797 Days to Complete 101 Dreams Come True
"Look kids, there's Big Ben," Chevy Chase said in European Vacation. In my case it became, "Look kids, there's Edinburgh Castle."
I was rather proud of myself when I picked up my rental car (a manual automobile that I had to drive on the opposite side of the road) and drove myself to Rosslyn Chapel without getting lost. Now to give you some idea of what it's like to drive in Scotland, it did take me fifteen minutes to get out of the airport area because every intersection is a roundabout. These roundabouts have large signs before you come to the circle that mark the turnoff you want with a diagram, but once you're on the roundabout it isn't quite clear which turn you're supposed to take. Still, I had found my way from Glasgow to Rosslyn.
As I was leaving the chapel I realized I didn't have directions to my hotel. I figured I'd head into Edinburgh, find a gas station, or internet cafe, and get directions. Life would take care of me and I would find someone who could steer me in the right direction. I didn't end up needing help. On instinct I took a turn onto a road that changed into the one I was looking for and there was my guesthouse.
After I checked in, I drove around a little, went back to the chapel, and I was rather puffed-out about my mad driving skills. I was in unafraid in a new country and driving like I was a local. So, when I decided to drive into the center of town to find a music venue, I was certain it would take me ten minutes tops. This time I had a map and I knew hot to get there.
I got dressed up in a cool outfit, did my hair, and was on the road by 8:15 ready for a night on the town. In the first few minutes I realized I wasn't where I wanted when high on the hill I could see Edinburgh Castle lit up against the night sky. I took a moment to look at the romantic view and then drove on. A few turns later, I looked down at my map and deduced I had gone the wrong way. By some fate, I found my way to the street I wanted, and I was ready to park the car.
Parking wasn't easy, so I took a side road, and from there I have no idea what happened. Suddenly, I was seeing Edinburgh castle again all lit up. I smiled again at the beauty. Then I was going past the State house lit at night, and I enjoyed this sight as well. Look at me, I'm getting a tour of the city by night and soon I'll be back to where I need to be, I thought.
Two hours later, my attitude was much different. Something along the way went horribly wrong. I made circles round the city, I went through roundabouts getting cutoff. At each stoplight I tried to look at my map and find where I was, but even when I did find the street before the light changed, if I tried to follow the map's directions the closure of roads placed me outside the main part of the city. I had to watch for tourists crossing the streets as I remembered to shift, stay on the left side of the road, and remembered to keep towards the center of the road because I tended to drift to the left and bang my hubcap against the curbs. Traffic became worse and at one point I had to maneuver around a parked truck and a cab. I scraped the cab and realized I'd damaged the brand new rental car. The guy waved me on with a smile and I hoped what I heard hadn't been paint against paint.
Twice I stopped for directions and thought, now I can just go home. I'll find take-out to appease my growling stomach, and curl into my bed for the night. Each time, the directions only got me further lost due to closures. And all along, somehow, I would find myself back to the base of Edinburgh castle looking up at that damn romantic view. You would think I could find my way from here, but no. By the end of two hours I thought, I'm never getting back. I'm going to be lost forever.
I did find my way to the guesthouse and to some Chinese take-out around the corner. The next morning, I asked the host where I should park in the city. His response, "You don't bloody drive in Edinburgh. You take the bus. All those road closures will have you going in circles for hours with no way out."
Now you tell me.
When I did take the bus into the city, I realized that I was always just two turns away from being home, if I had taken the right turns. The car is actually fine. The hub cap could look better and there are some surface scratches that can be rubbed out with wax, but all in all, it was a crazy night.
Monday, March 29, 2010
The Holy Grail
798 Days to Complete 101 Dreams Come True
On my first day in Scotland I went in search of the Holy Grail in a place called Rosslyn Chapel. You might remember the name of this church from the Da Vinci Code. At the end of the story they arrive at this small chapel that is said to hold the Holy Grail.
Beyond the Da Vinci code this small church was actually built by William St. Claire. A great man, who in wishing to thank God for all the graces of his life and to ensure his place in heaven, had this church built. Steeped in myth, Rosslyn Chapel is unlike any you have seen before. Intricate carvings not only mark Christ's birth, life, and resurrection around the church, there are also symbols of paganism in the 150 green men carvings. Adding to the mystery of the church is the fact that more carvings mark the church as one of the Knights Templars' places of worship and it is believed that when the warrior monks set out to keep safe passage for pilgrims to the holy land, they also went in search of the Holy Grail. From the elaborate carved ceiling, a marker points to the floor and the legend says that this is where the Knight's Templar buried the Holy Grail.
But even more mystery comes in the carvings of this church. In the feminine altar space, individual carved symbols decorate the arched ceiling. Many believe the symbols are musical notes and some have even composed songs, saying that they have broken the code. Others say that the code leads to the secrets of life. Then there is the carvings of maize. The church was finished fifty years before Columbus sailed the ocean blue, yet here in this church there are symbols of the Native Americans. It is said, that Sir William's uncle actually traveled to Westford, Massachusetts and lived with the Mic Mac Indians long before Columbus's journey to discover America.
I spent the afternoon steeped in the mystery of the chapel and then walked in the glen towards the destroyed castle below. The castle had been bombed by invaders, but the church was saved because it had symbols of the Free Masons and the conquerors were known to be Free Masons.
You wonder with all this curiosity about the church why no one has dug into the floors to find the answers. Many have asked, but the St. Claire's, who feel it is there duty to save and protect the church, do know that their ancestors are buried beneath and they refuse to disturb the dead. Scientists have proven that there is a set of stairs and a large cellar, but can't say anything more of what secrets the church still holds.
I returned for evening service with Rev. Neil. The church is much different when the tourists leave. At one time this place had eight thousand visitors a year. The Da Vinci code has brought over 150,000 per year to this holy place. But this is still a place of worship, and the members of the congregation close the doors every day at five.
During the service, a woman with a beautiful Celtic voice led us in songs from the Hebrew, Christian, and Islamic traditions, our breath apparent as we sang in the night chill. In a prayer for world peace there was a hum of energy I can't explain that radiated through the room. Even William, the chapel cat, seemed to feel it as he purred loudly in the center of the circle. A peace so deep, that seemed to soothe every weary part of my traveling mind, seeped through my body as I listened to the harp echo off the walls.
At the end of service, we shared sandwiches and wine. I met the reverend and he invited me to talk to him about joining him for a peace pilgrimage next April.
In the end, I don't know what lies beneath the stone of the church. Some say it is the Grail, others the Dead Sea Scrolls. It doesn't matter, because the true gift of this church is the hundreds of years where faith has brought people together to hope and pray for a more peaceful world.
I wasn't allowed to take pictures within the chapel and at this time the church is going through a massive restoration and so the outside is covered in scaffolding. Please follow the link to see images of this beautiful place. Rosslyn Chapel
On my first day in Scotland I went in search of the Holy Grail in a place called Rosslyn Chapel. You might remember the name of this church from the Da Vinci Code. At the end of the story they arrive at this small chapel that is said to hold the Holy Grail.
Beyond the Da Vinci code this small church was actually built by William St. Claire. A great man, who in wishing to thank God for all the graces of his life and to ensure his place in heaven, had this church built. Steeped in myth, Rosslyn Chapel is unlike any you have seen before. Intricate carvings not only mark Christ's birth, life, and resurrection around the church, there are also symbols of paganism in the 150 green men carvings. Adding to the mystery of the church is the fact that more carvings mark the church as one of the Knights Templars' places of worship and it is believed that when the warrior monks set out to keep safe passage for pilgrims to the holy land, they also went in search of the Holy Grail. From the elaborate carved ceiling, a marker points to the floor and the legend says that this is where the Knight's Templar buried the Holy Grail.
But even more mystery comes in the carvings of this church. In the feminine altar space, individual carved symbols decorate the arched ceiling. Many believe the symbols are musical notes and some have even composed songs, saying that they have broken the code. Others say that the code leads to the secrets of life. Then there is the carvings of maize. The church was finished fifty years before Columbus sailed the ocean blue, yet here in this church there are symbols of the Native Americans. It is said, that Sir William's uncle actually traveled to Westford, Massachusetts and lived with the Mic Mac Indians long before Columbus's journey to discover America.
I spent the afternoon steeped in the mystery of the chapel and then walked in the glen towards the destroyed castle below. The castle had been bombed by invaders, but the church was saved because it had symbols of the Free Masons and the conquerors were known to be Free Masons.
You wonder with all this curiosity about the church why no one has dug into the floors to find the answers. Many have asked, but the St. Claire's, who feel it is there duty to save and protect the church, do know that their ancestors are buried beneath and they refuse to disturb the dead. Scientists have proven that there is a set of stairs and a large cellar, but can't say anything more of what secrets the church still holds.
I returned for evening service with Rev. Neil. The church is much different when the tourists leave. At one time this place had eight thousand visitors a year. The Da Vinci code has brought over 150,000 per year to this holy place. But this is still a place of worship, and the members of the congregation close the doors every day at five.
During the service, a woman with a beautiful Celtic voice led us in songs from the Hebrew, Christian, and Islamic traditions, our breath apparent as we sang in the night chill. In a prayer for world peace there was a hum of energy I can't explain that radiated through the room. Even William, the chapel cat, seemed to feel it as he purred loudly in the center of the circle. A peace so deep, that seemed to soothe every weary part of my traveling mind, seeped through my body as I listened to the harp echo off the walls.
At the end of service, we shared sandwiches and wine. I met the reverend and he invited me to talk to him about joining him for a peace pilgrimage next April.
