Let me take you to a place ... you know when you are relaxing near a camp fire, wearing long sleeves out in the wilderness far enough to not see city lights, at the end of summer when the air is warm, but the chill of Fall is coming up close, biting from behind ... yes, ok, that's it.
You're telling stories, the stars are out in the clear black sky, the coals are low enough to not be roaring, but glow that gorgeous orange ... hot dogs/marshmallows on a stick ...
Ok, now that you're there ... you're not. The air and the night are the same, the smell of Summer's end surrounds, but you are actually in your flat in London, stretching the beautiful kelp green scarf made of Swedish yarn you finished lounging in the warm sun today ... and in the distance you hear - your eyes widen and you hear - the joyous, perpetual fire, thunderous pride bellowing out the resistant joy to close the absolute final ending of the London 2012 Olympics. So nearby you can literally feel it.
The pops and bangs and echoes go on for minutes and it dawns on you that this moment is one of those unique times when mankind unites in a unanimous high five ... "we did this, you're awesome, I swear I'm going to work out more, people's lives were changed, and we are all better because of it". Yes!
But, please, pleeeeease do not look me in the eye tomorrow as we all pretend to read our papers or smartphones on the tube, because, well, that would just be awkward.
I have a little bit of a pet peeve with complaining, which is ironic since I now live in the culture notorious for "groaning". I am definitely not perfect here and am excluding cases where expressing grief is healthy, but when I hear mundane moaning about how hot it is, how cold it is, how busy they are, how bored they are, how so-and-so isn't doing things their way, I want this, I hate that ... I am often thinking in my head, "you'd be a lot happier if you focused on the good in your life and can we change the subject to something more optimistic before I say this out loud?"
Knock on wood most people I regularly have contact with have it pretty good, and after an evening at the Paralympics this weekend I am certain we have nothing to groan about. Watching these Olympians, after enduring what could only be horrific experiences, recover physically, rehabilitate mentally, overcome public humiliation, and summons the strength within to train for years to become the strongest, fastest in their class is a very humbling experience.
I had a ticket to the Track & Field event and witnessed men and women from around the world, young and old, some mentally challenged or blind, some missing limbs, and most requiring the assistance of several others to compete in sport ... sport that I am sure in many cases saved their lives from severe depression or worse.
It takes constant awareness to see the blessing in every moment, good and bad. Yes, no matter how good we have it, we still go through good moods and bad, get crabby and annoyed, and want for more (seems it is human nature to always want for more) ... and it is at these times I will do my best to switch my thoughts around to review all the fortune and joy in my life and consider in that moment the impression these Olympians left on me and the promise they provided - that no matter how bad it can get optimism and the human sprirt can overcome as long as you keep your focus on the good things in life, no matter how small they seem.
This past Spring my friend Angela said she wanted to take a "real" holiday this August and spend a significant amount of time in Italy. Without hesitation my reaction was "done and done". A couple reasons ... first, Angela is Italian and if anyone knows how to do it, she does. Secondly, upon moving here in July two years ago I quickly learned that several mainland European countries literally shut down in August ... the entire month ... like turn the AC off, lock the doors, close the office holiday ... for a month.
Startling indeed ... totally brilliant! To be honest even my 10 day jaunt was met with a bit of a raised eyebrow from the southern European folk, like "haven't you learned YET how to holiday?". Guilt-free holidaying is superb. And the inbox was delightfully easy to manage since everyone else was doing the same.
So, we decided on Sardegna (Sardinia in American). That's the big island the boot kicks into the Mediterranean :-). It was to be a girls trip ... big house, people can come and go as they please. Most of the time we were five or six, a couple nights we were seven, but despite flying in from different ends of the world we certainly had the single, successful woman thing in common.
Judging by the 400 photos I took, the majority of this trip was about turquoise waters, sun-tanning, good food and wine, and {not in photos} girl talk. Precisely what was needed.
Kara and I hit three locations on the island. First night we went down to Cala Ganone to see the East Coast, and woke up to meet Amy to take a boat ride along the coast to visit the beautiful Cala Luna beach complete with steers sipping out of the pond between us and the lovely canteen.
Then, up north to Porto Cervo to meet up with the clan in our three bedroom house (complete with stunning blue pool ... and its own kids!! .. yes, that is sarcasm). Seriously though, the house was beautiful. Patio, grill, locally made rugs, quiet, and on most nights pleasantly breezy. Seven nights.
