I've done my packing, now it's Grandma's turn

I'm going to post a Japan itinerary (I leave in four days). But frankly that's about as exciting to read as a calendar, because, well... you are reading a calendar. So before I get to some mind-numbing list of dates and places, I thought I'd feed your Internet entertainment craving with a little peek into the mind of my grandmother.

For those of you that don't know, I'm traveling through Japan with my Grandmother (who is Japanese, was born there and moved to the States and became a citizen about 50 years ago), my mom (born on a military base in Japan) and my sister (like me, born in a hospital here - much less exciting). It's going to be a two-week jaunt through family history, meeting relatives, seeing the "homeland" and sharing rooms in ryokans.

Well, Grandma is quite the character. I love her to death, but she definitely has her quirks. One of them has to do with her luggage - or, rather, the items she wants to bring that can't fit into her suitcases. It's Japanese tradition to bring gifts when you visit. It's been a few years since Grandma's been back to her homeland, so she's loaded up on those... that seems sensible enough. The quirk she has about packing has to do with A) the type of gifts she's bringing and B) the seeming illogical assumption that famine has arrived in Japan and we will starve for two weeks. This has led to over-packing, which has led to me checking an extra bag just for her stuff.

Thank goodness I pack light.

Grandma's packing list:

1 faux Coach bag - She actually is bringing six of these. But she didn't want to have trouble with customs, so she gave me one. Apparently, she thinks that will make a difference.

1 set of Japanese flip-flops - because, you know, they're hard to find in Japan.

3 Red Sox t-shirts - this makes sense. Dice-K mania is huge; the relatives will love the shirts. I want a Seibu Lions jersey, myself.

3 Charles River Laboratories t-shirts - I don't think anyone's asking for the leftover swag from a company Grandma hasn't worked for in 5 years.

1 bottle, Centrum Silver - taking your vitamins is good. Taking 250 over a 16-day span is not.

2 family-sized packages, caesar croutons - we're visiting a friend Grandma has who likes salad. So we're bringing salad. Right.

24 tea packets - didn't they INVENT tea in Asia?

12 instant coffee packets - this makes sense. I can't live without coffee.

1 jar instant coffee - in light of above, not needed.

1 box, Pop Secret popcorn - not a clue as to her reasoning on this one.

1 box, SPANISH Pop Secret popcorn - Porque?!

2 packets, guacamole mix - "This way, if we find avacadoes, we can have chips at night."

6 pounds of Lindt chocolate - Either these are gifts, or G-ma has one heckuva sweet tooth.

1 bottle for salad dressing - Yes, we're bringing a mix-your-own dressing bottle. Just in case that awesome ginger salad dressing you get at sushi places has been sold out nationwide.

1 blue rubber bath mat - This is actually a gift for her sister. Hey, at least it's not socks.

8 granola bars - Great for flights. Except they'll be checked in the cargo hold.

2 pounds of whole grain spaghetti - This was actually a compromise. Grandma originally wanted to bring the pasta AND two jars of homemade sauce to Japan, but we talked her out of it. Although, it would've been easy to spot my suitcase at baggage claim - it would be the one leaking.

1 jar, brownish-orange, thick gel with pungent order - I don't know what it is. It's wrapped in a paper towel and then encased in bubble wrap. It smells, strong, of ginger. I think Grandma might have preserved some at home? At least, that's what I'll be telling the Homeland Security agents when they've dragged me off to a mirrored room after my stuff's been confisticated at check-in.

Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends...

Come on now, let's not get our knickers into a twist and anoint Coldplay the World's Biggest Band and Chris Martin as a falsetto-singing, British world-savior. All the pop music magazines did that for X&Y, and we all know how well that turned out.

