A few days in NYC

I know I have been neglecting this blog quite a bit lately. Well, now I am in Queens, N.Y. visiting friends from Tibet, while also receiving a visit from a friend from Paris. There is nothing like Tibetan hospitality. We arrived in a snowstorm 2 nights ago to a beautiful spread of Hoko...the Tibetan version of Vietnamese Pho.

The past few days have included a stroll along 5th Ave. to see the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center and the festive window displays at Sax Fifth Avenue, a visit to St. Patrick's Cathedral (This was my 12 year old Tibetan niece's first time in a church. After looking around a bit, she said matter-of-factly, "I guess Jesus must really be important to these guys." Hahaha...She also really liked trying out the holy water. As she was testing it out with her finger tips, she said, "It would be really cool if they told people this was Jesus's tears." Good times.), a trip to the movies (treated by a Brazilian guy we met in the subway who spent the day sightseeing with us), a night at the Metropolitan Opera (my first...finally! We saw a Puccini Opera about the California Gold Rush...it was bizarre to see Opera singers dress like cowboys and cowgirls and sing to each other in Italian with names like "Nick, Dick, Mr. Johnson and Minnie), and an evening at Carnegie Hall (also my first) to hear the NY Philharmonic Orchestra.

The night we arrived here, NYC received the 6th biggest snowstorm of its history...so we got to witness the madness of the Big Apple covered in piles of snow...cars stuck on every side street, snow banks several feet high along the sidewalks, and millions of New Yorkers out sloshing around in it!

Merry Christmas

I am in the Catskill mountains, enjoying the eve of Christmas with snow falling, warmth indoors, and the recent memory of eating home-made cookies and eggnog. Time for some sleep! But first, I want to share my favorite Christmas Poem:

Merry Christmas from the Mountains
From the scented pines in white
From the flame and lemon sunset
From the Yule Log's crackled light

Merry Christmas from the rivers
Running free and swift and clear
Merry Christmas from the meadows
Streaked with silent running deer

Christmas Eve is hushed and holy
With its message time-undimmed
From the vast and candled skies
Come Christmas wishes on the wind:

May the mountains own Great Spirit
make your life a singing stream
May the twelve new moons now coming
Bring a purpose to your dreams

May a rainbow touch your shoulder
With a promise in its glow
May your moccasins leave hints
Of happy tracks in many snows.

-Virgina Covey-Boswell

Moroccan Lamb Stew

Last night, by borrowing from various recipes online I created a delicious and easy recipe for Moroccan Lamb Stew. I made a similar recipe for my summer campers last summer, when we had a day of Moroccan culture and I served them a five-course meal under a large, white tent outdoors. We carried blankets, tablecloths and cushions outside and lounged luxuriously as we ate with our fingers. It was delicious in the hot weather, especially if spicy, but I think it makes a very cozy meal in midst of winter...reminiscent of the part of the world where many of our traditional stories originate. Since this is meant to be a blog about food, among other things, I want to share this mouth watering recipe with you:

Ingredients:

Spices:
1/2 tsp ground cardamom
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
a pinch of cayenne pepper (add more if you like a kick)
1/4 tsp ground cloves
2 tsp ground ginger
1 & 1/2 tsp of ground coriander
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp dried mint leaves
1 & 1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ground black pepper

1 large onion, chopped
4 Tbsp olive oil
2 lbs organic cubed lamb stew meat
1 &1/2 cup organic chicken broth
1 chopped green bell pepper
3 chopped carrots
1 can chickpeas , rinsed and drained

Juice of 1 large orange (or a splash of orange juice)
3/4 cup quartered, dried apricots
1 & 1/2 Tbsp honey

Directions:
In a cast iron pot, sautee the onion in olive oil over med. heat till golden brown. In a separate bowl, combine the spices. Lower heat and add to onions after they are golden brown, stirring constantly. Add lamb meat and brown gently in pan, stirring constantly. Raise heat to med.

Once lamb is browned softly on all sides, add the chicken broth, green pepper and carrots. Bring to boil, then simmer for 45 min.-1 hour with lid half on.

Add chickpeas, orange juice, apricots and honey and simmer for 15 min. more.

Serve with fresh couscous cooked in boiled, diluted orange juice. You can add nuts and dried fruits to your couscous as you like.

Where I Am

It has taken a solitary Sat. night with no plans and a sense of loneliness creeping in to sit down and write. I haven't felt this way in awhile. Maybe not since Thanksgiving. Leave it to the holidays to somehow make us question just how much those we love most and most want to connect with can understand and connect with us.

Today, a close friend of mine who has been a sworn bachelor for all the years I've known him, announced casually that he is getting married in a month or two. While I am happy for him and so far really like his future wife, I feel a bit lost with this news. It stirs an emptiness in me and raises the uncomfortable question...why don't I have this love in my life? Why doesn't anyone feel this way about me? Why don't I have what he has?

It's been a year of being single and while mostly I feel grateful and liberated in my freedom and independence...lately I feel that strong pull for connection surfacing within and it both illuminates me and terrifies me, in turns.

This time last year, I was in Southern Spain...experiencing Flamenco culture, entering the first of many phases of intense heartbreak, making new friends in the foreign lands of Granada, Sevilla, Madrid, Cordoba, Cadiz, El Puerta de Santa Maria, Jerez and learning how the Andalucians celebrate Christmas. While it was a powerful time of falling in love with a new dance form, I can also say it was one of the loneliest times I have experienced. For those who have traveled to distant lands solo when feeling empty and heartsick, you know what I mean. It can be both a comfort and a sense of banishment all at once. I was so lonely, that I remember soothing myself with the thought, "At least I am feeling this loneliness in a foreign place, rather than in my familiar environment". The one thing worse than feeling a stranger in a strange land is to feel a stranger in your own home. That is the worst of all.

Well, enough of all this sad talk! How did I get on this dark topic? Hmmm...just reminiscing, I suppose. I don't know that I ever wrote these thoughts or feelings down.

Well, here I am in Boulder Colorado. I have been here exactly a week. I have been catching up with friends, processing my recent experiences in Europe, visiting my favorite coffee shops, and trying to figure out what direction to set my sail this winter. What do I want to focus on? The answer every time I ask this question is "DANCE". I want to study dance, but where? After a year long search for a Flamenco teacher, this mysterious art form is still elusive in my life. My second choice is Indian dance. And so, a trip to India seems like it might be approaching...

Happy Thanksgiving

Last night I arrived in Chicago, spent the evening with a close friend, met a new friend from Iraq and spent the evening in a Hookah Lounge after a dinner of Cuban food, followed by Italian. After an evening the night before of listening to bad jazz in a bar in Brooklyn, I departed around midnight and rode to the Windy City in a Chevy hatchback with darkly tinted windows and 3 Americans from Chicago: a young guy who works as a private investigator (hence all the tint)and two musician-hippies.

Today, I had a quintessential mid-western Thanksgiving dinner with some family and friends at a suburban Chicago home, complete with a hummel doll collection and all. Very kind hosts and truly a cultural American experience for someone who has grown up in Woodstock and Boulder! Dinner was followed by foosball, pool and wii golf and tennis. I won a game of foosball and a game of pool.

Boys' Empowerment

I am in Herkimer, NY...home of the Herkimer diamond, land of the Iroquois (Haudenosaunee) Nation and our country's first democracy, near the famous Seneca Falls where the Declaration of Sentiments was signed and the women's rights movement began in 1848. Tomorrow, I will be leading my very first Boys' Empowerment program. I am interested to see how it goes! I have offered Girls' Empowerment workshops and Mixed Gender Empowerment classes, but this will be my first workshop exclusively for boys.

I have to wake up early, so more later!

A November in NY

Joyeux Novembre!

I have been in NY state for one week. I arrived last Sat. to warm weather and blue skies...to my surprise. This week has been dedicated to my work as play director, program developer and youth educator. In these last 5 days, I have taught one full day seminar on women's history and girls' empowerment to 7th grade honor students (this kind of gets me...you are only privileged enough to be empowered if you have the best grades in your class!), I have also taught 8 workshops on folk tales of the Catskills with 2nd graders, 4 workshops on women's history, gender roles and the media with 5th graders, and 8 workshops on conformity vs. diversity with 6th graders. In addition to that, I have rehearsed after-school with 2 different groups of kids for 2 different plays to be performed this week. One group is my youth theater preparing a revival performance of The Best of Monty Python. The other is a group of thirteen 5th and 6th graders who are learning the play I co-created in Turkey and will perform it for their school this Tues. Funny enough, this is taking place at the very elementary school that I attended as a child. Bringing it all back home.

My workshops provide me with a sort sounding board for integrating and exploring all the things that I am thinking about and learning in my own life. Right now I am encouraging 10, 11 and 12 year olds to question gender roles, pay attention to subliminal messages in media, realize that women have a history of slavery in our country (why do we never admit that?) and be willing to stand out, celebrate their differences and follow their dreams.

Yesterday, inspired by a French film I saw on the plane ride home ("L'Age de Raison"-I highly recommend it), I asked the 6th grade students to each write a letter to themselves as 30 year old grownups. I asked them to be sure to remind their older selves of all the things they feel are most important to remember and all the dreams that they want them to follow, in case they've lost their way. It was beautiful. Several of the kids shared what they wrote...I was very moved. I encouraged the kids to give the letter to someone older that they know and trust and ask them to hold onto it and return it to them when they turn 30. The kids seemed really enthusiastic about this idea. I wouldn't mind having such a letter from my own self now!

