ajmatt blog

There’s a hole in the wall…

What—you wanted pretty photos of Easter Island? Not a chance!

In our infinite wisdom, Matt and I (unanimously, without debate) scheduled our kitchen remodel to start 44 hours after returning home from vacation. (A return trip that included 3 flights, 4 airports, and an 8-hour layover.) Did we fully consider the task of moving out of our kitchen—without boxes!—during those 44 hours?

Not our best move, but after 1 broken plate, 3 heavy trash bags, and a mental list of things to donate to the Lupus Foundation, the job is done and demolition was completed this afternoon.

Along the way, we found a few strange things about living in an old house:

• We didn’t bother to clean out the inaccessible cupboards above the refrigerator that we never used… and they contained a set of china from the previous owner.
• The hole we cut in the wall is 4 inches smaller because of a random pipe in the wall… that the previous owner had barely missed when installing the (old) pantry.
• There were two full linoleum floors under ours, brown and puke green (the original, probably). Aside from ugliness, the underfloors were in decent shape.

The hole in the wall is going to startle me for awhile. Tomorrow: tile and cabinets.

Easter Island was incredible, lots of hiking, moais, caves, and petroglyphs - and we of course promise lots of pictures once we get to a stable, fast Internet connection.

Right now, we’re back in Santiago airport waiting for our connection to Calama, the airport closest to San Pedro de Atacama. This town is on the edge of the Atacama, the driest desert on the Earth. It should make quite a change from the subtropic weather we’ve been enjoying!

Matt and I like Santiago. It is beautiful, ringed with mountains, and mild and green even in the dead of winter. I would love to live here, if only to wake up to mountains every morning and eat at a different Chilean restaurant every night.

Santiago is typically used by tourists as a jumping off point to other areas of Chile. There are a few fun tourist stops in the city, but people usually only stay a few days before flying to the ski slopes, wine country, or Patagonia (none of which we are visiting on this trip).

So we planned for two days in the city, and visited six tourist spots yesterday afternoon and today. On the must-see list—Museo Chileno de Arte Precolombino (the Pre-Columbian Art Museum) and Iglesia, Convento y Museo de San Francisco (the Church and Museum of San Francisco). What can I say—modern art bores me, and I’m sucker for anything over 200 years old.

I put together a slide show of our photos, though only a few places allowed us to take pictures. (We broke the rules at the Museum of San Francisco, where we took a covert photo of a short door.)

Tomorrow: a five-hour flight to Isla de Pascua (Easter Island), and hopefully an afternoon hike.

Matt and I are midway through a five-hour stop at the Toronto Airport. “Didn’t they mention they were headed south?” you might ask. “Why fly through Canada?” It’s a good question—and one the customs agent asked.

We are headed to Chile, but stopping through Toronto was not much longer and much cheaper than flying through a more direct location. Our trip is not close to half way over; we face a 10-hour flight, scheduled to land in Santiago mid-morning tomorrow. It is the second-longest trip (total travel time) I’ve ever taken.

In the meantime, you can’t beat hanging out in another country, and a Canadian airport falls into that category today. Neither Matt nor I have been to Toronto before, and the flight in was beautiful. Add in foreign cell phone brands, a few extra languages, people watching, and staring at the departures board dreaming of trips to Tel Aviv, Dublin, and Beijing, and you have an entertaining evening.

Even if that weren’t the case, when you are overbooked in life for any period of time, 17 hours of forced relaxation is not a bad prospect. I think I could stare at the wall for most of it, but I do have an hour of Internet, a 600-page novel, and laptop power under my chair (how lucky are we to find a plug at an airport). I suspect that I will sleep well tonight, even sitting up straight in a narrow seat.

Finally, evidence that ajmatt kitchen is getting a facelift. Last night Matt and I moved halfway out of our kitchen, and we had our ugly kitchen wallpaper removed today.

On the plus side, we have already doubled our counter space, and I think the primer is a big improvement. [I'm tired; is this whole post littered with typos?]

The downside—our living room just got crowded… though it looks like a great opportunity to multitask, doesn’t it? I need a coffeemaker that close to my laptop all the time.

And now we will take a break from housework to travel to another hemisphere. Kitchen phase II will commence in a few weeks.

It’s been a busy month, quite social for the introverted ajmatt blog, as evidenced by our lack of posts.

