September

It truly is crazy how quickly one can jump from continent to continent, time zone after time zone, life and experience all falling away at each turn. I feel as if Kenya was all a dream. I just woke up. I'm in America. I'm at home in my apartment. In the bathroom trying not to wake up my BFFs who are sleeping all around this joint. Just using MY LAPTOP AND IPHONE (at the same damn time). Yesterday I awoke and was in the Amsterdam airport, the day before that I woke up in Maai Maihu. Time really did sink into itself on the way home and I'm still not so sure how or when that's going to right itself. It's 5am here, 3 in the afternoon in Kenya, and I basically gave up trying to sleep anymore, fuck it. I was Castaway-ing out earlier, laying there in the darkness thinking about how insane it is to be home, and flashing my headlamp on a faded picture of Helen Hunt. haha but seriously, It's astounding how much I have and how little I really need in my life to get by, and how all of the things I have at home seem so luxurious and decadent. Like a fridge full of hot sauce and cold beer and string cheese, all at my disposal. Obviously my first shower at home was THA BIZNESS. After that long eh 40 hours of travel I feel like I needed a team of experts to detangle my hair, a la the makeover scene in Ms. Congeniality. My hair is so soft right now it probably does rival Sandra Bullocks. Other stuff just like drinking tap water, wearing a tank top and shorts, feeling free to do anything. I could right now in the middle of the night, get in my car and drive somewhere. At home I have so much freedom and independence that just seemed so normal before but that now really makes me appreciate how lucky I am to have come from here. If that seemed really patriotic, that's because it was shitheads.



I feel so conflicted and so insanely lucky about my life. This month has brought so much joy into my life and taught me so much about myself. Oh September. I feel so sad to have to part with some of the most amazing people I've ever met, with people I feel are my family. There is always a big void to fill shaped like each of those people who touched my life. Corny shit I know, but I feels it, for real. At first a month seemed like a long time to spend every waking moment with these people, complete strangers to me at first. I find it truly interesting how quickly people adapt to their surroundings and gravitate towards those with who they truly connect. The experience I had in Kenya would have been something completely different had each and every one of those people been a part of it. I truly would have had a horrible time without you. And now all I wanna do is play some cards, drink some tea (okay let's get real, Bond 7) and be around them. Wake up and eat breakfast with everyone, watch Ryan accidentally fill his whole cup with hot milk instead of hot water for his tea and pile up some insane Wedding Crashers style breakfast plate. I want to watch Marsha eat something tan colored. I want to communicate with Oakley about something funny with just a look. I want to listen to Citizen Soul Father talk about the office of the President (are you listening to me?). I wanna put bomb sauce on something. I want to do painting projects with Chris, watch the boys play soccer, lay in a hammock and hear about everyone's lives. I miss them, they made that trip what it was, and what it was, was incredible.

On our last couple of days in Kenya there was actually some much needed free and reflection time and I sucked it up. The day after our big opening a few of us walked over nice and early to hang out at the Cafe during the day. I was nice and hungover from the birthday celebration the night before( more on that later) and the walk was a nice way to get some fresh air, exercise, and back sweat going on. Katy and Rocky and I walked that walk one last time; out the Transit and across the street, through the field, around the neighborhoods, past the donkey water haulers, over wash your clothes river, up HOW ARE YOU? hill, around the school, down the quarry, through the cornfield, past the fence, into the cafe. It was a refreshing and peaceful moment to approach that Cafe after all had been said and done. It was a living thing now, no longer a project or a job, it was now a space to be enjoyed, to relax around, to drink coffee at- it was real. Cafe Ubuntu. I am because we are. (we call it that for a reason, are you listening to me?) haha. I had a morning and an afternoon there. I had a cup of tea in a Cafe Ubuntu ceramic cup, I lay down on the terrace and chilled. All day long. Left for lunch, came back- same spot. I stared at the clouds all day. I made warthogs and monkeys and faces out of them. I listened to Lana del Rey and the men working on the library, I listened to the boys playing soccer and the rest playing cards, I listened to Lisa finishing up her training on the newbies, I listened to espresso being made. And I felt content. All of us were there in perfect harmony, each person doing what they wished in their last Kenyan hours. I felt happy to be in the space with everyone and not even need to interact, just to be close by and in their presence. I felt like we did something there, we touched that land and built things. We made lasting pathways and dirt mounds, we helped create jobs and hire new baristas, we fixed roads (well not me, per say, but the royal 'we' did) we painted signs and borders and menus, we contributed a small bit to that place's greatness. And it felt fucking perfect. It felt completed, and I felt ready. Then I got to play a little soccer due to two injuries: Devon fell into an enormous hole that was just hidden in the field and Hunter got a piece of rebar just straight through his shoe and out the other end. We all piled into the van one last time, drove down that country ass, potholed-out road, belted out some Celine Dion, and went home.


So onto my birthday. The big 2-8. First off, it was the longest birthday experienced because it jumped time zones and continents. Kenya, Amsterdam, Reno.