Poems

I have written three poems in these two months abroad:

This world we live in
is so many worlds in one
the old
the young
the healthy
the sick
the rich
the poor
a smile
a frown
the world changes
in one glance
from a stranger...
Do you like me?
Do I like you?
deserts
mountains
cities
oceans
rivers forming lines
in our own hands...
a sunrise
a sunset
a baby
a teardrop
the sun
shining through
a window
the quiet
corner
where your
grandmother
sits
to read you
a story...
We wander
and we worry
and we live
and we learn
and we forget
and we remember
and we embrace
and we love
and we die
and we begin
again...

Balikesir, Turkey
September 21, 2010

Venus's Lament

Fertile
Strong
a flower
a poem
but no arms
to embrace you
no hands to stroke
your face
You may suckle
my bosom
you may taste
the sweetness
of my lips
you may feel
the weaving patterns
of my legs
you may bury
your head
in the
soft understanding
of my belly
or in the
fold
between
my thighs...
but you will never
feel my arms
around you,
my hands clasped
delicately
on your neck
as we gaze,
you will never
touch
the pulse
within my wrists
or wrap
your lips
around my
fingertips
you may
slide your face
along my neck
feel
the smooth curve
of my back
caress
the slender contour
of my waist
but never
will we unite
with clasped hands
palms touching
fingers embraced
never
will I
touch
the warm, fullness
of your face

The Louvre, Paris
November 10, 2010

Metro Rant

The hustle and bustle
the rain
the chill
the steam
rising up
umbrellas
clank
on cement
then open
with a click and swish
people making plans
on cellphones
rendezvous
and the rush
and the raincoats
some stop
to buy fruit
from vendors
scarves flying
a limbless
panicked man
begging
for loose change
the joyful sound
of an orchestra
playing
"Carmen"
as people stop
to listen
the man
beside me
in the crowded car
has Michael Jackson
singing in his headphones
"mamasaymamasamamakusa..."
loud enough
that I can hear.
Mind the gap.
Attention a la marche.
Commuting on the Parisian subway.

Paris, November 11, 2010

Near Place D'Italie

I am now staying in a songwriter's home near Place D'Italie and the Chinese Quarter. I arrived last night in a flurry of luggage, after a day of scrambling to do a million odds and ends to move out of my flat in Le Marais. The rental term ended and I had to leave my little nest! Funnily enough, I am only 3 or 4 doors down from my closest friend here in Paris...but he doesn't know yet!

I arrived here and was immediately invited to sit at the kitchen table, a guitar appeared and I had the great pleasure of hearing a beautiful, original French folk song called "Conform", as well as many folk-style Bruce Springsteen tunes. With help from the wine, I even sang...a little. The song was a Tom Waits tune and my host figured out an accompaniment on guitar.

We went to dinner around 10:30pm at a hidden, local joint...the kind of place you would never find without someone local guiding you...specializing in Basque food. I had a delicious chicken with stewed peppers. My host drank another bottle of wine. I refused, knowing I would regret it. The place was rowdy and packed and everyone in it appeared to me like cartoon characters of French personalities. I am willing to wager I was the only foreigner in the place! From the back room, there came big waves of loud, drunken singing and chanting...as though a championship game had been won. But there was no TV and it was 1am. We later learned from the waiter that they were a group of off-duty cops from the Basque Country, visiting on holiday. We watched them spill out of the place, one or two of them almost falling in my lap as they woozily twirled by...singing all the way out the door and beyond!

Over dinner, we had an intense...and albeit, wine induced conversation about feminism and patriarchal society, followed by an equally intense discussion about life as an artist. It's funny how many men think they are feminists and yet seem extremely uncomfortable on the topic of feminism. And in turn, many women think that they are not feminists and are extremely fascinated by the topic.

The French folk song that I was welcomed here with, spoke to me deeply. It's about someone who senses that he is different from the rest and is praying to God to please just let him be like everyone else, so that he can be happy and accepted by others. There was one line that translated to, "You must be sure to bow low, because if your head hangs above the others, you are in danger". This is something I have struggled with for a long time. I know that I minimize myself in this way...often hiding my strength, my talents, my beauty so as to fit in and not stand out. I have a fundamental fear that if I were to let the cat out of the bag, so to speak, I would find myself alone. The sad part is, the opposite is probably true! There is so much more to say here...any thoughts from you, dear reader?

I am super happy that the sun is shining and it is at last a beautiful, blue sky day after many days of rain. After half a bottle of delicious white wine and a good, restful sleep last night, I am planning to make the most of it!

A Dinner at Home

I just hosted my very first dinner in France. I invited the two friends that I have known the longest here in Paris, one French and one Chinese. I met them each 4 years ago on my last trip to Paris at the same event, but on different nights. Tonight,I cooked them a Brazilian dinner...one of my grandmother's best recipes.

My only complaint about this flat is that I can't stay longer! I love it here. I feel so at home, so in my world and comfort zone. It's like a little nest...quiet, creative, bright, cozy, all the things I desire in a living space. And a few days ago, I discovered another winning feature: the Japanese straw mat carpet lends itself perfectly as a yoga mat. And there is just enough space, between the couch and the bed for one person to practice yoga. So, I have been starting these last few days here with a 20-40 min. yoga...feels great to stretch again!

Right now, my home is warm with the good energy of friends, good food and merriment. We started off with white wine, fresh pears and grapes, Camembert and Swiss cheese with baguette, and Italian salami. Then, we had red wine with Brazilian picadinho, white basmati rice, sliced banana, and salad with hearts of palm. For dessert, 3 kinds of chocolate mousse cake from a local pastry shop and Ben and Jerry's praline, nuts icecream. It was a satisfying feast! My guests stayed until almost 1am...after the metro stopped running...and had to walk or take taxis home.

Half way through the dinner, my Chinese friend posed the question to us of "What is the meaning of life?" My French friend answered that he feels its a collection of meaningful moments. When I was asked, I quoted Monty Python and said "Life's a piece of shit, when you look at it...Always look on the bright side of life!" My friends didn't get the joke, so I pulled out the video clip from "The Life of Brian", so as to give them the context. They loved it and then one of them asked to see the clip of "The Ministry of Silly Walks"...which got us off an a half hour or so of watching Monty Python sketches while digesting dinner. The International language of Monty Python. I marveled to myself how here we were, 3 people from 3 different nations and different continents and all sharing our love of Monty Python!

This is my last night here in this flat, so I'm glad I got to soend it here with friends. Tomorrow, I am moving down near the Chinese quater to stay with a travel network host. I am sad of course to be leaving, but looking forward to getting to know China town better!

A Sunday in Paris

Contrary to the popular belief that Sundays are resting days for all of Western Europe, today was a great example of the amazing diversity of cultural experiences that Paris has to offer...even on a Sunday. I began the day by meeting a Chinese friend for brunch at La Duree; famous luxurious bakery on Rue Bonaparte, in the neighborhood known as St. Germaine. After 3 hours spent sipping cafe and consuming pastries, we strolled along Boulevard St. Germaine, wandering in and out of the few clothing stores that are open on a Sunday afternoon.

Next, we walked through the Latin Quarter (St. Michel) to the canal beside Notre Dame. We boarded a boat where my friend was donating an original painting for a silent auction event to support poor families in Africa. On the boat, everyone was setting up for a lively evening of live music, dancing and festivities. It was cozy and warm with overhead gas heaters and a smell of incense in the air. I was tempted to stay and have a drink as the floor gently rocked us on a cold, drizzly day...but I had to rush off to meet a French friend for a free concert at Gymnase Marie Bell...an old theater resembling a Victorian Opera house. It was beautiful, with 3 or 4 golden, ornate balconies and a painted mural ceiling. We kept anticipating the heckling muppets, Waldorf and Statler to pop out of one of the side balconies!

The concert was called Songs of the Soul and was being performed by a large group of singers and musicians somehow connected with the Sri Aurobindo Ashram in Southern India. It was beautiful, soothing and inspiring. We left part way through the second half to go to a club near Parmentier that was offering live Latin music. Crowded and buzzing, with Latin, African, and Indian men winking at the women from every corner...this place was very culturally diverse, but it was hard to dance cause everyone was packed in so tight!

After half an hour, I had to skip the free meal-with-entry of Moroccan couscous and say goodbye to rush off to the Monet exhibit at Grand Palais, where I had 2 tickets for a 9pm viewing. There, I was planning to meet a woman from Lebanon (thank you, couch surfing) to give her the other ticket. The exhibit was awe inspiring, an international collection from museums all of over the world, here in Paris only for a few months. I was especially struck by Monet's self-portrait, his snowy landscapes that felt so soothing to gaze at, and the paintings of his wife...especially the one of her lying on her death bed. From far away, she appears to be wrapped in a gauze veil and up close, she appears to be covered in waves of the painter's tears.

Finally, I met back up with my French friend again for a late (11pm) dinner in Le Marais near Hotel de Ville. The temperature had dropped and I was cold and exhausted from the day...and desperate for some nourishment! We walked up Rue des Archives, looking for a place that would be open on a Sun. night and not too noisy. After walking in and then out of several dodgy French cafes, a brightly lit, pastel sign down a side street caught my eye. We followed it and to our surprise, stumbled into a full-on '50's style, American Diner!

So, the day started with one of Paris's most celebrated pastry shops, and ended with chicken fingers and nachos!

A Quote

Scroll down to the bottom of the page to see the quote I just discovered from a friend that perfectly matches the image I chose to represent this moment in my life and this blog...I had to travel all the way to Budapest to find the quote the matched the painting...and strangely enough, a few weeks ago, a friend I met in NYC who lives in Paris led me south to a place where Leonardo DaVinci once lived...and we spent an afternoon absorbing his creations and inventions of flight...

On Dreams and Devastation

Tonight I had an interesting discussion with a friend over Indian food. We were talking about people who go to foreign countries and become so shocked and disoriented from the foreign ambiance and culture, that they become temporarily insane.