Thankfully, the press seems to have taken a vicodin or three and just chilled out, man. While the fourth full-length from our (current) favorite fab four finally hit shelves today, there has been much less buzz surrounding this one. I don't know if it's because we've realized that pumping something up too much only leads to abject disappointment (no, that was not a penis joke... entirely) or that anyone who names their kid "Apple" can't also be the second-coming of Ghandi. Instead of magazine spread after magazine spread of blah-blah-blah, we've had one single released online and another made into one of those wicked-cool iTunes ads. That's good enough for me.

Maybe the record label execs relaxed this time around, realizing that they're going to be swimming in royalties either way after yet another chart-topper. Or maybe the band just got fed up with answering the same questions at every interview. Who knows? But it just seems quieter this year. That's okay with me. Not every band has to pull a U2 when they drop another record.

Thanks to something I'll call "industry connections," I received a copy of the album (possibly illegally, so I won't say how to thus not incriminate any co-conspirators) last week. For anyone who likes Coldplay - either secretly or openly - you'll be happy to hear that this album is solid, track 1-13.

Throughout the wordily titled Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends, Chris Martin's vocals take a backseat to the music. His voice, at times, falls to a whisper-level croon as the guitars rise and swell (this time, definitely not a penis joke) around him, making it hard to figure out exactly what he's saying. For me, the lyrics were always the best thing about Coldplay tracks, so it was surprising the band moved in that direction. I didn't like it at first, but after a couple listens, the effect grew on me.

It did so mostly because the music on this album is far catchier than on any of the band's others. The guys took a page from Radiohead's playbook and centered each track around a single riff, building and layering the guitars, drums, organs and piano throughout (with the occasional string section, steel guitar or middle-eastern lute thrown in for good measure). The result is a whole lot of theatrical buildup that gets you toe-tapping and head-bopping; the music keeps you listening for long enough to start to pick out Martin's words. And when you do, you find some gems:

Those who are dead, are not dead.
They're just living in my head.
And since I fell for that spell, I am living it, as well.
Time is so short and unsure, there must be something wrong...
You thought you might be a ghost
You didn't get to heaven, but you made it close.

If you're a fan of the band, definitely pick up the album. I won't say it's the year's best, but it's probably in my top-10 so far - and I don't see it dropping from there anytime soon. I give it a solid B+

Now if only I had scored tickets to one of the free shows in New York or London....

That's right, I'm packing...

Editors' note: I'm writing as a featured blogger for STATravlers.com - which is a social networking site dedicated exclusively to travelers. The site recently celebrated its first year anniversary and has been quite successful, so it's an honor for me to be a part of it.

During the course of my time at the Olympics, I'll be posting blogs on their site. I'll include links here, too, though so you can click through to the travel posts.

*****

I’m getting ready to leave on my next adventure. In ten days, I’ll be boarding a plane for trip halfway around the globe. Behind me, I’m leaving an apartment, bills, job obligations and (most importantly) a fiancee, friends and family and setting out for a 2 1/2 month long journey through Japan and China.

There are a ton of preparations for the trip. I need to make sure my banks know I’m going, bills have to be paid in advance, my car has to find another home for a while and someone has to water my plants (not that I do that enough, anyway, but it’d be good to have them not be entirely brown when I get back). This part of the trip sucks - it’s no fun thinking about logistics and budgets. The fun part is flipping through travel guides and reading trip blogs and finding the cool, out-of-the way places to visit or a funky hostel to sleep in.

The one tedious part of trip prep I actually enjoy is packing. I love pulling out my stuff, laying it all out and fitting it inside of my luggage. There’s a routine to it that starts to get my blood flowing as anticipation of travel ramps up. Plus, I always play The Beatles’ Come Together album. I don’t remember where that tradition started, but every time I hear it, it makes me think about heading out on the open road or through the nearest check-in gate.

While with each trip, my packing list changes, there are always a few standbys you’ll find in my bags... (follow the link HERE for the rest of the article)

The scariest moment of my life...

The first emotion is absolute shock:

I'm sitting in my chair, just staring at the computer screen. My mouth moves, but no sound comes out... I must look like a beached fish, gasping for oxygen. That's pretty much what I feel like - it's hard to draw a breath and the air moves raggedly through my throat, rattling slightly.

