Emilio Estevez inspires us all to pilgrimage through Spain

I first heard about the Camino de Santiago de Compostela in an art history course called The Medieval City. Dr. Diane Reilly made it sound rockin' - an historic route through France, the Pyrenees, and Spain that devout Catholics took to reach one of three cathedrals with the remains of an apostle, in this case St. James. Traditionally the pilgrims trekked barefoot and penny-less through the mountains and vast expanses, accepting hospitality from churches and homes on the path.

Between the 12th and 14th centuries Santiago de Compostela grew in importance and prestige, at times even eclipsing the pilgrim routes to Jerusalem and Rome. It is remarkable that tens of thousands of pilgrims chose to suffer the hazards of this route every year during the Middle Ages. A combination of the relative accessibility of the route and the miracles associated with the relics of the Saint beneath the magnificent cathedral were certainly contributing factors in its popularity. (Camino Guides)

The Way (2011) film

Sheen plays the protagonist of this story, as a mild and conservative father who finds out his son died while attempting the historic trek. In an attempt to fulfill his son's goal and to process his own grief, Sheen treks the entire length, picking up comrads in a Wizard of Oz-esque fashion.

My parents watched this film at the Heartland Film Festival and felt it was one I needed to see. My mother reflected after our shared screening, "I got choked up on that car ride to the airport, when the son tells his dad he has to go because it's there. That sounds like something you've said."

We've shared many a ride reeking of the same sentiment.

A co-worker and friend from Ecuador is planning on traversing this route in September by bicycle. I've even heard murmurs at work about doing this famed trek and the powers of the introspective journey. I'm mostly fueled by visuals, which is why even though I'd learned about it in school and chatted about it with friends, it took a feature film with some of the Sheen men to make me add 'the way' to my bucket list.

“The Way” is at the very least an exquisite product placement for the Spanish Tourism Board. (Shockya)

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What Alain de Botton says about the anticipation of travel

Alain de Botton's The Art of Travel

My reading comprehension is atrocious, my tracking snail-like. The only thing I remember from high school reading is Holden Caulfield's half-gray hair and his famous line with middle fingers extended toward his despised boarding school. I love to read, and I always have; I'm just not very good at it. And just as I would rather visit a new country than repeat an old one, I try not to re-read books I've tackled in the past. Though plots and anecdotes don't stick in my memory, my impression of the book always does. That's why I remember how much I loved Alain de Botton's The Art of Travel, so much so that I want it to be a part of Creative Arts class next term (did you know I've been teaching?). It's unique focus on literature and art history woven into personal travel anecdotes is seemingly undone by anyone else in this field. Alain verifies this in his book description:

Few things are as exciting as the idea of travelling somewhere else. But the reality of travel seldom matches our daydreams. The tragi-comic disappointments are well-known: the disorientation, the mid-afternoon despair, the lethargy before ancient ruins. And yet the reasons behind such disappointments are rarely explored.

We are inundated with advice on where to travel to; we hear little of why we should go and how we could be more fulfilled doing so. The Art of Travel is a philosophical look at the ubiquitous but peculiar activity of travelling ‘for pleasure’, with thoughts on airports, landscapes, museums, holiday romances, photographs, exotic carpets and the contents of hotel mini-bars. The book mixes personal thought with insights drawn from some of the great figures of the past. Unlike existing guidebooks on travel, it dares to ask what the point of travel might be - and modestly suggests how we could learn to be less silently and guiltily miserable on our journeys.

I welcomed its digestible 249 pages on this trip to Thailand, and now that I've finished my latest Bill Bryson adventure, I am diving back into The Art of Travel for both personal fulfillment and professional inspiration. I think this book may be the most accurate study of my constant state of mind. As I re-read this text, I will post favorite excerpts from each chapter, in hopes that this teaser turns more of you toward Alain and his brilliant musings. We don't need more people writing about logistics and tips; we need to start asking, "To what effect?"

On Anticipation

If our lives are dominated by a search for happiness, then perhaps few activities reveal as much about the dynamics of this quest - in all its ardour and paradoxes - than our travels. They express, however inarticulately, an understanding of what life might be about, outside of the constraints of work and of the struggle for survival. Yet rarely are they considered to present philosophical problems - that is, issues requiring thought beyond the practical. We are inundated with advice on where to travel to, but we hear little of why and how we should go, even though the art of travel seems naturally to sustain a number of questions neither so simple nor so trivial, and whose study might in modest ways contribute to an understanding of what the Greek philosophers beautifully termed eudaimonia, or 'human flourishing'. p9

Samesa with a cow head in Nakavika, Fiji

I evolve and mature faster through travel than I ever could while geographically isolated in Hoosier land. I attribute this to the extremes I routinely face on the road that level my demeanor: witnessing exorcisms, jumping out of planes, slow and inhumane cow and pig deaths, frantic scams involving highways, police, and 20 rickshaw drivers, walking through the slums of India, Haiti, and South Africa, and so on.

I often think about this writing genre and travel industry with confusion. How did we get to the point where top ten lists and logistics get us hot and bothered? I understand the value of SEO, but if a flash-packer is focused on targeting their audience with ad words while the world spins and gyrates around them, why do we not get slapped with that irony? Are we not on the hot pursuit of happiness, with documentation only dribbling out as the byproduct of micro-enlightenment? Doesn't it seem inevitable that industry-wide introspection will redirect us all to focus on the philosophical issues of travel? That is, after all, what consists of the vast majority of my conversations with travelers.

