Views from our table!

Outside Deck

Nepenthe is a greek word meaning anti-depressant drug. So good news depressed people, this restaurant is the cure!  But seriously, their hamburgers are in fact sublime. The fluffy bun is baked to perfection and practically melts in your mouth while the patty oozes it’s flavorful juice onto your tongue. Every bite reveals a new flavor, triggering sheer pleasure to arise. benin As your mind experiences emotions you had never discovered, you look out to the beautiful view of the open sea beyond the crackling fire, and realize the name, Nepenthe, fits this place as much as “awesome” fits Otto.

The Nepenthe Burger, worth the trip!

Before we dive right in, let me take you through a brief history of the bottle opener. Bottle openers have always been an understated kitchen item, but they weren’t even invented until a Baltimore bottler named William Painter came along and did so in 1892. Before this spectacular invention, soda, beer, and all other bottled liquids came with attached stoppers. This method would of worked fine had it not been for the loss of freshness through the lid. Good old beer enthusiast William came along with a solution: the crown top which is what your bottles probably have on them today.  The crown top technology was a huge improvement from a hygienic perspective, but also required a tool to be opened…thus, the bottle opener was born!

Mermaid – Florence	Crazy Donkey – Santorini	Lizard – Barcelona
Flamenco Dancer – Seville	Rooster – Portugal	Hand – Morocco
Rhino and Lion – Tanzania	Country – Vietnam	Ho Chi Minh
Thai Boxing – Bangkok	Carved Wood – Myanmar	Elephant – Changmai
Insect – Yangshuo	Tallest Building – Shanghai	Twin Towers – Kuala Lumpur
Frog – Ubud	Say No Evil – Canggu	Koala – Austalia
Whale – CA	Lobster – MA

– Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

            I care about my shoes (although I probably would throw them out if they were moldy…that’s just flat out disgusting).  My shoes, my old, worn-out, navy-blue Lacostes, hold a special place in my heart.  When they were new, my mom begged me to wear them.  Now, ironically, she begs me to throw them away.  My mom bought them for me at the Nordstrom Rack one day and forced me to wear them: “I threw away your old ones and now you’re wearing these.”  In an act of rebellion – I mean, what’s up with an alligator on a shoe? – I made it a point to specifically wear the new shoes each and every time I went long boarding, which, for those of you who don’t know, entails your choice of footwear to slide and smash against the rough, hot pavement repeatedly. Little did I know, this would only make me more fond of them and for a mere twenty dollar pair of shoes, they sure could take a licking and keep on ticking.

Somehow those stubborn shoes withstood the test of time and wound up in my packed bag for Project Equator. Due to a greater distain for the other footwear I packed, I almost always ended up wearing these time-tested Lacostes. Where I went, so did they: up all 463 smooth marble steps of the Duomo in Florence, through the twelve-hundred year old cracked stone streets of the ancient Phaistos in Crete, over the scorching-hot, bright-orange dunes of the Sahara desert, across the wild African plains in the Serengeti, in and out of the dark, crammed Viet-Cong tunnels in Ho Chi Minh City, and practically everywhere else. I did this all unconsciously of course until one moment, which I can recall with a surprising amount of clarity — one moment in particular made me come around and realize their sentimentality.

As I walked ahead the rest of my family, I listened to the soft impact of my shoes against the dusty, granular pathway on a grey day in April. I thought about what returning to Mercer Island was going to be like, most likely inspired by the comforting overcast skies. I finally reached a venerable stone watchtower surrounded by sizable chunks of fragmented façade in this decidedly remote area of forest. Careful to test the integrity of the structure, I slowly leaned against the delicate wall and took in the stunning scenery: the Great Wall of China wound over hills and across mountain faces for as far as the eye could see.  My gaze drifted from this to the pathway from which I came, in an attempt to locate the rest of the family. I couldn’t see them quite yet, but my eyes focused on the pathway itself and honed in on the imprints in the dirt.  My footprint looked as though it belonged there, like the whole scene would not be complete without it.  I started thinking: have I been leaving this footprint everywhere?  It made me proud.  Proud that I had left my mark, a testament to my globe-trotting, albeit temporary and sometimes virtually invisible, in every single place we had been.

My gaze rhythmically followed my footsteps one by one and eventually fell upon my shoes: my shabby sneakers, bursting at the seams with gaping holes and fraying fabric, pattered with dust, but full of radiant memories.  Each gash, rupture, and tear embodied a snippet of Project Equator: the time I scaled a rock face in Santorini or when some crazy dogs attacked me in Chiang Mai or when I hiked a slippery gorge in Crete.  These shoes were my friends, I know it sounds weird but “practicality isn’t the whole thing with gloves or with anything else.”

Serendipitously, I recently encountered a new pair at Nordstrom Rack….so oddly foreign compared to my shoes

Yve especially gets her share of the action. Everyday, at one point, she is spread out on the carpet with a sweatshirt and book. In fact Yve, the fuzzy carpet connoisseur herself, is here to tell us a bit about her profound love with the Carmel floors.

