The World By Sea
Well, it's a long story (actually it's kind of a short story as far as how fast everything changed), but I quit my job two weeks later joined my friend to sail around the world and try to do some good along the way. I haven't posted because it all happened so quick. But if you are still reading this blog and are interested I have made my own website for this adventure. I'd love to hear from you. I'll be posting blogs, video and maybe an occassional podcast. Stop by and say hello!
Here's my sight:
www.theworldbysea.com
or
www.travelingd.com
Hope to see you then!
Take care.
Derek
To Cruise or To Sail?
I'm sorry and you're right. I've pretty well had my fill of breakfast burrito. I'm telling you, this corporate gig is taking up A LOT of my time. But I hope we can get past that because I need your advice. I know, I know. We don't talk. I don't call. And then one day I show up on your doorstep with big sad eyes, and want something from you?!? It's not fair, you're right... but pleeeeaaase.
My life is at a crossroads. And when it rains it pours. Right now I have all kinds of opportunities knocking. All good. Some great. For the sake of time I'll run two by you. Please consider each carefully and then get back with me:
Life Option 1:As many of you know, I have always wanted to live in the Northwest. The evergreens, the mountains, the ocean, the people. I love it. Specifically, Portland has a special place. Well I had a shot earlier in the year when Princess Cruises interviewed me for a Regional Manager Position... in Portland. I was runner up to a guy who already lived in Portland and was working for a different cruise line in the same position.
Then out of nowhere I get this lead that another position opened for a different cruise line. It's almost the exact same job: Work out of home. Company car. Good pay. Cruise benefits. Live in Portland and call on Washington and Oregon. I track down the person I need to interview with, interview a couple times, and now out of over 100 applicants I am one of four. I'll probably find out on Friday if I "got the job". Honestly, I think I'm in the running after the last interview. I do know none of the other applicants come from cruise backgrounds. Sounds perfect, right?
Life Option 2:I love to travel and I want to change the world. If you are reading this, you probably already know that too. Well in the past year, as I have been wearing the Public Relations cap at the Grand Canyon Railway (our PR Director left), I had the opportunity to host several groups of travel writers. Travel, write, and have someone else pay. Not bad. So I had toyed with the idea that if I did not have a good job lead by the new year I might try my hand at travel writing. Take another trip and see what I can make of it.
Now the kicker. I have a friend from college who shares the same see the world passion as I do, if not more so. He's done the crabbing thing in Alaska. He's built houses in Ireland. He's traveled. I recently met up with him as he was passing through Arizona and he told me he was planning on sailing around the World... and I could come if I wanted to. Sail around the World? Are you kidding me? It would change your life. So the idea is this: Pack my bags (again). Grab my camcorders, my camera, bring my laptop and sail. Sail AROUND the World. Meanwhile I take this silly little blog to the next level. Look for sponsorship, my own website, video blog, the whole nine. Then get on the boat, and sail. And here's the beautiful thing, bit by bit maybe make a difference on the human level. Pull in to port in some country and build a house for a family. Report on the human condition every step of the way. Then a year and a half later return to this sweet country, find my way to Portland and... and who knows what.
There's a story there somewhere. The risk for sailing? Well staying alive. (Just kidding mom--it's totally safe and the boats already been around the world twice. MOM, it's fine!) Actually the biggest risk is that I've never actually sailed. In fact the only time I spent even a night on a boat was in Thailand when I returned to the same port I left from after a full night of "sailing". Will I like it? Can I handle it? That's the risk. But isn't that what life is... risk. Worst case scenario, I leave. I fly back with my puny sailor tail tucked between my legs and whimper back to, to Portland. Problem is I won't have a job, much less a sweet job like the one I think I'll be offered in a couple of days.
What to do? What to do? Currently I'm taking a poll. So tell me what you think.
Cruise... or... sail?
Cheers.
Workin D and the $1000 Burrito
One of the big reasons my blogging came to a significant stop is the simple fact that the ol' 8 to 5 is just not as entertaining as, say, traveling the world. Well I am sorry to say this week has been more entertaining than most. Let me introduce the world to "Workin D".
Workin D is an honest fellow. He works hard for a train. Puts in his time for the man. And when that evening whistle blows Workin D heads straight home, exchanges his corporate uniform for something a bit more comf, and hits the town either seated faithfully on his scoot or atop his trusty yard sale bike.
In the mornings, D sets his alarm early enough to be ready an hour before the man requires. However, after the inevitable late night with his band-member roommates, Workin D, consistently hits the snoozer leaving him 30-45 minutes before his corporate start. Never enough, but mostly sufficient, D spends his precious moments to walk downtown where he picks up the usual split-shot Americano from his favorite and appropriately named Flagstaff coffee shop-"Late for the Train".
