I’ve been in Oceanside, CA since Monday, working with 10 of my awesome colleagues. Highlights of the week:
Sunset last night:
Coworkers in the surf:
Four O’Clock afternoon treat (and the chef):
Sunset tonight:
2 comments on Oceanside Meetup
Category: Travel
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Over the past several years, I’ve placed myself in situations where I experience a lot of change. Mostly, that change is traveling from one environment to another, interacting with different groups of people on a regular basis. At Room to Read, it was temporarily living and working with different staffs in 12 countries around the world. At Automattic, it’s attending meetups with various teams in different locations around the world.
This week, I spent eight days with 35 co-workers and multiple non-work friends at SXSW conference in Austin. Each day was jam-packed – shared meals, conference sessions, individual meetings, working the trade show booth, evening activities of going to bars, hanging out in the lobby co-working, seeing live music, dancing into the early morning hours, and going out for late-night shawarma. Eight days of near utter exhaustion and very little sleep. Eight days of no exercise and meals consisting almost entirely of either bbq or tex mex.
Towards the end of the week, I thought, “Wow, I’m looking forward to a solid night’s rest in my own bed.” Yet, this afternoon at the AUS airport, boarding my plane, having been away from the excitement of sociability for a few hours, I felt a twinge of grief. That moment of, “Aw. I’m really sad. I miss the craziness of the past week. Of trying to get a reservation for 22 in a restaurant. Of coming home at 3:30 am and chatting with my roommate for an hour before going to sleep for a few hours.” It’s familiar, that sinking feeling in my stomach each time I leave people I care about and enjoy being around. That feeling that’s with me almost every single time I board a plane, either to return home, or to leave home. And even though I’m sad, I realized it’s okay. Because it’s a bittersweet reminder of the amazing people who are in my life.
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I’m en route to Australia after a 21 year gap. My initial time in Australia contributed to my never-ending sense of adventure and created friendships that last until now.
I reflect on my initial journey, somewhat with amazement. The year was 1989 and I journeyed to Australia as an exchange student. As students, we were excited because a new technology called “facsimile” had been introduced. We could write a letter, send it over the fax machine, and the recipient would receive it almost instantaneously. Amazing!
I think about how I’m traveling now. I carry a laptop computer that weighs less than many of my hardback books. Email, Skype, and video chats are how I conduct virtually all of my daily communication. I have cell phones that have more RAM than my first computer. Converting local time to a dozen time zones around the world comes naturally.
The one thing that hasn’t changed, however, is my excitement about journeying to a new place, even if it’s new again after 21 years.
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Morning dew on ferns
Delicious kingfish for lunch
Afternoon view towards Auckland city center
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A few more photos from the weekend in Wellington.
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What an amazing and inspiring weekend. I attended my first WordCamp ever, in Wellington, New Zealand over the weekend. The conference was small enough (~90 people) that I had the chance to interact with many of the participants – designers, developers, personal bloggers, trainers, entrepreneurs. I loved hearing how people got involved using WordPress, their passion about the product, and how they use it.
The sessions covered a wide variety of topics – blogging for kids and how to ensure that’s safe, WordPress security and keeping your site safe, how BuddyPress is evolving, a short talk from New Zealand’s most popular blogger, group deals, and general overall tips and tricks to make blogging easier and more fun.
WordCamp NZ was held in the Te Papa Tongerewa which is an awe-inspiring venue. After the sessions ended on Sunday, a few of us explored the museum. We learned about faultlines (New Zealand straddles one), earthquakes, immigration to New Zealand throughout history, refugees, colossal squid, pounamu stone, and so much more. Our favorite exhibit, though, was an interactive technology one, where you could take photos or videos, upload them to a wall, then manipulate them with a magic wand. Look, there we are!
After the conference, we convinced a few of the attendees to try a reverse bungy jump. Three of us were strapped in to an open seat, and springs attached to a couple of cranes were pulled taut. All of a sudden, we were released, slingshot-ed into the air, high in the sky. We laughed, we screamed, we flipped – an incredibly exhilarating two minutes.
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One of my co-workers arranged for us to view the filming of Top Gear while in London. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. I had heard of Top Gear, but had never watched any of the episodes. I’m now a fan.
As we made our way to the large warehouse where the taping was to take place, I noticed a man with an intense tattoo on the side of his neck. Intense, as in beautiful. As in, super professional looking and incredibly intricate. I stared for a few moments then continued speaking to my colleagues.
The show consisted of live bits, as well as pre-recorded pieces. One of the pre-recorded pieces involved comparing the suspension of two cars. We watched as Jeremy Clarkson drove a Scoda Yeti through fields in the country. In the back seat of the car were two men, one giving the other a tattoo on his shoulder blade as they traversed over the land. I immediately recognized the tattoo artist – it was him! The man with the amazing tattoo on his neck. Wielding a tattoo needle. Then I thought about what they were doing. He was giving a tattoo to another man in the back seat of a car as they road over bumpy hills and fields. That’s crazy. Crazy, I say!
After the ride, the two men stepped out from the back seat. On one’s right shoulder blade was a nicely formed, slightly bleeding four-leaf clover.
The next clip showed them in a Range Rover, repeating the process on the left shoulder blade. The ride didn’t look as smooth, and a couple of shots showed the men in the back seat bumping their heads on the roof of the car. I cringed each time the needle slipped. After a few minutes, the car came to a stop and the men exited. The camera showed another tattoo, almost identical, but not as neat, on the man’s left shoulder blade, also slightly bleeding.
So many questions raced through my mind. Was this real? Who thought of this? Who were the men who agreed to get the tattoo/give the tattoo? Did they work for the show or were they random volunteers? How much did that hurt?
The producer called for a tea break. We went out into the chilly afternoon and there they were – the tattooer and the tattooee. My first question was answered: it was real. The man who received the tattoos had his shirt lifted for people to examine the tattoos up close and personal. Crazy!
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On my first evening in London, the view from my window:
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I’m fascinated by major events, but not compelled to attend unless there’s a personal connection. I’m intrigued by the common attention on one event and the energy that comes from so many people focused on the same thing. When friends asked me to join them in Barcelona to attend the Formula 1 Grand Prix a couple of years ago, I thought, “How iconic. The Grand Prix. Let’s figure this out.” It’s not something that I would have sought out to attend on my own. However, I went, and had a phenomenal time. Who knew I would enjoy racing so much?
Very dear friends moved to Louisville, Kentucky, recently. About a month ago, he sent out an open invitation for friends to join them in May for the Kentucky Derby. The Kentucky Derby? Yes, let’s make this happen. The Kentucky Derby stirs up such romantic images of horse racing, refined gentlemen in seersucker suits, ladies in lovely hats, roses, and mint juleps. Tickets are booked and come May I’ll let you know how the perceptions and the reality converge.
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A few shots from my last days on St Simon’s Island.
LoriLoo 