Liz dreams of Travel... still

Shock and Awe

2010-11-19T19:50:00.000-08:00

I want to move to Spain. Or join the peace corps and live in Guatemala. Or run, jump, hop on a plane to India and sit in the mountains and meditate. Instead I sit in my room and listen to the XX and draw self portraits for hours. And meditate for a while. And watch the Royal Tenenbaums. What I mean to say is, I know there is more than this, I have seen it. I have tasted it and walked on it and danced with it. I have lived in much much more than this. But I'm settling. I'm literally settling into a homebody life here in my hometown. I am trapping myself here. Each day, week, month that I stay here makes it harder and harder to uproot. Because comfort is easy. And warm, and has wi-fi. And my mom, and slippers and doggies. I love my home, I love this place I grew up in. But that's just it. I am grown now and I just feel like a stupid idiot for hanging around like a teenager during summer.
There are some things I know I need to sit and the floor, in my head and figure out before I can. Jump, run, hop away from this place. But I avoid it. I avoid everything going on up there because I'm afraid of what i already know. I know what I'm capable of, I know I can't live like this forever, but i procrastinate.
So I have been meditating again. Not as much as I would like, for as long as I would like, but I am at least doing it. And I know I just need to build my strength again, my willpower and my own self discipline. Because I can feel inch by inch my terrible traits surfacing. Irritation, frustration, anger, sadness, guilt, envy. More and more every day. And I do not like it.
For instance, I lost it today. And everything comes bubbling over the top before I even knew there was a problem. Things that are out of my control, things that are long done, still haunt me. People who left my life, people who are never coming back and who only survive in my memory. It was Sabrina. I was working today and there it was, front page of the newspaper, Sabrina's photograph, with an article
i only caught the headline 'Reno launches campaign to fight kids' use of heroin'.
I felt my breath rise, i felt my head get dizzy. luckily my break was coming up. I sat outside just staring for a while, trying to walk it off and calm down and contemplate why I was so upset. The shock I think upset me most. Not expecting to see this, her photo, out there for everyone in Reno to see and read about with their morning coffee.
I spent all day in a daze trying to be passable at work and not get too many customer complaints for being a zombie.
When I got home tonight I could just sit here and listen to music and think about her. Not about the her in the article, the her that is now one of , "The new faces of heroin abuse in Washoe County". I thought about my friend, who I loved, who I miss, and dream about, whose photos are everywhere and whose laugh is in my head and who i still feel connected to.
I feel lost and confused and sad. Sure didn't think my day would go this way. Out of nowhere, no. where.

Let me try and transition this as best I know how. I probably made Sabrina a dozen mixed tapes. And she likely made me far more, as I did drive a truck with a cassette player all through high school. Oh wait. Is it? Oh yeah, I drive that same car now. Oh well, so it so happens a friend gave me a present yesterday to open when I had a bad day. Today=bad. That present was a lovely, surprising, and hilarious mix tape. I took the leaf/cobweb/dirt covered yard work boom box out of the closet and popped that baby right on into the tape deck. I am now on side two and it is making my night exceedingly less terrible.
Also, lets throw some funny in here. So I've been doing Bikram Yoga. In case you don't know what this is, this is yoga asanas done in a sauna. 105 degrees to be exact. You pour sweat so hard that you are required to do yoga with a towel atop your mat. So I started going in the summer and go sporadically now, weekly or bi-weekly. I of course introduced it to my mom, who know is totally upping the ante and goes like 4+days/week and is totally getting ripped.
My first class was utter hilarity. Melissa introduced me to it and I showed up on a super packed day, rode my bike there, eh it was summer? There are like fifty hot babes in spandex booty shorts and sports bras and about twenty pretty hot beefcakes in similarly skimpy attire. I've never seen so many dudes in a yoga class. They must follow the flock of girls?Anyways, If it's full, they can cram like 70 people into the studio. It was almost full. I get in there, and we get started and everyone is all Then "MMMMMMMMMMUUUUUIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAH" this is an extreme inhale. 'AHHHHHBBBRAAAAAAHHHHHHGGGGGHHHA" extreme exhale. I can say is, you had me at "mmmmuuuuuuiiiiiiiah". I'm already overheating, and this was just breathing. 90 minutes of sweating and tight ass oogling later, I sat on the grass and gossiped with Melissa about all the hilarious things in the class. Three months later, I have finally gotten over the funny shit and can appreciate the warmth of the sauna style room in comparison to my freezing autumn house. Also Melissa isn't here so there's no one to make me crack up in class. My mom is super focused.
So that's cool. This mix tape is pretty pretty good, if I do say so m'self.
So, I'll end on that sweaty note. Also I'm going to write again. More. I promise.

To be with myself

2010-08-05T00:11:00.000-07:00

I haven't written in so long. I feel mostly such a lack of enthusiasm for my life lately and thus nothing to post for others to read. However, I need to write, I miss channeling the everyday into the universe. And there is still beauty and interesting things in my life, they aren't as spectacular as they used to be, but life isn't always spectacular. What brought me back to this tonight was music. I started listening to some music that inspired me so much to reach back into a place I once was, where I was carefree and experimental and rash. Where i went with my gut feeling and got lost everyday and wore the same clothes for nine months straight.
So i listened to some tunes and brought out my photo albums from my travels. I printed all my pictures off with the rest of the money I had left and put them in albums a while ago, it was a massive project but that has been nearly done since January or so. And i have been meaning to write captions and comments before I completely forget everything and everyone i met that year. So I got through a couple volumes, a little Argentina, Australia and Thailand before getting exhausted. These pictures are like another life. I know I lived it, I know it was real. But it is all so far from me now. I find myself almost crying each time i see previews for Eat, Pray, Love. Not that the movie moves me to tears(although it does look good, hello James Franco and Senor Bardem). But it makes me long for myself more that ever. This thirty second trailer brings me in an instant back to whirling around the world,mostly it makes me miss and long for India. To my freest points, to my deepest struggles, to my incredible one year of life. The year that I lived so much. The year i fell in love with myself and felt so comfortable in my own skin.
During that year i found so much strength and power and restraint and patience in myself. I sometimes wonder how I could go so far only to fall back so deeply, so fast. To fall into habit and laziness and restraint and introversion. Would me last year expect me this year? Hell no. I would tell her to cut and run. To get a job in Africa, to fly to Spain on a whim, to teach english in Japan, to join the Peace Corps, to immerse herself in meditation, to spend every day painting, to bike and hitch across America. I would slap me in the face and my own regrets would sit there, hot and red across my face. And I know it. I know I'm doing it, wasting away here, with television and internet and inside sucking my soul away. I know now that life is more than these small spans of time, these days and these years, life is every moment that you recognize and the ones that you let pass, they pass.
I feel alive on my bicycle. I felt alive tonight, ears pounding loud with beautiful music, cool summer breeze on my arms and legs stars sky stretching above. Smells of creeks and horses and street. I feel alive flying down hills and climbing up them. I feel happy and excited. Because there's a little bit of danger i think. A tiny bit of mystery in the dark dark night. Something I don't find all the time, but all of a sudden there it is, and I haven't been in fear or in danger or uncomfortable for so long I almost miss it. But when i get carried away and almost fall while daydreaming I get a snap, my heart beats fast, and I feel so alive.
I think i've been depending too much on others since the minute i came back to America. Perhaps because its the one thing i could never do when i was traveling. Perhaps because I forget how well I know and can take care of myself. Perhaps its just been too easy to do. I figured out to only depend on myself when i was in India, and I held this close, and I nurtured it, with meditation and yoga and writing and riding on buses. I sat with myself and my thoughts and my problems solved themselves from within. Here I avoid me, I turn the radio on, I climb into the internet, I drown my thoughts in dvds and books. I need to sit and listen. Be in my head. Be with myself. Remind me how much there is to do. Remember how much I can do.
Only then can I be a comfort and a friend to others. But like this, this dependence on others for happiness and strength and solutions. Its garbage. And its getting me nowhere. It's gotten me nowhere.
In other words, I'm back. I'm going to write and bike and try to get a hold of that girl in there. Before she turns twenty five and gets really cynical.

Mail

2010-03-10T22:38:00.000-08:00

I've been checking the mail every day. Since I got Netflix the chances of me actually getting something besides junk increased dramatically. But there's always the secret hope that my new roller skate wheels will be in there or a letter from eh, say my long distance love in China, or the latest issue of Bust will be in there as well.
Tonight when I opened the mailbox my heart stuck in my chest as I saw the return address. Sarah van Mill, Cape Town. Sarah is a friend of Jen's. Sarah and I have talked frequently since Jen's death and Sarah had volunteered to send me this red necklace I gave Jen in India. Time has passed and I kind of forgot about it. It has crossed my mind here and there but eh, I've learned to let my mind stop obsessing about things like this. I sat there in my car heart pounding, i knew what was in the envelope, but I didn't want to open it. I did but I didn't. i got home and sat at my desk and gradually ripped open the envelope. There was a handwritten letter from Sarah, and Jen's red necklace. I immediately lost it. i grabbed it and smelled it deeply for any semblance of her. i crumpled to the floor and wept, missing Jen so hard I felt sick. I feel helpless and lost and angry. How could some tiny threads of red do this to me? How could Jen really be gone? She died six months ago this Sunday. Sarah said in her letter that sometimes she feels the best when she feels worst. I agree. It is so much easier to make sense of death when I can brood and mope and really just sit in it. Let it cover me and seep in all around me and be sad. Because the everyday makes me feel apathetic and misunderstood. I can't live every day in a pit of sadness. But sometimes I wish I could.
I have some jewelry of Sabrina's too but this necklace is so tangible, this necklace I bought in Varanasi and carried around in my backpack. This necklace Jen wore on the streets of Delhi while we wandered and sweat ed and shopped and drank chai.
I have a picture of Jen and I on my dresser that i took while we were sitting on the metro, enjoying the air con and just riding it to people watch, we're both wearing this red necklace. I see her in this, alive and joking with me and I hear her contagious, beautiful laugh when I hold it. I can feel her alive, i want her to be alive, i want so much to go back to those moments we spent together in India and remember everything perfectly. I want so much to trap it in a bottle and open it whenever I'm missing her. And mango shakes and weird food and rickshaw rides will pour out of it. Conversations about travel and love and home will trickle onto my desk.
I think the biggest thing I fear more than anything else is forgetting. I don't want to forget Jen. I want to remember her facial expressions and her brilliant sense of humor and her incredible essence always. And every day I feel her slipping. The same with every person I've lost, I feel them slipping away into memory, just as my travels slip into archives.
I should just call Pam, whenever I need to remember Jen's greatness I talk to her and we can both feel sad and happy but at least we talk about her.
As for the necklace, I want to wear it, but I have a feeling I'm just going to keep it close by for as long as I can before the smell leaves.

Lay me back down

2010-01-17T20:32:00.000-08:00

Its funny how life gets away from you. And how it drags. Some days I feel as if I have been steadily drifting from the person I imagine myself to be. I sometimes like to think what I would say if I saw myself, bagging groceries in Reno at twenty-four. Did I ever imagine that I would be living back here, sleeping in this bed, walking these streets? Never. Since I was ten years old all I could do was dream of getting out of this town, onto bigger and better things. And I did, and I saw things I never could have imagined seeing, walked streets I never ever ever in my wildest dreams imagined I would find myself trotting upon. Yet because I did that, I must do this. And I don't care about the groceries part, that just on paper sounds really pathetic. It's actually a badass job which I happen to love and could give a shit if every person I've known in my life comes through there and looks down on me. I guess I am just feeling lonely. Missing my friends who are scattered about the globe. Honestly if it wasn't for Melissa I'd probably be totally insane. The only person in Reno who still cares about me, still values our friendship enough to try at it, even when I'm lazy and don't call her back, and am not that much fun or very interesting to be around anymore. Out of everyone that I still "know" in Reno, I hang out with no one but Melissa. Occasionally I'll grab a bite or some coffee with Kaylene, but it's on a different level now and it is what it is. For example. I had artwork up at a diner here in town for a month and a half. And NO ONE, not my family, not any of my other friends, went to see my work except Melissa. My art is all over the house, so my mom's immune- but the fact that I have such a small group (of one) who will go and eat somewhere just to support me as an artist. This struck me as sad and beautiful all at once the day I went to take it all down, which is always a blissful process for me. I am always apprehensive when I know I have art out there in the universe. It was comforting to take the thumb tacks out of the walls, snap the binder clips and put them away, and stack the prints one on top of the other and zip them safely into the confines of my portfolio, to be stored under my brother's bed and never talked about again.
I went jogging down by the Truckee river since I was downtown already and thought about things. This area always reminds me of Sabrina, especially Idewild Park. I remember sitting under this "mushroom" tree with her some days after school, in our uniforms just talking and hiding in our fort, pulling grass out of the ground.
My chest burned as I ran cause I'm really out of shape. I listened to a podcast of This American Life that brought me to tears. It was called the long shot, and one act of the show was about a man serving life in prison and the possibility that he would be released on parole if the governor didn't overturn it. Hearing this man stuck in San Quentin, I just had to celebrate my freedom and get outside and breathe in fresh air, because what else can I do?
After Christmas Melissa and I house sat for Sabrina's parents as they went to see her younger brother in Florida for the holidays. We did it together because neither of us could've done it alone. But I did arrive there alone. I let myself in through the garage and took a nice long smell of her house. That house smell that never fades and that will always flip my mind to long past memories. I set down my purse and walked though the halls, the dogs followed me. I found myself in front of her room. I had been to the Paulsen's many times since her death, but never once even peered into that room. Its right next to the bathroom and kind of hard to miss, but I had, until now.
I flicked on the light. The room had been completely remodeled a long time ago after Sabrina's move to Texas. But her brown wooden shutter closet was there, her soft carpet that I'd slept on so many nights, laid on doing homework, sprawled out chatting and painting nails. That was where I collapsed. I lay there curled against her windowsill shaking and quietly weeping, trying not to freak out the dogs. But they freaked anyways, these two little corgis jumping and barking and chasing each other about were the only thing telling me to pull it together. In the corner was a picture I had drawn of Sabrina and me, in these ridiculously gaudy sequined butterfly shirts. Don't ask okay, I was a crazy dresser, even at sixteen. I had written some incubus quote above the drawing. 'Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there with open eyes." I felt so unbelievably sad and guilty and horrible. Because I hadn't been there, I hadn't been there for her for years, and here I was, house sitting for her family, pretending to myself that I'd been this great friend to her. And there it was, my own reflection and I couldn't hide from it anymore.
Past is past, blah blah blah. I will never get over this, I will never forgive myself for deserting her when she needed me most, and for not reaching out when I knew she was sinking.
Melissa arrived later and I pulled it together and slept the next few nights in the guest bedroom, eating popcorn and reading books in bed with Melissa, trying not to be afraid of ghosts.
New Year's Eve came and went.
I worked a lot around then and was pretty tired, Juli invited me to go to Tahoe with her and some girlfriends and although I would've loved to, buuut. I was physically exhausted and had to work the next day and didn't want to drag ass around being hungover, so I resisted and I went to stay the night at Sabrina's house. I spent New Year's Eve eating a big bowl of pesto pasta, barely drinking one glass of champagne, eating a whole bunch of ice cream, and going to bed at ten thirty. And it was exactly what I wanted.
The last few weeks have been filled with lots of working, and a little Roller Derby, and some reading of books. And that's about it. I have developed a new sense of unconditional passionate love. Any person I see returning their shopping cart I feel a burst of joy and gratitude,I feel like kissing them on the mouth and exclaiming HALLELUJAH! Because as far as I'm concerned, there is only on type of person allowed to abandon their grocery cart. Or hoist it up on top of the rocks in a booby trapped attempt to be polite? This person with a get out of cart card free is the single mother. Single meaning alone at the grocery store, mother meaning mother to small children who are likely to get into trouble and mayhem if left alone in the car while returning sed cart. And if these women are pregnant, bonus points. You've got enough to worry about. Leave your cart wherever you like, I don't mind, its my job. And it is. BUT. If you are a healthy functioning adult who did not park in a handicapped spot (which are mere feet away from cart return. I might add). Then push that fucking cart the extra minute back to where it goes and do not leave it, like a steaming pile of poo on my front porch, out in the parking lot abyss. Thank you, much obliged. Signed, Cart girl. And don't even get me started on the increase in cart abandonment on Saturdays. It's like everyone is on crazy pills and can't spare a minute. (Even though we all know its their day off. What's the rush crazy pants?
Anyways, but I have been enjoying work, its just hard not to think these thoughts during my cart haulin' hours. Which I actually, I have to admit enjoy, its an excuse to go outside and get some glorious fresh air and pump some iron. I have found new humor in matching up characters from NBC's 'The Office' to their counterparts at Whole Foods, which is a wholly entertaining ordeal, and can keep me laughing to myself, and with Jayne for shifts on end. Jayne's convinced we've got a way better sitcom here, way better characters, etc. I wholly agree. We could call it "The Market". It would kill during sweeps. We could do the storm episode where everyone comes in, freaking out about the upcoming MILLION feet of snow and need to stock up on quinoa and electrolyte enhanced mineral water.
Also I saw 'Up in the Air' today which was a perfect blend of loneliness, sadness and sweetness. And Clooneyness, which I can't get enough of. Which reminds me of a rendezvous I had with an old friend. Kirsten, who I worked with at PTT in Seattle ages ago, was in town for work. Her job very much resembles the Up in the Air scenario, minus the firing. We met up at Whole Foods cause she needed to do some shopping and got to talk about life and travel, and our dear friend Jen. Kirsten threw a memorial party for her in December which I was unable to attend with good food and free beer and dancing, just like Jen would've wanted, a party she would've gone to. But she brought some spare photos she had printed for the event and we talked about her, what it was like for me to see her, as many of our friends hadn't for years. It felt good to see Kirsten, and weird that we would be hanging out at my work in Reno of all places. We laughed at pictures of Jen eating long loaves of bread and bathing under waterfalls with hot shirtless men. Kirsten went back to her hotel, to prepare for a long week of flying and working, and I drove home in my teal truck, gazing at the sliver of a moon left.
I miss, I miss. You all. Here and there and everywhere.

Pride and Prejudice

2009-12-16T18:38:00.000-08:00

I am now a proud employee of Whole Foods. I am now the proud teacher of a badass ESL student. I am a proud suckass at Roller Derby but still love it. And I am the proud seamstress of about a million handmade ridiculous Christmas presents. I spent a weekend at a wedding a few weeks ago which was beautiful and sad all at once. Being somewhere surrounded by family and love and dancing and open bar doesn't go so well for a lonely loser such as myself. Not that I want to be married. I just want someone to fuckin dance with. Especially when I drink many beers. I haven't been to a wedding without Sean in my adult life yet, and let me tell you- not awesome. No one to roll my eyes at or to finger pistol on the dance floor. No one to save me from those stupid 'What are you doing with your life questions'. Not that my mom wasn't a great date, but she was getting spun around the floor by some hot TWENTY FIVE year old. That's right. She's got game. And had a fantastic dress. Unlike my rerun I already used for Anna's wedding three years ago.
Anyways, so upon returning to Reno from the Chico wedding it proceeded to snow for two weeks straight. Thus all the sewing. It is a winter wonderland here from the snowed in days filled with hot cocoa and baked potatoes and handmade hats to the frolicking in the massive snowy drifts with Charles wonder dog. I wasted a few more days laying about inside in the warm while it snowed outside. Went and hung up a bunch of prints at a local cafe, and went for an interview at Whole Foods.
And gradually things happened. I finally resumed teaching ESL which is not only a good way to spend a few hours a week but extremely rewarding and enjoyable. Especially when my student is such a badass awesome learner.
And I began my first day of work today at a great place I really like. A company unlike the mega expletive expletive expletive i just left a month ago. FUCK THAT PLACE.
I get paid well, get to eat well and get to enjoy being myself in a comfy market that wishes for me to be happy at work and does not wish any of the following; to belittle me, to embarrass me, to treat me like an uneducated child when I have tons of experience, to underpay me, to under appreciate me, to make me want to die inside.
So things are looking up.
I then, will be here for a while. In Reno. I will save some money and try to start again. Working and skating and sewing. And trying to right myself. I need to right myself before anything else will become right again. Because wanting Berger home just to make me happy is just projecting my happiness upon him and expecting him alone to make my life worth living. And I know I know I know this is wrong yet I do it anyways. He isn't coming home. Not anytime soon. I need to make myself responsible for my own happiness and my own future. And maybe then I won't feel so blue.
Now I mostly feel sore from a badass practice and tired from actually having to get up early. Its time for tea. Happy early Christmas everyone. Love, Liz.

The Infinite Abyss

2009-12-03T21:54:00.000-08:00

Liz life update.
Everything is nothing. I have all the time in the world and nothing to do in it. I have turned doing nothing into a full time job. I can literally force myself back to sleep for two or three more hours just so I have less time during the day to be faced with my own reality. I have walked out to my studio numerous times and just stared at it. Stared at the paints and the ink, the pencils and paper, the paintings half finished and the projects half started. I want so much to create. To be able to use this time to my advantage. But my heart tugs me deeper and deeper and I can't do it. I cant pick up the brush, I cant. Or I won't. More likely won't. I started meditating again and can work at that day by day. hour by hour. While sitting there I find images floating into my mind that I linger on although I know I shouldn't. Mostly places I slept while I was traveling alone. There is the one room in Dharmsala. My perfect space. The place I close my eyes and go to when I want to remember being most happy. I remember shitholes near bus stations with monstrously large bathrooms and bags of noodles. Creepy lofts in North Thailand where lots of reading was done. Hostels in Athens with their loud streets and bad internet.
Where I am now, these all feel like make believe.
But in my reality. In my head. In that meditation time, I sit with myself and know they were real. I know I was there, me and my head. Me and my meditating. I remember every place I ever sat for an hour in silence. But I can't remember what my dreams are.
I can't remember what I am passionate about, what I want to do with my life. What I want my life to be. So I drown myself in television and sleep until the long day is finally over and I can sleep again.
I believe they call this depression. It feels like depression. I feel like that little circle who bops around too sad all the time. Or the robot from Hitchiker's Guide to the Universe. My mom gave me a psychologist to talk to. I might have to do it. I'm out of ideas and I'm losing days faster and faster.
I fell hard in Roller Derby the other day, knocking the wind out of me and seriously smashing up my shoulder. I do a great job of kicking my own ass.
I found out today that another friend died.
And its spooky and surreal and of course what the fuck.
Jared, Jen's first and I'm pretty sure only love. The first boyfriend that mattered. Jared was in a head on collision in October, one month after Jen died and was in a coma for three weeks before passing away. Jared was in his twenties.
I sat there on the phone when i found out just fuckin shell shocked. First of all that another young, kind, loving person has died far too early. And two that it's Jared, so soon after Jen.
I talked about Jared with Jen when I saw her last in India. Their love was a fated one. They met and connected like magnets only a few months before she was supposed to leave on her Bonderman fellowship. I remember thinking then how fucked up it was that an awesome girl like Jen and an awesome guy like Jared had to meet then. And that they only had a short time to be together before she left. Turns out they each just had a short time to live and be awesome before the fates wiped them out.
But I'm a firm believer in loving what you have when you have it. None of this, 'I don't want to miss you or I don't want to get hurt when you leave' bullshit. They took what they could get. They spent their time together and they loved each other for as long as they could. And Jared even visited Jen in Honduras in the first year of her travels. But as it was things couldn't hold up to such time and continental divides, and they had to go their separate ways.
But when Jen and I talked she talked of him fondly, she did love him and always would, if she ever came back to America they would maybe figure it out. But she was living her life in South Africa and Jared was living his in Seattle. I know a lot of men fell in love with Jen while she was gone, but I'm pretty sure Jen loved Jared more than any of those hot Brazilians or charming Brits.
Jared was a vegan, a carpenter, an avid bike rider (even up all those Capitol Hill bitch ass hills) a musician and a good man. With a really good beard. He loved Jen very much. As I know she did him. I remember one time when Jen and I rode bikes to meet Jared at a bar in Ballard. Jen and I were early and turns out at the wrong bar, buut it was a bar, so we started drinking a pitcher anyways. After the pitcher was gone Jared kindly told me that Stella, actually was NOT a vegan beer, as they filter it through fish bladders. But that he didn't want to tell me until after cause he hated when people did that to him.
That was the last Stella I ever had. But it was damn good. Ignorance is bliss. Thanks Jared.
Also the amazing Halloween night out Jared had some insane WWF costume on that I had no idea about. Cause I don't know shit about wrestling. But he looked incredible. And crazy. Fit in well with a crazy afro hippy lady, a unicorn, Larry David, and John Waters.
I am saddened to learn of his death but in a weird way it seems too close to be a coincidence. If I were religious I would picture them up in Heaven drinking union and vegan beer (aka Budweiser)and eating vegan cupcakes that Jen made. And being happy. Being as I do not lean religious I'll just think of them as together again, in some alternate universe where the young get to live their lives and where people who love each other get to be near each other.

Mojave Desert Drive

2009-11-15T20:52:00.000-08:00

I know its been a while. I know that inquiring minds are concerned that I've possibly fallen into the pit of despair and am currently being tortured by an albino with a pain machine slowly sucking the years off my life.
Well, it kinda feels like that right now.
Had a great weekend, only to be overshadowed by a shit Monday. It all actually started last week when my insane boss was all over my ass micromanaging and tweaking out. About not introducing her, not pushing the fucking snow globes. FUCK THE SNOW GLOBES, about offering to help customers and talking to little kids. We had this big ol talk where she picked out every single thing I don't do by the book and explained it to me. I DON'T CARE. I was already having a shitty couple of days missing my Sabrina and Jen and Sean and missing being happy, and missing being alive and missing India and travel, and real life. And then this load of bullshit about crap I don't care about. It is just ceramics. It is just a paint brush. And she just goes on and on about her way and blah blah blah. I lost it. I'd been on the verge of tears for like two days and I lost it. I told her I had worked at a store like this for FOUR years and if I call the thin writers paint pen, that's why. I work my ass off and can glaze and load a kiln and dremmel (NOT STILT. A stilt is what you fucking put the pieces ON. You cannot seriously think calling dremmeling 'stilting' makes any sense, can you?)like a mothafucka, and would have been a great help to them if not for the OCD-ness of the place. So we talked it out and she told me to come up with a way for things to work better. THERE is no way, because its her personality. That shit is stuck. So I just went with it and was totally relieved to get Saturday off cause then I could Derby it up! So... I went in today and was doing fine. A nice group of women who came in last week came in and I helped them all out and chatted and unloaded a kiln. And then SHE comes in and demands my key back before she even puts her purse down. She tells me we're going to talk about my 'new' position. I got demoted to fuckin scrapbook maker. I GOT demoted at a ceramics painting studio. She needs everyone who works there to do things EXACTLY the way she wants them, and obviously I'm so incompetent and can't remember all the stupid little shit, so I'm off the team. Could I be any bigger of a loser than that? If I can't even fucking hack it here, I'm hopeless in the real world. She informed me that no longer would I be allowed to talk to customers or co-workers, no working in the kiln room, or wearing aprons. I would be giving back my key and wouldn't need to come to the staff meeting. I would be coming in sporadically to sit at the back table in the corner(yeah, she had these details in there) with my BACK to the door, and help the MEGAbeast cut out fucking pictures and paste them into a book with names and prices. I didn't even really know what was going on it happened so fast. Does she seriously think I'm going to be okay with this, is this just a trick to get me to quit, because it feels like mumbo jumbo nonsense. I would rather die than sit in the fucking dunce seat and cut out photographs of ceramic items all day. Just kill me now. I was so shocked and just zombied out of there as she also sent me home for the day. I didn't even know what to do. I drove away super upset and utterly humiliated, I pondered quitting on Thursday- the date of my newly given 'project' training. Then BAwsslady calls me and yells at me for painting the party plate wrong. It wasn't up to their standards. UM. i fucking RAN one of these goddamn stores, I think I know how to outline fucking signatures with PAINT PEN. She was going on and on about how I haven't been trained in party plates yet and should have really called her to see how to do it, and I'm different and I'm not allowed to do ANYTHING different, and she'll just see me for my training at 1:30pm on Thursday. And she was also mad because she SPECIFICALLY told me I would no longer be talking to customers and I had TALKED! to the women painting before I left. Um hello crazy, they are regulars and I like them. You don't OWN me. GOD. Does this demeaning torture ever end? Not allowed to talk? Not allowed an APRON! Finally I couldn't take this humiliation any longer. I told her I couldn't work for her anymore. I fucking quit that shit like the bad habit, horrid poison it was and I am so glad I did. I went back to pick up my paycheck, and I will NEVER be going back to that fucking torture chamber ever again. (End of rant)... for now.

And did I mention I'm a college graduate. I can't work at the fucking GAP.

But I do love roller derby. And I did have an amazing weekend road trippin to Bakersfield with the BBDD. Ginger Snatch, Maddie Pistolwhip, Dawn(name tbd, but I still hang onto Reba Smackentire), and K.O. Turtle rolled out on friday in the R.V.
As Pistolwhip said, SHIT SHOW. We left Snatches house at noon thirty and got to BAKO at like 1am. Along the way we stopped at Costco, Raleys, Carl's Jr., Grandma Joy's house, some bar and grill in Mammoth, and the side of the road. twice. Firstly a trucker flashed his lights at us to pull over and when we did discovered that the POOP hose had been hanging out flappin in the wind for the first three hours of the drive. A little bit later we pulled over when sparks were flying and we heard a huge crash. The awning ripped and fell off and was dragging along the road. We couldn't fix it and didn't have a screwdriver so we all hung out (a little drunk) and watched K.O. bash the awning off her R.V. with a hammer. Got back in and kept rollin, drinking waay too much whiskey and root beer, dancing and falling all over the place, puking into bags(that was just me), etc. until finally rollin into town and passing out in our hotel.
The bout was a double header and me and Dawn hung out and watched Bako's A and B teams totally crush. First the San Diego Starletts, and then the BBDD. Like Bone Crusher, one of the super intense, hard hitting mammas on their team, for instance. Our girls rocked though, Short Fuse and Pistol and Rockit jammed it up and had some good runs, we got hit A LOT though and it hurt just to watch, I totally gotta buck up before I'm good enough to roll with these babes. We lost by like a hundred points. But as the girls say, we're good at losing, and even better and partying afterwards! Woot!
The after party was at our hotel which was sweet and even sweeter was the SWINGER party that happened to be going on at the same bar. So if you put on a name tag, you were down to swing. Poor Dawn had some married dude all up on her shit,
Swinger: "So I talked to my wife, and she's totally cool if we make out."
Dawn:" Dude, I'm a Christian, hell no."
Pistol totally punched some swinger in the face for grabbing her ass and her name tag was swiftly revoked by the Swinger's association. Awesome.
Partied till FO in the morning, woke up and took the long and lonely road home to Reno. I've never been so happy to see this place.
Soo hungover, soo much fun. Great weekend.

In other news, I'm torn up about Sean's inevitable Chinese residency and don't know how to love someone so far away and miss them and not be with them. I'm not so good at this. How did those old school Jane Austen characters deal with this bastard distance and with these long stretches of absence. They had it rough. They didn't even have skype. Anyways, moral is, it blows and I hate it. And mmm no solution, it just is what it is and someday it will work out. Someday someday some time some bullshit.

So now here I am again: Broke, lonely, unemployed, full of grief, slightly pathetic, cold(literally hel-LO winter). A world of opportunity is out there but I need an edge to start peeling on. I need an in. I need to fucking figure out how to get myself together and make myself happy. Because no man or woman or job or city can do it. If I suck and am sad here, I'll suck and be sad in Seattle. Or India. Or where ever else I was once happy. I would love to move and try something and someplace new, but I would also love to find a way to be happy without a giant physical leap. My friend Kate brought up the book the Namesake in her blog and I was just thinking of it the other day. There is this point where Ashima is told to follow Joseph Campbell's advice and to close her eyes and think of the last time she was truly happy. And then try to get there again. Its called following your bliss. I'm not sure if that's right though because it seems like dwelling in the past. But I'd like to figure out a way to make it happen, to follow my bliss. For instance, I have really gotten into Derby and love this team and love being a part of something that is purely fun and destruction and roller skates. It is in a way... blissful. So who knows. I guess I'll just head back out to the studio and vent some shit. Do a little painting, and get printing already. And sew some shit.

I have been hitting up my all time favorite- the Reno thrift stores, for cheap ass t-shirts and have been fashioning all types of skirts and arm warmers and dresses out of tees. Pretty cool, and a great way for me to practice my good ol sewing without worrying because its just tees from the bins. I had dinner with Sabrina's mom Ginger the other night at Pneumatic and ended up getting to hang some prints and maybe these paintings in December there, so that should be great. Although all my prints are old and the paintings kinda suck, AND I'm still not quite sure about and may just hold back since they are a little personal for me to be showing just yet.

I also found out there is a memorial party for Jen in December as well. And I want to go really bad, and if I am not gainfully employed- I'm using my moms air miles and hitting up the rainy city for a bit. Get my mind off this shitpit i'm in and into the realm of celebration of an incredible life and see some of my friends.
And maybe roll down to Arizona and see Stacy, and maybe go somewhere cool for New Years Eve. Dear 2009- you started out strong, but in the second half- you've totally dropped the ball. I kinda hate you this year.
Anyways, I'm going to go now because my fingers are freezing off and I need a cuppa.
Debbie Downer=Out.
Also, I think I'm choosing "Lizard of Oz" as my Roller Derby name.

Gawdzilla vs Couchzilla

2009-10-18T22:14:00.000-07:00

Getting your shit together aint easy. Especially when you're lazy and no one is around to call you on it. For example you already had all day long to lay around on your ass while your mom was at work. You only had to change out of the sweats and run quickly away from the couch after rapidly fluffing it to hide the fact that you camped out there all day when you heard the garage door open. But then your awesome mom went on holiday and you could literally lay on your sandpaper couch for twenty four fucking hours and no one would interrupt.
For instance. just a for instance.