I was so lucky to get to see so many people I love for my birthday and experience both American and Kenyan birthday traditions. So for those of you who weren't aware, yesterday was my 28th birthday. I turned twenty-eight on September 28th. Golden Birthday. Buut in Maai Maihu we celebrated on the 25th. I like to maximize my celebratory time and turn it into a week of festivities, kind of like an Indian Wedding. We were mostly celebrating the launch of the cafe- the success of the celebration, the ability to shell out enough goat meat for everyone, etc. A big Kenyan birthday tradition is to douse the birthday person in water, as we found out a few weeks ago when it was Emily's birthday. So I kind of new it was coming, but I fell for it anyways- why you ask? Cause I'm an asshole. Oh well. So other Emily lured me out back under some shady false pretense of a serious talk. I believe I even looked back at the peeps eating and said welp, imma bout to get soaked. But she was quite convincing, luring me out for the slaughter. I didn't see the water at first, just all the Germans recording me with their iphones. BAM!!!!! Both sides just fucking worked me, enormous laundry buckets of water just all. over. me. haha great tradition. I did feel a little pleasure out of the fact that Hunter also was completely soaked from throwing it all over me- cause we all know how much misery loves company. Then I go back inside only to get more soaked- just water bottle after water bottle of water getting poured on my head and Rocky trying to shove cake all over my face. Super fun. Oh then Patrick iced me. Needless to say I was hurting the next day, but whatevz YOLO.


We left Kenya on September 27th and went out with a bang if I do say so myself. Shout out to my main steeziez, Citizen Soul Power Big Father Daddy Kevin and O A K LAAAAAYYYYY for hooking me up that day. They were both staying in Kenya a bit longer and got a room at Tribe. Tribe is fucking CUUUUUUSSSSSH. Supa Dupa nice, supa dupa pricey, but a really amazing treat. This place had mad hook ups- glass elevators, wifi off the heezey, classy wazungos everywhere, they even sold lifeline products in their gift shop which was rad. Anyways so they also have a badass pool outside which I immediately was all about. Just Brokedown Palacing that shit. Except no one really seemed to care that I wasn't staying at the hotel, I just blended in with all the other MUZUNGOS populatin' that place. Swam a bit, chilled with Marsha and Oak poolside, drank a mojito, pretty PRETTY GOOD. We all had one last family dinner- just more cocktails, why not right? and said our goodbyes to Rubie, Rocky, and Jeremiah. Goodbyes are tricky because if not done right they just keep making you feel worse and worse. I've met so many amazing people in my life and some I'm lucky enough to be surrounded by everyday, but a lot no. And it is easy to stay in touch in this modern age, so that does cushion the blow a little bit. But I've learned that you just have to make it quick, tell them you love them, and bounce. Some people are meant to come into your life and change it, teach you things about yourself, help you grow. The people I was surrounded by this past month were those people. I was lucky enough to get a whole month. Some of them I will see again, some probably not, but the beauty of life is in the unknown. And even if I never get to go back to Kenya, or never see some of them again, I know that we touched each other's lives and I know that I am a better human because of them. God, who am I Marsha? Sap fest 2013 over here. haha, jk Marsh. We get to the airport after mad traffic and had to get a bunch of weird inspections, bag weighs, document checks,etc. The woman inspecting my passport was kinda looking at me weird and smiling creepily. Then she just looks up grinning, HAEPPY BARTHDAY she says, haha. Good stuff.

So speaking of people I love, nowz the time for the shout outs for all my rad people back home. Also shout out to Ken and Chris for the birthday Qdoba and Massage at the airports- that was amazeballs. My gorgeous mum picked me up from the airport just looking fly as always and whisked me to my home sweet home. My apartment of course looked even more awesome than I remembered it and smelled FUCKING GREAT. Nick has just been all up in here fixing and building shit and changing all the weird things I had going on that have bugged him the whole time I've lived here. Nickybooboo built laundry shelves, a bike rack, secured max privacy settings on the windows and my railing, organized my silverware and closet, added artwork, and painted me a new outside table. It's amazing, I love everything and I am always astounded at the shit he makes. He's perfect. I missed him so. Nick and BritJobin hemaglobin and Misty came right over after work and showered me with gifts, fed me queso, and iced me with a 32. This is why I do it. Ryan and Michael were glad I'm home. Sort of. Except I'm pretty sure they wish Nick was their forever neighbor- sorry bitches, the wench is home! Turns out two more of our friends are moving into the building and I am so excited to be living where I'm living. We sat outside and stared at all the Reno weirdos, drank some, drank more, tried anything to keep me awake. I'd been up for something like 40-ish hours at that point. We went out to Chapel but I was just in blackout exhausted mode and missed seeing a few more peeps. Luckily my MAIN STEEZ Whitni didn't schedule me until Wednesday so there's time to hang out with some family and friends before I have to go back to work and deal with two thousand emails. I really missed my friends, in a way I didn't really have on my last trip. When I returned from my big year of travel some friends were still in Reno but most everyone was spread out all over the west coast, or heading somewhere else very soon. But this time I knew what I was coming back to, I knew that my bff gang crew would be here and I love them so much I can't even put it into works. Megalopolis Love, to quote Kevin. I've never felt so loved and never had such a good birthday and I can say that seriously and without exaggeration. I've had some shitty fucking birthdays and September has always been a month of great change my whole life. Summer is ending, fall beginning, school starting, trips starting and ending, relationships ending, people leaving, people dying- always September. Time flies, it really does. I'm so lucky to have been given this opportunity to slow my modern life down a bit and live a month in Kenya. I now know some things in my life I need to stop fighting and start embracing. I'm never going to be done traveling, it will never get out of my system. It's time I started trying to make my life work in cooperation with this instead of around it. I'm not sure what or how I will do it, but I need to start making moves, changes, embracing opportunity and taking risks. That's where the magic happens right? Outside the ol' comfort zone. I'll also try to keep writing, I really do love it and need to continue with this in my life. Even if no one is reading it, I think it's something I will work on keeping in my life.

