Bitch is the New Black

I just saw this. I heart Tina Fey.

Awesome, Part Uno

OK, so I totally would have gotten to this sooner, but I was distracted the awesomeness that is the Midwest Teen Sex Show and the stupidity of The Biggest Loser. Why (oh why) for all the crying? I cry a lot more when I'm putting on weight. God.

Anyhoodle, the trip, she was great. Meet our cast of characters:

l to r:

Lou -- American expatriate now living in Guatemala, owner of truck and canoes, and maker of many a delicious meal in the jungle. He leads tours of the local flora and fauna and works frequently with Chantal.

Chantal -- Tour company owner and our fearless leader. Originally from Holland but has been living in Guatemala and Mexico for many years

Sassmaster -- wishing she'd worn something slimming

Mario -- Friend of Chantal and native Guatemalan, visiting from Vancouver. He joined us for just part of the trip.

Dennis -- Chantal's brother, visiting from Holland.

As perhaps you can tell, I was the only client booked for this tour and in fact the first person who'd ever signed up for it. It was a relatively new trip on the company's roster. Chantal said they thought about canceling with only one booking, but I'd signed up so early, she decided not to.

You must also meet Ismeal:

He's on the right there with Dennis. He's originally from Cuba, co-owner of the tour company, and married to Chantal. After I met these two handsome devils in Playa del Carmen, we bussed it to Bacalar, Mexico, near the Belizean border. From that hotel balcony they're standing on, you could see this:

The Laguna Bacalar. Presumably there was bathing to be had in the laguna or even the pool, but we spurned them both and spent a lovely afternoon at the Cenote Azul, eating seafood on a cool patio and swimming:

Cenotes are sort of sinkholes, formed by the collapse of underground caves. They basically go straight down with no regard for one's need for gradual entry into the water. They are beloved by divers, apparently.

Later, we sampled some facts at the Museo del Fuerte de Bacalar (the Fort of San Felipe) -- an old fort built by the Spanish in 1733:

Apparently, the prirates, buccaneers, and privateers couldn't get enough of Bacalar. And who could blame them! But the Spanish weren't having it, because, duh, they wanted all the loot for themselves.

After a lovely night in our hotel -- there were two geckos in my room chirping at me -- Ismeal escorted Dennis and I to the border, explained how to navigate the border crossings, and put us on a bus to Guatemala. Several hours later, we arrived in El Remate, where Lou and Chantal met us and whisked us off to lunch at this Italian restaurant, minus any red-and-white-checked tablecloths and chianti:

Lou and I quickly bonded over, you know, America, and I had bruschetta for lunch. Afterwards, we walked across the road to Lake Peten Itza and went for a swim; Ismael had helpfully warned us to have swim suits at the ready.

I don't think I'll do the whole trip in one epic post, so more later. Next up? Tikal!

See Jane Wrecked

I'm so annoyed at the Masterpiece Theater productions of the Jane Austen novels. They've had three on so far, and they seem to be making a regular hash of each book in turn. They've apparently allotted just 90 minutes for each story, which is hardly sufficient, and have ignored most of the major plot points and supporting characters to give the most time possible to Hollywood-izing the love stories.

Yes, love stories are mostly at the center of her novels, but to state what is apparently a sort of heresy, they are not the main point. Gillian Anderson has been given the task of introducing each show, and whoever is writing her copy is terminally clueless. Before the first show, she declared that the consuming theme of Austen's work was "the search for a soul mate." What rubbish! The big thing in the novels -- and it can't be shoved aside fast enough in these adaptations -- is morality. Austen makes a point of punishing pride, lust, greed, dishonesty, inconstancy. The objectionable characters do not win the heart of the discerning herione, or only if they change. Gamblers and drinkers fall ill. Rogues are exposed. Frivolous or silly people are their own punishment. And her people do not find their soul mates -- they find the mates they deserve.

I hate that Austen gets robbed of her depth and her real talent is not displayed. It seems like her books get written off as "romances," which is a very superficial way to describe them. Masterpiece Theater, you should stop screwing up these masterpieces!

Lynda's my Girl

In Cruddy, a novel by Lynda Barry, it seems like almost every ghastly thing that can happen does happen to the heroine, a 16-year-old named Roberta. Though the plot is more like a horror movie than a coming of age tale, there are spots of humor and it is a very readable book. I've loved Lynda Barry and her comics for years, and the tone and some of the themes of her comics are felt in the book. I worry about her, though. Where does all this darkness come from? I hope writing the book helped her expunge some of it. But then again--as Maria says--don't be afraid of the dark. Yay!

Day Brightener

Here's a perfectly lovely little song and video. I heard it on the Macbook Air commercial. New Soul by Yael Naim:



You cannot fail to love it!

Buyin' Stuff

Dude, check out my new backpack! I'm getting equipped (and excited!) for my trip. The woman who helped me out at Midwest Mountaineering was totally jealous. It has enough straps and pockets to freak out airport security. Awesome!

Get Your Rage On

Unlike the last book, I blew through Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America by Barbara Ehrenreich in less than 24 hours. I've been meaning to read it for some time and it doesn't disappoint. For her book, Ehrenreich spent time working low-wage jobs (waitress, housecleaner, nursing home aide, Wal-Mart employee) in Florida, Maine, and Minnesota. Her aim was to determine if it was possible to live on minimum wage in the wake of welfare reform that was predicated on the notion that if welfare recipients could get jobs, everything would be fine. She found that minimum-wage living means using most of your earnings to pay for housing, and not being able to consistently feed yourself, never mind take care of kids or pay for transportation. And if you get sick, taking time off can mean not having money for groceries. Going to the doctor is often not an option at all. In short, many millions of people are working more than full time and are still not able to their meet basic needs. Barbara bottom lines it for us, with an alternative view of the way our economy works:

When someone works for less pay than she can live on--when, for example, she goes hungry so that you can eat more cheaply and conveniently--then she has made a great sacrifice for you, she has made you a gift of some part of her abilities, her health, and her life. The "working poor," as they are approvingly termed, are in fact the major philanthopists of our society. They neglect their own children so that the children of others will be cared for; they live in substandard housing so that other homes will be shiny and perfect; they endure privation so that inflation will be low and stock prices high. To be a member of the working poor is to be an anonymous donor, a nameless benefactor, to everyone else.

Preach it, sister. Yay!