what a weekend. serious soul-searching and so many new loves. so many past ones. so many loves transitioning from present to past. change.
I told a boy who I like that I have a crush on him tonight. yes, I put it out there, and it was, woo, like living, and guess what--it turned out pretty. he has a crush on me back--as lovely Ashleigh says: I'm living my truth.
and that I am, friends, though I muddle through quite a bit of un-truth in the process, working at finding that shining love in the middle.
anyway, NYC in September is quite eye-opening. I feel exactly the same this time as I did when I decided to go: that it is too much, that it clouds my thoughts. I love this place and it, like the vine that I can't get to stop coming through my fence and into my yard, is wrapped around my insides. and it always will be. but, i just can't do it right now. I want to be where I am right now, with my angel trumpets in my little bungalow in Houston. hurrah!
nyc, I loves you. and I love those who inspire me daily to find that which is true and beautiful.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
hair dryer warranties
I almost couldn't hold my hairdryer tonight because it was vibrating so much--it was seriously on its last legs. I got a new one.
As I slowly replace the things from my former life--and I call it that in my head--I find it easier to stop gripping the past. Sort of. It's like all this stuff that I miss is jumbled up and I can't really figure out what it is I miss the most, and really, do I miss it at all? Or is it just that now I have time to miss it, space mentally to think, is this all there is?
I was on facebook tonight, confirming some friend requests, and I longed for being in the city again, why, I don't know. I had a great dinner with some great girls tonight, and I really enjoyed the conversation. I got to drive home to MY house, and snuggle in my bed, but somehow, I still miss New York. Or...is it that I miss the sense that something great, something exciting, is just around the corner? In some sense, this is true--you might run into Dr. Ruth in that play in the little West Village theatre and tell her that you are her marketing manager on her human sexuality book (people other than Katie: yes, this really happened). But in another sense, you spend a lot of time anticipating in New York. Yes, just anticipating. Something. Great. Where is it?
And in the meantime: life happens. Shit, I don't know. Maybe it was great, and maybe I just wasn't ready then to be in it, in NYC. Maybe I can go back. I dont' know. I don't know. I do know that I am just sort of dealing with life right now. I sprained both of my ankles in about 8-9 weeks. And I asked a yoga teacher what she thought might be out of balance, and in her little book, she found something to the effect of: I am not able to experience pleasure in my life. Which is quite a revelation for a couple of reasons:
1. a couple of years ago, I would have almost called myself a minor hedonist.
2. shit! she's right! I've been working working working!
Do I need to get laid? Or just lighten the f**k up? I don't know. I do know that I am basically broke and still need to get my financial shit together. So I will do that and work and then re-assess. But I do think I am a city girl, like a walking, talking, interacting with people city girl. I may move somewhere crazy next, though, like f'ing Warsaw. Who knows.
And where the hell is Xander? He sent me a birthday card and now he's fallen off the face of the planet again. I would like to say I don't care, but I feel so lacking in closure that I do care, dammit, and it's so weird to have gotten on a plane after a blow-out fight and never have come to terms with it all. Did i really go to Europe last year? Did I have a relationship with a Dutch special forces NCO? Did it go south pretty quickly? did he stop speaking to me in the evenings when he came home? did I run the same route three times a week around the horse pasture and over the little waterways? How about watching the BBC home shows everyday after Xander went to work? Did that happen too? What about shopping in the grocery store with my little shopping list, translated into Dutch and into metric. did he play his f'ing video game every Saturday morning for three hours while I smoldered and wanted to scream because I had nowhere to go besides that f'ing running route and the strange grocery store where I couldn't get some screaming chocolate chip cookies? and did he really shut me out like I wasn't there? did he? he did. All of that happened. so why can I not move the fuck on?
Iyengar says that feelings only become emotions when we dwell on them and let them become emotions. That feelings pass-we simply hold onto them too long and then they become emotions. I am trying really hard to let go, to let it pass. And I'm making progress! I am.
In the meantime, I will throw out my old hairdryer.
As I slowly replace the things from my former life--and I call it that in my head--I find it easier to stop gripping the past. Sort of. It's like all this stuff that I miss is jumbled up and I can't really figure out what it is I miss the most, and really, do I miss it at all? Or is it just that now I have time to miss it, space mentally to think, is this all there is?
I was on facebook tonight, confirming some friend requests, and I longed for being in the city again, why, I don't know. I had a great dinner with some great girls tonight, and I really enjoyed the conversation. I got to drive home to MY house, and snuggle in my bed, but somehow, I still miss New York. Or...is it that I miss the sense that something great, something exciting, is just around the corner? In some sense, this is true--you might run into Dr. Ruth in that play in the little West Village theatre and tell her that you are her marketing manager on her human sexuality book (people other than Katie: yes, this really happened). But in another sense, you spend a lot of time anticipating in New York. Yes, just anticipating. Something. Great. Where is it?
And in the meantime: life happens. Shit, I don't know. Maybe it was great, and maybe I just wasn't ready then to be in it, in NYC. Maybe I can go back. I dont' know. I don't know. I do know that I am just sort of dealing with life right now. I sprained both of my ankles in about 8-9 weeks. And I asked a yoga teacher what she thought might be out of balance, and in her little book, she found something to the effect of: I am not able to experience pleasure in my life. Which is quite a revelation for a couple of reasons:
1. a couple of years ago, I would have almost called myself a minor hedonist.
2. shit! she's right! I've been working working working!
Do I need to get laid? Or just lighten the f**k up? I don't know. I do know that I am basically broke and still need to get my financial shit together. So I will do that and work and then re-assess. But I do think I am a city girl, like a walking, talking, interacting with people city girl. I may move somewhere crazy next, though, like f'ing Warsaw. Who knows.
And where the hell is Xander? He sent me a birthday card and now he's fallen off the face of the planet again. I would like to say I don't care, but I feel so lacking in closure that I do care, dammit, and it's so weird to have gotten on a plane after a blow-out fight and never have come to terms with it all. Did i really go to Europe last year? Did I have a relationship with a Dutch special forces NCO? Did it go south pretty quickly? did he stop speaking to me in the evenings when he came home? did I run the same route three times a week around the horse pasture and over the little waterways? How about watching the BBC home shows everyday after Xander went to work? Did that happen too? What about shopping in the grocery store with my little shopping list, translated into Dutch and into metric. did he play his f'ing video game every Saturday morning for three hours while I smoldered and wanted to scream because I had nowhere to go besides that f'ing running route and the strange grocery store where I couldn't get some screaming chocolate chip cookies? and did he really shut me out like I wasn't there? did he? he did. All of that happened. so why can I not move the fuck on?
Iyengar says that feelings only become emotions when we dwell on them and let them become emotions. That feelings pass-we simply hold onto them too long and then they become emotions. I am trying really hard to let go, to let it pass. And I'm making progress! I am.
In the meantime, I will throw out my old hairdryer.
Monday, April 28, 2008
another day of
feeling ungrounded. the usual stuff, but today it's probably due in no small part to an evening of "bellinis" at Berryhill, which is their name for some frozen concoction of peach and vodka. This joint is crazy on Sunday afternoons, complete debauchery. And I blame it all on Albert, who dragged me there.
anyway, regardless of hangover/lack of man in my life to cuddle, I am buoyed by my gorgeous angel trumpet trees, which are in bloom again. And in the evening they smell divine. Divine! I love these trees so much that I had to take some photos! Enjoy...
anyway, regardless of hangover/lack of man in my life to cuddle, I am buoyed by my gorgeous angel trumpet trees, which are in bloom again. And in the evening they smell divine. Divine! I love these trees so much that I had to take some photos! Enjoy...
Saturday, April 26, 2008
now that enough time has passed
I can say: when I broke it off with Eddie (for the second time), many of you know that he took back the "gift" he bought me for my birthday. I suppose it was a conditional "gift", that I could only have if we were dating. He even took it (the hammock!) back by trespassing onto my property in the middle of the night WHILE I WAS SLEEPING. I think perhaps this was the most insane breakup story I've had yet. So, I don't have a hammock, but I do have an Eddie-free life, which I think is best in the end.
So, Eddie. I had a rough day at work yesterday and was looking forward to some yoga. I went to Joy Yoga here in H-town, and damned if I didn't see his bloody SUV in the parking lot. I still think, no, he's only into Ashtanga, why would he stoop to this level? And I climb the stairs, see him in line to get into the studio, and I have never turned on my heel so quickly in my life. So swift was my decision NOT to interact with him again!!! What the f, man? He's invading my yoga space, too! And I have no hammock! Lisa decided that he is likely dating someone who goes to Joy, and I think that is a good assumption. Man, he moves quickly. Well, good for him. I shall just have to be on the lookout.
Another Eddie-related event was when I went to Joshua Tree National Park. I don't think I ever posted photos from that trip, so here are a couple...
There you have it.
So am going through the New to a City and Feeling a Little Lonely vibe. I know it's silly, and I have everything I need inside of me, etc etc. and I'm a yogi so I should know better, but...it's always a challenge. Tonight was walking into grocery store and a car drove by with a crying baby in back. That alone should reassure me that my life ROCKS.
Made a delicious concoction tonight of condensed milk and spices, can't wait to put it in some tea tomorrow AM and read the Times on my porch...yum yum.
So, Eddie. I had a rough day at work yesterday and was looking forward to some yoga. I went to Joy Yoga here in H-town, and damned if I didn't see his bloody SUV in the parking lot. I still think, no, he's only into Ashtanga, why would he stoop to this level? And I climb the stairs, see him in line to get into the studio, and I have never turned on my heel so quickly in my life. So swift was my decision NOT to interact with him again!!! What the f, man? He's invading my yoga space, too! And I have no hammock! Lisa decided that he is likely dating someone who goes to Joy, and I think that is a good assumption. Man, he moves quickly. Well, good for him. I shall just have to be on the lookout.
Another Eddie-related event was when I went to Joshua Tree National Park. I don't think I ever posted photos from that trip, so here are a couple...
There you have it.
So am going through the New to a City and Feeling a Little Lonely vibe. I know it's silly, and I have everything I need inside of me, etc etc. and I'm a yogi so I should know better, but...it's always a challenge. Tonight was walking into grocery store and a car drove by with a crying baby in back. That alone should reassure me that my life ROCKS.
Made a delicious concoction tonight of condensed milk and spices, can't wait to put it in some tea tomorrow AM and read the Times on my porch...yum yum.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
warmth
got back from more ridiculous travels this week--Pittsburgh/NYC/Atlanta. My friends Greta (we met in Chicago and now she lives in Ft. Worth) and Michelle (still lives in Chicago) came to town on Friday evening, and we spent the weekend together. It was a blast...Friday night at El Tiempo with the gang, then to a (terrible) bar named Kobain (yes, like Kurt, but bastardized) around the corner...where a 24-year-old heir to the Zatarain dirty rice empire and I chatted it up (a friend of Nick's). Michelle is a whiz with the inflatable mattress. Without her, and after the margaritas, we would have been sharing a bed.
The next day was a lot of chatting on the porch and then lunch at Onion Creek, after which we headed to the International Fest. It was almost hot. Ok, it was hot. And there was a stand selling deep-fried pizza. Really. There was. The highlight of the festival was the Hare Krishnas chanting and playing their drums. They were quite amazing! They say that just hearing the mantra uplifts you, and I truly believe it did.
A glass of wine on the patio at Benjy's, gazing over the razed lot next door toward the Walgreen's--lovely. Then home to gaze at that hot guy's bod in Little Children. Phew! Dinner at Dolce Vita with Zeke (birthday boy!), Karen, their friend Jennifer. Very delicious, and great company--and we extended it by going across the street to So Vino for some more wine (like we needed it) and some s'mores, sterno cans and all.
Today, more chatting, and breakfast at Brasil before taking Michelle to the airport. I have to say, it's a bit lonely and quiet around here without the girls! They were so cute, and we never ran out of anything to talk about! We talked everything into the ground...
And houston...it is becoming more like home every day. And it's so good to be home and not leaving town this week. I feel good. Really good--and it's all because I am making good decisions for myself. There are some things that still need to be sorted out, but I am on the right track! yeah!!
The next day was a lot of chatting on the porch and then lunch at Onion Creek, after which we headed to the International Fest. It was almost hot. Ok, it was hot. And there was a stand selling deep-fried pizza. Really. There was. The highlight of the festival was the Hare Krishnas chanting and playing their drums. They were quite amazing! They say that just hearing the mantra uplifts you, and I truly believe it did.
A glass of wine on the patio at Benjy's, gazing over the razed lot next door toward the Walgreen's--lovely. Then home to gaze at that hot guy's bod in Little Children. Phew! Dinner at Dolce Vita with Zeke (birthday boy!), Karen, their friend Jennifer. Very delicious, and great company--and we extended it by going across the street to So Vino for some more wine (like we needed it) and some s'mores, sterno cans and all.
Today, more chatting, and breakfast at Brasil before taking Michelle to the airport. I have to say, it's a bit lonely and quiet around here without the girls! They were so cute, and we never ran out of anything to talk about! We talked everything into the ground...
And houston...it is becoming more like home every day. And it's so good to be home and not leaving town this week. I feel good. Really good--and it's all because I am making good decisions for myself. There are some things that still need to be sorted out, but I am on the right track! yeah!!
