Savvy Women

For those of you out there who do a lot of traveling, and I’m referring to transatlantic or transpacific sorts of trips, meaning those that take you far and wide, across multiple time zones in a single bound, you know that there’s nothing more frustrating (or debilitating) than having a bad case of jet lag.

That’s where I’m at right now.  I’m jet lagged to my very core, which explains why I’m up and writing this at 3:17 a. m. when everyone else is fast asleep and dreaming of whatever it is that everyone dreams about.

I definitely have good reason for being in this condition.  My whole trip, beginning in Midland, Texas, and then concluding in this dusty capital city of this dusty land of the pyramids, took about thirty-two hours to complete.  That means I started at ten o’clock Tuesday morning (Texas time) and arrived home at one o’clock on Thursday morning (Egypt time).

As everyone knows, Wednesday comes between Tuesday and Thursday.  My most recent Wednesday, though, was (and still is) mostly a blur to me.  The point of this blog is to discuss how I spent that blurry day and the very interesting travel experience I had during it.

I can say one thing about Wednesday with utmost certainty:  Most of it was spent as a thirteen-hour layover in Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam.

As soon as I deplaned, I knew I wouldn’t be able to make such a long wait unless I could find a place to crash.  Going into the city, though I truly love Amsterdam with every fiber of my being, wasn’t an option because I was so utterly exhausted.

I knew Schiphol had hotels that could be rented by the hour.  I’d stayed in a place called the Mercure for several hours several years earlier.  When I asked the pleasant, Dutch person sitting at the information desk how to get to it, she advised me to stay at something called the “Yotel” instead.  Looking back now, I’m glad she gave me that advice.

After wandering for what seemed like forty days and forty nights, I finally was able to locate Yotel on the second floor of the airport in an area that was rich with eating and shopping opportunities.  I dragged myself up to the Yotel check-in desk, asked if they had a room, and was happy to hear, from the young man manning it, that they did.

From here on out, this becomes an advertisement for Yotel.  If you ever find yourself trapped in Gatwick, Heathrow, or Schiphol, with lots of time on your hands, head over to the Yotel and get yourself a funky room to spend some time in.

Yotel is hip, in the same way MTV is hip.  It is very clear to me that Simon Woodroffe, founder of Yotel, had two goals in mind when he came up with his creative vision:  to give the weary traveler a refuge and to provide her with a memorable travel experience.  In both of these, I would say that he succeeded.

I have to apologize at this point because the pictures I took of my Yotel room were really very weak.  (I blame this on the jet lag, but it’s probably more likely, if truth be told, that I’m just incompetent as a photographer.)   Luckily, the company website has some really nice pictures of the rooms.

An important fact:  I got my room, something called a “standard cabin,” for seventy-nine Euros (or approximately ninety-five U. S. dollars).  That price allowed me to keep the room for eleven full hours.  As it turns out, the longer you rent a room, the cheaper the per hour rate gets.  (Businessmen and women are clever, aren’t they?)

It’s a challenge to come up with terms to describe Yotel, its rooms, and the staff, but I’ll give it my best shot.  “Otherworldly,” “Star Trekish,” “high-tech,” “IKEA-like,” “minimalistic,” “super-duper efficient,” “fun,” “friendly,” and “youthful” capture it pretty well.  It appears that the rooms have been designed by the European version of a feng shui master, someone who profoundly understands how to get the most use out of the least space without that space feeling confining.  Oh, and one more thing, I really like the purple mood lighting as well.  It reminds me of when I was a child in the seventies and we had those “black light” light bulbs that were so popular.

It’s approaching five in the morning, and I’ve run out of steam.  Now to bed.  I’ve got my fingers crossed that these eyes will close and that I’ll fall into that deep sleep that’s a little bit like “passing away.”

Dear SWM Blog Readers,

My return flight to Cairo is scheduled for the wee hours of Tuesday, the twenty-fifth of August, which means that I’m in the last day or so of this year’s summertime visit with family and friends in Texas.