I finally started working this week. At the Reno version of Paint the Town. Goddess help me back in the saddle again. It's not quite enough hours to keep my mind and hands busy all the time but its something. We all have to start somewhere eh? But holding that dremmel reminds me of Jen and PTT. Sometimes I get flashes of tuesday nights working with her while the regulars would come in and Jen would paint something amazing and keep up with their gossip. Even the stupid smell of glaze reminds me of her, and of that time, such a simpler time. But oh well, its something to pass the time, to hang out with kids, to meet some new peeps.

And I went to Roller Derby tryouts. And I'm lovin it. So lovin it I can't even imagine life before Derby. After three practices I'm fully into all the badass babes who play, I'm into the elbow pads and slide on your knees like a rockstar stop drills. I love the wind in my face and the feel of getting whipped around the track. Every night after I leave practice I'm energized, excited and overjoyed to be alive and to have gotten to skate my ass off. I also suck. HARD. I can't stop for shit, I can't do cool cross overs, I'm wobbly as a mothafucka, I fall down a lot. I fell straight onto my ass AND took out the team captain while doing it. But I'm in, I love it and I will bout till there's no tomorrow. (If I ever stop sucking long enough to be good enough to bout that is).
The Battle Born Derby Demons is their name, skating's their game.
check em out here: http://www.battlebornderbydemons.com/BBDDJoin.html
I've been contemplating my Derby name and think I've settled upon one that I like and that also strikes fear into the hardcore competition from places like Sacremento. GAWDzilla. It has Liz in it, and I love godzilla, and I'm gaudy ... so there you go.
Any other suggestions are of course welcome. Melissa is joining with me and is debating between Burnt Toast (which is pretty much an inside joke), MELanoma, and MELificent. I also liked TOE Jammer for me. But it's kinda gross.
I also just came up with Liz TailHer. But its kinda eh, weird right?

So I spent half my week being a badass and going to Roller Derby and working and half being a total slob/loser/layabout.
I rode my bike to work yesterday which was glorious during the warm autumn day. About 75 degrees out- wide open sky, I went to the park first and sat around Virginia Lake reading Bust and watching parents be weird to their kids. The geese squawking and honking at the seagulls, the lake smelling like poo and algae and something awful. But it was nice. It felt great to be outside, to use my legs to ride and my brain to read. Even if it was just a magazine. Working felt good though tiring, I really enjoyed interacting with people and having something to do with my hands other than pimp the remote. Riding home late at night was brilliant even though I was exhausted. The sky felt so large and low above me. My bike lights were flickering in death from a year of napping and so I rode by the light of the moon. Rode slowly and steadily past sweet smelling golf courses and office complexes, past the signs of nightlife and the gas station. As I rode over windy hill I glanced backward at the fiery florescent nights of the casinos and Saturday night happening without me. Darkness settled on the roads leading home, only the white of the street lines and the blinding brights of the few oncoming cars to illuminate the path. It is always peaceful riding along these roads, unknown to bike traffic during the nighttime. I feel like I'm sneaking up on my neighborhood, only the sweet stars and the fall leaves to witness my voyage.

I guess my point with all this is I don't so much feel as I'm progressing but more like I'm riding home on my bicycle at night.(me and my metaphors) And its hard; its uphill, dark, lonely, and exhausting. But after a long and arduous ride I do feel better. After long moments staring at photographs, letting the truth wash over and sink in, after talking with someone who understands or even just listens, after painting. I feel as if I have lived and breathed heavily and stretched myself, just a little bit. I still have trouble sleeping. I still have those nights where its three, four and still nothing. And I can't bear to turn out the light and don't because I don't want to. And I don't have to. And what happens then? When no one but yourself is watching out, how do you go to bed on time and eat your vegetables and brush your teeth? How do you mourn when no one is watching? How do you talk about it when everyone else wont? When everyone else thinks you should be done, thinks the time limit has lapsed, that life goes on. What if I don't want it to be up. I'm not done. I'm not done talking and thinking about Jen and Sabrina. Its only been ONE MONTH for fucks sake. I'm not done with Mali and Larry either and that was six months ago. Why does everyone shut down and shut up so quickly? I hate that shit.

Also Jen and Sabrina both loved Halloween. Everything about this holiday reminds me of them. The awesomeness of these two girls during Halloween cannot be underscored. They both fully understood the rare opportunity to dress like a maniac, wear tons of glitter, and get crazy. Being Romy and Michelle, Charlie's Angels, Smurfs(or blue man group depending on how you looked at it) and ghost face with Sabrina. Jen as a splendidly sexy unicorn in a silver lame bodysuit, floor length blond curly wig and phallic purple horn. Jen as Edie Sedwick with Anne as her date aka Andy Warhol. I think about how both of them would understand who Baron Munchausen is and why he is so amazing and why I have to be him for Halloween. They both understood me so well on so many fronts. Sometimes I just wish Jen was around so I could give her a look, and she could give me one back. I don't even need to say anything, just gimme a little eye contact. The same with Sabrina. I just wish I could be in her presence- raid the fridge and eat cereal and sit on the couch together. Bum out if you will. Because if Sabrina was here, I wouldn't feel guilty laying around on the couch all day in my sweats, it would be the funnest day ever.

Time, time, time is on my side?

2009-10-09T21:50:00.000-07:00

Impasse.
I can't cry anymore. I can't laze around anymore. I can't pretend to pay attention anymore. Some type of wall has been hit and my brain and body have both gone overboard. I feel like a lazy, unfeeling fool who lives at home and knows nothing about life.
Let's backtrack. Four weeks ago today I arrived back in America. In that time much has happened. Many people have died, many cities visited, and much HBO has been watched.

My escape to L.A. (and beyond) fared worse than planned. Not the free flow of U.S. travel anticipated. But I did move around a bit, and see some people I love along the way. I hit up the greyhound and spent fourteen hours gazing out at mountains and farms and hanging out at bus stops with non working vending machines and cable news. I thought of Jen a lot. I thought of her beauty and her hilariousness, I thought of her ability to make standing in the back room over bread and cheese a paradise. I thought about Sean and what it meant that he wasn't here and how I could or would deal with it. I thought about where I should live, in what place should I pick back up at American life. Arriving in Palos Verdes, I spent a few days in the company of my wise, very old, and very eccentric grandparents. Watching banter and martinis dished out over dinner. Drinking beers in the company of my aunt and uncle and discussing their new found love of guitar playing. My brother. Hanging out in the glorious company that is Jack. Getting straight tore up by the rip tides and going back for more. The Pacific Ocean is something of a bully, none of the subtle rippling warmth of the Aegean Sea. Oh no sir. Nothing but cold and mile high waves to be felt there. Movie watching and french fry eating. Even went to a crazy horse club celebration. Something many people may not know about Rancho Palos Verdes, is the fact that they are into horse riding there. My Texan uncle rides at this place, the Empty Saddle Club. And so I was invited to this random celebration where there were tractor rides, country music, Mexican horsemen prancing about and mariachi band playing. And even vaulting. Which is teenage girls in bodysuits doing gymnastics on top of moving horses. HI.LA. RI.OUS. And I am brought back to Tom Robbins description of young girls who get into horses and that horses are basically three hundred pound dildos. Trying not to laugh as the English style dry humping parade rolls past. Oh horses.
Jackie, the beautiful friend that she is, drove all the way from Pasadena up to P.V. to pick me up for a few days of awesome hang outage, of which I was utterly excited. Extremely dampened by the fact that on the ride over to Santa Monica to have dinner was when I got the news about Sabrina. And she did her duty as a good friend of taking me out to this adorable vegan diner where Laura! met us for dinner. Then we went to the House of Blues and saw an awesome show.
Jackie and I also went to Abbot Kinney and traipsed and sushi-ed it up, saw the new Quentin Tarantino movie (amazing), walked around the Huntington Library gardens, played with her adorable puppy, watched clueless and ate tons of delicious vegan food. Vegan Caesar salad anyone? We talked about Seattle like nobodies business. Where we'd go if we were there, what we'd eat, what venue we'd see a show at. What park we'd picnic at, what cafe is the best, what record store we miss the most. I decided somewhere around there to move back. If I love it so much why not live there? I know I want to live somewhere new, sometime, but I know I love Seattle. It's my city.
Then things got even weirder, we went to Sean's apartment. The place where he has been living since January, where I have never been, only seen via skype, and now here I am standing at the door and he's not going to answer it. Extremely sad as it was, Jeremy and Josh are incredible company and we all went out to a stupendous Mexican restaurant and had margaritas,(well Josh did), beers, chips and salsa and massive burritos. And talked about the man we all love who happens to be in China. It was really nice to see them and to understand a little bit more how life for the Berger has been since I've gone. And I got a bag of goods I'd sent from India. Sweet Ass.
I spent one day wandering about Long Beach while Jackie was at work. All I did was think about Sabrina. The beach was long and dirty and hot and the water was cool and full of garbage. I listened to Beta Band really loud and thought of her laugh and her smile, the way things used to be, I thought of all my regrets.
I also got a whole day with Laura. Which is hilarious thinking about how many days and nights we spent together in college. With the same school schedule, same job, and hanging out afterwards as well, Laura and I were glued to the hip for a big chunk of UW. She picked me up and we went to her hood. Newport Beach. We ate at the Gypsy Den and then I checked out her pad and we rode cruisers to the beach. Swam in the cold, massive ocean and lay on the beach chatting about our long distance relationships, our lives for the past year and a half, and about Jen and how much she loved life. We biked home and then ate at the cute ass cafe Alta where she works. And I said goodbye for now but not for long knowing then I would be in Seattle soon enough and we'd hook up along the way.
Seattle. is a blur. Plane. light rail. bus to udist. Pam picked me up at the bus stop and we spent the evening making fajitas (well Pam did) and Adrienne, Tasha and Masa came over and we drank margaritas and ate and talked about our glorious Jen.
The next day I had my perfect Seattle day- Woke up and walked to Wayward Cafe for breakfast, read the Stranger, walked down the Ave, then caught a bus to Capitol Hill. Where I had my three man afternoon. Hung out with Jim at his sweet little apartment, saw his new art and the incredible book he's working on, talked about AmeriCorps. Also talked about Larry for the first time since I've been home. He told me everything that he knew about Larry's death. And about the wonderful art show and celebration that was held afterwards. It felt good to finally see Jim and be able to discuss our mentor who meant so much to us both and taught us both so much.
The Mario! Mario who I haven't seen in like two or maybe even three years, all of a sudden there he is on Broadway! Mario, the man who used to live on the sweat couch, one of the smartest, coolest, nicest guys in the world- is all of a sudden living in Seattle. Just working on his P.H. mothafuckin D. in Pharmacology at eh, 21 years old. This guys is incredible. Saw his PIMP daddy apartment with a rooftop terrace where we toasted a coupla Pabst and surveyed the Seattle skyline at twilight. Went and ate red velvet cupcakes at Cupcake Royale and traipsed around Pike and Pine.
Dinner with Mark at the 22 Doors. Best burger in Seattle, my veggie burger was... Indeed. And so was the tasty beers and shoestring fries.
Flowers for Lemonades which Mark forgot to order vodka in, um. Mark. I think these are just lemonade... Yup. No booze in here. All my homies showed up- Evan and Anthony, Jenny and Mischka, Yumilike, and Dave and Yasmin showed up too. Glorious night of too much drinking and tons of drunken rambling. Polished off my a snack at the Gyrocery. MMm good. Seattle- you won me over that day. I'll be home soon.
Left early and hung OVER had a layover in Boise, got picked up by Kettle who whisked me to her cozy cottage for homemade pancakes and tea and a hot shower and a little Laurel face time.
Then the dreaded ride home to Reno for the mourning to begin.
Sabrina's celebration of life was scheduled for 2pm on Saturday, September 26th. The exact same time as Jen's funeral in Spokane.
So I returned home and changed in the airport. The whole thing was a blur. A mass of high school friends hugging me through blurred eyes, people in black I didn't know, and sunflowers.
Since then I've spent much time with Sabrina's family, with my family and friends. But I have also spent so much time alone wasting away. Just staring at the tv screen until 5am when I force myself to turn it off and then just stare until it becomes light out.
I spent a lot of time angry, I still do. At hypocrites and drugs and alcohol. At fate and time and death. At myself.
I also went to see Mali's family. Boy was that difficult. Walking into the house I used to visit often to babysit, a picture of her on the mantle. Her children. Colton and Camille, who I've babysat since infants, now second and third graders. Marcus her husband, doing so well raising these beautiful children, but heartbroken to have lost the love of his life. He told me everything about what happened, the horrible details you want to know but don't want to know. I ache for this family. I cannot imagine the heartache. Mali watched over me since I was a little girl, she was a beautiful, kind woman of my life. She made me the person I am. And she is no more. The reality of her death hit me, hard. It has been so long since that day in April when I learned the news, and here I was, in October, facing it.

Facing it is an interesting term. Because I've been trying to face it. To tell myself. These people are dead. You will never see them again. This is real. Face this. And for some reason I cannot. My brain turns it another way. I feel they are just absent. Not permanently dissolved from my reality. And I keep trying to make it real. Realer than real. Kaylene was the one to point it out. That maybe I should stop trying to make it so real. Maybe I just need to take it as it is, and take whatever I feel. And stop trying to end things. So I guess I'll try that for a while.

Also, two days ago Laura called me and informed me her brother ended his life. Another phone call, another life lost to this crazy fucked up planet. Another family destroyed by grief. Another friend in pain. And you'd think after all this I'd at least know what to say to someone who has just lost someone. Nope. I'm still as inexperienced as when I found out about Larry six months ago. I don't know shit. All I could say over and over was I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. And I know none of it helps,and I know no one knows what to say, because I've been there. And the truth is, its just shitty. No one can say anything. No one can help you, no one can make you understand. In the end, when someone you love dies, you're all alone. You deal with it all alone, because what you had with that person is yours and yours alone and no one can relate to your reactions and to your pain and to your loss.

I went to the Mausoleum today and watched the Paulsens set up Sabrina's memorial. Her ashes in an ocean colored urn, a sunflower next to the picture of her beautiful smiling face. I cried today. I sat there in front of her. In front of what is left of my friend. I could do nothing but say I miss you. I miss her so badly. I miss her like I miss the smell of rain. I sat in my car today, crying in the mall parking lot, staring at the mountains and the closing darkness, remembering all the times we sat in that car together. I could feel the past like a warm blanket. I could feel her sitting there in her school uniform, fast forwarding a tape I made, laughing about something we'd said. Fuck I miss her.

I've been painting her, Sabrina. I think I'll do some more. Paint for those I've lost- for Larry, and Mali and Jen, and paint for Laura and for her loss. I feel alive out there in my studio, with the wind blowing through the sage brush making me sneeze. And when I'm painting I'm not watching TV, I'm not giving up and pulling on the sweatpants, and I'm moving slightly, slightly forward. And with more time I'll get all the way out. Out of my funk and into my life.
For example I'm going to Roller Derby tryouts on tuesday and starting a new job on thursday.
Roll Out Andrews.

Sab to the Rina

2009-09-22T17:22:00.000-07:00

Four days after Jen died so did Sabrina.
Twenty four years old as well, she died on a Wednesday.
My best friend all through high school, glued to the hip. I remember ten years ago meeting her, almost to the day... Braces and curls and catholic uniform in Mr. Nick's history class. And that was it, for the next five years you couldn't tear us apart. Sabrina and Liz. We began to dress and look and talk alike. We were those annoying girls who couldn't stop giggling when together and you would never know why because we had too many inside jokes. We slept in each others beds, drank each others orange juice out of the carton, walked into each others houses without knocking. We made mixed tapes and videos and music together. If I went out of town for a week I would get letters and calls every day detailing even the most minute of events. We went on vacation together, to each others house for Thanksgiving and for family dinners. If you wanted to date one of us, the other better really really like you or you're out. We fell down on purpose, we shouted at boys, we stayed up late. We told each other everything and still had more to talk about. We dreamt about the white 67 mustang we would buy (together, duh) and her dad would fix it up and we'd cruise around as cool as any Rob. We made two person bands even though we both sucked at our instruments. We jumped into fountains and ran into bushes, we kissed boys and we cried about high school. We called in Limp Bizkit requests to KRZQ, and ate peanut butter and jumped on the sofa! (j/k we would never jump on the sofa)We would ride to school together and then call as soon as we got home to talk about what funny stuff happened after we got dropped off. We would watch movies like it was going out of style. We played soccer together, we tried to be track and field discus throwers together. We went to Palm Springs and wore matching sequined butterfly shirts on the strip. And sang karaoke. We had the same favorite foods. We ate fries with Ranch dressing. And drank Dr. Pepper. We were each others ally, we held each other up, we got in petty high school fights and we competed. But we were always together no matter what. Any bullshit could be solved with a Wendy's run and a Slurpee. And Night at the Roxbury. We would make our mothers and our brothers crazy. We had an encyclopedia of inside jokes. And nicknames. And matching outfits. Sometimes people would call us by each others names. Especially(and this was often) when our hair happened to be the same. We dressed up like 1980's bridesmaids and went to homecoming together with Melissa as a threesome of awesomeness. We made up stupid dances to random songs and videotaped them. We shared our art and our deepest fears. We were ridiculous together. We got each other. We shared a sisterly closeness to a sickening degree. Sharing clothes and food and lives. We ran together, we studied together, we partied together. I have hundreds of notes intricately coded written by her during some class or other. (Probably religion) We were so close it was almost telepathic. One look would say a million words. One roll down of a car window, one tiny movement of the face. We never went anywhere without the other one and if we did it was really boring. I loved her and she loved me. Sabrina and Liz, Liz and Sabrina.
I never imagined ten years was all I would get. And not even the full ten.

We began to lose touch one year after I moved to Seattle for college. Something had flipped and she began to find different friends and pretty soon we weren't talking on the phone as much, she wasn't telling me the truth, and our friendship began to fall apart. I last saw her maybe three years ago, and we didn't even have anything to talk about. There was something missing behind her eyes, something she was hiding from me and from herself. That hilarious, unrelenting humour was gone and something had replaced it. She no longer was this amazing girl who didn't care what anyone thought, the girl I loved and grew up with. Her sense of lightness had disappeared. A dark fog blew into her life and never quite left. Everything that had been hiding behind the jokes and the fun was burbling out. She was finding new ways to deal with pain she had been clutching onto for a long time. We lost all touch after a while and that is when I began to hear about the cocaine. I had almost lost a friend to heroine who was lucky and lived after emerging from a coma, she knew how I felt about this, and so she kept it from me. And she kept herself from me as well.
I don't know much about these years, only that they were dark and lonely. I should have been there for her, I should have come home and literally slapped some sense into the girl. But as life is, I didn't. I would change things if I could, and I'll never forgive myself for letting her slip into such a world. But I had to let her live her own life. We couldn't be hip to hip forever.I had my own life too and I had to live it. What can do?

I wrote her a letter before she went to rehab. I knew we wouldn't ever be friends like we once were, but I told her I would love to start over. If she got her shit together. And when she was healthy, when she wanted to, I'd be there, ready to begin a new and different friendship.
She moved to Austin, Texas she went to rehab, and for the past two years or so she had been on the up and up. She had her own apartment, she was finally out of the hellhole that Reno can be, she had a job.

During my year of travel we began to reconnect. I would see some Milk Bar in Australia that reminded me of our obsession with Clockwork Orange, or see some Indian dude in a Roxbury shirt. Or meet another upper thigh toucher, or see something I knew she would love. It was in no way on the level we once were, but it was something. I was curious about her life and was so happy that she finally got to move, something we had been plotting since teenagers. And every now and then we'd throw an inside joke each others way.I was happy, even if it was only an email here or there, i truly missed her and would take what I would get. I had no idea that things were beginning again. I thought everything was fine.
But she began drinking again in the past months and then last week it was all over. One too many things in a recovering body and that was it. I will never see her ever again.
We were supposed to grow old together in Palm Springs and fight over who was the Romy and who was the Michelle.
This is all wrong. None of this is right.
I miss her, I've missed her for a long time, I can only hope that no more follow in her footsteps. I can hope against hope that she is finally at peace. I'll have to live for both of us now. My Sabrina shaped space will always be there. My hilarious, beautiful, bootylicious Sabrina.

If I can't dance...

2009-09-15T14:14:00.000-07:00

Jen. One of the most alive people I have ever know, is gone from my life. It takes so much not to agonize and hate and curse the earth right now. She lived like no one I have ever known. A million lives in just twenty four years. I sit here and scream and shout and cry and nothing I do will change any of it. No matter how many times I shout NO, this is life. And life ends.
She died in Africa, she had been gone for two years traveling and dancing and lighting up lives like no one but Jen knew how.
And unlike most who loved Jen and missed her terribly since she left to see more of the world, I was blessed with the most beautiful gift of seeing her when I was in India. She happened to be flown there for work and had just seen the tops of the Himalayas in LeDak. Jen said the air up there at the top of the world was something she'll never forget. So I showed up at her hotel and it was like we were back in Seattle again. Except we had to haggle with rickshaw drivers and step in pishy filled streets and get stared at a lot by Indian dudes. We went to a totally weird mexican restaurant and paid way too much for 'nachos' and she told me tales of her travels. Of Brazilian streets and diving in the bottom of the Ocean and Argentinians who fell in love with her. She told me about living in Africa and about this perfect(if slightly underpaid for how brilliant she is) job she had found and about her recent trip around South Africa. We laughed about the good ol days when we would get off work at 3pm and ride our bikes to Agua Verde and drink margaritas, even if it was the middle of the week. We spent a few days in shitty Delhi, sharing tea and breakfast at her fancy work-paid for hotel. We rented Bollywood movies and tortured her roommate with the four hour long singing romances. Then in the even shittier Pahar Ganj neighborhood where we basically hid in a guesthouse ordering food and watching crappy movies on t.v. and neither of us gave a shit. We walked and walked around Delhi in the hottest heat to the India Gate and then decided we'd rather just sit in the shade and talk. We rode the metro one afternoon for two hours, just because it had air conditioning, and really good people watching. We went to see movies, drink soda and eat popcorn and pretend we were in America or something. Except for everything was in Hindi. We ate snickers bars and spent hours in bookshops.
I feel a Jen shaped space in my life which will be there forever. She taught me to enjoy things, to say fuck the corn flakes and eat delicious breakfast if you feel like it. She was a person who found space for everything and everyone. She could paint some pottery like you wouldn't believe. Jen was sexy in an unassuming way, like she didn't know how fine she was. Jen could party till dawn and still wake up and go to work then write some massive important paper for school. Jen supported herself and she was more selfless than anyone I know. She put her friends first and was always ready for adventure. I distinctly remember her working two or three jobs, a double degree, volunteering for various fair trade organizations, and still made time to go to support her many friends in their lives, go for a beer afterward, and then maybe go to an African dance class.
And probably the best Unicorn I've ever seen.
I sat at my desk in Seattle many a night reading her travel blog and just thinking, Of course- Jen is becoming a dive master, of course she is doing a road trip around the Congo with some dudes, of course she is living in Brazil speaking Portuguese and frolicing in waterfalls.
http://splendidtraveltales.blogspot.com/
When I last saw her she was learning Zulu for fuck's sake.
If it wasn't for Jen, I probably wouldn't have had the confidence to leave on my own travels.
No one I know was more in love with the world than Jen. When she got the Bonderman Fellowship to travel I knew no one more deserving. Jen understood people, she wanted to make life better for as many people as she could. And I know that she did. I for one will never dance without thinking of her, cause this girl could shake it. Especially when you're at a Michael Jackson/Prince dance off party.
This sudden and tragic event has shaken me and I know that Jen would want me to snap the fuck out of my pity party and start living. I'll miss her every day. But I know that from now on, when I paint, dance, or travel- Jen comes with me.

Smells like Sagebrush

2009-09-14T14:13:00.000-07:00

It isn't all bad, this coming home business. Reno for example, smells terrific. There's something about the smell of home that really brings me back to reality. Or at least makes me stop and think for a bit. Keeps me in the moment if you will.
I smell sagebrush blowing in the wind, sweet and dusty. Asphalt and construction, the hot exhausting smell of progress. And although I feel I have changed and grown older, some things will always be here, just as I left them. That massive, low Nevada sky that sits on the mountains hanging puffy clouds about town. These mountains, I have forgotton how beautiful they are. They circle around town; golden and violet, deep dark blues behind bright fiery mustard yellow, orange and sometimes rose. The abundant sagebrush is on every hill, every street and fills the barren hills behind my house. Fatty blue-belly lizards slither in and out of the rocks and bluebirds sing their oh so familiar tune.
I went on a walk with Charles wonder dog(who has totally gotten fat and can hardly keep up, even with me which is saying a lot) down my neighborhood streets and hills. The creeks run with cool fresh and probably dysentery free water, cows and horses and sheep hang out in their pastures. I smell damp hay to feed the animals, the rain threatening with the coming thunder storm. And let me tell you there aint no smell like desert rain. The dry wood on the deck, the old oil paint in my studio, ripe crab apples and willow trees. The carpet in the living room, the sandpaper couch, the laundry room. I can even still sense my moms footsteps first on carpet, then on wood, and back to carpet again as she walks through the house in the morning for work. The sticky smell of fruit sugars cooking in the kitchen fogged through the house while my mom made this years batch of crabapple jelly.
Today while I was walking I passed my old middle school bus stop and dragged the garbage cans up the long driveway, I felt like I could be eleven years old again. And just as moody.
I went out this weekend to the Wine Walk. Which is exactly what it sounds like. Drunken traipsing with Kaylene, her brother and a massive crew. Ran into everyone from camp counselors to neighbors to relatives. Reno reno reno. It was nice but drinking at 3pm can only end with a 9pm bedtime, no matter how tough you think you are, the wine walk gets you every time. Downtown is getting it together though, revamping, getting hip, or whatever. There was music down at Wingfield park and the river is looking awesome, and a rad place to hang out for hooligans. It even felt good just to walk those downtown streets. Hear the slots and see the mullets, the jeans and Harley t-shirts, the smell of cigarettes coming out of all the tattoo shops.
This is my home after all, and I do love it for what it is. The sun shines almost every day, everyone talks to you wherever you go and waves at you when you're on the street. I can walk five minutes and be completely surrounded by desert. I can ride my bike, eh thirty minutes and be downtown. I left for a reason and I know that I can't live here forever, but I'm here now and I need to understand Reno for what it is. My home. Complete with laundry machine, comfy bed, fridge with food in it, art studio, drum set and of course my loving family and friends.
I am still desperately trying to pull myself together however.
I go back and forth between Goldie Hawn in the beginning of Death Becomes Her, and Zach Braff in Garden State. Not that good.
I find it hard not to cuddle up on the couch with my favorite mug and watch hours and hours of recorded Entourage. Actually hard is to go through a year's mail, call all the friends I've missed, come to grips with the people I love who've died, update my cv, balance the longest distance relationship ever, and find a purpose in life.
So I decided to roll out. I bought a bus ticket to L.A. and am heading there in two days to see my brother, my aunt and uncle and my grandparents. Then see more friends around SoCal, and then I think I'm going to make my way up to Seattle and maybe to Vancouver. Because I need just a little more time moving before I can totally pause.

Reno... seriously?

2009-09-11T12:33:00.000-07:00

I was hyperventilating. I was panicking. I was about to cry. I did NOT want to return to the United States. I kept wishing the plane would crash or I would get detained or deported. But not so much as a flight delayed. Seamless all the way to the Reno airport. I slept none. I watched many movies and listened to the same music for the last time. I wrote and tried to read. I had that garden state feeling where I felt the plane in chaos all around me, yellow air bags and tiny vodka bottles flying all over the place, and all I would do was sit there and stare. I was shaking when the plane landed in SFO. I dragged my iron feet across the airport, coasted through it all and there I was. I had arrived in the United States of America. San Fransisco. Took the BART. Which in comparison to the world is one of the worst public transit systems ever. Eight dollars for a twenty minute ride? I don't think so. And a bus to the Oakland airport. I sat in the terminal where I have sat many times on flights to and from Seattle and stared blankly at the television. I was sleep deprived, shocked and sad. For the first time I saw Obama as actually the President. Addressing the nation about healthcare. I was so tired and wrecked and delirious I could hardly keep my eyes open. No offence Barak. And then I was home.
Melissa and Eric, and my mom and Eric all met me at the airport. A place I have landed many many times, and usually always been happy to be home. To see my family and friends, to be wrapped in that comfortable hometown blanket. Nope. I was and am of course delighted to see friends and family, but I'm struggling with the returning home funk.
And now the other news. So Sean has moved to China. He went there originally for a few weeks cause he got a free ticket and some work. And now has decided to stay and save up money for eh, at least six months. And so the end of my year of travel is the beginning of his time abroad and we aren't in the same place. And we won't be for much much longer. Thus transforming all plans I had for my return home. Opening many doors and closing others, but all in all I am beginning to understand the right thing for both of us. So now my options are unlimited and I can go to Africa, or Spain, or some random ranch in the states, or back to Seattle, or down to Georgia or wherever the fuck I want.
Right now though I don't know where to go or what to do and end up pacing my big empty house in pajamas and spending way too much time listening to kexp and not accomplishing anything.
So I'm gonna bring down my glorious golden bike, I'm gonna set up my drumset, and I'm gonna screen print some shit. And I'm going to try and live and love life as much here as is possible, because its too short to stay in your pajamas all day long.

Aint no sunshine

2009-09-08T11:18:00.000-07:00

I left Santorini today. I leave Greece tomorrow. My trip ends. The year is up.
The bookshop has become such a special place to me and I would stay there forever if I could. I was only just getting into it and then whisk- done. But thats the way it goes eh? better to leave something while the sweet taste lingers than to suck it dry of all flava. I had an interesting last couple of days as well. New developments have come to light that will completely alter every vision I had for my life when I return home. And this awakening shook me to my core and I tried to come to grips with the curve balls life throws at you. The timing of situations you run into, people you meet, people you love. Freedom and responsibility, selflessness and selfishness. You think some things are controllable, manageable, impermeable. Well even those things end eventually. Anicca. In one day I will be back in the house I grew up in, I will be in America. I am terrified. And its going to get a lot worse before it gets worse.

I had an incredible last night in Oia drinking beers in weird parking lots and on the beach, listening to Amanda and James and John try to play guitar over the strong sound of the sea. Cruising around the island road trip style bumping jams. Eating one last greek salad, drinking many last Mythos. Looking back I suppose its strange to be doing such american style things with americans the day before returning home. But it made me happy, and I will really miss hanging out with both Amanda and James. A couple of very good American specimens.

This morning was my last day waking up in the bookshop. It was early(for me) today and I was greeted for departure with a cold stormy sea surrounding the island. Shivering in my pj's I stepped out of the shop just in time for a crazy donkey to come running down the hill followed by garbage man wapping his stick on the ground. Oh Greece. Planned on one last swim but instead walked over to the castle ruins and sat with James waiting for the sun to rise through the storm and having great conversation. I sold my last book. Packed my shit- and onto the boat I went. It was a thoroughly depressing ride- I tried to sleep for most of it. Dig the high point: I'm rolling into Pireaus and my ipod is playing songs... Hey Jude, How can you mend a broken heart, then How it Ends. Kill me now.

So now I'm back in Athens, ready to shower and crash before the three planes which will deliver me home. Home home home. Hmm.

My bed in a bookshop

2009-09-06T23:53:00.000-07:00

Something about being with Hanna and Amanda makes crazy things happen and time whir past at astronomical rates. We can traipse all over cities and towns and piles of dirt and have as much fun as most people have at disneyland. So we all finally made it to a tattoo shop in Athens and got inked. A fig, a ladybug, and an olive branch. Then we rode the metro like it was goin outa style, bounded onto a ship and woke up in Santorini.
When we all walked down into Atlantis books we literally couldn't keep it together. And I'm pretty sure we all did a group hug victory dance spin around in the back room when James wasn't looking. This place is the most incredible bookshop I have seen in my entire life.
Down the stairs and into the books and crevices there is a certain sanity and beautiful escape from tourist crazy streets. For the next five days I find myself living, cooking, and helping out in the bookshop. And did I mention sleeping on a pimped out bookshelf in a little hideout. Not as cool as MADA's bed which is literally behind a wall of books, but amazing, show stopping sleep.
The website has the full story so check it: www.atlantisbooks.org

Funny thing is that when I was in Oia last I almost went into this place but was too tired or some bullshit. But it just seems fitting, that I would save it for now. For my last week to be karmically blessed enough to end up here, now. James is running the shop, tired of staring down fourth graders in New Orleans.(For the time being at least) A friend of his is one of the founders and invited him down. Also Rich and Tony arrived the same day as us- a coupla british guys that would have you saying Hail to the Queen in no time. Blimey, sweet cheeks, luv. Regularly used and awesome every single time. Want a cupa? um yes please. And they both make the most delicious food you've ever eaten. And are genuinely awesome individuals. And although six people living in the bookshop makes things a little crowded, we try to find a balance. Everyone gets free time whenever they can grab it.

We have family dinners on the terrace nearly every night; greek salad,MEXICAN food, homemade veg curry, boatloads of delicious pasta, even more boatloads of wine.
When we can borrow a guitar James plays and sings and it is sickeningly beautiful. Amanda busts out her Joplin voice and Hanna sings like shes never sung before. Or whatever. But its amazing. And I am so happy. And I don't want to go home.
And I know I have to, I've reached the end of this traveling rope and I need to go home and earn me some threadz to spin another. But it still blows.