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
nasty travel stories
forgot to say that en route to Georgetown U last week in a cab, the cabbie was clipping his fingernails AS WE DROVE. Nasty.
anyway, am in Pittsburgh airport now waiting to head to Newark airport (delayed, of course). my eyeballs have that dry feeling they always have in the afternoon, and even more so when I travel. I actually enjoyed visiting the U of Pittsburgh and Carnegie Mellon U, it was nice to walk around and be in a very urban campus environment. Dinner at PF Changs last night, but hey, they have tofu. Had to switch rooms at the Marriott Courtyard b/c my handicapped room smelled like urine. I'm not kidding. Perhaps my senses are heightened because I travel too much, but hey, that's also nasty.
anyway, am in Pittsburgh airport now waiting to head to Newark airport (delayed, of course). my eyeballs have that dry feeling they always have in the afternoon, and even more so when I travel. I actually enjoyed visiting the U of Pittsburgh and Carnegie Mellon U, it was nice to walk around and be in a very urban campus environment. Dinner at PF Changs last night, but hey, they have tofu. Had to switch rooms at the Marriott Courtyard b/c my handicapped room smelled like urine. I'm not kidding. Perhaps my senses are heightened because I travel too much, but hey, that's also nasty.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
kansas city
ok, let's do the itinerary of cities since, say, last Thursday:
Houston, TX
Santa Monica, CA
Laguna Beach, CA
Houston, TX (for 9 hours, I'm not kidding)
Chicago, IL
Washington, DC
Kansas City, MO
And here I am in Kansas City. In my 3rd Marriott hotel of the week. Treated myself to an infiniti at the enterprise counter, and a GPS unit. I know how to live!!
Presenting the same thing 6 times tomorrow. Also not kidding about this. I hope I shall know my name after I am finished.
Will post some photos from California soon. Went for Jason and Susie's wedding...which gave me hope that two people can truly find love today. I was beginning to wonder...but was okay with that, too. I think?
Houston, TX
Santa Monica, CA
Laguna Beach, CA
Houston, TX (for 9 hours, I'm not kidding)
Chicago, IL
Washington, DC
Kansas City, MO
And here I am in Kansas City. In my 3rd Marriott hotel of the week. Treated myself to an infiniti at the enterprise counter, and a GPS unit. I know how to live!!
Presenting the same thing 6 times tomorrow. Also not kidding about this. I hope I shall know my name after I am finished.
Will post some photos from California soon. Went for Jason and Susie's wedding...which gave me hope that two people can truly find love today. I was beginning to wonder...but was okay with that, too. I think?
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
P.S.
I was just skimming over some entries from Europe, and damned if I didn't ignore what was happening with Xander!!! Good God! I think I'm going to have to go back and put a little commentary in on what was happening so that I can remember before it's gone and all I have to read is the bullshit "good" stuff. somebody remind me to do that. Annoushka?
reflecting
So my 33rd birthday is tomorrow...
!!!
What the hell?
You know what feels the absolute f'ing best? That this time last year I was crossing the days I had to work at McGraw-Hill and live in my situation (meaning, now I look back, in NYC...how I didn't know it was so bad for me...) OFF A CALENDAR. I was COUNTING THEM DOWN!! How sad, and how not living in the moment. I was doing my mantra sadhana to Ganesh, the great remover of obstacles, just hoping the little elephant god could help me out. If it was Ganesh or not, things sure did get moved out of my way--maybe by me, maybe not.
I also got this email this week from a company in Barcelona that rents out apartments, both short-term and long-term, in the Born area there. It was so strange to be looking on their site and I was taken--whoosh!--right back to sitting on my bed at 107 Christopher (Gawd, writing that was weird, too...), cross-legged, travel books spread around me, while Ann and Matt watched TV in the living room. Planning like a mad woman because that's what I had to do to get out of the present moment! Bad! Bad!
So, now I'm not counting my days away--I'm living them. It's like a slow reawakening, I mean I go through days when I am lonely, and I long for the deafening roar of Manhattan that drowns out any thought of your own, certainly at the very least any thought of loneliness. I think that's the hardest thing about leaving the city, you really have to face yourself. Helloooo, Sarah. You are a weirdo.
It's funny, you know, I seem to really be processing my yoga teachings so much better here. Or paying more attention? Maybe that's part of the quiet thing--you have the space.
Speaking of yoga...that's another thing that was happening this time last year. I was in yoga school...aka love school by those of us lucky enough to have been involved. It was the beginning of the unfurling of that famous, elusive heart chakra of mine, that I am still working on. Yoga, yoga--what would I be doing now without it? Shoot, certainly not sitting on my OWN couch in my OWN craftsman bungalow, listening to my girl Ms. Erykah Badu tellin' it like it is.
Erykah. Another thing that brings me back to earth. I love me some Erykah. Baduizm is my album. That woman is amazing.
I am drifting astray as I wait for my little yellow kettle to whistle. I feel like I'm supposed to say something profound as I head into my 33rd year in this body. Let's just say that things are much, much better for me now than they were last year. I had great friends, and still do, but I was just
there goes the kettle
where was I? oh, I was lost and looking for some guidance. Externally I think. Well, shoot, I know now that it's all inside of me. It ain't in these places, which I previously suspected it might be:
1. Holland
2. 2nd Floor Bloomingdales (Lex location, not SoHo--CERTAINLY not there)
3. Men's pants
4. Burritoville (holla, friends at Bleecker St. location! I'll pour a little tea out in memory of the holy mole with refried beans, tofu sour cream, and a whole wheat tortilla)
5. At the bottom of my glass of Malbec
6. On the menu at 'intoteca (though, damn, their cheese plate is amazing!!)
Katie Stevens, I know you will take issue with point number two. Annoushka, you might take issue with point #3, though as of late, you may agree with me. Ann Varanakis, you may take issue with number 4, and just about everyone I know will take issue with #5. None of you will disagree with #1. And I think a good portion of you will have to go to 'inoteca tomorrow night to prove me wrong on point #6.
That's the wisdom for the week. A long-ass entry.
For those of you who are wondering about the table and/or the miserable entry from last week:
1. The table is being delivered Friday, though I still owe a decent amount of money on it. Likely enough to feed a small nation for a month.
2. I have been feeling better about Eddie, as we are going to have lunch on Friday. What will come of it, I really don't know. All I know is I like having him in my life and felt bummed without him. So, we shall see!
Peace out, friends. I look forward to the large and impressively-priced gifts that you have all sent via FedEx to arrive on my doorstep tomorrow. I sure hope that somebody had the forethought to send me a set of six Emeco chairs for my new table.
Happy B-day to me!
!!!
What the hell?
You know what feels the absolute f'ing best? That this time last year I was crossing the days I had to work at McGraw-Hill and live in my situation (meaning, now I look back, in NYC...how I didn't know it was so bad for me...) OFF A CALENDAR. I was COUNTING THEM DOWN!! How sad, and how not living in the moment. I was doing my mantra sadhana to Ganesh, the great remover of obstacles, just hoping the little elephant god could help me out. If it was Ganesh or not, things sure did get moved out of my way--maybe by me, maybe not.
I also got this email this week from a company in Barcelona that rents out apartments, both short-term and long-term, in the Born area there. It was so strange to be looking on their site and I was taken--whoosh!--right back to sitting on my bed at 107 Christopher (Gawd, writing that was weird, too...), cross-legged, travel books spread around me, while Ann and Matt watched TV in the living room. Planning like a mad woman because that's what I had to do to get out of the present moment! Bad! Bad!
So, now I'm not counting my days away--I'm living them. It's like a slow reawakening, I mean I go through days when I am lonely, and I long for the deafening roar of Manhattan that drowns out any thought of your own, certainly at the very least any thought of loneliness. I think that's the hardest thing about leaving the city, you really have to face yourself. Helloooo, Sarah. You are a weirdo.
It's funny, you know, I seem to really be processing my yoga teachings so much better here. Or paying more attention? Maybe that's part of the quiet thing--you have the space.
Speaking of yoga...that's another thing that was happening this time last year. I was in yoga school...aka love school by those of us lucky enough to have been involved. It was the beginning of the unfurling of that famous, elusive heart chakra of mine, that I am still working on. Yoga, yoga--what would I be doing now without it? Shoot, certainly not sitting on my OWN couch in my OWN craftsman bungalow, listening to my girl Ms. Erykah Badu tellin' it like it is.
Erykah. Another thing that brings me back to earth. I love me some Erykah. Baduizm is my album. That woman is amazing.
I am drifting astray as I wait for my little yellow kettle to whistle. I feel like I'm supposed to say something profound as I head into my 33rd year in this body. Let's just say that things are much, much better for me now than they were last year. I had great friends, and still do, but I was just
there goes the kettle
where was I? oh, I was lost and looking for some guidance. Externally I think. Well, shoot, I know now that it's all inside of me. It ain't in these places, which I previously suspected it might be:
1. Holland
2. 2nd Floor Bloomingdales (Lex location, not SoHo--CERTAINLY not there)
3. Men's pants
4. Burritoville (holla, friends at Bleecker St. location! I'll pour a little tea out in memory of the holy mole with refried beans, tofu sour cream, and a whole wheat tortilla)
5. At the bottom of my glass of Malbec
6. On the menu at 'intoteca (though, damn, their cheese plate is amazing!!)
Katie Stevens, I know you will take issue with point number two. Annoushka, you might take issue with point #3, though as of late, you may agree with me. Ann Varanakis, you may take issue with number 4, and just about everyone I know will take issue with #5. None of you will disagree with #1. And I think a good portion of you will have to go to 'inoteca tomorrow night to prove me wrong on point #6.
That's the wisdom for the week. A long-ass entry.
For those of you who are wondering about the table and/or the miserable entry from last week:
1. The table is being delivered Friday, though I still owe a decent amount of money on it. Likely enough to feed a small nation for a month.
2. I have been feeling better about Eddie, as we are going to have lunch on Friday. What will come of it, I really don't know. All I know is I like having him in my life and felt bummed without him. So, we shall see!
Peace out, friends. I look forward to the large and impressively-priced gifts that you have all sent via FedEx to arrive on my doorstep tomorrow. I sure hope that somebody had the forethought to send me a set of six Emeco chairs for my new table.
Happy B-day to me!
Thursday, March 13, 2008
melancholy
so much to say, but so little determination...just came out the other end of a hot and heavy romance that really didn't go the way either of us wanted. I just wasn't ready for where it was going, and so I broke it off completely. I was not in the place that he was, and so I thought it only fair to let him be free to find someone who was. The truth is, I do miss him very much, but I don't know what else I could have done. I was worried that if I said let's date casually, that it would only lead to him getting hurt, and I care enough about him (already) that I don't want to do this to him. But damn, it sucks.
Last week I went to Palm Springs for work, and he came to meet me for some time in Joshua Tree Nat'l Park over the weekend. Great stuff...here's just one photo of the amazing place that it was...
Then I f'ing sprained my ankle on Monday (again). What a bummer. So, kind of a crap week.
If you read this, know that if you are texting me at my old number, I'm not getting it--my phone is (temporarily I hope) dead...so call me and my new number is on my old voicemail...or drop me a line. Miss everyone.
xo
Sunday, February 17, 2008
goo gone is amazing!
I tripped on a candle when I walked out of yoga the other night, and of course, I was wearing my brand-new, ridiculously expensive lululemon pants. That's right, wax all the way up the leg. FANTASTIC! I'm so rad.
So I had frozen the things, picked at the wax, it was seeming futile, I was using "avoidance" as a strategy to deal with the fact that I might have ruined my pants. But it was nagging away at me, in the back of my mind. I decided that desperate times called for desperate measures, and I went to Walgreens for some Goo Gone, based on some internet advice delivered by my (always uber-helpful) mum.
Sprayed it on the wax, waited a minute, and that shit WIPED RIGHT OFF! I'm not kidding!! Ladies, gentlemen, do not delay, run out and buy yourselves a bottle of this miracle product immediatamente! All that wax that you spilled on your rug when you drunkenly stumbled into your Pier One Patchouli candle...it can be removed lickety-split. Go! Now!
Anyhoo...as I promised, here are some photos of my newly fabulous house. And my (ok, soon to be my) table...enjoy, lovelies!
So I had frozen the things, picked at the wax, it was seeming futile, I was using "avoidance" as a strategy to deal with the fact that I might have ruined my pants. But it was nagging away at me, in the back of my mind. I decided that desperate times called for desperate measures, and I went to Walgreens for some Goo Gone, based on some internet advice delivered by my (always uber-helpful) mum.
Sprayed it on the wax, waited a minute, and that shit WIPED RIGHT OFF! I'm not kidding!! Ladies, gentlemen, do not delay, run out and buy yourselves a bottle of this miracle product immediatamente! All that wax that you spilled on your rug when you drunkenly stumbled into your Pier One Patchouli candle...it can be removed lickety-split. Go! Now!
Anyhoo...as I promised, here are some photos of my newly fabulous house. And my (ok, soon to be my) table...enjoy, lovelies!
Monday, February 11, 2008
I got a nail in my tire
dear liza, dear liza...and it cost me $350!!! Good night. That's what you get for having a mini with ride flat tires. Those darn Germans.
Also, I dropped a crapload (or promised to drop a crapload, I *only* put $1000 down yesterday) on a rad table at this local freaking kickass joint, Installations Antiques. This Dutch guy, Jur, and his gal, Becky, own this warehouse and they travel all over the globe buying antiques. OK, maybe not the globe, but at least Germany (those Germans again), Belgium, Holland, etc. There are those Dutch again. Can't get away!!!
Anyway, Jur makes custom furntiure that is like crack cocaine. Once you get a taste, you can't get enough. So I put a down payment on this crunk table with a custom cedar top and an Eames base. Annoushka, if you are reading this, you will pass out when you see it. Promise.
But the bright side is that I spent $43 last weekend on going out. $43!!!!
Anthony Bourdain eats some disgusting shit.
Also, I dropped a crapload (or promised to drop a crapload, I *only* put $1000 down yesterday) on a rad table at this local freaking kickass joint, Installations Antiques. This Dutch guy, Jur, and his gal, Becky, own this warehouse and they travel all over the globe buying antiques. OK, maybe not the globe, but at least Germany (those Germans again), Belgium, Holland, etc. There are those Dutch again. Can't get away!!!
Anyway, Jur makes custom furntiure that is like crack cocaine. Once you get a taste, you can't get enough. So I put a down payment on this crunk table with a custom cedar top and an Eames base. Annoushka, if you are reading this, you will pass out when you see it. Promise.
But the bright side is that I spent $43 last weekend on going out. $43!!!!
Anthony Bourdain eats some disgusting shit.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
match.com vs. my state of mind
so I got on match.com...why, I don't know. But I suppose I thought maybe that was what I was supposed to do--meet and socialize with men.
