that time my passport got stolen

Immediately after, and for the next two years, I was too traumatized to write about the loss of my passport. Then I realized it’s a good story, and I want to keep it on file while it’s fresh.

I spent four months in Spain. I traveled smart. I made it all around the country, through Morocco, on buses and planes and trains, walked around late at night and didn’t get pick-pocketed or robbed once. I was on my game the whole time. Always aware of my surroundings and always assured that my purse was zipped. At least until my last day.

I was flying home on December 21st. Clearly an amateur move. I did not take into consideration that everyone would be trying to get home for Christmas. Oh and it was snowing in Spain, because it does that often. My flight was in the morning, around 10:00am, out of Madrid. I had to get there from Sevilla, so I took an overnight bus that left at 1:00am. The bus was supposed to get into the Madrid bus stop at 7:00am and then the airport at 7:30am, leaving me plenty of time to get through the airport.

So of course every student who was studying abroad that semester also thought December 21st was the perfect day to fly out of Madrid. I ruthlessly shoved my bags under the bus, which was crammed to the brim with suitcases. I knew that was not coming out easily. I got on the bus and slept.

A little after 8:00 I woke up to some rapid speed-fire Spanish chaos. We were only at the bus stop, and because of the snow, we probably wouldn’t be getting to the airport for another hour. Ahh I knew I wouldn’t make it out of Spain without a little more disfunction. I started talking with the bus driver and another guy who had a flight at 9:45. He told us to get off there and take the subway; it would get us to the airport faster. What the hell, I had nothing to lose.

I ripped my bags out from under the bus and headed through the subway with the other guy trying to get to the airport. We were running around frantically. By the way, I only had a hiking backpack, a purse, a carry-on bag and a rollerboard suitcase with me. No big deal. I got my ticket, got through the gate and got on the subway just as the doors were closing. The guy I was with didn’t make it on but told me where I had to switch trains. I stood in panic, looking like the biggest American mess, reading the subway map over and over assuring I knew at which stop to transfer. Okay. I got off and transfered. Whew. I was feeling okay at this point. The train had a few more stops and then dead ended?!?! WHATTTTTT? I asked a lady if this train was going to the airport she said, “Nooooooo chica es una otra yadda yadda jajaja spanish.” Fuck.

At this point I realized I was missing my flight. I was trying coming to terms with it. I got on the right train and started making a plan of action. Do I play hardass? Do I go up there and start bawling? Hmmm. Hannah you’re missing your flight. Fuck.

I finally arrived at the airport and checked my flight status on the nearest screen: CANCELED! YES YES YES YES YES!!! I don’t have to pay for another flight! YIPPEEEEE! WAHOOGA! Pure. Ecstasy.

I hopped into the long line to get a new flight scheduled and reached into my purse. Where. The. Fuck. Is. My. Wallet? Is it in my carry-on? No. Is it deeper in my purse? No. Did it mysteriously jump into my backpack? My rollerboard? You’ve GOT to be kidding me.

Now what? I was pretty calm.I walked over to the pay-phone to call my parents. At this point my parents had recently moved to Florida and only had cell phones, no land line. If you were ever wondering, you CANNOT call collect to a cell phone. Whoda thunk? Shit. I decided to call my grandparents. At this point it’s about 3:00am in Ohio. I called and Papo answered, extremely confused as to why I was calling him at 3:00am. “Papo, my passport got stolen.” “Ohhhhh nooooo!!!!” That’s when I lost it. Once I heard Papo freak out, I knew I was fucked.  He told me, “Hannah just get to the embassy.” Oh, duh. I needed to call you in Ohio to figure that one out?

