Category: Travel & Food

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Travel & Food

Llamas and Nausea and Ruins, Oh My! My Trip to Machu Picchu.

Machu Picchu featured image

My last post was a bunch of logorrhea and omphaloskepsis about my experience at Machu Picchu. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s cut out the five-dollar words and see some pictures!

I’m going to start in Cusco. If you’d rather skip this part and go directly to the sections about Machu Picchu, you can click here. Just go ahead. Jump over my carefully crafted, witty prose and wonderful photos. I don’t care. Whatever.

Getting There Wasn’t Half the Fun. It Was No Fun.

One does not simply walk into Machu Picchu. Getting there requires trains, planes, and automobiles, but not in that order.

Also a bus.

First, you fly to Cusco, which is 11,150 feet (3,400 meters) above sea level. Everyone warned the Complimentary Spouse and me about the lack of oxygen at that altitude, but I didn’t feel it one bit!

For about five minutes, anyway.

By the time we reached the baggage carousel, I was breathing heavily and felt a twinge of nausea. (Spoiler alert: Nausea will be a recurring theme in this travelogue.)

From Cusco, you need to get to Ollantaytambo, which is about two hours by car East-northeast. We had arranged for a driver to take us there. My half-assed Spanish was better than his nonexistent English, so Britt didn’t understand a word we said, and I’m not sure the driver and I understood each other either.

About an hour into the drive, I was severely nauseated. I asked the driver to pull over at the next shoulder, hopped out, and heaved for a few minutes.

Are we close to Machu Picchu yet, Dave? Not even close. Calm down.

Ollantaytambo is notable for only one thing: the Ollantaytambo train station.1 I got some water, and we boarded the train to Aguas Calientes. I instantly felt sick, as if someone had turned my nausea dial up to 11. I tried to focus on the landscape rolling past the window. Then I closed my eyes and listened to relaxing music on my headphones. This was interrupted by a rather loud and lousy Incan dance performance in the middle of the trip.2

From Ollantaytambo to Aguas Calientes

Two queasy hours later, I stepped off the train and into a maze of souvenir shops. Aguas Calientes is the town closest to Machu Picchu, and its sole industry seems to be tourism — hotels, restaurants, tour guides, and souvenirs. It’s the Kissimmee of the Sacred Valley: A place that’s only visited because it’s close to the place people really want to visit.3

A view of Aguas Calientes.
Not a Starbucks or Marriott in sight. That’s OK.
View of Aguas Calientes
The Urubamba River bisects Agua Calientes.
A view of the Urubamba River.
For dinner, we went to Full House Peruvian Cuisine. Our table overlooked the Urubamba River.
A dish of lomo salteado and a glass of pisco sour.
I ordered the lomo salteado with alpaca. Looks good, but how will it taste?
Dave bites into some lomo salteado.
Alpaca doesn’t taste like chicken. It’s very lean and somewhat sweet. Texture-wise, it’s somewhere between tough and chewy. I was a bit disappointed, but I was in a touristy restaurant in a touristy town, which often doesn’t equate to quality meals.

We spent the night in a hotel whose staircase was inspired by M.C. Escher. In the morning, we met our guide, boarded a bus, and headed at last to Machu Picchu.

And, since I know you’re curious, the road was indeed narrow, twisty, and nausea-inducing.

Morning at Machu Picchu

At last, we had arrived at one of the Seven Wonders of the Modern World, the snack bar outside Machu Picchu.

Our guide, Mauro, suggested we wait about half an hour for the best views. Right now, he explained, the site would be shrouded in fog. Later, there would be no fog at all. In 30 minutes, things would be spectacular.

Boy oh boy, he was right.

After walking up about eight flights of uneven, rocky stairs, we turned the corner and saw this:

A view of Machu Picchu, framed by branches and leaves.
With all due respect to Carl Sandburg, the fog creeps in on little alpaca feet.

A few minutes later, Mauro offered to snap a photo. Who were we to refuse?

A panorame of Machu Picchu taken from the upper terrace with Britt and Dave on the left.
Our heads are in the clouds. As usual.

If you move those two handsome gentlemen out of the way, here’s what you’d see:

Machu Picchu in the fog, as seen from the upper terrace area.
A spectacular view from the upper platform as the fog begins to burn off.

The weather was pleasant — 65°F (18°C) with 68% humidity — but the trek was quite a workout and Britt and I warmed up quickly.

Machu Picchu is 8,000 feet (2,400 meters) above sea level — well below Cusco, but high enough to make breathing difficult. There was a lot of uphill and downhill walking, and the stairs were treacherous, so we had to walk carefully.

By George, There Are Some Animals Here

First, here’s a llama …

A single llama.
Llama.

And a llama, llama, llama, llama …

Four llamas
… llama, llama, llama, llama …

And now a chameleon.

A lizard (or other reptile) peeking out from the rocks.
… chameleon.

Now, let’s all sing it together!

Llama, llama, llama, llama, chameleon.
You come and go, you come and go.
Loving would be easy if your colors were like my dreams.
Red, gold, and green, red, gold, and green.4

A Closer View

What can I say about the view from the upper terrace? This view is as iconic as the Mona Lisa — everyone on the planet has seen it — but it’s another thing to be there and experience it for yourself.5

The fog burned off quickly, revealing this view from the upper terrace.
Britt and Dave look at Machu Picchu. Their backs are to the camera.
This photo is in no way staged.
Dave and Britt sitting on a rock with Machu Picchu in the background.
Three of the Wonders of the Modern World.