So I wondered,what is it that hurts us so when what we idealize turns out to be less then what we had imagined? What leads us to that terrible suffering that can be devastating and traumatic?

Think about it, we do it all the time in so many areas of our lives...a new romantic partner, a new job, a vacation somewhere exotic, an older person in our family, our children, etc. We imagine that person or place or thing to be all of our hopes and dreams. And then, when something goes terribly wrong and resembles our worst nightmare instead...we are shattered, broken by the experience. Why?

Hmmm...what is it that causes this pain? This is what I want to get to the bottom of. I don't think it's wrong to have expectations and it's certainly healthy to have hopes and dreams...so why all this suffering as a result???

As far as I can dig, I think it all comes down to energy. Maybe our dreams and desires give birth to a particular vibration. This vibration begins to buzz and come alive the more we think about and focus on what we are hoping for. Then, in our rational minds, we fixate on one object and attach that given person/place/thing to our hopes and desires...making them synonymous in our minds. We no longer focus on our desire, as much as we focus on what we have identified as the container of that desire. And so, when that container gives a confusing combination of pieces and parts of our desires, along with an array of behavior and/or circumstances that are the exact opposite of what we desire, we become completely shocked, pained, disoriented, insane. "How could this happen...?", "It was going so well...", "Why is this happening to me...?" We have all heard ourselves ask these questions at certain moments in our lives.

Here's what I'm onto...maybe at the point that those questions arrive, or even at the point when our negative feelings begin to surface, maybe that's a signal that we are focused on the container and not on the very thing...the energy actually, of what we WANT. As a metaphor of what I'm trying to say, here's a go at it: Picture the vast ocean. Then, picture a pitcher of water. The pitcher can only hold so much water, right? At times it's full, at times it's half-way full and at times it can even be empty...void of water. So, if we want to go for a swim, or be carried by waves...would we do well to focus on the pitcher? The pitcher might offer us refreshment from time to time, when it happens to be full, or even partly full. But when it's empty, or drained of it's contents...what can we ask of it? Nothing. The more we shout at it, beg it, cry to it, plead with it, threaten it, ignore it...the less we have, including our own energy!

Why not stay focused on the ocean? Well, we can't literally drink from it, but we can dive into it and it will carry us. It will also pummel us, if we are not cautious...but it is infinitely there for our participation. There for us. And full of life and nourishment and friendship.

Perhaps we need to remember that everything is energy. If what we imagined to be the container of our dreams and what we most want turns out to be anything less than a huge benefit to us and our energy...perhaps we are straying from the Source. Perhaps we need to close our eyes, tune in and follow the vibrational energy of our vision, regardless of who or what it strays us away from...just a thought.

Let me know yours!

A Day at the Ocean in Normandy

I wish I could extend this 2 week experience I am having in Paris into 3 months. I love this flat, I love the location, I love exploring the various neighborhoods around me...if I go out my door and head east, I have mouth watering pastry shops (some of the best in Paris), and a generous array of creperies within a few blocks' distance. Walking west, I have rustic cheese shops, wine stores and classic bakeries. In still yet another direction lies a breathtakingly enticing chocolate shop...all I can think about these days is food!

Yesterday, I went to Normandy with a friend. We left mid-morning from Paris and drove through town with blue skies above us. We drove by L'Arc de Triumph (my favorite of all monuments) as our last sight of Paris and hit the highway. For the 2 hour drive, we basked in the beauty of peak autumn foliage and lovely rolling hills covered in reds, oranges, yellows and greens. When we arrived, we first explored Honfleur and had a classic French lunch: Sausage with apples and sauce, quiche, salad and Cornish Hen in a berry sauce. For dessert, creme brulee.

Next, we went to the ocean and walked the beach till the sun went down. It was cold, but beautiful and soothing to hear and see the waves and smell the salty air. At around 6pm we drove up to Etretat: a beach village with beautiful cliffs that stand over the water and have several beautiful arches carved into them. We climbed to the top of them in the night, marveling at the lighting and effect of the height, mixed with the waves and the seagulls...surreal and mysterious effect.

We finished the evening off with a dinner of savory and sweet crepes, before heading home again to Paris.

At Home in Paris

I have a flat in Paris! It's beautiful, it's perfect. Right on the edge of "Le Marais", in the heart of the old city. And I have a courtyard...a French one, where I can look out and see windowsills overflowing with flowers. And inside, it is a cozy but elegant studio with an adorable little kitchen. Tall ceilings, equipped with an antique crystal chandelier and walls covered in paintings remind me that I am in Paris. I love it here. And it is mine for 2 weeks. My location is perfect. I am technically in the 3rd arrondisement, on the right bank of the Seine River...known as the "quieter part of Le Marais". But, a few steps and I am in the bustling frenzy of it all...with alluring Jewish pastry shops and art galleries on every corner. And...the best Gelato in town! This is exactly where I had envisioned myself...and here I am!

I am excited for this weekend and am in the process of making plans. Chocolate is on the agenda and lots of it. For Halloween, one of the events I plan to attend is called, "Salon du Chocolat" at the Paris Expo. It just happens to be the world's largest event dedicated to chocolate. Sounds appropriate!

Happy Halloween to everyone! :)

At the Airport

I am at the airport. The trip to Budapest has ended and I am returning back to Paris. I have missed France and French culture this week! In fact, when passing French tourists on the street one day in Budapest, I stopped to listen and felt immediately warmed and nostalgic...how funny.

Anyway, there have been a variety of adventures here in this new landscape called Hungary. Some good, some I could have happily done without...including an impromptu escape over a locked fence! (More on that later...)

Today, I saw a pigeon in the subway. He/she was down by the escalators, all alone, determinedly eating crumbs on the floor. Completely unconcerned about being enclosed, indoors, or the many people walking by in very close proximity, she didn't even bother to flutter her feathers to move out of the way of foot traffic. She just held her ground. It seemed strange and drew my attention. In some way, I thought, I must be like this pigeon...either I am, or I need to learn to be...? There must be a poetic metaphor here...any thoughts, dear reader?

Anyway, although I can't say I was completely enchanted with Budapest and Hungarian culture...particularly the seemingly high population of homeless people for such a small city..., I did meet some really interesting people that I am glad to know and I do hope I will see again in the future. However, I'm glad to be returning to Paris and I think the contrast has helped me appreciate it even more.

Lost

So I've been writing lots of accounts of my activities lately...but the question is, where am I in all of this? The truth is, I am still not really sure. I feel myself still hiding in the shadows. Now, completing my 5th week of travel, I have not taken one dance class, have not sung one song to anyone (except to teach a song to the Turkish group for the play and to learn a children's song in French from a friend). I am exploring, but I still feel lost...why do I remain so allusive to the things I want most, and vice versa? I can't chase after my dreams, I have to situate myself in a place where I can allow them to manifest. I just don't seem to understand how to arrive at that place!

My current host is a recording engineer. Is that I sign that I am getting closer to something I desire, or just another vague breeze that will meaninglessly pass me by? Will I end up recording something in his basement, meet other musicians, make connections...or will it just end up an ironic coincidence that he has a recording studio in his home?

I am not ready to go home yet. I still need time to be away from everything familiar and any predetermined roles...so I am deeply grateful for the next few weeks ahead. I pray that some of this time will somehow, by some magic guide me more deeply into the inaccessible parts of myself, so that I may find my direction! I pray, pray, pray!

It's strange and funny to travel and witness everyone running around in their lives, caught up in their immediate surroundings and day to day realities...and feel that I don't have this luxury...to just feel my place in the world, be grounded in my duties, friends, responsibilities. My world feels so overwhelmingly big, that I end up feeling lost. Other times, it feels so painfully small that I can't breathe and that also makes me feel even more lost...

Simultaneously, I feel so grateful for the opportunity to gain this broader perspective and be able to witness so many concurrent realities, so many ways to be a human, to create a life, to design your place in the world...I just realized, I meet many people I envy in one regard or another, but a precious few who actually inspire me to live a richer, more gutsy life. I want to meet more of these people!

Sitting down to write this blog entry, the song on Hungarian radio went like this..."I've gained the world and lost my soul, maybe it's cause I'm getting old. All the people that I know, have gained the world and lost their souls..." Yikes. That's so...ominous!

3 a,m.

It's almost 3am, but I can't sleep yet. I just got back to my new crash pad in Budapest after a night of gallivanting with my new host. We went to an "underground" concert in some obscure part of town that seemed on outskirts and involved taking a series of buses and a tram...then walking through warehouse parking lots till we finally found a locked door that opened when we knocked. It was a hippy-musician commune that housed around 15 people. The band was good; an ensemble of 3 guys: a keyboard player, percussionist and bass guitarist, and 2 girls: a lead singer and a flautist/back-up singer. They had a very middle-eastern-meets-lounge sound. The lead singer oozed with sensuality, as she wailed and trilled in various languages.

I tried a shot of the traditional Hungarian liquor, made from plums and known as "Pálinka".

After the concert, we made our way to the city center via another series of buses and a tram, and met a nice Hungarian friend of my host. We went for tea and chatted as we listened to old '80's songs. Then we went for French fries at a Turkish joint. There is a lot of Turkish food in Budapest. And all Europeans seem to like to put mayonnaise on their French fries.

Adventures in Hungary

It's interesting to experience autumn in a new part of the world. Familiar smells and tastes of windy days, falling leaves and hot chocolate, mingle with unfamiliar sights of foreign streets and languages yet unknown. This is my 3rd day in Hungary.

