Itchy Pooh Pooh...I Mean Machu Picchu

I would like to clarify that I am the master of taking a cheap vacation. I love to see the world, I love history and I love to learn. Being a flight attendant is the perfect job for me because it allows me access to the world, which is something I value. I know I'm lucky, and please believe me, I don't take my life for granted.

I've learned that to travel safely and cheaply, it all boils down to doing your research, planning ahead and visiting www.tripadvisor.com. For those going to Europe, the most current Rick Steves' travel guide doesn't hurt either. I get my travel guides from the library, which is a simple way to save $20-40 before I leave home!

I try to take three international trips a year, and lately Mitch usually comes along with me, most of the time willingly. Our last trip to Paris, one of the most expensive cities in the world, cost us less than $600.00, and we were there for five days! (Granted we don't have to pay for airfare . . .) I have also gone cheaply to Rome, Venice, Florence and Milan, and if I need a break for a few days and don't want to spend a ton of money, I head on down to Puerto Vallarta.

In January, I asked Mitch which international cities he would like to visit this year. I patiently waited for a whole 24 hours, and when he didn't offer any suggestions, I told him that we were going to visit Machu Picchu in Peru, Toyko and London. He didn't scoff at my suggestions, so I began planning.

I would have never actually visited Machu Picchu on my own. In fact the first time someone mentioned the ancient ruin to me, I thought they said “Itchy Pooh Pooh,” which apparently isn't a common mistake. I have a bunch of flight attendant friends who visited Machu Picchu last year and they all RAVED about it. So Mitch and I did a bit of research and we learned that Machu Picchu had recently been named a new Wonder of the World and a place that must be seen. We also heard reports that there are plans to permanently close a section of Manchu Picchu (I can't remember if it's the top or the bottom), but all of my flight attendant friends have encouraged me to visit ASAP because the closures are scheduled to happen within the year.

Originally Mitch and I decided to go to Machu Picchu in the spring, Tokyo in the summer and London in the fall. In January I picked up my Machu Picchu guidebook from the library and began planning our trip. As we were about to book our hotels, the worst news came across my Yahoo homepage: the rail lines in and out of Machu Picchu had been flooded and two thousand tourists were stranded! I was naturally saddened by the devastation and concerned for the thousands of stranded tourists who were eventually extracted by helicopter, but I was equally irritated that the natural disaster had foiled our spring trip! Although I was deeply disappointed, we still had two other places on our agenda, so I took my Machu Picchu book back to the library and picked up Rick Steves' London.

London is notoriously expensive. However, I had visited Rome, Venice and Florence on a shoestring, I had confidence I could visit London and not drain my 401k. I knew we needed to find cheap, safe accommodations so I visited www.airbnb.com, which is a worldwide Bed and Breakfast Web site that I would highly recommend. In my research, I found the most delightful, affordable flat in London, it was only $377.00 for a whole week! The best part was, it included a cell phone! I couldn't believe our good luck! I booked the flat months in advance, Mitch and I discussed the London sites we wanted to visit, and we watched the flight loads every week, happy to see that there were consistently plenty of available seats both coming and going! It appeared we had made a perfect choice and we were both so excited! (I've included a lot of exclamation points, we were really jazzed!)

Last week, (ten days before we were set to leave for London), an ill-timed volcano began spewing over Iceland, closing the airspace over Europe. Initially Mitch encouraged me to be patient, to wait and see what would happen, and I tried to be hopeful that the airspace would open up quickly and we could still go on our trip. However, as the days ticked by and I read more and more news stories detailing the hundreds of thousands of passengers stuck and the tens of thousands of flights that had been canceled, I began to realize that London wasn't going to happen. Disappointed, I had to cancel my perfect bed and breakfast and our trip to London was officially canned.

Over and over I asked myself (and anyone else within earshot), how was it possible that two different trips, in two separate parts of the world could be canceled because of two totally different natural disasters?

Discouraged, Mitch and I, once again, went back at the drawing board. Since Europe was out of the question, we decided to look south. As we contemplated where to go, I noticed an article on Yahoo boldly declaring that Machu Picchu had reopened! So, Mitch and I decided that, once again, we were, as originally scheduled, going to head to Lima, Peru. Because I had to work, Mitch planned our entire trip (awwww, what a sweetie!). Fortunately he likes to plan “transportation-y trips” because our trek to Machu Picchu appears like it's going to be quite a journey.