One night we traipse down to the sea and swim under the harvest moon with the island covered in fog. Amanda drunkenly falls off a buoy buck naked. Someone stubs their toe. We gettin crazy down there. During the day sometimes I can take long walks down crazy hot roads and steps and cliffs and stare at the sea. This blueness that knows me so well. I throw rocks and hit other rocks till my arms hurt. I think till my brain hurts. I love being in this place and being with these people. And ending here, on this note is a beautiful thing. But sometimes I think the gods are up there mocking me and putting awesome stuff in my lap then jerking it away when I want to grab and enjoy a while longer.
Everything has its time eh. Well my bookshop time, its golden.

Even farm girls get the blues

2009-09-01T01:28:00.000-07:00

Farm life has come to a close. Had a lovely last week and watched as Amanda and then Hanna left and new wwoofers came in their place. Used my woodcut education and hand carved a sign for the farm, nursed a baby kittie back to life, did some watering, sea swimming, cooking, and hitchiking. Made gruel and sprinkled cornflakes on it, saw a PHAT snake in the egg nest, swam at Kouruta one last time, learned a little greek, enough to hitch at least. I will miss farm life. Weird and uncomfortable as it is, it has grown close to my heart. I'll miss the smell of dirt and onions and hot tomatoes. I'll miss the porch and pots of tea and doing laundry in the hot sun. It was weird to be there without Amanda and then without Hanna as they went onward.

I found myself in a rare place. All alone one evening, for the first time in like three months. I sat and ate some dinner, drank some tea and wrote. Wrote one of those life lists and listened to the transistor. It was beautiful. And short lived. I reminisced on things passed and knew I shouldn't. I am starting to get kinda depressed upon my return to America; jobs, schedules, cars, deadlines, stress, etc. And I am even more terrified that I will forget this glorious year of my life and revert back to the unhinged lunatic I once was and who is still buried deep deep in there. Making random appearances here and there but not living on the surface anymore. I don't want to be her anymore, I don't want America to do that to me. I will fight it. I will meditate on it and write books and traipse at home, in my own way. I remember that there were points- (mostly in India when I was shitting my brains out with rats and cockroaches crawling on me) that I felt ready to go home to comfort and couch and orange juice. But now I feel lost, listless and unexcited. I feel like my year of glorious life is over. I know I will travel more, I love travel more than I ever expected and I will see Africa, I will live in Spain and Japan. I will go to Austria. And New York City. And the South. And I will still hitchike- which RULES btw.
And I will need to make some money to do this, I will and do have to return. And I do miss my family and friends and Berger, but I'm not ready to settle down yet. And I don't think I should be.
So, I've got the blues. I'm also reading Even Cowgirls get the blues which is a hitchiking woman's bible, which is giving me a little hope about the U.S. Maybe I'll go learn to ride horses and work on a Ranch for a while. Why the hell not?
Also adding to the blues is the fact that Sean probably won't even be home when I get home. The one thing that I look forward to more than anything, the one thing that stops me from canceling my ticket and taking off to Liberia. He will probably still be in China. And its an awesome opportunity for him, and I'm the one who left for a year, but it just seems like the cherry on the shit mud pie got thrown out and now all i've got is a pile of mud on the table. With cornflakes sprinkled onto it.
I will go home though, in eight days. And I will face what comes.
Enough of this crappy debbie downer.

In other news I met up with Amanda and Hanna yesterday in Athens and they promply threw my blues out the subway car. Waiting for me with a sign at the metro, you'd think it'd been longer than a week we'd been apart. We wandered all over Athens in search of post offices which would mail parcels and tattoo shops. And drank some beers and ate some pita. And her glorious cousin put us up in the swank suburbs of athens. With HOT water, a mirror in the bathroom, cold delicious wine, and the comfiest bed I've slept in since Anna loaned me her bed in India. We sail for Santorini tonight and will head to a bookstore where Amanda has a job and all the dudes sleep in beds made out of bookshelves. Hanna and I might crash on the roof if there isn't any room and watch the full moon rise over Ia.
And I'll get my fig tattoo today. Screw the blues. I got my ladies and a Greek Island. I'm gonna live it up while I got it.

If you like stalkers, move to Amaliada

2009-08-26T09:47:00.000-07:00

So Amanda is a pimp. Did I mention that? This girl has got carisma. And she speaks greek so needless to say she's popular with the Greek dudes. And the other day in the square a couple of young guys saw us drinking beers sitting under a statue of some Greek Orthodox priest and listening to our transistor and offered to buy us a round. Which we reluctantly allowed, usually we don't let weirdos buy us beers but whatevah. And they didn't finish their food so we took it home for the "cats" aka drunk snacks later. And they gave us a ride home and then left. And every day after that they have been calling Amanda like five times a day asking where she is, what she's doing. Blah Blah blah. And we were out this weekend having adventures and so ignored most of the calls. Sunday we came back home to Amaliada and bucket showered cause there was no water, sat around in towels and ate some bread and tea and jam and then got all dressed up to go to the little village of Krioneri for Panieri- the festival celebrating the Virgin Mary. Celebrating by roasting hella pigs on a spit and having crazy music and dancers and beer and peanuts galore.
So Landi aka snaggletooth called for the tenkabimillionth time and this time I answered and used what greek I know. Yes, no, and of course.
Ring ring.
Me- Ne (yes)
Snaggle- greek greek greek
Me- Ne Ne
Snaggle- greek greek Panieri tonight?
Me- OHI(NO!)
Snaggle-greek greek greek
Me- Endaxi (sure)
Snaggle-greek greekity greek greek
Me- Endaxi, Ciao

Then we get our shit and get ready to go. Snaggle calls again. I answer and say Ohi Ohi Ohi, Ne Ne Ne. And hang up. He calls AGAIN. We just answer, put it under the pillow and walk out the door.

Krioneri is just the next village over, in walking distance but we know there are tons of people going so we head down the driveway and out onto the road to hitch. We've walked for maybe three minutes and hear a car pull up and slow down, then stop at the driveway. OUR driveway. Music bumping.
Me- 'um, you guys- do you think that is crazy Landi?'
Them- 'ohi, nah, it can't be that is too FUCKING crazy.
Uh, i think they are playing boom boom clack. just like the other day on the ride home.
Nah.
um. i think we should hide.'
(all three run into the bushes and hide behind bean poles)

'Maybe its just the new wwoofers getting a ride home?'
Yeah that has to be it.
Yeah, it can't be them.
'Well let's run for it either way.'
(Cue running, screaming down the street)
Car revs up and starts down the street towards us.
Me- "THEY'RE COMING! THERE'S NO WHERE TO HIDE!!!, JUMP INTO THE BUSHES!!!"
(all three run and dive, except there are no bushes only rasin fields with a little white sheet that only shields me, and half of Amanda and Hanna is out in the open crouched in fetal position covering her head with her hands)
The car approaches, slows down, and stops directly in front of us.
We are all quietly screaming, crouched down on hands and knees in the dirt, wearing dresses.
Snaggle gets out of the car. Starts talking in greek to amanda.
Me and Hanna keep on hiding. Even though Hanna is in full sight, she's working the 'if i can't see them they can't see me' theory.
They talk a bit, Amanda makes up some shit about us waiting for the family and that we DON'T need a ride to Krioneria and blah and blah and Hanna and I still hide.
Finally they go and say they will see us there.
Yeah whatever psychos.

um. did we just jump and hide in the bushes from twenty year olds?
I think so.
We hitch to the festival, arrive before them, run past all the people to hide. but first get beers(we've got our priorities straight). But they find us anyways, hiding behind a van. So we escape AGAIN. Sit in full view and hang out with George's cousin and his friend Nic who sell us beers and give us beers. The Snaggle Stalker crew comes over TWICE more to try and hang out and finally get the hint to fuck off. We have a ball eating peanuts and tzaziki, dancing drunk, greek style in front of the whole village, and pouring beer on driver's licences.
At around 2am we leave. Amanda steals a handfull of peanuts and a loaf of bread, which we eat while bumping wu tang clan in Nic's car.
Also while heading to the beach to go clubbing that night Georges cousin pulls a two handed upper thigh touch whilst sitting between me and Hanna in the backseat.
"Hanna, don't you hate it when a Greek guy with intense eyebrows, also your farm bosses nephew touches your upper thigh?"
Ne.

Later Hanna and I determine that somehow my broken greek gave the stalkers the impression that they should come and pick us up... whoops.

Volume Two.
The new wwoofers made some Amaliadan friends as well who came onto the property monday morning and offered to take us all out dancing, to the beach, for coffee, whatever we wish. They said they were friends of Georges, blah blah blah. Hanna and I were a bit creeped out to see these dudes in the driveway midday but thought nothing of it.
The next night Hanna and I had a hilarious dinner hanging around with Field, a plastic toy I found on the beach and had borrowed a tv from jen to watch movies. So we're sitting there watching Hairspray and eating ceral and the other girls come into our room.
Ann Louise and Emmeline--"Um, did you guys see that weird green lazer pointer?"
Liz and Hanna--"Um, did you guys drink too much wine?"
"NO. seriously, look.."
We turn off the tv and look out to see a sniper style green lazer SCANNING the field in front of the strawbale house.
"BAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
We all hit the floor, then peer up to see if its still there.
War movie style this green alien lazer is scanning the area looking for movement. WE are all crouched down FREAKING OUT.
I can just imagine these guys there at the end of the driveway shouting "FRAPPE! WE'LL BUY YOU FRAPPE'S. WE TAKE YOU DANCING! WE ARE YOUR FRIENDS!" While tying together nets to catch us all and busting out military lazers? I don't think so.
We grab knives, cell phones to call the cops, my head torch, and Ann Louise grabs a metal pot?(to bash heads in I suppose), and prepare to defend our honor.
I can't help but laugh a few times, especially when Hanna says "what is that light near your face Liz, OH. its just the reflection from the kitchen knife Emmeline is holding. Of course."
I scan the field with my torch, we think we see them drive off. I shout "IF YOU CAN HEAR THIS. FUCK OFF!."
After a while we figure they got bored and left. To cruise the park or something. The girls hang out for a bit clutching kitchen utensils and we try to watch a movie.
Just another night in Amaliada.

Golden Days

2009-08-26T08:33:00.000-07:00

Had the weekend off, so Hanna, Amanda and I decided to roll out to the big port city of Patras to try and get tattoos since it wasn't happening in Amaliada. After a fun week or so of blurry wine filled lunches, drinking beers in the square, getting rides to the beach and back, walking through pine forests to see movies that aren't playing. Swimming in the salty sea, lamp making, grass cutting, more tomatoes, baby kittie playing, bed bug murdering and candlelit dinners of cookies and beer and bread. The three of us are so different but are in perfect harmony when together. We can sit and drink tea and just laugh about stupid shit for hours and hours and never get tired of talking to each other. We are in sync in so many ways- probably because we all spend every waking(and non) moment together. So the weekend came and since the family was going out of town for the weekend they said we could as well. Friday afternoon we packed the essentials for a weekend off possibly sleeping on the beach and who knows what else.
Essential items: Bathing suit, transistor radio, journal, camera, colored pencils, one outfit.
Hanna also brought a phat Dostoyevsky which she didn't read, and Amanda brought soem olive branches.
It only took us four rides to get the 80 or so kilometers to Patras. Firstly Georges cousin, then a few awesome blonde babes, then a threesome with a broken leg guy driving like a maniac and a crazy old dude with a spiderweb tattoo on his arm and a nice lady. Truck stop soda break/bathroom sign stealage and then one more ride all the way to the main square in Patras. Free. Awesome. and done.
We sat in the square of Patras staring and the new elephant sculpture and the fountains and drank a celebratory beer on getting so far. Then spent the evening traipsing around with a harem of greek dudes trying to help us find an open tattoo shop. Of course to no avail, but what can do? life is life.
Trekked down past the port as night came over, down weird streets filled with weird smells and toothless old guys giving us directions. Ended up at the Hotel California of Patras. A big cartoon pig sign with HOSTEL written across pointed us inwards. A Miss Havisham style garden building with green shutters and a funny old man in glasses who for some reason wouldn't sell us one bed for three people. Ate some pizza, greek salad and beers and I passed out. Hanna and Amanda trekked some more into the night and ended up sitting on the balcony with Uruguayan Carneys talking about the Farm-ily which is a pun one of them came up with to describe us, and I am loving it!
The next day tattoos still no go so we decided to throw in the towel- go to a cafe shaded by grape vines and drink some cold greek coffee. And play tavla, aka backgammon, aka i finally learned and am now an addict.
Wandered up some cool old stairs to see the castle in Patras. First stumbled upon a theater and ran up and down the steps and admired the view of ancient greek ruins, old buildings, sea, islands, and the port. These girls love exploring as much as I do did I mention? And next we found ourselves in an abandoned building, walking up stairs to nowhere and grabbing souveniers; old rusty picture frame, newspaper caricature, chain, and diablo? Got busted jumping out of the window by some greek dude, who just looked at us like we were aliens from mars but just kept walking.

Next as luck would have it we were getting hungry and bought some homemade ice cream bars from a bakery. Then wandered down through the carnage of a farmers market, picking up street fruit and veg like bums while devouring our chocolate ice cream. Yeah we're the weirdest girls in town but we totally scored. Big ass bag of grapes, bell peppers, three apricots, tomatoes, more peppers, eggplant, oranges and carrots. Then we picked up some fresh olive loaf and had our weekends' worth in food for about the 2 euro that we paid for bread. Nothing like a little Greek dumpster/street diving to brighten up an already awesome saturday.
Took a bus and a ferry and ended up in Zakinthos. A pretty touristy island famous for a beach with a shipwreck on it. Which we didn't even get close to seeing. And none of us care.
We walked along attempting to hitch for almost an hour with no luck. Fussy tourists aren't so into picking up three babes who haven't showered in a few days. Amanda and I were ready to accept defeat and hail down the next cab. It was getting dark and all we needed was a little beach to hang our hats, if you will. Hanna, luckily suggested sticking it out a little longer and just as she said that a car pulled up and two very cute greek guys picked us up.
The driver(Spiros) kinda had this Turtle from Entourage thing going on and the other guy(Paniotis)had this greek inquisitive hot man thing going on. Hanna and I were discussing their cuteness and she asked what inquisitive meant. My reply: Hot with glasses.
So we told them our story, just a coupla farm girls heading out to the big city for a weekend of mayhem. Even funnier that we are carrying bags of produce(though we didn't tell them what bums we were that we picked all the fruit up off of the street.) And that yeah, we just want to find a beach to sleep on. We don't care where, just not super crazy or touristy. Amanda and Paniotis chat in Greek, Hanna and I prattle on in English, not thinking they know what we're saying. They drive us around this glorious island past farms and hills while the sun is setting and everything is bathed in this beautiful golden light. First we stop at this random cliffside field with a rock beach down below in a little cove. Beautiful we say but eh, kinda rough to sleep on. "If you don't like, we take you to a beach with sand, ella, here we go". And then I realize that we didn't have time to stop in the store and we have fruit but not cheese or beer. eh. problem. Then I suggest out loud that perhaps I can go up to someone's house and trade this bag of grapes for a bottle of wine? And Spiros busts out laughing. he totally speaks english. shit. oh welp. Then the say 'well if you girls like wine, both our parents make wine- we'll bring you some.' Um okay.
So here we are a few seconds later on a gloriously beautiful small beach, close but not too close to a taverna equipped with benches to sleep on! BAM!
We get ready to swim- the guys leave to get us some wine and bring towels. So we all run screaming and laughing into the warm sea. We picnic on street veggies washed in the sea until they come back with the wine. The we drink a little and again go running into the sea. And there I was swimming in the dark Mediterranean sea with the flickering taverna lights illuminating the clear water. I flicked my toes and legs mermaid style and laughed out loud. Laying on my back in the sea staring at the stars in this warm water in this amazing place with my amazing friends. I saw three shooting stars that night.
So we drank some more wine, the girls flirted with their new greek boyfriends, we danced to shakira on the transistor radio.
Sleeping on the beach is so romantic until you wake up at three a.m freezing to death and wrap every scrap of fabric around you in a coccoon to seal in the warmth. I heard Amanda all night long muttering to herself "Ssssooo ffuucckkinng freezzzing". haha.
Woke up to the sunrise. I can't remember the last time this happened. The sun wasn't there and then it was. And slowly but surely our bodies started to warm with the sun. We drank the leftover wine and laughed about our luck ending up in this place. My skirt was wrapped around my head for warmth, a towel mummy-ing my feet. Amanda's sweatshirt was inside out, they both had boyfriend towels for warmth. When it got warm enough I rolled off the bench 'butler but not the maid' style and swam in the crisp refreshing salty sea early in the morning. Hanna got orange juice and croissants, and we napped off our hangovers in the morning light.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to Amaliada

2009-08-15T08:22:00.000-07:00

Time. Fucking. Flies.
It is now my third saturday in Amaliada and I have been enjoying everything so much I can't even stand it! Every night as I sit out on the porch, talkin shit with the girls by candlelight over a few beers I can't help but freak out that another day has passed. It is the FIFTEENTH of august! I have been traveling for ELEVEN months? Where the hell does the time go?
Every day is exceedingly more awesome than the next and a prime example of this is our free rides into town and to the beach every day.
Coupla painters finishing up work let us roll into Amaliada and give Amanda and Hanna cigarettes and of course offer to buy us all souvlaki, Mom and son duo who were super cute and practicing his english, pouty twenty-something dudes coming home from the beach too late and "EUUGH IM HUNGRY, ditch these girls, they aren't going to give us any" " Dude that one speaks greek, she knows what you're saying" "I DONT CARE. HUNGRY." Sweet smelling beautiful greek woman on her way to work at the grocery store, nice old guys chatting Amanda up about this and that, guy with two kids but crammed us in anyways and offered to buy us ice cream. The guy who pumped up the electronic music he himself made, and yes "unfortunately I'm engaged" but that doesn't mean I cant pass a joint around and give you all a ride right up to the beach and give you a free electronic candle(so useful too-at night on the patio-score!). Two cars bumpin the michael jackson, a twenty second ride just to get us closer to Amaliada from the beach. And of course my personal favorite. The guy who picked us up right in front of the farm after only waiting for maybe thirty seconds, immediately handed all three of us bunches of tiny, sweet purple grapes and cigarettes for those who wanted them, took us all the way to the beach closest to the outdoor movie theater(which we had wanted to go to that evening!) and told us he could give us a ride every day around this time and to go to this taverna on the beach and have some ouzo there cause thats where his wife works. AMAZING. The greek people are so kind and welcoming and treat you like family when you've been in their presence for ten seconds. I will always remember the amazing hospitality, welcoming nature, and just pure awesomeness of getting free rides to the beach and back. And I am totally going to pick up hitchers and do it myself when I get home.

So...this week we actually started crunching it hardcore with the farm work. We pulled onions, hoed some beds, picked some tomatoes, watered some trees, cut and laid out hundreds of tomatoes for sundry-ing, vaccumed, mopped, cleaned bed bug infested mattresses, sprayed sulfur, made more lamps, picked (and ate) figs, cut mad grass,etc.
Also I invested in a paddleball set and daily our practice is getting better and better, but we still suck wayyyy harder than every single greek person on the beach.
Also we went to the outdoor cinema again and saw the Hangover. Hilarious. And ate two boxes of chocolate cookies. And were given a ride home to the farm from Harolyn, an awesome lady originally from Seattle who lives up the street from Jen and who DROVE the car, said bad words, and her husband cooks the food. I much prefer this senario.
Ive also been running again. Needless to say no one could talk this much about food without seriously gaining it and boy have I. After five years of veganism this shock treatment of milk and cheese and sweets and everything forbidden continues to expand my waistline. And though I know I won't live or eat like this forever, I feel like a chubba lub who does the truffle shuffle nonstop. So I've been running. A few days I went around the farm, through the glorious lonely country roads past vineyards and cute little churches. But then I almost got attacked by dogs. And that was the end of that. So now I'm baywatching it out by jogging on the beach in the afternoons. Which is a wayy better situation. I dont worry about dogs, I get a "tan", I can jump in the sea whenever I get too hot and its sooo enjoyable. The sand and the sea... ahhhh. just LOVE IT.
Also the figs are ripe. Ripe ripe ripe. I've eaten so many fresh figs in the last week it would make any normal person explode. But since I've been in sugar training I'm doing aight.
I will either turn into a tomatoe, fig, or loaf of bread by the time I leave Greece. Three way tie. But they are truly delicious, and who knows when again in my life Ill get to have fresh sweet figs daily. Get it while you can I say.
Also a little Berger shout out. He's currenly in CHINA, for a little all paid working holiday and in three days we'll have been together for four and a half years. Bam. And He still puts up with all my bullshit. Props baybe. Happy Anniversary.
In other news today Hanna, Amanda and I woke up, hungover as shit from way too many Amstels, chocolate cookies, leftover pizza, crunchy biscuts, fresh figs, weird dancing and singing on our porch last night, etc. Sat there for almost an hour trying to get the strength to drink tea, then hoed the shit out of the potatoe field till the sweat poured down... Then we got a ride to the beach and spent the gloriously warm Greek day swimming in the salty sea, playing paddleball, eating greek salads, fresh hot fried potatoes, warm bread and tzaziki, and some beer- hair of the dog style.

Olive oil and the Sea

2009-08-08T02:10:00.001-07:00

I walk down sketch streets in early morning Athens,take a train, miss a train, take a cab, hail down a bus from the autoban, switch to another bus and one more cab and bam! its that easy to get to Amaliada. The glorious godsend of a place where I am now wwoofing. And to think I almost gave up on getting here. I arrive just in time for siesta and happily take one amid an army of daddy long leg spiders. I feel bad encroaching on their territory but a girls gotta sleep eh. I move a few days later to share a room with Hanna, a fellow wwoofer from Austria. So that afternoon the family George, Jen and their two girls Ellie and Amalia, ages 5 and 3 are heading to the beach if I wanna come with. Um Hells yeah! So there I am swimming in the Mediterranean sea, soaking up the evening warmth from the sand and later on sipping on a cold beer and watching the hot tamale sunset go down over the sea. How the hell did I ever get so lucky? The next day is sunday and we go to the sea again. Playing with the girls, swinging on the tarzan rope in their house, helping make dinner. On monday Amanda arrives, a badass babe from NYC with a greek dad and some mad greek language skills that help us out soo much. Hanna, Amanda and I bond by hitchin in with Cristos, this dude the family knows who drives a black and red turbo racing car thing with red leather seats and a picture of jesus on the dash. He bumps the jams and swerves all over the country roads, then takes us to the beach to buy us stuff and hang out in his presence. Don't worry. He's married, this is just him having fun. Taking three chicks to the beach and standing behind them waving to his friends and saying who knows what in greek. This is where Amandas skills come in handy.
Working starts eventually, we pick some tomatoes and basil, clean the treehouse, prune some olive trees and haul some branches. But mostly we make and unmake lamps. It has been I think four seperate attempts to get it right to no avial. The wire has now become my ultimate nemesis but eh, we are at least in the shade.
So it goes- get up early to the rooster call, make some tea and greek coffee. Have yogurt, fresh baked bread and homemade apricot jam, maybe some fresh watermelon.Work until noon doing something or the other. Take a pre lunch siesta or go for a walk or read. Head up to the house and delight in a bevy of delicious food made by Jen. Greek salads big and bursting out of ceramic bowls. The tomatoes are warm from the sunlight and being freshly picked, the feta could soften anyones heart. The olive oil is light and fragrant and juicy all at once. Jen makes fresh bread with sunflower seeds, homemade apricot tarts with ice cream, freshly made pesto over pasta, mouth watering potatoe salad, fresh garbanzo beans with tomatoes and garlic. And we pair all these things with some cool wine that they make, the color of watermelon and the taste of sweet summer grapes and sometimes the barrel.
After lunch and much wine I usually sleep, reveling in the siesta life and then emerging around five or six to head out to the sea with the girls.
And now the sea. The glorious sea. Every time I run into it everything else disappears. The water is so warm and refreshing. The salt seeps into my hair and my skin and I float and stare at the sky. The sun glitters off it at sunset in strips of golden flakes. The pop pop of paddleball is abundant and constant. The greeks L.O.V.E. their paddleball. And they are good at it. Berger would soo love it here. Sun soaked greeks lay around under palm umbrellas and drink beer and iced coffee. The young men and women strut up and down the beach flaunting it while they've got it. And the older men and women sit and revel in their happiness. A full hairy belly and a big family playing all around them. The greeks soak up the summer, staying at the sea until the last bit of red sun has sunk below the sea and take one last swim in the warm water, warm still at eight in the evening.
Evenings are spent making a little food at our straw bale home, having tea, drawing, reading and chatting. I sit around while Hanna and Amanda roll cigarettes and the cats crawl all over everything and the cicadas hum and buzz like a cricket discoteque.
The full moon was a few days ago and since I've had some other interesting full moon trips during my woofing, we decided to do a little something special. Olive oil by the way is in abundance here, so abundant that you use it as a hair treatment. Seriously. We all gaterhed some drums they had around and a guitar and began to play a little music. Drinking wine we bought from an old greek lady who fills up 2 liter water bottles with the delicious rose wine. Candles melt down and we sing and play and Jen cleanses our karma with sage and sets out her crystal collection to add to the ambiance. Then Jen starts with the olive oil. A massage therapist in her past life she covers our hair and shoulders with the olive oil which had been marinating in rosemary for a few days. Our skin and hair absorbed the sweet oil and we went on playing and singing. Hanna sings beautifully and Amanda is also a drummer- like a serious one, with shows constantly in New York and she also sings amazingly and plays guitar. We were such shameless hippies, having our olive-oiled up greek full moon party.
Im having a great time, and I am so thankful to have ended up here with these girls at this place. To ride into the sea every day if we want. To eat delicious food and have interesting conversations and many language lessons. Time to draw, time to sleep, time to smell the sweet figs that are almost ripe.
I am also bonding with many creatures. The mamma cat just had babies and Ive been watching them from eyes closed stage to now playing with each other and meowing the babiest, cutest little meows ever. Roosters hobble around like old fisherman who've lost their way and just want to find their friend. Spiders, bees, hornets, wasps, flies, moths, beetles, millipedes or centipedes(whichever is the really creepy one), ants. You name it and these little crawlies are out for the summer. And I am soo sleeping in their territory. OH well.

Sponge it out

2009-07-26T04:43:00.000-07:00

The past few weeks have FLOWN past me with little done but hanging out enjoying the company of family and friends, drinking beers and eating. Pictures were taken but they cant upload yet, so you'll have to picture it via my writing I suppose. It all began with my waiting in the swank air conditioned hotel lobby for my mom and her best friend Marianne; too excited to do anything else. Luckily I was serenaded by enormous groups of Spanish and American tourists floating in and out of the hotel rapidly conversing and organizing various trips. The finally arrived and it was SO amazingly wonderful to get so see my mom! We spent the afternoon laying poolside on the rooftop sippin on Mythos, chatting and waiting for MaKettle and Laurel to arrive, which they did in no time at all. And there I was, surrounded by my family, drinking cold beer sunning in Athens. Just about perfect. The next three days were spent touring around Greece literally. In a tour bus decked out with a tour guide named Mamma. Fully decked in purple every day, down to the headband and eye/lip liner. Resembling the mom/or grandma? in Triplets of Belleville and a troll from the Labrinth and your old ass drama teacher from highschool. She lectured us on Olympia and THE SITE and old fashioned greek birth control aka sea sponges and the Greek Root of just about everything. She huffed and puffed up various archeological ruins whilst having her mingons hold onto her umbrella and fan her and finally would throw in the towel when she got totally exhausted stating "If you need Mamma I'll be in the cafe drinking a nescafe frappe!" We saw the site of the first olypmics, temples to Apollo and Athena, old ass marble gods with missing penises and noses, godesses in draping robes, enormous horses and the very first shin guards, or whatever those were. Theaters where classics were performed, the sites of oracles and tombs of great leaders. The ancient history is thick with agitation towards the turks and romans but still very interesting when you get past, certain peoples biases. I enjoyed just trekking about with my family and spotting mom's day glo lime parison from afar. We ate LOADS of greek salads and drank even more Mythos and ate fresh cold watermelon when we could get it. We took long ass naps on the bus. Marianne and I raced across the Olympic fields. Some got shouted at in museums "NO POSING!" which is NOT allowed, in case you were wondering. Out of respect. After the three day madness we made it back to Athens and again retreated to the rooftop pool. After reuniting with Juli, Jan and Melinda we headed out early on the megafast ferry to Santorini, where I still am and will probably stay here till I'm dead its so beautiful. After a couple of puke and rallies we got there and bused up to our spot. Whitewashed villas on a clifside and ours was seriously a CAVE. Awesome. Laurel Juli and I rocked the smaller spot and moms and auties rocked the other. Jan made us all lovely glass necelaces and we sat around drinking wine and watching the sun go down over Santorini. It had a teeny tiny pool which splashed ALL over Juli when I jumped in, it was too small what can do? Santorini did I mention is gorgeous. Tiny kitties traipse on rooftops and old men set their chairs out to watch the foot traffic in the evenings. All the buildings are white with blue doors or window shades. Bulbous moody blue church tops stick out with Greek Orhtodox white crosses peeping out of them like candles on a fatty birthday cake. The cobblestone streets are tricky. Even in flats and when I see a babe in heels she always has her uber important accessory- the boyfriend to hold her up while she walks. Breakfast can be called for from bed and Christos, the hot older owner (aka Kettle's new boyfriend) will bring it out to the terrace where you can enjoy it. And when I called the morning after we went out I get this good morning from Cristos, then "You were very drunk last night, no?" Yes Cristos, and make that THREE toasties today. We went to the Perissa beach and lay in the shade drinking Sex on the Beach and slipping around in the Aegean sea on all the moss. The water is salty, blue and gloriously cool. Just perfect. I could lay on my back floating Sean style for hours, if I didn't fear waking up and being like 2 kilometers off shore. I read books and ate popsicles. And did the same thing the next day and the moms and auties came as well. I laughed till I cried watching various people get in and out of the slippery shores. I got, eh well not tan cause it doesn't really happen for me. But I watched Laurel and Juli get tan. Does that count? The blues and whites of this country are strong and solid, just like the old widows in all black wobbling steadily through the streets. I feel like it's an unspoken architectural dress code with only white and blue allowed. Otherwise everyone just thinks it looks good(which it does) and adds their flare via bougonvillas and red flower pots. I feel for the first time in a long time that it is time to just relax and read a book. And luckily I am so free and lucky to do just that.
The comfort and stability of being around family is so glorious. No need to do small talk or talk at all if you don't feel like it. They understand me, and they love me and don't care if we just sit around eating pizza on the deck instead of going out.
Many dinners and shots of mysterious greek liqueors and bottles of wine and conversations passed by far too quickly. And now my dear family has returned to America, to their jobs and routines and I am left missing them but oh so glad to have the precious time to spend with them. I am so grateful to have such an incredible family. To come and visit me and bring me a little of that down home love that is so needed when traveling for this long. More soon but I can't bear to be inside in this glorious weather any longer.

Oh Oh Athena

2009-07-16T10:46:00.000-07:00

Oooh I am so not in Sweden anymore. I arrive in Greece. Its 35 degrees c here. Ten degrees hotter than the hottest it gets in Sweden. Theres smoking and craziness and women bigger than a size zero at every turn. The airport bus careens out of control on the way into Athens. The first guy I met got his wallet stolen right as he got out of the airport. I find my hostel, which is in a hmmm, interesting area filled with um, i'm pretty sure hookers, and African guys selling fake Louis Vuitton bags and garbage and groups of police standing around doing nothing. Oh the real world. I love it. The first meal I had was a delicious greek salad, a cold beer and some chips aka fries. The olive oil saturated the fresh tomatoes and the feta tasted so fresh I could cry. And I had another greek salad for lunch again today. I have a feeling greek salads are going to be like empanadas hmmm. At least its vegetables and not fried cheese pastries riight... The fashion here is none other than hilarious also. Phat assses jammed into tight jeans and spilling over the sides like pot pies. Big curly hair and long fake red nails. Mismatched patterns and NO white shirts with black stripes! Tacky purses and cluttery crazy jewelry. Boobies on display. Gold, Silver, Sequined and Rainbow colored strappy sandals. I wandered around Athens today in the heat smiling at the chaos of honking horns and traffic jams and angry cab drivers. There are ancient ruins in between shopping malls, huge marble towers overturned in the middle of the park and theres a kind of faded glory to the whole place. Athens might not be the calmest cleanest city ever, but for some reason this makes me even happier. Ive missed the mess and the sticky part of traveling. Sweating and getting lost and not being able to read the crazy greek writing. I got free breakfast at my hostel even. I mean it was toast and tang but it was free. And so what if I ate it and then went back to bed for another two hours. What do I have to prove anyways. I cant get the question mark or the apostraphe so it might be weird reading this. Lo siento. And tomorrow I will see my Mamma, Kettle, Marianne and Laurel! Let the debauchery begin and welcome to Greece! Oh and I had some Ouzo last night. Welcome drink at the hostel. EwZo is more like it. I like fennel and everything but not in a shotglass.