Followed by furious, burning anger:

Just then, my brain seems to catch up with my body. My fists clench involuntarily, fingernails digging into palms, as my whole body stiffens. It's a reaction to the fire that was lit in my belly. A soft matchstrike at first that quickly - nearly instantly - builds into a raging inferno. The heat shoots up my chest and consumes my head as my face turns a brilliant shade of scarlet.

Gasp. I gulp in a lungful of air and a profanity explodes out with the exhalation. It doesn't give me any sort of release, so I try it again - louder and clearer, slamming both fists down into the arms of my chair. The exclamations and pounding come faster, in rhythm and the furniture in the room shakes. No one can hear me, it's nearly midnight, as I vent my frustrations to the air.

Which gives way to quiet, pleading denial:

I sink back into the chair and cease shouting. The sides of my hands are sore from slamming into the wooden arms, but I'm not thinking about that at all. Now, I'm once again looking at the computer screen. This time, shaking my head slightly and muttering, "No, no, NO," over and over again. I re-start everything, hoping that something's changed, like a desperate patient reviewing test results... but nothing has. The results are the same. The file is empty.

Last, a sickening realization:

I just deleted my entire music collection. Thousands of dollars and years of accumulation gone in an instant. 8,500 songs, 100 videos, 75 gigs of data... wiped out. I sold my CD collection last year and can't get the songs back. There is no backup. I am screwed.

*****

Friends, I hope and pray that this never, ever happens to you. Perhaps I am way to (psychotically) attached to my music collection, but I felt like a large piece of me died that night. This thing that had always been a part of me. Full of favorite albums, rare tracks, defunct local bands, Internet-only downloads and live cuts, I'd babied it over the years. Like a gardener, I pruned back albums that I no longer listened to, added new areas to appreciate, maintained it when it got old and upgraded to digital. More than mere enjoyment, my music collection was a hobby, no, a passion.

And then, in an instant, it was gone. I was alone. It was terrifying.

It all happened when I tried to re-partition my external hard drive so I could set up Time Machine to backup my data. If you're not tech-savvy, don't worry - I didn't understand half of what I just wrote.

Basically, I have an external hard drive to hold my music collection (it's too big to fit on my laptop). Time Machine is a Mac program that automatically backs up your computer. So, if you delete something by accident or if everything crashes, you can recover all of your files - not too shabby, eh? I wanted to use half of the external hard drive to house my music collection and half to back up my computer. To do so, I had to divide it (or "partition"), which is kind of like drawing a virtual line through the thing.

When I partitioned it, the program said that it would not touch any information stored in the current section of the drive, which is where I had all my music. It would just separate out a new chunk of space for me to use. Simple enough.

Except some glitch occurred - I don't know what - and my entire hard drive erased itself.

Poof. Everything was gone.

*****

Ultimately, acceptance:

It was gone. All gone. There was nothing more I could do.

My laptop's internal fan whirred to a stop, both silence and darkness filled the room as it turned itself off. Slowly, I picked myself up from my chair. Now past midnight, it was time for bed. 90 minutes of denial, frustration and vain attempts to turn back time had failed. I'd started trying to calculate the costs of rebuilding my music library... hours spent transferring files from friends' computers, re-buying albums that I couldn't live without... but it was overwhelming. I could never get it back.

I gave up and went to sleep, which came surprisingly fast. Perhaps I'd exhausted myself with worry.

"Tomorrow's another day," I thought, just before I drifted off.

A happy ending:

Brian, my brother and resident Apple-expert, sent me a link to Senuti. It's a progam that's intended to back up your iPod. You can use it to unlock any iPod and transfer the music files, playlists and videos back to your computer. It's free (donations encouraged) and works extremely fast...

A little ray of hope burst through my sickening cloud of despair. Maybe, just maybe, the program would work like advertised. I quickly downloaded it, opened it up and clicked the "transfer" button.

