mille baci

Venice: Da Sola!

2012-03-19T20:15:00.001+01:00

The next portion of my time in Venice was never dull. I can say that with absolute confidence. After seeing Ben and Nancy (not-so-happily) onto the bus, wandering a tiny bit and finding a bite to eat and some coffee, I ventured towards the vaporetto from Piazzale Roma (which actually was not at all where I anticipated, but on the opposite side of the canal and around a corner a ways). It was really a beautiful day and I had decided to go to the islands.

To be honest, I was most interested in the islands of Burano and Torcello, after all the wonderful things I had heard about them: the brightly coloured houses along little canals filled with boats and the one long, quiet path of Torcello.

The boat trip was really incredibly beautiful. It was very cold, but I couldn't tear myself away from the center outside deck. Watching Venice disappear little by little until we were surrounded by brilliant water and sticks poking out here and there, I felt like I was being transported to someplace much, much farther away than just the Venetian Islands.

After stopping at Murano (which, I confess, I did not visit), we finally made it to Burano, a quiet little Italian Paradise Island. Even away from the small network of canals, the light was so beautiful. But venturing in just a little bit, I found myself greeted endless brilliant houses.

I wandered a bit, taking photo after photo of doors, windows, curtains, boats, reflections... Until I was stopped by a girl asking me to take her photo for her. We spent the next 3 or 4 hours together exploring and shooting, shooting and exploring. She had come to Italy from Vietnam for only 2 days for a business conference and decided to take a train up to Venice for a single day. At 3pm she had to go catch her train back. But it made me really think about the people you meet while traveling. Maybe it's just that you don't always know them long enough to know them well, but it is a special friendship. This was particularly unusual, I thought. When I introduced myself, she jumped back in surprise and proceeded to tell me that at her work, everyone had been told to choose an English name, that clients would respond better to an English name than a traditional Vietnamese name. So Linh had chosen Elizabeth.

When "Elizabeth" left to start her long voyage home, I made my way to my next stop: Torcello. It had gotten even chillier by this point, but once again, stepping off the boat, I was overwhelmed. This time by the sensation of being home very far away from home. I walked down the path along the canal. The trees had no leaves and the air was crisp and calm. I was reminded of winter walks in Oaks Bottom with my family. Strangely nostalgic and comforted. I admit that I didn't spend very much time at the ruins, but was drawn to the grass field behind them, next to the water. Large stones lined the shore, away from the old piers where tourists captured the quaint beauty. Again, the light was too beautiful. Heartbreaking and invigorating. Strange.

After some time, the sun started to go down and I made my way back to the boat.

(Torcello photos to come.)

seven o'clock

2012-03-19T19:35:00.001+01:00

It's seven o'clock in the evening on St. Joseph's Day, or Fathers' Day. It was a really lovely day: sunny but windy. I went for a run by the river past the many orange groves that lay just outside the city center. And when I came home, I went up to the roof and watched the clouds drifting opposite directions across the sky.

Now I can hear the church bells ringing over Gregory Alan Isakov, floating in my window with the cool spring air. The sun has gone down behind the light yellow steps that are the roof of the apartments that face me. And the laundry gently sways in the soft wind.

Venice (I)

2012-01-08T21:33:00.000+01:00

Well, once again, I have a lot to catch up on. It's now a New Year, I'm back in Murcia, and all is well. My trip to Venice really started off with a kind of a bang. And ended with more of a fizzle, but I guess that's how things sometimes go.

I'd hardly made it to the bus station here in Murcia, and waiting to board, when a man came up to me and asked if the bus was going to Alicante (it was). He was from Milan and was on his way home for the holidays. The bus was almost empty and he sat down in the seat across the aisle from me, wanting to talk. He had a voice like the Godfather. And the conversation that followed... I didn't know what to say then and I don't now. But it was good prep for Italy, and I was happy to get off the bus. And we'll leave it at that.

After a lovely final café con leche and ¨curasán¨ (croissant) at the airport in Alicante, I flew to Madrid and from there to Venice, where Nancy and Ben picked me up at the airport. It´s such a different feeling landing somewhere you´ve (basically) never been before, and being met by familiar faces. I´ve gotten so used to just rushing straight to the exit, that it was a little overwhelming.

