The Characters

You’ll be hearing lots of stories about the people and animals involved in this adventure, so here’s a glimpse of background information on the characters.
WhyWouldnchya? A Glimpse of Patrick

As you’ve learned, Patrick is the guy who hatched this bird (literal folks: came up with the idea for the trip) and that starts you with some good info on him. He’s an idea guy. In the eighteen months that we’ve been dating, here are a few of the ideas he's tossed my way. 

We could live in Yelapa, Mexico as ex-patriots and run a restaurant. I found a little cabin on the Salmon River. Check out the link to this house on Whidbey Island. Why don’t we ride our bikes out to Cape Look-Out from Portland for the camping trip? Let’s learn to windsurf. You should get certified for scuba diving so we can dive on all our vacations. [He’ll absolutely deny this one—] Yeah, bring her back with us and she and Bender can be buddies! (if this makes no sense, read about Isabel, the dog, next)

Patrick donated his old boat to Oregon Public Broadcasting.

 Many times, his visions remain in discussion, or disappear. And many times they actualize. For example, he’s lived on a sailboat for three months. He completely redid the porch, hardwoods, kitchen and bathroom in an historic home. He dives for abalone, catches crab and other shellfish and prepares scrumptious meals. He’s competed in two half-iron triathlons, summited many of Oregon’s peaks and has enough cycling, snow, water and land gear in his basement to open a second hand sports shop. And now, he’s traveling the country to explore different cities, while working remotely as a founding member of a successful start-up company. This man is BUSY. 

Another thing you’ll notice about him is that he doesn’t take himself (or anything else) too seriously. He always considers the big picture, making most things “small stuff.” He laughs easily, with a guffaw that invites you to laugh along with him. After we’d been dating a couple months, I told him he was the funniest guy I knew. And I wasn’t just trying to butter him up. Except for Dane Cook and Dave Chappelle, it’s really true. Well, Chris Farley, Will Ferrell and Steve Carell deserve a mention too. But after them, it's Patrick.

Not only is he funny, he has the best hair of any guy I know.

Now, with “not sweating the small stuff” comes a bit of detail overlook. I’m really happy Patrick’s a big picture guy, but I think it helps our cause that I’m a little more into the nitty-gritty. I would bet money that knowing this dynamic will help you understand at least one story from our upcoming trip. Also, his nature makes it hard to get a serious point across without him telling me I’m gonna strain my teacher finger. His approach to life has its drawbacks, but overall, it helps me relax. Truly, I don’t think I’d have the faith that we could survive this trip together without his humor.

You should also know that Patrick had no qualms about me taking a year off work, making his income the sole funding for this trip. Being around him kinda gives you the feeling that anything is possible. He’s fearless and unstoppable. A force. When I share the things that I hope to do, my goals and aspirations, the things I sometimes feel are unattainable, he often responds with a simple, “Why wouldnchya?” making it all seem perfectly within reach. 

That's a start. You'll learn more about him along the way. This information, in no way, sums up the whole of Patrick, but includes some important tidbits that will give you a better appreciation of my travel stories...

oh and let's not forget his phenomenal luck in the woman department.

Woot Woot! A Glimpse of Rhea
From the looks of this blog, you can see that Rhea enjoys telling stories, having adventures and connecting with loved ones.  You might be able to tell she likes to laugh and find lightness in situations. It’s also probably pretty obvious that she’s uber enthusiastic, and to some poor souls, may appear to be overly so. But what you may not see here is that she is a worker bee.

Rhea has taught elementary school for ten years. This field fits her desire to immerse herself in a purpose. A classroom of 20-30 adoring spirits ready to absorb and grow through every interaction definitely demands immersing. Teaching is full to the brim with daily rewards—she succeeds in a carefully planned and executed lesson, watching light bulbs ping, a parent sees her child thrilled to be at school and credits Rhea, an unsure student blossoms into raising his hand, even sharing his work with the class. Rhea is fueled by these small interactions, and also by recognition from colleagues and administration, to do more. She sees that she may be able to make a wider impact by getting her administrative credential. By leading within the school, she gains experience with different ages and grade levels, programs, philosophies, curriculum, management and discipline styles. It is a field with endless research, advances and approaches-- new ones to assimilate into her classroom each year. It’s also a field heavy with politics and pressure for results. She loves the craft of teaching and the challenge of doing it well. However, she has finally come to see that teaching is a job that can never ever, ever possibly be done as well as there is the potential for. In other words, no matter how much time Rhea spends communicating with parents, adapting lessons for individuals, implementing new, research-based best practices and being a constant model for everything from writing to talking on the phone-- at the end of the day, there is always something more she could have done and could have done better. This is difficult for her to sit with. After ten years, she has no less love for children and teaching, but she is a little tired.

This year's adventures will be a welcome rejuvenation for her. But, in keeping with her need for greater purpose, Rhea wants to take advantage of the opportunity to give of her time in schools where she and Patrick visit this year. Not 60 hours a week, but she will give. She finds balance through yoga and running and biking and swimming and really any kind of physical outlet. This trip is going to push her to cultivate rest and play, which can be formidable for her. She will be expanding her limited cooking skills, getting creative and getting outside. Rhea hopes this year allows her to teach, play and love in a way that expands her interactions with the world!