When I mentioned to my aforementioned co-workers about going to Porto Cervo they snidely commented about me being over-paid, as the area is known as being the port for the most exquisite yachts around the world ... like Monaco or Nice. Google images of this location bring up move stars and the like. Meh. Ok, yes, there were some big boats someone more interested in that arena may drool at, but that really was the least of my interest.
We had a couple cars, so we drove around from beach to beach to beach. The area is quite secluded, so it was necessary to do the research to find the best places to go. Most beaches are on small, cliff-side roads with the only indication of their presence being a group of cars parked along the way.
The highlight of the trip for me was chartering a sail boat to take us out amongst the smaller islands offshore. There you could truly experience the undisturbed waters, glowing brilliantly, so clear our crew was literally inspired to conduct a full synchronized swimming routine while chiming the words to "So, Call Me Maybe".
For the last two nights we headed straight West to Alghero. I larger, historic port town with winding cobblestone streets lined with coral jewellers and gelato shops. We stayed at a small hotel, from which we wandered to find delicious restaurants perched on the city wall overlooking the most amazing sunsets of the trip. Known for its lobster and red wines, we partook in the local luxuries.
There were so many memorable moments, like the stressful manipulation of the car onto the ferry to cross to the Maggalena island, Amy's wind-surfing adventure, grilling amazing seabass at the house, swimming challenging distances to see schools of fish circle a distant boulder, fur coats for thousands of dollars at a street market, the ladies plunging off a 20ft cliff into the sea, crispy local white Vermentino wines, clubbing it on a beach at sunset, lobster, fresh fish, salami, Pecorino, bread, cookies, nutella ...
I could go on and on. Laughing, hugs, new friends, best tan ever ... {so freaking happy right now}.
I have been considering my Olympics posts now for quite some time. In part my delay is a result of wanting them to appropriately capture the vibe of it all and conversely because I simply have been spending my spare time catching up on all the events on bbc.co.uk instead !
My Olympic buzz has been a slow burn. I am not traditionally a huge sports fan on the regular, but I have always been into the Olympics, especially women's gymnastics. It started to flicker when the torch relay passed within blocks of my flat, sprinted into a crescendo when I was surprisingly offered last minute tickets to watch the dress rehearsal of the opening ceremony, and may have hit pinnacle as I sat in box seats at the women's gymnastics team finals. (woot!)
The city is buzzing! Most Londoners are either gone or not leaving the house, so as you cruise the streets or ride the tubes you most often are surrounded by excited visitors, Olympic volunteers in full costume, and if you're lucky a genuine athlete wearing their medal! Its actually quite pleasing.
Many of the countries are hosting "houses" where they welcome visitors to express their local culture, food, and drink, so the city is donning flags from all around the world. Regents Street is decked out with all the International banners on display ... the Olympic rings adorn Tower Bridge ... there is an overall sense of excitement and comradery among the people from all around the world.
Not sure if you have noticed, but at the events everyone cheers for everyone! The sport of it all is truly prevailing, and I couldn't be more proud of the people of the world right now. We are the woooorld, we are the peeeeople, we are the ones who make a brighter day .... sorry, I digress.
I mentioned it a bit, but a few key events have donned my experience so far:
Olympic torch relay ... criss-crossed England, then the city of London for days, passing within blocks of my flat. It was simple and under-stated, but accomplished what is was supposed to ... spreading the Olympic spirit throughout the land. Not sure who our chick was, but she was cute. (Those last few statements are a kind of metaphor for Britain in general.)
Actual torch holding myself ... my company is the official data sponsor of the Olympics. Thus, we had two torch holders and in the end a torch in our office for a couple hours for posing. Heavy, but not ... and a somewhat disappointing revelation that there are indeed thousands of Olympics torches each year. Hm.
Women's Gymnastics Team Finals ... the motherload. I did indeed buy these tickets outright as the one souvenir event I must attend. We arrived in style on the new "airline" cable car across the river. The seats were outstanding, and well, the USA whooped behind to secure gold in case you haven't seen it already. Homemade T-shirts! USA! USA! USA!
Beach Volleyball in front of Buckhingham Palace ... seriously. A surprise gift from a friend - front row tickets to both a men's and women's event. And to boot, it was actually Brazilian Women ... and they had DJs and dancers! Fun! Fun! Fun!
Since then I have been keeping up online, especially with gymnastics, diving, swimming, and track in between, taking advantage of wondering town when the opportunity arises. So hard to believe the closing ceremony is already this weekend. I did manage to get a hold of some free tickets to the park nearby that will be airing the ceremony on big screens (although temptingly the tickets are on sale for £1500 each on the london2012 website ... NOT!!)