My first night here, I spent the evening in a charming and mysterious underground pub...located on a shady street. I was led there at night...to an apartment building across from an elementary school, that appeared empty and dark from the outside. The only clue was an empty, gold picture frame hanging above the door. We rang the doorbell, the door slowly opened, and we were led into a cozy room with a glowing wood stove and an eclectic variety of old Russian radios hanging on the walls. From the ceiling hung a pair of old, wooden skis. The walls were carpeted, there were old-fashioned lamps, upholstered chairs and antique tables. American hard rock clanged from the speakers...Teenage Wasteland and other such classics. There was an upstairs and a downstairs room, but I preferred downstairs, where the cigarette smoke was less concentrated. It was a fun evening and I imagine it was a glimpse into what the American speak-easy days might have been like...when alcohol was forbidden and the nightlife was hidden...

I have made a new female friend my age. She has been my couchsurfing host for the past 2 nights. I am always excited to hit it off with a woman my own age...for some reason, it is a rare experience. She is Hungarian and studying Spanish with the hopes to move to Barcelona. I spent all day yesterday talking with her on many topics from dating, to hitchhiking Europe, to employment opportunities in Spain, to the variant degrees of modesty for women in different cultures. In the evening, she led me to a Hungarian pancake house (a version of the French Crepe) and we chatted over chocolate-smothered pancakes and tea. Then we walked in the crisp autumn air up many outdoor stairs, to a castle tower. With the moon almost full and an amazing view of the city, we chatted away, enchanted by the sights. Both of us grew up with older brothers and tend to have more male friends then female, so I think we both felt a little hungry for this quality woman-time. Or at least, I know I did.

On the way down, after visiting 2 hill-top castles, my new friend mentioned that she happened to have my favorite night-cap beverage at home: dark, Jamaican rum. So, we made a pit-stop back at her apt. Picked up enough for 2 shots each, then went out again for some hot chocolate. For her, it was a winning combo. For me...I couldn't quite stomach it!

Next, we met Toni at a Turkish restaurant which appeared to be a fast food joint at first glance...but then you go down to the basement and it's a Hookah lounge with traditional ambiance and cushioned tables on the floor. We hung out there, nibbling on salads, rice and veggies for awhile. None of us cared for smoking. After a while, a band of young, male musicians crowded into a corner near us and began playing a guitar and various old time, traditional instruments...wooden flutes, etc. It was great. One of them took a fancy to me from across the room and in shy, broken English told me I looked really nice. They invited us to a party where they were going to play music. We declined.

Today, I hit Hero's Square, the Museum of Fine Arts, and the Modern Art Gallery. Now, I am taking a break in a coffee shop. A beautiful, sunny and warmish fall day, it has also had some tinges of loneliness and a bit of nostalgia for the familiar. Still eager to keep traveling and feeling greedy for more experiences abroad, I somehow have these moments that mingle in of wanting to be nurtured, to be close those I know well.

Arrival in Budapest

I arrived in Budapest this morning. My friend Toni, who I met at Mission Wolf in Colorado last winter and who invited me to visit here, picked me up at the airport. He took me into the city and treated me to the best pizza in Budapest. It was admittedly delicious.

Budapest is a quiet, pretty, tame city so far as I can tell at first glance. Today is cold and rainy and last night in Paris I got no sleep...so that makes walking the wide, long streets here a bit tedious, even though they are beautiful.

This afternoon, I met a couchsurfer from Germany and his friend from the Philippines at the big spa I mentioned in the post below. It was enormous. I paid and went in to change, but found the setting and ambiance a bit spooky...it was huge and ornate, but very clinical feeling, with big, long corridors and people dressed all in white, with plastic slippers bustling about. Apparently, it is a spa, health center for the elderly and hospital, with different wings that all seem to merge. It reminded me of the old time asylums for "mad" people. It was creepy. In the women's changing room, the floors were tiled and dirty and there was no option to have slippers or anything on your feet. The whole atmosphere weirded me out and I decided not to partake in the baths. It was a huge escapade to get a refund, which took half an hour of insisting. I felt pretty "mad" by the time I got out of there!

Then I came to Moscow Square, where I am now. I hate to admit this, but I am in McDonald's! My feet are aching from walking all day with my bags and I was craving a place to sit and write with free internet and a vanilla milkshake. So, here is one of those rare times where I sell out to Micky D's.

In a little while I will meet with my couchsurfing host here in Hungary. I hope I like her!

Week 2 in Paris

I am proud to announce that today I rented my very first flat in Paris! Rue Archives. Right in the heart of it all: Le Marais. Well, technically the 3 arrondisement, but close enough! It is a very sweet, charming, classical French studio with a tidy kitchen, a comfy double bed, a quaint dining table, plenty of paintings on the walls, an ancient bathtub, and a courtyard. I am on the 2nd floor and wonders of wonders...there's even a lift (elevator)! I begin living there on Oct. 26 and will stay for two weeks. Hooray!

My second week in Paris has included many wonders such as: My first French roadtrip...(woohoo!)...an excursion with a friend to Val de Loire...land of many castles (we visited 3, including Chateau de Chambord: http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ch%C3%A2teau_de_Chambord), Eating French Fondue, Eating a home-made, 5 course meal, witnessing my first French worker;s strike (3 milliom strong) on Boulevard San Germaine, Attending an American movie at the cinema, Having tea at the Swedish Institute, practicing French with several new language partners, Drinking orange-infused hot chocolate, Watching part of a Flamenco dance class, visiting the suburbs, picking apples, making new friends, seeing the film "P.S. I Love You", visiting the home of Leonardo da Vinci, and many hours and days spent searching the city for a temporary flat...which paid off!

And today, I was offered a modeling job for trashy lingerie...which I turned down. Now, I leave for the airport in less than one hour (it is 4:15 am here) to go to Budapest for 1 week! I think I will try to rest for at least a few minutes!

1 Week in Paris

I arrived in Paris exactly one week ago. This week has included a satisfying consumption of pastries, drinks in bars with friends, a couple of days of being home sick with a cold (my medicine was raw garlic and spicy Indian take-outs delivered to my doorstep), witnessing my first Burlesque show (my favorite was the Australian girl who I had met earlier that day at my flat...she danced as Prince...it was hysterically funny and really well done!), eating late-night crepes, a Parisian picnic at Sacre Coeur, witnessing a wild parade and wandering through a wine and food harvest festival in Montemartre, and an elegant dinner at a friend's apt.

A very satisfying start to this month and a half I will spend here. I have yet to find some dance classes, rent a temporary flat, and explore a million other things this beautiful city has to offer!

The Performance in Turkey

I feel there is yet still more due on telling of my experiences in Turkey. I have not told of the deeply stirring experience of witnessing the reactions of the children as they watched the original show we created. Despite bad lighting, a tiny stage and poor visibility, the children in the audience could not have been more enraptured. Straining in their seats for a better view, their eyes were wide and sparkling, as though they were at a movie premier.

At one point in the afternoon performance, I was moved to tears during a poignant moment in the show, as I watched how openly the children were absorbing the message of inclusion and diversity. I thought, "Wow. Here I am in this country I had never even expected to visit, in some city I've never even heard of, and I just helped create an experience that is stirring the hearts and minds of 600 kids." It was both humbling and empowering to realize the possibilities that were indicated in this experience.

And then, at the end of the show I was honored with a huge bouquet of flowers and deeply acknowledged by the heads of the University, who told me privately that they hated to imagine what would have happened to the project if I had not come. Outside the school entrance, hoards of children were waiting like Paparazzi to catch a glimpse of the "stars" of the show. We were goggled at by shy teenagers who desperately wanted to shake our hands, ask our names, have their photos taken with us. It was like walking the red carpet at a film promotion! They followed us in large crowds, to our "tour bus" and once we were on, one bold teenage girl, snuck her way onto the bus, asking to meet one of the blonde Latvian guys! Shy and only 17, this guy was suddenly a teen idol! As we drove away for lunch, dozens of children stood waiving.

After all was said and done, I was paid 250 euros by the University, as a contribution toward my expenses in coming to volunteer in this project. My first pay in euros! It was a cool moment.

Oh, and I have not mentioned that the Bollywood dance that I choreographed to the song "Ringa Ringa", from Slum Dog Millionaire (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_zPi6w1TWBg), was a huge success! We set it as our grand finale to the show, inspired by the Bollywood tradition, where all the characters of a story, friends and foes, come together at the end to dance in celebration. With 25-30 people dancing on stage, it was crowded and a bit chaotic. I danced in front of the stage, leading the guys part and the girls all danced on the stage (the stage was too small to fit the whole cast at once). Many of the cast were doubtful about the dance and had trouble remembering the steps. Everyone liked the idea of ending with Bollywood, but nervous about the execution.

The show was diverse in style, a combination of pantomime, music, comedy, drama and clowning. When, at the end of each performance I posed the question to the audience, "What was your favorite part?", we all expected the answer to be " The clowns"...but instead it was, to our great surprise, an emphatic and unanimous..."Bollywood!" And then all the children started clapping in rhythm and chanting for an encore!

Thus, after both shows, we had to perform the entire dance a second time through! After the second show, we danced the encore to the much faster song, "Jai Ho" and it was funny, as though in fast forward! We invited all the children onstage to dance it with us...and many of them happily joined us, jumping up and down merrily.

A Bit More About Turkey

There's so much of my trip to Turkey that I never sat down and blogged about...such as the day I tried driving in Istanbul...in a Ford, of all things! Or the fact that that same day I crossed the bridge over the Bosphorus River that straddles Europe and Asia. Within half an hour and without leaving the same city, you can cross two continents.

Here is one entry (transcribed) that I wrote by hand my last evening in Turkey on Oct. 3, 2010:

"This is my last night in Turkey and I am spending some quiet time by myself in Sultanahmet. Sipping red wine, nibbling on olives and pita, waiting for an aubergiene and lamb kebab...this is by far the most atmospheric and relaxing dining I have had so far on this trip...which seems a good segue to arriving in Paris tomorrow.