In the end, I don't know what lies beneath the stone of the church. Some say it is the Grail, others the Dead Sea Scrolls. It doesn't matter, because the true gift of this church is the hundreds of years where faith has brought people together to hope and pray for a more peaceful world.
I wasn't allowed to take pictures within the chapel and at this time the church is going through a massive restoration and so the outside is covered in scaffolding. Please follow the link to see images of this beautiful place. Rosslyn Chapel
Saturday, March 27, 2010
The Perfect Day in Paris
I woke to the sound of rain against the balcony of my apartment and thought that the day would be spent inside at the Louvre. I'd been lucky up until this point, the only rain I'd encountered was my travel day from London to Paris. Blue, sunny skies had forced spring to bloom and each day on my walk to the Metro, the leaves and flowers poked their heads from beneath their buds. I thought my luck had run out, but by noon, after I finished my laundry and a bit of work, the skies cleared and sunshine sparkled off the rain drops on the plants making the world look fairy-like.
I put on a spring dress and a sweater and went to the Luxemburg gardens, which turned out to be my favorite place in Paris. The Luxemburg Palace seemed more like a country estate in the middle of a city than a palace. I sat by the fountain watching the children feed the ducks and parents play with toddlers. Locals lounged in chairs, their arms bared to the sun soaking in the warm light. In the last few days I've barely stopped, sometimes being on my feet for over seven hours. Here I relaxed, eating bread and cheese. When I finally rose to walk around the gardens I spent an hour smelling the flowers, watching men and women play bocci in the square, and for the first time I felt a part of Parisian life instead of a tourist.
The sky was still blue as I left the gardens and made my way to St. Supuis and St. Germain, two churches within the Latin District. I have to say, though lovely, I've had my fill of being inside beautiful, old churches after being in Italy last year and then seeing five churches these past few weeks. As I left St. Germain, I saw the dark clouds moving towards me. Since I'd left my umbrella at home I figured I would shop until the rain hit and then wherever I was I would take cover. I roamed through the artisan market next to St. Germain, made my way through bright-colored shops of fancy clothing, costume jewelry, and perfume forcing myself to behave as I found the ultimate shopping in Paris - the Latin Quarter. Here, I could afford the prices and the items were unique and to my liking, but still there was the issue of room in the suitcase.
As I turned down a small side street, the sound of thunder shook the buildings and I ran for the nearest cover - an ice cream shop. I love gelato. I ate it twice per day while in Italy, and I never thought a gelato could rival that of Michelangelo's Piazza's gelatori in Florence - but Amorino in Paris is actually better. As the rain came down in sheets, I sat outside under the umbrellas eating double chocolate and cherry cream. I took in my surroundings: the patter of the rain, the cobblestone streets, the floral shop, the Paris architecture, the brassiere and patisseries while I savored my dessert and thought, wow, here I am - this couldn't be any better.
The rain stopped and I walked around the Latin Quarter peeking in shops until I found the temptation that broke me. A store called Parfums had unique, feminine clothing all hand-sewn and designed by the woman who owned the shop. I tried on a dress that didn't look quite right. The woman shook her head and brought me three different outfits that all fit my body perfectly. "Tres Jolie," she said with each spin I took in the mirror. I added the amounts, did the conversion and realized I could afford the splurge, but could my suitcase? NO, but I couldn't leave the skirt and dress behind. I'm in Paris, shopping has to be part of my experience, so I bought them.
I left with my fancy shopping bag and made my way to the Seine. As I crossed the pedestrian bridge and looked towards Notre Dame, a rainbow appeared. I mean come on, how more perfect could the day get? I smelled the fresh air, I watched the people, I strolled to Notre Dame and took pictures as the sun set. I made my way to the Isle de la Cite and spent another hour perusing quaint, bright shops, trying to speak french to the shopkeepers who thought I was local.
As night fell, I walked from the low-lit Hotel de Ville, along the Seine to the Louvre. I sat inside the Palace looking at the candlelit facade as I listened to a man play the cello. And in that moment I felt that life was perfect.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Impressionism and a Whirlwind Tour
801 Days to Complete 101 Dreams Come True
"Art is an abstraction; take it from nature while dreaming in front of it." Paul Guaguin
I love the Impressionists. As Robert put it, on my first night in Paris, "Most art is religious or stern portraits of royalty. Most paintings were created to show sacrifice or power. The Impressionist are colorful, bright pictures that make you feel alive."
What he says is true. Impressionism brings the softness of every day life to a place in your heart. With swishes of paint it reflects the light and color of the world. Instead of demanding you see the hard lines of reality, it blurs the landscapes into something serene and almost touchable, as if the world is in a constant state of peace.
To walk the halls of art lined with Monet, Degas, Renoir, and Van Gogh has once again left me in awe of my life. I'm so blessed.
It's wild to watch the other travelers rush through the museum. They stop at each painting for a brief moment and then move on. It's hard for me to understand how they can do this since I find it almost painful to look away knowing that I won't see these masterpieces again for many years.
I've noticed the rushing is true of many tourists, not just with art, but also with the great scenery of the world. I remember sitting at the Grand Canyon and watching people walk up to the edge, take dozen of photos, and then say, "Let's get some ice cream." I wonder if our fast-paced regular life has left humans with the inability to really experience the greatness this world has to offer. I think it's been forgotten how to stop and take in the present moment and in that the memory of how to really live is lost.
Paris is full of tour buses. The tour leaders sit up front pointing out the important buildings and monuments while half the passengers are fast asleep from exhaustion. This is the way most travelers see the world - whirlwind tours set to tight time schedules that leave little space for the unexpected. I want to yell at them to get off the bus and out from the hordes that follow leaders holding up closed umbrellas. Get out and experience the city you're in. Realize you're blessed to be standing in front of true magnificence and take more than a second to soak it in.
Okay enough of my rant for the day.
After the museum I walked to Notre Dame and began to stroll along the Seine to take in the setting sun and the way the light hits the buildings casting a golden hue across the facades. Within moments I was joined by a man named David. He spoke french and I forced the wheels of my memory to move as I listened. Actually, my french began to return a few nights before when an annoying man followed me to my hotel insisting I give him my phone number. Suddenly, my bitch came on 'en francais'. To my surprise he clearly understood what I said and ran away. So when David approached I could actually ask him in french to speak slower so I could understand. He did slow but I learned that David didn't take life at a relaxed pace.
Within moments he had my hand and was racing me through the streets of Paris showing me Hotel de Ville, the best chocolate shop in Paris, and the Royal Palace. He grabbed my camera, snapping pictures of me and then handed it to a woman to take a picture of the two of us. He danced me in the streets, hugged me to him, all the while kissing my cheek as I ducked and swerved my head so as not to be kissed on the lips. His enthusiasm was contagious as he had me laughing while he tried to enrich my knowledge of the french language and pretended we were going to go for a swim in the Seine.
He insisted we take the boat ride along the Seine, but I was tired and hungry by this time and ready to call it a night. I bid him adieu with a kiss on the cheek and made my way across the Seine to home.
"Art is an abstraction; take it from nature while dreaming in front of it." Paul Guaguin
I love the Impressionists. As Robert put it, on my first night in Paris, "Most art is religious or stern portraits of royalty. Most paintings were created to show sacrifice or power. The Impressionist are colorful, bright pictures that make you feel alive."
What he says is true. Impressionism brings the softness of every day life to a place in your heart. With swishes of paint it reflects the light and color of the world. Instead of demanding you see the hard lines of reality, it blurs the landscapes into something serene and almost touchable, as if the world is in a constant state of peace.
To walk the halls of art lined with Monet, Degas, Renoir, and Van Gogh has once again left me in awe of my life. I'm so blessed.
It's wild to watch the other travelers rush through the museum. They stop at each painting for a brief moment and then move on. It's hard for me to understand how they can do this since I find it almost painful to look away knowing that I won't see these masterpieces again for many years.
I've noticed the rushing is true of many tourists, not just with art, but also with the great scenery of the world. I remember sitting at the Grand Canyon and watching people walk up to the edge, take dozen of photos, and then say, "Let's get some ice cream." I wonder if our fast-paced regular life has left humans with the inability to really experience the greatness this world has to offer. I think it's been forgotten how to stop and take in the present moment and in that the memory of how to really live is lost.
Paris is full of tour buses. The tour leaders sit up front pointing out the important buildings and monuments while half the passengers are fast asleep from exhaustion. This is the way most travelers see the world - whirlwind tours set to tight time schedules that leave little space for the unexpected. I want to yell at them to get off the bus and out from the hordes that follow leaders holding up closed umbrellas. Get out and experience the city you're in. Realize you're blessed to be standing in front of true magnificence and take more than a second to soak it in.
Okay enough of my rant for the day.
After the museum I walked to Notre Dame and began to stroll along the Seine to take in the setting sun and the way the light hits the buildings casting a golden hue across the facades. Within moments I was joined by a man named David. He spoke french and I forced the wheels of my memory to move as I listened. Actually, my french began to return a few nights before when an annoying man followed me to my hotel insisting I give him my phone number. Suddenly, my bitch came on 'en francais'. To my surprise he clearly understood what I said and ran away. So when David approached I could actually ask him in french to speak slower so I could understand. He did slow but I learned that David didn't take life at a relaxed pace.
Within moments he had my hand and was racing me through the streets of Paris showing me Hotel de Ville, the best chocolate shop in Paris, and the Royal Palace. He grabbed my camera, snapping pictures of me and then handed it to a woman to take a picture of the two of us. He danced me in the streets, hugged me to him, all the while kissing my cheek as I ducked and swerved my head so as not to be kissed on the lips. His enthusiasm was contagious as he had me laughing while he tried to enrich my knowledge of the french language and pretended we were going to go for a swim in the Seine.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Gluttonous Pleasure
802 Days Left to Complete 101 Dreams Come True
I want to know why we don't have food like this in the states. It's a crime. We are deprived! I want every meal to start with french cheese topped with fig sauce. Or maybe I want to sit and eat this dish until my belly bursts.