So I did it. And the first guy I talked to turned out to be a total wierdo, all hippied-out, needy, and wanting me to not be the career woman I am.
And, darn it, it's time for me to put myself first. I spent the better part of last year putting a man first, and now I am going to stop.
I want to focus on me, on work (I love my job), on yoga (it saved/s me), and on my house. That is it. It is time for me to introduce myself back to myself. Hello, Sarah! Goodbye, men. At least for this week.
So I did it. And the first guy I talked to turned out to be a total wierdo, all hippied-out, needy, and wanting me to not be the career woman I am.
And, darn it, it's time for me to put myself first. I spent the better part of last year putting a man first, and now I am going to stop.
I want to focus on me, on work (I love my job), on yoga (it saved/s me), and on my house. That is it. It is time for me to introduce myself back to myself. Hello, Sarah! Goodbye, men. At least for this week.
Monday, January 28, 2008
drunk emailing
...so a couple of weeks ago, after a little too much wine at my new friend Ralph's house (he cooked me Cornish hens!!!), I opened up my little PowerBook and emailed Xander, basically giving him what for--why should we be friends all of a sudden, when he didn't deem me worthy of conversation when I was LIVING WITH HIM?
Well, of course, when I woke up the next morning with a red wine headache and an 8 AM ticket to New Orleans, i saw the evidence: the PowerBook sitting open in my office. Oh , no, the drunk email. Forget the drunk dial, the drunk text: I even found a way to drunk something my ex in HOLLAND. Pathetique, as Carlise would say.
But now, you know, I'm glad I did. He sent me back his usual, you were distant too, let's all be buddy buddy now, you're great, I'm not an asshole, etc etc. And i sat on it for a couple of weeks...and tonight, I was listening to one of the good things that came out of my Holland stint: Arrow Jazz FM. It's a delightful station, really, and it proves that there ARE cool people in Rotterdam, though I wouldn't know it, as X didn't want to leave Spijkenisse, where ladies with bad bleach jobs and perma-tans on bicycles try to take out pedestrians for sport, especially ones they suspect might be Americans living in sin with a Dutch Green Beret.
And, on Arrow Jazz tonight, they were playing "You Were Always on My Mind". And that was it. I lost it. Cried. Sobbed, really. And wrote Mr. Green Beret back that I could not, would not, be his friend. I am heartbroken. I truly am. I mourn for all the things I hoped we were, that I hoped we could be. Could those things ever really happen? Maybe not. But isn't that what we mourn, the POSSIBILITY of happiness with another? I don't know if maybe I have been trying to convince myself that I was not sad, that I didn't leave a bit of me behind in Holland, in that sordid little apartment in which I cooked, cleaned, did laundry, translated f'ing shopping lists into Dutch, maintained my home yoga practice, and blogged as if my life depended on it. My lifeline to the world.
There's this line in an Everything but the Girl song: how much of yourself do you give away after someone's left your life in disarray? I feel like I gave a lot of myself to this summer, to Holland, to Spain, to Italy, to Belgium, to Germany, to Xander. Maybe the way to look at it is that I gave away the bad bits, the parts of myself that I needed to give away...like one major-ass, 3-month long spinal twist (for the yogis), just detoxing the crap out of my soul. And I needed to leave Xander behind, too--and now I am doing so. He's a relic of my former self, the self who did things just to distract from my unhappiness.
Ah, drunk emailing. Yeah for sober blogging.
To bed--am off to College Station tomorrow to observe clickers in action and to talk to some unsuspecting freshmen about marketing. more soon, promise--including photos of my slowly coming together house for those who have been asking...xo
Well, of course, when I woke up the next morning with a red wine headache and an 8 AM ticket to New Orleans, i saw the evidence: the PowerBook sitting open in my office. Oh , no, the drunk email. Forget the drunk dial, the drunk text: I even found a way to drunk something my ex in HOLLAND. Pathetique, as Carlise would say.
But now, you know, I'm glad I did. He sent me back his usual, you were distant too, let's all be buddy buddy now, you're great, I'm not an asshole, etc etc. And i sat on it for a couple of weeks...and tonight, I was listening to one of the good things that came out of my Holland stint: Arrow Jazz FM. It's a delightful station, really, and it proves that there ARE cool people in Rotterdam, though I wouldn't know it, as X didn't want to leave Spijkenisse, where ladies with bad bleach jobs and perma-tans on bicycles try to take out pedestrians for sport, especially ones they suspect might be Americans living in sin with a Dutch Green Beret.
And, on Arrow Jazz tonight, they were playing "You Were Always on My Mind". And that was it. I lost it. Cried. Sobbed, really. And wrote Mr. Green Beret back that I could not, would not, be his friend. I am heartbroken. I truly am. I mourn for all the things I hoped we were, that I hoped we could be. Could those things ever really happen? Maybe not. But isn't that what we mourn, the POSSIBILITY of happiness with another? I don't know if maybe I have been trying to convince myself that I was not sad, that I didn't leave a bit of me behind in Holland, in that sordid little apartment in which I cooked, cleaned, did laundry, translated f'ing shopping lists into Dutch, maintained my home yoga practice, and blogged as if my life depended on it. My lifeline to the world.
There's this line in an Everything but the Girl song: how much of yourself do you give away after someone's left your life in disarray? I feel like I gave a lot of myself to this summer, to Holland, to Spain, to Italy, to Belgium, to Germany, to Xander. Maybe the way to look at it is that I gave away the bad bits, the parts of myself that I needed to give away...like one major-ass, 3-month long spinal twist (for the yogis), just detoxing the crap out of my soul. And I needed to leave Xander behind, too--and now I am doing so. He's a relic of my former self, the self who did things just to distract from my unhappiness.
Ah, drunk emailing. Yeah for sober blogging.
To bed--am off to College Station tomorrow to observe clickers in action and to talk to some unsuspecting freshmen about marketing. more soon, promise--including photos of my slowly coming together house for those who have been asking...xo
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Oil town
realize I've been remiss in posting, sorry. much to say, but I'll make a few points for now:
1. I've been the owner of 1015 Peddie for exactly one month!
2. I have painted both the living/dining/kitchen a gorgeous mushroom color and my bedroom an interesting green/gray.
3. I have a couch and a new Krups coffee maker.
4. Houston needs me to inject some NYC vibe. Do I open a sexy, small, swank bar here soon?
5. I need to teach yoga here. How to find the time/overcome my insecurities?
off to coffee shop to learn software for my presentation in Thibodeaux tomorrow. jealous?
1. I've been the owner of 1015 Peddie for exactly one month!
2. I have painted both the living/dining/kitchen a gorgeous mushroom color and my bedroom an interesting green/gray.
3. I have a couch and a new Krups coffee maker.
4. Houston needs me to inject some NYC vibe. Do I open a sexy, small, swank bar here soon?
5. I need to teach yoga here. How to find the time/overcome my insecurities?
off to coffee shop to learn software for my presentation in Thibodeaux tomorrow. jealous?
Sunday, December 16, 2007
ch-ch-ch-changes
I was cranky today and unsure why—then I was reminded by my mother that I had a whole lot going on. A whole lot being: I closed on my house on Friday (yippee!!), bought a car the same day, started a new job a week and a half ago, and am starting over in Houston.
First things first: The Closing. Kind of stressful, I must admit. Signing papers 45,000 times, not really knowing what you’re signing, seeing “2038” as the year you pay off your mortgage, and also seeing “Sarah Martin, An Unmarried Woman” on documents. The latter caused me to get all defiant, until my mortgage lady (I’m sure she has a more official name than that) told me that they put the same thing for single men.
So I get the keys. And a 2008 planner with Fidelity National Title, as well as a big chocolate medallion of the mediocre corporate giveaway quality with same logo. The most exciting of all the gifts is the set of keys to MY OWN HOUSE. CRAZY. Did I mention it was crazy?
So I’m all in a daze, not quite comprehending, following my very, very chatty real estate agent in his Mountaineer over to my new house. He hands me the final key to the front door from the lockbox on the front door, and I notice that the “FOR SALE” sign is finally down. Said real estate agent exits, and then. Now what?
I’m so relieved to have all of these people out of my life, the real estate agent, the mortgage people, the title guy, the listing agent, the seller.
Now it’s time to measure for blinds—the place is like a fishbowl, no window coverings. Mum, being so wonderful, sets to work measuring as I sort of wander around, not quite sure how to do anything. We look at some paint colors, mum finishes with the measurements, and we get out of the house for lunch at the local Onion Creek. A cool joint, with very funky types and Radiohead playing all day. And lots of draft beer. It makes me feel good to see people without bleached hairdos and too-high heels for the daytime.
Next, why not go ahead and put myself further in debt by buying a car? I end up buying a used Mini Cooper S, blue with a white roof and double sunroof. It’s a peppy little thing, lots of power in the engine, and 6 speeds. Love it! Love it! So I sign the paperwork, get the keys, and mum and I decide to meet at Lowe’s to look at fridges and washer/dryers—essential to actually move in to my place.
I have fun driving to the store. People actually LET ME IN when I’m signaling. Is it the cute mini or can I just slide in more easily because my car is, like, two feet long? I feel like a little girl around my older siblings, the older siblings being, of course (this being Texas and all), the H2s, the Chevy Silverados, the Ford F-10s, the Lincoln Navigators, the Cadillac Escalades. They all tower over me. And I like it. As long as they see me and don’t actually drive/back over me.
I walk with mum, after meeting her in the parking lot, to the area where they sell fridges and w/d units. And promptly, my brain shuts down. It says, “oh, no, sister, no more big decisions today, no more debt”. So, we thank the hilarious salesperson and gracefully (ok, maybe not gracefully) exit.
A date that evening with a guy my friend Nick set me up with, our second date. Wine and dinner, and lots of great conversation. He is not from Houston, travels every week for work, well-traveled, intelligent, and mature. I’m really looking forward to getting to know him better. Oh, and he CALLS. When he says he will. Like a respectful adult. Go figure.
Fall into bed early, and awake the next day, none of it having soaked in yet. When will it? Will it happen all at once, like a shot of espresso, or gradually, like a latte? I do know that this was the right decision. And that feels awesome.
First things first: The Closing. Kind of stressful, I must admit. Signing papers 45,000 times, not really knowing what you’re signing, seeing “2038” as the year you pay off your mortgage, and also seeing “Sarah Martin, An Unmarried Woman” on documents. The latter caused me to get all defiant, until my mortgage lady (I’m sure she has a more official name than that) told me that they put the same thing for single men.
So I get the keys. And a 2008 planner with Fidelity National Title, as well as a big chocolate medallion of the mediocre corporate giveaway quality with same logo. The most exciting of all the gifts is the set of keys to MY OWN HOUSE. CRAZY. Did I mention it was crazy?
So I’m all in a daze, not quite comprehending, following my very, very chatty real estate agent in his Mountaineer over to my new house. He hands me the final key to the front door from the lockbox on the front door, and I notice that the “FOR SALE” sign is finally down. Said real estate agent exits, and then. Now what?
I’m so relieved to have all of these people out of my life, the real estate agent, the mortgage people, the title guy, the listing agent, the seller.
Now it’s time to measure for blinds—the place is like a fishbowl, no window coverings. Mum, being so wonderful, sets to work measuring as I sort of wander around, not quite sure how to do anything. We look at some paint colors, mum finishes with the measurements, and we get out of the house for lunch at the local Onion Creek. A cool joint, with very funky types and Radiohead playing all day. And lots of draft beer. It makes me feel good to see people without bleached hairdos and too-high heels for the daytime.
Next, why not go ahead and put myself further in debt by buying a car? I end up buying a used Mini Cooper S, blue with a white roof and double sunroof. It’s a peppy little thing, lots of power in the engine, and 6 speeds. Love it! Love it! So I sign the paperwork, get the keys, and mum and I decide to meet at Lowe’s to look at fridges and washer/dryers—essential to actually move in to my place.
I have fun driving to the store. People actually LET ME IN when I’m signaling. Is it the cute mini or can I just slide in more easily because my car is, like, two feet long? I feel like a little girl around my older siblings, the older siblings being, of course (this being Texas and all), the H2s, the Chevy Silverados, the Ford F-10s, the Lincoln Navigators, the Cadillac Escalades. They all tower over me. And I like it. As long as they see me and don’t actually drive/back over me.
I walk with mum, after meeting her in the parking lot, to the area where they sell fridges and w/d units. And promptly, my brain shuts down. It says, “oh, no, sister, no more big decisions today, no more debt”. So, we thank the hilarious salesperson and gracefully (ok, maybe not gracefully) exit.
A date that evening with a guy my friend Nick set me up with, our second date. Wine and dinner, and lots of great conversation. He is not from Houston, travels every week for work, well-traveled, intelligent, and mature. I’m really looking forward to getting to know him better. Oh, and he CALLS. When he says he will. Like a respectful adult. Go figure.
Fall into bed early, and awake the next day, none of it having soaked in yet. When will it? Will it happen all at once, like a shot of espresso, or gradually, like a latte? I do know that this was the right decision. And that feels awesome.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Shiny, happy people
Someone I knew in New York said, after I congratulated a mutual acquaintance on his new job, that I was so positive and that the break must have done me good. So I thought, YES, it did me a lot of good. Priceless, really, to have the time to think. I really got a lot of head-space, time to decide what I was doing with my life. Time to decide to be happy.
I have a job now, a great job that I am so looking forward to. I was reading over the human resources info last night, and I noticed that it is the first time in a long, long time (ever?) that I have been excited to READ THE HR HANDBOOK! True, I was panicking about getting the job in the end, so I’m likely excited just to get health insurance, but I am also excited because I actually chose to leave traditional publishing and start anew. I know some of the people (most of them, actually) I will be working with, yes, but this is a new venture, not the same stuff I was doing before. Another publishing marketing job, this isn’t.
So am I happy? Yes! Am I smiling more? Yes! Was leaving the work force and being without a job for 6 months the hardest thing I have done? Yes! Would I do it again if I had the choice to change things? Yes!
