For the last fifteen years, nearly every time I've traveled, I've brought along a travel journal and written in it. I've just gotten back from spending the better part of a week in Chicago with Jeanine, and despite the fact that it would have been easier to bring along my laptop and just blog as I went, I stuck with tradition and brought along a travel journal instead, taking advantage of the occasional downtime to record my thoughts and impressions. Now, in the interest of making more work for myself, I'm transferring it to my blog:

2/15/10
This is the first time in roughly four and a half years that I've written in a travel journal, the last time being on the occasion of the irr.app.(ext.) shows in Seattle and Portland in September, 2005.

I'm not currently traveling, but rather sitting in my chair at home, listening to Flanders & Swann while attempting, for the umpteenth time, to download some old releases by The Stalin.

Tomorrow I'll be traveling. Jeanine and I, on separate flights (thanks to me booking my flight months after she booked hers), are both heading for the Twist & Shout balloon convention in Chicago. I'm getting up at 4am for a flight that leaves at 6:30. Jeanine's flight leaves at 6.

2/16/10 5:40am
The San Jose airport seems to be in a constant state of flux. Every time I find myself there, it is as if I'm visiting it for the first time. New fees are constantly being added as well. Passengers are now charged $20 to check bags. I tried to change flights so Jeanine and I could travel together, but was told it would be an extra $50 to do so. So much for customer service.

Now, there seems to be some confusion about the gate number, so I'm moving. So far, I've heard exit alarms go off on at least 3 occasions, and been given the wrong gate number once. I am filled with confidence.

I got up a little before 4 this morning, and Jeanine arrived to get me at 4:15. It was gloriously foggy on the drive to the airport. Now, it's getting close to 6. Jeanine has already boarded and I'm waiting for my own flight.

Some time later...

We walked across the tarmac, old school style, to board the plane. It was foggy and dark, with haloed points of light glittering around us.

On the plane, I discovered that my row was the only one with empty seats. Two of them! I quickly moved from my assigned seat to the window seat, and somebody else just as quickly moved from a nearby middle seat to the now vacant aisle seat. Nature abhores a vacuum, and passengers abhore being stuck between other passengers.

There is some sort of sports team aboard, or perhaps teen fashion has narrowed in scope to the point where they all dress exactly alike. Or maybe the pod people are starting to take over and are still figuring out how to effectively assimilate.

The orange splash of sunlight was beautiful, and I loved watching the light and fog interact as the plane started to swing to the northeast.

1pm Minneapolis

The pedestrian walkway, like a huge, angular caterpillar, has rolled forward, attached its artificial lips to the doorway of the plane, and firmly sucked out all of the passengers, pooping us out into the terminal.

I'm waiting for my connecting flight to Chicago. The ground here is sleeping under a dirty white blanket. I can feel the outside chill from my seat in the waiting area.

2/19/10

There was plenty of time to write on the plane, but this is the first time I've had the time and energy to write since arriving in Chicago

Actually, we're in Oak Brook, a suburb of Chicago, at the Marriott Hotel, where the 2010 Twist & Shout convention is being held. Our room is on the fifth floor, and there is a nice view the snow-covered golf course adjacent to the hotel, and also a nice view of the sunset. I watched the orange disc of the sun wink out beyond the horizon last night, painting the sky above as it vanished. It's strange to not be surrounded by hills, like we are at home. Today, I spent a little time walking around on the golf course while Jeanine was in a class, and discovered that the majority of what we thought were human footprints in the snow are actually goose footprints. Off in the distance, the silhouettes of geese could be seen, and the incongruous sound of their doleful honking filled the chilly air. I guess I'd be doleful too if I was standing barefooted in the snow. I tried to get closer, but my presence inspired a mass goose exodus to the other side of the course.


Inside, Jeanine has introduced me to more people than I can remember. Everybody is really friendly, and most of the attendees are very creative, funny, and/or bizarre in some way. There are balloon sculptures everywhere, including an old-fashioned car being driven by gangsters through the lobby, and a 46 foot Spinosaurus in one of the conference rooms. We've been spending most of our time in the so-called Jam Room, where boxes and boxes of balloons have been set out by the balloon manufacturers sponsoring the event. Jeanine knows just about everybody, and is a bit of a celebrity in this world. I, being a rank amateur, have been fiddling around, picking up techniques, and making giant, sloppy balloon invertebrates. I've made a few other things as well, drawing faces on creations abandoned by others.

Other highlights of the week so far include finding a pizza place where the pizza rivals Zachary's Pizza in Berkeley (my absolute favorite pizza place) and our train trip to downtown Chicago to visit the Art Institute.

To get to the train station, we got a ride in the hotel shuttle. Round trip train tickets were $8.00, and the temperature hovered around freezing. The train ride took about 50 minutes, and we passed through quiet, snow covered communities. I'm fascinated by the snow, and the subtle architectural differences between Chicago and the Bay Area. The most obvious difference is the wanton use of bricks. That would never fly in earthquake-ridden California.

The walk from the train station to the Art Institute was probably about a mile, and took us past the Sears Tower, plus countless "watch for falling ice" signs. Dirty piles of snow covered patches of cement around poles and against buildings, looking like giant, ghostly heaps of dung.

