Tag: Sometimes you just gotta

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India & Nepal unfiltered

Wow, it’s been two whole months and I’m finally back in DC for a smidge! What an adventure the past two months have been- here’s the before and after pics. I’m more tired than I look in the after shot, trust me.  img_6386

Now for the last trip of the junket…India and Nepal (there’s something to be said for that saving best for last theory)! I embarked on a Flashpack (of course) adventure to India and Nepal, half-expecting the music of Slum Dog Millionaire to be on replay in the background. I later learned that the movie is depicting life in India over 30 years ago and, thankfully, much has changed since then, although the country is still  undergoing a slow cultural shift that is being both guardedly embraced and at times outright rejected. This was explained to our group of 13 by our India guide, Nitin (he said we could call him anything close so I went with Nathan, as he continued to pronounce my name Tee-a).

Nitin was yet another knowledgable and patient Flash Pack guide, with the not-so-easy task of touting 13 British, Scottish, Irish, Australian, and American tourists around his home country. Our group first met and endured the inevitable quasi-awkward intros, as we all later admitted…I mean, we’d be spending TWO WEEKS with these strangers. And, of course, two weeks later we were friends, the kind of friends who finish each other’s sentences, know each other’s nuances, only speak in inside jokes, and authentically miss each other (well, that’s how I feel at least. One of the ‘inside jokes’ was the frequency with with I chat away (aka share valuable information) so others in the group may be grateful for some peace and quiet). It’s really an amazing sociological experiment to watch the dynamics of the group unfold and now that I’ve completed my fourth tour of this sort, I’m going to go out on a limb and declare there is a pattern- and that it’s a ton of fun to experience. It’s amazing how close like-minded strangers can become in just two weeks!Anyways, back to India!!! My intro to the country was a 30 min drive from the airport to the hotel, during which I saw goats passing by on the highway, people hanging off trucks, loud consistent honking and no stoplights or street signs to guide anything. And at the time I didn’t realize the airport road is one of more kept up ones- it’s even paved!We dove right in on our first full day with a walking tour of Old Delhi, which is the oldest part of the city, consisting of dusty dirt streets jammed with cars, motorbikes, rick shaws, regular bikes, people, cows, goats…pretty much anything you can imagine. There is also a LOT of honking in these narrow streets. It’s unclear to an interloper what the honking means exactly…as everyone is doing it all the time. This begs the Driver’s Ed question of how do you know which horn to listen to, and if you pick one to listen to, how do you know what it means? Go chew on that Mr. Carr (Mr. Carr was my Driver’s Ed instructor in high school- yes that really was his name). It’s amazing that the system seems to work and the roads are deftly navigated by cars and cows alike. img_4085img_4157After taking in something for all five senses (no shortage of material for the senses in the streets of Old Delhi) we had lunch at a private home that hosts small groups for a delicious home-cooked Indian meal in a gorgeous setting abundant with historical relics and the stories to accompany them. We all agreed it was one of the best meals of the trip (amongst many yummy meals). It was interesting, though, to only interact with the “man of the house” (who served as our host) while his wife (and the chef) was in the kitchen the entire time. Sadly (from a western perspective), the idea of men being even remotely involved in cooking or food prep is non-existent. The men provide the food and the women cook it. That’s just how it is-  even among the seemingly more-progressive folks we met. img_6021While we learned that overall there have been slow improvements to females’ role and treatment in the Indian society, there is still a lot of room for improvement. For example, there were multiple times during the tour that only the men in the group were addressed and it was like the women weren’t even there.  One of these times was during a jewelry shop tour where the owner explained the various Indian gemstones in detail but was only addressing one of the men in our group, who tried to seem interested while the women struggled to get questions answered. Of course culture takes a long time to change but the experience was really eye-opening, especially given the great strides that Nathan told us have taken place already.img_4114

We then swung by a Sikh temple, Gurudwara Bangla Sahib, and learned more about the religion, which is the youngest of major world religions and has distinct beliefs that vary from Hinduism. We spent some time in the beautifully adorned temple listening to the music that is played for 18 hours a day, while the Sikh prayer book is on display. The book is taken away between the hours of 10pm to 4am, during which the musicians can take a breather.

We also viewed the “dining room” where many sat in perfect rows on the floor eating delicious looking Indian meals that are provided for free to anyone who comes, regardless of their background or religion. Many Sieks will grab a bite while at the temple for their daily or weekly worship and even visitors are invited to partake. We were full from lunch but did get to help rolling the dough for the bread and even got suckered into dishes duty for a bit. Next, we hopped on the bus (for the first of several road trips) during which many of us were mesmerized looking out the window at sites and sounds so different from anything we’d seen before. We arrived in Jaipur that afternoon to our accommodations in a beautiful palace setting, where we would be spending the next two nights. It was an early bell the next morning as we cruised over to the Krishna temple and watched the majestic colors come to life with the rising sun, embellished by the sounds of prayer. That afternoon our minds (and cameras) continued to be blown with a trip to the Akbar fort, which is a glam super-old fort on a hill with stellar views. On the walk to the fort there were many individuals peddling their wares and our group couldn’t help but pick up a few essential accessories.img_4530img_4580As we explored the fort we were also flattered to be asked to be photographed by Nepalese children (okay, so technically I was not specifically asked but others in the group were…multiple times. And even to join a class photo! I think I must have just seemed unapproachable with my parasol and all? My story = going with it). Next we ventured on to the city of Agra. (P.s. The three cities we visited, Delhi, Jaipur, and Agra, are known as the Golden Triangle of India- so a popular tourist route to check off the big-ticket items but, despite this, I never felt that anywhere we went was over-run with tourists. Maybe overrun with horns and people but that’s part of the India experience). On the way to Agra we stopped at a “Batman monument” that I had low expectations for, having never seen the movie (shhhh!). It was soooo cool, and was basically a huge, deep well with many steps, from which water was fetched back in the day to prevent the royalty from becoming parched. Not sure what the purpose was in the Batman movie but it’s a pretty cool background for anything in my opinion.img_4647So, on to Agra! The objective of this city can be boiled down to it’s wonder of the world…the Taj Mahal. Of course I knew it was a wonder of the world before the trip? Nope. Nor did I know there are both natural and unnatural/man-made wonders of the world. This discovery and clarifying the various lists was fodder for bus ride conversation for a good hour. Despite not knowing the WOTW thing in advance, I completely agree with the person, people, or committee who deemed the Taj Mahal as one. Btw, I wonder who does decide the wonders? I might need to look into that.

The night before seeing the Taj live and in-person the group opted to go to a musical performance that depicted the Wonder’s history. It was very colorful with lots of dancing, and also extremely cheesy- to the point it became extremely entertaining. Anyways, the Taj Mahal completely blew me away. Especially during the early morning hours as we were one of the first in when they opened at sunrise. Pictures are better descriptors than words.
We then had another “bus bonding opportunity” heading back to Delhi to complete the triangle. Look at how much fun we had on the bus!We jumped right into a rickshaw street food tour of our favorite hood…Old Delhi!

