Sweet Home Seattle.

Let me tell you why I moved to Seattle, you know, the home I just left for three months.





When I was around 20 I went with family to visit my stepsister in Seattle. When we went to Pike Place Market, a huge covered open-air farmers and craft market in downtown Seattle, I literally stood in the middle of the aisle and wept. The color, the life streaming by me in all shapes, colors and sizes, the sound of vendors, eager tourists, and locals buying their groceries all soaked into my heart and woke it up in a way that at that tender age of 20 I had only encountered one other time, and that was shopping in the little patisseries and markets in Brittany when I was an exchange student in France at the even more tender age of 14.

Apparently there is something about the way a culture shops that really turns me on.



Though, its not really that, its not consumerism in action that sets me a-tingle. It is the parade of humanity out to discover and to nourish themselves, it is the vibrancy of foods and goods put on display all shiny and bright, it is the flood of information that washes through all the senses, bringing them to complete attention that makes me happy to be alive.



Do I shop at Pike Place Market for my groceries now that I live in Seattle? No, but I do enjoy a visit every so often.

Ironically, it is the ability Seattle has to create a safe and nourishing environment for solitude that has fed and nourished me for many of the last 12 years. I have, in essence, been “finding myself”. This was possible because Seattle demands very little of its residents, not like New York or Chicago, where I'd lived for 5 years in my early 20's. In Chicago, I always felt like I was fighting to stay in my own skin, mostly because the city was so stimulating that I couldn’t settle enough to know who I was and what I wanted, all on my own.

In Seattle, one tends to be overcome with the energy and beauty of the land, but the people pretty much keep their distance. There is no great swell of humanity that accosts the inhabitants of Seattle when they walk out of their houses, and so when you live in the Pacific Northwest you are free to make your own energetic choices & I have used much of my time there to reach deep inside and to learn what it is that I needed to know in order to go out into the world again.

I have felt, at times, a bit at war with myself. The girl weeping in Pike Place Market was all akimbo inside, I think, because she understood that it was going to take 18 years to reconcile the parts of herself that were afraid of the world, that did not want to be seen, those tender feelings that made her want to hide from the very life and energy that her soul and heart were drawn to fought with the adventurous side that yearned to dive into far away places and cultures, into the sensual pleasures of different foods, smells, the feel of the sun on her face at exotic latitudes, the way the ocean smells on far away shores, the smiles on foreign faces.

It seems that I had to buy a house and make it into a home that had all the stability that the homes of my divorced parents’ did not. I had to sink into walls and gardens over which I had control, I had to learn how to nourish myself, to fall in love with my life before I could even think about letting the rest of the world in.

It is interesting to me that the life and vibrancy of Pike Place Market called to something deep inside of me, drew me to live in the city six years after I had first visited it, and then provided the shelter I needed to find firm footing within my skin so that now I can leave Seattle and soak my senses in the vibrancy and life of the wider world.

As I embark on my journey I feel as tender as I was that day I stood in Pike Place Market 18 years ago, but I am not scared. I am excited to open my heart to the miracles and love that await me, for I feel certain that many unexpected beauties lurk around each corner of every building and being. I feel ready to be bathed in the light and color, sounds and smells, the smiles of yet to be known faces. But I no longer feel akimbo; as a friend of mine is fond of saying, “I’m okay with it.” I feel ready to stand firmly in my own skin, I feel ready to meet the world and to look it squarely in the eye.

Reason Number 547 to See the World....if you are from anywhere that doesn't bank in US Dollars

I was shopping today at H & M in Harrold Square in NYC, trying to find a couple of cute tops to coordinate with my slacks for ease of travel. I was shopping in New York because once I cross the pond everything is going to become twice as expensive. While standing in line for the fitting room, I met three sisters from Cork Ireland. They had flown over for the weekend (two nights, three days) to shop for clothes. Apparently, the dollar is so weak that it is cheaper for them to fly from Ireland to NYC to shop at H & M and Macy's than it is to go to London or Dublin. Not that I don't think you can put two and two together, but that means it is cheaper for them to buy three plane tickets from Ireland to America, hotel rooms, and three days worth of food in one of the most expensive cities in the USA than it is for them to take the train into Dublin for the day to buy clothes. WOW!

I took a deep breath, found my shirts, and resolved to buy memories and not things when I set off for Europe next week.

