The Unknown Adventure

2011-04-23T08:36:00.000-07:00

"Sometimes the most important thing in a whole day is the rest we take between two deep breaths." - ETTY HILLESUM

Sometimes words are just enough

2011-04-17T18:50:00.000-07:00

How cool would it be to personalize the words, change the colors and make this a wedding invitation? I'll admit that I rarely if ever think of these things, but the hopeless romantic in me can't help but run wild daydreaming with an image like this. Words turned into visual art? Definitely one of those "why didn't I ever think of that?!" - moments. Still, I'm glad someone did. Pitter patter, pitter patter.

Found here.

Daydreaming of...

2011-04-03T20:30:00.000-07:00

A day mopeding all around Santorini....

A Costa Rican sunset...

And spring time.

Pretty please? I'll take any of the above. Gladly. Though I suppose the third the is most realistic. But hey, who needs realism anyway?

Feverish

2011-04-03T18:30:00.000-07:00

Being sick royally sucks. And yes, this is a highly original thought. Aside from the piles of balled up kleenexes like leftover snow forming barriers around the couch and one overworked tea kettle, I must admit that catching a nasty cold does have one perk: it's forcing me to finally slow down.

For the past however many months since I've started working, I've barely stopped to breathe. Or when I have, it's only for a brief moment that doesn't stick around long enough to mean anything. It's as if this cold snuck in just in time to remind myself of that whole concept of balance and how vitally important it really is to our health (and sanity).

So all weekend I have been lounging at home, watching movies, reading, laying in bed in the middle of the afternoon - things I haven't done on the weekend in I don't even know how long. The fuziness of my mind prohibits me from thinking too hard about anything (it's a lost cause, I swear) and instead I settle in that middle ground where reality and dreams come to meet. And it feels so good to just be. To let it all go. I day dream all afternoon and wonder about things, reliving old memories just to be with those people I'm not lucky enough to have in DC right now.

The piles of kleenexes grow taller and the sky outside fades into black. The sniffling may not subside for a while, and I hope the wandering mind doesn't either. For now I lay in the dark amidst flickering candles, watching lightening forge paths across the sky. Not your typical Sunday Funday, but I'll take it.

3.19.2011

2011-03-27T15:59:00.000-07:00

Writing. It has been a while. A long while. I’ve had my excuses. My sad excuses for not taking the time to sit with the blank page and think. Really think. The truth is that the blank page used to give me comfort. I’d sit there and revel in the possibilities that all that space could hold. Words upon words, strung together to create meaning that I could call my own. Even if I struggled, if the words didn’t make sense, if I ended with my forehead in my hands out of frustration for not knowing what came next … But eventually—when eventually came—the page would be filled, overflowing with words and thoughts and dreams and realities. I knew that I had accomplished something.

Lately though, that ominous white space has a different effect. I barely know what to do with it, let alone with myself. Even the mere thought of sitting and writing makes my anxiety flare up and I want to run away screaming with my arms flailing wildly above my head.

But, something about today made me realize that I still need this space, no matter how intimidating it can be at times. My fingers now glide across the keys—nowhere near effortless—but they still work diligently, with promise and intention. I think of all the time I used to spend here, in this space, and I can’t help but smile. The familiarity if it, the process, the thinking, the feeling of letting the words unravel right in front of you. I love this place, and suddenly, I’m just starting to remember that.

The Girl Effect

2010-12-13T14:48:00.000-08:00

In doing research for a job interview, I came across this video. Do me a favor and watch it because it will give you chills. And make you want to change the world in the smallest but most powerful way. That's worth three minutes, right?

2010-12-11T15:43:00.000-08:00

"We make ourselves real by telling the truth."

—Thomas Merton

Firsts

2010-12-11T08:41:00.000-08:00

From autumn...

to winter...

Yesterday was the first snow here in DC, and I was lucky enough to enjoy the scene sitting by my window with a steaming cup of peppermint tea. Tiny flurries danced down from the clouds and the craze of the city seemed to pause for a few minutes. Isn't is strange how snow has that effect? As if a soft silence sweeps in and makes everyone take a deep breath. Sigh. Even though I may complain of the frigid temperatures sometimes, I secretly love bundling up and transporting the coziness from home to wherever I go that day. Tis the season!

Happy weekend everyone!

Happy Friday!

2010-11-12T04:58:00.000-08:00

I found this posted at one of my favorite spots in Georgetown—an adorable little coffee shop/bakery called Baked and Wired. (They may also have the best cupcakes you've ever had in your life.)

Reading this random note put a huge smile on my face. And I completely agree. I don't know what I would do without my friends and family. Not merely because of the support they offer, but because I look at each of them and feel so lucky to have them in my life, to know them and laugh with them and share everyday moments with the people I love.

My goal for the weekend? To thank at least one of those people, even in the smallest of ways. I think I already know who it will be...

November 11th

2010-11-11T21:25:00.000-08:00

One year ago today...

I spent the most gorgeous afternoon in the history of afternoons walking though the vineyards in Lavaux. It. Was. Magical.

One year ago today...

I would have never guessed that I would trade my tiny hotel room with a view for my very own home (aka itty bitty apartment) in Washington, DC. With one of my best friends.

One year ago today...

I promised myself to never let a single day go to waste. Looking through the golden-hued photos, all I could think was, "How can life be so indescribably beautiful?"

And today...

Amidst all the noise, sirens, stress, and worry that often seem to haunt me, I remembered that there is still so much magic to be discovered, especially when the sun comes out to make everything sparkle.

And today was a sparkling kind of day. I have a good feeling that tomorrow will be too.

2010-11-11T20:49:00.000-08:00

"If we never did anything, we wouldn't be anybody."

—from An Education

I'm pocketing this jewel for those days when I feel particularly lazy or trapped or just plain confused with where I am in my life. Get out and do something. Be somebody. Even the smallest effort can change your life and the lives of those around you. If that's not motivation, I don't know what is.

Can I say that I'm already excited to start again tomorrow? Yes, indeed, I am. And I will.

P.S. If you haven't seen An Education, do yourself a favor and watch it. I-N-C-R-E-D-I-B-L-E.

"I feel it in my fingers, I feel it in my toes..."

2010-11-01T20:50:00.001-07:00

Running in a new city is by far my favorite way to get my bearings. Okay, so sometimes my runs turn out to be slightly longer than anticipated when a wrong turn or dead end comes into play, but that only means that I can eat more ice cream afterwards.

After spending the day applying to jobs, running errands, and researching anything and everything that I can do to fill my free time, I needed to get out. Out of my apartment and out of my own over-thinking brain. I tie my running shoes extra tight and head out the door to go exploring.

One of the many things about this city that inspires me is the number of people that are out running at any given time, especially at night when the city seems to calm down and take a big sigh of relief. In finding my stride and my steady breath, I feel as if I'm being initiated into a really cool, not-so-secret society of people who love exploring the city streets as much as I do. We smile as we pass each other and marvel at the statuesque embassies stapled by flags and old homes littered with pumpkins and crunchy yellow leaves. Every street holds its own hidden (and some not so hidden) pockets of antique American beauty.

But as I'm running through Georgetown, all of a sudden the nervousness I felt in my first couple days of being here throws me off balance and I'm tripping over my own feet. The questions start flooding my mind and won't stop... "When will I get a job?" "What should I do tomorrow?" "Did I waste precious time today?" "Should I have applied to that job instead..?" And they continue until I finally stop. I have to stop. Not even the music pumping through my earphones drowns out the angst.

I stand there for a moment, looking at the old brick sidewalk cracked and overgrown with moss, manipulated by tree roots and interrupted by metal street signs. But it's still there, standing beneath me and offering a path forward, even if it is slightly torn up and uneven. I take a deep breath, pick up my foot and take a step forward. Repeat and repeat and repeat. The stride comes back, this time with honest purpose. Each step leaves behind a brief puddle of anxiety. Faster and faster I feel lighter and happier and more me that I have in a week and a half. Huh. Now I remember why I love this so much.

Walking up the stairs to my apartment, my legs are tired and cold from the night air. My heart slows to a steady rhythm and my breath quickly follows. Some lingering feelings of anxiety attempt to sneak in through the cracks, but I let them fall away. There's no room for them here. Maybe they'll be back tomorrow for a brief stint of stress, but my running shoes will be at the door. Waiting patiently for another night out.

A brief intro

2010-10-28T21:44:00.000-07:00

Did anyone tell you? I've changed cities again. Packed up my two bags, bought a one-way ticket, and took off for, hmm... What shall I call it? The life I dream of living! Sounds appropriate enough. I considered writing about it while I was basking in the grand anticipatory period, but the reality of it just wouldn't sink in, and I'm not yet the trained fiction writer I plan to be someday. It even took a fews days of walking around the city to feel the actuality of the fact that I live here. Wait, I do?

Yes in fact, I do. "Where?" you ask? Run to your nearest map and place your index finger on the the 51st state. Washington, DC, baby. Sounds crazy, right? I suppose it is slightly ironic since for the longest time I was convinced that I would become the happiest of ex-pats in some far away country working in another language for some foreign government. And now not only am I a resident of the nation's capitol, but I may even be working for the U.S. government in a matter of weeks (still TBA). I'll admit, it's even downright funny. But sitting here in my newly renovated and decorated home (that I share with a lovely lady by the name of Carleigh), I really feel like I'm in my home. The smell, the colors, the lighting, the sounds. Everything. A week and a half and that sense of ownership I usually reserve for only the dearest of places has definitely grown some roots. Shocked? Me Too!

So from Switzerland to Portland to Idaho to Los Angeles and finally (for now) to DC. It has been a whirlwind to say the least, but the energy and possibility that has taken me from one place to another is what I thrive off of. (I guess there is a reason why my family calls me the gypsy--though I shower and change my clothes fairly often, I swear.) But that part of me that keep me thinking about where I can go next and what I can do when I get there while still maintaining that element of flexibility and surprise... It's what makes me, ME. Maybe DC will be the place where I let my roots grow a little deeper, especially if they already seem to be getting comfortable. How could I know if I don't try?

Right now, I'm trying my best to enjoy this new beginning, watching it grow into a life that I would have never anticipated. And isn't that what we should live for? The greatness and beauty that lies in the unexpected...

Looking out our living room window, 18th street is buzzing with activity and strangers. The cool air gently whirls its way through the curtains and reminds me again that this is real. Hell yes it is! And you know what I say? Bring. It. On.

And because I'm not big on words today...

2010-10-04T15:02:00.000-07:00

I'll let someone else do the talking.

Wishing you an inspiring start to the week!

x.o.x

(Image via Positively Green)

Happy Wednesday!

2010-09-22T10:15:00.000-07:00

And here's a healthy dose of corny for the day:

"Walk with the dreamers, the believers, the courageous, the cheerful, the planners, the doers, the successful people with their heads in the clouds and their feet on the ground. Let their spirit ignite a fire within you to leave this world better than when you found it..."

-WILFRED PETERSON

9 things I realized today

2010-09-21T22:31:00.000-07:00

That...

(1)

I'm going to be an aunt. Like really. An aunt. I can't believe it and am overwhelmed with joy for my brother and Nat.

(2)

Fall is here! Okay, well the fall equinox isn't until tomorrow night at approximately 11:09pm, but hey, that's pretty damn close.

(3)

This blog has been in existence for over one year (even if there have been unexpected hiatuses). One year! Wowzers!

(4)

Knowing that someone truly believes in you can be one of the best feelings in the world.

(5)

Smiling with your whole being really makes you feel happier too.

(6)
Even though I don't like to admit it, somedays, I really miss Switzerland.

(7)
Yelling at traffic violators inside your car doesn't do much good. Unless your window is open and you're stuck in traffic next to the person. Awkward...

(8)

I cannot go to sleep before 10pm. I don't even know why I try.

(9)

World Peace Cookies really could bring peace and love and harmony to the world if everyone had one. Or maybe it's just the chocolate. Who cares, they're delicious! I wonder if Maile could introduce a new strategy in Afghanistan... Hmm. I'll do some research.

Dear Reader,

2010-09-21T22:21:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's me. I'm back. I bet you thought I was gone for good, huh? Well, considering my lack of posting in, oh, let's see... the past five months (oops!), I can understand if maybe you wrote me off a bit —or completely. I actually did myself, if that even makes sense.

I guess my life of job searching and interning didn't leave me with the kind of positive material that I wanted to write about. That's no excuse, and I don't plan on digging for one because that would require me to discuss in detail the hours I spent hole punching. Or staring at my computer screen willing it to give way to some magical, transformative experience that would take me to some land far, far away from the walls of my cubicle. Instead, I spent most of my free computer time diving into other people's blogs, letting their inspirations build inside of me until it was finally time to jump back into my own little world.

And thanks to Ellen, one of my favorite people whom I do not speak with enough, I thought to myself, "Hmm... Today seems like a good day to write." Alas, here I am. Back in the groove and leaving any last trace of writer's block behind in the dust. Oh the feeling of my fingers gliding sans-hesitation across the keys. What a thrill! I missed it. I missed you, my fair--though few--readers.

I promise more. And I have a good feeling that life is about to get spicy(ier). Interested? Yeah, me too!

With love,

Mel

Post-it

2010-07-30T11:22:00.000-07:00

I'll be honest. I have an addiction to post-its. Whether it was keeping them in every room (and in my purse) during college to keep tabs of funny moments and ridiculous quotes or decorating my walls and planner with colorful to-do lists that I get more joy out of creating than actually using, post-its have become a staple of my daily semi-organized life as well as my personal favorite office accessory—or necessity in my book.

Flipping through my planner this morning, I came across several neon green post-its with random notes and quotes that I collected in Switzerland and didn't have the heart to part with at the time. Removing them from my planner, I add them to the growing quilt of colorful squares I already have started on the wall of my cubicle. Healthy reminders that keep me smiling all day long. Here are a few of my favorites that I hope you'll enjoy as well:

"Because even when you're not sure where you're headed, it helps to know that you're not going there alone. No one has all the answers, and sometimes the best we can do is just apologize and let the past be the past. Other times we need to look to the future and know that even when we think we've seen it all, life can still surprise us...And we can still surprise ourselves."

"May your mind learn to love with compassion."

"Do what you love."

"Keep up."

I have no idea where I'll be two months from now, but I do know that these sticky collectables will be right there with me, perhaps a little faded or crinkled or worn. Ah, transportability... one of my favorite qualities, especially considering my tendancy to avoid committments that keep me in any certain place for too long. Or is it a relentless committment to change and evolve? Eh, I'll save that for another time.

Happy Friday!
xox

Back in action

2010-07-20T21:32:00.000-07:00

That's right friends. After being MIA for, hmm, way too long, I'm back. And ready for more. I could go on and on updating you on my latest adventures, but now that I work a normal eight to five job like most ordinary people, well, there isn't that much to tell you unless you want to hear about the watered down coffee or my latest paper cut (it was pretty gnarly if I do say so myself). I'll admit, however—in my own defense—that my lack of posting for the past few months is only a reflection of love/hate (okay, there wasn't much love there at all) relationship I built with my computer during the dreaded job search. But now that I'm not spending hours writing cover letters every day or impatiently waiting for rejection emails (or those "Thank you but no thank you" emails that never come at all), I can actually sit down with my computer and enjoy her company again. Granted, I sit at a computer all day at work, but it's a Dell so coming home to my Mac makes me feel pretty damn special (and spoiled).

I have to admit, I've thought about this blog every day since I stopped writing (except those few days during Coachella that merely exist as a hazy memory of fun, sun, skip and go naked's, and dancing... oh yeah, and some life changing live music). I've been wanting to write, willing myself to write, but my voice stayed trapped behind a cement wall that just wasn't budging. I even thought that maybe this blog would turn into some sort of forgotten shrine of my time in Switzerland and the few months following my return.

But then today came along. Without anything to do at work and my patience for webinars dwindled at best, I went to one of my favorite websites: yogajournal.com. I perused the newer articles and let my mind wander to asanas and how great my tight hips would feel to bust into half moon right there in my cubicle.

That's when I came across an article that had me so mesmerized and enthralled that all I could thinking about was how much I wanted to write again. Somehow over the last couple months, I lost touch with that voice that keeps everything alive and interesting around me. In my world, writing gets me to the heart of things, the meat of meaning, but not just of what topic I may be writing or thinking about. It gets me to the heart of myself and allows me to access this world of thought and curiosity and strength that brings an entirely new perspective to everything else that I consider and observe. It makes me feel like myself again—finally.

At the risk of getting too mushy, I won't dwell on the day's epiphany or my love affair with words—at least not right now. Instead I will leave you with a piece of advice from Sally Kempton, a contributing writer to Yoga Journal and author of her own book The Heart of Meditation. She says,

"There is nothing more radical than the moment you realize that it's possible to reinvent your life."

