Clark Hotel

Clark Hotel, memories, travel, visitors
There are many things about my childhood that are happy, but there are a few things I want to recreate in my own life.
One is the dining room table, practically inside the kitchen. There were times that so many people gathered around the table that we frequently pulled over the piano bench to fit everyone. I love the memories of visitors and family, bellies full of good food, sitting around the cleared table, afraid to abandon the table in favor of the couch in fear of ruining the moment.
We tried moving the gathering from the table to the couch a couple times, but the feeling and conversation doesn’t transfer the same. Actually, it doesn’t transfer well at all. 
The other is having a guest room, somewhere for friends and family to stop and stay while en route to their destination.
The small town where I grew up was not really a destination for travelers, but it was perfectly situated to be a pit stop. We had many people travel through who stopped for a few hours or for the night. A close family friend didn’t dub the house “Clark Hotel” for just any reason. There was a period of time that people were coming through almost every weekend. 
I’m not really sure how my mom felt about playing host to travelers all the time, but it was one of my favorite times. It seemed our family had grown by a few people, which added new dynamics and experiences to my own. 
I still enjoy having people gathered at my house with food and laughter. I haven’t done much hosting in the past few years, either because life has been busy with school and work, or I didn’t feel like my home was big enough to hold many people for a party. 
Which I realize is sort of silly. There are logistical matters to consider, of course, but enjoying each other doesn’t actually have much to do with the space, and has everything to do with the company.
Right now I don’t have a guest room and I’m pretty much not on the way to anywhere. It’s not very often people I know travel through Alaska, and I’m not ready to offer up my couch for couch surfing. Maybe someday, but not right now. 
But my long-term goal is to create my own Clark Hotel. A place where people stop by no matter the day or time, and stay for a meal or a night. I want a place where people feel comfortable and warm and taken care of.
And if memory serve correctly, that hospitality usually involves ice cream, games and warm beverages.

new perspective

comfort, comfortable, Happy Travels, life, neighborhood, privilege, privileged, travel, uncomfortable

Written on the plane while traveling home:

In class a few weeks ago we spent some time talking about privilege. The main point was usually we don't recognize our privilege because we've never been without it.

Until then, I had never thought about being privileged or not privileged. I've just been me, it's just been my life, my experience. I haven't been privileged, only lucky. Or as my mom would say, I've been blessed. But maybe blessedly ignorant.

As I grow older I see the times in my life when my privilege has played it's cards for me, both for better and for worse. When the card is played for worse, I've never been in physical harm, and for that I feel blessed. When the card is played for better, I feel humbled.

The ignorance I've grown up with has been both a blessing and a curse.

School has been quite a help in removing my veil of ignorance. We talk about important topics in class, and then I have the opportunity to go out into the world and have experiences that make the things learned absolutely clear to me.

I have had interesting experiences this week. I navigated the metro, with a few pointers, and walked National Mall by myself. We walked home late through a shady neighborhood. I spent St. Patrick's Day festivities in the hands of an interpreter. I spent more than an afternoon where the color of my skin made me the one who was different.

I became acutely aware of my feelings when we spent time in different neighborhoods. The difference in Georgetown as compared to Trinidad, and Capitol Hill as compared to Georgetown. Being a visitor to the city, oddly enough I felt the most comfort on the Metro, which was no neighborhood at all and neither here nor there.

I have also realized that my feelings of being uncomfortable have been mostly nerves, usually showing themselves when I'm about to embark on something unknown. Now that the nerves are recognizable, it is becoming easier for me to tell the difference between feeling nervous and feeling fight or flight adrenaline. Obviously flight adrenaline causes me to alter my path, but if it's nerves I work it through.

Because fear is the WORST reason not to do something.

I'm on my way home now, thinking about school tomorrow and going back to work. Back to laundry, back to campus, back to my little corn dog who will be so anxious the second I walk in the door, but who I'm sure didn't miss me one bit while I was gone. Back to my quirky little city that is so predictable. Back to the mountains I love and the local brews I know so well.

And now as a good friend prepares for a trip to India, I'll go spend a fun evening out and about and totally in my comfort zone.

But, after experiencing something that was uncomfortable become comfortable, what does that even mean?

traveling along

flying, Happy Travels, life, on a plane, travel, traveling alone, vacation

I write this while sitting on a plane, midway through my four-hour flight. I'm watching “The Artist” and finding it annoying because it's a silent film so I actually have to watch it instead of just listen. Also, I'm loving that they gave me the whole can of ginger ale instead of serving a meager portion of mostly ice.

I'm feeling relieved it's spring break this week. School, work and articles for the paper keep me so busy I hardly have time to eat a proper meal. It's been nice these past few days to sleep in and enjoy the sunny spring-like weather.

I'm now on my way to Washington D.C. Of course, by the time you read this I'll already be there. Preparing for this trip has reminded me how lucky I've been on my vacations these past few years. First New York City and then Boston and now D.C. I'm excited for the adventures that await me there this week.

Every time I think about going on vacation, I always wish for somewhere warm. Someplace with palm trees, sand, and waves. I want warmth and water. But the last handful of times I've opted for the city instead. Which I've loved and wouldn't do it differently if given the choice.

I've thought recently about my experiences traveling alone. I typically travel alone, but meet up with people at the destination. The first time I traveled alone I was terrified. A layover in Atlanta and a 4 hour drive in Florida navigated alone left me exhausted physically and mentally. It feels I've come a long way since then. The same long weekend trip to Key West would not be nearly the ordeal it was three years ago.

Which makes me wonder what it would be like to vacation completely by myself now. I've wondered for a while if I would ever feel brave enough to visit a place by myself. Only this year has that prospect even seemed like a possibility.

So maybe my next vacation I will go alone. Maybe to a beach somewhere. Or to a new city to explore all by myself. Or maybe I'll start with a day trip to somewhere near by. And maybe a road trip over a long weekend.

Or maybe vacations are better spent with people you care about.

Either way, I look forward to the next adventure.