Power in Mentors

I had a good chat today. It doesn't happen all that often anymore. And that good chat comes after a good chat on Sunday. And that chat comes after a good chat on Saturday.

It seems like ever since becoming an adult, people are too busy to sit and chat with no real purpose other than to talk. And that lack of talk is hard to bear. It isn't easy to transition into 'real life' and it certainly isn't easy to move some place where you don't know anyone. As encouraging as I'd love to be in telling people that connecting with others and breaking into the culture of a place you've never lived, it just isn't anymore.

And back in the good old days, I used to have regular Deep Meaningful Conversations or DMCs with people that had good things to say. It wasn't about the topics of conversation, though the topics were always outstanding. It was always about enjoying the company of others and letting that conversation drift into a place of deeper meaning. And when you left, you felt like you learned something about that person that you thought you knew so well.

Today, the chat was about the need for a mentor. If there is one thing missing from my life at this moment, it is a mentor. While I often get to talk with people I trust, I don't have anyone sitting in my corner cheering me on in a mentoring capacity. I have plenty of cheerleaders, and that is certainly wonderful to have. My parents are great, my family is supportive, friends are always wonderful to hear from, but not always consistent, and my best friends are constantly excited about what I'm about to talk about next.

But, mentors are missing. The people who are able to tell you things you don't always want to hear and tell you what kind of work it takes to get places and the ones who can tell you that you're good at something and should find your way to use those strengths.

That kind of mentorship isn't easy to come by. It takes time and work and a general care for one another to develop the relationship into one where you can learn from one another. This type of relationship is something that in conversation today I realized is lacking in my life.

I think it stems from a great conversation I had with my AP English teacher from high school and a constant reminder of my supervisor in college. Both are now retired and able to tell me some great things about the world. And I am constantly surprised when both mentors tell me about how I have inspired them or helped them see something they didn't see before. Likewise, both are full of life and have lived the type of life that I'm interested in pursuing. Both are constantly waiting to see my name in the headlines, though I have no great desire to be there.

Its that type of relationship that I really need right now. I only wish these two wonderful people were a bit closer in my life and that we had a better opportunity to connect. I still don't get into technology all the time because you lose inflection and tone in e-mail and chat. You lose so much of what makes a conversation. You can be distracted and doing other things and it is seen as a norm through internet connections.

But when you and another person are in the same room, sharing a living space or a public space or really any space, you and that person become connected and engaged in a strong interaction that is tough to shake with distractions and outside influences.

I am excited to develop my mentorships and excited to find more mentorships in my life. I'm on my way towards something big, but I don't know what it is yet. Life is good. Life is fun. And slowly but surely, my life will be, as it always has been, passion filled.

78th Annual Hillsdale County Treasure Hunt

Whenever I head home I always have a strong sense of place. I call it my 'summer home' or sometimes the cottage, but in all reality its my childhood home that tends to be a nice breath of fresh air and break from the daily grind.

This weekend I went home to my cottage with a specific goal in mind. This weekend, was the 78th Annual Hillsdale County Treasure Hunt, and what a hunt it was. 

If you've never been on the hunt (and let's face it, unless you've lived in Hillsdale you've probably never heard of it) let me tell you what it's all about. The treasure hunt is an event where cars, typically of four people, drive recklessly around the county hunting down and finding 10 clues and in some cases, tokens, that are to be retrieved and then returned to the final destination to see who wins. The clues range in type from crossword puzzles, to cryptic clues, to clues where you must count mailboxes and road stripes in the dark, all in a route that spans many miles, takes many hours, and never takes you outside Hillsdale County.

This year, my Mom and Dad decided to come along with myself, one of my best friends, and one of our good neighbors. It was a great dynamic in our car and a quality team as we all had our strengths and useless knowledge stored away in our heads. Armed with flashlights, maps, and naturally pencils and paper, we set off to see what we could accomplish.

The race almost always begins at the Hillsdale County Fairgrounds, home of the most popular fair on earth. (Really, there's a sign.) And it usually draws around 100 cars full of people out ready to hunt. This year was no exception as the sun was creeping downward and we all waited in light jackets as the crisp fall air swept lightly through the grounds. To any who don't know about the Treasure Hunt, I'm sure the sight of a couple hundred people gathered around a building must look strange, but alas, this is a normal sight in Hillsdale.

Our first clue was taped to a wall of the Merchant's Hall, and after a brief welcome, a few ground rules, and a few hints, the hosts of the hunt allowed us to push and shove to our clue on the wall. To those with more aggression or anger issues the run back to their car was quick and easy. To those with a bit less aggression, the run back to their car was still quick and easy.

It was an audio clue on a CD (which, thank goodness we weren't in my car as I don't have a CD player) and the song set the tone for the night. After the song we learned that on the opposite end of the fairgrounds we would find our first clue (a word search) and the hunt was on.

It was 6 o'clock when we ripped those clues of the wall of the Merchant's Hall, and though we did get stuck a few times, we traversed the county until around 2:15 a.m. when we had all 10 clues and 2 tokens in hand. Naturally, we were outside the money as it took us a short 8 hours to complete the hunt, but the fact that we completed the hunt was a great accomplishment.

For me, (though I can't speak for all members in the car) this was never about winning. This hunt was about having a good night and having some fun doing something outside the ordinary. It is so easy to get swept up in excitement during the race as figuring out clues is always incredibly rewarding and finding clues in the dark, lonely roads of Hillsdale County near Halloween is always a bit thrilling. The teamwork and the frustrations that take place in the car are irreplaceable and it is a mark of the love of others that nobody ever gets too mad at their car mates.

I think the Treasure Hunt is one of those things that really allows you to see the true colors of a person. While its all fine and dandy at 6 p.m. and its still light out, doing complicated puzzles at 1 in the morning in the pitch black having never left the car except to stumble around for a clue changes how you might react. Your brain is groggy, your eyes are tired, and the perseverance it takes to continue solving a riddle or reading something backwards or decoding a puzzle of jumbled words is taxing.

But, that is the joy of the Treasure Hunt. And if you pick the right people (which we did) you always have fun. Inside jokes are made and memories are created and in the morning light you can sleepily reminisce about the hunt, look where we were on the map, and talk about how if we had noticed one detail a bit earlier we may well have been in the running, even though every year we are always one detail away from being in the running.

No, just as in travel the destination is never the best part (usually) and how in good movies and books the pieces leading up to the memorable ending are always better, the Treasure Hunt is far more about the clues in between than it is about coming in first place.

I'm glad I was able to participate and I'm glad I had the people I did in the car. I only hope when next October rolls around I'll be in a position to rally the crew and start hunting. 

Deleting Facebook

Wait, what does that say?

If you're on this blog you've probably seen that I am getting rid of Facebook. It's happening on Friday, just two short days away, and I can't wait.

Don't get me wrong, I think there are going to be some challenges. For one, people won't be randomly messaging me because something was posted on my wall. I won't be remembering things about people that I met that one time at the bar and saw again on campus later, such as birthdays. Such a shame.

Granted, fewer people will remember my birthday and I can no longer post some witty comment about the latest pop-culture silliness. But, then again, I rarely do anyway.

No, the greatest challenge I see is that I no longer have that time killer. I no longer have that thing to hop on and see what other people are up to. I no longer have that little piece of me that sits online and no longer need to take good photos for my profile picture. Any new updates will be outside my lingo and knowledge.

But, on the same note, those are all the things I'm most excited about as well. No longer will I be on the internet to check out random pages of people I never talk to anymore. I foresee one of two things happening, or maybe a bit of both. One, I will no longer be on the internet that much and be able to focus on some creative efforts or enjoying nature or reading. Or two, I will be on the internet, but researching things that I need to research, no longer concerned with finding something to post so that people will comment on my wall. My status, is no longer important.

I think I am going to find this experience to be quite liberating. I no longer need to worry what people are saying in their status. I no longer need to worry if some cryptic comment is a backhanded comment towards me. I no longer need to worry what my employers or future employers see. I no longer need to sensor my images and my beliefs and my interests so that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands.