One particular morning was different though. Perhaps it was the overcast cover. Maybe the more trying-than-normal work week. Whatever the case, Workin D decided it was a good day to change it up a bit. First he walked to his local grocer to purchase an apple, but after bitting into the crisp treat, D decided his hunger was too strong for his small fruit to satisfy. Yes this craving was much more suited for a breakfast burrito than a small fruit, and D had knew just the place.
Flagstaff is home to one of Northern Arizona's largest hospitals, and what people often forget is that nice hospitals have nice cafeterias which serve respectable breakfast burros at a respectable rate. Workin D was well aware of this seldom known fact. He strolled confidently into the FMC Caf, grabbed his foil wrapped feast and headed back home. By this point Workin D's 45 minutes was nearly up, forcing him to eat his burrito in his car on the way to work.
Now, if there is any fault to be had with the near perfect FMC breakfast b, it is the need to put the salsa on yourself. This, as you can imagine, is rather inconvenient when driving. Especially stop-n-go traffic. Especially when it is raining. And ESPECIALLY when the car in front of you is not moving... Poor Workin D. A good guy, hard worker, and impeccable driving record (excepting the one little incident when he was 16 and rolled his car on I-40). That was all about to change.
D safely steered the car with his left knee, whilst delicately applying the salsa in his left hand to the exposed burrito in his right hand. Mouth watering, he lifted the potato, cheesey egg roll to his anxious lips. Then just his mouth instinctively reached like new born, his eye noticed the rest of the traffic, specifically the traffic right in front of him, was moving at a much slower pace, specifically 0 miles per hour. Foot to brake! Bumper to bumper! Burrito to windshield! Workin' D quickly matched the speed of the car in front of him.
"Holy Blank!" Both cars pulled into the Dairy Queen parking lot. D was shaking like a thirteen year old girl who didn't make the cheer squad as he watched through his egg stained windshield a guy get out of the car he had just shared space with. The man reinserted the missing lens from his eye glasses and walked to the back of his car. Workin D, still shaking and now assured of massive lawsuit mustered up some backbone, got out of his car and prepared for the worst.
Fortunately, the damage did not look as bad as the burrito battered dashboard may have indicated. The man ended up being a college kid. The lawsuit ended up being a post crash cup of coffee. Still the cops were called, citation written, and when all was said and done, the estimated damage came out to $1,100 (not counting the late' Workin D bought for the kid who in the end came away thinking he had a new bumper and best friend).
Working D proceeded to his corporate chamber and finished off the unfortunate day. The next morning, D decided maybe he would return to his coffee ritual and has not had a breakfast burrito since.
The end.
Back In Biz
Well here we go. After MONTHS of silence I have decided to come out of hiding and compose anther blog. Not even a pseudo blog written by one of my friends. No, a true blog typed by the tips of my very own fingers. But before I get going I'd like to dedicate this to Ken in Portland who I recently bumped into. Ken, bless his heart, is one of the faithful, who told me when I saw him that he still visits the blog and offered his condolences for the last real blog before my hiatus (the depressing piece on suicide). This one's for you my friend as one of the primary inspirations to dust off the wheels of blog and get this thing rolling again.
And now as I sit here in Macy's coffee shop-Flagstaff, AZ, where I spent so much of my time in the final stretch of retirement, I can't help but observe a few things:
Observation #1. I am blogging on a site titled: World Trip 2006. Cool huh? I'm not sure if you noticed or not but I am no longer on a "World Trip". And furthermore, we are about 6 months out of 2006. And yes, to answer your question, it is embarrassing. I just haven't really gotten around to changing it yet.
Observation #2. There's really no reason to feel embarrassed when you haven't blogged in half a year, because there's a good chance nobody is reading anyway. But, I'm reading it and maybe Ken is reading it, so I maintain that there are at lease two good reasons to be embarrassed.
Now, let's get on with it. I've decided this re-entry blog I will commit to explaining where I've been and what's happened personally since the new year. When I got back from my trip, as you (and by you I mean Ken and myself) well know I spent a good month recuperating at coffee shops, and planning my next move to my beloved Portland. Well it seems someone opened their yapper here in Flagstaff because I got a call from the GCR explaining they heard I was back in town and asking me if I wanted to "rejoin the team".
"Perfect!" you say. "Quit. Travel the world. Come back like you never left." But that's just it, I did quit and travel the world and opened my eyes to a new perspective on life. And quite frankly, I was ready for the next "step". So when the GCR called for an interview, I thought, "Well, I won't take it, but what's the harm in interviewing..." Anyway I took the job. I guess everyone has their price. Truth is I needed money and even though I was shooting for a 25% increase in salary, I guess I was willing to settle for 13%.