I’m a lucky girl. And a brave one, if I do say so myself.
I have a job now, a great job that I am so looking forward to. I was reading over the human resources info last night, and I noticed that it is the first time in a long, long time (ever?) that I have been excited to READ THE HR HANDBOOK! True, I was panicking about getting the job in the end, so I’m likely excited just to get health insurance, but I am also excited because I actually chose to leave traditional publishing and start anew. I know some of the people (most of them, actually) I will be working with, yes, but this is a new venture, not the same stuff I was doing before. Another publishing marketing job, this isn’t.
So am I happy? Yes! Am I smiling more? Yes! Was leaving the work force and being without a job for 6 months the hardest thing I have done? Yes! Would I do it again if I had the choice to change things? Yes!
I’m a lucky girl. And a brave one, if I do say so myself.
Does Louisiana have the best regional food? Discuss.
Our last day on the road. We get on the road early, as we are ready to get going, and we have had it with the sugary, trans-fat laden Hampton breakfasts (yes, friends, we stayed at Hampton the whole time. Rigid? Perhaps. I like their internet access setup, as well as the little sign behind the reception that reminds me where the hell I am in America. Admit it: you've forgotten before, too.).
And, as a reward for our enthusiasm, we get caught in a nasty traffic jam due to a double wide scattered (ok, pieces of the double wide) literally all the way across our side of I-10.
Once past the housing accident, we have to leave I-10 for 190 as I-10 is closed from some sort of gas incident earlier in the week. Slow going on 190, so slightly frustrating, but we have planned a little stop in Breaux Bridge where there rests a little eatery (thank you, Road Food!) called Cafe Des Amis, so our spirits are not dampened, no sir!
At Cafe Des Amis, we devour the crawfish etoufee and a slice of Gateau Sirop, a confection that rivals Red Velvet Cake for its addiction possibilities. Feel like new people and hit the road for our last leg.
See a sign just inside the Louisiana/Texas border that El Paso is 857 miles away. !!!
Hit storms just outside Houston that stay away almost until we get home, somehow cleansing us of the uncertainty that I had until now. They feel as if they are welcoming me to my new life. And I'm happy to arrive.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Cracker Barrel is a must for any road trip in the US of A
Today, after a phone interview, we headed an hour down the road to Cracker Barrel for some grits and biscuits and gravy. And let's not forget that awesome little game with the pegs in the wood holes. Apparently, my score indicates that I am an "IG-NOR-AIM-OOS". Does this have anything to do with my lack of interest in Sudoku?
I also love the Cracker Barrel store, with it's syrupy Americana vibe. And hello! Those are some great rocking chairs...should I have those or Adirondack chairs on the porch? The debate is really between the footrest or the rock. I think I lean towards the footrest--frankly, even a rocking chair is too much exercise on Friday afternoons.
After our super-healthy breakfast, we decided to take along a slice of chocolate-pecan pie for good measure. When snacking, why not make it worth your while? I could not think of a better snack at 3 PM on a 6-hour day of driving, personally. Upon leaving Cracker Barrel in the hoity-toity outskirts of Birmingham, we whiled away an hour by quizzing one another on state capitals. The most difficult ones include but are not limited to:
--North Dakota
--Maine
--New Hampshire
--West Virginia
--Washington
--Montana
Then, a continuation of our listen of "I am America, and so can you" by Steven Colbert. Hysterical, but one can only take so much--it's exhausting. Try it sometime. And after our snack of you-know-what and a super-depressing stop at a Hattiesburg, Mississippi gas station, we arrived in Slidell, LA, just northeast of New Orleans.
Slightly depressing, but we had a delicious spinach salad and class of wine at Applebee's. And we'll be on the way tomorrow, our last day on the road!!! Houston, here we come!
I also love the Cracker Barrel store, with it's syrupy Americana vibe. And hello! Those are some great rocking chairs...should I have those or Adirondack chairs on the porch? The debate is really between the footrest or the rock. I think I lean towards the footrest--frankly, even a rocking chair is too much exercise on Friday afternoons.
After our super-healthy breakfast, we decided to take along a slice of chocolate-pecan pie for good measure. When snacking, why not make it worth your while? I could not think of a better snack at 3 PM on a 6-hour day of driving, personally. Upon leaving Cracker Barrel in the hoity-toity outskirts of Birmingham, we whiled away an hour by quizzing one another on state capitals. The most difficult ones include but are not limited to:
--North Dakota
--Maine
--New Hampshire
--West Virginia
--Washington
--Montana
Then, a continuation of our listen of "I am America, and so can you" by Steven Colbert. Hysterical, but one can only take so much--it's exhausting. Try it sometime. And after our snack of you-know-what and a super-depressing stop at a Hattiesburg, Mississippi gas station, we arrived in Slidell, LA, just northeast of New Orleans.
Slightly depressing, but we had a delicious spinach salad and class of wine at Applebee's. And we'll be on the way tomorrow, our last day on the road!!! Houston, here we come!
Monday, November 19, 2007
Red Velvet Cake is like crack cocaine
Writing from Gadsen, AL tonight. The highlights from the last few days:
NEW JERSEY 11/17
--Penske truck arrives late, like an hour and a half late.
--Barely shoved everything I own on this earth (save a few items, namely my Good to Great book and my hiking boots) into the 12' truck. Had to rearrange a few times, during which I chose not to watch my poor rattan Anthropologie chair being manhandled.
--We drive through SNOW to arrive in Somerset, PA. Snow.
--The PENNA TURNPIKE road signs are the largest road sign I have seen in my life. Are they, perhaps, meant to be a signal to the aliens who are planning to invade in 2008, having watched their experiment fail miserably, the humans ruining Planet Earth? Do I watch too many x-files reruns?
--Dinner at Ruby Tuesday an emotional rollercoaster as I realized they had Bogle Old Vine Zinfandel, ordered it, and was told by the Alpha Chi Omega waitress that they were out of it.
SOMERSET, PA/FALLINGWATER 11/18
--Braved snow, which was falling in large, wet flakes, to drive to FALLINGWATER, Frank Lloyd Wright's masterpiece. Arrived safely.
--Fallingwater f'ing rad, and the tour guide regaled us with the usual stories of FLW's large ego. Beautiful. Did not buy anything at gift shop, as am still
unemployed.
--Ate at Muriale's in Fairmont, WV, which, incidentally, is the birthplace of Mary Lou Retton.
--Weather on trip turned out to be gorgeous, beautiful views of the Appalachians.
--Was the inagural listen of my new playlist, entitled Road Trip 07, which features some fine examples of American and British Rock and Roll, most notably ZZ Top's Sharp Dressed Man. Arrived in Wytheville, VA.
--Gourmet dinner at Wendy's of salads. No Zinfandel disappointment for me tonight, no sir.
--Watched Amazing Race and was pissed the emotionally unstable woman and her kind boyfriend won. That's what you get for helping people, pretty Latin sisters.
WYTHEVILLE VA/GADSDEN AL 11/19
--Small workout this morning. Felt much better.
--drove all morning to arrive in Knoxville, TN where we found Litton's, cornucopia of deliciousness. We found it in Roadfood. Thank you, roadfood, for one of the best burgers I have had in my life. Called the Thunder Road, it was topped with pimiento cheese, grilled onions, and jalapeno. Fries, and a slice of red velvet cake to go, and we are on our way! Why is it that I could almost be a vegetarian except for that darn burger every now and again?
--Afternoon beautiful again, and we arrived early in Gadsden. Thank God, as the bustling social scene here requires hours of investment.
--Pissed that when we crossed into the Central Time Zone, my dad's phone switched to CST automatically but mine required the phone equivalent of control-alt-delete. Note to self to call Verizon.
--Lonnie's roadhouse or some such bastion of the American physique for dinner, struggling to find something healthy to nourish my cells after lunch. Dad almost ate a biscuit until he found it swimming in a wading pool of liquid butter substitute.
That about does it. Photos to come soon. Takeaways from the last three days: glad to be out of NYC finally, I feel free. Strange. And good. And liberating. Also feel like this trip is renewing my romance with America. Feel like I have been gone for a while...
Speaking of romance, it's time to get ready for the Bachelor finale.
NEW JERSEY 11/17
--Penske truck arrives late, like an hour and a half late.
--Barely shoved everything I own on this earth (save a few items, namely my Good to Great book and my hiking boots) into the 12' truck. Had to rearrange a few times, during which I chose not to watch my poor rattan Anthropologie chair being manhandled.
--We drive through SNOW to arrive in Somerset, PA. Snow.
--The PENNA TURNPIKE road signs are the largest road sign I have seen in my life. Are they, perhaps, meant to be a signal to the aliens who are planning to invade in 2008, having watched their experiment fail miserably, the humans ruining Planet Earth? Do I watch too many x-files reruns?
--Dinner at Ruby Tuesday an emotional rollercoaster as I realized they had Bogle Old Vine Zinfandel, ordered it, and was told by the Alpha Chi Omega waitress that they were out of it.
SOMERSET, PA/FALLINGWATER 11/18
--Braved snow, which was falling in large, wet flakes, to drive to FALLINGWATER, Frank Lloyd Wright's masterpiece. Arrived safely.
--Fallingwater f'ing rad, and the tour guide regaled us with the usual stories of FLW's large ego. Beautiful. Did not buy anything at gift shop, as am still
unemployed.
--Ate at Muriale's in Fairmont, WV, which, incidentally, is the birthplace of Mary Lou Retton.
--Weather on trip turned out to be gorgeous, beautiful views of the Appalachians.
--Was the inagural listen of my new playlist, entitled Road Trip 07, which features some fine examples of American and British Rock and Roll, most notably ZZ Top's Sharp Dressed Man. Arrived in Wytheville, VA.
--Gourmet dinner at Wendy's of salads. No Zinfandel disappointment for me tonight, no sir.
--Watched Amazing Race and was pissed the emotionally unstable woman and her kind boyfriend won. That's what you get for helping people, pretty Latin sisters.
WYTHEVILLE VA/GADSDEN AL 11/19
--Small workout this morning. Felt much better.
--drove all morning to arrive in Knoxville, TN where we found Litton's, cornucopia of deliciousness. We found it in Roadfood. Thank you, roadfood, for one of the best burgers I have had in my life. Called the Thunder Road, it was topped with pimiento cheese, grilled onions, and jalapeno. Fries, and a slice of red velvet cake to go, and we are on our way! Why is it that I could almost be a vegetarian except for that darn burger every now and again?
--Afternoon beautiful again, and we arrived early in Gadsden. Thank God, as the bustling social scene here requires hours of investment.
--Pissed that when we crossed into the Central Time Zone, my dad's phone switched to CST automatically but mine required the phone equivalent of control-alt-delete. Note to self to call Verizon.
--Lonnie's roadhouse or some such bastion of the American physique for dinner, struggling to find something healthy to nourish my cells after lunch. Dad almost ate a biscuit until he found it swimming in a wading pool of liquid butter substitute.
That about does it. Photos to come soon. Takeaways from the last three days: glad to be out of NYC finally, I feel free. Strange. And good. And liberating. Also feel like this trip is renewing my romance with America. Feel like I have been gone for a while...
Speaking of romance, it's time to get ready for the Bachelor finale.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Good-bye, New York
Sitting in my Jersey City hotel room, waiting for my Dad to arrive from JFK. Tomorrow we rent the Penske truck and load it up with my things from the Hoboken storage unit, and then head in the direction of Texas.
I have been in New York since Monday for an interview. I stayed in a hotel for the first two nights, and then with Jen the last two. I really enjoyed seeing all of my wonderful friends, shopping, and generally enjoying NYC without an agenda (except seeing all of my friends, of course...). It occurred to me that it has been a really long time since I have just wandered around the city. That's what happens when you live in the city--you don't have time to really take in the amazing place in which you live.
But still it was good to actually say the words "I am moving to Houston" and have my sweet friends encourage me and congratulate me and assure me that they will come to visit. I don't want to stay in NYC, but change is scary, regardless of what it is. I know that sounds obvious, but it's hard when you're actually making the big change to realize that it's the change itself that is scaring you the most, not the transition to a conservative town, not the transition to a non-walking city, not the transition out of the fabled New York City.
So, change: here I come.
I have been in New York since Monday for an interview. I stayed in a hotel for the first two nights, and then with Jen the last two. I really enjoyed seeing all of my wonderful friends, shopping, and generally enjoying NYC without an agenda (except seeing all of my friends, of course...). It occurred to me that it has been a really long time since I have just wandered around the city. That's what happens when you live in the city--you don't have time to really take in the amazing place in which you live.
But still it was good to actually say the words "I am moving to Houston" and have my sweet friends encourage me and congratulate me and assure me that they will come to visit. I don't want to stay in NYC, but change is scary, regardless of what it is. I know that sounds obvious, but it's hard when you're actually making the big change to realize that it's the change itself that is scaring you the most, not the transition to a conservative town, not the transition to a non-walking city, not the transition out of the fabled New York City.
So, change: here I come.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
some photos from the past
Just realized it's about a year since Katie and I went to Prague! What the f? Feels like decades...here are a couple of photos from that trip, and more can be found on flickr under sarahjanenyc1...
loving nyc
Oh God, depending on what day it is, I can be either completely (ok, maybe mostly is a more appropriate word) at peace with my decision to move back to Houston, or completely panicked to leave New York. Firstly, I have to stop reading Time Out NYC and New York magazine. In my defense, these magazines are old subscriptions that will lapse--and when they do, I am not renewing. I swear. It's painful, like seeing an old boyfriend out with another, prettier woman. Sigh.
Secondly, I can actually visit NYC! A revelation!
Thirdly, I'm living in the fourth-largest city in the country, for Chrissake. Not the Appalachians.
Fourth, I can bring many of the things I love about NYC here with me! Like a love for the finer things, and dinner parties. Actually, I couldn't have dinner parties in the city, but I always wanted to. Now that I will (fingers crossed) hopefully have a house, I can actually have people over. And I will have a yard! I can be a host, all the time. Fun!