I feel that Facebook has been a ball and chain for a while. It was fun when it was simple and just a few college buddies meeting up. It was fun when you could post a few photos and watch a few videos and share inside jokes with people for hours. But, now, for me, it has become a burden. A life I have to maintain outside my life that is already spinning. It has become another place for advertisers to bombard me with more pleas to buy, buy, buy.

I know it won't be easy and I'll lose several friends and I won't be invited to many events and I may even have more difficulty maintaining contact with some good people, but I gave advanced warning and did my best to find the contact information to people that I need. From here on out, people will need to call me, text me, or e-mail me, and if you don't have any of those, then we will wait for fate to bring us together. In which case we'll have something to talk about, because we haven't been caught up on Facebook. Think of this as a conversation starter. I know I will.

I'm excited to be free.

Walking to Work

I walked to work today.

After months of excuses for why I didn't walk to work, today I took the first step and walked.

I live somewhere between a half mile and a mile from where I work everyday. And every day since last May 2010, I have hopped in my car in the morning and gone down the four lane road to campus to struggle to find a parking place.

I have a bike here, but I really hate getting sweaty before I do anything in the morning. Also, as mentioned in the last paragraph, the road is a four lane road with no bike lanes whatsoever. It makes for a very scary commute. And in the mornings, there are two colleges that have a large population all in single rider cars trying to jockey through those four lanes of traffic to find a parking spot.

Last Friday, while driving home, I realized that an unusually large amount of stress was building up as I drove the short stretch home. I was constantly waiting for traffic to clear and constantly holding my breath as cars would come increasingly close to my bumper. I get so annoyed by people who try to push you along when you really have nowhere to go.

So, I decided on that drive home that I would start walking to work. Despite the lack of sidewalk, I figured it couldn't be anymore dangerous than navigating the roads with the maniacs on them. And you know what, my walk wasn't that bad. In fact, it was pretty cool.

This morning the sun was just rising, and unlike mornings when I'm in my car watching for traffic and for lights or trying to see through the steam, I was able to enjoy the sun rising and watch the cloud formations. I saw some interesting silhouettes and watched others navigate the frustrating traffic. I was able to smell freshly brewed coffee and see people when they seem most innocent and open to chatting.

And when I arrived to work, I was not stressed, I was able to relax for a moment before the day began, and I was able to remember the peace and quiet I ensued on the walk over, from not listening to radio ads or incessant jabber and simply focus on the day ahead.

I do plan on walking to work every day, in winter and in the heat of summer. I plan on giving myself a bit more time to construct a lunch and to bring some fun things to do during lunch, as I can no longer drive home during lunch to eat.

Overall, this looks like a way for me to cut some unnecessary stress from my life, save some gas, and feel better about my day. While I know not everyone has the luxury of walking to work, I encourage you to find a way to cut some unnecessary stress from your life.

My Trip to Italy (Part 3)

This is the third part chronicling my trip to Italy. Parts 1 and 2 take me from Michigan to Rome and the several days that my sister and I spent in Rome. Part 3 takes us through Venice and the crazy trip to Florence. You can view part 1 here. You can view part 2 here.

The last morning we woke up in Rome was beautiful. The sun was shining and it wasn't too hot. We packed our bags, checked out, and set off across the Roman streets to Roma Termini, the main train station in town. Having already booked our tickets, we were in no real rush and found our way to the concessions for a snack on the train and a quick drink before we left.

At this point in the trip, we were in good spirits and rather excited to move on to a new city. Rome was certainly a lovely place and had tons of old sights, but we were ready for some new scenery.

The train was at the platform and we boarded with little difficulty. In fact, much of the train was empty to begin, so we were able to settle in, grab a book, and even catch a nap. The high speed train would put us in Venice in about 3 hours.

We had a brief stop in Florence, a place we knew we would be returning to, and a few other stops on the way to Venice. I remember taking a nap and waking up as the train was slowing down for our second to last stop, the mainland at Venice. As I woke up, we were crossing the causeway that connects the mainland to Venice. Yes, Venice is an island. The causeway is the only strip of land that connects trains, cars, and busses to the main station and boats to the city.

If you've ever seen 'The Tourist' the station they arrive at is the same station we arrived in, naturally. The station is the major hub for transport and you are simply dumped off into Venice. There is a huge canal, lots of people, and buildings right next to the canals. Plus, lots and lots of boats and docks. The only thing we really knew about our hotel was that it was in San Marco, so the best thing we could think of was to board a water taxi to San Marco. We were fortunate enough to be given two water taxi passes from travelers who were leaving with cards that were good for much of the day. So, using those cards, we got our first view of Venice the only way you should, by boat.

The challenge was that it was very sunny and very hot, and with a large bag on your back, sweat was running in some of those aforementioned places I never knew about. But the view was so stunning that it was a constant battle of being hot and uncomfortable and trying to see the sights.

We were dumped off in San Marco, the largest and busiest piazza in Venice and were forced to use my sister's iPhone to locate the hotel. I had read that part of Venice's charm was getting lost in the narrow streets and running into canals, but I did not realize just how challenging navigating Venice was. With our large bags we traipsed through the streets in the 90 degree heat walking in circles to try and find our hotel. By sheer stroke of luck, we wandered down a street and found the hotel tucked away into a small courtyard. It was indeed charming and incredibly well air-conditioned, which was wonderful to feel.

After settling into our room we set out to explore Venice. Our entire stay consisted of a lot of walking around and hunting for restaurants in The Lonely Planet guide. We did most of our shopping here as Venice has lots of interesting trinkets made mostly of their famous glass. However, we did find a delicious pastry shop and lots of beautiful picturesque places. Venice is exactly what the pictures look like, but yet it is still so magical to be lost in the smallest of streets and the most beautiful canals. And what makes Venice so unique is the way the culture has adapted completely to using boats and canals to deliver goods and navigate their way around.

There are no real sights to see in Venice besides San Marco's, but Venice itself is more of the sight. The food we ate wasn't particularly great, though we did eat well our first night on the Grand Canal, which made things seem a little Disney-esque with boats floating by, docks filled with teenagers doing some drinking, and us enjoying a meal with fine linen and wonderful wine.

For me, besides the canals, the shops were very lovely. So many artisans doing work with the glass made for great window shopping. Naturally there were a lot of things that seemed to be similar, but I did manage to decide on a glass clock which is now hanging in my apartment.

We discovered that Venice in general seems to be a bit more touristy and by far the most expensive part of the trip. Though the overall feel of Venice is different from any other place you could possibly visit. The parts that make Venice so unique are the reasons why you would visit.

Our last day, prior to catching the train, we stopped to get sandwiches in a shop run by an owner who was blasting opera down the block. He knew all the words (and had a nice voice) and still managed to deliver us some sandwiches for the train. It was a sight that I thought I would probably never see again, and would certainly never see in America. Opera? Yeah, right.

Little did I know that that would be one of the last good things that day. The day we left Venice was the day we experienced the full reality of the Italian train system, and how travel can sometimes be a bit of a nightmare.

The plan was simple, we would take the train from Venice to Florence, change trains and head down to San Gimignano (something like that) a small Tuscan town known for its walls and simple charm. When we arrived at the train station, we would need to catch a bus to get to our hotel, but we could arrive, grab a glass of wine, and then explore the city the next day.

As my tone indicates, this didn't happen. First off, the train from Venice to Florence was occupied by the most obnoxious family that we had met to date. Now, excuse me Italian friends, but we all know you're loud and obnoxious to begin with so I let a lot slide, and Europe in general has different ideas on personal space and how to interact with others. But, the train ride to Florence was the most rudeness that we had experienced so far.

We were surrounded by a husband and wife with three small children. They were loud, smelled like terrible European body odor, and occupied more space than they were supposed to. Already, they were off to a great start. Their kids however, were very rude and climbed over all kinds of seats and suitcases all over the train, without so much as a peep from mom and dad. On top of it all, the man was literally having an arm fight with my over the arm rest. I usually give some leeway for people to begin with, but when I saw he was seeking as much space as possible I decided to fight back. The result was noticeable pressure on my arm as I continued to resist his advance into my space.

