I’ve never been a big fan of resolutions- maybe because I tend to fall into the same patterns as everyone else, but I like the theory.  Most of even tend to have similar resolutions: exercise, eat right, treat people better, find a new job…
I think the percentage of people who actually stick to their resolutions is less than 1%- have you ever met anyone who said on January 1 “I’m going to the gym five days a week” and was able to follow-through to the end of the year?

But the point is, really, that we are making an attempt to be better people, to make changes and most importantly- that we have hope that each new year will be better than the last.

So this year, I will again make the compulsory resolutions, with the hope that I will follow though on them just a little bit more than last year…. by the way, it’s already January 2 and I have yet to finish writing them.

I spend the day exploring the city on my own. First visiting the Plaza de Armas, the town square, which was bustling with visitors in town for Holy Week. Later that morning the street filled with local students and teachers protesting pay and discrimination at the local Universities. Following the protesters are armed policemen.

There aren’t many tourists here. A few backpackers wander around the town square. I purchase a huge meat empanda and coca-cola from a local store for just 5 soles (less than $2 US) and sit on a bench in the square. I am soon  approached by multiple men seeking money for charity and then a family who has traveled to Arequipa from the country. They are in need of a cup (vaso) to drink their carton of juice. They share a picnic lunch and chat with me politely in Spanish. They have come to the city for Holy Week, later that day there will be a procession to all the churches. They only come to the city a few times a year.

Traveling alone I am more aware of what is going on around me. Able to listen to conversations, observe and interact with locals, I can truly let go of my life and absorb the place I am in.

We were supposed to take the cheap local bus to Nasca this afternoon, however, due to the massive numbers of people traveling during Holy Week, there aren’t tickets available, so we end up on the nicer coach bus. We wind through dust sand and desolation. The journey south along the coast takes us through villages of one-room huts set among endless rolling hills of sand dunes. Cheap ocean views.

We arrive at our accomdations in Nazca just before sunset. The Hotel San Marcelo is a simple hotel set among farmlands just outside Nazca.  That night I fall asleep to the sounds of foreign crickets.

The next morning I am awakened by roosters calling even before the first rays of sunlight.  It’s going to be a hot day- the sun is much stronger here than in Lima- no clouds or smog to diffuse it.

We wind down dusty back roads in an old bus that lurches and moans as we crawl up even a small incline. There is no wind and the smell of dust and exhaust surrounds us.  We are miles from anything, and the landscape is nothing but dry, brown dirt as far as one can see. We are on our way to visit the Cemeterio Chauchilla, a pre-Inca cemetary dating back to AD 1000-1400. These graves were robbed centuries ago, but the bones of this land’s original inhabitants still remain in thousands of graves. There are 12 graves which have been reconstructed for viewing- completely open to the elements other than a simple roof to protect from sun and the few drops of rain that fall only once every few years. How did people ever survive here? How do they still?

Next we visit a local pottery shop– Jenny. The owner makes polychrome clay pots using the same techniques and decoration styles used for over 1000 years.

The final sight to see in Nazca- the famous Nazca lines. I have wanted to see the Nazca lines for years. I’ve always had a strong interest in Archeology and the Nazca lines are perplexing. Large geogliphs, they can only be seen from the air. There are figures of birds, fish, monkey, a spider and even what appears to be a space alien. There are many theories about their significance- perhaps they were used by the farmers to know and control the meteorological agrarian cycles, or maybe they had religious significance. Whatever their function, today they are a major tourist attraction. No less than 6 small airline companies have services in the Nazca airport.

The flight over the lines is nauseating. The ultralight plane zig-zags across the sky bouncing up and down on hot air pockets while purposely dipping side to side so that the 6 tourists on the plane can see out the windows. The entire flight lasts just 30 minutes. Half-way through I am so ill I cannot even look out the window- I breath slowly in and out and point my camera out the window hoping to at least capture a few of the designs I was unable to see.

I stumble out of the plane to a nearby bench. Two of the other passengers head directly for the trash bin. The pilot and co-pilot seem to be laughing- they make this flight multiple times each day. Surely they are used to sick tourists. Perhaps they should ask for tips before the flight.

It is very odd not having a passport, credit cards or much money. Possibly the closest I will ever be to invisible; I can´t leave the country, with a credit cards my movement can´t be traced, I can´t go shopping or  sightseeing.  I am staying in a neighborhood of Lima called Bellavista, where I don´t exactly blend in, nor do I attract an inordinate amount of attention. It’s not an area that tourists frequent.  My meager spanish skills allow me to get by in the local shops and restaurants.