I believe it's time Americans stop eating fake food. Think of the space we could save if our massive grocery stores didn't need to carry all the processed stuff. Instead they would pack every aisle with rich, creamy, yummy whole food. We need more cream, cheese, butter, and sauce. We'd be happier, probably healthier and thinner if when we ate it gave us tremendous pleasure. I believe we're supposed to have flavors explode in our mouth so that eating is an experience instead of a quick grab for energy. Life is supposed to be tasty and we are being deprived.
As you can see, I've found french food. Last night I had butternut squash that probably had a half a stick of butter in its ingredients. The lemon chicken, with its crunchy skin still on, tasted marvelous drenched in lovely gravy. I have three more days in Paris and I'm wondering how I can eat as much as possible while still taking time to see more museums and sights. I might have to forgo viewing the city for food.
The real eating began as I visited Versailles Chateau outside of Paris. I sat at the center pools in the garden, watching the swans and boats move across the water as I ate a Nutella crepe. I love Nutella. (I know Nutella isn't French, only the Italians could make up something so sinful. I have a deep addiction to the chocolate hazelnut spread and I can only allow myself to eat it when I'm in Europe. Once I start I can't stop. It's a good thing I'm in Europe and I can eat as much as I want.) As I sat and ate, music from the Royal Philharmonic came from the palace. It was one of those perfect moments where all I could do was take in how amazed I was at having this experience.
As I looked at Versailles, I began to wonder if I wouldn't fit better in another era of time. I'm rather old fashion in many ways, especially when it comes to romance. I like being feminine and I enjoy being taken care of and allowing a man to take the lead. I can open a door on my own just fine, but do appreciate the chivalry of having one opened for me. I'm not one to rush into a physical relationship and maybe that's why my mind doesn't think that having a conversation, drinks, and dinner with a man I just met has either party thinking about sex. I love the clothing of the past, and I dress conservatively in many people's eyes, but I believe the beauty of a woman is in her class and the way she carries herself, not in flaunting her cleavage.
So as I walked through the inside of the palace with dreams of dancing in the great hall under fifty chandeliers. I honestly felt born into the wrong time. Then I came to the queen's apartments and a story gave me second thoughts.
Nineteen royal children were born in Versailles. The queens were forced to have public births to insure that they didn't fake their pregnancies. Now it's really cool that they got to live in a palace, and their kids were in line for the thrown, but their husbands could take as many mistresses as they fancied, house them next door to the queens' room, and they had to have witnesses to their sweating and screaming in the most intimate of moments. Now I know there are women in modern day who go on TLC to have their births documented, so maybe a public birth is no big deal, but no thanks.
I realized that I live at a time where though sometimes the feminine spirit is squashed, the whole world is open to me in a way that it's never been in the past.
It's still strange to many people that as a woman I travel alone. I get comments like, "But you're pretty. You're man let's you do this?" First off, I belong to me, and I don't need a man's permission to see the world. Second, what do my looks have to do with traveling, and third, what does being a woman have to do with going out into the world to explore? There are still so many stereotypes, but that's one of the reasons I'm making my journey public. I want women to see that it's amazing to travel the world solo, because there is nothing like being gluttonous and enjoying every morsel life can bring.
I believe it's time Americans stop eating fake food. Think of the space we could save if our massive grocery stores didn't need to carry all the processed stuff. Instead they would pack every aisle with rich, creamy, yummy whole food. We need more cream, cheese, butter, and sauce. We'd be happier, probably healthier and thinner if when we ate it gave us tremendous pleasure. I believe we're supposed to have flavors explode in our mouth so that eating is an experience instead of a quick grab for energy. Life is supposed to be tasty and we are being deprived.
As you can see, I've found french food. Last night I had butternut squash that probably had a half a stick of butter in its ingredients. The lemon chicken, with its crunchy skin still on, tasted marvelous drenched in lovely gravy. I have three more days in Paris and I'm wondering how I can eat as much as possible while still taking time to see more museums and sights. I might have to forgo viewing the city for food.
The real eating began as I visited Versailles Chateau outside of Paris. I sat at the center pools in the garden, watching the swans and boats move across the water as I ate a Nutella crepe. I love Nutella. (I know Nutella isn't French, only the Italians could make up something so sinful. I have a deep addiction to the chocolate hazelnut spread and I can only allow myself to eat it when I'm in Europe. Once I start I can't stop. It's a good thing I'm in Europe and I can eat as much as I want.) As I sat and ate, music from the Royal Philharmonic came from the palace. It was one of those perfect moments where all I could do was take in how amazed I was at having this experience.
As I looked at Versailles, I began to wonder if I wouldn't fit better in another era of time. I'm rather old fashion in many ways, especially when it comes to romance. I like being feminine and I enjoy being taken care of and allowing a man to take the lead. I can open a door on my own just fine, but do appreciate the chivalry of having one opened for me. I'm not one to rush into a physical relationship and maybe that's why my mind doesn't think that having a conversation, drinks, and dinner with a man I just met has either party thinking about sex. I love the clothing of the past, and I dress conservatively in many people's eyes, but I believe the beauty of a woman is in her class and the way she carries herself, not in flaunting her cleavage.
So as I walked through the inside of the palace with dreams of dancing in the great hall under fifty chandeliers. I honestly felt born into the wrong time. Then I came to the queen's apartments and a story gave me second thoughts.
Nineteen royal children were born in Versailles. The queens were forced to have public births to insure that they didn't fake their pregnancies. Now it's really cool that they got to live in a palace, and their kids were in line for the thrown, but their husbands could take as many mistresses as they fancied, house them next door to the queens' room, and they had to have witnesses to their sweating and screaming in the most intimate of moments. Now I know there are women in modern day who go on TLC to have their births documented, so maybe a public birth is no big deal, but no thanks.
I realized that I live at a time where though sometimes the feminine spirit is squashed, the whole world is open to me in a way that it's never been in the past.
It's still strange to many people that as a woman I travel alone. I get comments like, "But you're pretty. You're man let's you do this?" First off, I belong to me, and I don't need a man's permission to see the world. Second, what do my looks have to do with traveling, and third, what does being a woman have to do with going out into the world to explore? There are still so many stereotypes, but that's one of the reasons I'm making my journey public. I want women to see that it's amazing to travel the world solo, because there is nothing like being gluttonous and enjoying every morsel life can bring.
Paris Shopping
803 Days Left to Complete 101 Dreams Come True
The last two days in Paris have been a blur. I've walked till I now need to buy a belt to keep my pants up. I've stood at the steps of Sacre Coeur while an artist drew my picture and begged me to stand still so she could capture my eyes. I've climbed the stairs to the top of the Eiffel tower and took in the beauty of Paris by night.
I window shopped at La Fayette, an Opera House turned into the fanciest shopping mall I've ever seen. The Parisians know how to capture a woman's heart. The first floor of this designer paradise was filled with a sea of bright-colored purses, french perfume, and if that wasn't enough to make my heart beat faster, diamonds in every shape, size, and design.
Five floors of luxury shopping decorated with balconies that led the eye to the stained glass rotunda. I walked each floor in a circle taking in the elaborate displays of Chanel, Dolce and Gabana, Gucci, and all the rest of the big names.
I couldn't actually buy anything due to my suitcase restriction, but I thought a little lacy indulgence of French lingerie couldn't hurt anything. I walked through aisles of delicate lace, satin, and embroidery and chose a gorgeous, sexy outfit only to have my excitement dashed by the price tag - $300 for a bra and panties. Oh my.
After shopping and walking for hours my feet ached with spasms. I found myself at the Louvre's gardens, Jardin Des Tuileries, where the locals reclined in chairs around the fountain as they took in spring's first sunny day. I joined them, propping my feet on the stone edging of the pool as I ate chocolate, letting in roll in my mouth as I took in the decadent taste. Ah Paris. I believe I'm deeply in love.
The last two days in Paris have been a blur. I've walked till I now need to buy a belt to keep my pants up. I've stood at the steps of Sacre Coeur while an artist drew my picture and begged me to stand still so she could capture my eyes. I've climbed the stairs to the top of the Eiffel tower and took in the beauty of Paris by night.
I window shopped at La Fayette, an Opera House turned into the fanciest shopping mall I've ever seen. The Parisians know how to capture a woman's heart. The first floor of this designer paradise was filled with a sea of bright-colored purses, french perfume, and if that wasn't enough to make my heart beat faster, diamonds in every shape, size, and design.
Five floors of luxury shopping decorated with balconies that led the eye to the stained glass rotunda. I walked each floor in a circle taking in the elaborate displays of Chanel, Dolce and Gabana, Gucci, and all the rest of the big names.
I couldn't actually buy anything due to my suitcase restriction, but I thought a little lacy indulgence of French lingerie couldn't hurt anything. I walked through aisles of delicate lace, satin, and embroidery and chose a gorgeous, sexy outfit only to have my excitement dashed by the price tag - $300 for a bra and panties. Oh my.
After shopping and walking for hours my feet ached with spasms. I found myself at the Louvre's gardens, Jardin Des Tuileries, where the locals reclined in chairs around the fountain as they took in spring's first sunny day. I joined them, propping my feet on the stone edging of the pool as I ate chocolate, letting in roll in my mouth as I took in the decadent taste. Ah Paris. I believe I'm deeply in love.