The sun had already gone down and there was a cold mist settled over the city. The apartment Nancy and Ben had rented was really sweet: old, but with modern touches. It was three levels, but a very narrow building. We went immediately to a wonderful meal at a nearby favorite of theirs, called Rosa dei Venti, which serves typical Italian dishes (carbonara, all´ammatricciana, etc.), after which we returned to the apartment for some much needed rest all around.

The next morning, we woke up to a beautiful, clear day. It's incredible how the light reflects off the water in the canals, not to mention the color of the water, itself. After a bit of fortification (for me consisting of a croissant and a cappuccino), we set off to see the sights and sounds. And search for a good map for me, which we found at a nice little bookstore, where Ben also bought a book ghost stories of Venice. (After all my pre-trip anxiety relating to, Don't Look Back, I steered clear of that particular publication and stuck with just my map...)

Since I had more time left than Nancy and Ben, my days of them consisted more of showing me around (and eating!) than actual sight-seeing, which I saved for my last 4 days. I felt so lucky to have them with me, because they really did know the city very well. We wandered around and around and I tried desperately to keep my bearings bridge after little bridge for the next couple days, while they were still around. We went to Piazza San Marco and watched all the people taking photos with the pigeons, then walked along the water. We went to the Rialto fish market, with it's fantastic red banner warning, "don't touch!"

As I mentioned, the primary focus of my days with Nancy and Ben was food and bearings. We ate cicchetti (tapa-esque open sandwiches, typical of Venice) and several incredible full meals. I will have to check on the name of the place we had dinner the second night, which was amazing. We started off with a carpaccio, was prepared at the table with great style. After cleaning and slicing the initially whole fish, the man (one of the 2 owners) threw some olive oil, salt, fresh lemon juice, and prosecco into the dish and swished everything around. The end result was ultra-thin slices of fish that seemed to melt like butter in your mouth. Nancy and I then shared another fish entree that was also really lovely. After salad, I was introduced to the typical Venetian cocktail called sgroppino, which consists of prosecco (poured from a great height), lemon sorbetto, and a touch of vodka, all whisked together in a bowl until light and airy. I've never tasted anything like it!

Nancy and Ben's last night, we ate at another of their favorites, called La Bitta, which was absolutely amazing - small and absolutely packed with Venetians. The owner was a really funny and charming woman who ran the restaurant with her husband, the chef. I had the guinea foul, something I'd never had before, but was incredible. Once again, however, we found we had eaten entirely too much food (with no regrets), and made our way, meandering through the campos, across bridges, to the vaporetto, taking us home.

And I mentally prepared myself for the next day: Venezia: Da Sola!

Adios, España!

2011-12-05T09:01:00.001+01:00

Well, in about 15 minutes I will be out the door of my apartment, making my way towards the bus station. After much searching and re-searching, I finally managed to get a bus ticket from Murcia to the actual airport in Alicante, instead of Alicante-Alicante. (Not only was it cheaper and shorter, but I won't have to pay for a 20 minute taxi ride!) From there, it's just a hop, skip and a jump to Venice! But now I must make sure I've got everything, so...

A presto!

El Viejo Puente de los Peligros

2011-12-03T17:22:00.001+01:00

Right now I'm standing on the bridge here, watching the sun go down behind the trees. Behind me I can see the sunlight shining softly on the mountains. This bridge connects the city center to one of the "immigrant neighborhoods" and the majority of the many people passing be me are Moroccan, South American (most likely from Ecuador, or gypsies. It's cold out here but so lovely. ~~Photos when I get home~~...

Besos

Lovely Days

2011-11-26T13:31:00.001+01:00

Today is a beautiful day. I can feel the sun shining gently through the window on the backs of my hands as I type. And maybe it's the sun reflecting off that yellow building across from me, but it feels like November. Sunny November.