Today, I reinvent myself through writing, and through rediscovering that mindful process that brings me back to one of the deepest commitments I make to myself. Maybe it doesn't sound like much, but if you have the chance to reinvent even the most minute aspect of your life (and yourself), it has to mean something. To me it does. In fact, it may just mean the world.

With love (and more to come),

Mel

Hello My Dearest Pacific Coast!

2010-05-01T23:17:00.000-07:00

Two weeks and the blog posts that I still need to write keep adding themselves to my mental to-write list. But don't worry, they'll eventually make it into print—that is when I have a free moment to sit down and spend some quality time with my camera and computer.

For now though, I'm happy to have a break from job searching and stressing, to finally let loose in this sunny state of California that a huge part of me still calls home. Tomorrow, another adventure begins: road tripping the coast with Papa Ormos. A few days of quality time with PCH—my personal favorite stretch of pavement—and my dad in one adorable red Prius. Sounds like heaven to me! Let's just hope the brakes don't fail us around Big Sur. I prefer hiking by foot and not in the car.

Oh, and did I mention that this Prius is seriously set up in the stereo department? Um, yeah. It rocks, literally. Three whole days to blast my favorite Coachella tunes with a stunning view of the sparkling Pacific to my left? Ah, life is good. Even if I am still unemployed. Got to enjoy it while you can, right?!

Happy feet belonging to Carleigh. From our road trip up the coast after graduation.

Temporarily out of service

2010-04-15T14:58:00.000-07:00

There is this little musical event down south in the desert of California called Coachella. And me, along with a fantastically random group of people, will be attending in all our glory covered in body paint, beads and California sun.

So instead of yogaing my life away like usual, I've chosen a new path. Detox to retox, right?! Here's to Coachella 2010! And for those of you that can't be there, trust me. You'll be there in spirit (and I'm sure we can dedicate some dances to you in the epic dance tent as well).

Until next week!

Sand in my shoes (and I love it)

2010-04-12T08:21:00.000-07:00

The stars must have aligned for us this past Friday. Sabrina AND Sam had the day off, and I worked it out so I could take a break from my incredibly hectic schedule of yoga, job searching, and wandering—but trust me, it wasn't easy.

So Sam and I hopped into the car and headed west to Lincoln City for a glorious day of beach strolling, chatting, and laughing harder than I have in weeks. . . It was just one of those days that makes you feel light and happy and warm from the inside out. And spending some quality time with the ocean wasn't so bad either. Especially since it stands as my favorite place on earth. Give me some sandy toes and a little laughter and I might just be the happiest person in the whole wide world.

Companions. Isn't it wonderful to look at your friends and see just how beautiful they (and their minds) are?

Treasures!

Consider this

2010-04-09T21:01:00.001-07:00

"Let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love."
—Rami

(Thanks Mare. You nailed it.)

Hello friend

2010-04-09T20:58:00.000-07:00

I talk a lot about my friends. How wonderful they are, how much I miss them on a daily basis, etc. etc. I suppose some of this comes from my tendency to be nostalgic (not that you've ever noticed), but it also stems from the deeply rooted belief I hold that your relationships largely define you.

I hesitate for a moment here because it's hard to realistically say that any one thing really defines a person. In this case, however, I stand behind my words and with gusto. Who you choose to spend your time with, why you hang on to certain relationships and not others, and how you treat those people all say a lot about what kind of person you choose to be. Hold on to negative relationships and you'll quickly see how your life seems to be polluted with negative energy. And likewise, surround yourself with positive, inspiring people and your days carry a certain brightness and clarity to them that make you happier as well.

And the funny thing about great friends? They have a magical way of walking right back into your life when you need each other most, even if you don't realize it that very moment. I guess that's where the beauty in friendship lies. The connections and understandings you share and the selves that you are with one another bubble to the surface and re-instill your own faith in yourself. Not only that, but you look at those people—those beautiful people and incredible minds—again with an unparalleled sense of admiration and appreciation because they just get it. They get you. And that, in my opinion, is worth everything.

OB-Sessed

2010-04-08T00:07:00.000-07:00

Like O.M.G. This song by the Swedish band Miike Snow is seriously amazing, along with the rest of their stuff (duh). Okay, so the video is a little creepy, but hey, the song rocks and so do the Swedes. Check 'em out!

Oh, and did I mention that I will be getting up close and personal with these guys at Coachella in nearly a week? Granted thousands of other people will be doing the same, but I can't imagine them being any less than spectacular (and weird). What a combo.

And if you haven't heard their song "Plastic Jungle," do yourself a favor and listen to it on repeat for a week. One word: orgasmic.

Go on with your story

2010-04-07T23:51:00.000-07:00

Today was a good day. One of those days that leaves you feeling awake and alive, as if you're sparkling from the inside. And shockingly, this has nothing to do with the weather (the rain has only ever quit to regain strength and then begin again) or the endorphins I got from my morning run (though, I'll admit they do work their mood-shifting magic). Nope. Today was a good day because it just was. And I love that.

And I also love this and hope you do to:

   Now I'm aware that I alone am in the vast
   openness
   of the sea
   And cause the sea to be the sea.

   Just swim.
   Just swim.
   Go on with your story.
   —Dainin Katagiri Roshi

2010-04-04T22:01:00.000-07:00

"This is what I wish for you: comfort on difficult days, smiles when sadness intrudes, rainbows to follow the clouds, laughter to kiss your lips, sunsets to warm your heart, hugs when spirits sag, beauty for your eyes to see, friendships to brighten your being, faith so that you can believe, confidence for when you doubt, courage to know yourself, patience to accept the truth, [and] love to complete your life."
—Winnie the Pooh

Ah the Madness!

2010-04-04T09:39:00.000-07:00

After the dust settled and I no longer felt the need to hurl profanities at the TV screen in a last attempt to manifest a win for Michigan State (not that negative reinforcement actually works), I had to admit. . . A little piece of me is still rooting for the underdog. Highly original, I know.

So when the ball is thrown into the air tomorrow, I'll be ready. Duke, watch your back. And seriously, stop showing off with those damn three-pointers. It's effing annoying.

GO BUTLER! Wooot WOOOOOOT!

Pen to paper (or is it finger to key?)

2010-04-04T07:57:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I wonder, why do I write? What's the point? Does sending my thoughts and words out into the void really do anything at all? And in times when I seem to lose track of my voice, of my connection to the blank page, I can't help but stop to question myself as well, as if my writing path is a direct reflection of my own life path.

And right now? A standstill. That's where we're both at—my writing and I. I wake up in the morning, usually to the sound of rain drops casually falling outside my window, and I immediately get up to make that first cup of coffee—a ritual I look forward to every single morning. And as I impatiently watch the drip drip drip of coffee fill my large, colorfully painted mug, the daily questions begin bubbling up in my mind like a violently erupting volcano. How can I make this day a productive one? Where should I start the job search today? Will I ever find a job? Where can I go? What will make me happy?

And it's that last question, a question we have all found ourselves asking at one point or another, that trumps the rest. It stands there, hands on hips, staring and withering me down little by little until all I can think about is making a second cup of coffee. Sure, that will make things better. But eventually, I start making a list because lists (especially on brightly colored post-its) almost always make me feel better.

What makes me happy?

*My friends

*My family

*Laughing with friends and family

*Coffee

*Taking photos

*Discovering new places

*Traveling

*Crafting
*Music

*Yoga

*Reading a really good book

*Sunshine

*The ocean

*Making lists

*Writing

I sit back and look at my list, at all those things big or small that have a way of putting a smile back on my face. And it's not just any smile, but a confident and believing smile that I try to carry with me for the rest of the day. Suddenly the question what will make me happy? isn't quite so daunting because I know that no matter where I am or what I'm doing, deep down that happiness is still there, waiting to be summoned. Every other seemingly daunting question seems to lose it's power. I have incredible people in my life (even if we're not all in the same place this very moment), and I have the physical and mental ability to do things every day that make me happy. It may sound simple, and sure, this whole process doesn't work its magic every day, but it's a start. And maybe this standstill is a test of my dedication to myself, to my attitude, and to my writing.

One of my favorite professors once said, "Tell your truth, not the world's." (And yes, Erica Jong expressed the same brilliant idea as well.) It is perhaps the best piece of advice I've ever received. Sure, some people may find this whole idea of "truth" trite and overwhelming. But the beauty in it is that it can be whatever you want it to be. It's your mind, your words, and your truth.

So then, why do I write? I write because I believe in it. I believe in the power of words, of expressing thoughts and linking them together to create some larger thought that tells my truth. And no matter how big or small, any truth is worth writing for. So today, here's mine, unwrapped and free. Just for me.

Cloud jumping

2010-04-02T13:45:00.000-07:00

When I was little, my family would take an annual autumn drive into the mountains to see the fall colors. And every year when my dad forced us into the car, my brother and I would complain and come up with every homework excuse in the book that might persuade him that we needed to stay home. We were never successful. So deep into the north Idaho mountains we drove, on dirt roads with potholes so big that getting out and walking probably would have been faster. But I'll admit, the orange and yellow and fiery red trees were spectacular, and the photos we have from those drives still hold spaces in the photo albums of my memories.

And one of those years, I remember driving up and up, getting closer and closer to the clouds. I was convinced that once we reached them, I would be able to climb onto one and spend the rest of the day jumping my little heart out on its fluffy, white pillow. But the higher we drove, the clouds seemed to dissolve, leaving behind a hazy mist of cold air in their place. I was so disappointed that I cried.

It was a hard day for my seven-year-old self to swallow. So even today, when the big, puffy clouds come out to play, I try to block out that sad reality (tear) and instead picture myself jumping from one cloud to another like it's my job.

Besides, a little day dreaming never hurt anyone. And with clouds like this, who could blame me?

Overlooking Montreux.

One of the last days before my departure from Switzerland. View of the Savoy Alps along Lac Léman.

Candy-colored clouds. Sigh.

View from my uncle's place in Swizterland. Don't you just want to curl up into a ball and snuggle your way to sleep in these?

And to Portland—a city also known for its cloud formations (no I'm not making this up).

When they look like this, I guess having your head in the clouds isn't such a bad thing.

Just what I needed today

2010-03-25T14:44:00.000-07:00

"Go now and live.

Experience. Dream. Risk. Close your eyes and jump. Enjoy the free-fall. Choose exhilaration over comfort. Choose magic over predictability. Choose potential over safety. Wake up to the magic of everyday life. Make friends with your intuition. Trust your gut. Discover the beauty of uncertainty. Know yourself fully before you make promises to another. Make millions of mistakes so that you will know hoe to choose what you really need. Know when to hold on and when to let go. Love hard and often and without reservation. Seek knowledge. Open yourself to possibility. Keep your heart open, your head high, and your spirit free. Embrace your darkness along with your light. Be wrong every once in a while, and don't be afraid to admit it. Awaken to the brilliance in ordinary moments. Tell the truth about yourself no matter what the cost. Own your reality without apology. See goodness in the world. Be bold. Be fierce. Be grateful. Be wild, crazy and gloriously free. Be YOU."
—Courtesy of the one and only Carleigh.

(Photo taken by Sabrina in Costa Rica during one of the best weeks of my life.)

Mother Mother Ocean

2010-03-23T00:29:00.000-07:00

You know when a song enters your life at the most perfect moment and it becomes permanently stuck in your memory? Well, this one did just that. While I was running along a hiking trail by the Oregon coast, weaving in and out of trees with a view of the great Pacific to my right. Sigh.

Jack—we're on a first name basis by now— has held a special place in my heart since that late September concert at the Gorge nearly five years ago. So it's no surprise that I've fallen in love with him all over again (it happens about once a year—at least). And although this song isn't technically his (Jimmy Buffet performed the original), Jack brings his genius to the stage and doesn't fail to impress. So sit back, close your eyes, and listen for yourself. You won't be disappointed.

17. Tell your truth not the world's

2010-03-22T19:59:00.000-07:00

Since being afflicted by a severe case of writer's block in the past couple weeks (I blame all the cover letter and résumé writing for sucking the creative life out of me), I have tried free writing to get my thoughts flowing, reading to get inspired, and locking myself down at my computer with great intentions only to find myself lost in the world of other blogs and facebook photos (I bet you have no idea what I'm talking about). I thought I was a hopeless case until I came across an old notebook filled with thesis notes and ideas that had consumed me exactly a year ago.

Amidst all the poems and quotes I had scattered throughout those pages, I found some notes about an interview with Erica Jong, author of the book Fear of Flying. Have you perhaps heard of the scholarly term "the zipless fuck"? Yeah, Erica doesn't mess around—one of the many reasons why I love her. And if you haven't read this book, do yourself a favor: buy it, read it, and maybe even swallow it whole.

But anyway, in that notebook, I had copied down the following, as if I knew that I would need to read it again and again in future "ahhhh-I'm-in-the-middle-of-a-writing-crisis" moments. So then, here you have it:

ERICA'S 20 "RULES" for WRITERS

1. Have faith—not cynicism

2. Dare to dream

3. Take your mind off publication

4. Write for joy

5. Get the reader to turn the page

6. Forget politics (let your real politics shine through)

7. Forget intellect

8. Forget ego

9. Be a beginner

10. Accept change

11. Don't think your mind needs altering

12. Don't expect approval for telling the truth

13. Use everything

14. Remember that writing is heroism

15. Let sex (the body, the physical world) in!

16. Forget critics

17. Tell your truth not the world's

18. Remember to be earth-bound

19. Remember to be wild!

20. Write for the child (in yourself and others)

–And most of all, remember that there are NO RULES.

I could go on and on and dissect each point to death, especially those that leave me nodding enthusiastically in agreement, but I think that would defeat their overall purpose. Ultimately, writing should be whatever you want it to be. Organizing words on a page (or on a screen) can become your own personal ceremony to honor your thoughts, your dreams, and your beliefs. Writing for the love of writing. And for the love of yourself. That's where the beauty in it lies, and ironically, what I had forgotten.

Sometimes a healthy reminder of what's important to me is just what I need to kick myself back into motion again. Hmmm. . . Maybe I'll make my new mantra: do it (or write it) if it feels good. My brother did always say that I had a lot of hippie in me.

"It helps me remember, I need to remember. . ."

2010-03-21T22:38:00.000-07:00

Balancing on one leg, my right foot comes to meet the inside of my left inner thigh, finding comfort and stability there. From heart center, my hands grow together, pressing into each other. I sway softly, my arms like the branches of a tree reaching high up to the sky to soak up every ray of sunlight while it remains.

My gaze settles forward, on a bench in front of the old brick elementary school that this park belongs to. And even on this sunny Saturday afternoon when the park is crowded with little kids running all over the place, competitive wall ball players, and families picnicing on the grass, I find a stillness there and settle into it, letting the noise and chaos, laughing and screaming fall to the wind that sweeps up and around me. And when the wind drifts away, it takes with it a mass of white cherry blossom petals, swirling them up and down and around in the open space ahead of me. With the wind as their conductor, petals upon petals twirl and flirt with one another, together performing an intimate dance only for those eyes lucky enough to witness.

And as I release my foot down to the grass, I relish in the beauty of that scene on the stage of this loud and crowded park in the city. I can't help but think about the plastic bag scene from American Beauty. Those of you who have seen it know exactly what I'm talking about, and for those of you that haven't, I suggest a) immediately placing the movie at the top of your must-see list, and b) watching the following clip to see what I mean.

Sometimes it is the stumbled upon, otherwise ordinary scenes in your day that add an entirely new and breathless beauty to the world. The most insignificant thing suddenly comes forth bursting with life and possibility and beauty and everything else around you feels more alive under the same spell. And after your moment of awe and wonder, you're left with a heavy heart, even a sense of loss, as if mourning the beauty of the moment that has passed. Or perhaps knowing that so many moments like this take place in our everyday lives, but we're too busy or too focused on what we think we need that we don't let ourselves see them.

People like to say that beauty is fleeting, which, I suppose in certain circumstances, it is. But what if we just can't handle all that beauty or the possibility of it? What if it's so consuming and so powerful that we can't help but protect ourselves from it? Maybe just knowing that such beauty exists in the world, in our friends, family, and in ourselves is enough. Learning how to honor it, however, that's the tricky part.

For me, it may be doing sun salutations in the park or walking around with a curious eye and my camera. For you, it could be anything. But finding, witnessing, and realizing that beauty, the life and enormity of it, is what matters—at least in my opinion. And hopefully the world will jump in and surprise us in the most unexpected ways. Just take a look at that plastic bag. Beautiful, isn't it?

Flower child

2010-03-16T00:34:00.000-07:00

Yeah, that's me. I was (and still am) that little kid you see skipping around the park, moving from one brightly colored flower to the next like a little hummingbird, pausing to admire the myriad of colors and buttery, wispy petals that the sunshine so thoughtfully pulled out of hiding, even if only for a short time. And today, my five-year old self came out to play in Washington Park—ironically, still located in Portland. I needed a little blossoming love in my life, and thankfully, spring has delivered!