I was in a sour mood when we left the train and my sister was annoyed by the obnoxious children so we were ready to hop on the next train and find our hotel. However, we discovered our first problem with the Italian trains. We had been warned that sometimes the trains were late and unreliable, but so far we had done quite well. Until that night.

When we got off in Florence, our first train to Siena was cancelled. It wasn't a huge problem as another train would be leaving in an hour, but the fact remained that we were now inconvenienced. After an already annoying train ride, we now had to sit in a hot and humid train station for a delayed train.

When we arrived at our platform, we were greeted with another wonderful surprise... the train we were riding had only one car. One car. I mean, I have never in my life seen a train with one car. We boarded and grabbed a seat and watched as people continued to file on. As the time crept closer to the time to depart, the train continued to see more and more people board the train, so much so that the conductor began to put people in places that people aren't normally supposed to go.

As inconvenient as this was, we were sitting and knew that we should be okay. So off we went. Across the aisle from us was a very nice Irish woman who was traveling with her new husband and we made some small talk, but only enough to be friendly and relieved that someone spoke English.

It was about three stops in, about a half hour of our hour train ride, that we arrived at a platform FULL of people. Now we all knew how crowded it was and were looking stunned out the windows to wonder how so many people would get on the train. If our looks were anything, they were nothing compared to the faces of the people on the platform, who had clearly been waiting for some time. Their faces said, you have got to be kidding me! How are we supposed to fit on there?

Logic says that we stop, drop people off, and take off, but logic was missing this night. Our car stopped, a few people got off, and several forced their way on the train. I must note that the people who forced their way on were street peddlers, untrustworthy, sneaky people who decided to sit across from us. An uneasy feeling started to settle in my stomach. But the scene on the platform was getting worse. Our conductor decided to venture off to the station and would not allow anyone else on the train. The platform full of people who had already missed the previous train were starting to get riotous. And in my eyes, I knew I had something they wanted, a seat on the train.

I don't often panic. I experience fear, but never one of fear for my life. This night, I was very afraid that something would be missing or that our train would be tipped over because of the riot that was forming outside the train car window. A series of event happened that included several guards forming a line in front of the train car doors, our train sitting at the station for over an hour, and our train pulling away from a full platform at 10 a night. How those people got home, I don't know.

At this point however, my sister and I were not feeling good about a lot of things. For one, the street peddlers still sat across from us. For another, it was dark outside and we were no where near our tiny little Tuscan town.

It was pretty clear we would probably not be going there as the busses stop running late and taxis don't appear in tiny villages on Sunday nights. So a new plan was in order. We struck up conversation with our Irish friend and discovered that Siena, the end of the line, was a bigger city that always had taxis. We could probably find a cheap hotel, eat the bullet on our booking for the other hotel, and figure things out in the morning.

So, we did just that. We rode the train to the end, called a hotel, and took a taxi to the hotel. It wasn't great, but we could have done worse. It was after midnight when we each grabbed a shower and settled into bed. Our minds were racing, but we knew that when the sun came up, we were going to grab the first train out and go back to Florence.

It had been nearly a week and we were running into our first major problem on the trip. We were both thankful to be safe and that we had all our possessions. While we were disappointed that we didn't see the beautiful Tuscan town, we did manage to get back to Florence and were determined to stick to civilization from there on out. We also never boarded another train that had only one car, and I can honestly say that I probably never will.

My Trip to Italy (Part 2)

This is part two of my chronicles of my trip to Italy. I am picking this up on the second day of travel in Rome. The first part outlines my journey to Europe and the first day of travel in Rome. This part takes us through Rome and the train ride to Venice. You can read the first part here.

As if one day in Rome was not enough, my sister and I wisely planned to spend three

full days and nights in the city. After the first day of getting oriented to the city and seeing a ton of the sights in one swoop, we decided to hit the big boys; that's right Ancient Rome.

To start things off, we ventured over to the train station to reserve some seats on the trains we planned on taking over the trip. Italy does have high speed trains that run across the country, but the trains require reservations and a train from Rome to Venice is incredibly popular, especially on a Friday, the day we were planning on traveling. So, thanks to my wise and wonderful sister, we booked these tickets in advance.

Let's take this time to talk about queueing in Italy. First off, the concept of a line in Europe is a little difficult to come by. While some areas are more orderly than others, all of Eu

rope struggles a bit with the concept of lining up, giving people personal space, and t

hen taking their turn waiting for the next associate. Thankfully, the line in the train station was probably the most organized, but the fact remained that it took far too long to wait in a line to book some tickets. This would become a common occurance during our trip.

However, we were lucky enough to get some help from Sergio, probably the most friendly Italian we met for most of the trip. He helped us book our tickets and we were on our way. In the bottom part of the train station is the metro. The metro in Rome is challenging. I learned in one of my handy books that the metro in Rome was difficult to construct for all the ancient ruins and old catacombs that exist. Therefore, the metro doesn't always go where you want it to go.

I'll also make a quick comment on the transport hubs in Europe. You'll notice that the previous paragraph talked about how the train station and metro are all in one spot. The previous day we rode the train from the airport to this same station where we found a taxi to our hotel, though we could have taken the bus if necessary. And Italy's transport system isn't all th

at great. All I'm saying, is that we should really think about finding ways to centralize our transport systems to allow more intermodal transport here in the States.

Anyway, my sister and I hopped on the metro and emerged in Ancient Rome. Ancient Rome was probably my favorite part of the city. I mean, think about Rome for a second. What comes to mind? Right. The Colosseum. Okay, and gelato, but really here, the Colosseum and a bunch of ancient columns and the Forum and all that stuff. Needless to saw, the awesome structures that make up Ancient Rome make it easily the coolest part of the city for me. I think it harkens back to the fact that everything in Europe is more than likely older than anything in America, but these structures are even older than that. I mean, these structures are parts of one of the first major civilizations. Rome used to be the center of it all, all roads lead to Rome, Rome IS the Eternal City!

Our plan for the day was to start in the Ancient part, Capitoline Hill, grab a bite to eat, and then fill out the afternoon with the Colosseum. So, that's exactly what we did. We started by tromping around the exterior walls trying to find the entrance to the hill and finally discovered a gigantic line of people waiting to enter. We dutifully stood in line, baking in the heat, avoiding gypsies and street salesman. We were even able to poke a little fun at a particularly bad fake limp that a gypsy had on the street and witness an attempted theft of genuine, fake hats. After standing in the intense heat for quite some time and arriving near the entrance to the area, we overheard a woman from Ancient Rome tell others that those with a Roma Pass did not need to wait in line, they simple used a separate line. Thankfully, we had purchased said pass and jumped at the chance. Unfortunately, we heard that very late in the standing of the line and achieved a new level of sweat previously unknown (though moderate compared to later parts of the trip.)

At any rate, we ventured inside Ancient Rome and strolled around finding great vantage points of the Colosseum, ancient ruins, and imagining Rome as it was in its day. We overheard a few tours here and there to pick up tidbits, but mainly explored all that Ancient Rome had to offer. I think for me, the most interesting thing of Ancient Rome is that so much has been preserved. It is easy to imagine a bustling city center at what was essentially the center of the world. The temples must have been incredibly impressive, as their remains are still impressive today.

We spent a few hours exploring Ancient Rome, grabbed a quick bite at a local place, consisting of Calzone and a Foccacia sandwich, and proceeded to the Colosseum to take in Rome's most famous landmark. This time, we were keen on the Roma Pass and happily walked past the incredible line of people to the interior of the Colosseum.

I must say, the Colosseum is not what I was expecting. I guess you always think of the Colosseum as you see it in Gladiator with a huge arena and lots of seats. But, the Colosseum is full in the center with tiny hallways and no real stage area to view. It looks much like it does in pictures, but what pictures can't capture is the sheer size and age of the place. It really is gigantic even for today and is so old. The fact that at any given time you can find a place of shade inside the main area is a testament to how high the walls are and the Colosseum has lost a lot over the years! Mostly, however, the Colosseum is fun to sit and imagine the fights that took place and the thousands of people who visited to see them.

