20 year anniversary: for my mother

Every year around this time, the anniversary of my mother’s death weighs heavily on my mind. Some years are easier than others. This is not an easy one. Even though next Monday marks the 20th anniversary of her death, I can still remember every day-by-day detail of her bout with lung cancer from diagnosis (August 31) to death (November 8) like it was yesterday. It's a burden I wish like hell I didn't have, yet I'm terrified to forget a single detail, because it would mean giving up some part, no matter ugly and awful, of my brief time with her.

My mother, Christine Ayn (Ehrensberger) Pfeuffer passed away when she was 38 years old. She’d been diagnosed with lung cancer less than three months before her death. I was a senior in high school and had cut school that day (as I frequently did in the ‘My mom is dying and you can’t make me come to school’ era). As I tooled around Berwyn, Pennsylvania in my mother’s, then mine by default, Chevy Blazer, I knew she died the minute Lynard Skynard’s “Freebird” come on the radio. You see, this song came on the radio at several pivotal moments during my mother’s sickness, and well, when it came on at 10:38 a.m. the day after I said a pre-emptive good-bye the night before at Fox Chase Cancer Center, I just knew. I knew.

Operating strictly on adrenaline-fueled emotional auto-pilot, I drove to Conestoga High School, because I knew people would be looking for me. I parked my car in my designated parking space and walked toward the school where my douchebag vice principal, David Cowburn was already waiting for me on the front steps. He tried to break the news and offer some condolences, but I already knew, and pushed past him to find my boyfriend, Marc. I barged into Marc’s (I forget what) class and broke the news.

From there, I raced over to the middle school to tell my younger sister, who handled the news by breaking into hysterics at her locker, claiming no one told her “she was going to die.” Fuck. That may be the pivotal moment when my life changed forevermore in ways I never imagined possible.

You see everyone deals with death differently, and believe me, everyone in my family did. As for me, I’ve see-sawed with depression and trust issues for decades as a result of my mother’s death. I have a hard time with love and tend to sabotage relationships. As a result, I have no intention of ever getting married or having children.

Truthfully, if you asked me 20 years ago, I never thought I’d live to be 40 years old. I don’t really know why, but for some reason, that always seemed like a reasonable expiration date and that I'd be able to accomplish everything I wanted to do with my life within this window of time.  And as I near my 38th birthday, the same age my mother was when she died, my head spins with weighty state of affairs thoughts and reassessments of my priorities. Rest assured, she didn’t just leave me with a therapy-worthy load of emotional baggage – I also walked away some positive lessons that have stuck with me over the years.

Two weeks before she died, I asked her if she had any regrets (pretty insightful for a 17-year-old in retrospect). She replied, “I never went to Europe…and I can never have sex again.” Her words have inspired me to travel and live a life with purpose, intention and without regret. I’ve also made it a point to never hold back from having really good sex.

My mother is the reason why I wanderlust, the reason I volunteer and give back and the reason I live large and out loud and like every day is my last. One lesson I’ve learned is that you can love someone completely and unconditionally and they can be gone the next day. Without running the risk of sounding too Oprah, my advice is to love and live like there is no tomorrow, because you never fucking know. Even 20 years later, I think about this loss every single day. It’s not easy, but it’s part of who I am and as this big round number anniversary nears within sniffing distance, I want to honor my mother for being a big part of my life for 17, too brief years on this planet, and every day beyond. I miss you.

Christine Ayn (Ehrensberger) Pfeuffer 1952-1991

americans are not the most popular people on the planet (the golden rule is in effect)

Traveling abroad during a recent presidential administration required making a lot of apologies. People would frequently criticize our government and policies, and frankly, I didn’t blame them. I tried to put my best American face forward to convince other global citizens that not everyone subscribed to a certain leader’s school of thought. Once Obama was sworn into office, I thought our public perception would improve – slowly – but was met with a lot of skepticism about what would happen next. I still encounter a lot of doubts (albeit a lot less angry), but find when you strip away all of perceptions about our government and foreign policies, a lot of people just aren't all that enthralled with Americans.

At least that’s the message that comes through loud and clear as I volunteer abroad. I guess I got spoiled traveling the world primarily with travel writers over the past several years. No matter where these writers hailed from, there was for the most part, unspoken open-mindedness and cultural compassion. Five volunteer projects into The Global Citizen Project, I find that our public perception on the global scale isn’t all that endearing and that I have to try extra hard to win people over the minute they find out where I’m from.

Far and wide, people seem to peg the stereotypical American something like this: We talk ten decibels louder than anyone else, dominate conversations, rudely interrupt and think we know it all. Unfortunately, this sounds spot on when I think of several of the Americans I’d volunteered with along the way. Sure, every single one of us is raised to think we’re the world’s almightiest super power, but have we taken our go-team-go mentality to narcissistic extremes on the worldwide travel playground? It stings to hear what other travelers' perceptions, but there are some truths to their words, and I am glad I can (hopefully) show them that not all Americans are alike. Some of us, dare I say, a lot of us, travel to learn from others.

These perceptions rolled around in my mind the morning I left my volunteer project in Ecuador. As my plane taxied to the runway, we were forced to turn back to the gate because an American passenger refused to turn his cell phone off. On the second leg of my flight itinerary, another American insisted on using his BlackBerry during take-off. I’m pretty sure he wasn’t so important that whatever message he had to send couldn’t wait the short two hour flight. The more I looked, the more I saw the ugly, “me first” mentality my international friends pointed out. Rude people come from all places, but still, it wasn’t pretty.