The sun is finally up. I'm gonna pounce on my bestest friends who are cuddled up in my bed right now. It's good to be home.

Sweet ass (expensive ass) Water

Welp everyone, the time here is coming to a close. And it makes me really fucking sad. And I’m gonna get a little sappy here for a minute so suck it up. This week there was a shooting at a mall in Nairobi. A mall that was frequented by Kenyans and muzungos and people from all over the world. And it has really been affecting everyone here. There are different levels of issues emerging from this tragedy. Fear, sadness, anger, relief, etc. I feel a little freaked out but not insane or anything. Mostly I am having a crisis of self of what if that was the mall we were in that day. Because we were in one, the Village Market Mall in Nairobi, a super cush mall that is embassy adjacent. I happened to be bowing down to the porcelain goddess and paying for my sins the following night. And it would really have been a bummer for my last act on earth to be puking in a mall bathroom. The point of this whole bit is, life is short, crazy shit happens, you have to live your life as you want it. If you are in a job that sucks, find another one, if you are in a relationship with a loser, break up with them, if you aren’t doing what you’ve always wanted to do with your life- do it because our time on earth is not infinite. Everyone dies, usually before they expect to, and I for one would like to go down with as little regret as possible. Also, horrible acts of terrorism happen everywhere- they happen in Kenya, they happen in America. This mall shooting happened in Nairobi. Last year some American walked into an IHOP in Carson City and shot up a bunch of people. Crazies are everywhere and I know personally I will continue to travel and continue to live my life to the full extent that I can because if they were to affect my decision in any way, make me afraid of travel then their whole plan of instilling fear works. And I say fuck that. Rant over.

Let’s talk about this awesome last week. So after I puked and rallied, we drove for another few hours through some bumpy ass roads that gave what they all call here a right ‘Kenyan Massage’. We FINALLY arrive at Sweetwaters and it’s exactly that, SWEET ASS WATER. Its supa dupa deluxe, fucking whiteys everywhere and these gorgeous grounds with luscious plants and flowers everywhere, acacia trees, birds squawking, the works. Out front is a watering hole where RHINOS come and drink water at night. Rhinos are basically alive dinosaurs. They are cray CRAY. Rhinos apparently also have some magic in their horns which makes them super attractive for poachers. So the game preserve has these bad ass mofos that are decked out all in camo and strapped with machine guns to patrol the land 24/7. Apparently crushed up rhino horn is super good for curing the worldwide health catastrophe: male erectile dysfunction. And apparently it’s most popular in China and other Asian countries for old dudes. Hey old dudes- maybe get some exercise and stop drinking so heavily and your penis will work, no need to butcher a FUCKING RHINO for your Viagra. Anyways, that’s lame. It was truly amazing though, this tent camp was basically high up bungalows with crisp white sheets, fluffy down comforters and instant hot water. Don’t even get me started on the food there. Trough after trough of deliciousness- chapatti for days, fresh salad bar, cray cray patatas. The coffee comes in a French press and is bottomless and FREE. The water is 270 shillings a bottle which is fucking steep. The dessert bar is straight out of Jurassic Park. In fact the whole shebang was straight out of Jurassic Park. Electric fences everywhere, high grass, highly intelligent wildlife.

The highlight of the safaris was an evening drive on our last day there. To preface this, we arrived in afternoon and went out two evenings and two mornings. This is the best time to see all the wildlife cause they are all out eating and drinking a pooping. So our last night we are all kinda tired and thinking maybe we’d just like to chill out on our SICK ASS verandas and have a cold beer and enjoy each other’s company. But we all rallied and reluctantly set out on our drive. And right off the bat we spot a fucking CHEETAH. This beasty is so majestic and full of strength and curves, and allz I can say is, this bitch definitely gets her running on. So we’re all checking her out and freaking out actually at how badass she is, laying there in the golden grass, perfectly blending in and staring intently into the brush hoping to make a kill. Then we see them. TWO BABY CHEETAHS. Cheetah cubs !!!!!! They are jumping all over and hopping and running and of course I’m squealing uncontrollably because I can’t help myself. They are having a great afternoon following mom around and traipsing through the grass. Then the queen bitch walks RIGHT UP next to our van and again I’m totally freaking out about the whole thing. She’s amazing, calm and collected and terrifying. The babies are fluffy and tiny and prancing! It was insane and I can’t believe we almost skipped it. Amazing.