   And because I'm a sucker for poetry. . .

   7.

   Even Now
   I remember something

   the way a flower
   in a jar of water

   remembers its life
   in the perfect garden

   the way a flower
   in a jar of water

   steadies itself
   remembering itself

   long ago
   the plunging roots

   the gravel the rain
   the glossy stem

   the wings of the leaves
   the swords of the leaves

   rising and clashing
   for the rose of the sun

   the salt of the stars
   the crown of the wine

   the beds of the clouds
   the blue dream

   the unbreakable circle.

   8.

   The poem is not the world.
   It isn't even the first page of the world.

   But the poem wants to flower, like a flower
   It knows that much.

   It wants to open itself,
   like the door of a little temple,
   so that you might step inside and be cooled and refreshed,
   and less yourself than part of everything.

—from Mary Oliver's collection of poems titled The Leaf And the Cloud

Sprinkles

2010-03-14T00:39:00.000-08:00

Some of the best advice I've ever received came in this note (pictured below) from Austin. Just in case you can't read his chicken scratch, allow me to translate my favorite part:

"Forget following your dreams. Just ask where they're going and meet up with them later."

And at a time when I spend every day scanning search engine after search engine for potential jobs in this city or that city and writing cover letters until my eyes start twitching from staring at my computer screen for too long, it's a healthy reminder to keep my dreams close and personal. Okay, so maybe it sounds corny—alright, really corny, but sometimes a little corniness is a good thing. Especially when it pulls you out of that monotonous, seemingly hopeless job search slump that sucks every ounce of positive energy right out of you—not that I know anything about what that feels like. No way—at least not today. Nope. For now, I'm choosing to trust the universe, and hope that it has a spare sprinkling of magic in store for me and the rest of you. (Oh pretty pretty pretty please!)

Just Because

2010-03-11T12:52:00.000-08:00

Sometimes little things come across your path just when you need them the most. And yesterday, this left my whole body smiling. Hopefully, it will make your heart flutter a little as well. Enjoy!

(From Positively Green. Check 'em out here.

Saturday Morning

2010-03-07T10:22:00.000-08:00

I've recently come to the conclusion that Saturday morning is my favorite part of the week, and I think it's been that way for a while. I linger with my coffee a little bit longer, mentally review the happenings of that week, and revel in knowing that I have two full days of unattached, non-commital bliss. Ah, the freedom! In San Diego, that lovely Saturday morning routine usually involved a pounding headache with a side of multi-grain pancakes and a rehashing session with my partners in crime--a little different from my mornings here in Portland to say the least. But with a dash of sunshine and a river walk to wake up the body and mind, I have to admit that Portland definitely doesn't suck. It may even rival the weekend ritual I came to love so much in SD. (But please, don't share that with anyone. I don't want any feelings getting hurt.)

Oh, and did I mention that the path running alongside the river in Portland is also lined with trees alive with spring fever? And I'm not just talking about those little green buds that hold so much life and promise in their tiny creases and folds, though they are perfectly delightful in their own right. But the cherry blossoms! Ooooo, cherry blossoms the color of cotton candy! So light and fragile that you fear the slightest wind could come and carry them all away in one swift motion.

Thankfully (for now), the blossoms and their loveliness still grace the river's edge, coaxing runners and walkers and tourists to come play in their presence. And even when the pale pink petals are replaced by big green leaves, I have a feeling that friendly charm will stay. Hmm. . . Saturday morning river walks in Portland? I sense a new tradition planting itself in my weekend. It may not be the same as walking with my toes in the wet sand, but I suppose it'll do just fine.

Oh, and if you haven't listened to the song titled "Cherry Blossom Girl" by AIR, I seriously suggest that you check it out. Trust me, I know you'll love it!

Notes 27.02.10

2010-03-05T13:29:00.000-08:00

The movers just drove away and left us with an apartment so full that we can barely walk around without hopping, tripping, or cartwheeling over boxes. I walk into my new room and expertly maneuver around displaced furniture, storage containers, and boxes that are filled to the brim with who knows what. Surveying the battle ground, I wonder. . . Where do I begin?

Leaning up against my window are all my picture boards and framed posters. Okay, easy enough. I pull them out, making sure not to bend any photos still pinned behind ribbons, and I think about every room that these frames have decorated. From Coeur d'Alene to my first dorm room, all throughout college and even abroad. They've lied dormant for a while, but now they're back again, breathing life into the walls of this new place that has yet to create memories of its own.

I rearrange photos and notes and cards, keepsakes that I've held onto for a variety of reasons. And as I lean my first picture board up against the wall, I breathe a deep sigh of relief. I know it sounds weird, but I suddenly feel like me again. And its not that I let these photos and memories define who I am. But instead, they help me remember those moments when I was the best version of myself, something I seemed to have lost in recent weeks.

Since moving back from Switzerland, I've been stuck in this "in between" time that leaves me feeling frustrated and annoyed at myself for not moving forward (which also coincides with my extreme lack of blog posts this month). I know that I just got here and that I don't have to have everything figured out, but I've been living out this detailed mental picture I painted for myself years ago, and suddenly all the colors are swirling around into some abstract design that leaves me guessing as to what comes next. After having a plan for so long, this not having one is throwing me into mental chaos. What should I do today? Apply for jobs here? There? Look for apartments? What am I doing?!

And I know that I'm not the only one in this boat. I know that like most of us in the just graduated club who are still searching for jobs (thank you economic crisis), I'm struggling with being thrown into a world where no aced test or ten-page paper will win me the grand prize. I have to start living the questions that don't have right answers. And instead of expecting some validation to show that the choices I made were the right ones, I have to figure it out for myself.

And it's funny sometimes when I look at the old things that I've written, papers and blog posts and the like. I start laughing to myself. I had no idea what I was talking about. It's easy to be the optimist and write and think about life when you're in such a positive place. I, of course, fall victim to the rose-colored glasses fairly often if you haven't already noticed. Not to say that looking at the world that way is a bad thing. But sometimes a little reality check is good to knock your perception back into focus.

I turn to look at the new and improved photo board pinned up on the wall next to my bed. I am so incredibly lucky. All those details and questions that seem to muddle up my thoughts are temporarily silenced, and I see myself clearly again. I know that many of these moments caught on camera were not perfect. I was stressed, sleep-deprived, and exhausted physically and emotionally. But I was happy. Really, genuinely, and honestly happy. And I know that that happiness hasn't gone anywhere. I just have to learn how to feel it again, especially when I'm alone. Because as much as I would kill to live in the same place with all the people I love, to be overflowing with that indescribable spirit and energy that comes from being surrounded by those people, I know that won't realistically happen.

As I've heard my wise friend Sam say, just knowing that those people and memories and places exist is enough. And I guess it has to be, at least for now. That is until I can build my very own dream house by the ocean and all my loved ones can come live with me. There will be hammocks and an infinite supply of wine and we can all live happily ever after with the sound of waves lulling us to sleep every early morning.

Any takers?

2010-03-01T22:42:00.000-08:00

"Happy. Just in my swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired, in the red fire dark, singing, swigging wine, spitting, jumping, running--that's the way to live." --from the Dharma Bums by JACK KEROUAC

I miss this. And those very special people. You know who you are.

Does anybody know a guy named Noah that can help me out?

2010-02-26T08:58:00.000-08:00

You know you're in Portland when it rains so hard outside that your only feasible mode of transportation would be to build yourself a little boat (with adequate roofing, of course) to float on into the city. Just hope and pray that there aren't any inclines in your path, cause then my friend, you are 100% screwed. Not even an artfully crafted playlist can mask the misery of this rainfall.

Maybe I'll do a little rain dance in my empty apartment just to see what happens.

Flashback: Priest Lake

2010-02-25T23:29:00.000-08:00

For the week and a half I spent in Coeur d'Alene, I didn't plan much other than spending time with family, meeting up with my best friends' families, and you guessed it. . . packing. So when my dad asked me if I wanted to take an impromptu trip to Canada, I thought, why the hell not? The thought of crossing borders legally made me all giddy inside. I could just picture it: proudly handing over my American passport while thinking Ha! Check that out! Yes indeed, I am finally legal and proud of it!

Well, unfortunately because there is little if any snow to speak of, we decided to change, or rather adapt, our grand plans of heading up north into the land of maple leaves and the winter olympics. Instead, we drove the two hours to Priest Lake, an Idaho vacation haven in the summer and snowy winter months. Perhaps due to the serious lack of snow we are suffering from this year and the fact that we arrived on Superbowl Sunday, we were literally the ONLY ones staying at the lodge. It was almost eerie when we were walking around the property because everything was deserted. Old lake cabins all boarded up, frozen fire pits on the beach, vacated chairs on the occasional dock. But after that initial creepiness wore off, I began to sink into the undeniable sense of peace emanating from the frozen earth. And the couple inches of snow that were still lingering on the sand added to the stillness of this place. As if that thin layer of snow can magically quiet the world. You know, like when you're in the mountains in the dead of winter, whether you're skiing or boarding or snow shoeing or just walking, and you stop whatever it is that you're doing for a moment to feel the silence. And you really can feel it. It's not suffocating or anxiety-filled, but it makes you feel so acutely aware of yourself in the world and the world in yourself. How you feel and think suddenly become so clear that all those trivial thoughts racking your brain fall away to the gutters because they really don't matter.

So we walked and talked and not-talked along the lakeshore for a good two hours before retreating from the cold into our little cabin condo complete with a fireplace and coffee machine. Did I mention that I found heaven? We eventually dragged ourselves to the bar/restaurant to watch New Orleans kick some serious Indianapolis ass (woop woooop!), mostly because watching American sports was one of the things I missed most about being in Switzerland. Go right ahead and laugh all you want. Okay, sure they have futball or soccer or whatever you want to call it, but what about college basketball? And the Lakers?! Seriously? How am I supposed to release all that built up competitive energy when I don't know a thing about all these different futball and rugby leagues? Okay, I may not be the biggest fan of American football, but I still find it entertaining enough. And yes, I got my sports fix, for now at least Thank GOD March Madness is right around the corner.

The rest of our time in Priest was spent lounging and reading and sleeping. Oh, and we did find some time in our extremely hectic schedule to polish off some serious steaks at the lodge's restaurant. And did I mention that we had the most glorious weather possible? Just take a look for yourself.

Pops taking it all in.

Father daughter moment.

Kind of beautiful, isn't it?

Dad,

Thanks again for a wonderful weekend. It was exactly what I needed. Love you zillions.

Porotito

Flashback: Passport check

2010-02-25T23:27:00.000-08:00

Shit.

That was my first thought when I saw that I would have to show my passport upon exiting Switzerland. They must have added this checkpoint once they joined the Schengen agreement last year. Dammit Dammit Dammit.

Okay, game plan. Hair is down, check. Cueing my inner flighty blonde (I prefer this to your typical "dumb blonde" characterization technique), check. Act like you know nothing about the fact that you've overstayed your welcome in Switzerland by almost four months. Or the fact that you were working illegally for nearly seven months. So NOT important.

"Bonjour," says the straight-faced security guard on the other side of the glass.

"Bonjour, monsieur," I say as I casually hand over my passport. Good call on the attention to authority. Nice touch.

Flipping through my passport once, then twice, then three times, "Uh, Madame? Quand est-ce-que vous êtes arrivée en Suisse?"

Well, no sense in lying to the nice man. It says it right there on my passport. "Le fin d'août, monsieur."

"Et votre visa? Vous avez un visa, oui?"

"Mais non. Non, monsieur."

And that's when he looks at me with a puzzled look on his face, cocking his head slightly to process my situation. And I stare back as if this is nothing out of the ordinary. Why or how would I possibly know that without a Schengen visa, I am only allowed to stay within the Schengen states (which includes nearly all the European countries, east and west) for 90 days within a six month period? Okay, so maybe this information is displayed on all websites concerning visas for Switzerland or the other Schengen states but he doesn't need to know that I know this. No, definitely not.

The nice and now very confused man behind the glass picks up his phone and calls for backup. Apparently I'm that important. Or that illegal. Eh, just details.

Another armed security guard joins my friend in the glass box and they have a little chit chat about my situation. The second man asks if I can please follow him, and we go into a small waiting room with white walls and sad old chairs. Hmmm. . . So this is where all the foreign criminals gather. He briefly explains the rules of the Schengen agreement and I sit there looking shocked, petrified that they will transport me to some basement cell never to be heard of or seen by my beloved family and friends again.

In my defense, I explain that I have been traveling around Europe, visiting family and such, and thought that I only needed the visa if I were to stay in Switzerland for longer than a three-month period. But since I had been in and out of the country, I didn't think those rules applied. (Insert fearful expression and much batting of the eye lashes here.)

Apparently my innocent American blonde act went over well, because I was free to go ten minutes later. He just had to fill out some paperwork to document my stay and save their asses in case anyone caught my extended visit down the line. He did warn me, however, that if someone had checked my passport while I had been traveling around, I would have likely been taken to the nearest police station to be questioned, fined, and sent home. Whoa. Good thing that didn't happen. Although, that would have made for a refreshing blog post. "Live from Swiss Prison with your favorite American criminal, Mel" or something like that.

Swinging my backpack over my shoulder, I proudly walked and maybe even strutted to my gate, smiling to myself and my cleverness. Damn that was smooth. Then I unexpectedly tripped over my tired feet. Typical. Just typical.

Musing in the rain

2010-02-25T21:03:00.000-08:00

In preparation for moving to Portland, I compiled a list of must-have items that I deemed essential to my happiness in my new Oregonian home. Among these items--including but not limited to a good rain jacket, hiking boots, and some new reading material--was the ultimate rainy day music compilation. With all the time I planned to spend on the bus and explore the city under a grey and rainy sky, a good playlist was about as important as having an oversized mug of coffee (heavy on the cream please!) after a night of drinking debauchery. Even though your head is pounding mercilessly, that first sip of burns-your-tongue-it's-so-hot coffee takes the edge off, allowing your mind to wander to all the fun that was had the night before (if you remember it--but that's what friends are for anyway). In the same way, a solid playlist can turn a cold, wet, and seemingly miserable day into one of reflection and warmth in the coziness of your thoughts. That is until your feet are so cold and wet from unexpected puddles and car sprays that even a playlist from the gods themselves won't keep you from bitching and moaning about the rain--not that I have any remote idea of what this feels like.

So then, for your listening pleasure, I've compiled a list of songs and albums that I think you'll enjoy, especially on those days when the weather is not being very cooperative. And if you have any suggestions, don't hesitate to leave them!

Rainy Day Lovin'

"Windshield Wipers" by Jackpot

"The One I Love" by Greg Laswell

The entire "Parachutes" album by Coldplay

"Absinthe Party at the Fly Honey Warehouse" by Minus the Bear

"Northern Lights" by Cafe del Mar

"The World Spins Madly On" by The Weepies

"By Your Side" by Sade

"Alone in Kyoto" by AIR

"Sweet Disposition" by the Temper Trap

"Heartbeats" by José González

"Flake" by Jack Johnson

"Go Places" by The New Pornographers

"Walk Away" (Live at Mars version) by Ben Harper

"The Road" by Matt Costa

"Let It Be Sung" by Jack Johnson

"Home" by Jack Johnson

"Blood Bank" by Bon Iver

"Will You Please Be There For Me" by the Reindeer Section

"He Lays in the Reins" by Calexico/Iron & Wine

"Skinny Love" by Bon Iver

"Pachura Sunrise" by Minus the Bear

"3 Rounds and a Sound" by Blind Pilot

Anything Alexi Murdoch
"Down the Line" by José González

"Peaches & Cream" by The John Bulter Trio

Pete Yorn's classic album titled "Music for the Morning After"

"Place to Be" by Nick Drake

"Your Ex-Lover Is Dead" by Stars

"Sexual Healing" (Live at Mars version) by Ben Harper

"On the Bus Mall" by The Decemberists

"Stay or Leave" by Dave Matthews Band

"Unplayed Piano" by Damien Rice and Lisa Hannigan

"Grazed Knees" by Snow Patrol

"Dice" by Finley Quaye and William Orbit

"If You Ever Did Believe" by Stevie Nicks

"Delicate" by Damien Rice

"Small Change" by Dispatch

"Over the Rainbow" by IZ

"Let Go" Frou Frou

"Moon River" by Henry Mancini

"Dreams" by The Cranberries

"Free" by Donavon Frankenreiter

"Paint the Silence" by South

"Her Morning Elegance" by Oren Lavie

"The Great Salt Lake" by Band of Horses

"Mrs. Cold" by Kings of Convenience

"Wonder" by Colin Meloy
"Calender Girl" by Stars

"A Comet Appears" by The Shins

"Resolution" by Thievery Corporation

"Wish I Stayed" by Ellie Goulding

"Another Lonely Day" by Ben Harper

Happy Listening!

