Yesterday while I was coming out of a little bar in Vernazza I spied a gold coin on the ground. Being a good luck penny picker upper from way back, naturally I bent down to snatch it up. When I got my little fingers on it I realized that it was glued to the ground. At that same second a host of cheers erupted behind me where the Italian men were waiting for just such a moment and just such a victem.
It was beautiful.
I cheered back.
I think Italy and I are gonna get along fine.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Love
My mother and sister and I arrived in the Cinque Terre today in Italy. Once again, I find myself hampered by internet cafe technology and the sheer expense of a minute of online time, so this will be brief and imageless. Though if you click on my itinerary on the side you can see a picture of the town I am currently in.
As soon as we stepped of the train I fell in love, clear down into the depth of love like only happens a couple of times in a lifetime. It is almost as deep as when I first heard The Paperboys play...yes, believe it....it is fitting, perhaps that Brad, the banjo player from the Paperboys first suggested that I visit, then my friend Samara told me about it. To the two of them, I owe a wealth of gratitude.
To all of you who have sent me messages and suggestions, know that your love and your ideas are sinking in and I am carrying them around fervently in my heart and head and trying to arrange my schedule in such a way that I might get to certain places, like the Isle of Skye and Sienna.
My mom and sister await.
I promise you stories soon....some beautiful tales, some harrowing ones too.
And from this beautiful spot, both outside and in my heart, I send you all love!
As soon as we stepped of the train I fell in love, clear down into the depth of love like only happens a couple of times in a lifetime. It is almost as deep as when I first heard The Paperboys play...yes, believe it....it is fitting, perhaps that Brad, the banjo player from the Paperboys first suggested that I visit, then my friend Samara told me about it. To the two of them, I owe a wealth of gratitude.
To all of you who have sent me messages and suggestions, know that your love and your ideas are sinking in and I am carrying them around fervently in my heart and head and trying to arrange my schedule in such a way that I might get to certain places, like the Isle of Skye and Sienna.
My mom and sister await.
I promise you stories soon....some beautiful tales, some harrowing ones too.
And from this beautiful spot, both outside and in my heart, I send you all love!
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Coming Soon
Someday, when I have a regular keyboard and a computer that likes to take my pictures I am gonna tell you about the Brasserie with the magical musical clown car door.
I will also tell you about the woman with an Edith Piaff voice, bad teeth, expensive jeans, and good omens.
I might be persuaded to share a few little tidbits about the daily flirtations and warm smiles meted out by the locals here in Paris.
I hope you will be patient and come back when those stories are properly cooked and ready for consumption; for, like all meals made in Paris, they should only be prepared with the best ingredients and served in a leisurly fashion.
I will also tell you about the woman with an Edith Piaff voice, bad teeth, expensive jeans, and good omens.
I might be persuaded to share a few little tidbits about the daily flirtations and warm smiles meted out by the locals here in Paris.
I hope you will be patient and come back when those stories are properly cooked and ready for consumption; for, like all meals made in Paris, they should only be prepared with the best ingredients and served in a leisurly fashion.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Reason Number 12 to See the World
The people are unbelievably beautiful. The women, the men, the babies. This may just be Paris, but as soon as I can upload pictures....watch out. They arent great pictures; but the people are exquisite!!!!
PS Polite Notice (as the English say) I will continue to overuse the exclamation point as long as I am in Paris, so you better get used to it!!!!
PS Polite Notice (as the English say) I will continue to overuse the exclamation point as long as I am in Paris, so you better get used to it!!!!
Reason Number 329 to See the World
Strong ankles. I have been traveling a week and my ankles and calves are strong-like-bull from all the walking!
I seem to think this means that I can eat whatever I want-I am sticking to this concept until my clothes tell me otherwise. Or at least till I leave France and Italy.
PS I am getting better at this French keyboard, so longer posts will follow soon.
I seem to think this means that I can eat whatever I want-I am sticking to this concept until my clothes tell me otherwise. Or at least till I leave France and Italy.
PS I am getting better at this French keyboard, so longer posts will follow soon.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
A Pause
I want to tell you about London...and I really want to tell you about Paris....even though I just got here. But it turns out that French keyboards are not laid out like ours. So, until I find an American keyboard, or I am not too tired to figure this one out, it will have to wait. or "until i find qn ,ericqn keyboqrd; or i q, not too tired to figure this one out; it zill hqve to zqit!"
Let me just spit this much out: never try to tell me not to go to Paris because I have already been there before. Paris is like home, wrapped in heaven, covered in chocolate mousse. That is the kind of thing a person can never have too much of!
PS. The one thing I like about the French keyboard, is that the exclamation point is a primary key. That says a lot about a culture, dontcha think?!!!!!!!!
Let me just spit this much out: never try to tell me not to go to Paris because I have already been there before. Paris is like home, wrapped in heaven, covered in chocolate mousse. That is the kind of thing a person can never have too much of!
PS. The one thing I like about the French keyboard, is that the exclamation point is a primary key. That says a lot about a culture, dontcha think?!!!!!!!!
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Taking the Blinders Off
While crossing the street in London:
Where we would normally look right.
Where we would normally look left.
But whatever you do, don't do what I do: step off the curb, looking straight ahead, and hoping for the best.
Granted, I am still in one piece...but I think it could only be a matter of time....
It's just that these English are so bloody intimidating and I find that I don't want to look like a tourist, so I just walk....then about half-way across the street I start giggling, a little maniacally, at my own stupidity.