Last night was a really beautiful night, too. A few days ago, when I went to the police station to get fingerprinted for my Spanish ID (see photo - an adventure in itself), I finally met a few other Auxiliars and one invited me to a small gathering for Thanksgiving at a house just outside of town, in Guadalupe. The streets are dark at night in this village and no one was out, except at a little bar by the side of the road. The house itself is called a "huerta" because it has a lovely orchard in the back with lots of mandarin orange trees. It's very cold out there - much colder than in the city, and the stars shine bright all across the sky. I found a small group of people in the back of the house, standing around a little outdoor wood oven, cooking a couple of small chickens and a pan of Mac 'n Cheese and inside the rest of the party working on the turkey, 2 types of mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, mushrooms and green beans, cranberries, biscuits and gravy, stuffing... Everything for a perfect Thanksgiving. Downstairs we sat at a long wood table, all 15-or-so of us. It felt like a clipping out of an Anthropologie or Urban Outfitters catalog. Everyone was so lovely and so warm! Really good people, and I feel so lucky to have been a part of the evening. I have no photos, sadly, but there will be soon, I'm certain.

But for now, since it is such an incredible day and I'm still feeling so thankful for everything in my life right now, it seems a pity to spend much more time here in my room, so I'm going to close this computer and stroll.

Un beso!

Murcia, Murcia

2011-11-12T22:32:00.001+01:00

I suppose it's about time I posted about Murcia, no? Or Spain...or...anything, at this point, honestly. But we'll start with Murcia. In fact, we're going to break it down into manageable, bite-size pieces.

I've been here about a month now and am finally more or less settled in. The only thing I'm still waiting on is my appointment at the police station for my NIE and TIE (residency and work permit), but that's scheduled and once it goes through, I'll finally get paid. Finally.

So far things are going great. A few weeks ago, I found a wonderful apartment with two Spanish girls, Isabel and Mercedes. But I came frighteningly close to living in a dark and dirty cave with some guy I had never met... It was cheap, and there was a reason for that - or 5. This place, on the other hand, is surrounded by gardens, though I only know the names of two: Jardín el Salitre and Jardín la Seda. When I walk out the front door to my building, I'm hit by the smell of...I'm not sure what! Maybe it's the lemon and orange trees, maybe the crushed dates that have fallen from the unbelievably tall date palms, I don't know.

Not terribly long ago, it became Fall. Not in the way that I expected, but maybe somehow even better. The thing is, it's still pretty warm here (at least during the day) and so I was feeling a bit sad at the prospect of missing out on Fall, which I love SO much. But as it is without the change in the temperature, the change in the season lies the light.When I walk through Jardín el Salitre, I can see that the light shines differently through the trees. The trees are called Plátanos de Sombra and are very tall and very beautiful. The bark looks like high-contrast camouflage.

Like I said before, Fall is a different Fall here. The trees only drop a few leaves. As a result, they prune the trees that line the streets so that only the largest branches remain. They look really strange and sad, with no leaves and stumpy branches (for lack of a better word). Now that the dates have fallen from the tall palms, the citrus trees are all bearing fruit: lemons, oranges... And the olive trees have little black and green olives on them, as well.

Through the park there is a small man-made pond with ducks, geese, and 2 beautiful swans and next to the pond a little outdoor café (where I sat once and got hit in the head by a soccer ball...). I have to say that it was significantly less lovely a couple weeks ago when the pond was drained. And at night, too, when the water is perfectly still and black. The swans look like they're swimming through tar.

Aside from the parks, the apartment is also very near to the Corte Inglés, which is very convenient and several old churches (which I suppose isn't so much convenient as different from home - I like passing by them on my way to and from my house). I think I'm really lucky to have found this place.

For now, I'll leave it at that, but I will be back soon with a School/Work Update!

Besos!

Mañana Madrileña

2011-10-10T10:50:00.001+02:00

Well, it's day one in Spain.* Really strange being back here. It's so familiar (even Madrid) but more like I was here in a dream. It's interesting to see the things I remember...

Last night I arrived (finally) at the hostel. I decided to take the bus instead of a taxi, which would cost €40 as opposed to €2! But there was a fair amount of walking at the end of that bus ride and I got a little bit lost... But eventually I made it. After making my bed, washing my face and generally getting situated, I went back downstairs to buy my bus ticket to Murcia. This did not go as planned. But it did go in typical Spanish fashion: error message after error message. I can't believe haven't even been here 24hrs yet and already I'm off about this! Long story short, I will be heading early to the South bus station to buy my ticket.

When I returned upstairs a girl from DC asked if I wanted to join her to grab something to eat. And though I had considered just going to bed, food seemed like a good idea so out we went. I think the place we ended up at was called Lizarro. We shared arroz con mariscos which resembled a very basic paella. And I had a tinto de verano. It was great. Then we went back to the hostel where she joined people for drinking games and I did a brief stint on the computer before bed.