Culture of Keds

2009-07-14T01:47:00.000-07:00

Sweden. A month here has flown by quicker than anything. And although I did spend as much or more money in one month here than three and a half in India I still loved this country. As Jen says, sometimes you have to acutally enjoy traveling. And when the hostel you're staying at has delicious cheese and tomato bagel sandwiches for breakfast you don't go for the cornflakes from the grocery store. The point of traveling isn't always to suffer and to penny pinch. Much better to enjoy something for a little while than to eat cornflakes for a year. Jen is far too wise. Sweden is a place that gave me black licorice, and swedish fish, and chocolate covered marshmallows, and more licorice, and sour gummi pops, and on and on. Thrift stores and buffet breakfast with jams and breads and really really good coffee. Clean beds and showers, even if some of those showers you have to walk down the stairs out the door and around the basketball court to locate. Cooking camping style at a hostel because it doesn't having a kitchen then running out of gas when the spagetti is half done.Ice bars and organic gardens and cool blue water. And tiny creepy black snakes in the cool water. Amazing people like Jonathan and Kate, and nice but a little odd people as well. Bright green grass being cut and hitting me in the face.And legs. And finding that same grass in my pockets days later. Expansive parks to jog and walk unbothered throughout. A whole country to walk unbothered throughout actually. Incredible art at every turn; fashion and sculpture and murals and inventions. Good looking people everywhere.
Girls in matching outfits. A whole new throw to the same same but different. And now I thought that this was something all teenagers go through, you know wanting to look like your friends. You're both wearing black and white, tshirts and shorts. But You have black shorts and a white top and white shoes with black socks. And SHE has white shorts and a black top and vice versa. Except it doesn't appear to be something people grow out of in Sweden. I guarantee that walking down the street anywhere in Sweden you will see at least half a dozen girls in this exact outfit: Dark skinny jeans. White keds. Loose fitting white long sleeved shirt with thin horizontal navy stripes. Oversized pearl earing studs. Straight white blonde hair. Black leather bomber jacket. I probably saw at least one hundred girls in this outfit while being in Sweden. Slight variations like acid wash instead of navy jeans, white chuck taylors instead of keds, black stripes instead of navy, but basically the same. And although yeah it looks good; it does look exactly the same. And although the girls are stunningly beautiful, if you're a Swedish guy, how can you tell which one is your girlfriend and which one is her best friend? It must be a little tricky. And for me, this is one thing that doesn't jive. At least not since the pink and leopard days of my youth with Sabrina and Tina. I feel like this is even a little sad. The majority conforming to not only one ideal of beauty, but one outfit? Bummer dude.

Although Sweden does have it's faults, it is still a happy, clean, stable, peaceful country. A country where a couple gets FIFTEEN months paid maternity leave. And the man has to take a MINIMUM of three months out of that fifteen to raise their child. This is why families travel so much in Sweden, because they have the time to be together and enjoy to it. Both of them. Not only mothers get to see and enjoy their child's youth, but the fathers as well. I can't help but think that this could really do wonders in America. If it wasn't just assumed that mothers are the only ones who want to be with their children when they are small. And the government supported this? Why not? This is also why I am constantly asking myself what day is it? Because all I see in Sweden is families and couples and groups of friends walking around in parks, sipping coffee and baked goods, having a tika at cafes, families strolling together. Is it saturday? Nope wednesday. And yes it is also summer, but I have yet to see stressed out execs rushing off to the office. Even at rush hour, people are chilled out, they are enjoying the sun and their loved ones.

And I'm jealous. Not just of the couples. Okay a little of the couples. I've reached the ten month mark of being away from Sean and it's definitely one last push to the finish line. Not an easy push, I am constantly missing him and wishing he was here to enjoy the ice cream and laugh at the hipsters. Not helped by the fact that Berg is in like every single business name or sign all over this whole country. I miss him, and it's his birthday today and I'm not there. And I see two teenagers making out on the metro and I want to slap in the mouth because they've kissed like forty times in five mintues! It's way worse than being single and hating couples. Because I know what I could have it's just NOT HERE! Arrg. Maybe that's why I took up running again, to take the ol mind off of the BergerFevah!

Anyways, I leave for Greece tomorrow and leave behind Scandanavia. And to all those haters who are always asking why Sweden? Why not? Sweden is a lovely, exciting place and I wanted to check out a country that had it's shit together and where people enjoy life. And I think they do there. And I learned some things about what that means as well. I say I think they do because it's hard to tell what anyone is feeling due to the fairly reserved nature of many swedes. And although they do pretty much have it set as far as lifestyle and vacation time and delicious coffee. I'm an American at heart and I still love the outgoing no bullshit nature of the great west. I like chatting up strangers and having a beer just to have one, not because I'm thirsty. I like a country where many different outfits are fashionable and many different styles are considered beautiful. At first I was convinced this country had it all, but when you're given everything maybe that's not best either. A little struggle only made you stronger I think, and that seems to be more the American way. And I realize now what a shameless american I am because I do enjoy a bit of a hardship here and there, you learn more. And at the end of the day I want to smile and say hello to strangers on the street. And for these reasons I don't think I'll be moving to Stockholm, maybe for the bike lanes, but not the lifestyle.

Prison Break

2009-07-14T01:23:00.001-07:00

Ahh Sweden so lovely, so organized, so easy to travel. Then why may I ask am I sleeping on a couch in a former prison? Let's start from the beginning; Gotland has always appealed to me since I've been in Sweden. It's the biggest island home to loads of medieval churches and has a massive stone wall around the main village of Visby. Its recommended to rent a bike and check out the island on your own, with some beautiful rock formations scattered around peaceful beaches to seal the deal at sunset. Sounds great eh? So after Göteborg I headed there via a seven hour bus and a three hour ferry. And for some reason or other my normal organization, attention to detail and plan everything out personality failed me. I didn't dawn on me that I arrived at midnight, for some reason I thought I'd be arriving early in the morning. As if the ferry takes seven hours to get to the island and only three to return? Who knows but for some reason it just slipped through the cracks. The ferry was lovely by the way, massive titanic looking thing with reclining seats and I even got to watch a romcom on the ride there. So I arrive sleep deprived from bus riding all day at midnight in Visby. Hmm. A little earlier than I had planned. Like six hours. And I didn't have any hostel booked because both the numbers in my old lonely planet didn't go through and neither had online booking. So India style I figured I'd just show up and find something, like I always do. Oh no. Not in Sweden. If it's not in the plan you can just forget about it. That's how come everything goes so smoothly. Because everything is part of the plan.
Its cold and windy at the port and I'm totally disoriented because it's also acutally dark outside. So I trudge to the nearest hostel which is luckily very close to the Ferry Terminal. It just so happens to be housed in a former prison. Very Shawshank Redemption style looking, a big brick building on a hill surrounded by walls and curls of barbed wire. Cozy. And I figure if I can just get through the door I'm set, I'll sleep anywhere till morning. And of course check out is only from 10am until noon. But a nice girl smoking outside lets me in and I plop down on a couch in the main WARD. But I figure if I crash here someone is going to see me in the morning and be pissed. So I decide to check out the tv room, which is luckily empty. With couches and pillows and even a blanket. I set down my pack and settle in for the night, totally paranoid that at any minute someone is going to come in and say what the hell are you doing you homeless American weirdo! But I also figure if I can't check in, then probably no one working is even here so fuck it. I'm stayin. And so I watced some Curb and Entourage and had a horrible on and off night's sleep.

I wake at 5 then 6 then finally at 8 when a woman comes into the room. Shes a guest luckily and just checking the news, I find out she's American. Well Swedish- American and lives in Sweden for summer and New York the rest of the year. She and her husband chat me up and ask if I'm lost because no foreign tourists really come to Visby. It's like I'm in Shimla all over again. But they are very nice and say, well breakfast is in like five minutes, why don't you come? Eh, well since I didn't really stay in the hostel eh, I don't know thats kinda bad right? Oh come on she says, we'll just pretend you're our daughter. So I sneak in with them and enjoy some tea and toast and museli, and it's delicious. Thank goodness for the kindness of strangers. And when I try to check in at 10am they are full. So I have to leave. So I do, reluctantly, buuut. It's light out and I just got a free place to sleep and free brekkie! Boo ya! Bless the Travel gods!
I traipse all over the island looking for another hostel to no avail. No booking, no room, at least nothing even slightly affordable. And I'm sick of carrying my bag all around this place, I finally admit defeat. I go and change my ferry ticket to that night, lock up my bag at the terminal and enjoy the seven hours I have on the island. I went to the library, ate a picnic, stared at the ocean and clouds from the grass, and had some saffron-honey ice cream. Pretty good day. Things didn't exactly turn out as I had hoped, but I didn't sleep in the street, I got to see Visby, and I got some ice cream. Things could be worse.

Lisberg..... wait a minute Liz Berg...?

2009-07-09T03:12:00.001-07:00

Göteborg is sometimes pronounced Gothanberg. Which just reminds me of Batman. A big, bustling, young person filled city with cobblestone streets and waterways flowing through the center and cafe after cafe jam packed with people just enjoying life. It's a tram city as well, kinda like Melbourne or San Francisco, except you never wait EVER and things run hella smoothly. Even if you say, now this is just an example, take the tram for thirty minutes in the wrong direction to BFE, you just hop off and grab the next one and easily arrive at your destination. For the first time I'm at a hostel in Sweden that really feels like a hostel as well. Well it feels like Mercer East so yeah it must be a hostel. Its still comfy and cozy if not the cleanest but oh well. And I made fetuccini and tea and sat around watching crappy tv and chatting with swiss, canadian and english travelers. I decided Göteborg would be the place I finally went to museums. So I became the shameless tourist that we all hide deep in our hearts. I bought a 'Göteborg Pass' and went to museum after museum for two days straight. Exhausting, but awesome. I also traveled unlimited on all the trams around the city and took an even more shameless boat tour around the city's canals.

I went to the Lisberg amusement park; Sweden's biggest amusement park fully loaded with candy and rides and delighted screams filtering down from every roller coaster. I wasn't really intent on being that weird foreign chick who goes on rides alone so I just bought a strawberry ice cream and wandered around staring at all the hilariousness. Wooden roller coasters and tilt a whirls and carosels with the swinging chairs and even some live music by local youngins which was totally cute. Until I look over and two MIMES ON STILTS are totally shakin it? What!It was extremely creepy. Mouths caked with dried ice cream and handfulls of cotton candy being shoveled in by every kid. Enormous toblerone and other swedish candy bars as big as a child being won by carnival style games. And of course the punk rock kids who try to look all tough but who are exhilirated and totally loving this crazy fun land. Reminded me of This American Life where they did a piece on the one day a year when all the goth kids in SoCal descend upon Disneyland. Totally legit I say. I also went to the Universeum which was probably awesome but I was just too exhausted to care about any of it. And the Museum of Cultural History where there was a badass exhibit on Indian girls who box, and a massive bollywood exhibit which made me miss India more than anything and I acutally felt a little like crying. But good museum. I also tackled the Museum of Decorative Arts and Design, The Museum of Art, The Natural History Museum and then I was spent. And went jogging in the cool evening air only to get eh, about a dozen mosquito bites. So now I am looking pretty awesome I must say, one arm covered in hideous scars, the other in mosquito bites, a sunburned nose and a horrible Jim Carrey from Dumb and Dumber hairstyle. America's Next Top Model, please look no further.

Wwoof wwoof

2009-07-07T03:05:00.000-07:00

Kilsmo, the town where I spent the last two weeks wwoofing is so small that I tell the bus driver to let me off at 'the shop' because there is only one in town. Its about an hour away from Örebro, a great little city where I spent the weekends wandering and eating chocolates and writing postcards. Fiola, the woman of the wwoof if you will is originally from Ireland, but lives now in Norway in Sweden. It wasn't exactly a farm, it is an old station house with a massive field behind it and Fiola moved there a year ago and needs help reclaiming it. Im pretty tired of being on the internet and might write more later but I think Ill just say what I did for the past two weeks. I cut the grass, painted the house, planted carrots, spinach and brussel sprouts. I buried the compost I trimmed trees, I cut away fields and fields of rubbish, I got attacked by nettles, I had elevensies. I mowed the lawn some more, I dug holes, I planted potatoes and onions, I dug garden beds, I painted more of the house, I went running, I made friends, I meditated, I watched Monty Python, I ate lasagna. I swam in a lake, I ran long empty roads, I listened to Michael Jackson, I did yoga, I painted flowers all over a bedroom, I ate candy, I dug out dead bushes, I made fire, I sang out loud, I drank cider, I read books, I got a tan? well a little bit. I got spiritual healing, I ate porridge, I watered the plants, and I laughed till I cried. I rode a bicycle and lay on the grass in my swimsuit. I ate chocolate and danced a crazy dance. I watched movies and mourned the King of Pop. I found strength in myself and began to get my bodily strength back as well. I went on long lonely runs through the backroads of this small Swedish village, I felt my tired, overweight body strain under the exercise but it felt good. Running came back again once I got to Sweden, much needed too because traveling is sometimes very unhealthy and it helps me a great deal to sweat it up sometimes. And each day I could feel it getting easier and my muscles adapting to the new routine. I felt like Forest Gump or my mom just running and running and running. Some hilarious Swedish hilbilly on a motorcycle pulled over one day and started chatting me up in Swedish. Finally I had to break the news that I didn't understand and went on my way. Anyways... And I got to meditate twice daily again, something that although the hostels are lovely here, doesn't really accomodate. Fiola practices another meditation, which I tried out for a week but it just isn't for me. Mantras and dancing and reading and all that crap I don't really like and mostly it just felt like a chore, so I kindly told her I's just stick to what I like. I also rolled out the ol yoga mat every other day and got some of that in as well.

But the greatest thing that came out of this wwoofing was the painting. Fiola wanted me to paint massive lilies on her wall. And at first I didn't want to in fear of not finishing and screwing it up and it not turning out good then she's stuck with crap on her walls. But after three days of nonstop painting, (with tea breaks that is)I sat on the floor, in my paint covered clothes, utterly exhausted and I had a realization; I am an artist. Some might say, uh duh Liz, you studied art and you've been drawing your whole life. But...I have always harbored this underlying insecurity within myself about my abilities as an artist. I almost dont even want to tell people I am an artist in fear that I wont live up to the expectation that this implies. And my whole life any outer recognition of anything I did artistically was moot because I didnt believe it. I didnt think I could be an artist unless I was the best, most successful, brilliant artist around. And I couldn't deal with the rejection of anything I had created, so I stalled. For years and years, even though I made stuff, and had shows and sold a few things even I always had this feeling that someday someone would bust me and find out that I had no talent and was just a total phony. I commited the worst of ills against myself, I didn't believe in my own art. And so of course most things didn't work out the way I hoped because if I don't have faith in it, how are others going to see my work? Exactly. Now I'm not saying that this wall mural was the Sistine Chapel or anything, but it might as well have been in my eyes because it gave me faith. Not that painting flowers is going to change the world, but it did change mine, even just a little, and I think that is progress. I sat there on the floor in this house in Sweden smiling to myself, completely filled with happiness and joy and not an ounce of criticism. Because I knew, finally that it was true. If I wasn't an artist, I could not have done what I was looking at. I am an artist. It's as simple as that. And this realization brightened up my face and the room and my future. And now I walk with a little more spring in my step and I'll never doubt myself again on this front. No matter how crappy what I create is, I'm owning it and I am going to be an artist. And any criticism that comes after can't be even twice as harsh as I have been on myself like eh, my whole life. So fuck it,Ive come this far haven't I? What do I have to lose?

A Midsummer Night´s Dream

2009-06-21T11:01:00.000-07:00

Malmö here I come! Four hours of whizzing past lush green pastures and cute farm houses and NO penises or mountains of depressing garbage along the train tracks. I sat on the bench at the train station with my backpack WIDE open and didn´t worry one minute about scoundrels. Cleaner than ever, and comfortable chairs and magazines and food cars with beer and wine! ooh yeah I could get used to train rides like this. I was sitting in the quiet area? This exists? I even had to ask someone, Are there assigned seats? She looked at me like I was an alien. Okay. I get it. Or. gan. ized.
So, I headed down to the south of Sweden cause I heard it was beautiful,(too true) and two friends Lovisa and Freja that I met at Sadhana live down in Skäne.I arrived on the perfect midsummer´s day. The longest day of the year in Sweden. Sunny and chilly and windy and hailing? Yeah apparently that´s normal. I trekked through the ghost town of Malmö on midsummer through the plazas filled with amazing sculptures and statues. It was strange for things to be so empty. Everyone flees to the countryside to celebrate midsummer and so the town reminded me of walking through UVillage on a sunday morning before anything opened. Everything was still there, there was just no movement. The city was still. It could have been weird but it was actually quite lovely, none of the hustle and bustle of the tons of shops, I could gaze into all the closed store fronts and wander and wander until I got to my hostel. My hostels in Sweden just keep on getting better and better by the way. This one was kind of a walk, but I had a four bedroom dorm all to myself decorated of course head to toe in Ikea, and the beds ohhhh the beds. I want to write poetry on the blissfulness of the sleep on the hostel beds in Sweden. Its something magical. And this time around I decided to go for the breakfast. In all the hostels in Sweden you have a delicious breakfast buffet which you can buy for around 7bucks. You also have to pay to rent linens at the hostels here, but since I have my own towel, pillowcase and sleepsheet I figured the money I save on that can now go to delicious breakfast! And when I first arrived I just wanted to shop for my own shit but since the whole town was closed I just rolled with the hostel brekkie. Ohhh good toasted bread with oats and nuts in it, covered in warm melting butter and rasberry jam that tastes like pie. Thin savory slices of cheese, tangy apple juice, fresh melon. Make your own museli with rasins and crunchiness and the best of all is the strong, real coffee that I havent had in ages, none of this nescafe ho ha that they have in India.
After indulging in a long night´s sleep and a long, lingering breakfast I set out to traipse. I hadn´t heard back from my friends and didn´t want to head all the way to their town and not see them so in the end I just decided to explore Malmö on my own. Apparently Malmö is Sweden´s first fair trade city, but all the shops were closed so I didn´t even get to ask anyone how you make a whole city fair trade, etc. But the coffee I had was fair trade and it was delicious so I guess I got a little taste? of it. I found myself walking through the banks of this lovely park. The whole place was like a setting for a Hans Christian Andersen Fairy Tale. Snow White and Goldilocks and the Little Mermaid had to be just around the bend. Geese with bright orange beaks taking over the water banks and paddling back and forth in the tow of the river. Flowers small and white that smell like the inklings of springtime in Reno and make me miss home terribly. I find a quiet dock and sit in the sunlight and write and draw for an hour, until the weather turns seattle style and starts raining for a bit. It is so quiet I could hear the creaking of the wood under the flow of the water, a distant dog barking, geese honking, I could hear the wind rustling through the tall river grass. I laughed out loud to myself that I was really in this place. Then I turn the bend, and whats that? An old fashioned windmill? Is Sweden serious? Does it try to look like a postcard all the time or is it just a coincidence? Funny thing is I found a postcard later of this exact spot.

I made it all the way to the ocean and stared out at the bridge that takes you from Malmö to Copenhagen. Everybody wave at Denmark! The water was such a deep dark blue and the wind blew furiously splashing it up cold against the rocks. A good day for kites as some people were finding out. I walked around the waterfront and checked out all the amazingly cute apartments with bright crayon colors and impecible design, I saw the Turning Torso Malmö´s most famous building which is actually pretty cool. I was walking along the oceanside and all of a sudden movie style out of nowhere romantic music began playing and getting louder and louder till finally this woman was belting ballads where is that coming from? I looked all around me. There was no one. I finally climbed over the hill where it seemed sound was coming from to see these speakers in the grass just playing music. But no one was around. WHAT. Its nice, but who is this music for? Anyways...I made it home after trekking completely around the city, exhausted and made myself some spagetti.

I had this nice plan of just chillin for the evening, writing some postcards, going to bed early to catch my morning bus back to Stockholm. The I was in the TV room and meet Mai, an american girl from where? Of course Seattle. And her friend Susanna who is Swedish-American and has also lived in Seattle for like the last fourteen years. What a small world. So we chat about the two countries and healthcare and Swedish etiquette, etc. They invite me out with them that night. And of course I go. I´ve been wandering by myself all day long and could use some girl time. Especially Seattle girl time- boo ya. So we get all dressed up, luckily I bought some cheap flats in India and can finally rock one of the dresses I got there and we go out for dinner. At the light out hour of 8pm. I had one the most delicious Swedish plank of a meal. And I mean that straight up. It was called the vegetarian plank. About a foot and a half of eggplant and veggies baked under vast layers of delicious cheese. Sided with mashed potatoes squeezed out frosting style to look pretty then baked, with some crazily decadent Swedish sauce. And a roasted tomato, and freshly just slightly steamed bright green broccoli and asparagus. OH WOW. I havent eaten this good in a long ol time. And we shared a bottle of white wine. Granted the meal cost about as much as one night of accomodation for me, but sometimes you just have to enjoy a good meal, and company, and delicious wine. These girls are so much fun and we sat around chatting while Mai got hit on by every guy in sight, and then went dancing at the Cuba Cafe. Dancing hmm, more like watching this Edward James Olmos look alike with a profound mullet shake it like Shakira in his skin tight all white bellbottoms outfit. Quite fun though to drink strawberry mojitos and get to dance in public and all while it isnt quite dark out. And did I mention that this spot was in the middle of a park in Malmö- everything just HAS to be cute here doesnt it?
Anyways, I had a lovely time in only two days and got to be alone, be with friends, and be by the ocean. Pretty Pretty good.
Im back in Stockholm heading to wwoof for two weeks, so check you then!

Hay Hay

2009-06-18T03:38:00.000-07:00

HOLY shitballs I äm in Sweden! I have been walking around just smiling at the most INSANE things Ive seen in the last five months. Streets so clean that cigarette butts stand out every other block. Gorgeous hipsters that must have come out of the woom in bomber jackets and skinny jeans. Clear cool blue water with no garbage (or bodies) in it. Everything runs so freaking smoothly here. I got off the plane, walked outside, hopped on an express bus to downtown Stockholm, where I got the metro a few blocks from my hostel. Which is in the middle of a freaking gorgeous Sound of Music looking park where men (MEN!) push trolleys filled with babies, and gorgeous women in flowing dresses ride bicycles past. The first day I was here I went to the grocery store and bought strawberries, a loaf of bread, museli, soy milk, vegan cheese!, spinach and olive oil and have been making picnics and traipsing about leisurely. The bed I sleep in is so comfortable that I can sleep for ten hours every night. Although, midsummer is two days away and so the sun doesnt go down until like 1am and then only a little darker blue and then it starts getting light again. Its so surreal. The land of eternal sunshine these days. So when I arrived the plan was of course to stay awake until the sun went down, you know, to avoid jet lag and get assimilated? kinda tricky to do if the sun never goes down, and finally at like 10pm when outside it looked like eh, 3 in the afternoon I finally called it quits and crashed.
My hostel is like something out of Hansel and Gretel, white trimmed orange buildings and cute older European couples holding hands and walking around the beautiful gardens and having beers out front. Two lovely german girls share the room with me and Im meeting one tonight to go to Ice Bar. Which is exactly what it sounds like. A bar made of ice, and with the entrance fee you äre given a parka and one free beverage. And you better for like 20 bucks. Also, another thing- It is SHOCKING to see public displays of affection. After not even seeing members of the opposite sex holding hands, public make-outs at the metro tunnel suddenly seem so odd and scandalous. But I love it. I love all the pimped out rockstar babes walking around with bleach blonde hair and leather. I love all the tall business men in suits carrying laptops and chatting feverishly on their cell phones.
Yesterday I stopped for some Black Licorice Ice Cream. Which is totally delicious by the way. Yes Dad- be jealous. And sat down and watched this motley crew of dudes stand around and play chess on a massive scale- somewhere in between regular and harry potter style.
It is taking a little getting used to being- or rather looking so much like everyone here. I blend so well that everyone assumes I'm Swedish and I sheepishly have to say, uh, I don't speak Swedish when approached by pamphleters and when buying coffee, etc. And of course walking around yesterday a french couple asks me for directions. And the funny thing about this is, I was actually lost at the moment, looking for the thrift store, but eh, they didn't have to know that.
I went to H&M in the land where it was founded and bought a new complete line of underwear. It was luxury and decadence like I havent allowed myself in so long. And let me tell you, Sweden is proud of their H&M. In downtown Stockholm there must be like thirty stores. I had to use every bone in my body to not go balls out crazy with the shopping. And luckily I resisited cause later that day I was walking around Zinkensdaam, where my hostel is and stumbled upon a second hand shop. Um. Hello heaven. And it seems that another thing that the Swedes have in common with me, other than pasty skin, is short legs and a big ass. Because I tried on five pairs of jeans at this thrift store and every single pair fit like a glove. So I bought two pairs. And a hillarious shirt with an anchor on it. And a belt. All for half of what it would've cost for one pair of jeans at H&M. The ironic thing is that one of the pairs of jeans is originally from there. Oh how I love the thrift.
Stockholm is also an artist's wildest dream. Good design is everywhere and it is valued as an important part of life. Everything from the garbage cans to the metro station to the museums are beautiful, creative and well designed. In a nutshell everything is nice to look at here.
I also read in my lonely planet that Swedes drink more milk than any other country in the world! And more coffee than any other country with the exception of Finland. This makes sense as cute cafes are abundant and the coffee here is phenomenal I must say. As I walk around and stare in the shop windows the smells of Sweden surround me. This whole city smells like a delicious bakery. Sweet cinammon rolls and coffee and the occasional tinge of a cigarette whirl around in the air. And flowers and oh! was that a bird call? I swear this cannot be real.
One thing I miss about India is the fact that people talk to you. No one really talks to each other here unless you have to buy something or if you already know them. Which is fine. After all the madam! money change! its nice to be ignored. But I know that I can't do it forever. Luckily I'm heading down to Skäne to visit Freja and Louvisa tomorrow so I'll get some human contact. And then I'm wwoofing for a few weeks and they HAVE to talk to me there, so I'm good.
I was sitting in the train station today, waiting for my number to come up so I could buy my train ticket. Yeah thats how you buy train tickets here, you dont shove past ten seventies-style greasy-haired dirtbags to be given a slip of paper or a no madam- train not possible today. You sit and when your number is called you buy your very expensive ticket for the express train and you get your youth discount and everything. But while I was waiting I watched this little and I must say rather chubby, rosy-cheeked blonde girl throw a MASSIVE tantrum. She was like a female version of Agustus Gloop from Willy Wonka. She screamed and punched her dad in the thigh for like ten minutes. She was decked out head to toe in pink and carried a little pink tote with Princesses written on it and pictures of all the Disney princesses. Normally this would be annoying. But I just sat there amazed at the privileged life this girl has and will lead. Yeah she's a chubby little brat. But she's a girl and she can do this and when she grows up she can dress like a total slut and throw tantrums then too. If this girl was born in India... well for one she wouldn't be so fat, but her life would be a stuggle from start to finish and she would never know the pure joy of being able to choose your choices. Even if that choice is to lay on the ground screaming at the train station or eat twenty bars of Toblerone. This makes me a little sad. But I laugh anyways at fat ass actual over there (and her poor parents).
It's chilly outside and I am wearing jeans and a long sleeved shirt(because I WANT to) and a coat and a scarf. And this is the middle of summer? But its great and refreshing, I think I'll go roam and check out the palace where the royal family lives, and maybe get some more coffee and biscotti- who knows. I will just go where the (clean) road takes me.

<~I Love my India~>

2009-06-13T20:59:00.000-07:00

I have a dysfunctional lesbian love affair with India. India is a woman. Of course she is. Hot and unpredictable and haunting and mysterious and colorful. She has a long black plait with vermilion in the part and jeweled toe rings and jingly gold bracelets. India has a nose ring that glitters like the gold that twists in swirls through the bright pink of her sari. She is such a beautiful woman in fact, that she can do horrible, disgusting, shocking things to you and all you can do is love her and ask to gimme more. She's never on time, her food gives you diarrhea (yet you eat it anyway cause it's worth it), she ruins your clothes in the laundry, she uses you for money, and she makes you know yourself. She always makes you feel like you're the only girl in the room. This is also known as staring; with unrelenting deep dark eyes. Sometimes my India is abusive. She poisons you and throws you off motorbikes and doesn't let you sleep when you're really tired. But then she redeems herself by letting you share a meal with someone beautiful and bathe in her holy river and meditate in her beautiful mountainous silence. She makes you realize why you love her- because she shows you beauty at the moment that she shows you sorrow. Like when you see skinny, hungry children begging for food. And then you see them smiling radiant, earth shattering smiles at you for no reason other than they feel like it. India is bright and loves to dress in colors that inspire all to emulate her beauty. Her favorite color is red. But sometimes she wears sunflower yellow, barbie pink, apple green or saffron. She always looks her best be that on the bus, or working on the side of the road, or going to the movies. Hair combed to the side or tightly braided, colored with henna and oiled. Crisp ironed shirts and luxurious draped shawls and saris. India's favorite food is mango. But she also likes rice pudding, butter naan, malai kofta, lemon soda, masala chai, veg samosa, palak paneer and anything really really sweet and bad for you. Its like she's pregnant all the time with the food cravings. And oh does this girl have a mean streak. India has mean hot(literally) flashes and when shes getting her period- beware for the war path. She'll yell and honk her horns and argue and no she doesn't care what the fuck time it is and don't you have any sweets? India is passionate and independent and kitchy and cute. I love my India because she makes the best chai I've had in my entire life. I love my India despite and because of her faults. I love my India for the people she creates and the people I've met while with her. I'll be sad to leave her, but like a good girlfriend she'll be waiting for me when I return.

Holy City to the Holey Shitty

2009-06-13T19:48:00.000-07:00

Last bus ride in India. At least that's what I kept telling myself as we were stuck in traffic jams in sweltering heat with sticky clothes and no wind and desperate thirst for mango juice! Katarina and I left after one last masala chai at the office to embark on the ten hour bus ride to Delhi from Rishikesh. Walking through the streets filled with pilgrims and past the Ganges and corn being roasted and red and gold bracelets I felt excited and ready to move again. After two weeks of staying in one place the travel itch had begun. One last look at the Ganga river, an adios to all my ladies and we were off! I was a bit of a shit show though- let me just say. I was about to leave my little ashram apartment- I'm all packed up and ready to go, i lock my door but my keys drop to the floor. I bent over to pick them up RIIIIIIIIIIIPPPP. There busts a massive hole in the ass of my pants. Luckily I'm wearing a long dress like Indian top and so my lazy self doesn't have to unpack my entire bag looking for new unripped pants. This hole proceeds to get bigger and bigger throughout this day of travel- as I'm hopping onto moving buses RIPPP- to the point where I'm just hoping this flimsy fabric will stay on my body long enough to make it to Delhi. Then at a rest stop I was going to pay for using the bathroom and did a slide-trip-bif up to the table and came this close to bashing my forehead against it. WHEW. chill out Liz. And my crazy grown out buzz cut of hair is looking like I just got up from a nap.Eh. All the time.
But the bus ride was very nice all in all. One last day spent listening to music and musing about life and generally smiling at the things passing rapidly past the window.Rivers and swamps and rice fields. Desolate dusty paths and men sleeping on rocks. Forests littered with the bright confetti of strewn garbage and dotted with cows grazing. Saris draped over balconies like long KISS tongues after drinking pink or green or orange kool aid. Groups of men with tank tops pulled above their nipples exposing their proud bellies- which they scratch incessantly. Kids playing cricket in village squares. Groups of goats charging at the kids as they whack the ball around. A little boy in a puddle he created from a water pump who was laying on his back smiling with glee as he wriggled around shaking his butt back and forth cooling off. Men with their backs turned peeing towards towns or forests or walls. Fruit stand after fruit stand with ripe yellow and tiny green mangoes. Bundles of lychee akin to bouquets of bright red tea roses. Women. Children. Men. Staring.
Me staring back. And smiling, sometimes sadly, at what I'm seeing.
Men squatted with brushes painting ads on brick walls. Piles of rubber tires that stretch for miles and men in the heat breaking them down with hammers. Saris saris saris. Crazy chipmunks on billboards advertising theme parks. Bags of snacks and hair oil hanging in strips flapping in the wind at cigarette stands. Bollywood movie stars enjoying refreshing Pepsi or Coke. Riverbanks decorated with the whites of flying tank tops and bedsheets. Lazy, fat water buffaloes making the blubbery trek down to the river. Boyfriends on motorbikes with trim mustaches and plaid shirts like an Indian version of Brokeback Mountain. Boys splashing in rivers in their undies. I smiled and ate cool cucumber spiced with masala and salt and ice cream which melted in milliseconds. The wind blew and dirt and whatever else settles in a film all over my body. And finally Delhi.
When we arrived it looked like the apocalypse. 6pm but still like a 45c and the sun was beaming orange in the polluted sky over the slums of outer Delhi. It began to rain as we hopped in the rickshaw- not too much rain but enough to cool it down and then create more pish to walk through in Pajar Gang.