Urban Legend

From the upper terrace, we slowly worked our way down to what’s called the urban zone. “Urban” simply means it is where people lived, worked, and congregated. It is not, as you probably thought, named after Australian country musician Keith Urban.

Main Temple
The stones in the Main Temple fit together so precisely that the Incas didn’t need to use mortar or fill in any gaps. Some spots look a little worse for wear, but that doesn’t make the building any less impressive. Let’s see how good your house looks after 500 years.
The Temple of the Three Windows
The Temple of the Three Windows also features precision Inca stonework.
The Temple of the Condor in Machu Picchu
The Temple of the Condor combines natural rock formations with Incan stonework.

Mauro said that it’s very likely that human sacrifices were performed at the Temple of the Condor, which makes it very unlike any of the temples I’ve ever belonged to. Our services usually end with a little nosh. As advanced as the Incas were, I don’t think they had mini black-and-white cookies.

Heading Out

You know how you can check out of the Hotel California any time you want, but you can never leave?

Machu Picchu isn’t like that. Visitors have a four-hour maximum limit, and you can leave. In fact, I think they’d be quite upset if you tried to stay.

Machu Picchu vista
From this angle, you can see where we began our Machu Picchu adventure. So many ups and downs.
Sacred Rock at Machu Picchu.
Sacred Rock was one of the last things we saw on our tour. Its shape matches that of nearby Yanantin Mountain, and it could be used to track astronomical and solar movements. It was also used for offerings and sacrifices. If you ignore the death stuff, it was basically the Apple Watch of its day.

Presented for Your Consideration

My short video about Machu Picchu won the Palm d’Or at Cannes.

By the Numbers

Here’s how long and far we travelled:

  • Time spent at Machu Picchu: 2 hours, 49 minutes
  • Total distance: 1.25 miles (2 km)
  • Total flights climbed: 109
  • Cumulative elevation gain: 252 feet (77 meters)

More Long and Winding Roads

Before heading back to Cusco, we had to return to Aguas Calientes. That meant, once again, a nausea-inducing ride on a bus along comically narrow roads with no guardrails. Would I throw up? Plummet to my death? Or both?

Fortunately, neither. So we were able to treat Mauro to lunch at a restaurant whose name I have forgotten.

Lunch with our tour guide, Mauro, after our Machu Picchu visit.
Lunch with our tour guide, Mauro, after our Machu Picchu visit.

I was still somewhat nauseated, so Mauro ordered me a glass of muna tea. Muna is similar to, but not quite the same as, mint. It settled my stomach for a while.

Muna tea
This is the teabag equivalent of going commando.

At last, the time had come to reverse our steps and return to Cusco. After receiving our bags from the hotel, we boarded the train to Ollantaytambo. My nausea returned as soon as the train started moving, and because I was facing backward, it was twice as bad as the previous day.

It took about 15 minutes to locate our driver in the chaos outside the Ollantaytambo train station. Less than two queasy hours later, we arrived at our hotel.

Our Machu Picchu adventure had come to an end, but there’s an old Incan proverb I learned that comes to mind when I think of this once-in-a-lifetime experience.

As they say in Quechua, the language of the Incans: “Ama kaypi wiksaykipi kaqta qarquychu.”

Rough English translation: “Do not throw up here.”

The Footnotes
  1. If anyone from the Ollantaytambo tourism authority is reading this, your town was full of culture, history, and entertainment. Don’t @ me. ↩︎
  2. If anyone from Inca Rail is reading this, your dance demonstration was full of culture, history, and entertainment. Don’t @ me. ↩︎
  3. If anyone from the Aguas Calientes tourism authority is reading this, your town was full of culture, history, and entertainment. Don’t @ me. ↩︎
  4. If Boy George is reading this, holy fucking shit! How awesome! You can definitely @ me. ↩︎
  5. Seeing Machu Picchu for real is incredible. Seeing the Mona Lisa for real is a huge letdown. Just buy a postcard from the Louvre gift shop. Also, if anyone from the Paris tourism authority is reading this, your big museum was full of culture, history, and entertainment. Don’t @ me. ↩︎
Categories
Oversharing Travel & Food

Trying to Wrap My Head Around Machu Picchu

Dave at Machu Picchu

I visited Machu Picchu 81 days ago. I understand it as well as I did 82 days ago. In fact, I understand it less.

That’s why I’ve taken so long to write this post. I still struggle to describe the nonphysical part of the experience. So many of the words other people use to describe Machu Picchu simply don’t capture my feelings.

  • Spiritual means supernatural.1
  • Metaphysical means supernatural with crystals.
  • Mystical means supernatural with unicorns.

Finding the Right Words  

There are only two terms that accurately describe my experience at Machu Picchu. The first is groin-grabblingly transcendent.

Homer says "groin-grabbingly transcendent."
It’s a perfectly cromulent word.

My editor rejected that.

Lisa says "uh, I don't think so."
Good call.

That leaves me with sublime. I’m thinking specifically about how Enlightenment philosopher Immanuel Kant2 defined the word, not how it’s used broadly today.

Whereas the beautiful is limited, the sublime is limitless, so that the mind in the presence of the sublime, attempting to imagine what it cannot, has pain in the failure but pleasure in contemplating the immensity of the attempt.

Immanuel Kant, “Critique of Pure Reason”

I know what you’re thinking: What the fuck do you know about philosophy or sublimity, Dave? Well, for one thing, I think you should watch your fucking language. For another, travel writer Mark Adams came to this realization first.3

For the first time since dropping out of graduate school, I remembered an unpleasant weekend spent struggling to comprehend the philosopher Immanuel Kant’s explanation of the difference between calling something beautiful and calling it sublime. Nowadays, we throw around the word “sublime” to describe gooey desserts or overpriced handbags.