'I must have been suffering from some mental aberration to have rejected the visions of my obedient imagination and to have believed like any old ninny that it was necessary, interesting and useful to travel abroad.' p11

Alain quotes a fictional character, Duc des Esseintes from J.K. Huysmans's novel A Rebours, and uses this decadent literature to comment on the similarities in our current mental editing. Those details of experience left on the cutting room floor are those that indicate universal and location-independent realities: unattractive factories, litter, banal businesses, stray dogs, boring fields, people heading to office jobs. Duc didn't like seeing the moments that romantic painters omitted - didn't like seeing the truth that the Dutch countryside wasn't littered with milkmaids, windmills, and nothing else.

Hiking a hill in Ecuador, Barabon

Today, we either use descriptive language to depict idyllic settings or complain that a location didn't meet our inflated expectations. Do we consider ourselves tour guides as travel bloggers with the power to recreate an experience for the sedentary? Do we think we share the abilities of the romantic painters? Or are we hoping to whet the palettes of potential travelers and facilitate their easy access to those points of philosophical inquiry? Are we just saying whatever will bring in a few ad dollars to sustain our own access to life-rocking experience?

If we are inclined to forget how much there is in the world besides that which we anticipate, then works of art are perhaps a little to blame, for in them we find at work the same process of simplification or selection as in the imagination. p13

Boy in Dali, China

When I read this quote, I immediately thought of my students at THINK Global School. I push for the arts to offer a language with which they can sort out their impressions, but they experience so much that it's difficult for them to focus on a main idea - or even one detail. They are overwhelmed with the prospect of editing and often leave out the most interesting facet. How does a teenager take a step back from an intense world travel education to find the most pivotal lesson in all of it?

These students have a unique opportunity to see the world, and because of this, they carry great responsibility as ambassadors. They are expected to share their experiences and constantly evolving world views. I wonder how deeply they think about the stories they tell, the illustrations of these experiences they create, and what sense of conflict or responsibility, if any, they feel regarding the simplification of these. The easy answer is probably not a lot, but with the proper leading questions, I think this would be an interesting discussion with a group unmatched in the whole world.

The anticipatory and artistic imaginations omit and compress; they cut away the periods of boredom and direct our attention to critical moments, and thus, without either lying or embellishing, they lend to life a vividness and a coherence that it may lack in the distracting woolliness of the present. p14

Lindsay photographing elephants

I have yet to encounter an observation more reflective of my career than this one. I spend the majority of my work time editing: cropping images, directing focus with lighting, cutting videos to impart one major lesson, and highlighting the most vivid and unique aspects of something to overshadow any pedestrian details akin to regular travels or lives. Especially with today's fleeting attention spans, I have to compress these moments into even smaller boxes. I take life and pick out the bits of meat and flavor, leaving the pixelated carcass to the hard drive birds.

The nature of this task forces constant inquiries like, "Why am I omitting this? Do I have a responsibility to portray this angle, and does it lend to a complete vision or story?" Yes, I produce marketing material, but I don't see it as such, most of the time.

Stories from the road have always been my way to reveal the familiar from unfamiliar locations. What gets me motivated today is making something that could provide exponential value in a way that expands minds. Though my actual audience could be miniscule, I take it as a responsibility to provide a realistic window and evoke a feeling or energy for the purpose of whittling down a bubble. How successful am I at accurately and powerfully portraying a moment? I need some focus group action to figure that out.

I had inadvertently brought myself with me to the island. p19

If given the sentence starter, "I spend most of my time thinking about..." I follow it with, "...how I think too much." I could be in a beautiful location, far from my familiar cornfields and water towers, but I have a somewhat useful - though mostly unfortunate - ability to detach and let whatever category of emotions wreck and ravage my mood. And though I can fake it quite well - "Wow, can you believe how beautiful this is? I can't believe I'm here." - it takes a peak of extreme emotions to rattle me into the present, to allow my current thoughts and feelings to suffer complete abandonment, to let me see and appreciate a place detached from my human self.

After months of frustration and one last fight in Nakavika, Fiji, I collapsed on the steps of the school house around dusk. Garrett and I sat together silently, quite aware that this moment signaled the end of our efforts, and I felt all feeling drain from my mind and body. In that vulnerable breath post-sobbing, all words uttered and hyperventilation overcame, I noticed the golden setting sun was illuminating a monstrous moon in between the midnight-blue gap in green crags. Mist and wispy clouds thick with warm color connected the two extremes of our vision. It was the most beautiful moment we had ever witnessed, and it took a pinnacle of human emotion to reach that appreciation, to abandon the mental barriers that make us focus on the 'us' in every situation.

Nakavika Fiji as seen from the school block, mountains, mist

It seems we may be best able to inhabit a place when we are not faced with the additional challenge of having to be there. p23

If so, then I have a big job to do.

If I carry one book with me abroad, it is this one. Each chapter requires in-depth study and results in a brain steadily gaining awareness and understanding for travel and human nature. I'm eager to read your feedback below and help you through the rest of this book in the subsequent posts to come.

There are affiliate links in this post. I purchased this book.

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Weird just happened - a unpredictable 2011 in retrospect

Dear Internet, I’ve been horrible, saying I’m going to write and then rarely following through. And it’s not for lack of noteworthy developments; this was an unbelievably unpredictable and diverse 2011, with certain promise of continuation in 2012.