“I like carpeted floors because it’s like a cloud. Wherever you are the cloud is there, unless you have a hard wood floor somewhere. If you’re aching for a fuzzy blanket, just let your legs loose and fall to ground and the cloud will catch you!” Yve says.

Floor to floor carpeting also has its downsides. The fact that you can just lie down on the floor at any time can be a bad thing. Your laziness level at least doubles. It is almost like gravity is stronger and it’s hard not to drop to your knees and give into the power of the fuzzy carpet gods. Nice to be almost home!

Tuck and Jones spent hours playing with paper dolls they made on the carpets in Carmel!

We did this a number of times while she and her family were here in Carmel. Some days the waves were so big, it was hard to keep up. I’d like to say we became somewhat professional body surfers in those two weeks. Though… not really. Accompanying us in the water was a plentiful bunch of kelp that I kept trying to gift to Indi, but she rudely refused each of my offers. Anyway, we’d always end our body surfing expeditions by riding one last good wave and then we’d make our way back up to the house to take hot showers and to reheat ourselves. And no matter how hard I tried, I still found sand hiding away somewhere on my body the next day.

My cousin, Indi catching a wave!

Cute picture of us sightseeing on 17 mile drive!

Politically not correct picture of us drinking coffee and smoking bubble gum cigarettes

The airplane window is like a catalog: a big, glossy catalogue that flaunts it’s not easily attainable, but very desirable merchandise. Do you know what you fly over on a direct flight from Australia to San Francisco? I have no idea, but the views from the airplane window would blow your mind! Although, I would resist the urge to open that window shade and peek out onto the wondrous landscapes if I were you. Why? Because as soon as you do, your “Places to Go” list expands profoundly.

While the airplane window can mercilessly take advantage of those infected by the travel bug, if you need inspiration I encourage you to look. That’s right. Pause that okay movie that came out a couple of months ago and look out into the clouds, over the mountains, or into the ocean. During the very first flight of this trip I distinctly remember looking out the airplane window; hovering just below the cloud line, we appeared to be gliding across a puffy snow bank that went on and on for as far as the eye could see. The whole scene radiated a calming stillness: just our plane, us passengers, and a fluffy, impeccably white floor. The most amazing part though was out in the distance, on the horizon the sun set and exuded vibrant orange and pink hues. Of course, to the people below, the sun was simply lowering itself from a thick layer of clouds that had selfishly concealed it for the entirety of the day; however for us, and all of those above the clouds, the sun put on a magnificent early showing.

Today, on the last International flight of the trip, I sit here writing this post. The captain just announced the commencement of our landing in San Francisco and the flight attendant asks we put away all electronics. Time to browse the catalogue.

I had gotten to the edge of the coral and from there it cut off, plummeting straight down into the sandy bottom that I could barely make out. I dared not go over the edge, I understood Nemo’s friends. Then, looking ahead, coming towards me, was a school of shiny green fish. The vast number of small bodies all swimming together was enough to make me hold my breath in wonder, though I noticed a few of them abruptly change their course of direction… and then their color. Soon, one after the other, each guy slowly began to go from green to blue following the newly set path. I didn’t understand. One of the Marine Biologists aboard the boat had said you could see these color-changing fish and it had sounded cool even then, but to actually witness it was beyond anything. The Great Barrier Reef just kept getting better and better. I wonder what next I’ll find….

It was cool to be this close to the fish!

Nobody expected to get much out of Kaula Lumpur “the layover,” and we had nothing on the agenda other than to sleep off a persistent jet lag. The air possessed a thick, musty odor that reminded me of L.A. only fruitier. Our hotel’s appointed driver held a white piece of cardboard with “SHARPLES” penciled on the front. He was very accommodating, super-friendly and we were all having a great time until he blurted out, “Don’t worry. Be happy. I will not kidnap you.” What?! “Ok… Thank you?” I for one wasn’t worried about anyone kidnapping me until you just brought it up. Wow. What a great introduction to Kuala Lumpur that further solidified the idea that staying inside our hotel room for the duration of the visit would be a good idea.

Two hours in and my vow of silence stood strong. The hotel room, a massive, modern pad occupied by Jones, Otto, and I, looked right out onto the Petronas Twin Towers. The jet lag kicked in about an hour or two ago and I only now retained consciousness by staring out the window. Otto and I decided it was time for bed and began our nightly routine. For some reason, I felt like ordering warm milk beforehand, I’m not sure why but it just sounded really good. Since I could not speak, I scribbled on a piece of paper, “Can you call room service and order some warm milk please?” Otto, who almost always has my back, made the call.

Eight hours later I was chatting up a storm. Yeah, I know, my mom’s always right. My vow of silence amounted to a whopping twelve hours, and for eight of those twelve, I was asleep. Between the stunning views, that time when we didn’t get kidnapped, and the failed attempt at a vow of silence, Kuala Lumpur definitely proved itself as, not a layover, but a destination of Project Equator.

I used my vow of silence time to jam in a ton of school work, next to the pool