Lucky

for some reason, i have begun feeling very lucky for my place here since coming back from spain. i am incredibly thankful for the comfort of my house and have realized just how fortunate we have been to have been taken care of so well & provided for, despite all the problems. it is beautiful land and a beautiful country. God has taught me a valuable lesson this year, and has humbled me. He has shown me how much I have and how much I take for granted. He has shown me how little other people have and are either happy or unhappy with it. And He has shown me just how hard some people work, and how they have no choice in the matter, even in developed countries like France, and Portugal. He has taught me more about myself, that i am spoiled, that i have many comforts i can't do without, and regardless of whether other people have even more and are still oblivious, this awareness in me allows me to give myself permission to be so, to acknowledge it as north american, but to watch that it does not get out of control, to keep it in check, to share with others, and never forget that most have not, and help them. i feel like i have a clearer sense of what i should do, and the old feeling of assurance that came after camp a few years ago has come back. who knows how long it will stay this time, but let's see what happens after greece, and let's hope it sticks around. i just want safety, security, and a warm home. and i want to get started now, but something tells me i should just do england & australia first while i still can, lest i regret. surprisingly, instead of crushing my spirit, like some of my experiences over the past few years, this time, these things, have made me stronger. it's like a breathe of fresh air. and watching 'dedication' tonight, i thought of all the things i will look back on when i'm 40, of all the things i've done in my life, and instead of being a sheltered, boring preserved withered flower, or a hollow, jaded, shadow of a spirit, i hope to be full, whole, strong, battle-scarred but not mortally
wounded, wise, alive, and full of energy. 40 is a long way away, and still so young. i don't know what got me feeling so old, being a homebody isn't an automatic disqualification of youth, nor is being a teeny bopper booze hound the definition. i am young and i am vital and i sometimes act and think as though i am withering away, when i've only just begun. two more babe, two more, and then you'll have lives to live and stories to tell. two more. then work, hobbies, and trips thrown in here and there. full. happy. satisfied. and lucky. don't forget it.

p.s. everything's so pretty! the pink flowers are blooming, the sun is shining... & it snowed today! and the wind is blowing so hard it'll knock you over, but it's beautiful! :)

p.p.s i felt my heart was full in seville, but my heart feels even fuller now, with the comforts of home, my tv (just the warm glow of the company and the familiar french sounds and faces), my computer that connects me with home & the world & creativity, my warm cup of tea or milk, and snacks, my warm cozy bed, my sweatshirt, my pillow, cleanliness, fresh air - snow even!- pink peach flowers, pretty coloured houses, kids saying hello and teachers who've become family inquiring sincerely how i've been, this is a life here, this is a life we've created, this is it. not in the wishing or hoping or planning for future, but this. even if it sometimes stands still, even if it is frustrating and my work is laughable. this has become home. and i'm glad for having it. so so glad. i couldn't have asked for anything more, how dare i, i have so much. wanting comes from the fear of not having, which comes when we forget that we do. i just got a much needed reminder, and one of the biggest revelations of my life. interesting indeed. and now i'm eating olives stuffed with anchovies - how weird is that? but it's rubbed off on me, very french indeed, and now so is a part of me. :) giggle. ;-)

p.p.p.s. i just saw the preview for into the wild, it's too intense for me in a humanistic, primal sence, but it made me realize that me throwing myself into this year like this, and all of my experinces, are my rites of passage. since my parents did nothing but scold & overprotect me, i guess this is my way of getting it out of my system & growing up. thankfully, it looks good on my resume too. ;)

Spain & Portugal

alright folks, these are the extensive, inspired notes i jotted down during my two weeks in the iberian peninsula. there's a lot, & not sure how readible they are, but i'm proud of them. enjoy.