Today, I went to the Spice Bazaar and then spent the evening in the Hammam (Turkish Bath) with an American girl from Wisconsin who is living here in Istanbul. While we were in the Hammam, there was a 4.4 earthquake in the Marmara Sea. It was mildly felt here in the city, causing furniture to rattle around, but in the ancient, stone walls of the Hammam, we were completely unaware.

The Hammam was bizarre...not nearly as luxurious as the one I went to last winter in the South of Spain, yet more expensive. We couldn't afford the option with massage, so we took the middle-grade option, which was a hot water soak, plus "body scrub and soap". We undressed (women only in this bath house) and, cloaked in towel wraps, walked into a huge, circular, gray-marble room with a large, round stone in the center. The stone was covered with nude women of all ages and body types, waiting their turn to be soaped down.

The attendents reminded me of Oompa Loompas. They were a full squad of short, fat, Turkish women in black bikinis who all seemed to look the same and ordered you to lie down on your towel, while they roughly threw warm buckets of water over you. The scrubbing felt great and then came massive amounts of foamy soap that inescapably made its way into your face and ears, prompting more buckets of water to be hurled at you in almost sinking-pirate-ship fashion. My favorite part was the 30 second foot massage.

After the scrub, came a shampoo that was equally foamy and splashy. Then, you were sent to finish off in the bath, which disappointingly consisted of a relatively small, cavernous room with murky-looking water and bad lighting. I wasn't very impressed, but I did enjoy sitting in the bright and airy lounge afterward, sipping tea and watching the Oompa Loompa ladies taking their break."

A Word on Leisure

It is a perfectly blue-sky autumn day in Paris. I had breakfast at my favorite pastry shop in the all the world: Laduree (check it out: http://www.laduree.fr/public_en/maisons/royale_accueil.htm) with a new friend from the Czech Republic...St. Honore Rose Frambois is the name of the one particular pastry I call pure Nirvana. I accompanied that with "Marie Antoinette Tea", a worthy combination.

After breakfast (at noon), a stroll through the Jardin des Tuileries, watching children play by the fountains and taking in the sun. A word to the wise: don't wear fashionable shoes on such occasions! I thought I was tough...but man! I ended up torturing my poor feet and having to give up sight seeing for a desperate journey back to the flat to relieve the pain and recline for awhile. I know I "should" know better, but keep in mind I am in one of the most intoxicatingly fashionable places on the globe! My Brazilian grandmother used to say, "You must suffer to be beautiful"...

It's interesting how those of us from the U.S. quickly forget the importance and entitlement we all have for some leisure in our lives. In our fast-paced, super-sized culture, leisure means either you are wealthy or lazy. And either way, you are supposed to feel guilty!

But in Europe and much of the rest of the wide world...leisure is an imperative part of a healthy life. Time to stroll through a park or a beckoning "Rue". Time to relish a good meal and enjoy some wine...whatever time of day it might be! This is a balanced life. So, please dear reader, find some time to relax and trickle your fingers on the piano, pet the cat, read the paper, or just sip some cappuccino and take in some sunshine!

Speaking of which...to emphasize the point...someone is playing piano from across the courtyard as I write this!

Some Feedback, Please

There is so much of my journey that I haven't written about...it's overwhelming how much more I want to document of my travels! And is any of this relevant or even interesting to anyone else out there? I have no idea. Please let me know. And feel free to tell me which parts of what I write about you might like to hear more or less of (or both)! What are you interested in hearing about? I really would like your feedback as my reader. Thank you!

In Paris Again

I have so much catching up to do. I just returned from dinner with my friend Jean-Francois, the acoustician here in Paris. It's the first time we've seen each other in 3 years! We met at Pont Neuf, crossed over the oldest bridge in Paris and ate at a traditional French restaurant on Cite Island (with an accent over the "e"). Soupe l'oignons, grilled duck with pineapple and potatoes au gratin. To drink, Bordeaux. It's good to be in Paris again!

The price was not cheap for a middle-grade meal...40 euros! Yikes! But it was my first dining experience here this trip...so I wanted to splurge. Conversation was good and I enjoyed the company. It's amazing what a difference it makes to talk with someone who is actually interested in what you have to say and not just listening politely with their mind on other things! I have been missing this kind of conversation/dynamic on this trip, so it was extremely refreshing to rediscover it!

Paris is such a charming and beautiful city, that I can even appreciate it in rainy weather! This evening was drizzly and gray, but it seemed elegant somehow!

As for me, I attended an interesting event earlier in the evening called "Franglish". It's a language exchange event I found out about on Craigslist. You pay 10 euros to go sit in a nice bar and talk with people for 10 minutes at a time. Then you switch to a new partner. It lasts an hour and a half, so you end up speaking with 8 or so people. You speak in English for 5 min. and French for 5 min. with each person. It's like "speed dating", but instead of looking for a date, you are practicing foreign language skills and networking with people in the process. I think it's a great idea. I might have found a language exchange tutor tonight. A nice guy who is studying engineering and is dreaming of living in the U.S. I realized tonight how long I have to go till I will truly be able to speak French!

Back in Istanbul

This city is really fun and every day...I am falling more in love with it. I am back in Istanbul now...arrived on Thurs. afternoon. Am back at Halil's apartment near Taksim and the hospitality has been really nice.

So much writing to catch up on.

Dress Rehearsal

I have to write a word of gratitude to the chief of maintenance here at the University of Balikesir Hotel, named Hayri. This man has to be the kindest, most thoughtful, and sincerely self-less man I have ever met. Not only does he keep an eye on the needs and comfort of all 30-some people that are in this project, but he goes out of his way to buy us beer, cheer us up, and do every fathomable minor task we might request or even hint at.

Though he takes care of everyone thoroughly, he seems to have a special fondness for me and appreciation of my hard work and dedication to this project. He has gifted me hand-made paper roses, washed my laundry, given me license to drive the tractor, and today...and I'm not kidding...after dance rehearsal, he saw me washing my feet with a wet paper towel and insisted on doing it! The man has washed my feet.

On another topic, today I learned that there is a movie theater in Poland where, if you arrive with a lemon in your hand and eat the whole thing, you get in for free. You have to admit, that's pretty original.

On yet another and perhaps more important topic, tomorrow is the final performance of this program. We have to get up super early and go perform the first show at 10am. Then the 2nd show is around 12:30pm.

I am excited. We had dress rehearsal tonight and it looks good. I think and hope that once the audience is present, the magic will be there. It is a moving play. We spent the entire day rehearsing and I will be dancing in the final Bollywood number with the boys. I hope I remember all the steps! :) The girls' part is different than the boys' and one of the girls from Romania is a strong dancer and has memorized the sequence of the steps, so she can lead the girls and I can lead the boys!

I saw a preying mantis tonight on the walk back from dinner. I think it was a good omen.

That's all for now...goodnight!

Rehearsal Time

Rehearsal is about to resume. It's almost 2pm on our 3rd day of practice. We just returned from a fast tractor ride from the campus cafeteria...mysterious lentil soup, pasta and french fries was our lunch (I passed on the meatloaf option). It's sort of surreal to be staying at an upscale hotel with the only transportation means being a tractor! We have 2/3 of our play figured out...1/3 more to go.

Dance from Dawn to Dusk

It's 3am and it's been quite a day! Started with Bollywood dancing and ended with salsa! Not only did this day consist of rehearsing for the play, stage directing, choreographing and learning clowning pantomime techniques, but I also drove a tractor for the first time (with 20+ people on board!) and had my first Turkish BBQ.

After rehearsal, we had a party...an "International Night", celebrating the cultures of Romania and Turkey. We watched a traditional Turkish dance and then received a lesson (Out of 30 people, I was the only girl that participated...all the others were guys). Then, we saw a video about Turkish culture. Next, a video about Romanian culture and learned traditional dances from Romania. Then, came samples of homemade Romanian wine, liquor, and food.

After the formal presentations, we all went outside and helped clean up from the BBQ...then the party started. Our multi-cultural crowd consisted of 6 Latvians, 8 Turks, 5 Italians, 5 Pollocks, 5 Germans, 4 Romanians, 2 Spaniards, 1 Ukranian, 1 Hungarian, 1 French, 1 Estonian and me, the token American!

We gathered around and Bogdan (a Romanian participant who loves the Blues, Country-Western music and Jeff Foxworthy), played guitar and sang songs...rock, blues, Latin, etc. We made up some really ridiculous Blues songs as a group (after the beer and vodka was flowing). Then came capoeira, salsa and Turkish dance.

A fun night! I am really tired now, so time to sign off.

An Update

Wow, I have some catching up to do. Well, I now have 2 days of leading theater and dance workshops to European college students and young professionals under my belt. As well as 2 days on the western seaside coast of Turkey. I swam and played volleyball at a beach that offered a view of the Greek Island, Lesbos. I saw the Roman ruins of the Temple of Zeus. I watched an amazing sunset from a hilltop overlooking the Aegean Sea. I wandered through my second Turkish Bazaar...which of course was laden with spices, olives, nuts and vegetables, as well as mounds of strawberries!

