Ninety

Recently my Grandma Eva and her twin sister Evelyn celebrated their ninetieth birthdays.  Although they are both still in excellent health, I couldn’t help but thinking, “Wow I can’t believe they are sooo old!”  What a terrible thought, one fraught with negative attitude and emotion.  Society has told me 90 is old; when in fact age is nothing more than a number.

Ninety is a number; it is preceded by 89 and followed by 91.  Ninety is a right angle.  Ninety is the distance between bases on a Major League Baseball field. Ninety is the age of Gucci.  Ninety signals a hot day in the USA.  Ninety is the number of minutes in a soccer match.  Ninety is a unitary perfect number.  Ninety was the age of a Galapagos Tortoise who gave birth for the first time this June.    

1921 was ninety years ago.  Ninety years ago Albert Einstein received the Nobel Prize in Physics; Boeing started to obtain orders for aircraft and abandoned furniture-making; and Coco Chanel introduced "Chanel No. 5".  Einstein’s principals are still central today, Boeing is at the top of current headlines, and Chanel No. 5 is consistently a top selling fragrance.

I challenge everyone to dismiss the limiting principle of numbers as an indicator of age.  Whether someone is 9 or 90 years old treat them with respect, there is undoubtedly something you could learn from them.

  

Beaches, Boats & Booze in Tampa

I geared myself up and was excited to hit American soil once again; unfortunately it was less than a star spangled welcome home.  Searched, residue swabbed, and humiliated, I eventually made it.  My bag was not so lucky.  I can only imagine the hell it went through.  Travelling for 4 months through South America on sketchy buses, collectivos, and hitchhiking…where does my bag go missing?  A direct flight from Miami to Tampa.

Separated from the possessions I held been intimately attached to for so many months, my worries were easily distracted by a real, hot shower.  A shower without an electrical head, a shower I didn’t need to wear slippers in, a shower with equal pressure and temperature (which of course I had scorching with this new freedom).  It was glorious. 

Tampa, St. Petersburg and Clearwater are a humid, tropical trio of cities on the Gulf of Mexico coast. Visiting good friends, Davia and Kevin, it was 5 days of beaches, boats, and booze…exactly as I think Florida is meant to be!

Boating the intercostal waterways and exploring the different keys of St. Pete’s and Treasure Island was so cool.  There were dolphins and manatees around our boat, huge mansions to gauk at, and best of all shallow sand bars to stop at.  Boats stop all around these sand bars, set up volley ball nets, and just party.  Pretty cool scene to be ‘exposed’ in.

Anna Maria Island was also a huge highlight, a sleepy little beach community with fifties rancher homes lining the streets to a beautiful beach on the Gulf of Mexico.  It was a wonderful afternoon taking in the sun and unusual surf, this due to a tropical storm in the Gulf.  

On the other side of the island we stopped at “Rod & Reel Pier” which is a famous fishing spot with a little restaurant which opened in 1947.  I tried the Floridian classic, Grouper, quite a tasty fish.  Also worth mentioning were my other forays into ‘you can only eat that here’ land…Alligator, Conch Sushi, and of course Key Lime Pie!

Weighed down from very successful beach combing, it is finally time to board my last flight (well two), travel through time and space back to Seattle, and see my Mum!

Bogotá – A Love Letter

Dear Bogotá,

I love you.  I love everything about you.  I love the country you capital.  Although misunderstood and judged by some, I will always defend you, fight for you with all that I have.

I love your unassuming beauty; your juxtaposition of historic elegance with modern elements entwined.  I love your sprawl, your sheer expanse of mystery.  I love you for everything you leave to discover over time.

I love your people; open and compassionate, helpful and genuine.   I love all of your hipsters, stylistas, and punks.   I love your striking women and I love your leather boots.  I love your sizzling men in teal pants.

I love your color and raw grittiness.  I love your vibrant street art scene.  I love your Sunday flea markets with coca tea.  I love your ‘only bikes’ on Sunday philosophy.  I love your vibe, your inimitable character, your entire ethos.   

I love that you serve DUFF beer.  I love how you acknowledge you can get cold at night and give me (and your other lovers I suppose) free soup when I leave the bar.  I love your appreciation of the significance of good ‘After Hours’ and I love your Aguardiente.  I love your trees and vistas, and I love walking home with you as the sun rises. 

I just fucking love you OK.  Please don’t think I am an obsessive lunatic, but I know someday we will be together.  Until then you will be in my dreams.

Love, Katie