Je t'aime Paris
804 Days to Complete 101 Dreams Come True
Je t'aime Paris
How could I not be in love with a place where I can buy a bottle of reserve wine for five dollars and each corner has a Boulanger and Patisserie with delicate, pretty pastries lined up like little girls in a beauty contest? There are so many cheeses and desserts to eat and so little time.
As a teenager my only desire was to someday see Paris. I remember staring at pictures of the Eiffel Tower in french class and dreaming of someday walking along the banks of the Seine. When I received my passport my dreams heightened as I imagined shopping, seeing museums, walking through Notre Dame, and trying out my french. Things didn't go as planned that first trip. Instead of the romantic vision I had of Paris, I got lost in the metro, had accidentally booked a brothel, no one understood me when I spoke, I slept in a disgusting youth hostel, and after a day in tears I ran to Germany, away from Paris, in fear of another horrible day. Honestly, after that experience, Paris became a funny story and I no longer wanted to return.
This time, as my plane landed at Charles De Gaul Airport, anxiety built a furious ball in my stomach. I hadn't realized how the memories of my first trip Paris had been playing in my subconscious.
This experience is much different. I'm staying in a lovely apartment in Vincennes, a suburb of Paris called the Royal District due to the Chateau de Vincennes in the center of town. The Chateau was built as the hunting lodge of the king best known as Saint Louis. Louis loved the surrounding woods in Vincennes and many days he spent sitting by the oak trees lost in thought.
Vincennes is a slice of real life in Paris. I began my exploration at the open market where the locals buy their produce, shoes, flowers, and meats. The music of street performers filled the air and the atmosphere was much like a farmer's market in America. People lined up outside their favorite Boulanger and waited up to fifteen minutes to buy their bread and pastries from their favorite shop. Children rollerbladed in the parks, and little girls, dressed to the hilt ,danced together by the fountains. Most of Vincennes is a wooded park with a lake at it's center where people picnic and play bocci.
It's the beginning of spring here, and the flowers are just opening as the buds on the trees begin to explode with greenery. In another two weeks Paris will be in full-bloom. Though I'm sad that I won't get to see it at its peak of flowers, it's just as well. The weather is amazing and the crowds are to a minimum. In another two weeks I fear that the hordes of tourists will overrun the city.
The center of Paris is just a fifteen minute ride on the Metro. My first full day in Paris, jet-lag had gotten the best of me and I napped for almost three hours during the rainy afternoon. When I woke, I didn't feel up to going into the city center, but I didn't wish to sit around. By the time I walked out of the subway in Chatelet les Halles the clouds had cleared, the sun was shining and the city looked decorated in a golden hue. I hadn't walked three steps from the subway when a nice young man asked me to join him for coffee. He spoke little english and my french at the moment was a rusted shut wheel in need of greasing, so I declined. Along the way to Notre Dame there were three more offers from men to be my personal tour guides. With a smile and a thank you I declined. I guess French men can rival the Italians when it comes to being suave or dogs however you would like to think of it.
As I walked along the Pont du Neuf a nice guy, named Robert, came up and started to speak french to me. When I said I was an American he looked at me in shock. He asked in english, "Where is your baseball cap and trainers? That's all the Americans wear." We began to talk as we walked along the Seine. Originally from Toronto, he came to Paris eight years ago to visit, fell in love with the city, and never left. He never asked to be my tour guide, but as we walked he pointed out the important buildings: Musee du Louvre, Les Invalides, Musee d'Orsay.
The sun began to set, and dusk fell over the city as we walked came upon the Eiffel tower. Robert began to laugh and apologize, "At this time of night the tower's not that impressive. I should've brought you here later. Right now it has kind of a dull look to it. It will have more of a wow effect later." He was right, the structure looked bland in the twilight. but I couldn't bear to say that to my faithful guide. But as we walked across the Pont d'iena I looked back across the Seine and the tower illuminated in golden light. The wow factor kicked in and everything inside me became a huge smile. From the patio of the Musee La Marine we stood staring at the beauty of Paris as the stars began to shine.
The night air was cool and we began to walk again through the city. We came to the Arc de Triomphe then walked along the Champs-Elysees window shopping as we passed by the expensive stores. Along the banks of the Seine, the candlelit world of Paris shimmered on the surface of the water. We entered into the courtyard of the Louvre and Robert made me close my eyes as he led me into the inner square. When I opened my eyes, the old building looked magical in it's romantic lighting.
It was the perfect first night in Paris.
Je t'aime Paris
How could I not be in love with a place where I can buy a bottle of reserve wine for five dollars and each corner has a Boulanger and Patisserie with delicate, pretty pastries lined up like little girls in a beauty contest? There are so many cheeses and desserts to eat and so little time.
As a teenager my only desire was to someday see Paris. I remember staring at pictures of the Eiffel Tower in french class and dreaming of someday walking along the banks of the Seine. When I received my passport my dreams heightened as I imagined shopping, seeing museums, walking through Notre Dame, and trying out my french. Things didn't go as planned that first trip. Instead of the romantic vision I had of Paris, I got lost in the metro, had accidentally booked a brothel, no one understood me when I spoke, I slept in a disgusting youth hostel, and after a day in tears I ran to Germany, away from Paris, in fear of another horrible day. Honestly, after that experience, Paris became a funny story and I no longer wanted to return.
This time, as my plane landed at Charles De Gaul Airport, anxiety built a furious ball in my stomach. I hadn't realized how the memories of my first trip Paris had been playing in my subconscious.
This experience is much different. I'm staying in a lovely apartment in Vincennes, a suburb of Paris called the Royal District due to the Chateau de Vincennes in the center of town. The Chateau was built as the hunting lodge of the king best known as Saint Louis. Louis loved the surrounding woods in Vincennes and many days he spent sitting by the oak trees lost in thought.
Vincennes is a slice of real life in Paris. I began my exploration at the open market where the locals buy their produce, shoes, flowers, and meats. The music of street performers filled the air and the atmosphere was much like a farmer's market in America. People lined up outside their favorite Boulanger and waited up to fifteen minutes to buy their bread and pastries from their favorite shop. Children rollerbladed in the parks, and little girls, dressed to the hilt ,danced together by the fountains. Most of Vincennes is a wooded park with a lake at it's center where people picnic and play bocci.
It's the beginning of spring here, and the flowers are just opening as the buds on the trees begin to explode with greenery. In another two weeks Paris will be in full-bloom. Though I'm sad that I won't get to see it at its peak of flowers, it's just as well. The weather is amazing and the crowds are to a minimum. In another two weeks I fear that the hordes of tourists will overrun the city.
The center of Paris is just a fifteen minute ride on the Metro. My first full day in Paris, jet-lag had gotten the best of me and I napped for almost three hours during the rainy afternoon. When I woke, I didn't feel up to going into the city center, but I didn't wish to sit around. By the time I walked out of the subway in Chatelet les Halles the clouds had cleared, the sun was shining and the city looked decorated in a golden hue. I hadn't walked three steps from the subway when a nice young man asked me to join him for coffee. He spoke little english and my french at the moment was a rusted shut wheel in need of greasing, so I declined. Along the way to Notre Dame there were three more offers from men to be my personal tour guides. With a smile and a thank you I declined. I guess French men can rival the Italians when it comes to being suave or dogs however you would like to think of it.
As I walked along the Pont du Neuf a nice guy, named Robert, came up and started to speak french to me. When I said I was an American he looked at me in shock. He asked in english, "Where is your baseball cap and trainers? That's all the Americans wear." We began to talk as we walked along the Seine. Originally from Toronto, he came to Paris eight years ago to visit, fell in love with the city, and never left. He never asked to be my tour guide, but as we walked he pointed out the important buildings: Musee du Louvre, Les Invalides, Musee d'Orsay.
The sun began to set, and dusk fell over the city as we walked came upon the Eiffel tower. Robert began to laugh and apologize, "At this time of night the tower's not that impressive. I should've brought you here later. Right now it has kind of a dull look to it. It will have more of a wow effect later." He was right, the structure looked bland in the twilight. but I couldn't bear to say that to my faithful guide. But as we walked across the Pont d'iena I looked back across the Seine and the tower illuminated in golden light. The wow factor kicked in and everything inside me became a huge smile. From the patio of the Musee La Marine we stood staring at the beauty of Paris as the stars began to shine.
The night air was cool and we began to walk again through the city. We came to the Arc de Triomphe then walked along the Champs-Elysees window shopping as we passed by the expensive stores. Along the banks of the Seine, the candlelit world of Paris shimmered on the surface of the water. We entered into the courtyard of the Louvre and Robert made me close my eyes as he led me into the inner square. When I opened my eyes, the old building looked magical in it's romantic lighting.
It was the perfect first night in Paris.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Moments of Bliss
I spent the day walking through the parks of London. The purple and white crocuses along with the daffodils have all opened their sleepy winter heads and created an expansive colorful display in the dreariness of the wet day. I have been quite lucky with the weather. The first three days were sunny and warm and many times I removed my jacket and took in the sunshine. Not typical London weather in March I'm told.
I walked through Kensington gardens, Hyde Park, and James Garden. London, with its old buildings and new modern architecture, is actually surrounded by lush gardens. Weeping willows hang over lovely ponds. Little cottages grace the entrances of flowering trees, and long sprawls of grass are left unplanned so people can play football (soccer for the Americans).
As I made my way to Covent Market, I met a woman on the Tube who not only gave me directions but also led me to the Market. Open air along with indoor shops, this quaint shopping area is filled with crafts, artwork, and street performers.