It was so nice to sleep... I was awoken around 2:30 when everyone came back from the bars, but returned pretty quickly to sleep. It wasn't hard, since the whole way here I only slept a half hour at the very most.

This morning I woke up early with the intention of eating free breakfast at the hostel but... It was not so appealing in the end. So I wandered out. After making a few loops, I came back to Miau, a nice little cafe where I could sit at the bar and not be bothered. I had a croissant ("curasán," apparently) and a café solo largo. And wrote. This.

Since my bus was at 1:30, I had some time to enjoy Madrid, so wandered down the street and found myself in front of the Botanical Garden (entrance only 2.50!) and so in I went! It was nice, but not super impressive, to be honest. The entire time I couldn't help thinking about how many beautiful gardens there are in Portland. But I do understand that this one serves a slightly different purpose... There were many beautiful trees (such as the pomegranate tree, which I have never seen before) and the Tree of Giant Orange. Singular. I did feel myself drawn to the piney areas and especially the Oregon zarzamora (blackberry), which apparently really belong in Oregon, cause these did not look especially appealing at all.

I then went up the street to the Retiro, feeling super nostalgic and wanting something familiar... I wandered through, looking for the places I remember seeing with Mimi when we had that amazing picnic a couple years ago. It took me awhile to find anything familiar aside from (appropriately enough) el Bosque del Recuerdo. But finally I made it to the pond (with very little time left before I had to head back and get ready to schlep all my things to the bus station somehow). I tried to record a small video of people passing by because there was a man playing a trumpet really beautifully. However, I'd hardly started the video when some man came up and started talking to me. He kept making "Dad jokes" and told me about the monument we were looking at. In the end, it was a nice exchange, though I admit that at first I kept waiting for him to say something creepy. . . Ha.

Since my bags were so cumbersome, I decided to take a taxi to the bus station. After eating a familiar-tasting bocadillo de tortilla (nothing beats the blandness of potatoes and eggs on a white baguette), and café solo largo, I found my bus and prepared for the long ride. Five and a half hours. With one unnecessarily long break in the middle at what should have been a deserted truck stop from some movie.

However, before terribly long, we were pulling into the bus station in Murcia and I could see Marta (my soon-to-be intercambio partner and personal guide through Murcia) waiting for me. . .

*Only half of this was actually written on that first morning. But I promise to catch up quickly!

¡venga venga venga!

2011-09-18T01:01:00.000+02:00

I can't believe I am writing this right now, but it's almost official (as soon as I get one very important package in the mail): España... ¡YA VUELVO!
I'm supposed to begin working n an elementary school in Murcia (Capital) on the first of October. Of course, as falls perfectly in line with my past experiences and many of the previous griping posts here, I am still waiting to receive my visa (and more importantly, my passport) form the consulate in San Francisco.
I guess it's better in a way, though. I am so happy here, and still sort of trying to process the fact that now that I have things more or less figured out and have found a group of people here in Portland that I really love, I am off, once again. But I know that these changes are good for me. I am hoping that in the weeks (hopefully) before I head out, I will finally succeed in getting back on track here. In that vein, I shall make a list, which I shall call "Pre-Spain MB Goals" (I know, creative.)

Pre-Spain MB Goals:
1. Catch. Up.
2. Pre-Spain preparations
3. Spain wish-list (places? things? actividades?)
4. ...so far that's it - we'll see how it goes!

Up next: Now that it feels like fall, time for summer!

if you cut me open...

2011-01-05T08:54:00.000+01:00

Incredible days. Really indescribable. But here goes a desperate attempt.

New Years Eve I spent primarily on the train back down from Seattle/Tacoma, where I finally got to see H again (for three whole hours!!). Really, driving through Seattle from up north and down to Tacoma, I'm convinced there can't be anywhere more beautiful. I only wish that I could have taken photos buuuut that could be asking just a little too much with the Cascades surrounding, the lakes sprawling, Mt Rainier growing, and Seattle punctuating. However, on the TRAIN I managed to take, ohhh, about 7 million photos...