You could not imagine my joy when I saw names of songs flashing through the list, each one announcing a successful copy from the iPod back to my iTunes library! I shouted out of happiness, "Whoohoo!" Pumped my fists and ran around my room in circles.

Really.

I'm a child. And I turn 25 next week.

12 hours of depressing loss led to 3 hours of joyful exuberance as the program took 60 gigs of music and videos and restored them to all of their organized glory. In the end, I recovered all of my music and only lost about half of my videos (all from seasons of Lost and The Office).

I don't know what the lesson is here... I'm sure there's one somewhere. Frankly, I'm still too much in shock to figure it out. For a day, I ran the complete gamut of emotions - loss, depression, denial and anger to disbelieving happiness and celebration. I feel like it's the 2004 Sox-Yankees playoff series all over again.

I love life!

Mike's culinary adventures...

I like to cook and I like to eat. I'm not a gourmand, by any stretch of the imagination, but I enjoy good food, nice preparation and am always willing to try new cuisines or dishes. I wouldn't call myself a chef, but I do know how to throw together a nice dinner party or prepare a table for two.

It seems lately, however, that my culinary endeavors have been limited. Some of it, no doubt, is just because I haven't taken the time of late to cook. Food prices, too, have made buying fresh produce and meats a more costly experience and with every bill I pay, I have to say goodbye to that thick, juicy steak and hello to some chicken nuggets.

But the biggest factor is probably my kitchen itself. Or should I say "kitchen," because it's only masquerading as a place to prepare food. My bachelor pad has a sink and a full set of cabinets, but that's it - there's no oven and no stove. So, for the last four months, I've been cooking with an electric burner, plug-in wok and a small toaster oven.

At first, it was a huge pain. I had to plan all my meals, when shopping, on their annoyance level to prepare. Things had to fit inside the oven (about 12"x6"x4"), for one - that eliminated any roasting or broiling, pretty much. Also, they had to be pretty quick-cooking... the electric burners are about as powerful as my car's cigarette lighter.

After a few weeks of trial and error, I've come up with a miniature cookbook for bachelors stuck in a similar situation (or anyone who lives in a dorm room). It's kind of amazing, but 7 years after I moved out of the dorms, I've come back to the EasyMac days.

-Pasta ain't easy-
If you're like me, you think breaking spaghetti to fit into a pot is akin to spitting on your mom. The point of spaghetti is to have long strands of pasta to twirl with a fork and spoon or be able to slurp up 12 inch strands of fresh, wheaty goodness. In keeping with that life philosophy, I have a stainless, two-gallon pot to make spaghetti in (it's also great for washing your feet, but that's another story...).

But with the awesome power of my 10-watt hotplate, it takes a full hour to bring a gallon of water to a boil. This means that, if I want to have spaghetti for dinner, I need to start cooking it at lunchtime, in the hopes that I'll actually be in the mood for pasta when the times comes.

Spaghetti is out. In, though, are some nice, handmade egg noodles that I can drop clusters of into a smaller pot of boiling water. I also am a big fan of Annie's pasta, too. That still takes longer to cook than normal, but at least I get more instant gratification.

--Pizza better not be frozen--
Some nights, I'm lazy. All I want to do is heat up a pizza and enjoy it with a beer and sit and watch the Sox or the C's. It's pretty simple.

But, being the thrifty bachelor that I am, I don't want to order an entire pizza - it's way too much food for just me and it's about twice as expensive as a nice, frozen pie. I'd much rather turn to DiGiorno or Red Baron.

Here's the rub - neither one of those fits into my teeny toaster oven. They come frozen, so you can't cut them in half without defrosting. This defeats any sort of non-planned pizza popping, which is the whole purpose of it, as far as I'm concerned.

I tried buying smaller frozen pies (the store-brand kind... it was the only ones I could find). However, they were A) too small and B) tasted like poo.