Having sold out, I feel like I need to explain myself again. You may ask, "Didn't you learn anything in your travel Derek? Money isn't everything." Well yes, I can see that now, but at the time my thoughts were: 1. Money is something and I need some. 2. It'll look good on the resume to have a company ask you to come back and pay more after you quit and traveled for a year (er 9 months). 3. It's easier to find a job when you have a job, which means it'll be easier to find a job in Portland when it comes up.
They're all true, I think. But worth it??? I don't know. I am making money. I did interview for a great job with Princess Cruises based in Portland...(but came in runner up). But truthfully, Ken (and anyone else who most likely is not reading right now), I'm ready. I just turned 30 years old and I am ready to take the next step. I want to change the world. I want to travel... again (there's still a LOT of Southern Hemisphere I need to see). I want to move to Portland. I think I'd be willing to settle for one or two of the three right now.
That's probably enough rambling for the re-entry. The last thing I want to do is annoy the only reader that's visiting by too much rambling. But I'll be back, and probably even within the next 6 months.
Ciao.
well I suppose it's time to write. There is always a time when the silence must end, and you must speak again, especially following a moment of difficulty. And so, this is that first note; brace yourself.
As life tends to do, it has continued to happen, each day, as if to say, whether I like it or not. It keeps moving. The weather is starting to change in Flagstaff, the snow is hopefully finally coming to a close, and it's beginning to feel like those classic Flagstaff summer days, with early evening bike rides and barbecues. Sometimes, of course, those barbecues that are "forbidden to display fireworks", do, of course, display fireworks, and Ben, the birthday boy, holds the sparkler high above his head in childlike delight, as the colors light his face in the late night, and then of course the landlord comes over, the tenants hustle up the staircase, and the guests sit silently stunned as the landlord professes: "consider this your notice: 30 days". But nonetheless, we've started barbecuing, and it tastes good. And, we still have a house.
As nice of course, as Flagstaff is, especially this time of year, Portland is still there in the back of my mind- maybe I'll end up there soon. Maybe near the 4th, when there are legal fireworks in the sky. We'll see.
You think you know me...you think you understand my excellence, but what you know is limited by my own lense. This, is the third person account...the one viewing the painting, rather than the painting speaking of itself.
And then, two weeks ago, eight of us set off to meet in Puerto Rico. We flew stand by, which ended up meaning we did a lot more not flying than we did flying. That is to say, we missed five flights for the two we caught. But after a long sleepless night and an intense weight in the plane, we all got on, and set off to Houston, and then, beautiful San Juan. Seeing as there were eight of us, we of course rented a car for five, a beautiful gray Taurus. And so fitting into the car was a treat, sometimes people lying through the trunk, sometimes two across four more in the back; always quite sweaty, hot, a lot of different opinions on directions, and one driver (myself) with a bad case of the runs. oh well. at least I had my own seat. We saw the rainforest, stunningly blue and green beaches, we snorkeled around reefs and through underwater caves, we (alright only one of us) saw a shark, and cut our feet on sharp little water critters and we swam and barbecued and kept each other up late, and woke each other up early. The "us" that was there was me, Ben, Corn, Jason, Mandi, Laurel, Dustin, and Heather. Then Katie met us for the weekend. It was a great trip, full of a lot of laughter, sun, a lot of Corn's burned body and Ben's slumber. We returned even closer than we left.
And as for NickelCreek, they were in town. I didn't go to the show, but I heard it wasn't all that good, and that the lead singer, was not- well, was not as much a man as everyone would have hoped. I've been back to work, which is a drag, but whenever I'm at work and having a hard day, I can always remember the old saying, "dream in your sleep like no one's watching, watch people sleep like they're dreaming", and then I remember what's important in life. it's time to dance like no one's watching and sing like I'm the Drummer Boy himself. IT's time for life. It's time for Flagstaff. It's time for love.
*The above post was written by H. Quinn as D. Turner.*
Frail
On January 2, I received word from my mother that Rod committed suicide. At the time, because it was maybe 5th-hand information there was room for question, for hope. It was recently confirmed.
Rod was a friend to the family on a few levels. He lived in the same small town as my grandparents, aunt and cousins in Australia. He was gracious, and giving. He had traveled all over the world to surf and while in Australia worked for the Post and volunteered at the fire department. I met him my last trip to Australia. Knowing his history of surf, I took full advantage of the opportunity and after showing interest with some well place questions, he offered to teach me. I took him up and, in return, offered to host him on the Grand Canyon Railway...if he ever came to the states.
Last year, he took me up. Out of the blue I got a call. He was coming to America and on his way to visit my family-who had since moved to the states (to Oregon)- he wanted to check out this Grand Canyon. So fresh off the plane from Oz, we welcomed him to the consummate American bachelor pad. My house is composed four bachelors, three are in bands and one (me) has a full-time job. Which means there is a lot of free time to do things like make a "party-switch". That is of course a light switch in the living room that when flipped immediately activates music, disco lights, and a flashing stop light.