Upon returning to Indiana this holiday season, to a world so different from my working one, I managed to find only one word that adequately describes my baffled reflection on the year’s events: weird. How did I experience the myriad twists, obstacles, and accomplishments that plopped me into the role I'm in now? Did that all really just happen? And I didn't even really get to tell you about it...

2011 was a weird year, and I don’t consider that word to be derogatory – for the most part. Here, Internet, let me fill you in on the tidbits worth noting.

JANUARY

Throughout childhood, New Year’s Eve was always an event I celebrated with gusto. Though I acknowledge it’s overrated nature today, it still feels like a beautiful night where the mind receives a flushing and a chance to redirect its thoughts at something more meaningful. Landmarks in time are meant to be celebrated, for they represent the act of highlighting the realities of our present.

New Year's Eve 2011 in New York City, Lindsay

Balls dropping, confetti clotting up my local sewage system, fireworks speckling the famous skyline - regardless of my surrounding atmosphere, I celebrated this widely observed holiday by sitting in my first apartment in my first real residence post-graduation, writing the previous observation and feeling pretty content to be warm, well-fed, and with a clean bathroom nearby. I braced for a big year in a conservative manner, apparently feeling the necessity for taking it easy when I could. It was on track to escalate quickly.

FEBRUARY

For months, I read books, studied Creole flashcards, and followed the news to develop an informed awareness of Haiti, my February destination for documentary work for The Haiti Project. Prior, the country seemed an inaccessible shell of a nation in my mind's eye, an unfair judgement based on insufficient exposure. It also seemed a destination only frequented by journalists, politicians, and celebrities seeking humanitarian glory.

After landing in Port-au-Prince, my silver dollar eyes focused behind a camera lens at both the headline-worthy and unexpectedly average. First conversations with this traveling crew - an investment banker, a doctor, and a politician - made my research immediately relevant. Smells, rocky rides, colors, and penetrating glances brought me back to Africa. The downtown area was the front page of the New York Times, the residential acres overlooking the city representing a side of Haiti I hadn't at all conceptualized - the affluent one. The stark contrast of my documentary subjects and nightly accommodations made for a racing brain, one that saw the nation as a whole - its past and present, the potential for its future.

Haiti is small, mountainous, and in possession of more culture than many countries exponentially larger. In pursuit of stories from Project Medishare, Hollywood Unites for Haiti, Edeyo, and the Cine Institute, we traversed the capital, the central plateau, and the coastal region of the south, also managing to witness a long-awaited Kanaval, fueled by pent-up emotion and necessary release from the earthquake thirteen months prior. Intensity, aggression, jubilation, and passion were on display from a hopeful and resilient crowd. Deep layers of humanity exposed put me in awe.

MARCH

With the flavors of fried platanos and unmatched rice and beans still making my own cooking taste vastly inadequate, I stewed in New York City, contemplating Haiti and all that occurred on the whirlwind trip, including the unplanned encounter with then-candidate and current president of Haiti, Michel Martelly. As if that experience wasn't shocking enough, the dude started following me on Twitter a few days later. Still follows today. Is he messing with me?

Alexis Reller visits New York

Yes, that was odd to have a then-presidential candidate following my tweets about flying with cats and traveler's diarrhea, but what really defined the month was an impromptu visit by my favorite trail-blazing lumberjack, Alexis Reller. Together, we took advantage of Astoria's open spaces and Greek delicacies, free yoga and unseasonably warm St. Patrick's Day afternoons at beer gardens.

APRIL

Qatar Airways plopped me at the Bangkok airport for production in Thailand, a project I witnessed from its conception. I found myself a girl in possession of $5 pants staying at the Shangri-La Hotel (or similar accommodations), where laundry services are clearly in proportion to my wardrobe value. The mission: to distill a country down to its identifying culture for use as academic resources in global education worldwide. My additional mission: to engage in a place I've pined to have an extended visit, absorbing all things food, massage, language, and culture-related.

Swirling a camera around a Muay Thai fighter, photographing behind the scenes of a Nang Yai shadow puppet performance, devouring multi-course tasting menus - I was fortunate to enter and exit Thailand with enough absorbed information as to get the country's cultural and historical significance on the world's stage. Getting cracked in half with Thai massages, mowing $1 pad thai from popular street vendors, meeting local restauranteurs down the beach from our hotel, hearing the story of a tsunami wrecking her family - I let myself be melted and molded by surrounding experiences in a more personal fashion.

Flowers of Luang Prabang, Laos

Though Thailand is close to the counterpoint of Indiana, I found myself in close proximity of a fellow Wabashian also in the country for production. Cassie was in Phuket while I was in Bangkok, in Chiang Mai while I sat on a beach near Phuket, flying elsewhere while I was coincidentally getting trucked around by her former driver in Chiang Mai. Unfortunately, I couldn't meet up with her to chat on our polar opposing experiences in production (mine being a team of five, hers well over 100 for a hit ABC show) or reminisce about our childhood home. I'm happy we grew aware of the others coordinates and subsequently recognized the shared tendency to combine travel and film.