2010-02-22T13:28:00.000-08:00

"Life, if you keep chasing it so hard, will drive you to death. Time--when pursued like a bandit--will behave like one; always remaining one country or room ahead of you, changing its name and hair color to elude you, slipping out the back door of the motel just as you're banging through the lobby with your newest search warrant, leaving you a burning cigarette in the ashtray to taunt you. At some point you have to stop because it won't. You have to admit that you can't catch it. That you're not supposed to catch it. At some point. . . you gotta let go and sit still and allow contentment to come to you." — from Eat Pray Love by ELIZABETH GILBERT

(Photo taken of Carleigh in Costa Rica. Right before her camera was sacrificed to the Pacific. RIP Canon Powershot.)

The Simple Life

2010-02-21T20:58:00.000-08:00

I lie here. Melting into the ground. Glowing with sweat and exhaustion. An energy sweeps over me, into me, like a sunny wind carrying all the colors of spring and life and light. Everything is here in it's place. In this moment, I am no more or less or different than the person next to me, or the room we all lie in, or the building on this street, in this city, on this planet. I am everything around me and they are me and nothing matters but the energy pulsating within all of us in this very moment.

And as I roll up my mat, pausing to silently thank the earth, my fellow students, my teacher and myself, I take that feeling with me, holding it close and letting it wrap itself around me again like an old quilt if it so chooses.

A week ago, I took my first CorePower Yoga class in seven months. Yes, my yoga mat and fairly regular practice traveled with me across the Atlantic, but I'll be honest. I usually lost interest in my own self-taught classes (ironic indeed) and would get bored around the twenty minute mark. So needless to say, I was a little nervous about my first C2 class in Portland. Sixty minutes of power vinyasa in a 100 degree room? Um, yeah. I thought I was going to die about halfway through. Sweat was pouring down my face into my eyes and up my nose when I went upside down. My legs were shaking. My arms were trembling. And my face was almost if not completely the color of a red delicious apple. But so not delicious.

I only found out later that Nattika's classes (Nattika being our instructor that day) are infamously hard. And the class wasn't sixty minutes like I was used to at the Pacific Beach studio but seventy-five. Granted, that's only a difference of fifteen minutes, but fifteen extra minutes of balancing poses and core strengtheners and inversions will make you want to curl up in a ball and cry if you don't pass out before you have the chance.

But shockingly, I survived the class and reestablished that sense of patience you must have with yourself on the mat. For the past however many months, all I've done is rush from one thing to the next, even if it's just tracking the thoughts racing through my mind. And for the first time in a long time, I quieted my brain and let myself dissolve into the rhythm of breath and movement. That divine energy found its way back to me in no time and I was dancing along to the music with the rest of the class. And after seven days of yoga, yoga, and more yoga, I've rediscovered a part of myself that I had misplaced back in San Diego. I trust myself again. And not only my body but my ability to make decisions, to know when to take a break and when to push forward. I trust myself to be true to that person I know I am because I have no reason not to be.

That's the magical thing about yoga. It can transform you in a matter of breaths even when you don't think you need any sort of transformation at all. It's about learning to be mindful in your practice on and off the mat, allowing that to guide you in this world that is distracting, consuming, and overwhelmingly stressful in every which way. And despite what you may think, yoga doesn't have to be some physically demanding "sport" that you hear so often about on TV or in trendy magazines. It can be as simple as sitting and taking a quiet moment for yourself, reconnecting to the "beginningless potential of all things," and remembering that a single moment holds the world. Maybe that sounds crazy to some, but I think we all need a little crazy in our lives sometimes. Especially if it ironically brings us peace.

In his book "Siddhartha" (a must read if you haven't already), Hermann Hesse writes,

"Above all, he learned to listen with a still heart, with a waiting open soul, without passion, without desire, without judgements, without opinions."

If only life was that simple, right? Well, maybe it can be. Sprinkling a little mindfulness into all of our days, in whichever way works best for you, can only serve to make us calmer people, better listeners, and wiser souls. Add a dash of contentment to the equation and I think you just might have something extraordinary.

Portland: the city of roses, coffee, and hipsters

2010-02-18T15:04:00.000-08:00

Who loves Portland?

Oooo! Pick me! Pick me!!

It's been five, glorious days in Portland, and I'm already starting to settle into my nook here. And by "nook" I mean a nearly empty apartment with a lush air mattress (if that even makes sense), an upside-down storage container for a chair and just enough kitchen supplies to make myself a decent meal. But with lights, heating and internet, I'd say that this place is pretty rockin'!

My first couple days were exhausting to say the least. . . Running errands around town with mom, getting acquainted with the city and browsing Powell's (only the greatest bookstore on earth if you haven't already heard) for one measly hour--trust me, you could spend weeks in this place and not get bored. Or maybe that's just me. "Irregardless" (it seems just too appropriate not to say), Portland has proved to be just as friendly as I remembered it. I'm falling in love with West Coast culture all over again, and this city definitely seems to have perfected many aspects of that. Clean, eclectic, laid back, outdoorsy and friendly. And no, I'm not describing my dream guy, though I'll admit, the qualities are undeniably similar.

For example, the nice lady at the post office was more than willing to tell me all about her latest life drama: strange phone calls coming to her at-home business line from Jamaica. Go figure. You're probably thinking, now why would you even care to know such things about a person you've never met before? Am I right? Well, yes, the same thing crossed my mind, but I listened patiently and just reveled in the ease of the entire interaction. In a place where everyone is so friendly and open and welcoming, it's hard not to fall right into being yourself--something that I've always found extremely difficult when moving to a new city. But talking to this random stranger, I didn't feel myself instinctively put up that barrier that I always seem to find comfort (and simultaneous frustration) behind. And it wasn't just this one person, but several other people I've met and chatted with, whether at a coffee shop on 23rd or in the Lululemon store downtown. There's so little judgement in this place--although I'm sure you could find it if you looked--that the city and its people seem that much more welcoming. It's as if everyone's signed the same agreement upon entering: you be you, I'll be me and we'll make it work. Now if the job situation could only improve. . . But eh, who cares. If these people can be happy and friendly even in the midst of such economically frustrating times, I've got to hand it to them and maybe learn a thing or two as well.

So far then, Portland, you earn five stars in my book. Now if you could do me a small favor and keep the rain out and the sun shining (most of the time, that is), I would greatly appreciate it. Although that could put me on dangerous ground. . . I may just fall head over heals for you.

Destination Portland: 384 miles and counting

2010-02-12T23:41:00.000-08:00

One of my all time favorite American traditions is the classic road trip. What's there not to love? Windows down, wind blowing through your fingers and hair, music blaring and a wide, open road that invites you to day dream the day away.

Every now and then, a road trip is just good for the soul, inspiring freedom and excitement and fun. I should know; I've had my fair share of road trips up and down the west coast, down south in Costa Rica and out west in Switzerland (Jude and Skoda, you're still in our hearts...). And even though each one has been different, that thrill and feeling of possibility is always present, which perhaps adds to the reasons why I find them so addicting. That and the fact that they always seem to take place at important, even pivotal (if you prefer the drama), times in my life. Coincidence, you ask? I highly doubt that.

It's no surprise then that this trip comes at a significant time for both my mom and I--my recent return to American soil (and everything that goes along with that) and, more importantly, my mom's big move to Portland. So then tomorrow morning, we'll be heading out west pumped up with caffeine, nerves, and excitement. Oregon, here we come! The current winter weather conditions may not allow for the windows down part of my road trip fantasy, but we'll make do. Besides, Alexi, Nick, Chris, and José have promised to serenade us the whole way there via the ultimate road trip playlist. A little music, some good coffee, and even better company and this trip has happiness written all over it.

(Driving on PCH in northern California, May 2007)

Flipping pages

2010-02-10T19:53:00.000-08:00

This week has been a strange one to say the least. I'm back in Coeur d'Alene, the city that holds nearly all of my childhood memories, but it feels different this time. None of my girls are here, no snow is on the ground, and there is little if any activity to speak of. Cold, brown, and just ugh. Sorry, February. You're not my favorite. Granted, I am only here for a week and a half, but it feels longer than that, maybe because I don't have much else to occupy my time that doesn't involve packing or repacking or looking for jobs/future apartments online. And although the idea of packing up my life here--or whatever is left--should be emotional and overwhelming and exhausting, it's not. It all feels so impersonal to me, but only because I picked up and left a long time ago--both physically and figuratively.

For the past five years, this city has been a stopping place. A place to catch my breath and prepare for the next looming change. And while it still carries remnants of home because my mom and dad both live here (for now), it has changed. A lot. And I have as well. I no longer come home to the house I grew up in. Most of the people I associate with home don't live here anymore. And every so often, I look around and see new buildings or businesses that weren't there the last time I was. I guess you could say that we're outgrowing each other, this city and I. I know I can always come back here and find the familiarity in places and people, but it's not the same and strangely, I'm okay with that.

After all the changes and moves, I've come to realize that the word "home" is more like a state of being, and one that we like to associate with a place that then gives it permanence and more meaning. A sense of home is more than just a familiar house or city. It's where you find a balance of comfort in your surroundings, love in the people you spend time with, and contentment in who you are within all of that.

And as I sit here, in my mom's office surrounded my a mountain range of brown cardboard boxes, I can't help but let the excitement and prospect of a new home distract me from what I really should be doing: packing. Nope. Instead I sit here going through old books that tell the story of my life. Books my mom used to read to me when I couldn't even say the alphabet. Books I read in middle school for reading points. Books on the high school summer reading lists that I absolutely despised and "read" the week before school started in an emotional end-of-summer frenzy. And then there are the books I fell in love with, those that transformed my college experience and made me want to be an English major, and those that I've read multiple times because they themselves hold a piece of home in their pages. They're all here, telling my story as they tell their's.

I pack thousands of pages into boxes and try to imagine the shelves of the room they will be replaced upon. Home. It's someplace close, I can sense it, feel it, and almost touch it. The walls may be a different color and the city a little rainier, but the hominess? No problem there, cause I'm bringing it with me anywhere I go.

In case you were wondering...

2010-02-06T09:02:00.000-08:00

This blog isn't going anywhere and neither am I, well, theoretically that is. The location of these posts may change, but the motivation behind them will remain the same: finding the adventure and excitement in seemingly ordinary tasks and places to keep you momentarily entertained and to keep me writing and thinking and living. Besides, living an adventure isn't about where you are. It's about how you choose to live, what you do with your time, and the way in which you take it all in. As stated by Stiv Wilson, Wend Magazine's founder and editor, "Adventure is a state of mind, and a way of life." Just remember to sprinkle a little adventure into every day, and nothing can ever be boring or mundane or ordinary. Okay, so maybe it's easier said than done, but trying has to account for something right?

Holy Culture Shock

2010-02-06T08:42:00.000-08:00

"Welcome to the United States of America" the sign above me reads in oversized, silver letters. The concrete floor feels the same beneath my Converse, but somehow, I know it's different. It's America. It's my country. It's home.

Along with the crowd of international passengers, I wait in line for customs, then the recheck baggage line, until we can finally re-enter the boarding area again which means more security lines and nearly de-robing in order to walk through the metal detector without setting off all alarms. I make it through unscathed and still operating in this semi-confused yet oddly comfortable state of awareness. I thought it would feel a lot stranger to be back, to be thrown into a major American airport, which I find to be an accurate though perhaps exaggerated representation of American culture. People yelling into their cellphones at unreasonably high volumes. Every fast food chain you could think off in addition to "Healthy Snack Stands" selling chocolate covered protein bars, soy chips, and reduced-fat, preservative packed blueberry muffins in vacuum packed bags. And then there's the vending machines selling iPhones, iPods, and digital cameras just in case the spare electronics in your carry-on don't quite cut it. I cannot imagine how overwhelmed a first time visitor to the States would feel arriving in a crowded and chaotic American airport. A mix of fear, shock, and anxiety for sure. Welcome to the United States of America indeed.

But, surprisingly, I find that everything feels remarkably normal. I can handle this readjustment no problem! I blend in so much it's like I never left.

"So, you going anywhere exciting?"

Huh? I look up from repacking my things after going through security and the young officer is looking at me with a kind smile, waiting for an answer. I look around me for a moment. Is he talking to me?

"You have a fun trip ahead of you then?" Okay, now I know that he's talking to me.

"Well, I'm actually on my way home. But I guess that can be the best destination sometimes," I respond with a smile. "Alright, well have a great day!"

"Thanks, you too. Safe travels."

And with that, I shuffle away trying to pull myself and my bags together. I honestly don't think I've been asked a "so how are you?" type of question by a stranger in over six months. I think back to when I first arrived in Montreux. I walked to the small grocery story on the corner to pick up some essentials and when I went to the cash register to ring up my things, I naturally made some small talk with the Coop employee. When I asked her how her day was going, she gave me a look as if to say, "Who the hell are you to ask me how I am doing?" Okay, never mind. . . I quickly learned that such friendly questions come off as invasive or intruding to others, so I kept my mouth shut from that point on. But here, in our grand country, that kind of small talk is normal, even sometimes expected. And although many people find those exchanges menial or even unnecessary, my short interaction with the nice airport employee reminded me of how friendly this country is, even in a place like Newark.

Oh America. I've missed you. You and your disorder, your rowdiness, and your enthusiasm. Walking by some man yelling into his cellphone while pausing to tear off the corner of his burrito in a wild-animal-like fashion, I smile to myself. It feels damn good to be back.

Chère la Suisse,

2010-02-02T11:36:00.000-08:00

Dear Switzerland,

You have been exceptionally kind to me, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing and showing your many faces. French, Italian, German or Romansh, you are brilliant and beautiful, eclectic and charming. And your mountains. . . Oh your mountains. I have no words for those because I've used them all up.

So for now I say farewell. And again, thank you. You've taught me more than I've yet to understand and you've helped me see part of myself I didn't know existed. And in return, I leave you a piece of my heart. It may not be much, but it's something to me.

Bisous et à bientôt,

Mel

Undercover Art

2010-02-01T12:52:00.002-08:00

A not-so-everyday art collection found amidst everyday life. It's amazing what you see if you just open your eyes and take a look around.

Vevey, Old Town

Fribourg

Translation: "Always keep in your hand, the hand of the child you once were."

Chamonix

Bâle

Lavaux

Rivaz

New beginnings

2010-02-01T00:43:00.000-08:00

If the weather gods and airport angels cooperate and function as they should (triple cross your fingers for me!), I will be on a plane home in less than 36 hours. Home as in the United States. Of A-m-e-r-i-c-a. O.M.G. is right.

After much deliberation and discussion, I have decided to take a leave from the land of cows and mountains, chocolate and cheese, and begin the next leg of this adventure. I had elaborate plans to work in Prague for a few months, to travel to Spain and to Corsica, and to see where all of this would lead to, but thanks to some very important documents that are at the mercy of stubborn, slow, and bureaucratically challenged Germans, I have no choice but to pack up my suitcases and make the trek back stateside. But honestly, my return could not come at a better time.

There are so many things that I've missed from the States and no matter how much time I spend talking to friends and family on Skype or reading the American newspaper online or looking at photos from my crazy college days at the beach, the nostalgia remains. Granted, some may consider me to be an overly nostalgic person, but that's only because--as I see it--I have so many memories that are worth reliving. Of course I am going to miss the Swiss traditions that I've established for myself. . . Walking through the vineyards, coffee and reading at Tea Room à la Baye, and jumping on a train to explore yet another charming village with my camera . . . But I know these things will still be here when I come back. And although I can't yet comprehend how much I will miss hearing the sweet sounds of my favorite language while walking down the street or waiting in line at the grocery store, I cannot tell you how excited I am to actually understand every single word someone says to me. To speak at the level of a college graduate? It's going to feel like a foreign country!

And in order for me to keep this adventure rolling, to keep my eyes and ears and all senses engaged, it's time to take on something new, even if that means, ironically, returning to my roots. To take this adventure in a direction that maintains just that--a sense of adventure and excitement and uncertainty. After all, that's how I kicked this off and that's how I plan to continue it.

So then. . . What's next? I can tell you this: I fly back to Idaho on the 3rd. Then it's off to Portland with a moving truck, a serious rain jacket, and a revived sense of curiosity. On February 17th, Yoga Teacher Training at CorePower begins, where I plan to unearth and cultivate the yogi that's dying to break out, especially after months of cold weather and chocolate--not the healthiest of combinations. Anything beyond that remains a mystery. Hopefully Portland life includes a job if I can find one, maybe even an internship, and perhaps a photography class to continue shaping my craft. Trust me, I have plenty of ideas--too many for my own good--but all leading toward something great, I just know it. And the best part? I will be closer to all of you! (I bet you saw that one coming.)

Mind. Body. And spirit. It's all there. A recipe for greatness. What that recipe calls for? I'm not yet entirely sure. But if I've learned anything since I got here six months ago, it's that the "figuring-it-out-process" is what I'm good at. Maybe I am hopelessly optimistic and wretchedly stubborn. But these things keep me dreaming, keep me working, and keep me living. The details? I'm not worried. They'll work themselves out eventually.

