by admin | Jul 29, 2016 | Sam's Thoughts
Middle America
Fly-over states
Old Northwest
Silicon Prairie
The Heartland
God’s Country
A great place to be from.
I’m from the midwest.
It’s been almost a year since I’ve been back, and I’m so excited. I’m proud of where I’m from. I love my parents, and I’m stoked to eat the foods of my childhood. Stereotypically, I’m excited for good, creamy corn.
I miss the people, and I miss people smiling, hugging, and being… NICE.
Wherein lies the caveat.
Midwest Nice.
https://www.thrillist.com/lifestyle/nation/my-life-living-midwestern-nice
I didn’t write the above article, but it put into words some of my feelings about leaving the midwest, and about visiting home.
When I moved south, the faux amicability of the people and knavish reality of friendships caught me off guard. I was convinced the people ‘back home’ were more genuine. On the plus side, nobody commented on believing in the good heartedness of people.
When I moved east, the abrasiveness of the people and forthright manner of speaking was offputting. I was convinced that they are rude and have an intrinsic need to be right. On the plus side, nobody has accused me of being too blunt since moving out here.
Neither of these presumptions are completely true.
Authenticity is not location specific, but it’s going to come across much differently based on culture. I’d love to go home and have people say what they mean.
I’ll be coming home with new glasses, and a new tattoo. They’re both big.
I was snapchatting my brother earlier this week and told him that I’m stoked to come home, but not excited for the comments I’m going to hear.
“Are those your real glasses? No, I just wouldn’t have chosen them for myself is all I’m saying.”
The exasperated, “OH Samannntha.”
A comment from the article cited above:
Every Midwestern mother is like this. During my junior year of college I decided to grow my hair out. When I called my mom with the news, she said, simply, “Oh.” But the word carried a lot of tones, a note of surprise and then a second beat, which sustained the first while she parsed the news, followed at last by a slight dip and then a leveling out in a lower register, so the “Oh” ended in more a statement than a question: Ooouuwwaah. That one word showed how she both processed my decision and rendered her verdict on it. She was not pleased with me. And she didn’t say anything else.
So here’s the thing
I’m from the midwest.
I’ll go home and say something slightly abrasive to get my point across, and someone will inevitably remind me that the East Coast has changed me (possibly a ‘nice’ way of saying I’m being a jerk?). I’ll then tell them exactly what I think because I’m wonderfully, progressively adapting.
I’ll come back to my new home, and someone will say that “It’s because you’re from middle america” – I’ll be offended and I won’t say anything because I’m wonderfully, suffocatingly, midwest nice.
Can I really ‘visit’ what is home?
What is home?
Is it nice?
by admin | Feb 15, 2016 | Sam's Thoughts
Watch Hill beaches, RI
Latke Dinner for Channakuh
St. Francois, Guadeloupe, January 2016
St. Anne, Guadeloupe, January 2015
Sunday River, Vermont, November 2015
Our backyard, Snow Day @ Lunch, February 2016
Above Pointe-A-Pitre, Guadeloupe. January 2016
St. Anne, Guadeloupe, January 2015
Pointe Des Chateaux, Guadeloupe, January 2015
New York City, January 1 2016
Mt. Agamenticus, Maine. November 2016
Dayton, OH Thanksgiving 2015
Backyard 
Backyard Birds, December 2015
by admin | Nov 27, 2015 | Sam's Thoughts
Ohhh, the mistletoe..
Come December, couples will be found lingering under laden doorways.
Couples not yet coupled will avoid it like the plague, for under it demands the “Define The Relationship” discussion.
The culprit is in the mind of every preteen boy, or rather, over it.
The mistletoe tradition has varied roots.
Despite its Anglo-Saxon etymology, ‘mistel’, meaning “dung,” and “tan,” meaning “twig,” its romantic association prevailed.
For centuries, it was believed to increase life and fertility. As the Norse legend goes, Balder, son of the goddess Frigga, was killed by an evil spirit with an arrow made of mistletoe. Saddened by her son’s death, Frigga wept tears of white berries, which brought Balder back to life. Frigga was so overjoyed that she blessed the plant and promised a kiss to all who passed beneath it.
The British custom was to pick a berry from the sprig of mistletoe before the person could be kissed. When all the berries had gone, there could be no more kissing. For centuries it has been the scapegoat to romantic advances, but not all welcome the excuse to smooch.
The Kissed
If caught under mistletoen confines, you will be faced with the uncomfortable decision to kiss or diss. Repercussions are weighty, ability to escape its holiday party presence- unlikely.
The plant is a botanic bother as well. As mistletoe grows on a tree, it uses its roots to invade a tree’s bark, allowing it to absorb the tree’s nutrients, sometimes causing deformities in a tree’s branches.
The Kisser
Should you be the one making use of mistletoe’s services, do not loiter in its locale, waiting to advance when desired target is directly under its boughs. Mind your mistletoe manners, for an unexpected and incoming smooch can send an unwilling recipient to the slopes.
To Kiss or Question?
According to the Mistletoe Manifesto, the conduct surrounding this popular custom is not clear-cut, leaving individuals to their own devices.
Can we actually distinguish mistletoe from any other bushel of leaves? Does any bouquet hung during the month of December defend a kissing case? Must one locate and pluck from tree, or will Wal-Mart’s pre-packaged plant suffice?
And what about the kissing itself? Must it be on cheek? On lips? Is there a seconds-ceiling for the snogging?