America may be the superpower of the world, but that doesn’t it make it okay to journey through the world thinking every interaction is all about us. We’re lucky to live in the U.S. (more than most people will ever know), but that doesn’t mean we have all the answers or that we’re always right. There’s a lot to learn from other countries and cultures, but as travelers, we need to shut up, practice some compassion and listen. I don’t know about you, but I don’t wish to be called out for my fellow American travelers’ bad behavior, because I know that is not what our country is all about. We’re just one piece in the grandmaster puzzle of this globe.

november project preview: fuck cancer | vancouver, bc | canada

Where: Fuck Cancer started as a T-shirt movement, but quickly evolved into a movement to change how cancer is perceived and diagnosed in our society, and how cancer survivors perceive themselves. It’s about early detection and treatment. It’s about fighting back and regaining control. It’s about sharing the stories and spreading the word. When I lost my mother to cancer nearly two decades ago, she was frustrated by the lack of information available, communication within the medical system and not having a platform for her voice to be heard. I think it’s important to give cancer victims the permission and power to battle their disease head on.

Significance: This project is slated for November to coincide with the 20th anniversary of my mother’s death to cancer (November 8th, to be exact). My former volunteer coordinator at the Women’s Cancer Resource Center and dear friend, Tammy Dyson, also resides in Vancouver, B.C., which further adds to its time and place significance.

media mention: ragan.com

Yours truly, a.k.a. "influential blogger" and "@global_gourmet" is mentioned in today's feature on ragan.com, Four Seasons keeps it personal via social media.  Thank you, Matt Wilson for including me!

quinta das abelhas: more small farms means more locally produced food, which makes the planet happy

As a food and travel writer, I firmly believe if you’re going to blog or write about restaurants, you need to spend some time working in one to fully understand how the business works. It’s one thing to sit at your perfectly set table on the receiving end of (hopefully) delicious food and fine tuned service, but an entirely different thing to understand how many hands are involved in making that meal appear in the minutes after you say, “I’d like the steak, please - medium rare.”

After my first week at Quinta Das Abelhas, I feel that anyone who eats – period – should spend some time WWOOFing (World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms), or at the very least, on a small, organic farm. I’ve volunteered in Seattle at Marra Farm, a four acre plot within the city limits that produces more than 16,000 pounds of food for the local community. But dropping by to play urban farmer for an afternoon is drastically different from living the day-to-day reality of what goes into making a self-sufficient farm function.

My duties at Quinta Das Abelhas ran the gamut from harvesting basketfuls of vegetables from the gardens and readying beds for the winter with fertilizer and seeds to making quince jelly with fresh picked fruit, helping to remove mud from a trench after a heavy rainfall to building a stone wall. After more than a decade of declaring defeat when working with yeast, Sophie even helped me bake my first successful loaf of bread. The list of what I’m learning about self-sufficiency is endless. The beauty of volunteering in this kind of environment is that there is always something to do, the work is rarely repetitive and it’s fun. I love, love, love being here.

I decided to WWOOF with Quinta Das Abelhas because I try to eat locally and seasonally whenever possible and take great interest in knowing where food comes from. Portugal is a far distance from Seattle (5,836 miles each way to be exact – I have a lot of carbon footprint making up to do), it’s a place I’ve wanted to visit for a long time and got a really good feeling about Andy and Sophie from their website and blog. (I also saw a photo of a gigantic zucchini a friend’s father in Lisbon had grown and had a feeling that people around these parts knew a thing or two about farming.) My gut was spot on. I know a lot of people who’d pay large sums of money for this kind of experience and to achieve the peace I’ve experienced here.

For starters, the property is stunningly beautiful. So even when you’re shoveling manure, you can’t help but have repeated “ah ha” moments. I’m no skilled farm hand, but even so, you feel like you’re playing some small part in the success of a small, family run operation and that feels good. It takes a lot of hands, heart and sweat to make this place run. For all of your hard work, volunteers are rewarded with amazing meals made by Andy and some of the sweetest slumbers ever – I’ve made no secret about how much I love living in my comfy, cozy yurt. After volunteering with four other organizations over the past four months, working for kind people who truly care makes a huge difference. (That’s probably the number one thing I’m grateful for.) Living at Quinta Das Abelhas is a simpler way of life than I’m accustomed to, but it imparts such incredible feelings of calm and satisfaction, that I’m already scheming ways to adopt some of these aspects when I resume my usual urban routine.

My time at Quinta Das Abelhas reiterated something I feel strongly about: More small farms means more locally produced food, which makes the planet happy. Would you rather be on a first name basis with the farmers who grow your food or do you prefer food that has wracked up thousands of airline miles to make it to your plate? A silly question, really. In a perfect world, less people would eat food produced in massive industrial farms and far off places and more would support the individual people who put so much care into making sure our food is safe, healthy and delicious. WWOOF and you’ll understand why.

post-project review: sumak kawsay yachay in salasaca, ecuador

I arrived in Quito for Project #4 of The Global Citizen project without much of a plan, except to make my way to Salasaca, a town of 12,000 people on the road between Ambato and Baños. I knew very little about Ecuador, its capital city and even less about Salasaca and the organization I’d be volunteering with, Sumak Kawsay Yachay. I arrived in Salasaca in the middle of a Friday afternoon and from the minute I jumped into the back of a camioneta and hitched a ride to the bibioteca, I found solace in not knowing what was going to happen next. At the biblioteca, I met David, a dry-witted, 30-something Brit who walked me up a dirt road, lined with agave plants and roaming farm animals of all varieties to Pachamama Hostal, comfortable digs to a dozen or so volunteers.

Pachamama Hostal is a quirky, A-Frame homestead built precariously into the side of a hill. It boasts the most amazing vistas of Salasaca and surrounding villages; many hours were spent on its terrace soaking up the scenery, sunshine and hoots and hollers of nearby soccer (I mean futbol) games. Interesting note: there are 48 organized futbol teams in Salasaca. There’s a main community area where meals are shared, right next to a commercial-style kitchen. The hostel is divided into six rooms and can accommodate around 15 volunteers at a time. Rooms vary from a semi-dank dorm style room to a cozy attic slash alcove sleeping area to a spacious suite for couples.