And today we opened Café Ubuntu. It was such a grand spectacle and celebration. I can’t believe we pulled it off. We were literally working up until the last minute- me and Chris anyways, finishing up chalkboards and filling prices, etc. We had people from CTC, our Whole Foods gang, tons of local business people, Malaika moms and kids, Maasai women, and so many more. There was a bunch of speeches, there was a traditional Maasai dance and then Jeremiah cut the ribbon and Lisa broke the challah (HOLLER!). And then the shit hit the fan. Everybody is bum rushing the café wanting all kinds of drinks. Dormans who is their coffee supplier also had a coffee truck that had a line all the way down the walkway, and the three baristas have been trained like THIS week and are getting fucking slammed. But they all killed it and we are handing out baked goods to a million hands everyone saying shit to me in Swahili that I don’t really understand but which I translate in my head to “Hey white girl, I don’t want that fucking cookie, I want the doughnut that Ruby is giving out.” We are slicing up piles and piles of chapattis with a tiny wine knife meant to cut the foil off the top, and Kevin’s $7 Ace Hardware knife. Then the power goes out. This is Kenya. T.I.K. as they say. The rest of the day basically went like that. Just trying to make coffee as fast as these brand new baristas possibly can, handing out food and goat meat to anyone and everyone that sticks their hands in their face. And then tearing it all down as quickly as it was built. D.J. Rubie Ruth aka D.J. R squared is pumping the reggae and then everyone starts boogying down, including a bunch of the Malaika kids who are taking turns shouting out on the mic. It was really awesome and I feel so stoked to be lucky enough to have landed this group at this time. Amazing shit. Truly. So in two days I say goodbye to this place and I’m starting to bum out about it. But that is life. Life is life, what can do? We’re having a pizza night blow out to celebrate the opening and then get a few more days to hang with these amazing people in this insanely cool place. I’ll try not to cling to it, appreciate the moment, and fucking YOLO.

Cafe Ubuntu and my Kenya family

The time in Kenya has been flying by and we only have one more week here! It makes me very sad to be leaving especially since we are all bonding and forming such a close knit little family. That being said I thought it might be time to do a little profile on all of the people here, okay MARSHA? So our Whole Foods group is eleven peeps, all from North America, everyone except one from the states.
1. Me. Duh.
2. Lisa, our Team Leader and a Store Team Leader from Toronto, Canada. Lisa is a tiny little spitfire with curly blonde hair and mad interviewing skills. Lisa asks all the good questions when we are all meeting people and doing site visits so that everyone gets all the good deets. She is also a master at many things including baking and baked the most amazing pizza and brownies for everyone last week. She is also a great communicator and helps everyone by facilitating conversations that we might not otherwise have.

3. Katy, trainer and education manager at Allegro Coffee which is owned by Whole Foods. Katy is from Denver, Colorado. Katy is extremely patient and kind and takes the most insanely awesome photos. She is a mother of two tween-age girls and so naturally all the children here flock to her when we are about town. She is facilitating all the coffee aspects of the opening of the café, along with being a general badass mambo jambo. Katy made everybody the most bomb ass lattes and mochas today when we finally got the espresso machine going. She is full of knowledge and so good at sharing it. Katy rules.

4. Ken, gro-body Associate Team Leader who lives in Basalt, Colorado. Ken is one of five Coloradoans dominating the scene here. Ken brings the mountain man aspect to the team and was one of the first one up our crazy ass Mount Longonot hike (to be discussed later). Sings a lot. Used to have dreadlocks down to his ankles that he told me after he showered he put a towel on his hair and lay on the ground and had his lady walk on them to dry them. That shit cray.

5. Ryan (or Lion, as the Kenyan’s pronounce it) is a grocery Associate Team Leader from Little Rock, Arkansas. He is a tall drink o water and is fucking hilarious. We were recently at a mall in Nairobi and he just shouted HAGRID!!! At this beasty mo fo that looked just like the Harry Potter star. Ryan also introduced the card game palace to our crew which we play almost each and every night. Ryan also is ON POINT with pop culture references and we could go back and forth reciting Forest Gump all day long. Lieutenant Dan ICE CREAM. Also invented ‘your dad week’.

6. Tyler, is a specialty coffee and tea buyer from Bend, Oregon. He immediately fell in love with Kenya and Maai Maihu and CTC and may or may not move back here to work because he loves it so much. He also gets the man of the year award for carrying nineteen liters of water up on our hike so that everyone else could be free of carrying stuff. He also brought some soccer balls that the kids here freak out over.

7. Chris is a Whole Body Associate Coordinator from Denver, Colorado. Chris is my main bitch for sure. She is calm and collected and is always hooking me up with the necessities, like human contact and chocolate cookies. She is also a fellow artist and has been painting some of the coolest, most badass stuff in Café Ubuntu. She is also a fellow traveler who can revel with me about all the similarities between here and India which are many.

8. Kevin is a Grocery Dairy Buyer from Atlanta, Georgia. Kevin is a tall dude ass that is constantly wandering around Kenya getting stared at for being such a large muzungu. I also one day told a group of kids that I didn’t have any candy but that Kevin did and that his name was ‘ Big Daddy’. Which prompted this tiny group of scoundrels to hover around him shouting ‘Big Daddy! Give me a sweet!’ hilarious. I also thought that Kevin’s Kenyan girlfriend was cat fishing him until by bluff was called and she showed up one day to be hella fine and hella real. Kevin is hilarious and his external/internal dialogue are on point and make everything fun. Citizen SOUL POWER.

9. Marshaaaaaaa is an Associate Store Team Leader from Sonoma, California. Marsha is also super fucking hilarious. Catch phrase: “ Shut the fuck up!”. The best thing that happened to Marsha is that she got accidentaly ICED one day when borrowing my laundry bucket. Oakley had stashed a can of Smirnoff black ice in there and we broke Marsha’s ice cherry then and there. Then we had to sit through a meeting. Whoops. Oh also last night she was eating plain rice for dinner sandwiched between two salt and vinegar Pringles. Priceless. Oh and she makes a BOMB ASS guacamole.