The hostel where I am now staying costs 25 soles a night, (approximately $9). For that I have a clean bed, a towel and private bathroom. I share the room with at least one cockroach (the window is broken so insects are free to come and go).  I don´t have hot water–it seems to be a luxury here in Peru as my last last hot shower was over a week ago. I ran out of shampoo in Cuzco and have been washing my hair with bar soap.

On the bright side, Peru is a cheap country- a blessing for someone who has $50 to live on for 3 days. A bottle of water at the corner tienda costs only 50 cents, and my lunch of empanadas and coca-cola in the local cafe was just under $3 US.

This experience has made the thankful for so many things that we take for granted every day in the US- from hot water, to bathrooms with soap and toilet paper, to grocery stores packed with food, to public transportation. It will be good to get home.

My company’s themed holiday party takes place tonight.  Of course it will be poltically-correct non-religious-themed and therefore devoid of any trees, menorahs, angels, wreaths, and stars (ironic as our company logo includes one!).  I’m guessing the decor will be minimal–gotta love corporate America. 

And with over 400 people expected in attendence, I wonder will I even be able to find the 20 or so coworkers that I enjoy spending time with.  And who promised me they will be there–it’s a good thing they already shelled out $7.50 each for a ticket!

It also presents an interesting situation for those us us whose spouses are not party people…do we bring our introverted, teetotaling spouses to a party of 400 people where he or she will no doubt sit in a corner waiting for a enough time to go by that the suggestion “can we leave now?” won’t be met with a cold stare and a “in a minute!” through clenched teeth?

And what about party etiquette for those of us who love a good party? There are hundreds of advice columns discouraging heavy drinking at the corporate gathering (for good reason, if you’ve every seen the movie ”Bridget Jones’ Diary”, the office party Karaoke scene says it all). 

But seriously, can we dance like idiots to the live band? Can we wear the really short dress that’s not work appropriate? Can we actually enjoy ourselves?

I say we can. Despite my sarcastic commentary, I’m going to the party and I’m planning to have a fabulous time…I’ll let you know how it turns out!

For me the Tube is an endless source of distraction and entertainment. As hundreds of people pass by me on my way down the steps I wonder about each of them….”Where does she work?” “Is he happy?” Where did he get those shoes?” ”What does she do for fun?” ”What did he have for dinner?” ”Are they enjoying their vacation”?  

The Tube is filled with people from all classes. People who have moved or are visiting London from countries around the globe. People who are on their way to work. People on their way home. Students studying textbooks. Retirees heading to tea.   

And perhaps the best part of riding the Tube is that is seems to equalize everyone. It doesn’t matter if you have money or are struggling to get by, on the Tube we’re all just going somewhere. 

Delays can bring out the best and the worst in people. Some chose to spend their time reading a good book. Others work, or at least pretend to. Some meet new friends, as the gentlemen in front of me who are now engaged in a card game.  And some people chose to get angry, and take out their frustrations on the airline staff.

It doesn’t seem to matter how you spend your time….flight delays are always going to be frustrating and will never go away.  The good news is…my plane has arrived from Seattle. Let’s hope we board and depart soon and better luck to all of us next time we fly.

Regardless of any of the controversy surrounding the election (Fernandez’s husband is the former president, she won only 45% of the vote, barely enough to avoid a run-off election) — this is truly amazing.  

This recent election made me curious- how many other countries have elected female leaders? I have heard of Margaret Thatcher, Indira Ghandi, and , but what countries’ elections have been unreported in the major newspapers and therefore unnoticed by most of America?

The list may surprise you: Finland, New Zealand, Ireland, not so surprising, but The Phillippines, Mozambique,  Liberia, and Bosnia, all currently have women in

And those are just some of the women currently in office.  We often think that the US is very progressive and modern, and it is in many ways, but we could learn a lot from Argentina when it comes to politics.

Way to go Argentina! And in the next US Presidential election, maybe we’ll have the opportunity to finally cast our vote for a woman.

Women Prime Ministers & Presidents (20^th Century) From About.com/women’s history

Sirimavo Bandaranaike, Sri Lanka

Prime Minister, 1960-1965, 1970-1977, 1994-2000.  

Indira Gandhi, India

Prime Minister, 1966-77, 1980-1984.  

Golda Meir, Israel

Prime Minister, 1969-1974.  