Fifth, nothing is permanent. Maybe I'll somehow come into a ton of money and be able to (and want to) buy that loft in Tribeca a few years down the road! Who knows...
Moral of the post: it's a process.
Secondly, I can actually visit NYC! A revelation!
Thirdly, I'm living in the fourth-largest city in the country, for Chrissake. Not the Appalachians.
Fourth, I can bring many of the things I love about NYC here with me! Like a love for the finer things, and dinner parties. Actually, I couldn't have dinner parties in the city, but I always wanted to. Now that I will (fingers crossed) hopefully have a house, I can actually have people over. And I will have a yard! I can be a host, all the time. Fun!
Fifth, nothing is permanent. Maybe I'll somehow come into a ton of money and be able to (and want to) buy that loft in Tribeca a few years down the road! Who knows...
Moral of the post: it's a process.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
my first paycheck in 5 months
came today! A big day. It's not a ton, but it's a start.
in other news, I (with the help of my parents) put an offer on 1015 Peddie, a little 980 sq. ft. bungalow that I have been obsessed with for a few weeks now. it was accepted! we are now doing inspections...closing is December 14th, giving me time to get a job, which is a small detail.
things seem to be coming together, I had my first interview for the job I am pursuing. it's an educational technology marketing job, and it will be crazy but very interesting. I hope to talk with the other folks that hold the key to my being hired this week or next. here's to hoping!
in other news, I (with the help of my parents) put an offer on 1015 Peddie, a little 980 sq. ft. bungalow that I have been obsessed with for a few weeks now. it was accepted! we are now doing inspections...closing is December 14th, giving me time to get a job, which is a small detail.
things seem to be coming together, I had my first interview for the job I am pursuing. it's an educational technology marketing job, and it will be crazy but very interesting. I hope to talk with the other folks that hold the key to my being hired this week or next. here's to hoping!
Monday, October 22, 2007
thoughts
I'm reading a book about the Bauhaus right now. It's so fascinating to see politics and design and art and crafts and history come together in a style of design that I knew little to nothing about before I went to Germany this summer. How can I take my high interest in this sort of thing (art, design, architecture, and their intersection with history) and somehow weave it into my every day activities (more so than simply reading). Should I go back to school? For what? Art history? and then what? I teach? Or is maintaining an interest the way I keep it in my life? Make a commitment to continuing to learn? Is that enough? Yes, I suppose, if I honor that commitment.
It's late October. I'm in limbo, for sure. I am okay with that most of the time, but the rest of the time it's tough.
It's late October. I'm in limbo, for sure. I am okay with that most of the time, but the rest of the time it's tough.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
broke
...so I have always been the type to just do things. I know instinctively what I need to do, and I follow it. My "gut", I suppose they call it. As a result of my faith in my ability to make decisions that are right for me, long term, I tend not to think of the consequences of the decisions I make. At least, the ones that affect me the most. Instead, I think of the consequence of NOT making the decision, and I know I can't live with THAT, so I go ahead with my "gut".
And, to be honest, and I don't want to appear smug, I seem to be right all of the time about these big decisions. When I don't follow said "gut", I usually regret it.
The same applies here, not about not following my instincts, about actually following them and quitting my job, etc. I need to come up with a good acronym for my early-life crisis. So, my current situation is: B-R-O-K-E. I mean, there are of course more things going on in my current situation than being penniless (i.e., being completely put off of men, without my own place, without my stuff, without a permanent job, living with my parents when I have been completely independent for 10 years), but right now I am thinking most about the lack of money. I just looked at my bills, and how much I have earned freelancing over the past few weeks, and it will just about cover it. Which is good! I don't know why I'm all weepy. But damn. I can't DO anything. No car, no job, no home. Cry, cry, I am so lucky to have my parents to catch me when I fall. Or jump, which is what I did in this case.
But anyway, getting back to what I was saying about making the right decisions and not thinking about the consequences until I am sitting smack-dab in the middle of them. I am literally sitting in the middle of all these bills and receipts and damn if I didn't really think about this part--the part where for 2 months AFTER I got back, I would be broke. I didn't think I wouldn't be broke, I just didn't think about it. Shit, I was lucky to get out of NYC in June with my f'ing head attached.
The thing is, I know it will all be fine, and I will even be BETTER for all of this. I just am not used to being THIS broke. I was usually broke in NYC, but there was more money coming in all the time. And I'm impatient--I want to get on with it already. I want that little house at 1015 Peddie in the Heights. Patience is a virtue, right? Who the hell said that?
And, to be honest, and I don't want to appear smug, I seem to be right all of the time about these big decisions. When I don't follow said "gut", I usually regret it.
The same applies here, not about not following my instincts, about actually following them and quitting my job, etc. I need to come up with a good acronym for my early-life crisis. So, my current situation is: B-R-O-K-E. I mean, there are of course more things going on in my current situation than being penniless (i.e., being completely put off of men, without my own place, without my stuff, without a permanent job, living with my parents when I have been completely independent for 10 years), but right now I am thinking most about the lack of money. I just looked at my bills, and how much I have earned freelancing over the past few weeks, and it will just about cover it. Which is good! I don't know why I'm all weepy. But damn. I can't DO anything. No car, no job, no home. Cry, cry, I am so lucky to have my parents to catch me when I fall. Or jump, which is what I did in this case.
But anyway, getting back to what I was saying about making the right decisions and not thinking about the consequences until I am sitting smack-dab in the middle of them. I am literally sitting in the middle of all these bills and receipts and damn if I didn't really think about this part--the part where for 2 months AFTER I got back, I would be broke. I didn't think I wouldn't be broke, I just didn't think about it. Shit, I was lucky to get out of NYC in June with my f'ing head attached.
The thing is, I know it will all be fine, and I will even be BETTER for all of this. I just am not used to being THIS broke. I was usually broke in NYC, but there was more money coming in all the time. And I'm impatient--I want to get on with it already. I want that little house at 1015 Peddie in the Heights. Patience is a virtue, right? Who the hell said that?
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Further reflections
Ah, 6 weeks after my last post, I think. Nearly 6 weeks, anyway. Back in the fold of America, of my family.
Xander and I have broken up. I'm sad largely because his comments on the relationship focus on the fact that it didn't work out, not on how much fun we had until he changed the day after (literally, the day after) we returned from our holiday in Germany. I don't know what happened, but all of a sudden he wasn't communicating anymore, the joy was gone from his eyes, and from us. So, three weeks of him shutting me out and I was still the optimist. In my eyes, a relationship is work, not always smooth sailing, but for some reason he was done. He just won't tell me why, but I suppose it was too much. I was too much. At any rate, I don't want to be involved with someone who shuts me out so early in the relationship.
So, that happened. Mostly because I started the breakup--he wouldn't do it.
And now I am trying to untangle the summer from my sour/sad feelings about X and me. It is hard to do that, but I know I must, and I also know that quitting my job and leaving Manhattan were things in the works before I met him, and maybe his role in my life was to make actually doing those things a little more pleasant. I can't help but feel a little pang of melancholy when I think of the Bauhaus Archiv or the Black Forest, though, and wondering if the "fun" we had was all put on, was imagined. Goodness.
Frankly, I have too much going on to even dwell, and I need to deal with getting my life back in order. I'm now freelancing (kind of a lot) for two different companies, and looking forward to my first paycheck in four months. I'm sorting out what I want to do to learn a living, and I'm also sorting out where I want to live. My things are in New Jersey, and my dad and I are headed up to pick them up next month. They will come back down here with me, and maybe I will feel less disjointed (more jointed?). Right now, I feel like pieces of me are everywhere--Holland, New York, Houston, even Spain, Italy. I need to get the lion's share of those pieces, gather them up to my breast, and mold them back together like a big pile of Play-Doh like I played with in England with my 2-year-old nephew in September.
Don't get me wrong. If this sounds melancholy or even morose, it's largely from being overwhelmed and undergrounded. I can't seem to get my first chakra balanced (have I truly tried?) and there have been so many big choices swimming in front of my eyes for so long that everything seems blurred and unstable. I'm very lucky that I have the chance to whip the rug out from under myself like this--it's healthy, and it's unusual. For having the choice, the support, and the success--I am infinitely thankful. And I know that I will be just fine. It's a process...but isn't everything?
Xander and I have broken up. I'm sad largely because his comments on the relationship focus on the fact that it didn't work out, not on how much fun we had until he changed the day after (literally, the day after) we returned from our holiday in Germany. I don't know what happened, but all of a sudden he wasn't communicating anymore, the joy was gone from his eyes, and from us. So, three weeks of him shutting me out and I was still the optimist. In my eyes, a relationship is work, not always smooth sailing, but for some reason he was done. He just won't tell me why, but I suppose it was too much. I was too much. At any rate, I don't want to be involved with someone who shuts me out so early in the relationship.
So, that happened. Mostly because I started the breakup--he wouldn't do it.
And now I am trying to untangle the summer from my sour/sad feelings about X and me. It is hard to do that, but I know I must, and I also know that quitting my job and leaving Manhattan were things in the works before I met him, and maybe his role in my life was to make actually doing those things a little more pleasant. I can't help but feel a little pang of melancholy when I think of the Bauhaus Archiv or the Black Forest, though, and wondering if the "fun" we had was all put on, was imagined. Goodness.
Frankly, I have too much going on to even dwell, and I need to deal with getting my life back in order. I'm now freelancing (kind of a lot) for two different companies, and looking forward to my first paycheck in four months. I'm sorting out what I want to do to learn a living, and I'm also sorting out where I want to live. My things are in New Jersey, and my dad and I are headed up to pick them up next month. They will come back down here with me, and maybe I will feel less disjointed (more jointed?). Right now, I feel like pieces of me are everywhere--Holland, New York, Houston, even Spain, Italy. I need to get the lion's share of those pieces, gather them up to my breast, and mold them back together like a big pile of Play-Doh like I played with in England with my 2-year-old nephew in September.
Don't get me wrong. If this sounds melancholy or even morose, it's largely from being overwhelmed and undergrounded. I can't seem to get my first chakra balanced (have I truly tried?) and there have been so many big choices swimming in front of my eyes for so long that everything seems blurred and unstable. I'm very lucky that I have the chance to whip the rug out from under myself like this--it's healthy, and it's unusual. For having the choice, the support, and the success--I am infinitely thankful. And I know that I will be just fine. It's a process...but isn't everything?
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Reflecting
So last night at V34, one of the two bars that we frequent in the Spijkenisse city center, I was talking about what I would say about Holland when I got back to NYC. People were sure to ask, right? So I thought about the following:
1. The Dutch are very orderly. Everything in their country is planned, including the actual country itself--they built it. With dams. Otherwise, they would have gone the way of New Orleans. Xander's friend Sander says Dutch engineers are in NOLA right now helping them with the below-sea-level issue. Is that true? If so, it's smart. This orderliness transfers to their private lives, and it seems that X's desire for a routine and order stems not just from the military or from his personality, but also from his nationality. So why the pile of bills (pile is being kind) on the dining table? what is it with men and the dining table? isn't it supposed to be for eating?)?
They even assign you your seat in the movie theatre. If you tried to do this in Texas, you might get shot.
2. The Dutch were big traders in the 17th century, which is why Amsterdam was the center of the world back then. This sensibility has continued to today, which shows in their strong economy and in their huge, bustling port, Rotterdam. The Dutch will sell you anything if you are willing to buy. For example, we all know the Dutch cheese Gouda and eat it and love it. Sure, they export a lot of it. But where do you think Feta is from? Greece, yes, originally. But apparently the Dutch export a lot of their own feta to, you guessed it, Greece.
3. They love their bikes, man.
4. Holland is the most densely populated country in Europe, and one of the most densely populated in the world. There are people everywhere. But they still manage to maintain a lot of green space. Flat green space.
5. Most of the Dutch are not religious. The influx of Muslims in the country is forcing the Dutch to reconcile the more strict religion of these people with their very hands-off approach to this matter. Most of the religious people in the Netherlands live in the South, whereas most of the business happens in the Randstad, which is in the Northern provinces of Noord and Zuid Holland. These provinces are also where the name "Holland" comes from. Not all of the Netherlands is Holland, only these provinces. But many Dutch will say you can call it either, because most of the business happens in Holland anyway. Of course the people who say this live in Holland, I'm not sure what those Catholic Southerners would say to that.
There's so much more. I have not spent this long in another country, but I must say that the Dutch seem to have a whole lot of personality for such a little place. They are very proud of their country, but are very open to hearing about others. I think it has been very interesting learning so much about another culture...and their artists, their history, their food (and strange ones like drop and herring), their downfalls and their successes. It really gives you more of a perspective on your own place in history and where you and your country fit in in the grand scheme of things.
I also have learned so much about World War II. I knew close to nothing when I got here, mainly that Hitler was out to conquer the world by any means possible, and that part of his plan was genocide. Or most of it. But that is about all. Now I know the true reaches of the destruction, and the sadness of war. But I also know that people overcome the loss, the horror, to rise out of it. You look at Rotterdam, at Berlin, and you see the modern architecture and vibrant cities that have come out of the dust. It is really fascinating to see the rebuilding of Europe after the war, and sad too. I suppose it is all part of the fabric of the world, the depravity and violence of men, and the hunger for power. But there is beauty too, in the strive to rebuild and start anew. And that is what is the best lesson--that it all comes together to create the richness of life, and to experience that is priceless.
Okay, now my brain is done. Too much high-level thinking for one day.
1. The Dutch are very orderly. Everything in their country is planned, including the actual country itself--they built it. With dams. Otherwise, they would have gone the way of New Orleans. Xander's friend Sander says Dutch engineers are in NOLA right now helping them with the below-sea-level issue. Is that true? If so, it's smart. This orderliness transfers to their private lives, and it seems that X's desire for a routine and order stems not just from the military or from his personality, but also from his nationality. So why the pile of bills (pile is being kind) on the dining table? what is it with men and the dining table? isn't it supposed to be for eating?)?