so, 4 hours on the train from france, a 3 hour nap, and then I fainted, twice. I got up to go to the bathroom just across the hall but my legs were going one way and my head another, and I running-planted myself right into the wall. getting up to try to lock my room and get to the bathroom, this time I b-lined it in the other direction, ending up in the shower stall,
banging my head & neck & bringing the curtain down with me. drifting in and out of consciousness, both hot sweats & cold chills ran over me & i realized i needed to stay put until it passed. so there i lay, sprawled across the bathroom, neck & head crunched in a corner for 10 minutes while the chills subsided. when i tried getting up and realized i wasn't going to fall again, i went to find my keys and there they were, in my keyhole, with the door wide open and the shower curtain half-hanging with its plastic hooks scattered everywehre. scary indeed, & memorable. i hate the feeling of not having control over your body, the last time this happend was 5 years ago & i had my mom to help me. the last time i had food poisoning & this almost happend was when i felt faint & threw up in hawaii. this time i think my body's telling me i'm not taking care of it properly, my sleep schedule & nutrition are off & i feel weak & deficient. it started this morning when it felt like there were knives in my stomach, then i could
actually feel a secretion from my right side which scared me, & then the same area started palpatating a few hours later, for about 30 mins & every 10 after that. so day 1 wasted in my haste, any doctors out there? (i've been eating so many sweets, i hope i'm not diabetic.)

getting to barcelona was a nightmare, someone stole my seat & i got bumped like 3 times on a packed train. not fun & probably contributed to my fainting.

i've now been in the room 24 hours & i still feel weak. :p

so i didn't do much today, woke up at 9 but was still feeling weak & light-headed so i stayed in bed, checking every hour until i realized i was still very sick. finally around 1pm i decided to try to get up & do something. so i slowly started getting ready, took a shower, felt much better, but by the time i changed & got going it was 4 o'clock. (took some pepto bismol & vitamin c too.) headed to the sagrada first but the tower was closed so i went to the beach instead. was pretty, then i went to parc de la ciutadella to see gaudi's fountain, but that was covered, so i strolled around & there was a pretty place for rowboats & pic nics & then i left & got lost but found
placa de catalunya & walked down las ramblas starving & looking for a place to eat. being picky i ended up walking all the way back down to the dock & settled on a place with 10 euro paella, which didn't use the special rice but was not bad & had some nice thick hot chocolate. headed home in the cold & now just trying to keep it down before bed. big day tomorrow! let's hope i manage to do it all!

spanish people intimidate me: 1) i don't speak spanish 2) they're the most lively people i've seen. johnny depp said americans had forgotten how to live & the french know, but i think the spanish know. laid-back, cool, family-oriented, pic nics, wow. maybe italy's even moreso. we'll see.

barcelona's beautiful today & the hostel & lady are SO nice. it's a beautiful city, my third time back & definately the best.

the maratime museum was fascinating & it's really important to see things from the eyes of another culture. colmbus was HUGE, he discovered america, almost an entire continent speaks spanish because of him & the new world settled - and he was spanish. sometimes that escapes us. the guy that discovered my home was spanish. the spanish are responsible for the americas. pretty cool. especially considering the passion, brawn, technical skill & knowledge, perserverance & bravery, of a culture now
thought of as so laid-back they're 3 hours late & siestas. but anyway, ya, really, really cool.

so many different kinds of people in the world & especially here. so creative. makes you feel you can be whoever you want to be. vancouver is so boring.

spain is laid back & i love it. when people say vancouver is laid-back i don't buy it. vancouver is aloof, so aloof it doesn't know the difference between aloof & laid back.

there's something here that makes me feel i could erase a lot of negative qualities vancouver brings out & focus on some positive. though everywhere there's demons.

barcelona elludes me, the first day & 1/2 i was sick & it's impossible to see a whole city in a day. at the same time, i feel like i already saw most of the major sites the first time i was here & today was oddly retracing those steps. so, even though i didn't get to see half of what i wanted to, i still feel like i got a good feel for the city. it is vast, much bigger than i thought & sites are sparse, though most are in a concentrated area. anyway, i'll be back again. (p.s. i wrote all that in some weird backwardly-linear way, that when i read back i thought i'd hallucinated as i'd forgotten i'd done that & it sounded like i was on crack. took me 15 minutes to decipher. yeesh. :/)

i'm realizing lots of things, that most places are overrated, that travelling alone isn't really fun, that i'm pretty much a homebody & american... but, i'm tired, still sick & haven't seen the city yet.

seville is beautiful. around every corner there's a photograph, every square is dazzling. if i were a painter i'd paint a thousand canvasses. forget paris, no words & so many all at once. bathed in colours of twinkling sunset, pinks, purples, pale oranges. old men wearing hats & head phones dance with cigarettes in squares as children play with balls.