OM (my) God

2009-06-12T01:57:00.000-07:00

Two weeks of ashram life. Not what I initally expected, but exactly what I needed and a great finale to India. The first week was a noisy, chaotic block party with pilgrims and flowers and singing and dancing and hooting and hollerin'. The second week has been like an Indian version of Sex and the City. I've tried to think of the equivalent phrase this is what I've got...Poop and the Delhi, Yoga and the Ganges, Chai and the Ashram, etc, to describe my ever expanding crew of ladies that meet up to discuss those things; poo, chai, and yoga. Fot the whole first week it was me and this british couple Laney and Steve and that was it for the westerners. But after the holy week and the birthday passed the ashram rooms opened up and the whiteys flowed into the Ganga Block. aka my hood.
So my girls...
We've got Sarah from Minnesota- a young, hilarious girl on a month long "holiday" I use the term loosely cause she hasn't had the easiest time in India. Sarah is doing her masters in holistic health and is staying at the ashram but taking private one on one yoga classes and lecture at the yoga and health center connected to the ashram. Katarina- who hails from Austria and is tall and bright and also takes pictures of her food- just like me. Helen from England who is like Lindsay Lohan's british twin in The Parent Trap- about twenty years old and about ten times cuter(if thats even possible)With red hair in pigtails and raidiant blue eyes. As you might guess this girl gets hassled like no other in India. Did I mention she's only TWENTY? yeah. Maureen- a lovely,insightful, enlightened(and she really is dude) woman from New Zealand on her second?(at least) trip to India. Maureen's friend Lynn-Marie who is a bundle of energy and reminds me of my crazy P.E. teacher in middle school who had braces and was really into working out. Liza and Sarah- a pair of twenty year old German girls who are doing the same trip as me practicaly except they went to Central America instead of Argentina. Liza speaks English with an American accent due to a year in North Carolina?(of all places- she said the agency just puts you somewhere in America. At least it wasn't Reno... haha) when she was sixteen. Both girls are insanely mature and I can't belive she just turned twenty like three days ago. When I was twenty I still got lost on the bus in Seattle. No freaking way would I be in India. Hmmm also two girls from Toronto who I haven't even asked their names yet but are totally awesome- we bonded over chai and banana chocolate samosas- also our shared love of mangoes. Unfortunately they got a whole kilo stolen by a pack of monkeys the day I met them. ooh the monkeys. Emma, from the UK who Sarah met in Delhi and who is doing this insane world trip- in the end it'll be 18 countries in one year. Kinda the same as mine but more south america, more southeast asia and after India she's going to Jordan and Egypt? We laughed about crazy Argentineans and trains in India and how much crap you accumulate while traveling. Whew. I think thats everyone. For now at least.
So almost every night we meet at our version of the coffee shop. The Green Hotel restaurant behind the ashram that is eh, okay food but theres a.c. and masala chai and a waiter that speaks spanish to me cause he thinks I'm from Mexico? I've officially become THAT fiesty. And we sit around not eating much to the chagrin of our waiter- mostly because our meals are included at the ashram. But occasionally we'll share a massive banana nutella pancake or rice pudding along with honey lemon mint tea and chai and lassis. All the horror stories come out, all the funny moments and the crazy shit that no one who hasn't been to India will ever understand. For instance- Helen was in yoga class- a one on one class taught by Sarah's teacher. And she was doing cobra pose. And the teacher gives you adjustments when needed. Here's the problem. So for a visual--- cobra pose is you laying on your stomach with your hands next to your shoulders and chest and head pulled up- and the yoga teacher (a male) is in front of Helen, bends over her body to adjust her legs. Meanwhile his penis keeps accidentaly slapping Helen in the face.
HAHAHAHA.
you just can't make stuff like this up.
Helen is this sweet British girl and what can you do in this situation? Excuse me- enough with the dick slaps? hmmm. So she just politely averts her head to avoid the swinging pendulum. hahaha i wept when i heard this.
So over the past week after a day of yoga and chanting I hang out with my girls and before you know it it's ten o'clock curfew to not get locked out of the ashram. It has been ridiculously fun.
Also. I got sick again.
It's totally my fault, I don't wash ALL the mangoes I eat, etc. And so two days ago I was woken up with insane- dysentery like craps and proceeded to vomit and diharrhea my guts out the entire night and all next day. But by the grace of something it only lasted 48 hours. I rested. I ate only curd and toast and the next day I was back to yoga and feeling great. I think it was just India's last hoorah with my digestive system. Well, intestinal parasites, you've had your fun now you can piss off.
One more class this afternoon and my two weeks of yoga and early mornings and vedic chanting will be at a close. I've enjoyed what it turned out to be. Not a serene ashram experiece, but a fun filled whirlwind adventure and a total gab sesh. Hey- some things just turn out this way- why fight it?

Happy birthday Swamiji

2009-06-06T01:53:00.000-07:00

first off- this keyboard sucks and ever time i try to capitalize an i it turns into an ai. so there will be no capitalization in this entry. thats india for you.

my first week of the yoga course is finished. i celebrated the saturday-ness of today by getting a glorious ayurvedic massage and eating hello to the queen for lunch. hello to the queen is a glorious dessert found in travelers cafes around india. it consists of crushed up graham crackers or cookies, vanilla ice cream, banana, and chocolate sauce. sometimes there is coconut on top. today the bananas were deep fried and there was a sprinkling of pomegranate seeds just to add a little color.
deeply deeply un yoga.
sooo good though.
so back to the beginning. last sunday i arrived at the parmarth niketan ashram in rishikesh. it was crazy. nuts even. there were brightly dressed religious pilgrims flooding the place and the whole registration was a bit sketch and disorganized but i was okay with it. you have to become accustomed to things not going the way you think/hope they will go in india. in the end it all worked out- i paid my donation, checked into my room and bought my all white outfit required for the yoga course.
along with my accommodation i get three square meals a day and unlimited filtered water, and its on the banks of the ganges with aarti -sacred fire- ceremonies nearly every night.
it also happens to be some holy week related to the ganges so there are loads of indian tourists and rishikesh is just booming with spirituality, and pushing, and cow shit, and chanting and old lady posses in matching saris. parmarth is especially full because the guru is in residence and the holy week AND its his birthday.
it was a bit of a shock and not really what you think an ashram would be like. there are people everywhere all the time. theres not really anywhere to meditate other than in your room or by the ganges. and its not that quiet. but this doesn't bother me. i had quiet and places to meditate and a strict schedule at vipassana. this is just a different experience that's all. unfortunately only me and one other couple felt this way and loads of people left the yoga course during the week for this reason or that. another one bites the dust i say. but i really wanted to do yoga every day and this is the way i can- twice a day even and so i hung in there through the madness of celebration and business, and now that it has calmed down a bit i'm grateful that i stayed. so next week it'll pretty much be me and one indian guy and the yoga teacher. so it will turn into semi private yoga classes- pretty pretty good.
im getting tons of time to read- i'm currently reading 'the god of small things'- which is awesome- thank you jen, 'vipassana meditation', 'teach yourself eastern philosophy', and the guide book section on hindu gods - again- i'll never get them straight i dont think.

at first i thought the week would drag on because the schedule isn't quite as packed as i would have thought. but its flown by as i look back so whatevah. morning yoga class begins at six am and Indu the yoga teacher recommends a cold shower before so i wake at five thirty every morning, douse my self in cold ass water and traipse over to the massive yoga hall. morning classes we do prana yama breathing exercises, yoga asanas and some crazy warm-ups. traveling for nine months has done horrible things to my body. my intestines, my skin, my waistline- bIGTIME, my flexibility, sleep patterns, eating habits,etc. and all of this has become insanely apparent this last week. not only am i totally out of shape, inflexible and the like. but i am eating like a crazy person, i dont know if its the yoga- aka - actual physical exercise or the fact that i finally stopped taking antibiotics and dont have diharrhea anymore or what but my appetite is back baby- and i cant do exclamation points either on this keyboard.
then after breakfast we have vedic chanting which seems like it wouldn't be too hard. but i sweat and struggle to master the four notes and try to keep up with the oms and karavavahi y aaaaa yaaaaaAAs but its tough workout- sweat pours down my back every day.
then there is an hour and a half to kill before lunch which is torture sometimes- i usually nap because its so freaking hot out these days.
in the afternoon we have more yoga asanas and guided meditation and from monday to friday i have gotten my head on the floor, my shoulder stand semi mastered and my triangle eh, up to par.
also it happened to be the gurus birthday so on wednesday afternoon classes were canceled due to the crazy celebrations that occurred to honor swamiji. a sacred cow ceremony where we got to feed jaggery balls and greens to the fattest cows ive seen yet in india. a tree planting ceremony- decadent lunch with like three desserts, various epic plays depicted on a massive stage built out over the ganges. a huge statue of krishna- i think- in lotus position sits in the middle. and the guru and his crew - who followed him around all day- this posse of young students in yellow and orange robes tossing marigolds in his crazy hair and blowing conch shells and generally making quite the show of it. there was a krishna skit where a crazy decked out dancing cowherd incarnation of him played the flute and seduced young cowgirls or gupis. the dancing was straight out of bollywood with hip shimmying and wrist and neck flicking and coy glances. did i mention this was all done by the MALE dancer? at one point i was like eh, that's a guy right? kids painted blue and balancing on stilts, women glittering in gold studded saris from head to foot, old ladies pinching your arm fat to squeeze past in all the commotion, etc.
i looked around that night and thought- i cant believe this is happening. i'm sitting on the banks of the ganges river while the warm breeze blows and this unreal dancing is happening in front of me- there's a guru over there with a flowing mane and bright orange robes, there are beautiful saris pinks, blues, greens, oranges, purples, reds and yellows dotting the crowd. most of them draped over women's heads which is one of the most beautiful things you can imagine. there is chanting and fire and marigolds and crazy orange bugs. i cant believe im in freaking india right now.exclamation point.
i cant believe im watching this right now exclamation point.
such awesomeness, i'm so lucky.
some mornings after yoga i practice vipassana on the banks of the ganges. oh so peaceful. so saintly. yeah until the flies and mosqouitos and scorching sun come out. yesterday i could literally feel the legs of the fly step by step as it walked across my eyelid. my whole body was shaking with the urge to swipe it away. THIS is why Goenka tells us to meditate indoors i think.
one evening this week i went down to the banks to chill and immediately this auntie whisked me over and before you know it all her girls were sitting around me staring as she decked out my hand in some badass henna. she even invited me for tea the next morning at her ashram. which i gladly accepted. except when i went the next day and was totally lost and every sign there was in hindi and then i got kicked out by the security guard- i guess no westerners allowed? so thats a bummer. hopefully she isnt grudgin'.
in other news i'm a total sweat machine. yesterday it was eh about 39 degrees c here. thats like 110 . and doing yoga in the afternoon i was 1-sweating so much that my whole outfit was transparent -as i have to wear all white. and 2- slipping at every sun salutation. we did a stretch with a partner where we held hands and did back bends. except me and laney tried to do it and our hands kept slipping out because of how sweaty we both were.
and the monkeys.
every day in yoga a couple of monkeys crawl in the windows to eat bananas . i know. such a stereotype. and mess around and generally distract. one morning we were doing yoga outside because it was too hot inside and this massive beast jumped out from the trees. this was as elizabeth would say like a man in a monkey suit he was so big. and he was black and gray, not brown. and his tail was like a big ass snake. but indu- the teacher says that these ones are actually nice and you can feed them and hang out if you like. which i did see later on that day- an old sadhu had given one a bag of biscuts and they sat together on a bench like a coupla pals just eating their snacks.
but the little ones will bite. indu says. the little ones are the fuckers that is for sure. one afternoon two came in in the midst of a teenage slap fight or something. we were supposed to be meditating but they were at the front of the room pushing and fighting and sliding across the floor. i opened one eye to see one just laying there on his side with his head resting on one hand like george from seinfeld in a photo shoot. hilarious. and i'm trying to be all yoga and om about it while i suppress my laughter. you can hear the one pushing the other one against the wall and crash and boom and oooh oooh aahh ahhh at each other. Indu finally started us all doing OMs until we could get the negative 'vibes' or whatevah out. and they did finally leave. finally.
cheeky monkeys.
so yeah. i'm liking the ashram and the yoga and really hoping it will stick and i'll be able to continue the practice after i leave. i might get a little book of the poses though just so i can remember the sequence, etc. i have the weekend to laze around and get more massages and maybe get some palm reading or my birth chart done while i'm in this spot. so now i will continue to digest my 'hello to the queen' so hasta. exclamation point.

Rollin' with the Ganges

2009-05-30T21:52:00.000-07:00

The road to Rishikesh was long and bumpy. I sat squished between the window and a woman in a hot pink sari for eh, about nine hours. I stared out at Indian guys with one hand on their hips and the other elbow resting on or draped around their boyfriend's shoulder, all while maintaining a piercing stare at everyone on the bus. Schoolboys lined up with arms locked, old women dragging kerosene tanks across the street, cows and monkeys and forests? Delicious street stand thali and ipod listening and the time flew by. Then switched buses for another hour and a half ride into the beautiful land of Rishikesh. A land flooded with religious pilgrims eager to ring bells and do puja and bathe/swim/dunk themselves in the Ganges. I found a lovely clean guesthouse for less for four days than I had to pay for one in Shimla. With a balcony I can hang my laundry on and crickets at night that hum and remind me of summers in Reno. I read two books in three days, I drank a boatload of Chai, and wandered around staring at the beautifully clad Indian women. I walked over to check out the ashram area where I will be doing my yoga course and then wandered down to the Ganges after that. The water here is nothing like in Varanasi. The river begins here so it is clear and cool and rushing rapidly past over rocks and across the massive banks that split the town of Rishikesh in two. I walked down a bathing ghat and put my feet in DAMN it was soo cold. And watched the people swimming and bathing and doing various ceremonial somethings I have no clue about. I was about to leave but saw a "Ladies Ghat" and so wandered over there and sat with these three elderly Indian women in bright red and pink saris. A mother and daughter were frolicking in the water and so I looked around and said why not? What am I waiting for? I'm in India. I'm going in the Ganges.
Fully dressed I removed my shoes and made my way down the cement steps of the ghat. Whoo! So cold it took my breath away but I inched down and down the steps and chatted with the mom/daughter duo. Then took the plunge and dunked myself in the holy water of the Ganges River. It felt amazingly refreshing and bone-chillingly cold but so awesome. I lay on my back floating in the river and smiling. The young girl was so cute. "Could I be having your email address?" "Pardon me but what is your nationality?" "Did you know that the Ganges River is a holy river and that when you bathe in it all your sins are purified and washed away?" This girl was full of information. And so cute and a hilarious swimmer I might add. The equivalent of doing jumping jacks but in water I think is a fair comparison. I hung out for a bit, did some more dunks and then waded to shore to dry off. The hot Indian sun was scorching and I totally got a ridiculous neck sunburn as I sat there watching the flow of women and children migrate to the ghats to dunk in the water. Skinny and Old women in puse green saris held onto long chains and slowly lowered themselves into the water for a good dunking. Aunties and Moms and Daughters all joined hands and dunked in unison laughing all the while. Little babies play with their feet in the water and bless themselves as they trickle water on their own heads to ease the heat of midday. I just sat and drew and smiled for hours. Little boys came up and asked my name and country and who was I drawing madam? Women held either side of long red scarves and let the wind dry what the river had made damp. Young beautiful girls in elaborate outfits and gold bracelets and earrings shyly descended into the water and did the ceremonious three dips. I sat there basking in my love for this country and for the beautiful women I encounter everyday and for my luck in stumbling upon the Ladies Ghat.
Eventually I had to go, hungry and hot I wandered back through town. Stopped to get a mango to eat along the way. Now I'm pretty used to being stared at but this one was hilarious. A big family was all sitting around eating ice cream by the side of the road and they all started staring and pointing and talking about me from a while away and then I heard one person shout "It's a mango! She's eating a mango!"
Why is this so interesting? I have no idea but it still made me laugh. Oh the spectacle of a gringa walking around India eating a mango.
I head back over today to begin my yoga course at Parmarth Niketan Ashram. So adios for a few weeks! Its Yoga, Its Yoga tiiimmee.

The Journey vs.The Destination

2009-05-27T02:50:00.000-07:00

All aboard the Himalayan Queen! I was on my first Indian train all on my lonesome. (For like thirty seconds.) This sweet Indian family sitting next to me adopted me for the first leg of my journey from Delhi to Kalka. The mom spoke only Hindi but her teenage son translated. We chatted about all the usual stuff, where are you from? are you alone? are you married? etc. I stared out at the changing landscape and listened to music for a while. Then they fed me some breakfast, homemade parathas and some delicious okra/chili pepper concoction. And they invited me to go with them to visit their 14 day old nephew. Ohh how I love India. But i resisted. After five days in Delhi I was literally heading for the hills.
Shimla. The spot where all the Indian families head when the heat becomes too much. See in India people don't "summer" in warm places, they summer in the cool Himalayas. The two train journey began its second leg on the Toy train from Kalka to Shimla. This is like a Darjeeling Limited-style ordeal, goes totally slow and creeps up the hills to Shimla for about five hours. But it was totally worth it. I had an incredible time going up and up and up. And getting trivia from the Indian boy next to me on what everything was out the window. And watching the dad in the family across from me lean over his wife and son about every ten minutes to take the obligatory out the train window and scenery shot. The family was adorable and the boy gazed in amazement out the window the entire ride and him and his mamma counted all the tunnels we passed through. The fed me chips and thali and happiness all around -oh how I love trains! About three quarters of the way up it began to rain. And the cool, sweet smell of rain on dry land was intoxicating. I fell asleep in the long dark tunnels, I drank warm Chai and ate samosas and watched the monkeys in the forest as we trekked past. And Finally evening came and we arrived in Shimla.
Houses and Hotels are stacked upon the hills of Shimla and the place is like Dharmsala on crack there are so many people. I arrive in the rain and decide I don't have the energy to trek up to the Mall area where all the chill hotels are so I reluctantly overpay for this shit room near the bus station, buy a coupla mangoes and some noodles in a plastic bag and admit defeat. The night was spent reading and meditating and planning my escape. Which I did, morning came and I bolted.
What a workout. Up and up these winding streets and three hotels later I end up at my spot. So expensive but its high season and the Indian families have descended upon Shimla (and the cheaper spots. But for $us 20/night I have my own clean, quiet room and bathroom(sometimes with water) TV with tons of movie channels and balcony.
I wander all over the town during the next two days blissfully doing nothing. I read some books, ate some food, drank some tea, got stared at like no other. This being a mostly Indian tourist spot, I was pretty much the only western girl around. I a really good brownie one day, and even had nachos the next day. I went to the movies and saw this movie called Fashion. This crazy three hour long epic about a nice sweet girl from a small town who moves to Mumbai to be a model. And she doesn't drink or smoke or kiss boys. But after she starts getting into the fashion industry she starts drinking red wine, and smoking cigarettes and its all down hill from there. It was in Hindi but with enough English lines for me to get the gist and plus it was awesome to watch a movie about the Indian fashion world nonetheless. Ohh models.
Shimla was a nice, cool break from the hectic heat of Delhi. But too expensive to stay more than three days. Plus Rishikesh, the Ganges, and yoga awaits!

Pish/Posh

2009-05-24T02:12:00.000-07:00

After projectile vomiting four times on my last day in Dharmsala I was off. On a speeding out of control bus down the snake-like roads circling the Himalayan mountains. I Vipassana-ed for the first two hours on not puking. MMM this is an interesting sensation. Let's see how long it lasts. Don't puke. Don't puke. You don't even have anything to puke IN. Eventually the sensation passed. Oh Anicca. And I inflated my trusty neck pillow, rocked some earplugs and woke up in Delhi.
OOOH Delhi. In the span of three weeks since I'd left Delhi had become hotter, stinkier, and lost all of its earlier exotic charm. I hopped a rickshaw and told it to take me to Jen's Hotel. It was pretty early. Like 8am. So I left my bag at her spot. The swanky Vikram Hotel. The concierge were nice enough to direct me to a hospital within walking distance. So I headed over there for my FOURTH visit to a doctor since being in India. That's more than like the last 10 years combined. Again I was given no actual diagnosis, but a prescription and felt better within a few days. I happened to have some extra Cipro so as a precaution decided to just take it all because last time the five day antibiotics didn't really cut it. And it has been over a week now and no diarrhea! Awesome.
So I hung out in the lobby and just awaited Jen- who came rollin into the hotel with her work travel posse a little later on. She smuggled me up to her hotel room and the next two days were spent oozing every drop of luxury out of that place. I slept in a cushy, soft, CLEAN bed, in AIR conditioning. I watched bollywood movies on dvd- including an awesome one called Maan, which is a bollywood version of An Affair to Remember. Rent it. Its glorious. But put aside a good chunk o time cause its like three hours long. I took a BATH, we ordered room service, we spent hours sitting in the restaurant downstairs eating breakfast and talking about our travels and everything that has happened since we last saw each other.
We wandered around Lodi Gardens, drank mango shakes on the street, battled the Rishshaw Mafia, wandered the streets searching for some needy person to give our leftovers to, ate NACHOS, went to the movies (and ate caramel popcorn and coke with ICE), shopped like mad women for earrings, rode the metro just for the a.c.(literally, to the end of the line and back). We watched LOADS of movies in our a.c. hotel room and ate pizza and snickers. We sat on the rooftop after the rain and watched the Pigeon Cowboys at work. We slipped and slided around in post rain Pajar Ganj pish filled streets. Pish is a term Jen uses, I think its a combo of Piss and Shit? Well this Pish is all over the streets in India, and in abundance in Delhi and after the rain one day I almost face planted in this disgusting stuff in an attempt to go to the post office. Where the guy working there totally did a NON-Accidental boob graze. Sick-o. So those of you getting post cards better be damn thankful.
We also had some really silly/hilarious moments."Noooooonnnnnooooooooo I don't want a rickshaaaaawwwwwwww" Or perhaps me getting SO into eating pringes that i didn't notice my bracelet got stuck in the can. And until Jen couldn't fit her hand in did I notice the lack of bracelet. Or Jen totally hitting a sign head on (literally right in the face) while heading to the train station. All in all we both hated Delhi and I for sure am sooo not needing any more time there. But it was so nice to hang out with Jen that honestly neither of us cared if we were traipsing around ancient Tombs and gardens, or laying in bed watching t.v. The time flew by and the next thing you know I'm off to catch a train and she's off to South Africa. But we will meet again. I'm already planning my South African World Cup Adventure for next year. So a shout out to my PTT/Seattle/Traveling hommie Jen- Love you Girl- See you soon!

Honey life in Dharmsala

2009-05-16T02:19:00.000-07:00

This post Vipassana week has flow by with each day crammin in more than the next and me loving every minute of it. Leaving Vipassana and silence and nonstop meditation was quite a trip. But the world became profoundly beautiful in my eyes my smile beamed from ear to ear as I traipsed out into the real world. I have to admit I was a bit shell-shocked. Every sound, every sensation was a rainbow, an explosion of sound and light and happiness. I checked into a cozy little room overlooking a meadow, with a bed and a desk and a poster of Buddha,room enough to do some yoga, with a cute little family for eh, 2$ a night. I then put on my walking shoes and traipsed all over the place. From Bagsu to McLeod Gang my smile erupted on my face and every passer by was given love and compassion. Even the creepy leering dudes. But I didn't care. Then that moment, I realized. I'm alone. I'm walking wherever I want to do whatever I want. Everything I do from this point onward is in my control, every joy every anguish. I control it all. I exuded bliss from my every pore. The sun was shining, the air cool and calm, the trees smelled like heaven.
Interrupted from my own personal music video someone shouts my name and I'm pulled back into reality. Its Constance! This beautiful, joyous, cuter than your moms best apple pie French girl I lived with at Sadhana. I hug her and we excitedly chat about Vipassina, which she is intending on doing in a few days. Along with her boyfriend Silvan we wander the streets and Bam! There's Lucy, then Tony and Maddie show up, then Marcel comes out of the woodwork, the I see Nicholas! Its like a badass Sadhana reunion and we duck inside a Tibetan restaurant to compare notes on Vipassina and what classes and activites everyone has been up to in Dharmsala.
So needless to say that whole being all by my self lasted about five mintues. But that's what happens when you set out alone-the universe throws all your friends at you.
So since monday I've been meeting Rotem and Nicholas and Marcel at the German bakery for breakfast or dinner, sitting around chatting and eating and watching them practice juggling. I walk billions of stairs to and from my guesthouse and hills to McLeod Gang and to the Vipassana center. I go to the Tibetan Dali Lama approved clinic and get some good ol Tibetan Doctor to check me out. (I've had diharrhea for like eh, 3 weeks)I'm given some eating advice and some weird pellets that look like rabbit poo to ingest 3xdaily for 3 weekks. I have done yoga and gotten a total oiled up boobie grabbing ayurvedic massage. I've eaten spagetti and sushi and hot chocolate and tibetan bread. I sleep in my cozy bed with my warm tibetan shawl until way late (830) compared to 4am at Vipass. I meditate in the morning and in the evening for an hour each. Which is exceedingly hard outside the Vipassina center but I am giving it my all. I smile and smile and walk and eat slowly. I shop for beautiful earings and crazy Indian goddess stickers. I flashdance it up in my room to my ipod. I have taken cooking classes and read books and written in my journal. The days in Dharmsala are sucked dry like honey from a stick. Always ending the evening having dinner with friends at this cafe or that. Tony and Maddie are having a dinner party at their guesthouse tonight making momos and guacomole. I leave on monday to Delhi to be reunited with Jen who I haven't seen in almost two years. And although I will be sad to go and could probably stay in Dharmsala forever, I will not cling to it. I will live in the present, and right now I will get off the internet.

Sitting Still with the three Liz's

2009-05-16T01:15:00.001-07:00

Vipassana meditation.
Yes we're still on it. After we actually began vipassan-ing
things really started to get interesting. Pain erupted from every pore
every kneecap, every back muscle,every inch of my dead asleep feet. I
began to panic and dread the moment when after sitting for about thirty
minutes, things would begin to ache. The goal is to observe each
sensation with equanimity and recognize that each sensation is
impermanent. And for one entire hour ignore the reaction of moving when
you sense pain, or clinging when you sense a pleasant sensation. The
pains we are feeling,Goenka says are built up from past Sankaras.
A Sankara, he tells us is a very strong reaction to a sensation. For
example, a line drawn in water disappears immediately, a line drawn in
sand disappears after time. But a deep rooted Sankara is like a line
etched in stone with a sharp rock. It takes quite a long
time to undo the damage of a reaction as severe as this. So things like
anger and hate and ill will and passion and craving.These can all turn
into deep rooted sankaras,
which in turn makes you miserable. And I have a shitload of these in my
past, therefore a shitload of pain? I just keep telling myself anicca anicca, impermanent, impermanent.But sometimes it really hurts. The possibilities
of examples for this in my life are endless. Someone bumps into you on
the street. You react with anger.Hey that person just bumped into me.
Then you stew over it for a while making yourself miserable with anger,
why did that person do this to me? Why did they have to bump into ME of
all people. They must be a horrible person who has no care about anyone
else, and so on and so forth. You put all your effort into hate and in
turn it is you who are making yourself feel bad. No one else controls
your reactions but you. You control your mind. You are your own master.
And if you generate hate and anger and craving and ill will you become
miserable. And constantly blaming outside forces for your own
reactions. Well that is just crazy isn't it.

There are so many more things about Vipassina
that appeal to me. Its scientific, non-sectarian, universal appeal.
Buddha used this technique to become Buddha. But it isn't aBuddhist meditation technique. Goenka
tells us that he has nothing against this religion or that religion.
However he says that when a person puts their faith in objects or
rituals or gods or priestsor chanting when something bad happens or
when they want something good to happen. Then regardless of the result,
all the credit is given to the object they placed at the altar, or the
rosary they repeated, or the clergy member who blessed them. Sometimes
people can expect religion to be magic and to replace thingsirreplaceable or to undo sankaras
that only you yourself can create or not create. And example he gave
from Buddha. A son came after his father had died begging Buddha to
bring his father to heaven. Buddha knew the reality but instead asked
the boy to bring him a big bucket of stones and a bucket of butter. And
the son is so grateful,oh Buddha is going to perform someceremony to purify my father. And Buddha tells the son to place both buckets in this pool of water. The stones sink to the bottom
and the butter floats to the top. Then Buddha tells the son to make the
stones rise to the top and the butter sink down to the bottom. But the
boy replies that stones are heavier than water and will always sink.
And butter is lighter than water and so will always float. That is just
the way it is.Ahh Buddha says, so if your father was a kind, compassionate, light person he will float. And if he was heavy with sankaras and ill will he will sink. That is just the way it is.

And
a billion more stories like that really helped me to grasp this
technique. And how to use the technique in my own personal life in
order to free myself from misery and begin to walk on a path of
liberation. No God or Gods, no rosaries, no chanting, no rituals to
perform three times at Buddha orJesus's feet. The strength comes from
within. To be your own master. To control your own mind. The technique
goes hand in hand with the philosophy. You are sitting there. You are
observing your sensations. Your leg has fallen asleep and this rock
hard leg has turned into a bundle of pain.If you think in your head.
Okay this is a sensation, lets see how long this lasts, you don't
generate moresankaras and are training your mind to not react like it
has your entire life. If you sit there and say this is pain,this is the
biggest pain I've ever felt in my entire life, I can never imagine any
pain worse than this pain, oh it hurts it hurts I must react to this
pain and get out of it. Because that is what you have done your entire
life. You react. And boy is this right about me. I react emotionally,
irrationally, angrily, clinging, craving, the works. I am a textbook
example of asankara ridden person. So obviously when Im sitting there and the past sanakaras
are arising and passing arising and passing. (Quite painfully I might
add) I just keep telling myself. Listen, this takes time. You've led a
long passionate, angry life and you have a lot of work ahead of you.

This technique has helped me realize many things I have been
contemplating since I've been traveling. First of all I have been very
aware of my anger and certain darker aspects of my personality. I would
find myself indescribably angry at Juli for this thing or that for like
six months straight. And it was all me. All my reactions to situations
and allchurning and burning in misery in my body. Thus me getting sick
all the time and stressing myself out. I am so set in my ways and I've
been reacting all my life. I lose something i clung to, I throw a
tantrum. Someone does something I don't like I hate them. Instead of
observing and using my mind I just blow up like fireworks and the
littlest thing. My leg is uncomfortable from sitting so long and I
almost cry from the pain. But the truth, the undeniable truth, is that
everything passes. When I was sitting there, looking back at all the
anger and hate and passion and pain in my life,none of it is still
here, and none of it lasted forever. I was so angry and trapped in
Australia and thought I would never be happy or free again. And did
that last forever? No. Did God save me? No. It was only me, after
months of misery who finally acted to take myself out of that misery.
When I am hungry. All I can imagine is eating french fries from IN'N'OUT.
That is the only food that can satisfy my hunger. Its all I can think
about. I think I'll never be satisfied again. I could die from this
hunger. Then I don't get the fries and I become miserable because I was
clinging to them to save me and then things didn't go my way.
I
am in pain, lots of flesh has been ripped from my arm and it throbs
with the sensation of blood. I think I'll never use my arm again, it
will never heal. This purple iodine is going to be on my wrist forever
like a purple seahorse. My life is over. Misery.
All these things passed. My anger passed, my hunger passed, my pain passed. Every thing passes. Everything is anicca. Impermanent.
So
I am going to continue with my practice. Because it is exactly what I
have needed my whole life to bring myself out of an endless cycle of
misery. I feel so happy these days because everything that makes me
happy is due to my own action. And I know that I am in control. And
while thesankaras are still coming up every morning and evening in meditation, I am trying my best to reduce the amount of new sankaras being generated.
Craving is a tough one, because boy does the Liz love a good meal and some good shopping and her hot boyfriend.
Anger, Ill Will, etc. Those are difficult as well but I am taking things day by day and ooing my best to observe myself and to be present in every moment and to be careful with every thing that I do.

So
yeah,and so much more but honestly I just can't write about it any
longer. I am so thankful to everything in my life that brought me to
this moment. To all the crazy coincidences that led me through all my
experiences in life, because without them I wouldn't be here in this
state. If it weren't for every irrational and passionate reaction I've
made my whole life to every situation. I wouldn't have experienced pain
and shame and love and anger and death all in one month in India. I
wouldn't have stumbled onto thisVipassana meditation which happens to
be in this beautiful crisp mountain environment. I wouldn't have
happened to be on Day eight of my silent meditation, following Buddhas
technique for liberation on the exact same day of the Full Moon under
which Gautama attained enlightenment, nirvana, and became Buddha.
And thats all I have to say about that.

Mad Person

2009-05-15T00:45:00.000-07:00

Day one of Vipassina Meditation begins as the bell rings at dark and cool 4 am and excitedly I trudge up to the meditation hall and begin to try to meditate. Which is extremely difficult and I almost fall asleep and do that jerking awake motion about a million times. Somehow the hours pass until 630 and we are freed for breakfast. Goenka's voice is growing on me but my mind is crazy. Now being almost two weeks I can't really remember details very well but I will share some of the crazy things my mind went to in those first couple of days. We are told to have a calm and attentive mind and to focus solely on our breathing, in and out, nostrils, etc. HEllA boring after even like five minutes, so obviously I go a traipsing in my head. I cry about Mali, I think about memories together and her family and her birthday is coming up which makes me cry more that I can't be at home and celebrate her life with her friends and family and properly mourn. I think about past regrets and mistakes I have made. About stupid things said and harsh reactions to things. I think about fond memories of me and Sean doing the simplest but most joyful things like walking around the ave together. I go through my ENTIRE wardrobe at home and think about all the things I will wear when I return. I write the entire book about my year of travel. Story by story. Chapter by Chapter. I start to think of titles. Maybe it should be "Anywhere but Here" because I can never stay in the moment. Case in point.
I start having vivid fascinating fantasies about piles of fresh pineapple and watermelon and mango. My mouth starts to water. I think about sex WAAAAY too much. As my friend Lucy said. "I thought about sex more than I thought I think about sex". Haha. I go into a play by play schedule of the rest of my trip in India. I fantasize about being in Sweden and riding a bicycle around Stockholm, drinking tap water, wandering around the streets alone and not being stared at, etc. I plan the entire next year of my life. When I'm going home, what I'll be wearing, who will I hang out with for my birthday, what will I eat. I go through all the restaurants in Reno thinking about the best one to work at and what schedule I would like once I'm hired. I think about teaching and decide I want to do it and then start the application process for teaching programs(in my head) to a bunch of schools in southern California. I start planning my next traveling.
I AM FUCKING CRAZY
The days pass and I get restless and I start panicking on day two. I cant just sit here and focus on my breath for EIGHT MORE DAYS. I really start to freak out. The morning seems to pass quickly but the afternoons drag on with hour after hour of meditation and I am so weak and am starting to eat a little food but the past few days of nothing are catching up to me. Then at the evening discourse on day two Goenka tells us that days two and six are the hardest (he is soo right) and that Ana Purna is over tomorrow and we start actual Vipassina meditaion. Then the ENTIRE third day goes by and nothing new. And the discourse comes and nothing new. There is a long pause during Goenkas instructions and I start planning my escape from nostril and the area below the nostril and above the upper lip focus.
Then Goenka begins. Focus on the top of the head, and go through the body part by part, piece by piece. Observe the sensations and react with equanimity. FINALLY! Something new to do. I go to bed fast and hard and have crazy dreams because I am a crazy lunatic.