Now then, let's get on with it, shall we?

Hotel Mel is still open for business

2010-01-28T00:38:00.000-08:00

That's right everyone. Although this hotel is barely standing--the construction is insane right now--my room is still my room and visitors are welcome! However, I am sorry to say that this weekend is fully booked because (drum roll please. . .) Chels is coming to visit! It was a last minute decision, but I couldn't be happier, which is why I am doing anything and everything to keep myself busy for the next four hours until I'll be jumping on her at the airport. I know that this visit is coming at the perfect time for both of us for a variety of reasons that I will not bore you with here. And even though the sun isn't shining (that seems to be a common occurrence every time I have people come to stay) and there isn't much to do this time of year that doesn't include locking oneself indoors and watching movies all day, I couldn't think of a better person to do that with. I have I feeling we'll have plenty to talk about.

And just because, here are some of our finer moments caught on camera.

Oh, and one note. . .

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD! Love you zillions!

2010-01-25T05:02:00.002-08:00

"Do you have doubts about life? Are you unsure if it is worth the trouble? Look at the sky: that is for you. Look at each person's face as you pass on the street: those faces are for you. And the street itself, and the ground under the street, and the ball of fire underneath the ground: all these things are for you. They are as much for you as they are for other people. Remember this when you wake up in the morning and think you have nothing. Stand up and face the east. Now praise the sky and praise the light within each person under the sky. It's okay to be unsure. But praise, praise, praise." -MIRANDA JULY, No One Belongs Here More Than You.

"Delight in the wonders of this land"

2010-01-22T13:46:00.000-08:00

I finally found my place, and I suppose I found it a while ago, I just didn't realize it at the time. Those of you who know me well know that I have a thing for the ocean. For me, standing at the edge of the world and looking out to an endless sea of blue, anything feels possible. Any worries or fears or nagging questions I may have evaporate into the air, and a comforting calmness comes to take their place.

Unfortunately then, the one thing that Switzerland doesn't have (other than a Trader Joe's) is the ocean. Yes it has mountains and lakes and rivers and valleys that are all beyond beautiful, but the facts stand. No ocean. However, (I'm sure you saw this coming. . .) Switzerland has a treasure of its own: the wine terraces. And they are unlike anything I've seen anywhere else in the world.

I've been to Lavaux three times in the last week. With the sun shining, a view of the mountains and lake below, I couldn't think of any other place I'd rather be--in this country that is. And I've noticed that when I go walking through the vines, looking out at the rippling lake brings back those same feelings that I used to have sitting on the sea wall in Mission Beach. My toes may be buried beneath layers of socks instead of in the cold, wet sand, but that sense of freedom, of calmness, of being home again. . . It's all there just as I remember it.

Espesses, my starting point.

Straight ahead is the town of Rivaz.

The village of St. Saphorin.

Quoted (from the little signs posted along the paths through the vines):

Heureux Dezaley, dit le poète, qui a trois soleils pour mûrir ses raisins!

Le soleil d'en-haut, ardent et généreux;
Le soleil d'en-bas, réfléchi par le miroir du lac;
Le soleil des vieux murs de pierre qui restituent pendant la nuit la chaleur accumulée durant le jour.

(Translation)

In the words of the poet, fortunate Dezaley (type of wine) has the triple sun to rippen his grapes!

A sun from above, generous and warm;
A sun from below, reflected by the mirrored lake;
A sun retained in the old stone walls that release the warmth throughout the night.

* * *

There's no better place and time

than here and now

to pause and rest a while

to meditate and to ponder.

Delight in the wonders of this land

Marvel at the magic splendor

of vineyards, lake and mountains.

Relish the promise of spring,

of budding love and of nature's bounty.

Speak of lasting friendship

and celebrate life

mirrored in a glass of wine.

2010-01-22T13:25:00.000-08:00

"The best things in life are the people we love, the places we've been, and the memories we've made along the way."

(For once, I'm going to leave the commenting to a minimum and just say thank you to Nick and Nat for sending me this quote, and for Carleigh, Shan, Nat, and Heather for reminding me how true this statement is. Love, love, and more love.)

"Here comes the sun, do do do doooo..."

2010-01-22T12:47:00.001-08:00

(Written 20.01.10)

Today the sun finally came out from its cold hiding place and brought with it the sparkling signs of possibilities. As much as I wanted to stay in bed all day watching Gossip Girl reruns and wallowing in my loneliness, I finally dragged myself out of bed, showered and headed out to the vineyards for some fresh air and a fresh perspective. And although I didn't just snap back into my normal happy self, I did feel a sense of awakening that brought promise for the coming weeks.

So then what changed? What got me out of bed and into the real world outside of my hotel room? I'll admit, I was all about self-medicating by taking obscenely long naps and indulging in loads of Swiss chocolate (okay, I suppose it could be worse). But then I just got bored. I'm not kidding. Being depressed is boring and hopeless. Seriously, what's the point? You feel worse about yourself, about your actions or lack there of, and all motivation goes sprinting out the door. But I guess there is a point to feeling that way because it makes you realize how great it feels to be happy, to go out and do things, to put your effort towards something you care about. But it's not easy, and to be honest, I don't think it should be. Life is about choices. Sometimes choosing to be happy isn't so simple. Life gets in the way and makes things complicated. But if you can come out on the other side of that with a streak of happiness still left, a hope that life will get better, that's what counts. Yes, I am aware that my funk is nothing compared to what travesties other people deal with every day, but in the larger scheme of things, isn't the process to recovery almost the same?

I'm still pulling myself out of my bout of depression day by day. Thankfully, the sun is still shining, warming me up from the inside out and making in near impossible to just stay inside when so much beauty is just sitting there waiting to be found. So here we go. Another day filled with possibilities, and another chance to lighten my heart a bit more. How could I resist?

So this is what it feels like to be alone again

2010-01-22T12:27:00.000-08:00

(Written 17.01.10)

Four days ago, my life suddenly got a lot quieter. And as much as I try to welcome the silence that I used to find comforting and peaceful, now it just feels like a void--and a gapping one at that. I forgot what it was like to be surrounded by the people you love, and those who (fortunately) love you back. And now that they're gone, everything seems less thrilling, less exciting, less colorful. I don't mean to be a downer, but for the first time I'm here to admit that I miss home. Home as in the States. As in my family and my friends and all those little things that Switzerland just doesn't offer.

I think back to when I first got here. Sitting on the train to Montreux from Geneva, listening to Pete Yorn and watching as the light faded into the dark behind the mountains. I was so excited. Everything and everyone ahead of me was new and that feeling of uncertainty filled my stomach with a myriad of multi-colored butterflies. Yes, I was nervous, but the best kind of nervous when you know that everything you think you know about yourself is going to change. And as much as you try to prepare yourself for what's ahead, all you can really do is take a deep breath, trust yourself, and dive in with everything you've got.

And that's what I did. Of course, I had my moments of near drowning in a language that seemed so foreign to me when I first arrived, but I eventually found my words and the confidence I needed to keep myself sane and happy. And it really wasn't until December that I felt something missing in the life I'd been living here. Maybe it was the Christmas market curse . . . Seeing all those families walking hand in hand and groups of obnoxiously loud teenagers up to who know's what and couples that are so cute that it takes every bit of self restraint not to just push them into the lake. And then there was me and my faithful Nikon, weaving through it all and trying not to think about the things I missed from a holiday season at home. But still, knowing that Car and Shan would be here so soon distracted me from any of the homesickness I may have started to feel.

However, now that the girls are gone, the loneliness has finally found an opening and snuck its way in. I'm just scared of how long it's here to stay. I want to be motivated. I want to go out and do things. I want to keep discovering. But--like I used to say as a teary-eyed, overly sensitive little girl--it's just not the same. And to be honest, I don't want it to be. If anything, I know now more than ever that being close to the people I care most about is what makes me the happiest. And it has nothing to do with feeling comfortable or safe or secure, though these things may matter more to other people. Instead, it's knowing that I'm the best version of myself when I'm with them. It's knowing that even life's most ordinary and mundane tasks--like going to the bank or grocery store--become another adventure when you're together. And it's the laughter. The constant, genuine, bottomless laughter that seems to put everything back into perspective again.

Yesterday, in hopes of further distracting myself from the rain and my own self pity, I watched the latest corny, teenage drama titled "Post Grad." You know, the kind of movie that usually ends with some sentimental voice-over about the power of love and friendship and whatever else it is that teens find so inspiring. Well, if you didn't already know, sometimes I'm a sucker for corniness. And of course in my current state of mind, the single defining line of the movie, said by one gorgeous Brazilian man, totally got to me. He says,

"I guess I finally realized that what you do with your life really is only one half of the equation. The other half, the more important half really, is who you're with when you're doing it."

I didn't even try to hold back the tears. It would have been a lost cause. I've struggled so much with this idea of distance, of being so far away from my loved ones. But really, what's the point? I know certain circumstances require moves and you can't always be next door to the people you love, but if you can be closer, if you can make it happen, what's there to stop you?

I know that I needed this. I needed this time away to see myself clearly and to reevaluate the things that are most important to me right now. Maybe it is time for me to close this chapter of the Swiss adventure and start a new one back in the States. Maybe these stupid German papers that I've been waiting for are a sign that it's time for me to dive in all over again, to keep this unknown adventure as thrilling and exciting and uncertain as it was when I started it over six months ago. To surprise myself yet again, because that's what makes life interesting, that's what makes me feel alive. I might not be closer to knowing where I'll end up or what I'll be doing there, but I have I feeling I know who will be close by. And for now, that's good enough for me.

Road tripping, Swiss-style

2010-01-19T11:54:00.000-08:00

Ah, the open road! Windows down, feet resting on the dashboard, coffee breaks, bathroom breaks, chocolate (lots of chocolate), and belt-it-out-at-the-top-of-your-lungs-kind-of-music blaring from the speakers. This road trip was so not like that. Well, minus the chocolate part and bathroom breaks. We listened to the same CD approximately 100 times over the course of two days and had our seat warmers on full blast nearly the entire time because the temperature barely raised above 0 degrees Celsius.

But considering the fact that Switzerland is smaller--much smaller--than the state of California, I'd say that we did well for ourselves. And our beloved silver station wagon, Skoda, was a real trooper in the ice, snow, rain, everything. Parting ways in Montreux was no easy task, and I know that I'm speaking for all parties when I say that there wasn't a dry eye in the parking lot. Skoda, we will always have you in our hearts.

So then, where did we stop? What did we see? Who did we meet? Well, to make things easier, I figured, why not include a handy little map so you can also learn a bit about this small but seriously impressive country. Okay, directions: the red line is the train route the we took from Montreux to Zermatt and then Zermatt to St. Mortiz. Then the blue route is where Skoda laid her tracks, all the black dots in between being the places that we stopped to walk around.

In only two full days on the road, we experienced the joys of French/German/Italian-speaking radio stations playing awful American music, came upon at least five closed mountain passes, went through 30 tunnels easily--some more than 20 km long, mastered the art of the European round-about, lost and found a camera, got stuck behind an enormous tour bus on a tiny mountain road where passing was like a death wish, and hit only one curb (my bad).

And thinking back to all the little villages we passed and the lakes and mountains and snow we saw, it was a spectacular drive. It may have been slightly non-traditional by American road trip standards, but the pit stops and the photos and the laughter and the company made it one for the ages.

Just getting started. It was so cold that the anti-freeze windshield wiper fluid was freezing anyway. Wait a minute. . . That doesn't sound right. Exactly my point.

Driving into Ticino, the Italian canton of Switzerland. Ticino definitely wins the award for having the friendliest residents. Oh, and also for people who stare the most blatantly. Who knew that three blonde girls in a silver station wagon would attract that much attention? I know that we smile and laugh a lot more than most people, and that we were all wearing brown UGG boots and North Face fleeces, and carrying cameras like armed weapons ready to shoot at any moment. But really? Is all that staring necessary?

The castelgrande (translation: "big castle" . . . bet you couldn't figure that one out!) in Bellinzona dates back to the 6th century. WHOA is right!

Taking a break in the sunshine above the city of Locarno. This was the first (and only) time the temperature went up to 3 degrees. OMG is right. For a minute there, it felt like San Diego or something like it.

After walking around aimlessly and starving in Locarno (not a good combination), we settled on pizza which we took to-go to make sure that our car didn't get towed. Now, I say this next statement in complete sincerity. . . It was the best pizza I had EVER tasted. Absolutely orgasmic. If only they delivered to other cantons.

Family portrait in Valle Bavona, a deeply cut valley that runs North from Locarno. Because the mountains rise so high above the valley, the stone villages that are settled down below get no direct sunlight from November to February and are therefore uninhabited during the cold--okay, freeeeezing-- winter months. With the dim lighting, grey stone houses, and snow covered trees and streets, the setting was eerie, like out of an old black and white horror film, thankfully without the drama but maintaining all the intrigue and mystery. It was one of the coolest places I've ever been to, and I can only imagine how incredible the valley must be in the spring time when the river is raging and the wild flowers are blooming.

Prepping for our second day on the road at the bed and breakfast in Locarno. Cozy, warm, and comfortable, it was heaven!

Diving through a mountain somewhere in Switzerland. The tunnels were intense and started playing tricks on my eyes--not such a great thing when you spend about half the day driving in concrete caves. One suggestion: don't even try to hold your breath going through these babies. * * *

So our Swiss road trip was ultimately a success, though another CD would have been a great addition. But hey, you can't have everything. And although I would have thought that hearing those songs would make me go absolutely crazy, it actually has the opposite effect. I can't help but smile and get immediately transported back . . . Alexi Murdoch's melancholic voice fills the silence, his lightly strung guitar singing the song of this road. Leaning against the cold glass, I stare out the window letting the sunshine hit my face and I wonder which road I'll decide to take next. Where will it go? How will I get there? I may not know for sure, but if I have these two people close beside me, well then I know it's going to be a wonderful adventure.

The Glacier Express, a.k.a. train to the North Pole

2010-01-18T12:36:00.000-08:00

I read about the Glacier Express a couple months ago and had been wanting to climb aboard ever since. However, seven and a half hours on a train (and that's just one way) is not something that I was anxious to do by myself. So when Car and Shan and I were planning our whirlwind tour of Switzerland, we thought, why the hell not take a train through glaciers in the middle of winter?

And since the train ride officially starts in Zermatt, we figured it was the perfect excuse to see the Matterhorn in all its glory before taking the epic train ride across the country. And epic it was! My handy dandy brochure expertly outlines the train ride adventure, so here you have it:

The highlights include the imposing Rhine gorge, the mountain lakes in the 2033 meter high Oberlap pass, and the views of the 'Valais 4000s'. . . The daring route of the train line in the Albula valley, the 291 bridges, the 91 tunnels, and last but not least the viaducts make up what is still regarded as a masterpiece of railway technology.

Masterpiece? Umm, yes. With panoramic windows that allow you to literally see the sky above you. Not a single view is lost. Well, that is unless everything is covered in a thick duvet of snow. At times, it honestly felt like we were taking a train ride through some deserted part of Greenland or Antarctica. Even though everything we passed was white, it was absolutely breathtaking.

And in typical American fashion, we had plenty of things to keep us busy along the route including a deck of cards, cameras, snacks, chocolate powder and amaretto (ingenious, I tell you!), and two very nice Brazilian boys that we met the night before at out hostel in Zermatt (they decided to forgo a day trip to Bern and took the train with us instead). The trip was long, indeed, but thankfully the weather was spectacular, and the company, well, it was just about as good as it could get. Ooo! And I almost forgot to mention the most important thing! Every time the "doooong!" went off (that's code for some annoying electronic sound over the intercom), we'd plug in our complimentary ear phones and listen to the trivia of the particular place we were passing. Isn't that just the coolest thing you've ever heard of?!?! I will admit, however, that by the fiftieth and sixtieth time that sound goes off, you'll be ready to fling your headphones against the glass ceiling, hypothetically speaking of course.

So then, here are some of our best moments caught on camera. If you can't tell, we made ourselves at home and drove most people out of our train car due to our loud and oh-so-witty American banter.

Only the beginning. Giddy and photo happy, we were ready for action!

The icy branches of these trees shimmered magically in the sunlight, as if they were there merely for our viewing pleasure.

Snow much? I can only imagine how beautiful this valley must be in the spring. Mountains still covered in snow and lush green meadows and wildflowers blooming below. Sigh.

Our Brazilian boys, brothers actually, from Sao Paolo. Ivan is on the left and Leandro on the right. They were excellent travel companions and occasionally found us very entertaining. For example:

Ivan: "Hey, I think she might speak Portuguese."

Carleigh: "What? She smells like burnt cheese??"

Case in point.