I sat outside with a cup of tea and a decadent chocolate cupcake (it was almost too pretty to eat) from Ellas Bakehouse. I licked at the sweet, sparkly frosting as the voices of two performers filled the marketplace with songs from La Bohemme. How perfect the moment was as I people-watched, listened to the music, and drank tea. I love to visit museums, shop, and take in historical sites when I visit new places, but it's moments like eating a cupcake or meeting Val, that make me stop, be present and sincerely enjoy life.
As I walked through the courtyard of St. Paul's church adjacent to Covent Market I hear piano music from inside the church. I went inside and saw a woman in sweats and a baseball cap playing. The music she created seemed impossible to create with only two hands. I sat down, closed my eyes, and let the music fill me. It was if I was sitting in a concert hall listening to one of the great masters. Yes, today was filled with moments of pure bliss that I never expected. It wasn't a day of seeing a great masterpiece of art or a mind-blowing musical or even visiting the great treasures of the country. It was just simple moments that took my breath away that I will remember forever.
A Beheading and A Missed Train
808 Days to Complete 101 Dreams Come True
I learned an important lesson last night - if you're going to join people for drinks it's best to find out when the last train back to your hotel is before the first glass. Of course, when I began at five pm I never thought that I would be still drinking wine at two in the morning, miss my train, be stranded in the streets of London till the wee hours of the morning. Luckily, the person I shared the lovely evening with was a complete gentleman who gave me his room as he left for his flight. And for those of you thinking this had anything to do with romance you couldn't be more wrong. We spoke about politics, his love for his family, the excitement he has at being a father, as he encouraged me to really take this time in my life and savor it. We also talked about how society isn't set up for people to be free-spirits and how as I meet people on this trip and tell them what I'm doing they really respond to my excitement to live as free as I can. I'm realizing that their response to me doesn't have anything to do with me, but the free-spirit within them that for a moment wakes up.
I love London! Though it feels more like an American city than anywhere else I've ever been. Well except for the fact that they have a monarchy and castles. Royalty is cool. Okay so England has a bloody history of treason, murder, and greed - for instance, the story of the Duke of Monmouth. Turns out he was in line for the throne and actually the true king at the time, but the present king didn't want to give up the thrown. So on landing on the shores of England, the Duke was imprisoned and sentenced to beheading for treason.
It was bad enough that he was going to lose his head, but his executioner - the local butcher- decided to dip into the bottle for a bit beforehand. In his inebriated state his first five tries to behead the Duke didn't quite work, so he whipped out his butcher knife and sawed through the tendons and skin. He held the head high above his head and yelled, "God save the king." The crowd cheered. As they proceeded to bring the Duke's head down to London Bridge as a warning to all others who would commit treason, they realized that this man was royalty and no one had painted his portrait. So, needing to be appropriate, they brought his head back, sewed it onto his body and proceeded to paint the picture. The things you learn when you travel.
So when you minus the blood bath, the conquering, and religious persecution the monarchy is much more romantic when you think about the crown jewels and castles. You would assume that 2868 diamonds that surround the 317-carat Star of Africa on the Imperial crown would be ostentatious. Nope, it's pretty. And a gold punch bowl that can hold 144 bottles of wine says that royalty really knows how to party.
I learned all of this at the Tower of London. A castle built by William the Conqueror along the Thames River. When I travel I rarely research the places I visit. I never carry a guidebook. I like the place to open itself to me and show me what it will. I ask suggestions from the locals and friends who have visited before. When I came here I wanted to see the Crown Jewels and the National Gallery and both happened without me looking for them.
All I can say is that this trip has been better than I could've imagined and there is still so much more on the way.
It was bad enough that he was going to lose his head, but his executioner - the local butcher- decided to dip into the bottle for a bit beforehand. In his inebriated state his first five tries to behead the Duke didn't quite work, so he whipped out his butcher knife and sawed through the tendons and skin. He held the head high above his head and yelled, "God save the king." The crowd cheered. As they proceeded to bring the Duke's head down to London Bridge as a warning to all others who would commit treason, they realized that this man was royalty and no one had painted his portrait. So, needing to be appropriate, they brought his head back, sewed it onto his body and proceeded to paint the picture. The things you learn when you travel.
So when you minus the blood bath, the conquering, and religious persecution the monarchy is much more romantic when you think about the crown jewels and castles. You would assume that 2868 diamonds that surround the 317-carat Star of Africa on the Imperial crown would be ostentatious. Nope, it's pretty. And a gold punch bowl that can hold 144 bottles of wine says that royalty really knows how to party.
I learned all of this at the Tower of London. A castle built by William the Conqueror along the Thames River. When I travel I rarely research the places I visit. I never carry a guidebook. I like the place to open itself to me and show me what it will. I ask suggestions from the locals and friends who have visited before. When I came here I wanted to see the Crown Jewels and the National Gallery and both happened without me looking for them.
All I can say is that this trip has been better than I could've imagined and there is still so much more on the way.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
London Baby!
808 Days to Complete 101 Dreams Come True
Leicester Square- the ultimate tourist trap (or so they say)! Had the most amazing time there tonight- or at least for several hours. Started off with a decent Chianti at the All Bar One and then moved on to the outdoor patio bar at the casino across the square. What a view! London really is the original melting pot of cultures from all over- and they all seem to congregate here.
Enough of the drinks... Dinner was at Amaya- arguably the absolute best Indian restaurant in London. Of course, we didn't have reservations. But the Lithuanian hostess was kind enough to seat us anyway. A fine Viognier with spiced-to-perfection food (lamb chops, peppercorn chicken tikka and sweet patato chat for the curious) was exactly what was needed.
A walk through Knightsbridge, a look at a lighted up Harrods and the cool, fresh air was enough to wake us up enough to walk into the bar at the Mandarin Oriental. Cool place, hopping at 1 AM. Have not been fussed over as much for a long time! Another few drinks and we really were ready to call it a night.
Really liking London!
Leicester Square- the ultimate tourist trap (or so they say)! Had the most amazing time there tonight- or at least for several hours. Started off with a decent Chianti at the All Bar One and then moved on to the outdoor patio bar at the casino across the square. What a view! London really is the original melting pot of cultures from all over- and they all seem to congregate here.
Enough of the drinks... Dinner was at Amaya- arguably the absolute best Indian restaurant in London. Of course, we didn't have reservations. But the Lithuanian hostess was kind enough to seat us anyway. A fine Viognier with spiced-to-perfection food (lamb chops, peppercorn chicken tikka and sweet patato chat for the curious) was exactly what was needed.
A walk through Knightsbridge, a look at a lighted up Harrods and the cool, fresh air was enough to wake us up enough to walk into the bar at the Mandarin Oriental. Cool place, hopping at 1 AM. Have not been fussed over as much for a long time! Another few drinks and we really were ready to call it a night.
Really liking London!
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
A Day Soaking in Great Art
809 Days to Complete 101 Dreams Come True
First off I have to say that I'm trying to add pictures but blogger is making it extremely difficult so please bear with me as the blog looks funny for a few days.
It's nine p.m. London time, and I'm back in my room after a day of art. I started the morning walking from Oxford Circus to Piccadilly Circus perusing the shops along Regent St. in central London. It's a good and a bad thing that I can't add to my luggage - bad because the shopping is fantastic and there were many cute outfits and shoes I would've loved to have bought - good because London is expensive and I would break the bank. Though I will need to return to Hammerlys Toy Store to pick up presents for my niece on my return.
As I wandered the streets of London, without a plan in mind, I realized why the streets have the words painted at each crosswalk to look right or look left. After almost being run over by two bicycles, a double-decker bus, and a cab I began to look down before I looked both ways. They drive on the other side of the road here and it's instinctive to look the opposite way before stepping out into oncoming traffic. Luckily, I learned my lesson before I was run down, but there were some close calls.
I came upon the National Art Gallery and to my surprise admission was free. I spent three hours lost in art: Vincent Van Gogh's Sunflowers, Monet's Water Lilly's, Renoir's Umbrellas, Botticelli's Venus and Mars, and Michelangelo's The Atonement. I realize that in going after my dreams I've been able to see some of the finest art in the world and though doing this may not be officially on my list, it is definitely a dream come true to stand in front of the great masters' work and let it touch my soul.
From the art gallery I strolled to the theater to see Les Miserable. At fourteen, my french class went to see the show, but times were tight for my family and I chose not to ask my mother for the money to go. Today I sat eleven rows from the stage in London. I listened to the familiar songs and lost myself in the world of the actors. I will write more about this experience, under my dream come true list on the website, when I return home.
From the theater I walked throughout London, once again taking in Big Ben, Parliament, the Horse Guards and Leicester square. I ventured into another pub, it is St. Paddy's day, and ordered a pint. I can honestly say that beer is not my cup of tea. I don't like it and though I tried to fit in, today I felt quite conspicuous alone while everyone else was with friends. I chose to leave, proud of myself for not running away from the challenge.
All day long my mind turned to how grateful I am to be able to do this. It's an amazing experience to make my dreams come true. I have an incredible month ahead of me. In just two days three dreams have become a reality, but more than just a check-off the list experience, I'm enriching my life and who I am and how I view the world.
I'm off to bed to dream of Les Miserable and fine works of art as I allow the greatness of the day to soak into my memories.
First off I have to say that I'm trying to add pictures but blogger is making it extremely difficult so please bear with me as the blog looks funny for a few days.It's nine p.m. London time, and I'm back in my room after a day of art. I started the morning walking from Oxford Circus to Piccadilly Circus perusing the shops along Regent St. in central London. It's a good and a bad thing that I can't add to my luggage - bad because the shopping is fantastic and there were many cute outfits and shoes I would've loved to have bought - good because London is expensive and I would break the bank. Though I will need to return to Hammerlys Toy Store to pick up presents for my niece on my return.