Coming back to Portland, I found the same crisp, clear weather - my very favorite. I couldn't help but wander through the city taking photos at every turn. Here are a few...

beautiful days

2010-12-11T07:50:00.000+01:00

Remember when the Pearl District was all industrial and its warehouses were GASP warehouses?? It wasn't really that long ago, was it? But since the transformation, I find myself drawn there constantly. And now I work in the Pearl and have the pleasure of wandering through it on a daily basis. Because I have to. Wonderful. And now the fruit of my wanderings...

milk stretch

2010-12-09T08:39:00.000+01:00

That's right, you stretch it. You don't foam or froth it. I confess that these last couple weeks, I've been wondering why my latte foam is not how I want it to be. Today I figured it out.

On another note, the weather these days has been incredible. As I sit here now it's absolutely pouring. Several hours ago it was clear and there was just a sliver of the moon visible. And before that more rain. And before that sunshine and rainbows. Rainbows in the exact same place as yesterday's rainbows. Really.

the usual? yes puh - lease.

2010-12-04T08:17:00.000+01:00

Suddenly, I'm finding that my schedule is totally packed and it feels soo good... I graduated from college back in June and have been looking for a job ever since. I hate not having any real structure to my day, which up till now, school has provided for me. Finally, I have that back (more or less...). I started working last week at the art school coffee cart here in town, serving The Delicious Stumptown Coffee. Hairbender.

Turns out, I love LOVE love making coffee.

(and yes, that is an actual Stumptown, not my cute little coffee cart...)

Truly, I haven't the slightest idea why, but I'm thinking it has to do with giving people something that makes me so happy. Coffee. How many people cannot begin their day until they have it? But even more, it reminds me of living in Spain. What I miss the most about Cádiz was the sense community that I've never felt before. By contrast to Rome, there is no such thing as being on time in Cádiz, if only for the fact that when walking through the streets you must stop if you happen to run into anyone you know. Including shop owners standing in their doorways. Anyone. I love knowing the candy store owner's name (let's not talk about what this really says about me), having to stop to say hi on my way to class. This is the same feeling that I get as a barista. I love this.

the blue door

2010-11-30T02:06:00.000+01:00

Lately, I've been working on a website for our beach house, The Blue Door on the Oregon Coast. The town is called Oceanside but people always get it mixed up with Canon Beach because of the rocks in the water (for future reference, Cannon Beach has Haystack Rock; Oceanside has Three Arch Rocks, Storm rock, Seal Rock and the Three Arch National Wildlife Refuge). My family and I have been going to Oceanside since I was tiny and I confess that it has never stopped growing on me. There are few places as beautiful and unique. It's situated on a quiet hill town unspoiled by commerce and on the beautiful Three Capes Loop. Oceanside has three miles of beach, rugged volcanic cliffs and enticing tidepools. Each visit is unlike any other.

The Blue Door is a cozy cabin overlooking and walking distance from the ocean. Many a visitor has spent hours gazing out the enormous living room window at the water, the rocks, the clouds... While it's perfect for three to four, it can sleep up to six people. And regardless of the admittedly often sporadic Oregon Coast weather, one can safely say the place never disappoints. Please pay a visit to The Blue Door website for more information and images!

simple feelings

2010-11-28T20:19:00.000+01:00

Inspired by fashiontoast's images and the feeling of a cold and rainy Sunday in November, I thought I would post some photographs of my own.

a human town

2010-11-11T01:02:00.000+01:00

A couple weeks ago two friends came down to visit from Seattle. All I could think of to show them the city was food, so we literally jumped from crepes at home to St. Honore Boulangerie for coffee to lunch to coffee to tinto de verano in the park to appetizers and so on...

On our return home, a woman stopped to comment on how "human" Portland is. I thought this was an interesting word choice. Upon a bit of reflection, it occurred to me that this is exactly what I love about the city. For years, I believed Portland to be simply a somewhat smaller version of Seattle. While I do still believe this to a certain extent, the last couple years I found myself more and more amazed at the size and the feel of Seattle and how drastically different it is from Portland. Seattle, I see now as a composite city made up of many different smaller towns ("towns" isn't the right word here, but the right one evades me...).

