Rhymes With Glee

Job Search 2008 = Good Fortune

nobody@vox.com(Felicia) — Thu, 22 May 2008 23:38:02 -0700

One of the many delightful challenges I get to face in my new city is finding a job. I decided to leave the corporate world behind and enter the community-based not for profit world.

It has been no small feat considering that this is a new field to me where I know almost no one locally, and have no tangible core community experience on my resume.

Minor details, minor. :)

Through Jason, I met Samhita who works for the Center for Media Justice, and is entrenched in really exciting community work. I offered to volunteer at a 3-day training institute that she worked for months organizing. My volunteering consisted of a bare few responsibilities, so I was able to participate in much of what was offered.

On the very first day, my perceptions of myself and the community that surrounds me were immediately challenged, and I was forced to look critically at these perceptions.

And I couldn't help but feel grateful.

We engaged in a conversation fostered by Gina and Jarod from the Applied Research Center about the race debate. We discussed how racism is embedded in our culture and conditioning. This was further applied to how to frame the message of each relevant community organization and communicate it to the larger community and the media. She discussed the differences between emotion and logic and reason and pointed out that in the absence of fact, emotion tends to always win out.

The conversation involved "us" and "them" descriptors, and I realized that within context, I was in the "them" category. By virtue of being white. It was sobering. And challenging. And vastly thought provoking.

I had never participated in a race conversation like this. Sure, with friends, absolutely. But not sitting in a room full of strangers. The intensity was amazing, born from creating and fostering a meaningful dialog to "illuminate racism in order to eliminate it."

She asked, "If you can't talk about racism, how are you going to solve it?"
(This obviously has much larger implications in the world that surrounds all of us, but I'm going to try and keep it contained here, for the time being. :) )

Over the course of the next two days, I was set on fire by old thoughts and new considerations. From the larger responsibility of the community movement to frame our messages in a comprehensive thoughtful way to my own considerations about the contemporary world I live in.

The very real existence of white privilege was new to me in how it was presented and in how it made me think. I did not grow up privileged in the obtuse way. Single mom on a postal worker salary...there were struggles.

But by being white, certain privileges are afforded to me. It is narrow to not acknowledge that. And sitting in a room full of impassioned people of color, I was given the opportunity to see it in a very real way. And I was given the opportunity to create a strategy through which to communicate my own message of who I am.

Throughout the entire experience of being there, I constantly made notes in my journal.

Movements.
Action.
Making a difference.
Acknowledging, balancing, and challenging identity.
Overcoming perceptions.
Truth.
Myself.
Passion.

Passion.

Passion is a collective experience shared by any person or group organizing for a common cause and goal. Despite the differences that I had the chance to see in a very real and new way, what I ultimately walked away with was a vast inspiration that we are all connected under truth and the passionate desire to change, improve, and evolve with the world at large and the communities that we all share.

I was extremely, overwhelmingly fortunate to be there.

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Hi there.

nobody@vox.com(Felicia) — Thu, 22 May 2008 20:52:43 -0700

My, has it been awhile. :)

Once I moved into my new place in San Francisco, I promptly stopped writing. In my journal, here, everywhere. I even stopped posting on Flickr and updating Twitter as much.

It wasn't as if I was hiding. On the contrary, I realized that I was/am making a concerted effort to be in the right now and take it all in without looking at everything as a writing retrospective as it was happening.

But I have to admit, that through all this time, it has felt as if something significant was missing in my internal conversations.

So here we are.
Here I am.

Through the past couple of months, I have realized that I am fundamentally changed from my time alone out in the world (even if it was only a small corner.) I am powerful and I can accomplish anything I want to, without fear of failure or rejection. I have learned the truth in receiving what I ask for, even if I do sound like a fortune cookie from time to time.

xo.

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February 22, 2008

nobody@vox.com(Felicia) — Fri, 22 Feb 2008 23:01:32 -0800

I just got back from spending the day with my dad's family.

My grandmother died and today was her funeral.

Everyone on my dad's side of the family was there: his sister Debbie, his brothers Michael and Terry, my cousins Stacilyn and Dan, and a variety of young cousins that I haven't seen in a long while.

I haven't seen any of them. In a very long while.

