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

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!

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...