For future reference: if you like hot chocolate, you will LOVE it with a dash (or healthy serving) of amaretto.

Final stop: St. Mortiz, home of the first and now ritziest ski resort in the Alps. For this reason, we decided not to spend the night here and took the train back to Chur (pronounced "huuuuuuur"), but not before an unexpected jog along a frozen lake in -1o degree Celsius. You know how rail travel is so awesome in Europe because the train station is always in the middle of the city? Apparently, not in St. Moritz. Hungry and too cheap to buy food on the train, we asked a conductor how far the Coop would be. "Ten, maybe fifteen minutes that way," he pointed. So we shuffled along in the freezing cold and realized that it had taken us over twenty minutes to get to the grocery store. The problem? Our train was leaving in twenty minutes and we hadn't even bought food yet. We booked it and made it back with time to spare, but only because we were running, icicles forming on our sweating foreheads.

Sadly, once we got to Huuuuuuur, we had to say goodbye to newest friends, Ivan and Leandro. But we exchanged contact info and are already planning our next trip to Sao Paolo. At least we know that the snow will not follow us there. (But I may keep my fingers crossed just in case.)

Zermatt: In photos

2010-01-17T14:58:00.000-08:00

Destination: Zermatt. Claim to fame: the original Matterhorn (sorry, the one at Disneyland is not quite the same). Allotted time: about 18 hours. Enough time to snap some photos, discover the little ski town, make some new friends, and get a taste of the après-ski scene. I'll admit, it was a charming little village. But Verbier, you'll always have my heart. And perhaps a shred of my dignity as well.

Posing with our new friend the Matterhorn before nearly freezing to death en route to our hostel, which of course was up one steep snowy hill. However, the view from our window and of the glorious Matterhorn made the trek worth every slippery step.

Ugg love!

After dropping our stuff off at the hostel, we went for a long walk around the residential area near our hostel.

Then we got bored and found the only frozen playground in Zermatt.

Baby steps. . . Baby steps. Then the nice man still holding his skis and poles expertly skated down the hill between us. On his ski boots. We are so not from around here.

Freezing, yes. And beautiful? Uh, yeah. I guess so.

And one final note. . . Zermatt was definitely worth the trip if only to see the Matterhorn and the charming, car-free town. (Fact: there are literally no cars allowed in Zermatt--only small, golf cart-like things that the locals use as taxis or for maintenance purposes.) And get this: on the ski mountain, 60% of the runs are covered in fake snow (!!!). So apart from its cute wooden chalets and village-like feel, Zermatt lacks a certain Swiss authenticity that other mountain towns have. The heavy flow of tourism is undoubtedly at fault (yes, I consider myself a guilty contributor), but I understand the appeal. With a mountain as impressive and famous as the Matterhorn (thank you Disney), who would pass up the chance to stare as such a Swiss icon?

Mountain retreat

2010-01-15T13:18:00.000-08:00

Waking up to the snow covered Swiss Alps every morning does not get old. Trust me. You think you'd get used to it after five days, but no. And since the weather changes so quickly, so do the views. One minute the sky is a grey canvas of clouds, and the next, snowflakes the size of small white feathers are fluttering down from above. Then out of nowhere the clouds glide away and the sun comes out making everything look fresh and clean and new again.

Verbier really is a magical place, especially when you add in the trendy yet casual nightlife and the fun-loving people. And to say that Carleigh and I went picture happy would be an understatement. We had one photo session that left us nearly frozen. Trying to get photos of the hillsides and mountains at night requires a lot of patience, which at -10 degrees Celsius is not so easy to summon. We quickly realized that being outside for any longer than ten minutes at a time literally leaves you speechless. Your face and cheeks get so cold that it becomes difficult to talk clearly. Thankfully we understood each others' mumbling well enough to communicate. Sentences get shorter, nodding becomes more prevalent, and eventually talking seems to dwindle altogether. Hmm. . . Maybe that's why the Eskimos developed so many different dialects.

So then, if you haven't already fallen in love with Verbier, here are a few more photos that just might do the trick. Oh, and did I mention that there are many fun, cute, and single English guys roaming the city and slopes? Yeah, just a random sidenote.

Car aiming for the perfect angle of the rising full moon. Sadly the moon was too bright to really capture.

Yes, this photo is real and 100% unedited. This made my frozen toes, face, and hands all worth it!

Sun rising behind the mountains. Doesn't it look like the sky is blushing?

A day on the slopes

2010-01-15T12:54:00.000-08:00

Climbing up a mountain in a dinky tin-like gondola with wind and snow and clouds may not be the best way to pump up a ski novice's confidence. But that's how it started. Dreary and cold and grey, we were slightly disappointed that the sun had decided to sleep in for the fourth day in a row. However, after the first run--which was slightly shaky I might add considering that I hadn't been on skis since I was ten--the clouds started shifting. By the time we reached the top of the mountain again, an unearthly world had opened up before us. Clouds rising up like mountains beyond mountains, and snow sparkling like millions--okay, billions--of tiny polished crystals that had magically settled atop the piercingly white pistes. And even though the frigid temperatures were both mind and body numbing, the views from 2600 meters left me speechless. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

You know when you have those moments when you keep saying to yourself, "Am I seriously here right now? This cannot be real. No way. It's just not possible." Then you pinch yourself and realize how lucky you are to be exactly where and who you are in the very moment. Well, since I couldn't pinch myself on account of the layers and layers of clothing I had on, I went ahead and decided to trust the dream-like reality and enjoyed every minute of it.

We skied for about five and a half hours and only gave in because we couldn't handle the cold any longer. Losing digits wasn't really a part of the day's plan, and we still had the après-ski scene to attend--which I might add is just as important as skiing itself.

And it was one of the last runs down the mountain, with the swooshing of skis against powder in my ear and the thrill of speed pounding in my chest and pulsing through every limb, that every doubt and hesitation still clinging on to me fell away. All that was left was the sound of my breath, the beat of my heart in my chest, and the feeling that I could really do anything.

It wasn't until we were gliding up the mountain 50 feet up in the air, four pairs of skis dangling and cheeks red from the burning cold, that the beauty of that moment really hit me. I suppose sitting on a chair readily lift lends itself to some minutes of quiet reflection. Suspended high above the intensity below, the silence is cleansing. I smile in gratitude for having the opportunity to be here with such great company. And as the slideshow of memories plays through my head, it's interrupted by the contagious laughter of my four rosy cheeked companions. Sigh. What a beautiful day.

Travel itinerary

2010-01-14T08:38:00.000-08:00

So here is where I will begin: the itinerary of the shenanigans from the last two and a half weeks. December 28th to January 13th. Sixteen days (the last day doesn't really count) of exploring (outside), lounging (inside), and laughing hysterically everywhere in between.

Dec. 28th: Airport pickup. Much jumping, yelling, and smiling involved. Picnic dinner (the first of many) on my bedroom floor.

Dec. 29th: A day walking around Montreux. In the pouring rain. We braved the wetness for a while and eventually retreated indoors to drink wine. At 4pm. A quick trip to the train station to pick up Heather, and our party got a little bigger.

[Photo from Carleigh]

Dec. 30th: Morning in Lausanne. In the pouring rain, again. Natalie and her warm car came to our rescue in the early afternoon, and we headed back to Montreux to pack the car and drive up to Verbier, a.k.a. mountain paradise.

Dec. 31st: It was a late morning in the studio apartment. Breakfast around 2pm, movies, and birthday songs for Shenanigans. We pushed the small dining table up to the window facing the mountains and gathered around for what was one of my favorite moments of the entire trip. A fondue feast (thank you Natalie!), lots of cheers-ing with champagne, and a glorious sunset against the mountains. Then came the New Year's debauchery. It. Was. Nuts.

Jan. 1st: Another late morning. While the girls recovered, I spent the afternoon and evening with Andy, Anne and Yann walking around dressed in an 80s one-piece snow suit and sitting by the crackling fire. With little motivation, we happily stayed in that night.

Jan. 2nd: Skiiing, skiiing, and more skiing! It was a success, despite the minor bruises and falls that we accumulated. A final dinner in the studio and a short night last night out at Atelier before falling into bed nearly unconscious.

Jan. 3rd: All packed and ready, we bid farewell to our mountain retreat and spent a quiet day in Montreux. With the help of my elves, I moved on down to the fourth floor--the only floor currently open to clients in the hotel.

Jan. 4th: Day trip to Bern, the capital of Switzerland. Though I'll be honest . . . It was not my favorite city. Cold and dreary and less charming that Zurich or Lausanne. But I suppose that's normal if it is the governing capital. And the freezing temperatures did not help.

[Photo cred Car]

Jan. 5th: Heather left us and we headed off to Zermatt, home to the infamous Matterhorn. And guess what? It was ridiculously cold there too. Thanks to enough glüwein (vin chaud), we managed to stay warm--or barely warm enough.

Jan. 6th: The grand Glacier Express. Just do me a favor and google it. This seven and a half hour train ride is Switzerland's best, and thanks to the clear blue skies, the scenery was dramatic even if every inch of it was covered by several feet of snow. Made it to St. Moritz in time to freeze all over again and turn around to Chur where we stayed for the night.

Jan. 7th: And the road trip begins! From Chur to Locarno and into the deeply cut valleys that are virtually deserted this time of year, we spent the entire day on the road, only stopping again in Locarno to find a bed and breakfast when we were too tired to continue.

[Photo cred Shan]

Jan. 8th: Supposedly it only takes three and a half hours to drive across the entire country of Switzerland. However, when you account for three closed passes, mountain roads, and HUGE tour buses and are nearly impossible to pass, it may take you about seven hours. Or longer. However, it was an impressive drive to say the least, and Skoda (our beloved station wagon) made us proud.

Jan. 9th: Off to Heidelberg, Germany! And thanks to my wonderful friends, we changed train plans into car plans and took Skoda across the German border so that I could tag along. We held our breath crossing the border, but it was a success! Heather gave us a lovely tour of the city including a night out to get a taste of student night life. And Germans who seriously cannot dance. But don't worry, we showed them how.

[I'm pretty sure that Heather took this one, but I was too busy dancing my ass off to be exactly positive.]

Jan. 10th: Two words: blueberry pancakes. It was heaven. We eventually left Heather's apartment to see the castle that looms over the city, and shared a very German meal by the river.

[Photo cred Car]

Jan. 11th: Back to Montreux, but not without making a quick stop at Gruyères to pick up meringues and cream for dessert. We finally said goodbye to Skoda and dedicated our last night in Montreux to drinking wine and watching Gossip Girl.

Jan. 12th: My first day of work, which was painfully quiet. Took a walk with the girls in the sunshine along the lake and relished in the change in weather. Trained to Geneva where we spent one last romantic night together at Natalie's house. A lovely family dinner of spaghetti and salad, followed by complete exhaustion.

Jan. 13th: Four am wake up call and more snow. Natalie, Shan, and Car dropped me off at the train station where we said goodbye (for now) and I caught the 5am train to Montreux to make it in time for work. Sadly, the girls got snowed in and put up in a hotel right outside the airport, but hopefully by the time they read this, the second attempt at traveling will have been a success.

So that's it. The bare minimum. But trust me, there is much more to tell, which is why I will be post-happy for the next week. Hope you're ready!

À bientôt

2010-01-13T11:33:00.000-08:00

Whew. I have no clue where to begin. The last few weeks have been an absolute dream come true. My only complaint is that it all had to come to an end. Thankfully, I was too tired at 4am this morning to really get upset about saying goodbye to Shan and Car, because I can tell you, with an adequate amount of coffee and energy in my system, I would have been a mess. And not a hot one.

We had a brilliant time together. Skiing in the Swiss Alps, meeting other fun travelers, taking a train across the entire country where we saw nothing but snow, snow, and more snow. Roadtrippring from the German speaking part of Switzerland, to the land of Swiss Italians (and the best pizza you've ever had in your LIFE). And finally back again to chez moi just in time to head to Heidelberg for a short weekend filled with more snow, Gossip Girl, and dangerously uncoordinated German guys who think fist pumping in a club is the new hip shake.

Looking back on the last three weeks, I know that we made the most of every moment together, even if that meant choosing to stay in, drink wine, and lounge around on the mattresses taking over my floor space. And the only tough part about being reunited was knowing that we would have to separate again, and for who knows how long.

As much as I like to hope that I get better at saying goodbye to the people I love, I'd be lying to myself if I thought that were true. That heavy feeling still finds a way to settle deep in my chest, and I have no idea how long it plans on staying there. And as I scroll through all our photos for the third time today, I can't help but find comfort in the smiles staring back at me. I am so damn lucky. And in an infinite number of ways. But the most important? I am lucky to have those people in my life that make it what it is. That make me who I am and help remind me of that person when I occasionally get off track. I am thankful for the goodbyes because that only means that the next God-I-missed-you-so-much hug is just around the corner. The in between moments may royally suck at times, yes, but they're there for a reason, or at least I choose to believe so.

Besides, as one very wise friend once wrote to me in a card,

"Good friends are like stars. You don't always see them, but you know they are always there." -UNKNOWN

Love you guys. And miss you more than words could say.

Bonne Année!

2010-01-03T08:06:00.000-08:00

New Year's in Verbier. One word: EPIC. The spectacular mountains covered in sparkling white snow--trust me, it really does sparkle. . . Four of the most incredible women I know. . . Cheese, chocolate, and lots of wine. And champagne. And Englishmen, but that's another story.

So here's to a new year filled with happiness, love, new challenges, old (and new) friends, and taking every moment for what it is because that's what it's all about, right? Living life with everything you've got. I can cheers to that!

Santé!

The crew in the midst of a totally sober laughing attack.

Downtown Verbier at midnight. More details (and photos) to come! Tomorrow we're off to Zermatt and after, we'll be taking one of the most beautiful train rides in Europe. 2010. . . I think I'm in love with you already.

Watch out Switzerland. . . The three-some is here and ready for action!

2009-12-29T09:59:00.000-08:00

This photo is the essence of my next two and a half weeks, and I seriously cannot wipe the smile off my face. Sitting in my tiny room with two of the most wonderful people I know drinking wine and laughing. . . Life is good. Really good.

And tomorrow Natalie will be here to pick us up and whisk us away to Verbier for Shan's birthday, a fantastic (and freezing) New Year's celebration, and skiing in the Swiss Alps--essentially a couple days spent partying in one of the greatest and most exclusive ski resorts in the Alps. Yeah, we're that cool. Oh, and tomorrow evening, a serious feast at Andy, Anne, and Yann's Chalet (also in Verbier) with wine, wine, some food, a crackling fire and more wine.

So here's to the next few days in paradise--and I mean that in every sense of the word. And since I will be no where near my computer for the next few days, I want to wish you all a fantastic New Year's celebration, wherever the holiday takes you! Here's to the end of a fabulous year and the beginning of one that can only be better. See you in 2010!

Bonnes fêtes tout le monde!

2009-12-25T07:58:00.000-08:00

And finally, in the spirit of Christmas, I will take you on a grand tour of the Montreux Christmas Market. Of everything in this little city, this market is by far the most magical. Each little wooden chalet glows against the black lake, and the sound of Christmas carols (in English and French) and live street music light up the already sparkling night. I would go into painstaking detail about every vendor, but I'd like to save some for the imagination. After all, that's what Christmas is all about, right? The beauty of the imagination and believing--two things that there can never be enough of in my humble opinion. And the Christmas Market? Well, I found it to be the embodiment of Christmas spirit for more reasons than I could list. Who knows. . . Maybe one day I'll come back here with a family of my own. With everything I love so much about Christmas in one place, how could I resist?

This photo was actually taken at the Christmas Market in Morges, but I thought it was just too appropriate not to include.

The grand eating pavilion surrounded by stands with foie gras, dried meats, fondue, pizzas, pretzels, crêpes, waffles, churros, cookies, chocolates, and of course, vin chaud.

The tea corner. But this tea is special. Really special. Black tea with rum. . . and lots of rum. Sounds kind of strange if you haven't tried it, but I can tell you that after a couple of these, you'll be plenty warm. Oh yeah, and by the way, that is a legit log house. I'm pretty sure that a family of four could have lived very comfortably there.

If I had no self control before, well, it went out the window here.

Nougat and fudge and chocolate oh my!

My favorite vin chaud stand. Mostly because the men working it were adorable and so so friendly. And I would be that happy too if was working there with huge cauldrons of bubbling wines at my disposal.

The same stand, with the same adorable (now shirtless) men roasting chestnuts for an eager crowd. Drooooool.

One of three full scale houses built for the market. Just the market. God I love this city.

The ferris wheel (duh) and the Canadian village to the right. And yes, that is a tepee with a real crackling fire inside.

Full scale house #2.

The center pavilion with more stands selling crafts and gifts, fine Christmas delicacies and more delicious food than you could ever imagine.

So what do you think? Christmas in Montreux, 2010?