When I was younger, my grandmother was my most favorite person in the world. She lived in Oregon and after my parents divorced, my dad would take me up to Salem to visit her during the long summers. I spent many weeks with her between the ages of 5 and 8.

I was a very early riser as a kid, and my most treasured and vivid memory of my grandmother was of her sitting in her living room in one of the two blue chairs that faced the large bay window overlooking the street. I would walk out of my room, wearing the pink nightgown that I only seemed to have as a little girl. Rubbing my eyes and half awake, I would look for her, and she was always waiting for me in her chair.

As the sun peeked through the clouds on it's ascent, I would crawl into her lap to cuddle for warmth, to smell her familiar scent accompanied by the comforting aroma of the ever-present cup of coffee by her side. We would sit for a while in silence as the sleep faded from my eyes, and then she would begin to tell me stories about my dad and his brothers and sisters. They were the same stories over and over, but each one was as delightful and special as if she was telling me for the first time. Every time.

I loved her so much in those moments. I loved the comfort and security she offered me in a time when I was confused about so much. That young, I was unable to articulate how hurt I was about my parents splitting up, but with her, everything made sense, and she always reminded me in her special way that everything was going to be okay.

As I got older, I lost touch with her.

As I got older, I was better able to understand my parents divorce; the anger that my mom felt toward my dad, and it became more and more difficult to spend time with him and his family. As a kid, I wasn't mature enough to develop my own relationship with my dad's family that wasn't clouded by my mom's opinions about them, and I lost touch with all of them.

Years and years and years passed. I spent one holiday with them in 20 years. And that was Thanksgiving almost 7 years ago. I felt awkward and uncomfortable, always carrying with me my mom's opinions about all of them.

After my mom died, it became extremely important to me to have a closer relationship with my dad. I needed to have it, because without my mom, I felt so alone. To his credit, my dad stepped up and was there for me in ways that he had never been as I was growing up, and it has been a delight, albeit a challenging one, getting to know him all over again as an adult.

But today I realized so much about my new relationship with my dad, and my old relationship with his family. The familiarity with them is still there. The faces I once knew so well are now a bit weathered and aged, mine too, but my cousins and aunts and uncles are still the same people. It took a little while to slip into conversation with many of them, because the time that had passed was glaringly obvious to all of us. But I felt that built in comfort that only exists with family.

Midway through a dinner conversation, my cousin Danny leaned over to me and said quietly, "Felicia, you don't know us at all anymore. And we don't know you."

I looked at him, my eyes filling with tears over the truth of it all. He continued, "You need to spend more time with us. We've always been here for you."

His sister Stacilyn who had been listening, grabbed my hand across the table and nodded. "We loved your mom, Felicia. And we love you too."

Warmth for the collection of people before me flooded over.

Since, I have been thinking deeply about how my mom's death has changed my perceptions of my own family. I have barely reached out to my mom's side, instead retreating from the painful reminders of her that they invoke. I have barely reached out to my dad's family over the years, instead acting in solidarity with my mom and her opinions and painful memories of them.

I am stunned over the dawning realization of the opportunities that we have as adults to bridge our own gaps with family with our own experiences. And I can't help but look closely at my friends who surround me and comprise the family that I have chosen for myself.

Thank you, Grandmother, for giving me the chance to realize this. Thank you for everything you have given me.

Especially the beautiful sunrises.

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Some of my favorites...just cuz.

nobody@vox.com(Felicia) — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 22:21:42 -0800

More St. Stephens Green

Not too shabby for an iPhone. :)

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Day 92

nobody@vox.com(Felicia) — Thu, 20 Dec 2007 09:05:01 -0800

Amsterdam, NL
Holland

I am coming home tomorrow. :)

I didn’t decide suddenly. The realization that it was time to return came on slowly and clearly. I received a message from my calm, collected soul that it was time not to end this adventure, but to begin the next phase. Part II, if you will. :)

You see, about 4 weeks into my travels I had a vision of my future. And the time became right now to live it.

I was sitting in the blindingly wonderful sun on the lip of the Mediterranean in an Italian town called Monterosso. I was sniffly, congested, and conflicted. It had been a challenging few days, and the sunshine was just what the doctor ordered. I wasn't thinking about anything in a deliberate way; I was just letting my brain idle for the first time in a while, and all of the sudden, I knew.