As I wandered the streets of London, without a plan in mind, I realized why the streets have the words painted at each crosswalk to look right or look left. After almost being run over by two bicycles, a double-decker bus, and a cab I began to look down before I looked both ways. They drive on the other side of the road here and it's instinctive to look the opposite way before stepping out into oncoming traffic. Luckily, I learned my lesson before I was run down, but there were some close calls.
I came upon the National Art Gallery and to my surprise admission was free. I spent three hours lost in art: Vincent Van Gogh's Sunflowers, Monet's Water Lilly's, Renoir's Umbrellas, Botticelli's Venus and Mars, and Michelangelo's The Atonement. I realize that in going after my dreams I've been able to see some of the finest art in the world and though doing this may not be officially on my list, it is definitely a dream come true to stand in front of the great masters' work and let it touch my soul.
From the art gallery I strolled to the theater to see Les Miserable. At fourteen, my french class went to see the show, but times were tight for my family and I chose not to ask my mother for the money to go. Today I sat eleven rows from the stage in London. I listened to the familiar songs and lost myself in the world of the actors. I will write more about this experience, under my dream come true list on the website, when I return home.
From the theater I walked throughout London, once again taking in Big Ben, Parliament, the Horse Guards and Leicester square. I ventured into another pub, it is St. Paddy's day, and ordered a pint. I can honestly say that beer is not my cup of tea. I don't like it and though I tried to fit in, today I felt quite conspicuous alone while everyone else was with friends. I chose to leave, proud of myself for not running away from the challenge.
All day long my mind turned to how grateful I am to be able to do this. It's an amazing experience to make my dreams come true. I have an incredible month ahead of me. In just two days three dreams have become a reality, but more than just a check-off the list experience, I'm enriching my life and who I am and how I view the world.
I'm off to bed to dream of Les Miserable and fine works of art as I allow the greatness of the day to soak into my memories.
Aurora Borealis and a Bag of Nails
810 Days to Complete 101 Dreams Come True
Hello from London. I left the States a day and a half ago and already this journey has been rather incredible. When I made my list of 101 dreams I felt overwhelmed by the daunting task of trying to complete all of my wishes. I had planned to place the list in a drawer and forget about it, but something magical began to happen soon after I made the list - things began to come true without my trying. That magic is what has pushed me to pursue my dreams no matter how afraid I become or how much I want to stay safe and quit. In the last few months quitting has been a skipping thought on my brain's record. In fact, as I stepped onto the train in Sacramento, on the way to my flight in San Francisco, all I wanted to do was cancel my trip, go home, curl under my covers and hide. The thought of a month alone in the unknown had my stomach rather queasy.
But just as in those first months after making the list, life began to provide. As I took my seat on the train, a nice gentleman started up a conversation about his travels through Africa. He brought my passion for exploration to life as we shared stories and photos of our journeys through the continent. As he helped me with my luggage and train transfers I realized how the loud, scared voice screaming to turn around and be safe was quieting. A stranger was making me feel safer in the big wide world.
Within moments of being at the airport another gentleman (happily married with two children for those of you thinking anything), invited me to a pub on Thursday night. So as the flight took off I was feeling much better about going to London.
Then something incredible happened. As you might know, the whole reason for coming to Europe at this time of year was to see the Aurora Borealis, yet the conditions in Norway haven't been agreeable. Cloud cover has kept viewings to a minimum so I had given up on seeing the dancing lights. As we flew over the arctic circle, the pilot mentioned the possibility of seeing the lights. All I could see from my seat was the blinking light of the wing, but I told the flight attendant my desire to see the Aurora. She told me she would come and find me if they became visible. An hour later, she brought me to first class and cleared a space for me to sit by the plane's door so I could look out the window. The sky looked as if there were more stars than darkness, and just above the mist of clouds was a brilliant green dancing light. Here was a dream come true. Not in the way I had imagined (I still wish to see them from below, but this was a much warmer way to experience the light), but a dream come true just the same.
A few hours later I arrived in London rather jet-lagged, but I couldn't stay in the hotel room when there was city to explore. I walked around taking in Parliament, the Aquarium, the Thames River, and Buckingham Palace. To be honest, I was too tired to care. I decided to head back to the hotel to sleep off my grumpiness. On the way to the tube I saw a small pub called a Bag of Nails. Now normally I would return to my hotel, find a fast food place in the area and eat in my room, but this journey is about living life to the fullest and who can walk away from a pub in London called the Bag of Nails. I decided some Guiness stew would hit the spot and then I would sleep. The stew was delicious and I scoffed it down as I realized I hadn't eaten a real meal for days. Just as I was about to leave John, from Manchester, invited me to join he and his friend Nick, from Liverpool, for a drink. Well what the heck, this is about living to the max and new experiences.
John and Nick asked me why I was in London. The only answer I had was because it's on my list of dreams. I'm here just because I want to be. As they listened to me talk about the website and my journey they kept saying what a great idea it was to live my dreams. Sometimes I forget that I'm really living this life. That I'm doing things just because I want to. Then I see my life through someones vision and the reality hits me.
During our conversation I was schooled in the local customs, well actually the local language. John made the comment that I wasn't a typical American. I responded that I wasn't walking around in a white t-shirt, sneakers, and zip-off Columbia pants from REI with a fanny pack. The two men's eyes went wide and they began to laugh. "Do you know what a fanny is?" John asked. From the look on his face I realized it must not be what I thought. "In your country it's a bottom, right? Here it's a woman's bleep (I won't use the term they used in this blog but instead insert vagina).
My face flushed bright red.
"It would be best if you didn't go around talking about your fanny pack in London. Men might become quite interested," Nick laughed.
I decided a trip to the bathroom was in order at this point in time.
So as you see, it's already been quite the fun time. I'm off to make another dream come true today - to see Les Miserable. Hopefully, the jet-lag has been kicked out and I won't be falling asleep in the dark theater. I promise pictures and more news tomorrow.
Hello from London. I left the States a day and a half ago and already this journey has been rather incredible. When I made my list of 101 dreams I felt overwhelmed by the daunting task of trying to complete all of my wishes. I had planned to place the list in a drawer and forget about it, but something magical began to happen soon after I made the list - things began to come true without my trying. That magic is what has pushed me to pursue my dreams no matter how afraid I become or how much I want to stay safe and quit. In the last few months quitting has been a skipping thought on my brain's record. In fact, as I stepped onto the train in Sacramento, on the way to my flight in San Francisco, all I wanted to do was cancel my trip, go home, curl under my covers and hide. The thought of a month alone in the unknown had my stomach rather queasy.
But just as in those first months after making the list, life began to provide. As I took my seat on the train, a nice gentleman started up a conversation about his travels through Africa. He brought my passion for exploration to life as we shared stories and photos of our journeys through the continent. As he helped me with my luggage and train transfers I realized how the loud, scared voice screaming to turn around and be safe was quieting. A stranger was making me feel safer in the big wide world.
Within moments of being at the airport another gentleman (happily married with two children for those of you thinking anything), invited me to a pub on Thursday night. So as the flight took off I was feeling much better about going to London.
Then something incredible happened. As you might know, the whole reason for coming to Europe at this time of year was to see the Aurora Borealis, yet the conditions in Norway haven't been agreeable. Cloud cover has kept viewings to a minimum so I had given up on seeing the dancing lights. As we flew over the arctic circle, the pilot mentioned the possibility of seeing the lights. All I could see from my seat was the blinking light of the wing, but I told the flight attendant my desire to see the Aurora. She told me she would come and find me if they became visible. An hour later, she brought me to first class and cleared a space for me to sit by the plane's door so I could look out the window. The sky looked as if there were more stars than darkness, and just above the mist of clouds was a brilliant green dancing light. Here was a dream come true. Not in the way I had imagined (I still wish to see them from below, but this was a much warmer way to experience the light), but a dream come true just the same.
John and Nick asked me why I was in London. The only answer I had was because it's on my list of dreams. I'm here just because I want to be. As they listened to me talk about the website and my journey they kept saying what a great idea it was to live my dreams. Sometimes I forget that I'm really living this life. That I'm doing things just because I want to. Then I see my life through someones vision and the reality hits me.
During our conversation I was schooled in the local customs, well actually the local language. John made the comment that I wasn't a typical American. I responded that I wasn't walking around in a white t-shirt, sneakers, and zip-off Columbia pants from REI with a fanny pack. The two men's eyes went wide and they began to laugh. "Do you know what a fanny is?" John asked. From the look on his face I realized it must not be what I thought. "In your country it's a bottom, right? Here it's a woman's bleep (I won't use the term they used in this blog but instead insert vagina).
My face flushed bright red.
"It would be best if you didn't go around talking about your fanny pack in London. Men might become quite interested," Nick laughed.
I decided a trip to the bathroom was in order at this point in time.
So as you see, it's already been quite the fun time. I'm off to make another dream come true today - to see Les Miserable. Hopefully, the jet-lag has been kicked out and I won't be falling asleep in the dark theater. I promise pictures and more news tomorrow.
Friday, March 12, 2010
It's Not About Checking Off a List, but Living It
815 Days to Complete 101 Dreams Come True
It's 3:40 p.m. on Friday and I will be leaving for London at exactly this time in three days. My bag is almost packed (though I need to lighten it by about four pounds). My trip is in order, and except for a few errands I'm ready to go.
Over the last few months I've gone through many emotions as I built the website, made my journey public, went through relationship chaos, and pushed myself beyond my fears. I'm still unsure if going away is the right thing to do. The practical side says the money could be better utilized or that this trip will cost too much. Part of me wants to stay safe, but I began this journey for a reason, to find a way to live life more fully and I can't do that if I deny what I really want. So in three days I begin this part of my journey.
