terra-bear.com

The Differences of Lady Soldierhood, What I Learned From Canada & the Hygiene Excuse.

by terra on March 7, 2012 · 4 comments

in Lady Soldier Adventures

In February I had a chance to work with a group of Soldiers from the Canadian Army. They come to Virginia each year to make use of our usually mild weather (although it snows each time they visit), and to use some of our military training facilities. It’s always an experience when they come and I think both sides leave the table with a lot more knowledge each time we come together.

The Canadians are great to work with. In talking with them I tried not to giggle when they said “eh?” and marveled at the way they say “out” and “about” that I can’t even try to replicate, but most of the time I spent with the Canadians when I wasn’t filming or interviewing was spent trading stories. We talked about shared frustrations, and found, time and time again, that the same roadblocks they’ve hit, we’ve hit too. I said over and over and over again that it was nice to know that the situations we encounter aren’t unique, that our neighbors to the North have the same experiences. It’s nice to know you’re not alone.

But then we went out to see some artillery pieces fire. These are, simply, really big fucking guns. We call them “triple sevens,” and the Army calls them M777 Howitzers. They weigh about 9,300 pounds. They are serious, big fucking guns. Our Army created these beasts and then the Canadian Army bought some and now we’ve both used them in Afghanistan.

I was standing between two of the guns, waiting to get a shot of them firing and I made some comment that showed I had some knowledge of the howitzers and one of the Canadian men in charge asked if I was in the artillery. I laughed and said no, but that I’d seen artillery pieces fired before and was marginally familiar with how the guns worked.

The guns started firing and the conversation ended, but I sat there perplexed. I’m a lady soldier. In the US, lady soldiers can’t be in the artillery. Or the infantry. Or any other combat arms specialty. That Canadian asked if I was in the artillery like it was no big deal, and I was struck by it. The idea seems so foreign to me, so impossible.

Once the guns stopped firing, we talked briefly with the Canadians about their unit, their experiences and their deployments and I asked if they allowed women in their artillery. They told me yes, of course women are allowed in the artillery. Our commander is a woman, she should be coming this way soon, you can meet her. Wait – you guys don’t allow women in the artillery?

No. No we don’t.

They were perplexed. Surprised. It seemed weird to them, that we, America, is so far behind the times.

Later I brought it up with a female Canadian public affairs officer and told her how surprised we were to find women in the artillery. She filled me in on the details, telling me that in the EIGHTIES they did a test run with women in combat arms fields, including the infantry and artillery, and the world didn’t implode and shit didn’t hit the fan, and so in 1989 they opened the gates and let women serve in combat arms fields. She said that since 1989 was so long ago, most men don’t bat an eye at the idea since women have been serving beside them for most if not all of their careers.

It’s 2012, y’all. TWENTY FUCKING TWELVE. And we? The greatest nation in the world? We ain’t there yet.

–

Before heading home for the day we stopped by the rappel tower, which is exactly what it sounds like, a great big fucking tower that you rappel from. American Soldiers were teaching the Canadian Soldiers rappelling techniques. We talked briefly with an older, senior US infantryman and learned that the element we were watching rappel was an infantry unit that included a few women. Andrew and I (we work together every day because we are brave and make a great team as a videographer and photographer) mentioned how impressed we were with all the Canadian women in combat arms roles. He said he didn’t think women couldn’t meet the standards, that women were capable of getting the job done. I took this as  support for woman in combat roles, and said I agreed, that if women can meet the standard, there’s no reason they shouldn’t serve.

He said he was just going to be quiet. I wanted to know his thoughts on it, and I didn’t press, but gave him a look of curiosity. He said he didn’t think women should be allowed in the infantry for hygiene reasons. I laughed. Couldn’t help it. I asked what he meant. He asked me if I really thought women could handle being in the field for 10 days without a shower. I said there’s no reason a male Soldier would be better at being dirty that me. I can be dirty. He said yeah, but you’ve gotta crawl through mud and dirt.