10. Devon is a Prepared Foods Store Trainer from Boulder, Colorado. Devon is also a bomb cook and was a main assist on our beloved pizza night. Devon is organized and pragmatic which helps us all get in line when we are trying to figure out projects. Oh and is a dance machine, getting down to ipods, car jams, etc. Any and all of the time. I also iced Devon tonight at dinner IN the potato salad. It was awesome.

11. Oakely. OAK-A-LEY. Is a store buyer from Boulder, Colorado as well. Oakley is my boy but gets really annoyed at me constantly shouting his name. Along with his icing antics, Oakley also likes to hand out sweets with me to all the cute ass school kids when they walk past. Oakley is going to do some sick traveling after Kenya around Europe then go home for a hot minute and the next day drive and move to San Diego. Cray. Anyways, OAK-A-LEY is rad. Oh he also ices himself on purpose all the time because he, get this, LIKEs it. So naturally the fun isn’t there to ice him, so I might have to get some gross mango wine and hide it in his backpack. He also got worked the first night we hung out with CTC. Emily claimed that this drink was for girls and was also a ‘panty remover’. hahaha. So much icing on this trip.

We also have some rad peeps that work at CTC that we all get to hang out with on the reg. Ruby Ruth- is another total badass chick that I LOVE. TO. DEATH. She has been instrumental in my Swahili swag and is always around helping our gang get from place to place and hooking us up with internet and making sure that everyone is having what they need AND a good time. She’s amazing and is also always wandering around in the rubble of Kenya in high heel boot and wedges. The other day she was hauling wheelbarrows of rocks in a halter top and flats. She works it.
Tony- Is without a doubt the happiest human I have ever met. Every day we see him he’s more GQ’ed than the day before. He’s also helping me not fuck up my Swahili too bad. He is such a badass that one day we were walking back to the Transit(home) from work(Café ubuntu) and Ryan left his phone there. We were already about halfway home. Tony simply said. This I will do. Then he told Kevin. “Kevin, you will lead the team safely back to the hotel until I return”. And set off running. Not only did he get the phone but he lapped us on the way home and ended up ahead.
Rocky- Is a total baller, total boss. He is always there to help us get down with some local flavor be that Nyama Choma(Roast Meat), pick up soccer games, etc. He is a good critique of my work and said that the painting I did of the Masai man wasn’t buff enough and that the woman was prettier. Well duh I said. Women naturally have a much curvier shape. Plus all the dudes I’ve seen in Kenya have bee pretty svelte motha fuckers. Rocky was a king or drug king pin or famous movie star in another life. He’s just that baller.
Jeremiah- Runs the show here in Maai Maihu and is the co-founder of CTC. Is super hilarious and a total baller. He basically is making deals and dollas all day long. He is also a maniac driver and likes to narrate along as he goes. Loves to drink mochas as well which works as an ulterior motive to opening the café.

This week we have also been doing some really cool work in the café. Café Ubuntu. Ubuntu means “ I am because we are” in Zulu I think? Or some other language, but something South African. I feel bad admitting it, but the work I’ve been doing is super duper kush. I’ve been painting la la la la la. First we did a nice little border around the walls, then some editing on the logo, and my favorite is I got to paint the signs for men’s and women’s bathroom. Which was really fun and a nice little creative outlet. Meanwhile most of the team is outside shoveling gravel, hauling rocks, building mounds of dirt and working their asses off. Welp, I guess the moral of the story is, be an artist and you don’t have to do manual labor. Also, DAD, there I am using my college education. Haha.

Also we hiked Mount Longonot this weekend. Which we all thought was gonna be some pretty easy, pretty hard hike. It was fucking gnarly. Hella. So the whole gang went, except ol Kevin who needed a rest day, aka Catfish rendezvous. So the hike up was pretty easy for a bit then it starts getting really sandy, really steep and it is climbing and climbing and I am heaving and gasping like freaking James Gandolfini trying to finish a plate of chicken parmesan. (RIP). Anyways, so Longonot is a dormant volcano and I, along with others thought that it was going to be a hard hike up but then just a nice trek around the rim. NOT. It was chill for a bit then a few enormous climbs up. Oh also the outfit I have chosen for this trek is a pair of American apparel short shorts, leggings and my worn out tiger sneakers. Those babies are SLICK. Everyone else is hopping nimbly bimbly from tree to tree in their rugged outdoorsy shoes and shit, I’m literally sliding down the mountain on my greatest asset(pun intended). I slid down sandy slopes, covering everything in a dust. Pig pen style. By the time the mountain was completed, I looked somewhat like one of the boys from the Sandlot and Uma Thurman in Kill Bill after she escapes being buried alive. But it was awesome. Mt. Longonot- YOU MY BITCH!