I really could not get enough of the flavorful food in India and I even got into having curry for breakfast most days! During our street food tour Old Delhi was even more lively than our previous walking tour as the city was decked to the nines with decorations and lights in celebration of Dwali. So, Dwali is India’s annual “festival of lights” that symbolizes light over darkness, good over evil, hope over despair and knowledge over ignorance. So, all things worth celebrating! It’s truly a spectacular showcase during which lights, flags, decorations, and music are in abundance with and there’s dancing in the streets in the evenings. It was so lucky for us to be there for this special celebration, and it even continued in Nepal (by that time we were old pros at this Dwali thing). 
Our group then said our goodbyes to “Nathan” and boarded a plane for Nepal, excited for phase 2 of our adventure. We met our super-awesome Nepalese guide, Amar, in Katmandu and hopped a quick flight to the town of Pokhara. The plane was definitely the smallest commercial plane I’ve ever flown on and in my last row seat (next to the jump seat) I had some quality time with the flight attendant, who patiently answered my many questions. She said that sometimes you can see Mt. Everest from the flight, but while conditions didn’t cooperate during ours, we were treated to stunning views of non-Everest Himalayan mountains. Here’s Amar making sure we all got on the plane okay: After a long day of travel we were happy to settle into our accommodations at a beautiful waterfront hotel with postcard-like views. The next day we were treated with even better views (didn’t think it possible) as we embarked on two days of trekking in the mountains. We even had sherpas carrying our supplies for us, like we were hiking Everest! I don’t think being a sherpa is in the cards for my next career, though.We followed our mountain guide up many steps and inclines to the mountain town of Dhampus where we stayed at the family-run Basanta lodge, with phenomenal views (noticing a theme with the views on this trip??)

img_5500During the trek the sites and sounds of Dwali were prominent, as in multiple locations on the trail children blocked our path by holding hands and singing the songs of Dwali, hopeful for rupia in exchange for letting us pass.img_5537 We also passed many villagers, who were all extremely friendly with the traditional “Namaste” greeting as we passed. This was a theme throughout my time in Nepal- the people are SO nice and really make an effort to talk to you and share their culture.We were told that the theme of the Dwali festival during our night in the mountain village meant that families would show up outside neighbor’s homes (complete with a portable sound system) and dance for them- kind of like Christmas caroling except afterwards the owner of the home presents them with a gift. We loved watching the dances and finally joined in, not to be deterred by a rainstorm (I didn’t say we were GOOD dancers!) 

Dancing and laughing with locals in a tiny mountain town while the rain came down in sheets ranks up there as a pretty special memory in the good old memory bank- one I will definitely never forget.We sojourned on in the morning, down the mountain and back to our waterfront hotel where we were happy to relax and enjoy the stunning lake views. The next day I woke up and exclaimed to my awesome roommate, Louise, “it’s paragliding day!!!” She’s not so much a morning person and usually ignored my early morning chatter, but despite not saying anything I knew she was excited too. Here’s me and my awesome roomie: I was way more excited than scared as we boarded the van to drive to our launch point but as we drove up the twisty mountain road (and up and up and up) I started to feel twinges of nervousness. By the time we reached the top the group’s chatter had subsided and we all tried not to look down but couldn’t help ourselves. We were HIGH! I took some consolation in knowing there was an instructor attached to me, and that he had a lot incentive to make sure things went smoothly for both of us. After a running start we were in the air- literally flying like a bird for 30 whole minutes! It was absolutely incredible, both the views and the exhilaration. img_5526The way paragliding works, the instructor can adjust the parachute to catch the wind in different ways and you can actually go up and down. At first we went up so high that my ears almost popped- it was so much fun to look down at the birds beneath me and to wave at my friends whizzing by in a sky dotted with paragliders.img_20171022_123257Still on the adrenaline rush from paragliding we opted to spend our “free afternoon” visiting a local orphanage. Amar kindly set up the visit and helped us purchase supplies to bring to them. We were told they needed paper and pens so we got a set for each of the 22 girls (it was a girls-only orphanage) but that seemed kinda boring so we also got a bunch of “fun stuff” that we enjoyed playing with them in a big dirt field. The girls were incredibly articulate (their English was almost perfect) and seemed thrilled to have visitors as well as some new games. We  learned from the director that the girls come from varied backgrounds- some were found abandoned and others had families that couldn’t care for them. Despite this, they were full of smiles and giggles…and with the seemingly carefree exuberance of other girls their age. It was truly a humbling experience to meet them. We concluded our visit with a ceremonial presentation of the supplies we’d brought and a group picture (as well as many requests for our names so they could look for us on Facebook).Our final adventure of the trip was a whitewater rafting trip down the Seti river. The first day was pretty calm and we paddled along taking in the serene atmosphere and waving at school children crossing the many suspension brides high above us. We spent the night “glamping” at the Seti River Camp, overlooking the mountains and river, before day 2 of rafting, that brought with it some shriek-worthy rapids.

img_5668img_5672Our final big bus trip was back to Katmandu, where we spent the final two days as a group. We went to the nearby city of Patan, where we saw firsthand remains of the damage down by the tragic 2015 earthquake that took over 3,000 lives. For reasons unknown some of the temples were completely decimated while others were untouched. The country’s resilience is evident in both their restoration efforts and their unwavering faith and perseverance in the face of tragedy.
Then we had our final dinner, which was also birthday celebration for a member of our group, Kat. A good time was had by all! The next day I had to say goodbye to my new friends as they left for their respective flights, as I was staying in Katmandu for a few more days. I stayed in a lively part of town (called Thamel) and enjoyed exploring the city more, shopping at the street stands, visiting local attractions (including the Monkey Temple), and touring the nearby ancient town of Bhaktapur (known as the “City of Culture”). I also enjoyed many more of my favorite Nepalese food- the Momo. Momo’s came highly recommended by my friend Sarah, whose parents used to live in Nepal. They are like a cross between a dumpling and a potsticker and have different fillings (veggie, chicken, or buffalo- cow meat is rare in Nepal as the cow is a sacred animal in the Hindu religion). My favorite were chicken and after I first tried them I think I had them every day, sometimes twice. Man, do I miss those momos. I also miss my 12 new friends (although we’ve maintained a consistent banter on our What’s App group) and the two very special countries that I had the honor of visiting.

As I reflect on the trip I think back to our stay in the mountain lodge, where we were lucky to have views of a late-night meteor shower. That night, as I gazed at the immense star-filled sky I had a hard time picking out the constellations that I can usually recognize, as the patterns were different from the other side of the world. The moon looked same, though, and remained steadfast. Since that night, every time I looked at the night sky from the other side of the world I was reminded of both the differences and commonalities that span the earth and make it such a beautiful place… and especially what a difference your perspective makes.