But I think Portland is seriously catching on there, too, and while I can't begin to describe how much I miss Seattle, there's nothing quite like wandering around here.

wisdom tooth

2010-09-24T23:54:00.000+02:00

Today I am utterly out of commission. But it's okay because I'm sitting here on the living room couch watching the light change in the garden. It's bouncing off my white mug on the window sill and reflecting onto the cedar that surrounds the window, revealing each and every weathered knick. Time can take its toll.

summer days

2010-07-22T17:38:00.000+02:00

Once again, I've been trying to see Portland in a different light. Lately, this endeavor has been more or less a success. These summer days are perfect for strolling through the city or biking around the river: Waterfront, bridge up, Waterfront, Esplanade, bridge up, Esplanade, etc. Anyway, I've been doing a lot of both, which I realize may have something to do with why Portland feels so different. I've slowed down. Dramatically. And to think that I believed I knew and loved Portland before... I am painfully aware of the fact, however, that this is still not the case, but every day I do love it just a little bit more.

café tour part I: everett street (i)

2010-06-30T17:15:00.000+02:00

...and eleventh. One of my favorite intersections in the Pearl. Evidently, I have always been drawn to cafés with an international feel, something that I'm sure in reality I owe that largely to my mother. Our Café Days began at the Pearl Bakery when I was little, but I'll come back to that.

Having the experience fresh in my mind I feel that a better subject would be the Everett Street Bistro. This European bistro throws you across the country, across an ocean, and into a little café in Paris the second you step through the door and catch Edith Piaf floating from the high-up stamped ceiling. Wicker chairs cluster around little tables, giant mirrors and a quiet bar create a sensation of casual European refinement.

The menu is classic. Quiches, soups, salads...steak tartare. The antipasti plate is perfect to share with assorted meats and pickled vegetables.

Inexplicably, the light and open space hurled me back to one Parisian café in particular. This one was long, dark, and narrow, reaching back away from the street, seemingly endless. Perhaps the only similarity being the commanding presence of the giant mirror on the furthest wall. Though the latter may sound unwelcoming and austere, in fact it was not and it proved to be the perfect escape from the relentless drizzle on the street.

While the Everett Street Bistro is far from severe, the minor details collaborate to create a distinctly European (and in my eyes Parisian) experience.

(Image from Breakfast in Portland)

new turn

2010-06-30T17:14:00.000+02:00

I have decided due to the fact that my travels are now greatly limited, to take this in a slightly new direction, but not forgetting what this blog began as. Anyone who knows me knows that I am a coffee NUT. The truth is, it's not really so much about the coffee itself, but more about the experience. In my opinion drinking coffee is the very best way to travel. With no jet lag.

So...that is the new direction. Let's see how it goes!

tornata

2010-06-28T02:25:00.000+02:00

a new kind of homesick

2010-05-09T05:43:00.000+02:00

Why is it that every time I realize I've been taking something for granted, it never ever sticks? I guess for me it's always moving that calls my attention to this. Living in Rome, I never actually wanted to leave but it wasn't until maybe two weeks before my flight home that I really came to realize how much the city had changed me. And Cádiz was the same story. The entire last month my highest priority was getting to the beach before the sun began it's descent. Every single second became excruciatingly short. Sometimes I can't tell if living in the now actually makes time fly by faster...

Now I'm preparing to leave Seattle. Everything I see is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. The adolescents flocking to the parking lot across from my apartment after it's emptied for the night. The people leaning against the bus stop post gazing at the sky... I cannot believe that after four years "living" in this incredible city, I've never known how striking the skies are here. This dorm-like studio of mine has a view that I will never forget. Even the rainiest days have the most beautiful sunsets. How is this possible? And how can I only now be realizing it's been my reality for so long?

tu va pa' chiclana?

2010-02-22T01:37:00.000+01:00

I know it's been forever, but the strangest thing happened to me yesterday. I realize that my last entry here was about how I wanted to treat even my home as though it were foreign to me, but yesterday it actually hit. Hard. Walking around the U District I passed a woman posting the daily special at her kebap shop, and taking in a deep breath of second hand smoke from some Ave-rat hipster, I was brutally thrown back to Europe. Since that moment, I can't get the feeling out of my head that I'm seeing everything for the first time and that it's all completely new and foreign.

And just now my world shrank a few more sizes, when listening to "my recommendations" on Last.fm... Los Delinqüentes, a band from Jerez de la Frontera, playing "Chiclana." These moments are my favourites. What gives a better feeling than stumbling across a tie to your own most-beautiful-most-loved place ever?