When I began traveling, I had no idea what I wanted from life. I only knew that the life I was leading was not the one that I wanted. I was ruled by fear and trepidation, and I was full of other people's drama (and I told myself that it was because I had a lack of my own. Total bullshit. Everything is a choice, and I chose to take stuff that was not mine. What a completely effective way of hiding from myself, right?) I was angry, despondent, lonely. I was a bad communicator. And nothing was clear.

But after spending 3 months with nothing but my own voice in my head, everything that I was holding onto drifted away. And when the static disappeared, I knew. I saw my life in the way that I wanted to live it.

My vision began with the thought, the extremely fond memory, of being embroiled and entrenched in those passionate conversations we get to have when we are in our element, as a part of a collective, talking about how to achieve a common goal. You know those conversations, right? When your eyes twinkle and you slap your hand on the table for emphasis and can't get the words out fast enough.

And I decided there in the warm sun that I was going back to school to get another degree, this one with a scientific emphasis on environmental degradation and preservation. Perhaps with an additional focus on the ethno-migration caused by diminishing natural resources. :)

I saw myself working multiple jobs to put myself through, and it was all with San Francisco as the backdrop. I saw myself having those conversations, while living out all of the other desires I have created and realized while on this journey.

I cried, I laughed, I knew.

Once I did decide to come home though, it was the most conflicted I have ever been.

It was for all of the right reasons. I missed my nearest and dearest. I missed my Dad. And I felt ready.

But all of the sudden, I thought, no. Not yet. I want to keep going. I HAVE to keep going. And what of home? Was I really ready to return to those things that I deliberately left behind? Was I ready to return to the fold? Had I done enough? Seen enough? Lived enough? I have to keep going.

And then the other voice in my head said, "No you don't. "

I shut up and listened. I've been to 4 countries, at least 20 different cities. I've met amazing people. The most amazing people.

And most importantly, the self-imposed barriers that I created to hold myself back are gone.

Gone.

Looking back on what I've done, I can't help but grin hugely.

I did it.

I did what I set out to do. And what I received was more than I could have ever imagined.

I found the love that was missing. And I realized that I am deserving of love. And that it's mandatory to give myself a whole bunch of it everyday.

I learned that it is possible to have the life I want, as long as I live it through my desires, without consequence or apology.

I can't wait to get home. :))

**When I began traveling, I had visions of creating this amazing travel blog, but besides internet cafes being really inconvenient time and $$ suckers, I realized that it was more important for me to see this adventure and to be in it as it was happening, without stepping out of it too much.

I plan to fill in the many, many days that I have not described. Just you wait.

xoxo.

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Day 47 - 53

nobody@vox.com(Felicia) — Wed, 21 Nov 2007 08:40:49 -0800

Lucca, Italy

I chose to go to Lucca after Firenze because it was recommended to me by a lovely Canadian couple I ended up having lunch next to a few days before I left. They told me that it was surrounded by a medieval wall and that they stayed at a lovely Bed & Breakfast ran by two brothers. That was pretty much all I needed to make up my mind, especially given that I had no idea where to go next.

I took an early train and an earlier bus and arrived in Lucca at about 10:30 in the morning. During the 2 hour train ride, I noticed that there were a large amount of young people arround me. I didn't give it a second thought because there are students everywhere in Italy.

As I stepped off the train, the first thing I noticed was a girl in a bright red wig and a white jumper carrying a hand-fashioned hammer. But not just any hammer. It was a HUGE wooden affair, not unlike a weapon used by Tom against Jerry.

Hmm, I thought. That's weird.

But I hoisted my pack up and followed the crowd toward the station entrance. All of the sudden I was surrounded by all sorts of costumed characters between the ages of 13 and 20, and they all looked amazing. As I reached the entrance, I stepped to the left and gawked for a few seconds. And then I remembered that Gabriele, one of the B&B brothers, told me that there was a big comics convention in town. Of course!

