Planes, Trains and Probably Another Form of Transportation

It is Wednesday evening in Kirkland, Washington, just under 24 hours before I leave on a Delta flight for Beijing, China. I have procurred travel visas and hostel reservations and train tickets. I have met the limitations of my backpack. I have looked up statistics I already know about the safety of plane travel. I have written two jobs for tomorrow in my day planner: "Xanax", and "Call Mom." (Unrelated to one another.)  

Here is the thing that's happening:

I have my travel partner, Kristina Gizinski, to thank for this graphic, as well as the vast majority of planning. We have a Google Docs folder of trip information long enough to require scrolling. We have budget spread sheets. Honestly, I will probably eat better this winter because of her good planning and money sense. 

The bulk of our trip is a journey by train on the Trans-Siberian Railroad, which will begin in Beijing, and culminate in Russia's western city of St. Petersburg. From there we fly to a two-day layover in Iceland, then back to Seattle. All told the trip is three weeks, six cities in four countries. 

I am leaving for this trip after just finishing my second grad school residency with the Rainier Writing Workshop in Tacoma. It was stupid great, which is all I'm going to say about it because it is impossible to describe it properly. My writer friends seem to have had the same problem, as we waxed nostalgic during last-day goodbyes. One poet friend could just speak in half sentences and do a lot of pointing and hand waving. Several slunk away in discombobulated piles of feelings. Summer camp is hard to leave. 

But I got a souvenir.

At the end of each residency, an auction is held to support the program's scholarship fund. Among the many high quality items donated by students, graduates, faculty and staff, there are certain "legacy" items up for purchase as well. These are essentially inside jokes of questionable dignity, in the form of strange but beloved objects. The objects go home with the top bidder, spend an exciting year in their company, then return to be reauctioned and re-debauched the next year. As I walked in and passed by the auction table last night, I knew immediately that I wanted him. I wanted him bad. 

 THE NAKED MAN (& Co.)

I bid enthusiastically, promising to take Naked Man around the world should the glory of his companionship be mine. But in the end, a very dedicated faculty member won, on behalf of another very dedicated faculty member, whose husband had grieved Naked Man's departure. (I know, the drama is intense.) 

Here's the thing, he or she who procures Naked Man must provide the program with a clever calendar documenting his year in residence. Said Dedicated Faculty Member was nonplussed by the idea of repeating this task, and thus, before his return to what appears to be a somewhat sketchy work-study situation, he will be accompanying yours truly for his Outside Experience. See, after significant time spent in the company of writers, Naked Man has decided that, what the hell, maybe he should get an MFA too. He feels his personal experience as a man committed to a life of nakedness is a unique one that could be seriously competitive in some markets. He has committed to keeping a detailed journal of his soul-searching time abroad, reflecting on how it is expanding his writerly horizons, and his understanding of the human condition. (*eyeroll*) Parts of his journey will be available on this blog, while his completed trip report will be distributed to Rainier Writing Workshop affiliates following his return, for professional scrutiny.

Of course, he doesn't travel without his committed entourage, Barbie and Tink. They will also be contributing to both the experience and creative work of this OE. 

And now for some photography:

NM&Co. get all packed up. (Do you feel a slight tension between Tink and Barbie? Like, Barbie is all smiles and woo-hooing, and Tink's got the stink eye on her. Watch out Naked Man. Watch OUT.)

Hannah tells Kristina the good news. 

Kristina decides this is as good a time as any to tell Hannah about Lego Man, who is traveling at the insistance of her six-year-old son. 

(Photos are fuzzy because they are pictures of pictures. Because who can be bothered to plug the camera into the computer. Not me.)

Please visit Leeward Camino for regularly posted updates on Kristina and Hannah's Ultimate Adventure, as well as occasional reports from Naked Man & Co, and probably Lego Man. They will often be funny, often serious, sometimes both and, hopefully, always interesting.