Keep in mind that I just didn’t just have my passport stolen. I had my entire wallet stolen (the leather wallet my dad used when he traveled around Europe in college). I had NO identification, NO credit cards, NO cash, NOTHING. I have to thank the sweet lady who saw me bawling on the pay-phone. She gave me 10 euro, her name & number and told me that I could stay with her if I couldn’t figure out what to do. She had a son who was young and spoke very good English (insert her wink here). How sweet. I really needed that 10 euro…

A lady at the information desk helped me get in contact with the embassy. In true Spanish form they were closing at 1:00pm that day (at this point it was past 11:00). The AMERICAN embassy. 1:00pm. Jesus. But I first had to get a ticket before they would issue me an emergency passport. So I got back in line and of course they could only offer a standby ticket for the next day. Whatever. I had no idea if I’d even be allowed on the plane. I got my ticket and start trudging through the airport and back to the subway. Like I said, thank god that lady gave my 10 euro. Obviously not enough to get a taxi and make it there in reasonable time. I got off the subway and trudged through the snow to the US embassy. With my 43 bags.

Oh my god I made it. By this point I’m the biggest American mess that Madrid has seen. I start talking to them and give the short story. It was about this time I realized where my wallet was stolen. In the chaos of getting off of the bus and onto the subway I had to get a ticket to get through the gate. I bought the ticket, walked about 10 feet to the gate, inserted the ticket, walked through the gate, pulled the ticket out, put it in my purse and zipped it. From the time I bought the ticket to the time I got through the gate was the only time my purse was unzipped. Yep. 15 seconds. That’s what you get for being a big American mess with 43 bags.

The nice man at the embassy told me they could issue an emergency passport so that I could hopefully make the standby flight the next day. They told me it would be 70 euro for the emergency passport. Apparently I didn’t think about how I was going to pay for this. By this point I had called my parents and gotten things sorted out. They were sending my aunt to a Western Union to wire me some money. OF COURSE the money wouldn’t get to Spain in time for me to get my emergency passport that day. “Is there anyone in Spain you can have send you the money?” Teresa. The lady I babysat for was my true family in Spain. She was the sweetest. I didn’t really want to call her and ask for money, but I was stuck.

Now Teresa, a professor, comes to do research at Indiana University each summer. She gets a call from the United States Embassy in Madrid and starts panicking that she’s done something wrong in her multiple stays in the US. Did something not go right with her passport? Her work visa? She’s freaking out. (What am I doing to this poor lady?!) Being the amazing person she is, she sent her husband to wire money over within the hour. Wow. Thank you a BILLION Teresa. I still cannot thank you enough.

Finally, I got my passport. I got the hell out of there, found my way to a Western Union and got a cheap hotel. At this point, I was so delirious I was in a zombie state. I found the biggest, greasiest gyro that I could find, bought a bottle of wine AND champagne, some cigs, and made it back to my hotel to wallow away for the rest of the evening. I talked to my dad and he thought I was really “out of it” from the rough day. Well, true. I was also pretty drunk by that point and high on nicotine because there are no light cigarettes in Spain. I talked to Teresa and thanked her multiple times. She said she would not take any money in return. Again, thanks Teresa.

The day was over but the journey was not. Should I keep going? This is getting long. It’s just too good though.

I got to the airport about 4 hours early the next day, had a small quarrel with the taxi driver and made it to the front of the line to *hopefully* get on a flight home. I met some girls who just finished their Peace Corps service in Morocco. I just remember they had awesome henna. And gee golly whiz we all got put on a flight! Layover in Zurich, then to Chicago, then back to Cleveland…I took what I could get. The entire Barajas airport was filled with families who had been sleeping there for days waiting for a flight. I was lucky.

Not surprisingly the flight to Zurich was an hour late. There were so many of us transferring though, that they actually held the plane for us. It was a 20 minute layover. I figured my bags were lost in the ether. I made it to Chicago and one of my bags was there at customs! Which was better than I was expecting, and it was the one with the Christmas presents in it! To align with the chaos of the rest of my trip, my flight to Cleveland was delayed. I somehow made it back by Midnight. I then flew to Florida the next day (don’t ask) to spend Christmas with the family.

In all the chaos I was trying to figure out where my bag was, where it should be sent, etc. Seven days later I got my bag! I noticed the zipper on the front pocket was open. Wait a second. That’s the pocket my journal was in. WAS in.

After being stripped of all my material items, I was stripped of my journal. The one I wrote in every day in Spain – I had to start a second journal while there. That was the most depressing part of the whole experience. It wasn’t every single lost passport stamp I’d gathered throughout my life…well okay I’m still sad/bitter/upset when I think about it, but just as upsetting is the loss of my journal.