as i was walking a restauranteur asked me 'ca va?' i look french? how very cool. :)

remember spanish businessmen with their steel watches, bold striped shirts under chic sweaters as they shift gears in their bmws (& caught as they pick their noses - too funny! :))

i want a european husband who wears a blazer & takes our kids to private school. (& presses into me & whispers intensely... in french? :) maybe i just want guillaume canet :/) i need someone with european disposition & north american knowledge about God but who is humble & pracitces what he preaches. okay, there's a boy inside with shades with a smile to die for. argh cute boys. it's so 'sexy', though i hate that word but can't think of another, when guys are protective & kind with children. it makes them masculine & strong.

sometimes all i want to do is stay home and sometimes all i want to do is be out all day long.

spain also feels like home. it's amazing how different cultures focus on different human states or emotions & they all therefore feel like home.

seville is the most beautiful place i've ever been. jaw to the floor the whole time. alcazar amazing, trumps versaille, the rich gardens are lush & magnificent. it has made me fall in love with arabs & the middle east. great feats, i can just imagine whiling away afternoons in a dishdasha, strolling the gardens, chewing on nuts. palace, sandals, luxurious.

seville is amazing, like baghdad, stuck in time. a feast for the senses, morocco, north africa, exotic, middle east. you can taste it, rich.

what an amazing day. what an amazing trip! never in a million years would i have thought i'd end up in cordoba, & witness those photos i saw as a kid in national geographic in person. i wasn't even planning on it. what chance! and to think i started off being so sick & crappy, & it turning out like this. seville is unexpectedly magnificent & that's an understatement. cordoba is adorable & he cathedral stunning, and i can't even imagine what the algarve will be like. *fingers crossed*

had amazing gazpacho, king prawns, dressed potatoes, & tea, all for 9 euro.
met lovely moroccan girl, Suade, finished medicine, in an amazing arabic tea shop & i bought baklava.

the spanish like their parks & i see families & playground mommies enjoying lush greenery & fun playgrounds. they also have furniture warehouses, sports complexes & mega-malls, just like we do. AND - they like their sweaters! it's so hot here in the south but a lot of men wear these fabulous, sharp sweaters. and the women coats - weird! but a well-dressed, family oriented & prosperous nation. you can tell you've crossed the border into france or portugal, they're not as lush. i like spain & spanish is growing on me. but not to live. we're just friends. (& i love the orange trees! orange trees, orange trees everywhere. so pretty & smell so good.)

i am in love with seville. it is just breath-takingly amazing. i am sitting in a marvellous garden & it smells of orange blossom & honeysuckle. with children playing, distinguished women walking their dogs & old men wearing caps sitting on benches feeding pidgeons. blue and white tile fountains, parents pushing strollers, amazing sunshine & breeze. ah... i can finally sit down & relax. & flamenco & tapas tonight! yay! can't wait & glad to be back after all, & spending the day here, instead of a
hectic rush somewhere i frankly don't even think is worth it. i could spend all day here. 4:30 am though tomorrow - fun! :p

there's an ikea in seville! heaven. except that it gets up to about 50 degrees in summer. but the palm trees are beautiful. there's cactus in spain too - weird.

i think i already wrote this but each place brings out a different part of me, & some feel like home. it's a matter of choosing which i want to focus on, which i want to be more. outback farm girl, cali/hawaii sufer girl, real estate maven, business woman, english enlightenment or american transendentalism. well, we'll see, we'll see. que sera sera.

spaniards are not immature & not all about bullfighting. the spanish are kind, generous & happy. everyone seems happy & content here. americans are obnoxious and commercial. just when i was starting to warm up to them, they are always the loudest & most intrusive tourists.

starting out on my journey to portugal, i feel content. spain & seville were amazing & already i have a good feeling about what portugal holds. i can't wait.

i came to portugal to get a tan, and i'm stuck in a torrential downpour. apparantly lisbon's flooded. oh my. it rains harder than vancouver!

