November 23, 2014 § Leave a comment
I’ll say this: there are special places and they’re obvious. They’re storybook. They’re historical. And you’re lucky, really, to enter it. To eat it. I kept a food log during my time in Grandcamp-Maisy, in northwestern France. Those entries speak louder, more clearly, more articulate of how it was waking up and sleeping and just being there than the photographs do. Regardless, I took these. I look at them. Voilà.
November 9, 2014 § Leave a comment
My mother and best friend in law school and guy I write love letters to are really glad I didn’t pierce my septum in London, but I’m not so sure. If it’s safe to say anything ever, it’s safe to say that I’m impulsive, often. It might be genetics, tbh. Things sound like good ideas or necessary ideas until they aren’t. And by that point I’ve usually spent a stupid amount of money on artisanal treats or put down a deposit on an apartment in St.Petersburg, Russia or sprinted, in Nikes, across Marion Square and down Charlotte Street to argue with an ex before he was an ex. Sometimes I curse this spontaneity and other times I look it in the face in the mirror and say hey, thanks for making that choice, just then. It has rewards– wanting to do something so badly at once. « Read the rest of this entry »
October 19, 2014 § 2 Comments
How I didn’t expect my short trip in Glasgow to go: faking an immediate bereavement at midnight with my Swedish coworker, Johan, insisting we had to fly to Stockholm in the morning– receptionist doing his best to seem concerned but implying there was no unbooking in our future. Our accommodation was truly bad, but we survived. Twenty minutes after our stunt, we giddily took to the streets, grief-less, hungy, drunk.
It was a blast. It was dark. It was gloomy. The archictecure! The history! The art! The cafes! The easiest metro in the whole UK! We met up with our other coworkers, engaged and now on their way to Thailand (Alice: “Do you blog about us?” Me: Yes. Here. Now. I hope you’re safe.) who introduced us to their friend from Auckland, now living in G-Town, who did a seriously good job of showing us the city. I’m doing a lot of nationality and name dropping here, but all I’m saying: there is something better than exploring a good place—and that is exploring it in good company. In the words of Johan himself, it was a proper good time.
September 19, 2014 § 2 Comments
I’m not sure what age, or what experience, causes us to appreciate when someone is better at something that we are, as opposed to resenting him or her for their superiority. Whatever age or achievement that is, I’m glad about it. I’m not the only helper at the farm. There have been multiple workers, like me, who come and go. Some I’ve had more fun with than others, some left before I could write down their full names, and each has been significantly better at something (many things) than I am.
September 7, 2014 § 4 Comments
Saturday morning, I went to northern Spain to pick up chorizo and wine from a market. There is a good feeling to be had in markets on weekend mornings. Something I miss tremendously about home: meeting K with our matching totes and produce. I spent the rest of the day in a little french coastal town, Biarritz. Not at all used to water like that. It was a happy day. Stupid happy. Wore a dress for the first time since I’ve been in the country, ate a salmon sandwich, admired the Bay of Biscay, read Carson McCuller’s The Ballad of the Sad Cafe from cover to cover, and spied on adolescent boys jumping off cliffs. The swimmers seemed to belong nowhere else in the world besides floating in all that salt. It felt briefly like home (packed the same tote, felt sun and sand) but that fleeing left and something else took its place.