So when I say we "welcomed him", I mean a roommate coming home and activating the switch while a jet-lagged Rod, who at best barely knew me, sat half asleep on the couch watching an apartment of American nutcases dance in the living room. It was a great start to the one week I had to know Rod. We had a fun time. He spoke often of his three beautiful daughters (all in their 20's) but was especially excited about the eldest, who he had just reunited with shortly before coming to America. After a week of frisbee golf, watching "Cops" and "Crazy Police Chases" (two shows he loved), and of course a trip on the Grand Canyon Railway, Rod continued on to Oregon where he stayed several months with my family.
And that's it. We weren't very close. I had only a pocket full of vived memories. But it was enough. Enough to call a person a friend. Enough to mourn.
It's almost hard to write. To imagine a sadness that drives a friend to take his own life... my heart is flushed with sorrow. It aches. It's a time like this when a person is drawn to pray. You hurt for the person who hurt too much. In any other situation you call. You comfort. You listen. You say you care. You walk along side and you tell him it's never bad enough. You are a friend.
But suicide is hopelessly unique. No one realizes his friend's situation is that bad. It is the act itself that sheds first light on that dark fact. And then it's too late. There is no release for the compassion that fills you. I find myself wanting to pray for him, to hurt along side him and tell him it's ok. I cannot.
I don't know what to do. How to mourn. How to approach God. I can pray for the daughters he was so proud of. For his friends. I can pray for those who were close. So much closer than myself. Whose hurt is so much more. But still it's hard to let go. It's hard to know, to accept it is over. I cannot grasp finality.
The walls have fallen
The key is turned
Coal and ashes
Intention burned
My heart is broken
No where to bleed.
My eyes now open
No thing to see.
Blank to tears
Cannot decide
Pain to static
Emotions collide.
Filled with compassion
Too late to pray
Aching for action
But too late to say
Start Spreading the News
Welcome to 2007. For some reason it's been more difficult for me to sit down and blog something interesting recently. That might have something to do with my coming out of retirement... but I'd hate for the first entry in 2007 to start off with such a depressing announcement so I will save that tidbit of life info for later.
Instead let's begin the first entry of the new year at the beginning. At the end of my previous blog, for those of you who had the patience and perseverance to make it through my last blog (which was pointed out to be the "longest ever written") I had to hustle out the door so I could make it to Times Square for the New Year. I arrived in New York at 5:30 am on December 29, where I met a friend who moved there in the summer to be a flight attendant. After a little nap and a stroll around Rockefeller Center, Times Square, and other sites I've seen on TV, we met up with some of Mandi's (my friend) friends at a local pub in Midtown.
This is where I met Steve. Steve was the boyfriend of Mandi's friend, who I found out the next day Mandi hardly knew. But that's the thing about New Yorkers, is anyone who is a friend of a friend is a friend, especially after a "few" drinks. "So where are you from?" "Arizona. Have you lived here long?" "4 years." "Do you like it?" "Yeah, it's great. I live one block from Times Square in a 35th floor apartment with a balcony." "...whoa..." yada, yada, yada and a drink or two later... "I could get you some passes my place for New Year's if you guys want?" "Uhm yeah... that'd be cool", is what I said but was thinking something a little more along the lines of: "Are you FREAKING KIDDING ME! HECK Yes, I want!" "Cool just call if you want them..."
Did he remember when we called? No. Did we still milk a couple of 35 floor passes to New Year to a guys apartment that actually was going up to Connecticut on New Year's? Yes. And that's where my last blog ended. But where I ended up when that clock struck midnight on New Year's Eve was right in the middle of Times Square (and one million plus people). Even better was the fact that we got into a section that was blockaded off for people who were probably standing around since 12:00 noon to get good positioning.At 11:15 pm when we made our way down the block to Times Square, we approached the blockaded section and my new best friend with the NYPD, where after waiting for almost one full minute we were secretly waived into the blockaded section. A perfect ending to a nearly perfect year.
There are some great stories to be told about New York, the city that never sleeps, except on New Year's Day. Stories about the subway and the linebackeresque drunk guy telling the entire car that "That's the kinda guy you don't mess with...black gloves...friggin Irish and Scottish... Nah, that's the kind of guy that's packin...We good, man, we good," which he said ofcourse referring to a big-smiling Derek. Stories about Broadway, Central Park, walking the Brooklyn Bridge and the streets of New York. But I can take a hint, my friends. So instead of another never ending blog entry, I will just tell you that New York is pretty freaking great. One of America's, nay the world's greatest. Happy New Year.