Had a whole meal for 12.55 - chicken, fries, salad, ice tea, mango juice & dessert - wow. dessert was like nothing i'd ever tasted before - interesting. :/

i sent back my spaghetti, & the guy apologized like 5 times, checked up on me, & then the manager came to make sure i was ok. wow, talk about service.

well, i made it here, to portugal's hot spot, in one piece and the nasty stinker of a hotel it was supposed to be, actually isn't so bad. it's in a perfect spot too. already i made a nice cabby friend who insisted on making me say "obrigado" about a thousand times, and i walked into an internet bar to see how much it cost & i was instantly spotted as canadian by the bartender, who was originally from montreal, who told me his life story in about 2 minutes flat & insisted on gettting me a drink on the house. all very cool. but, though albufeira is a cute little town, i can't believe how much it feels like mexico, in that it has developed reorts, very touristy, (LOTS of aging brits) and lots of kitshy cheap souvenirs. like i was telling deb, the crazy portuguese south african (whose dad was a wild game hunter) i met in faro, wherever there's tourism in poverty, it just feels wrong. it's exploitation. i don't like it. i didn't know it was going to be like this though. at least the cliffs are beautiful. but the bartender said i must be either strong or crazy to be travelling alone, i told him i was determined. Felix (the brit from the isle of man i also met in faro) said i was fair, & deb said i was expressive. not that it should mater how others define me, but comments like 'strong' make me want to become a national geographic photographer... or a boxer... or war hero? strong's such a masculine word, i wish it didn't have such a boxey connotation for women. oh me. getting ever closer & ever further to what i want to be.

my room ended up smelling & having bed bugs (i woke up with bites all over my arms & face - which are still purple two weeks later) so i'm cutting it short & moving on to lagos earlier, which is supposed to be even more beautiful.

just had the most amazing thai/japanese food in portugal & i feel satisfied. mmm... i guess that's one good thing about vancouver, great asian & fusion. i miss it. this quenched my thirst. :)

went back to the thai place and had an interesting conversation with one of the waiters, from angola, brazil, & now here. he wakes up every morning to the beach & is content with his dogs & his surf camp trips with grilled fish.

so i'm here... & she's a litle crazy, but everything's clean & cozy & it's all good. there was the most amazing sunset on the way over, & i wish there was a way i could see more of this country & spain... without being a vagrant. :/ they do feel emptier & less developed than places like france & germany. i just wish there was more nature-satisfaction. i'm also realizing how much i like animals & the beach. they are both theraputic. australia & the uk, here i come. (& south america?) mexico is now cooler to me, i appreciate it more after witnessing the delapatation here. and i find that i'm quite picky when it comes to satsifaction - it's not a matter of more or less, of fancy or simple, just quality.

i forgot to write about the adorable brazilian boy who lived downstairs, proably about 19, 6'2" & very shy. it's rare for me to see shy guys these days.

just got back from the grotto trip & got some amazing pics... but now what? :/ and it seems i'm stuck here as i can't find any way back to seville on saturday... unless i leave a day early, get to faro & then figure it out. oy. i just want to relax... & go home.

spent a nice few hours at the beach & had the most amazing slice (or two) of hawaiian at pizza hut for a euro with marina view. ahhh... 'twas nice but i miss home. i missed home way back early so i've been missing home for a while. i notice it gets worse in sleepy places - it's like, ya alright, now what? i'm realizing i need to live someplace vibrant, not huge city, but happenin' & friendly & easily connected. so far bellingham & quebec seem to fit the closest bill... both medium sized... let's see what happens. recharged my sony too which is good!

as much as i hate the americanization of the world by starbucks & mcdonald's, i must admit they are a comfort haven where, as cliche as it is to go there, it's nice to find a piece of home & my fellow man. pizza hut's become a fave, so's mcdonald's & starbucks. why does starbucks have to make such a damn good iced chai? grrr.

my amazing beach morning - dona ana beach - i felt like leonardo dicaprio as i crept up on the perfect jewel cove with the clearest water i've ever seen. just perfection. i stole some sand and sea shells to take home with me. started the day with fresh squeezed orange juice for the 2nd time & it was delish. my 4th beach day in a row & i'm ready to go back to seville. granada here i come! (if i make it it'll make the trip!)

when i get home i'm definately going to go to the beach & play more & work harder & appreciate it.

a perfect day, & i'm actually alright with relaxing on a bus for 5 hours. for once, nothing to do or think about. i've been wearing these pants for 5 days though, & i need to for 3 more. :/

portugal smells funny, like raw chicken or something, & i don't know if it's the dirt, brick, wood, or house cleaner, but i'm glad to be getting back to the now familiar vinegar of the streets of spain & france.