Sumak Kawsay Yachay is a Kichua phrase that means, “a better/more beautiful life through education.” SKY is run by American expat, Robert Jeffords, who funds the small organization with his pension. Jeffords is one of the most endearing people you will ever meet and even morning-phobic me looked forward to eating porridge (he made daily) with him and the other volunteers promptly at 6:30 a.m. In the evenings, volunteers teamed up in groups of two or three to make dinner for the group as a once a week duty.  Cooking got quite competitive as teams tried to scheme up 3-course menus that cost roughly $1 per person (it was done quite successfully on several occasions during my stay).

Volunteers can get involved with Katitawa Escuela or the biblioteca in a variety of capacities. Longer term volunteers can take the initiative to create their own language and class programs (for example, David started a drum class and other volunteers helped teach local artisans useful phrases for conducting commerce). Volunteers work Monday through Friday, starting at 8 a.m. Classes at Katitawa Escuela go until 2 p.m. and there are opportunities to work later in the day, either teaching language classes or working at the biblioteca. Robert expects volunteers to work a minimum of six hours a day; many work more.

I took the route of “put me to work where you need help” and ended up working with the kindergarten class (which compared to U.S. school systems was preschool). It probably wasn’t the best fit for me, but I diversified my attention to other projects like helping to build a stone wall, covering nighttime biblioteca shifts, moving large amounts of fertilizer to the escuela’s garden and feeding the chickens. I can do pretty much anything for a few weeks – even wrangling short attention spanned preschoolers. And once we implemented a few helpful tricks, like locking the kids in the classroom during class, taking away all sharp edged implements (there was a box cutter incident), and generously using words like “cuidado” and “venga aqui,” things were smooth(er) sailing. (I've learned that I better connect with kids a few years older in age, but that's just a personal preference.)

Volunteering with SKY was hands down my favorite project so far. I loved the project, the place (both Katitawa Escuela and the small town of Salasaca), the other volunteers, the students (well, except for one we nicknamed "Rat Features," anyway) and Robert. I feel so lucky to have crossed paths with this perfect volunteer project storm, and hope to return for a longer period of time once I’m through with this year-long tour de force. I also hope to stay in touch with a lot of the volunteers I worked with. It’s rare to find yourself in a dynamic where everything clicks, and although volunteers worked their butts off Monday-Friday, we found plenty of time to play, explore or relax on the weekends and spend time getting to know one another. It was a very simple, yet satisfying way of living and I’m all for playing rural girl in Salasaca with SKY again.

volunteer expectations

As I get into my volunteer groove and have the first four projects of The Global Citizen Project under my belt, I’m beginning to figure out what does and doesn’t work for me in a volunteer role. Volunteering is a lot more challenging than I imagined it would be and has repeatedly pushed me past my usual comfort zone. It can be disconcerting and maddening and even scary at times, but every time I accomplish something I didn’t think possible, I am grateful for the opportunity to test my personal limits and proud of myself. Like put a gold star sticker on the fridge proud. I’m guessing every person has their own volunteering style, but here are a few things that I've found helpful:


Spell out on-the-ground directions. Example: When you land at XYZ airport, here’s how you get to us. I want to know the name of the bus line or its number, estimated travel times and costs involved. I am terrible with direction, so having accurate instruction upon arrival alleviates any post-flight logistical panic.

Be clear with expectations. I'm comfortable working about 6-8 hours a day. Much more than that makes me feel like I’m being taken advantage of. Also, I want to get a sense of the local culture, so I prefer five or six day work weeks (like in the real, paid working world). Work the volunteer to death and you can almost guarantee an almost instant decrease in productivity and enthusiasm.

Be honest about living situations and accommodations. Don’t tell me I’ll be staying in a bed and breakfast, when the digs make a beer soaked fraternity house look luxurious. I can deal with no hot water, compostable toilets, paper thin mattresses and non-heated housing, but only if I’m prepared.

Define the volunteer role. If I’ve signed on to assist a preschool class, I don’t expect to come up with lesson plans or take over teaching entirely when the teacher doesn’t feel like showing up. Be specific in what you expect from me and I'll do my best to deliver. I'm not a mind reader, so communication is key.

Give me space. I’m learning how to get along (better) with others and cohabitate in close, often very rustic quarters with a wide variety of personalities. I try to be as respectful as possible and learn from the never-ending rotating roster of global do-gooders I encounter, but definitely need some down time to process what I’m doing and check in with myself. I’ve run into several volunteers who operate on verbal auto-loop of all-about-me stories and have had to respectfully inform them that every single second of time spent together does not need to be filled with conversation.

Give me the tools to do my job. I want to do a good job, really I do, but if you don’t give me the tools to my job (whether it’s information, support or supplies), I can’t be as productive as I’m sure we’d both like.

Volunteers, what else have you found helpful in your efforts to serve? I'm still learning, a lot by trial and error since each of my projects varies so much, and always looking to improve.

the secret garden in quito, ecuador is looking for volunteers

I didn’t know my ass from my elbow when it came to my first foray traveling in Ecuador. I booked my ticket to Quito to volunteer with Santa Martha Animal Rescue, which in a most unprofessional fashion informed me that it had folded (basically because its founder is a thin-skinned cry baby who couldn’t handle criticism from volunteers). I scrambled in a state of non-refundable airline ticket panic to find a replacement project and stumbled across Sumak Kawsay Yachay (SKY) on the internet. Plan B was in effect!

