Playing For Change

Playing for Change

Places

Places I want to go...or want to visit again...

The Kraken 2010

A Gaming Convention. Schloss Neuhausen. August, 2010.

Baggage blunder

My box was lost somewhere between SFO and frankfurt. My backpack, containing most of my clothes, arrived on the baggage claim belt in a ridiculously timely manner. And then I waited...and waited...

After 10 minutes I wandered to the Baggage Services desk.

"My luggage has been lost" I said matter-of-factly. I had been traveling for 19 hours, I wasn't in the mood to pussyfoot around.

"What does it look like" said the drab-looking German man.

"Like a box. It's a box. It's lost. It never came onto the carousel."

"Oh," said Mr. Drab, "Thats different. Thats a box. That will come out in the bulky pickup, over there." He pointed to the far corner of the baggage claim lobby.

I looked down at the top of the counter, which displayed a laminated diagram of various luggage characteristics, with bar codes next to them. If you lost a fabric duffel bag with wheels, they would scan 'duffel bag' 'fabric' and 'wheels.' When I was fourteen I took a flight to Australia. My suitcase was a monstrosity, giant and plastic. I had spray-painted it bright pink and stenciled stars and giraffes on the side. When it was lost the airport workers had a hell of a time trying to figure out what barcodes to scan.

I headed over to bulky pickup, and mentioned to the giant German in tight blue overalls my lost luggage, ahem, excuse me, my lost box.

"Nothing's come out yet, wait a minute" he told me.

As I waited giant malformed packages came sliding out on the conveyor belt. An army of clowns could have fit in some of these packages. Meanwhile I waited for my little, ordinary-sized box. And then I waited.

Mr. Drab didn't look particularly surprised to see me again.
"My box never came."

He handed me a slip of paper with the phone number of the airport circled in yellow highlighter. "Call this number tomorrow. We will deliver the box once it is found."

I went through customs, very discouraged. My pajamas were in that box. And the BBQ sauce! What a travesty!

I met my friend Fabian on the other side of customs. "My box was lost" I told him. "Got lost somewhere between San Francisco, Krakow, and here."





Fabian snaps a photo as I am on the phone with my dad, lamenting my lost luggage.



"Ah, the Polish probably stole it" Fabian said, joking. "It's ok, later I will give them a proper German phone call. We will get your box!"

Two days later I decided that the airport was being decidedly un-German about returning my box. They would tell me the time it would arrive, and so we'd wait, and nothing would come.

Finally I received my box, tattered and battered.

Chicago: Ohare airport

As I exited my plane in Chicago, ready for my two hour layover and a nice fat cup of coffee, I realized that I had never actually been to this airport before. And since I was coming from San Francisco, with the next layover in Krakow, I needed to get from the domestic terminal to he international terminal.

This task proved harder than I thought. I passed a multitude of coffee shops and ass on my quest to find gate M4. I followed signs for terminals E,F, and C, but could find no sign of the destination I longed for.

It wasn't until I happened on a little diagram of terminal 2, hanging quietly on a wall, that I discovered I had to take a friggin' tram to the international terminal. I followed my gut, for the lack of signage, and hauled my ass to the tram station.

I always figure when at places like airports where your actions depend veryuh on times (if you want to catch your flight, you better get there in time, or else you'll be spending your night in a hotel that smells like the canals of Venice).

I find it unfortunate that his tram takes you, at least according to the security officers, out of the airport. And so I had to trudge through security, again, which means I had to throw away my $5 water I bought in SFO.

I emerged, in the international terminal, only to find that he coffee shops and restaurants that littered the domestic terminal were little more than a distant memory. Its as if this amrican airport was saying "you're abandoning your country, you don't get to eat...you must suffer with airplane coffee...take that, traitor!"

The moral of this story, of course, is grab that coffee and deep dish pizza while you can, because your flight is destined to be delayed anyway (by 45 minutes).

Packing Problems

The biggest problem that new travelers have is that they pack too darn much.


Put your heels back in your closet, and no, you probably don't need to bring that curling iron.
If you're anything like me, you spend most of your time abroad skipping along in your Keens with your hair windblown and utterly unkempt.

Two days ago the company I work for got me plane tickets to Germany for a game convention (Not game-hunting, not computer games, but old fashioned pen-and-paper roll-the-dice type of games). My flight leaves tomorrow. I am very grateful that I have traveled before, and so am not at all frazzled when it comes to figuring out what to pack.

Here is a complete list of everything I am taking with me:

• Ipod, charger, headphones
• Outlet converter
• Sarong (multi-functional, can serve as a towel, a beach cover up, a skirt, a picnic blanket, toga, etc)
• Three pairs of pants (one worn on the plane, one that can double as pajamas)
• One skirt
• Four shirts (neutral, that can go with all my bottoms, at least one long-sleeved)
• Three tank tops
  
• 6 pairs of socks
• 9 pairs underwear
• two books
• Manuscripts for work
• product to sell at the convention
• one belt (not worn on plane, as it makes the security process more difficult)
• Toiletries (toothbrush, toothpaste, face wash, Dr. Brommer's soap, cu-tips, feminine needs, hand sanitizer, baby wipes, medications)
• Maybe a necklace and a pair of earrings (I like to pick these items up when I arrive, they make nice gifts to myself)
• Notebook and pen
• Slip-on shoes (worn on airplane)
• Keen sandals
• travel towel
• Passport
• Currency of wherever I am headed to (easy if I have already been there, as I usually just put away the leftover cash from my previous trips)
• Mini-flashlight
• Presents from home (chocolate, candies, soaps. To give away to the people I stay with)
• Bras (two or three)
• Hair brush
• Jacket
• names and addresses of the places I will stay
  
• Burrito (for the plane)

My golden packing rule: lay all the clothes you plan on bringing on the bed. Look it over. Put half of the items back into your dresser. The way I see it, if I under-pack I can always pick something up when I get there. I rarely regret picking up a sweatshirt with the name of a foreign city on it, or a cool skirt from a local market.

Here are various photos from my last European adventure. My sarong came in handy as a fashionable toga at an impromptu toga party in Budapest, and was used as a dress on laundry day while in the Netherlands.

Playing For Change

Sacred Monkey Forest, Bali

Aquatic Scrotum. Badass frog.

I am intrigued by the giant frog that lives in lake Titicaca in Peru. Partly because it is giant and breathes through it's skin, partly because it is called the 'aquatic scrotum.'

Picture from the National Wildlife Federation website