Last Sunday I went hiking with my friend Lisa in Shenandoah National Park. The park entrance is about an hour outside of DC, and our hike was at mile marker 19, about 20 miles south of the entrance.

The first 4.5 miles were easy, walking downhill along a gravel road. One of our landmarks was this cemetery. The gate was falling off its hinges, and took two sets of hands to get it open.

This innocuous sign marked the beginning of the true hike. During the last 2-3 miles—there were varying estimates of how far we actually traveled—we would climb 1,800 feet in elevation. (The “st” stands for “staircase,” which refers to the bazillions of rocks on the trail.)

Hello, I am not feeling photogenic right now, but also not yet exhausted, and find this ravine picturesque. In other news, my legs are glowing.

Lisa’s daring log trick; I might as well be hiking with my brother. And look, it’s the same conclusion—a great photo results from the madness!

The view most of the way up the ravine… although this is one of the gentle inclines. There were parts of the trail where hands were required to climb the rocks. Those parts coincided with the passing thundershowers, though we were grateful for the drop in humidity and welcomed the rain.

Cruising along Skyline Drive on our way out of the park, Lisa spotted this bear on the side of the road. She stopped the car, I managed to get a picture through the window, and we both asked, “Where’s Mama Bear?”

Isn’t he cute? He made me wonder if Mama Bear could pry open the little Volkswagen in retribution for our gawking.

Aww… cute bear butt. As we drove away, Lisa said, “Now you have something interesting to blog about.” (Bear sighting is exciting for the suburban-raised.) I agree. It was a great hike.

When one comes to the realization that her kitchen will be demolished in the near future, a burst of freedom ensues.

Today, while blending ancho chiles, I:

• chopped garlic directly on the counter
• wrote on the wallpaper in permanent marker *
• let tomato sauce languish on the counter
• slammed the cupboard doors
• did all of the above without spilling anything on my white shirt

What else can I do to my kitchen? **

* Four years of this wallpaper would make anyone crazy. PS—the wood in the picture is the top of a cupboard door that fell off its hinges. Maybe I should turn it into firewood?

** Matt was not present during the aforementioned events; had he been, it is likely they would not have occurred.

Chile marinade
tastes better when consumed by rebellion
(loosely based off of this recipe)

• 1 can of ancho chiles in adobo
• 1 can tomato sauce (no salt added)
• splash of olive oil
• 2 cloves of garlic
• 5 sprigs of cilantro
• 1 heaping teaspoon cumin
• 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

Blend until smooth; marinate meat or soy product of choice for an hour. Grill or stirfry and garnish with avocado slices and more cilantro.

Matt and I are in Seattle for the long holiday weekend. While Matt and Austin were out buying fireworks, Lindsey (Austin’s girlfriend) and I inspected the wildlife in my parent’s yard.

The above two (super fabulous) pictures are by Lindsey. The below (boring vanilla) picture was taken by me—we’re going to have a good time once it gets dark.

How do you know you are in the south?

In DC, shuttle drivers are mute and angry-looking.

At the Raleigh-Durham airport we were greeted by Fran, the Hertz courtesy shuttle, who gave us a hearty welcome to North Carolina. Fran was lovely, making sure everyone on the bus knew where they were going, and doling out directions to those who didn’t. When Matt answered confidently, “I think I know where we’re going,” Fran replied, “You aren’t going to get this pretty lady lost, are you?” As we exited the shuttle, Fran carried the bags an older woman, who she called “mother,” down the steep steps.

In DC, everyone wears black to parties.

When we arrived at our hotel in downtown Raleigh, I sat in the car to guard it—which, upon reflection, was probably not necessary. While I was waiting, an SUV pulled up next to me, and several women in pink sequined gowns tumbled out, one wearing a crown. Car after car pulled up to drop additional women off, and I have never seen so many colorful cocktail dresses.

After some in-depth research (I googled “miss north carolina”), I found discovered that the pinkest of them all was Miss North Carolina 2007—this is definitely the crown I spotted. Apparently the 2008 pageant is in progress, and there is a “pre-show” tonight. When I relayed this information to Matt, he said with some dread, “It’s not in our hotel, is it?” Thankfully, it is not.

PS—everyone knows I am dying for a celebrity sighting, but this in no way counts.

Last night Matt and I waited in several rush hour runway traffic jams at Reagan National airport, but we had an excellent view. (As I took these pictures, Matt said, “You look like a tourist!” The sacrifices I make for blogging.)