I'm usually pretty organized with my travel logistics. I do a reasonable amount of pre-travel research and create a project itinerary (partially for my benefit, but also to leave at home in case something bad happens to me). But, when it came to flying into Quito, I really didn’t have a clue. My flight arrived at 6:05 p.m., too late to embark on the 3-hour bus trip to Salasaca (As a rule, I don’t like to arrive in strange destinations after dark), so I needed a hostel. Natch, I turned to my fave word-of-mouth resource, Twitter, and got several recommendations for The Secret Garden in the San Blas neighborhood of Quito.

I shot The Secret Garden an email to make a reservation and arrange for an airport pick-up ($10 USD), which was quickly confirmed. Upon touch down in Quito (a terrifying landing I wasn’t prepared for) I made way through customs and immigration and found a driver holding a “The Secret Garden” sign. We wove up and down hilly streets during rush hour traffic and arrived at the five story hostel a little after dusk.

Check-in was a breeze and I was quickly led to my fourth floor “Orange” dorm room, bunk #5 to be exact. Dorm-style rooms tend to be on the small and cramped size (my room accommodated six people), but they’re clean, beds are reasonably comfy and there are small lockers available to store valuables. For $8.80 a night, it’s a great value. Well maintained bathroom facilities are situated in the hall and shared by several rooms. Hot water was a bit iffy – I’ve found that when it is available in South America, sometimes it helps to turn the water pressure down to the lowest possible trickle to get heat. There’s also free WiFi, three computers you can rent for .50 cents an hour and a terrace with amazing city and mountain views, where daily, three meals are served for a nominal fee. The terrace is also a popular destination to grab a few Pilseners before a night on the town (the terrace closes at 11 p.m.). The hostel can also organize day tours or Spanish classes. Even though I’m a bit older than the usual hostelling age demographic, I thoroughly enjoyed my stay at The Secret Garden. So much in fact, that I stayed there again the night before I flew out of Quito.

The Secret Garden runs on volunteers and is always looking for help. In exchange for volunteer hours, the hostel offers free accommodation, food, all drinks, 10 hours of Spanish classes and more. The hostel’s new Cotopaxi location is also looking for volunteers. Click here for more information.

give thanks to twitter

The first 48-hours of my trip to Ecuador were especially kind to me and I must give thanks to Twitter. I cyber hitchhiked a ride to Westlake Center to grab the light rail to Sea-Tac for my red-eye flight to Miami and Domenic (@DEPagliaro) answered the call. Domenic is a fellow Philadelphia sports fan and we’ve bantered back and forth on Twitter for months. I even lured him into Travelers’ Night In and he’s become a faithful participant (except when he's responding to respond to oil spills, hurricane recovery efforts, and other emergency situations for the oil and gas industry).

Shortly after touchdown at one of my top three least fave domestic airports, Miami International Airport, I was picked up by Raquel (@AiresLibre), one of the folks who donated to The Global Citizen Project, who’s also grown to be one of my fave Twitter friends. We headed to Little Havana for a proper Cuban breakfast of empanadas, pastelitos and croqeutas – all washed down with strong Cuban coffee. Afterwards, we cruised along Ocean Drive before stopping at Lincoln Road Mall where we split a pre-flight bottle of Prosecco. Before noon. Raquel is a girl after my heart who knows bubbly has no time and place boundaries. Amen.

Happy and sated, I breezed through TSA and boarded my flight for Quito. Upon arrival, I hopped in a (prearranged) cab and headed to The Secret Garden hostel in the San Blas section of town ($10 cab fare, pre-arranged via the hostel). I dropped off my bags, quickly freshened up, and met up with Alison (@aliadventures7), a travel blogger based in Atlanta, who was in Quito taking a Spanish immersion course. Over Cuba Libres and Pilseners, we dished about Twitter, the travel personalities of Twitter, and globetrotting in general. As Alison poured herself into a cab to head home, I walked up the hill to The Secret Garden with an ear-to-ear smile on my face. In less than 48-hours, I met three really great people my path probably never would have intersected with without the power of Twitter.

25 things about me

1. I have been intimately involved with (at least) 4 men who are now gay.

2. The only food I really can’t stand is blue cheese. The stinky foot smell is a dealbreaker.

3. At the age of 16, I managed to get into a car accident exactly one hour after I got my driver’s license. Thankfully, I was not the driver at fault.

4. I rarely go to sleep before 3 a.m. Ever. This explains why you’ll almost never receive an email response or Facebook update from me before noon on any given day.

5. One week before my mother passed away at the age of 38, she revealed an end-of-life regret: “I never went to Europe.” I think this single sentence is why I’m driven to write about travel and where I got my insatiable wanderlust from.

6. I don’t have a journalism degree. I got my start at writing while working at the Philadelphia Weekly running the Personals & Promotions department. I made my grand editorial debut with a weekly dating advice column, called Ask Me Anything and things took off from there.

7. I once made three trips to the grocery store and spent more than $100 in ingredients trying to make a Bon Appétit “Ooey Gooey Cinnamon Bun” recipe. The yeast and I couldn’t come to culinary terms and I ended up buying bagels instead. I have not touched a single recipe that involves yeast ever since.

8. The summer of 2005 was rough – I had E.coli (twice), Plesiomonas Shigelloides and Edwardsiella Tarda. If you’re not a Gastrointestinal doc or a water microbiologist, I’ll let you Google all the gory details.

9. When I signed my first book contract, I bought a small pair of diamond stud earrings and a $500 La Perla bra and panty set. I don’t really care much about jewelry, but feel there are some basic essentials every woman should own and a drop-dead sexy pair of skivvies tops the list.

10. I don’t like forced heat. I’d rather build a fire or bundle up than subject myself to electric heat. If I fall asleep in a forced heat environment, it’s pretty much a given that I’ll wake up with a bloody nose.

11. At one point in my career, I was simultaneously authoring children’s books and writing content for an adult website. I’m pretty sure that is some kind of sin, but the money was way too lucrative in the latter field and I didn’t have to use a byline.