Additionally, I must say that this weekend has been the greatest ever. (Aside from the Swollen concert Thursday night, which...actually, let's not even go there.) Friday night I went to Ocho, a tapas joint in Ballard (I am so in love with Ballard) with patatas bravas and la carolina to die for. The restaurant itself is tiny and packed to the brim with people (suffering from the most debilitating nostalgia, too?) but the struggle for elbow-space is a good one: amiable and punctuated by the happiest smiles.

As if that wasn't enough, the sunshine has been truly relentless and has led me (finally) to the discovery of my building's beautiful roof. I must say that surrounded by the mountains and within sight of the Seattle skyline and lakes, I could not be happier. Well...maybe bump the temp up 3 degrees, but really I'm not complaining.

little oyster / abroad at home

2009-09-24T19:18:00.000+02:00

My world seems to be shrinking more and more and I find that I am completely enthralled by it. I mean, it blows my mind to think back to the days when high school seemed like the craziest thing my parents had ever suggested (they still let you make popcorn and cranberry garlands and play with plastic dinosaurs in high school, right?), and I don't think I could even begin to comprehend college. Now it's all almost over. And I don't even "live" at "home" anymore. To be perfectly honest, I don't feel like I live anywhere. But not in a bad way.

After all my travels the world really has become my oyster. I can get anywhere I want if I decide to, and hopping on a plane seems like no big deal, a train the simplest thing ever. And missing the school bus? Ha. It's a weird feeling that's gonna take some getting used to, but so far I think I like it.

On that note, I've been trying to decide what to do with this blog now that I am no longer abroad and I think I don't want to give it up. I've been wondering lately why going abroad is so much more exciting than staying "here." In Spain, in Italy, I find that I can't keep my camera charged enough, but why only there? Hans has pointed out to me time and time again that it's equally, if not more important to get to know where you're from before anywhere else. So my question is why don't I know where I'm from? And why can't I find the same kind of beauty here in my "everyday?" Anyway, that's where I'm going to take this blog now.

I'm abroad at home.

the return

2009-08-03T00:01:00.000+02:00

I know it's been forever - and that might actually be an understatement - but i'vfe lacked internet at home and have been working like mad. It's really funny, actually: I thought that upon my return home internet would be easy, but as it turns out, if anything it's harder!!

Anyway, I though I would back-track (a LOT) all the way back to Rome...

When we returned from Circeo I dug further into my massive backpack with the intention of trying on a pair of shoes I had bought in Spain on my last day in Madrid. Upon finding the bag I had shoved them in, I pulled them out to find that they WEREN'T THE SAME!!! Almost, but not. One had a massively thick heel, while the other had a much more delicate heel... Great. Too bad this was the one time I was NOT returning to Spain... I showed Camilla and Patrizia and they both gasped and exclaimed, "Non mai avrebbe successo in Italia!! MAI!" ("This would never have happened in Italy!!") Too true. Camilla then went on to say not to worry, that her father would fix everything. (A few nights earlier he had invited us out to dinner. He picked us up in a really nice Mercedes, Avril Lavigne blaring on the radio, and actually fullfilled one of my Roman dreams: to drive down Via Condotti in a really nice car...)

Sure enough, he and Valerio did fix everything. Valerio took me down to the post office after Salvatore had taken me to a tabacchi for an envelope. Valerio explained to me that he must go with me because they would be very rude to me otherwise. In the end, I'm glad he did, even though I felt terrible that he had to wait in line with me for an hour... It all turned out ok, even though I had my doubts. I sent the shoe I didn't want back to Madrid and they told me they would mail the correct shoe to me in the United States. Well, I just got the shoe about a week ago. I thought it would never come!!

A few days later Hans finally came to Rome. I found an apartment on Via del Corso, right by Piazza Venezia, and above a store called Class. It was a great location, but very very small. We spent the days sight seeing. THe weather was unbearably hot and we walked and walked and walked. We went to museums, to the Coloseum, to the Foro Romano... It was wonderful. So different from travelling around all on my own. I have more to say, but I'm afraid I have drunk too much coffee and (ironically) there's this Italian guy sitting on the window who keeps leaving me notes and things... But I'll be back soon! Bye!