We are finally on our way, and what a way it is! Salt Lake to Denver, Denver to Atlanta, Atlanta to Lima, Lima to Cuzco...that's right, four flights plus a four hour combo train and bus ride to Aguas Calientes to actually get to Machu Picchu.

Will our pilgrimage be worth it? Will we be able to get back home on schedule?

Tune in next week to hear my tale (and to get some travel tips), because it sounds like getting to Itchy Pooh Pooh, I mean Machu Picchu will be an adventure in itself!

Until then, remember,

Life's a Journey, Take Notes!

I'm NOT a Granola...and I'm not sure what to do about it....

Although I was born and raised in Utah, I've never been to any of the Utah National Parks. A few weeks ago, Mitch and I had a couple of days off so we packed up the car and hit the road for an impromptu road trip. Mitch and I are preparing to climb to the top of a couple of mountains and thought a hiking trip would be a nice way to break our legs in. We drove three hours south and spent the first night in Cedar City, woke up early the next morning and made our way to Zions National Park.

Zions National Park itself is beautiful. It is a geological wonder, and if you take a moment to really read the informative plaques strategically placed throughout the park you can learn quite a bit about how the natural formations were created. Mitch and I spent two full days hiking around the park. Because it was during the work week there were a lot of retirees at the park and more than a few Grandmas breezed by us as we strolled up the trails. Mitch and I pretended like we weren't fazed by being passed by “old people”, and to save face we took our time and explored and enjoyed the area. We took a billion pictures and had a really great time.

That being said, I am not here to talk to you about Zions National Park, other than to encourage you to visit, because it truly is a natural wonder. What I am here to talk about is pants-that-zip-into-shorts, and other (atrocious) hiking attire.

Mitch, who is not a Granola, proudly brought his pants-that-zip-into-shorts pants on our trip. He opted not to wear them (I'm not sure if it was because I giggled anytime he put them on or for some other, unexplained reason), so we both wore levis, short sleeved shirts and tennis shoes during our visit to the park. Although I felt we were both casually, properly dressed, we were, by far, the best dressed pair at the park. As I looked around me, people had on their hiking shoes, there were lots of pants-that-zip-into-shorts, special, fussy Columbia and North Face shirts, Camelback backpacks, Indiana Jones explorer hats, wool socks, North Face Jackets, hats that covered the head and neck and walking sticks. If REI makes it (and sells it for a ridiculous price), we saw it.

It's cool that the people like dressing outdoorsy, but Zions National Park is a simple park to navigate, and to me, most of the tourists had gone a little too far with their outdoorsyness. I can completely understand the extreme gear for those hiking the Narrows, but the majority of the people were just wandering around the park; wilderness attire really wasn't really necessary. Which brings me to my “bigger” problem.

It was my idea to climb to the top of Nebo and Timpanogos, and I managed to get Mitch,my sister Farrah, and her husband Dallas to agree to climb with me. As the hike gets closer, I am finding myself less stressed about the hike itself and more stressed about the pressure to dress like a Granola. The problem is, I am innately NOT a granola. I buy the majority of my clothes at Macy's, my shoes from Famous Footwear (I'm a sucker for their buy one get one half off sale), and I pick up my every day t-shirts at Target. I'm not a fussy gal, but I try to dress fashionably.

However, Mitch, who is also not a Granola, has been dragging me into REI and Dick's and making me try on “real” hiking shoes. He has spent hours looking up the proper Camelback for me so I have enough to drink on our hikes. Mitch is incredibly sweet, and he has offered to carry most of our “gear”, whatever that means. While I am so grateful for his help and his excitement for our hike, I am incredibly uncomfortable in outdoorsy stores, and I always feel really over dressed, even if I'm just wearing a t-shirt, jeans and running shoes.

I don't wear a lot of green or brown. I flat iron my hair. I wear some make up. I think you understand what I'm saying.