They even assign you your seat in the movie theatre. If you tried to do this in Texas, you might get shot.
2. The Dutch were big traders in the 17th century, which is why Amsterdam was the center of the world back then. This sensibility has continued to today, which shows in their strong economy and in their huge, bustling port, Rotterdam. The Dutch will sell you anything if you are willing to buy. For example, we all know the Dutch cheese Gouda and eat it and love it. Sure, they export a lot of it. But where do you think Feta is from? Greece, yes, originally. But apparently the Dutch export a lot of their own feta to, you guessed it, Greece.
3. They love their bikes, man.
4. Holland is the most densely populated country in Europe, and one of the most densely populated in the world. There are people everywhere. But they still manage to maintain a lot of green space. Flat green space.
5. Most of the Dutch are not religious. The influx of Muslims in the country is forcing the Dutch to reconcile the more strict religion of these people with their very hands-off approach to this matter. Most of the religious people in the Netherlands live in the South, whereas most of the business happens in the Randstad, which is in the Northern provinces of Noord and Zuid Holland. These provinces are also where the name "Holland" comes from. Not all of the Netherlands is Holland, only these provinces. But many Dutch will say you can call it either, because most of the business happens in Holland anyway. Of course the people who say this live in Holland, I'm not sure what those Catholic Southerners would say to that.
There's so much more. I have not spent this long in another country, but I must say that the Dutch seem to have a whole lot of personality for such a little place. They are very proud of their country, but are very open to hearing about others. I think it has been very interesting learning so much about another culture...and their artists, their history, their food (and strange ones like drop and herring), their downfalls and their successes. It really gives you more of a perspective on your own place in history and where you and your country fit in in the grand scheme of things.
I also have learned so much about World War II. I knew close to nothing when I got here, mainly that Hitler was out to conquer the world by any means possible, and that part of his plan was genocide. Or most of it. But that is about all. Now I know the true reaches of the destruction, and the sadness of war. But I also know that people overcome the loss, the horror, to rise out of it. You look at Rotterdam, at Berlin, and you see the modern architecture and vibrant cities that have come out of the dust. It is really fascinating to see the rebuilding of Europe after the war, and sad too. I suppose it is all part of the fabric of the world, the depravity and violence of men, and the hunger for power. But there is beauty too, in the strive to rebuild and start anew. And that is what is the best lesson--that it all comes together to create the richness of life, and to experience that is priceless.
Okay, now my brain is done. Too much high-level thinking for one day.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Germany Part IV: Berlin
August 15: We eat breakfast with the usual stares from the rest of the guests, then pack up and get on the road for Berlin. I'm excited to get to a city again. I'm feeling like I'm having withdrawal from the city buzz and availability of foods other than spaetzle and schnitzel.
It was hot again on our drive, and long. 6 hours. It was interesting to see the fields and fields of hops by the side of the road. I have never seen them before, and there were lots and lots of them. Yummy beer...
We arrive in Berlin, or at least in Charlottenburg, which is Northwest of the city centre. It's definitely a swanky part of town, and our Hotel-Pension Dittberner is nestled between fancy shops like Sonia Rykiel and nice little restaurants with sidewalk seating. The grand buildings remind me of Paris steets. The Hotel-Pension Dittberner was a beautiful little place in an old building with an elevator you needed a key for and a marble-filled lobby. It reminded me of 1920's Berlin, or what I imagine it looked like, anyway.
We shower, unpack, and head out for a beer at a great bar with 50 beers or something ridiculous. Did I say I loved Germany already? We enjoy watching the people walk by and playing one of my favorite games, Tourist or Local. After our beer, it's time for dinner at a place called Julep's, an American-type joint where we have burgers and fries. Yeah! Then we head to Diener, an old-style place that really did feel like 1920's, but we could really tell we were no longer in Southern Germany--the friendliness was absent, at least in this place. Packed with locals, we really felt like we didn't fit in. Or at least I felt that way. The air was humid and thick when we came out of the bar, and we were ready for bed. So off we went.
The next day, we wake up refreshed and ready for breakfast, which is in a beautiful room packed with more staring Germans saying "morgen" when I just want a coffee. The German breakfast goes as follows: self-serve muësli, fruit salad, yogurt, and juice; an attendee brings you coffee/tea, buns, and a plate of cheese and meat, and an egg if you want it. Hearty, which is nice, but I really just wanted some toast. I think, more than toast, I was yearning, at this point, for familiarity. When you travel for a while, and stay away from what you know, you start to crave feeling comfortable, feeling safe. I wish I could say that traveling continues to be exciting, day after day. The truth is, it is exciting, but alternating with periods of fear and insecurity. Which is why we do it, right?
After breakfast, off to roam around Berlin. We hit the Brandenburger Tor first, just to check it off the list. An icon of the city and of reunification. Right next to a big ol' Starbucks. ha ha. Which, of COURSE, we had to visit for a real, strong, coffee. Man, talk about good people watching. Shoot.
After the Tor and our caffeine jolt, it was to the Denkmal für die ermordeten Juden Europas, or the Monument for the murdered Jews of Europe. This monument had 2711 concrete blocks, each with their own foundation, tilting in different ways and at different heights. It's very somber and a tad creepy, and definitely makes an impact.
After taking a look at what was left of the Wall, it's time to head to the Museum of German History, which just reopened. Usually, I can only handle a couple of hours in a museum before my fragile brain is full to the brim, but I was able to hang in for aver 4 hours at this place, it was so fascinating. It spanned German history from the time of the Romans through WWI, WWII, and the Cold War to the present day. Xander and I both really enjoyed learning about periods in German history we didn't know much about--he really liked the part between WWI and WWII, the Weimar Republic. It was very interesting to see the conditions after WWI which allowed WWII and Hitler to happen. And scary. I was fascinated by the propaganda that was used, both by the Allies and Germany, and in both big wars. I am amazed at the psychological manipulation that was executed, and how it worked. Would that work now? Did it work when we went into Iraq after 9/11? It seems like it did. One looks at those posters from the 1940's and thinks that consumers are so much savvier now, and we won't fall for the government's propoganda. But we did, didn't we?
Off to look at some shops in Mitte, where the hipsters hang out. Another observation: hipsters are the same around the world. You could plop one from Mitte, Berlin in the Lower East Side, New York and noone would be the wiser. The neighborhoods they hang in are just as self-important everywhere, too...maybe I don't have the patience for it now that I'm older, and I really don't care to keep up anymore. The shops there tired me, though they were "cool", whatever that means.
It was time for Xander to be initiated into the sushi lovers' club. I mean, the guy eats raw herring by holding the tail and dropping it, covered in raw onions, into his mouth. He'll certainly like a spicy tuna roll. And he did, and he liked the sake very much as well. A very cute little place. We head back to Charlottenburg on the Metro for one more drink. The metro, incidentally, is dirtier than New York but not as crappy as Milan. And the people are more mixed, even, than I think New York is. Or maybe I'm just used to the mix in New York, and not in Berlin. I always find subways necessary if you want to really get a city. At the bar, I bite Xander's head off for saying something about women not having it any harder after/during WWI/WWII than men. Clearly, the Manhattan woman is still there in me, and she's tired, or she wouldn't have been nasty to her sweet, unsuspecting boyfriend who doesn't mean any harm. And it's time for bed.
The next day, we both feel general malaise. I'm being a pain in the ass, and Xander is tired (partially of me, I'm sure) and very quiet. We shop for a bit, first stop KaDeWe, which claims to be the largest store on the continent. A strange name, which is an abbreviation of Kaufhas Des Westens, "The Department Store of the West". X and I split up, so we can have some alone time, and I do my best shopping this way anyway. I immediately succumb to a Miss Sixty jacket for €220 that I could probably buy for $220 in NYC, but whatever. I can't think about that anymore. Anyway, it's cute. And I need a new jacket. So there.
And X and I meet back up and we're still fed up, and have lunch. Then I sort of coerce him into coming to the Bauhaus Archiv. Well, not coerce, but he didn't really want to go to a museum...but I told him this was a design museum, and we wouldn't be able to see it anywhere else in the world. So we go, and it's super-duper interesting. I mean, if you like Bauhaus or not, it's an interesting concept. I can't really put it in a nutshell here, but look to the tubular chairs of Marcel Breuer, known as the "Wassily Chair" for a well-known example of the furniture produced by the Bauhaus. And, of course, one can't forget Mies van der Rohe, the final director of the Bauhaus school. So we enjoyed this and headed for a drink to celebrate and do some people watching. We needed a snack, though, and stopped by the Kaiser-Wilhelm Memorial Church where all the street vendors were for some of the famous Berliner snack, currywurst.
The remains of Kaiser-Wilhelm Memorial Church, bombed in a 1943 air raid
Originally uploaded by sarahjanenyc1
Which is essentially sausage with curry sauce. And Xander brought two servings back to our seat on a bench under a tree: "with skin" and "without skin". Which put me off of any wurst, skin or not, for though one knows that sausage is made of quite unsavory ingredients, it is one of the many things one forgets about because one enjoys it so much--much like one forgets how much the rest of the world pays for apartment rent because one enjoys New York City so much. But I ate it. Success.
And then for a drink at a very Parisian cafe, with all of the tables and woven seats facing out. We played, of course, Tourist or Local, and also, spot the Italian tourist. Which was fun. Then back to the hotel to change and relax a bit, and watch CNN and compare the US mine disaster to the Chinese one. Which was revealing.
Then to dinner at an Italian restaurant in our neighborhood, which was exceedingly enjoyable. Wine, delicious food, lots of it, dessert, liqueur, cappucino. Yum. I realize that long, indulgent dinners are missed in my life right now, and this hits the spot, big-time. Ah, New York. I love you. it's the kind of Italian restaurant where the waiters are Italian and yell their orders across the restaurant. And they are friendly. And they bought us a drink at the end of our meal! Hurrah. A great end to our visit in Germany. And the next day, we rise, eat breakfast (you know what that comprises) and pack and check out.
I doze off at some point on the drive home, and wake up in Holland. I can tell immediately by the roads--they are somehow more spacious and the drivers are slower. Not as many big German cars, more small Skodas and Seats, etc (although Xander would argue the Seat is really German as it is made by Volkswagen, but you know what I mean). But more than that, I feel the difference. It's interesting how initially when I arrived in Europe this summer, I would never imagine that I could have noticed the difference between a Dutch road and a German one, but I have become aware of the beat, the rhythm, the personality of Holland. And it felt good to be back--even better to walk into Xander's apartment. Isn't it interesting how coming home is the best part of a holiday? And the benefits of a holiday usually come later, when you synthesize your experiences into your life, allowing them to enrich your life and widen your horizons. I'm still soaking up and processing Germany. I loved it, and will continue to. Thank you, Germany.
It was hot again on our drive, and long. 6 hours. It was interesting to see the fields and fields of hops by the side of the road. I have never seen them before, and there were lots and lots of them. Yummy beer...
We arrive in Berlin, or at least in Charlottenburg, which is Northwest of the city centre. It's definitely a swanky part of town, and our Hotel-Pension Dittberner is nestled between fancy shops like Sonia Rykiel and nice little restaurants with sidewalk seating. The grand buildings remind me of Paris steets. The Hotel-Pension Dittberner was a beautiful little place in an old building with an elevator you needed a key for and a marble-filled lobby. It reminded me of 1920's Berlin, or what I imagine it looked like, anyway.
We shower, unpack, and head out for a beer at a great bar with 50 beers or something ridiculous. Did I say I loved Germany already? We enjoy watching the people walk by and playing one of my favorite games, Tourist or Local. After our beer, it's time for dinner at a place called Julep's, an American-type joint where we have burgers and fries. Yeah! Then we head to Diener, an old-style place that really did feel like 1920's, but we could really tell we were no longer in Southern Germany--the friendliness was absent, at least in this place. Packed with locals, we really felt like we didn't fit in. Or at least I felt that way. The air was humid and thick when we came out of the bar, and we were ready for bed. So off we went.
The next day, we wake up refreshed and ready for breakfast, which is in a beautiful room packed with more staring Germans saying "morgen" when I just want a coffee. The German breakfast goes as follows: self-serve muësli, fruit salad, yogurt, and juice; an attendee brings you coffee/tea, buns, and a plate of cheese and meat, and an egg if you want it. Hearty, which is nice, but I really just wanted some toast. I think, more than toast, I was yearning, at this point, for familiarity. When you travel for a while, and stay away from what you know, you start to crave feeling comfortable, feeling safe. I wish I could say that traveling continues to be exciting, day after day. The truth is, it is exciting, but alternating with periods of fear and insecurity. Which is why we do it, right?
After breakfast, off to roam around Berlin. We hit the Brandenburger Tor first, just to check it off the list. An icon of the city and of reunification. Right next to a big ol' Starbucks. ha ha. Which, of COURSE, we had to visit for a real, strong, coffee. Man, talk about good people watching. Shoot.
After the Tor and our caffeine jolt, it was to the Denkmal für die ermordeten Juden Europas, or the Monument for the murdered Jews of Europe. This monument had 2711 concrete blocks, each with their own foundation, tilting in different ways and at different heights. It's very somber and a tad creepy, and definitely makes an impact.
After taking a look at what was left of the Wall, it's time to head to the Museum of German History, which just reopened. Usually, I can only handle a couple of hours in a museum before my fragile brain is full to the brim, but I was able to hang in for aver 4 hours at this place, it was so fascinating. It spanned German history from the time of the Romans through WWI, WWII, and the Cold War to the present day. Xander and I both really enjoyed learning about periods in German history we didn't know much about--he really liked the part between WWI and WWII, the Weimar Republic. It was very interesting to see the conditions after WWI which allowed WWII and Hitler to happen. And scary. I was fascinated by the propaganda that was used, both by the Allies and Germany, and in both big wars. I am amazed at the psychological manipulation that was executed, and how it worked. Would that work now? Did it work when we went into Iraq after 9/11? It seems like it did. One looks at those posters from the 1940's and thinks that consumers are so much savvier now, and we won't fall for the government's propoganda. But we did, didn't we?