In Kant’s epistemology, it meant something limitless, an aesthetically pleasing entity so huge that it made the perceiver’s head hurt. Machu Picchu isn’t just beautiful, it’s sublime.

Mark Adams, “Turn Right at Machu Picchu”

Adams, referring to Kant, found the most appropriate word — perhaps the only word — to describe what I felt at Machu Picchu.

There’s No Place Like Place

Why was Machu Picchu so agonizing to understand but so wonderful to contemplate? Because it blew up my understanding of what a “place” is.

I think of places as distinct things.

  • My home is a place.
  • Our synagogue is a place.
  • San Francisco is a place.
  • The moon is a place.
  • Pike’s Peak is a place.
  • Australia is a place.
  • Barcelona is a place.4

At Machu Picchu, I saw that the Incas didn’t make these differentiations. The built environment (like temples, living spaces, terraces, irrigation systems, and roads) was aligned with the natural environment (like the mountains and the movements of the sun, moon, and stars).

These connections weren’t limited to the area around Machu Picchu. The Incas didn’t have modern surveying equipment or a written language, but almost everything they built was aligned with manufactured or natural features long distances away.

What happens to the concept of “place” when every place is integrated into all other places? Is my kitchen no longer a discrete space but part of something larger, connected not just to my house but to grocery stores, distribution routes, farms, factories, sunlight, soil, and whatever layer of hell Brussells spouts come from?

Contemplating all that is like drinking a Slurpee. Your brain hurts, yet you want to keep sipping.

Everywhere Is Everywhere

I had read about these alignments before visiting Machu Picchu, but I didn’t truly appreciate them till I was there with a guide pointing them out. Seeing was believing, and believing was overwhelming. Every engineering decision was deliberate and precise, and every pebble and blade of grass seemed to have been positioned for a purpose.

That doesn’t happen by accident. It comes from a cultural understanding of “place” fundamentally different from ours, based on the interconnectedness of everything at a subatomic level.5

To put that in the form of a Zen kōan: Machu Picchu is one place and every place.

Now you see why I keep coming back to the word sublime. Machu Picchu challenged me to look at the world differently. I haven’t gained a different perspective on things; rather, I’ve become aware that there is a different perspective I may never see or comprehend. You can interpret that last sentence literally or figuratively. Both ways are correct.

Mark Adams,6 the author I quoted above, has the perfect analogy:

Anyone who has ever studied string theory in physics may have some idea of how I felt. You walk into class one day confident that you live in a three-dimensional world. An hour later you walk out with only the faintest grasp of the concept that there are actually nine or ten dimensions and, quite possibly, parallel universes on top of our own.

Mark Adams, “Turn Right at Machu Picchu”

Will I ever truly understand what Machu Picchu means? No. But I’m fine with that. There’s more to be learned by appreciating this mystery than by solving it.

The Inevitable Footnotes
  1. As you may recall, I’m a skeptic about such things. ↩︎
  2. Here’s a short educational video about Kant and other philosophers: link. ↩︎
  3. I can’t recommend his book, “Turn Right at Machu Picchu,” enough. Buy it now. Do not pass Go. Do not pay $200. ↩︎
  4. A massively overrated place that is inferior to Madrid in every way. ↩︎
  5. Let’s pretend I’m smart enough to understand subatomic entanglement. ↩︎
  6. Why haven’t you bought his book yet? Did you not see the earlier footnote? ↩︎
Categories
Oversharing Travel & Food

Traveling Violation

Welcome to Mea Culpa Airlines. I’m your pilot, Dave.

I’ve always prided myself on being non-directive when giving travel advice. When someone tells me they’re heading somewhere I’ve been, I never tell them they must do something or go somewhere.

Going to New York? You gotta go to Margaritaville in Times Square!

Instead, I’ll ask if they would like some recommendations. If they say yes, I’ll discuss things the Complimentary Spouse and I have enjoyed and suggest things they might want to do. And I’ll provide an explanation.

  • Going to London? Britt and I really enjoy walking around Shoreditch to see the incredible street art. We find something new every time we’re there. And then we pop over to Brick Lane Beigel Bake for the world’s best salt beef (aka corned beef) sandwiches.
  • Going to Berlin? You might want to check out the Ritter Sport store on Französische Straße since you love chocolate. You can get varieties they don’t see in the U.S. — and even make your own!
  • Going to Barcelona? I think you’d enjoy going to Josep Tarradellas Barcelona – El Prat Airport. That’s where you catch a flight to Madrid, a superior city in every way that matters.

Isn’t that a great approach to giving travel advice? It’s not about me. I’m not ordering people around. I’m sharing information others can consider as they think about what will make their trip meaningful and memorable.

Hold your applause. It turns out that, with some types of travel advice, I’m not nearly as helpful as I thought.

Me too, Bender. Me too.

Ladies and Gentlemen, We Are Now Beginning Our Descent Into Jerkdom

“Wait a second, Dave,” I hear you saying. “Is this one of those way-too-long blog posts in which you drill down into one little flaw and blow everything out of proportion?”

Yes. Fasten your seatbelts. We’re about to hit some turbulence.

A few days ago, as I was trading text messages with someone heading to Europe, I realized how bossy, judgmental, and dismissive I can get about one part of the travel experience: the travel itself.

Sure, I’ll give you thoughtful suggestions and considerate advice for things to do, see, and eat when you actually reach your destination. But sometimes, I’m a fucking asshole aggressively helpful when I talk about how to prepare for your trip, get to your destination, and behave when you’re there.