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When it rains it pours

Programming note: Due to unforeseen circumstances this is an out-of-order post. Yes, I promised to write about my time in Croatia last week, but I need photos of the trip to do it justice. And, since I no longer have any of my own photos (more on that below) waiting on friends from the trip to send me a sampling of theirs. So, thank you for your patience-Croatia is forthcoming! I swear.

Sometimes I wonder if my blog makes my travels seem “Facebook perfect,” as if everything is sunshine and rainbows. Obviously this is not the case (def not all sunshine, as you’ll learn in my future Croatia post). I do try to keep it real, but, honestly, until now, I really haven’t had much to complain about. Ready to hear me complain? It’s time. Buckle up.

I seem to have stumbled upon a bad luck streak. It started when I was locked out of my life. I know that sounds dramatic, but bear with me. I was on an amazing kayak-adventure trip in Croatia (teaser for the Croatia blog!) and was sharing a kayak with my travel buddy, Kristina. Both of our phones were in a dry-bag, that was working perfectly…until it wasn’t anymore. Yes, we lugged around bags of rice for 48 hours, which did nothing to change the situation (I’m convinced the whole rice thing is a marketing ploy by Uncle Ben or one of his rich pilaf relatives). Then we had to face the sad reality. RIP iPhones.

Thankfully I have my trusty ipad (I think it’s version 1.0) that I have used maybe 25 times ever. When I logged in two days ago, I was asked to provide my Apple ID password. I had thumbprint recognition on my iPhone so haven’t had to type in my password in a good while and actually have NO idea what it is. I tried to re-set it and was asked to verify my phone number (seems easy enough and they even provided the last two digits). But I typed in number and was informed that it is not my number. But it IS my number. But it’s NOT your number (Apple and I have since had extensive back and forths on this point- more on that later). Without being able to sign in, while on WiFi I can access Gmail and old versions of Instagram and Facebook (as updating any apps requires the password). Not ideal, but I could handle it for a few days. And at the time, in Croatia, there was not much I could do about it anyways, so I decided I’d deal with it on the next leg of my journey, in Marseille. (Pictures upload really small from the iPad I’m using, sorry!)

When I arrived in Marseille, I felt like my luck had to improve! I was wrong. From the airport, I followed the Amazing Race instructions from my Air bnb host and took a bus from the airport to the train station and then took the metro to the port and then walked 1/2 mile, to meet him at his work. I was so proud of figuring all of this out, especially without having access Google Maps or having any way to communicate (including talking as I realized very few people spoke English and my French is limited to Bonjour, cava, and croissant). I was also proud that I’d lugged my suitcase pretty far by this point, including up and down several flights of stairs. I met Host at his office and I learned that he manages 30 Air bnb apartments around the city. He apologized that he couldn’t take me to my apartment, as he was swamped with many arrivals, but he gave me the key and said it was an easy walk. Okay…here we go….easy walk…

The directions seemed kinda long, but I figured it would be a hop skip and a jump, as Host had seen me and my big suitcase. Not so much. There was no time to dwell on it at the time as I was busy lugging my suitcase up FIVE sets of stairs. And we’re not talking just a few steps per set. I looked like I’d just finished a 10k by the time I got to the building, which is apparently at the highest point of Marseille. To top it off, to get to the unit I then had to walk DOWN two sets of the windy-it’s, most narrow stair cases I’ve ever seen. They were so narrow that my suitcase got stuck at one point. Here’s a sampling of the stairs:

But, I made it!! And I was rewarded with a very nice and clean-looking apartment with a charming balcony view. Things were finally looking up!

I then trekked to the Apple Store to sort out my phone/iCloud situation, as it was increasingly challenging to be off the grid while traveling internationally. I found an English-speaking Apple employee, who was stumped and connected me with the support center on her phone. My case was escalated, twice, to the Senior Support Specialist. Following an hour and 17 minute conversation, I was informed that there is absolutely nothing they can do. She suspects I mis-entered my phone number when I originally set up the account and the only think I can do is try entering every possible variation of my phone number (I can try this five times every eight hours, so my back of the napkin math puts my estimated date of completion at around 2043). At the end of the conversation Senior Support Specialist said “I’m amazed at how calm you sound. I would be a complete wreck if I were in your situation.” That did not make me feel better. In fact, the only thing that kept me from losing it at that moment was the amazing view from their Apple Store. It really is lovely! The stumped technician (note the view): 

More views from the deck outside the Apple Store, as I was there so long it got dark (I’m not smiling quite as big inside):

The harsh reality is (you may have seen things going this way) that without my iCloud password I can’t access much of anything (or actually anything) …meaning that I’ve essentially lost ALL the photos I’ve EVER taken (or at least the ones that didn’t involve a CVS Photo Center). I’ve also lost all of my contacts, notes, apps, etc. And I’d been sooooo smart (or so I thought) by installing a password encryption app a few months ago and encrypting all my passwords. Problem now being that I can’t access the encrypted key to the encryption app, as it’s in my iCloud along with everything else. So, now I don’t know any of my passwords (thankfully by the time I set up my blog I’d lost steam on the encryption thing so can access that at least). This is the last time I try to fend off those hackers. In fact, I could use a hacker right now!

NOTE: This is where I left off my draft blog my first night in Marseille, vowing to finish it up in the morning when I hoped to be in a more positive mindset. Little did I know…

I woke up a little bit disoriented, and realized I’d been scratching my arm. I looked down and I gasped out loud as my arm was covered with itchy red bumps. Knowing that European pharmacies are practically equivalent to Urgent Care in the U.S., I headed straight there. I held up my arm. The three pharmacists seemed to only be conferring about how to translate the situation to me. They finally got to what I had suspected…bed buds. I admit I’ve always been dubious about the whole bed bugs thing and I sincerely apologize to my friends who I’ve mocked for paying lots of money for exterminators with bed bug sniffing dogs. I stand corrected and beg for your forgiveness. These things are real. Sigh. I took a deep breath and silently vowed not to feel bad for myself. It was difficult.

I left pharmacy with a tube of cortisone and immediately stumbled upon a free walking tour, so I joined in. I mean, what else was there to do at that moment (except maybe scratch my arm)? It ended up being a great tour and I enjoyed learning more about the city. Afterwards I had a delicious lunch with the guide and a lovely couple, Roger and Allison, at the guide’s favorite local couscous restaurant. Roger and Allison had quit their Silicon Valley jobs two years ago and moved to Mexico City and then Valencia, which they use as a home base for traveling. They do not seem to be missing America. Following lunch, the guide went his way and the three of us climbed to the top of a huge hill (so much easier without a suitcase) to the Notre Dame cathedral, where we were rewarded with stunning views.