I took out my map and tried to orient myself. I wasn't having an easy time, and a ninja approached me asking in very broken Italian if I needed directions. I told him where I was going, and even though I could only see his eyes (his costume was very authentic. ;) ), I could tell that he had no idea where Ai Cipressi was. He turned to his ninja brethren and asked them if they knew. Instantly they surrounded me pointing this way and that while conferring with one another. And then they all pointed in the same direction and I was on my way. I said "Grazie Mille" and they all bowed.

Awesome.

I arrived at the B&B about 20 minutes later and walked into the office. Sitting behind the desk was Cristina, a lovely girl with amazing dreadlocks. She told me that my room was being prepared and asked if wanted to practice my Italian while I waited. I smiled and laughed, because my Italian is terrible. Sure, I can understand so much more than when I began, but to speak...my accent is an insult to the lyrical lovlieness that is this spoken language. So I told her we could practice her English instead.

We sat chatting, and I felt this peaceful calm wash over me and I realized that it was coming from Cristina. She had a twinkle in her eye that was infectious, and it was just a pleasure to be there in that moment. I told her about my travels and being on a total adventure high (which is pretty much perpetual, btw), I heard my words come out of my mouth, I thought "Oh my goodness, cheeseball. Shush already." But she loved it and shared my enthusiasm.

I told her everything, and that all I really had was what I was carrying. That everything else was in storage.

She got up and grabbed my pack and said "Let me help you with your house, then. Your room is ready for you."

So delightful.

My room was lovely and simple and so comfortable.

I unpacked and spent the rest of the day exploring the small town. I was dumbfounded by the Fall colors that surrounded me. The leaves had changed and were falling and against the huge backdrop of greenspace that surrounded the city walls, the canvas of orange, yellow, and red was unlike anything I had every seen in my life. And walking around the city wall (actually ON it) gave me the most impressive vantage point by which to soak it all in.

I was at completely at ease where in contrast, the energy of Firenze had put me on edge -in the most positive way, naturally.

On my second day. I met Peter and Liz while having breakfast. They were a retired British couple on a 9-day holiday in Lucca. They said that it had been years since they had been there last and talked about how lovely it was to be back. Our conversation was wonderful, and it felt very special to be there at the same time and have Lucca in common, if only for a few days.

I spent the next 5 days just walking and reading and writing and exploring Lucca. The language barrier was a bit intense, but without exception, the people I encountered were friendly and effusive.

Each day, Cristina and I would meet on the loggia around 5pm for cigarettes and coffee. She had just finished school for language (French, Spanish, and English) and was very happy to have the chance for more practice with me. We talked about the future, what we wanted for ourselves, and how important it was to have dreams and pursue them. At 25, she had an incredible amount of wisdom, and it was a gift to be in the presence of it.

One day, Peter and Liz came back from an outing and the five of us stood together on the loggia talking and laughing. I was filled with this immediate sense of comfort and familiarity and it's strength took me aback. Then I realized that if only for a moment, the five of us respresented our own small community, and it was one of those (less) rare instances where I could see with stunning clarity, how amazing and wonderful it was to simply be in the moment, the now, without concern over the next day, next hour, next minute. It was an incredibly free feeling while inherently grounded in the people I had the opportunity to share it with.

On my last night, I went out to dinner with Peter and Liz, but not before having at aperitif in their lovely room. We talked about the vernacular differences in British and American cadences, and Peter told this utterly charming and hilarious story about when he ordered a martini in Washington D.C., and the bar tendress looked at him blankly and said "Oliver Twist."

He paused and then said, "David Copperfield?"

She gave him more of her blank stare and then slowly, deliberately innunciated, "Olive or twist?"

We laughed and laughed.

Over dinner, Peter was asking me details about my travels and how my family felt about it all. I told him that my dad was so excited and that through various means, he was keeping track of where I was and researching everything that I had seen. I told him that my two aunts closest to me were also incredibly supportive, more so than I could have ever dreamed.

He asked me how my mom felt, and it was then that I shared the true reasons behind my journey and how I was given the opportunity to do it.

He looked at Liz who had grown silent. He then looked at me and said that the reason he and Liz were in Lucca was that they were making a pilgramge of sorts. The last time they had been there was with his daughter Sarah, and her two children. They were killed not long after that visit, and it was the first time Peter and Liz were ready to return to Lucca because it held such a tangible memory of her.