Post-Thailand was a much-needed personal trip to Vietnam and Laos. Joined by co-worker and friend Vijaya, we floated in the mist of Ha Long Bay, found an incredibly authentic bun thit nuong in a no-sign establishment, drank the blackest and most flavorful coffee from a makeshift street diner, and were surprised by the serenity of a Laotian night market. The trip was gritty. It was active. There were terrifying moments punctuated by relief and laughter. It was a trip that reminded me of RTW joy, though that desire for long-term travel has somewhat left my being, making space for the unexplainable urge to nest.

MAY

I returned to a mild New York City and emerged in the marketplace as a freelancer of all things content. I did things I never thought I'd get the opportunity to do. I unknowingly pitched an art magazine, exhibiting my photographic portfolio and leaving with affirmation that had me bouncing through Chelsea. I began writing features for Matador, for the first time really sensing journalistic accomplishment. I also did the unthinkable and flew my cat from Indianapolis to New York City. She hyperventilated to the point of drooling a fu manchu.

And things just kept happening. It was unsolicited confirmation that without direction to do work, I still do work - feverishly - so much so that I neglect my own writing and fulfillment projects. Within two weeks of this mad hustle, I obtained a job interview with a concept previously unfathomable to me: a traveling high school. It felt like travel, education, media, and youth combined to create my ideal activity. I had a long interview and a short lapse of time between the subsequent offer to visit the school in China.

And the cherry on top, my nephew was born.

Family at hospital for Max's birth

JUNE

I flew to China, met this traveling high school, and my mind was blown. Previously conceived notions of education were combined in a bag, shaken not stirred, and tossed like Yahtzee! dice onto my table of consciousness.

JULY

The offer came on the table to be the media specialist for THINK Global School - a full-time content creator, manager, and occasional instructor. In the meantime, before I began this first foray into salaried employment, I wrote like a fiend, took my portrait photography to new depths, celebrated a friend's marriage as a bridesmaid, and took advantage of my location by traveling to Boston.

And within months of the big relocation, I was organizing my departure, sad to leave the city but following a job worth the sacrifice. The feline went back in flight, and a subletter was en route. I accepted my return to the nomadic lifestyle with hesitance but eventual enthusiasm.

AUGUST

Bags packed in NYC for the nomadic life once more

Just as I had done in May of 2008, I filled bags with my worthwhile earthly belongings and began living out of a bag. I had a bed thanks to cat-sitting in Brooklyn and started performing my new job tasks from every Asian restaurant in its vicinity - trying to consume every food I would miss in Ecuador. In preparation for my work as a one-woman production house, I investigated the art of the film title and reflected on my trajectory sans film school experience.

With a flight to the southern hemisphere looming a week away, I frantically tackled the goal of seeing New England - one of the reasons I moved to New York initially. Inspired by my trip to Boston the month prior, I rented a car to explore the coastline. Driving directions sat in my passenger seat but were never really utilized. It was usually dark outside before I knew where I was stopping or staying, but even with this seat-of-my-pants itinerary, it was refreshing, calm, and perfectly timed to see friends en route. Van Morrison serenaded me through five states, and my camera operated for no one but myself. For the first real time in maybe years, I was documenting my own adventures just for me.

Hurricane Irene did cut my road trip a bit short, but because of this highly-publicized natural disaster, I ended up driving around Brooklyn and Queens (an experience I always considered to scary to attempt) and meeting a long-time internet friend, Sierra Anderson; thankfully before her TLC reality show aired and she became an unattainable, high-rollin' television star.

SEPTEMBER

Leaving NYC, under Brooklyn Bridge, for Ecuador

This is me leaving New York City to Ecuador. Coincidentally, every taxi I took from the moment I signed my contract was operated by a chatty Ecuadorian. From the moment I hailed this cab until December 7th, my life never paused. After shooting back to Indiana for yet another great wedding of a great friend, September eased me into my future hectic schedule surrounded by international teens and ever-stacking responsibilities, which included:

• Visiting the Amazon rainforest as the first high school group at Tiputini Biodiversity Station

• Standing on an emergent atop the canopy, watching spider monkeys and killer ants

• Floating down a piraña/anaconda/caiman/electric eel/vampire fish-invested river in nothing but a life vest for two hours

• Spending my 26th birthday flying past three active volcanoes and taking six different types of transportation through the rainforest

• Straddling the Equator, both the tourist line and the GPS-specific line, watching water swirl in opposite ways on both sides of the line

• Taking over the creative arts teaching position for 26 students from 15 countries

Did you notice that last bullet point? Teaching. Not occasional instruction of the digital arts but all-out educating a classroom on the entire field of creative arts. Though had I gone for my Masters in Studio Art I would have taught more complex classes than this, I had to juggle my already-intensive job with learning how to manage a classroom of 26 international and inquisitive kids. I thought I was cognizant of the difficulty in a teacher's job, but it became screamingly clear of why it's full-time and worthy of at least four years of intensive study.

OCTOBER

Maybe six days after returning from the Amazon rainforest, I marked off a Bucket List item and flew to the Galapagos islands. My class field trips were to the zoo an hour away, but here I was filming and photography 26 kids who got to cash in on a lucky life experience at age 15.

For one week, we lived on San Cristobál island, housing classes in a local university directly opposite a white and blue beach. It was here that I stood in front of two grade levels, wrote my first non-hypothetical lesson plan, and used advanced technology to engage students on some artistic concepts. I had what the profession calls a 'teaching moment' within first three days.