So what should I do? I genuinely find all hiking shoes to be incredibly ugly, and I don't understand why Merrill can't make ONE pair of their hiking shoes in black. Is there some hiking shoe rule out there that says hiking shoes must all be green or brown? I don't have any clothes that match my new hiking shoes, so I have two options, not color coordinate, or buy a new “hiking wardrobe”. Mitch says I have to buy a special shirt that absorbs my sweat. I have to have special wool socks, which has turned into quite an ordeal because I don't want my socks to come above my ankles and I don't want them to be crazy colors. Mitch found some special socks for me that met my special requirements and he gave them to me as a gift. Isn't he sweet?

That being said, Mitch genuinely believes I should get pants-that-zip-into-shorts.

Unbelievable!

I told my non-granola sister that Mitch says I should get these ridiculous pants and she said, “Oh I love my pair.”

Has the world around me gone mad?

When I decided to climb the mountains, I thought I would just have to physically train. If I had any idea I would need special shoes, socks, shirts, pants and a camelback, I might have kept my great idea to myself.

Why is this such a problem, you might ask? Because Mitch LOVES to take pictures. I am going to end up with 300 pictures of me crawling up a mountain looking like a Granola! He's gonna post the pictures on Facebook and the entire world is going to see me dressed in brown and green, and the whole world is going to think, “Oh, look at Mitch's girlfriend, she's a total granola.” I can't have people think that, especially strangers!

Oh dear, I'm afraid I have serious issues.

I'm gonna buy my hundred dollar shoes, and then with the advice from my friends, I'm gonna Bedazzle my shoes so they look pretty and sparkly. Maybe I will Bedazzle my hundred dollar Camelback, too. I can hear the other hikers now, “Wow, I really like your sparkly shoes, they are so much cuter than normal hiking shoes.” “Thanks,” I will reply. “They've been bedazzled.”

Oh my, what have I got myself in to?

So my Granola and non-Granola friends, am I making too much of this? Am I silly to not want ugly hiking shoes? Is it terrible that I find the-pants-that-zip-into-shorts unbearable? Did I take on too much instigating two mountain climbs without first learning I would have to change my wardrobe?
I'd love your feedback, I want to find out if what I am feeling is normal.

And poor Mitch! When we go shoe shopping for his shoes, he shows me shoe after shoe and asks me what I think about them. All I can do is look at him blankly and nod my head because the truth is I HATE ALL OF THE SHOES!!!

Why is it hiking shoe makers are unable to make cute shoes? I don't understand.

I think I need professional help.

Oh, I gotta go. I'm being taken to an REI Map and Compass class. If you don't hear from me next week, you'll know I got lost and obviously failed my wilderness resourcefulness class.

Stay tuned next week when I will discuss how two separate natural disasters nearly sidetracked my Spring vacation this year. It is a tale you'll have to read to believe.

Until then remember,

Life's a Journey, Take Notes!

My Visit to Arlington

A few weeks ago I traveled to Washington DC to do some research for my second Mason Montgomery book. I was only able to spend a couple of days in Washington DC, but I had beautiful, perfect weather, comfortable shoes and a load of research that had to be done. I managed to see everything on my agenda, but the stop that moved me the most was Arlington National Cemetery.

My trip to Arlington was for a specific purpose, I was scouting locations for a critical scene in my book. I also happen to love cemeteries and I had always secretly wanted to visit JFK's eternal flame (I don't know why, I wasn't even alive when he died). As I left JFK's resting place, I took a wrong turn and happened upon a funeral procession. Curious, I stopped to watch. I absolutely did not want to be disrespectful to those in mourning, but in my research I had learned a great deal about Arlington funeral processions and thought it could be an interesting, insightful, good research opportunity to see the well known ceremony first hand. Had I realized how the ceremony would affect me, most likely I would have walked away instead of creeping up to get a closer look.

As I politely walked closer and hid myself behind a tombstone, I heard a military officer shouting commands followed by the constant chut-chut of his troops' rifles. More than a dozen men stood in formation performing an intricate rifle routine. Next to the drilling men was a lone coffin covered with an American flag.

I immediately became mesmerized by the soldiers and their perfectly synchronized precision and timing. Once they had finished their rifle drill, the funeral director drove out, followed by a hearse (which I was confused by because the coffin was on the back of a horse drawn trailer.) Then, a black car drove by, which I assume held immediate family members. Once all of the official cars left the area, the soldiers once again began a rifle routine, their guns rotated this way and that, not one gun ever out of place. Interestingly the ceremony felt very respectful, instead of mechanical.