It has been unreal so far ... literally unreal. As I was watching the opening ceremony on TV, I thought, "what is that?" and indeed out the window saw the fighter jets fly overhead coming straight from the stadium spritzing their red, white, and blue smoke.
And later that evening, basking in the aura of what I had just witnessed, again, a "what is that?" and it was indeed the fireworks going off over the Olympic Park in the distance. I live within walking distance of the arena.
I am sure that the surreality of it all will catch up with me in the future, but for now, I am going to keep cruising the streets looking for Phelps and Gaby, keeping an eye in the sky for Beckham's helicopter buzzing him to the next sport, and praying Pink Floyd closes the ceremony!!! Woo hooo!!! USA! USA! USA!
Music has a profound impact on a situation. Take for example my recent taxi trip from my hotel to the train station in Milan. It started as a fairly typical business trip morning - drag out of bed, pack up, make sure I don't forget the phone charger, get in the cab and panic until I don't miss my next mode of transport ...
But what happened instead was a glider ride through the city, floating through the roundabouts, mood altered by the crisp classical music the cabbie was playing a tad bit louder than politically correct. I don't know who it was ... I pretend Vivaldi or some other Italian Boroque artist I should be more informed about ... but with his fingers tapping out the piano on his knee and the warm wind in my face it was divine and I should have thanked him.
People were literally walking in step to the beat, the street lights changed on cue, and I suddenly realized how life's serendipity is so strong ... the peace I felt in my heart as I headed to the Italian City of Love - Verona was a part of my destiny.
Perhaps a glutinous move, but since I was in Milan and I had recently been looking at a bottle of Amarone that was a gift of a dear friend in Chicago, I decided that one extra day on the road wouldn't hurt anyone and booked the one hour train ride to Verona from Milan.
The destination was more so Valpolicella - the classic wine region in the foothills of the Alps north of town. Aside from their Classico and Superior varietals, they are most known for what I consider one of the three kings of wine - Amarone (others Barolo and Bordeaux).
It has a dear place in my heart, as it was really the first red wine that pulled me into the artform. It is made using a unique technique of letting the grapes dry before they are pressed and produces a warm, round, fruity red wine that will get you over any bad break up.
I spent my days in Verona wondering the winding streets lined with text book balconies full of succulents and vines, stopping to taste the local food and sit by the river to take it all in. I hiked up a mountain to view the top of town, and hired a driver to take me out into the hills of the wine region to visit a family on this wine farm and watch the sunset.
I liken a stay in the Luberon valley to ecstatic moments on repeat (for one, see side photo).
Last weekend, four girlfriends and I stayed in a stone cottage in the small town of Viens, East of Apt in the countryside of Provence (complete with a pool, vegetable garden, and view of distant lavender fields). The goal: local markets, sun, wine, dinner, repeat. Mission accomplished and then some!
The food market in the town of Lourmarin, noted as being the best in the area, was the destination Friday AM. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and the stalls were full of French linens, shopping baskets, salamis, cheese, bread, fabrics, wonderfully fresh local fruits and vegetables.
We all gathered whatever we fancied (I did get that French market basket I had been pining for) and slowly wondered the town before settling in for a lovely lunch and a bottle of Rose.
The old towns in this area are all, for lack of a better word, quaint. With their faded pastel facades, worn shutters, and draping vines ... the French Provincial "look" is in raw form, and it is gorgeous.
After having a delicious lavender and honey ice cream, we set off on the winding drive through the grapevine covered hills back for the house to enjoy the sun by the pool and harvest the garden for dinner.
Eggplant, zucchini flowers, tomatoes, and fresh chard were all available and we took advantage of it! Angela made roasted eggplant stuffed with Toulouse sausage and fresh tomato sauce; I made tomato salad, fresh greens, and fried up the zucchini flowers. Of course, local reds from the Luberon valley were the perfect accompaniment. It was a feast!!
Saturday morning we set off in search of the local baker, known for some of the best croissants around. Boy, we weren't disappointed. The little shop still had a fire inside a large brick oven where all the breads were made. The chocolate filled croissant was amazing, and just the first of carbohydrate loaded day.
We carried on into the larger town of Apt, which has its weekly market on Saturday, and pushed through quickly to get some meat to grill for dinner. I just may have bought some adorable linen curtains for the living room.
