It doesn't much feel like the holidays. Is it the lack of snow that I'm so used to associating with this season? Or it's that in growing older the mythology that comes with the holiday season is no longer mysterious or mythic? Maybe it's just that this year was meant to be low key throughout?
Nevertheless, I do enjoy the idea of Boxing Day. So what if it's Canadian? Just the idea of boxing things up, putting things away, "Spring Cleaning" as such -- even if it is the dead of winter. There's something to be said for clearing out the clutter. For putting things away that we no longer need for now. Making sure to dust off and keep what's important and appreciate those things as well.
Although I hate cleaning, isn't it true that a clean and organized house does make a person feel so much better? Not just physically, but spiritually as well. It's a fresh start and everyone deserves a fresh start.
So, for the end of the year, my goal is to clean out my closet. Yes, to clear out the things that have been in the shadows for so long. To let things go so that new things are allowing to come into my life. And those "things" don't have to be material.
In the past, letting go and letting live lifted the load I'd been carrying on my shoulders. And actually, once I let those "things" go it lifted the load off of my physical frame as well. A nice perk.
In the present, the hard part is figuring out what is is that I need to let go. What it is that I'm holding on to? Not seeing what is right in front of my face is a specialty of mine. (I don't say that proudly, it's just a fact.)
It's a challenge that I both look forward to and abhor. It's terrifying and exhilarating. It's choosing to live instead of letting life go numbly by (guilty of this as the next person. And, it requires unplugging and being present in the world.
The New Year is always great for that. I have a friend who years ago told me he was going to spend his New Year in silence. Literally unplug. At midnight he would unplug his clock, his lights, his phone, his television, his radio and all his other power items. The only thing he would leave plugged in is his refrigerator and he would put aside a watch so that he knew when it was midnight again. For 24 hours he would be in silence. He wouldn't talk to anyone or listen to music or watch TV. Basically, a silent retreat.
It's appealing isn't it? Sometimes I turn on the noise because in silence the noise of my own thoughts is shattering. Shattering to my way of being. To my soul and to my spirit. To my life. You want to know what the funny thing is? It always turns out that if I face the silence I'm more whole than I've ever been. There's the irony. The shattered pieces are pieces that I didn't need. And so they're cleaned up and I get a fresh start. I love the fresh start.
29 December 2008
22 December 2008
The Rarest Angel
I look over. What's that? A lone golden helium balloon has been attached to the Christmas tree. At the top. Ha ha. An attempt from my sister at trying to decorate the top of the tree.
Flashback to a month and a half ago. Shoppers everywhere. It's a madhouse. I'm at Michael's looking for tree toppers. There are some beautiful angels. Really. Great fabric dresses and gorgeous craftsmanship. There is only one problem. The angels are blonde. After looking there I go to Linen's N Things and Target and it's the same thing. Blonde, blonde, blonde. Are there no brunette angels? Is there a rule that brunette's can't be angels?
I tell my sister and she says I'll have an easier time finding African American angels than finding a black haired angel. Ha! I say. I'll find one!
No I won't. It's 3 days before Christmas. Searching Amazon and the web has proven my sister to be right. All the angel toppers with black hair are African American and the rest are Blonde, Blonde, Blonde.
I'm getting frustrated and actually upset. Upset over a stupid tree topper that is supposed to be a happy, joyful thing. The true meaning of this season is not about anger or "things" -- it's about gratefulness, grace, and celebration of life, right? So why am I expending energy on getting upset because angels don't have black hair?
This is the argument I've had with myself. To the point that I've given up. My tree will remain angel free until that rarest of all angels makes its way to me somewhere, sometime in life.
Until then, the gold helium balloon adds a little humour to the whole tree and it makes me smile when I see it. For those who celebrate--A very Happy Christmas. For those who don't--A very Merry New Year.
Flashback to a month and a half ago. Shoppers everywhere. It's a madhouse. I'm at Michael's looking for tree toppers. There are some beautiful angels. Really. Great fabric dresses and gorgeous craftsmanship. There is only one problem. The angels are blonde. After looking there I go to Linen's N Things and Target and it's the same thing. Blonde, blonde, blonde. Are there no brunette angels? Is there a rule that brunette's can't be angels?
I tell my sister and she says I'll have an easier time finding African American angels than finding a black haired angel. Ha! I say. I'll find one!
No I won't. It's 3 days before Christmas. Searching Amazon and the web has proven my sister to be right. All the angel toppers with black hair are African American and the rest are Blonde, Blonde, Blonde.
I'm getting frustrated and actually upset. Upset over a stupid tree topper that is supposed to be a happy, joyful thing. The true meaning of this season is not about anger or "things" -- it's about gratefulness, grace, and celebration of life, right? So why am I expending energy on getting upset because angels don't have black hair?
This is the argument I've had with myself. To the point that I've given up. My tree will remain angel free until that rarest of all angels makes its way to me somewhere, sometime in life.
Until then, the gold helium balloon adds a little humour to the whole tree and it makes me smile when I see it. For those who celebrate--A very Happy Christmas. For those who don't--A very Merry New Year.
27 November 2008
Happy Thanksgiving
It's 1:30 AM and I can't sleep because I'm worrying about the turkey tomorrow morning. I've prepared one before but I have a history of mixing the kitchen and fire and food so...I'm a little worried.
But I can change that worry can't I? Just realize that I'm grateful for having a kitchen and fire and food. It's freezing some places and foodless some places and homeless some places. So, really, there's nothing to worry about but a lot to be thankful for.
And then I see leaping flames in front of my eyes and that all goes away.
How do you worry about a turkey? It's not even a big turkey. Like 8 pounds. And when I went to go buy it the guy at the store said, oh, a really small turkey, almost a chicken. And I said, "Yes" and nodded my head shyly in shame.
And then I think, well, it's small, what happens if it goes up in flames? Then there won't be much left to eat. Maybe I should have gotten a bigger one so that if it gets set on fire then at least that part can be cut off and I can try over again with the rest of it....Or does it not work like that?
I'm glad the fire station is only a few blocks away. It makes me feel safer. That, and my big bag of baking powder and baking soda to put out grease flames. You think I'm joking. Yeah, that's what a lot of my friends think too. For awhile at least. There is always hope. That why I keep trying. You can't burn food forever right? If you keep trying you just have to get better from the practice...right? Right? Anybody? Hello? Okay, I'll just go to bed.
But I can change that worry can't I? Just realize that I'm grateful for having a kitchen and fire and food. It's freezing some places and foodless some places and homeless some places. So, really, there's nothing to worry about but a lot to be thankful for.
And then I see leaping flames in front of my eyes and that all goes away.
How do you worry about a turkey? It's not even a big turkey. Like 8 pounds. And when I went to go buy it the guy at the store said, oh, a really small turkey, almost a chicken. And I said, "Yes" and nodded my head shyly in shame.
And then I think, well, it's small, what happens if it goes up in flames? Then there won't be much left to eat. Maybe I should have gotten a bigger one so that if it gets set on fire then at least that part can be cut off and I can try over again with the rest of it....Or does it not work like that?
I'm glad the fire station is only a few blocks away. It makes me feel safer. That, and my big bag of baking powder and baking soda to put out grease flames. You think I'm joking. Yeah, that's what a lot of my friends think too. For awhile at least. There is always hope. That why I keep trying. You can't burn food forever right? If you keep trying you just have to get better from the practice...right? Right? Anybody? Hello? Okay, I'll just go to bed.
22 November 2008
Say Cheese
I just got back from one of the most up to date weddings ever. They had a photo booth. Yes, a photo booth! And it took 4 photos and gave 2 copies of those 4 photos. One for the scrapbook of the Bride and Groom and one for the guests to keep.
Another thing they did was have business cards on the table asking all the guests to share their photos by uploading them to the married couple's Flickr account. I've never seen that before either. How smart.
There was also a groom's cake to go with the wedding cake. The groom's cake was a Nintendo theme and was really cool.
Some really great ideas from a really great and cool couple. I wish them all the best. And now, it's time for some sleep.
Another thing they did was have business cards on the table asking all the guests to share their photos by uploading them to the married couple's Flickr account. I've never seen that before either. How smart.
There was also a groom's cake to go with the wedding cake. The groom's cake was a Nintendo theme and was really cool.
Some really great ideas from a really great and cool couple. I wish them all the best. And now, it's time for some sleep.
14 November 2008
Everything I Need to Know I Learned By....
There´s no place like home. There´s no place like home. There´s no place like home.
There is no place like home. And I think we all take that for granted sometimes.
Traveling has taught me several things:
1. Obama has a lot of weight on his shoulders. A lot of expectation. People throughout Europe that I have met and also in the news are expecting him to fix not just the United States economy but the World economy as well. One European I spoke with told me it was a World election not just one for the United States. Good Luck Obama. Good Advisors. Good Decision Making Skills. And Good Family and Friends. You´ll need them.
2. I eat more when I travel.
3. Don´t take anything for granted. Your ability to walk. Having arms. Your ability to breathe. Clean Air. Your family. Your friends. Your culture. Your nation. Your freedoms. Your education. At the same time, don´t limit yourself to your culture. Teach your children to love newspapers instead of the Nintendo DS if you want to. Bring them to see Modern Art at 5 years old and explain the paintings. (There was a huge group of kindergarten aged children with their teachers looking at the Reigna Sophia.) And most of all, teach yourself to try new and uncomfortable things. As long as it doesn´t harm yourself or anyone else. Push your boundaries.
4. Small gifts are the best gifts. Otherwise you´ll spend the day and night before sitting on your suitcase trying to get everything to fit and hoping your zipper will hold. OR Get a really, really, really big purse to go with your carry on.
There is no place like home. And I think we all take that for granted sometimes.
Traveling has taught me several things:
1. Obama has a lot of weight on his shoulders. A lot of expectation. People throughout Europe that I have met and also in the news are expecting him to fix not just the United States economy but the World economy as well. One European I spoke with told me it was a World election not just one for the United States. Good Luck Obama. Good Advisors. Good Decision Making Skills. And Good Family and Friends. You´ll need them.
2. I eat more when I travel.
3. Don´t take anything for granted. Your ability to walk. Having arms. Your ability to breathe. Clean Air. Your family. Your friends. Your culture. Your nation. Your freedoms. Your education. At the same time, don´t limit yourself to your culture. Teach your children to love newspapers instead of the Nintendo DS if you want to. Bring them to see Modern Art at 5 years old and explain the paintings. (There was a huge group of kindergarten aged children with their teachers looking at the Reigna Sophia.) And most of all, teach yourself to try new and uncomfortable things. As long as it doesn´t harm yourself or anyone else. Push your boundaries.
4. Small gifts are the best gifts. Otherwise you´ll spend the day and night before sitting on your suitcase trying to get everything to fit and hoping your zipper will hold. OR Get a really, really, really big purse to go with your carry on.
Jess it was closed :(
Dear Jess,
Didn´t get your e-mail until after the visit. After walking, and walking, and walking all over only to find that the restaurant was only 2 blocks from our Hotel...it was closed.