Overall, I was impressed by Ancient Rome and enjoyed that part of the visit. After we were thoroughly soaked with sweat and tired from the hot sun, we decided to rest up at the hotel room and freshen up for the evening. We managed to take a brief nap and then head out to the Spanish Steps near sunset. The Spanish Steps are so elegant and so fun to sit and watch people enjoy themselves and make a fool of themselves and a very photogenic place in general. They are incredibly impressive and despite the huge throngs of people present, still had available space to sit and enjoy.

We snagged some gelato and watched some people for a while before venturing onward to do some exploring of Rome at night.

We took a few stops at some of our favorite places, Piazza Novana where we grabbed a drink and dessert before swinging through the Pantheon and Trevi Fountain. While we had visited all these places the day before, like most things that are worth seeing, the night adds a new dimension. The fountains at night are particularly impressive with their blue-green waters lit and the statues with strange dark crevasses and shadows along with eerie lights. The dancing water almost makes certain faces seem livelier. And of course, the Pantheon at night is beautiful and the surrounding piazza is filled with people enjoying a meal or a coffee while wasting the night away.

Our final day in Rome was our chance to do the last few things we wanted to do. We made it a point to see the Spanish Steps in the morning, try to look at an art gallery, and do Ancient Rome in the evening. We succeeded in seeing the Spanish Steps before too many tourists were out, with a nice cup of cappuccino with a view of the steps. Then we proceeded up the steps in attempts to see the Galleria Borghese, one of Rome's best collections.

Sadly, after walking through a gigantic park and having some quality conversation, we arrived at the Galleria to realize we needed a reservation to see anything. We trudged onward back through the park, found a few great views of the city from above, and ventured to a different gallery near the far part of town.

Our walk was hot and steamy, but we saw a few places we hadn't previously. We stumbled upon some additional ancient ruins and turned a corner to appear in Piazza Venezia, home of the great national building in Rome which is easily the most impressive building I've ever seen. The building is huge and all white marble. There are a huge set of steps leading up to the building and the building is flanked by two wings appropriately fixed with two winged horses on top. Off to the side, was a somewhat lesser (though still impressive) building where our museum was.

My sister and I are not major art people. Though we probably have a stronger sense of art than others, our knowledge of art is still miniscule. The museum we picked was a collection of statues and other relics. Our knowledge of this was even smaller. However, it was hot, we were tired, and there was something that resembled air conditioning in the building. Plus, with our Roma Pass it didn't cost any extra.

We spent a good chunk of time here, found some good views of the Roman Forum, and then ventured out to find a gelato store. After a bite of gelato we found a good piazza with a nice cafe and plopped down for some people watching. By this time the heat had sapped us

and we were a little tired of walking so we spent a good several hours people watching, enjoying cappuccinos, and plotting our next move.

Our adventure in Rome ended with a fantastic dinner of true Roman Pizza and wine, and a stroll down to Ancient Rome to watch the sunset and nab some night pictures of the ruins. Once again, the night adds something different to an already awesome place. The ruins were strategically lit in an incredibly eerie way, but in an incredibly beautiful way all at the same time. Of course the Colosseum was outstanding at night and we walked all around to find the best angle.

Opting not to try the metro at night (it was really sketch) we walked home to our hotel and called it a day. Overall, Rome was quite a great start to our trip. There were great things still to come, but the history and city life of Rome is uniquely Italy. It isn't often so many sights are packed into such a small area and it isn't often those sights are 2000 years old. I recently watched 'Roman Holiday' in honor of my trip and was impressed with how the sights still look much the way they did 50 years ago. The true strength of human ingenuity is displayed in Rome. But, as I said, Rome was only the beginning.

My Trip to Italy (Part 1)

I must admit, to think that at my age and in this stage of life I took a two week trip to Italy is pretty remarkable. Up until last Christmas the farthest from home I had been is Las Vegas, which may seem like another planet, but is still very much American. Now I'm sitting here with a trip to Switzerland and a trip to Italy under my belt.

I also think there is a reason why these trips don't happen all that early in your life. I mean, it would certainly change my perspective on a lot of things if I had always been a world traveller. Differences in cultures and people that I meet would not seem so strange. I would have been more aware of cultural differences and more references to the other way things could be done. But, as I said, I think there is a reason this doesn't happen early in life. I would never have appreciated those differences if I grew up in that lifestyle. I would never have noticed the differences if I had always been used to them. And what's more, I probably wouldn't have enjoyed my trip as much as I did. Being able to experience a new place is what travel is all about, and I think that my sister and I did a good job of experiencing Italy.

I got home about a week ago from my two week extravaganza and have had some time to enjoy the sweltering heat and humidity of Michigan and look at some pictures in a nostalgic way. There's also a certain joy one gets when going into Pier One and seeing places you've been in the example photos in photo frames. (True story.) It's also a little crazy (frightening?) to think of how fast we fall back into our habitual routine of waking up, eating, going to work, and slowly trudging through our day. However, that little extra you take with you from each vacation always manages to stick with you. Those cappuccinos and delicious meals will never quite leave my palate and those images will never quite leave my mind, no matter how many traffic jams I sit through and how many familiar walls I stare blankly at day after day.

I can see already that two weeks will not easily fit into one blog post, so here is part one of my journey to Italy, complete with some insights and feelings a week or more after reaching some clarity in my mind.

I left Detroit on the morning of July 4th. However, in truly American fashion, I managed to find myself in a 6 hour layover in Washington DC. While I probably could have found my way downtown to marvel in our monuments, I opted instead to learn the ins and outs of Dulles Airport. If you ever need help getting around or finding a good restaurant, I can help you. I grabbed my last American meal at Chipotle and found a good bench to curl up on for some napping. Naturally, at 3 in the afternoon sleeping is hard to come by. And being the people-watcher that I am, it was difficult to sleep. So I finished 'Catcher in the Rye,' a book that (unbelievably) I have meant to read for many, many years. Overall, I enjoyed the book and see its appeal to all kinds of people. I also realized how many literary quotes one of my good friends uses in everyday speech. (A real gentleman and a scholar, he is.)

Anyway, I managed to wait out the layover and board the largest plane I've ever been on. It was a 777 with 2 seats on one side, 5 in the middle, and 2 on the other side. A 2-5-2 I call it. I settled into my aisle sit next to an Italian mother and her little one. The ride was great and the landing was exceptional. When we landed in Rome at around 8:30 the plane hardly jiggled as we landed on the runway.

I must admit, during the landing sequence, I was quite disappointed with the view out the window. Leonardo da Vinci Airport is about 20 miles outside of Rome in a field. So, you don't see much besides fields out the window, when you're kind of hoping to see the Colosseum and Ancient Rome and the like. Plus, it was foggy and a little rainy, but hey, with only fields to see who cares.

I must admit, it was slightly surreal to be getting off the plane and seeing Italy. The map showed I was there, the language indicated I was there, but there was little to show me that I had really made it where I wanted to be. However, I vaguely remember getting on a tram and venturing to passport control and the baggage claim. Passport control was the biggest joke I've ever seen, as I walked to a man in a booth who did not even look up, but simply waved me through as I flashed my passport. For all he knew, it was a small leaflet in the shape of a passport, but nevertheless, I cleared customs and ventured into Italy.

I should share the story about my bag. I decided that rather than lug a suitcase around Italy, full of hills and cobblestone streets and crowds, I would use my aforementioned friends' backpack to haul my stuff. In most cases, I was happy I did, but on hot days when my back got super sweaty, I regretted it. But that's not until later. To send my bag over the ocean, I strapped the bag together in the rain jacket and secured it with bungie cords. The cords, engineered by my father were tight as they could be and securely positioned over every inch of the bag, securing every strap that existed, and making the bag what essentially looked like a cocoon. I could have certainly smuggled a body into the airport if I wanted to (and I don't think security was checking) but I didn't want to deal with the dead weight (pun intended.)

