Highlights from London

London

1. Discovering, as we struggled to hoist our 30+ lb packs on our unprepared backs, that we may be in for more than we expected.
2. Coming to terms with the fact that the dollar is not worth shit. Ouch. London is expensive!
3. Getting lost on our first night after Kim (who's very good at directions--thank god because I'm directionally challenged and easily frustrated) assured me that she knew exactly where we were going. After following her lead for well over an hour, I again asked if she knew where we were. This time I was not as reassured when she told me we were still good. As we approached a body of water, which later turned out to be the River Thames--a river that was by no means close to our hostel--Kim admitted that maybe she wasn't quite so sure about where we were. No biggie though. We had a good laugh and took some good pics of the Chelsea Bridge. We also had the honor of nearly stumbling upon a stray pig's leg. Yes, a stray pig's leg. How perfect that two ladies--one Jewish, the other a pescaterian--find a full-on, raw pig's leg. It wasn't like we were in a bad part of the city either. Very odd....and by "odd" I mean "hysterical." We were lost for at least 3 hours, but it was a quality stroll.
4. Meeting up with the newly betrothed Ben & Deborah to frolic around town and eat yummy fish and chips with their friend Jolene.
5. Touring the Tower of London and listening to stories of murder and torture. Then being rained on. Actually I wouldn't actually call it rain. It was an official downpour. This was wildly convenient considering we only had one very small umbrella to share between the two of us.
6. The Tate Modern museum! I loved it! There was a fantastic photography exhibit and amazing street art covering the outside of the building. Even the walk to the museum was phenomenal! To there we trekked across the River Thames on a funky twisted metal foot bridge.
7. Westminster Abbey. Wow, there are hella deadies here. (We've come to label all grave sites/tombs/monuments as "deadie spots"...These sights are our fave. Macabre, maybe; but, we're clearly OK with it) The stained glass and various monuments were really pretty. There were also different sections that paid tribute to poets, artists, and musicians--even Darwin. Yes, a monument to Darwin in a church. I figured his "we came from monkeys" theory might have ousted him from such a tribute. Pretty cool that it didn't. Maybe this was the church's way of admitting that he's right?
8. Princess Di monument in Kensington Park. This monument was really great. We paused here for a picnic. The monument consisted of water that runs in an eternal circle. The cement that contains the stream is varied in its grades so that at points the water flows rapidly and at others it slowly makes its way around. People are welcome to interact with the monument, dip their feet in the water, and sit upon the edges. It was really peaceful. It seemed a fitting tribute to a woman who lived her life with such humble grace. It was the perfect picnic spot.
9. Riding in a double decker bus. C'mon! We had to do it!
10. Last, but not least...stumbling upon a bar advertising a 4th of July celebration. The sign outside of the bar was hilarious. "American beer...Budweiser, Coors, etc. for cheap! USD accepted!" It was on this day, in an unintentional display of serendipitous irony, that I found myself in London on July 4th wearing a blue and white striped tank top. I did not make the connection earlier that morning while dressing myself. I may as well have carried around a liberty touch and sang "I'm proud to be an American..."

Next up...Amsterdam. Where you can buy a cheap hooker from the comfort of your canal taxi.

I'm out

I'm finished with my Master's!

Contrary to my initial suspicions, my thesis did not actually kill me. I gave my thesis defense in early May and it was received really well by my committee members. Hearing, "Congratulations! Your thesis has been approved," was amazing. I dropped my thesis at the publisher earlier this week, so I'm officially done. SCHOOL'S OUT FOREVER!

To celebrate my 2 years of hard work, I'm taking a celebracation. My next adventure--6 weeks of backpacking across Europe with my traveling buddie Kim starts Monday, June 30. I'm so excited to write, change up my head space, experience beautiful places, art, food, and just RELAX! I'll post updates periodically along the way. We'll be visiting London, Amsterdam, Paris, Barcelona, San Sebastian, French Riviera: Marseilles, Nice, & St Tropez, Monaco, the 5 villages of the Cinque Terre on the Italian Riviera, Venice, Florence, Tuscan Countryside, Rome, Pompeii, Athens, and some Greek islands...and a few other friends will be making guest appearances in some locations.

It has been awhile since travel has been a consistent part of my life and it has been greatly missed. Gone are the hitchhiking, fly by the seat of my pants Janel adventures that used to lead me to the strangest places with the strangest people. I also haven't pulled my famous throw-a-dart-at-a-map-and-drive-there-on-a-whim maneuver in years either. Styles may change, but my initial urge to explore and experience different walks of life on my own terms remains strong. Too strong to ignore. The clarity that wandering has always granted leads me to appreciate what I have at home and approach my life with revitalized energy. Over the last 2 years I let many aspects of my life slide as I worked toward my graduate degree, so I'm looking forward to getting back in touch with myself and getting my head straight as I begin the next phase of my life.

Gardens of the mind must be weeded or they cannot flourish.

Some pre-trip fluffing......

San Sebastian, Spain


Vernazza, Itally (one of the villages we'll be visiting in Cinque Terre)


Tuscan Countryside

American Broads Abroad

Even after listening to my mother’s concerned bantering regarding the dangers of international travel, I am ready to set sail on my European adventure. Maybe my readiness is premature, considering that I may not make it out alive. According to my mom (and most assuredly suggested by the ladies of The View…and/or “The Oprah”) a staggering percentage of young women who travel abroad end up rotting in foreign jail cells after being falsely accused of murder. Shocking, I know. Apparently this happens FREQUENTLY. According to my mom (and I’m sure validated by millions of documented cases) this typically happens when a poor wide-eyed college girl is in the wrong place at the wrong time (i.e., in a dark alley just after a murder has taken place). In this tragic example, the girl stoops over a fallen body to check for a pulse, leaving her fingerprints all over the victim. Just as she realizes the unfortunate Joe is dead, the fuzz shows up. Henceforth, girlfriend is booked and thrown in jail. As an American in a foreign country she has no rights, so she’s forced to live out the remainder of her miserable days in a 4x4 jail cell in Tuscany, knowing that she’ll never again enjoy a glass of wine. Never. And the only cheese she’ll have the opportunity to experience is PRISON Vel-fuckin-veta.