12. Until maybe a year or so ago, I would always go to water when I needed clarity in my life or needed to make some sort of big decision. Nowadays, I find solace in the mountains.

13. Like clockwork, I crave an In-N-Out burger (Animal Style, of course) or super-greasy pizza after I’ve been traveling. Since moving (back) to Seattle, my In-N-Out fix has been replaced with burgers at The Counter, King’s Hardware or Hattie’s Hat.

14. I feel strangely comfortable in hardware/home repair stores. Power tools and men that can fix things really turn me on.

15. I am fiercely protective of the people I care about.

16. I’m extremely grateful for my talented circle of writer friends. The constant give and take of ideas, sources, leads, creativity and general support is a never-ending source of inspiration. I’m also lucky to work with a roster of rock star editors.

17. I had a gym membership for over a year in Seattle without every stepping foot into the facility.  I continue to use the parking pass, most recently to get gelato.

18. I adopted my Boxer-mix beast, Gus, from the Stockton SPCA after a big, bad break-up. Some women buy shoes, binge on Ben & Jerry’s or have amazing break-up sex – I took on the responsibility of an abused, 3 month old puppy that was on 24-hour doggy death row.

19. Even though I am a frequent hotel guest, I still get giddy when I spend the first night in a (nice) hotel solo.

20. In everyday life, I’m not the world’s most patient person, but manage to possess massive reserves of patience when travel/meeting new people, especially when trying to find common ground.

21. Kids are great. I just like the flexibility and freedom of my life way too much to go through the process of having any of my own.

22. I swoon for the Rem Koolhaas-designed Central Library in Seattle. The Seattle Public Library system in general is outstanding.

23. I think 99.9% of what is on TV these days is mindless crap.

24. I was born on Easter and my birthday falls on Earth Day.

25. I used to think I was really good at Scrabble – until I met Morgan. We play regularly and I win, on average, maybe one time a year. It’s kind of sad, but I still love the game and I haven’t completely given up hope. Sigh.

photos: project #4 sumak kawsay yachay in salasaca, ecuador

The Global Citizen Project is officially one-third complete and my latest project in Salasaca, Ecudaor was hands down the best one yet.  Check out my photos from my volunteer project with Sumak Kawsay Yachay and Kaititawa Escuela here.

october project preview: quinta das abelhas in tábua, coimbra, portugal

Where: Tábua is located in central Portugal; it’s essentially a rural region of breeding cattle and producing corn, wine, chestnuts, cork and olive oil.

What: Work varies with the seasons but usually includes digging, weeding, planting and watering in the gardens, harvesting and preserving, mucking out the animals, building work, general maintenance and keeping the place tidy, household chores and childcare.

Significance: Quinta das Abelhas is part of World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms (WWOOF). WWOOF is a network where in return for volunteer help, WWOOF hosts offer food, accommodation and opportunities to learn about organic lifestyles.

This project coincides with harvest, and as an avid foodie, home chef and Slow Food member, I take great interest in learning about food sources and eating locally and seasonally whenever possible.

the votes have been tallied, and...

Yay. Yay. Yay. I am over the moon ecstatic. Thanks to your votes, I won a $5,000 voluntourism grant from Travelocity’s Travel for Good® program. I’ve been more than lucky in my 37 years, but this is one of the biggest and bestest honors bestowed upon me. Ever. I’m in awe of how many amazing people I have rooting for me and The Global Citizen Project to succeed. Thank you.

Details are still a bit fuzzy, but I’ll be headed to the Big Apple the week of November 15th for WE tv’s gala award event. This is exactly one week after the 20th anniversary of my mother’s death, so there is a lot personal significance in winning this award beyond its obvious awesomeness. I will also need to pick a voluntourism project from one of Travelocity’s four program partners (tough decision). As if that’s not cool enough, I will also be featured in an upcoming issue of Ladies’ Home Journal and receive a free subscription for my future reading pleasure.


All around, it’s one heckuva win and I am thrilled to accept. I cannot thank you all enough for voting and persevering my incessant reminders to vote. You all rock and I’m so glad you’re on my team. You make me feel like I can do anything.

we live in public

More than a decade ago, I ran the Personals and Promotions Department at the Philadelphia Weekly. Every week, I’d help hundreds of lonely hearts pen personal ads that would hopefully, land them a love connection (and help fill my 10-page, back-of-the-paper section). In addition to offering up my wordsmithing skills, I’d coordinate singles events on a weekly basis – everything from awkward heterosexual meet and greets at hipster bars to bump and grind gay dance parties to the occasional “Anything Goes” swingers soiree for the dirty birds. I could fill more pages than you can imagine with my experiences, and if you buy me a beer sometime, I may be willing to dish some of the more (ahem) colorful details.

My dating life never sucked more than once I’d started penning the widely popular advice column “Ask Me Anything,” and was deemed the local dating guru. Sure, I was the first point of contact for hundreds of eligible bachelors, and I even dabbled in a few first dates with some of my more charming advertisers, but the most long term commitment I managed to muster up was a stalker who landed himself in jail (and then proceeded to harass me for more than a decade). Since this incident, I’ve been fiercely protective of my identity and whereabouts, going so far as to use pseudonyms in several editorial outlets and use a mailbox service several miles from my residence.

So when the world of social media started to evolve, the idea of sacrificing my privacy gave me serious pause. I’d fought so long to keep a low-profile, but was wooed by Facebook and Twitter and blogging and new possibilities of networking and personal connections that I decided to take a chance when I launched my Kickstarter fundraising campaign last November. I mean, there was no way in the world I could ask strangers to help fund The Global Citizen Project without full disclosure of who I was. I don’t regret my decision for a second.