Here are my "Glimpses of Turkey" update: A potbelly is commonly called a "Turkish Muscle". The Turkish cuisine is all about the soup. Tonight, in a 3-course meal, I was served a soup after eating a different soup. My first word in Turkish was "Thank you" and my second word was "butter"...but I have no idea how to spell them. The buses here operate entirely on the "honor system". You pay your fare to the driver via the hands of the passengers in front of you and there is no tally machine or ticket involved. The level of hospitality continues to amaze me. There is a guy here at the University Hotel, who deserves an honorable mention. His name is Hayri and he has to be one of the most kind-hearted individuals I have ever met. Just today, for example...he took my laundry (along with about 5 other participant's) to his home and washed my clothes in his machine, brought it back and hung it out to dry. He brought the whole group an unbelievable supply of baklava as a treat, he gave me a beer at the end of the evening, and just generally spends the entirety of every day running around doing whatever is humanly in his power to make all of us comfortable and at home, no matter what the demand. I have never seen him cross and in addition to all of this, he manages to tell us jokes and make us all laugh throughout the day. Good guy.

Tonight, I had a conversation with some of the youth project participants and learned that:

1. Starbucks went out of business in Italy, because no one liked their coffee (hooray!)

2. In Berlin, all the McDonald's were protested against with violent crime and defecation on the building, so they had to build them with bullet-proof walls! Interesting stuff!!

Oh, yeah, I also learned a great story from one of the Italians the other night...he confessed to me that he was in Rome a few years ago and developed a bad impression of Americans after meeting a young American woman who asked him (in all seriousness): "So, here in Italy do you have reservation parks for the Ancient Romans, like we have for Native Americans in the U.S.?" He was dumbfounded. He said his jaw hung open for awhile.

Today was a great rehearsal day. We are finally beginning to give form to this performance. Oh, and I was in a Turkish newspaper the other day! Photo, name and everything! It was a group photo of all the people in our project. In a few days, i will be on Turkish television...I think I will be interviewed about the project. This is an interesting experience, to be director and choreographer for an original performance with an International cast of mixed theater experience (from professional to none at all). There have been some challenges the last few days, but now I am really beginning to feel excited and I think we will have a solid performance (I pray)!

Good night and salam alaikum.

The University Campus Experience

I arrived at the University campus this afternoon with the other volunteers and the participants from Poland. We are staying in a huge conference-hotel that is reserved strictly for this event. It's like being in a very posh dorm. Each room has its own bathroom and mini-fridge. The participants are all in double-rooms (with twin-sized beds) with a room-mate from another country. The volunteers and mentors get solo rooms with one double bed to each. Kata, Ana and Tati opted to all share a bed and take the suite.

The landscape here is rather surreal. Dry, barren land with scraggly shrubs and low trees with modern but nondescript buildings, mingled with the fact that we are 1/2 an hour out of the city of Balikesir and the feeling of being in the middle of nowhere. As Tati put it, it reminds you of an apocalyptic movie where only a few people and buildings remain. Like a modern-day ghost town.

Breakfast will be served each day at the hotel, lunch will be at the University cafeteria and dinner is (unfortunately) at a sort of upscale, fast food restaurant. There are no options to the meals, you get what you get...unless you are vegetarian, and then you get extra french fries!

It's funny, I think this is the first time in my life where I am in a social peer group strictly consisting of people in their 20's. I have so often spent months dominated by the company of young children through my work as a teacher, but this is very different. Even in college, I never lived on campus, so I have never really had this experience. I am sometimes enjoying it, but I do find myself having moments where I long for a more adult conversation...a chat with someone who has more experience in life. But, since it is so unique of an experience for me, it is interesting and mostly fun.

After lunch, I took the bus back into Balikesir and spent the day touring around town with the Polish group. They're a nice bunch. 2 girls and 2 guys (one more girl yet to arrive). We visited the mosque, caught a glimpse of the inside of the Hammam (Turkish Bath), had fresh-squeezed juice in the plaza ($1.25 Turkish Lira buys one tall juice...the equivalent of about $0.75), had beer at a roof-top pub, then meandered through jewelry shops a bit...but even here, everything is made in China! I had an interesting conversation with one of the Polish girls about the rare combination that the nation of Turkey blends in being an Islamic country and a republic. The famous leader Mustafa Kemal Atatürk founded the Republic of Turkey and became the first president in 1923. He led a huge social and cultural reform which included adopting the Latin alphabet, ridding Turkish of Arabic words, and making a clear separation between religion and government by making it illegal for women to wear head scarves in the work place or at the University. (The Burkha is also outlawed for citizens of Turkey).

Got back this evening just in time for dinner...the standard meal of soup (which tonight, tasted like a Turkish version of Campbell's tomato soup), white bread (which is always eaten plain...today I got daring and asked for butter), rice pilaf, salad and meat. During dinner with the Turkish group and the Polish group, the Italian, Romanian and German groups arrived. I think the Latvian group will arrive tomorrow morning at around 3am. After dinner, the project volunteers, along with the Polish and Turkish groups all got a ride back to the Hotel in a tractor. For some reason, this was very thrilling for everyone and it was as though they were on a carnival ride...everyone cheering and shouting every time the tractor sped up the slightest bit, or we hit a bump...(maybe it's the age difference?)

In about 5 min. the 3 project volunteers will begin the first workshop...name games, ice-breakers, etc. Time to go! Here it begins...!

Polish Vodka and the Kissing Question

Another multi-cultural evening...this time, involving Polish vodka! Being the light-weight drinker that I am, one shot drowned in cranberry juice was enough for me!

Tonight, I was asked to be kissed by a fellow volunteer. I am always taken off guard in these moments when a man asks if he can kiss me. As I see it, the moment is either there, or it isn't and you both can mutually feel it. The question isn't necessary. I think in each case when I have been asked, the moment has not been there. Therefor, though I appreciate the politeness in asking, if you have to pose the question at all, the timing and chemistry is probably off.

Educational Theater Project

Right now, I am sitting in the living room of the flat in Balikesir, planning the theater project activities with the other volunteers...icebreakers, energizers, warm-ups, team-building, etc. Really fun collaborating and brainstorming together! So relaxed and easy...I am in Heaven!

The project is called "Patchwork Theater" and was conceptualized by 3 volunteer women (my flatmates). It is funded by the Youth In Action 1.1 project and is a 10 day youth exchange program. It is also the reason that I am in Balikesir!

The project's purpose is to bring together 30 college-age students from 6 European nations (Turkey, Poland, Latvia, Romania, Italy and Germany) to create a series of original short plays which focus on stereotypes and cultural differences. The culmination of this process will result in 2 final performances which will be presented to a total of 600 Turkish middle-school students from both private and public schools. It will also be filmed and televised on local T.V...the pressure's on!

I have been invited to bring my experience and knowledge in theater, dance and all related topics and help direct and develop this project. My goal is to help manifest the beautiful and creative vision of the founders of this project: Ana, Kata and Tati, to it's greatest potential.

Yesterday was the first staff meeting to plan the program with the University. Today, we met with the Turkish participants to help plan their performance piece and tonight we will meet the group from Poland. Tomorrow, most of the other participants arrive and the whole project will kick off. Gulp! Wish me luck!

A Home-Cooked Meal in Turkey

Yesterday, I departed from Istanbul and arrived by 6.5 hour bus ride to the small, western city of Balikesir. The funniest part of the voyage was when I woke up half-way through the trip and saw the sea all around me out the window. Groggy and confused, it took awhile for me to comprehend that I was on a ferry!

Tonight I cooked my first meal in Turkey: Moroccan vegetable stew with couscous, grilled eggplant with garlic, baked French Fries, and Peach Cobbler for dessert. I had plenty of helping hands from my new, temporary flatmates: Ana from Sevilla, Kata from Hungary and Tati from the Ukraine. Another multi-cultural dinner with guests from Turkey, France, Latvia and Estonia...all volunteers here at the University of Balikesir. We had an impressive abundance of red wine and played silly games that I borrowed from summer camp...very fun!

I heard a wise quote from a Latvian girl tonight, which was "Shit happens in life, even a bad experience is an experience." I found that attitude very reassuring!

I also heard a Turkish saying which was tossed my way as a compliment from one Turkish guy to the other, hours after dinner was served and I pulled a tray of hot, homemade fries out of the oven as a late-night snack at about 3am. He said, "May God bless Cara's hands."

And somehow, it made me chuckle to myself, remembering that in Portuguese, my name means "face". In other words, "May God bless the hands of face."

First Day in Istanbul

Yesterday, my host Halil woke up before me in the morning, drove to the market on his motorbike for fresh ingredients, and had breakfast ready the minute I rolled out of bed!

My first day in Turkey feels like 3 or 4...so many sights, smells, tastes, sounds, new people all rolled into one...I don't know where to begin! The day began with the previously mentioned breakfast: a ready made omelet, salad with lemon juice dressing, yogurt and bread. Then, I hopped on the back of Halil's red Honda motorbike and we were off for the day, weaving in and out of traffic on hilly, cobblestone streets, cruising along breezy highways with glistening views of the sea, dodging traffic through stone archways and city sidewalks, as the bike occasionally sputtered and Halil called out, "the chain is going to break very soon! I hope not now!". It was both a terrifying and exhilarating experience! All this and with no helmet or protective guard on me...that part I wasn't so crazy about. So, I said a lot of prayers, held tight, and insisted that we buy another helmet the minute I had a chance.

We arrived in the part of town where Halil works at a 4 star hotel and I was left to wander around the grounds of the Blue Mosque and inside of the Hagia Sophia. Walking alone, every where I wandered the shopkeepers called after me, "Excuse me, where are you from?" The first few inquiries made me feel compelled to satisfy their curiosity, but I quickly learned that answering this introductory question opened up a whole can of worms, leading to harassment. Unfortunately, I realized this after one shopkeeper placed his greasy hand on my arm telling me to have tea with him and dinner later. Yuck. So, I rapidly understood that the best tactic to avoid such unpleasant encounters was to walk along impassively and ignore any questions regarding my cultural origin. This resulted in a somewhat comical, domino-effect chorus of "Excuse me, where are you from?" trailing behind me wherever I seemed to go!