i am so lucky, SO lucky. we're all so spoiled. most don't have choice. never forget. (and that's just portugal.) i'm noticing i don't like being stuck & i don't like being in the middle of nowhere.

i made it! i've been wearing these pants for 8 days now & i feel skanky but i made it. of course i spilled orange juice on them my last day in town but it seemed to fade in really well with the khaki so all is okay. :)

well unlike in britain, on this trip i wrote LOTS. :) i feel like i have to record my thoughts because if i don't there's no record i ever thought them. if that makes sense.

uk blog

my first thoughts upon reaching england:

I am finally out of France for the first time and it is a refreshing relief! everything is brighter, faster, easier. english is a relief. yay English! ENGLAND ROX! :)

i didn't write a blog in the uk & i knew i should have recorded my thoughts as now that i've been back in france a week everything in the uk has been dilluted. oh well, it was a magnificent journey and i'm a bit sick of writing & pontificating about it, the feelings & emotions are still with me and it is to be experienced anyway rather than read about. i just loved it, england felt like home & ireland felt like a home away from home so something tells me i'll be back to both of them sometime soon. london i hope to visit again on my way back from greece, as i never got to see my favourite part - harrods - sadly, it was closed :'p, i actually welled up, but anyhow... i'm in a bit of a rush right now but hopefully when i sort through all my photos i can sit down and write some more details. i just love london. it's magic & magnificent, & dublin is... rich.

new discoveries to keep me occupied (& have been):

russel brand & noel fielding, arctic monkeys, top gear, jimmy carr, mika

reprise: i've forgotten everything. phooey. well, not everything, the sentiments are still with me, but all the rich details that make a blog interesting are gone. all those little thoughts in moments where you have creative moments of epiphany and clarity of thought. ah... next time. i need to wear a pad around my neck to record all this stuff. i used to carry my notebook, in paris, but i guess i got sick of that. nerd. ;)

Barcelona!

just a quick note to say that i *finally* went to barcelona today, and it was beautiful. wouldn't live there though (which i was seriously considering as an option.) not half as lively as i thought it'd be though... then again, it's a sunday in december so maybe i should wait for a weekday in spring. anyway, it's a cosmopolitan city that actually earns its title (unlike vancouver) and some parts are so grand you'd think you were in paris if you didn't know you were in spain. ;) i finally got to have the paella i've been dreaming about since paris & it was de-lish. it was gorgeous & we had an amazing day, but all that being said, the more i travel and awesome as it is... it's getting to be kind of a let-down. i sort of feel like solomon in ecclesiastes - everything is meaningless, there is nothing new under the sun. not really, as i think it's more the kinds of experiences i'm over & i need to shake it up a little, but - i am finding many experiences lacking without people i love around. and finally, an observation: french guys are really sweet. we went with a group and one lady brought her teenaged son, and we'd all keep tabs on each other so no one got lost... boy keeping tabs included. most north american guys i know are too hot shot, 'independant', or self-possessed to care, but it was so cute to see this teenaged kid look over his shoulder to make sure i was still following behind. it's a gentle responsibility that's ingrained. the same happend when we went to paris with the school & a boy behind me on the metro made sure i got out through the hoards at the right station. it's endearing & sweet. but... i wonder if they grow out of it as i haven't seen any grown men do the same... hmmm... ;-) anyway, time for bed. i just wanted to end on the little anicdote that as we were picking passengers up on the bus, one older lady who was waiting decided to mock the driver by whistling, making the hitch-hichers' sign, and pretending that she was showing some skin (calm down - leg - but thank goodness she was wearing pants ;)) and i nearly died of shock & laughter. man catalans are characters. ;-) aiight, g'night!

Time Magazine

I somehow understand this all too well, and strangely, little has changed.