Since then, I’ve made countless friends via social media networks and have never, ever had a less-than-stellar experience with a cyber someone I’ve met in real life (or IRL in Twitter speak). There’s a long “wish list” of Twitter friends I hope to someday cross paths with, but in the meantime, I practice reasonable cyber caution and welcome the possibility of making acquaintances via avatars, handles and 140 character limits.

Next week, I especially look forward to meeting Raquel Segura (@aireslibre) on a long layover in Miami, then Alison Garland (@AliAdventures7) when I arrive in Quito, Ecuador. When it comes to socializing and making connections, we live in a very different world these days. It's weird and crazy and absolutely fascinating, and I find that if you open yourself up to it, there are some really beautiful connections to be made via social media.

how to plan your all inclusive getaway

As a travel writer, people pick my brain on an almost daily basis for vacation advice.  It can be daunting to dole out advice to strangers, because everyone has a different travel style.  And when people tread on “Where do you think we should go for our honeymoon?” territory, I tend to get a little nervous.  Hello, this is one of the most important holidays of a couples’ life!  I’m happy to proffer my two cents on pretty much anything travel-related, but hope that my opinion, albeit expert and insightful, is just one piece of information in the grandmaster decision-making process.

Most of the requests I receive are for romantic getaways, adventure travel, dog-friendly destinations, and  lately, last minute all inclusive vacations that won’t break the bank. This past week alone, my inbox fielded several requests for all inclusive suggestions in both the Caribbean and Mexico.

I’ve stayed at a handful of all inclusive hotel properties and my personal experiences have run the gamut from poolside wet tee-shirt contests during spring break at Tesoro Los Cabos Lucas to a luxurious, highly personalized stay at Hacienda Tres Ríos in Riviera Maya that defied all inclusive stereotypes. In both scenarios, the resort packages provided excellent value and convenience coupled with the perfect mix of nightlife, beachfront adventures and laid back moments (the holy trinity of any successful all inclusive stay, in my opinion).

To help make any vacation a success, it's important to consider your leisure time needs when planning.  Here are a few guidelines to think about when hatching your all inclusive getaway plan:

1. Decide where you’d like to go. (Most all inclusive resorts tend to be near beaches.)

2. Decide when you’d like to go. Summer, spring break and Christmas break are peak travel times, while May through November is hurricane season in the Caribbean.

3. Figure out what your travel budget will be.

4. Ask potential resorts about specific amenities that matter to you, such as child care facilities, food and beverage options, number of pools or proximity to the beach.

5. Find out what amenities are included in the all inclusive price. Some resorts may include some activities (like canoeing), but not others (like motorized water sports), or may charge a surcharge for top shelf liquors or super fancy menu upgrades.

If you’re trying to stretch your travel dollars, now is the time to take advantage of off season all inclusive deals, and yes, even start thinking about holiday travel. Happy travels!

This post is supported by Luxury Villas Maui

needed: usb thumb drives

If any of my lovely readers have any spare USB thumb drives lying around, I’d love for you to send them my way.

Here’s what I’m looking for:

Nine 2MG+ thumb drives (for my 9 remaining projects). I’d like to be able to transfer all photos and videos taken during the course of the project to a thumb drive and leave it with the volunteer program host. Everybody likes instant gratification, right? The chances me actually uploading images to a program’s Picasa or Flickr site are pretty slim, and besides, my at-home internet connection doesn’t like it very much when I try to upload large quantities of images.

Many of the programs I’m volunteering with would benefit from any kind of additional virtual storage space, so thumb drives of any size would be appreciated.

If you have extra cyber storage to spare, feel free to drop it in the mail to moi at:

Charyn Pfeuffer
1752 NW Market Street, #432
Seattle, WA 98107

100 thanks in advance.

sometimes you simply need a coffee, sports bar, sunset and a smile

Chances were slim I was going to go on Friday night’s 9 p.m. – 2 a.m. turtle patrol. Especially with a 1:42 p.m. flight out of Puerto Vallarta the following day, which would first require a one hour car drive to Las Varas then a two hour bus ride to Puerto Vallarta and a brief taxi ride before ever stepping foot in the airport. I thought maybe I’d meander down the coast on Friday and check out something new instead of stressing myself out with overly complicated travel logistics on Saturday. Then the thought occurred to me to end this sea turtle conservation adventure at the source of its inspiration – CasaMagna Marriott Resort Puerto Vallarta Resort & Spa.

Last December, I was one of nine journalists selected to partake in the first annual Blog Paradise, a three-day blog fest sponsored by Marriott. I was assigned to play social media goddess from CasaMagna Marriott Resort Puerto Vallarta Resort & Spa, where I’d give friends, online followers and anyone craving a mid-winter dose of Vitamin D the play-by-play of my oceanfront antics.

There, General Manager Dennis Whitelaw filled me in on CasaMagna’s charitable involvement with the local community, including the Youth Career Initiative for disadvantage youth and an onsite turtle conservation program. This was way back when The Global Citizen Project was in its first month of fundraising and actual project logistics were still being worked out.

One night during my stay, hotel guests got to release hatchlings at sunset. As I held a teeny tiny, barely a day old turtle in my hands, I was hooked. I’d witnessed my fair share of nesting Loggerhead turtles while summering in South Carolina as a child, but this was an entirely different level of science nerd cool. I made a mental note to return to this stretch of Mexico to work with some sort of sea turtle conservation effort, and eight months later, it came to fruition volunteering with Campamento Tortuguero Platanitos.

When I put the idea of coming back down the coast a night early to the powers that be, CasaMagna kindly offered to host me for the evening. Thank you, Lourdes and Dennis 100 times for extending such gracious hospitality (once again). Sure, the thought of air-conditioning and a bug-free environment sounded heavenly, but I’m all about significant moments of time, place and personal meaning and it seemed too perfect to end my Mexican adventures at CasaMagna. Plus, I still had 25 postcards to purchase, write and mail to The Global Citizen Project donor recipients. Thankfully, I was able to make all of that happen without stepping foot off the property.