For a moment the entire cemetery was completely silent. Suddenly two of the soldiers began drumming and all of the soldiers began marching. The noise of the drums reverberated throughout the cemetery, and the soldiers looked mournful as they marched away from the funeral home and up the winding road. The large group of soldiers passed by me and it was interesting to see how serious, yet respectful they looked. As the last soldier walked by me, the horse drawn trailer carrying the coffin begin to roll out.

Even the horses seemed to walk with respect for the fallen soldier. As the coffin began to move, for the first time I cognitively realized I wasn't watching some random ceremony, I was witnessing a funeral procession, that there was a a body in the coffin, and all the pomp and ceremony was to honor an actual person. The soldiers and their rehearsed routines gave the funeral a more theatrical feel, however it was a funeral all the same. Whoever was in the coffin had died for our country, to keep our country safe, and to keep me safe.

As the coffin rolled past me, the military band began to play, announcing to all those in the area that a soldier had fallen and was receiving the highest burial honor our country could bestow upon him. The air around me was full of music and the scene before me suddenly felt very tragic. As the stars and stripes rolled by, my eyes welled with tears.

The person in the coffin had died, he had lost his life to help preserve my freedom. He was receiving the highest military burial possible, which suggested he was an honorable soldier, but still a precious human life had been lost. His family and friends grieved for him. Surprisingly, I grieved for him.

I couldn't stop myself. Between the music and the loss of life, I began weeping, huge tears rolled down my cheeks. I stood there and watched as the funeral procession continued on. The fallen soldier must have been a local young man because a never ending trail of cars followed behind the horse drawn carriage. Realizing that a bawling tourist was not the spectacle mourners really wanted to see during their time of grief, I turned around and and tried to wipe the tears that wouldn't stop falling from my eyes.

I walked in the opposite direction, determined to get back to my research. I took a wrong turn and bumped into another funeral procession, this one with a black covered coffin and a horseless rider. The tears didn't spill again, but my heart had been touched.

I meet military personnel nearly every day. I always try to remember to thank them for all they do to keep our country safe. Usually they are taken back, they are not used to being thanked for their work. I try to make it a point to talk with all the military personnel I meet. Every single soldier I've ever come in contact with tells me they believe they are doing good in the Middle East. Their work is hard, but they all assert that they are seeing progress. I've also met and talked with several consultants who take the media into the front lines. I have yet to meet a media consultant who has claimed that any media outlet has told a fair and balanced story of what really goes on, choosing intentionally to only film the bad and ignoring any good they come across.

Right or wrong, I firmly believe that if our military forces were not in the Middle East, terrorist activity would become a common occurrence here in the United States. It is my conviction that the men and women who have left their families and loved ones to serve our nation truly make it safe for me to go to work and fly around in an airplane. For their sacrifice I will be eternally grateful.

Most of you don't have jobs where a terrorist would love to blow up your building. While I love my job, when I go to work I am fully aware that a crazy person could possibly come on board and try to make a big statement with my aircraft. I have the utmost respect for our Armed Services and I truly believe their work helps to make my job safer.

Looking back, I can't help buy ask myself why I cried for the fallen soldier who was a stranger to me. Part of me felt like the fallen soldier died a bit for me, to protect my freedoms. Part of me cried because of the general loss of life. Part of me cried because I felt like the band was announcing to the entire cemetery, “Out of our way! The most important man of the hour is coming through and we are going to honor him the best and only way we know how! Watch our pomp and circumstance!” It was touching and emotional, and I suspect Arlington funeral ceremonies were intentionally designed to bring out emotion in all those who happen across one. I hope you all have the experience to witness an Arlington funeral. It will change your perception.

Whether or not you agree or disagree with the war, next time you see one of our brave men or women who serve in the military, take a moment to say, “Thank you for your hard work.” They will look at you with confusion, and then a smile.