We´re still on U.S. time for eating dinner. They didn´t open until 8:30PM. It looked lovely from the outside and the menu yummy. But the restaurant wins a pout from me because it dares to stay on Spanish dinner time in the middle of Spain. How dare they!
Of course I´m kidding. Tonight is our last night here so unfortunately, it will have to wait until the next time.
Didn´t get your e-mail until after the visit. After walking, and walking, and walking all over only to find that the restaurant was only 2 blocks from our Hotel...it was closed.
We´re still on U.S. time for eating dinner. They didn´t open until 8:30PM. It looked lovely from the outside and the menu yummy. But the restaurant wins a pout from me because it dares to stay on Spanish dinner time in the middle of Spain. How dare they!
Of course I´m kidding. Tonight is our last night here so unfortunately, it will have to wait until the next time.
Woosh whoosh
Did you know that when you´re swinging the light saber it actually makes that sound? Yeah. How do I know this?
Because.
Because I´ve done it. Swung the real deal and not some plasticy thing from Walgreens. How many of you can say that? Hunh?
Okay. Now that the geek in me has had its playday...
The lightsaber has the sound built it in so you don´t have to make the noises on your own. It´s quite cool. We waited a long time while news crews shot with it since there was only one. It was fun.
The Star Wars Exhibition was quite well done. I´m not including any photos of the exhibition itself here because A. it wouldn´t do the exhibition justice and B. I don´t want to ruin it if anyone does go. On a different note Joao is actually a sound designer not a sound engineer. (Sorry Joao.) He did a very nice job.
The models are exquisite pieces of artwork on their own and the drawings and the whole set up was really great. They have costumes and masks and descriptions and it´s all very well lit. I highly recommend if you´re in Madrid anytime between tomorrow and March of 2009 that you should go. They have original pieces from all six of the films and they´re organized by planet.
Haven´t you always wanted to visit Tatooine? Or was that just me?
Because.
Because I´ve done it. Swung the real deal and not some plasticy thing from Walgreens. How many of you can say that? Hunh?
Okay. Now that the geek in me has had its playday...
The lightsaber has the sound built it in so you don´t have to make the noises on your own. It´s quite cool. We waited a long time while news crews shot with it since there was only one. It was fun.
The Star Wars Exhibition was quite well done. I´m not including any photos of the exhibition itself here because A. it wouldn´t do the exhibition justice and B. I don´t want to ruin it if anyone does go. On a different note Joao is actually a sound designer not a sound engineer. (Sorry Joao.) He did a very nice job.
The models are exquisite pieces of artwork on their own and the drawings and the whole set up was really great. They have costumes and masks and descriptions and it´s all very well lit. I highly recommend if you´re in Madrid anytime between tomorrow and March of 2009 that you should go. They have original pieces from all six of the films and they´re organized by planet.
Haven´t you always wanted to visit Tatooine? Or was that just me?
The Star Wars Exhibition sign
No, I don´t know where I´m going. But as I climb the stairs out of the Metro station I see this sign.
Okay. Yes, I´m in the right place.
I told Joao that I wouldn´t be able to drop in on him until Friday since we had some visits to the Prado and the Reigna Sophia to do. (BTW - those museums are awesome. Works from Picasso and many other famous artists I have never seen before--even in books.)
I walk around to the tower. Okay, big sign but no sign of the exhibition. There´s a museum nearby so I pull out my handy dandy language translator and learn how to ask for directions. When I go in the lady walks me out and points speaking in Spanish the whole way.
I don´t know if she fully understood my question. But the "Star Wars" part of it was very difficult to misunderstand.
It took a bit of doing but I found the entrance. There was a Jedi Knight school. Very interesting. I walk in. The security people say that the exhibition doesn´t open until tomorrow. I say, yes, I know that I´m looking for Joao and I have his phone number but it´s a Portuguese number and he asked me to meet him here.
I show them the slip with all of his handwriting and she says "Ah...Lucasfilm?" And I say, "Si!"
Another security person walks me down and tells me where to go. He also says there is a big press thing going on right now. Uh oh. I should have called.
I walk down to the entrance. A bit intimidated because I´m literally seeing about 7 news crews just from the entrance shooting stuff. (There were many more than that there.) Giving myself a moment I notice a man who obviously works there with his back to me.
Taking a closer look after I get my bearings I tap him on the shoulder.
"Alice!"
It´s Joao.
He takes me around and we take photos. The news crews are having a lot of fun and are really excited. I´ll talk more about the exhibition at the next entry.
Okay. Yes, I´m in the right place.
I told Joao that I wouldn´t be able to drop in on him until Friday since we had some visits to the Prado and the Reigna Sophia to do. (BTW - those museums are awesome. Works from Picasso and many other famous artists I have never seen before--even in books.)
I walk around to the tower. Okay, big sign but no sign of the exhibition. There´s a museum nearby so I pull out my handy dandy language translator and learn how to ask for directions. When I go in the lady walks me out and points speaking in Spanish the whole way.
I don´t know if she fully understood my question. But the "Star Wars" part of it was very difficult to misunderstand.
It took a bit of doing but I found the entrance. There was a Jedi Knight school. Very interesting. I walk in. The security people say that the exhibition doesn´t open until tomorrow. I say, yes, I know that I´m looking for Joao and I have his phone number but it´s a Portuguese number and he asked me to meet him here.
I show them the slip with all of his handwriting and she says "Ah...Lucasfilm?" And I say, "Si!"
Another security person walks me down and tells me where to go. He also says there is a big press thing going on right now. Uh oh. I should have called.
I walk down to the entrance. A bit intimidated because I´m literally seeing about 7 news crews just from the entrance shooting stuff. (There were many more than that there.) Giving myself a moment I notice a man who obviously works there with his back to me.
Taking a closer look after I get my bearings I tap him on the shoulder.
"Alice!"
It´s Joao.
He takes me around and we take photos. The news crews are having a lot of fun and are really excited. I´ll talk more about the exhibition at the next entry.
They Don´t Move That Fast
Earlier I´d shown Walter how to adjust his camera for actions shots. He was trying to get a shot of a moving man. No explanation needed.
About 5 minutes later
"Later, I want to get a photo of a fast moving whore."
Silence. Another beat of silence. Third beat. And one that makes it just a bit too long without a response. He looks at me. I look at him at the same time. Simultaneously, without a word be both start laughing. Hard. Belly laughs. It was an odd moment of realizing that I had misheard what he had said and he guessed by looking at my face what I thought he had said and I could tell by looking at his face that he didn´t say what I thought he had said.
It was a good 10 minutes until I found out that he had said "horse" and not "whore."
When we were explaining later to Carlos what I thought he had said Walter replied, "Whores don´t move that fast anyways."
Another round of laughter.
We laugh. But these poor young women. I´m told that in Spain the age of consent is 16 years old. No wonder they look so young. In Britain it´s 14 years old. Walking down Grand Via toward the offshoot that brings me to this internet cafe they are around 24 hours a day.
A few days ago I was walking in my brown crop pants, these wacky yet preppyish stripped socks, brown Keds, and my black jacket with purple scarf--headed toward the internet cafe. A youngish man is talking with a hooker, as I´m about to pass he jumps in front of me and propositions me in Spanish. I respond with "Hunh?" and a look that communicated across the language barrier enough for him to move out of the way. The young woman said something to him behind me that I interpreted as You´re mistaken, she´s not one of us.
Okay, I know I´m a bad dresser. But I am so not giving off a hooker vibe. The next morning I ask my travel companions about it and they agree that I neither dress like a hooker nor give off the vibe so the kid was high, drunk, or thinks all women are hookers. Great.
Overheard, "Hola ______(fill in the Spanish word for whore here)"
"Did she just say `Hola ______?´" one of my friends asks the other as we continue to walk past.
"Yeah."
They look at each other incredulous. I´m taking in a scene of one woman dressed to the nines greeting another woman with a male companion and a dog. They do the standard European air kisses on both cheeks. Neither of them look like whores. Instead they look like well to do older women.
" EEEE holay" I don´t know how to spell eee holay but that´s what it sounds like. That´s what came out of Carlos´mouth. It seems appropriate.
eeeee holay
About 5 minutes later
"Later, I want to get a photo of a fast moving whore."
Silence. Another beat of silence. Third beat. And one that makes it just a bit too long without a response. He looks at me. I look at him at the same time. Simultaneously, without a word be both start laughing. Hard. Belly laughs. It was an odd moment of realizing that I had misheard what he had said and he guessed by looking at my face what I thought he had said and I could tell by looking at his face that he didn´t say what I thought he had said.
It was a good 10 minutes until I found out that he had said "horse" and not "whore."
When we were explaining later to Carlos what I thought he had said Walter replied, "Whores don´t move that fast anyways."
Another round of laughter.
We laugh. But these poor young women. I´m told that in Spain the age of consent is 16 years old. No wonder they look so young. In Britain it´s 14 years old. Walking down Grand Via toward the offshoot that brings me to this internet cafe they are around 24 hours a day.
A few days ago I was walking in my brown crop pants, these wacky yet preppyish stripped socks, brown Keds, and my black jacket with purple scarf--headed toward the internet cafe. A youngish man is talking with a hooker, as I´m about to pass he jumps in front of me and propositions me in Spanish. I respond with "Hunh?" and a look that communicated across the language barrier enough for him to move out of the way. The young woman said something to him behind me that I interpreted as You´re mistaken, she´s not one of us.
Okay, I know I´m a bad dresser. But I am so not giving off a hooker vibe. The next morning I ask my travel companions about it and they agree that I neither dress like a hooker nor give off the vibe so the kid was high, drunk, or thinks all women are hookers. Great.
Overheard, "Hola ______(fill in the Spanish word for whore here)"
"Did she just say `Hola ______?´" one of my friends asks the other as we continue to walk past.
"Yeah."
They look at each other incredulous. I´m taking in a scene of one woman dressed to the nines greeting another woman with a male companion and a dog. They do the standard European air kisses on both cheeks. Neither of them look like whores. Instead they look like well to do older women.
" EEEE holay" I don´t know how to spell eee holay but that´s what it sounds like. That´s what came out of Carlos´mouth. It seems appropriate.
eeeee holay
13 November 2008
Walter and a guard at the Royal Palace
"You work for Lucasfilm?"
"Yes"
Of all the places to meet another person in the Industry. My coffee mate turns out to be here in town working on the Star Wars exhibit that is in town.
"Is it a convention?"
"No, it´s an exhibit."
"Do people come? Is anyone allowed?"
"Yes, it´s open to the public"
"It sounds like a convention"
"No, it´s an exhibit."
He continues to explain how there are models -- full size models etc. It still sounds like a convention to me.
We have a nice chat. Politics and the other part of his job which is as a sound engineer for rock bands and artists. Unfortunately, he picked the one person who really has no clue as he lists off names I´ve never heard of. The only one I recognized was the Police and Sting.
I think it frustrated him that he was dropping all these names and I really had no reaction of awe to them. Of all the other people in the city to pick to go to coffee -- he found another person in the Industry who lives in Los Angeles and interacts with celebrities in various degrees through work. Sorry. No swooning here.