When I arrived in Detroit, the United attendant promptly asked if 'those were bungie straps,' which they were and offered a gigantic bag to put my bag in. This perpetuated the cocoon shape and feel of my bag, which I could no longer strap on my back without essentially unwrapping my backpack. Therefore, when I arrived in Rome, I had an oversized bag, but I didn't know this. So, as I waited at the baggage carousel and watched as people reunited with their friends, I sat contemplating whether I would be purchasing a new wardrobe later in the trip or immediately.

But, according to the laws of freaking out, my backpack was in fact off the plane and in the airport around the corner on the floor. Yes, because I had an oversize bag it was thrown haphazardly beside a different baggage carousel still maintaining its cocoon shaped form. Like any good boy scout, I saved the wrapping and stowed the bungies before throwing on my pack and hiking out the arrivals doorway. When what to my wonder eyes should appear, but my sister whom I hadn't seen for half a year!

We hugged and smiled and I pretended to be coherent and awake while I exchanged some money and purchased a Roma pass. Somehow I ended up at the train station where my sister and I purchased our ticket to the central station in Rome, and voila! my Italian adventure officially began.

It was raining slightly as we rode the train in, grinning and smiling and trading travel stories. My sister stayed in a shady hotel near the airport and had some tales of trying to actually get to the airport, while I had my stories of the layover in Washington. However long the ride took, I don't really remember. It was 3:00 a.m. to my body and I had only slept a few hours on the plane. However, when the train stopped, we got off and found our way to a taxi stand.

We found one, hopped in, and took off toward our hotel in the midst of morning traffic in Rome. I know the extreme lack of space, crazy traffic circles, and old buildings are a staple of Europe and always a little difficult to adjust to as an American, but all of that on top of little sleep and seeing your sister for the first time in 7 months was a bit overwhelming. All I could do was put my complete faith in a taxi driver who admitted that he knew very little English. However, the fact that he could tell us that he knew little English was far more than we could have done in Italian so we took that as a plus.

The hotel was around the corner, a nice little place with an open lift and a winding spiral staircase that would have been elegant with a little more space. It may have also been a little more charming had we not arrived with a protest taking place outside our door. I later discovered that we may have been staying next to the Ministry of Finance in Rome, which if you follow any European economics, you may know that Italy is close to having some financial troubles similar to Greece and... well... the United States.

At any rate, we managed to find our room, unload our stuff, change our (read my) stinky clothes, and take off for the day. With Rome at our fingertips it was really a matter of where we wanted to go and figuring out how to get there. So, we looked at the amazing landmarks and decided to do a little walk over to the Vatican, hitting as many other places as we felt appropriate.

Our first walk in Rome was met with honks, screaming vespas, and tons of bikes and pedestrians on narrow roads. In fact, it was a lot like the rest of Europe. My sister commented that unlike others she saw from the States, I was not in complete awe of the norm. I really had no answer to this. I suppose it was still surreal to me that I was in Europe and in, of

all places, Rome, but I wasn't overwhelmed by the new surroundings. I had been to Europe and I was more excited to see my sister and catch up than anything else.

As we walked we passed all kinds of places and chatted about the latest happenings in my life. I had some new developments at work, Mom and Dad were doing well, and Andrea had completed a few trips to France, and Spain before flying to Rome to meet me. We very suddenly, as you do in Rome, appeared in a piazza with an obelisk and some building of importance. And after a few more steps, we turned a corner and ran smack into Trevi Fountain, one of Bernini's most famous fountains filled with grandeur, awe, and lots and lots of tourists.

It was here that we saw some artwork on the street. The artwork was nice, framed in simple mattes, but still nice to look at. The artist told us he had painted the works and we leafed through the artwork to find a purchase. Mistake number one of travel. Never purchase the first thing you see. First off, you have to carry it with you the rest of the day. And when that day is the first day of travel, you have to c

arry it with you the rest of the trip. Secondly, we were told the paintings were one of a kind. Naturally, we were duped. After we enjoyed Trevi Fountain in all its elegance, we turned the corner to find more of the 'one-of-a-kind' paintings.

To satisfy our appetite and escape the throngs of people, we found a pizza place on the corner and chowed down on some delicious pizza before setting off across Rome. By this time, the sun had returned and the temperature was rising. Both of us had thrown on jeans and the sweat immediately began to pour. It ain't pretty, but it happened a lot on this trip. We wandered around until we ran into the Pantheon, which according to Tom Hanks in 'Angels and Demons' is the oldest Catholic church in Rome. It's old, that's for sure, but incredibly well-kept.

As far as Rome goes, I think the Pantheon was my favorite place. The piazza was filled with restaurants and the church itself was incredibly impressive. Once again, despite the size of the relic, it really does sneak out from behind the corner when you're approaching.

We saw the occulus and Raphael's tomb and once again escaped the crowds of people coming in. We continued our trek across Rome, wandering by accident to Piazza Novana, home to

Bernini's Four Rivers fountain and another lovely piazza filled with restaurants and tourists. We finally turned North toward the river and wandered once again until we found a bridge to cross the mighty Tiber and venture toward Vatican City.

We passed Castel St Angelo and began the walk up to St. Peter's Square and the basilica. After doing some reading, I learned that the reason there is a gigantic boulevard leading to the

square is because of this guy named Moussilini, not sure if you've heard of him. Yeah, the facist dictator. Yeah, he made this grand entrance to the Vatican which is indeed impressive, but not quite as impressive as the original design that organized the crazy roads surrounding the square. Nevertheless, I found the walk to the Vatican slightly breathtaking despite my lack of loyalty to Catholicism.

We walked around the square absorbing the humbling power of the columns surrounding us an

d admiring the obelisk in the center. Eventually, we decided to wait in line to go inside the Basilica. Thus began the next difference between America and Europe. When we arrived at the metal detectors we barely stripped down or emptied our pockets, both set off the metal detector, and yet no one batted an eye. In fact, I'm pretty sure we were wished a good day. Atany rate, we got some good pictures of St. Peter's Square and in turn the inside of the Basilica. Again, I'm not Catholic, but that place is certainly impressive to the max.

We ended our day with a gelato and a walk back to the hotel where we found a little bit of dinner, some excellent pasta (what else?), and turned in early for the long day of traveling. I'm told I snored (which I do heavily when I'm really tired)

, but I must say I felt incredibly well- rested the next morning. I was so tired I could barely comprehend that I was indeed in Europe for the next two weeks.

Thursday Night Dinner

Tonight after I finished work. I sat down for a few moments at my house, laced up my shoes, and drove down to the river to take a run. The weather is nice and cool, but not cold, and I could work up a sweat, but not be gasping for air.

I took a run down the river, but found the air off the water was actually chilly, so I cut in on the Dequindre Cut up to the Eastern Market, ran back down Gratiot and landed on Woodward downtown.

I was impressed with how few strange looks I got on my run. Normally I feel like a fish flopping around on land with the stares that I get from people while running. I had a few friendly nods and for the most part, people were willing to share the sidewalk, whether they were homeless or simply walking to their car from work.

I drove home and sat again on my floor wondering what on earth I was going to make for dinner. I consciously try to let my food supplies dwindle until I physically cannot make anything for dinner and I am nearing the end of that run for this week. But, not tonight! No, no my friends, not tonight! Tonight, I made Gorgonzola Stuffed Chicken.

Yes, you heard it here first folks, Gorgonzola Stuffed Chicken on my dinner table tonight. It was relatively simple, though whenever you tell anyone that you made something stuffed they think something extra went into your dinner. In fact, I find it a bit easier. Instead of cooking each thing separately and trying to hold your food together, you put a slice in the chicken, stuff all the goodies inside, and throw it in the oven. 35 minutes later, all you have to do is make a few cuts and enjoy everything at once. The best dinner ever.