For the second half of the day some of the girls decided to wash off some work week stress by the pool, while Pam and I went in search of the lavender fields up near the town of Gordes and the Senanque Abby.
The remaining afternoon couldn't have been scripted better, and there were moments of pure bliss that aren't often experienced in life. The drive was gorgeous, up and down the foot hills of the valley, crossing through small towns with patches of lavender fields between. Gordes is picture perfect, perched on the hill, and we stopped to browse art galleries and wine shops after our visit to the Abbey. The Senanque abbey is probably the most photographed site for lavender tourists and was stunning, both from above where you drive in and up close. It is an active religious site where monks live today and can be seen working in the lavender fields.
As if the day couldn't get any better, on our way back home we came across the town St. Saturnin d' Apt which was having a flea market!!! No choice, but to extend our day out a bit longer and wonder through this great fortune. If only ... if only I had endless cash and if only I had a means to transfer back massive quantities of furniture (i.e. old wood farm tables, wrought iron day beds), old wine making supplies, fabrics ... ugh, there were so many dreamy items here.
But alas, I had niether and was over-joyed just having the memory of being at the best French Provincial flea market, perched on a hill with a stunning view of the countryside. Ahhhh ... now for that glass of Rose.
A couple more hours in the sun, and we began our second evening feast. More goods from the garden, cheese, salami, olives, spicy anchovies and garlic, fig and goat cheese salad, and of course the steak on the grill (which required a lesson from the groundskeeper - "put sticks on grill, fire, voila").
Finally, our lazy Sunday, absorbing the last hours of sun and eating everything that remained in the fridge (that ham and cheese croissant was awesome!!). We begrudgedly packed our belongings and went on our way back towards Marseilles to catch our flight. The drive was nerve-racking. For quite some time you are perched on the edge of the mountains, with shear drop offs at your side and no line of sight around hairpin turns. Grip tight ... gulp. The ladies were quite silent (probably praying for their lives).
An exhilarating experience, that rewarded us with a picture-perfect field of sunflowers on the other side of the mountain (interesting fact: many artists, such as Vincent Van Gogh's sunflower paintings were inspired by the beauty of this region).
Though this post accounts most of our doings, the real joy of this trip was the time with the girls ... laughing, hugging, sharing the kitchen, and praising life's bounty ... bliss.
Recently I read an article about the five best markets in London ... the two clear winners are the notorious Borough market - foodie haven and clincher for my decision to move to London - and Broadway market - somewhat like a little Borough with a non-stop stream of eyebrow-raising hipster fashion just a walk up the canal from my place.
However, to my surprise the Ridley Road Market was also listed. Ridley Rd. in the Dalston neighbourhood northeast of the city is also within walking distance of my flat and I had yet to pay it a visit ... what fortune!
This market is quite different from the others. First, it is in the heart of an African neighbourhood, and the foods, flavours, and products exemplify that heritage. Also, it's visitors tend to be lower income than the Borough type, so there are some great deals to come by as well (was listed as some of the most affordable veg in the city!).
So, this Saturday (oh glorious Saturdays when there is nothing to do but explore!) I grabbed my shopping bag, camera, and hit the street to see what was to offer.
I didn't quite expect I would leave England for a few hours, transported somewhere with smells of spice, entrancing music, bright colours, never before seen vegetables, and questionable cuts of meat. It was amazing.
I'll admit, I was possiblycaught a few times with my jaw hanging open as I stared in awe at woman wrapping themselves in stunning ethnic fabrics or an elderly couple lifting cow hearts out of a tub to determine which one looked the tastiest for dinner.
There were rooms with intricate hair-braiding going on, butcher shelves lined with ram skulls, and the darling little turquoise parrot fish I discovered while snorkelling in Mexico on chilly display for consumption. Smells of incense, shea butter for you hair and skin, and freshly made grilled breads filled with cheese (OMG!) ... gold hoop earrings, lace curtains, and wool socks. Fresh strawberries, plantains and garden eggs (which I now know are a delicacy for lovers in Africa, and you make an eggplant like stew with them).
Nonetheless, the diversity of options here in London, and more specifically in East London never cease to amaze me. It's awesome to be able walk just a short distance in any direction and literally feel as if you touch the opposite ends of the world. Blessed.
Been trying to get a snap of this for weeks now. I will for certain get a better one, but for now its on the record.
This momentary flash - fur, fear, curiosity, hunger - provides such great exhilaration each day. And it is each day, like clock work, right within the view from my "office"...