Not proud of my ignorance of rock bands. It´s just not a part of my upbringing. I grew up without a radio. And celebrities are people first. Glamour does have a double meaning as sci fi/fantasy fans know. Basically showing something that´s not really true or there.
It was a nice conversation though and Joao did invite me to come and see the exhibition before it opens since I´m leaving the day it opens. (I´m going tomorrow. Can´t pass up Star Wars. :) Such a geek. )
The next morning, I´m dragging. We go to the Prado. My friend Jess who lived there for a year told me it might be overwhelming. It was. So much to see and my head was swimming. They don´t allow cameras so no photos folks.
I spent the evening looking for a cable car with my travel companions. And here is where I have to diverge from my narrative again....
Walter and Carlos are a couple. Spending time with them I have learned more about men than I ever thought there was to know. Should I clarify that as more about gay men? No, because I´ve learned more about butt´s and "packages" and boxers and briefs and boxer briefs and hustlers, and cruising, and steam baths, and faces and pretty boys and machismo and fake machismo, and butchness, and walks, and gaydar and couples and straight vs. gay men in this short time and it´s mostly about men period.
Needless to say, my ability to identify gay couples and improved since hanging out with them.
Now wait until my next blog entry...we´ll talk about whores.
"Yes"
Of all the places to meet another person in the Industry. My coffee mate turns out to be here in town working on the Star Wars exhibit that is in town.
"Is it a convention?"
"No, it´s an exhibit."
"Do people come? Is anyone allowed?"
"Yes, it´s open to the public"
"It sounds like a convention"
"No, it´s an exhibit."
He continues to explain how there are models -- full size models etc. It still sounds like a convention to me.
We have a nice chat. Politics and the other part of his job which is as a sound engineer for rock bands and artists. Unfortunately, he picked the one person who really has no clue as he lists off names I´ve never heard of. The only one I recognized was the Police and Sting.
I think it frustrated him that he was dropping all these names and I really had no reaction of awe to them. Of all the other people in the city to pick to go to coffee -- he found another person in the Industry who lives in Los Angeles and interacts with celebrities in various degrees through work. Sorry. No swooning here.
Not proud of my ignorance of rock bands. It´s just not a part of my upbringing. I grew up without a radio. And celebrities are people first. Glamour does have a double meaning as sci fi/fantasy fans know. Basically showing something that´s not really true or there.
It was a nice conversation though and Joao did invite me to come and see the exhibition before it opens since I´m leaving the day it opens. (I´m going tomorrow. Can´t pass up Star Wars. :) Such a geek. )
The next morning, I´m dragging. We go to the Prado. My friend Jess who lived there for a year told me it might be overwhelming. It was. So much to see and my head was swimming. They don´t allow cameras so no photos folks.
I spent the evening looking for a cable car with my travel companions. And here is where I have to diverge from my narrative again....
Walter and Carlos are a couple. Spending time with them I have learned more about men than I ever thought there was to know. Should I clarify that as more about gay men? No, because I´ve learned more about butt´s and "packages" and boxers and briefs and boxer briefs and hustlers, and cruising, and steam baths, and faces and pretty boys and machismo and fake machismo, and butchness, and walks, and gaydar and couples and straight vs. gay men in this short time and it´s mostly about men period.
Needless to say, my ability to identify gay couples and improved since hanging out with them.
Now wait until my next blog entry...we´ll talk about whores.
11 November 2008
a church in the moonlight
After siesta we go for dessert and coffee. In our wanderings we found this cute place with this liquor that is made specifically by that restaurant and they have a copyright sort of thing on it so no one else can make it. It was the best liquor I´ve ever had. So I bought a bottle. How I´m going to transport it back to the U.S. is another matter. What was I thinking? But it was soooo good!
We took in Madrid at night. There were more people wandering the streets than during the day. And unfortunately, there are also a lot of young, young girls walking the streets as ladies of the night. I must have passed 7 of them on the way to get to this internet cafe and it´s only around the corner from my hotel.
Ooops. Running out of time. Only 2 minutes left. Off to coffee with the guy from Portugal who was sitting next to me here. Bye!
The Royal Park in Madrid
The king created this park from old hunting grounds. It is the only place I´ve seen tons of runners. It is also the only place in Madrid where I can suck in the air to the bottom of my lungs and not choke either on diesel fumes or cigarette smoke.
The park is huge and beautiful and I really would love to spend an entire day here people watching, writing, reading, sketching and taking photos. It´s very relaxing and the remote parts of the park have this feel...like you´re not in the city.
One of my friends said that he´s going to travel to the countryside next time because although the cities are wonderful the pace is extremely exhausting. That´s why parks are so essential in large cities.
New York has Central Park. London has Hyde Park, Regent´s Park, Kensington Park, and many, many more. Dublin has St. Stephen´s Square and also Phoenix Park, and Madrid has Parque del Buen Retiro.
It´s a great place for travelers to park themselves to recharge.
Charge Away.
Walter, Carlos, and Michael being tourists
Madrid is a very walk-able city. Yes, the metro system is very nice but not really necessary if you´re trying to see the scenery.
We spent the day walking around the heart of the city and the neighborhoods so that we could orient ourselves and decide what interested us so we could come back.
Can I just say...thank you Clean Air Act? We had lunch in this lovely place with lovely people. The only down side? You´re in an enclosed area with a bunch of people smoking while they eat. I´d forgotten since it´s literally been years...since before Wisconsin passed their own version of the Clear Air Act that I´ve experienced cigarette smoke indoors.
And if it´s true that for every one cigarette a person smokes the second hand smoke is like smoking two...then I´ve probably smoked a pack and a half today. Needless to say everything smells like cigarette smoke no matter how much walking you do afterwards. (Sorry Sharon, you´re jacket...I´ll have to wash it for you.)
The walking feels good even if my feet do ache a little. I´m hoping the Spanish food will be better for shedding some weight. My love affair with mashed potatoes reared it´s ugly head in both London and Dublin. You can never turn down mashed potatoes. Never. Yum! My waistline didn´t enjoy it so much though. And even though we walked a lot in both of those cities the potatoes had their say.
In Spain, the food is a lot lighter and I´m looking forward to looser fitting clothes. :)
Tomorrow...the Prado!
Michael in Madrid
More steps, more steps. Huff, puff.
I have a large suitcase on my back. My purse is tied and clipped to it and is flying back and forth on top of it swinging. In my arms is my extremely heavy carry on filled with gifts. And in front of me is a steep flight of stairs with no end in sight.
One step at a time. Just focus on the step in front of me.
We´re in the Madrid subway system. Having just arrived in the most beautiful airport I´ve ever seen and taken a most modern and new subway system. We´ve switched to 3 different lines and are now climbing the stairs to the street.
There are no escalators and no elevators so I´ve opened up the backpack feature of my suitcase and popped it up there. Believe me, it´s worth it.
We´ve arrived just before midnight after a flight from Dublin. It´s been a long day and I´m looking forward to bed. We get to the hotel and there are steps up. Not too many so it´s okay. But then we hit the elevator button. The elevator opens. These are the next words out of my mouth...
"Oh My Goodness, you´ve got to be kidding me!"
Carlos laughs. Walter laughs.
It is the smallest elevator I´ve ever seen. It is literally a triangle. It must have been custom made. I barely fit in there with my luggage on my back and in my hands. In fact I can´t turn around to get out so I have to back out since it´s so tight. Only I fit in it. Really amazing.
When we check in the woman looks at me as she´s speaking as if I understand what she´s saying. My head is fuzzy and I need sleep.
We get to the rooms and they are the most beautiful rooms I´ve seen. Small but beautiful and I love it...until I try to sleep. Cigarette smoke is seeping in from the next room through the vent and a jackhammer is working thorough the night outside my window. Needless to say. Sleep is eluding me. Maybe tomorrow night.
I have to be up to meet Michael. He is a friend of one of my traveling companions. Until the morning....
I have a large suitcase on my back. My purse is tied and clipped to it and is flying back and forth on top of it swinging. In my arms is my extremely heavy carry on filled with gifts. And in front of me is a steep flight of stairs with no end in sight.
One step at a time. Just focus on the step in front of me.
We´re in the Madrid subway system. Having just arrived in the most beautiful airport I´ve ever seen and taken a most modern and new subway system. We´ve switched to 3 different lines and are now climbing the stairs to the street.
There are no escalators and no elevators so I´ve opened up the backpack feature of my suitcase and popped it up there. Believe me, it´s worth it.
We´ve arrived just before midnight after a flight from Dublin. It´s been a long day and I´m looking forward to bed. We get to the hotel and there are steps up. Not too many so it´s okay. But then we hit the elevator button. The elevator opens. These are the next words out of my mouth...
"Oh My Goodness, you´ve got to be kidding me!"
Carlos laughs. Walter laughs.
It is the smallest elevator I´ve ever seen. It is literally a triangle. It must have been custom made. I barely fit in there with my luggage on my back and in my hands. In fact I can´t turn around to get out so I have to back out since it´s so tight. Only I fit in it. Really amazing.
When we check in the woman looks at me as she´s speaking as if I understand what she´s saying. My head is fuzzy and I need sleep.
We get to the rooms and they are the most beautiful rooms I´ve seen. Small but beautiful and I love it...until I try to sleep. Cigarette smoke is seeping in from the next room through the vent and a jackhammer is working thorough the night outside my window. Needless to say. Sleep is eluding me. Maybe tomorrow night.
I have to be up to meet Michael. He is a friend of one of my traveling companions. Until the morning....
10 November 2008
Hard Cider & Black Current -- yum!
Our last drink in Ireland
No matter where I go in the States I´ve been unable to find ¨authentic¨ British/Irish pubs that serve Hard Cider with Black Current. (I´m adding the Hard here because it´s required in the U.S. or I get Apple Cider -- the non-alcoholic kind.)
Thus, it is such a joy to be able to walk into any pub, restaurant, or bar and just say - Cider with Black Current please...half pint.
As we were ordering, a man was sitting in the corner nursing his drinks (3 at last count.) I felt bad so....
"Where are you from?"
In a very, very thick, thick, thick Irish accent a response comes from his mouth. "I´m from here, Dublin"
Believe it or not, I had to ask him twice before I got it. It was so loud in the pub and his accent was so thick.
Turns out that he´s only ever traveled from Dublin to the small city where his mother lives. That´s it. It reminds me of some of my friends from the Midwest who never traveled outside of the state.
"What is the United States like?"
Well, that was a hard one. It depends on where you are. When I told him it takes about 9 days to drive across if you sleep at night and stop to pee he was surprised. Can´t blame the man. Ireland is a small island compared to the vastness of the North American continent after all.
He was a nice guy and he seemed really lonely. May the travel bug bite him and may he have the courage to follow it to other places outside his comfort zone. I mean this as a blessing and never as a curse. Raise a pint to ´ya lad.
No matter where I go in the States I´ve been unable to find ¨authentic¨ British/Irish pubs that serve Hard Cider with Black Current. (I´m adding the Hard here because it´s required in the U.S. or I get Apple Cider -- the non-alcoholic kind.)