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

2009-12-24T15:43:00.001-08:00

And because I'm such a sucker for this song (I've listened to it like four times today), here are the lyrics, though you all probably know them anyway. Just imagine that I'm singing to you, cracking voice and all. La de de daaaa!

* * *

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,

Let your heart be light,

From now on,

Our troubles will be out of sight.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas,

Make the Yule-tide gay,

From now on,

Our troubles will be miles away.

Here we are as in olden days,

Happy golden days of yore.

Faithful friends who are dear to us,

Gather near to us once more.

Through the years,

We all will be together,

If the Fates allow.

Hang a shining star upon the highest bough.

And have yourself a merry little Christmas now.

It's a wonderful life

2009-12-24T14:17:00.000-08:00

It's Christmas Eve and I just finished watching It's A Wonderful Life for the first time. And I have to say, it really was wonderful and exactly what I needed. Being my first Christmas alone, today has been a little strange. While at work this morning, I let my mind wander to Christmases past. Remembering my family gathered around the big dining room table for a bouillabaisse feast. . . Jumping up and checking the front door for Santa every ten minutes. . . And finally that magical sound of the doorbell actually ringing, which meant that Santa had indeed been there, leaving behind a great big bag of Christmas treats for the whole family, which we would then proceed to tear apart in the following hour. (We did things a little different in my house.)

And with the arrival of some hotel clients for breakfast, I snap back to reality. Montreux. Christmas Eve. My first Christmas away from home. Though I don't want to say that I'm completely alone because I am lucky enough to have the means to call my family and be with them temporarily, even if means being connected by our voices. Don't get me wrong. I've had my moments when the loneliness finds its way in. While walking the Christmas market yesterday evening, I felt that tinge of sadness watching all the bundled families walk by me, their hands joined and swinging with laughter. I smiled at their shared moments and continued walking, my hands shoved deep in my coat pockets to keep them warm.

I eventually bought myself a cup of vin chaud (I have to take advantage of this strictly seasonal offering, right?) and found a quiet bench next to the lake to sit and think. In the background, Frank Sinatra's voice warmed the chilly winter air as the thoughtfully placed speakers started playing "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas." I don't know if it's his voice, or the lyrics, or just the tune itself, but this song (and this version especially) has always been one of my favorite Christmas songs, despite the fact that it leaves me feeling heavy hearted. I get lost in the song, imagining a white, winter scene with twinkling Christmas lights. Silent snow falling in giant starry flakes like you always see in movies.

So I sat there silently looking out onto the dark water, lights glittering and reflecting off its surface, and I thought about all the wonderful Christmases I've had surrounded by family and friends and presents and sparkling ornaments. Yes, I would be lying to you if I said that I didn't miss it. Of course I do. And I wish I had a Christmas tree and a huge Christmas Eve feast at a large, loud and bustling table. But I'll take my quiet Christmas this year. I'll take it and revel in it and spend the time being thankful for all the wonderful gifts I've been given all year long. Soon enough I'll be with two of my best friends, laughing and crying (perhaps at the same time) and talking as if we haven't been apart for six months at all. And tomorrow? Oh don't worry, I have a mini feast planned, though it won't be served on fancy china like it normally is. But along with a good book, some delicious smelling candles, a few Christmas movies, and talking to family and friends. . . Well, I'd say that it's a wonderful life indeed.

Technical difficulties

2009-12-22T01:12:00.000-08:00

My Internet connection suddenly stopped working yesterday morning. Soooo not cool. Especially considering that I have been depending on TVShack for nonstop movie entertainment (especially since I've been sick) and skype dates to keep me feeling close to you all this time of year. It's probably due to the lovely construction that also sporadically leaves my water brown or turned off completely. Let's just hope I can fix this little problem by Christmas.

But for now, my Christmas Wish List:

1. Internet (this wasn't on my original list, but suddenly got rocked to the top).

2. Friends and Family (I will settle for a few days after Christmas as well :).

3. A Christmas feast.

4. Snow.

5. "A Christmas Story" Marathon (hey, I can dream, right?).

6. A new supply of Yogi Tea.

7. My papers from Germany.

And since 7 is my lucky number, I'll stop there. Besides, I can't be too greedy. And just in case I cannot get this Internet problem figured out before Christmas . . . I wish you all a wonderful holiday filled with family and friends and food and love. I'll be thinking of you all!

Merry Christmas!

With love,

Mel

18.12.09

2009-12-18T12:04:00.000-08:00

It snowed even more today. Fat, white flakes came tumbling down most of the morning, covering Montreux with a thin sheet of whiteness. Hello winter! And I wanted to go out running in it with my camera to capture the city in all it's wintery glory, but sadly, I woke up feeling absolutely awful this morning. Like could barely get out of bed and walk to the doctor kind of awful. But shockingly, I made it to the doctor's office just in time for her to assess my sickness and hand over a prescription sheet that was entirely covered. And now that I have a full on pharmacy in my room, I am feeling much better, though some homemade chicken soup and a cup of tea from my pink Beverly Hills Hotel mug would really do the trick.

If all goes well, however, I will be back on my feet and ready for action in two more days. Just in time to catch the snow with my camera--while it lasts that is. But for a quick preview, I will tell you this: it is cold and very white. Can't you just picture it?

New Developments IV

2009-12-16T10:12:00.000-08:00

It snowed today!!! I was doing some grocery shopping in Vevey this morning and stopped at Starbucks for a much needed coffee and reading session. And when I walked out an hour later, tiny white flakes were falling down from the clouds, waving hello to the lunch time crowd gathered around the city center. Snuggling into my huge scarf, I walked around the city, enjoying every bit of the brief wintery teaser. The flakes were so small that they were more like ice, but it was still a lovely surprise. And who knows . . . Maybe I will have a white Christmas!

New love

2009-12-16T09:57:00.000-08:00

That's right. I'm in love. With Greg Laswell and his raspy voice and dreamy lyrics. I first heard his song "The One I Love" in the car with Sam while driving along the rugged, raw California coast heading north. Our hands danced outside the windows as we let ourselves drift into other worlds of thought, trying to imagine what post-grad life would be like. I bought that song on iTunes the moment I got home and it's been racking up the play count since, always reminding me of that perfectly clear road trip day in a car that was so packed full of Sam's college life and our swirling memories that I'm still shocked that we made it to San Francisco in one piece.

And since then, I've been wanting to buy the CD, but being such a tightwad has left me listening to the 30 second teasers on iTunes. But I did it. I finally broke down and bought his album and what an excellent choice it was. I'm slightly obsessed and repeatedly get lost in the delicate guitar strings and depressingly romantic lyrics. Walking lakeside with my iPod, I imagine myself with toes in the wet sand, a morning walk on Mission Beach, coffee mug in hand, thinking and walking and occasionally stopping to stare out at the steady blue line where ocean and sky meet. The snowy mountains aren't such a bad tradeoff, but the nostalgia still creeps in and I find myself missing a lot of things. And although this may seem sad to some, I actually find myself happier after such moments because I have so many wonderful memories to look back on.

Okay, enough sentimental pondering for one post. If you haven't listened to him, I strongly recommend that you check out Greg Laswell, album titled "Three Flights from Alto Nido." Trust me, you won't be disappointed.

The little things

2009-12-13T11:55:00.000-08:00

"Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life. Well, valuable but small. And sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it? Or because I haven't been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I've read in a book when, shouldn't it be the other way around? I don't really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So . . . Good night dear void." --Kathleen Kelly (played by Meg Ryan) in You've Got Mail

* * *

You've Got Mail is one of my favorite movies. Though I'm not exactly sure why I like it so much, but I have a few guesses. . . It reminds me of my mom. It's flooded with talk of books and bookshops. Kathleen Kelly's apartment in the movie is absolutely adorable (I want it I want it I want it!). And finally, both Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks' characters are perfectly endearing, quirky, and just complicated enough. But ultimately, I fall in love with the details in this movie. The "bouquets of sharpened pencils" and quotes like the one written above that make you think differently, which I suppose is what good books and movies should make you do.

And this brings me to a moment I had a couple days ago, while on my evening run lakeside. My endorphins were seriously kicking in and I felt like I was on top of the world, especially after two relaxing and therapeutic days off. I was thinking about how much freedom I have in my life right now. How I can literally do anything I want in my time off, now that I'm no longer a university student (though I will be again in the near future, I promise). All options are open to me and I have total control of my life right now since there is no boyfriend or husband or baby to think about. Nope, just me.

And even though I'm on this great adventure in a new country on a different continent, it shocks me how normal my life still feels. Yes, I have those moments of awe when I cannot believe where I am and the opportunities I have here in front of me. And there is the constant excitement of being able to see something new everyday by simply walking a new street or taking the train to some unexplored city. But my life still feels remarkable small. I live here, in this hotel, in a small room with my suitcases half full of things I have still yet to unpack. Pictures of friends and family decorate my walls and tell the stories of other adventures and places and people. The book stacks I started with have gradually grown taller. And of course, I've accumulated my fair share of nicknacks and odds and ends that will be a pain in the ass to pack when I decide to move again. But that's it. That's my life. The funny thing though? I love it. And because I've downsized so much, I find it easier to see the value in the little things.

Yet, sometimes I still put pressure on myself to squeeze the most out of my time here. As nearly every adult over the age of 35 likes to remind me, life gets a lot more complicated later on. You can't just pick up and leave and travel and make spontaneous decisions like you used to. And maybe that's true. I don't doubt that marriage and kids and money and mortgage payments complicate life. But I think sometimes we forget to take that step back, change our perspective, and appreciate the little things that are there right in front of us. Life never has to become routine if we don't want it to be. Call me naïve if you want, but I hope I stay that way because I really believe that no matter where you are, who you're with, or what you do, there is always someplace new to discover, someone new to meet, or something new and exciting and extraordinary to do. There may be a lot of things about this life that I don't know, and plenty of things that I'll never know. But for now, I'm happy with the little life I've created, roots or not. And if this adventure teaches me anything, I hope it's to never forget the value of each day. Each moment is there for the taking. It's just up to you to decide what to do with it.

Can it be December 28th yet?

2009-12-12T13:53:00.000-08:00

"Missing someone isn't about how long it has been since you've seen them or the amount of time since you've talked. It's about that very moment when you're doing something and wishing they were right there with you." --UNKNOWN (via Carleigh)

I have these kinds of moments all the time, wishing that specific people were there with me to laugh or cry or talk or be silent. And in 17 days and 16 hours, Car and Shan will be here! A part of me will be complete again. Now, if only I could find a way to fly home for the Caroling Party. I would be the happiest person alive. But I'll take what I can get!

And since we always look so good together, here is a quick preview. And fyi: we're way better in action!

Luna llena

2009-12-09T13:29:00.000-08:00

What I didn't mention in my last post was that I almost decided to forgo walking the city of Zürich itself after the Christmas market and take the train back to Montreux right away. I was quickly losing the drive to explore and a nice long bubble bath back in my room sounded much more appealing that walking aimlessly in the freezing cold weather. But thankfully, I'm stubborn and being in the city and not seeing what it had to offer, especially in light of the season, just sounded stupid. So I sucked it up and gave my tired feet the finger.

And it was when I was walking through the maze of streets that make up the beautiful old town that I stopped and mentally thanked myself for being so stubborn. Walking next to one of the city's many churches, I nearly stumbled upon a group of bundled people standing in the middle of the cobblestone street. And when I looked to see what all the commotion was about, I understood. Framed by walls of 15th and 16th century buildings on both sides, an enormous full moon was rising, shining like a spotlight down on the city. I don't think I've ever seen a moon that big. At first, I actually thought it was fake--no joke. It was that impressive, and the rest of the people walking by seemed to think so as well. Tourists and Zürich natives alike stopped to pay gratitude to the moment--whipping out their camera phones to snap some hopeless shots, followed by standing there in silent awe as the luminous ball of light climbed its way up the black sky.

I stayed for about twenty minutes, trying to find anything to put my camera on to get a steady shot. Sadly, I didn't have many options, so handheld it was. But I still got one shot that is an attempt of recreating the moment. One guy I was standing next to actually gave me his email address and asked me to send him the photos. His pocket digital wasn't being too cooperative, so I agreed. It was one of those moments that I will never forget--photo or not--and I can imagine that he wanted to share it with people he knew too.

Oh, and did I mention that this street was lined with Christmas trees draped in white sparkling lights? And that when I walked it later, I discovered that it was used books heaven? There must have been at least five ancient used book stores on this tiny street. It was like my very own Christmas dream come true. Even now when I try to explain the scene to someone, I'm nearly speechless because it was that extraordinary. I only wish that you all could have been with me. Another time perhaps?

And now to share my magical moment, voilà!

Take 1. Blurry, but I still like it.

Can I stay forever? Please??

Take 2. Okay, more like 15 but who's counting.

I played with the color here a tad. I think it looks like a scene out of a 50s Christmas movie or something along those lines. Romantic and vintage: two things I love. Ah, sigh.

Zürich. And my search continues...

2009-12-07T12:43:00.001-08:00

My original plan was this: spend the entire day/night in Bâle, then take the train to Zürich the next morning to walk around the city and revel in Christmas market magic. However, when I was ready to leave Bâle by five o'clock in the afternoon, I figured, why not go to Zürich tonight when I'm only an hour away? Besides, what I really wanted was to be in the cities at night. With all the white lights draped over trees, buildings, houses, streets and little chalets, everything sparkles and you can't help but feel transported into a romantic state of bliss. So that's what I did and even though I was slightly worn out by the time I got to Zürich, it was the best decision I could have made.

The main Christmas market in Zürich (there are several others in the city as well) is actually held in the train station--a novel idea--so the crowdis an eclectic mix of travelers with time to kill, Christmas market connoisseurs like myself, and homeless people who call the station their home. Although the stands were nothing extraordinary in my opinion (it was basically a replica of the Bâle market), the ambiance was irresistibly inviting, so I circled the vendors a few times snapping photos and soaking up the coziness of it all.

Here's a quick taste of the Christkindli Markt, railroad station style:

The grand centerpiece: a Christmas tree draped in Swarovski crystals.

The stands selling paper stars and strings of decorative lights quickly became my favorite for reddish, orange glow they radiate. And that little girl in the foreground? Adorable. She had a big heart shaped cookie hanging from her neck. Luckily it wasn't any bigger or she might have fallen over.

* * *

After the market, I took off in the direction, of, well, I had no idea where I was going. I just followed the people out of the station hoping they would lead me somewhere interesting. And I was right. It took all about five minutes for me to reach the city centre where Christmas was undeniably at the forefront of everyone's mind. Holiday shoppers weighed down by bags, bags and more bags. . . People walking with glüwein cups in hand. . . And the rest of us strolling under streets draped in lights and ornaments. Zürich is a cool city on its own, but in the light of Christmas, I fell in love with it all over again. You'll see why.

I think I walked this street about three times. With white lights dangling down like falling stars suspended in the nearly black sky, how could anyone resist? And not only was there a Starbucks, but an American Apparel store! I went in (obviously) and felt like I was back in San Diego again--though this time without my crew of highly trained shopping professionals. I tried on a few things and thought about buying something until I was so scared off by the prices (thank you import taxes) that I left promising never to return for the sake of my wallet.

City lights glowing over the River Limmat.

And finally, the "Singing Tree," a longstanding tradition in Zürich where a group of children sit singing traditional carols to the crowds of people who come to watch and listen. With the full moon rising in the background, the night could not have ended more beautifully. Well, unless there had been a fireworks show, but I'll take what I can get.

New Developments III

2009-12-07T12:06:00.000-08:00

1. Work. If you're wondering why I haven't written about work lately, it's simply because there's not much to say. The number of us still working is seriously dwindling--only five left in the restaurant and significantly less in the kitchen as well--but that has allowed me to get to know my co-workers better, so it hasn't been such a bad thing (not to mention the fact that with more time to spare, the cooks are always giving me samples of new dishes or foods I haven't tried--a perk that I do not find in the least bit bothersome).

And since the breakfast manager left on pregnancy leave about a month ago, I have been put in charge of the breakfast alongside Christianne. So essentially I work from 6am to 3pm every day. Not a bad schedule at all and I get to work during the busiest parts of the day, which obviously provides more entertainment. Still though, business is really slow on account of the work going on in and around the hotel. Just to give you an idea. . . On a normal day in September, we were serving anywhere from 60 to 120 people for the breakfast. A couple days ago, it was ten. Yeah. Okay, so maybe that was an exception, but still, you get the idea.

2. Friends/Social life. My newest friend is Gilles, a 18-year-old from Switzerland who works in the kitchen. He is my teddy bear. And he kind of looks like one too. He is a BIG kid--a rugby player actually--and I've taken to thinking of him as a simultaneous bodyguard.