Ahhh Vipassana

2009-05-14T01:03:00.000-07:00

Vipassana Meditation retreat in Dharmsala. What I have needed most in my life for so long and I am so lucky to have taken myself there. And it was a trek. Literally up a massive hill in altitude sweaty and full of amoebas in my tummy. But after a ridonculously horrific and painful knee throbbing busride I just wanted to move. I spent day zero weak and tired and hoping that my stomach would heal so I could meditate. Dharmsala is where the Dali Lama lives and many other Tibetans refugees. It feels like Tibet. It feels like a new world. The air is cool and the trees are piney and tall and the monkeys swing from them like its a branch grabbing relay. The himalayas surround the valley and villages perch atop winding cliffs and spread out into valleys scattered with Tibetan prayer flags. Its just what I've needed. Theres so much to write and so little energy I have now so I'll just do a little at a time.
Day Zero: May 1st I arrive and register, and hand over my money and passport and camera and books and writing materials. I am given a double room which I share with a lovely Canadian yoga teacher named Maryanne. I take a freezing shower and go to the mingling area. Tony and Lucy from Sadhana are there as well as Tony's friend Maddie. And we chat about the upcoming who knows what for a bit and then go our seperate ways. I take a massive nap and wake in time for the orientation talk and the first meditation.
Now I've never meditated in my entire life. First of all.
The rules are pretty simple. Follow the schedule. Maintain Noble Silence. Don't leave early.
The schedule for the next ten days is as follows:
4am wake up bell
430-630 morning meditation in the hall
630-800 Breakfast break
8-9 Group Meditation in hall
9-11 Meditate in the hall or residence as per teacher's instructions
11-12 Lunch
12-1 Rest/Meet with the teacher if you want
1-230 meditation in the hall or your room
230-330 Group meditation in the hall
330-5 meditate in the hall or your room as per teach's instructions
5-6 Tea break
6-7 Group meditation in the hall
7-830 Teachers discourse in hall
830-9 group meditation in the hall
9-930 question time with teacher in the hall (if you want)
930 retire to own room lights out.

After some milk tea and polenta which i struggle to eat and can immediately feel the amoebas dancing it out on we have the first meditation. We crowd into the calming and peaceful meditation hall and are given our seat assignment, a meditation cushion, and begin? I cant even remember what happened that night but when the hour was up you hear this auuuuugggggghhhhbbbbbbrrraaaaaaaaa like froglike weird noises which turn out to be the teacher Goenka singing. And he gives this long chant and I sat there like what the hell is going on this is SOOO not singing. This is like a groan you make when you ate too much. We are told to sit in silence and focus on our breath. Easier said than done as my mind starts going a million miles a minute.
We are shown a discourse and Goenkas poo bear face shows up and gives us a little more info.
Then off to bed and the silence begins.
Which I was totally cool with until I close the blinds and this massive TARANTULA is on the window next to where I'm sleeping. And I can't kill it. I motion to my roommate and we ridiculously and silently try to maneuver the beast out of our room. It was hillarious. But i just laughed to myself and totally crashed.

more later. i'm exhausted

http://www.dhamma.org/

Varanasi and Dysentery

2009-05-01T00:47:00.000-07:00

Varanasi seems like a million years away but still worth a little blog action. Julia and I headed there after Lucknow and arrived in hot, sticky, stinky but still charming, old and compelling Varanasi. One of the oldest cities in the world and a site where if one dies you gain instant moksha or spiritual enlightenment. So there are tons of hella old people hanging around waiting to die. People carry the bodies of their deceased wrapped in gold and silver foil down to the burning ghats and ceremoniously burn the bodies near the Ganges. The Ganges; so sacred and purifying. And... full of crap. Garbage and dead bodies and all kinds of hella nasty shit that I'm not about to tip a steel boot into. Took a boatride in the evening one night and got to see some people bathing and doing rituals. Went to a puja one night which is this i don't know what ceremony the priests perform every night. Complete with incense and bells clanging and people nonstop taking pictures of me on their cell phones. Met some really nice people and spent an evening with the power out wandering through creepy darkened alley ways in Varanasi trying to find the guesthouse. It was intensely hot, but a great little city. Julia and I ran into like five Sadhanans and three of which were at our same guesthouse, so we got to chill on rooftops and eat overpriced slow ass food and chat in the evenings.
And then I get back to Delhi sick as a dog with stomach amoebas churning and whipping about my intestines. And so I went to the hospital in Delhi in case it was something because I knew I'd have to sit in Vipassana for ten days
and didn't want to be sick.
And that was an interesting experience.

Get to the hospital.Sit down at this table with a doctor. Tell him my symptoms. He writes a prescription. I get the prescription filled and some blood drawn. They sign the sheet and send me on my way. I don't even pay. They don't even ask my last name. And this is a nice ass hospital. The whole thing took about twenty minutes.
Oh India.
So i get back and check out the prescriptions and find out that what they've given me is for three possible ailments. Baccilic Dysentery, Amoebic Dysentery, or Giardia. I narrow it down to bacilic dysentery because of my symptoms and fever. Dysentery in Delhi. So much fun.
Then I took an overnight busride from hell to Dharmsala for some much needed silence and meditation and for hopefully the antibiotics to kick in.

Lucky Now

2009-04-25T00:02:00.000-07:00

O.M.G.
Thank all the India Gods for Anna. After a riDICULOUS night on the train from Agra, we arrived in Lucknow to visit my friend from Seattle, Anna. But first- the train ride over here, was eh, interesting. Our train was set to leave at 1130pm and as the train pulls up- BAM- the power goes out. The train is whizzing past us careening to a halt, Julia and I are totally freaked out and are surrounded by Indian men, we clutch each other for comfort and wait for it to turn back on. But knowing Agra it could be a while. And all of the sudden, from either side these legless Indian guys come crawling towards us like a scene from a horror film. Dragging their legs and reaching up like those creepy unfortunate souls Ursula cursed in the little mermaid. Julia and I scream like Carrie Bradshaw and run towards the train and jump on the first carriage we can. Yup. That really just happened. Then we find our bunks and settle into sleeper and play a few games of gin. I decide to go to bed at about midnight or so and plug the ol ipod in and cuddle up to all my belongings. And a little while later I wake to hear the girls above us singing. Oh beautiful Indian songstresses. Yeah right. She sounds like a cat giving birth. Without painkillers. And at one point, I can't tell if I'm delirious or not but I'm pretty sure they are having some kind of sing off. Complete with musical accompaniment from their cell phones. And this shit show continues for the next five hours. We're given a teensy break between five and six am to sleep when the stupid whores finally disembark. Man. I must have some bad karma from my loudness in my youth, and I'm hoping that the train ride has wiped my slate clean with comeuppance.
So we arrive in Lucknow at 5:50am. Sleep deprived and unbelieving what went on during the trainride, Julia and I couldn't have been more overjoyed to see Annas smiling face at the station. She whisks us away speaking Hindi to the auto driver and soon we are in her clean girl pad. Complete with shampoo smells and comfy pillows.
After a gloriously clean shower in a gloriously clean bathroom, Anna makes us coffee and we chat over peanut butter and bread and yogurt. I am in HEAVEN.
Anna has Internet and a fridge and a couch and the comfiest bed I've slept on in ages. We spend the whole day relaxing. At one point she orders pizza and Julia and I find ourselves sitting on her bed, watching the Office and eating spicy vegetarina pizza from... Pizza hut? Am I in India? We also watched some arrested development and took a nap. Later that evening we went into Lucknow and ate dinner with some of their friends and it was a going away dinner for a friend of theirs who was heading back to Afganistan. And the cheeky man paid for the whole dinner! It is the Afgani way, he says. Well, it was delicious and that man has got some good eatin karma that is for sure.
That night I slept in an AIR conditioned room, on a bed, for like ten hours straight. Simply amazing.
And the next day awoke to more coffee and delicious breakfast-ness. Went around Lucknow to get train tickets and some other things and in the afternoon, Anna took us to a spa nearby her house and we got freaking pedicures! I felt so sorry for this guy you have no idea. When he asked the date of my last pedicure I just bowed my head in shame. UH. I've been traveling. You need every twenty days. Yeah yeah. And for an hour this guy pumped it out, breaking a sweat while scrubbing the Sadhana and street and train off of my feet. And yes, breaking the skin as well. HO AH. I got to sit in a massage chair and read a book and be totally relaxed. And now my toes are spring flower pink and I feel like a princess.
That night we ate delicious home cooked Indian food cooked by Annas housekeeper.
Then I took a shower, put on some jeans and a nice shirt, put on makeup for the first time in a LONG time, and we went clubbing? This club called Zero in Lucknow.
Wow. Right when you walk in, other than the bouncer with the bulletproof vest the first thing that caught my eye was a toddler on his dads shoulders with that wide open gaping cry face going on. And beautiful women in shinny diamond sparkly saris, and Indian beefcakes in tight shirts. We met up with some more of Annas friends and danced the night away. I decided I'm not going to drink while in India, and although the mocktails were tempting, we just boogied with the Aunties and the babies and the hilariousness of it all just cannot be conveyed. Funny but it wasn't my first dance party in India, (the Auroville dance party at the visitors center was primero) but I haven't been into a dance club in quite a while, but it was good fun and lots of shoulder shimmying and lightbulb screwing in moves along with the good ol standby finger pistols.
Sadly we have to leave today, onto Varanasi which cannot be missed, although Anna and Elizabeth and Athena got HELLA sick just coming from there, so I'll be quite cautious.
I feel rested and relieved and rejuvenated and I thank Anna and Elizabeth and Athena for opening up their home to me and giving me some much needed r and r.

Agra-vated

2009-04-22T04:59:00.000-07:00

Holy Cow.
I've never felt soo not into a place in my ENTIRE life. I get that Agra is the home of the Taj Mahal and a product of all the tourists, blah blah blah. But I want out. In fact Julia and I tried EXTREMELY hard to get out yesterday(a day early) to no avail. For the first time ever I bought my train ticket right when I arrived, thinking two days in Agra would suffice. A friend from Seattle, Anna lives nearby in Lucknow and we planned to visit her after Agra. We'll get to crash at her pad and get the in on what it's like living in India. Good plan eh? Unfortunately two days equals three nights and three days when your train leaves at 1130 pm. And by noon yesterday we'd already exhausted our patience, seen the Taj Mahal and eaten tons of Tibetan bread. We'd been stalked by rickshaw drivers, followed by randoms, stared at like there's no tomorrow, my shop! my shop! yes! FUCK OFF DUDE! Julia and I were seriously running out of patience with this place and just itching to go. To get out!Our train didn't leave for another entire day. So we buzzed over to the train station hoping to get the ticket changed to Tuesday night instead of Wednesday night. And the ASShole at the counter brushed me off and just said it was all good. So we packed our bags and waited and waited until 1130 rolled around. We were ON the train. Granted we didn't have seats, and I KNEW our ticket was for the wrong day, and tried all my bullshitting and begging and PLEADING skills to get us a seat on that train. WE'll pay more! We'll sit anywhere! just please let us get the fuck out of this god forsaken town! No. train is completely full. And finally we just sat by the bathrooms near 2nd class a.c. and the train was practically moving when some douchebag mustachioed Indian railway rent a cop busted us and kicked us off the train. And there we sat. On a bench in the Agra train station, as our train rolled away without us. No Lucknow for us. At least not yesterday night. Defeated, we slumped out of the station, hopped regretfully into a rickshaw and went back to Taj Ganj aka hell. Our guesthouse was closed but luckily the Internet was open and I called Anna and told her that we would not be in Lucknow in the morning, because our Luck, Now, is out? haha. I just came up with that right now. Luck. Now.? Anyone? Beuler?
I almost cried but just didn't. So we missed the train. We'll go today, and that is the last we'll ever have to see of Agra. In the span of things this shit storm is not even close to the worst thing that has happened to me lately, and I just have to think of it as a fact of life. Julia and I were meant to spend another day in Agra.
So after a great long night's sleep. We woke and decided we're not leaving the guesthouse. We just will hang out all day and nap and read and eat some food, and not be bothered by Agra. We are stuck here. Let's make it a resting day. And it has actually been great. Some pineapple juice and iced tea and toast with strawberry jam and fruit salad for breakfast. Watched a really good movie and the nice 16 year old Indian restaurant manager was kind enough to keep us up to date on what was happening in the film. Which was kinda like Memento and Kill Bill and Bollywood's love child movie. And then had a nice little nap. The some curry and chapatti and a cola. Julia and I even got cooling head massages by the kid who works there, and Julia got her shit rocked by what looked like a semi painful shoulder massage, but I think it'll probably straighten her right out. So we have just been hanging out, talking to the boys and hearing about Bollywood stars and where they filmed scenes for Slumdog Millionaire around here, and how the scenes that they were in got cut, etc. And now, in the cool a.c. I realize that its all good. And I'm eagerly anticipating seeing a friendly face at the train station tomorrow morning, and moving on to a new place in India.

The Taj Majal

2009-04-21T02:59:00.000-07:00

Traveling again. Sweaty, dirty, tired, hungry, thirsty. Excited, happy, thrilled, amazed, shocked, pissed off, annoyed, delighted. India is a shock to the senses. Staring, oh baby oh baby. Julia and I get stared at like nobody's business. Is it my shaved head? or my super pasty white skin? Is it the fact that I'm a woman? Is it my crazy sunglasses? Whatever it is, I've gotta get used to it because being pissed off at it does no good. After a few days in Delhi though I've gotten well used to something. Used to the impecable metro system they have and to the crappy streets, and the delicious chai everywhere. We got some henna, watched some bollywood, ate lots of Thali and explored around Welcome( not really that great) and went to the Red Fort. This massive expanse left over from the Munghal empire. So massive that a nap was in order. On the grounds. In the shade. Traveling aka walking really takes it out of me these days.Julia (not Juli.) and I took the train to Agra yesterday and today we went to see the Taj Majal. And this place is haggle central RICKSHAW! YES! COME SEE MY SHOP! but we found a nice little spot with tibetan breakfast bread and cold coffee and the best Thali I've had yet in India. Its called Lucky Cafe in Taj Ganj. Go there. have thali. ask no more questions.
The Taj Majal was nothing short of amazing. Blinding in its spleandor, exhausting in its heat and size of the grounds, we wandered all morning till we just couldn't wander anymore. I know its supposed to be a testament to love. The wife of the emperor died while birthing her 14th child (damn!) but I also read that it is a refrence to the fact that the emperor fancied himSELF and modeled it after heaven because he thought he was god, etc. I dont know what is up but I am so glad to have seen it. It was amazing to all the haters who said don't see it. But I will say, Agra is a shit show and I'll be glad to bounce outa here.
And again on my life and pondering it in India. Apparently bad things don't only come in threes, they come in any number until you've learned. My life was again checked yesterday upon the realization that my dear friend Mali died suddenly. Just a headache turned into brain damage and then she was gone. She is a mother of two beautiful young children and a wife and a sister and a daughter. She is such a huge part of my life. She babysat me frequently when I was growing up and when I grew old enough I babysat her children in return. She was one of the kindest, happiest, most selfless people I have every known and I'll never get to see her again. And again here I am in India so far removed from this life of mine and I wish I could be there to celebrate her life and to give some form of anything to her loved ones. I feel so helpless and I feel empty inside. I will regret not seeing her more and not doing all the things together that we could have and I'll never get any of that time back. If I've learned anything lately it is that life is short and sudden and rash. I'm so thankful for everyone in my life and even if I can't show everyone every day I do think of all the people in my life often throughout my journeys. Mali was with me at the Taj Majal today and I'll take her with me throughout India and to Sweden and Greece and wherever else my life takes me. I am so thankful for her influence in my life and for all the grace she has shown me. To everyone reading this, I love you and I am thankful for you. Mali, I love you. I miss you.

The Departed

2009-04-21T01:15:00.000-07:00

I've neglected my dear blog and I do apologize. I've had a whirlwind few weeks and blogging is the last thing I've been inspired to do. First Sadhana. After six weeks living and volunteering and veganing it up I began to feel the travel itch once again. It just so happens that a few girls from Sadhana were heading up towards Delhi around the same time I felt like leaving so I decided to roll up with them on the train. A few turned into six of us western ladies smooshed in the middle of an Indian sleeper carriage. There were times when I felt so sad to be leaving Sadhana, times when I felt relieved, and times when i couldn't even think about anything at all. For the first time in seven months I felt like I had found a home. I lived there for six weeks. Longer than I'd spent anywhere during my travels since I'd left home. I met so many amazing people there and I know that I'll be back at Sadhana in the future. I laughed, I cried, I pooed( a lot) I danced and sung, I ate, I sweat ed a hell of a lot, I crashed, I puked, I swam, I rode, I slept, I cooked, I talked and I learned. And all things in between. Living in a community taught me many things about myself and my life and I know I'll keep on learning from my experiences at Sadhana for a long while to come. On a spiritual note, I've been feeling like the universe is trying to tell me something lately. My life in India has taken many turns, many happy and helpful, but many more tragic and humiliating and painful. And I keep asking myself why are all these things happening to me now, in close proximity to each other, and in India? Possibly to grow as a person in as difficult an environment as possible? To learn the value and glory of life? To slow down? To take chances, to not take chances? To try new things and throw myself out of my comfort level and into the traffic of India? I have been struggling with all these questions, and I hope through some meditation and some time spent at an ashram I will find some guidance from within.
After falling off the motorbike I fell into different patterns of thought. Thoughts of how short life is, and how quickly things can change and how fragile human beings are. I felt stupid for taking myself far away from all the people I love so dearly to selfishly explore on my own. I felt sad to be away from my family and friends and Sean when it was all i wanted. Luckily I was surrounded by loving friends and the first week after I managed quite well considering it would have been prime material to jump ship and fly home with. And after returning to Sadhana I wandered around like a lost soul not knowing where I fit in and where I could go from here. I knew when I felt ready I would know and the traveling would begin again. So I got back into the community and all that it entails, and one day I woke up and knew I was ready to move on. And i busted out the guidebook from the bottom of my backpack and excitedly began planning.
That afternoon I checked my email and found out that my mentor and friend from UW Printmaking program, Larry Sommers had passed away from a heart attack. I sat at the computer at Sadhana shocked and saddened and helpless. If I was in a daze before it was nothing compared to the sadness I felt at Larry's loss. He was there from the very first printmaking class I took at school. Always in his office ready for political discussions and xeroxing and printmaking talk. He helped me to become the artist and person I am today and I am forever indebted to him for all his guiding help and friendship. The loneliness and helplessness that comes with losing someone never gets any easier. And being in India, the closure thing doesn't really happen because I'm so far removed from that reality.
Shit my pants. Got in a motorbike accident. Lost a friend. Terrible things always come in threes right? Yeah I thought so too.
Leaving day at Sadhana was extremely difficult. It came sooner than any of us expected. And Josh and Tobin, two people I really love and am so grateful to have met at Sadhana had just returned two hours before we were all set to leave. But we hugged and waved and hopped in the taxi, and said goodbye to my Indian home.
And let the travelling begin. Five western ladies crusing in the back of an Indian bus filled with nothing but Indian men. Munchin on doughnuts and samosas and sugary drinks oh my goodbye to healthy vegan commune life. Traveling in India is crazy exhausting. Heat and staring and crazy sidewalks and interesting? smells and you never really know what is going on. However after a taxi and a bus and another bus and a bit of a walk we landed in our train compartment, met up with Ava, a lovely greek girl we had met in Auroville and began the 36 hour train journey from Chennai to Delhi.
All I did for that thirty something hours was sleep and eat and sweat and repeat. The sleeper was surprisingly comfortable and you sort of get used to dozing off and waking up to a dozen Indian men staring at you. The veg briyani and chai is ever flowing and you dont even have to leave your seat to indulge in ice cream and samosas and idli and eughhh tons o crap.
We pulled into Delhi bright and early at about 7 in the morning. And the city greeted me with eh, lets say about twenty guys pooing alongside the train tracks with their dongs hanging out. Hell-O INDIA! Jess led us around through Paraganj and into a guest house and we'd made it!
also i dont know why the first few pictures are so big, but it took so long to upload them that i'm leaving it!

Nothing Compares, NOTHING COMPARES, to you

2009-04-12T02:47:00.000-07:00

In other news I shaved my head. I originally was going to grow my hair out for the year I was gone. Well. I got halfway there. Plus I've been wanting to shave my head for ages now and Jess was going to get hers re-buzzed. So I decided to do the do. And there it went. Curly brown locks onto the saloon floor across the street from Richy Rich. I suppose not the most flattering look at this moment( lets say, i need to eh, ease up on the Richy Rich). But I figured now or never dude and what better way to NOT get stared at in India than to be a total gringa with rosy cheeks and a shaved head? RIight. But I figure, they were going to stare anyways, might as well give them something to talk about. It was such an amazing feeling riding home and feeling the air on my head and not sweating a bunch while sleeping, and feeling the mosquito net against my head. I love it. And I'm definitely all face now. I feel amazing, still hot, but India is hot so what else is new. I like it so much I might keep shaving it for the rest of my travels just so i dont have to worry about shampoo and conditioner anymore. Ha. Eugh. But when I wear these eighties ray ban glasses with shimmery reflectors I get a bit of a Powder feel( you know that movie) so i might need some new shades. Anyways... that is all

A bump in the road

2009-04-01T00:04:00.000-07:00

Life comes at you fast. One morning you're using a crow bar to dig holes for banana pits and doing headstands and the next morning you can't do either due to scraped up arms. Took a little spill on a motorbike and I've been holding up in a gorgeous garden surrounded guesthouse for the past few days. There's a lot of dirt at Sadhana and I didn't want any of that getting in my exposed skin. It's nice though, to get to relax and shower and read in the quiet afternoons. I'll head back to Sadhana soon though, I miss all the people there, just as soon as I'm sure everything is infection proof, things will start rolling again. Unfortunately due to the location of the injury I can't do my yoga headstands for a while, which i was getting so good at. But oh well, things could be worse. Life in Sadhana/India is going swell. I am constantly enjoying the company of the new people I am meeting and thinking about traveling plans for around India. Most likely I will start heading up the subcontinent in a few weeks and meet up with some friends and do some meditation and some yoga as well. And eat tons more hella good food. Anywho, think healing thoughts and I'll be back on the saddle in no time!

Another one bites the dust

2009-03-31T23:19:00.001-07:00

Since I am totally fine now, I think I'll post this. Warning: it's a bit graphic, but I am healed now so no need to worry.

Well. I fell off of a motorbike last week. Tony and I were on our way to a seitan workshop last friday and were crusing along on our scooter. Ahead in the road were an Indian couple and a herd of cows, and as we approached them one of their bulls with painted red and blue horns ran out in front of us in the middle of the road. And the Indian man that was walking him had just let go of the rope apparently. Tony was driving and tried to turn away from them and we ended up swerving and falling onto our right sides and getting dragged a bit along the road. It happened so fast. All of a sudden I was up and pulling the motorbike off of Tony's legs and moving it to the side of the road to examine the damage. And by the time I got over there the Indian couple and their mass of cows had vanished. I like to say that if Tony was a woman and had to cover up as much as I did that it wouldn't have been so bad for him. Because my long sleeved shirt and pants saved me a lot of skin. But I also lost a lot. So there we were shocked and on the side of the road halfway to Auroville. Tony was bleeding everywhere. His left hand had a missing chunk like someone had taken a melon baller to his skin. His left knee looked like a jawbreaker cut in half and was white with how much skin was missing. His shirt was ripped and his shoulder scratched but not too badly. His right forearm and right shin and foot were all tore up and everything was bright red. I took out a baby wipe from my purse and just stared at him wondering where to apply pressure. I headed to his knee and tried to dab some blood and his hand was horrific and I had no idea where to begin. We were both in shock. I didn't even cry, I was so relieved that we both hadn't hit our heads or broken anything and had lived that these wounds seemed like nothing to me at the time.
Luckily a few people from Sadhana were going to the seitan workshop and Jess and Tom drove past and saw us standing there shocked and covered in blood and pulled a u-turn. The scooter was fine and after Tony gathered himself enough to get back on a motorbike they whisked us up and drove us back to Sadhana. Again a Beach reference. We stumble into the camp covered in blood and tore the fuck up man. Its friday so everyone is hanging around enjoying themselves. Until we show up totally recked. Yorit knows a deal about homeopathy and pretty soon we had Raja and Yorit and Louisa and Daniel cleaning us up. It was when we got back to Sadhana that I finally saw my injuries. Yes my pants had largely saved my legs. I only skinned my knee a bit but the pants bore the brunt of it, and my havannas even saved my feet a bit of skin as well. But the shirt I was wearing was very thin and practically buckled from the dragging. Holes in the shoulder and elbow led me to believe earlier that there was some damage there. When I removed it there was a layer of my own skin from my shoulder attached to the shirt. My shoulder, elbow/forearm and top of my wrist were completely scraped of skin, it was pure white. But I was still in shock and not even in that much pain. Tony was screaming as they poured turmeric on his open wounds and tried to clean them. And yeah, the turmeric on a fresh wound. Not a walk in the park. And they bandaged us up and I was still feeling alright. A lot of pain from the cleaning and the turmeric but I was feeling alert and pretty much alright.

It wasn't until later when I was laying on my bed covered in my mosquito net staring at the ceiling that my mortality hit me. I just lay there crying for a good long while. I can't believe I didn't die. I can't believe I almost did die. I could've hit my head and ended up in a coma. I could have never seen Sean's or my family's faces ever again. I freaked out. I spent the rest of the night in a daze just zombie like wandering through the main hut. Dinner was had and Gilly cleaned and re-dressed our wounds. And poured this purple iodine on our wounds that I'm starting to get a little bit worried about. Like eh, this purple shit was poured onto my tenth under layer of skin and if other skin grows over I'm going to have warshak blot test tattoos all over my forearm and wrist. So hopefully this shit fades.

Saturday we decided to go to the hospital and have them clean and dress the wounds and then get a guesthouse for a while to prevent infection, and be in a sterile environment away from the Sadhana dirt and the staph infection that's been going around there. After breakfast we headed to the Auroville health clinic and had the flesh ripped off my arm as the bandages were removed. Then a torture session with a heavy handed Indian nurse who scrubbed and scraped and patted and cleaned and finally bandaged up my poor wounds. And I will say this. It was painful. It was like find a happy place make sure to breathe wish so bad you could be on drugs pain. I haven't felt pain like this in a good long while, in fact I'm not sure I ever have. My pain tolerance is unparalleled at this point. And after the torture session we went to Pondicherry.

The original idea was to stay at this ashram in Pondi but it was full so we ended up at Ganga guesthouse. Which was nice, pretty clean and had a good rooftop area to chill. But it was right on the street in Pondi, hella hot at night and just not what we needed to heal. So after an afternoon of relaxing and trying to not be in pain and a bad idea of going out to dinner, we decided to head back to Auroville.

Ahhh. That's what i felt upon arriving in Gaia's Garden guesthouse. Large bright white buildings flanked by towering green trees and palms and glorious red and purple flowers, birds chirping lily ponds little moats circling all the buildings, statues of Ganesh reclining amongst the flowers. Juli Squared (Juli and Julia) decided to stay with us as well and for less than 10$ us a night per person this oasis was ours. Complete with private bathroom, airy windows and a private terrace. We also got our laundry done and used the kitchen to make some mac n cheese mom sent me. And this is where I've been for the past four days. The first day I relaxed on the terrace because I was still wearing my bandages but yesterday and today I left them open so I've been keepin indoors. We have had so many visitors. I feel so much love coming from Sadhana every day, its magical.

Wilson came to visit us in Pondi the first day we were there. Then Jess and Jeff came to visit us along with Sheila the first day at Gaias. Then a surprise visit from Stacy, Raja, Josh, Tobin, and Sheila that night. And always with delicious treats and things. We had lunch from Sadhana delivered by Stacy and Daniel, pizza/movie night with a big ol posse, Nicolas and Aram stopped by to say goodbye cause they're leaving as well as Seb and all the others headed to the rainbow gathering up north. It is so great to see friendly faces when you are confined to a room(a beautiful, peaceful room. but still). I've really relished the wind moving through the room throughout the day, and frequent naps, and lots of water, and I've been reading and relaxing in this beautiful atmosphere.

There have been a few moments of incredible pain. Removing gauze that has grafted to my wounds, cleaning out with surgical solution and iodine to prevent infection. Even water burned like the sun for the first few days. But I might be over the pain marker at this point, and I can see some scabs forming, and I look forward to going back to Sadhana and seeing my friends. Although sadly many will have gone by the time I return, but this loss is all a part of living. Which, thankfully I am.

I've been in a lot of pain, but I've learned to breathe through it and send it somewhere positive. I know I will heal, and I will learn from this experience. I value my life immensely. I love Sean with everything I am and want to spend many many years alive together. I love my family and my friends and do not want to go on without them. I am so grateful for my health and for my rapidly healing body and I cannot wait until I am strong again.

Sadhana Forest

2009-03-19T03:26:00.000-07:00

These past two weeks have flown right on by me. I've met some incredible people, eaten some amazingly delicious food, and worked and sweated oh my! All this week I've been rising at 4:45am to begin yoga for an hour before first work shift begins at 6:30, then choose from either reforestation, eco dome building, gardening, cleaning, brekkie cooking, compost scoopin, poop stirrin, hand washing laundry, or any other random task around the community that needs to be done. Then breakfast which is a delicious fruit salad which alternates between acidic fruits and sweet every other day and some porridge with jaggery. Then second work takes place from 930 to 1130 and a variety of the same jobs or different can be done during that time. We each have jobs to do each week, everything from filling up the water around for hand/bum washing to feeding the dogs, safe key holder, main hut cleaner, wake up person( someone who sings or plays music, or hugs people to wake them up in the morning). Last week I was second work coordinator, this week I'm the dog/cat feeder. The easiest job is safe key holder, you just have to open the safe once a week,Juli did that one last week. And you can swim in the mud pools to cool off and do a mud mask, hop on the back of someone's motorbike to jet into Auroville for some helado and other delicious goods, or just lay in a hammock in read all afternoon.
Honestly, I'm having the best time and I don't know where the time has gone. I haven't really read any books or writen much or even drawn much. But I've been talking and talking and playing and joking around with all the awesome people I've met at Sadhana forest. Sheila, a beautiful Scottish soul whose singing almost brings me to tears and who even taught us traditional scottish dance last night. Tony, my Salt Lake City hommie who can tell some dead baby jokes like you wouldn't believe. Nicholas, the Belgian multitasker who everyday reveals a new skill, dancing, guitar, harmonica, french, spanish, thai massage, photography, and the list goes on...and who has very bad motorbike luck, two flat tires and one break down in like a week. Becca, a Yale painting student who came to Sadhana on her spring break and who every single day surprises me with something new and amazing and intruiguing and beautiful about herself. Jenny, the cutest English traveller who is sweet and shy and who has dreadlocks down to her butt. Seb, also english and man does he love his tea, and his manual labor, and his Indian head bob, which he does magnificently. Maddie, Australian and an artist she is organized and so funny and sings a beautiful Juno duet. And Yoav her boyfriend who sometimes looks like Jesus with his long beard and loincloth style sheet skirt, and who quotes forest gump and lebowski endlessly. Mohana and Malcolm, this cute Australian couple who meditate before and after meals and who sugary sweet and kind. Constance and Silva, French couple who are also very sweet and funny as well and so cute together it makes me a little jealous sometimes. Conan, Dutch chef du jour who makes the most bomb ass food ever such as this Indonesian dish with peanut sauce that i can't even begin to tell you about it was soo GOOD! Janine, who's cute German accent enlivens first work duties every morning which is not easy to do at 630 am. Inbal and Almog, who just left today sadly, both Israeli and a bit shy at first but so much fun to be around and Inbal is one badass yoga teacher. Of course Nadav, a tall hillarious Israeli guy who meditates and is aweosme to cook with. Julia, who is American and moving to Seattle soon so I gave her a full list of vegan restaurants to eat at when she goes there. Arno, from France who plays a good hand drum, and guitar and who is drawing up a storm every chance he gets. Small world as it is, Josh and Tobin are two guys from Seattle, and both went/go to UW and Josh was in my class, lived in Mercer during the same time and I even remember meeting him at a party at Matt's house sophmore year of college. So there you go. Running into someone from the same college dorm in a commune in India. Just another day. Josh has got the New York Jewish guy thing down to a T. Except he's from Seattle. But whatever, he's great comic relief for sure! Carrie and Greg, American. soo just loved hanging around them and swapping travel tips and stories and using heavy sarcasm. Of course Aviram and Yorit, the founders of Sadhana forest who generously open their community to all of us, and their children eight year old Osher, who is wise beyond her years and very kind; and baby Shalev who started WALKING since I've been here. And who is quite possibly the happiest baby I have ever seen in my ENTIRE life. If I ever have kids I want them to be as happy as this baby. Stacy said the other day that it reminds her of high school cause you can't really go anywhere cool and you just hang out all the time. Which is quite true. And more true cause I'm too chicken shit to ride a motorbike so I'm at the mercy of anyone with a car(aka moped) who can give me a ride and then i just go wherever they're going. There are tons of amazingly huge snakes, I saw one but it was little, so we're always on the lookout. And rats. And geckos and incredibly large buzzing beetles and bees and ants on steroids. I also watched baby Shalev eat a ball of salt today. She didn't spit it out. But I watched the whole process of disgust unfold on this one year olds face and it was hillarious. I feel comfortable and at home and it is great to be surrounded by friend. The vegan food is doing the body good, and the ice cream on the side is a slight slip up but whatevah, this place Richy Rich in Auroville is simply amazing. Many people left today and many people came recently, a few sweet Swedish girls, and some others I've yet to really meet but look forward to all of it. And If I've forgotton anyone thats because I'm soo playing the hot game in this internet cafe and have to get out of here.
Also. I shit my pants.
That's right everyone. I didn't know if this was blog appropriate, but after the Argentinean balls incident, I figured I had to devulge. Plus it is funny now. Not too soon, the INCIDENT occured last week. After about two days of being in India, I got such bad diharea that I couldn't make it to the bathroom last week. TWICE. On my third day of shitting my brains out and a little puking AND after the pants-pooping incident of 09'( aka pulling a Charlotte) I decided to cave and took a Cipro and I was better in less than 24 hours. Amen for some meds man. And anyone who has traveled through say, India or Bolivia or anywhere else and can join this particular club... I salute you, and I join you at last.