After we parted ways I found WiFi and realized Host had not responded to my panicked email from the morning and decided I should probably address that whole bed bug situation. I found Host at his office and my news (and my arm) threw him into a complete tizzy. I’d been hoping to enjoy the sunset at the port that evening, but that did not happen. It took about four hours, and several calls to corporate Air bnb, before I had a hotel room at the Holiday Inn Express (that I may or may not be reimbursed for by Air bnb). At one point corporate Air bnb lady asked me to provide photos of the bugs and bug casings (???) as well as medical documentation. I just sent her a picture of my arm and that seemed to be enough. My final battle of the evening was with oh-so-gracious Host when I asked him to get me an Uber to the hotel. I’m sure he thought I could just walk, per the ushe, and he said that was asking for too much. Too much?!? This did not go over well and it wasn’t until I reminded him that I’d be leaving a review that he capitulated. AND, he accused me of trying to blackmail him!! Is that really blackmail??

I have to say I am not sad to be leaving Marseille (no fault of the city itself) and was relieved to get to the train station this morning. My relief dissipated quickly upon the realization that I’d purchased a ticket from Dijon to Marseille. Noooo!! I was already in Marseille. I was trying to LEAVE Marseille! The kind ticket agent informed me that the booking website lists your destination location first. Well, that just seems silly. It got sorted out but it felt like a final kick in the pants (really hoping it’s final). I’m now on the train to Dijon where I’ll be visiting some dear friends who live there. I emailed to warn them that they have an emotionally precarious and potentially bed bug laden visitor on her way. I wouldn’t blame them at all if they don’t show up at the train station…

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The Best Week of the Year

About a year ago I was perusing my company’s staff volunteer webpage and saw a listing for an opportunity with the Experience Camps, described as one-week camps for boys and girls who have experienced the death of a parent, sibling or primary caregiver- a place where those kids can feel “normal,” because everyone there has been through something similar.

I immediately applied to be a volunteer counselor for the following summer, even though it was a year away (so pretty much FOREVER away in my myopic world) and I was placed as a boys camp counselor in the California location, CalEx. August of 2017 seemed so far away at the time but before I knew it I was packing my bags to head to the west coast…I couldn’t resist tossing in this hat, not realizing it was a premonition of things to come:

On the plane I watched a mandatory training webinar called “Bereavement 101,” focused on children’s grieving process. It was heavy stuff. I realized it could be a heavy and emotional week. And, for a moment I wondered why I’d signed up for this…

I think I was initially drawn to the camp because of my own death-stuff. A handful of people I was close with died when I was little, most notably my Aunt Katie who passed away at age 17 from Cystic Fibrosis. I was an inquisitive little kiddo and had a LOT of questions about what death was, where my Aunt Katie had gone, when she would be back, etc. I had also seen her fighting the disease and was terrified that myself and other loved ones had “caught” it. It got to the point that I was afraid to go to sleep at night and would lay awake for hours. My parents took me to a child psychologist (his name was Jeff) who diagnosed me with PTSD and I started regular therapy sessions. I remember those sessions and expressing my fears through lots of talking, writing stories, coloring pictures… and especially that time we walked to get ice cream. Gradually things improved and then I was back to being a kid, and sleeping like one too.

I vividly recall the day Jeff asked if I wanted to come back and see him again or “see how it goes,” and I felt a little bad when I chose the latter option. While I liked hanging out with Jeff, I was late for Brownies on those days and I remember asking my mom what to tell my friends as an explanation for my tardiness (I followed her advice, yet saying “I had a meeting” seemed to only evoke more questions from my 8-year-old peers). I hugged Jeff before leaving his office for the last time. Less than a month later my parents were saddened and horrified when they received a call from Jeff’s office telling them that Jeff had died from a massive heart attack. He was in his 40s. Yes, it is true. My death therapist died. This really happened. I’m sure my parents were freaking out that my death fears would re-emerge and intensify. Thankfully, that did not happen. While I was very sad to hear the news about Jeff, I felt pretty at peace with it. I suspect this is because I had spent so much time talking with Jeff about this very subject- I knew his thoughts on death and knew that he was genuinely at peace.

When I first heard about the Experience Camps, I reflected on my past and how fortunate I was that my parents had given me the tools (mostly Jeff) to process my fears and confusion around the d-word. I now know that many children go through much more and do not have this type of support. My obligation to pay it forward seemed obvious and has only been validated by the amazing kid-courage I observed this week.

All of the campers at the Experience Camps have experienced the death of sibling(s) or parent(s) and sometimes, unconscionably, both. The losses they have endured in their short lives and the grief they have struggled to process exceeds what most adults will have to deal with over the course of their lifetimes. Many campers come to camp every summer and say they look forward to it for 51 weeks a year (I can’t even tell you how many times I heard CalEx referred to as “The Best Week of the Year,” by campers and counselors alike). Many counselors are also veterans (some were even former campers!) who happily “give up” a week of their summer every year. Now I see why it’s not so much of a sacrifice.

I was responsible for bunk number three (the best bunk) that included seven amazing little guys who came to camp with open hearts and minds.

The campers arrived in buses and were greeted by a mass of cheering counselors with crazy costume props. It was easy to tell which campers had been before and which were newbies. The veterans bounded off the bus, smiling and waving, excitedly greeting the staff and friends they knew from previous summers. The new campers emerged from the buses slowly, clutching their pillows and looking like a combination of stunned, intrigued, and shell-shocked. Like they’d been dropped into an alternate universe. Now I’m certain they will be the ones bounding off the bus next year.

The week was one of the most physically and emotionally exhausting ones I’ve had in my lifetime. And it was hands-down the most rewarding. I sit here now, having been home for over 24 hours, and I still struggle with how to put it into words. The thing is, the Experience Camps are mostly just a camp. A place where kids can be kids. A place where they run (lots of running), jump, laugh, yell, sing at the top of their lungs, dance like no one is watching (but loving it if they are), climb trees, throw balls, throw sticks, throw rocks (not allowed but we’re talking about little boys here), and wreak havoc in the mess hall. Sometimes just wreak havoc in general. Like normal kids, right? That’s the thing  I learned this week- while this is what most kids their age would be doing during the summer months, many of these kids are not. They don’t feel like “normal kids” in their daily lives. They feel different than their peers, and like nobody understands. At CalEx, they say, it’s different. At camp they can let themselves be themselves, their whole selves, with no fear of being judged or pitied (their worst fear is to be pitied).  At CalEx, how they feel and what they’ve been through is the norm. It’s a safe place where they can openly talk about their loss when they want to, or not when they don’t want to. Most importantly, at camp they can just be a kid. Some for the first time in their lives.

My week included 6 am hikes up a nearby mountain with a reward of stunning Malibu ocean views during sunrise. At first it was just a crew of counselors but gradually campers got wind and the last day we had a crew of 30+ campers making the early morning trek (mostly leaving the counselors in the dust). These kids need capes as there’s really nothing they can’t do.

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I was especially impressed with the support the campers gave each other- it seemed to be part of an unspoken contract that goes along with understanding each others unique and tragic circumstances. Strong bonds were formed almost instantly- the kind of bonds “normal kids” probably won’t experience for years. Yes, there were also some tears. As well as sadness, anger, frustration…and some emotions that are kind of indescribable, and they were letting themselves feel for the first time. There were also a lot of hugs, high fives, fist bumps, chest bumps, and numerous other ways little guys exhibit camaraderie.