I don't know if its the English, or the utter absurdity of finding myself half-way around the world on a trip that doesn't quite know what it is yet, but I haven't settled into my own skin. It is as if I'm walking around with blinders on. Unlike in New York where I found myself chatting with everyone I encountered, here I am stubbornly quiet. Though that may be because I am afraid I'm going to start talking in some weird British accent...you know the way you do when someone at home is playing around with an accent, so you just jump in. But these people aren't playing....they really talk that way.
So, I am finding ways to take deep breaths. I found this magical place in the middle of the financial district.
This sign intrigued me, so I followed the slim corridor between two huge buildings to find a little courtyard with a tent in the middle of it, with stained glass windows. The doors to the tent were open so I went in and found the most beautiful little sanctuary for meditation. So, naturally, I meditated.
Each of the windows in the tent had the word Peace in a different language. And the room glowed with warmth and serenity.
So, while the financial district of London, buzzed around me....
I sat in....
Later, I went to St. Bartholomew's Church. My friend TJ informed that he would not respect me as an enlightened human being if I didn't check it out. He said it should be on the list of things to do right before I went back to the states. But I thought it best to assure myself of my own enlightenment by seeing it on the first day of my European journey.
Well, it was one of the prettiest churches that I have ever been in. Ancient and warm and full grace. I stopped to take a picture the tomb of the prior who first headed the church.
Well, as you can see, it was more like the back side of his tomb. This isn't a great picture but the silhouette of his head was very intriguing. As I stood there, one of the men who runs the church stopped to tell me that right where I was standing was where pilgrims used to come to be healed by the energy of the great man who started the church whose bones, they have confirmed, really are within that wall.
I got chills. Just last Sunday, my friend Shane had called my trip a "pilgrimage" and I was struck by the word. I couldn't picture myself in that light. Pilgrims have an aura of devotion, of such deep intent. Yet, there I was standing where pilgrims had come for hundreds of years. There I was, another pilgrim, who in a weird way, is looking to be healed by the gift of a vision, of clarity about my life, my purpose. So, again, I stopped and meditated.
One more spot held my inner attention yesterday. Out of the blue, on a non-descript wall in central London was this plaque:
Nothing around this sign holds an ounce of mystical power. But I thought it best to stop and open my heart to the possibility that my heart, too, would be "strangely warmed" by the site. I'd like to say that angels spoke to me. But not much happened. Though I did smile a lot at the prospect, the promise that our hearts can be warmed, opened at the oddest times and the most unlikely places.
And so, today I'm gonna take the blinders off, look right, look left, look up and down, chance looking like a fool who doesn't know what she is doing. That way, I probably won't get hit by a taxi-cab, but I might be bowled over by divine inspiration.
Where we would normally look right.
Where we would normally look left.
But whatever you do, don't do what I do: step off the curb, looking straight ahead, and hoping for the best.
Granted, I am still in one piece...but I think it could only be a matter of time....
It's just that these English are so bloody intimidating and I find that I don't want to look like a tourist, so I just walk....then about half-way across the street I start giggling, a little maniacally, at my own stupidity.
I don't know if its the English, or the utter absurdity of finding myself half-way around the world on a trip that doesn't quite know what it is yet, but I haven't settled into my own skin. It is as if I'm walking around with blinders on. Unlike in New York where I found myself chatting with everyone I encountered, here I am stubbornly quiet. Though that may be because I am afraid I'm going to start talking in some weird British accent...you know the way you do when someone at home is playing around with an accent, so you just jump in. But these people aren't playing....they really talk that way.
So, I am finding ways to take deep breaths. I found this magical place in the middle of the financial district.
This sign intrigued me, so I followed the slim corridor between two huge buildings to find a little courtyard with a tent in the middle of it, with stained glass windows. The doors to the tent were open so I went in and found the most beautiful little sanctuary for meditation. So, naturally, I meditated.
Each of the windows in the tent had the word Peace in a different language. And the room glowed with warmth and serenity.
So, while the financial district of London, buzzed around me....
I sat in....
Later, I went to St. Bartholomew's Church. My friend TJ informed that he would not respect me as an enlightened human being if I didn't check it out. He said it should be on the list of things to do right before I went back to the states. But I thought it best to assure myself of my own enlightenment by seeing it on the first day of my European journey.
Well, it was one of the prettiest churches that I have ever been in. Ancient and warm and full grace. I stopped to take a picture the tomb of the prior who first headed the church.
Well, as you can see, it was more like the back side of his tomb. This isn't a great picture but the silhouette of his head was very intriguing. As I stood there, one of the men who runs the church stopped to tell me that right where I was standing was where pilgrims used to come to be healed by the energy of the great man who started the church whose bones, they have confirmed, really are within that wall.
I got chills. Just last Sunday, my friend Shane had called my trip a "pilgrimage" and I was struck by the word. I couldn't picture myself in that light. Pilgrims have an aura of devotion, of such deep intent. Yet, there I was standing where pilgrims had come for hundreds of years. There I was, another pilgrim, who in a weird way, is looking to be healed by the gift of a vision, of clarity about my life, my purpose. So, again, I stopped and meditated.
One more spot held my inner attention yesterday. Out of the blue, on a non-descript wall in central London was this plaque:
Nothing around this sign holds an ounce of mystical power. But I thought it best to stop and open my heart to the possibility that my heart, too, would be "strangely warmed" by the site. I'd like to say that angels spoke to me. But not much happened. Though I did smile a lot at the prospect, the promise that our hearts can be warmed, opened at the oddest times and the most unlikely places.
And so, today I'm gonna take the blinders off, look right, look left, look up and down, chance looking like a fool who doesn't know what she is doing. That way, I probably won't get hit by a taxi-cab, but I might be bowled over by divine inspiration.
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