I wish I had a better ending to this story but at least I have a good story to tell.

obscure arizona: fountain hills

The second in my Obscure Arizona series.

Fountain Hills, AZ :: A Massive Fountain
About 20 minutes outside of Phoenix, this is a retiree town nestled into a huge mountain range. That justifies the ‘Hills’ portion of the name, what about the ‘Fountain’? Oh wait, it is home to the world’s 5th tallest fountain, shooting a mere 560+ feet into the air. It is absofuckinlutely ridiculous. I do not know what the point of this fountain is other than to look like a huge pee stream.

I did find a great little Spanish restaurant though: Sofrita. It’s ran by a couple and they served SUPER sweet but super delicious sangria. Reminded me of a little Spanish cafe where I would waste my day away sipping cafe con leche & eavesdropping on Spaniards. Oh Espana…

Other than those two places & a sports bar, I didn’t explore too much of the city. Will be heading back to hike there soon!

refashioning adventure no. 1

Thanks to JLM & C&C blog I have gotten on a kick to refashion my wardrobe.

I bought this shirt for my Bangkok University uniform (pshhhhht) when it was white. I actually wear this shirt a lot – it’s great for professional dress as well as a going out top, but it was starting to get grungy. Happens with white shirts I suppose. So I decided to dye it for my first refashioning adventure. I’ve done a lot of tie-dye in my life, but I’ve never dyed anything other than a tshirt or a pillowcase at camp.

Results…SUCCESS! It’s pretty bright orange even though I only used half of the recommended dye. Woo!

nail art

My entire life I bit my nails. Badly. I have bit them down so much that the white part of my nail starts down way farther than it should. I would end up with my nails in pain… Then one day, I stopped. It was miraculous. Don’t worry I still get really drunk and bite em off sometimes. But this has opened up a whole new world of style that I never enjoyed before: NAIL ART! Here are a few of my gems. More to come…

halloween weird

just the tip

NYE glitters

nautical inspired

obscure arizona: sonoita

Before moving to Arizona my knowledge of the state could be summarized in one word: HOT. Little did I know that there was a ski resort in Flagstaff or petrified forests up north. There is much more to Arizona than dirt and scorching hot heat (which honestly is only 3 months of the year, the other 9 make up for it); there are numerous quirky and obscure cities and sites throughout this state.
:: This post is the first in a series of my trips through obscure Arizona ::

                     Sonoita, AZ :: Arizona’s wine country.

One of my more recent finds in AZ is the rural city of Sonoita, located about 20 miles north the (Mexico) border. This town has a population of 826 and has a laid-back, tight-knit community of local farmers, brewers and vintners.

A few weeks before this trip Pat and I had met a man at the Phoenix Food Truck Festival. He was serving wine and started talking to us about his winery. Conversation progressed and he told us about a wine tasting that was happening in a few weeks at Dos Cabezas Wineworks down in Sonoita. We figured, what the hell, and headed down with our friend Jessica.

We had no idea this tiny gem existed in southern Arizona. The drive down from Tucson was beautiful: windy roads, a country feel all mixed with the desert. We “arrive” into the town and see a few only a few buildings. And voila! there is the winery we were looking for.

We walked in to Dos Cabezas. It had a rustic, cellar atmosphere and a live band playing. There was also a small farmers market going on inside. Jessica got sucked into buying some spices by a sweet old lady. There was another woman selling pickled veggies, jams, jellies and hot mustards. I can’t remember much about her jams but we did have a short discussion about marijuana and the border patrol.

Little did we know that it was actual a wine event happening in the 10 vineyards and wineries of Sonoita. We got to check out Callaghan Vineyards as well, which was a great little vineyard.

I would definitely head back to Sonoita for more wine tasting and hippie bonding. And if you have some time to kill in Arizona, it’s a worthwhile trip.

create

Life isn’t about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.

i’m one of those people who is obsessed with ou

A city will never mean to me what Athens, Ohio does. It’s partially the people, partially the places, but it is fully the Athens vibe & energy that is not duplicated elsewhere.