The Soothsayer was Right

I love accents. Ever since I was a kid I have listened to the way other people talk, whether they are from a foreign country or from right down the street, and if I hear a sound that I like coming from a word I've never heard pronounced that way, I immediately put that sound into that word, wrap my mouth around it and speak it right out loud. This can seem a little rude, I imagine, and some people have thought I was making fun of them, but it is uncontrollable....

Learning how to speak in other accents is, to me, like digesting the best chocolate mousse in the best restaurant in the world, the sounds melt and warm and excite me all at the same time. I traveled once to Australia with a dear friend, who I think may have come close to throttling me because of my constant repeating of what everyone said. The Australian accent is hard, very very hard, for me.... and for a few brief-shining moments after copy catting everyone in Bellingen Australia, I had it down.

Those were proud moments indeed.

So, you can imagine the pure rapture that I had when a Wise Woman, who is also an astrologer, Gretchen, told me on Sunday last that this was the perfect time for me to travel and that accents were going to be an integral and important part of my trip. In fact, she repeatedly told me that learning accents might be at the heart of why I am supposed to go to Europe right now.

This was like angels coming down and telling a chubby kid who is often mocked for her size that the only way to turn into the beautiful creature she dreams of is to sit down and eat everything in sight.

Now, you may or may not believe in astrology, and I often say that I use it not as prophecy, but as a great tool for meditating on things that may or may not be happening in my life. But when I stepped onto the plane.... I mean, when I literally took the first step onto the aircraft that was taking me from Seattle, WA to New York City and the first leg of my trip, the man in front of me turned to talk to his wife who was following behind me and out came the most beautiful Yorkshire accent you have ever heard. Think "Wallace and Gromit", or "Chicken Run", or "All Creatures Great and Small". I learned the Yorkshire accent for a production of "The Secret Garden" at Seattle Children's Theatre a few years ago and those sounds in particular are some of the most delicious to me and there I was, moment one of my grand adventure, being swaddled by them.

So, I'm happy to report that I began my journey contentedly mumbling to myself as that couple and their two sons sat in front of me on the plane and bathed me in "somats" (something) and "oy"s and big round vowels and rolling "r's and I knew right then that my blessed friend Gretchen, the soothsayer, was right: This is the perfect time for me to travel!

What "Bon Voyage" Looks Like

Some of my best girlfriends got together and had a bit of a Bon Voyage fete at Oliver's Twist, here in Seattle.....The owner's four year old daughter turned to her mom and apparently said, "They all look like they love each other." As the hub of the wheel, the only one who knew everyone at the table, I felt so cared for and left the evening full up with love, laughter and camaraderie to carry with me on my voyage.












And my sweet friend Jake made me this picture of Love and Luck!



All adventurers should be so nourished when they set off!

Reason Number 1,236 to See The World & Reason Number 11 to Stay Home

The Italians are offering travel incentives to us poor Americans whose pocket books have been ravaged by the Bush administration!

Cheap at Twice the Price

I bought a one-way ticket to Paris from London yesterday. For months I've know that I have to be in Paris by April 20th to meet my mom, but I didn't know wether to take the chunnel or fly, where would I sleep, that sort of thing. It's one of the many little decisions about my trip that I just kept putting off.

But yesterday I decided that I wanted to arrive in Paris a day before my mom. I looked at train prices, I looked at airline prices and flying was cheaper, by half. I was relieved, actually, that flying was cheaper because even though I am terrified of flying, the idea of speeding along under the tremendous weight of all that water in the English Channel sends me into a claustrophobic panic.

So, there were fairly inexpensive early morning flights that meant rising before dawn. There were cheap early afternoon flights, which would ruin the day in London AND Paris. There was one super expensive flight with the perfect departure and arrival time. Then there was a 2 p.m.-ish flight which was about $40 bucks more than the late afternoon/pre-dawn flights.

I sat for a good 20 minutes haggling with my inner economist (who has not been at his desk for very long) and debated wether I should spend the extra $40 bucks to arrive two hours earlier in Paris, giving me a full evening in the City of Lights to wander around by myself before my mom arrives in the morning. $40 dollars for 2 hours.....that's $20 bucks an hour....for Paris.






It was an easy $40 to spend when seen in that light.

Reason Number 412 to See The World

This undid me...I'm not sure you could doubt animal's have souls and loving hearts after you watch this!