Another interesting foray we had this week was into some Maasai land. We were going there to speak with some Maasai grandmothers who have adopted orphans whose parent’s died of HIV/AIDS. Well only one of the mothers were there so we had some other adventures. The best was right when we landed we’re mobbed by a tiny gang of tiny dudes. They are all super, super, super dirty. Their ringleader is of course the tiniest one and is carrying a fucking whip as an accessory. They are all about the ‘GIVE ME A SWEET’ chant. Nobody has any candy when it’s the right moment, so we have to make do. One of the little dudes straight flipped off Ken as his hello. Kevin ended up giving them a bunch of Dentyne Ice that he had in his bag and was trying to get them to share but the way they did this was to have a couple of them chew all the gum and then hand it off. Then they kept tugging on my shirt and looking up at me so sweetly, ‘Why you no give me chocolate?” Then they took us up to some insane livestock market where a bunch of dudes were standing around selling sheep and goats to each other. Aka a huge market where everyone could stare at us muzungus. Some dude kept trying to get me to buy a sheep of his, and when I denied he motioned that he’d be okay taking my sunglasses instead. Okay bro. We have one week left. Tomorrow we leave for a Safari that will be nearby Mount Kenya. We return Monday to help organize more stuff and open the Café on Wednesday. And then Friday I head home. And then Saturday I turn 28. Holy shit time flies. Anyways, tutaonana.

Karibu!!!

Week two of Kenya living has been pretty pretty awesome. Again this might seem like a jumbled mess of thoughts so let me pre apologize for all that. I've officially settled into our spot and decided to give everyone back home a little idea of what life is on the daily here. I usually wake up at around 6 or 7 am to either the sound of women chatting while they do laundry, or semi-trucks driving past. One morning it sounded like the gate near my door being smashed in by a battering ram. I crawl out of my mosquito net and usually do a little yoga in my little room.

Showering facilities are toilet shower style with a little ledge to prevent all your nasty water flowing straight into the bedroom. First, flip on the warm water switch, then listen outside and see if the ladies are still doing laundry. If they are, forget it and try again later, if not turn the water on a TINy bit and wait for the craaarfffhhhssshhh sound like thunder that indicates that the hot water is coming. Then rapidly scramble to wet all your hair and get some shampoo in before the water shuts off. After the water shuts off decide if you want to finish the shower with freezing cold water or stand there freezing and try to think the water back into warmness. The moral of the story is to shower in the evening when less people are using water. Food here is actually really good. So good that I again should mention I'm getting totally Kenya fat which is a first world problem if there ever is one. Three squares a day is a lot more than any of us eat and it is beginning to take it's toll. I believe I mentioned before that white bread is a big thing here, and so is tea. In the mornings we fill up tea from a thermos and then struggle to not break your wrist pouring out the gigantic blue jug of warm milk to make Kenyan milk tea, which is a lot like the chai you get in India. Very Very tasty.

We normally eat all of our meals at the Longonot Transit Hotel, my main steez. This is where we all live, sleep, drink, chat, etc. Everyone who works here is super rad, Dom, our local shop manager is always keeping us in fresh coke baridi(cold). Lunch and dinner vary but are usually similar- buffet style. Normally rice is at lunch and dinner, and always potatoes. Usually sliced, diced, etc. One night we all thought we were getting fried bananas in a nice red sauce? But they just turned out to be potatoes that were very long and potato looking? Then we have chopped up Kenyan kale, usually another Indian style dahl or veggie curry, and a few crazy looking meat dishes that I play the vegetarian card on and steer clear. There is also some bomb sauce that we call call red yellow because it's red sauce in a yellow mustard dispenser. It tastes like tapatio but we all know that cannot be, but eat it anyways cause its the bomb ass red yellow yall. The tv is always on here and it's always spanish soap operas dubbed in english? There is also a tiny TV in every single room we've stayed in this entire trip. With three channels, one news which is mostly religious propaganda and shit I don't understand, and the other two are different spanish soaps 24/7

We spent a lot of time in the car the last couple of days so let me give you a little insight into that. First off wherever we go kids literally come sprinting out of their houses or down the hill because they must see our bright white wazungu skin from miles away... Wazungu is the plural of muzungo which basically translates to whitey gringo stranger from far away land. Anyways the kids come pouring out of shantees and shop fronts and school yards shouting Muzungo! and How are YOUUUUUUU! and are extremely insanely world fucking stoppingly cute. I will for sure be putting off worries about having children one day because I know fo sho that I'm adopting a little Kenyan orphan someday and they will be the cutest kid on the block. Anyways, in the car, everyone is staring at us and the thing is a lot of people are just standing around by the road watching the cars driving past. Women and children wave, dudes stare, must like India. Roadside snacks and activities abound. The favorite kid activity is push the tire, kick the tire, or move the tire with a stick while running with a huge group of your friends. It's hilarious, and so cute and I find it equally adorable every single time I witness it. Snacks along the road are corn, corn, and roasted corn. Although on the street the other day we did see a ton of fish straight frying in the hot oil in the hot sun and then laid out in rows, if you wanted to get down on some fish-on-a-stick. Anyways, we partook in the roasted corn during a particularly long stretch, it. was. weird. You want some salt or butter or something but it's just plain and tastes cooked and raw all at once and is basically popcorn on a stick. You may also take your choice of buckets and buckets and buckets of neatly stacked potatoes that defy gravity and are at every roadside town. Bags of tomatoes, handfuls of carrots, oranges, you are offered it up at every speedbump and traffic jam. A raw potato doesn't really sound like a good road snack so I've resisted thus far. I did not resist however, some paprika flavored pringeles that are quite strange and I'm pretty sure cause anal leakage but fuck it, YOLO.