Thus, it is such a joy to be able to walk into any pub, restaurant, or bar and just say - Cider with Black Current please...half pint.
As we were ordering, a man was sitting in the corner nursing his drinks (3 at last count.) I felt bad so....
"Where are you from?"
In a very, very thick, thick, thick Irish accent a response comes from his mouth. "I´m from here, Dublin"
Believe it or not, I had to ask him twice before I got it. It was so loud in the pub and his accent was so thick.
Turns out that he´s only ever traveled from Dublin to the small city where his mother lives. That´s it. It reminds me of some of my friends from the Midwest who never traveled outside of the state.
"What is the United States like?"
Well, that was a hard one. It depends on where you are. When I told him it takes about 9 days to drive across if you sleep at night and stop to pee he was surprised. Can´t blame the man. Ireland is a small island compared to the vastness of the North American continent after all.
He was a nice guy and he seemed really lonely. May the travel bug bite him and may he have the courage to follow it to other places outside his comfort zone. I mean this as a blessing and never as a curse. Raise a pint to ´ya lad.
A last day in Dublin
Sandy and Jenn, my friends and travel companions left this morning for the airport. They're headed back to the U.S..
My two remaining companions and I walk through the streets of Dublin in hopes of getting the tour of that crypt...only to find it closed. Ah, well, guess it wasn't meant to be. It only means I'll have to come back at another time.
We leave ourselves for the airport in 10 minutes. I have a flight to Madrid coming up and had to repack 3 times because of all the gifts. Alas, my reflections of Dublin and Ireland are probably incomplete here. There hasn't been enough time to blog. Thus, nothing fancy in style of writing or stories.
I'll just say this, for those of you who know me -- I keep tripping. I hit my head on the handle in the shower that's supposed to keep you from slipping and it's been hurting to the touch for 2 days. I keep stepping in potholes. And I was walking, minding my own business, and this lady with a bunch of bags walks past and clocks me in the leg with them. It felt like she had a ton of bricks in them. Now I have a bruise. :(
Okay. That's it for now. :)
My two remaining companions and I walk through the streets of Dublin in hopes of getting the tour of that crypt...only to find it closed. Ah, well, guess it wasn't meant to be. It only means I'll have to come back at another time.
We leave ourselves for the airport in 10 minutes. I have a flight to Madrid coming up and had to repack 3 times because of all the gifts. Alas, my reflections of Dublin and Ireland are probably incomplete here. There hasn't been enough time to blog. Thus, nothing fancy in style of writing or stories.
I'll just say this, for those of you who know me -- I keep tripping. I hit my head on the handle in the shower that's supposed to keep you from slipping and it's been hurting to the touch for 2 days. I keep stepping in potholes. And I was walking, minding my own business, and this lady with a bunch of bags walks past and clocks me in the leg with them. It felt like she had a ton of bricks in them. Now I have a bruise. :(
Okay. That's it for now. :)
09 November 2008
Wicklow and the Countryside
Went to the countryside today. It was beautiful. As I wrote on a postcard to my parents the countryside reminds me a lot of Wisconsin except there are sheep instead of cows. It also rained for a part of our hike so I was drenched but got warmed up with a shot of Jameson. :) And also by zipping off the legs of my pants. (You should have seen the looks on peoples faces in the travel tour group. I think they weren't expecting that.)
Our tour guide was quite the fellow as well. A French woman was driving on the wrong side of the road and almost drove us off of it. In his humorous manner he asked her where she learned to drive and asked her to drive on the other side of the road and also had some of the women from France to translate because he almost took off her mirror and her wheel.
I'll have photos later. Right now it's packed in my carry on bag. :)
Our tour guide was quite the fellow as well. A French woman was driving on the wrong side of the road and almost drove us off of it. In his humorous manner he asked her where she learned to drive and asked her to drive on the other side of the road and also had some of the women from France to translate because he almost took off her mirror and her wheel.
I'll have photos later. Right now it's packed in my carry on bag. :)
Ghosts, Graveyards, and Green Ladies
"The Hand breaks through the window and tries to open up the lock. The little girl takes a cleaver and chops it off at the wrist and realizes that it's still hanging there...clicking the lock of the door..."
Okay, I was wrong. Dublin is even more scary. There are a lot of ghosts/spirits/crypts around here. Last night we went on the Ghost Bus Tour. Yes, I went -- and then asked myself what I'd gotten myself into. Yes, I was scared. Yes, it was in the dark of night. Yes, we were walking around the ruins of castles and churches and graveyards.
The tour guide was quite good. We learned about Bram Stoker (he grew up here) and we also learned about being buried alive as well as ghosts who appear to people as visions and on their cameras as orbs. There was one woman who took a photo and a green smokiness showed up in her photo looking like a woman with flowing hair and a flowing robe hanging there. It was quite creepy. Needless to say, I didn't sleep very well last night.
Okay, I was wrong. Dublin is even more scary. There are a lot of ghosts/spirits/crypts around here. Last night we went on the Ghost Bus Tour. Yes, I went -- and then asked myself what I'd gotten myself into. Yes, I was scared. Yes, it was in the dark of night. Yes, we were walking around the ruins of castles and churches and graveyards.
The tour guide was quite good. We learned about Bram Stoker (he grew up here) and we also learned about being buried alive as well as ghosts who appear to people as visions and on their cameras as orbs. There was one woman who took a photo and a green smokiness showed up in her photo looking like a woman with flowing hair and a flowing robe hanging there. It was quite creepy. Needless to say, I didn't sleep very well last night.
08 November 2008
07 November 2008
Back up
I need to back up a little bit. The tube ride on the Picadilly Line
to Heathrow takes about an hour or so. Half way there a bunch of 9 or
10 year olds get on with some older children. School uniforms are worn
in various styles. But that isn't what dumbfounds me. What dumbfounds
me is that 2 of the ten year olds and a bunch of the older children are
reading the newspaper. Yes, not just a fun, easy to read newspaper but
the Metro news which is world news.
Seriously, think of young boys reading the newspaper on the train in the U.S. -- and not just one but a bunch of them. It really made my day because it gives me hope for the literary future of our world. In L.A. to see boys that age reading period would be great. To see them reading world news in the newspaper.... I'm just speechless.
I would have taken a photo of them, but I didn't want them to feel like they were doing anything out of the ordinary. Plus they're children and it's best to protect children, yes?
Yes. I hope my children (when I have them)take such joy in reading the paper when they grow up. :)
Seriously, think of young boys reading the newspaper on the train in the U.S. -- and not just one but a bunch of them. It really made my day because it gives me hope for the literary future of our world. In L.A. to see boys that age reading period would be great. To see them reading world news in the newspaper.... I'm just speechless.
I would have taken a photo of them, but I didn't want them to feel like they were doing anything out of the ordinary. Plus they're children and it's best to protect children, yes?
Yes. I hope my children (when I have them)take such joy in reading the paper when they grow up. :)
Security
"You can't check your bag yet it's too early. And it's too heavy."
One of my travel companions takes her bag off the scale and the next companion puts hers on. Yours is also too heavy. They go off to a corner to re-pack.
My other two companions have already checked their bags (there was no problem checking them early.) Luckily I get the same guy they had and mine goes through with no problem even though mine is just as heavy as one of the other women I'm traveling with.
Can I just say that the security at Heathrow going to Ireland is tight, tight, tight and you have to jump through so many hoops. It literally took us hours. Worse than LAX except they don't check your shoes.
I'll add more later. Gotta go. The internet cafe is closing. :) Dublin you know.
One of my travel companions takes her bag off the scale and the next companion puts hers on. Yours is also too heavy. They go off to a corner to re-pack.
My other two companions have already checked their bags (there was no problem checking them early.) Luckily I get the same guy they had and mine goes through with no problem even though mine is just as heavy as one of the other women I'm traveling with.
Can I just say that the security at Heathrow going to Ireland is tight, tight, tight and you have to jump through so many hoops. It literally took us hours. Worse than LAX except they don't check your shoes.
I'll add more later. Gotta go. The internet cafe is closing. :) Dublin you know.
The Gate
We arrived in Dublin and everyone else is exhausted. I was too, but see that the Gate Theatre is across the street. Yay! The one show "Hedda Gabbler" that I wanted to see is playing right across the street from where I'm staying.
I get a ticket and it's a Brial Friel adaptation that is quite good. The gore at the end leaves me a bit uneasy though and I don't sleep very well. What is it on this trip? Gore and violence and scary things are following me everywhere.
The theatre itself is beautiful though. And I have a nice chat with Wendy (a lecturer at the University) and Edison (I think that's what he said) who is a Psychologist who directs theatre. Since Wendy is a local we talk about what things are good to see while we're here.
St. Michan's (spelling?) Church has a tour of the crypts that is quite good. A friend had also mentioned it so I'm eager to see it. I'm told it's not scary. (Yeah, right.)
Also, it's important to get out of Dublin to see the countryside too. That is also a comment another friend made before I left. I even got my international driver's license so I can drive here if needed. Unfortunately, some of my travel companions have clearly stated that they're scared of me driving. Hmmm. Of all the things to be scared of....
I get a ticket and it's a Brial Friel adaptation that is quite good. The gore at the end leaves me a bit uneasy though and I don't sleep very well. What is it on this trip? Gore and violence and scary things are following me everywhere.
The theatre itself is beautiful though. And I have a nice chat with Wendy (a lecturer at the University) and Edison (I think that's what he said) who is a Psychologist who directs theatre. Since Wendy is a local we talk about what things are good to see while we're here.
St. Michan's (spelling?) Church has a tour of the crypts that is quite good. A friend had also mentioned it so I'm eager to see it. I'm told it's not scary. (Yeah, right.)
Also, it's important to get out of Dublin to see the countryside too. That is also a comment another friend made before I left. I even got my international driver's license so I can drive here if needed. Unfortunately, some of my travel companions have clearly stated that they're scared of me driving. Hmmm. Of all the things to be scared of....
06 November 2008
Puppy in Kensington Park
This little puppy is only a few weeks old. She was so cute and small I had to take a photo. :)
The Looooooong Walk Home
Yep, this is the station. Oh, yeah! Forgot about that tunnel. And the street musicians, forgot about the wonderful musicians in this tunnel too.
Oh boy. Forgot how looooong this tunnel is too and my feet are killing me.
I've just spent the morning in Camden Market. Found the bookbag that had been eluding me in the U.S.A. there but I'm meeting up with one of my travel mates for High Tea. We're meeting across from Royal Albert Hall at the gates there...I think.
South Kensington station is the station for all of the students going University for music at the Royal College. It's also the tunnel to Imperial College and the Royal Albert Hall and the Victoria and Albert Museum and the Natural History Museum as well.
The tunnel, the long, long tunnel--that I'm running down because I'm late--has different musicians playing for money all of the time. And they're not your usual street musicians. I've heard quartets as beautiful as I've heard in larger classical venues around the world. It's quite nice.
Did I mention I'm wearing high heels and a skirt?
Oh, and did I mention it's drizzling too? My feet are killing me. Yes, I did mention that, I know.