Following what some would already consider an immersive and whole experience in the Galapagos, we got on a boat and went island hopping. I photographed from the top of a truck up an unpaved road, hiked the rim of the second largest crater in the world, and saw tortoises bigger than a mini fridge. By the end of this entirely satisfying journey, I was wiped out and in need of a break after 37 days on the job straight.

NOVEMBER

I began teaching a medium I never even studied in school but only self-taught and learned through experience. But, of all the courses I've taken in my life, this area is surprisingly the one I feel most confident and qualified speaking about. For three weeks, I taught cinematic storytelling and film production, a unit which concluded with a film festival of original work by the students. It was a reminder of much we can construct for ourselves instead of waiting for a structure to provide life experiences.

What seemed previously like an infinity pool of time to utilize soon became a countdown clock drawing all of us away from Ecuador. I had to squeeze in another unit on social commentary, grade an intimidating stack of written critiques, continue to film, photograph, and edit the content reflecting our experiences, and simultaneously have my 'human being' time where I enjoyed the temporary coordinates of my employment.

With time quickly unraveling, we hopped in an SUV with our eyes set on summiting a magnificent hill: Barabon. It was one of the few moments we stopped to travel and enjoy each other's company in an environment of our own choosing. It was a refreshing morning.

Ecuador, hills outside Cuenca

Hiking a hill in Ecuador, Barabon

Two terabytes of footage were beginning to burn a hole in my desk, impatiently awaiting their eventual coagulation into films for viewing. And so I grasped my week, squeezed it like a tube of paste for any excess time, and made an iMovie teaser for a trimester unseen.

DECEMBER

Starting from our 3-month home of Cuenca, Ecuador, we took a bus and an SUV through the foothills of the Andes en route to Chimborazo province. The kids hammered into concrete, dug the foundation for a school, and shivered happily in a highland community for three days on a volunteer trip. This was our final Ecuadorian experience, other than a farewell party that had many of us in tears by morning's end. I was a mess, saying goodbye to a woman that shares many of my oddities and knowledge of northern Indiana 'culture': María del Mar, our host city specialist and Notre Dame graduate.

I've traveled alone for school, work, or play and returned home to the threat of reverse culture shock over ten times, and this one was (relatively) an absolute piece of cake. My longest duration in one place abroad; it didn't affect me adversely. I had some domestic hiccups, and at times I was inexplicably anxious to do anything. In the first 24 hours, I snuggled with my niece and nephew, drank cold ones with my brother, and got used to English interactions with strangers and driving everywhere. It wasn't until I visited my hometown that I realized the ride 2011 took me on.

Are you still working for that one company? Or is it now that other company? Where in the world are you these days? What do you do...I can't even keep up!

I attended a family wedding with hundreds of people I grew up with and answered my work question differently every time. I'm finding it exceedingly difficult to explain myself as I continue this organically-paved career path, and the further I move away from a 'travel phase' to a lifestyle choice, the harder it is for me not to brush it off as a weird and fleeting situation, for the sake of being relatable.

This all is weird. These opportunities all happen before I'm ready, and they defy the limits of this supposedly impossible job market. I've been learning how to swim by getting tossed in the deep end, and thankfully (so far), I've managed to adapt my strokes to stay afloat and keep swimming upstream. The only way 2011 could have accomplished a more elevated status of weird - edging into surreal - would have been if National Geographic called to fulfill the quintessential travel documentarian's dream. At least that would be a relatable job description that wouldn't leave me hungering for the right words for my self-definition.

More weird on the radar?

I rang in the new year with my lumberjack, mixing drinks behind the bar and enjoying our limited but valuable time together. Shortly after that stroke of 2012, I flew to Thailand, roughly my hometown's counterpoint. This year is already bound to be off course from the expected and normal. I've got my floaties on in preparation.

The opinions stated in this post are mine and do not reflect the positions, strategies, or opinions of THINK Global School.

Domestic deficiencies and my learning curve post-Ecuador

Living in one place for a couple months - regardless of one's experience - inevitably causes nostalgia upon leaving and for a succeeding period of time. If it was a bad time, the pleasant memories override the bad, and if it was a good time, as was Ecuador, everything habitual and endearing continues to perpetuate once home again. In my case, the lingering reflexes from previous travels usually mess me up in Indiana - sometimes big time. I tend to call these the ironies of my lifestyle, but lately I feel it's more a deficiency in domestic knowledge, exacerbated by my fondness for the last three months of international living.

I can't live up to familial expectations

Max after baptism, family

Once I knew my work dates for December, my sister-in-law planned her son's baptism around my schedule - to make sure I could definitely attend. And there I was on the morning of his christening, coffee in hand doing the two-step warm-up dance outside in tights, watching my friend's husband jump my borrowed car's battery where it sat 90 miles from the church. It's not too hard to remember to turn the headlights off in the pitch black of night the evening prior, but that's assuming one gets those pangs of common sense.

...because I'm used to: cheap taxis and close proximity

When my school's transportation or my feet couldn't take me where I needed to be, I could stand on a curb in the historic center and hail a yellow car that never cost more than $5, even for a twenty minute trip. Distances traveled - in this country smaller than Nevada - were relatively miniscule compared my US of A expectations.

In my breaths between trips, I rely on my wheeling-and-dealing car salesman of a brother to have a means of getting around. Taxis in Indiana are as scattered as stars with meters that run like Michael Johnson. Not efficient, easy, or happening.