Monday, Jan. 30, 1950
The Exile of Prades
Almost every morning at 8, a tubby little old man in baggy pants, a wool shirt and a brown pullover sweater emerges from the concierge's cottage of the Chateau Valrac in the sleepy little Franco-Spanish border town of Prades. Usually, with his huge German shepherd dog Follet trotting alongside, he walks down the road toward the beautiful medieval Abbey of St. Michel de Cuxa, or toward the Canigou, the mountain which lies near the Catalonian border. He seldom heads toward the center of the town; the townspeople of Prades are inordinately proud of Pablo Casals, the great musician who lives among them in self-exile, and he would have to shake the hand of everyone he met.
For eleven years, world-famed Catalan Cellist Casals has lived his life of simple but defiant exile in Prades. When he came to Prades, it was with a vow that he would never play again in his native Spain so long as Dictator Francisco Franco was in power. Then, soon after World War II, he decided not to play any more in public at all.
"This Once." At 73, his life is nonetheless full of music. After his morning walks he goes to the new grand piano sent to him by an admiring music lover of Buffalo, N.Y. "As I have done all my life long," he begins his musical day with preludes and fugues from the Well-Tempered Clavier of Johann Sebastian Bach.
He is composing some, teaching a good deal; pupils come to him from all over the world. Above all, he had never neglected his cello, or the Bach suites for unaccompanied cello which he lifted from musical obscurity 50 years ago and brought to their true glory by the lofty simplicity of his playing.
Last week, his blue eyes twinkling with enthusiasm and excitement, Pablo Casals was practicing with a new will and fervor. To honor the great Bach himself on the sooth anniversary of the composer's death, he had agreed to play in public just once more. Said he last week: "I am not coming out of retirement. I decided to play here this once, in spite of my retirement."
"Great Pain." He had gotten invitations to other bicentennial Bach festivals in Europe and the U.S. Among them: bids to play in Strasbourg with the great Bach organist, Albert Schweitzer, and in Leipzig's venerable Thomas-Kirche, where Bach himself had been cantor. He had turned them all down, although "It gave me great pain to refuse."
The insistent urging of his pupil, U.S. Violinist Alexander Schneider, had finally moved Casals to agree to play "in the town of my exile." Next June, in the Cathedral of St. Pierre, Casals will lead an orchestra largely recruited among U.S. musicians. Violinists Schneider, Joseph Szigeti and Isaac Stern, Pianists Mieczyslaw Horszowski and Rudolf Serkin and Casals himself will be among the soloists. When the festival is over, Cellist Casals plans to return to his self-imposed silence.
"Greatest Sacrifice." In a world that has forgotten much and forgiven more, Pablo Casals has forgiven and forgotten nothing. The French, when they made him a Grand Officer of the Legion of Honor, said of him: "He is a conscience of our time."
He will not play in Britain or in the U.S., where he last toured in 1928, because "I consider that we owe to England and America the situation in Spain . . . They abandoned us."
Cellist Casals had explained that view before. He felt that his deeper decision, not to play anywhere, had never been made as clear as he wanted it to be. Last week he put it succinctly: "It is because I think it is immoral that people have forgotten that the German war cost about 30 million lives and the suffering that still exists now ... It is the greatest sacrifice of my life I am making. But someone must remember. Someone."

More Randoms

so... i don't know what's going on with the formatting of this blog, but it's getting kinda wonky & there's nothing i can do about it, bear with me. :/ these are some more random thoughts i couldn't put anywhere, and the book's something i've been sneaking peaks at on amazon, as i'm getting more and more stoked & geared for greece - it's actually pretty funny. anyway... enjoy! :)

there are winds here they call by name, in the south of france, near nice, they call it the mistral, here it's some horrid name that starts with a t - for terrible i say. it's definately fall here now & it's cold. the winds blow incessantly, in perpgnan they howl & knock you over. they say they last 9 days - 3 progressively stronger, 3 at their height, and 3 coming down. scooters have given way to cars as few of these kids want to brave the cold. i need to buy a winter coat & sweaters, i didn't bring mine as i didn't think i'd be needing any. minus 12 tomorrow they say. i thought grenoble was going to be cold. snow's in our schedule. reading bear grylls is a humbling experience - mighty man. though when the sun shines here it really beats down, i can't wait 'till spring & the southern weather.

i just had a two hour conversation almost entirely in french, and although j'ai fait beaucoup d'erreurs, i feel proud & accomplished, and am starting to think that maybe i can pull this off after all - maybe i will become fluent. hmph. it would be nice. it was also nice to spend some time in good company, with someone interested in more than themselves for a while. but... i'm still thinking in english and it trips me up when i talk sometimes. (i wrote this a while ago... i'm just plain sick of french now. :p)

i'm realizing that hanging out with the rich kids all those years has taught me many bad habits, and i've been living the good life prematurely. walking to school in the bitter cold is a humbling experience, as is remembering what it's like being normal, and having not. not that i haven't been more than deprived in many areas for many years in my life, but again, it's a question of balance, and filling in the blanks healthily. something tells me i'm getting back on course, more and more. as i desire simple & deep true to life moments.