This is me with my friend, Lodi's newborn baby.

Here I am with my friend, Heather's newborn baby.

Now I'm holding my friend, Tanya's baby.

Again, holding my friend, Katherine's baby.

It seems I like to hold babies.

Oddly, it was difficult to find a picture of me not holding a baby.

Of course, there's lots more to know about Rhea, but we'll start here, just to add to your appreciation of this blog.

Can I get a “WOOT, WOOT!” for a freeging new adventure!!?? And for babies???!!!!

Riiiirf Riiiiirf: A Glimpse of Isabel
Isabel, the dog, has had an unusual life, as the lives of dogs go. Although I don’t know much about what she experienced before she found me on a beach in Mexico, the vet and some other ex-pats in Yelapa gave me a little bit of info.

She comes from a small town on the coast of the Bahia de Banderas, south of Puerto Vallarta. The only way to reach the town is by boat, and transportation in town is donkey, foot or 4-wheeler. The sewage system is primitive and in most of the establishments (including our accommodations) you poop in one bucket, pee in a flushable, and put your paper in the trash. I won’t go into the challenges this posed me in the dark, after a few margaritas, but just know I cleaned the broom handle the next day.

Like lots of other places in Mexico, Yelapa has a lot of stray dogs. The males all have their balls, which is very odd to see, and explains all the pups running around that kinda look alike. I pet most of them with one finger, because the bugs and flaky skin didn’t seem like something I wanted to get involved with. But, no matter how mangy, they all got at least a finger and lots of baby talk. They deserve just as much love as a purebred lab.

A donkey on the beach, as we got off the boat in Yelapa.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary, on the second evening of our visit, to be approached by a dog on the beach. Patrick and I laughed as she plopped herself onto the chaise lounge next to us, as if she were part of our crew. For some reason, even though she was vigorously scratching with both back legs, the way she laid her head in my hand coaxed me into giving her the full hand pet, with some ear rubs. I knew I couldn’t feed her, but what about just treating her for fleas? The sun went down and we wandered past the store, stray dog at our heels. In broken Spanglish, I asked the clerk how to get rid of fleas. I pointed to “el perro,” scratched behind my ear, and portrayed little bugs crawling up and down my arms. She gave me some Pinesol disinfectant and told me to mix it in “el mar.” 

What? I'm just watching the sunset, like you guys.

We walked down to a spot where the freshwater flowed out to the ocean and, by only the light of the moon, held onto that wet dog while repeatedly dumping a homemade flea mix on her from a water bottle we found. Patrick made sure I watered down the Pinesol, so as not to burn her, but otherwise claimed total detachment from the situation. When I felt we’d rubbed every little part of her, we rinsed her a few times and let her free. She sprinted and bucked and shook and, I think, felt fancy. Who knew a flea bath would form such a bond? She accompanied us to dinner on a deck where she visited other tables, and with her new-found confidence, tried to sucker them into some food. I named her Tina, because her hair is the same color as Tina Turner’s. Patrick hated the name. She came out to the dance floor with us and I heard some ladies comment on the cloud of chemical odor surrounding her. Better than dirt and bugs, I thought.

The view from the kitchen counter at Casa de Isabel.

From that evening on, the dog snuck up to our open-air pelapa each night. After I remembered our pelapa was called Casa de Isabel, it was a quick trade-out for Tina. The next day, I sought out the vet in town, while Patrick went down to greet the boats bringing in the day’s catch. The vacation became a little awkward, as I became focused, maybe obsessed, with the dog. Patrick quit trying to talk me out of it and tried to enjoy Mexico. Isabel waited for me outside the restroom. She denied fresh shrimp to chase me down as I attempted to sneak away. I'd find her curled beneath my chair during loud evenings of music. It wasn't enough to be next to my beach chair, she would dig a hole and sleep under it. She followed me everywhere and whined with glee when we reunited from short separations. She had adopted me, and although I felt crazy, I wanted to adopt her back.

After meeting the legendary veterinarian in town, I learned about Isabel’s past. Her street name was Estrella, meaning “star.” It was obvious that although she had a street name, she wasn't very street. When we walked by the big-balled dogs in town, she'd cower behind us. Luckily, she'd been spayed. She'd take long-cuts through the woods to avoid the local kids who clearly harassed her. She was fed at night by a woman who quickly consented to my adopting her. She was bitten by a poisonous snake when she was young and the hardware store owner witnessed her seize for days, without the vet in town to help. Without any treatment, she survived. I think that explains why she runs a little crooked and she has a twitch in her head while she sleeps.

Crooked Isabel, at Casa de Isabel

The vet told me she’d get her all the vaccines, a crate and a health certificate for the flight back to Portland. I just had to make sure my airline would accept her. Reality hit me like a mattress, as my airline rejected my request to ship a dog as cargo. “If you can fit the dog under your seat, we’ll accept her as carry-on.” Isabel’s not big, but she’s not a chihuahua. Boo U.S. Airways! I kept the veterinarian’s contact information and with mixed grief and relief, let go of being crazy and half-heartedly rejoined Patrick on our vacation.