If you've had a similar experience at Arlington National Cemetery, or if you would like to honor your military hero, I'd love to hear from you, Feel free to post here or you can email me at kylie@kylieklein.com

Tune in next week when I will discuss my recent trip to Zions National Park and why I don't like pants-that-zip-into-shorts. As you may know, we are preparing to do some mountain climbing and the pants-that-zip-into-shorts issue has become a highly contested subject in my circle of mountain climbers.

Oh, and one last thing. I am headed to London in a couple of weeks. If you have any must-see recommendations, please let me know what they are! I always try to visit the places people suggest.

Until next week, remember,

Life's a Journey, Take Notes!

My Opinion on the Catholic Church Abuse Scandal

I would like to start this blog with a short rant, which is unusual for me because I am not a big ranter. I steer clear of the “news” and I find politics to be boring. However, even with my head in the sand, I haven't been able to avoid the Catholic Church sex abuse scandal. I have one thing to say:

Catholic Church, I am ashamed of you.

You know what should happen here? If a Catholic Priest or a Catholic Nun has molested a child (or several), then the Catholic Priest or Catholic Nun should be turned over to the local police and, if enough evidence has been collected against them, the Catholic Priest or Catholic Nun should stand trial. And if they are found guilty, they should go to jail. I don't know how it works where you're from Pope Benedict, but in my world, once a child molester is caught and found guilty, they are jailed....where they belong.

It's time for Pope Benedict to stand up and say, “Hey you know what, we are sorry, so deeply sorry. We cannot imagine the pain and suffering our Priests and Nuns, who were in positions of authority, have put on our faithful, impressionable children. We will fight for the rights of the children, we will remove the guilty from power and see they are justly prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, because child abuse is not something we tolerate in our church. And to make things right for the victims who suffered in the hands of those in authority, we will sell off some of our priceless Vatican Museum pieces and use the proceeds to pay for counseling, because the last thing we want in our church are members who are scarred from our priests who have abused their power.”

Unfortunately what we received today was a, “Please pay no attention to the man behind the curtain who spreads 'petty gossip'.”

I know that there are thousands of Priests and Nuns who serve in their positions faithfully, and I commend those Catholics, and any individual who is in a position of authority in their church, or their school, who can positively influence the youth. But today's teenagers have enough problems to deal with, the ABSOLUTE LAST thing a teenager needs is someone in authority abusing their power and doing it in the name of God.

What irritates me is the Catholic Church's refusal to stand up and do what's right, especially when it comes to dealing with the youth. Worse, what kind of example are they setting for their church members. In a world where people seem to have such difficulty accepting responsibility for their actions, the Catholic Church could do a lot of good by accepting blame and helping to find solutions.

I recognize that it isn't “the church's” fault that so many children have been sexually abused, However, the men and women who violated church policy (and common sense), and who took advantage of children...the same children they should have been leading, are the men and women who claim to represent what Catholicism means. Their guilt, unfortunately, resonates badly on the church as a whole.

Pope Benedict seems like a nice fella and I would agree that he is dealing with a very difficult and sensitive situation. That being said, it is my sincere hope that Pope Benedict climbs out from the rock his head is stuck under and creates a positive conclusion to this terrible scandal. Abuse should not be tolerated in the Catholic Church, and as the Pope he is the only person in the world who can exert influence to make sure the abuse stops.

Moving forward, to ensure this doesn't happen again, the Pope and Cardinals need to set, and enforce clear boundaries. I know when I'm on the airplane and a passenger refuses to turn his cell phone off, when I say to him, “If I have to ask you to turn that off one more time we're going back to the gate and you're getting off the plane,” the passenger always, unconditionally, turns his phone off. The Pope could consider sending a strong worded message like, “Okay Priests and Nuns, if you sexually abuse a child you'll be defrocked, turned over to the authorities and you'll go to jail.” There, clear boundaries set, everyone know what the punishment would be for the crime.

So, if anyone knows the Pope personally feel free to forward this blog to him. If he has questions, or would like more unsolicited advice on anything, like what priceless Vatican pieces to sell, he can e-mail me at kylie@kylieklein.com.

Wow, I was a little more irritated than I thought. I apologize if I have offended any of my Catholic friends. I mean no offense. Whether you agree or disagree with my stance, I'd like to hear your opinion.

Be sure to tune in next week when I tell you a bit about my surprisingly emotional experience at the Arlington National Cemetery. Oh man, I get weepy just thinking about it.