Here are some examples of things I caught myself saying:

  • I’d never do that.
  • No. one does that.
  • Are you kidding?
  • You can’t wear that in Europe.
  • It’s foolish to bring that much cash with you.
  • It’s even more foolish to exchange the money at a U.S. bank.
  • That’s way too much money to spend on a guided tour.
  • That’s a waste of time.

The other person didn’t call me out explicitly on this bullshit, but he dropped enough hints in his replies for me to realize what I was doing.

Marge Simpson says "I'm not sure your advice was all that helpful."
Yeah, Marge gets it.

Federal Law Prohibits Tampering With, Disabling, or Destroying BS Detectors

According to the Twelve Steps in most recovery programs, I’m supposed to make a list of everyone I’ve wronged by my behavior and make amends. Fortunately, I have a blog, so I’m going to apologize to everyone at once — otherwise, I’d probably have to reach out to anyone I know who has ever been on an airplane. Whew. What a timesaver.

I’m sorry, everyone. I pledge to dial down the intensity and snobbiness for this type of travel advice in the future.

(This is the part when you say, “Oh, Dave, you’re blowing this out of proportion! Even when your advice is couched the wrong way, we know that your goal is to help ensure we love travel as much as you do! How could we not forgive you when you mean well and you’re so handsome?”)

Wow, that was a very nice and unprompted response, everyone. Thank you for being so magnanimous.

I apologized to the person I had berated about his travel plans and said he should do what would make him feel comfortable, prepared, and happy, even if it’s not what I would do.

He said thanks and then added that I was judging myself way too harshly. (I can trust that he’s telling the truth about that last part. He’s an honorable guy and the most judgmental person I know. He’s known for having opinions on everything. It seems like he’s always in the middle of a major dispute. No surprise, then, that he spends so much time in court.)

Dave’s Four Pro Tips for Travel

I still want to help people get the most out of travel, so I’ll continue offering recommendations about these kinds of issues when they’re asked for. But I’ll frame my advice as general guidelines, not commands —  just like all my other travel advice.

In fact, I’ve already prepared some:

Don’t just see a place. Experience it: Explore. Sit. Relax. Watch the people. Soak it all in — not just the sights and sounds, which you can capture with your camera, but the mood, tone, character, pace, and feeling of a place.

Lower the barriers between you and the locals: Search out opportunities to interact with locals and do the things they do. It helps to dress so you don’t stand out too much. You’ll probably still get pegged as a tourist, but not as quickly as the folks wearing Kansas City Chiefs caps, cargo shorts, and Crocs.

Be flexible. Call audibles. Don’t feel like you are stuck with a rigid agenda or need to complete a checklist for your vacation to be a success. No one’s keeping score — you don’t lose points if you skip that thing everyone else at home talks about and decide instead to check out something that piqued your curiosity after you arrived.

Don’t worry too much: I don’t want to minimize the risk of bad things happening — but if you spend too much time preparing for what might go wrong, it’s hard to get into the proper mindset for when things go right. It’s impossible to plan for every contingency, but it is possible to find a solution when one of those contingencies arises. Even in a developing country, you’ll find a way to get more cash if you need it, contact home if you can’t use your phone, get more medicine if you run out, learn the score of last night’s hockey game, and even buy new clothes because the government confiscated your Barcelona T-shirts for being in bad taste. Worst case scenario? Contact an embassy or consulate. No matter what has happened to you, they’ve helped hundreds of other Americans with the same predicament — or worse.

Please permit me to double-click on this last point. Britt and I have dealt with plenty of stuff on trips: emergency room visits, lost wallets and credit cards, flight delays, decrepit hotels, near-death experiences on the road (as pedestrians, drivers, and passengers), missing luggage, not finding anyone who speaks English or Spanish, and so much more — and we’ve always made it home. In fact, these curveballs have provided some of our best travel stories. Anyone can tell you what it’s like to visit Westminster Abbey, but only Britt and I can tell you what it’s like to be wooed by prostitutes in Havana or jump out of a taxi in Istanbul.

This Blog Post Is Taking Forever. Are We There Yet?

Let me offer a final thought:

No matter where you’re headed, I hope your next trip is enjoyable, meaningful, and memorable. If you think I can help make that happen, I’d be delighted to provide advice, suggestions, and recommendations. Wanderlust is contagious. Let me be your Patient Zero.

If you think I’m being unhelpful, overbearing, or inconsiderate, just tell me to go to hell. I’ll take it as an invitation for more travel. If I can survive the insufferability of Barcelona and return home safely, going to hell and back will feel like a walk in the park.

Categories
Travel & Food

Sedona Rocks!

Dave at sunrise, overlooking Sedona from the Airport Mesa

Now that you’ve slogged through the megillah about my energy vortex experience, let’s review the rest of my trip to Sedona. Expect more photos and less logorrhea this time.

Scenic Rim and Schnebly Hill Road

Pioneers T.C. and Sedona Schnebly moved to this area in Arizona in the late 1890s. The area was growing rapidly, so they petitioned the U.S. Postmaster General to open a post office, proposing the names Oak Creek Crossing and Schnebly Station. They were both rejected as being too long — the preference at the time was for one-word names.

Fortunately, they settled on Sedona, not Schnebly, as the name for the post office. As a consolation prize, the road from Sedona to Flagstaff was named Schnebly Hill Road. It’s a bumpy ride — it wasn’t long before I felt nauseated.

I think my photos are of the Mogollon Rim, but don’t quote me on that.