So, I will leave this short - in the documentary sense only. I did indeed attend the Royal Ascot horse race this year (for last year's commentary see here).
It worked out this way ...
1) no, I am not interesting in going
2) It costs money and I went last year
3) no really, I am glad you guys are going, but it is just not my thing
4) well, I don't know, it just not as up-class as you think its going to be
5) Last year I had to get standing only for an hour train ride in my heels!
6) Holy cow, I look amazing in this dress
7) You MAKE reasons to where dresses like this
8) I need to buy this dress
9) hey, you guys still going to Ascot?
10) dang ... now I need to buy a hat.
Went ... bet ... lost ... saw more fake tan and platform pumps in one place than should be legal ... and of course, do not plan to go back.
P.S. there was an amazing Australian champion beauty flown over that was epic ... Black Caviar won the Queen's Jubilee race at Ascot 2012. I have my betting ticket against her to prove it.
While living in Chicago I always enjoyed riding my bike (a.k.a. "The Cadillac") around town to the markets, beach, dinner, etc. In a city where driving isn't practical, and public transport, well stinky, riding a bike provides you with a means of travel complete with fresh air that is often much quicker than the alternatives.
It has been nearly two years now in London, and I have been hesitant to get a bike ... mainly because the arterial roads in the city are packed full of huge, scary buses that while sitting on the upper deck I have seen more than one close call with a biker. Just getting used to being on the left side of the road took long enough to get accustomed to.
However, I am now ready. The same desire - to get to my markets quicker and more exercise in my life - led me to the purchase of my Dutch bike!
This large classic style frame provides just the right balance of practicality and cuteness. While riding in Amsterdam (see blog here) my love for these bikes - with their heavy frame, covered bike chains, upright sitting style, and skirt guards - was solidified. I still miss my rusty orange Schwinn from Chicago.
I researched online quite a bit, and honestly, the classics are VERY expensive. With the odds being well over 50% that this bike will get stolen, I opted to get a used bike. It is a Dutch 8-speed, rides very well, and has a cute rack on the back that has already proven to secure a bag of groceries. Yet, it screams for a basket on the front ... waiting for the perfect one.
Turns out London is an amazing city for bikers!! There are dozens of marked bike routes throughout the city that avoid the scary main roads and lead you down paths it seems one without a bike may never see!
The city provides free of charge awesome maps of the neighbourhoods, directing you to the most peaceful or efficient routes, depending on your need. There are little secret routes, for bikes only and they even have biker stop lights!
I got down to the city centre in just 25 minutes (usually 45 minutes on public transport) and it looks like there is a safe route to my office. Looking forward to this new found sense of freedom, and discovering even more hidden secrets in this intricate city.
There were a few things I knew about the band Coldplay ... they
have some epic singles, are Brits, the lead singer married Gwyneth Paltrow, and they were playing at the Arsenal stadium in
June (which is walking distance from my house). This stacks up to a
must see event.
I racked up six
tickets, a crew to come along, and on a nice Spring evening in London there we
were ... in the centre of the stadium watching the performance of the UK's top
selling rock album of 2011.
I'm not a routine concert goer ... I mean I really do like
Coldplay with their Earthy lyrics, dreamy rhythms, and perfect timing
at introducing a jam session ... but, at first this was more a
"been there, done that" kind of expectation.
What this turned into
though was a bit more ... a push over the edge from just a music show. It
presented those moments when you look around with stars in your eyes, see your friends laughing, feel the unity of humanity, and jump up and down like
you just don't care (or maybe conversely like it is just about the most
important thing you could do).
There were large video screens so you could see the band, lasers,
fireworks, bright colours, mad amounts of confetti, bouncing balls, lovers
holding hands, and they gave every one lighted neon bracelets that blinked in
perfect coordination with the beat of the music during parts of the show.
Pretty cool effects.
If you haven't heard of them, this video Yellow was one of their first, and of course they had dense yellow lighting while they
played that ... girls were swooning. Their most recent song "Paradise"
was a hit, and of course "Viva la Vida" is a classic.
As if all that weren't enough, during the cliché 'pause, leave the stage, pretend the show is over' act
they changed locations, moved towards the back of the stadium and literally popped
out of the ground within meters of where we were standing! It was the
ultimate ... they performed their last few songs with the four of them on just
a little stage right in front of us. Nearly front row!
A friend of mine said it was a "life event". It was etheral. What's more, its kind of nice to know a couple guys at London City College, who played some tunes together, made it big time, married beautiful actresses and still maintained their souls.