I decided to go to OU on a whim. I had applied and gotten into OSU as well, but my dad really wanted me to go there, so naturally I chose not to. I didn’t know much about OU. I went on a visit, thought it was nice, bought a cool green Ohio University hoodie and made up my mind. I was just excited to go to college in general. My only plan was to meet tons of people from different walks of life, have some new adventures…and maybe make it on the Ohio University Dance Team. At that point I had no idea just how many adventures and new people could be packed into my four short years.

There are few places where you can have so many different experiences with so many different people in such a short time. I grew up in Athens. I was independent in high school but I became fiercely independent in Athens. I struggled through heartbreak and found love. I had shitty roommates and I had amazing roommates. I made friends and I lost friends. I came into my real Hannah there.

But there is not one particular reason why Athens holds such a huge chunk of my heart. I guess it’s the comforting familiar workers who serve me at Perks. It’s the scorching hot Central Classroom that is not centrally located. It’s dancing in the Mardi Gras parade for the OU football team bowl game. It’s Boyd grab-n-go. It’s the professors who drank with you at Jackie O’s. It’s dance team tryouts as a freshman. It’s Primetime. It’s my friends who have come and went so quickly. And it’s those who have stayed.

My dad had bought me a Guide to OU book that “graded” various aspects of the school and city. Under school spirit it said something along the lines that students aren’t big school sports fans, but every Ohio University student bleeds green & white. I could not have said it better. After I graduated my dad said the one thing I really missed out on at OU was having the big-school sports excitement & games to attend. I told him absolutely not. I did not miss anything in Athens. It is the quintessential college town that does not get more perfect. I know anyone who goes to Ohio University has a better college experience than any other student in the U.S., and any Bobcat will agree.

After homecoming last weekend I got to the Columbus airport and was texting my mom pictures of the parade, telling her how much I will always adore OU and Athens. She replied, “Isn’t it so great to go back to your university? I know you loved OU. You grew up so much in Athens, Ohio.” And I cried. I don’t know if it was the exhaustion or the amount of alcohol still in my system but I cried, cried, cried in the airport for a good 20 minutes. I was overtaken by so many emotions and feelings that I have for that beloved place. I’m not sad that I will never be a student again; I am sad that a place will never mean to me what Athens, Ohio does.

Jim’s Asian Going Away Feast

Our cooking skills were judged by another. And I think the result was good! (you can ask Jim Sauls for full details) -Mr. Jim was leaving AZ so we invited him to enjoy in a Pp & Hh dinner on one of his last nights. Incidentally it was followed up by hanging out at a midget bar and racing goldfish. Normal.

What did we cook?? || chicken, pineapple & sweat pea skewers || asian-y broccoli salad || sake drinks for dessert || yum-a-rum-pum!

How did we cook it?? || Pp marinated the chicken overnight in teriyaki with sesame seeds, 6 cloves, garlic, and about a tbs sesame oil. we then just chopped it up and put it on (soaked) skewers along with pineapple chunks & sweet peas. P grilled em up, the key to the flavor was all the flavored char thats on the grill at my apartment. wink. || i made a salad that I ate a week earlier at my cousin’s bridal shower. it was a 12oz bag of broccoli slaw, with no specific amount of sunflower seeds & almonds. i then mixed in the dressing which was 1/2 cup olive oil, 1/3 cup sugar, 1/4 cup red wine vinegar & 2 tbsp soy sauce; added 1 can of rice noodles on top! || the sake desert drink was 1 part sake, 4 parts oj & a splash of grenadine.

How yummy did it look?? || this yummy.

Dear OU Grads:

I posted one of two articles last year around this time. My previous dance team captain had sent these to us when she was graduating. So in honor of my many friends graduating, and my unconditional love for OU here is the second article. (Here’s the other article.)

OU ‘moment’ is inevitable
By Ron Minto, 1998

I did an extremely difficult thing last June. Not that it was very revolutionary. I wasn’t the first or the last to do it. Many of you will do the same in June. The difficult thing I did was graduate.