"What was your mother's name?"

"Lynn."

He raised his glass.

"To Sarah and Lynn. And to the pilgramage that we all share."

I tried to hold it together and saw that Peter was an unsuccessful as I was. But we held each other's eyes for that one moment and truly saw everything that we shared by being in the same place at the same time.

I will never forget Lucca.

And I will always cherish that moment of community and clarity that I was given the gift to see and feel.

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Day 44

nobody@vox.com(Felicia) — Fri, 02 Nov 2007 12:22:24 -0700

Firenze, Italy

Yesterday I was having lunch at my favorite spot, and a group of four tourists asked the waitress how to get the the Piazzale Michelangelo. She didn't know which bus to recommend, but having been there three times over the past month, I did. I shared the what and the how of the bus system in Firenze, and as I have noticed is commonplace with travelers, we shared our respective cities of origin and destinations. They were two older couples so I felt comfortable (re: safe) telling them about the extent of my travels and that I was alone.

One of the women looked at me for a good thirty seconds. Sizing me up, absorbing what I had said, and measuring a response.

"You're a brave soul."

I shrugged and kind of laughed it off. But then I kept thinking about it. Last night, this morning. Right now.

I don't feel brave. I am challenged at least once a day, if not infinitely more. But what I realized was that it hadn't even occurred to me to be afraid. Or brave, for that matter.

When I decided to take this trip, everything built it's own momentum, and while transitioning into a place where I could actually do this was strange and a little freaky, it was never difficult and being brave was never a question. And as I have mentioned before, I feel everyday as if I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing. That is an extremely heady feeling considering that in the past, it has only been a fleeting feeling...never constant the way it is now. And because it felt like the right thing to do from the very beginning, there was no need to be brave.

But what gave me pause was that all of the sudden, I thought "Oh shit. Am I missing something?" And then the more I considered it, I realized that bravery and all of it's emotional relatives are inherent in me. The whole wallet debaucle** showed me that.

I realized that by doing this alone, I have chosen a somewhat unique path. Sure, there are countless other independent travelers out there, but all the same, it is pretty nuts that I am halfway around the world from my familiars.

Then again, it isn't. I love being by myself. Despite having attacks of missing my nearest and dearest, I am not homesick or distracted by being on my own. I get to do everything my heart desires, and the solitude has allowed me to access parts of myself that I had completely neglected. There's something absolutely wonderful about that, and it lifts me up and over the tough stuff that may otherwise get me down.

**My wallet was stolen last week. I'm not sure how it happened. I noticed two hours after I was out that it was missing from my bag. The thing that really freaked me out is that I had been uber-conscious of where it was at all times, reaching into my bag every hour or so to at least wrap my hand around it. But it disappeared. So I called my credit card companies on a lark, still thinking that I had misplaced it, and it turned out that there were fraudulent charges which good ol' AmEx denied.

I had stashed extra cash, another credit card, my drivers license, and a copy of my passport, so I knew immediately that I was going to be okay and sucked it up.

The following day, I was up and out at the crack of dawn, which here in Firenze is about 8am. I decided immediately to slap a smile on my face and not flip out, that I could figure out what to do by asking questions and being dilligent and positive. I went to the Tourist Office and received information on exactly what to do, and then the process of replacing my passport just unfolded neatly before me. It was amazing and kind of wonderful.

I went to the police station to make a report, and spoke to a female detective. Too Jason's dismay, she decidedly did not look like Monica Belluci. Um, no. But she was lovely in her own right, and as soon as she saw that I was from California, she told me that she had visited San Francisco once, and then went into complete rapture about the beauty of the city. Yay for the Yay! Can't wait to live there, but more on that later.

We talked for a little while, and as she left her desk I looked around and just took in my surroundings. There were two tired, disgruntled Italian detectives sitting adjacent to me and they were shouting at one another about something I couldn't understand. Despite myself, I grinned hugely and realized that I was sitting in the midst of a slice of life that I would have never seen had this not happened.