On that note. I'm outa here. Also I've decided to stay in India longer, see if I can't up my chances of another not quite making it incident. Just kidding. I just feel like Sadhana is a great place, it feels like a home, and I want to continue to explore what I can learn about myself there and I want to continue to voluneteer in this community. So another month or so in India so I can travel around a bit after about another month at Sadhana I think. Well, that's all folks.
Shitty Pants Andrews--Out!

India?

2009-03-07T04:20:00.000-08:00

Hot. Sweaty. Mustaches. Cows. Saris.

That's what I've got so far. Landed in Mumbai. Took a cab to the domestic airport. Slept in the airport. Took a 5am plane to Chennai, waited in that airport for Stacy. Met Stacy. Took a 2 hour taxi ride to Auroville. The roads here are crazy. Good thing Bangkok was a little bit of a warm up. Cows and beautiful women in saris and kids and families on motorbikes and loud music playing buses with people piled on the roof and rickshaws wizzing in and out all over the place. And the mustaches. OMG the Indian men all have these hillarious 1970's mustaches and they just crack me up, every single one. Even in the airport women are cleaning the floors while they are dressed in beautiful sky blue saris. Its unreal. We found a cafe in the Mumbai airport and got samosas and watched the news on the comfy couches till we got kicked out at 1130 pm and had to sleep in chairs clutching all our belongings until we could check in for our flight. So luckily Stacy emerged at the Chennai airport and we had booked a taxi that took us FOREVER out of Chennai to Auroville, this crazy community that i really do not know much about so just google it. And drove through crazy dirt roads until we didn't and I guess we're here? We get out and stumble into this crazy community. There are houses built of bamboo and straw and tons of gringos around and we just kinda walk in. If you've seen the movie the beach it pretty much paralleled the scene when they walk through the first day and everyone stares at them amidst their tasks. So we walk into the main hut. No idea what the fuck is going on, and everyone is really welcoming but all i can think is this sure doesn't look like Buddha Garden to me. First off- no garden or signs of a farm anywhere, and there are tons of people here. Stacy found her friend from college and luckily he showed us around a bit and gave us the gist of things. And turns out by a slight misunderstanding, I thought we were going to a different farm than Stacy did and turns out it isn't even a farm, its just a community. And you volunteer in the mornings and the rest of the day is yours to read or do yoga or motorbike into town or swim in the mud pools. And at first it was weird but they had this awesome no talent show the first night followed by some Indian guys doing some awesome drumming and the next night an eco film projection. I spent the first day making these bunds to divert the water during monsoon season and then helping cook lunch for eh 50 people and dinner for 150. It was crazy long and sweaty but a good day all in all. And I'm sweating and dirty and took a bucket shower today which was awesome.I'm sure there's more but I'm sweating in this Indian Internet cubicle and need to bust out!

Thailand in a nutshell

2009-02-28T00:13:00.001-08:00

Thailand Thailand where do I begin? I think I'll just ramble if that's okay. I love the food; everything about it. The freshness and spiciness and cheapness of it all. I love Thai iced tea and fried rice and banana chocolate pancakes. I love the 30 baht phad thai from street vendors. I could eat this food all day every day. Which I have been. The people in Thailand as well are warm hearted and kind and helpful except when they're hustlin you, which isn't too often. One thing I don't love is the streets and the traffic and the noise, I could do without crazy cars and motorbikes and tuk tuks swerving all around and honking all day and night. Cheap ass shopping and markets oh my! Massages. Inexpensive, sometimes painful, but awesome all the same. The King's glorious face on billboards and clocks and calendars and murals and well pretty much everywhere. Golden Temples and Buddhas and some of the coolest art and shiny craziness I've ever seen, only in Thailand. Not really Thailand but I'm including it here; Laos. I loved the baguettes and the cheap mojitos and the scarf buying. The slow boating and the bus riding I will always remember fondly because they taught me to be patient and I've carried it with me since. Tubing was a shit show but I loved it all the same. And I loved that hangover day afterwards as well. I will always remember the glorious week of fun I had with Jackie and Yumi when they spur of the moment decided to come and visit and I got to take them around and shock them with tuk tuks and street food and shitty train rides. And drunken buckets and street bars and chatting up new people and i did not love that hangover day no siree. Mostly it was just fun to see my friends and get to catch up and hang out no matter what we did. And although I was really sick, the time we spent on Railay was amazingly fun and relaxing and ohhh that ocean water. Eating at Mom's and drinking honey by the shotglass and bamboo tattoos and swimming with jellyfish and the kayaking adventures. I am very glad the Malaria scare went over well and negative most of all but it taught me as well to slow down and take it easy sometimes, and that sometimes not going according to the plan is just as good. I think I learned that most of all, that you can plan the shit out of something, but then life finds a way of putting its own spin onto things and you end up somewhere even better. Farming in Chiang Dao was a good time, mostly when I wasn't totally out of shape and going through sugar with drawls, but I got to meet some cool people and work hard and nap hard. Overall I loved my time here and I feel rested and healthy to begin my next adventure. And to begin the second half of my traveling year.

Chiang Mai Revisited

2009-02-27T23:11:00.000-08:00

Well I've been spending the last few days chilling out in Chiang Mai. Recuperating from farming, aka eating whatever I want and hardly doing any physical activity (besides getting cheap massages every day). And I came to notice something. In all the countries I've been to, there is always one town I happen to accidentally get stuck in for longer than anticipated. And it's all because of the farming. You have to go there before to get near to the farm, and you have to go back there after the farm to go anywhere else. In Argentina it was Mendoza, in Australia it was Melbourne, and in Thailand it's Chiang Mai. Notice anything? All M's. Anyways I thought it was weird. And in all these places I spent a lot of time on my own, just wandering around. And unlike the other places I visit where there are things to see and sights to visit, by the third trip you've usually covered all the bases. So I've been getting more of an extended look, a feel of what it would be like to live here. I find my favorite restaurant, I got there a lot and I have my areas where I like to hang out. In Mendoza it was the Green Apple Vegetarian restaurant with the best flan and veggie buffet, and I went to the massive park a lot to go jogging and explore and read. In Melbourne there were many fave food spots; lord of the fries might win out, or the 5$ Indian buffet place. And I would always find myself around Federation Square and frequenting all the art museums or wandering through the many parks and of course the Queen Victoria Market. And in Chiang Mai, it is most definitely DA bakery. Where i go every single morning for the bad-ass breakfast, and these delicious wheat rolls that are fresh from the oven, fresh squeezed tangerine juice and the best home fries I've had since Silence Heart Nest in Seattle. And I wander through all the food markets and clothing markets and up and around the giant moat that encircles the city. And I've read like three books and I just keep trading them at all the used book stores around town. The down time is good and gives me time to reflect on life and prepare for going to India.

Amee Doyer's Organic Farm

2009-02-25T02:50:00.000-08:00

Clement and Amee Doyer are the owners of the farm. Clement is from Quebec, Amee is Lisu, from Burma. They grow oranges and pineapple and papaya and rice and rubber. There are palm trees and banana palms and mountains and forest all around. The border to Burma is close and many people working and living on the farm are from there.They have piggies and doggies and chicks and roosters and mama hens. There are large ponds filled with fish, and an even larger "pond" that is pig shit, covered with lilies which grow out of the muck. It is vast and borders a national park so it is very quiet. I use this term loosely as quiet must mean to many peaceful escape from bustling streets and cars and chattering. But quiet here is only a repose during the rooster's napping. Because if there is light out, the 30 something roosters and hens, (not even counting all the babies) are chatting and calling out to each other all live long day. And the other women on the farm are up with the birds, chattering away as well on cell phones or to each other about god knows what but it honestly never ends.
I arrived on a Sunday the day of rest and was introduced to Claire, their friend visiting from Quebec, and Henrikes, a German wwoofer who are both very nice. Henrikes and I got to talking and turns out this is one very small world. A conversation on Gotan Project turned to Argentina, talk of Argentina led us to discover that we both visited there around the same time. And we both wwoofed in Tunuyan. And she wwoofed at the farm that Guillme and Gabrielle went to after they left Madre Tierra. So we had an interesting chat about our mutual friends and about Tunuyan, and turns out she even met Sergio of all people while trekking towards Chile. I tell you SMALL. WORLD.
So the first few days I got killed. Seriously I am out of shape. I was sweating and pounding the water and taking a million breaks. We were hoeing round the orange groves which is long and arduous and frustrating cause you know the weeds are just coming right back. We hauled cow shit to fertilize the trees, we cleaned the lilies off of the pig doo doo, and we hoed some more. The work is hard, but rewarding. My shoulders and back began to adjust(with the help of some daily yoga) and after the hump of day two I was doing good. Sadly Henrikes had to leave but later that very day Byron, a wwoofer from Alberta arrived to assist with the workload.
The work hours are 6/day. Usually up at 715 to eat brekkie of rice and something and get started working by 8am. Work 8 till noon then siesta till 3 or 4 and then work two hours in the afternoon. And boy did I siesta. Long, sweet, two hour hammock naps in the warm breeze. I would wake up groggy and without a shred of desire to pick up a zappo, but I did, eventually.
The food varied from rice and veggies sometimes with mystery meat I would eat around, to potatoes of every shape and size; chips, fries, hash browns, home fries, you name it. Delicious fruit; pomelo, pineapple, tangerine, rose apple, green mango, papaya, banana (the good little stubby bananas right from the farm too), etc. Claire made crepes one afternoon and banana cake the next.
And the evenings were spent watching endless episodes of Grey's Anatomy. Now in my 'normal' life, this has never been a show of much interest to me. But after suffering through the terrible, creepy, violent movies that are on constantly in Thailand, I welcomed the unoffensive television drama. Clement has a great collection of tv shows and movies and so the nights floated by lazily watching one show after the other while indulging in some delicious fruit or butter cookie.
They have a really cool contraption to heat water for showers. By placing a tea kettle of water on this contraption backed by mirrors and facing it towards the sun it heats the water throughout the day to be used for warm showers. From past farm experience, at least Argentina style, I am content with any water, and therefor was content with cold showers nightly as long as I could rinse the dirt and compost and caca de vaca off of me.
On Friday night, even though we still had to work Saturday, Byron and I started early to finish early and trekked into Ban lo Pahan to get some beers and ice cream. Byron accidentally bought a bottle of Chinese moonshine thinking it was beer, and let me tell you the gulp i took of it set me back for the entire night. Nothing better than a cold(ish) beer after a long day and even longer week working out in the sun. And I didn't even mind combining the taste of my chocolate ice cream with the cool beer, it was perfection.
A week and a half flew by when I think back now, but I remember the time crawling by when I was hoeing and it was only 945 and still two hours till lunch. I had a good time more or less, the good balancing the not so good and the work balancing the well, laziness of my trip thus far. I even saw a cock fight. A legit rooster brawl, it reminded me of the crazy girl fights on Jerry Springer. Where they're held back for a while and then charge, and held back and then charge. Except these roosters would stare down and then fly at each other and stare down and then claw away, hard too till one was bleeding. It was actually a bit scary at times. But pretty cool in the end, when a third rooster intervened, this big regal fucker came in and settled the whole affair. Badass. I also worked expressing oil from niger seed on this massive industrial oil machine which was pretty cool, and the seed comes out in these black cakes that look like play doh or strips of blackened beef jerky, and these are then fed to the pigs and chickens, and the oil is used for cooking. Like the delicious french fries I had cooked in the oil. It had a sweet taste, the taste of the fruits of my labor? haha.
And now I'm back in the real world where I don't get three squares a day and have to pay for my bed and have the liberty to spend my afternoon wandering the city and reading. Its nice to be back, but the farm was a great break from it all, even if it was only a short one. I look forward to the Indian wwoofing experience and all the new craziness that'll bring!
Sawaat De Kaa!

The Odyssey (to the farm)

2009-02-25T02:26:00.000-08:00

Three continents. Three farms. Three very different experiences.

Before there was the farm, there was the journey. I woke early after a glorious night's rest in Chiang Mai. Tuk Tuk to the bus station, two hour bus to Chiang Dao, and here are the directions as follows: Stay on the bus past the city of Chiang Dao, get off 3-4 km later at the first traffic light at the intersection of road number 1178. This can also mean stare out the window cursing your country for not teaching you the metric system and trying to remember the mile to kilometer conversion. look for the first traffic light. wonder what happens if you miss the traffic light. Get out of the bus. Walk 50 m to the left on the road to 1178 and catch a yellow sangteuw to Ban Lo Pahan. Sit in the sickeningly hot sangathew for a long while waiting for it to fill up. Also, must pronounce Ban lo PA HAn though or they have no idea what you're talking about. Sit in the sangathew and get stared at cause your a gringa, answer the general questions. Where you come from, where you are going. The usual frown and uncomfortable confusion at the "I'm going to work on a farm" comment. Stare out the window. Watch for a motorcycle shop on the left, get off. Get out and cross the road 1178 to the only street on the right. Hope this is the right street. That didn't really look like a motorcycle shop, but oh well, this is the only road around. Start trekkin.
Walk down this road, past the last house on the left (about 1 km, like i know what 1 km should feel like!) 100m further, there is the first and only dirt road on the left. Follow this lane and the power lines to the house at the end about 600 m. Walk down a road way too early that is dirt and almost get attacked by dogs. Wait for them to calm down. Realize your mistake. Slowly back away.Walk what feels like an eternity through what feels like people's backyards. Roosters and crazy dogs are everywhere. How are you to know which house is the last house on the left, couldn't you just walk forever?But finally it looks promising, a long dirt path up a massive hill past the last house on the left. It's dirt. You take it. You think to yourself, if anyone from my real life saw me know they would be pissing themselves laughing. Sweating, dirty, hauling her life on her back, maybe starting to panic but trying to be strong, Liz, hiking up some random dirt path past corn fields and rice paddies and banana trees all alone in Thailand looking for some farm where she will work for free? Oh yeah, and to think at this time last year I was blow drying my hair and painting my nails and dusting Aveda products on shelves and answering phones and making licorice tea.
Reach what you thought was the top of the hill only to realize it goes on further. You go further. Reach a fork in the road. Get slightly more nervous. Nothing in the directions mentioned a fork, almost get the phone out. Decide to persevere and take the right path. You see a woman in the garden, she waves! You approach, it's real! Not a mirage! You have arrived! Thank god, because you were this close to losing faith in yourself. But no fear. If you can find the farm, the hard part is over.

Twenty-Six buses and counting

2009-02-14T03:36:00.001-08:00

I've arrived in Chiang Mai again. After my twenty sixth long distance bus ride since september. I have such a fond remembrance for Argentina camas and night caps and vin diesel movie marathons and even coco leaf busts as i'm cramped up and freezing in a mosquito filled bus with on and off sleep every 15 minutes all night long. After being alone for a while I'm really starting to enjoy the freedom of wandering nowhere and everywhere and eating and sleeping when I see fit and generally having a chill time. I am resting here in Chiang Mai before heading out tomorrow morning to wwoof for my last few weeks in Thailand. I had all these elaborate plans of seeing vietnam and cambodia and all the south, but getting sick was pretty much a sign to slow down. And I'm alright with that, slow is what I need. Some nice healthy physical labor, some mountain air and some roosters. Oh yes the roosters I fear and know will be at the farm. Not much news I just wanted to lay out some thoughts. More will come after farm time!

Railay Beach

2009-02-09T00:34:00.000-08:00

Picture this: cool turquoise water, soft and warm sand, limestone cliffs, palm trees, fresh squeezed juice, hot sun, quiet bungalows with hammocks and amigos! Almost Paradise was literally stuck in my head the entire week I was in Railay.
Getting there left something to be desired but I chucked the bad experience up to the travel gods and be done with it. After one tuk tuk, one train, two buses, and one longtail boat we arrived on Railay. Just in time to grab a couple of bungalows up a MASSIVE flight of stairs, change into bathies and hit the beach.
The water was glorious, cool enough to feel awesome but warm enough to run right in.
And although I was feeling pretty crappy I had a quiet night of rest that was much needed in the bungalow.
Oh and we all got tattoos. Bamboo style which is far less painful. Not at all in fact and you don't have that horrific buzzing of the tattoo gun. Small little abstracted peacock feathers I drew based on these earrings I bought in BKK. Mine is on my shoulder. Pix to follow.
The week is kind of a blur because Island time is slow and yet it flew past so quickly. I was feeling really bad with flu symptoms, which unfortunately also happen to be the symptoms of Malaria. And just coming from Laos and northern Thailand where the risks are higher I was starting to worry. And the island was so small that it didn't have a clinic. So I was forced to wonder and wonder and wonder. And my throat became worse and worse, and continuous sleep pretty much didn't happen. Luckily we had met up with Erin so the girls and her stayed out after I turned in early every night to try to sleep despite the pain.

I felt pretty good one day and we all rented Kayaks and traipsed around the limestone cliffs and caves and looked at enormous bubblegum pink jellyfish blobbing about in the water. And got totally ripped pumping against those waves. Eh Jackie?
We went all the way to Poda, this cute little island with tons of shade and Longboats selling delicious and cheap food. Quite a change from slightly overpriced Railay. So we all bought some cheap fried rice and were given some free Rambutans (red, slightly hairy but delicious, lychee tasting fruit inside). But the break was over when Jackie and I headed back at around 3pm and got stuck in a whirlpool created by fast moving waves and longboats and ARRRRGGGGHH! I got sooo pissed off. We rowed and rowed and got nowhere. And Erin and Yumi were long gone. I also mistakenly was sort of headed to the wrong beach for a while, but luckily Jackie pointed us right. But it was a fuckin struggle. I've never been so glad to be on land in my entire life. My arms felt like jellyfish. And the mint chocolate chip ice cream cone I had as a reward was breathtaking.

All the bars on the island are very chill and play tons of reggae and overcharge for drinks. Except of course for Whiskey Buckets. We frequented a couple and by our third night were friends with everyone around our guesthouse area. We found this cute little restaurant Mom's and ate brekkie there everyday afterwards. I tried to order(sickly as I was) just tomato juice but got a bloody mary, but didn't realize it and became drunk without knowing it. NOT cool. Jackie and I danced it up to GASOLINA! Yumilike got a free tattoo, and we saw Thai boxing, cobra show, and fire twirlers almost nightly.

One more thing. The water is filled with Jellyfish. Bright baby boy blue jellyfish, and I was nervous at first, super nervous cause in OZ you have to wear stinger suits to protect from these guys and here everyone didn't seem affected. So the swiming was a little unrelaxed at first, until one day this Norwegian woman just picked one of the suckers up to show me that there was a crab stuck inside. Well. I guess they're not poisinous then?

Poor Jackie and Yumi were reacting really badly to the tropical heat. We were all pretty much a pathetic shit show for a while there. I was puking and sore throat and fever and sickly. Jackie had mosquito bites that were as big as golf balls, and Yumi had crazy heat rash all over. Then Jackie got heat rash too, then some crazy spider bites, then Yumi's eyes started hurting, then my eyes started goo-ing, then Jackie was hungover, then Yumi was hungover. And on and on.

But we found logical solutions for it all. Erin pointed out that the anti-malarials that Jackie and Yumi were taking say to avoid direct sun exposure, so at least they know the cause. Jackie got some anti-inflammatory stuff for her bites, Yumi some eyedrops. And I unfortunately went in and got tested for Malaria. I had to wait until today in BKK because of the no clinic on the island. And I went in, gave the doc my symptoms, did a breath test and a blood test and a stethoscope looksy. And she said I probably have a respiratory infection and so I'm starting some anti-biotics today along with some vitamin c and some stuff to gargle. And I had to wait all day for my Malaria results. She stated that the infection was probably it, but since I have been in Laos and N. Thailand that the test was a good idea. And if I develop flu symptoms again, I'll need to get tested again. But at 3pm she took me into her office and showed me the piece of paper. Malaria...............Not Found!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So no need to worry all, It's just a little infection and hopefully I'll be back to normal in 5 days or so.

I'm so happy my friends came and visited me! It was a total blast! I'm also super sad, Jackie left this afternoon and Yumi departs the day after tomorrow, and then it's Liz on her own again. I'm excited though, because Erin had done some WWOOFing up near Chiang Mai so I might do some farm work after my sickness heals, save some moolah, work it out a bit, I think so!

Changover

2009-02-01T21:03:00.000-08:00

BeerChang=Death.
Jackie and Yumi decided to spur of the moment come and visit me in Thailand! So we met up in Bangkok and I've been taking them to all the must see spots. Mr. Yim's vegetarian street food, Koh Sahn road street bar, Tuk Tuk mania, Weekend Market Madness, Garden Massage, etc. And I feel kinda bad because I am pretty used to all the craziness and I can tell it's a lot for them to take in, but I think overall they're diggin it. And SOOO ready to roll down to the beach! And we've been boozin it up to celebrate their arrival and today it finally all came crashing down. I felt sooo bad. Why Why Why do i do this to myself I ask you, i BEG of you! After a long day of Wats, Train Stations, Hustlin, Marketing, etc. We all needed a beer. Well Jackie and I did at least, and one turned into eh, five. And we chatted up some people sitting around us at the street bar. Andy, Curry's Austrian doppelganger(yes this is my new favorite word) and Irish man Mike, we bonded over drunken shopping and Beer Chang as Jackie fell into the frog lady trap and Andy haggled over a Jade Buddha Print. Overall though it was a great night filled with Mojito buckets and new friends and yes, drunken shopping.

The Changover lasted well into the day and that night we had to catch a train down south. BIGGEST MISTAKE YET. Originally the train seemed better than a bus because you can get a sleeper cabin and walk around too. But buying tix prevented the sleeper cabin, OR the air conditioned seats, which left us in this hella ghetto sweat couch style seats and open windows for eh, about 12 hours long. Hello sickness. But I'm convinced that the fates had this be their plan because if we hadn't taken the shit train we would have missed two awesome happenings.

INTRODUCING... the Schitzo Tuk-Tuk driver.
We originally were planning on hopping in a cab to the train station to save our lungs and cause we didn't think our bags would fit, but when crazy(that's what i'll call him) offered us a tuk for 1/3 the price, what can you do?
so we three pile in rucksacks and all and off we go. And pretty standard chit chat. Crazy will also speak in all caps from now on. WHERE YOU FROM? America. HOW LONG AMERICA? Um, 23 years. HOW LONG AMERICA? HOW LONG AMERICA? okay, i get it, this guy likes the repeater. Then he asks where Yumi and Jackie are from and I say America too. He looks surprised and points at his jet black hair and then to theirs and says NO, NOT AMERICAN! SAME SAME (in reference to the dark hair). Then a couple of repeaters and then a bit of a crazy back and forth of Yeah, YEAH, yeah yeah yeah, YEAHEYAHYEAHYEAHYEAH, and then a semi laugh-a-thon which led me to thinking that he's not just normal crazy, but crazy crazy.
Then he of course wants to know where we're going. So I make up some itinerary cause the last thing he wants to hear is "we don't know". So I say Koh Pi Pi, Koh Samui, and Koh Pan Ngan. HOW LONG KOH PI PI? um two days. BETTER THREE. okay three days. GOOD. HOW LONG KOH SAMUI? two days, BETTER THREE. HOW LONG KOH PAN NGAN? three days (finally catching on) BETTER FIVE!. OKAY KOH PI PI, KOH SAMUI, KOH PAN NANG, THREE DAY, THREE DAY, THREE DAY. He says, figuring out our trip for us, and then I'm pretty sure telling every Thai person he passes on the road our itinerary, nationality, and perhaps tries to pimp us out too, we're not sure, but we just roll with.HOW LONG AMERICA? so i do it back to him... how long thailand? FIFTY YEAR. i wait a minute. How long THailand? FIFTY YEAR!!!,another pause, so... how long thailand? ONE HUNDRED YEAR? ahhh, he just got played at his own repeater. BOO YA.
The key moment of the night was when he shook all our hands and told each one we were his favorite and then said I LOVE YOU and just stares at you. uh, i love you too crazy, we all reply giggling with unsure nervousness. Moral of the story: travel in tuk tuks in numbers. NO JOKE. But we got to the train station okay and the rest is history.
We also met a very nice Canadian girl named Erin who was on our bus from the train station to Krabi and who traveled with us for a while and was loads of fun, so you see, it all works out.
Pix still aren't working for some reason, so check back soon for some pix of me and the girls in BKK!

Tubing in the Vang Viang

2009-01-29T02:14:00.000-08:00

WHEW. That was NOT what i expected. Got into Vang Viang from Louang Pabang after a horrific bus ride, nothing too serious just a LOT of waiting and ass numbing, and blaring lao pop music which would even annoy the deaf I think. Wandered to find a guest house, found it, and plopped onto the strawberry shortcake rose frilly bed spread and crashed. This place even had pink toilet paper.

The next day Juli wasn't feeling so well but i was eager to explore so I left her in the couch watching the friends marathon at the restaurant in front of our guest house to go tubing. Rented a tube, hopped in a songathew with a few others and got dropped off outside of town and conveniently by Mojito Bar, where you are encouraged to drink for the children! As all profits go to the school round back where they grow the mint. Drink for the children? All righty! It was a little weird at first being alone but I figured at worst I would drink a mojito and lazily drift down this nice quiet river in Laos and maybe I'd meet some people, but if not oh well. And as I'm drinking the mojito(at about noon) I hear some music, and in the distance I see a type of dock and a huge tower with a zip line and tons of people partying and dancing and drinking and people flying off the zip line almost landing on people floating by in tubes. And theres another dock bar across the bay, and another one further down, ohhh, this is why tubing is so infamous.

So I downed the mojito, plopped in the tube and floated on. Hadn't gotten far before a bamboo stick was thrown out and reeled me in to Whisky Bar, where there are free Whisky Shots given out by some fierce old Lao lady who doesn't say anything she just hands you a shot and then walks away. I ran into a couple of people who were on the Slow Boat a couple of Aussies and an Austrian guy. Who we'll now refer to as my nemesis because after a BeerLao, and some whiskey he dared me to do the zip line. THIS is why they give you free whiskey.

The tower is the worst part. And the waiting. You're just standing there, rethinking your not so bright decision to swing off a zip line super fast into the water. I did meet a cool couple from England while waiting, Kate aka Kylie Minogue, and Luke who was a total Laura's boyfriend Jake doppelganger. And I also met the Australian doppelganger for Adrienne too btw. Anyways, Austrian is on one side and I'm on the other of the handle and we're pushed off and I'm screaming bloody murder but it's soo fun and I totally bail and crash into the water. MAN IT WAS SO FUN! And of course I felt like a total badass afterwards and maybe had more whiskey.

We floated onwards to another bar and another and they all kinda blend together. Drunkity drunk drunk aussies (It also happened to be Australia Day) and people trippin from their happy shakes and kinda bad injuries. I saw one Oz guy with a massive cut in his leg because he had a shotglass in his pocket and forgot and sat down? or something... his leg was red with all the blood. Kinda like in the movie Sabrina? But I saw him 2 days later and he was fine, limping, but he had his dry bag on so no doubt he was going back for round two. Oh those Australians.

I met another couple from Ireland, Eve and John and we went with Kate and Luke to another bar. Pulled our tubes in and hiked up to find an enormous MUD PIT. And people mud wrestling. Everyone is covered in stinking chocolaty mud. Eve grabbed my arm and pulled me in, (John had already done the same to her) and I was slipping and sliding all around in this horrible, yet totally awesome mud. Which was fun for a bit and then we gollumed out of there. They have a nice hose and fire in case you want to wash off and warm up. Which I totally did until some drunk guy totally shoved me right in the mud again. Asshole. But I saw him the next day and he looked SOOO hungover and thrashed and maybe tripping so I guess he got his comeuppance.

Luckily you have to get the tubes back by 6pm to get your deposit. It's like a last call. After a glorious shower in my swimsuit(trying to clean the mud off, to no avail) I met up with my new amigos for some more BeerLao and dinner. And proceeded to get a second wind via a whiskey coke bucket and dance music. And we all had a nice little night finished off with street food banana chocolate pancake.
WHEW.

Needless to say I'm so out of shape(drinking wise) That I had to spend the entire next day laying on the couch at the restaurant in front of our guest house, eating various meals and watching about eh, nine hours of Friends.

Slow Boat-in Down the Mekong

2009-01-23T21:52:00.000-08:00

"MAYBBBEEE YOU'RE GONNA BE THE ONE THAT SAAAAVEEEES MEEE, CAUSE AFTER ALLLLL, YOU'RE MY WONDERWAAAAAL"
This song will now forever be known as the drunk slow boat song. Because all the drunk young aussie and british boys would sing this every day on the boat, at MAX volume.

Laos, let's see. First we had to go there and back because we forgot to check out of Thailand. They don't make this hard for you, there's one hidden dark window with departures written above it and one guy working there who could care less what you do or don't do at the border of Thailand. Luckily its a one minute long boat to Laos, you just hope you don't fall face first into the mud with your heavy ass backpack as you get on and off these boats. For 35$ American, or $1,500 Baht and one photo you can get a Laos visa, and a whole page of passport stamps! what what!

Then another thousand baht will buy you a two day longboat ride down the Mekong River from Houyxai, Laos to Pakbeng, where you will disembark in the near darkness on a muddy slope and watch millions of skinny Laos boys force their way onto the boat and try to grab your bag and carry it up this massive hill for some moolah.

First you have to listen to some hustlah try to get you to take the minibus and 'upgrade' so you can have a.c. and watch a movie and blah. And they demanded all everyone's(about 60 or so peeps)passports and they were just sitting on this table in an enormous table screaming identity theft! because they said they had to check the passports with the police to get the real tickets and we would all get them back in 15 minutes. 'Because you are my guest' the hustlah said, when i argued this ridiculousness, 'And every ones passports are here, not to worry. I know your passport is your life' Um, yeah right. If you knew that then you wouldn't ask me to blindly allow my life to be piled up on the table of some stranger. Just cause everyone has handed over their shit doesn't make this trustworthy. So i argued and argued and finally asked where they were going with them for the tickets and could i just accompany(holding my own passport) these guys where they were going, show the 'police' my passport and get my ticket. Huffily he threw his arms up and agreed and my mind was finally at ease, but WHEW! It was a workout! Thank god I've been practicing arguing my whole life. But all's good now and I won't always wonder if my passport was copied or scanned or whatevered in that mysterious fifteen minutes.

But during the ass numbing ride(even with a 2$ butt cushion!) you will float along lazily and eat weird Lao crackers and watch gray volcanic looking rock formations emerge from the water and dense jungle and water buffalo grazing about the beaches. At one stop a dozen skinny little Lao girls hop on the boat with laundry baskets filled with BeerLao and Cola and Pringles and Oreos for sale. And yes, I have to admit, the first thing I'm not proud of doing in Laos, I bought beer from a child. But it was a delicious beer and if I'm buying it, then it's one less for her to drink? No way around it guilty as charged.

Pakbeng is a hilly little village and with such intense Lao whiskey it'll put the memory of the long ride far from your mind. And the power in the whole town goes out at around midnight so if you aren't ready for bed by then, you just do it anyways cause it's dark. Early rise for day two of the boat ride. And we watched the Australian kids drink from about 10 am to about 5 pm. Vodka sprite. EUGGGHH. Thus the singing. But for some reason could just block it out and roll with. I must be building up a drunk obnoxious tolerance or something. Oh and if you have to use the toilet on the boat, don't worry cause by midday it's only filled about 3 inches high with mystery liquid, and the squat stance on a rocking longboat is a bit tricky to master... Some drunk chick announced that she toppled over into all the piss water at the end of day two. Well, could be worse? Actually, could it?

Louang Pabeng couldn't come any sooner and looking for the guidebook guesthouse that no longer exists proved frivolous. So we just went with the next cheap one. About 9$ a night for a double w/hot water and hbo? alrighty. Loud as hell and no natural light, but all i needed was a mattress anywho.
Now after a midday in Louang Pabeng I am quite enjoying Laos, finally. It's riverside french colonial feel is welcoming, the food is mad delicious( we splurged and went to a french bistro last night) and i had the best FLAN since Argentina. And crispy warm french baguettes. And the temples are magnificent. I traipsed sweatily up this massive hill for a panorama of the city today not to be disappointed, and the Buddhas for every day of the week lounged glowing gold among the foliage as I walked down.
We might move on tomorrow cause time is of the essence and I might have to hang out in Vientiane for a bit waiting for my Vietnam visa to go through.
Whew! pix aren't posting so I'll try that later. Love to all!

Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai

2009-01-23T21:36:00.000-08:00

"I will teach you to be a good Thai wife!" The enthusiastic little Thai cooking spitfire told us as we pounded out the green curry paste with a pestle and mortar. And i don't know about that, but I will be cooking some badass Thai food for myself as soon as I have a kitchen at my fingertips again. I learned to and created the following, phad thai, spring rolls, tom kha soup, green curry paste and green curry w/tofu, and mango w/sticky rice! All delicious, they totally did everything for you to make success inevitable but whatevah i had a great time. Also in Chaing Mai we traipsed around the Sunday night market and I ate some weird wafer tacos filled with what tasted like marshmallow paste, had a badass and not too painful Thai Massage, and then we were off to Chaing Rai.