This particular trip back home was very eventful, and thus hectic, especially toward the end, mostly because there was a last-minute family emergency that has been of great concern.  Etta Merle Hausenfluck, my maternal grandmother, a woman I’ve always called “Memaw” (doesn’t that sound southern?) and someone I’ve mentioned in these blogs, has had a couple of mild strokes.  As a result, I’ve been staying with her, at her country home, and mostly off the Internet.  I suppose this is a very convoluted way of saying that I’ve been unable to put together a new blog for this week.  For that, I apologize.

Soon, though, I’ll be back at “home” in Cairo and the blogging will come easier since I’ll no longer be living on the highway or out of a suitcase as I have been doing these past several weeks.

Before I wrap this up, I would like to mention a book I’m currently reading.  It’s called Carnal Acts, a collection of personal essays by Nancy Mairs, a writer of great courage who candidly discusses, especially in the piece “Carnal Acts,” what it’s like to be a middle-aged American woman stricken with multiple sclerosis, an illness Nancy Mairs has been living with for nearly two decades.

When I bought this book, about a week or so ago now, I had no idea how apropos it would be given my grandmother’s current situation.  The book deals with the subject of illness and limitation, but not in a maudlin way.  It’s the sort of book my grandmother should read, but that wouldn’t be her way.  For as long as I can remember now, my grandmother has been more a woman of action than reflection, so reading is mostly not her cup of tea.

I’ll miss you Memaw.  I’ll miss everyone…

Troy

I just love this video! It’s a wonderful example of creative thinking and problem solving in action.

Creativity and creative problem solving are two of my favorite blog subjects. For those of you who are similarly interested in these closely related topics, I’ve blogged about them here and here. The video is a case study in how a person can solve a problem, no matter how big, when a creative approach is used. In Angela Logan’s case, she is faced with the problem of needing to raise money to save her Teaneck, New Jersey, home from foreclosure. Her method of overcoming this challenge is one that everyone can learn from.

Firstly, I noticed that Angela very quickly identified a talent that she had and used it to great effect. She knew how to bake delicious cakes, and so she used this ability to raise funds. Watching Angela go to work in her kitchen reminds me of the time when I was in graduate school and similarly needed to augment my income. I had a job as a teaching assistant, but that didn’t really pay enough for me to live on, so I had to find a second job. This problem was made more difficult by the fact that I was so busy with my studies that I didn’t really have much time or energy to devote to such an undertaking. I knew, though, that I’ve always been a pretty good conversationalist and that I had some background as a teacher of English as a Second Language, so I decided to hire myself out to international students who wanted to work on perfecting their speaking abilities in English. All I had to do was sit and talk with nonnative speakers for an hour at a time and was paid quite well for doing so. Thus, the first step in creative problem solving is finding a tool that feels comfortable in one’s hand and then putting it to good use.

Secondly, Angela did not allow herself to feel overwhelmed by the difficulty facing her. Her problem was indeed large and thus daunting, but she was not daunted by it. That’s because she focused on the ” little picture.” She broke her problem down into small, manageable bits and pieces. This is made clear in the video when she set her first goal: to sell one hundred cakes in ten days. Reaching this provided her with the confidence she needed to set a second, larger objective. With each accomplishment, she built momentum, acquired confidence, and put a new piece of the puzzle in place. Rather than looking at the whole forest, she strategically decided to focus her vision on the individual trees that make up that forest.

Thirdly, Angela did not allow her pride to get in the way of her creative thinking. She asked those who are close to her to buy her first one hundred cakes, but she admits that it was difficult for her to do this. As an educator, I find that many students make the mistake of failing to ask for help when they have difficulties with the work I’ve asked them to do. Actually, I can understand this reluctance, on the part of some, because I am the sort of person who hates to admit that I am incapable of doing something wholly on my own. I suppose I feel I have to be self-sufficient in all things. Thinking this way, though, is a mistake and perhaps even a character flaw. Reaching out for help is not a sign of weakness. On the contrary, it is a way of becoming enriched and empowered, two very good things to be. Not reaching out for help, because one finds it embarrassing to do so, is like allowing one’s thinking to be clouded by emotionality.

By the way, my favorite book on creative thinking and problem solving is Edward de Bono’s Six Thinking Hats, a really good read.

Take care until next week.