I’m not going to lie about my feelings; my friends make fun of me for the trouble I have letting go. I still subscribe to OUVAXA listservs, I still read The Post online, I bug members of organizations I used to be in with e-mails, and hearing music I didn’t even like while in school, but heard constantly, makes me feel nostalgic.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not just whining. I’m still having a great time; I have a fun job, I live in cool places, I still see friends all the time. But I wish someone had told me how tremendously shocking graduating could be. Let me extend you that courtesy and give you warning and advice.

I always knew it was going to be tough, but I didn’t realize how much so until after I left. In fact, it turned out to be one of the most difficult transitions of my life, much more so than graduating from high school. (Go figure – one entailed coming to Ohio University, the other meant leaving!). Sure, at the time, I always though, “8 a.m. class is difficult”, “QBA class is difficult”, “dodging the Gestapo liquor agents is difficult”. But I was way off. I learned that these things were merely “arduous”, “time-consuming” and perhaps “painful”, but “difficult” in the context of graduating, has a completely different meaning.

I had such a good time in school doing just as much learning as having fun. The difficult part is realizing how some of the best things will never be quite the same. I wish I had spend an afternoon people-watching on College Green, grabbed another delicious O’Hooley’s draft, tried a little harder in economics, worn a grass skirt, climbed Radar Hill again, listened to “Africa” one more time, wrote another disparaging letter about the “Feds”, snoozed in the Scripps amphitheater, had a chance to eat dinner at the president’s house, forgot about another quiz, climbed Jeff Hill when I didn’t even need to, etc.

Some time before you leave- it might have already happened- you’ll have your Ohio University moment. Some time, somewhere, doing something, with your friends all around you, it will happen. You might not realize what it is at the time, but some day you will. That will be the time when your world is in perfect harmony- when it has just the right balance of good and bad, fun and responsibility, love and scorn, confusion and clarity, yin and yang. For many, maybe the exact right people was there, maybe the right music was playing and maybe right then they realized their significant other is “the one”. Mine happened to be at the Junction, with the closest friends, the person I later realized was the love of my life, while singing “Luck Be A Lady.” Yours will be different. But what won’t be different is that at that moment, whenever it comes, you’ll realize, as I did, just how good you had it. And eventually, you’ll have to cope with the fact that it will never quite be the same.

But as they must, things move on after Ohio University. You’ll continue to expand your world and its horizons. You’ll continue to grow, some things will even get better; others will get worse. The grass might seem greener on the other side, as it always does. But moving on, when its time has come is a good thing- if you’ve made the best of each day beforehand. This old college graduate of one year has one last tidbit of advice: Enjoy everything minute-by-minute while it lasts, don’t be afraid to move on when the time comes and never, never forget the precious job of being an Ohio Bobcat. 

The Need for an Unusual Life

For the past four years of my life (almost 5 now), I desperately fought off living life as everyone else does.  I was convinced I could find a better way of living; a more carefree way of life.  I did not want a “real” job, where I had to pay bills and buy furniture and be tied down to one place, one city.  And now I find myself doing exactly that-and yet, I am not upset.

I spent those last four years loving Camp Jewell and loving Athens, Ohio.  Two places that opened my mind more than I knew was possible.  Each place represented a different aspect of my personality, but they both embodied worldliness and a sense of belonging. Both were a place for me to meet people from different walks of life and different corners of the world.

I find myself working my day job (which I suppose I exaggerate because its technically “service” through Americorps), and just letting life pass (which again I exaggerate). But every so often, that is how I feel. I have moments where I feel I’ve surrendered all my open-minded ideas and beliefs, to live an ordinary life. But in all honestly, life is only as ordinary as you let it be.

I have created a plan, a “5 Year Plan” to keep my pursuit of happiness on track. To convince myself that I haven’t completely surrendered my dream life, of a different life. A plan to work and explore Phoenix for a few years. To get into an amazing grad school for Cross Cultural/International Communication. To defer that lovely acceptance and run away to Asia for a year, or as long as I can milk it. To return and attend grad school, while taking advantage of all breaks in order to conduct research abroad. All en route to being a professor. After I have some life experiences under my belt.

Until my fabulous life plan swings into action, I am attempting intertwine my open-minded beliefs into my average life; thus creating an unordinary life that I  still strive for. Life isn’t bad. Life just isn’t as crazy as I would like.