BTW, if you’re headed to Sedona, I highly recommend Pink Adventure Tours.

Merry-Go-Round Rock
Merry-Go-Round Rock as seen from Schnebly Hill Road
Dave at the Outer Rim
The Outer Rim is outta sight!
Outer Rim with moon in the sky
(In Obi-Wan Kenobi voice) That’s no moon. That’s a space station.

Broken Arrow Trail

Broken Arrow Trail is like Schnebly Hill Road: bumpy and beautiful. Our driver navigated the rocky terrain with aplomb, but I still got jostled around plenty.

Dave leaning against a pink Jeep on the Broken Arrow Trail
Come on Barbie, let’s go Jeeping! Don’t let the Peptol Bismol paint job fool you — this vehicle is rough and rugged.
Red rocks looming over the pink Jeep.
The pink Jeep looks like a Matchbox car next to the rock formations.
Dave leaning against a juniper tree.
Rockin’ around the juniper tree.
Broken Arrow Trail panorama
The view from the Broken Arrow Trail.
Dave gives a thumbs-up on the Broken Arrow Trail
(In Fonzie voice) Aaayyyyy!
Broken Arrow Trail
(in Willie Nelson voice)
On the road again
Goin’ places that I’ve never been
Seein’ things that I may never see again
And these Barbie Jeeps make me think of Ken
In Sedona, the off-road trails are as steep as the hotel prices.
Here’s another Jeep descending the same trail.

Sunset at Upper Red Rock Loop Road Overlook

Stunning. I did get a few photos, but most of the time, I set down my phone so I could mute my inner dialogue and be fully present for the experience.

Sunset from Upper Red Rock Loop Road
I’m facing east. As the sun sinks, shadows spread out before me and begin crawling toward the rocks in the distance.
Close-up of a formation seen from the Upper Red Rock Loop Road Overlook.
This rock formation looks like a manmade structure with imposing columns and a great golden dome — like a grand French Baroque palace or a fancy Taco Bell.
Dave at sunset in Sedona
A quick sunset selfie before I dash to the car and crank up the heat because the temperature is now about 35°F and falling.

Sunrise From Somewhere That Is Close to, But Not, the Airport Mesa Overlook

You’d have to be a complete idiot not to find the Airport Mesa Overlook, which is clearly marked and has everything you’d expect to see at a site for tourists: a huge parking lot, paved walkways, outdoor exhibits, coin-operated telescopes, yappy families, and so on.

Fortunately, being a complete idiot sometimes pays off. I parked nowhere near the overlook, lucked upon a rocky trail, followed it for about 25 minutes, and found a secluded spot to watch the sunrise in solitude.

I’m still not sure how I ended up there. Was it the happy accident of a man who got too little sleep, was in a cold, dark, and unfamiliar place, and failed to make sense of the directions on his phone? Or was he drawn in by mysterious vortex energy?

(Of course, it was an accident. However, if I look at the geotags on my photos, it appears that I had stumbled my way into the Airport Mesa Vortex. Cue the Twilight Zone music.)

Sedona sunrise seen from somewhere near the Airport Mesa overlook
As the sun rises, the shadow seems to melt off the tallest peak in the distance. The photos don’t capture how the peak is glowing, as if the reds, golds, and browns are lit from within.

Sunrise in Sonoma
Sunlight continues to trickle down the peak but hasn’t yet hit the town below.
Sunrise in Sonoma, as seen with a wide-angle lens
As the sun continues to rise, the sky becomes bluer and the clouds become whiter.
Dave somewhere in or near the Mesa Airport Vortex
Not a bad way to spend a morning.
A sign that says to close the gate to keep deer off the runway.
One of the many clues that I was, in fact, nowhere near the tourist-friendly official overlook area.

Concerning that last photo, I should point out that my painstaking research (i.e., a cursory scan of Google search results) indicates that deer are quite good at jumping over fences but really bad at reading signs.

Donuts

What, I’m not allowed a special treat while on vacation?

Donut at coffee at Sedonuts
The place was called Sedonuts. Of course I had to stop in!
Deve eating a donut
This Red Rock Velvet donut didn’t last long. Also highly recommended: the Vortex (a massive cinnamon roll topped with pecans) and the Red Rock Oreo (a red velvet donut topped with crushed Oreos).

Categories
Travel & Food

Into the Vortex

My first experience with mystical energy vortices began, as these things sometimes do, under angry gray clouds in the parking lot of the Sedona Public Library.

After parking my rental car (a non-mystical Chevrolet Malibu from non-mystical Alamo in the most decidedly non-mystical Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport), I found my guide Rosane (ten out of ten on the mystical scale) in her white Jeep (mystical level: undetermined).

I clicked with Rosane before I even clicked my seatbelt. She was welcoming, warm, and chatty — just like me — and wasn’t fazed when I told her I was a skeptic. “Don’t worry, I’ve met many skeptics,” she said, with traces of her Brazilian background in her voice. “Maybe you’ll be less of a skeptic when we’re done.”

And Away We Go 

While I wasn’t sure I’d achieve transcendence that afternoon, I was 100% sure I’d experience bad weather. As Rosana drove up the hill to our destination, the sky turned from slate to charcoal. At the security gate — the only way to reach the site was to drive through a gated golf course community (the complete opposite of mysticalness) — we were warned of the possibility of snow.

The precipitation had trailed off when we reached Rachel’s Knoll, the center of a vortex, but the temperature had dropped to about 30°F (-1°C).

One to Beam Up. Energize.