Chaing Rai was another quirky mountain side town with an equally short visit. We got in after a pretty good bus ride on Green Bus, where we watched 'The Rocker' dubbed in Thai, luckily i had watched it on the plane in English so i just translated important info to Jules. We wandered around the town and visited this massive golden clock tower looming over the center of town, got some pineapple at the local market, and played with the cute ass puppies at our guesthouse.
Rooster mania made sleep not soo awesome and the next day we got up early and toured around and saw the Karen Hilltribe sub sect called Paduang who are recent refugees from Burma and as a part of their culture for some reason all the women have massive brass rings around their necks elongating them, some to 30cm. And that brass is HEAVY. So we bought some beautiful vibrant scarves made by the ladies and went to the Monkey caves, and huffed and puffed to this creepy cave and saw some monkeys eating ice cream. Then onto the Golden Triangle, formerly famous for its Opium trafficking, but now a massive tourist spot. A beach forms a triangle at the intersection of Thailand, Burma, and Laos. And there is also an enormous Dragon boat housing an even bigger golden Buddha statue flanked by large elephant protectors that was really cool. After this crazy day we had just enough time to watch Obama and everyone in D.C. freeze their asses of at the inauguration, pack our bags and crash before getting up hella early to catch 2 buses, one tuk tuk, and three longboats to get into Laos and rock the slowboat!

Ayutthaya, Thailand

2009-01-17T21:59:00.000-08:00

Ayutthaya is a town filled with ruins from when it was the capital of Thailand. Much of it was sacked by the Burmese and the ruins are what's left. You can rent a bike and explore, which is exactly what we did. Enormous palaces and Wats and fallen temples and broken Buddhas, brick and dirt and remnants of a glory long gone are everywhere. I almost got attacked by a stray dog too in one deserted part of a ruin. So cuidado those dogs eh?
Elephant rides and markets and monks are everywhere in Ayutthaya. I even got chatted up by a Cambodian Monk whose Australian sister was visiting. Small world eh? And i got interviewed by about seven different groups of Thai teenage girls, filling out questionnaires about where I'm from and what I think of Thailand and what is my favorite Thai dessert? Do Thai people smile a lot? What do I think about Thai singing? etc.
So I'll let the pictures do the talking, my favorite was definitely the Buddha which had been trapped in a trees roots and they grew out around him. The former palace as well was massive and filled with gardenia trees that smelled sweetly. IT was unreal to be in a place with so much ancient history and to imagine what it might have looked like all bedazzled in it's height of glory. Filled with royalty and monks and beautiful golden statues everywhere.

Kanchanaburi, Thailand

2009-01-17T21:38:00.001-08:00

Onwards! Out of Bangkok, thank god, the pollution was getting me convinced that I'd get lung cancer from tuk tuk-ing it another week. A two hour rickety bus ride to Kanchanaburi and then a bicycle taxi to the guest house. And let me just say this, he approached us. He saw the two hefty American girls and their even heftier rucksacks, but nonetheless he offered to take us to the Guest house, he threw our enormous and heavy packs on the back and we squeezed into this tiny seat, and calf master Thai Man biked our heavy asses all the way to our spot. It was horrifying, I never felt so bad in my whole life, but he was pretty ripped,and I dunno, when in Rome?
The guest house was nice, a quiet garden w/hammocks overlooking the river and the sunset, a nice little restaurant w/hella good pad see ew, and nearby bike rental, Internet, and massage spots.
So the next day we rented some bikes and rode all over the little town on these rickety bicycles, over to some famous bridge and down some random town roads, it was glorious! Oh how I love a bicycle ride!After our long day biking and busing and all we decided to get some more cheap massages.
A note to my girls at the Tude: OMG would you all flip if you knew the shit that was goin down in Thailand. After all the training I've heard and gone through about making spa guests feel comfortable and at home, and always discussing every little detail of every treatment, and glorious calming music and smells. HA. The sounds you hear can range from traffic and dog/cat cries to babies running down the halls, cows drinking out of troffs, massage therapists answering their cell phones, endless chatting(probably about you)in Thai, and on and on. You never know what's going on, massages are sometimes quite painful, you never know what is happening next. I had a facial and had some tattoo machine sounding metal object ran all over my face like a racecar, AND some vacuum as well(to suck up blemishes?), and bad smelling weird stuff, but this massage in Kanchanaburi takes the cake: Boobie massage. That's right, not just a feel up either, a full on boobie massage.UH. There are no more words.
But I have to say, none of this bothers me, it's a bit awkward at first, but it's so cheap i could care less!it's all quite hilarious when you get down to it, and at least Juli got a boobie massage too right?
Day Two in Kanchanaburi we ventured to the Erawan National Park waterfalls. But first we walked to the bus station and waited in the bus for it to leave for about an hour and a million it seemed like. And only had 3 or so hours till the park closed so we booked it a little bit. The park has seven tiers of waterfalls and we hiked and traipsed all around through there. Very Yelapa Berger :)... The water is this pure aquamarine and full of food apparently for the hundreds of fish in each pool. The trees roots delve into the waterfalls and the water gushes over tempting you to jump in, which we totally did. Coolish but refreshing after a bit of hiking. And after Juli got too close to one of the monkeys(not heeding the Caution:Fierce Monkey! signs) and they almost attacked her! They at least screeched and charged, and she kinda scuttled away and then they kept coming and she side hopped rapidly! It was pretty pretty funny! So we swam and hiked and biked and Kanchanaburi was a nice change from Bangkok, fo sho!

Bangkok, Thailand

2009-01-17T21:07:00.001-08:00

Bangkok, Thailand. Crazy, loud, food smelling, polluted, friendly, hustlin', intense Bangkok. Corinna put it best, 'you'll learn to love and hate Bangkok'. Indeed I have. Juli and I arrived late in the evening and took a shuttle to KO Sahn Road and wandered through the chaotic touristy restaurant/guest house lined streets and stumbled into our guest house. By then it was about 5am Australia time, but neither of us could sleep well. Excited and nervous and hungry and jet lagged in reverse, it was god awful.
But the next morning we got some brekkie and some delicious fresh squeezed orange juice and wandered. We got picked up by a tuk tuk driver who took us on a bit of a ride, literally. Whizzing out of control and around motorbikes and bicycles and trucks and buses we flew. We went and saw an enormous golden Buddha and another Buddha, then he took us to a factory to try to get us to by hand made clothes. This might surprise many but I don't really have much need for a business suit, now or in my future, so I wouldn't be had. Juli however did desire one and had herself measured for a hand tailored business suit.(For Business Time I presume)
Then tuk tuk charlie threw us into yet another unknown sitch, a tourist agency where some guy for hours tried to book our entire se asia trip for us. We did enjoy his help in planning it out, although we wouldn't do it. Too expensive and not really my style to have every minute pre planned. We did get some free tea and water from the hustle though. Finally catching on we had him take us back to Koh Sahn Road, a little jaded but not thoroughly, mostly just hungry and tired.
We ate some absolutely delicious fried rice w/veggies and I drank two thai iced teas.(they are sooo good!) And then we went to get some Thai Massages for about 6$ each. We got our asses kicked! But it was much needed as my muscles from running and walking and carrying a massive pack were in much need of a pummeling. A nice first day in Thailand.
The next day we went to the MASSIVE weekend market on the outskirts of town and i bought tons of insanely cute stuff and spent hella baht. Waay over my budget, but I always go over the first week or so. I spent a total of, brace yourselves, $1,600 Baht that day at the market. Which is about $45 USD. I bought a swimsuit, two shirts, a dress, eight or so pairs of earrings, a scarf, bracelets, thai iced tea, spring rolls, and used a public thai toilet. Quite a crazy, hectic, but totally worth it day at the Market. Some of the coolest stuff there was all the layouts of food and pickled something or other and meat on a stick, and piles of strawberries and cups of tiny fried eggs, and stacks of condensed milk for thai iced teas, and piles of knockoff shoes and bags and beads galore!More delicious food and yet another massage finished off day two in Bangkok.
We also went and saw the Royal Palace while in the city, which is an amazing sight not to be missed. Massive golden Wats and temples and ancient art that wraps around the surrounding walls and lily ponds and gold, gold, gold! I don't know what they use, but they bedazzled the crap out of everything in sight and it was like multicolored disco ball gold everywhere you look, even on the ceiling!
Bangkok is a great, vibrant and polluted city, but i had a blast and was ready to move onward!
Love/Hate relationship w/Bangkok? Absolutely!

This is the New Year

2009-01-08T16:08:00.001-08:00

Well, it's all over Sydney. We had a good run though. Brought in 2009 with style under the Harbour Bridge, saw some Shakespeare at the Opera House, took some ferries, rode some trains and ate some brekkie. Saw some cool dinosaur fossils and wildlife photographs, had a picnic in the Botanical Gardens, wandered the Red Light District, saw some movies, stayed in a total shit hostel(cockroaches, cold water, dirty pee smelling carpet, and really crappy beds).
Walked around a lot, jogged around a lot, ate Spanish, Chinese, Thai, Australian, Mexican, and Japanese food.
Saw echidnas and albino peacocks and albino roos, went to the Blue Mountains and rode a crazy uphill train, went through the Sydney Olympic Park, ate some more brekkie, hung out at Manly Beach, ate some chips(fries) and some pistachio ice cream, and pondered my life.
Made the decision to save my sanity, health and friendship w/Juli by splitting up once we get to Thailand for the first month or so, and finally felt happy and free.
Overall there are some things I'll always love and remember about Australia.
"How you going?" and "No Worries"
The scare tactic anti drinking ads( they've got a serious issue w/that here)
Hilarious Aussie sarcasm and wit from bus drivers and tour guides
Scuba Diving in the Great Barrier Reef and snorkeling around Magnetic Island
Hiking in the heat with my family on Maggie
Bundaberg and Cola
The best WWOOFing ever at Cloudscape Vineyards(and the best food ever for that matter)
Riding the Overland Train from Adelaide to Melbourne
The Homeless World Cup
Opalized Dinosaur Fossils
Brekkie!and flat white's
Walking over the Harbour Bridge
Seeing a play at the Opera House
Really really good public transport
Markets, Markets, Markets
The Hilarious movie jack and I watched on the greyhound from Rockhampton to Townsville--- what is it called??
Are you guys from the looney bin?" "No,,, Noo, but how'd you like to try this(straight jacket) on?"
Christmas in the Tropics
Capricorn Caves at Solstice
Seeing Kangaroos in the wild running across the deep ochre Australian road
Petting Hella soft Koalas
New Year's Eve in Sydney
Swimming with all my clothes on and swimming in hella hot ocean water
Having my family visit me!

Well that's all folks, tonight I embark on a plane ride to Bangkok, Thailand and will traipse all over SE Asia for the next 2 months-- Alone! Wish me luck and if anyone wants to visit me... hit me up!

The Rainforest and Port Tribulation

2008-12-27T21:00:00.000-08:00

Cairns isn't the coolest city, but it does have the coolest stuff around it, as I discovered yesterday upon traipsing to the rain forest and various ports of call. Jan organized a tour trip van style (coulda done with a little less van though) up through some more rainforest and to Port Tribulation, complete with a croc swim. George, a hillarious, storytelling, sarcastic jokester was our guide and regaled us with Aboriginal stories the entire time, which i quite enjoyed, even if i just wanted outa the van. We went to Mossman Gorge and saw tall tall trees glistening with fresh rain with vines wrapped all around them, enormous , poisonous, colorful spiders and the coolest spiderwebs I've ever seen. Leaves, leaves, leaves so many varieties and bright bright greens and intricate bubbles and designs and derivations. It rained most of the day which was okay with me, rain in the rainforest. Our final destination was Cape Tribulation a rather sketchy place with stingray warnings and croc warnings and lizard warnings, but the sand crabs made the most beautiful designs in the sand you've ever seen. They suck the nutrients out of the sand and in the process ball them up with saliva and then thrown them out their little holes in the sand, and are constantly scurrying about. So if you stare across the beach you can see tiny movement everywhere. Really cool. And it smelled like wet tree bark and salty sand and foliage, mmmm i wanted to eat it. Now i get all those rainforest perfumes(not that they smell anything like it). Anyways, I. have. to. stop. blogging. it has stopped raining here so i'm out! love to all!

Cairns and The Great Barrier Reef

2008-12-27T20:00:00.000-08:00

For all the rumours that we heard that Cairns was the hottest place on earth, it actually pales in comparison to ol' Maggie or Rockhampton. I'm not complaining, I quite like a little tropical rain, it's quite refreshing after sweating with no cloud in sight. Mom, Jack and I arrived in Cairns on Christmas Eve Eve via plane and arrived at our apartment suprised to find out that the pool was, cold? still salty, but the first semi cool water I'd felt in a while, which was glorious, probably due to the shade around it but whatevah it was grand. We wasted no time in going to the mall? not much else was open and to our dismay it was an insane nightmare. But we pushed through, got a couple choice items and some groceries and got the fuck outa there! That evening we traipsed down to the waterfront area where another urban pool/beach situation was going on, lagoon style pool open at night too and tons of restaurants and activities going on down there as well. We ate some delicious food and called it a night. The Greenwalds arrived that night and the next day we hopped on the uber touristy train to Kurunda, up in the Rainforest.

The trainride was sweaty but nice and Kurunda was a super cute touristy settlement filled with digeredoos and boomerangs and opals, sarongs, bikinis, bracelets, candy, all kinds of crap beckoning you to buy it. We did succeed in picking up a coupla opals, one for Jack's girlfriend and a very beautiful and shimmery ring for mammasita. For lunch Jack went with the Ossie special= roo meat, croc meat and a Fosters. Good idea but bad in practice as the roo meat was so chewy jack took 2 hours to eat it all, and was still chewing when we walked out. We saw some candy making and walked through some markets and then took a gondola over the rainforest back down to Cairns which was only scary when it made a huge thump thump thump at certain parts. Then we went to .... brace yourselves. A drive through BottleShop to pick up some Bundaberg for me and some Pure Blonde for Greenie and Jack and of course some Chardonnay for the mammas.

Christmas Eve we got even deeper into the tourist circut and got on a massive tour boat out to the Great Barrier Reef. Cheesy as it could've been with the scheduled activities and the cheeky staff w/no shoes to go with their laid back attitude and crisp white shorts and blue and white striped shirts, all super tan with bleached hair from all their diving and sailing escapades, it was actually pretty fun. Some seasickness occurred, not for me, but they did have biodegradable bads to puke in and then we were told to throw them overboard because the fish will feast on them. So lets just say Jack did his part in feeding the marine life of the Great Barrier Reef that day. We got to snorkel around this area called Nicholas Quay where billions of birds were nesting and squalking and stinking. But the reef was AMAZING!
Bright rainbow fish the size of my head, wavy pink 80s prom dress colored coral, sharp dark teal tree branch lookin coral, curvy twisting vines of purple bubbly coral, huge bubbling expanses of brain coral, schools of spindly skinny silver fish floatin in front of me. (say that 10x fast)Enormous shell looking things the size of a bathtub with teal insides and weird mouths and purple outsides that open and close like the jaws of life. Colors, colors, colors. I fell so deep into my snorkeling trance that when i surfaced I had gone waay out of where i should've been. That may account for all the cool shit i saw but whatevah! Later on I was given the scuba diving instructions from a guy named, for serious, Fabian. Picture if you can the movie along came polly and the scuba instructor, complete with the long hair, weird unplaceable accent and cutoffs and that's pretty much what he was. Hillarious. Two people left to puke during his talk due to a bit o boozin the night before, and he kindly informed us that you CAN puke into the scuba gear, and for the rest of us to make sure and watch because it will be a feeding frenzy of fish to eat up the puke. Great.
So I got all the directions, but on my stinger suit, got some weights around my hips, sat on the edge and put on my flippers and spit cleaned mask, they loaded me up with the air tank, told me to grab the mouthpiece, put it in and lean forward into the water and begin to breathe under water. HOLY SHIT. Now I love water. but i have never done this before and it definitely takes a bit of unexistential capabilities in order to avoid a panic attack. Okay I'm underwater. Okay i'm breathing. Okay do NOT breathe out your nose, okay do not stop chomping down on this mouthpiece. Or you will probably die. After some drills, some saltwater swallowing and mask clearing i was set. I linked arms with the very nice dutch girl next to me who was linked to our French diving guy and we delved into the depths of the ocean.
It was so Darth Vader it's not even funny, and so dense, I had to clear my ears about every meter or so, we saw schools and schools of the brightest shiniest fish ever, we say a stingray struggle out from its sandy hiding spot and float away, we saw little clownfish nemos in their coral, and we got all the way down to the ocean floor and were permitted to touch one of those big purple and teal shells, it's velvety tongue like rim was inSANITY! and when it moved i totally freaked! but it was really cool, and throughout the hour i have never been so at peace, so afraid, and so out of my element all at once.
I feel like I could do anything now that i've done this and to Michael--- Holy crap I applaud you, it must be insane to do that times a million every day as your job.

Christmas was nice, Jack and I gave mom her shell jewelry and some collage cards and we went to the lagoon and read in the shade and swam, then ate fruit salad, mashed yams and potatoes, green beans, green salad, wine, champagne, beer, and for them shrimp for dinner.

Happy belated Christmas to all! And to all a goodnight!

Magnetic Island aka Lost

2008-12-27T18:30:00.001-08:00

Maggie as the locals call her, couldn't be more perfect. Deemed Magnetic Island after Captain Cook's compass went awry nearby, it's the perfect island to play "Lost" on. We arrived by ferry after a long overnight busride, to which Jack slept none, hopped the bus and rode up and down and round the twisty roads of the island and finally to Horseshoe Bay and to our Hostel Bungalow Bay and Koala Reserve. Lagoon like pool surrounded by palms, a koala sanctuary next door, filled with chirpy green rainbow tropical birds and crazy beetles. We all traipsed to the beach early and were disgusted in swimming within the stinger net as it is basically a trap for muck and slime. After brekkie and a check in to a sweaty cabin, we donned our bathies and hiked Yelapa style to another bay where the swimming might be better. The sad was so hot that it burned the tips of my toes and scaled my flip flops. We were all so sweaty from hiking and heat that our backs were fully wet and our feet slipping around in our shoes, only eh, one water bottle because we didn't know how far away it was. And finally after a while there it is, Balding Bay, (also a nude beach) and there he is, token naked guy standing by his boat. Just hangin out. Jack and I ran full speed to the glorious looking water. Only to discover that in a shallow bay with little mixage with the main ocean that the water was hot. Like tea. We had to swim down to the bottom to feel a little chill in the water at all. Insane. How can ocean water be sooo warm? But it was.

So we hiked back down and had Margaritas to cool down. And swam in the lagoon the rest of the afternoon and napped in hammocks and had insane rainbow mini parrots land all over us during their feeding, and drank some beers and had some dinner and sweated my body weight during the restless and hot as hell night in the cabin.

The next day mom braved the Oz and rented a little buggy and drove an automatic on the left side of the road and we grabbed some snorkel gear and traipsed all over Jurassic Park, I mean Maggie to various bays and snorkeled and slept and swam, and hiked and saw Koalas in the wild. That night we got back and found a band playing at the hostel and presumed to get totally shit faced. Me on Bundaberg and cola (in. a can) and jack and mom the usual chardonnay and beer, and as the night got on drunker and drunker and the music kept playing and playing and jack and I at one point arm wrestled, and mom and i shook it and i looked at my watch and it was... eh. 7:30pm.... Maggie was a beautiful, hot, tropical paradise and it was the best time i've had yet in Australia.

The next morning early we were off on a plane to Cairns. And that's all i have to say about that.

Rockhampton, Capricorn Caves and Yeppoon Beach

2008-12-27T18:00:00.000-08:00

Rockhampton. was. hot.
Hot, sticky, sweaty, salty little small town with a little bit of Carson City to it, a failed mining town with a muddy river running through and proud to be the Beef Capital of Australia. Rockhampton was our launching point for the Capricorn Caves and was nearly on the Tropic of Capricorn. Hella cool. Although mom thinks the town was a letdown for us, I quite enjoyed sweating bullets and playing the hot game by the pool only to jump in and find the water equally hot and ... salty? The awesome thrift stores full of musky books and weird bric a brac, the long wait at the patio for delicious pesto pasta and lots of beer drinking. I had fun, although I was a bit miserable in the heat from time to time, but it's just a build up for India eh?
After a long day in the sun we slept well and got up early to go to the Capricorn Caves. Sweet dirty smelling caves, nothing I love more that a good smell of soil, and these had it. Perfect smell. Discovered by some guy who used to muck around(literally) through the caves knee deep in bat shit, snakes, caterpillars, spiders, etc, with only a candle to lead him through. The caves even come fully equipped with a chapel for choir singing(with it's near perfect acoustics) and weddings. And our cute Australian Lawrence doppelganger gave us a pitch black music listening session of Enya in order to understand the caves capacity for listening. Quite beautiful if I do say so myself. Then to the big treat. The summer solstice, only for about two weeks out of the year presents a unique opportunity where the sun is directly above a hole in the caves and can produce and incredibly bright light shaft penetrating to the very bottom. And with the correct props, the entire cave may be lit. Using everything from disco balls and silver pans to colored fabrics our guide gave us a really cool experience of the solstice. My pix can hardly do it justice.
And when you place a piece of paper below the light and above a silver bowl with a hole in it, you can burn through paper magnifying glass to ant style. And Jack is convinced that the whole looks like the shape of Australia, which is pretty rad too.

After the caves, Little Johnny, our hilarious tour guide guy dropped us off in his hometown of Yeppoon, with the most glorious beach ever and it was so tempting i went swimming with all my clothes on because i couldn't stand it any longer. Also really brilliant sea shells everywhere lining the beach which Jack and I collected millions of and made mom some jewelry for xmas with them!

Fun filled adventures and then we showered and prepared for a ridiculous greyhound bus ride from Rockhampton to Townsville where Jack and I were lucky enough to get to watch Kangaroo Jack and some crazy movie with the best line in it ever. Three guys get out of a car all wearing white and a guy sitting down says to them "Are you guys from the Looney Bin?" "Nooo nooo of course not" they all reply, then add "How'd you like to try this on" (It's a straight jacket)
Guess you had to be there. But it is a great movie and I'll search for it forever now.

Brisbane

2008-12-27T17:07:00.000-08:00

Brisbane is a rad city! An enormous river flows through the middle and we took advantage of the City Cat water bus service from New Farm where we were staying to the Center and around. By we I mean me and mom and Jack who showed up in Sydney to hang out with me a little bit for Christmas Holiday. Mom also brought with her a trusty new video camera and the footage is utterly priceless i tell you! After showing them around a little bit in Sydney, from the markets and the red light district (where our hotel happened to be), to the Opera House, the Harbour Bridge and the crazy center of it all where Holiday shoppers were quick to load up on crazy prezzies... we hopped an early flight and ended up in cosmopolitan Brisbane. Tired but hungry we indulged in some delicious brekkie nearby the aptmt we rented for a few nights and then power napped it and then hopped the City Cat to explore. Brisbane has an urban beach alongside the south bank that is super awesome. Sand and pools and grass and kids playing and splashing, across from huge buildings and roads and citywide bustling. A great Australian oddity I won't be soon to forget. For our second day we partook in many a form of transit as we walked to the City Cat, took that to the bank, walked to the train station, took the train for an hour or so, then hopped a bus and ended up at the Australia Zoo.

Yes, I went to the Zoo. Yes Sean you are not hallucinating. The Australia Zoo prides itself on education through interactive and amazing demonstrations of their amazing animals, with extremely humane conditions and great staff walking animals around all the time and letting them loose in vast acres upon acres to roam and traipse upriver and hunt and nap at their own leisure. I saw crocodiles chomp at large pieces of flesh, and jump high into the air to devour even more scraps of meat. Large birds flying overhead so quickly I thought I might take one to the face. Enormous, old, slow tortoises puttering about. Alligators soaking up sun and smiling as only large dinosaur reptiles can do. Elephants getting daily baths and pedicures, and I fed an elephant! twice! Its rubbery hose of a trunk groped around my hand for the corn on the cob slobbily and ticklishly! Tigers swimming and jumping after their buddy(trainer) into large pools of water and playing with their garbage bag on a stick so reminiscent of piff it's not even funny how cats are all the same eh? Koalas snoozin it up in the Eucalyptus trees with their cute ass little babies! Got to pet a Koala too! The softest, cuddliest sweet little guys ever! Roos lounging on the grass in Kangaroo heaven, also pet a few of these, and they are also magically soft! Butterflies bright blue and purple and iridescent, echindas like larger versions of melissa's hog chillin and eating with the Zoo trainers, fat ass wombats walking on a leash like a rat with a weight problem had a baby with an R.O.U.S. Snakes devouring whole mice with such ferocity that no doubt in my mind was i terrified, even from behind glass. Dingos napping around and walking on leashes like pet dogs, otters swimming and playing together like little kids, phat ass komodo dragons(uh hello dinosaur), and did i mention Crocs Rule??

We hopped the bus/train/city water bus back and ate some delicious food and drank some delicious mojitos/beer/Chardonnay and called it a day and quite a nice visit to Brisbane. Two days= not enough, but we made the most of it and had a badass time!

Cloudscape Vineyards

2008-12-12T22:31:00.000-08:00

Okay, for some reason it's really easy to upload photos from this comp which is why i went a little picture happy but oh well eh?
Ahhh where to begin, well I'll begin with Melbourne vol. 2
Juli and I went back to Melbourne for 2 days prior to WWOOFing and I got to catch 2 days of the homeless world cup. And i saw the U.S. lose unfortunately, the Colombian women's team kick some major arse, and a couple of great games such as the Argentinean Brazil game where unfortunately to my utter dismay, Argentina got it's ass handed to it like 10-3 Brazil. And these are 7 minute halves, that's a lot of goals missed (ARG. KEEPER!) Anyways, as I was shouting things in spanish at them i happened to meet a nice Colombian guy and get to habla a little espanol for a change, he was rooting for Brazil, however so we could never truly meet eye to eye.
Anywho it was great fun and then Juli and I took a train to Kyneton, where Jan picked us up to do some WWOOFing that the Adventure of the Vineyard began.
Careening out of control, the car pulls up the the train station and a very lively woman with short curly bustles out and greets us. As Jan drove us (on the left side, still weird) up to the house we discovered that along with the vineyard Andre(her partner) and her also work part time, Jan with a local organisation to find homes for the homeless amongst other things, and Andre as a dentist.
They live in an amazing house atop a hill overlooking their vineyard of 5,000 trees. One half is their room, separated by the living/dining/kitchen area and the other wing is the guest quarters/living space where juli and i were lucky enough to stumble into and try not to drool at the enormous sumptuous bed, bright purple walls, cerulean bathroom tiles and squeaky clean shower/bath. Complete with a sliding glass door onto the deck and our own sitting area overlooking the amazing view where we can sit and read,perhaps a delicious novel from their enormously awesome book library? or paint if I so wish, as they have canvases and paint, or watch a movie from Andre's extensive cinematic library.
Juli and I tried to contain our utter astonishment and glee and kinda like when you meet a cute guy and he calls you for the first time, and you try not to scream like a 13 yr old all alone in your room after he hangs up.
A day by day would just rub it in, so first I'll just give a synopsis of the culinary delights I had the opportunity of partaking in at Cloudscape.
Pesto Pasta, Fresh Salad with goat cheese and avocado, Vanilla Slice, Cocoa Espresso, Red Wine, White Wine, Green Tea, Homemade pizza with potato, mozzarella cheese, basil, pumpkin and capsicum, mushroom risotto, vegetarian lasagna, homemade raisin fruit bread toasted with hot melty butter for breakfast, crispy vegetarian sandwiches for lunch with sliced tomato, sharp cheddar, fresh ground pepper and avocado, Moroccan stir fry and vegetables, Vietnamese noodle salad with tofu, Vegetarian Stir Fry, Homemade vegetarian nachos with kidney beans and fresh guacamole and salsa and melty crunchy heaven! Crunchy, salty, fragrant fried mushrooms and freshly baked potato wedges, tim tams(by the plenty), freshly cut crispy apples, and if I'm forgetting anything forgive me Andre because I loved every bite of food I ate in the house.
Five hours a day is the suggested work amount in Australian WWOOF standard, which means a leisurely breakfast and then down to the Vines to re-arrange and put back in between the wires for better upward growth and to pick out a few leaves here and there to let the wind flow through for pollination. Just pop on the ipod and away we go! And Juli and I finished the whole vineyard in about 9 days or so, which I think is pretty good, considering we were almost rained out one day and had to book it the next. And then perhaps an afternoon run before the drizzle erupts to water the hot red earth?
One day I departed from the Vineyard and was running away, along the fast paced road just for a bit and then my breath got back to normal and I found a nice quiet ochre red country dirt path to run upon and just listened to the beat of my tie rd tigers and my breath and all of a sudden, Hop, Hop, Hop a KANGAROO! and i stop dead in my tracks, and then three more hop after it, and my mouth agape I just stand and stare. It was like seeing a dinosaur, I felt like Jurassic Park when they see the Brontosaurus. And they even look like valasa raptors a little bit with their tiny t-rex arms and long dino tails. It was amazing and I just smiled and ran on. After standing in that spot for a while just waiting for more. And another day when I went running, sadly no roos, but an interesting symphony of noises. Along with my ever panting breath which calms after the horror of the first bit of physical exertion subsides, a number of animal and nature noises. Dogs barked feverishly when I ran by their pen and I wondered for a minute if I was so tempting that they would break free and attack, but no, safe. And then a little further I must've awoken the birds who began monkey like chattering(no doubt about me, my running style, and my jiggly ass)
Monkey Bird # 1: OOOH OOOH OOHHH EHHH EHHH OOOH OHH
translation: " GIIIRRL, check out this tourist!"
Bird #2 :OOH OOOHH EEEH EEHH
translation:" She's definitely not from round here- just check out that ass!"
"OOOH OOOH OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOHHHHH OHH HEEEHHH EEEHHHH"
("she must've just come from argentina and eaten too many bon bons and empanadas!")
"ohhhh OHHH OH OH OH EH EH EHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EH EHE OOOOH OH OHOHOOOH"
("HA! NO DOUBT fellow weird bird, she's strugglin, sista needs a cuppa")
And then the snap crackle pop of the close by bushes and trees, and the hilarity of the birds followed me all the way home for the rest of my run.
I also painted a bit at the Vineyard, on the last day, a little landscape of the beautiful view I was so blessed to view every night. Andre and Jan are a hilarious, intelligent and fun couple to be around and I enjoyed fully every minute of it, from the interesting discussions and wine drinking film watching and especially the eating of the delicious food Andre made every night. I was sad to go, but everything must come to an end, and if our fam wasn't coming and their other WWOOFer wasn't as well, I might never left. I just want to lay down a fervent prayer to the travel gods for throwing us that bone. It was revitalizing work, especially the bio dynamic spray, which i happened to love stirring and spraying for that matter, good reading and eating and lovely sleeping.
I'm in Syndey now yet again and my mom and Jack arrive tomorrow, Jan tonight, and a while different type of travellin is about to commence, but I'm excited to see my family and to see more of Australia.

Adelaide

2008-12-02T00:46:00.000-08:00

Adelaide. Warm, sunny, beachy, Mac n'cheese.
After a week of windy, rainy, cloudy Melbourne; Adelaide, specifically Glenelg Beach was exactly what we wanted. After another ridiculously awful overnight busride we arrived at 6am and trammed it to the beach, where it was so early the hostel wasn't even open yet so I napped in front on my bags like a bum. Then not only did we get in, but we got to sleep,in gloriously non bunk beds with pillows and mattresses like BUTTAAHH. And after a 5 hour nap I explored the beachy little area and was quite delighted. I spent the first few days there just reading and running by the beach and laying on the beach, and watching bums close sit and stare at hot chicks on the beach. And watched tv. and ate mac n'cheese, and greek salad, and fruit salad, delicously prepared in a non crowded kitchen. Such a good hostel that we stayed there for 6 nights and only spent one night in acutaly Adelaide. I did tram it in one day and explore the mayhem that is everywhere now given the holidays. People shopping and bustling around, and women and men standing out front of shops with mics and amps listing the sales featured inside the shit show of a store they are promoting. I did however pick up a tibetan rune necelace to ward off negative forces(even if they're comind from within) and a cool new australia bracelet to add to my wrist journey.
One day it did rain in Adelaide and Juli and I ventured to the local cutesy theater to see the new Baz Lurhman film, Australia. Which was awesome and Hugh Jackman is all kinds of hotness, including a very obvious but nontheless essential, I think to the essence of he story and the plotline, bathing scene featuring his ripped abs and muscly back and arms. mmm mm mmm.
It was nice and relaxing and now we're back in Melbourne for a day before the farm tomorrow, and I happened to catch day two of the Homeless World Cup.
A totally awesome event featuring something like 56 countries all of street soccer teams, and the aim is to improve peoples lives through futbol and i couldn't be more for it, because they totally kicked ass. It's 4 person teams including the goalie, on the tiniest field you've ever seen, with 7 minute halves, and it is INTENSELY AWESOME! I probably spent 7 hours today going back and forth between events, however my teams never win. Highlights were the Colombian Team(womens) who were all pint sized but totally badass and have some really good moves. And there was a badass game between Brazil and Argentina, where I'm sorry to say Argentina got their asses handed to them in a shocking 13-3 loss. Also the Rwanda vs Namibia game was equally heated but filled with awesome blocks at only 3-2 Rwanda in the end. I'm convinced it was the stupid Argentinean goalie who let about a million go by but whatevah!
I even got to habla a little espanol with the colombian guy next to me as i was the only one rooting for Argentina and shouting random weird shit (that probably didn't even make sense) in spanish at them.
So onto the Finca manana and will report back in a week or so. This one is a vinyard so I think it'll be waay awesome!--Ciao