I added some fresh asparagus and a few potato slices that I baked to complete the meal. It was tasty overall. I will say that if you plan on stuffing anything, stuff more than you think you need, lest you end up with a small pocket of goodness in your meal and a surrounding of semi-goodness elsewhere. I was disappointed in my stuffing abilities, though I made two chicken breasts and have saved the other for lunch tomorrow. Perhaps the other was stuffed better.

I also need to work on my potato slices. They were okay, but still too potatoey and not enough... grease? I put ketchup on them first, but found, like any good Dutch person, that I preferred some light mayonnaise instead.

If I were not saving for vacation I would have enjoyed a good glass of wine with the meal, but alas, I settled for milk instead. So close.

Sadly, I enjoyed this meal like so many others by myself. I want to speak very briefly on the title of my blog, mainly because I don't think I have before and like many things I write, there is some cryptic meaning... sort of.

Mainly, I have experienced some growing pains as I head into my adulthood. (Gross.) But, seriously, being so isolated in a city where I know so few people and surrounded by people who have well-established cliques is a challenge. And like most people in suburbia, there are not great attempts to know your neighbors and most policies do not encourage getting to know each other. For example, my apartment complex does not allow any sort of party or barbeque so the large area of lush grass outside my window commonly sits empty and well-kept. In fact, just a few weekends ago I used it for the first time with a friend when we played a brief game of catch.

So I titled my blog, "Lost in the Suburbs" because I feel that I have indeed lost a bit of my mojo. I don't have the same intense energy and desire to go out and enjoy the city as much as I did in previous places I've lived. Obviously, through this blog I've been making very concentrated efforts at breaking through that rut to find a connection, but its been difficult.

While having some alone time is always needed and as a recent friend suggested, very healthy for a person, too much is just plain lonely. I've learned how to cope and am no longer afraid to go to the movies alone (except scary movies... I live by myself here people!). But, it would certainly be nice to have the opportunity to call someone on a whim and take a stroll like the good old days.

Have no fear though, I will continue to persist! In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm just writing this down as a note to myself. A public journal of sorts. Yet, I have a good time, and that's what its all about. If you'll excuse me, I have some more chicken to eat!

Mudgie's and Exploring

Yesterday and today I was able to do a bit of some great exploring in Detroit. Part of the exploration came on a company tour of Detroit and some surrounding neighborhoods. The other part came from me walking around downtown. Mostly I just wanted to include a few good photos which I have here and some captions.

(Above- St. Antoine's in Greektown- Greek Orthodox Church)

(At Left- Burwood Wall, the only physical wall in the United States to segregate populations based on race. Below- Presbyterian Church, Woodward Avenue)

(Above- Penabscot Building from Campus Martius Park)

(At Right- Mural in Mexicantown. Below-Harmonie Building in Harmonie Park.)

I also wanted to talk a bit about Mudgie's, an excellent sandwich shop in Corktown, Detroit oldest neighborhood. Corktown is most famous recently for being the old home of Tiger Stadium. It sits just west of downtown along Michigan Avenue and heading down to the river. Other highlights include the old Michigan Central Train Station and Slow's Bar-be-que.

I instead went to Mudgie's, located on Porter Street, two blocks south of Michigan Avenue. The place is small and looks like any other brick two story building covered in vines. The Holy Trinity Church is nearby and the area is full of some of the best homes in the neighborhood.

Mudgie's is a hipster's paradise (and it was full of hipsters when I went there at 5 p.m. on a Saturday.) The place was stifling hot and full of several nice tables and a counter to walk up and order a sandwich. I went with a Lockwood, full of turkey, ham, salami, and some cheeses on a kaiser bun. The sandwich came complete with au jus sauce which absolutely made the sandwich. I thought my sandwich was a little pricey and I decided not to eat in or at the tables around the shop. I think the atmosphere would have helped the enjoyment of the sandwich, but it was still quite good. I also think I could have done a bit better on my sandwich selection. In fact, next time, I may go with the Mudgie, as more often than not the signiature sandwich is pefected.

In all, I'm happy I made the trip there. Corktown is full of little secrets and is one of the nicest neighborhoods directly next to Detroit's downtown. It has great access to downtown activities, the riverfront, and parks. Mudgie's is an excellent shop with a great location. If you're ever in need of a sandwich with local Michigan made products, Mudgie's looks like the place to go.

Atlas Global Bistro

The Atlas Global Bistro is a small little gem sitting on Woodward Avenue in Midtown Detroit. While Detroit may be a bit more famous for coney dogs, potato chips, and the best pop (faygo) around there are quite a few places where you can dress up, sit down, and be treated to some delectable dishes. The Atlas Global Bistro is one such place.

Peeking in the windows off Woodward allow you to take a glimpse into a finer life while the urban decay swirls around outside. It is a nice break from boarded windows and chain link fences bordering vacant lots. Inside, the atmosphere couldn't be finer.

As you enter the restaurant, the first thing that is so striking is a map of the suburbs hanging over the entryway. If you could take a map of Detroit, put it onto a metal plating, and then explode the map over a corner high on a wall, you would see the map in Atlas Global Bistro. For a guy who loves all things to do with maps, this was certainly an amazing welcome. Noticably, the city of Detroit was not on the wall, but clearly outlined by the suburbs and nicely done.

Inside, the restaurant has many soft tones of green and cream and if I remember correctly a tin ceiling, which has been a bit of a fad lately, but is clearly original in this building. The art includes a ton of maps and decorations from worldly locations to help you, once again, escape from the outside world.

The tables are nicely situated with cloth knapkins and tablecloths and the finest waitstaff. I certainly don't always get to go to places like this, but a collared shirt could be a nice touch. I know for future date locations that this is one of those places you don't go on the first date, unless you're full of money and want to throw it around, then you could go. But, for a casual lunch or dinner it serves its purpose as well.

The menu was well-formed with many different kinds of choices, all fresh and seasonal, and with elements of local flair. The paprikash was a favorite among the people I was eating with and of course my best "When Harry Met Sally" lines came out. "Today, we will talk, like thees. Waiter, there is too much paeper on my paprikash." Well, you get the idea.

I decided to go with a Grilled Lamb Kelta because, well, I don't get to eat lamb all that often and I didn't want to go with a standard burger (which was also looked delicious and is pictured here.) My second choice, and also a popular selection, was the Pan Cubano sandwich (which I also got a a picture of.) I was able to try a little bite and enjoyed it immensely, though I was told that the spicy mustard was a deep sinus cleansing experience. Not for the faint of taste buds.

My lamb was outstanding. I enjoyed it a lot along with pieces of pita and a nice tossed salad. I also was treated to a vinegarette based cole slaw, which is not always traditional, but still delicious. In fact, I think I prefer it to the cream based slaw which is more common. But,I have to talk about the lamb. I don't know what was in it, but it had some incredible spices and was complemented incredibly well. I'm no food critic, but the balance on my plate was wonderful. I was satisfied and not overly stuffed.

If we had time and more money I would have ordered dessert. The selections were wide ranging and looked quite good. However, on this particular trip I didn't have the luxury of time. However, I can see myself returning for a trip to visit the bar and enjoy a nice cocktail and some dessert. I imagine that the bistro is a great night spot and had a wonderful warm atmosphere. When the sun goes down or the snow is falling, I imagine that the Atlas Global Bistro serves up some great places to warm up and enjoy a night cap.

I greatly enjoyed my time here and look forward to a return trip. With a changing menu and a great atmosphere, the Atlas Global Bistro is a great place to visit. I also see it as a great foundation for redeveloping the Woodward Cooridor as it sits just north of the stadiums and just south of the Detroit Medical Center. If you ever need a nice spot to sit and relax, check out the Atlas Global Bistro and allow yourself to be transported somewhere new.

Why I Care About Detroit. (And you should too)

I didn't used to care about Detroit. I watched the Pistons and the Red Wings, occasionally the Tigers and Lions, but otherwise, I knew that Detroit had nothing going for it. The city was dangerous, there were no cool things to do, and the glory days were long gone.

Then one day, a year ago last weekend, I ended up moving to Detroit. My entire life I've lived in Michigan and never once has my goal or dream been to move to Detroit. In fact, I had a few opportunities for employment, one in Chicago and one in Detroit. By far, the sexier position was Chicago.