According to Rosane, vortices are places where the earth’s energy converges and swirls — like an eddy in a stream or a tornado in a trailer park. Rachel’s Knoll, like other vortices, functions as both a magnet and a bowl for this energy. Large deposits of quartz and iron attract the energy, and the red rock formations around the site keep the energy in.

So, what does it feel like to be at the center of the vortex, where life, the universe, and all the elements united my body and spirit into a singular being capable of constructing overwrought and pompous sentences such as this one?

Well, it kinda feels like nothing. Not even a tingle of static electricity. The immense power of the universe was swirling around me, yet I couldn’t even charge up my dying phone battery.

And yet … I felt more serene and open than usual. It was like someone turned on the Do Not Disturb mode in my head. The acerbic old man who narrates my inner dialogue decided to step out for a break. I no longer felt fixated by every fleeting thought.

Was there, in fact, some kind of psychic energy coursing through my mind and body? I don’t believe so. But standing there under a heavy gray sky, encircled by rusty red peaks and specks of dark green foliage, and experiencing Mother Nature’s schizophrenia, I knew I was somewhere different and special.

More about the weather later. Let’s first turn to …

My Spiritual Toolbox

Rosane said we’re all born with a spiritual toolbox, but using each tool properly takes knowledge and practice. She led me through a few mental and physical exercises to put the tools to use.

Circle Circle

Rosane traced a circle in the dirt with her shoe. She had me stand in the middle, shout my name into the vortex, and then draw my hands back to my body to welcome any energy coming my way.

Dave in the circle
This is the vortex version of being in the on-deck circle.
Dave shouts into the vortex
Vortex, can you hear me?
Vortex, can you see me?
Vortex, can you find me in the night?
Welcoming the returning energy
Nothing really matters
The vortex is all we need
Everything I give you
All comes back to me

Senses and Sensibility

Rosane challenged me to identify things I could see, hear, feel, smell, and taste at that moment. Sight and sound were easy (mountains and rain). For touch and smell, I crushed some juniper needles in my very cold hands. For taste, Rosane came prepared with a flask of hot tea and some miniature Hershey bars.

Because this exercise is so quick and simple, I find myself using it when I realize I’ve been operating on autopilot.

Walk This Way

Rosane showed me how to connect physical motions to energy flow. First, she had me step backward while pulling my arms into my chest. This helps draw in creative energy and inspiration, she said.

Next, she had me step forward and push outward. This action forces energy back into the world, which leads to confidence and strength.

I’ve started doing some of these movements because they allow me to step away from my desk, move around for a bit, and clear my head. Also, they confuse the dogs, which delights me to no end.

Embiggening My Conciousness

Rosane asked me to focus on where my body ended and the rest of the world began. It seemed like a weird ask, but with a clear mind, it wasn’t hard to feel where my skin met my clothes. Could I push that awareness beyond my body, she asked. With some concentration, I could indeed. Rosane said that I could expand that consciousness even further with some practice. I’m finding this exercise helpful: It’s a mental reset for when I realize I’m acting mindlessly.

Weathering Heights

If a Karen were exploring Rachel’s Knoll with Rosane and me, she’d ask to speak to the manager of weather. (“Do you know who I am?”) The trip started overcast with overcast skies and ended with sunshine, but only after taking a wild detour into a downpour and hail.

The pictures tell the story.

2:22 p.m.

Arriving at Rachel's Knoll
Gray skies and no drizzle as we arrive at Rachel’s Knoll.

3:20 p.m.

Taking refuge under a juniper tree.
Not long after I shouted my name into the vortex (as described above), the vortex responded with drizzle. Before long, it had intensified into a driving rain, forcing Rosane and I to take refuge under a juniper tree — just in time to avoid a short burst of hail. This is where we do our sense-identification exercise and tuck into the chocolate bars and hot tea.
Dave and Rosane enjoy tea and chocolate
Despite the rain, we’re having a great time!

3:35 p.m.

The rain had let up a bit, so we continued exploring Rachel’s Knoll. It it at this point that I realize that it’s not actually a knoll. Knolls don’t have rock ledges and steep cliffs.

About 30 seconds later …

After foolishly posing on wet, slippery rocks for a photo, I turn around and notice a timid ray of light breaking through the clouds. I risk life and limb for another photo, which turned out great.
This is my view.

3:40 p.m.

The sun is out, but there’s a gossamer quality to the light. It is golden yet thin and trepidatious. You will notice in this photo that my pants are soaked. Not pictured: my sopping-wet underpants.

3:47 p.m.

Blue skies at Rachel's Knoll at last
I see skies of blue,
Clouds of white.
This energy vortex
Is quite a sight!
And I think to myself,
What a wonderful world
Raindrops on juniper tree needles
Raindrops on juniper tree needles. Hey, not every caption can be witty or insightful (or both). If you don’t like it, start your own blog.

3:54 p.m.

A pretty damn good photo of Dave in Sedona.
Lookin’ good, Dave!

4:02 p.m.

A bridge in the clouds
At first glance, I thought this was a rainbow. It wasn’t. What gave it away was the lack of color. Still, it’s a pretty cool cloud formation. There’s something architectural about that curve.

4:15 p.m.

Rosane gave me her book, “Get Vortexed,” so I could take a little piece of Sedona back home to Florida. I can’t explain why I posed this way. (Other pieces of Sedona I took back to Florida: vortex rocks, a souvenir T-shirt, and about five extra pounds.)

4:19 p.m.

Leaving Rachel's Knoll
One last look before we drive down the hill and leave the vortex behind.

My Vortex Verdict

I came to this vortex a skeptic, and I left a skeptic. But I did experience something close to, but not quite, transcendence atop Rachel’s Knoll. I’d describe it as a combination of awe, stillness, introspection, and openness.