Isabel Peron, Argentina

President, 1974-1976  

Elisabeth Domitien, Central African Republic

Prime Minister, 1975-1976  

Margaret Thatcher, Great Britain

Prime Minister, 1979-1990.  

Maria da Lourdes Pintasilgo, Portugal

Prime Minister, 1979-1980.  

Lidia Gueiler Tejada, Bolivia

Prime Minister, 1979-1980.  

Dame Eugenia Charles, Dominica

Prime Minister, 1980-1995.  

Vigdís Finnbogadóttír, Iceland

President, 1980-96.  

Gro Harlem Brundtland, Norway

Prime Minister, 1981, 1986-1989, 1990-1996.  

Soong Ching-Ling, Peoples’ Republic of China

Honorary President, 1981.  

Milka Planinc, Yugoslavia

Federal Prime Minister, 1982-1986.  

Agatha Barbara, Malta

President, 1982-1987.  

Maria Liberia-Peters, Netherlands Antilles

Prime Minister, 1984-1986, 1988-1993.  

Corazon Aquino, Philippines

President, 1986-92.  

Benazir Bhutto, Pakistan

Prime Minister, 1988-1990, 1993-1996.  

Kazimiera Danuta Prunskiena, Lithuania

Prime Minister, 1990-91.  

Violeta Barrios de Chamorro, Nicaragua

Prime Minister, 1990-1996.  

Mary Robinson, Ireland

President, 1990-1997.  

Ertha Pascal Trouillot, Haiti

Interim President, 1990-1991.  

Sabine Bergmann-Pohl, German Democratic Republic

President, 1990.  

Aung San Suu Kyi, Myanmar (Burma)

Her party won 80% of the seats in a democratic election in 1990, but the military government refused to recognize the results. She was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1991.  

Khaleda Zia, Bangladesh

Prime Minister, 1991-1996.  

Edith Cresson, France

Prime Minister, 1991-1992.  

Hanna Suchocka, Poland

Prime Minister, 1992-1993.  

Kim Campbell, Canada

Prime Minister, 1993.  

Sylvie Kinigi, Burundi

Prime Minister, 1993-1994.  

Agathe Uwilingiyimana, Rwanda

Prime Minister, 1993-1994.  

Susanne Camelia-Romer, Netherlands Antilles

Prime Minister, 1993, 1998-  

Tansu Çiller, Turkey

Prime Minister, 1993-1995.  

Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunge, Sri Lanka

Prime Minister, 1994, President, 1994-  

Reneta Indzhova, Bulgaria

Interim Prime Minister, 1994-1995.  

Claudette Werleigh, Haiti

Prime Minister, 1995-1996.  

Sheikh Hasina Wajed, Bangladesh

Prime Minister, 1996-.  

Mary McAleese, Ireland

President, 1997-.  

Pamela Gordon, Bermuda

Premier, 1997-1998.  

Janet Jagan, Guyana

Prime Minister, 1997, President, 1997-1999.  

Jenny Shipley, New Zealand

Prime Minister, 1997-1999.  

Ruth Dreifuss, Switzerland

President, 1999-2000.

 Jennifer Smith, Bermuda

Prime Minister, 1998-.  

Nyam-Osoriyn Tuyaa, Mongolia

 Acting Prime Minister, July 1999.  

Helen Clark, New Zealand

Prime Minister, 1999-.  

Mireya Elisa Moscoso de Arias, Panama

President, 1999-.  

Vaira Vike-Freiberga, Latvia

President, 1999-.  

Tarja Kaarina Halonen, Finland

President, 2000-.

I’m not exactly an avid outdoors-woman either. In fact, the last time I slept on the ground was that last family trip at age 13.  I do not actually have the desire to camp or go anywhere that might require forgoing a shower for more than 24 hours.   

Though we did not take a video-camera (that and most other luxuries were jettisoned long before we left the parking lot) we did take about 50 digital photos and I have recorded our adventure in an entertaining narrative. (Well, Michele and I thought it was entertaining….you may decide after reading that it is one of those “you had to be there” kind of stories).

The purpose of the backpacking trip is to journey to North Lake AKA “Too Far Lake” to disburse the ashes of a dear friend of Michele’s who passed away a few years ago.  This friend had enjoyed backpacking over 20 years ago to a location she called “Too Far Lake”.  It took several years for Michele to determine that “Too Far Lake” was actually named “North Lake” and located near Twisp, WA about 10 miles from the closest road. 