The day we left, Isabel came to breakfast with us, just like every other morning of our trip. She sprawled in the closest patch of sun as we ate silently. Our boat came to the dock and she followed us out to the end. I kissed her head and sobbed as Patrick helped me aboard. She looked so confused through my bleary vision. A bouncing, yellow blur ran back and forth on the beach until we couldn’t see her anymore.

It took maybe an hour to know in my gut that I wasn’t being crazy, I was just in love. With a weight on my chest, we made it home and I researched flights back to Puerto Vallarta. Just like in a romantic comedy, I was going to run back down the beach and scoop her up in my arms to start the rest of our lives together. I was ready to spend over $1000 to jet back and pick her up. Patrick (genius of logistics) suggested offering a reward via the vet in town for anyone willing to transport her back to Portland. (Yelapa is a popular spot for west-coasters) Miracles of miracles, the vet had met a woman from Portland who would be flying back the following Sunday. She was a dog lover. And her airline would ship dogs as cargo. Yay Alaska Airlines! Yay Susan!

Isabel's first night in Portland. She slept on the bed!

Isabel has lived in Portland for six months now and since we guessed she was two and a half on April 3 (her arrival date), she just turned three yesterday, October 3^rd. She would do anything to sleep on a soft piece of furniture and since she was allowed to do so when she first came, we’re still working on that. Unlike many dogs, she doesn’t understand why you would chase a ball. A squirrel, a bird, maybe another dog, but not a ball. Because she was super timid when she got here I celebrate each time she greets another dog with her tail up and even gives a growl. She falls a lot, still springs vertically when she sees her own shadow and holds lengthy conversations with the echo of her own bark. For a while, barking was a novelty and I think she just did it to hear her own voice. She lives for love, and as a friend said when she was scrounging under picnic tables for scraps of food even after being fed, she has life skills. Little by little, she acts more like a normal dog. It helps that she has a dog friend (see below) to learn from. It may take a while to get the days of scarcity out of her, if ever, but two things Isabel’s not scarce on are luck and love.

Chillin on the porch. Ready to travel the U.S. amigos!

 Ra Ra Ra! A Glimpse of Bender
At first glance, you might think Bender has it all.

He was born on beautiful Mt. Hood, a lucky member of a litter from a bloodline of highly athletic Labrador Retrievers. Patrick picked him from the mix of fuzzy puppies because he wasn't overly needy, but relaxed and happy. “Bender” came from a surname on Patrick’s mother’s side of the family, as a returned favor for their dog being named Grogan (Patrick’s last name.) He has a devoted owner who takes him to the park for fetch twice a day and he’s been to more beaches, mountains and rivers than me. Oh, and once a week he goes to the Columbia for a swim. Seems pretty great, right?

About three years ago.

Patrick works from home, so Bender is never locked up for more than a few hours at a time. He’s usually on the porch when the mailman comes so he “ra ra ras” and wags his entire rear end, resulting in a milk bone from the postal service shorts pocket. In addition, anyone passing by on the sidewalk who may hesitate near the unfenced yard, gets a tennis ball, Frisbee, stuffingless bear or other select dog toy dropped at his/her feet for fetching. Bender’s eyes are almost human, so when he uses them to ask for a throw, he’s rarely denied. No matter how much slobber.

Each morning, the yellow dog gets a total rub down, ear scratch and sometimes a cradling. (see picture below for definition of cradling) In return, Bender pushes you around the kitchen with his big, square head between your legs, barges into the bathroom if you forget to latch the door and within five minutes is yelling “ra ra ra!” because it’s time to get to the park.

Bender getting a cradling.

Isabel still gets a little nervous when being cradled.

Bender only eats dog food that costs more than most of my shoes. He is an athlete, and will NOT eat grain filler. He has a sensitive digestive system—you will know it if he strays from his diet, because the living room smells like a dairy farm. Or sometimes a paper plant. Or maybe a sulfur spring mixed with gorgonzola. It varies. 

He does get to stray from his diet on his birthday. For birthday number three, he got a grilled New York steak. The rest of the humans at the barbeque had hot dogs.

He’s a beautiful dog.  I’ve watched strangers snap photos of him while he waited for me outside a restaurant. The nice thing is that he doesn’t know/act like he knows he’s beautiful.  He always gives the biggest pillow to Isabel. He’s lets her bite his neck and corn cob him. I’ve never seen him get into a pissing match with another male dog. He doesn’t even lift his leg-- he squats. When he pees, it’s really just because he has to pee, not to send somebody a message. He’s like the captain of the football team everybody wants to hang around. He doesn't discriminate, as long as there’s a game happening. Some dogs are motivated by love, some by food, some by image or power. Bender just wants to play.

Isabel chews on Bender's leg like it's a corn cob.

Did I start this blog, by giving you the impression that Bender may not have it all? That was just to keep you reading.

Chillin in the yard. Are there tennis balls where we're going?