I highly promote starting your week with a cheeseburger for lunch. It is the perfect food. Perfect, I tell you. All of your food groups neatly packaged and ready for consumption. And you can get one fast. Very fast, depending on your standards of quality.
Just make sure it has pickles on it, okay?
Monday, June 29, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Lisbon Stories
As I mentioned earlier, here are some stories from Lisbon:
This weekend in Lisbon there is the festival of Sao Antonio, the patron saint of Lisboa. The streets of Alfama are all decorated with colorful streamers and little shrines to Sao Antonio depicted at the top of a set of stairs pouring out a jug of water that runs s\down to a little pile of treasure. The story is (well part of it anyway) the Sao Antonio helps women to find a husband. On Saturday the city will sponsor the marriage of twenty couples too poor to have their own wedding. The ceremony will take place on the steps of the cathedral (which is being set up with a temporary platform stage as we speak). The city will dress the brides in gowns and tux the men, perform the ceremony, drive the pals around in Rolls Royces and then give them some loot to set up their new life together like household appliances.
On Tuesday I got pooped on by an pigeon. Right in the eye, goggles notwithstanding. Antonio, our tour guide and chef, told me this was very good luck and alluded to a possible situation in which I might be lucky in love. And I am lucky. And I have love. And I hope I don't get some evil disease from Portuguese bird poo.
Ok, pals, the truth is I didn't do anything special in Lisbon. I just wandered around taking pictures the whole time and discussing the most important things in the universe with my new-found girlfriends from the hostel. It took me two days to figure out how to say "thank you". I ate at the hostel almost every night because I blew my budget on airfare. And it turned out that the home cooking there was much better than anything I had out at restaurants. And it felt like home, like going home to your parents' house and letting your sunburn set in while waiting for dinner. There were big soft rolls for breakfast and slices of cheese and tomato jam (which was awesome) and coffee that tasted funny, not ha ha but weird. There was sunshine, something I don't get much of in Chicago, and fresh air and internet access.
That was it. Every day was about the same, just new streets to wander. It was truly wonderful. I bought a few pieces of fruit and a couple of bottles of wine. I sent postcards for the first time in my life. I didn't have to do or be anything. I just existed.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
It's not at the bottom, it's not at the top
Today I decided that the time has come. I'd like to play with the emphasis on this sentence for a moment. Join me will you?
THE time has come.
The TIME has come.
The time HAS come.
The time has COME.
Before explaining, I would first like to point out a few small things. Sardines are better out of the can. Sorry Portugal, I prefer when you can them and ship them to me. The locals can have the fresh ones. I can survive on cheese plates forever. Yesterday it was bread with brie and apricot jam. Today it is bread with the leftover brie and sun-dried tomatoes, capers and the aforementioned sardines. Some red wine to wash it down with and presto! dinner, or breakfast, or whatever.
Ok, back to topic A. The time has come to leave. I can go now. I was free to go a few months ago, but I was like a well trained animal who doesn't realize that the cage door is open. I was patiently waiting for the day when everything had come together, when I had reached a point of closure sufficient enough to counteract my "do not run away" edict. It only took 11 years, six boyfriends, four therapists, two cities, one confession and the arms of a sweet lovin' man to open the door. Nothing can stop me from going through it. I don't have to stay. I can go.
Until then, I am not really anywhere. This is a bit like limbo, hopefully enough people will pray me out of here. May my purchase button pushing finger be true when I book the plane ticket. It's better when you are moving.
THE time has come.
The TIME has come.
The time HAS come.
The time has COME.
Before explaining, I would first like to point out a few small things. Sardines are better out of the can. Sorry Portugal, I prefer when you can them and ship them to me. The locals can have the fresh ones. I can survive on cheese plates forever. Yesterday it was bread with brie and apricot jam. Today it is bread with the leftover brie and sun-dried tomatoes, capers and the aforementioned sardines. Some red wine to wash it down with and presto! dinner, or breakfast, or whatever.
Ok, back to topic A. The time has come to leave. I can go now. I was free to go a few months ago, but I was like a well trained animal who doesn't realize that the cage door is open. I was patiently waiting for the day when everything had come together, when I had reached a point of closure sufficient enough to counteract my "do not run away" edict. It only took 11 years, six boyfriends, four therapists, two cities, one confession and the arms of a sweet lovin' man to open the door. Nothing can stop me from going through it. I don't have to stay. I can go.