Leaving the station I come upon another traveling companion. She's on her way to Covent Garden. Her tour of Royal Albert Hall was a no go due to the Remembrance Day celebration they're setting up there. Remembrance Day is similar to the U.S. Veteran's day but for WWI and WWII veterans and also without the mattress sales.
My friend isn't at the gate. Well, Kensington Park has a lot of gates. I go to almost every one of them until I finally find her. I'm out of breath (I ran) and my feet are screaming since I've basically run the distance from South Kensington station to High Street Kensington. (It's longer than a few blocks.)
But, we have a great high tea at The Orangery and it's very nice. Great to sit down for awhile too.
We walk back to our hotel to meet for dinner at a pub and then go see The Quantum of Solace (it opened Oct 31st here in London) - yes it was good. But I have nightmares this night.
Oh, did I tell you I'm not great with violence and scary things. So, I've had nightmares almost every night here. Here's my list:
1. Jack the Ripper Tour - self explanatory
2. The Woman in Black - very scary lady who kept showing up in my dreams. I really didn't sleep at all that night.
3. The Quantum of Solace - I won't explain since most of you are in the U.S. and haven't seen it yet.
Needless to say. I'm tired. But we're off to Ireland! It can't get spookier right?
Celeste with Dark Monday Ball
Celeste and I used to play softball together. Our softball team hasn't been doing very well but it's fun to play. When she left we all signed a ball and gave her one. She keeps it on her fridge in Geneva so that she can remember the team.
I've been gone and will miss two games. Maybe we'll win some. :)
05 November 2008
20 Minutes
The Swiss newspaper "20 Minutes" announced that it had been discovered that suicide bombers in Zurich had dressed as women. I only got that far on the article. It was in French and I was reading across a train car. Geneva's United Nations building is closed to the public for obvious reasons. It's line of flags is beautiful though and we took a look before moving on.
20 minutes can change your life.
I don't think that needs any explanation. Do you?
On the flight back from Switzerland I met an analytical chemist named Gregory from Cambridge. He had gone on a 9 hour interview and was flying back. We had a nice conversation and we wished each other well at the end of the flight. Those are the best moments of traveling. The random connection with another human being beyond surface "Hello"'s and smiles.
It reminds me to take a little extra time when I'm not harangued by busy schedules to take that time and connect. Travelers aren't as jaded so it's easier to make the connection there. I'll be kinder to tourists. Yes, I will. :)
It's all a big game
"So then, do you know who won?"
My mouth is full of smoked salmon and I didn't fully understand what he said because the thickness of the accent takes a minute to process.
But the minute passes. I swallow and say "Obama."
"Oh? You're from the United States?"
"Yes."
We continue to discuss politics. The English are very, very with it when it comes to world politics. They are even more interested in the results than many of the Americans I know. And their news had an Obama slant from the beginning. The newscasters all hoping that the Americans choose Obama. It was very odd since every channel is very much like that and I'm not used to it from the States.
The London City Airport is unlike any other airport I've every encountered. There are no announcements. All boarding and flight information is on the monitors. If your flight is on last call the flight is in red. Really, to have people responsible for themselves. The airport is really, really, quiet too.
One hour and 30 minutes later I'm in Geneva. Somehow I missed getting off the train in Geneva and kept going to Nyon, Switzerland which is far...so far that when my friend realized where I had ended up she said if I had headed East instead of North I would have ended up in France.
And they won't stamp passports in Switzerland unless you're a Swiss Citizen. I asked. Bummer! No proof on my passport that I've ever been there.
It was a great day of touring around with my friend Celeste. I got to hear all about the reality of Swiss Bank Accounts and see the city of Geneva. We walked all over and it was great. The giant chess pieces made me think of Wei Qi and I wondered how that would work if there were really big Go pieces to move around.
Geneva was not what I expected but it was still cool. And I'm very happy that French was my second language in school. :) It was fun to speak it again. No matter how rusty.
I came back to London in the evening to see fireworks along the DLR on my train ride back to the heart of the city. It was beautiful and a nice welcome. Of course, it was also Guy Fawkes Day.
Remember, Remember, the fifth of November,
The gunpowder treason, and plot.
I know of no reason,
The Gunpowder treason,
Should ever be forgot.
Here's to you Mr. Fawkes.
My mouth is full of smoked salmon and I didn't fully understand what he said because the thickness of the accent takes a minute to process.
But the minute passes. I swallow and say "Obama."
"Oh? You're from the United States?"
"Yes."
We continue to discuss politics. The English are very, very with it when it comes to world politics. They are even more interested in the results than many of the Americans I know. And their news had an Obama slant from the beginning. The newscasters all hoping that the Americans choose Obama. It was very odd since every channel is very much like that and I'm not used to it from the States.
The London City Airport is unlike any other airport I've every encountered. There are no announcements. All boarding and flight information is on the monitors. If your flight is on last call the flight is in red. Really, to have people responsible for themselves. The airport is really, really, quiet too.
One hour and 30 minutes later I'm in Geneva. Somehow I missed getting off the train in Geneva and kept going to Nyon, Switzerland which is far...so far that when my friend realized where I had ended up she said if I had headed East instead of North I would have ended up in France.
And they won't stamp passports in Switzerland unless you're a Swiss Citizen. I asked. Bummer! No proof on my passport that I've ever been there.
It was a great day of touring around with my friend Celeste. I got to hear all about the reality of Swiss Bank Accounts and see the city of Geneva. We walked all over and it was great. The giant chess pieces made me think of Wei Qi and I wondered how that would work if there were really big Go pieces to move around.
Geneva was not what I expected but it was still cool. And I'm very happy that French was my second language in school. :) It was fun to speak it again. No matter how rusty.
I came back to London in the evening to see fireworks along the DLR on my train ride back to the heart of the city. It was beautiful and a nice welcome. Of course, it was also Guy Fawkes Day.
Remember, Remember, the fifth of November,
The gunpowder treason, and plot.
I know of no reason,
The Gunpowder treason,
Should ever be forgot.
Here's to you Mr. Fawkes.
04 November 2008
A Story book vacation
The London Eye from the top. Of course, it's not our pod but it's still cool.
One thing I have to say about the London Eye. You get perspective on the world. Sometimes we're going in circles up and down and we don't realize we're in a glass box and the world seems bigger than it is or smaller than it is depending on where you're focusing.
And it is always easier to focus on the pod in front of you or behind you than it is to focus on your own. In fact, it's impossible to see your own pod with any sort of perspective. But looking at the other pods can be quite beautiful.
If the light strikes from behind you can see the shapes of people as they look out and it can be quite striking. Or you see them from the front and you make up little stories for each of them.
They're on their honeymoon.
The husband and wife aren't talking but they're here for the children.
They're on a University holiday.
He's a journalist.
Stuff like that.
Funny that we make up stories when we don't know them. We read people like books and create our own thoughts about them. Sometimes they're fairytales. Most of the time they're not. But they're interesting all the same...especially if they belong to the pod next to you.
One thing I have to say about the London Eye. You get perspective on the world. Sometimes we're going in circles up and down and we don't realize we're in a glass box and the world seems bigger than it is or smaller than it is depending on where you're focusing.
And it is always easier to focus on the pod in front of you or behind you than it is to focus on your own. In fact, it's impossible to see your own pod with any sort of perspective. But looking at the other pods can be quite beautiful.
If the light strikes from behind you can see the shapes of people as they look out and it can be quite striking. Or you see them from the front and you make up little stories for each of them.
They're on their honeymoon.
The husband and wife aren't talking but they're here for the children.
They're on a University holiday.
He's a journalist.
Stuff like that.
Funny that we make up stories when we don't know them. We read people like books and create our own thoughts about them. Sometimes they're fairytales. Most of the time they're not. But they're interesting all the same...especially if they belong to the pod next to you.
CSI, Eye, Aye aye
"Hmmmm, what is this? CSI properties?"
Part of the reason for a vacation is to get away from work. Or, one would think so. Yesterday part of my group went to The National Theatre and we toured it including the backstage area.
Towards the end of the tour, a conference was let out for lunch and we found it to be the Tessitura U.K. conference. What does that mean? Well, basically, work followed us here. Or, maybe, of all the places in London to go--we found the one place there was a work conference.
After that we went to the London Eye. It was beautiful. 30 minutes to go 'round but you see so much. The majority of my photos are from this ride. Over a hundred actually. Think I went a little overboard. Might need to delete a few. And, of course, I don't have any here for you to see.
We also went to "Billy Elliot" and it made me cry 3 times. The youth were so good and the adult actors as well. It was really lovely.
Part of the reason for a vacation is to get away from work. Or, one would think so. Yesterday part of my group went to The National Theatre and we toured it including the backstage area.
Towards the end of the tour, a conference was let out for lunch and we found it to be the Tessitura U.K. conference. What does that mean? Well, basically, work followed us here. Or, maybe, of all the places in London to go--we found the one place there was a work conference.
After that we went to the London Eye. It was beautiful. 30 minutes to go 'round but you see so much. The majority of my photos are from this ride. Over a hundred actually. Think I went a little overboard. Might need to delete a few. And, of course, I don't have any here for you to see.
We also went to "Billy Elliot" and it made me cry 3 times. The youth were so good and the adult actors as well. It was really lovely.
03 November 2008
Jack the Ripper
"And she her throat was slit twice, ear to ear. The second time so violently that it went back to the vertebrae and her head was basically decapitated off."
I shudder. And I don't sleep very well that night. Nightmares of being slit open. Not very good with this sort of thing.
But, the tour was wonderful and the little Tower Hill communities around that we walk through are actually quite charming. Part of it feels like the back lot at Paramount or Universal. It's almost so cute it's not real.
From what we're told the neighborhood is being gentrified. Flats are now more expensive and renovations are making it into an nice community where the prostitutes don't tend to roam any longer.
Jack would find it hard pressed to find his victims now I guess. As long as he stays out of my nightmares.
I shudder. And I don't sleep very well that night. Nightmares of being slit open. Not very good with this sort of thing.
But, the tour was wonderful and the little Tower Hill communities around that we walk through are actually quite charming. Part of it feels like the back lot at Paramount or Universal. It's almost so cute it's not real.
From what we're told the neighborhood is being gentrified. Flats are now more expensive and renovations are making it into an nice community where the prostitutes don't tend to roam any longer.
Jack would find it hard pressed to find his victims now I guess. As long as he stays out of my nightmares.
Are you from Wisconsin?
"Are you from Wisconsin?"
"What?"
"Where are you from?"
"Wisconsin"
"Ahhhh, yes, I thought so."
I'm wearing brown pants, brown shoes, and a black jacket that is totally nondescript. How could he know I'm from Wisconsin? I even ask my friends later and they think it's totally weird.
I was wandering to the far side of Buckingham Palace. A part no-one was around. It was empty and the view was really pretty. And this guy comes up to me and starts with "Are you from Wisconsin?"
London is so lovely. I forget how much I miss this place. It brings a true smile to my face to be running around the city. I think one of my traveling companions even caught of photo of me skipping down the path in front of Kensington Palace.