You mean like that time I ran a Warrior Dash and low crawled through a pit of mud under some barred wire? Or that time I went to basic training and crawled through mud and sand and dirt and spent several days in the field without a shower? I didn’t say it. I just scoffed. I was shocked. Said that I loved mud and dropped the conversation because there’s a time and a place and that was neither.

But I’m still pissed. It’s been weeks and I’ve vented to everyone I know.

I’m got over it, I guess. I’m over the stupid excuses, the petty reasons to resist change. I’m over resisting progress. I’m over watching something work, really, truly, legitimately work for another nation and then watching our leaders shake their heads in dismay as if we’re so different.

Things change. That’s the way it is. Nothing stays the same or we’d still be simple amoebas. Forward movement is mandatory if we want to stay competitive and relevant in a changing world. We can’t sit, hunched up like gargoyles, resisting the changes that are taking place in every great nation around the world. We can’t ostrich our way through life. We’ve got to honey badger that shit, do what’s right and adjust and overcome.

{ 4 comments }

Being an obsessive planner, Euro Trip 2012 & how to operate in a whirlwind.

by terra on March 5, 2012 · 16 comments

in Going Places,The Life and Times

I’m a planner. That’s a well established fact. I make lists. I check things off. I plot. I scheme. I plan. I plan everything, from parts of my work day, to traveling adventures, to the order in which I intend to prepare for my day. Order puts me at ease, lowers my anxiety and helps trick me into a false sense of control. Planning is my jam.

Very soon I’m going to be heading across the Atlantic Ocean and embarking on what I’m choosing to call the Eating, Drinking, Wandering and Shenaniganizing Euro Trip of 2012. This trip, this magnificent trip planned to coincide with both my spring break and my 28th birthday, has been in the works for well over a year. It was supposed to happen last August, but it didn’t. It got pushed back and I got still more time to scheme and plot and plan for it.

This trip is a whirlwind. Andrew and I have good friends in Sweden who we’ve been anxious to visit because 1.) we love them, and 2.) they are the proud parents of the cutest baby girl in all the lands, and 3.) THEY LIVE IN FUCKING SWEDEN. So we knew that if we planned a trip to Europe, we had to visit Sweden, and given that flights to Europe are all expensive-like, we reasoned that we should pack as much action and adventure into our trip as humanly possible. So we’re visiting Paris & London too, plus Sweden, with a few days spent at each location.

In other words: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My favorite part of vacation planning is the hunt. I love stalking airfare prices. I love digging through hotel booking sites, searching for the best and most fabulous hotel for the smallest and most reasonable expense. I love breaking out my credit card, entering the numbers, and knowing that I’ve found the best deal available on the internets.

But, my planning has limits. I don’t like to over plan visits to cities. I always buy a guide book – ALWAYS – but it’s a rough guide. It’s like a friend who’s been there and visited and knows the local customs and can help me search out deals and destinations I’d otherwise never uncover, but it doesn’t rule me. I do my own thing, honey badger style, as usual.

The plan for this trip, given it’s exceptionally whirlwindish character, is to make a list. A short list of the things we MUST SEE and MUST EAT and MUST DO in each city we intend to visit, made up of no more than 5 items.  There may be a subsequent or secondary list comprised of things we’d like to see, but that we won’t cry over too much if we get caught up in some other amazing sight and miss it.

EATING, DRINKING, WANDERING & SHENANIGANIZING: LONDON

1. SEE: Buckingham Palace. To me, this is the most quintessential British thing I could probably see in London.

2. SEE: Big Ben & The House of Parliament. In terms of iconic London imagery, I’d say one of the first sights that comes to my mind when I think of London is Big Ben.

3. SEE: The British Museum. I want to see the Rosetta Stone. Part of the fun of traveling to Europe, for me anyway, is marveling at things that are really, really old.

4. EAT & DRINK: Pub Fare. While I’m not the hugest fan of things like Fish & Chips, the husband is and what I can’t enjoy food wise, I sure as hell can enjoy beer wise. The past six months have included a bit of a beer awakening for me and I’m slowly coming out of a phase of almost exclusive red wine drinking. Something has happened to my taste buds and I’ve suddenly become very aware of all the deliciousness of all the beers.