Part of the reason I had doubts about this trip is because I decided to return to Italy. I've already checked this country off my list when I lived there for a month. There are many other dreams I wish to complete, and by repeating one I feel like I'm placing myself at a disadvantage to finish my list. Then I realized this journey isn't about checking items off a list. It's about learning what I love and what I dream about for this life of mine.
Italy was the greatest month of my life. I felt like my heart sprung open. I didn't stress. I lived every moment lost in sensations: the taste of amazing food; the way art could make me feel; how a countryside so beautiful could enliven my soul. For one month I spoiled myself to the max. There were no rules, no restrictions, and no one to care for but myself. More than that I found a place on this earth that seemed to fit me like a glove.
This journey of pursuing my dreams has awakened my mind to how beautiful life can be. I don't want each item on my list only once. I want them all for life. The fact that I get to experience Italy again makes me incredibly grateful that I made this list of dreams.
I hope I can inspire you as I travel for a month - I want you to be able to experience this journey with me. I just hope that I can do it justice.
It's 3:40 p.m. on Friday and I will be leaving for London at exactly this time in three days. My bag is almost packed (though I need to lighten it by about four pounds). My trip is in order, and except for a few errands I'm ready to go.
Over the last few months I've gone through many emotions as I built the website, made my journey public, went through relationship chaos, and pushed myself beyond my fears. I'm still unsure if going away is the right thing to do. The practical side says the money could be better utilized or that this trip will cost too much. Part of me wants to stay safe, but I began this journey for a reason, to find a way to live life more fully and I can't do that if I deny what I really want. So in three days I begin this part of my journey.
Part of the reason I had doubts about this trip is because I decided to return to Italy. I've already checked this country off my list when I lived there for a month. There are many other dreams I wish to complete, and by repeating one I feel like I'm placing myself at a disadvantage to finish my list. Then I realized this journey isn't about checking items off a list. It's about learning what I love and what I dream about for this life of mine.
Italy was the greatest month of my life. I felt like my heart sprung open. I didn't stress. I lived every moment lost in sensations: the taste of amazing food; the way art could make me feel; how a countryside so beautiful could enliven my soul. For one month I spoiled myself to the max. There were no rules, no restrictions, and no one to care for but myself. More than that I found a place on this earth that seemed to fit me like a glove.
This journey of pursuing my dreams has awakened my mind to how beautiful life can be. I don't want each item on my list only once. I want them all for life. The fact that I get to experience Italy again makes me incredibly grateful that I made this list of dreams.
I hope I can inspire you as I travel for a month - I want you to be able to experience this journey with me. I just hope that I can do it justice.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Embracing the Moment
817 Days to Complete 101 Dreams Come True
My trip is finally together. Except for six nights of hotel accommodations and my airport transfers everything is booked. The trip will cost me a bit more than I thought and I'm beginning to wonder why I'm going during the winter. I originally booked this trip in March so I could see the Northern lights and ski, but unfortunately I'm not going to Norway because the weather wouldn't cooperate. Nor am I skiing in the Alps. When I began booking the ski trip I realized it wasn't that important to me. Instead, returning to Italy and staying in a small village became my heart's desire. This journey is a taking a strange path. Who goes to Europe in March in the cold and the rain? And now I found out it will cost me over $150 to bring more than a tiny suitcase on the economy airline.
So with all this in mind I began to wonder if I made a big mistake. But one of my dreams is to trust in a higher power always and if this trip is the one that came together after hours of research and days of work, then for some reason I'm supposed to take it at this time. It's getting hard to trust as the Realtor tells me to drop the price on my house, the book deal doesn't go through, and I'm spending money to go to Europe in the winter, but I'm working on letting go and enjoying the moment.
The moment is really all we have. The future hasn't happened and worrying and living in fear doesn't help anything. The moment can be destroyed with thoughts such as I'm cold and its rainy and I've spent the money on this trip and it doesn't live up to the fantasy. Or it can be, it's rainy so I will spend time in a museum or at a cafe or pub talking with the locals. I can only bring a small amount of luggage so the trip will stink because I'll be doing laundry all the time, or I will be super careful with what I bring and have a easier time moving around with my luggage. Life really is the way we choose to look at it. We can complain about what we are unhappy about, or we can embrace the circumstances and see how life will unfold.
As my friend put it this weekend, "There is so much to be grateful for each day: a flower, the sky, hugs, books, love. It's easy to look at the bad, but just as easy to look at the good."
I'm now off to try and pack the tiniest suitcase ever and see if I can do it.
My trip is finally together. Except for six nights of hotel accommodations and my airport transfers everything is booked. The trip will cost me a bit more than I thought and I'm beginning to wonder why I'm going during the winter. I originally booked this trip in March so I could see the Northern lights and ski, but unfortunately I'm not going to Norway because the weather wouldn't cooperate. Nor am I skiing in the Alps. When I began booking the ski trip I realized it wasn't that important to me. Instead, returning to Italy and staying in a small village became my heart's desire. This journey is a taking a strange path. Who goes to Europe in March in the cold and the rain? And now I found out it will cost me over $150 to bring more than a tiny suitcase on the economy airline.
So with all this in mind I began to wonder if I made a big mistake. But one of my dreams is to trust in a higher power always and if this trip is the one that came together after hours of research and days of work, then for some reason I'm supposed to take it at this time. It's getting hard to trust as the Realtor tells me to drop the price on my house, the book deal doesn't go through, and I'm spending money to go to Europe in the winter, but I'm working on letting go and enjoying the moment.
The moment is really all we have. The future hasn't happened and worrying and living in fear doesn't help anything. The moment can be destroyed with thoughts such as I'm cold and its rainy and I've spent the money on this trip and it doesn't live up to the fantasy. Or it can be, it's rainy so I will spend time in a museum or at a cafe or pub talking with the locals. I can only bring a small amount of luggage so the trip will stink because I'll be doing laundry all the time, or I will be super careful with what I bring and have a easier time moving around with my luggage. Life really is the way we choose to look at it. We can complain about what we are unhappy about, or we can embrace the circumstances and see how life will unfold.
As my friend put it this weekend, "There is so much to be grateful for each day: a flower, the sky, hugs, books, love. It's easy to look at the bad, but just as easy to look at the good."
I'm now off to try and pack the tiniest suitcase ever and see if I can do it.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Ready for a Reset
818 Day to Complete 101 Dreams Come True
In one week I will be landing in London. After hours of research I have my hotel reserved. I think maybe it's time for me to find a new way of booking travel. I've spent over fifty hours researching this trip and that doesn't include the days planning S. America. Many people can buy a guide book, reserve their first night's hotel and then wing it from there. I tried that once. I ended up in a brothel in Paris then in a gross youth hostel. When I'm with friends I don't mind winging it. It becomes part of the adventure. Maybe if I was in a different space, being loose about my plans would be okay, but I don't feel like winging things right now. I want to go and simply enjoy the places I'm visiting.
Part of the problem is that I have princess taste on a mid-range budget. So the extra research allows me to stay in places I know I will enjoy. Last night I spent four hours researching hotels online. You would not believe how many places in London are tiny, run-down, noisy, bed bug-ridden rooms at astronomical prices. But I found a clean, comfortable, hotel near Wembley with great reviews and I booked it for two hundred dollars less than advertised price by taking the risk and using hotwire.
I'm still a little overwhelmed by all I need to do before leaving. I have to book my flight to Italy and I'm finding the transfers between London airports are long and expensive and don't match up since I will be coming in from Glasgow the same day I will be leaving for Italy. I also have to book my nights in Scotland, but I might wing that part.
So between spending the last two months learning everything possible about web design, media kits, seo's, doing interviews for press, dealing with relationship issues, fighting the flu, skating my heart out, and putting my house on the market, I'm ready for a reset button. I know that at this moment I've done everything I can to guide my life in the direction I would like to see it go. Now all that is left to do (after the long to-do list I need to accomplish this week) is to let go and see what happens.
Last night I was exhausted and overwhelmed and it felt like the wrong time to take this trip. Then a friend reminded me that I'm going to have the time of my life. All I've been seeing is the work and the travel arrangements and in that I forgot how amazing it is that I get to travel. That's where the reset button comes in. In trying to share this experience with the world, and in the pursuit of an entire list of dreams I've forgotten that this journey is about living life to the fullest and loving it all the way. I think getting on the road and making my dreams come true will definitely reset my mind.
In one week I will be landing in London. After hours of research I have my hotel reserved. I think maybe it's time for me to find a new way of booking travel. I've spent over fifty hours researching this trip and that doesn't include the days planning S. America. Many people can buy a guide book, reserve their first night's hotel and then wing it from there. I tried that once. I ended up in a brothel in Paris then in a gross youth hostel. When I'm with friends I don't mind winging it. It becomes part of the adventure. Maybe if I was in a different space, being loose about my plans would be okay, but I don't feel like winging things right now. I want to go and simply enjoy the places I'm visiting.
Part of the problem is that I have princess taste on a mid-range budget. So the extra research allows me to stay in places I know I will enjoy. Last night I spent four hours researching hotels online. You would not believe how many places in London are tiny, run-down, noisy, bed bug-ridden rooms at astronomical prices. But I found a clean, comfortable, hotel near Wembley with great reviews and I booked it for two hundred dollars less than advertised price by taking the risk and using hotwire.
I'm still a little overwhelmed by all I need to do before leaving. I have to book my flight to Italy and I'm finding the transfers between London airports are long and expensive and don't match up since I will be coming in from Glasgow the same day I will be leaving for Italy. I also have to book my nights in Scotland, but I might wing that part.