I only have 2 minutes left on this internet card. I'll have to add more later. With photos I promise. We'll talk about Jack the Ripper then. :) Bye for now.
"What?"
"Where are you from?"
"Wisconsin"
"Ahhhh, yes, I thought so."
I'm wearing brown pants, brown shoes, and a black jacket that is totally nondescript. How could he know I'm from Wisconsin? I even ask my friends later and they think it's totally weird.
I was wandering to the far side of Buckingham Palace. A part no-one was around. It was empty and the view was really pretty. And this guy comes up to me and starts with "Are you from Wisconsin?"
London is so lovely. I forget how much I miss this place. It brings a true smile to my face to be running around the city. I think one of my traveling companions even caught of photo of me skipping down the path in front of Kensington Palace.
I only have 2 minutes left on this internet card. I'll have to add more later. With photos I promise. We'll talk about Jack the Ripper then. :) Bye for now.
02 November 2008
Chocolate Dome - Harrod's
A photo of the Chocolate Dome at The Chocolate Bar at Harrods. It's like chocolate mousse on the inside.
Chocolate, Chocolate, Chocolate
Harrods - The Chocolate Bar
It's Harrods and I choose to spend my money on experiences instead of things. My friend and I come across The Chocolate Bar and each get a Hot Chocolate (mine's mint) and a chocolate dish (to follow in the next blog) to share.
It is heaven. This is literally the best hot chocolate I've ever had. Not the strongest (Costa Rica), but the best. They even put in fresh mint into my cup.
The experience is definitely worth the quid.
My friend's hot chocolate is even thicker. One spoonful and you melt. Yum!
It's Harrods and I choose to spend my money on experiences instead of things. My friend and I come across The Chocolate Bar and each get a Hot Chocolate (mine's mint) and a chocolate dish (to follow in the next blog) to share.
It is heaven. This is literally the best hot chocolate I've ever had. Not the strongest (Costa Rica), but the best. They even put in fresh mint into my cup.
The experience is definitely worth the quid.
My friend's hot chocolate is even thicker. One spoonful and you melt. Yum!
Londontown
Ahhhh London. It rained last night but it was still beautiful. One of my travel companions loves it because the men are for the most part really tall and also beautiful. After a long turbulent flight and settling in yesterday our first tour is today. More updates later.
31 October 2008
Twittering
Happy All Hallow's Eve. Today I'm leaving on a jet plane. Packed and ready to go.
My old roommate did a lot of touring of Broadway shows. She showed me the secret to packing a lot of stuff into a small space. It's all about using your suitcase as a shelf. If you pack it like a shelf you have access to everything and can see everything while fitting a ton of stuff into the bag.
After re-packing (realized that Europe requires different clothes this time of year than Los Angeles) everything until about 2AM there's still room left for fun stuff to bring home....or bags of coffee for the peeps at work.
I've eaten so much sugar from the Halloween candy at the office that my veins are vibrating. Or, as we used to call it before the digital age created a whole new meaning for the word...I feel like I'm twittering. Flit here, flit there, knock my knee into the desk drawer for another bruise here, trip over the chair over there. That's what happens when you're tired and you have too much sugar in your blood.
Even my thoughts are flying all over the place. Zoom, zoom, zzoooooooommmmm.....
My old roommate did a lot of touring of Broadway shows. She showed me the secret to packing a lot of stuff into a small space. It's all about using your suitcase as a shelf. If you pack it like a shelf you have access to everything and can see everything while fitting a ton of stuff into the bag.
After re-packing (realized that Europe requires different clothes this time of year than Los Angeles) everything until about 2AM there's still room left for fun stuff to bring home....or bags of coffee for the peeps at work.
I've eaten so much sugar from the Halloween candy at the office that my veins are vibrating. Or, as we used to call it before the digital age created a whole new meaning for the word...I feel like I'm twittering. Flit here, flit there, knock my knee into the desk drawer for another bruise here, trip over the chair over there. That's what happens when you're tired and you have too much sugar in your blood.
Even my thoughts are flying all over the place. Zoom, zoom, zzoooooooommmmm.....
18 October 2008
Move and Be Still
Timepieces have always caught my eye. I guess I should clarify that. Old timepieces or pieces where you can see pieces move catch my eye. I guess that's why I love the Astronomical clock in Prague so much. (See my profile picture.)
Ironically, I don't often wear a watch. Nor do I enjoy clocking time. It passes far too quickly or slowly depending on the long or short term and the situation.
In a few weeks I'll be traveling overseas. It's been a few years since I've really traveled. Far too long. And yet, when I think back on all the trips I've taken--whether they were months long or days long--they seem like a blip in my life. It never seems long enough, does it? And if I didn't have the memories and the experiences it could be as if it never happened. It's like that with all trips.
I've spoken with traveling Europeans who have months to travel. They feel the same way. But we all love it. Love how it changes our perspective. Gets us out of our comfort zone and into seeing new sights, meeting new people, and putting ourselves in new situations. Of course, a trip only changes you as much as you let it.
"Let's go to Burger King."
My heart drops. We're in another country that has wonderful food. Yes, it's different from the usual American fare but that's part of the adventure. Unless there is a dietary restriction (I'm lactose intolerant) I try to try everything.
In my travels I've eaten cooked blood, duck brains, snake, alligator, duck feet and tongue, eyeballs, innards, and probably a lot of other stuff that I don't even know I ate because I didn't know what it was but wanted to be polite.
My parents taught me that culture is everything when you're traveling. It is so important to know what is insulting and what is not. To notice how people react to things if you haven't already studied the culture.
It's important to know that in Asia it is rude to not clean your plate. And when someone offers you something you say "no" and they will offer again, and you say "no" and they offer you again, and then you say "yes, okay, you're too polite, thank you."
I thank them for that lesson. It's really helped me feel at home in a lot of situations when I was far from home.
When I lived in London for a short time I noticed the scowls on the faces of the taxi/lorry drivers when American friends just hopped into the car first and then stated where they wanted to go. And then I noticed that my British friends would lean into the open passenger window and state where they wanted to go and only after getting a response from the driver would they step into the vehicle. On the rare occasions I didn't take the Tube, Lorry drivers were much nicer to me because I did the lean and ask before I opened the door.
Traveling can show you more of who you really are. Especially when you're traveling alone. But even if you aren't...you can surprise yourself. Situations pop up that you don't expect. You can be more courageous or more fearful than you thought yourself to be. When you're in a country where you're not familiar with the language you can find yourself more flexible or capable or inflexible or incapable.
You can find yourself following an 80 year old woman down the streets of Rome to a hidden hostel in a cozy but very strange neighborhood. She'll be chattering away at you and you won't understand anything except her gestures and the pointing of directions.
You can find yourself pick pocketed in Ireland having arrived only 5 minutes into the city having nothing left to get back home. And there you learn that being too trusting has its faults too.
In the end, I guess its the same thing that draws me to both wonderful timepieces and travel. It's the movement. To be able to see the movement and how things change. How things work inside because of the movement. Each move causes something new to happen and that change causes another change inside and that, in turn, moves something else.
And then, every once in awhile, something big happens and things stand still. And we take in those moments as well. Why? Well, because in the world of movement absolute stillness draws attention doesn't it? We notice the moment someone gasps and holds their breath. Events go in slow motion when we get into an accident. The old tradition of stopping the ticking clock in a home when someone dies....and then the movement begins once more.
It may be a moment of stillness. It may be weeks. But movement does begin again as does change. Both bear growth. And if they go on too long, both can bear stagnation as well. So we move and be still, move and be still.
Well..I'm ready to move. And I'm looking forward to it.
Ironically, I don't often wear a watch. Nor do I enjoy clocking time. It passes far too quickly or slowly depending on the long or short term and the situation.
In a few weeks I'll be traveling overseas. It's been a few years since I've really traveled. Far too long. And yet, when I think back on all the trips I've taken--whether they were months long or days long--they seem like a blip in my life. It never seems long enough, does it? And if I didn't have the memories and the experiences it could be as if it never happened. It's like that with all trips.
I've spoken with traveling Europeans who have months to travel. They feel the same way. But we all love it. Love how it changes our perspective. Gets us out of our comfort zone and into seeing new sights, meeting new people, and putting ourselves in new situations. Of course, a trip only changes you as much as you let it.
"Let's go to Burger King."
My heart drops. We're in another country that has wonderful food. Yes, it's different from the usual American fare but that's part of the adventure. Unless there is a dietary restriction (I'm lactose intolerant) I try to try everything.
In my travels I've eaten cooked blood, duck brains, snake, alligator, duck feet and tongue, eyeballs, innards, and probably a lot of other stuff that I don't even know I ate because I didn't know what it was but wanted to be polite.
My parents taught me that culture is everything when you're traveling. It is so important to know what is insulting and what is not. To notice how people react to things if you haven't already studied the culture.
It's important to know that in Asia it is rude to not clean your plate. And when someone offers you something you say "no" and they will offer again, and you say "no" and they offer you again, and then you say "yes, okay, you're too polite, thank you."
I thank them for that lesson. It's really helped me feel at home in a lot of situations when I was far from home.
When I lived in London for a short time I noticed the scowls on the faces of the taxi/lorry drivers when American friends just hopped into the car first and then stated where they wanted to go. And then I noticed that my British friends would lean into the open passenger window and state where they wanted to go and only after getting a response from the driver would they step into the vehicle. On the rare occasions I didn't take the Tube, Lorry drivers were much nicer to me because I did the lean and ask before I opened the door.
Traveling can show you more of who you really are. Especially when you're traveling alone. But even if you aren't...you can surprise yourself. Situations pop up that you don't expect. You can be more courageous or more fearful than you thought yourself to be. When you're in a country where you're not familiar with the language you can find yourself more flexible or capable or inflexible or incapable.
You can find yourself following an 80 year old woman down the streets of Rome to a hidden hostel in a cozy but very strange neighborhood. She'll be chattering away at you and you won't understand anything except her gestures and the pointing of directions.
You can find yourself pick pocketed in Ireland having arrived only 5 minutes into the city having nothing left to get back home. And there you learn that being too trusting has its faults too.
In the end, I guess its the same thing that draws me to both wonderful timepieces and travel. It's the movement. To be able to see the movement and how things change. How things work inside because of the movement. Each move causes something new to happen and that change causes another change inside and that, in turn, moves something else.
And then, every once in awhile, something big happens and things stand still. And we take in those moments as well. Why? Well, because in the world of movement absolute stillness draws attention doesn't it? We notice the moment someone gasps and holds their breath. Events go in slow motion when we get into an accident. The old tradition of stopping the ticking clock in a home when someone dies....and then the movement begins once more.
It may be a moment of stillness. It may be weeks. But movement does begin again as does change. Both bear growth. And if they go on too long, both can bear stagnation as well. So we move and be still, move and be still.
Well..I'm ready to move. And I'm looking forward to it.
09 October 2008
Isn't it Ironic?
"I can't believe you made that choice."
"What?"
"I just wouldn't have made that choice."