5. SEE: British Airways London Eye. This looks like the most terrifying contraption ever designed, but Andrew keeps mentioning it, all excited like, while I furrow my brows in consternation. He says we don’t have to ride the damn thing, but I’m afraid that just looking at will make me tremble in fear.

–

EATING, DRINKING, WANDERING & SHENANIGANIZING: PARIS

1. SEE: Eiffel Tower. It’s the first that comes to mind when thinking about Paris and I’ve always, always, always wanted to see it. It seems so romantic, so far away, so beautiful.

2. SEE: Arc de Triomphe. It’s another iconically Parisian thing that we’ve just got to see.

3. SEE: Cimetiere du Pere-Lachaise. Jim Morrison, Oscar Wilde and Auguste Comte are all buried here. They’ve become pilgrimage sites, in away, along with a handful of other grave sites found here. It’s weird, maybe, but I like cemeteries, not for any morbid reason, but because they’re historical sites, whether the grave holder was famous or not.

4. EAT: All of the things. I mean really. There are crepes and croissants and macaroons and French wine and ALL THE DELICIOUS PASTRIES. I want to eat all of it.

5. SEE: Basilique du Sacré-Cœur. Because I’m for sweeping city views and architectural loveliness.

–

There’s no list for Sweden because we know people in Sweden and we’re trusting them to guide us while we visit, plus the three of them top our list of must-sees. There are a handful of exciting adventures in store, including a night in Stockholm and the possibility of an open house tour, during which I will understand absolutely nothing, but will absolutely feel like (and pretend that) I’m on an episode of House Hunters International.

–

Have you been to these places? If yes, what did you love? If not, what would see if you were going?

{ 16 comments }

February: The month of anticipation and almost birthday monthness.

by terra on February 29, 2012 · 7 comments

in Monthly Bytes

First, thank you all your kind comments and support on my last post. The kindness, love and support I’ve found through blogging constantly amazes and inspires me.

–

March is my birthday month. February has been so full and busy that I’ve hardly had time to think about the fact that I’ll be turning 28 in less than 2 weeks. It just doesn’t feel like it’s almost my birthday or like I’m about to turn 28. 28, in fact, seems way older than I am. 28 seems very grown up and adult-like. Grown up and adult-like is not something I am, at least not when I’m alone with my thoughts or when I’m busy meowing along to random songs on the radio.

February was…

Buying plane tickets to far away lands. Picking hotel rooms for Paris and London. My nose in a book. Dog eared pages of things to see and do. Mental checklists. Travel scheming. Daydreaming. Stray cat extravaganzas. Wishing that I could scoop up all the wild cats and keep them forever and ever amen and teach them how to clean their own damn litterboxes.

Super Bowl food. Super Bowl commercials. Super Bowl tweets. Food I rarely eat. Food comas, food hangovers and excessive cheese consumption. Tacos, always. Cold beers, red wine and mojitos.

Cats who watch dog shows. Dogs who are indifferent. Shed monsters. Cat and dog fur on all the things. Sweeping and vacuuming and lint rolling. School papers, school reading, school discussions. Getting it done. Inching closer and closer and closer to graduation.

Boot shopping. J. Crew expeditions. Snow and sunshine. Windows down, open, breezes blowing. Birds chirping at cats, cats chirping at birds. Fresh foods. Garden schemes. Lady birthday celebrations. BiSC cookies. Vegas flight bookings and daily squeals of excitement for all the fun to come in May.

Brunch, always. Pancakes and waffles and bacon and eggs and mimosas for days. Sleeping in until 8:00. Grocery store sushi. Trying new fitness classes. Getting my ass kicked. Sore muscles, in a good way. Long runs and short runs. Books. A pile of magazines. Giant cups of tea, fruit and toast. Peanut butter and bananas. Dessert.

A loss. A flood of memories. A reminder that my Army family is one of my favorite families. A coming together, a sharing of memories.

Unexpected reminders that love survives, always.

{ 7 comments }

Another Soldier Died Today.

Farm raised, near meatlessness, and the best damn tacos I’ve ever had.