Upon arriving at the Art Institute, we discovered that admission is free in February, which saved us $18.00 each. We happily entered, and the first painting we found ourselves in front of was White Shell With Red, painted by Georgia O'keeffe during the year my mom was born. Staring at the hypnotizing spiral of the shell, I reflected that the most recent art print I can recall my mom acquiring was of an O'keeffe painting. Strange coincidence. Slightly later, Jeanine got a call from a woman named Durga, right before we passed an ancient statue of her namesake. Ha.

The Institute contains an overwhelming amount of artwork, including a great number of world famous paintings - such as the Monet haystacks, American Gothic, works by Van Gogh (the self-portrait is beautiful - prints don't do it justice), Renoir, Matisse, Magritte, etc. If I had to pick favorites, I'd have to say Georgia O'keeffe, Goya's etchings, Joan Miro, Dali, Francis Bacon, and other individual pieces painted by artists previously unknown to me (paintings by George Grosz and Margherita Manzelli spring to mind). Also on display is the Song Of The Lark (1884) by Jules-Adolphe Breton, a print of which graced a wall at home when I was young.

On the way back, we stopped to get some sandwiches and sculpt a strange little animal out of toothpicks, apple core, onion, and a pepper. Afterward, it was back on the train. Just as the train was leaving the station, it dawned on me that we'd gotten on an express train, which would bypass our stop. We got off at the next opportunity, and waited for the right train.

Once we got to our stop, we decided to walk the 3 or so miles back to the hotel. It was nice, and there were some impressive icicles outside the library. Near the hotel though, the unshoveled sidewalk made walking more difficult. No harm done though.

Now, it's Friday afternoon and sunny. I'm in the hotel room while Jeanine is in a class. I didn't bring my laptop along, but have been keeping up with e-mail through Jeanine's computer. This is out of step with my usual habit of being incommunicado while on vacation. In some ways, I like being cut off from the internet better, but it's nice to be able to e-mail Willow.

I think I'll wander back down to the Jam Room now.

2/20, 2:25pm

I'm definitely getting spoiled this week, getting to spend all of this time with Jeanine, not to mention sleeping on an actual bed. My bed at home is a futon, and the bed at work is a bunk bed with institution-grade mattresses.

This morning we saw a Coyote (or perhaps a mangy, emaciated dog - it was hard to tell at a distance) wandering across the snow covered golf course, perhaps looking for geese. I took some pictures from our fifth floor window.

Last night, we were treated to some balloon-related skits and magic acts. Some of them were really impressive, especially the balloon dance piece put together by a guy named Jack. He had created four life-sized balloon people, and tied them to a series of plastic poles, which ran horizontal to the stage so that the balloon people were standing upright in a line, connected at strategic points to the poles. Jack was strapped to the center position, and as he danced to music, the balloon people danced with him. It was very effective, despite the fact that the two balloon people stage left literally lost their heads. The balloon magic of Willie Monroe was another standout.

After the stage show, everybody wandered over to view the contest entries. There were three categories, small, medium, and large, the largest of which was the aforementioned Spinosaurus. In amongst the inflated entries were a number of uninflated balloon art pieces, some of which appeared to have been lacquered. The most impressive of these was the balloon pointilism copy of a Seurat painting. The pointilism effect was achieved using thousands of rolled balloons.

I've made a few more inconsequential things in the Jam Room too, including a large lobster hat. Still making large, ungainly invertebrates.

Now, I'm taking a quick break while Jeanine is taking a class.

2/21, at 2:21pm

I'm sitting at O'hare, covered in garlic powder from the pretzel I just ate, and no doubt reeking of garlic. I can see luggage carts crossing the tarmac outside, looking like lines of ants in the distance. Beyond the runways, the world becomes an indistinct, gray haze. Snow is in the forecast, but not until after my 4:10pm flight is scheduled to leave.

Jeanine left a half hour ago, but she has to change planes in Atlanta, so she'll actually arrive in San Jose a half hour later than me.

Last night was the gala banquet, which included announcements of contest winners, balloon clothing, and balloons flying everywhere. The vegetarian option was some sort of lasagna-quiche hybrid, wrapped in spinach pasta. It was very good. Bob Rumba got up and did some ventriloquism, using members of the audience as ventriloquist dummies as he told the story of Goldilocks. Very clever. He also did a hilarious bit with a small pink rabbit puppet (named "Pinky", if I remember right).

Afterward, we went back to the Jam Room (where else?) and played until around 3am. I've mastered the flat weave now, and used this new skill to create some sort of Precambrian invertebrate, which I later left on a decorative table near the elevators on the fifth floor.

We didn't get to sleep until well after 4am, and I'm now feeling like I could nap.

This morning, drawn to the window by distant honking, I watched a pair of geese slowly cross the snowy golf course. They stopped dejectedly next to an iced-over pond, as if confused by the solid water. When I looked again a few minutes later, they had vanished, perhaps to fly south like proper birds.

After saying our goodbyes, we shuttled to the airport around noon. Apparently, Illinois shuttle drivers prefer to lurk anonymously in their unmarked vehicles rather than announce that they are there to pick you up. Due to this mystifying behavior, we all waited in front of the hotel for an extra 20 minutes. We still managed to get to the airport with time to spare though, despite the lengthy security line.