The small percentage of women who narrowly escape the pulls of European jails face other significant challenges. According to my mom--and again the seed was probably planted by Barbara Walters or whoever hosts 20/20 nowadays--another alarming percentage of unsuspecting American women are lured back to the lairs of mysterious European men. Evidently Italian men have a reputation for being “sexy” & “suave” and they try to work that angle to American tourists. Rumor has it that American tourists find an Italian accent so irresistible that whenever an Italian man looks an American woman directly in the eyes and utters the word “Bella,” she immediately drops trow and will willingly go off with him wherever he beckons. Of course when their destination is reached, the Italian stallion will most assuredly slip the naïve girl a mickey and have his way with her. She’ll wake up the next morning lying naked between the grapevines of a 200-year-old vineyard with a splitting headache and no recollection of what happened the night before with Alfonso-what’s-his-face.

If neither of the two aforementioned doomsday scenarios befall an American girl abroad, then according to my traveling companion’s mother, she’s most likely going to return to the States with AIDS. Yes, AIDS. (From all of the illicit anonymous sex she had abroad) For this reason she should bring condoms. Not just one or two. Oh no, she should go to Costco and load up on Trojans like that pony is goin outta style.

Who would’ve guessed that two ladies traveling abroad to celebrate their recent graduate degrees could face so many dangers? I thought we were just independent women in pursuit of fun. Apparently we are so much more than that. We’re two naïve hookers who are about to embark on a murderous rampage across Western Europe.

Stay chuned for all of the gory details on how we subvert the law, nibble on cheese, and guzzle wine, as we gear up to get titty on the French Rivvie and beyond.

(.) (.)

The seasons change as time unfolds to a life…Opening up

Our lives are no more than the knowledge we garner and the choices we make with each present…passing…moment.

Shed light and listen. Really listen. Be weary of those who fill the gaps with incessant chatter; they are the ones who often know the least, yet jump to cram their ignorance into an otherwise perfect silence. Shed light so you can appreciate the dark for what it is not. Know truth, or for you, there shall be no truth. Acknowledge the inherent elegance of this…our daily struggle…for life.

In this struggle…
Authenticity is my goal.
Clarity is my hope.
Balance is my challenge.

The breath that fills our lungs, the words that fill our days, and the choices that reflect our nature are each integral bits of the whole, blending together to form a life. May the whole of this life reveal the pure intentions of a satisfied soul and the unabashed stride of an adventurous spirit.

For who is a writer who has forgotten her voice?
An actress who cannot remember the call of a crowd?
The artist who does not recognize her omnipresent muse?
A leader who has forgotten her responsibility to demand justice?

We are nothing if we do not dance in the reverie of our passions. They keep us whole. Motivated. Honest. Remain grounded in the reality that you weave your days from the fibers of these passions. Each strand wraps around a piece of your personal truth, binding it to your abdomen. As one fiber interlocks with another, these truths grow, displaying the story of a life. Without authenticity and strength of conviction, this work will tangle and weaken, leaving a life undone. Hold tight to your life's purpose and incorporate your passions into everything you do, each breath you take. Accept no less. The ingenuity of your individual work marks the presence of a soul I am blessed to know, honored to love, and grateful to learn from. Keep a soft eye turned inward and relish in your authentic truth, for this—and this alone—is your salvation and guiding light.

Stopping the insurgency…

As I write, I fear the worst. My current state of trepidation is fueled by the cyclical winds of change that bring of the evils of yore back again. I wait, on the verge of this rebellion, quietly pondering. Where will I be when the revolution begins? My hope is to be on the front lines fighting the powers that strive to usurp the progress of the past few decades. Of which revolution do I speak? Clearly, I’m referring to the ubiquitous mustache phenomenon. What should have died with Tom Selleck reemerged a few years back among a curious few who, undoubtedly, were trying to be “ironic.” I was living just south of Seattle at the time, so when I witnessed the ‘stash nouveau I just figured it went with the territory. No cause for alarm, I thought—the reemergence was effectively quarantined in the land of tall trees and strong espresso. Alas, 2008 brought more than wildfires to SoCal. The mustaches have effectively arrived in San Diego.

OK, wait. Let’s back up a minute to clarify. I love guys with facial hair. In my book scruffy guys are cute and sexy. A (moderately sized) mustache is acceptable when buttressed by other facial hair. (e.g., goatee, full-on beard, *soul patch, etc.) The straight up, in your face, unforgiving mustache is an entirely different story. Word to the wise, if you need to condition your stash to keep it untangled, or you find yourself inhaling unruly hairs with your breakfast sandwich, or if your stash resembles an obese, hairy caterpillar that has crawled upon your pillowy lip to die—cut that motherfucker right now. It’s not funny, it’s not sexy, and contrary to urban legend, no lady’s ever gonna take you up on that mustache ride offer. Ever. Seriously, sporting that thing above your upper lip is the equivalent of dousing yourself with 8 gallons of pussy repellent.

*Only if moderately sized & proportionate to said mustache. This combo can get tricky…Please exercise extreme caution.