Despite an all too short stay, I was able to decompress and reflect upon what I’d experienced over the previous 10 days in the comfortable, quiet digs of room #6030. I’d never been so grateful for a cappuccino (Deli Los Mangos operates an espresso bar), to watch some NFL preseason, a picture-perfect sunset and to fall asleep in one of the comfiest beds known to (wo)man. I still had flights to Denver, then home to Seattle ahead of me, but checking in to CasaMagna Marriott Resort Puerto Vallarta Resort & Spa, even for one night was exactly what this wearly volunteer needed. It felt a lot like coming home.

Full disclosure: CasaMagna Marriott Resort Puerto Vallarta Resort & Spa hosted my one night stay.

turtle patrol: (night) life on the beach

Officially, turtle patrol shift at Campamento Tortuguero Platanitos (CTP) would run from roughly 9 a.m. – 2 a.m. But the giggle-like-a-schoolgirl excitement starts nightly at 7 p.m. when we would release hatchings (or barely day old baby turtles). Hermilo, the onsite biologist, would go to the incubation casita and put out all of the baby turtles that had hatched that morning. Can you imagine a world in which you were set free to fend for yourself less than 24 hours after birth? These days, some parents are lucky to get their offspring out of the house by their 35th birthday.

As the sun set on Playa Las Tortugas, Hermilo would drag a stick across the sand to make a line. On some nights, it was just me, Hermilo and Gerardo, the CTP volunteer coordinator. Other nights, nearly two dozen guests, homeowners or rental visitors of next door residential property would crowd to release their very own handful of hatchlings. One night, I named several of the hatchings in honor of Chelsea, Sabrina, Robin Jean International Sex Symbol, Teri, and Peter, and silently, willed them to swim and survive.

When the sun would finally dip below the Pacific, in a lazy, mesmerizing way flashing vivid hues of pink, purple and peach, we’d head back to camp. Gerardo would pop out to check the tides and when the time was right, we’d cover every inch of our bodies possible in bug-barrier attire and layer on eco-friendly repellant. I’m not generally a fan of unnatural products (read: chemical), but I call B.S. on the efficacy of eco-friendly bug spray (and I have countless insect bites, or picaduras, to prove it.).

Armed with a rain coat, water bottle, and survival knife, Gerardo and I would head out to the beach to patrol a designated stretch, usually spanning 2km (or about 1.3 miles), to search for Olive Ridley turtles. Campamento Tortuguera Platanitos patrols a 10-mile stretch (16 km) of beach, seven nights a week, both on-foot and via ATV. And night after night, several members of nearby Otates community show up to help patrol. It is not easy work, especially during summer’s rainy season, when intense thunder and lightning storms reign supreme on a seemingly nightly basis.

Walking at steady pace, but not so fast as to tire quickly, we’d walk from one end of our patrol “zone” to the other, scanning the sand for turtles emerging from the ocean or for tracks. If we didn’t find anything, we’d wait approximately 20-30 minutes, then circle back in the opposite direction. We’d repeat this process as many times as the shift would allow, often walking close to 10 miles per night. At first, I needed a flashlight, but your eyes adjust rapidly to the night sky and tracks can be spotting from several paces away. If we found a turtle making her way from the sea, we’d step back and let her find a place to nest in peace.

Once she located the perfect place to lay her eggs, she’d dig a nest, more than a foot deep, cupping her rear flippers like hands, scooping out piles of sand. She’d then lay 80-150 eggs. During this time, I’d crouch on down on my knees, reaching my hand under the backside of the turtle pulling out eggs, two or three at a time. They resembled ping pong balls, but slimier and squishier in texture. I’d count the eggs as Gerardo would measure the turtle’s length and width and note any remarkable features. A form was filled out for each and every nest documenting details of the find.

If we found tracks, we’d follow them. Sometimes we’d find a turtle nesting; other times we’d have to suss out where the turtle had nested to find the eggs. In any case, we always tried to find the nest before the poachers did; we weren’t always successful. We’d mark the tracks with criss-cross lines (or whatever mark we were using that night). Surprisingly, the round-trip timeline for an Olive Ridley turtle to emerge from the sea, build a nest, and lay eggs is roughly 30-45 minutes. These incredible creatures repeat this journey three times during each nesting season.

Poachers, or people who illegally collect turtle eggs despite conservation and wildlife management laws, are a big problem around Playa Las Tortugas and we encountered them on an almost nightly basis. They mostly kept to themselves, probably because what they are doing is, umm, illegal. Sometimes, they’d create fake turtle tracks or try to gauge our distance by sending false flashlight signals (we had our own flashing systems, which indicated various things, including “We need back up”). Some wielded machetes. Some hid in the bushes, thinking they had outsmarted us (they didn’t). Others reeked of alcohol. One of the main problems with the poachers is that they are generally un-policed. Sure, there are police in the Mexican state of Nayarit, but they did not have a presence once on Playa Las Tortugas during the nights I patrolled. From what I understand, they have bigger gang-related issues to deal with the state’s capital of Tepic.

Poachers can sell a turtle egg for 3 pesos (or about .25 cents USD), so finding a nest with 80-150 eggs could net someone $20USD or more. Multiply that by several nests over the course of a night and you’ve got yourself a potentially a lucrative, albeit illegal business. To put it in perspective, there were nights when CTP found 40+ nests, while the poachers staked claim to as many as ten. That is why several dedicated souls pace methodically up and down the beach at all hours of the night, in all kinds of weather, getting bit by the peskiest of mosquitoes and no-see-ums. These are the people who make a difference in the Olive Ridley population of Playa Las Tortugas.