The road stretches on and on, especially when you are in the car for eight hours. Corn fields for as far as you can see, sugar cane, and little houses with children everywhere. Women are usually working hard in their front yards smashing up the jembe into the hot Kenyan ground while their husband is probably off in town standing around with his friends doing jack shit. The amount of children wandering around unsupervised is also unparalleled. Teeny tiny little ones that look barley big enough to be walking are strutting down the street with their gang playing and laughing like it aint no thing. One of the women I'm traveling with saw a group of kids throwing a dead crow at each other and laughing hysterically. Just another fun game to play. We also saw the Kenyan P.E. class going down as we were driving through a few towns. This consists of every kid from school running out to the street and running along the road as fast as they can. In full on school uniforms aka skirts, ties, sweaters, the works. And obviously it goes without saying they are magnificent runners because they're Kenyans and every kid is working this roadside run like it's the Olympic trials. Okay one more tidbit then I need to get off this blasted internet.

We're pimping out Cafe Ubuntu soooo much and it's going to be the badest ass cafe that Maai Maihu has ever seen. Painting and landscaping is what we've been up to and in two days we got that place facelifted like a makeover show on HGTV. One day after work I was chatting up a couple of the local gentleman about the work they had been doing all day. Just digging a fifty foot pit for everyone to poop in. They were in good spirits, obviously cause the work day was over and it was Tusker Time. Anyways, they were asking me about where I was from and what I did for work and how many children I had. I told them I didn't have any children and I wasn't married. Which is odd for an old maid such as myself at the ripe age of 27 going on 28. They asked me why I wasn't yet married, I thought for a hot minute and told them, well guys, I guess I just haven't met anyone I wanted to marry yet. They both then went into gut busting laughter at this comment. I guess it was utterly hysterical that I thought I could maybe or maybe not get married depending if I liked the guy or not. just laughing and laughing. haha. Okay, that's enough for now. Love to all at home.

Habari Gani

HABARI!!!!! Kenya so far has been insanely awesome and it's only been one week. It's a lot like India but without so much cows in the roads and no honking. The cars definitely drive a little cray but they just adjust to everyone around them and it's actually quite nice. Except for the constant diesel smell from all the cars idling fo days.

We are living in Maai Maihu which is a small town about an hour away from Nairobi. The best part of Kenya is the people, they are so incredibly nice and generous and strong. The little kids are so freaking cute I can't stand it. They come running out of the woodwork whenever we are in town shouting 'how are you?' and love to pose for pictures like teeny tiny models. And the school uniforms are totally money. Kenyan's love to have tea in the afternoon which is I guess a British influenced tradition. All the tea here is similar to Indian Chai and is sweet and extremely hot and served up in tin mugs akin to what we use for camping in the states. There is also a TON of white bread brought to every meeting with Kenyans. And you have to eat it because it's being offered up by super amazing women and it would be rude to turn it down. We were visiting one of the mom's from the CTC and there was literally a bucket of bread served up with our tea. So I go for it, and it's a butter sandwich. Two slices of white bread and a shit TON of butter smashed up in there. Anyways, needless to say I'm probably gonna come home hella fat from so much white bread tea time. But oh well.

The baby rabies is also off the chain here. I've seen regular human babies, baby bunnies, baby kittens, baby piglets, baby goats, baby giraffes, baby warthogs, baby zebras. I of course scream BABY or TINY at them. The Swahili is coming along quite nicely and it of course helps to have our handlers Rubie Ruth and Tony helping me out with my vocab. It's a really fun language and I hope I can learn as much as I can so I can use it in Reno with all the Kenyan's who live there... oh wait. So what we've been doing is back and forth of seeing really incredible tourist things and really realistic Kenyan life. Most of the real stuff happens in the village of Maai Maihu, where we are working with CTC International ctcinternational.org We've met so many incredible women that have struggled and overcome so much and they hardly break a sweat. It's so hard to sum everything we've seen in one week up in one post so bear with me.

We drove out one day to Brown's cheese plantation where this incredibly beautiful woman runs a charming cheese business out of her family's estate. Originally from England they've lived in Kenya for 100 years and her parents started making cheese because they couldn't get anything they wanted here. She basically is a total badass and took the operation over a few years ago. We ate an insane meal in the garden and sampled a bunch of cheese. Perfect for my freshman ten I'm gonna gain in Kenya. Then to counter that we visited the CTC headquarters and met an incredible woman who runs their community health program. She is one of the hardest working women I've ever met and she is so humble and ready to share basically her life story with us. We scoped out the Cafe Ubuntu where we will be finishing up painting and helping with the grand opening later on this month. That's where I got to hold a baby goat that was two weeks old, teeny tiny and was wearing a Masai bracelet as a necklace. Everyday we all cram into some version of a van and hightail it up suicide hill where all the trucks are whizzing up the blind corners on the left side of the road and swerving around. One day we saw a huge truck pulled over and one man was repairing it, and two other had just pulled mats and were sleeping underneath the semi waiting for him to finish it up. There was maybe one or two rocks holding the tires in place but not a lot of security that the truck wouldn't crush them to death.