Each bunk has a series of “circle discussions” focused on the deaths the campers’ have experienced, as well as grief activities, led by a social worker assigned to our bunk. During these sessions, I was SO impressed with the boys’ abilities to open up and tell their stories. Most of them had never talked openly about their losses and one camper hadn’t even told his friends at school that his father had died the year before. Despite this, they bravely followed the lead of the veteran campers and opened themselves up to a group of people who had been strangers just a day before. These little boys might be the bravest people I know.

Of course, every camp needs a healthy dose of competition and ours was through the “College League” (Experience Camps’ version of Color Wars) and our college teams were Clemson and the University of Pittsburgh, each led by a “Dean.” The events tested the brawn and brains of the campers (okay, the counselors got a little into it too) and included tug-o-war, a scavenger hunt, a talent show, etc.  I was a part of Team Clemson and having attended a rival ACC school, cheering for the Tigers took some getting used to. The neck-in-neck competition culminated in a dodgeball tourney to decide the winner. Things looked bleak for the purple and orange at first and soon one of my campers and his 9-year old brother were the only ones left, two of the smallest campers. I wasn’t that surprised when CalEx “magic” kicked in and the two scrappy brothers singlehandedly took down 13 members of the Pitt team to lead us to victory! I’m told it was “THE GREATEST DODGEBALL COMEBACK OF ALL-TIME,” and both teams seemed equally excited to witness it.

Now I’m experiencing what I’m told is an unavoidable reentry process, back into the real world, following a surprisingly emotional “see you later” to my new camper and counselor friends alike. I can’t believe CalEx is over!  Only 51 weeks to go….

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A trip to Memory Lane…

After my family Cape Escape, I embarked on a four-day trip down Memory Lane. So, after 37 years my parents had the nerve to sell my childhood home in Massachusetts so they can  ‘live free or die’ in New Hampshire. This is mildly traumatic for me, as (despite going wherever I want) I prefer that the people around me stay put. Especially my parents! However, there are grandkids in NH (which makes it totally a losing battle) so I finally had to acknowledge that it actually didn’t make all that much sense for them to stay in MA so I have a place to crash when visiting my high school friends for five days a year. My Dad unsympathetically suggested that in the future I stay at the one motel downtown, The Clipper. Thanks Dad.

This past week my parents (mostly my Mom) guilted me into going “home” to help go through things in prep for their move. It turns out that the “things” they speak of are actually treasures. My treasures!!! I was pleasantly surprised to learn that when I went to college (and it took my parents about 48 hours to transform my bedroom into a den) they had preserved my bedroom!!! Albeit, in boxes. Many boxes. I quickly understood that my parent’s (aka my Mom’s) goal for my visit to my soon-to-be-former home was to get rid of my stuff (that I didn’t even know they still had). So, I embarked on the journey…

It seems that I chronicled my entire childhood, in detail. This was in the form of many diaries/journals (starting at age 8) and scrapbooks to preserve everything. Literally EVERYTHING. I have every award certificate (including one especially embarrassing year when I got the Perfect Attendance Award AND Gym Student of the Year. I would not have wanted to be friends with me), many letters from my many pen-pals  (including post cards…so many post cards), and clippings from anytime my name or picture was in the local newspapers (this seemed to have required some scissor-skills to cut out the honor roll listing, cropping to my name only). One would think as I got older and more mature I’d lay off the scrapbooks a bit. NOPE. It got worse. Apparently in about 10th grade I discovered the art of a travel journal, and proceeded to document every trip I went on. In GREAT detail. For example, when I was in my early teens I went to Seattle with my Dad and brother to visit my super-cool-mountaineer-geomorphalogist Uncle Paul and climb Mt. Baker (originally it was supposed to be Mt. Rainier but he smartly assessed that was a lofty goal for his 13 year-old nephew and 14 year-old niece who had zero combined experience with an ice ax. Rainier would come years later).  The pictures and accounts of the Baker climb are amazing and definitely work keeping. However, also included in the huge album I compiled is the coaster from the Red Robin restaurant where we got burgers after landing in Seattle (as well as MANY other relics). Let’s just say it was a long four days going through those boxes…

My biggest take-away from the Memory Lane excursion is the transformative change that has taken place in the way we communicate. It’s huuuge! In college I wrote letters. And mailed them. In the mail. I wrote full accounts of my goings-on and received commensurate scrolls from my friends and family. There was no shooting off a quick text about a date (or a class I found interesting? probably more like it).

In that spirit, I came across this relic from my freshman year of college. It was mailed to me, to my college mailbox (I’m pretty sure I had no idea who he was and didn’t seek him out in the food hall that evening to find out):

All in all (minus this date-request) with the old-fashioned communication method it seemed there were real stories conveyed. And, while definitely time-delayed, it somehow seemed to be more a meaningful way to communicate. It took time and thought. We went into details (at least I did..no lack of details on my end). Just so it’s clear I’m not coming from the Dark Ages, I also did chronicle the first time I learned of this new-fangled thing that I later learned was called email. I was 12 and visiting my tech-savvy IBM-engineer-grandfather in New York and journaled that “Tonight Pop-pop showed Seth and I a new disk where you can write to people in other states. It’s so cool!” Clearly I did not inherit the tech gene from Popster (a disk??) and I credit him with making me an early adopter, via a prodigy.net account. He was successful as I emailed him every week for approximately 20 years, and he printed out the emails (with the kind of printer paper where you have to rip off the sides) and saved them in huge binders. Hmmm…I guess I know which gene I did inherit.

Here’s a sampling of my favorite relics from my most recent trip…

My amazing grandmother rocking it in her 70’s. She also has a pink tankini (not pictured, sadly):

 

My best pic of my beautiful baby sis, Tobi (the product of a high school photography class… I might be part of the last generation to know what a dark room is):

 

A sampling of my childhood (dance recital, dolled up for a Camp Sloane square-dance, and college…cutting edge with a cordless phone)

Phew…that last trip was a huge emotional toll but was well worth it to recall some of the best times that had somehow slipped out of my memory bank. The last night I was ‘home’ my very best friends from growing up came over- Nichole, Maegan, and Amy. They have collectively spent months in my childhood home and it seemed full circle for them to be there as I said good-bye.

Next stop…headed to the west coast for some volunteering at the Experience Camp in California.

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The Original Cape Codder

Cape Cod is hands-down my Happy Place. I was born on the Cape and maybe that’s why I feel so connected to it (funny, I can’t think of another place one could be born “on,” minus a boat or rocket-ship). My grandmother always says I’m an “Original Cape Codder.” I don’t know what that means exactly but I’m guessing I’m either part of an exclusive club or an endangered species. Or it could be in reference to the cocktail? Regardless-  I’ll take it!