Until then, I am not really anywhere. This is a bit like limbo, hopefully enough people will pray me out of here. May my purchase button pushing finger be true when I book the plane ticket. It's better when you are moving.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
USA
I am back in Chicago this evening, drinking Spanish wine and eating French cheese at the dining table of my good friends who give me shelter. Lisbon was tremendously beautiful and I have some stories to transcribe from my journal in the coming days. For now I will just say that I simply cannot be bothered to pick up the pace to Midwestern standards. I am on vacation slow, Lisbon time, and I do not care. I feel so relaxed and serene and this should not be spoiled. Pause for sip of wine... mmm, thank you.
I think I need to update my technological devices if I intend to blog on the road. I learned the term "RTW" for a type of travel taken in your life as advertised to young Brits. Never mind the "gap year"... I've decided that this is my gap year and I will be taking this time to follow some dreams and bolster my resume before I decide what I really want to do with my life. The only problem with that is I really already know what I want to do with my life, so the world travel is just reinforcement at this point. I digress. What I really need is one of those twee little laptops that slide right into your purse and are only useful for logging on and typing up some travel observations, because a blackberry is too small and slow to type on and paper is nice but it is hard to make photocopies and mail that stuff to people.
Next topic: flying vs. airplane rides. I have decided that I indeed enjoy winging about in the clouds. I like it, I really do. I do not like being on airplanes, though. Too dry, too noisy, not enough snacks, small children kicking your seat, neck pain when you fall asleep with your head tilted back, not so nice. But oh! the dreamy dreamy cloudscapes and panoramic vistas and piercing sunshine above the cloud cover. How sweet to be in the ether. I can't wait to get up there again! If only it didn't have to involve an airplane ride.
I think I need to update my technological devices if I intend to blog on the road. I learned the term "RTW" for a type of travel taken in your life as advertised to young Brits. Never mind the "gap year"... I've decided that this is my gap year and I will be taking this time to follow some dreams and bolster my resume before I decide what I really want to do with my life. The only problem with that is I really already know what I want to do with my life, so the world travel is just reinforcement at this point. I digress. What I really need is one of those twee little laptops that slide right into your purse and are only useful for logging on and typing up some travel observations, because a blackberry is too small and slow to type on and paper is nice but it is hard to make photocopies and mail that stuff to people.
Next topic: flying vs. airplane rides. I have decided that I indeed enjoy winging about in the clouds. I like it, I really do. I do not like being on airplanes, though. Too dry, too noisy, not enough snacks, small children kicking your seat, neck pain when you fall asleep with your head tilted back, not so nice. But oh! the dreamy dreamy cloudscapes and panoramic vistas and piercing sunshine above the cloud cover. How sweet to be in the ether. I can't wait to get up there again! If only it didn't have to involve an airplane ride.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Teotihuacan, right between the Sun and the Moon, the world moves forward
I spent Memorial Day weekend in Mexico City. Three days of driving around the most winding and ridiculous streets from one beautiful, breathtaking location to the next. Navigating chocolate bumps and round-abouts, no lanes and VW beetle cabs (how do you get IN one of those?), high roads, low roads and tráfico, dontcha. It was like the best roller-coaster ride ever. My pilot knows the roads, mostly (even seasoned veterans can get lost on DF roads) but never missed a traffic bump. Yes indeed the city put in speed bumps all over the place because residents completely ignore traffic lights, which is not surprising as there are often traffic lights pointing the wrong way down one-way streets or other such ridiculous locations. Nevermind the fact that there is no grid. Navigation is all by landmark. This is made much easier by the fact that there is an unprecedented amount of public art. Lost? Pull a U-turn at the white Arabesque sculpture and follow your route back to the hairpin turn, then turn Right and take the low road under the Periférico.
When you reach your destination, you will have to pay for parking in a restricted lot. This is normal, the only way to do it. While on your way, you have to be careful not to run over the kids in the streets trying to sell you flowers or watches, nor the Big Butt Clowns, but you may consider clipping the guys who squirt soapy water on your windshield and then charge you for the wash. Supposedly this is now illegal, but the guys are still there and will toss a bucket your direction with towels in it to fake you out. The trick is to leave space between you and the car in front of you so you can pull up as a gesture to let the interesting and industrious pan-handlers know you are not a sucker. Big Butt Clowns? I was entertained.