Night after night, as we beat poachers to the nests (more times than not), I felt like I was playing some small part in making a difference (superhero cape not included). I love that I was to jump right in to the CTP volunteer program and help out with absolutely no sea turtle conservation knowledge. If there is any question about how great this program is, witness the release of 1200 hatchings into the ocean, all while silently rooting them on, “Swim, swim, swim!” It’s a pretty fantastic feeling.

If you go:

It’s a bit of a transportation adventure to get to Campomentos Tortuguero Platanitos. I flew into Puerto Vallarta International Airport. From there, I took a taxi to Central Bus Station (about a 5 minute drive, 60 pesos – or about $5USD). At the bus terminal, I went to the Pacifico Bus Line counter and bought a ticket to Las Varas (about a two hour drive, 105 pesos – or about $10USD). Busses leave every 20-30 minutes. There, I’d coordinated a pick up from the CTP people (a 45 minute drive to camp); otherwise, expect to pay about $30USD to take a taxi to camp.

Need to know:

Campomentos Tortuguero Platanitos does not recycle, which is a big red flag considering the eco-conscious nature of the program. Recycling programs are in place in nearby Las Varas, so it doesn’t seem impossible.

A woman’s dormitory is currently under construction. For the time being, housing is co-ed in a poorly ventilated sleeping/living space which doubles as the kitchen. Much of the time, this room is hotter than a Bikram Yoga Studio.

CTP advertises internet availability, but from camp, it’s a very weak signal with spotty accessibility.

CTP is a dry camp, meaning no alcohol is allowed on the premises. This “rule” was not made known to me until I arrived at Turtle Camp. Mexico + intense heat + beach + sunsets + adult who can imbibe responsibly + no occasional cold cerveza = no bueno in my book.

If you bring fruit or vegetables to camp, expect a very short shelf life. The heat wrecks havoc causing produce to start rotting almost immediately.

Do not pack purified water. It is provided for you.

The heat and humidity are intense; I strongly recommend bringing Gatorade and some salty snacks (or “Survival Chips” as my significant other likes to call them). When I got to camp, I was drinking close to two gallons of water a day and peed maybe once a day for the first five days. I was in much better shape once I incorporated electrolytes and increased salt into my diet.

Only eco-friendly bug repellant is allowed (in the best interest of the hatchings and eggs). Expect to get bitten. A lot. The mosquitos and no-see-ums are merciless.

Ocean currents at Playa Las Tortugas are extremely strong and volunteers are advised not to swim solo. The ocean was too rough for me to swim during my 10-day stay at CTP. There is an estuary at the end of the beach where people can and do swim, but crocodiles have been spotted here during turtle patrol.

blog profile: north by motorbike

Traveling is what sustains me. You can strip me of my every last material possession, but please keep your paws off my passport. As much as I love exploring new places (and revisiting much loved places), meeting new people is just as important to me.

Mid-way through my volunteer project at Campamento Tortuguero Platanitos, I had the serendipitous luck of meeting another West Coast wanderluster named Jason. He arrived in a nasty downpour on his motorbike, two days shy of the six month mark since he set out from Buenos Aires. From Argentina, he wound his way through South America, crossing into Central America, eventually taking a "time out" in Sayulita, a surfing town/fishing village 35 miles north of Puerto Vallarta. Feeling feeling a little down about Mexico, he thought a quick stay at Turtle Camp would turn things around.

Similarly to me, Jason decided to take on a major travel adventure after 11 years at his finance job (I took on The Global Citizen Project a few months after my 12-year anniversary of freelancing fulltime). It was his first time in South America and I reveled in his stories about experiencing these countries and cultures from the unique vantage point of a motorbike. Sure, I’d been to many of the same destinations, but I’d experienced them as a luxury traveler (for work) or as a backpacker (for play) and always got around via planes, trains, busses and automobiles. Obviously, traveling solo via motorbike affords greater flexibility and advantages, but it also presents a set challenges typically unbeknownst to us backpacker travelers – from bribery at border crossings and hot-as-hell heat to vicious summer storms and batshit crazy Latin American drivers.

Swapping spirited travel tales over five hours of turtle patrol in the late hours of the night was just the dose of inspiration I needed after spending five intensely meditative nights inside my head. (My thoughts tend to go inward and deep when patrolling the beach in the late night hours.) It makes my travel lovin’ heart so happy to see people hatch ambitious travel plans (well, any travel plans, really) and make them happen. It makes me even happier when they say, “This was the best decision I’ve ever made.”

As travelers we collect all sorts of things – experiences, memories, photos, passport stamps and souvenirs – but it’s the conversations with other travelers that stick with me the most. Here’s wishing Jason safe travels and continued adventures as he makes his way north through Mexico and heads home to Los Angeles after more than six months south of the Border on his bike and on the road.

You can read all about Jason's motorbike travels on his blog, North by Motorbike.

So fess up. How many of you fantasize about packing it all up and taking a six-month or one year hiatus from your job and everyday responsibilities? If you had the time, flexibility and freedom, where would you go and what would you do? We’re talking wish list scenarios here, so nothing is too outlandish or over-the-top.

september project preview | sumak kawsay yachay | salasaca, ecuador

Where: Salasaca is located in the Tungurahua Province in the center of Ecuador, halfway along the road from Ambato to Baños.

What: Sumak Kawsay Yachay (SKY) is a privately-funded Ecuadorian foundation committed to assisting and supporting educational programs throughout the country.

Currently SKY is heavily involved with Katitawa School, a bilingual Kitchwa- and Spanish-speaking school for children aged between two and 12 in Tungurahua province. They also run a library in Salasaca, where young people can read, be read to, learn computer skills, and participate in arts projects and summer schools.

Significance: I’ve wanted to go to Ecuador since I met a couple honeymooning in Puno, Peru with a home there. SKY’s program seems like very well-rounded program set up to create lifelong success for its students.