out my room. We became fast friends, and then were roommates for the next three years in college. After college, we lived in different places -- and for a while on different continents -- and then we both ended up moving to New York in the fall of 2001. So, after many years of being separated, it was nice to be living in the same city again.

Coincidentally, Megan also happened to grow up in Baltimore, about 15 minutes from where I grew up. So, this weekend I was right here in Maryland at her wedding, playing the role of bridesmaid. After some 15 years of friendship, it was an honor to be in Megan's wedding. (And, it was the least I could do, considering it was Megan's idea about the elephant riding in Thailand.)

It was a beautiful wedding with good food, great friends, and is turns out, probably too much dancing. I woke up Sunday morning with multiple dancing injuries. My knee was scraped and bloody from the patented super-spin move my friend Chris and I created -- and then flubbed during the last dance of the evening to the theme from Dirty Dancing. (We got too greedy, and should have stopped after our fourth perfect execution of the move.) Also, I somehow threw out my hip while twisting to the oldies, and it still hurts when I walk up stairs. And, my toes had kind of lost all sensation from wearing strappy sandals all night long. But, it was worth it. I had a great time.

Joanie Loves Chachi; America...Not So Much

So, I was traveling just about three months, and apparently the country has fallen apart while I've been away. That is to say -- who thought it a smashing idea to give Paula Abdul and Scott Baio each their own television series? Haven't we suffered enough?

Sheesh.

Hello...Is it Me You're Looking For?

I made it back to the US in one piece. It only took three flights and some 31 hours of travel time. I'm so exhausted and tired of airports -- I don't even want to think about where I'm traveling next.

But, I'm also bored. I've been in air conditioned -- and ice rich -- bliss for less than 10 hours and I don't know what to do with myself. I'm too whacked out from the time difference to sleep. I already voraciously tore through every gossip magazine I could get my hands on while stuck in O'Hare airport. I have no patience for Matt Lauer this morning. I guess I'll go head to the tailor and start the necessary groveling to get my bridesmaid's dress altered in time for the wedding this weekend.

Thai Me Up, Thai Me Down

I'm fully recovered from whatever hit me last week, and have been enjoying myself in Thailand since Sunday. From Sunday until yesterday (Thursday), I was in Chiang Mai , where, as promised, I went on an elephant ride. (His name was Camus.)

It's a little hard for me now to convey how excited I was about riding the elephant, since the novelty of seeing elephants has worn off. There were tons of elephants around Chiang Mai. And, on my way over to this Internet joint, I passed a baby elephant hanging out front of an Irish pub called the Dubliner. (Apparently, he has good taste.)

But, the day of the elephant ride I was psyched. I've been daydreaming about riding an elephant since February, when I started seriously thinking about this trip. As soon as I got to Chiang Mai, I signed up for a group tour to ride elephants, do a mini-trek, and see a few outdoorsy things.

It was a strange group that I ended up with for the excursion. There was a woman from California and her five-year-old son. And...there were these two young French-Canadian women who just spent the past four months volunteering at a Thai orphanage. But more importantly...they liked to sing...crazy children's songs...all day long...in French. They were like a cross between Mary Poppins and the Smothers Brothers, sent on a southeast Asia goodwill USO tour to save orphans because Celine Dion was too busy in Vegas hanging out with her older husband/manager, Rene.

They sang children's songs the whole freakin' day. They sang to the five-year-old. They sang in the mini-van. Even when we took a haphazard, bamboo raft down a murky, disease-filled river, they sang cheerful songs about being on the river. When we got to a ethnic hill village, they did several song-and-dance numbers for a poor, speechless little child. (This time they sang in English, and they were joined by the little American five-year-old who was trying to keep up with their songs and moves.) By this point, the tour guide just threw his hands up in the air and walked back down the hill to the mini-van. I was torn between following the tour guide, and gawking at the seemingly endless song-and-dance spectacular...Er, I mean, supporting the French-Canadians who help orphans.

Meanwhile, the woman from California became obsessed with orphans. All day long, she kept posing questions to the French-Canadians about what the orphanage was like and what she could do for the orphans. I admire her desire to help, but the frequency of her questions was a little overboard. Even the kind-spirited French-Canadians seemed a little weary of all the questions by the end of the day. I think my favorite was on the way home when she asked if she could send an old digital camera to the orphanage, and then suggested that maybe her son's class could become pen pals with the orphans when he starts kindergarten next year. It was all I could do not to speak up and tell her that most kindergartners don't know how to read or write, let alone read/write Thai. But, the French-Canadians saved me from sure damnation by kindly pointing out that the Thai orphans don't speak English. To this, the California woman responded that the children could draw each other pictures. I really did admire her spirit and optimism.

So, needless to say, the elephant riding was probably only the second-most memorable part of the day.

I'm in Bangkok right now, which, contrary to the view of many people, I actually kind of like. But, I may be delirious from all the gelato and European baked goods I've been consuming since I got here. (Who knew there was such deliciousness in Bangkok?) Pastries aside, it's pretty seedy here, and there are massage parlors and "fancy" ladies everywhere. It makes me very sad how the city shamelessly -- maybe even proudly -- caters to the sex-pat crowd at the expense of so many women and children. But, Bangkok is hardly alone on that point.

And, on that uplifting note, I'm off to grab a beer at the Dubliner and see if I can strike up a conversation with the Elephant. Tomorrow's my last day in Asia. Sunday I have a marathon 25-hour journey back to the US for my friend Megan's wedding. (My favorite part is that for one leg of the trip, I leave Tokyo at something like 3 pm on Sunday and arrive in Chicago eleven hours later... but at 2 pm on Sunday, earlier than when my flight left. Time travel is so awesome.)