The other night a group of us (service and kitchen personnel) went to the Black Pearl, the one and only club in Montreux. It was fun and I danced so much that my legs are sore today--two days later. And this is slightly embarrassing, but I honestly forgot what a serious hangover feels like. However thanks to my friends vodka, vodka, and more vodka (not that it takes me much to get tipsy anyways), I was in good shape--or not, depending on your perspective. I will also say that yesterday morning was not pleasant. AT ALL. Two hours of sleep after a night of drinking is not what I'd call smart. But hey, I've been too responsible lately, so I figured why not take a couple steps back?? Ha, I joke I joke. It was a great night, but more than anything, it made me miss my San Diego crew. No matter how hard I tried, dancing without the girls to old pop songs was a lost cause. And now for my quiet moment of nostalgia...

3. The Christmas Market. Vin chaud has replaced my almost-daily coffees. I can't think of a better way to spend 4.50 Swiss Francs.

4. Vacation. I officially have the entire month of February off. And maybe March (I may try to pull some strings with the management :). What do I plan to do? As of now, I hope to be in Prague with my aunt and cousin. Maybe an internship or volunteer position or something of the like. There are plenty of options. And in April, Omi's birthday. And after? I'm not sure about that yet. I suppose you could say that I'm taking my life one month at a time right now, since anything more would be unrealistic considering my current visa/passport situation. But that's top secret info. Hmmm. . . If anyone has high powered friends in Germany, let me know, please? Thanks!

5. Visitors. In exactly 20 days and 18 hours, I will have not one but TWO of the most wonderful people I know here with me. But really, who's counting? Shan and Car, I CANNOT WAIT TO SEE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And our New Year's with Nat and Heather is going to be epic. I am so excited that I barely know what to do with myself, but I suppose the anticipation is one of the best parts. Okay, I lie. You girls can just get here already!

That's all for now, but with two days off coming up on Wednesday and Thursday, I'm sure that I'll come up with something new to write about. Although, I'm warning you. . . It may involve more vin chaud and Christmas cheer. Hope you don't mind.

Bâle. And my search for the perfect Christmas market begins.

2009-12-07T10:10:00.000-08:00

It's official. I love Christmas markets. Like if I could, I would go to a new one every day even if it meant looking at the same 20 stands over and over again. There's something just so cozy about walking around the little wooden chalets (built for the individual vendors) with a steaming cup of vin chaud keeping my hands toasty warm. Whether or not browsing turns to buying, the ambiance of the European Christmas Market is unlike anything in the states. Okay, maybe I have fallen under the spell of holiday cheer and am intoxicated by the smell of freshly baked pain d'epices (spiced bread), pretzels, and macaroons, but who can blame me?

So my love for Christmas markets ("Christkindlmarkt" in German) took me to Bâle (also called Basel in German) last week on my day off. Reading up online, I found that Bâle, a city mostly known for banking and commerce, boasts the biggest Christmas market in Switzerland. Over 120 stands all dedicated to Christmas shopping, food, and plenty, plenty of drink. And being three hours away by train, I figured, why not take a little day trip to a new city?

I found it to be charming enough, especially the old town. While walking around the winding streets that quickly warp anyone's sense of direction, I actually saw a building dating back to 1322. 1322! I couldn't believe it, especially since it just looked to be someone's residence. I can just hear it now. . . "Yeah, come on over! My house is the one with the nice 700-year-old brickwork around the door. And the hand carved design around the arched windows."

And how about the Christmas market? you ask. It was nice enough, and the people watching was top notch, but I personally prefer the market in Montreux. The market in Bâle actually felt smaller because all the stands were closer together and there was much less a variety in vendors. However, one thing that Bâle had that Montreux is seriously lacking? Vin chaud with amaretto. So freakin good and the best way to warm up on a chilly December day.

So then, here are some photos from my walking tour of the city. No Christmas market photos are included since the light of day severely lessens the magic of the place. So for now, you'll just have to use your imagination. Think white lights, Christmas trees so decorated that they look as if they will fall over, and mini wooden houses draped in fake snow and tinsel. And Christmas music--lots of American Christmas music. Just as it should be.

Doesn't this window just have "fairytale" written all over it? If Rapunzel were ever made into a feature length film, I vote that they replicate this exact window. I don't think it could be more perfect!

Münster, the 13th century Gothic cathedral that sits at the edge of the old town, overlooking the Rhine River. Pictured are the red cloisters near the back of the cathedral.

Climbing to the top of the cathedral towers. It was intense. And definitely not designed for anyone over 200 pounds.

View from the cathedral towers where you can see France and the Black Forest in Germany to the left and right.

2009-12-03T14:25:00.000-08:00

"Don't ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive." --HOWARD THURMAN

Tween bikes. They're kind of my thing.

2009-12-03T10:42:00.001-08:00

Over a month ago, my coworker Christiane offered to let me borrow her daughter's bike while I'm here and I was ecstatic. A bike was the last thing I needed to complete this cozy little life I've adopted in Montreux, and here I would be getting one FOR FREE!

One morning after work, Christiane brought the bike in her station wagon and when I finished my shift at 11am, I helped her unload it from her car so that I could wheel it into the hotel. She had mentioned that her daughter was shorter than me, but whatever, as far as I was concerned, a bike was a bike and that would mean that I had wheels and freedom. Turns out though, the bike is pretty small. Like 12-year-old girl small. However, this only seemed appropriate considering the seafoam green beach cruiser I left behind in San Diego. A tweeny bike named "Daisy," my San Diego ride was a dream for any pre-adolescent girl, and I was the lucky 21-year-old who claimed her. I still remember the first time I rode my old bike down the boardwalk from La Jolla. I had to stop to let some people cross my path and right their coming toward me was Daisy's twin sister, though mounted by a ten-year-old girl wearing pigtails and sporting ruffles on her swim suit. Needless to say, my new bike fits me (metaphorically speaking of course) very well.

So on one of my days off last week, I took Sparkle (temporary name for my new, borrowed mountain bike) on a ride lakeside to the national park in Villeneuve, the next town over. It was a gorgeously sunny day and Sparkle was, well, I think you can guess. We cruised along the Rhone River and through farmland until my butt couldn't handle the seat any longer. Biking was a refreshing change of pace from hiking or running or walking. The cold wind chilling my face, the sound of gearing shifting, and ahhhhh, the option of speed! It was lovely. Not to mention the park itself, which served as the perfect getaway for nature lovers like myself. It was no Glacier National Park, but it still had its charms. Just take a look for yourself!

The beginning of the trail. That's Sparkle on the left. A beaut, isn't she?

My picnic spot looking back at the mountains in Valais.

Just a little port I came across where I watched an old man work on his boat for nearly twenty minutes.

My next project: find a good cushioned seat cover that will save me from future bike pain. The ride back was, hmmm, I'll just say that I had to stop and walk every ten minutes because my butt couldn't handle it anymore. But hey, at least it was a beautiful day! And my butt only hurt for about five days straight afterwards. How does the saying go? "Pain is beauty" or "Beauty is pain" or something like that. Ha, yup. Either way, that it is.

Lights out, camera on!

2009-11-30T13:09:00.000-08:00

For a couple nights last week, the fog decided to invade Montreux right as the sun fell discreetly behind the mountains. And while I was out for a run one night after dark, I was kicking myself for not taking my camera with me--not that jogging with my camera hanging over my shoulder would be the smartest idea anyway. Well, lucky for me, the fog came back again, so along with my trusty Nikon companion, I went trekking in hopes of learning some new photo skills. Shooting at night: not the easiest task, though a slow shutter speed can have some really cool effects on the images taken.

So I went back to some spots that I mentally marked, set up my tripod, and took photo after photo while trying to keep my fingers from going numb. The good news is that I think I only freaked a couple people out with my camera and seemingly strange photo shoot spots. But along with my snowy white ski hat and pink fleece, I really couldn't have look that threatening.

Well then, here are some of my favorite shots from my evening walk. My next goal? Tackle a busy street so I can get streaks of light in both directions. Add some heavy fog and boom, you have the perfect setting for your next horror movie. Ooo! Or maybe I'll try a cemetery, you know, going for an Edgar Allan Poe effect. Ah, just so many options!

Date night

2009-11-26T03:53:00.000-08:00

That's right. I went on a date last night. With whom? you ask. Myself. Ha! Yes, ladies and gents. I took myself out on a date to the grand opera house in Lausanne. The national Ukrainian ballet company was coming through for two nights only, and since I am a self-proclaimed ballet/classical music junkie, I could not pass up the opportunity. So, I got all dressed up to see Le Lac des Cynes also known as "Swan Lake". Tchaikocsky has been one of my favorite composers since I can remember (thank you Mom and Dad, The Nutcracker, and Mr. Gala), and "Swan Lake", one of my favorite pieces.

Needless to say, it was incredible. And I splurged on the seat, so I could not have been happier--especially since there was no giant 6'7'' man sitting in front of me. Sometimes I love the fact that everything in Europe--including the people--is smaller here. And the ballet? Well, the music is still playing through my head on repeat, along with twirling and leaping ballerinas dressed in glittering winter white tutus. Under the lights of the stage, the dancers looked luminous, like the surface of a lake under a full moon. It was truly magical and I felt like I was floating when I walked out of the theatre.

So, in celebration of Thanksgiving and my lovely night out, I'm including a short list of--appropriately--what I am thankful for this year. And in traditional fashion, if you'd like to share your list, don't hesitate to leave a comment below!

I am thankful for...

1. Friends and family. Always and forever number one. Miss you all like you wouldn't believe.

2. My adventure. Without even realizing it, I needed this time here and I am so thankful to have been given the opportunity to take this trip. And work of course :).

3. Internet. Because without it, oh I can't even think about it. Let's just say that I would be VERY homesick.

4. The patience of those I work with. Without them or their understanding, I would have no chance of ever learning this language--which I actually feel that I'm getting a grasp on!

5. College, and more specifically, USD. Four years ago, I would have laughed at the though of actually LOVING my college experience. But the time I had in San Diego prepared me for more than I ever imagined. And most importantly, I met some of the best people I know there. You know who you are.

I could go on and on about food, shelter, health and all those other things that I take for granted every day. So instead I will say that I am thankful for this life and the people I know in it. You all mean more to me that you could ever know. Sending all my love to you and wishing you the best Thanksgiving yet. Just remember, take a few extra bites in my honor. That way, figuratively at least, I was there with each and every one of you!

Peace, love, good health, turkey and pumpkin pie,

Mel

Twinkle lights, tinsel, and rosy cheeks . . . It must be Christmas!

2009-11-24T11:33:00.009-08:00

I know that it still may be early to talk Christmas for those of you who are just about to gather around the family dinner table for turkey and cornbread stuffing and pumpkin pie. But since I won't be taking part in the traditional Thanksgiving meal this year (unless of course someone wants to airmail me a Thanksgiving feast by Thursday, which I in no way would object to), I believe I have a special right to start my Christmas season just a tad bit earlier. And with the help of the city of Montreux, this should be no problem at all. Christmas lights have been dangling over streets for about two weeks now, and almost every store window has an array of all things red, green, and gold to further convince everyone that the holiday season is indeed here.

I, personally, have no problem with this whatsoever because it all just gives me an excuse to start listening to Christmas music a few days earlier. And since this is the first frosty and bundled Christmas season I've had in four years--a little different than sunny San Diego, I'd say--I'm loving every moment of the pre-Christmas spirit in the chilly air and on the decked out streets.

This evening, while I was out strolling lakeside on the way back from the market, I inevitably walked through the beginnings of le Marché de Noel (Christmas Market) that begins this Thursday--perfectly enough on Thanksgiving day. Right now, the market is more like a skeleton of what it will be, but even that was fun to see. There is an entire Christmas village complete with Santa's Workshop and a BIG ferris wheel--so not what I expected considering that nearly everything is substantially smaller here. Most of the market is blocked off right now anyway, but I walked by many of the little wooden chalets that line the main street of town and on the opposite side up against the lake where vendors were decorating with tinsel, rich colored fabrics, pine cones, snowflakes, lights, wrapping paper and anything else shiny and glittery that screams, "Come and see how much Christmas spirit I have! Look! My tinsel is shimmers more than hers!!!"

And all of this under the spell of hot wine, warm Christmas sweets, and twinkling lights? It's a Christmas lover's paradise! And maybe by the time Christmas actually does arrive, I'll have made friends with some vendors, picking up my free cup of steaming hot wine after work every afternoon. Hey, a girl can dream, right?

And just because I like sharing, here are some happy Christmas photos to get you in the spirit too!

Thursday fruits and veggies market in Aix-en-Provence at Christmas time.

Canopy of lights at le Marché de Noel on the Cours Mirabeau in Aix-en-Provence where we frequented the vin chaud (hot wine) stand almost everyday.

The annual Grimsley Christmas Party and the loves of my life in traditional caroling attire (a.k.a. every item of clothing you brought and a bottle of peppermint schnapps in each pocket for warmth).

Spotted

2009-11-23T11:26:00.000-08:00

Just having walked through the door from my evening run--my heart beating rapidly still-- I immediately sat down at my desk to share my most recent discovery with you.

I have a usual route that I take when I go running, though it changes slightly on occasion, taking a new staircase here or following some barely lit path to see where it ends up. Tonight, I was running along the train tracks when I passed a building on my right that stood slightly lower than the platform so I had a near bird's eye view of what was going on inside. Upon first glance, I saw referees in purple track suits with black whistles dangling from their necks and hands posed seriously on their hips while they focused intently on what was in front of them. So I figured, "Oh cute! It's a tiny indoor football (soccer) field where little kids play at night!" But when I stopped for a moment to get a better look, I realized that this was no little children's football league with juice boxes and oranges and trophies. No, instead of a baby soccer field, there were--from what I could see--three ping pong tables set up. And scattered on both sides of the tables were men over the age of 70 dressed in sunny sky blue polo shirts holding their paddles with confidence and staring intensely at their opponents over the five-inch net. "Gee whiz!" was all that kept running through my mind. I watched them play for a minute or two, checking out their moves and tricks with the tiny white ball. Not bad, guys. Not bad at all.

I'm just bummed that I'm not old enough to take part. Hmmm . . . Maybe I'll ask JP if he knows anything about this league. Perhaps he can persuade his peers to allow a 22-year-old to come play once or twice. I'll even offer to bring juice boxes and oranges and trophies if they let me in on the gig! But only if I get a shirt. Besides, I think that color blue would really bring out the color of my eyes.

A concert for one

2009-11-22T07:48:00.000-08:00

Sundays in the hotel restaurant are usually pretty slow. Okay, let me rephrase that. They are painfully slow. Nearly all the hotel guests want to sleep in as late as possible and arrive for breakfast at 10am (the same time we usually start taking down the buffet)--though I don't blame them. If I had the option of staying in bed past 5:45 am, you could find me still wrapped in a cocoon of the feathery goodness that is my duvet, reading a book and sipping my second cup of coffee. But instead, Christiane and I take some chairs from the tables and sit upstairs chatting and reading while we periodically check our watches and wait. . . and wait . . . and wait.

After all chores are finished and we are clean and prepped for lunch, we move the party to the downstairs part of the restaurant and continue playing the waiting game there. And today while I was searching for something to do other than counting cracks on the floor or staring out the window and daydreaming about waves and sand and the dance floor at Comber, I made my way to the kitchen to polish silverware. Exhilarating, yes indeed.

The kitchen staff was still downstairs loitering on their third and fourth cigarettes, so the clanking of pots and pans, exchanging of vulgar jokes, and blaring hip hop music were not echoing off the white tiled walls like most days. Today there was almost an eerie calm in the air, as if anticipating the noise and chaos that would later ensue.

And that's when I heard the music. Piano notes sprung into the air and eagerly danced in through the side door that connects to le Grand Salle--the largest seminar room reserved for weddings and banquets and other elegant events. If there ever was a remake of "Beauty and the Beast," this room would be the perfect setting. Huge crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling that is artfully carved with swirls and painted with warm, creamy colors and gold.

I put down the knives and spoons I was holding and let the notes lure me in like sirens. At the far end of the room just against the windows that open to face the now charcoal-colored lake and sky was a grand black piano. The man playing sat alone in the nearly dark room, the only light coming from the cloud covered sky outside. As I listened to him play, I pictured his hands, fingers gliding across the keys patiently but with purpose and necessity, the silences and piano notes twisting around one another like professional ballroom dancers twirling in midair, their bodies indistinguishable but their harmony unmistakable.

He continued playing and I continued standing there, letting the music take me away to some far off place where the kitchen and hotel and thought of work was a distant and forgotten memory. And when the dance finally ended, the golden notes still lingered in my veins like tiny glowing fires keeping me warm for the rest of the day.

I went back to polishing forks and knives and spoons amidst the harsher sounds of the kitchen, but not without feeling a little lighter. Maybe it was not the most exciting or interesting of work days, no crazy clients or dropped plates, no new friends 50 years older than me or strange requests. But there was still something there to make it, hmmm . . . what's the word? Enchanting. And that it undoubtedly was.