Then my walk to the American Consulate took me along the Arno for a good stretch, and it was such a beautiful day. Windy, cool, and clear. It was kind of difficult to be upset about anything. Once I arrived, the first room that I entered was extremely crowded...think the DMV on it's worst day and then add 100 more people and about 50 degrees. I stood for a while, any dismay completely at bay. After about 5 minutes I noticed a sign that said "American Citizen Services This Way." I walked through the doors and there was no one there but me. I filled out an enormous amount of paperwork, took some photos, and in an hour I had a replacement for my passport.

It was so easy, and I can't help but think that my attitude about the whole thing helped it to be so.

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Day 39

nobody@vox.com(Felicia) — Sun, 28 Oct 2007 11:59:44 -0700

Day 39
Firenze, Italy

Okay, so on one hand I feel like I have been completely remiss in keeping up with my travel updates. But Vox is but one outlet I have chosen, and the micro-blogging aspects of Twitter and Flickr have been enough to scratch the itch and to let people know where I am and what I am doing. And it's enough so my dad doesn't worry. ;)

I arrived in Italy on September 30, and I landed in Pisa. As soon as I stepped out of the airport, smelling the diesel fuel exhaust and hearing the distant buzz of countless scooters, I felt instantly at peace with my surroundings. Having been to Italy twice before, albeit for very short visits, I was supremely comforted by even the least bit of familiarity.

Ireland was indescribably gorgeous, and definitely fit in with my expectations...somewhat. The people I encountered, while friendly, did not go out of their way in any form to initiate conversation. I know that description for my purposes emcompasses a whole country, but without exception, people were only...cordial. Of course I have to underscore that observation with the fact that I had just left all of the comforts of home behind; including my job, my apartment, my car, and of course my nearest and dearest.

Looking back, I realize that I was in shock and in a bit of a tailspin that took time to recover from. So it's safe to say that I retreated into myself greatly and probably wasn't the most approachable person. So I guess I can let Ireland off the hook, for now. :)

But then there's Italy.

*sigh*

I love Italy.

And Firenze...oh my god. I decided to spend a month here purely on whimsy. This city houses most all of the Renaissance art that I learned about in my art history classes in college, so why not? Most of the buildings, with the exception of the substantial number that Hitler blew up in WW2, were built between the 12th-17th century. The Uffizi is here, Michelangelo's David is here, Santa Croce, San Lorenzo, the Arno...need I go on?

I found an apartment on CL, and based on the few low quaility pictures that were available, I surmised that it wasn't a flophouse and sent in my deposit. When I arrived (and hiked up the incredibly steep hill with my suddenly ridiculously heavy backpack), I met the owner at the door, walked in and grinned hugely. The apartment was BEAUTIFUL! Wooden ceilings from the 16th century, brick floors, wooden cabinets and fixtures, a modern bathroom, a stove, a fridge, quaint decorative items...utter and complete perfection. And so I moved in for the next 4 weeks.

At first the number of tourists here was alarming. Everywhere I turned, there were families with cameras and backpacks moving around errantly. Now I acknowledge that I too am a tourist, and as soon as I got my bearings and settled in, I found that I was extremely comforted by all of the visitors to this city. First of all, there is almost no language barrier to contend with. And everyone, without exception, looks up instead of down when they walk. They, like me, are in absolute awe of their surroundings and it is all they can do to just take it in. It makes me grin and giggle every time I see it, which is all the time. :)

In a stroke of complete seredipity, my friend Joanne was here at the same time, and her apartment was just around the corner. We hadn't spoken beforehand, there was no coordination...we found about about each other's travel itinerary from our mutual friend Wendy. I actually had met Joanne only once before last year, when I was invited to spend Thanksgiving with Wendy and her family and friends. As with all of the people in Wendy's life, we felt instantly connected. We were also going through extremely tough years in which we had lost those closest to us. So Joanne and I had conversations while walking along the cold, beautiful, Oregon beach that instantly connected us for life.

And here she was in Firenze. You can imagine my huge delight at having someone to talk to after 12 days of virtual silence in Dublin and Mallow. Our time here overlapped for two weeks and we spent time together each day, taking in the sights and having more of those heartfelt conversations that I was sorely missing. It was lovely.