Is the act reserved for only those you know? You know by name? You know by name and not by blood?
Should you not be ready to “take it to the next level” with whomever stands under mistletoe’s limbs, you will spend the holiday season avoiding doorways and Whoville-caliber decorated districts.
Pucker up or pass. Worst case scenario, blame it on season’s tidings.
by admin | Sep 1, 2015 | Sam's Thoughts
At some point in the last 17 countries or so, I lost sight of how wonderful domestic travel can be. Somewhere between three continents, I decided that traveling in the US is ‘boring’ and ‘uninteresting’. When playing ‘How Many Stamps Does Your Passport Have?’ I forgot how wonderful my home 50 are.
When was the last time you did something for the first time?
It’s fun to be on the brink of visiting more countries than states. I’m lucky to be a citizen of a country that just has so much to offer, a country that with its varied and distinct regions, we almost have mini countries within its borders.
Last year, I visited North Carolina for the first time. It was my first new state in a few years!
Of course, I make my way around. I spent two weeks ago in Chicago, last weekend in Baltimore, and have flitted around southern New England for the past few months. With all the traveling I do, I can’t help but think of how much more adventurous it would be in another country.
Beyond my backyard
In the last couple of months, I’ve gotten super excited about domestic travel, though!
For the first time, I live much closer to a ‘good’ airport. Providence is to Boston as Midway is to O’Hare, or as LaGuardia is to JFK. Budget airlines and international flights leave from PVD, meaning that I can get to Central America for less than $500, and round trip to Chicago, Denver, or Florida for less than $200. Our country just got a lot smaller!
Speaking of small, welcome to the North East. Shane and I are formulating a road trip for Labor Day weekend that will cross a minimum of three states in three days- with less than 10 hours in the car! (traffic permitting)
We’ve been told of treasures along the way, of towers and tunnels to traverse, of shops and ships to see. Hitching is beyond us, but we will hike through the highlights and camp in the coolest of communities that be!
Yeah ok that was cheesy.
But Really
There’s no better time of year for a trip up the coast! Once fall comes, we’ll go north for the leaves, and northwest for the skiing. But for now, I get go add two more of our beautiful states to my list. 3 states in 3 days!
by admin | Aug 24, 2015 | Sam's Thoughts
Snap chat
Photo app
DSLR.
Instagram
How do you remember your adventures?
As I previously wrote, it’s different to remember a place by the way it smells. The briney humid inhale of a New England beach is completely different from the soft winds coming off the South Atlantic in Itacare.
Tracking
Sounds are what makes a place home, to me.
When Shane first moved to Davenport, he was so scared by the bangs late at night. Whether they were from the Arsenal, rogue fireworks, or actual weapons, Shane was sure that every bang was a gun.
When we were in Seabra, there were chickens next door. Growing up on and off in rural Iowa, I was pretty aware that roosters crowed more than once at the crack of dawn. My beloved thought that they crowed once, like in the story books. Regardless, we were both squacked awake daily.
You won’t notice some sounds until they don’t happen. Leaving the TRNC for the other side of Cyprus, it was bizarre to not hear the call of prayer echo off the mountains into the Greek side of Cyprus. The church bells of Itacare sounded like a manic person was banging on them with a hammer. I missed that the night that I left.
Newport, RI has huge rocks on parts of the shoreline. The water washes back and forth over them, they shift, making the most unique dysrhythm.
The soundtrack to my office. I barely notice when the fans turn off, but the whole room seems louder. Rowdier.
The rains of Iowa are harsh and loud . . . beating against the metal roof of the lifeguard shack I spent my high school summers in. The constant rush was only interrupted by the clash of lightning, often being heard while able to see the sun on the not so distant horizon.
I could be anywhere in the world, and ‘Wagon Wheel’ will take me right back to the side of 28 September Road, Nicosia.
In the Loire Valley, the rumble of the truck engines was absorbed by the vineyards, the birds’ chirp outweighing the wind.
Sometimes, it’s the sounds of humans that distinguish a place. In whatever language, it’s not easy to distinguish what’s going on. Banging on instruments, harsh tones giving way to compliments and commands simultaneously.
The sound of a passionate group of people singing will always bring the hair on the back of my neck to attention. The sound of Amazing Grace on bagpipes will always bring me to tears.
It is the soundtrack of a place as much as anything that sets one place apart from another. As we travel about the world, we leave one sound track for another, until we are back to the familiar sounds of home.
Nickel, lady? Nickel, lady? I can have a nickel, lady?
by Samantha Burmeister | Aug 21, 2015 | Sam's Thoughts, Solo Travel
Never one for New Year’s Resolutions, I try to set a strong intention every year.
This year was to breathe. In the past couple of years, I’ve come to terms with the fact that as an introvert, I don’t always express my stress appropriately. I don’t accept it, and I don’t rid myself of it well.
This year, I resolved to take time to breathe. I intended to get more in to yoga, breathe through my anxious moments. To me, a breath insinuates that I should take in what comes into my life, nurture what I can, and let things go.
When you set your intentions to something as repetitious as breathing, interesting things happen.
Do you know what your environment smells like?
These breathing exercises have been interesting. I know what the back staircase at work smells like now. I can tell the difference between breathing in ocean humidity and midwest humidity. I’ve experienced the different between a deep breath and a hatha breath. The way I interact with my environment is changing, slowly.
Inspire
FUN FACT- the word for ‘breathe’ in Brazilian Portuguese is ‘inspire’. Striking.
