Spent the first night of my long adventure in London. Stayed with close family friends in Chelsea, my favorite part of London. London's beauty is always just as striking. My first image coming out of the tube at Sloan Square were three clydesdale horses trotting down a main street along side a red double decker bus. Only in London. Had planned on picking up the keys to where I was staying in a hiding place that involved walking down a steep ladder, and after dragging my 60 pound bags through the tube from Heathrow and along the cobblestone streets my arms and legs were practically shaking (this was the point which I realized traveling for three months with all this crap is not going to work...and the six bottles of sun screen was excessive; sunscreen is available for sale in other countries!) I was afraid I'd barely make it down the ladder, I did make it down, but in my blurry state could not find the keys. My phone was dead so I could not call Adriane, I popped in next door to a real estate office "Stanley Chelsea" to ask if I could plug my phone in. I didn't expect them to say no (although I rarely do) but I didn't expect them to be so overwhelmingly nice. The woman at the front desk immediately helped me in with my bags, offered me a cup of tea and helped me hunt down a blackberry charger since I realized I'd very intelligently only brought European adapters and none for the UK. I was shocked to find out that only one person in the whole office had a Blackberry or even a smart phone at that--this would be an impossibility in the U.S. I proceeded to take out my lab top to charge my phone, at which point she offered me the wireless password. So there I was sitting at someone's desk, working on my computer, having a cup of tea and charging my phone. I was overwhelmed by their hospitality and I think it goes without saying that this would not happen at home. Finally when my phone did turn on I didn't even have Adriane's number (I'd come very prepared). I sent her an email with mine and after about an hour the boss of the office came over and asked if I'd be with them for the whole afternoon. I explained the key drama and he said in his very british accent "Let me have a look". I was mortified at the idea of having him go down this steep rusting iron ladder for me but before I could say anything he was at the bottom of it holding an envelope saying "Are you daft?"
Monday, May 30, 2011
Spent the first night of my long adventure in London. Stayed with close family friends in Chelsea, my favorite part of London. London's beauty is always just as striking. My first image coming out of the tube at Sloan Square were three clydesdale horses trotting down a main street along side a red double decker bus. Only in London. Had planned on picking up the keys to where I was staying in a hiding place that involved walking down a steep ladder, and after dragging my 60 pound bags through the tube from Heathrow and along the cobblestone streets my arms and legs were practically shaking (this was the point which I realized traveling for three months with all this crap is not going to work...and the six bottles of sun screen was excessive; sunscreen is available for sale in other countries!) I was afraid I'd barely make it down the ladder, I did make it down, but in my blurry state could not find the keys. My phone was dead so I could not call Adriane, I popped in next door to a real estate office "Stanley Chelsea" to ask if I could plug my phone in. I didn't expect them to say no (although I rarely do) but I didn't expect them to be so overwhelmingly nice. The woman at the front desk immediately helped me in with my bags, offered me a cup of tea and helped me hunt down a blackberry charger since I realized I'd very intelligently only brought European adapters and none for the UK. I was shocked to find out that only one person in the whole office had a Blackberry or even a smart phone at that--this would be an impossibility in the U.S. I proceeded to take out my lab top to charge my phone, at which point she offered me the wireless password. So there I was sitting at someone's desk, working on my computer, having a cup of tea and charging my phone. I was overwhelmed by their hospitality and I think it goes without saying that this would not happen at home. Finally when my phone did turn on I didn't even have Adriane's number (I'd come very prepared). I sent her an email with mine and after about an hour the boss of the office came over and asked if I'd be with them for the whole afternoon. I explained the key drama and he said in his very british accent "Let me have a look". I was mortified at the idea of having him go down this steep rusting iron ladder for me but before I could say anything he was at the bottom of it holding an envelope saying "Are you daft?"
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Mare Nostrum (Latin for Our Sea)
Introduction:
Nine months ago I found myself in the bathroom at work and my mind was wondering about what I'd say if I finally did this self indulgent travel that I'd been thinking so much about doing. Of course it came out better in my head than I could write it down...but it was the moment that it all clicked...And I went back to my desk and promptly wrote the following, always knowing that it would be the start of my next adventure, no matter when that adventure was to take place.