We leave at the ungodly hour of 5:00 a.m. when even in summer it’s hardly light outside, and after a very necessary coffee stop in Wenatchee, we arrive at the metropolis of Twisp, WA around 9:00 a.m. We decide to stop for breakfast so that we will have the energy to climb the mountain (and I want to make sure that what could potentially be my last meal is a damn good one) so we mosey into Antlers Saloon and order up a hearty breakfast. As you may imagine, the saloon was complete with many many sets of antlers (heads too) on the wall. I believe that there was even a spittoon by the bar, possibly left over from earlier times.

From Twisp we drive west along the Twisp River Road. After encounters with several deer, we came upon a bear in the road… just a few miles from where we are going to get out of our safe car and strap 40 pounds of dead weight on our backs, making it impossible to move faster than a crawl…. what have I gotten myself into?

At the trailhead, we park our car in the completely empty parking lot and begin packing our backpacks.  Having never backpacked before and with my last camping experience over 10 years ago, I rely (perhaps foolishly) on Michele to guide me in determining which gear to bring and what not.  Since it is already 80 degrees and the sky is clear blue, I decide the first thing to go is the raincoat. As Michele loads my pack with the essentials– fuel, cooking pots and pans, food and a bottle of wine, she fills her backpack with other miscellaneous items including a very compact tent, stove and lantern, and, most importantly, the gun.  Now we are ready to go!

As I bend over to tighten the laces on my hiking books, I watch as the vertically challenged Michele, (think less than 5 feet tall) easily hoists her pack onto her back.  Following her lead,  I squat down, bend backward toward the shoulder straps, throw my arms through, hastily lunge forward, and…. go no where.  I think to myself “this pack must be full of bricks.” Michele sees me and decides it would be helpful to grab the pack from the top and meet me half way, which helps, only now the ton of bricks is on my back practically pulling me over backwards- how the will I make it 10 miles uphill?

It turns out that going uphill with the pack is much easier than standing still, so we set off on the trail.  We sign our names on a page at the trailhead; this will ensure that if we don’t return the next day, the forest ranger will know where to send the search party.  I can already see the headlines “Female Hikers Missing in North Cascades” “Search Party Dwindles- No Sign of Missing Hikers”, and “Hikers Presumed Dead.”

About 1/4 of a mile in, I start thinking about the bear we saw on our way up to the trailhead.  A song that I sang many years ago at summer camp pops into my head “The other day, I met a bear…..”  Then I started thinking about what would happen if we actually did meet a bear and I yell forward to Michele, “Why is it that you are carrying the gun and I am carrying the rib-eye steaks and bacon?”  Michele assures me that she will not leave me and my pack for the bear to snack on, so we continue up the mountain. 

About 1/2 mile up, Michele asks “Jen, do you think we’ve gone a mile yet?”  It has been about 25 minutes, plenty of time to go a mile under normal conditions, but remember, Michele is a smoker and my idea of exercise is to walk 2 miles on my treadmill in the air-conditioned comfort of my home.  I tell Michele that we can still see the parking lot and she better not even utter the words “Are we there yet?” until we’ve hit the 5 mile mark.

Highlights of the uphill journey: beautiful scenery. More beautiful scenery:  Wildflowers, mountain meadows, mountain peaks all around us, the sound of streams, waterfalls, and, whitewater, patches of snow.

Lowlights of the uphill journey: The beautiful scenery included rocks, which, due to the fact that it was uphill made walking a challenge.  Wildflowers and mountain meadows seem to attract copious amounts of flesh-eating mosquitoes.  Streams, waterfalls and whitewater sound pretty until you have to cross them and the water reaches over your boot tops soaking your socks.  Patches of snow mean melting snow, which means thick, dark mud you have to walk through.

Oh, and did I mention the fact that it was uphill? 

I should also note that we were a little uncertain about the length of the journey. The 25+ year-old map Michele had showed the trail as being 5.5 miles (one way).  The 2-year-old hiking book I had stated the length as 7+ miles. After approximately 4 hours of hiking and no sign of a lake, we enter an open meadow with lots of standing water and lots of bugs.  We cross through the muddy meadow and on the other side is a tiny little muddy pond.  At this point, I am sure that this is probably North Lake and we are doomed to spend the night among millions of bugs and instead of being eaten by a bear, we’ll be eaten alive by mosquitoes.  But, thankfully, the trail continues…

About a mile and a heck of a climb later, we enter into a clearing. I see a beautiful blue lake and realize, this must be it, and it is. 