We hear a lot about how we're supposed to be. How we're supposed to behave, live, and even choose. Since before we could walk people projected their hopes and dreams for who we could possibly become upon us.
And as we grow up....
"Want to be popular with the ladies? Just buy this cologne/deodorant/shirt/shampoo/watch."
"My life is so much better since I've lost 50 lbs. Just eat this pill/join this program/join this gym/sign on to purchase this vibrating exercise machine and you'll have a better life."
...advertisers do the same.
We're told that who we are isn't good enough - we need to be sexier, thinner, smarter, richer; we need to be more rebellious, fashionable, hippie, good, bad, conservative, liberal, eloquent, or funny.
And then we buy into it. Literally.
So then, the question must be asked. What about now?
What about who we are now? At this moment? When do we get to enjoy and revel in the person we are? Whether we're fat, thin, tall, short, good, evil, beautiful, or ugly, street smart, not so street smart, intelligent, average, or below average. When do we not have to work so hard at becoming a better person, to be more of this or that?
We're told "You're special, You're unique, You're different," and when we do things as if we are special or unique or different we're asked, "What makes you so special? What makes you think you're so unique? How are you different from everyone else?" and we're shamed into changing the way we think about ourselves.
When do we accept that yes, we all have dreams and wants, and desires that are important--but who I am in the now is pretty cool?
It's when we choose to close our eyes and ears to what the world is telling us and we let ourselves just be. Some people have already learned the secret to this. And that is pretty cool. Actually, it's more that pretty cool. It's exceptionally cool. For most of us, it comes and it goes. Phases of acceptance. Phases of feeling inadequate. And we struggle to just be. And be contently.
Ironic, isn't it? That we work so hard to become capable of that something for which we are so aptly named? A human being.
Yes, so ironic...and so human.
"What?"
"I just wouldn't have made that choice."
We hear a lot about how we're supposed to be. How we're supposed to behave, live, and even choose. Since before we could walk people projected their hopes and dreams for who we could possibly become upon us.
And as we grow up....
"Want to be popular with the ladies? Just buy this cologne/deodorant/shirt/shampoo/watch."
"My life is so much better since I've lost 50 lbs. Just eat this pill/join this program/join this gym/sign on to purchase this vibrating exercise machine and you'll have a better life."
...advertisers do the same.
We're told that who we are isn't good enough - we need to be sexier, thinner, smarter, richer; we need to be more rebellious, fashionable, hippie, good, bad, conservative, liberal, eloquent, or funny.
And then we buy into it. Literally.
So then, the question must be asked. What about now?
What about who we are now? At this moment? When do we get to enjoy and revel in the person we are? Whether we're fat, thin, tall, short, good, evil, beautiful, or ugly, street smart, not so street smart, intelligent, average, or below average. When do we not have to work so hard at becoming a better person, to be more of this or that?
We're told "You're special, You're unique, You're different," and when we do things as if we are special or unique or different we're asked, "What makes you so special? What makes you think you're so unique? How are you different from everyone else?" and we're shamed into changing the way we think about ourselves.
When do we accept that yes, we all have dreams and wants, and desires that are important--but who I am in the now is pretty cool?
It's when we choose to close our eyes and ears to what the world is telling us and we let ourselves just be. Some people have already learned the secret to this. And that is pretty cool. Actually, it's more that pretty cool. It's exceptionally cool. For most of us, it comes and it goes. Phases of acceptance. Phases of feeling inadequate. And we struggle to just be. And be contently.
Ironic, isn't it? That we work so hard to become capable of that something for which we are so aptly named? A human being.
Yes, so ironic...and so human.
13 June 2008
Are Wii Still?
The virtual trainer welcomes me to another workout with him. I like the light blue Wii trainer shirt he wears. What I don't like is having to keep within the yellow square as he walks me through both yoga and strength moves.
One exercise requires that I move to one position and back to start. Something so easy usually. But I'm supposed to hold the position for 50 seconds and then go back to my start position. Hold it? 5 seconds - okay. 10 seconds - this isn't so bad. 30 seconds - are you kidding me? 40 seconds - just hold it! Hold it! 45 seconds - Bobble City! Yes! I know my leg is shaky. You don't have to tell me. 50 seconds - yay! I can stop now.
After a day I'm really sore. But I didn't really do anything that made me sweat. Of course, my tree pose sucks. How do you get your foot to stay there without slipping?
One thing I'm learning is that stillness is 1.) really hard and 2.) an active thing. Who knew? You have to actively work on being still? Yes. The little red dot squiggles all over the screen showing me how much I'm actually shifting and swaying.
You know doing an exercise is easy fast. Doing it slow and holding it there is hard. But that actually applies to life doesn't it? You can get somewhere--achieve something quickly with relative ease as long as you know where you're going and what it looks and feels like.
But holding a position - at your goal - that's the hard part. Whether it's a marriage or success or a grant/scholarship or a goal weight. That's what makes the mind and body quake and where the effort comes in. That's where distractions can mean collapse or at least a major bobble if you're not careful. And you're more likely to be able to hold the goal, or whatever in life it is, if you got there slowly.
Momentum carries us places. Entropy too. But to actively be still...
As I sit on the Wii fit board and look at the screen the candle quivers every time focus is lost and I shift. The goal is to stay absolutely still. If you move the candle flame goes out. My first time I didn't last 13 seconds. You'd think just sitting there it would be easy to not move. But we do. In little increments. All the time.
As I sit an old Bible story runs through my mind. You know, the whole thing about how there was a huge and powerful wind and God was not in the wind and then came an earthquake and God was not in the earthquake, and then there's a fire and God's not in the fire. But then, there is stillness and quiet. And there God is.
The modern world is big on moving and moving fast. Maybe with the price of gas we'll learn more about being still. There must be something to that. After all, if it's been encouraged for thousands of years throughout various religious and cultural backgrounds; how can it be totally wrong?
"KA!" yells the voice. Out the flame goes. Darn it! *sigh* Still learning.
One exercise requires that I move to one position and back to start. Something so easy usually. But I'm supposed to hold the position for 50 seconds and then go back to my start position. Hold it? 5 seconds - okay. 10 seconds - this isn't so bad. 30 seconds - are you kidding me? 40 seconds - just hold it! Hold it! 45 seconds - Bobble City! Yes! I know my leg is shaky. You don't have to tell me. 50 seconds - yay! I can stop now.
After a day I'm really sore. But I didn't really do anything that made me sweat. Of course, my tree pose sucks. How do you get your foot to stay there without slipping?
One thing I'm learning is that stillness is 1.) really hard and 2.) an active thing. Who knew? You have to actively work on being still? Yes. The little red dot squiggles all over the screen showing me how much I'm actually shifting and swaying.
You know doing an exercise is easy fast. Doing it slow and holding it there is hard. But that actually applies to life doesn't it? You can get somewhere--achieve something quickly with relative ease as long as you know where you're going and what it looks and feels like.
But holding a position - at your goal - that's the hard part. Whether it's a marriage or success or a grant/scholarship or a goal weight. That's what makes the mind and body quake and where the effort comes in. That's where distractions can mean collapse or at least a major bobble if you're not careful. And you're more likely to be able to hold the goal, or whatever in life it is, if you got there slowly.
Momentum carries us places. Entropy too. But to actively be still...
As I sit on the Wii fit board and look at the screen the candle quivers every time focus is lost and I shift. The goal is to stay absolutely still. If you move the candle flame goes out. My first time I didn't last 13 seconds. You'd think just sitting there it would be easy to not move. But we do. In little increments. All the time.
As I sit an old Bible story runs through my mind. You know, the whole thing about how there was a huge and powerful wind and God was not in the wind and then came an earthquake and God was not in the earthquake, and then there's a fire and God's not in the fire. But then, there is stillness and quiet. And there God is.
The modern world is big on moving and moving fast. Maybe with the price of gas we'll learn more about being still. There must be something to that. After all, if it's been encouraged for thousands of years throughout various religious and cultural backgrounds; how can it be totally wrong?
"KA!" yells the voice. Out the flame goes. Darn it! *sigh* Still learning.
16 May 2008
This Kind of Quiet
I can't even remember his name.
"Hello, is ?? there?"
In a wary tone, "May I ask what this is regarding?" she asks.
She thinks I'm a telemarketer. I know she does.
"Yes, I met ?? at the youth hostel in Seattle and he said he was about to travel to Ireland for two months but to call him afterwards so we could maybe get together."
Silence.
"Hello?"
"I'm so sorry..." Her tone has totally changed. She really does sound sorry.
"...but ?? was hiking with his friend in Ireland. It was really foggy and they hiked off of a cliff. Both of them died."
"Oh!" I say. And then I pause, thinking that this is his mother and that I actually had more recent contact with her son before he died. It seems so wrong. "Oh. Okay, I'm sorry. Good-bye."
The last thing I hear before I hang up is "I'm really sorry. Good-bye."
I haven't thought about that conversation in years. Over a decade even. But it comes to mind as I plead with God to please keep me safe after I've fallen through the snow up to my hips. I've lost the trail and even though there are markings the snow has covered it and I'm going in circles back over and over trying to find the trail.
I fall through again, up to my hip and almost underneath one of the huge fallen Sequoia trees in the forest. I'm alone and I haven't seen anyone for the past 2 hours.
One way brings me to a cliff and the river. The other way to the huge fallen trunks and snow that I keep falling through. Now to my hip, now to my waist. Brambles on the other side. I go back to the marking. Which way is it pointing? I don't see a trail that way at all.
Another prayer leaves my lips as I follow what I think is the trail to the edge of the cliff. No, I'm not falling off to my death. That conversation will not be happening again.
Finally, after covering the area in a grid pattern for about an hour...I find the trail again. This part of Sequoia is so confusing. I have a map, a compass, and trail markers and I still am losing the trail. The light is slowly fading as well and dark will not help me get out of the forest any easier or faster.
Breathe. Remain calm. No, I don't know what time it is, but looking up past these tall, tall, trees I guess at where the sun is hiding. Maybe 4 or is it 6? I started at 10 this morning.
In another hour, I lose the trail again. My head pivots. Look at the markings, look at the trail. Look at the markings, look at what I think is a clear trail...but it's going in the opposite direction of the markings. Which do I follow? At this point I decide to go with my gut and continue to follow the trail. These markings aren't as clear as I'd like them to be. Summer is one thing, but when there's snow on the trail, it's another.
I actually thought the first marker was a warning. Yellow triangle with a tilted tree. "Warning, Falling Trees" or tree branches. I mean they were everywhere. Huge fallen Sequoia trunks. They're so huge they could easily crush a person. It made sense right? But then they started showing up not so tilted. Straight up and down even. After a few more I understood it to be pointing the way to the trail.
There's nothing like taking a long hike in an isolated spot by yourself. It clears your head. Gives you perspective. And every now and again, reminds us of our mortality.
We re-calibrate our worth. Not based on what other people think we're worth, how popular we are, how useful we are to society and the world or how much we are needed. We find our worth from a different place. The center shifts and strips us of all the layers we humans put on things until you've reached the core. To find our worth, as a person doing nothing but hiking in the woods without anyone else nearby.