This week I was vacationing with the fam in Eastham, MA, located at the elbow of Cape Cod (the island is shaped like a flexed arm, yet is the polar opposite of the “gym, tan, laundry” scene). My family’s squad consists of 7 adults and 5.5 kiddos (my sister’s third is currently in-progress). It was a lot of kids and a lot of laughs. And, also a LOT of negotiations involving snacks, drinks, sand toys, turns to shower, turns to eat, turns to breath, etc. (btw, I learned that gum and marshmallows are hot commodities in the little kid/toddler world and will come better prepared for the next family getaway). As a teaser, here’s Charlotte organizing her snack on her beach chair- a huge victory:

My top three family vacation highlights are as follows (in no particular order):

1- The OCEAN! This requires some background explanation. So, in my family’s Cape world there are three bodies of water:

  • The Pond– specifically “Great Pond,” which is located just down the street and has been the site of much swimming, floating, Marco Polo-ing, and, more recently, paddle-boarding and kayaking. Great spot. Love it.
  • The Bay– First Encounter Beach, which, as lore would have it, is the first place Native Americans were invaded by/had an encounter with the Pilgrims prior to Plymouth. Currently this is where I zen-out during morning beach yoga.
  • The Ocean- Coast Guard Beach, named one of the ten most beautiful beaches in the world (according to my dad…and maybe it was just in the country now that I think about it). Anyways, it’s an expansive beach at the base of a lighthouse and consists of huge waves, beautiful dunes, and freezing cold water. It was also the only ocean beach I’d seen growing up and I was surprised to find beaches with boardwalks and stores where you could buy things. It just seemed wrong!

So, historically my nieces and nephews spent most of their time at The Pond and The Bay (and most of that time avoiding the water due to the threat of seaweed and hermit crabs), but this trip we managed to get our entire crew to The Ocean! I’d tried and failed to motivate this trip every year as it had seemed too daunting with all the children and ALL their gear (tons o’ gear!).

This year, though….it was phenomenal! I woke up at 8am on Tuesday and thought I was still dreaming.  Sandwich-making and sunscreen application was already underway, with discussion of who would ride which bike to The Ocean! And, the best part is that all the kids LOVED it! Somehow their fear of seaweed and hermit crabs did not carry-over to concern over jelly fish and sharks- they went in the water and there was even boogie boarding! It’s now our new primary body of water- a huge victory in my book. Here’s the ocean crew (Jack nailed it with the bunny ears on Ella):

2- Birthday Parties. We had TWO birthday parties this trip, and a lot of cake and cards. The first night it was Abigail’s 5th birthday, and her “father” Jack was very eager to throw her a party (after being informed that day that your doll could have a birthday- thanks to Xavier Roberts for starting that trend). Then, of course, Ella had to have a party for her daughter, Amanda (turning 2), and we celebrated on Thursday. Like I said, there were a lot of cards (card-making for both birthday girls was mandatory), and a LOT of cake.  I’m positive the adults were duped and used as cake-dealers and I give the kids mad props for that. It was impressive. Proud Auntie here! Here are the proud parents:

3- Hog Island Brewery. Every year the first generation Kids like to give the Grandparents the precious “opportunity” to bond with all of their grandchildren at once, so we find a place to occupy ourselves off-site. I mean, look at how happy they are:

This year we’d heard wind of a new brewery and spent a lovely evening enjoying their craft brews in a super-cool venue (great courtyard with adirondack chairs and live music, and an industrial-esque inside with ping pong tables and foosball). The best part of the night, though, was when we first ordered beers. Everyone else had theirs and was outside claiming chairs when I placed my order and was asked for my ID (this in itself was exciting and I definitely did not play it cool). THEN, I was given a special wrist-band so when the other bartenders thought I was only 19, they would know I’d already been carded and was in fact 21 (at least that’s what I think it was for). It was AMAZING. The other members of my party were NOT happy about my neon wristband (that I may or may not still be wearing). Although Tobi was clear that since she’s preggers and did not actually order a drink, there was no opportunity for her to be carded and given an awesome wristband. I give her that. But who knows what would have happened, really.

All in all, it was a wonderful family vaca with my favorite cast of characters and while I’ve had some amazing travels in July, there was nowhere else I would have wanted to be this week. This domestic thing ain’t so bad sometimes.

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From Granada to the Granite State

I left you in Granada…originally I'd planned to return to Madrid via train and spend the night there before flying out (by "planned" I mean thinking about doing that maybe). My lack of planning in the traditional sense was fortunate when I decided to extend my love affair with Mallorca by a day and return to Madrid via the overnight bus instead. I did not have high hopes for the overnight bus (the sacrifices I make for Mallorca) but it ended up working out well and the airport was an easy subway ride from the bus station. Seriously, the buses in Spain are pretty incredible. Our chariot was a huge double-decker with big comfy seats, AND you had your own TV. I was recently on a flight to California without my own TV so this was a pleasant perk. And all of this for only 19 euro, plus tax!

My bus seatmate (who I later learned was a bit "eccentric") was holding a pack of cigarettes in his lap when I first sat down. I had a moment of panic (thinking that European buses are the equivalent to an airport smoking lounge on wheels) and I dug deep for my words… "Fumar en el autobus?" He didn't say anything but handed me a cigarette (which I awkwardly held for a little while before stashing in an empty water bottle).  Thankfully there was no smoking on the bus but he held the pack the entire time like a security blanket. He then tried to start a few bizarre conversations (that I will spare you the details of), so I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. I woke up from a deep slumber five hours later… with my head on cigarette guy's shoulder and him smiling at me, creepily. I was less than thrilled but at least pretty well-rested. Can't win 'em all I guess!

I arrived at the Madrid airport and had some time in the lounge (Yay for the "Priority Pass" credit card perk!) where I showered, loaded up on snacks and charged my phone. I will say these international lounges are niiiice and I was kind of bummed when it was time for my flight. Sadly, my flight was taking me back to los Estados Unidos (you can take the girl out of Spain…), therefore ending my Euro-junket preview trip. As background, while "planning" my travels, I had to work around some previously planned domestic obligations (don't feel bad for me- obligations is a strong word). So, I maximized free-time in July with my tour de Spain and now have an international travel August recess (so DC of me) before taking my show over the pond again. If you don't care about what I'm doing in 'Merica (I wouldn't blame you at all) tune back into my blog around Labor Day.

First stop on the stateside tour: New Hampshire (no, I'm not planning on running in 2020…but don't they all say that?).  In the granite state I met up with my sister, sister-in-law, aunt and two cousins to celebrate my grandmother's 92nd birthday with a day at the Wentworth Spa. As background, Nan had never had a massage, and having taken to regular manicures after her first one earlier this year, we decided it was time (these Depression Era grandparents don't seem to understand the importance of splurging on life necessities like this!). Nan clearly had a hard time getting comfortable in the spa environment (timestamp is approx 5 minutes post-arrival):

The spa services and staff at the Wentworth could not have been better (thanks to cousin Megan for organizing!) and we culminated the celebration with a delicious lunch at their waterfront restaurant, Latitude.