I certainly wasn’t one with the universe. But I was one with myself.

As Douglas Adams once said, “Isn’t it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?”

Take it from a skeptic: A place doesn’t need to be mystical to be magical.

Categories
Travel & Food

When Life Gives You Lemons, Eat Cheesesteaks and Make a Playlist

Getting from Camp David to Amsterdam last month was a comedy of errors, minus the comedy. There were delays, downgrades, rerouting, and some truly horrendous customer service.

But two good things happened.

First, I got to enjoy a cheesesteak at Chickie’s & Pete’s during a much longer-than-expected layover at Philadelphia International Airport.1 I even struck up a pleasant conversation with another traveler who had been delayed, which helped distract me from the raucous Phillies fans watching the playoff game.

My cheesesteak sandwich
Not pictured: The other half of the cheesesteak sandwich. (It was in my stomach.)

Second, since I couldn’t sleep on the plane, I had plenty of time to scroll through my music library and rediscover songs I hadn’t heard in a while.

Here’s the playlist. You can listen to it now — you don’t have to wait until you experience your own travel nightmare.

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1 Check out my post about Philly cheesesteaks: A Cheesesteak Is a Hug in Sandwich Form.

Categories
Travel & Food

Street Art, Minus the Street

Dave at STRAAT in Amsterdam

This was my immediate reaction when I discovered there’s an entire museum in Amsterdam dedicated to street art and graffiti:

So, now that I’ve been to STRAAT, what did I think?1 I’m a bit conflicted.

On the plus side, STRAAT is undeniably a well-curated museum of the best work from the best artists on the planet. The collection was immense and incredible, featuring a wide range of styles and themes. The building (a converted shipbuilding facility) was roomy, uncrowded, and quiet, so I had plenty of time and space to reflect on the art.

One thing that stood out to me was the size of the art. Here’s how I measure up to a mural by Ox-Alien:

David with a mural by Ox-Alien
I’m 185 cm. Figure out the feet and inches for yourselves, fellow Americans. The imperial measurement system is ridiculous and I refuse to use it outside the United States.

So, with so much to see and enjoy, why did I feel nonplussed? Ironically, the answer was right there in the STRAAT collection — this mural sums up everything I felt was problematic about the museum:

"THIS IS A VERY COLORFUL, SUPER IMPRESSIVE, EASY TO LIKE, HIGHLY DETAILED, PEOPLE-FRIENDLY MURAL FOR YOU TO STARE AT."
Artist unknown. Actually, the artist is known, but I can’t remember who they are.

The Real Thing?

STRAAT is a zoo for street art. It’s an artificial, organized, viewer-friendly environment with an admission fee and a gift shop. It can’t replicate the experience of finding street art in the real world.

In the wild, street art isn’t curated — no gatekeepers are deciding who gets to create art, and whether it’s noteworthy. It’s integrated into its surroundings. Artists have to deal with constraints like space, time, and weather. Their work is open to criticism (in the form of spray paint) from other artists.

And you never know what you’ll discover around each corner.

Consider these two murals by Cranio, a Brazilian artist who uses art to criticize how capitalism corrupts native values. The Complimentary Spouse and I saw this near Brick Lane in London in 2016:

Cranio mural near Brick Lane
Cranio mural in London

And here’s the Cranio mural at STRAAT:

Cranio mural at STRAAT
Cranio mural at STRAAT

The mural at STRAAT is larger, more complex, and much easier to stand back and appreciate. But the mural in London is more meaningful and authentic — it’s a public statement in a public place, not a piece of art under glass.

I Have Come to Praise STRAAT, Not to Bury It

I don’t want to sound too dismissive about STRAAT. I enjoyed and appreciated my visit, and we must recognize the value of street art just as we would any other art form.2

STRAAT might be a zoo, but zoos play an important role in education and preservation.3 We need more places like STRAAT to validate, catalog, study, and share street art with the world.

The next time I visit a city with a street art museum, I’ll be first in line. But I’ll also look for street art where it was meant to be seen: the streets.

More STRAAT Photos

Cornbread mural
As the world’s first graffiti artist, Cornbread has earned the right to be boastful.
STRAAT gallery
STRAAT is huge. It’s located in a former shipbuilding facility.
Third-floor view of STRAAT gallery
I told you it was huge!
Stencil art by Hugo Kaagman
This awesome stenciled mural by Hugo Kaagman had the biggest Dutch vibe, IMHO.
Painting over Shepard Fairey mural
You don’t often see someone painting over a Shepard Fairey mural. The worker (not in the photo) said that the Fairey was always meant to be temporary, and this space rotates artists frequently.

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1 I visited on October 13 during a business trip, so I got to share the experience with my colleagues (and expense the tickets). I always propose a street art-related outing for company meet-ups, and they are always a hit.

2 STRAAT has shifted my opinion of Wynwood Walls in Miami. Now that I’ve seen STRAAT, it’s easy to recognize that Wynwood Walls is pretty much the same thing without a roof. By elevating and drawing attention to street art, Wynwood Walls has attracted more artists to the area — a win-win for everybody.

3 And STRAAT doesn’t keep living beings in captivity, which is one of the things about zoos that really disturbs me.

Categories
Travel & Food

He’s No Nostrodomus

I saw the infamous Neil Horan doing his thing in London 10 years ago. He and the Bible got it wrong, but props for hedging his bets with the phrase “very probably.”

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Doggos Travel & Food

The Best Laid Plans of Dogs and Men

Britt and I offer a treat to a dog in Havana.