She left almost two weeks ago and I have been back on my own. At first I was a little nervous, already having flashes of more lonely solitude, but it hasn't been that way at all. She asked me to promise her that I would speak to at least one stranger a day, even if it was to just ask where the bathroom was. And I've totally taken that to heart. I've spoken to travelers and Florentines alike. I've been invited to and gone to events and places with the people I have met. And it's all been wonderful. I definitely feel like I've gotten back the spark that I thought I had lost.

Every day, I walk. I walk and walk and walk. Most of the time I only have a rough idea of where I would like to go and sometimes I stick to the plan. But there are times when I let the proverbial wind at my back push me along. I have been all over this city, and there are very few parts that I don't recognize. Of course I haven't seen everything; I've been deliberately holding back so I can see some things for the first time when I return with a love (or lust or friend or family. :) )

But I find myself moving around with more purpose than I've ever had. It's simply the pursuit of delight and wonder. It's so deliberate. Some days are better than others, of course, but I feel myself shedding layers. Only with the advantage of retrospect am I able to begin to comprehend how much I protected myself. Against getting hurt, getting close, against loss, against gain... I still have a way to go, but I am closer than I've ever been to the truest version of myself. And I am beginning to uncover exactly what it is I want from this life and how I am going to get it.

Before I go, a list:

Everyone here, regardless of their country of origin, says "Excuse Me" in Italian
Florentines have green eyes
There are 200 castles in the Tuscan countryside
Wine just tastes better here
Capcuccinos do too
Walking through museums with my iPod is one of my top 5 most favorite things in the world
Traveling with vibrant, red hair is fabulous for meeting people and for being remembered
Seeing Caravaggio's works in person made me swoon. I don't know if I've ever really swooned before. To Self: I have to do that much more often
The Arno is deliciously romantic
Firenze is alive and bustling with art students of all ages, from every country, and all walks of life.
After going to the Mercato Centrale and cooking the beautiful food I picked out, I don't know that I'll ever set foot in a "supermarket" again

More soon.

xo.

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Day 9

nobody@vox.com(Felicia) — Fri, 28 Sep 2007 06:20:53 -0700

Mallow, County Cork

Ireland

I am back at that expensive Internet cafe, but because I bought a meal they are giving me a bit of a break.

In case you were curious, I did have soup again. This time it was cream of mushroom. I've had so much soup in Ireland that I'm thinking of titling my travel memoir Adventures In Soup. If only that had a nice ring to it. ;)

The past few days have been quite eventful. I got over my hip pain and immediately went to explore as much as I could.

On Wednesday, I took a train into Cork. I had never been there and I had no map. I was only armed with the little bit that I had read in my guidebook. Once at Kent Station, not knowing where I was in proximity to the city centre, I just kind of followed the people around me in the general direction they were going. To my extreme delight, they all headed to the bus station.

As I went inside, I looked up at the big board that shows destinations and departure times and I had that first delicious moment where I realized that I could go anywhere and for any reason, based on pure whimsy. Of course I had an idea the night before that I was going to trek to Blarney. It seemed as though it would be completely remiss to be in Ireland and not go. I am so glad I did.

Blarney is located about 6km from Cork so the bus ride was very short. As I was standing in line to board, I noticed this man from Texas. How did I know he was from Texas, you ask? Well, he was completely decked out in the burnt orange regalia that is unique to the biggest state in the union. From his baseball cap to his sweatshirt to his watch...full on Texas, baby. He was an older man and was extremely robust in his manner and cadence. He too was traveling alone, and having that in common, I couldn't help but tune into his mannerisms. Unlike me, he spoke to EVERYONE. He even cast a spell on a British couple as he described the hot weather and hotter nights in east Texas. It was kind of awesome.

As we arrived in Blarney, there were many, many more Americans there to share in the experience of kissing the stone. I'll venture to say that about 85% of the people there were from the States. I found that odd, only because it didn't fit in with my expectations, but I am quickly learning that the less expectations I have about anything, the better.