At one point in the heat of the early afternoon, I stopped to buy an ice cream cone. After what I found to be an annoying tease of a show, where the vendor keeps pretending to give you the cone on a metal stick and faking you out, he finally placed the cone in my hand and asked "Where are you from, are you Spanish?" No, I answered. To which he replied, "Greek?" No. "Portuguese?" No. "Italian?" No. Baffled, he finally gave me one more quizical look and asked, "Turkish?!" Pleased with my inconspicuousness, I answered finally, "New York", as I walked away...leaving him bewildered.

The rest of my day was a whirlwind of walking all over various streets and neighborhoods of Istanbul with various company including Halil (who I insisted buy a new chain for his motorbike BEFORE it broke), a 24-year old Chinese-American from L.A., and several new Turkish acquaintances through couch surfing. I trekked many miles through this enormous city.

Arrival

After over 16 hours in transit, I arrived in Istanbul around 5pm this evening. After all that anticipation, it feels like a victory.

My flights went smoothly: Denver to Detroit, to Paris, to Istanbul. I sat next to a very friendly, sweet French guy from Toulouse on the flight between Detroit and Paris. He is a student who is just getting back from visiting his girlfriend in Maryland...who is interning on a dairy farm where they make 100 different flavors of ice cream. Sounds like my idea of Heaven! He had been up since 6am making strawberry ice cream! We chatted about various things over white wine, bread and rice pudding. I was impressed with the luxury of the international flight: chairs that recline, complementary wine and bottles of water, and a movie list that would take days to get through... I did learn 2 things from my French flight companion: 1. That some U.S. dairy farms (such as the one he just visited) are finding innovative ways to use cow methane as energy and fuel. 2. That Washington D.C. and other U.S. cities are compressing street garbage to condense the volume.

Next was the flight from Paris to Istanbul, which was my least favorite ride. Why? Because the stench of body odor hung so thickly in the air that it literally took my breath away. I had to stuff my nose deep into a lavender eye pillow I had with me till they turned the A.C. on...and even then it was nauseating. What is the story with French men and deodorant? I am aware that it is not all French men, thank God...but I have encountered this enough to notice it's a trend... Can anyone out there enlighten me? How on earth can French women tolerate this?

When I got into the Istanbul airport, things took a while...buying a Visa, going through customs, baggage claim, etc. Then, I got on a bus to Taksim, the city center. I had to find my couchsurfing host Halil, at what he recommended as the "most-easy-to-find meeting place"...McDonald's. I kid you not, upon stepping off the bus into the heart of Istanbul, one of the cultural capitals of the world, the first words from my lips were..."Where is McDonald's"?

I arrived at my destination 1 city block later. Only problem was, I had not succeeded in getting a Turkish phone card at the airport, due to technical difficulties, so I had no way to call Halil and let him know I had arrived. I had to count on the generosity of strangers in this foreign new city and pick someone out of the busy street crowd who could speak English and would lend me their phone! Luckily I succeeded on my 2nd try, and a nice young woman let me use hers. I called Halil who said he would meet me in 15 min.

I waited outside the McDonald's soft-serve icecream window, willing myself not to buy any (I hate supporting them). Time passed. I watched the plethora of street children, ranging in ages from maybe 4-9...skipping, hopping, playing, begging every one in sight for $ on the busy street at 9pm at night. My heart strings tugged and I longed to buy them all icecream, but I couldn't effectively communicate with them and I also remembered that in many countries it is said that giving to street children is not always constructive, as it encourages them to live a life of dependency as beggars...I didn't feel that I knew enough about it either way...so, I shook my head "no" and kindly smiled at each one who asked...realizing eventually that I would have been hoarded by 6 or 7 or possibly more, had I initiated the gesture.

So, I waited for what seemed to be more like 30-40 min. and no Halil. I admit that a vague wave of anxiety eventually swept over me when I realized maybe he had abandoned me and I would be left homeless, phone-less and without knowledge of where to look for affordable, last minute lodging late at night. This worry motivated me to seek out yet another stranger and bum another phone call to Halil. This time, the kind stranger talked to him directly to confirm the address where I was waiting. Halil said he would be there in 5 min.

5 min. later, a great looking young Turkish guy walked up, asked me if my name was Cara, and told me some name I couldn't understand and said that he couldn't really speak English. Next, a girl walked up with a friendly smile and told me to follow them. So, I did. They offered to help with my baggage, an offer which I declined and then they proceeded to guide me through the cobblestone city streets, always a few paces ahead of me, talking away to each other in intelligible Turkish. I had no idea who they were or where we were going. We went down a very steep hill, at which point the guy insisted on pulling my suitcase. At the bottom of the hill, we came to a gigantic flight of stairs with 3 or 4 tiers. He carried my big, fat, packed-for-2-months suitcase the whole way. Then we entered a building, then more stairs.

I arrived to Halil's apt., realizing my guides were his couch surfing friends and guests for his weekly "kitchen party". I entered the room to find a banquet dinner (casual style, with a newspaper table-cloth) full of guests. It was a multi-cultural potluck feast. My favorite. I was immediately served lentil soup, a spicy salad, mashed potatoes, an invented recipe of salami ratatouille, and for dessert, a French pear and chocolate cobbler. The beverage of the evening was water. The whole meal was completed with a pot of black tea.

My dinner companions were 2 Germans, 5 Turks, 2 Iranians, and 2.5 Parisians. The little one (2 years old) plopped herself in my lap as soon as I was served and began eating off my plate!

By the end of the evening, I had invitations from the 2 Iranians and 2 of the Turks to spend time exploring the city tomorrow, and one kind, young Turkish guy offered me the use of his extra cell phone for my entire stay in Turkey! And when it was time to turn in for the night, I realized that I had been graciously given my host Halil's bedroom, while he opted for the living room floor. Needless to say, I am already moved by the hospitality here.

The guy who carried my luggage turned out to be a very sweet, very shy 18 year old, who is studying to be a ship captain. At one point, he asked me my age and then got incredibly fidgety and embarrassed every time I looked at him or talked to him...which honestly seemed more to do with the fact that I was female, then the fact that I was much older than him!

So there is the account of my arrival in Istanbul. I look forward to my adventures tomorrow!

Feeling Good

I just booked a trip to Istanbul and Paris. I feel like the image posted at the bottom of this page (scroll down).

Whoa. I turned Pandora Radio on just now, to listen while I write and here's the song that is playing:

"Birds flying high you know how I feel
Sun in the sky you know how I feel
Breeze driftin' on by you know how I feel

It's a new dawn, It's a new day
It's a new life
For me
Feeling good

Fish in the sea you know how I feel
River running free you know how I feel
Blossom on the tree you know how I feel

It's a new dawn, It's a new day
It's a new life
For me
Feeling good

Dragonfly out in the sun you know what I mean
Butterflies all havin' fun you know what I mean
Sleep in peace when day is done
That's what I mean

And this old world is a new world
And a bold world
For me

Stars when you shine you know how I feel
Scent of the pine you know how I feel
Oh freedom is mine
And I know how I feel

It's a new dawn, It's a new day
It's a new life
For me
Feeling good"
(By Michael Buble)

I actually sang this song at the very moment that my 12 year-old niece was born...but that's another story.

And just before that, was this song:

"I'm a new soul
I came to this strange world
Hoping I could learn a bit bout how to give and take.
But since I came here,
Felt the joy and the fear
Finding myself making every possible mistake

la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la...

I'm a young soul
In this very strange world
Hoping I could learn a bit bout what is true and fake
But why all this hate?
Try to communicate
Finding trust and love is not always easy to make

la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la...

This is a happy end
'Cause you don't understand
Everything you have done
Why's everything so wrong?
This is a happy end
Come and give me your hand
I'll take you far away"
(Yael Naim)

And finally, my favorite of all Brazilian songs: "Eu Sou Assim" by Paulinho Da Viola...the lyrics of which, essentially mean, "This is who I am, take it or leave it! I live for today, in the 'now' and I won't carry any regrets with me when I die."

A Tidbit

Since last writing, I drove through 8 states on my 5th cross-country road trip this year (6th, if you count last Sept.) between NY and Colorado. Since the New Year of 2010, I have driven an estimated 15,000 miles in road trips alone, in my trusty Mitzubishi Endeavor (thank you, Ian). I have covered 19 states, most of them multiple times, and the following cities (many also multiple times): NYC (NY), Asheville (NC), Atlanta (GA), New Orleans (LA), Houston (TX), Denver (CO), Boulder (CO), Westcliffe (CO), Steamboat (CO), Moab (UT), Santa Fe (NM), Austin (TX), Chicago (Ill.), Quebec City (Canada)and Montreal (Canada).

My road trip companions have included friends from Estonia, India, Philadelphia, Austin, Tokyo, Fort Collins, Israel, Tibet and New York.

The Moon is Rising, Bringing September

It's late. And the half-moon just came up over the mountain. A part of me is wishing I were camping out tonight...sleeping on solid ground. Resting on the earth. The crickets are so loud out there, it's deafening! Instead, I am inside, here, writing, as I listen to the night through the window. This is my last one here for awhile. Other than a weekend visit to Quebec City, I have been in the Catskills for about 9&1/2 weeks. It's time to leave. It turned September 1 about an hour ago. One more day of packing, and I'll be on my way...