I've got plumbing confusion.

Cuenca resembles an historic European city with cobblestone streets, cloth napkin lunches, and more ornate churches than there are Sundays in a year. It is a lovely town with enjoyable nightlife and beautiful rivers flanking the walkable center. That's the necessary introduction for my dear American audience that will be disgusted with the necessary toilet paper disposal method: a trash can.

...because I'm used to: weak sauce toilets

The plumbing in Ecuador generally requires an 'exit-stage-left' strategy for used tissue. Not to divulge my rituals behind closed stall doors, but I have yet to not be confused with the protocol since my return. In the same way that I don't remember my current continent when my daily alarm rings, I have to go through a process of remembering where I am and what I'm doing every time nature summons.

The motor skills flop when cooking duty calls.

Whereas my fifteenth year was marked by an obsession with Food Network, today I chop vegetables at the speed and with the delicacy of Remy's first try. I can make a spectacular explosion of coarsely slaughtered salad ingredients, which is actually my most coveted meal when abroad, but anything involving even marginal levels of calculation and finesse isn't possible for at least a month post-trip.

I've actually got a known track record with the Indianapolis Fire Department with this issue.

...because I'm used to: $3.50 lunch specials and constant group meals

Near the end of Cuenca, I realized I hadn't cooked for myself - not a saucepan touched - in months. It was more cost-effective and timely to eat at a nearby restaurant with wifi than it was to assemble something palatable in the hotel's kitchen. I also felt like a bothersome house guest when I tried. And eating with the students meant a pre-set menu consisting of meat and potatoes, sandwiched by a creamy soup and a fruit platter curtain call.

I'm speaking the wrong language.

Ecuador presented me with daily challenges to expand my language skills, much like New York gave me the sensation of world travel the moment I left my apartment. I was able to push beyond my fluency from senior year of high school and regain the abilities swiftly lost with the apprehension of Italian.

...because I'm used to: never being able to communicate with the surrounding majority

This is nothing new. I was saying naka to my mother two months after Fiji - instead of 'thank you' - and even though my recent firings of Spanish have hit some native speakers, I am forgetting how to communicate to people at home in daily, civil settings. I am used to being a fly on the wall and observing life I don't connect with personally. In this environment, I can pop in and pop out; obligation to the place is non-existent.

With every trip abroad, the return home gets easier. I'm hoping these are the remnants of a dying reverse-culture shock trend. It's a plan to tackle one or more of these issues while in Thailand...and again when I return to the great US of A.

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Coastline and culture in New England

I've decided that, these days, if I can produce a blog post a month, I'm a lucky gal. Lucky to find breaths between beloved jobs to do similar work of my own volition. Lucky to be able to reflect on experiences and milk what value can be gathered. I doubt the cafe I edited in today for four hours felt lucky to have a table occupied by a one cappuccino gal, but I'm lucky I found that space this month to process my August road trip through New England. What was meant to be a longer trek through areas of Maine and Vermont had to be cut short due to the panic surrounding Hurricane Irene. The trip had no conclusion in real time. It felt like a rush job of a trip, even more so the documentation of it, but what resulted is a video exalting the thing I studied most - the water that I feel sources so much of the grit and character of New Englanders.

I was surprisingly unfocused on my fleeting dollars being allocated to gas, the pile of money I dropped for the rental car, or my lack of accurate driving instructions or lodging reservations. The nausea I usually reserve for typical tourist activity - the expensive kind - took a vacation as well. Instead, I felt loosely propelled by the desire to consume miles of coastline and smell a breeze conceived hemispheres away.

Like gulping sweet water in the middle of the night, driving was refreshing after my nine month car-fast, a guilty binge on air, music, and speed with a known expiration. And with this limited excursion, I caught wind of what a conventional adult vacation smells like - not bad at all, in fact pleasantly normal, if infrequent and savored for its rarity.

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I've been through New England in a car with no plan

My entire summer was a jig-saw puzzle to assemble. Trips, subleases, weddings, births, and work were spaced out just so, as to make every two-week chunk a mystery until it was present. All flights were booked dangerously close to the week of departure, some including feline carry-ons and 12 hour durations. On top of air chaos, I often didn't know where I was going to be living or how to coordinate the housing of my cat (while she was still being a vagabond in New York). Newly cat-free and with a new job supplying accommodations for nine months out of the year, I decided against having a place in New York City and got a subletter lined up immediately.

There was a lapse of time between leaving my apartment and the start of work accommodations, leaving me temporarily homeless and living out of bags - something I tend to enjoy. During one of those weeks, I decided to rent a car and witness a region I've barely visited: New England.

Until I can whip up a fantastic video, here is a photoblog courtesy of my Blackberry.