These huge trees that have lived for generations and generations have cleaned our air and provided shelter for so many now also are the backdrop to the hike that helps to clean my soul.
When I stop there is no sound but the wind rustling the tree branches, the leaves blowing, and the birds twittering. It's been so long since I've heard this kind of quiet. Living in the city, there's always some sort of traffic or neighbor or dumpster diver or helicopter.
As I move slowly back into the presence of people. Tourists just passing in their cars who've taken a short walk. One gentleman has a cell phone earpiece on and is in a 3 piece suit. He's walking back to his shiny luxury car. The kind that looks as if he could limo people around in it but you can tell he's a businessman and not a limo driver.
The quiet from the hike stays within me though. Transforming itself and growing. From experience I know that eventually it will fade. How long depends on life. How long can a person keep this kind of quiet? That's the test. For now, I'm very grateful to be alive, breathing, and going back to the Ranger Station to see if there's a pay shower. Then, as I look forward to the warmth of a clean shower and breathing steam into my lungs, I'm reminded that civilization isn't all bad.
"Hello, is ?? there?"
In a wary tone, "May I ask what this is regarding?" she asks.
She thinks I'm a telemarketer. I know she does.
"Yes, I met ?? at the youth hostel in Seattle and he said he was about to travel to Ireland for two months but to call him afterwards so we could maybe get together."
Silence.
"Hello?"
"I'm so sorry..." Her tone has totally changed. She really does sound sorry.
"...but ?? was hiking with his friend in Ireland. It was really foggy and they hiked off of a cliff. Both of them died."
"Oh!" I say. And then I pause, thinking that this is his mother and that I actually had more recent contact with her son before he died. It seems so wrong. "Oh. Okay, I'm sorry. Good-bye."
The last thing I hear before I hang up is "I'm really sorry. Good-bye."
I haven't thought about that conversation in years. Over a decade even. But it comes to mind as I plead with God to please keep me safe after I've fallen through the snow up to my hips. I've lost the trail and even though there are markings the snow has covered it and I'm going in circles back over and over trying to find the trail.
I fall through again, up to my hip and almost underneath one of the huge fallen Sequoia trees in the forest. I'm alone and I haven't seen anyone for the past 2 hours.
One way brings me to a cliff and the river. The other way to the huge fallen trunks and snow that I keep falling through. Now to my hip, now to my waist. Brambles on the other side. I go back to the marking. Which way is it pointing? I don't see a trail that way at all.
Another prayer leaves my lips as I follow what I think is the trail to the edge of the cliff. No, I'm not falling off to my death. That conversation will not be happening again.
Finally, after covering the area in a grid pattern for about an hour...I find the trail again. This part of Sequoia is so confusing. I have a map, a compass, and trail markers and I still am losing the trail. The light is slowly fading as well and dark will not help me get out of the forest any easier or faster.
Breathe. Remain calm. No, I don't know what time it is, but looking up past these tall, tall, trees I guess at where the sun is hiding. Maybe 4 or is it 6? I started at 10 this morning.
In another hour, I lose the trail again. My head pivots. Look at the markings, look at the trail. Look at the markings, look at what I think is a clear trail...but it's going in the opposite direction of the markings. Which do I follow? At this point I decide to go with my gut and continue to follow the trail. These markings aren't as clear as I'd like them to be. Summer is one thing, but when there's snow on the trail, it's another.
I actually thought the first marker was a warning. Yellow triangle with a tilted tree. "Warning, Falling Trees" or tree branches. I mean they were everywhere. Huge fallen Sequoia trunks. They're so huge they could easily crush a person. It made sense right? But then they started showing up not so tilted. Straight up and down even. After a few more I understood it to be pointing the way to the trail.
There's nothing like taking a long hike in an isolated spot by yourself. It clears your head. Gives you perspective. And every now and again, reminds us of our mortality.
We re-calibrate our worth. Not based on what other people think we're worth, how popular we are, how useful we are to society and the world or how much we are needed. We find our worth from a different place. The center shifts and strips us of all the layers we humans put on things until you've reached the core. To find our worth, as a person doing nothing but hiking in the woods without anyone else nearby.
These huge trees that have lived for generations and generations have cleaned our air and provided shelter for so many now also are the backdrop to the hike that helps to clean my soul.
When I stop there is no sound but the wind rustling the tree branches, the leaves blowing, and the birds twittering. It's been so long since I've heard this kind of quiet. Living in the city, there's always some sort of traffic or neighbor or dumpster diver or helicopter.
As I move slowly back into the presence of people. Tourists just passing in their cars who've taken a short walk. One gentleman has a cell phone earpiece on and is in a 3 piece suit. He's walking back to his shiny luxury car. The kind that looks as if he could limo people around in it but you can tell he's a businessman and not a limo driver.
The quiet from the hike stays within me though. Transforming itself and growing. From experience I know that eventually it will fade. How long depends on life. How long can a person keep this kind of quiet? That's the test. For now, I'm very grateful to be alive, breathing, and going back to the Ranger Station to see if there's a pay shower. Then, as I look forward to the warmth of a clean shower and breathing steam into my lungs, I'm reminded that civilization isn't all bad.
03 May 2008
A Little Joy, A Little Minute, A Little Second...
Not a word has been said. I've told one person today and everyone else only knows because they already knew. It's not on my Facebook. No prompting reminders. It helps to see things a little clearer.
So what's the big deal? No big deal. I'm just one among thousands if not millions who grow another year older today. I'm not sure how I feel about it. Conflicting feelings of mortality and excitement and dread. But then I realize attitude has everything to do with how quality of life plays out even if my quantity is diminishing. And isn't it diminishing for everyone every second that passes?
"Everyone's dying," my friend says.
Yes. That's true. And how ironic that sometimes it's those that have been diagnosed with a terminal illness that then choose to live. Really live. Is that what it takes?
A friend and I talked for an hour on Thursday about how we juggle so many things. She's a mother of two and has a husband, a part time day job and is working on her career as an actor.
We talked about investing energy and time in your spouse first before the children because the energy you put into your relationship with your partner will help with your relationship with your children. But the time and energy you pour into your children can't help with your relationship with your spouse because they're children and they will take as much time and energy as you can dish out. They're helpless.
The funny thing is that we think we should pour the time and energy we have into our children first - before our spouses precisely because they are helpless and our partners aren't.
We talk about these things. The everyday lives we live while we dream of others we could possibly have.
I thought I'd take a break from my everyday life on my birthday and use it as a gift to serve others. Do some community service.
But schedules collided and it's not happening this year. Instead, I am enjoying it by the minute.
No expectations. Just being present in the now. In the second. Enjoying the feeling of typing on a keyboard now. And now. And now.
Little joys have been making my day special today. And it has helped me to realize that I'm learning to enjoy the day in the little things. Be happy where I am in the little moments. Which, in turn, makes me think about the overall picture of life.
What would happen if I did that with life? Enjoyed the everyday life I live instead of waiting to enjoy the dream that I hope is coming? Is it really possible? Maybe. It's a challenge I'm willing to take on today. For this second yes. Tomorrow? Well,I can't decide for tomorrow if I'm really choosing to enjoy this moment by moment. Because...as Scarlet O'Hara said best "Tomorrow is another day."
So what's the big deal? No big deal. I'm just one among thousands if not millions who grow another year older today. I'm not sure how I feel about it. Conflicting feelings of mortality and excitement and dread. But then I realize attitude has everything to do with how quality of life plays out even if my quantity is diminishing. And isn't it diminishing for everyone every second that passes?
"Everyone's dying," my friend says.
Yes. That's true. And how ironic that sometimes it's those that have been diagnosed with a terminal illness that then choose to live. Really live. Is that what it takes?
A friend and I talked for an hour on Thursday about how we juggle so many things. She's a mother of two and has a husband, a part time day job and is working on her career as an actor.
We talked about investing energy and time in your spouse first before the children because the energy you put into your relationship with your partner will help with your relationship with your children. But the time and energy you pour into your children can't help with your relationship with your spouse because they're children and they will take as much time and energy as you can dish out. They're helpless.
The funny thing is that we think we should pour the time and energy we have into our children first - before our spouses precisely because they are helpless and our partners aren't.
We talk about these things. The everyday lives we live while we dream of others we could possibly have.
I thought I'd take a break from my everyday life on my birthday and use it as a gift to serve others. Do some community service.
But schedules collided and it's not happening this year. Instead, I am enjoying it by the minute.
No expectations. Just being present in the now. In the second. Enjoying the feeling of typing on a keyboard now. And now. And now.
Little joys have been making my day special today. And it has helped me to realize that I'm learning to enjoy the day in the little things. Be happy where I am in the little moments. Which, in turn, makes me think about the overall picture of life.
What would happen if I did that with life? Enjoyed the everyday life I live instead of waiting to enjoy the dream that I hope is coming? Is it really possible? Maybe. It's a challenge I'm willing to take on today. For this second yes. Tomorrow? Well,I can't decide for tomorrow if I'm really choosing to enjoy this moment by moment. Because...as Scarlet O'Hara said best "Tomorrow is another day."
06 March 2008
My House is Lopsided
"There are like 9 parts of your life. Job, family, spiritual...and a lot of people have one part take over and they drop the other 8. So if you're in a relationship and that falls apart and you have nothing else - you fall apart. If you have the other 8 parts of your life - you're okay," says my friend as we go for a late night walk.
"Oh, it's like that quote with the house and all it's rooms and everyday you're supposed to visit one of the rooms. Hmmm, my house is lopsided," I reply.
So what do you do when your house is lopsided? Physical, emotional, spiritual, mental and I'm sure you can break it down more, right?
Do I tear down the room to rebuild it? Do I patch it? Do I just take down just enough to rebuild it but leave the foundation that's there? Or do I just visit every day and hope to find a window so the rooms are aired out a bit and start filling the rooms so that they're lived in and the house is balanced?
Can I do it all at once? Or just a room at a time?
I don't know. I know what I want to try but I don't know if it's going to work. So then what?
In an acting class the question, "How do you make a mistake a gift?" came up. I began thinking of how it's a handy thing to know in life too. The challenge of trying to see things in a certain light so it becomes an opportunity instead of something that pulls you down. It's a shift isn't it? How do I shift? Is my house lopsided? Or is it just a chance to see the world at an angle?
A friend brought me to a yoga class. I don't do yoga. Injuries. But it's been awhile so I thought I'd try. Iyengar Yoga wasn't so bad.
At one point the instructor put a brick under my back and said this is going to be uncomfortable. It was. Very. And then she said, "The brick is hard and now you need to soften. Soften around it. It's like life isn't it?
If you don't soften when you come across something hard you'll butt up against it and it'll drive you nuts. So when we come across something hard and uncomfortable we need to soften and it won't be so bad. In fact it can be beneficial."
So then I'm thinking - what does it mean to soften? Not physically, not in situations when you're butting heads with someone, but in situations where you're not balanced. How do you soften?
Maybe I'll find the answer after I enjoy my tilted view of the world in behind one of the dusty doors of my lopsided home. Or maybe I'll just gnaw on a piece of chocolate.
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