So between spending the last two months learning everything possible about web design, media kits, seo's, doing interviews for press, dealing with relationship issues, fighting the flu, skating my heart out, and putting my house on the market, I'm ready for a reset button. I know that at this moment I've done everything I can to guide my life in the direction I would like to see it go. Now all that is left to do (after the long to-do list I need to accomplish this week) is to let go and see what happens.
Last night I was exhausted and overwhelmed and it felt like the wrong time to take this trip. Then a friend reminded me that I'm going to have the time of my life. All I've been seeing is the work and the travel arrangements and in that I forgot how amazing it is that I get to travel. That's where the reset button comes in. In trying to share this experience with the world, and in the pursuit of an entire list of dreams I've forgotten that this journey is about living life to the fullest and loving it all the way. I think getting on the road and making my dreams come true will definitely reset my mind.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Dream Trip Finally Came Together
822 Days to Complete 101 Dreams Come True
It's Friday and I would like to know where the week went. The good news is that my trip to Europe is finally coming together. Wednesday the trip looked dim. Nothing was working. I couldn't find places to stay except junky hotels and frustration had set in as days passed without any progress.
Then Wednesday night I found a week in Italy in a medieval manor for a few hundred dollars. I was ready to book, but felt I should hold off since I was still awaiting news from my timeshare about my exchange for Paris. By eleven at night I decided I couldn't wait any longer - it had been six weeks and I'd heard nothing. I went ahead to book Italy. As I was ready to confirm my reservation I briefly looked at another site to be certain I wanted the hotel and when I returned to finish my booking the week was gone. I spent two hours trying to get back the reservation. I couldn't believe that in the instance I looked away my week would be taken by someone else. It was.
Frustrated I thought it was time to give up. Thursday afternoon I received an email confirming my exchange to Paris for the exact dates I would've been in Italy. An hour later another week came available at the same resort in Italy this time in April ($400 instead of $148, but nicer weather). So now I have two weeks booked. One in Paris and one in a medieval town at the Palazzo Catalani. Both have kitchens so I can cook my own meals when I desire and feel more like a local. I've also booked a week in Scotland where I plan to stay in a castle one of the evenings and travel by car around the country. There's still a lot to do. I need to book my hotels in London, research where I want to go in Scotland, and I still need to book the ski vacation in the Alps and a flight to Rome, but I'm overjoyed and can't wait.
In one week I will be visiting Musee D'orsay in Paris, eating ricotta and pasta in Italy, seeing Les Miserables in London, seeing the Scotland countryside, and skiing in the Alps. Talk about a dream trip. I will be able to complete seven of my dreams, but I will have experiences beyond what I can put on a list.
How was I ever thinking of quitting when this is the reward.
It's Friday and I would like to know where the week went. The good news is that my trip to Europe is finally coming together. Wednesday the trip looked dim. Nothing was working. I couldn't find places to stay except junky hotels and frustration had set in as days passed without any progress.
Then Wednesday night I found a week in Italy in a medieval manor for a few hundred dollars. I was ready to book, but felt I should hold off since I was still awaiting news from my timeshare about my exchange for Paris. By eleven at night I decided I couldn't wait any longer - it had been six weeks and I'd heard nothing. I went ahead to book Italy. As I was ready to confirm my reservation I briefly looked at another site to be certain I wanted the hotel and when I returned to finish my booking the week was gone. I spent two hours trying to get back the reservation. I couldn't believe that in the instance I looked away my week would be taken by someone else. It was.
Frustrated I thought it was time to give up. Thursday afternoon I received an email confirming my exchange to Paris for the exact dates I would've been in Italy. An hour later another week came available at the same resort in Italy this time in April ($400 instead of $148, but nicer weather). So now I have two weeks booked. One in Paris and one in a medieval town at the Palazzo Catalani. Both have kitchens so I can cook my own meals when I desire and feel more like a local. I've also booked a week in Scotland where I plan to stay in a castle one of the evenings and travel by car around the country. There's still a lot to do. I need to book my hotels in London, research where I want to go in Scotland, and I still need to book the ski vacation in the Alps and a flight to Rome, but I'm overjoyed and can't wait.
In one week I will be visiting Musee D'orsay in Paris, eating ricotta and pasta in Italy, seeing Les Miserables in London, seeing the Scotland countryside, and skiing in the Alps. Talk about a dream trip. I will be able to complete seven of my dreams, but I will have experiences beyond what I can put on a list.
How was I ever thinking of quitting when this is the reward.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Forging Ahead - Not Looking Back
825 Days to Compete 101 Dreams Come True
Today I received an email from the man who sold me my car. He said, "I dedicate this day trip to you (first ride on a motorcycle), without your inspiration it would have never happened. Keep up the good work and good luck with your adventures."
I'm honored that he sent this and that he dedicated his first ride to me. As you know, if you've been reading this blog, last week I was ready to quit. After much soul searching, hours of meditation, and support from readers and those I love, I've realized many things.
The first being that I'm caught between staying where I am and forging forward to where I want to go. When I began this journey I had nothing: no stable home, no relationship, barely any friends, and no life to speak of. I was hurt, broken, and sad. Without anything to lose it was easy to go forward. In the months that followed I learned to salsa dance, went to Alaska, bought a home, met wonderful friends, fell in love, and created the life I'd always wanted. As I've been moving forward with the website and pursuing my dreams, in the back of my head I've been saying, "I want to go back to those first months after I created the list - that time felt good and safe."
I can't move ahead while I'm looking back. I've realized I have to make a choice. To move forward right now means taking tremendous risk. I don't have to do this. I can stay where I am: spend time with my friends, dance, get a part time job, live in my home, skate, be in love, and take a few trips a year. It doesn't mean I have to stop pursuing my dreams, it just means that I won't be striving to do them right now or taking the time to do the website.
Staying where I am, letting the website go, and relaxing has looked appealing. But this morning, while I was skating I realized this can't be my decision.
I'm a decent skater. I've achieved a level I never thought possible when I began the journey of making my childhood dream come true. I could stay at the level I've accomplished, win a few competitions, and just enjoy being on the ice each day. But I choose to push for more. Each day I strive to go faster, to push past my fears of getting hurt in order to skate at a higher level. I will fall many times. I will be exhausted, but with each goal I accomplish I feel pure joy. Today I saw how much I've improved in a few months by forging ahead.
Life isn't meant to be stagnant. As I've created this fight within my mind I've realized how tight I'm trying to hold to the past, but the past isn't opening its doors in the same way. I keep getting sick, friends have moved away, and honestly what once made me happy now feels redundant. When I began this journey I had nothing to lose and from that came a life I'd always wanted. Now, I have everything to lose. The stakes are higher, but I have even more to gain. I want the higher level. I want this journey to inspire others, like the man who went on his first motorcycle ride.
So I'm raising my glass to forging ahead and not looking back. My house is on the market, I've created a t-shirt store on the website in order to create revenue, and I'm going to Europe in a few weeks. I've done everything I can and now I'm opening up to the universe to say, "I let go and I have the courage to move forward."
Today I received an email from the man who sold me my car. He said, "I dedicate this day trip to you (first ride on a motorcycle), without your inspiration it would have never happened. Keep up the good work and good luck with your adventures."
I'm honored that he sent this and that he dedicated his first ride to me. As you know, if you've been reading this blog, last week I was ready to quit. After much soul searching, hours of meditation, and support from readers and those I love, I've realized many things.
The first being that I'm caught between staying where I am and forging forward to where I want to go. When I began this journey I had nothing: no stable home, no relationship, barely any friends, and no life to speak of. I was hurt, broken, and sad. Without anything to lose it was easy to go forward. In the months that followed I learned to salsa dance, went to Alaska, bought a home, met wonderful friends, fell in love, and created the life I'd always wanted. As I've been moving forward with the website and pursuing my dreams, in the back of my head I've been saying, "I want to go back to those first months after I created the list - that time felt good and safe."
I can't move ahead while I'm looking back. I've realized I have to make a choice. To move forward right now means taking tremendous risk. I don't have to do this. I can stay where I am: spend time with my friends, dance, get a part time job, live in my home, skate, be in love, and take a few trips a year. It doesn't mean I have to stop pursuing my dreams, it just means that I won't be striving to do them right now or taking the time to do the website.
Staying where I am, letting the website go, and relaxing has looked appealing. But this morning, while I was skating I realized this can't be my decision.
I'm a decent skater. I've achieved a level I never thought possible when I began the journey of making my childhood dream come true. I could stay at the level I've accomplished, win a few competitions, and just enjoy being on the ice each day. But I choose to push for more. Each day I strive to go faster, to push past my fears of getting hurt in order to skate at a higher level. I will fall many times. I will be exhausted, but with each goal I accomplish I feel pure joy. Today I saw how much I've improved in a few months by forging ahead.
Life isn't meant to be stagnant. As I've created this fight within my mind I've realized how tight I'm trying to hold to the past, but the past isn't opening its doors in the same way. I keep getting sick, friends have moved away, and honestly what once made me happy now feels redundant. When I began this journey I had nothing to lose and from that came a life I'd always wanted. Now, I have everything to lose. The stakes are higher, but I have even more to gain. I want the higher level. I want this journey to inspire others, like the man who went on his first motorcycle ride.
So I'm raising my glass to forging ahead and not looking back. My house is on the market, I've created a t-shirt store on the website in order to create revenue, and I'm going to Europe in a few weeks. I've done everything I can and now I'm opening up to the universe to say, "I let go and I have the courage to move forward."
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