At 25 I find myself with best friends who are medical students, lawyers and investment bankers-- none of whom are any more sure of what they are doing than I am although from the outside they may seem it. I spent my first year out of school living in Spain with the dream of speaking Spanish just the way I speak English. I thought I'd find my life passion abroad, I didn't--unless my life passion is being abroad which it very well might be. I came home after 9 months and a Spanish romance, not feeling any closer to knowing what I wanted to do than I was before. I met a guy right away, he fit the bill. He was the exact opposite of the Spaniard--Jewish, successful, American. And I thought perfect, since I felt directionless this guy would ground me. I put all my eggs in one basket and took a full time job in Boston. Needless to say the relationship failed, failed with a capital F. But luckily I liked my job and I thought I'll do this for awhile and it will lead to my next step. But suddenly a couple of years passed and I realized I wasn't going anywhere. I wasn't depressed but I was sick of my noodle soup being the closest to Thailand I was getting. I watched movies like Vicky, Christina, Barcelona and read books like Eat Pray Love, and fantasized about ways I could make that my life. The company I worked for serviced international families-- every summer I put kids on planes, to Canne, Ibiza, Beirut, HK, Tokyo, Bangkok, Santiago, Rio, I was becoming sick of envying everyone else' lives. But still I didn't know what I wanted to DO.
What did I want to do? I wanted to take a cooking course in Paris, I wanted to go shop the markets in India and Istanbul, I wanted to work with refugees in Africa, I wanted to dance Tango in Argentina, I wanted to go back to Madrid, fall in love again with speaking Spanish-- I wanted to do exactly what Elizabeth Gilbert wanted to do with her spaghetti. But I knew all of this was horribly self-indulgent and quite frankly I was too scared of going too far off track. but what was beginning to feel even scarier was staying on a track I didn't have. I sat in Yom Kippur services and listened only to the words that spoke about old age "the years life gives us are not enough to satisfy our hunger for life" And so finally I decided to to do what was least expected--to do exactly what I wanted. None of this came without a price, I moved home for nine months, and aggressively saved my money--saving money had probably been my biggest challenge in life, and yet this time it couldn't have been easier and that's when I knew I was about to make the right change.
I know I'm sounding like a horrible cliche of our generation...WHO doesn't want to do all these things?? But what I hope is that I can inspire people to stop waiting to live their life, to stop depriving themselves of their thirst for whatever it is because as the Jamaican man on the plane next to me said "Living isn't just being alive".
At 25 I find myself with best friends who are medical students, lawyers and investment bankers-- none of whom are any more sure of what they are doing than I am although from the outside they may seem it. I spent my first year out of school living in Spain with the dream of speaking Spanish just the way I speak English. I thought I'd find my life passion abroad, I didn't--unless my life passion is being abroad which it very well might be. I came home after 9 months and a Spanish romance, not feeling any closer to knowing what I wanted to do than I was before. I met a guy right away, he fit the bill. He was the exact opposite of the Spaniard--Jewish, successful, American. And I thought perfect, since I felt directionless this guy would ground me. I put all my eggs in one basket and took a full time job in Boston. Needless to say the relationship failed, failed with a capital F. But luckily I liked my job and I thought I'll do this for awhile and it will lead to my next step. But suddenly a couple of years passed and I realized I wasn't going anywhere. I wasn't depressed but I was sick of my noodle soup being the closest to Thailand I was getting. I watched movies like Vicky, Christina, Barcelona and read books like Eat Pray Love, and fantasized about ways I could make that my life. The company I worked for serviced international families-- every summer I put kids on planes, to Canne, Ibiza, Beirut, HK, Tokyo, Bangkok, Santiago, Rio, I was becoming sick of envying everyone else' lives. But still I didn't know what I wanted to DO.
What did I want to do? I wanted to take a cooking course in Paris, I wanted to go shop the markets in India and Istanbul, I wanted to work with refugees in Africa, I wanted to dance Tango in Argentina, I wanted to go back to Madrid, fall in love again with speaking Spanish-- I wanted to do exactly what Elizabeth Gilbert wanted to do with her spaghetti. But I knew all of this was horribly self-indulgent and quite frankly I was too scared of going too far off track. but what was beginning to feel even scarier was staying on a track I didn't have. I sat in Yom Kippur services and listened only to the words that spoke about old age "the years life gives us are not enough to satisfy our hunger for life" And so finally I decided to to do what was least expected--to do exactly what I wanted. None of this came without a price, I moved home for nine months, and aggressively saved my money--saving money had probably been my biggest challenge in life, and yet this time it couldn't have been easier and that's when I knew I was about to make the right change.
I know I'm sounding like a horrible cliche of our generation...WHO doesn't want to do all these things?? But what I hope is that I can inspire people to stop waiting to live their life, to stop depriving themselves of their thirst for whatever it is because as the Jamaican man on the plane next to me said "Living isn't just being alive".
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)