I never got a chance to write about Quebec City...this is a travel blog, after all! I was enchanted. I went there 2 weeks ago to celebrate a friend's birthday...a Leo. He flew in from Boulder and we drove together to another country. Once it sunk in that we were going, I got really excited about the idea that you can just get in your car and drive to another nation. As an American, that's quite a novelty...and a first for me! Everything fell into place: Someone we never met, who's last name was (and I'm not kidding) "Cool", lent us the keys to her apartment for the entire weekend. That adorable apartment happened to be very central with an amazing view over the city. We spent the first evening upon arrival witnessing a FREE Cirque du Soleil performance. We spent the second night with a really friendly group of locals at a microbrewery. We spent the 3rd night witnessing a second Cirque du Soleil performance "Totem" and after, the largest digital screening in North America (a memoir of Quebec's History). We attempted to converse with locals in their native language, had great conversations over cappuccinos, crepes, pastries and pizza, and had a blast walking all over the city during the day. We even visited the oldest grocery store in North America, which was quaint and full of variety. The trip lifted my spirits and wet my whistle for more travel and more...French! It was so odd to be in a French speaking region where everyone is smiling at strangers and could care less if you speak the language or not! Also...the strangest thing of all...the Quebecois seem to LOVE tourists! It was a surreal experience.

Anyway, back to right-here-right-now...(geez, this is a long entry)! I feel kind of guilty that I haven't camped out once this entire summer! How sad! I hope this fall will make up for that somehow!

There's so much more to write, but I better catch some winks, since I have a night of driving ahead of me. I am taking a cross-country roadtrip (my 5th this year, to be exact), tomorrow to Colorado, via Chicago. My travel companion this time is an Italian Israeli who just got out of a 10 day silent meditation retreat. I'm sure this will be an interesting adventure.

As for me? Am eager to get out of NY, am feeling a bit scattered in pieces and am looking forward to reassembling myself to something that resembles...well, me. Tonight I had dinner with a friend from Chile who asked me, "What do you really want to do (with your life)? Visualize it and dare to dream it!" I immediately realized how scary and exciting this question is. Goodnight.

What Do You Want to Do?

Well, still pondering what to do with myself this year! I feel a growing disinterest to continue doing the work I have been doing for the last 10 or 12 years...which leaves the whole world open...which feels daunting and mystifying.

OK, before I boor you with any more complaints about the freedom to choose your life's path...I will challenge myself to have the guts to articulate for both you, the reader, and myself what it is I most long to do at this time...and perhaps this clarification will help to set my sail.

So, here we are. Cara, what do you most want to do in the world?
Me: I want to dance. I want to dance every day and for several hours a day. I want my body to be active and expressive. I want to be around others who are passionate about dancing and who are living balanced, wholesome lives as artists. And I want to see what my body is capable of if I dedicate it wholeheartedly to dance.

I want to travel. I want to see dance in a variety of settings, grounded in its origins. I want to study and discover people's relationship with dance...particularly women.

I want to learn more about women's history and triumphs. I want to gain new strategies for empowering both genders to relate in a healthier way.

I want to cook and eat good food!

I want to adventure, to explore and spend time in beautiful places with sincere people.

I want to study and learn experientially and get accredited as I go. I want recognition for all that I am learning and doing so that I can go on to make a noticeable difference in the world.
(this last part is hard for me to write...my modest self says it shouldn't matter whether I get recognition or not, I should only do what I feel called to do...but there I go, "should-ing" all over myself!)

I want to see the possibilities of integrating dance with other art forms and topics as a way to express wisdom and inspire others to be more connected in their own lives. I want to perform in a way that collaborates with others and uplifts viewers.

There, I've done it. I've told the embarrassing truth. On the web!
Ugh, that was hard!

Feeling Lost

Well, it's been awhile since my last entry. I have a confession to make...I feel rather lost. I don't know what to do with myself...what direction to focus on...what is my purpose? Yes, lost is the best way to describe how I feel. Does anyone else out there feel this way? No direction seems particularly obvious. My ideas as an artist feel intimidating, unrealistic and vague. I have no idea how to make an income as an artist. Certainly, I've learned to manage as an educator...but as artist? It all seems so abstract.

I know it's very cliche for a woman in her early 30's to write this, but nonetheless...I sometimes feel like my life is passing me by. This feeling really unsettles me. I don't want to continue holding this longing buried inside me, wondering, "what would my life look like if only I had..." I want to follow my dreams. They just still feel a bit intangible...and that is frustrating. I need at least a little structure and some semblance of support...starting with my own conviction!

Can anyone relate? If so, I welcome your stories and any words of encouragement you can offer...

My self-esteem is struggling these days. NY has a way of kicking my ass and making me see all the gaps in my life, my self-image and my self-confidence. It's exhausting. And easy to feel discouraged and want to throw up my hands and head for the...well, some different hills (I live in the Catskills). It is also exasperating to see how all my old patterns slowly creep back in, the longer I am here....I become what I would describe as a shell of who I am. I minimize. Shrink. Partially disappear, and begin to feel invisible...a nonentity outside of my function as educator and youth program director. It is both lonely and isolating and each time I wonder why I am back here and if it is all worth it? But also, I feel that this is a necessary part of the process of developing into the fullness of who I am and want to become. Maybe I have to face the dark corners of my past and myself to reclaim all the fragments of me that have split off or gone to sleep. But it is still a great challenge.

An Update

Well, since this is a blog about my areas of interest and inspiration, I think it best if I write a mention of these. So here we go...

Travel: Right now I am in the Catskill Mountains...spending the summer on the site where my ancestors from Scotland first settled. It sounds rustic, but actually they were quite well-off, buying thousands of acres when they arrived, building a large manor house surrounded by lilac bushes, and starting up an elaborate trout hatchery on the property around the house.

I grew up in the Catskill Mountains. I have also lived here, part-time for the last 12 years. It is a unique landscape. This morning, gray mist is covering the tops of the mountains, while sunlight is stubbornly streaming through the trees from the Hatchery. The birds have a lot to say.

Dance: I have studied various forms throughout my life, but the dance I am most passionate about at the moment is Flamenco. I am a beginner. I have a lot to say on the topic of Flamenco, but I will leave that for another entry.

Cuisine: I can't say my diet has been particularly great the last few weeks, due partly to stress and a hectic work schedule, but being that it's summer, my staple foods are lemonade and ice cream. Let's hear it for peaches, plums and fresh berries too! I have not been cooking lately, so it's been lots of brown-rice pasta, cold cuts and mostly light fare. Yesterday though, I went out to lunch with a friend and had a delicious crepe with ham, brie, tomato and avocado topped with one large egg over-easy. Delicious.

Let Go and Grow

I am still getting used to the idea that I have a blog. Just for me. About me. It's strange really. Nothing to promote, no one else to encourage or highlight. Just my thoughts and ramblings. Whatever I want it to be.

As before mentioned, this is a new concept for me: to focus on myself, my own development and potential, instead of others'. It's really easy, I've noticed, to keep yourself incredibly distracted from the possibility of your own unfolding by staying focused on other people's problems and obstacles. Then you can conveniently take on their suffering for them and avoid paying any attention to who you might be if you just focused on your own place and point in time. In other words, coming from someone who was taught at a very early age to always put others before herself...I am beginning to think there is something to be said for minding your own damn business!

Yes, I am sad to report that I have spent a great deal of time worrying over other people's garbage. Even at times, to the point of losing track of myself entirely and obsessing over someone else's pain, history, prospects and possibilities. I am not proud of this, but how was I to know? Luckily, it is beginning to dawn on me that this is a big waste of energy all around and that meanwhile my own potential gets squandered. So, I am learning to let go and grow!

Good Will to All...Including Yourself

Many artists become educators. Including me. I think the danger of being an educator is all the time you can stall from developing your own potential by focusing on "the community and the kids". It's like a reversed narcissist. Your needs come last. I'm sure it's a synonymous symptom to the role of parent. You build your identity as the giver, unconscious of how conveniently this role evades you from the responsibility of nurturing yourself. You somehow reason that if you take care of everyone else in your life, surely someone in your life will take care of you. Hmmm. Does that work for anyone out there? In my experience, as time goes by, part of you feels great about what you are sharing with others, while another part finds itself secretly frustrated and depleted of all that good energy that was never reserved for you to spread your own wings. Your fear is clever at disguising itself as responsibility, discipline and doing for others. And while those are undoubtedly good qualities, everything in moderation...even good will to others at the expense of one's own ability to regenerate and expand.

Not a Stage Actress...

I want to be a great many kinds of artist...but I am not a big fan of a great many kinds of art culture, to tell you the truth. Take thespian culture, for example. I wanted to be a stage actress...till I realized I would have to tolerate and participate in thespian culture: a strange, dark mix of drama, salesmanship, promiscuity, weight loss regiments, cosmetics, competition and talent...not really my cup of tea. The other aspect I didn't dig was the idea that I would have to try to make ends meet by landing roles in commercials for products I wouldn't buy myself...not really my thing either. I discovered this at age 19 when I tried to hit the scene, thinking I was a sophisticated grown-up...but was disappointedly informed that I appeared 15 years old. While it comes in handy in later years to look younger than your age, at this stage I was not thrilled. Fellow actors advised me to aim for early adolescent roles...like Anne Frank. Instead, I moved to the Catskill Mountains and started learning yoga.

My Kind of Artist

It clearly takes guts to call yourself an artist. And even more guts to make art your profession. Or eccentricity. Or really good connections. Or a willingness to exploit yourself for fame and opportunity. I am interested in the having guts approach. And I think if you add to those guts a dash of impulsive willfulness...or being unshakably self-directed...what you get is an artist who does not want to be contracted, but rather wants full say and freedom over what she creates and how. And why. From the start. That's the kind of artist I want to be. But what does that look like?

Welcome...

Welcome to my brand new blog. The point? To reflect on and explore the areas of life that I am currently most passionate about. By writing, I aim to share with you my struggles, triumphs and musings of the elements of life which inspire me most. And with this sharing, perhaps I aim to deepen my own commitment and relation to these same sources of creativity and inspiration. And so we begin...