i like my small life here... i like buying only two pears and one persimmen at the corner store. i am learning that one 500g packet of spaghettini can feed me 5 times - 5 times! either i'm a tiny little person (hardly - it's platefuls!) or eating for one goes a looong way. :)

reading bear grylls in all his britishness [finished his everest book] is reminding me of good old traditional church gatherings, pea coats & winter boots, classic easters & christmasses & all that. it's a nice feeling. it's an idealism that i lost and forgot existed in vancouver's modernity, in young life's brashness, in camp's caz. it's nice to have serious goals and serious things to strive for, and it's nice knowing it's okay to come from humble roots, and that you can still reach for the top - it is possible - a lesson i had heard over and over again, but was the only one around me practicing, until it was erased from my memory. classic, traditional christmasses, goals, dreams & wishes. a new kind of purity of life and being. i wish i could write as he does in half-emotion nuance... explaining exactly how he was feeling, gentle & profound. but this is what he has reminded me, and this is what counts. perhaps i will find a home in england after all... i don't know. but i do know that i am deeply traditional & 'classic' after all, something i'd erased in trying to keep up with what's 'cool' - to stay current & relevant... but i think that's just the problem with youth ministry these days... we're becoming like them instead of the other way around... and while that's a danger that's common knowledge & we're warned of, the warning seems to just float on the surface without merit, as everyone does it anyway. and while it's fun for the kids to see adults dicking around - is that really what we want them to get out of it? questions i've raised umpteen times in the past, but only know am i remembering the richness and purity i'd lost, how much of it i had, how substantial it was, and how easy it was for young life to belittle it - that troubles me. anyhow... just looking at the scottish hostels with their cozy attic rooms & plaid wool covers makes me yearn for something i've strived for all my life, without knowing it. i guess i'm a true product of colonization/westernization. a middle-eastern/iraqi-canadian girl, who's always longed to be classically british. how... i don't even know. but all these things are mixed inside me... (surfing included :)) a bit laurence of arabia-esque though i suppose, and so those brits of the 'national geographic society', etc., do deserve to be commended for their honest wish for discovery. anyhow, i've written long enough. it's just fun reading an author who's innermost feelings are so close to mine. great mountaineer, yes, but simple british boy too, yes. we'll see how england treats me this time 'round, perhaps, and hopefully, she will be kinder, and we can be friends. :)

if you want to be the best, you have to think like the best, be among them. 'keep gude company and you'll be counted one of them'.

i wish i had the kind of strength & stamina to climb mountains, but mine is a different kind of perserverence... but i find myself facsinated and entralled by travel lately, and i don't mean my usual hobby, but by national geographic style expeditions. i search for them every free minute, and it just dawned on me that before i got stuck majoring in english literature and becoming a snyde literary nerd, i once wanted to be a geologist, charting the lines of some vast, remote rock face somewhere... perhaps it is time to reawaken such interests. i fear i am not physically up to it though... or am i? i once wanted to be an olympic runner... seriously... i was second girl in my class... hmmm... 'self discipline' - i need to kick my life into high gear.

i'm not bored with life, i'm just bored with this program. i need to throw myself into some more challenging waters... i need to go on a full out adventure i'm finding i need to go to the next level, i'm remembering my goals before societal politics and childish distractions bogged me down... i'm remembering sincere idealism again & NOT selling out... but i don't know what this means or is... :/

i need to disappear somewhere, somewhere wholesome & simple & fun & alive. australia. live on farm w/ sweet family.

growing up, growing up, growing up... i feel such pressure to 'grow up', get a real job, but people with real jobs are boring drones who hate their lives & have mid-life crises... what's so wrong with trying so hard to avoid that?

i feel like there are definate greasers & jets here sometimes, like the outsiders or westside story, or to sir with love. there is also a petty gossipiness i'm not a fan of. i feel like this is now a test of endurance more than anything else: i've never been away from home this long before, and while i was hoping it would be more pleasant, at the end i'll be a different person, yet again, & hopefully fluent in french.

if you look at all the things people proclaim in their status on facebooks, it's like a little microcosm of thoughts, hopes & prayers, that God deals with everyday. it reminds me of that scene in bruce almighty.