Luckily, I stumbled onto a solution. You can buy Boboli (or Boboli-like alternatives) pre-made doughs, cut them into half-moon shapes, slop on some sauce, add a medley of cheeses and whatever fresh ingredients I want. Bingo - now I have slices that are better than any frozen 'za out there.

--Grilled Cheese--
I used to grill sandwiches in my cast-iron skillet, back when I had a real gas stove. Those days are over and my skillet sits mostly unused in my cupboard, since it takes almost as long to heat as water does to boil. I could still make grilled cheese with a standard, Target-issued pan that's as thin as a couple sheets of tinfoil, but even that takes longer than I want... Grilled cheese just shouldn't take more time to make than it does to visit a fast-food drive-thru.

So, I happened on this alternative - make the sandwich and pop it into the toaster oven. In less than two minutes, you have ooey-gooey cheese and toasted sides, with no flipping. I was impressed when I tried it the first time and haven't gone back since... I suppose it's common-sense to know that you can put something into the oven and it'll get heated and toasted, but, uh... that thought never did dawn on me.

Okay, I'm done rambling... totally bored with this post. But I figured I should get something up here, since it's been a while...

Peace out. I'm hungry.

Street Viewer for Google Maps...

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Have you checked out Google Maps Street Viewer yet? If you haven't, it's a 3-D map function from select cities that shows you what it looks like if you were driving or walking on the streets themselves. It was launched to much fanfare almost exactly a year ago.

Personally, I pretty much ignored it after the first day, since I don't live in San Fran, Denver or any of the six original cities. However, since the debut, Google has quietly been adding cities to its uber-cool map feature. While they still haven't made it to my current living place for even the regular maps (which I've mentioned before), they did recently add Manchester, NH to their lineup. Manchester is New Hampshire's biggest city, but only has about 150,000 citizens. So, apparently to not waste their time in the Granite State, Google added surrounding communities - including my hometown of Auburn. That's my parents' house in the picture. One of the car's is mine (I used to park it on the lawn when I kept it in storage), the ones actually in the driveway belong to my family that still lives there. I have no idea who the other cars on the lawn belong to and that yellow school bus up on blocks in the back belonged to a roving, homeless, evangelical preacher that set up camp for a couple weeks.

I've found myself spending (no, wasting) time slowly clicking through the streets, trying to see if I can spot a neighbor out in their yard or driving by in their car. So far, I haven't come up with anything good (I was kinda hoping to spot my mom walking our dogs or something), but I keep checking back when I have some down time from watching lint collect on my floor or detecting patterns in TV static - you know, the usual things I do around my home/office.

Every time I finish clicking down a road or find myself trying to peer around the corners of houses, I feel a little bit like a Peeping Tom. I'm staring at people and their homes without their knowledge, taking my time to peruse their windows and yards and checking out the make and model of their cars. Wow - that sounds even more creepy written out like that.

Real-to-life-everything is the wave of the future. And there's definitely an advantage to show someone what turn-by-turn directions look like. However, it's going to take me a bit of time before I feel totally cool about Street Viewer.

But since the function isn't going to go away (more towns are being added practically daily), I guess I just gotta keep being a Peeping Tom until that weird feeling in the pit of my stomach goes away. Maybe it's guilt, maybe it's because the milk in my fridge is dated June 1st. Only time will tell...

In the meantime, check out some fun Street Viewer images at streetviewr.com.

Pardon me while I toot my own horn...

Okay, so apologies for bragging, but it's nice to get validation from time to time. Plus, I can share this news with you as an excuse to have you read something that I actually got paid for, as opposed to reading my ramblings that have made me zero bucks over the past year.

Good Catch Publishing, one of my freelance employers, selected a piece I wrote for them as their "Catch of the Month" for June, which means they picked me as the author of their favorite article for that 30-day span. Pretty cool, huh? The piece is a chapter of a book and details the true story of an Oregon man and his struggle to overcome an addiction to pornography. You can read "I Can't Do This Alone" by following the link.

It is a long one, so apologies. But I hope you like it!