Off to look at some shops in Mitte, where the hipsters hang out. Another observation: hipsters are the same around the world. You could plop one from Mitte, Berlin in the Lower East Side, New York and noone would be the wiser. The neighborhoods they hang in are just as self-important everywhere, too...maybe I don't have the patience for it now that I'm older, and I really don't care to keep up anymore. The shops there tired me, though they were "cool", whatever that means.
It was time for Xander to be initiated into the sushi lovers' club. I mean, the guy eats raw herring by holding the tail and dropping it, covered in raw onions, into his mouth. He'll certainly like a spicy tuna roll. And he did, and he liked the sake very much as well. A very cute little place. We head back to Charlottenburg on the Metro for one more drink. The metro, incidentally, is dirtier than New York but not as crappy as Milan. And the people are more mixed, even, than I think New York is. Or maybe I'm just used to the mix in New York, and not in Berlin. I always find subways necessary if you want to really get a city. At the bar, I bite Xander's head off for saying something about women not having it any harder after/during WWI/WWII than men. Clearly, the Manhattan woman is still there in me, and she's tired, or she wouldn't have been nasty to her sweet, unsuspecting boyfriend who doesn't mean any harm. And it's time for bed.
The next day, we both feel general malaise. I'm being a pain in the ass, and Xander is tired (partially of me, I'm sure) and very quiet. We shop for a bit, first stop KaDeWe, which claims to be the largest store on the continent. A strange name, which is an abbreviation of Kaufhas Des Westens, "The Department Store of the West". X and I split up, so we can have some alone time, and I do my best shopping this way anyway. I immediately succumb to a Miss Sixty jacket for €220 that I could probably buy for $220 in NYC, but whatever. I can't think about that anymore. Anyway, it's cute. And I need a new jacket. So there.
And X and I meet back up and we're still fed up, and have lunch. Then I sort of coerce him into coming to the Bauhaus Archiv. Well, not coerce, but he didn't really want to go to a museum...but I told him this was a design museum, and we wouldn't be able to see it anywhere else in the world. So we go, and it's super-duper interesting. I mean, if you like Bauhaus or not, it's an interesting concept. I can't really put it in a nutshell here, but look to the tubular chairs of Marcel Breuer, known as the "Wassily Chair" for a well-known example of the furniture produced by the Bauhaus. And, of course, one can't forget Mies van der Rohe, the final director of the Bauhaus school. So we enjoyed this and headed for a drink to celebrate and do some people watching. We needed a snack, though, and stopped by the Kaiser-Wilhelm Memorial Church where all the street vendors were for some of the famous Berliner snack, currywurst.
The remains of Kaiser-Wilhelm Memorial Church, bombed in a 1943 air raid
Originally uploaded by sarahjanenyc1
Which is essentially sausage with curry sauce. And Xander brought two servings back to our seat on a bench under a tree: "with skin" and "without skin". Which put me off of any wurst, skin or not, for though one knows that sausage is made of quite unsavory ingredients, it is one of the many things one forgets about because one enjoys it so much--much like one forgets how much the rest of the world pays for apartment rent because one enjoys New York City so much. But I ate it. Success.
And then for a drink at a very Parisian cafe, with all of the tables and woven seats facing out. We played, of course, Tourist or Local, and also, spot the Italian tourist. Which was fun. Then back to the hotel to change and relax a bit, and watch CNN and compare the US mine disaster to the Chinese one. Which was revealing.
Then to dinner at an Italian restaurant in our neighborhood, which was exceedingly enjoyable. Wine, delicious food, lots of it, dessert, liqueur, cappucino. Yum. I realize that long, indulgent dinners are missed in my life right now, and this hits the spot, big-time. Ah, New York. I love you. it's the kind of Italian restaurant where the waiters are Italian and yell their orders across the restaurant. And they are friendly. And they bought us a drink at the end of our meal! Hurrah. A great end to our visit in Germany. And the next day, we rise, eat breakfast (you know what that comprises) and pack and check out.
I doze off at some point on the drive home, and wake up in Holland. I can tell immediately by the roads--they are somehow more spacious and the drivers are slower. Not as many big German cars, more small Skodas and Seats, etc (although Xander would argue the Seat is really German as it is made by Volkswagen, but you know what I mean). But more than that, I feel the difference. It's interesting how initially when I arrived in Europe this summer, I would never imagine that I could have noticed the difference between a Dutch road and a German one, but I have become aware of the beat, the rhythm, the personality of Holland. And it felt good to be back--even better to walk into Xander's apartment. Isn't it interesting how coming home is the best part of a holiday? And the benefits of a holiday usually come later, when you synthesize your experiences into your life, allowing them to enrich your life and widen your horizons. I'm still soaking up and processing Germany. I loved it, and will continue to. Thank you, Germany.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Germany Part III: The Bavarian Alps
August 11th: We check out of the hut and the campsite. Everything is very dirty by this time, muddy, wet. I am ready to stay in a Gäst-Haus. I'm not a hippie, North Face hiking pants or not.
We drive past what I assume are many beautiful views of the Alps and the Bodensee but cannot see because it is still bloody raining and murky.
It clears occasionally so we get glimpses, but the cover still remains. We get to Garmisch-Partenkirchen at about 5:30 PM, in the very south of Germany, south of Munich by about an hour and a half. G-P is well-known because it is at the base of the highest mountain in the German Alps, the Zugspitze, and you might have heard of it because it hosted the fourth winter Olympics in 1936.
We check into Gäst-Haus Hamburg, which is very "cute", which Xander has told me Southern Germany is. And very Christian, too. For some reason, I feel a general sense of unease about all this cuteness. Perhaps because I'm a New Yorker. Cute is like a swear word there.
So we go to dinner and I order a big dark ("dunkel") beer, and Xander orders a glass of red wine, and as usual, they think the beer is his and the wine mine. The trout that I ordered shows up with a head and tail, and combined with the Christianity, the really tanned people all around, and the perfection of Garmisch, I cry. The head and tail are the icing on the cake. All of a sudden I feel really really far from home. Where the hell is this place? The mountains feel imposing, the weather ghastly, and food weird. I long for restaurants where fish comes out in little pieces, wrapped in seaweed and rice for dipping in soy sauce and wasabi--like it's supposed to be served.
After my breakdown, we decide to grab a deck of cards and a six pack of Warsteiner and go back to our little room to adjust to Bavaria. This adjustment is hampered by "Schlager" "music" on the TV--very happy lyrics sung by very happy people in those outfits worn on the Sound of Music or National Lampoon's European Vacation. Playing accordions and guitars and smiling a lot. And the sun is shining, which is my first indication it's all a farce.
And then the deck of cards has 36 cards in it! What the hell? Must be for some jacked-up (or queened-up, ha ha) local card game. We play a game of war, the only game I can think of which doesn't require us to have cards under 6. Xander wins, with a lot of shit-talking. He would do well in our Uno games in Central Park.
To top off the evening, we read a bit from the Bible (yes, it's in English and German) and head to bed.
The next day, my heel is still hurting from the day in the Black Forest, and we decide to put off a hike in the Alps for a day and head to Obersalzburg to check out the Eagle's Nest, or Kehlsteinhaus. This is Hitler's "tea house", sort of his Camp David, where he met with foreign dignitaries and his people to do the real business. It is perched on the top of the Kehlstein, a 1834 m-high mountain in the Alps. At the bottom of the Kehlsteinstrasse leading to the Eagle's Nest is Dokumentation Obersalzberg, a permanent exhibition which details the government of the Nazis, which was very, very scary, and there is an old Nazi-era Bunker underneath you can visit, which was scary and also creepy and cold.
It was sunny for a bit but then the clouds descended on the mountain, which made for some very scary precipices. Xander, being a daredevil, loved to climb around on the rocks with blatant disregard that we were really really high up and I chose to instead freak out and refuse to go near the edge.
Tourists here were almost as bad as at Burg Eltz. Or maybe worse. Though I will say that in the elevator up to the Eagle's Nest, which was very large, there were some loud Americans yelling across to other loud Americans (okay, perhaps "loud" is redundant, but I am using it for emphasis) about where they were staying and it actually warmed my heart to hear that familiar accent. Obnoxious or not, they're damn friendly.
We visit the Dokumentation next, which we should have done first, for we run out of time as it closes and there is so much to see. They have a huge amount of Nazi information, and like I said, it is creepy to see how they manipulated people. The propoganda alone. Crazy.
We get in the car to go home and Xander does a small psychoanalysis of Sarah and why she freaked out on the mountain/last night in the restaurant. Basically, I'm in a lot of new situations, continually, and when I'm faced with one I really don't know, I break down. I suppose it's easy to see from the outside. Also, perhaps the mountains freak me out. They are very pointy.
Sadly, we go to Pizza Hut in Garmisch to pick up some pizzas for dinner. I was craving it big-time since I saw it the night before. I asked them if they had pizza with trout heads but they didn't. It was a disappointment, but we ordered the Tex-Mex pizza (I'm serious) instead. The slogan for this joint was "Welcome to Pizza the American Way". !
Breakfast in the Gäst-Haus, which we always do. I never really like staying in these places, like Bed and Breakfasts, because everyone assumes because the place doesn't have a lobby bar that you have to speak to one another. "Morgen" "morgen" "morgen". Blah blah. I don't want to be spoken to until I've had minimum two cups of coffee, and I don't want to be looked at funny by the family in the corner who look like they've come to do zero hiking. Which makes me wonder why anyone comes to G-P if they don't want to hike. Then Xander points out that there are cable cars. Which I will address later.
I get brave and decide, hurt heel or not, we're in the damn Alps and we are going to hike. And we took out my insoles which helps. So we head off to Mittenwald, a little town about 20 minutes down the road, for a little gentle hike. We originally tried to stay in Mittenwald, but it was all booked. It was very cute, and I liked it better than G-P, not as snotty, a little more catering to tourists. More options, generally. But no Pizza Hut.
We are walking from our car to start the walk, looking all official in our North Face gear, backpacks, camelbaks, and Xander's various navigation devices including but not limitied to a fancy hiking map which, though obviously extremely necessary for hiking in the freaking mountins, is admittedly scary-looking to surburbanites in SUV's. Speaking of SUV's, a KIA one pulls up next to us and the window rolls down while we are walking. The very tanned, made-up blonde in the passenger seat holds up a very touristy map (you know, more advertising) of a gorge about 30 KM to the south of Mittenwald and says to us with a heavy Italian accent "we want to go here. where are we now". And looks at us pleadingly. We both spring into action, me pointing at the tourist map (okay, way off the map) and saying we are there, and Xander pointing at HIS scary map and saying we are here, and me explaining that they need to go BACK to the tourist office to get more information, and not looking at Xander because I will laugh. Exasperated, they pull away from us, and Xander and I laugh for a good 10 minutes. So much wrong with that whole incident, but we will find out that Italians are the most amusing tourists we will run into. Which is refreshing for me, having come from the most maligned country in terms of obnoxiousness. Sorry to any Italians reading this. I mean no offense.
The walk we planned ended up being pretty easy, and the weather cleared up and it was a beautiful day.
As we sat and had lunch, we decided to go up to the Grünkopf, a 1600 m/1 mile peak.
The map made it look much more benign than it really was, and thus I wanted to kill myself, the mapmaker, or Xander several to many times before we reached the very elusive peak. Once we arrived there, though, I was very happy and sweaty and proud of us.
We head back down as quickly as possible, which is also not easy because walking down proves to be painful like going up, but mainly for the knees and not as much for the psyche and mental well-being. Once in Mittenwald, we find the nearest beer garden and devour our chewy rump steak and fries with beer. Oh, and of course Xander finishes off every meal with a coffee and a schnapps, this one being a particularly potent Blutwurz, with 50% alcohol content. Seriously! The existence of Jägermeister now makes so much more sense to me.
And then home in the car, but not before being suspected of being muggers by some locals.
With success warm in our hearts from the day before, we arise on our last day in Garmisch to dreams of climbing another, HIGHER mountain. What I was thinking, I don't know. The ego taking over, I'm sure. Freud?
This time, the peak, appropriately called The Wank, is 1780 meters high. There are cable cars going up the mountain for those families like the one at our Gäst-Haus who don't want to actually climb, but we decide to walk up and take the cable cars down. Stupid.
The walk was hot. Now, it's not raining, but instead you feel light-headed from the heat as you climb, climb, climb.
Sweating on our big walk up the Wank. Yes, that's what it was called.
Originally uploaded by sarahjanenyc1
This, my friends, is super "Sound of Music" land. I was humming the songs all the way up the mountain. I now have to watch that one again, and I think so many things will make so much more sense to me. As we climb, we cross the cable car lines from underneath several times, and it gives us delight to belittle these spineless, drive-less people, taking the easy way up the mountain as we sweat buckets and curse all the way up.
And, as we begin to near the peak, we also begin to see clean, dry, happy families headed DOWN the mountain after taking the Wankbahn up. They say "Grüss Gott" (literally, "greet God", the way the southern Germans say "hello!". we will dissect the psychology behind that one later) with bounce and sunshine, and we mutter "Grüss Gott" back, not wanting to lose too much of our precious energy in the effort. Also, we want them to know what wusses they are.
Here is something I would have liked to have: those hiking sticks. I think that they would have been nice to have, but Xander and I decided they were for wusses.
Well, surprisingly quickly, and with less profanity than the day before, we make it to the peak. I think it was motivating to see the other wusses and bask in our bravado in climbing up. And, I admit: fun. There, I've said it. I may enjoy a good glass of Malbec and a nice arugula salad after a day of pedicures and shopping in Nolita, but I will say that proving to myself that I can (insert Sound of Music music here) Climb Every Mountain (okay, maybe not every one) was a very valuable experience.
We hang out on the peak for a while, having coffee and eating our gourmet lunch of noodles. There was, of course, an extremely overpriced restaurant at the peak to exploit the tourists, but a. we did not want to mix with the wusses b. it was like we didn't want to enter back into reality--we wanted to feel the accomplishment and the bond that we created between each other and the mountain for a little bit longer. It's hard to explain if you haven't done it, or maybe it's obvious, and since this is my first experience hiking, I'm still in awe.