We find a campsite already set-up, presumably by other hikers, and it is complete with a rock-ringed fire pit and some large logs perfect for storing gear. I lean backwards and my pack slides down my back to the ground. With the weight lifted I feel like I am floating.  Michele and I float around to explore the area free from the deadweight we had hauled nearly 10 miles.

And I have to admit, the lake is well worth the climb.  Crystal clear water- clearer blue than any water I’ve ever seen, snow melting into it. A grassy green hillside with a bubbling stream—this could be straight out of an Irish Spring commercial.  And the air- so fresh that…oh no, stop me before I turn into a nature-loving tree hugging eco freak!

After putting up our tent and by tent, I mean a 5 foot long by two foot wide structure that resembled a large kite, we decided to make dinner.

Dinner is a bit of a chore- now I know how rough the pioneers had it, wait, I think they actually had to kill their own food and we just stopped at Safeway, but you try to cook a one-inch thick steak on a campfire you built out of small twigs (didn’t have room in the backpack for a chainsaw!).  That bottle of wine that I had many many thoughts of tossing on the way up the mountain tasted awfully good with the undercooked steak and overcooked macaroni. Thank you Hogue for the twist top wine bottle which meant one less thing to carry up the mountain!

Bedtime comes and the two of us cram ourselves into a tent that I am pretty sure was made for a dog.  Since I had decided the sleeping pad was something I could do without when we left from the car many hours before, I now had to feel the bumps of every twig, pinecone and rock underneath me. How come in those cowboy movies when everyone is sleeping on their pack by the fire they never seem to have trouble with foreign objects under their buts, thighs and hips???

I think that with all my tossing and turning I may have actually slept a total of two hours. Thankfully with the stocking cap on my head, I didn’t hear the sound of an animal visiting our camp.

But Michele did. The next morning she explains to me that a friendly bear had paid us a visit. Since we didn’t appear in eminent danger, and since I am so sleep-deprived, the only thing I can think to say is “Did he eat our bacon?”

Thankfully, the bacon was buried deep in a snow bank under three levels of plastic wrap so the bear had not devoured our breakfast.

After a breakfast of almost an entire package of bacon (I wrap up the extra for a snack later), we reload our backpacks and get ready to descend down the mountain.

I lean balance my pack on a log, knowing that it will feel significantly lighter, since we ate the steaks and bacon, drank the wine, and used a bit of the fuel for the camp burner. I reach back and put my arms through the straps and ease myself up off the log. “Holy *@#^$@”. The pack is not only heavier than it was yesterday, now it is violently pulling a muscle in my upper back. Ok, maybe nature isn’t so bad. I think I have enough granola bars to live up here for a few days.  Michele convinces me that I will make it down the mountain by telling me that if I don’t start walking she will leave me.

So we stumble down the mountain, and I do mean stumble, because you think that going uphill is hard until you go downhill.  The one good thing about downhill is that it goes faster. The one bad thing, it is more painful, especially for someone who hadn’t walked 10 miles uphill and is now suffering from spasms and soreness in every imaginable muscle in the body.

The good news is- we make it down. By the time we are in sight of the parking lot I am so happy I try to run- you’ve seen a marathon- they always give it one last big push at the end. Unfortunately for me running with 50 pounds on my back is a recipe for disaster. I stumble into a forward tumble/dive for the dirt managing to catch myself with one arm.  Of course I landed in a muddy puddle.  Now I look like a mountain woman. Like I’ve been out in the wilderness for days, living on nuts and berries, navigating by the stars….

I am quickly grounded as I see that coming at me on the trail are two backpackers, staring at me strangely. I quickly get up, (well as quickly as I can) give them a nonchalant “hello” and proceed to walk as if nothing had happened. As they continue on the trail I think I can hear sounds of stifling laughter “first timer”.

A few minutes later I see it. About ½ mile through the trees.  Right where we left it. It’s…our car! I have never been so happy to see a vehicle in my life. Car means transport back to civilization, to Starbucks, microwaves and showers!

We leave the mountains, driving past the clearing where we first saw the bear, back through the town of Twisp, and back home to the Tri-Cities, where the tallest hill can be climbed in a matter of minutes.

I have never enjoyed a shower more in my life, but that night, as I lay in bed listening to cars drive by as I try to sleep, I think of that peaceful calm I felt sitting by the campfire with a sky full of stars, and I kind of understand why people enjoy camping.