But clearly, in writing this post something has changed for me. I now care about Detroit. I care about the city. While I may not live my entire life here, I will always have a place in my heart and mind for the city of Detroit.

We've all heard the stories. A quarter of a million people left the city over the past decade. The city boasts illiteracy rates of near 50 percent. Hundreds of thousands of people live in poverty. The pictures of blown out buildings and vacant lots are everywhere and a drive down any main drag will tell you that times are tough. And of course, we all know about Detroit's infamous homicide rate which is often one of the tops in the nation.

So why on earth should I care about this city? And better yet, why should you? I've read this countless times on comments of articles and spouted from people's mouths who know nothing about the city. Why should we do anything to support a city that couldn't save itself? Let the city rot. Raze it to the ground and start over. All kinds of hurtful things for a city that is still very proud.

The reason why I care about the city lies in two reasons. The first is very selfish, as any good reason should be: I am from Michigan and am sick and tired of traveling places and having people feel sorry for me. I am proud of my state and happy to be a Michigander. But, Detroit is an incredibly negative image for the state. Too many people associate Detroit with the entirety of Michigan. This generally leads to the argument of dumping Detroit and starting over so that we can save the rest of the state, but I've got news for everyone. Four million people still live in the metro region. FOUR MILLION! That's still a very viable city and still, by far, the largest concentration of people in the state. Which means, no matter how hard you try to tell people you're from Rochester or Clinton Township or Canton or Wyandotte, you will always be from Detroit. And no matter how hard you try to tell people you live far from Detroit and its problems, Detroit will always be a reference point to people who are not from Michigan.

So, as a Michigander, it is incredibly beneficial for me to care about Detroit. A healthy Detroit is a healthy Michigan and a healthy Michigan is a lot more fun to talk about when you're out and about in the United States.

The second reason why I care about Detroit is far more unselfish: it is simply the fact that people still live here. The area is still home to a ton of people, many of whom seem lost. In fact, my blog title comes from the fact that I do not feel attached to any central city. There are suburbs and suburbs and a few cool things downtown, but no pulse. There is no attachment to the center city. And without that, there is no great central feeling for people and in turn we are all mindlessly driving around the suburbs searching for the closest Meijer or Red Robin or Trader Joe's (of course, if you can afford a car.)

So, it is incredibly hurtful to read comments from others, including those living in the northern suburbs or other areas of Michigan who want to raze the city or let it die. Why spend my money on a place with no chance? Well, because if we don't start putting our heads together and finding some ways to help out, the state as a whole is going to suffer the same fate.

And, if you'll allow me to speculate wildly here, I think this goes beyond just Detroit and Michigan. I think this is a soon-to-be or already-here epidemic of urban centers. Detroit is the epitome of industrial America. The factories gave tons of great jobs to poorly educated people. Race issues tore the city apart. Education failed. And then the bottom fell out of poorly run industries that cannot survive on the current economic policies of supporting tons of oil and energy consumption. To add insult to injury, Detroit is the iconic city of roads and superhighways that sliced through cultural neighborhoods and gave the clearest path for suburbanites to aggresively expand and gut the city.

When all of these great ideals of the early twentieth century are seen to fruition, you get Detroit. And so the city remains stuck in the past, clinging to old ideals and saddled by governments who never were able to get it right. People left as things didn't get adjusted, no new industries were coming in, and the schools were getting worse. The tax base left and still adjustments weren't made. In the end, all we could do was remember the good old days, as it were.

Now we are at a point where this no longer works. It doesn't work in Detroit or Cleveland or Pittsburgh or any other city where this model was put into place. And yet other cities have started their push forward. So what is holding Detroit back? I believe it started with poor government and a lack of trust, rightly deserved. But I also think it lies in the fact that there are so many who simply don't care.

We now have an incredible opportunity in Detroit. It is true that problems are everywhere, and they will not be fixed in the next year, five years, or probably even ten years. But with so much out of Detroit, we have a unique opportunity to reimagine the city for tomorrow. And I'm not talking about just Detroit here. We can use Detroit as a blueprint for every other American city. Detroit, the city that put America on wheels could be the first major city to start increasing density and promoting more mass transit. Detroit could be the first major city to start urban farming on a large scale and getting our food supply back to the source. Detroit could be the new example of what we want our future to look like, more sustainable with less waste and more community involvement.

I know there is no convincing everyone to pack up and move to Detroit. And honestly, even living here I often see the incredible problems and want to pick up and leave. I have no idea where to get started! But I do know that even if I do leave, I will still have a great interest in the city of Detroit. The city is at a huge crossroads with the chance to really make a change or to slip further into the oblivion. I believe, as many do, that Detroit will find its way. And I believe that when Detroit does, it will be leading the way for much of America to figure out how to be leaner, more efficient, more community based, and less dependent on shipping our goods and services to all corners of the country.

I care about Detroit because the people who live here are still fighting, every day, to make a living. I care about Detroit because its good for my state, its good for my health, and its good for me. And I hope that you care about Detroit because, well, you read my post and that means you probably have a lot of similar interests that I do. And those interests can be bettered by a better Detroit.

Flavors of St. Louis

Two weekends ago I had the opportunity to visit St. Louis. I ran the Half-Marathon with Mr. Smith and his brother and had a wonderful time enjoying the 90 degree weekend full of sun.

St. Louis doesn't always have the nicest reputation, and much like Detroit it has seen its better days. But St. Louis, like Detroit, still has its hidden gems, and on a spring weekend where the trees and flowers were blooming, the roadways were lined with green, and I could wear shorts with the windows rolled down I must say St. Louis really shined.

As always, my favorite part of a vacation is trying out some really good food, and this vacation did not disappoint. The moment we walked off the plane, Mr. Smith already had our evening plans in line, which I totally appreciated. We dropped our things off at his apartment, freshened up with some deodorant (planes just have stinky, sweaty air), and took off to the Central West End, a cultural mecca near downtown St. Louis.

The Central West End is full of restaurants, bars, and an overall urban vibe that seems to excel as the sun goes down. In the warmth of the April night, we enjoyed a wonderful dinner at Pi, a local pizza restaruant. Pi has some amazing pizzas, both deep dish and thin crust. The pizzas have been featured on numerous eating shows and the President himself wanted this pizza at the White House. And it was good.

We had a few tasty deep dishes and a thin crust to fill up our large party (more than just Mr. Smith and his brother) and it certainly did fill us up. My favorite part of the deep dishes, and arguably the most important part, is the tomato sauce that covered the toppings. The sauce had thick chunky tomatoes mixed in with delicious seasonings and a wonderful crust. The sauce truly makes the pizza and Pi did it right. What's more is the atmosphere in Pi is something I just haven't been used to in the barren restaurants of Detroit. The place was alive and full of ambiance and fun. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, and the street was teeming with people even as the night wore on.

Saturday gave way to my favorite meal of the weekend at a place called Winslow's Home. If you're ever taken the Art and Architecture History class at Western Michigan University, than you know that Winslow's Home is a play off of artist Winslow Homer, an American artist known for his landscapes. The restaurant was a combination general store and restaurant, but don't think Cracker Barrel, think awesome local establishment.

Winslow's Home is a wonderful restaurant that also has its own farm. The restaurant uses the farm to raise crops, cattle, and other foods to be used in their cooking. Everything is fresh, real, and tastes phenominal. What's even cooler about the restaurant is that the tables are simply mixed in the general store so while you're waiting for your food you can browse the eccentric wares and mixture of cheeses, meats, and wines. I even found a book about how to make your own cheese!

If the restaurant experience was awesome, the food was divine. I had a wonderful omlette, potatoes, and orange juice, which seems very simple, but was so much more than simple. The eggs were the freshest I've ever had, the flavors were so incredibly delicious, and the potatoes were cooked to absolute perfection with the finest of seasonings. It was the kind of food that you didn't want to scarf down. It was the kind of food that you couldn't help but enjoy every savory bite. And the orange juice was equally outstanding. Behind the check-out counter was a large orange squeezer with a small hole at the top to put oranges in. At the bottom of this machine was a small spigot. If you follow the logic, this orange juice was freshly squeezed and tasted like you were literally drinking an orange. Before I even tasted it I knew we wanted a carafe.