The timing all worked out perfectly, even the full-circle rainbow we arranged to dazzle the sky upon her arrival  (yes, this is real and it stuck around for a good 30 min for photo opps):

All in all, WOO-HOO for 92!!! Nan is an incredible woman, as demonstrated by the fact she declared skydiving as her next birthday first (cousin Megan has recused herself from the planning of this non-spa-related activity but we'll figure it out among the cousins).

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Granada Finale!

Following an emotional it’s-a-see-you-later-not-goodbye to Mallorca, I boarded my flight to Granada (btw, I have several Spain travel tips/things I wish I’d known that I’ll share in a separate post). As I sat on the plane I realized I really didn’t know what to expect in Granada (you may be noticing a theme with my pre-trip research. I guess I just like being surprised…like going on a mystery tour!)

I checked into my hotel, the Room Mate Leo, which (for a whopping $62 a night) provided large and modern rooms, a quality breakfast (trust me, I know a good breakfast), and a perfect location. I explored the eclectic city streets that afternoon, taking in the unique qualities of the city. It’s a blend of winding medieval streets with pockets of elaborate graffiti, cobblestone walkways lined with high-end shops, the white-washed houses of the Arab district, and what seemed like an astounding number of churches (even by Spain standards).

I then stumbled upon the Granada Cathedral (you’d think it would be hard to miss but is kinda tucked away in the curvy streets). I’d been to several breathtaking cathedrals at this point in the trip was considering myself a bit of a cathedral snob. Well, the Granada Cathedral wasted no time putting me in my place! There really are no words to describe the richness and grandeur of this beautiful church. Hopefully this helps:

Following the cathedral, I took a respite at an outdoor cafe where I ordered a cold beverage. My drink of choice was Verdejo (my now fave Spanish wine that tastes like a cross between Vino Verde and Sauvignon blanc) and I was VERY pleasantly surprised when they also brought a little snack! So, apparently it’s a tradition in Granda to provide a complimentary mystery-tapa when you order a drink (soda and water included). You know me and my love of both snacks and mysteries…does it get any better than this?!? I was SO fascinated by this Granada perk, in both the price-per-calorie (PPC) value of the deal (around 2- 3 euros for the drink AND mystery snack) and in how the the tapas varied between establishments. All over the culinary map, really:

The next day I embarked on a tour of the Alhambra, the site Granada is most known for. Once again, I didn’t know exactly what Granada was known for when I booked the trip but this Alhambra thing seemed like the thing to do. I’m told you should book tickets in advance and the ticket purchasing system can be complex. But I got distracted Vespa-ing, etc. and then learned that my idea of “in-advance” is different from that of other peoples. (Doesn’t “in-advance” mean “before the day of??”)  Thankfully I found a tour group with great reviews that had space available in their afternoon tour. (btw, I would definitely recommend this over touring on your own and if you use this company ask for Gustovo- he’s a riot and knows the joint like the back of his hand). Teaser pics:

In summary (I’ll try to make Gustovo proud) the Alhambra is a huuuuge complex of  Moorish palaces and gardens that first broke ground on construction in the 10th century and was continually expanded. When the Christian re-conquest thing happened in 1492 (yup, same year Columbus sailed the ocean blue) it was repurposed for Ferdinand and Isabella and was actually where C. Columbus collected the coin to fund his voyage. Later another enormous palace was built for King Charles V,  the Holy Roman Emperor. Eventually the whole thing fell into disarray and was neglected until the 19th Century when restorations began. First we toured Generalife Gardens which were used as a summer palace waaay back in the 1300s and consists of stunning gardens, courtyards and fountains, etc. I’d totally vacation there. Three hours flew by as we continued the tour through a series of palaces, each with unique and equally majestic styles and enhanced by the spectacular views and warm late afternoon lighting. And, of course Gustavo had many fun facts and historical nuggets to share throughout the tour.

Alhambra is unbelievably beautiful and fascinating at the same time- a truly incredible place! If you do the bucket list thing, add it. (I admit I later looked up “wonders of the world” and I still can’t believe Alhambra isn’t on the list. Wtf.)

I basked in the glow of my Alhambra tour with my final meal in Granada. I returned to  El Pescaito de Carmela, where I’d enjoyed gazpacho and a mystery-snack the day before and had vowed to return. This time I feasted on grilled scallops (just as tasty as they are beautiful) and the best mussels I’ve ever had:

It was really a cherry on top of my quick trip to another magical Spanish city! Wait for my next post to hear what’s next…

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Más Mallorca por favor!

Apologies that I lapsed a bit with the blog, but I was distracted soaking in the magical city of Mallorca! I really did try, though. Last night, with the best of blogger intentions, I sat in the beautiful open-air Courtyard in my hotel (apparently a 16th century former palace) and then, Mallorca-style, this happened…

Scene: Girl sits alone in the palace-hotel Courtyard, typing on her laptop. Enter Boy (a dashing British currency trader). Boy strikes up a conversation with Girl and asks if he may sit at her table. Girl smiles and nods. Boy sits. Boy and Girl converse. Enter Hotel Butler. Hotel Butler informs Boy and Girl that it is not permissible to speak in the palace-hotel Courtyard after 10pm. Hotel Butler assures Boy and Girl that they may remain in the Courtyard, with the requirement that they must not speak. Exit Hotel Butler. Pause… Boy inquires if Girl would be interested in putting her laptop away and joining him for a drink. Girl slams laptop shut. End Scene.

THIS REALLY HAPPENED! And I wasn’t even surprised it happened. It’s is just the kind of stuff that happens in this magical place called Mallorca!

Mallorca is the only stop in my tour de Spain that I chose without any recommendations from friends. While planning the trip I came across a USA Today article naming Mallorca as one of nine places that should be on your bucket list to visit. Even though I don’t have a bucket list, it caught my attention as I hadn’t been to any of the nine places, minus a layover in Houston (um, in hindsight, interesting that Houston made this illustrious list?) Anyways, I took the article to heart….how could I be in the same country, and just a hop, skip, and a jump away, and not visit a BUCKET LIST PLACE? So, without knowing much more than the short paragraph in the article, I added Mallorca to my itinerary. Done and done. Here’s another glimpse of that Mallorca magic:

I arrived thinking I’d have a relaxing few days at the beach. I did NOT arrive thinking I would become absolutely enamored with the city and would later change my travel plans to stay an extra day! I spent most of my time in Palma, the capital and largest city (no skyscrapers but plenty of castles, cathedrals, coastline, and mountains).

The most obvious feature of Palma is the awe-inspiring Gothic Cathedral, with a stunning blue back-drop of the Mediterranean coastline that includes stunning beaches and ports packed with sailboats and yachts, as well as green mountain ranges to complete the panoramic view. While walking around I felt like I was in an open-air castle…it truly feels magical.