After enjoying the mountain for a bit longer, and hearing the bells of the cows tinkle as they graze on the grass, we jump on a cable car and head down the mountain, after Xander asks me "are you sure you don't want to walk down?" to which I laugh and drag him onto the car. As we head down, we look at the trail we climbed, and it doesn't even connect in my mind to the experience we just had. Anytime you look at anything from afar, it's just not the same as being there and experiencing it.
After our cable car ride, we have a beer at a little place in Partenkirchen, which is joined to Garmisch--previously separate towns until the 1936 Olympics, they are now joined and appear seamless. We were staying on the Garmisch side, which was a bit ritzier than the Partenkirchen side, Pizza Hut and McDonald's francises notwithstanding.
So we are sitting and having a beer (ok, I'm having a beer and X is having a coffee) and we have another Italian tourist incident. We are sitting outside and the Italian woman comes from nowhere, on her cell phone and with a cigarette in her hand. She uses the cigarette to point at a couple of German guys sitting a couple of tables away (no greeting beforehand): "where is the McDonald's?". In that accent. And the German guys, uncharacteristically sarcastic, as the Germans are friendly and helpful, say back: "it closed, the food was terrible and no one ate there". The Italian woman doesn't blink an eye and just stands there, on her phone still. Xander feels badly for the woman and says: "it is in Garmisch." She says back: "what is this place", pointing with her cigarette again, but this time at the ground of "this place". Xander replies: "Partenkirchen. Garmisch and Partenkirchen are connected." (being very nice...I however cannot turn and look at the woman, who is behind me, for fear of losing it. This whole exchange is very, very amusing) She says: "how many kilometers are we from Garmisch". Xander says: "two at the most, maybe one". She is now done with Xander and turns back to her cell phone, telling the person she is obviously supposed to meet: "something in Italian, baci, baci" and then kissing noises, turns around and leaves. We all just kind of look at one another, in awe.
Ah, the Italians.
It starts raining, hard, and tired of looking at kitschy German souvenir shops which include of course beer steins and painted plates, but also many Christian items, we head to Gäst-Haus Hamburg to watch My Super Sweet 16 on MTV. Then we head back out after the rain has stopped for our last hearty Southern German meal, including but not limited to: Spaetzle, Strudel, lots of pork, wurst, and schnitzel. Delicious, and perfect after our big climb up the Wank.
Off to bed!
We drive past what I assume are many beautiful views of the Alps and the Bodensee but cannot see because it is still bloody raining and murky.
It clears occasionally so we get glimpses, but the cover still remains. We get to Garmisch-Partenkirchen at about 5:30 PM, in the very south of Germany, south of Munich by about an hour and a half. G-P is well-known because it is at the base of the highest mountain in the German Alps, the Zugspitze, and you might have heard of it because it hosted the fourth winter Olympics in 1936.
We check into Gäst-Haus Hamburg, which is very "cute", which Xander has told me Southern Germany is. And very Christian, too. For some reason, I feel a general sense of unease about all this cuteness. Perhaps because I'm a New Yorker. Cute is like a swear word there.
So we go to dinner and I order a big dark ("dunkel") beer, and Xander orders a glass of red wine, and as usual, they think the beer is his and the wine mine. The trout that I ordered shows up with a head and tail, and combined with the Christianity, the really tanned people all around, and the perfection of Garmisch, I cry. The head and tail are the icing on the cake. All of a sudden I feel really really far from home. Where the hell is this place? The mountains feel imposing, the weather ghastly, and food weird. I long for restaurants where fish comes out in little pieces, wrapped in seaweed and rice for dipping in soy sauce and wasabi--like it's supposed to be served.
After my breakdown, we decide to grab a deck of cards and a six pack of Warsteiner and go back to our little room to adjust to Bavaria. This adjustment is hampered by "Schlager" "music" on the TV--very happy lyrics sung by very happy people in those outfits worn on the Sound of Music or National Lampoon's European Vacation. Playing accordions and guitars and smiling a lot. And the sun is shining, which is my first indication it's all a farce.
And then the deck of cards has 36 cards in it! What the hell? Must be for some jacked-up (or queened-up, ha ha) local card game. We play a game of war, the only game I can think of which doesn't require us to have cards under 6. Xander wins, with a lot of shit-talking. He would do well in our Uno games in Central Park.
To top off the evening, we read a bit from the Bible (yes, it's in English and German) and head to bed.
The next day, my heel is still hurting from the day in the Black Forest, and we decide to put off a hike in the Alps for a day and head to Obersalzburg to check out the Eagle's Nest, or Kehlsteinhaus. This is Hitler's "tea house", sort of his Camp David, where he met with foreign dignitaries and his people to do the real business. It is perched on the top of the Kehlstein, a 1834 m-high mountain in the Alps. At the bottom of the Kehlsteinstrasse leading to the Eagle's Nest is Dokumentation Obersalzberg, a permanent exhibition which details the government of the Nazis, which was very, very scary, and there is an old Nazi-era Bunker underneath you can visit, which was scary and also creepy and cold.
It was sunny for a bit but then the clouds descended on the mountain, which made for some very scary precipices. Xander, being a daredevil, loved to climb around on the rocks with blatant disregard that we were really really high up and I chose to instead freak out and refuse to go near the edge.
Tourists here were almost as bad as at Burg Eltz. Or maybe worse. Though I will say that in the elevator up to the Eagle's Nest, which was very large, there were some loud Americans yelling across to other loud Americans (okay, perhaps "loud" is redundant, but I am using it for emphasis) about where they were staying and it actually warmed my heart to hear that familiar accent. Obnoxious or not, they're damn friendly.
We visit the Dokumentation next, which we should have done first, for we run out of time as it closes and there is so much to see. They have a huge amount of Nazi information, and like I said, it is creepy to see how they manipulated people. The propoganda alone. Crazy.
We get in the car to go home and Xander does a small psychoanalysis of Sarah and why she freaked out on the mountain/last night in the restaurant. Basically, I'm in a lot of new situations, continually, and when I'm faced with one I really don't know, I break down. I suppose it's easy to see from the outside. Also, perhaps the mountains freak me out. They are very pointy.
Sadly, we go to Pizza Hut in Garmisch to pick up some pizzas for dinner. I was craving it big-time since I saw it the night before. I asked them if they had pizza with trout heads but they didn't. It was a disappointment, but we ordered the Tex-Mex pizza (I'm serious) instead. The slogan for this joint was "Welcome to Pizza the American Way". !
Breakfast in the Gäst-Haus, which we always do. I never really like staying in these places, like Bed and Breakfasts, because everyone assumes because the place doesn't have a lobby bar that you have to speak to one another. "Morgen" "morgen" "morgen". Blah blah. I don't want to be spoken to until I've had minimum two cups of coffee, and I don't want to be looked at funny by the family in the corner who look like they've come to do zero hiking. Which makes me wonder why anyone comes to G-P if they don't want to hike. Then Xander points out that there are cable cars. Which I will address later.
I get brave and decide, hurt heel or not, we're in the damn Alps and we are going to hike. And we took out my insoles which helps. So we head off to Mittenwald, a little town about 20 minutes down the road, for a little gentle hike. We originally tried to stay in Mittenwald, but it was all booked. It was very cute, and I liked it better than G-P, not as snotty, a little more catering to tourists. More options, generally. But no Pizza Hut.
We are walking from our car to start the walk, looking all official in our North Face gear, backpacks, camelbaks, and Xander's various navigation devices including but not limitied to a fancy hiking map which, though obviously extremely necessary for hiking in the freaking mountins, is admittedly scary-looking to surburbanites in SUV's. Speaking of SUV's, a KIA one pulls up next to us and the window rolls down while we are walking. The very tanned, made-up blonde in the passenger seat holds up a very touristy map (you know, more advertising) of a gorge about 30 KM to the south of Mittenwald and says to us with a heavy Italian accent "we want to go here. where are we now". And looks at us pleadingly. We both spring into action, me pointing at the tourist map (okay, way off the map) and saying we are there, and Xander pointing at HIS scary map and saying we are here, and me explaining that they need to go BACK to the tourist office to get more information, and not looking at Xander because I will laugh. Exasperated, they pull away from us, and Xander and I laugh for a good 10 minutes. So much wrong with that whole incident, but we will find out that Italians are the most amusing tourists we will run into. Which is refreshing for me, having come from the most maligned country in terms of obnoxiousness. Sorry to any Italians reading this. I mean no offense.
The walk we planned ended up being pretty easy, and the weather cleared up and it was a beautiful day.
As we sat and had lunch, we decided to go up to the Grünkopf, a 1600 m/1 mile peak.
The map made it look much more benign than it really was, and thus I wanted to kill myself, the mapmaker, or Xander several to many times before we reached the very elusive peak. Once we arrived there, though, I was very happy and sweaty and proud of us.
We head back down as quickly as possible, which is also not easy because walking down proves to be painful like going up, but mainly for the knees and not as much for the psyche and mental well-being. Once in Mittenwald, we find the nearest beer garden and devour our chewy rump steak and fries with beer. Oh, and of course Xander finishes off every meal with a coffee and a schnapps, this one being a particularly potent Blutwurz, with 50% alcohol content. Seriously! The existence of Jägermeister now makes so much more sense to me.
And then home in the car, but not before being suspected of being muggers by some locals.
With success warm in our hearts from the day before, we arise on our last day in Garmisch to dreams of climbing another, HIGHER mountain. What I was thinking, I don't know. The ego taking over, I'm sure. Freud?
This time, the peak, appropriately called The Wank, is 1780 meters high. There are cable cars going up the mountain for those families like the one at our Gäst-Haus who don't want to actually climb, but we decide to walk up and take the cable cars down. Stupid.
The walk was hot. Now, it's not raining, but instead you feel light-headed from the heat as you climb, climb, climb.
Sweating on our big walk up the Wank. Yes, that's what it was called.
Originally uploaded by sarahjanenyc1
This, my friends, is super "Sound of Music" land. I was humming the songs all the way up the mountain. I now have to watch that one again, and I think so many things will make so much more sense to me. As we climb, we cross the cable car lines from underneath several times, and it gives us delight to belittle these spineless, drive-less people, taking the easy way up the mountain as we sweat buckets and curse all the way up.
And, as we begin to near the peak, we also begin to see clean, dry, happy families headed DOWN the mountain after taking the Wankbahn up. They say "Grüss Gott" (literally, "greet God", the way the southern Germans say "hello!". we will dissect the psychology behind that one later) with bounce and sunshine, and we mutter "Grüss Gott" back, not wanting to lose too much of our precious energy in the effort. Also, we want them to know what wusses they are.
Here is something I would have liked to have: those hiking sticks. I think that they would have been nice to have, but Xander and I decided they were for wusses.
Well, surprisingly quickly, and with less profanity than the day before, we make it to the peak. I think it was motivating to see the other wusses and bask in our bravado in climbing up. And, I admit: fun. There, I've said it. I may enjoy a good glass of Malbec and a nice arugula salad after a day of pedicures and shopping in Nolita, but I will say that proving to myself that I can (insert Sound of Music music here) Climb Every Mountain (okay, maybe not every one) was a very valuable experience.
We hang out on the peak for a while, having coffee and eating our gourmet lunch of noodles. There was, of course, an extremely overpriced restaurant at the peak to exploit the tourists, but a. we did not want to mix with the wusses b. it was like we didn't want to enter back into reality--we wanted to feel the accomplishment and the bond that we created between each other and the mountain for a little bit longer. It's hard to explain if you haven't done it, or maybe it's obvious, and since this is my first experience hiking, I'm still in awe.
After enjoying the mountain for a bit longer, and hearing the bells of the cows tinkle as they graze on the grass, we jump on a cable car and head down the mountain, after Xander asks me "are you sure you don't want to walk down?" to which I laugh and drag him onto the car. As we head down, we look at the trail we climbed, and it doesn't even connect in my mind to the experience we just had. Anytime you look at anything from afar, it's just not the same as being there and experiencing it.
After our cable car ride, we have a beer at a little place in Partenkirchen, which is joined to Garmisch--previously separate towns until the 1936 Olympics, they are now joined and appear seamless. We were staying on the Garmisch side, which was a bit ritzier than the Partenkirchen side, Pizza Hut and McDonald's francises notwithstanding.
So we are sitting and having a beer (ok, I'm having a beer and X is having a coffee) and we have another Italian tourist incident. We are sitting outside and the Italian woman comes from nowhere, on her cell phone and with a cigarette in her hand. She uses the cigarette to point at a couple of German guys sitting a couple of tables away (no greeting beforehand): "where is the McDonald's?". In that accent. And the German guys, uncharacteristically sarcastic, as the Germans are friendly and helpful, say back: "it closed, the food was terrible and no one ate there". The Italian woman doesn't blink an eye and just stands there, on her phone still. Xander feels badly for the woman and says: "it is in Garmisch." She says back: "what is this place", pointing with her cigarette again, but this time at the ground of "this place". Xander replies: "Partenkirchen. Garmisch and Partenkirchen are connected." (being very nice...I however cannot turn and look at the woman, who is behind me, for fear of losing it. This whole exchange is very, very amusing) She says: "how many kilometers are we from Garmisch". Xander says: "two at the most, maybe one". She is now done with Xander and turns back to her cell phone, telling the person she is obviously supposed to meet: "something in Italian, baci, baci" and then kissing noises, turns around and leaves. We all just kind of look at one another, in awe.
Ah, the Italians.
It starts raining, hard, and tired of looking at kitschy German souvenir shops which include of course beer steins and painted plates, but also many Christian items, we head to Gäst-Haus Hamburg to watch My Super Sweet 16 on MTV. Then we head back out after the rain has stopped for our last hearty Southern German meal, including but not limited to: Spaetzle, Strudel, lots of pork, wurst, and schnitzel. Delicious, and perfect after our big climb up the Wank.
Off to bed!
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