The portions didn't look big, but it didn't matter. After eating food that good, you were full and completely satisfied. The only problem was that we wanted more. The other meals that day were still quite good, but they were masked by the amazing meal we had in the morning. So I'll skip to the Sunday meal after our race.

All three of us had a great race. In 90 degree heat and beating sun, we all finished within minutes of one another near the 2 hour mark. Despite a crowded course and blazing heat, we all did well. But all that running and heat makes a man hungry, so we ventured to a small restaurant near Busch Stadium. The Broadway Oyster Bar was one of the few places open, but full of life. The restaurant is in a generally open setting which was so wonderful in the heat of the day. It transported us into the Louisiana Bayou (or what I picture the bayou to be like) and gave us a menu full of wonderful cajun flavors. I ordered a grinder and was pleased to see the best grinder I've seen. I'm used to grinders with two halves of bread filled with some warm meat in between. Apparently, I've never eaten a real grinder. A grinder is half a baguette hollowed out and filled with amazing treats. Mine was full of andoullie sausage, cajun spices, and wonderful cheeses that made an amazing complement to cajun fries and wonderful water.

Every meal we ate in St. Louis was wonderful. I firmly believe that one of the best parts of travel and maybe even life is finding some great meals to write about. Nothing beats eating something so delicious that you can't stop thinking about it and savor every bite you take. Having a meal you can share with another and have some great times and funny stories told is what family and community is all about. We are so consumed with our busy lives that we allow ourselves to be satisfied with fast food and microwave meals. But if you think about it, your favorite memories with food probably involve good, real meals that took longer than 5 minutes to prepare and eat. If you'll excuse me, I'm a little hungry now.

When the Unexpected is Okay

I honestly have so many things to write about today that I'm not sure where to start. Thankfully, I still have pen and paper to jot some thoughts down to save topics for later.

For today, I'll tell you a bit about what I did today. The sun was shining, the temperature was nice, and I took a trip to a high school to talk with students. Now this is nothing out of the ordinary as I regularly visit high schools in my job. A major part of my job, in fact, is to visit high schools and talk about the great qualities that my school has. I very purposefully tell the facts to hopefully find the right students who fit the school's personality.

But today, I was in for a bit of a surprise. Normally when I visit a high school, I pass out some colorful pamphlets, talk about the stats and programs, and hopefully jump into the feeling of the student life. There is some time for a few questions, bada bing, bada boom, students are out and I just got some more people to call.

Not today. I brought my handy crate full of materials and introduced myself to the greeter at the front door. I signed my visitor pass and got directions to the classroom I was looking for. When I arrived, I was greeted by a woman in a red t-shirt and red pants. This was Ms. C (the name shortened for anonymity.) She was older, but clearly full of tons of energy. She reminded me of my sixth grade teacher. I quickly discovered that I would not be there to share information with students.

Instead, what Ms. C wanted me to do, was speak to her Life Management classes about college. I would be speaking on my career, interviewing, how I found my career, what types of things college has, and some general review of requirements and application procedures. Little did I know that this would turn into one of my favorite visits I've ever been in. The classes clearly favored Ms. C. Ms. C, with her short haircut and incredibly eccentric room, filled with student projects, lots of papers, quotes plastered on any area of free space, and a gigantic portion of the chalkboard, doorway, and surround wall filled with students' senior pictures. She said hello to every single student who walked in the door and still managed to have a conversation with me, and several students stopped by to get a hug for the day and carry on to their next class. In a world where teachers are regularly demonized by education reformers, this woman clearly had so much to give to her students. It was clear to me that she was a great teacher, and I did not need to see her students' standardized test scores to see that.

As everyone filed in to take their seats, I could feel my heart pace quicken and suddenly felt very that my arms and hands were very awkward, a sensation I normally get when speaking to a crew of people. However, I have been in the position so many times the feeling passed quickly. Ms. C took attendence, quieted the class, and introduced me. The floor was mine. I had prepared to talk solely about the university and very little about the topics she offered so I was momentarily stunned. 'Good Morning' only goes so far when you're looking to pull some energy and find your stride. But, I quickly introduced myself and began to speak about what it is I did.

Ms. C was quick to interject with questions, but not in the way where you're annoyed with the person, just a very conversational question about the things I was talking about. We had a great flow going as I became comfortable and sensed that it would be important to include far more about my personal story in this presentation than ever before. You see, I represent a school that is not my Alma Mater, a great challenge I assure you. But, in this case, I was encouraged to talk in great length about my experiences and how they differed from the school I now represent.

Suddenly, I was involved in a very reflective moment, something I'm not sure we all get the opportunity to do very often, and was able to speak greatly about my experiences and why I am where I am today. While many students laid their heads down to rest and some looked out the window at the day they could be having, it was clear to me that Ms. C not only allowed kids to be kids, but she respected the fact that they were. Therefore I could only follow her lead and realize that even though the students were putting their heads down, they were still absorbing a lot of what I was saying. I had another class come in with a repeat performance and afterward there was a 30 minute lunch break.

Ms. C spoke with me during this time about my presentation and asked me more about myself. She was shocked that I was in the position I was in at my age and with how great my presentation was. She loved the things I had to share and then told me something that no one has ever told me before. She asked what I wanted to do in the future and I told her some of my ideas, but that I wasn't sure. She said, "You seem like a person who doesn't always do things the conventional way. I see how you landed at admissions, but I can tell that you're already going to be moving on sometime soon. You have such an unconventional way of getting places that I bet you'll be doing something great soon."

I was speechless.

Naturally, I cracked a smile and thanked her for her comments and simply brushed it aside by saying that most people don't find their path by their first choices as a senior in high school. Most students are changing their minds, finding things to get involved in, and discovering their passion that way. We had one more class and then I was excused to leave for the office. I handed out less than 10 pieces on the university, but had one of my favorite visits. So many students clearly saw my excitement and I realized that I must be a good presenter. I realized that I had just winged a presentation and delivered it in a way that made others excited.

My post today is not to dote on how awesome I am. (Hehe) My post today is to talk about how sometimes it takes the unexpected to transform your day. This could have easily been just another high school visit. I would have driven home and submitted some cards to the office, typed up a report, and gone about my business.

But today, I was able to speak with someone about my personality, my growth. I was able to share more about my experiences with others, high school students who need some knowledge. I was able to meet a woman who was so incredibly positive, who was so optimistic about her students, who was clearly invested and happy to take time and energy to get students excited about their school. It is so refreshing to have something unexpected to change your mood. I have many friends, family, and overall important people in my life who are teachers. For about 2 seconds today I thought about what that must be like, and then drove the thought out of my head in sheer terror. You all do some amazing work and I appreciate it.

I recently saw a book by a woman who supposedly is a great researcher. Her book, the title of which I can't remember right now, was about positive thinking. To be precise, her book was about how positive thinking was ruining the future generation of America.

Based on the back cover, her research indicated that because America is generally a positive country (hard to believe, right?) our future generations are continually less and less worried about realistic challenges and thus less willing to help solve the problem. Now I didn't read the book and have yet to track it down again, but to me, what she was implying is that we need to tone down our positive thinking, lest it ruin the country by letting us fester in problems.

This seems completely crazy to me. I have always been optimistic and overall positive and will continue to be so. I feel I'm grounded and realistic and I certainly pay attention to important issues and think about problems we face. But to think that we should stop thinking so optimistically seems absolutely nuts to me! Are we going to slowly wither into an unhappy, yet realistically grounded populous that has no hope for the future? I certainly hope not.

And if Ms. C and the other teachers out there who are giving it all they've got for their students continue to give kids even 40 minutes of happy, positive classtime, then I think we're all going to be okay. Thanks Ms. C for a great day.