Driving out of Queens, NY in my first rental car

Driving out of Queens in my first rental car

Reaching Mystic, CT at dusk to witness fishermen and draw bridges

Reaching Mystic, CT at dusk to witness fishermen and draw bridges

Beautiful blue light at dusk around the marina

Beautiful blue light at dusk around the marina

Stalked by a skunk on a run

Stalked by a skunk while exploring Mystic at night

Harbour Inn & Cottage in Mystic, CT

The woodsy Harbour Inn & Cottage in Mystic, CT where I soaked in a hot tub by the marina

French toast with apple and cheddar at Kitchen Little in Mystic, CT

French toast with apple and cheddar at Kitchen Little in Mystic, CT

Too bad I skipped the eggs

Too bad I skipped the eggs

Cape Cod's Chatham coast where JAWS had some scenes filmed

Cape Cod's Chatham coast where JAWS had some scenes filmed

First bowl of clam chowder in a fitting place - Cape Cod

First bowl of clam chowder in a fitting place - Cape Cod

Sunrise off Cape Ann, the filming location and real life setting for "The Perfect Storm"

Sunrise off Cape Ann, the filming location and real life setting for The Perfect Storm

Seasick while whale watching, but well worth it

Seasick while whale watching, but well worth it

Gloucester had that crusty charm I was hoping to find

Gloucester had that crusty charm I was hoping to find

Beautiful skies while driving toward Irene and New York City

Beautiful skies while driving toward Hurricane Irene and New York City

Await with bated breath the real deal documentation.

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Is film school worth it these days?

Yet another feature came out of my fingertips this week, one that started from the seed of a simple video on pixels. Entitled 'How to produce award-winning films without going to film school', this piece packs in huge amount of information from some of the most outspoken self-taught cinematographers on the net.

I went to art school, a study I'm sure many people would claim needs no formality or implied success with a degree, so I expected a little retaliation by film schoolers. Surprisingly, none have surfaced yet. Just I wait.

Without belittling the certain perks of attending film school (or formally studying any specialty for that matter), I believe if you’re motivated, there’s a way to teach yourself enough to obtain a great job, gain work experience, and prosper with continued self-improvements. As many advocates for the self-taught film path cite, it’s likely your favorite filmmaker didn’t study his craft at school either.

The underlined actions to take away from the piece include:

1. Get schooled for free at your own pace - with Vimeo Video School and online tutorials by self-taught filmmakers such as Philip Bloom

2. Get fluent in the ever-changing tools - Zacuto instructional videos, NoFilmSchool.com cinematography guide, and getting creative with basic tools like iPhones

3. Position yourself for the current job market - learn how to be autonomous like Alexander Fox of CrewOfOne.com

4. Get constructive feedback on your work - connect with other filmmakers, hear online critiques, or pay someone to watch your work

5. Connect with people that help you grow - submit to festivals, post online, and network with access you already have

6. Clarify your thoughts on higher education - because it might not help you achieve your specific angle

With ample video embeds and links, this is a meaty post worth reading and commentating. And if you disagree, please do provide the insight I need in order to determine if film school is on my path.

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Investigating the art and evolution of the film title

Penrose Stairs

I've managed to compile myriad jobs and hobbies that complement each other, one absorbing skills to improve the other, making me feel like I'm ascending Penrose steps. I spent the day researching ways to improve filmmaking skills that don't include paying for or attending film school, a theme I'm covering for Matador. While doing so, I ran across this gem of a video, which attracted me with its RJD2 soundtrack alone. Also, I'd give 'the art of...' anything a chance (even that horrible Art of Travel movie).

Perusing the many videos highlighting brilliant title sequences in film and TV, I'm immediately jazzed about learning animation and advanced graphics. My previous practice with titles in online video is to produce the title within ten seconds of its start. Aside from some stylistic guidelines, that's all the thought I've applied. With this study spanning decades of filmmaking, I'm inspired to pay closer attention to my video introductions, more than just watching the timeline and using a provided Motion template.

Perhaps the most intriguing comparison with past and present concepts is the affinity for an aged appearance. It's comforting and pleasantly dusty, and it gives me more ideas for vintage effects. Do you have any favorite video motif that you rely on the title sequence delivering?

If you like or produce film, I encourage you to find some of your favorite movies and title sequences on Art of the Title and read the thoughtful copy and interviews below them. The post on the 2011 Emmy nods for best title is especially great.

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A weekend in Boston

I took a vacation for myself, and it was evidence enough that the casual weekend away should be more of a priority. It was close by, surprisingly economical, and equivalent to a routine enema - a metaphorical flushing of habitual activity, not your bi-weekly bowl of Colon Blow. Here's a vignette of my weekend with friends in Boston, Massachusetts.

I'm overly focused on the long-term trip, when really there are far more people (especially in America) poised and prepared to go somewhere for a couple days than there are people raring for an RTW. Are there any weekend trips you've always wanted to take but haven't yet? Tell me about it, and then go book your Megabus ticket.

Video Editing Note: In this vignette, I wanted to play with the idea of aged, albeit timeless, summer footage, which matched perfectly with this Peanuts-reminiscent soundtrack by Jeris. Of course, I had to include the beautiful capacity of the DSLR video during most of the video clips. I also did a lot of research on how to create the 35mm slide projector look. If you're pining for the HD version, head to Vimeo. Any tips or feedback?

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Why do you like time lapse videos?

If you get a little tired of waiting for my posts on Nomadderwhere - which I admit have become incredibly random and sparse - I'll give you a little supplementary material. Recently, I wrote a feature for the Matador Network entitled 'Why the obsession with time lapse video?' Have you ever wondered this yourself? What's your reasoning?

I'm reposting here some of my points, but be sure to check out the full post on MatadorTV and provide your own commentary.

Why time lapse for storytelling?

Shooting nature. Photo by Erika Luetzow, 2007

As a member of the MatadorTV triad, I appreciate the whole spectrum of travel video production, from the cinematic to the gritty. Video is an accessible vehicle for storytelling that can avoid the obstacles ever-present with language. And even though written word can facilitate a sensory experience, the combination of visual and audio elements is powerful on fleeting attention spans.