The hand-off was supposed to go down late at night on November 8, 2019, on Calle Compostela in the old part of Havana.

There he was, resting in a doorway, indifferent to his surroundings. The street wasn’t too busy or bright, so I didn’t have to worry about attracting attention. I dug into my pocket, pulled out a small Ziploc bag, selected one of the items inside, and gripped it carefully.

I didn’t expect what happened next.

I extended my hand and offered the item to him. He ignored me. I waved it under his nose, hoping the smell would convince him it was the good stuff from America. He didn’t care. He wasn’t interested in the slightest.

He didn’t even wag his tail.

Operation Treatos Para Perritos was off to a bad start.

“No gracias.”

Our Plan Went to the Dogs

A few weeks earlier, when the Complimentary Spouse and I were planning our third trip to Cuba, we were discussing the homeless dogs we’d seen on our previous visits. They were friendly and happy, but clearly weren’t getting much food.

We decided to put a box of Milk-Bones in our luggage for the dogs, along with gum, tennis balls, and other little presents we always bring to give to kids.

I named our plan Operation Treatos Para Perritos. We thought the dogs would love it. But, as we leaned quickly on Calle Compostela, they couldn’t care less.

We approached about 30 dogs over three days with Milk-Bones. They loved the attention from Britt and me, but had no enthusiasm for the treats. Just one accepted a treat, but only after a long period of confusion and uncertainty. Instead of eating it in front of us, he took it in his mouth and slowly walked away. I’d like to think he ate it, but it’s more likely that he spit it out.

This dog doesn't want a treat.
“I’m gonna pass.”
“Nope.”
This dog doesn't want a treat.
“I’m going to ignore you now.”

The only taker for the Milk-Bones was a woman who saw what I was doing and asked for a few. I explained they were dog treats, and she said she had a dog at home. I gave her a handful.

About half an hour later, we saw her trying to sell the Milk-Bones to people in the street.

Free enterprise will always find a way.

Planning Ahead

So, what went wrong? At first, I thought the dogs didn’t like Milk-Bones — but I quickly realized that was a stupid idea.

Homeless dogs in Havana are not pampered pets like Lucy and Linus. They’re not holding out on the cheap treats because they know there’s leftover steak from Bern’s in the fridge.

No, the most likely explanation is that these dogs wouldn’t recognize any dog treats as real food — from ordinary Milk-Bones to the gourmet $5 biscuits at the dog boutique near our house.

If you were used to scavenging for scraps of leftover food, you’d probably be perplexed by prepackaged, processed, or custom-made dog treats too.

Accordingly, I’m adjusting my strategy for the next Operation Treatos Para Perritos. I’ll test out things like jerky, freeze-dried treats, and rawhide chews.

And, if that doesn’t work, I’ll round up all the dogs and take them home with me. I’ll just have to figure out how to convince Southwest Airlines that I need two dozen comfort animals.

Categories
Travel & Food

See Ya Later!

Last week, my company’s revenue team1 descended on New Orleans to talk strategy, share information, and knock back a few hurricanes. We also did some team-building events, and the one I was looking forward to the least — an airboat ride on the swamps of Louisana — turned out to be one of my favorites.

I was anticipating sweat and bugs. Instead, I got to get up close and personal with a few of Louisiana’s three million alligators.

Here are some of the things I learned on our excursion:

Alligators Like Candy

I was shocked to learn that alligators like marshmallows. Yes, marshmallows — the things you put in s’mores and hot chocolate.2

Alligator about to chomp down on a marshmallow.
In David Attenborough’s voice: “The fierce predator stalks its prey.”

The next time I head out to the bayou, I’m going to bring a box of Peeps. I wonder if alligators would prefer chicks or bunnies.

The Swamp Is More Beautiful Than I Expected

I’m the sort of guy who thinks roughing it means staying in a hotel with less than four stars. It’s no surprise, then, that I have never visited a swamp. I expected an ugly, sticky, godforsaken place with banjo music playing in the background.

The swamp was actually more pleasant than I anticipated. It was a comfortable day with low humidity, and we got to experience the golden hour right before sunset.

Not so scary, eh?
Not long before sunset. I’m not sure how I got that awesome lens flare! No filter.

On our way from Lafitte to Lake Salvador, we saw quite a few large homes. We also saw one boat that was less than seaworthy:

This coup failed.

Airboat Captains Are Insane

Meet Captain Danny.

Gators Are Cute (As Long as They’re Small)

About an hour into our trip, Captain Danny opened a blue cooler under his chair and introduced us to his buddy, Little Ed. He was adorable.

I will hug him and squeeze him and call him George.

The trick to holding a baby gator is to grasp the tail firmly with one hand and put the other under his belly.

Airboats Are Pretty Damn Fast

I estimate we were going about 30 mph (18 kph). Perhaps a little more.

I used the Action mode on my iPhone to take this video, so it looks somewhat smooth. Actually, going fast in an airboat is choppy. I’m glad we had seat belts.

Would I Do It Again?

I had more fun than I expected on our airboat ride. I wouldn’t go out of my way to do it again, but I wouldn’t rule it out either.

Check out my new noise-cancelling headphones.


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1 I can hear you saying, “Hey, Dave, you’re in marketing, not sales!” Yes, you’re right, and thank you for following me on LinkedIn. Since my company is small, marketing and sales are combined into one team and report to the Chief Revenue Officer. This is the first time I’ve worked somewhere that doesn’t have siloed marketing and sales teams, and I love it.

2 Marshmallows are also the form Gozer the Destroyer took when he attacked New York: