against all hope

{11.19.2010}

Do you remember the holocaust of WWII? I remember freaking out in history class, that it took us (america) so long to intervene and stop such corrupt twisted behavior. How can so many people be killed and it go unnoticed? You can't pretend that kinda stuff is not happening and look the other way.

For so long I also maintained the assumption that Nazi Germany and their concentration camps were a one time tragic event against one people group... such an ignorant thought. Holocausts and genocide still plague our world. Struggles against severe cultural prejudice still leave bodies in heaps and piles, or worse, surviving people are subject to prisoners of the most dehumanizing acts.

Genocide in Burma has left hundreds of thousands of refugees to flee to jungles and across borders to Thailand and other neighboring countries (some even to America with the help of World Vision, my parents even adopted a Burmese family).

Hope keeps these desperate people alive. Aid from struggling organizations and missions might sustain them a little longer. The people that are not eliminated are sold as commodities, many of them as factory and field workers, and many, many more into the sex industries of Thailand, Cambodia, and elsewhere.

I have such a hopeless feeling myself, but the relentless smiles and struggle for survival that these people possess draw me toward their redemption. Not to mention, what kind of people are we if we just look away?

Against all hope,

Abraham believed...

Deciding to live not on the basis of what he saw he couldn't do.

But on what God said he would do.

romans 4:8 (NIV & The Message).

I am going in January, I want to be a voice for the people that have none...

**these photos are not mine

to life

{8.7.2010}

I won't do it justice. I can't. Not even with the finest vocabulary in all of the land.

Neither will a camera, especially not my point and shoot. And since my feeling is that the government here would make it difficult to upload unscreened videos, I will do my best with words from the images that my starving eyes have consumed: (cue an Enya song for dramatic effect, go ahead, youtube that ish!)

Rice fields stretch for miles, gingerly plotted green grids dotting sanctuaries of water that perfectly reflect and mirror the blameless, rapturous clouds of felicity sauntering along tree lines bordering dignified ancient mountains. An occasional unassuming farmer is harvesting the crop donning the conical paddy hat while dirty kids ride rusty bicycles along the crude muddy road. But I don't care how dirty they look, there is still a polished air about them where no frown has ever crossed their determined faces. The looming mountains that form a bordered frame around this scene laso in all shades of green. There is no other color in the spectrum that contends for real estate here. Unadultered, the only adjective that belongs is 'lush.'

But this scenery is only a back drop. Weaving in and among the rice fields, we made our way over make shift bridges hovering on top of cat fish farms to a clearing of bamboo huts and cement buildings that comprise Child Life. Precious children of all ages call this place home, sans parents, only a handful of volunteers drift around like elementary school lunch room monitors.

And these children are precious, believe me, but they are also especially clever. These are the 'Artful Dodgers' of Asia. These are the street kids that hover on the border of Thailand and Burma (Myanmar) and beg. These are the kids that are notorious for their habit of pacing around, rarely without sniffing a plastic bag of glue attached to their faces. Its a lose-lost situation. They are starving, dirty, and wandering the streets begging, but you give them money, they either sniff glue with it or have to hustle it off to the older kids that run the network of gangs. It is beyond an unsafe life for them.

The glimmering light of hope is the safe haven tucked back deep in the rice fields where Child Life has harbored these children and given them survival and an education. But when you talk about 'invisible children', these kids are absolutely elusive. The biggest problem is they can't belong in their home country (usually Burma) because of the oppressive militant government and injustice of poverty, but Thailand doesn't want them either as they bring their misfortune and poverty into their country. So where do they belong?

I see it as one world. Erase the borders and see that we are all just trying to pursue life. Who will claim these prodigal footloose children?

**the photos used in this blog are not mine, I had to borrow until I can upload my own.

refugee camp: typical summer experience?

Do you ever stop and wonder; how did I wake up in this life?

Today I walked through settlements of refugees and illegal immigrants that have fled their oppressive countries in order to survive and yet their "survival" is working in a factory for 21 hours straight with abusive managers watching their every move to make sure they are productive or worse sent out on fishing boats for 3-6 years at a time where they are tossed over as shark bait if they are weak or less useful.

We met with the Labor Rights Promotion Network; essentially a group of people that advocate for the rights of immigrant workers that cross the boarders into Thailand. Before you sigh and click to another blog post with more interesting pictures or a youtube video that will make you laugh in 20 seconds or less, I dare you to be uncomfortable for a second.

I don't know what the solution is. There is no easy out. But there are people in our world that are forced to run to another borderline because military coups have over thrown their country's government countless times and set up corrupt regimes that make life torturous for the citizens just trying to get by. Thailand is packed with desperate people in these circumstances. 70% of the immigrants in Thailand are from Burma (Myanmar). Typically they are brought over by a broker that will charge them about $400 USD per person and then sell them to a factory or boat owner that will work these people to death. Kids as young as 7 are slaving away next to their parents.

Where are the police or boarder control you ask? Oh they perform raids on the factories here and there but their only job is to remove the people again and because kids are under age, they are often separated from their parents and thrown right back over on the other side in danger of being trafficked again.

Where do we even start to help? These people don't have a home and just because they are vulnerable and desperate people delight in making money off of their exploitation.

My only take away of you taking time to absorb this information might just be that you understand when you think your life is hard, I guarantee you wouldn't complain to these people.

I will try to post my videos and pictures of these beautiful people later. rushin around.. more later.

<3 kb

red light exposure

When someone says "Red Light District" what immediately comes to mind?

Maybe its just me, but that phrase just drudges up uneasy feelings corruption, malfeasance and depravity. Unfortunately in downtown Bangkok, there is a thriving crime syndicate of trafficking and prostitution that has festered and flourished into what is known as the "Disney World" of the sex industry falling within this said block. You know what the kicker is? Prostitution is illegal in Thailand, but do you think the cops will do anything if a girl is getting raped and beaten in this locality? According to the women behind the organization "Night Life," local law enforcement would be quicker to give you a ticket for not wearing a helmet on a tuk-tuk (taxi bike).

Today I was thrilled to get to hang out with some exceptionally bold women. Specifically Anne, Sondra, and Rebecca shared their mission of rescuing women from the chains of sexual exploitation through the micro-finance business of selling jewelry.

A few nights a week these women head down to neon lit streets and occupy the bars sipping on a coke waiting for girls to take a break from dancing. They say the girls dance for 4 songs and then get a break for 4 songs. How much can you fit in a 4 song span? Apparently a lot as the organization is currently employing over 80 girls.

Sondra told stories of a little boy they rescued found wearing a dress who had been raped and was suffering from severe anorexia. Another night a 60 year old American man sat next to her and as she told him about what she was doing there he was reduced to tears declaring that she had ruined his night. There are also stories of redemption and Buddhist girls accepting Christ.

Tourism is the #1 contributor to the perpetuation of the sex industry here in Thailand. Cambodia is the #1 country of pedophiles in the world. And the greatest majority of the "Johns" or customers come from America and Eastern Europe. The women shared how God has broken their hearts not only for these abused women but also for the men are the source of the demand.

Today was powerful and inspiring, but also incredibly daunting. The women of Night Life rest on the truth that the glory of redemption rests in changing one life at a time.

I took some pictures of the beautiful faces of the now rescued girls but for their privacy and protection I will not post them on this public site.

More to come soon {stay tuned}

chasing the sunset

Up until this day of my life I have completely underestimated jet lag's potential for utter disarray. Somewhere somehow I left West Palm Beach on Tuesday morning and after chasing altitudes of horizon status I landed in Bangkok on Wednesday night. Its a 13 hour time difference and the longitudinal meridians of time could not be more disorienting. This befuddlement aside. I am currently roaming the streets of Bangkok, well not currently, currently I am hiding out in a little cafe with some vagrant wayward euros and a random raggedy old man. After a flashdance bull ride with a tipsy cab driver I made it from the airport to my desitination. There was a laminated list of rules to the room I was staying in, apparently typed up in Clarisworks 3.0 with the boarder of these ~ all around the whole sheet. Fancy I know. Well I was comforted to know that this establishment was one of morals sine rule #1 was: "Do not bring prostitutes up into room."

I am still trying to prioritize my goals for this sojourn. I live in America, so what can I possibly glean from this experience, literally on the other side of this world? Well after reading a handful of research artlicles and dissertations on the best practices of dissipating Human Trafficking in Thailand I am still not sure. Other than that I hope to soak up everything I possibly can to increase my knowledge and resume on fighting this fight while encouraging and loving on the selfless rescues and people that have dedicated their lives to battling this abomination here in Asia.

I love the independence air of adventure, but I am getting anxious to meet up with my team, also I think I am sitting in some kind of invisible bug nest because something itchy is waging war on my right leg. so I'm out for now.

Thats all for Day#1 in Bangkok.

bang bang

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civilize this

"Christianity over the past 2000 years has moved from a tribe of renegades to a religion of conformists... Jesus is being lost in a religion bearing his name. People are being lost because they cannot reconcile Jesus' association with Christianity. Christianity has become docile, domesticated, civilized."

-erwin McManus

When I think about Jesus, or Paul, or Simon Peter I picture like an Indiana Jones character trotting the ancient world making politicians look like doofuses, rich people and their roman coins utterly useless, and the rest of society admire their mysterious gusto enough to follow them around like groupies or paparazzi, US weekly style. How far have Christ followers drifted from this movement 2000 years later?

The modern religious conformist makes me sick, maybe because sometimes I feel myself slipping into that ra-tard sloth pattern of a comatose Christian sometimes. UGH. We do live in a different world but everyday can be just as much as a mission trip as Paul getting ship wrecked in the mediterranean in the early AD days. People are tripping around this place all around us in a desperate cloud of self remedy for the gaping hole in their soul for sOMEthing, anything, to suffice and carry them into the next day or week. They don't know what they are missing if they haven't experienced it.

BUT maybe YOU have. I know I have and yet I am often too scared to offend someone, or immediately get written off as one of those marshmallow Christians who dramatically coughs when someone lights a stog, or is desperate to hunt down a husband and have sheltered home-schooled kids, or wince at a four letter word or the idea of a sleeve and body piercings. But you know what Jesus said?

"blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me (matt 11:6)"

Jesus spoke these words to John the Baptist when he was in prison about to get beheaded for scouring the streets and spreading the word that Jesus was that hero the people were looking for. The solution to all their political, religious, and spiritual strife. But Jesus basically told John, while you are in prison about to die, I am healing the sick, giving sight to the blind, making parapalegics dance, and I'm not rescuing you from prison. Jesus was like, I have a diff plan for your life, hopefully this will not sway your faith in me, thank you for your life of service and following your barbarian call.

Jesus' purpose was not to save us from pain and suffering, but from MEANINGLESSNESS.

What are you doing to not live a meaningless docile life??

Matt 10:16, we are called to live in this world as citizens of another kingdom and jesus never said it would be easy.

I want to be

how very avant garde

grand finale

{3.15.2010}

Bliss was fading in the sunset and responsibility was leaving voicemails on my cell phone. But just a few more tasks awaited Logan and I on our adventuresome menu. The first was a date with the Pope. Benedict that is. Whyyy would we not use x's and i's for numbers right? When in Rome! Logan and I met Benedict the xixix (whatev) at St. Peter's square (where THE peter is buried- yowzA!). People were tailgating in the square awaiting his arrival with pennets and guitars playing and singing songs to hear their beloved religious leader. As soon as he peeked out his little window the whole square fell silent to hear his blessing. I can now say I have been blessed by the pope. Hope that grants me invincibility and gets me out of future speeding tickets. From there we trail blazed on our noble steed the double decker bus to tackle Castel del Angelo, Piazza del Poppolo, Mausoleum of Augustus, The Spanish Steps, Michael Jackson (yup he's hiding in Italy) street dancers, graffiti artists (my muse), Trevi Fountain, Colosseum, Roman Forum, Capitol Museum, Circus Maximus, the Pantheon, and much more. The Spanish Steps (which were imported to Italy and supposedly where Jesus stood on trial and his flogging wounds dripped His precious blood on that very concrete) was my favored spot. This is where I overdosed on gelato for the last time, tipped Michael Jackson for his impeccable "Billie Jean" serenade, gawked at Italian break dancers, and drooled over the coolest graffiti art of the Colosseum. "time flies when you're having fun" is the worst concept ever, come BACK fun, quit playing games with my heart!! Buuuut life awaits, so for now I'll plan my next sabbatical and play and replay these wonderful memories in my day dreams while focus flies out the window and I sit at a desk staring at my computer screen with a glazed over gaze. ahhhhhhh ciao RomA!

ah-roma // so sweet

{3.15.10}

Prego! {not the sauce} the italians just say recite this word like we do "ok!" Everything in Rome is COVERED in graffiti, except for maybe the Colosseum. I would seriously wonder about the person that would dare taint the surface of THAT fortress. After being packed in an overnight train like sardines from Paris to Rome where we were petrified that we would all be trafficked into slavery from the sketchiness of the conductors we ran straight over to the house of the Pope. Welcome to the Vatican! A colossal citadel full of an accumulation of antique valuables and treasures it cost us $30 bucks just to walk around and look. I wonder what the Pope is doing with all that money. Donating to the poor and needy of Italy or the world? Later on we got wicked lost {but all Italians are super nice so its all good}. We were poking around some cool vintage shops when we decided we would try to find the Colosseum. We asked for directions and a sweet little gelato-scooper girl laughed and pointed out the door to the left. ummmm, the monster was literally on top of us. It was so strange to be popping in and out of little shops and BAM! there is one of the 8 world wonders (is it? it should be on the list) right on top of us! wooowwwwwwww! ay yi yi! I loved it, I wanted to climb all over that whole thing. But it was night so at the same time it scared me a little. I was just imagining the untamed wild lions, starving for something to eat ramming themselves up against the gates at the latest group of foreign hostages held captive from the latest roman campaign. Then 55,000 fans in their seats screaming at the gladiators and the Christians and emperors Nero and Marcus Aurelius giving them the thumbs down. Its was too much. I loveeed it. We ate pizza and gelato. I walked in one gelateria and got a cone of vanilla creme, ate that while I walked to the next shop and purchased a second with chocolate and mint. I could do that all day longggg. on to the nexxxxt one ciao!

gypsy locker

{3.15.10)

Paris summation; seasoned and timeless the architectural exhibition is awe-inspiring and breath-robbing. Patisseries and shops in the Latin quarter are an atmospheric cornucopia. The history of the french aristocracy and royals is my main attraction and my mind always returns to Les Miserables as I love revolutions. France can be dismal. Even though the historic districts are eyes on fire lovely, 2 steps to the left or right and you find yourself in a world apart. Graffiti, garbage, and decreped buildings, less than fortunate. Orphans claiming to be bombed homeless victims from Bosnia and relentless gypsies. The gypsies were my favorite. Logan and I followed some of them around for the better part of the afternoon. They are so crafty and shifty. It was like watching present day artful dodgers. I wanted to interview and psychoanalyze them. Logan asked "why don't they just get jobs?" right? because they defy authority and are total rebels. They blend in and take advantage of an easy pocket to pick. Logan got a fever today so I chose to stroll around the local neighborhood with my ipod streaming a leaking soundtrack to life through my veins. As I paused to watch some local misseurs playing bacci ball in a park I observed that all the people here emit vibes and auras that are so foreign to America that I lack the vocabulary to describe it. The culture is an anomoly to me so I choose to maintain my own perception of it because my imagination is more fantastical than a defining demographic encyclopedia.

high kicks at the 'rouge

3.12.10

gaudy + flamboyant + bombastic add a half cup of glitter and dazzle with a teaspoon of flaunt-shnazz-pizz-zazz and you have a kaleidoscope of Paris, France. The Moulin Rouge was an eye full, literally. Logan and I couldn't stop laughing. Our noise level was like that of rowdy American football fans at the Superbowl while the rest of the audience applauded and observed the show like an elegant Broadway love story. There was a costume change every five minutes and the men had more makeup on than dolly parton. It was beyond bizarre but an experience I am glad to add to my resume? Later we toured a perfumery. In France, these chemists are as esteemed as doctors in America. They bustled around in their white lab coats with their envied nasal abilities and glass beakers with martinis of aromatic bliss. I love a good perfume and apparently there is quite a science behind its creation. Versailles was next and by the time my eyes had consumed all the golden gates, silk wall lining, and crown molding my pupils were morphing into precious stones from absorbing the ostentatious treasure exhibition. A favorite part of today was the cathedral Notre Dame (i wanted to shout SANCTUARY when I entered its grand entry way) and the vendors that sell antique Parisian art and newspapers and post cards alongside the street. neato-fajito france gives me writer's block au revoir

i'm a writer not a fighter

and I have some wordsss for you Paris!

3.10.10 Hamburgers are to Americans as gold and silk is to Paris Logan and I huddled in Le Voltaire to shield us from bitter cold. I wanted to punch France for its cold weather cuz it was holding me back from seeing the world. The Arc de Triumph, the Louvre, the Left Bank and Latin Quarter all reflected in my eyes. CHECK ps- I am convinced that even though the French were nice to us, that through their smiles they manipulated our lack of communication skills and took advantage of our pocketbooks and made fun of us is their goofy language.

parle vous anglice?

{3.16.10}

jinis se pa and croissant that is all I could communicate and for a communicator.. THAT is a cripple Paris was alluring, dazzling, and elegant. Enough for me to appreciate and then feel uncomfortable. I felt pressure to look better than I felt. oops. I did love the vibes of the city, but try as I might, I couldn't get past the demographical stereotypes. Sorry Parisians. Our first night in the city of lights we had cheese and snails... I wanna know WHO decided THAT was a good idea. Log and I preferred to take up residency in every patisserie and crepery we laid eyes on. We even made up our own signature crepe combination: Nuetella, Banana, and Coconut. you're welcome France love the Americans

city of lights

can you ever remember when something stole your breathe away?? My most material memory is that of falling off the monkey bars in elementary school and literally having my breathe taken away from me... well these architectural fortresses had a similar effect... {nevermind if i was posing like a tourist... I was just posinggg}

partners in crime

the dynamic duo... we hoped to extinguish all sour American stereotypes... I think our mission was a success

wearing denim makes you 100% American

( i love London more than this kid likes his ice cream... believe ittt)

3.7.10

As Big Ben was striking the hour and I was standing in the majestic shadows of the House of Parliament with Winston's menacing trenchcoat glare hovering over me watchfully, I felt indescribably content. Its beyond me. I know there are places all over the world that send yours and others' heart beats into a rising tempo of an ER gone circus. But somehow instilled in me from birth was the jazzy fizzle I get from London. the breezeway from my eyeballs to my memory bank is a literal sponge. Me and Log took pictures but it doesn't do this town justice. I got a feva baby, and the only prescription for it is more London. so hit me with an umbrella Ms. Poppins, lets fly this joint. Navigating the concrete jungle of polished prestige I am amazed at how not even the tourists look commercially tacky. Europe is purely refined and nothing less. It makes me want to change my typical regiment of a bikini and flips for mile high stilettos a trench coat, leather gloves, and sleek sunglasses... but only for a second. Me and Log are the renegade rebels of our travel group and while they left for organized bus tours we scavenged the city. We are in love with this city and I would walk my legs off for its sake. side note- you know how the slang in America for our dollars is "bucks"? I keep wondering what the slang for England's "pounds" and "pence" would be... just sayin I am so thankful for legwarmers, my mom's mittens, and my sister's cashmere scarf, otherwise i am HATING my denim coat... I feel like I might as well wear an American flag for a coat... its so funny. Here is our tallies in the "w" column: West Minster Abbey, House of Parliament, House of the Calvaryguards, St. James' Park, Trafalgar Square, St. Martin-in-the-fields, brass rubs, Notting Hill, Portabello Road Market (got some greaaat antique finds and some BANKSY art- YES!) Picadilly Circus (had a God conversation with a buddhist currency exchanger named Cham) Knightsbridge, Harrods, Leicester Square, WAterloo (got dinner for a bum outside the station) Sitting here typing this my legs presently have an electric current running through them and the thoughts in my head are coming with a strong British accent. London is already needled on my heart, maybe I'll get a memoir tattooed on my skin... I'm wiped so I am spelling everything wrong because I'm seeing double, but I'll sleep when I'm dead, there is sooooo much more to cover for tomorrow CHEEEEEERRRS!

london's redemption

3.6.10

4,421 miles... would you have walked that far Vanessa Carlton? what? ha lets just say the first British accent Logan and I heard (which was from the customs officer who stamped our passports) literally almost made us hit the floor. We made it a few steps until we straight giggled until she wet her pants and I had tears streaming down my face. rewinddddd let me start at the beginning, so when Log and I were boarding the plane, we realized we didn't even know where we were supposed to go after we got to heathrow. Sooo, our mom's had to google search the name of the place we were staying and get us directions... so much for being organized or prepared- whoops! By the time I set foot in London I hadn't slept a wink from scouring the travel books and notes my mom had drawn out for me all night on the plane. At this point I have to be honest, my entire mind was still consumed by the somewhat unjustified fear of being trafficked. I swear every shady dude I saw, I thought was a trafficker and was ready to throat punch a homie if he even looked at me and Log. Regardless we found our hostel *ahem* hotel (HA!) and checked in, then walked all over Russell Square and Covent Gardens. We found a hip green market in Brunswick Square and talked to Turkish boys selling olives, the one made sure to inform us that the market would close promptly at six, not sex. Good joke, I thought anyway. We shmoozed 2 free Churros from a british latino which still throws me everytime people who look anything but English talk with a British accent. side note: London has a great organic game, everything here is au naturale and there is so much awareness of FAIR TRADE. loveee that! Sooo I started this day as a determined 1, and ended at a thrilled 9.5. We got a nasty free dinner from our tour group and Logan and I are freezing but I am lovingggg London so far. After dinner, Log and I went down to the pub to get a hot chocolate and two Italian men were tryin to hit on us. One was already so smashed that he couldn't remember his English so his friend kept trying to translate. Two younger British boys watched shaking their heads from a few feet away. Log and I were sure they would try to come rescue us after the Italian Stallions were getting too friendly and the drunk one even kissed my arm and logan's hair (ha!) when we finally shook the shadeballs Log called out the Brits for leavin us hangin and all they had to say was "that WAS awkward" ummm FAIL! wrappin it up: our hotel is weird, our travel group is weirder but Logan and I are rockstars and ready own London. awwwww yeaaaahhhh giRLLL

once in a lifetime, but hopefully more

3.5.2010

have you ever thought about how all encompassing the time frame "lifetime" is? I mean, its infinity as far our carnate existence is on this material earth is concerned and I'm about to exit the platform for this wild ride. It took the pilgrims weeks to complete this voyage "accross the pond" anddddd here we go! My thoughts right now are somewhat stressed about not being able to see enough in my allotted sentence in Europe. My expectations and perceptions of what is to come includes meeting rugged British gents in pubs like in p.s. i love you, epic hotels and street markets from my mum, odd european goofs like Peter Sellers in his Pink Panther films, and nannies and crooked teeth children from Marry Poppins. How do you like that twisted buffet of european stereotypes? oops, i'm just being honest. I am also experiencing this gripping terror of being trafficked. I'm sure it is just from last weekend of being in DC with Not For Sale and all the research and reading I have been doing, but I just have this hovering fear. [stay tuned for day 1}

iminence

{12.21.09}

There is something about a young girl revisiting the places where her mother once pranced about as a young twenty something.

Sitting on my mom's bed watching her get dressed and ready in the mirror of a vanity each morning, as a little girl, I inexorably determined that my mom the most beautiful and fascinating thing that I would ever know. I knew her so well yet so much of her life before I came into existence was/is such a mystery.
Pleading with my mom to tell and retell stories of her young essence, I was mesmorized sorting through her childhood books, college jewelry, black and white photos, and adventured collectibles from her travels. I proudly absorbed every compliment from her friends declaring I look just like her. I am captivated by all her stories of love and loss, and completely enamored by her and my dad's story of coming together as they are still completely in love today.

Which brings me to the ultimate adventure on my to do list. My mom lived in England for 2 years during college and it was always a given that I ordained to also. Although her wealthy parents were able to underwrite such a juncture, I was fated to sweat out summer jobs on the beach by day and scoop ice cream on the boardwalks all night to save every last tip and lost penny in the street to afford such as semester in London. I could never muster up enough funds (although one summer was enough to unite me with my first car and first love: my 1992 white jeep wrangler) to send me over the channels and trade winds to wander down portebello road shopping for plates that now sit stacked in our kitchen cabinets peruse down the cobble stone streets that led to the London Bridge where my dad got down on one knee to give my mom her engagement ring.

Europe is marvelous in itself, yet I still have sent myself on a life mission to see what my mother saw at this age. What esoteric sights danced in her eyes and fueled her transcendental dreams that out poured into the woman that chased me around the neighborhood playground?

I finally graduated college and worked my first couple months of a "Real job." 9-5 desk clad and all I lived to see my first student loan payment as well as.... drum roll... my first major purchase of a ticket to Heathrow airport!!!!
Lest I be so careless as to not purchase travel insurance? NOTHING CAN HOLD ME BACK!
Soho, Covent Garden, Picadilly Circus, Big Bend, London's West End, The Louvre, Arc de Triomphe, Chateau Versailles, the Vatican, the Pantheon a thousand men have gone before, but this is MY turn! The well worn streets where I so aspire to entreat and sit at a corner pub in a hat, boot, scarf, and leather jacket, with my notebook to document every timeless vibe that saunters through the air.

Half the fun is getting there and the anticipation could kill me. Dreams come with difficulty and delay, that much is guaranteed... so I chased this one and here I go! Either I will see how much I can keep with me or there will be no definitive number to how many times I return. Anyway... trip to Europe. CHECK. Unwrap the mystery of my heritage/legacy/disposition? on my way...