In browsing TV’s most popular posts to date, time lapse comes away a clear front-runner of stylistic and technical approaches, and these videos tend to follow a different editing pattern than most. Cuts are longer. Static shots are still dynamic. The resident audio is usually stripped from the footage and replaced by a soundtrack, and people still manage to follow a storyline and maintain focus on the evolving subject matter. Warped time appears to keep viewers engaged.

If you haven't been keeping up with MatadorTV, I suggest you check out some of the amazing recently-featured content, like this month of nature footage in Iceland, Ross Ching's time lapse of roads not traveled, and his version of 'carmageddon' with tips on how to create the effect.

Believe it or not, I did some journalistic research for this feature. For real! Home girl went to Wiki!

Why time lapse the subject matter?

Among the most popular subjects for the time lapse technique is nature, as evident by Terje’s work. This isn’t a shocker considering time lapse was made most well-known by Dr. John Ott, a photographer who documented growing plants. From the first time I watched a bud morph into a full blossom and added my own soundtrack of “whoaaa,” it seemed clear we could forever capture these natural elements and continue to amaze virtually everyone.

Of course, simply pointing the camera and tripod at any old vista won’t make for a viral, compelling, and timeless video. Ross Ching, a filmmaker in Los Angeles, stipulates, “There needs to be originality. There needs to be pioneers. There needs to be something more than beautiful shots. There needs to be a human element. There needs to be a story.”

Though this one borders on just plain fast rather than time lapse, here's my personal dabbling into the speedy film realm with my 'Nomadderwhere's 2010 in a Minute' video. My experimentations are more successful with work footage, which will soon be visible to the public.

Maybe our obsession comes from relating the natural world to our own human interaction with it at an altered speed, warping our day to day, minute to minute perceptions of being present and active with the surroundings.

On occasion, I feel the perspective time lapse affords me is akin to a mini-spiritual awakening, an out-of-body experience while armchair traveling...

Time lapse is one of the many vehicles through which filmmakers and storytellers have learned to transmit concepts from the world to the world effectively. And with the amount of attention we give these works today, it appears to be an approach that works.

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The road called and demanded a Boston weekend

boston map

I haven't traveled somewhere new for the sole purpose of leisure in a long time. Ironically, my mind doesn't focus on potential trips I can take myself on without a 'work' angle - work being a very fuzzy concept often mistaken for hobby. Moving to New York and the east coast was a strategic escape from the Midwest region that I've already traversed and learned to appreciate. In this portion of the states, aside from the city whose Indian name is Big Apple (or more accurately, Manna-hata), I've only meandered through Rockport, Maine. And I'm not even sure a trip centered around a daunting photojournalism course counts for leisure.

I wanted to be surrounded by unknown territory and be inspired to constantly day trip or weekend elsewhere. There were music festivals to attend, mountains on which to frolic, friends and family to visit - an abundance of excuses.

Well, the inspiration and excuses weren't strong enough for the first eight months, but the road called me this weekend. Yes, she dialed me up - on Skype - and said:

skype with road

Lindsay, it's Road here. Look, you've been flying over the North Pole and crap, hitting up Caribbean islands and such, all while your home base is here in the States...in the unknown land of New England! Why have you neglected me? I suggest hitting the...me for Boston this weekend. Why not? Join the rest of the working world and take a weekend. Make me screech --I mean proud.

Her video was super choppy, but I got the message. In the name of the road and seizing my potentially fleeting New York days, I booked some Megabus tickets to Boston to visit my good friend, Katie, and of course the puritanical motherland.

Museum cocktail parties, national park hikes, fancy sandwiches, ocean air - I'm not really sure what side of Boston I'll see this weekend, but if you have any recommendations, how about leaving a comment and spearheading a Nomadderwhere, user-generated guide to Boston! I took the same approach when re-discovering Chicago in 2009, and your comments facilitated a unique week. And I don't mean to draw uncouth connections between Beantown and the Windy City...

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Where do we learn best and become our best selves?

Before I publish an extensive post that dictates my next step in travel/work/life, which I've alluded to on Twitter, I wanted to share some videos I watched yesterday as a direct result of this recent thinking. If you follow Nomadderwhere, you may know I've spent the last couple years chasing and creating educational initiatives. Having uprooted the family for high school, sought study abroad programs with fervor, developed programs in Nakavika, and obsessed over videos on global education, it's ever-apparent I have an affinity for pursuing and cheerleading quality education, both in the traditional sense and otherwise.

Recently, I received an invitation to visit China with a group of teachers and students who were conducting a school there. And by there, I mean China. The school was China. China was the classroom, the subject, and the geographical home - at least for this trimester. And in this non-traditional learning environment, I began to wonder which experience in my own life had educated me the most: the pricey private high school, the college years that tested my application of academics in real life, or the tens of thousands of miles traveled after leaving 'classrooms' in my contrail.

Here are a couple TED talks on education that caught my eyes and ears. Give yourself something interesting to listen to during your lunch break.

Many of my good friends are teachers, and I don't mean to belittle their training and/or approaches to imparting knowledge. I just think this is a thrilling concept of shaking up education, especially by means of travel and the world playing the role of inspiring application of thought.

Work and life update coming soon.

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