The grounds surrounding the Blarney castle were staggeringly beautiful. As I made my way up the path to the castle in the distance, I walked across a creek, was adjacent to a bog, and gazed upon a beautiful, grand pasture in the distance. It felt strange and wonderful to be there by myself, and I wanted so badly to lean over to a nearest and dearest to ask if they had ever seen anything like this before in their life? I felt moments where I needed to bounce everything I was seeing off of someone else, so I could have the barometer of another's reactions to gauge my own. Not having that opportunity though, enabled something else to happen. More on that in a sec.

I climbed the extremely narrow steps up through the middle of the castle, and once at the top, I was rewarded with the most breathtaking view. Honestly, words would just not do it justice. This is a beautiful, glorious country and that view afforded me a little bit of everything I have found wonderful about Ireland.

I walked the circumference of the parapet and made my way to the spot where millions of others before me have kissed the magical stone that bestows upon them the power of eloquence. But alas, the two men working there were having tea and I had to wait a few moments while they finished.

While I was sitting with the sun on my face and the cool wind whipping through my hair, East Texas strolled up. He walked past me up to the two lunching Irishmen.

"Mind if I interrupt y'all? I want to kiss that stone."

"In a bare minute, Paddy. We're having a break. Thanks a million."

East Texas' eyes got a little big, and he turned back toward me. "I assume that's why you're waiting here, miss"

I shrugged and smiled. "I didn't want to interrupt."

Once they were finished, I was beckoned forward and told to lay on my back. (Thankfully I had also read about this in my guidebook and was somewhat mentally prepared for the ensuing awkward position.) Once I was on my back, I grabbed two metal bars fastened to the castle wall above me, and I then had to slide further backwards, so that the upper half of my body was suspended upside down, while one of the Irishmen held me around the waist. I then leaned forward and kissed the stone in front of me. (The sound of my lips smacking against the cold stone reverberated in my head for hours afterwards.)

Feeling a little giddy and even a bit more foolish (but totally not caring), I walked down more ridiculously narrow steps back to the bottom and took a walk through the woods. Once among the foliage and greenery, I had a very strange, kind of out of body experience. For a quick moment, I was able to step outside myself and see everything that was surrounding me with my body in it, and I was rocked by sheer disbelief that I was where I was at that moment. It felt honestly unreal to be there and like it was happening to someone else. I tried to connect my body that was standing there with the one that was one the outside looking in, and for a few seconds I couldn't.

It felt as if I was exactly where I was supposed to be at that exact moment, and my perception had to be knocked sideways to realize it.

It was nuts.

And fabulous.

More soon.

xo.

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Day 6

nobody@vox.com(Felicia) — Tue, 25 Sep 2007 04:19:11 -0700

Mallow, County Cork

Ireland

I'm currently paying 4 Euro/30 minutes, so this is going to be a quick post. I am in the very small town of Mallow in County Cork, Ireland. I arrived by train on Sunday afternoon after a 3 hour ride from Dublin. Being able to see the Irish countryside from the train is something I have fantasized about, particularly when I decided to start this trip in Ireland. So I was supremely overjoyed to see that the reality in no way compared to my fantasy. It was so gloriously beautiful. I have never in my life seen such a canvas of green. (I was told by the hotel concierge that commenting on the greenishness of the countryside is a very Yank thing to do. Yeah, well... ;) ) And I swear that the cows are twice as big. From munching on that luscious grass all day? I have no idea, but they were HUGE.

I am staying in a wonderful place called the Hibernian. As I have Twittered and Flickred extensively, I have an amazing window with a seat that overlooks the main street in town. I have already spent many hours in this window watching the local townsfolk. I have been still and reflective, and I realized that for the first time in a long time, I am quiet. Within and throughout, there is virtually no noise distracting me from the current-ness of my life. (Obviously I feel like making up words today. :) ) Once I recognized the feeling for what it was, instead of confusing it with emptiness, I relaxed and settled into it.

One quick caveat that should be noted; I have been absolutely sidelined by icky and irritating hip pain. I've decided that it is the combination of walking close to 20 miles over the time I was in Dublin with the utter, perfect dampness of the weather here. So feeling particularly introspective comes with the territory.

I have yet to have more conversations with others, but it is definitely getting easier. I am not feeling hopeless about it, but rather hopeful. It's only a matter of time before I get to talk someone's face off about everything that I have done and seen.

More soon.

xo.

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