Until then, remember,

Life's a Journey, Take Notes!

Put the Phone Back Down!

So, you can't sleep at night because you've been thinking about that new special person you've met. You say you've lost your appetite? You can't concentrate on anything because you keep thinking about Mr. Perfect.

Isn't that cute?

Congratulations, you are the beginning stages of dating ,when things are hectic and strange and new and frightening but above all, exciting. You've got constant butterflies in your stomach. He (or she) is the last thing you think about at night and the first thing you think about in the morning. Every phone call, every text message, ever instant message, every email is saved and treasured. You can't help yourself, you really, really, really want to call this new guy and talk to him, to see what he's doing. You reason his voice would bring you comfort, and besides, you want him to know you're thinking about him.

DON'T PICK UP THE PHONE!!! STOP YOURSELF!!!!!

Please, take my advice. Do not call him, let him call you. This may be the best piece of information I could offer anyone in the cusp of a new relationship. I know, you've read this a million times in books and across the internet. I know, you are still thinking to yourself, “Whatever Kylie, it's not going to hurt anything if I call him, I will only talk to him for a minute.”

Trust me, pause for a moment and allow me to tell you why you should put the phone back down.

A while back I began dating a new guy named Max. Max and I had gone out a few times, and he was a nice fella. I will be honest, I wasn't crazy about him, but we had a nice time together. He was always talking about money which, was sort of a turn off to me, but aside from the obsession with wealth, he was nice enough. One afternoon while I was on a flight Max left a message for me to confirm a date. After I listened to his message, I called him back, aware that he was in class, and I left a message for him, something like, “Hey, it's Kylie, Friday will work great! See you then!” and then I hung up my phone.

As I drove down the road, I turned up the radio and Miley Cyrus' “Party In the USA” was playing. I couldn't help myself, I sang along, at the top of my lungs. Then, Whitney Houston's “I Will Always Love You” came on the radio, to which I also sang along, loudly. As I finished up, “and I-I-I-I will always love you . . . .” I remembered I needed to call my mom. I picked up my phone, and much to my surprise I had made a ten minute phone call.

My phone hadn't hung up. I had left a ten minute phone call of me singing at the top of my lungs on Max's phone.

I was mortified.

I only had one option. I had to call his phone back, break his security code and delete my voice message. I could NOT have him hearing me singing on his cell phone.

I called his number and pressed pound. I entered 1234 as his code. I entered 1122. I entered his birth year. His phone locked me out and hung up on me.

I called his number again and pressed 1111. I entered the last four digits of his phone number. I began typing in random numbers. Again the phone locked me out.

I hung up and tried again, typing in random four digit numbers. Again, the phone locked me out.

I decided to try one final time. Of course I couldn't guess his secret code. After all, that's why it's “secret”.

I contemplated my many errors of judgment. I had called Max's phone five times, one message was me singing for ten minutes, the other four calls were made within three minutes of each other.

It took me a while to calm down. All I could do was wait to hear back from him to see how crazy he thought I was.

Two hours later the phone rang.

“Hello?” I said.

“Hey, I noticed you called me like five times in ten minutes. That's kind of weird.”

“Oh, sometimes my phone sometimes calls random numbers, I'm sorry,” I said.

“Yeah, well about Saturday...”

“You need to cancel?” I asked.

“Yeah, I need to cancel.”

I knew where Max was coming from. A few months earlier some guy had called me 56 times in one day between 9 am and 5 pm while I was at work. It freaked me out.

Needless to say, Max and I never saw one another again.

So gals...and guys.... you can learn many lessons from my mistake Girls, resist making the phone call. Guys, don't be funny about making the phone call. Everyone should resist making five phone calls in ten minutes. It's a bad idea to try to break into someone's voice mail. Never, ever, ever, for any reason call someone 56 times in eight hours. If you must sing in the car, make sure you aren't calling anyone. Follow these simple rules and you'll thank me in the long run.

If you have any funny or embarrassing phone call experiences, I'd love to hear them. Post here, or you can always email me at kylie@kylieklein.com if you don't want the entire world reading your mistakes. As always, feel free to friend me on facebook.

Until next week, remember, life's a journey, take notes!