We did other things besides driving, but in DF (Distrito Federal aka Mexico City) driving is essential. On Monday, when everyone went back to work, I had several dizzy spells. I was afraid that I had contracted something viral or that I was just simply dying of a brain tumor. I couldn't stop yawning and I needed to sit down, now. What was this curious malady? Aha! Pollution! I was suffering from an altitude of 7000ft above sea level and no clean air to breathe. Not a problem on the weekend, but once rush hour traffic commenced, the carbon monoxide levels were not suitable for this flatlander.
Now to the really amazing parts: The historic district with the Cathedral and the government buildings on the Zócalo, and the Aztec ruins and the Grand Hotel. It was beautiful. We toured the Cathedral and I asked my tour guide to translate every name of every chapel and explain to me the structural implications of the sinking of the building (too much water getting sucked out of the foundations). Then he purchased two tickets for the tour of the Campanario to see the naughty bell that tossed a pal one time. We climbed the ancient stairs and I requested translations of the narration by the guide, but the answer was always "tseh, he's talking about the bells..." which invariably led to more PDA. Speaking of that, the city is full of PDAs (which is what my personal kissing assistant now calls the other pals who are standing about kissing after I introduced him to the middle school term). He then mentioned something about how I'd be called a "strawberry" and I just had to accept that at face value despite my tendency to be offended. It didn't matter at all... The whole scene was so beautiful. We dined on the roof terrace at the Grand Hotel watching the clouds change above the government buildings until the afternoon rains came. We talked of many things from our pasts which seemed just right in such an historic place. Afterward we walked along the arcaded jewelry stores and watched the punk rockers hand out flyers while a string quartet played Vivaldi. It was perfect.
Ok, there were more amazing things, the piramides were wonderful, the hacienda was magical, everything was perfect and I am too tired to write about it all now.
I am leaving for Lisbon tomorrow afternoon. I will be there for nearly a week and then to Pittsburgh for my brother's graduation. I'll have more stories when I return.
Bon voyage! Via con Dios...
When you reach your destination, you will have to pay for parking in a restricted lot. This is normal, the only way to do it. While on your way, you have to be careful not to run over the kids in the streets trying to sell you flowers or watches, nor the Big Butt Clowns, but you may consider clipping the guys who squirt soapy water on your windshield and then charge you for the wash. Supposedly this is now illegal, but the guys are still there and will toss a bucket your direction with towels in it to fake you out. The trick is to leave space between you and the car in front of you so you can pull up as a gesture to let the interesting and industrious pan-handlers know you are not a sucker. Big Butt Clowns? I was entertained.
We did other things besides driving, but in DF (Distrito Federal aka Mexico City) driving is essential. On Monday, when everyone went back to work, I had several dizzy spells. I was afraid that I had contracted something viral or that I was just simply dying of a brain tumor. I couldn't stop yawning and I needed to sit down, now. What was this curious malady? Aha! Pollution! I was suffering from an altitude of 7000ft above sea level and no clean air to breathe. Not a problem on the weekend, but once rush hour traffic commenced, the carbon monoxide levels were not suitable for this flatlander.
Now to the really amazing parts: The historic district with the Cathedral and the government buildings on the Zócalo, and the Aztec ruins and the Grand Hotel. It was beautiful. We toured the Cathedral and I asked my tour guide to translate every name of every chapel and explain to me the structural implications of the sinking of the building (too much water getting sucked out of the foundations). Then he purchased two tickets for the tour of the Campanario to see the naughty bell that tossed a pal one time. We climbed the ancient stairs and I requested translations of the narration by the guide, but the answer was always "tseh, he's talking about the bells..." which invariably led to more PDA. Speaking of that, the city is full of PDAs (which is what my personal kissing assistant now calls the other pals who are standing about kissing after I introduced him to the middle school term). He then mentioned something about how I'd be called a "strawberry" and I just had to accept that at face value despite my tendency to be offended. It didn't matter at all... The whole scene was so beautiful. We dined on the roof terrace at the Grand Hotel watching the clouds change above the government buildings until the afternoon rains came. We talked of many things from our pasts which seemed just right in such an historic place. Afterward we walked along the arcaded jewelry stores and watched the punk rockers hand out flyers while a string quartet played Vivaldi. It was perfect.
Ok, there were more amazing things, the piramides were wonderful, the hacienda was magical, everything was perfect and I am too tired to write about it all now.
I am leaving for Lisbon tomorrow afternoon. I will be there for nearly a week and then to Pittsburgh for my brother's graduation. I'll have more stories when I return.
Bon voyage! Via con Dios...
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