"the longings which arise in us when we first fall in love, or first think of some foreign country, or first take up some subject that excites us, are longings which no marriage, no travel, no learning, can really satisfy."

The Non-Adventures of Lena

Written last Thursday:

so, i finally got internet yesterday, and i've since spent about... 10 hours, sucking the lifeblood out of it like a vampire, catching up on everything i've been so far away from for two months. i thought i was a hardcore traveller, a trooper, unaffected, but it seems i am lethally dependant on this thing, for connecting with the outside world. but it's not all technology i'm addicted to. i hardly use my cell phone and my only other gadgets are my mp3 player & camera, but they are only sometimes friends & mostly i can do without. my laptop however, has become joined to my hip, and it is the portal to, well, everything. the thing is, normally i could cope fine, with enough stimulation to distract me, but as this town is greatly lacking in entertaining pursuits... blah... i am left to chain-downloading episodes of gossip girl and consuming them voraciously. yeesh. who'd've thunk? what's worse - speaking of - is i find myself slipping back into the longings of such worlds, where every scene is filled with charmingly witty banter, where everything is safely predictable in tv land, where everyone has their role, and everything is pleasantly formulaic in roughly the same tradition it's been for the past... oh... 30 years? why can't real life be this way? and why is it so easy for me to now forgoe my usual preaching against excess and frivolity - for something deeper - in favour of some fun with the very things? so i suppose that television is my crutch. but i think the attraction lies in the excessive drama of the situations, the sometimes passion that therefore arises, and the... i suppose alpha personalities so fully displayed on screen. it's entertaining. it's full of life & longing. and really, i guess that's what we're all looking for: to get the guy or the girl (if you haven't already), to be the belle of the metaphorical ball, to have friends that have known you since diaper days... and now i've somehow managed to turn even gossip girl into something deeper than it is... and so i guess depth is in the person, not the vehicle. et voila. so... it's been fun getting recharged from the doldrums of everyday life here... a little bit of escapism... a strange element of 'chin up'... maybe it's the english too but... i hope someday that my life is as full as that... without the monetary excess, but with all the joie de vivre... australia maybe? it's been my latest fantasy. that and hunger in africa... oh two worlds... someday they'll reconcile.

Reprise, written 5 minutes ago:

so... i'm getting really homesick right now... which is a hard
thing for me to admit, since i usually put on a front because
i'm weary of people... but ya, it is what it is. i'm watching
LUCYinLA videos on youtube & am in a confessional mood.
it's not really home i'm sick for per se, since i don't really like
that place, but all things cozy & familiar, english & emotional,
christian & connected. :p phooey. i thought i was going to
be meeting all these amazing people. but i haven't. and now
i really don't know why i'm here. classes are cancelled all the
time, i'm really tired of it. i can't wait for greece. i can't wait
for people i can talk to, for friends, for fellowship, for sailing
& sun! for... being able to express emotion & opinion, for
having it be shared & supported. and i can't help but think...
then what? this was supposed to be a glamourous
adventure... and it hasn't been. and now i just feel marooned
- for 5 more months. it's become a test of endurance. and
then greece will be amazing... but then what? new york?
publishing? real estate? children in africa? nothing
satisfies. one is too... more than the other. :p i wish i didn't
have to overanalyze everything, i wish i could be normal,
shallow & fickle. ;) but i've seen too much & read too much &
my conscience won't allow it. the scary thing is... i used to
be an idealist, but the more i did, the more 'reality' crept in &
now i fear i'm a 'realist' which is really just another word for
being jaded. i never thought i'd get here. and i don't know
how LUCYinLA does it. i guess i've just realized that things
aren't that simple... except... maybe sometimes things still
are. and that's the place that elludes me. that's what i'm
homesick for. knowing you can have ambitions and put
yourself out there and someone, something's gotta bite, and
something's gotta be good, and something's gotta get better.
reality - fear's already crept in. maybe not with regards to
adventure - there's still tons of that left inside, now just to
finance it - but it's easy to escape - it's the staying put i can't
handle.