We drove for a really long time out to the middle of nowhere and then some. We park near a house and walk over to the tree where all the women are sitting in the shade working on bracelets. They are wearing these incredibly beautiful bright textiles and tons of beaded jewelry in bright reds and yellows. As we approach they all began singing this traditional Masai welcoming song that was so cool and amazing that I had to fight off crying like a baby the entire time.

We home visited one of the Malaika moms who sews the canvas bags that we sell at Whole Foods. It was pretty insane. First off the welcomes that we receive pretty much everywhere we go are so genuine and heartfelt. We along with some other Kenyan women all cram into this woman's living room and she just pours out her life story. Her daughter that can now walk and go to school because of the money her mom receives from CTC work is insanely cute and told us when she grows up she wants to be a neuro surgeon. Alice, another woman who works at CTC had us go around and do an ice breaker which was us all going around saying our names and doing 'our style' which is basically any dance move you want. They we all had to repeat it and some of them were cracking all of us up. Mine was the robot. duh.

Yesterday we visited Hell's Gate National park and I rode a bike through the most beautiful canyon and say Zebras running around, warthogs hauling all, giraffes hiding in the trees, gazelles, and water buffalos. No big deal. Friday night we tied one on Kenyan style which is basically pounding Bond 7 ( the local whiskey), and Tusker, our beer of choice with all of our crew at the Transit hotel where we're staying and some CTC peeps, well to the best we could with music coming out of one sad lone speaker. I know this is a bit all over the place but it's really difficult to try and sum it all up. So sorry I'm not sorry. Kwa Heri! Tutaonana!

Kenya!

Welp Everyone.Jambo! I did it. After 30 something hours of travel I am up and wandering around a mall in Nairobi like it aint no thang. So much cool stuff happened so far and I've only been here for a few hours. Firstly, the flights were insane and really long and on both 8 hour flight someone passed out and needed to be revived by nurses on board. The Amsterdam airport is OFF THE CHAIN. For real. It is probably one of the coolest places I've ever been. First off the design there is totally money. There are a bunch of really cool lounges with brightly colored Dr. Seuss looking chairs and plexiscreens that look like fireplaces, there was a woman just killing it on the piano, did I mention there was a piano at the airport. There is also a fully loaded art museum, an airport library with a ton of really cool art and design books, a spa, a Whiskey museum, and tons of really really ridiculously good looking Europeans to stare at. I had four hours there and it was pretty incredible. There was also some really cool chairs all set up for napping in front of a huge screen that played images of the Holland countryside to relax you. Their medidation room is rad and when you go to put your shoes in the little cubbys, just look out for someone's rollerblades? That they have apparently been cruising around the airport in..... Hilarious.

So I arrive in Kenya. I left at 630 am in Reno on Saturday and arrive at 8:30 pm in Nairobi. There was an epic fire at the airport two weeks ago so the entire thing is now makeshift tents that they have sprung up to do visas, customs and baggage claim. And of course it's pouring rain. So we get shuttled down to the first tent, wait forever for a visa. Get the visa. Then wander into another tent where a bunch of people are just standing around and it keeps getting more and more crowded. Then finally they released us into the main tent where everyone's bags are laid out in long lines like dead bodies. The sturdy backpack made it, I scoop it up and wander out. There are a two people operating customs. You just walk up and hand them your declaration form which they barely glance at and put in an enormous pile. And you are in Kenya. I found the Whole Foods people right away as I exited, I didn't remember all the pictures of my fellow volunteers but they looked like and were my people so that was a lucky guess. We headed out into the night. The exit of the airport reminded me a lot of arriving in Mumbai, India. It's super dark out and there are like fifty people waving signs and none of them say CTC or Whole Foods. We hang out for a really long time and then realize that the sign for 'Gamewatchers WFP group #3' is our sign. Rubie Ruth from CTC meets us and she is an incredibly beautiful, bespectacled ray of sunshine. She scoops us up into the vans and we head to our hotel.

First off we drive through Nairobi and it's filled with roundabouts and crazy billboards that are enormous and hilarious. There are all these weird birds napping in trees. There are people walking around through the light rain, but it's so dark it's hard to really get a grasp on things. We get to our hotel which is SICK. It feels way too nice for how rundown I look and feel. There is a coy pond out back and tons of lush trees and plants everywhere. The wooden lobby is clean and colonial looking and a random cat is walking about. I'm in Africa. I'ts not even setting in yet. But I am. I sleep the greatest sleep I've had all month and wake up feeling amazing. I take a little walk around the hotel in the morning while guys are sweeping up leaves and patroling the grounds. The group meets up for breakfast and I eat some crazy fruit that is a mix between lychee and rambutan, some eggs and a butload of tea. Rubie from CTC gathers us and we head on the first leg of our voyage. We drove through Nairobi and it's incredible. It's very jungle-like and also like a town. There seems to be construction on everything and juxtaposes of giant fancy hotels shadowing tiny broken down hutches. There are people along side the road selling plants and making furniture out of wood. We are currently at a mall adjacent to the US Embassy to get some last minute incidentals, aka a bunch of postcards and then we're having lunch and heading out to Maai Maihu. I love it and I can't wait to see more. Love to all. Kwa Heri!

Going going to Africa

Well I haven't written in a while, and I don't really have much to say now except stay tuned. Saturday I leave for a month long excursion in Kenya and I'll write as much as I can.

The Infinite Abyss

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.

Sab to the Rina

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...

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

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?

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

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

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

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

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

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.