The first full day I took a free walking tour of Palma and then toured myself through the gorgeous beaches. I enjoyed a delicious dinner at Restaurante Pesquero (overlooking the port) and tried a white fish that was new to me. How have I not heard of the John Dory fish before?! I think I’m now president of the John Dory fan club.

Yesterday I took an old-fashioned wooden train to a coastal village, the Port of Soller. I enjoyed an out-of-this-world lunch at Kingfisher (one of the benefits of being a party of one) and spent the afternoon beaching-it and exploring the streets before the scenic trip back to Palma.

All in all, I think of Mallorca as Barcelona’s younger, smaller, and more laid-back cousin. M looks up to bigger city cousin B but doesn’t feel at all inferior, and while I love them both equally (and it wouldn’t be fair to pick favorites) I will always have a special place in my heart for lil’ Mallorca!

Next up….Granada!

 

 

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B-b-b-bar-celona (to the tune of My Sharona, obvs)

Everyone I know who’d been to Barcelona said they just KNEW I would love it. And they were not wrong! This could mean one of two things- my friends really know me and my travel tastes OR everyone who goes to Barcelona loves it. No offense my friends, but in this case I’m leaning towards the latter. What a special city and I'm so thankful you all encouraged me to go!

First of all, I can't wait to go back. You know when you leave a place and you're perfectly satisfied? You know… those times you did what you wanted and while maybe it would have been nice to stay a little longer, you're fulfilled. Let me be clear that I did NOT feel that way when leaving Barcelona this morning. I guess I didn't know what I didn't know I wanted to see and do! In short, it left me wanting more… I hear the city is stealth like that. Barcelona has the upper hand in our relationship, for sure.

So, upon arrival in Barcelona I checked into my accommodations at the Yeah hostel. I never did the whole backpacking through Europe thing (I guess it's happening now, except with a humongous, bright teal roller-board) and I haven’t stayed in many hostels, so wasn’t sure what to expect. The Yeah hostel far surpassed my expectations. It was modern, trendy, clean, and full of friendly staff and fellow adventurers.  I would highly recommend it if you’re looking for a cost efficient and fun place to stay, and it's in a fantastic location (if you don’t mind sharing a room with strangers, that is. I realize that’s not everyone’s cuppa tea).

I started my first full day with a walking tour of the Gothic district of Barcelona. The tour began at the Cathedral, which blew me away, and our guide explained the different Roman, Gothic and Neo-Gothic influences to the Cathedral and surrounding basilicas (I clearly hadn't paid attention in some class in high school as this was mostly new to me). We ended the tour in the Born district, which is extremely quaint and is known for consisting of family-owned shops and restaurants. It was one of my favorite neighborhoods. That afternoon I walked a TON around the city-it felt like 600 miles (yes, that's more than the Proclaimers). In my wandering I came across the Arc De Triomphe and many other generally awe-inspiring sites.

Then my awesome friend from the Vespa tour, Kristina, arrived in Barcelona on a post-tour trip with her Dad, John Edwards (not that one). Lucky me that we were there at the same time!! We had a great meal at Cervecería Catalana, that had been recommended by a few people and definitely did not disappoint. (Btw, I've taken my snacking to a new level here in Espana…it's hard to wait until 9-10pm for dinner! Thank goodness for those wasabi peas).

The next day our traveling trio (me, Kristina and not that John Edwards) had a fabulous Day O' Gaudi! We began with a free Gaudi walking tour run by a company called Runnerbeans. Their tours are great and I'm thankful another Vespa tour friend recommended them. I admittedly did not know much about this Gaudi dude before the tour but he's really fascinating, as are his architectural influences throughout the city. Then we jumped right into  a self-guided tour of the Basilica of the Sangara Family, which was designed by Gaudi and has been "under construction" for almost 135 years  (word on the street is that completion is in the foreseen future). Even incomplete it's almost impossible to describe the grandness of the structure (nevermind the intricate details and symbolism behind the design elements). We then took the elevator to the top of one of the monstrous bell towers (beautiful views!) and he had to walk 400 (tiiiiny, spiral) steps down. I kid you not! We all had vertigo for a lil' bit after that descent.

To top off the day we visited Park Guell, that Gaudi had designed for his biggest/richest client and good friend (named Something Guell). It's a spectacular place with three houses, gardens, and amazing and colorful Gaudi designs throughout (btw, apparently the word "gaudy" may be derived from Gaudi's name). Regardless of the Gaudi/Gaudy-ness, we all loved it! Here's Kristina and not that John Edwards:


I coordinated my outfit with the tourist attraction:

Lastly we had dinner at at a muy bien restaurante called Xativa L'Arrosseria, which was recommended by 'Francis from the Front Desk' at the Yeah hostel. It was located in the Garcia district,which is a non-touristy and authentic part of Barcelona. While the restaurant was comfortably crowded, there wasn't a wait (even at 9pm- the start of prime-time dining!) and it was clear we were among many locals. We shared two types of ridiculously delicious seafood paella (one made with black rice from squid ink) and we pretty much licked the skillets clean. My wish for delicious paella during my last night in Barcelona was more than fulfilled. Muchas gracias Barcelona! I will most definitely be back.

Next blog preview…Mallorca…I'm here!

 

 

 

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Tiny shopping cart

 

My sister, Tobi, gave me this birthday card last year. The inside says “No one travels through life quite like you.” I smiled every time I looked at it so I hung it in my office, directly behind my computer monitor.  I looked at it for almost a year before I gave the little kid a knowing nod and decided it was time to take my show on the road (my show just being me, not doing anything particularly exciting, and not even having a tiny shopping cart prop).

 

I’d been at my job for ten years when I quit last month. My colleagues, friends and family were almost overly understanding and everyone seems to want to “live vicariously” through a seemingly irresponsible person. This blog seems like the easiest and most efficient way to do this (and for my parents to know where I am) but if you’d rather just keep up through pictures, my Instagram handle is @Teha7

I realize that I’m extremely fortunate to be at a place in my life where I can do this. After 17 years of working, and it felt like a lot of working, I can just stop doing it for a period of time… and it can be okay (or at least so far it is- fingers crossed!). There are so many places I haven’t seen and I want to make a dent in that before re-entering the real world (btw, I was told I’m too young to be having a mid-life crisis so I’m going with that).

I’m writing this from the Charles de Gaulle airport- my first time in France! I’m only here for a few hours but I plan to come back at some point and see more than the Air France lounge (thanks to the Points Guy for telling me about credit cards that give access to lounges!) The free snacks are an amazing perk and I feel like an old lady on a cruise ship stashing away wasabi peas in a baggie for later). Also, I don’t know much French but I always thought it interesting that “Ca va” meant both “how are you” and “I’m fine” so I’m trying to drop that as much as I can, just for kicks.

So…welcome to my blog! I’ll try to be responsible enough to keep it up, but no guarantees. I guess the road less travelled doesn’t have many guarantees, but I’m hoping I stumble across at least one tiny shopping cart! It would come in handy to transport the wasabi peas.