Mid-Journey

  Admittedly, I'm feeling a bit guilty for my lack of blogging. But I'm happy to report that there is a valid reason for my lapse....that I've been traveling so much that I haven't had a spare moment to write.
 When I dreamt up this journey I wrote out my large goal of seeing 9 cities in one year, but my crazy adventure has lead me on to double that. Since January I've been in Los Angeles, D.C. (twice), Asheville, London and Lincoln (England), Horten and Oslo (Norway), New York, Miami, and Minneapolis and West Union (Iowa) in a few weeks.
 I've melted into a lifestyle that I could only have imagined a shadow of on the front end. At this very moment I should be packing my bag for a flight tomorrow, but inspiration always strikes at the most inconvenient times.
 My largest observation is not so much regarding travel, but regarding the dream. Six months in, I'm starting to see that maybe I dreamt too small. But there was no way to know that until I did the one thing that was in my heart. I've been opened to so many spaces, foods, languages, people, and instead of quenching desire, it has inflamed it. Very quickly I've learned to sleep anywhere, put anything in my mouth, and that with even the best planning, you can end up on a train platform in the middle nowhere....in a different country. Oh, and that it's absolutely essential to have an excellent sense of humor when traveling, knowing that it will at least make a good story in the end. There is big world to see, and I fully intend on seeing as much of it as I possibly can in one lifetime.
 It's so easy to envision success in America as owning a house, car, husband, child, and dog. This "ideal" has always made me uncomfortable, but I assumed one day I would wake up and want those things. I mean, I could definitely go for a sexy car, but the rest is a juxtaposition to my innate need to be wild and free.
 In 2011 it's amazing to me to imagine that my community of friends does not actually have to live in the same place. With the variety of technology from facebook to airplane rides, I'm minutes away from connection with another human being. Sometimes it's quicker to hop on flight than it is to sit in traffic. I've mostly enjoyed the concentrated time I've been able to spend with people, being 100% present because I don't have the distraction of a job, bills, and emails. And it's challenged me to reframe my priorities when I'm back in the city where I currently reside. I'm redefining success. Who knew the simplicity of a life out of backpack could be so exponentially fulfilling?!
 So I may or may not get to the rest of this blog, because I have truly run away. Ahead is Montreal, Miami, New Orleans, Amsterdam, Nuremberg, Stockholm, and whatever else pops up this year. I'm open. And I hope to meet you there!

p.s. I am working on a flickr page to share photos, since a picture is worth a thousand words....

A Departure and a Return

   "Here was peace. She pulled in her horizon like a great fish-net. Pulled it from around the waist of the

    world and draped it over her shoulder. So much of life in its meshes! She called in her soul to come

    and see."    Zora Neale Hurston  -Their Eyes Were Watching God

  On January 8th, 2011 I left on my first "official" trip of my year of travel. Since I devised the adventure of Runaway Marie in Los Angeles, I thought it appropriate to make the city stop number one. 

  Whenever I travel I always have some sort of expectation for what the trip will hold. Somewhere in the back of my mind I guess I thought that departing on this journey was like a train leaving the station. My past behind me, I set out to discover the big, wide world. Some newness I have never known.  I was completely blindsided by what actually happened. 

  Los Angeles is one of those places that people have a definite idea about, and like black licorice, they either love it or hate it. From most everyone's expressed opinions, the city has awful traffic, even worse smog, and the citizens of the city are superficial. And I suppose depending on one's vantage point, those things are all true. But what I discovered was place flooded with dreamers. This is where the movies are made, where all things are possible, even if only in pictures. It seemed that everyone I spoke with carried this hope with them for something bigger out of life. Dare I say childlike faith. For some, Los Angeles is the city of broken dreams, but for me, it was the city of angels. 

  Never have I encountered so many people who are willing to drive straight for the heart in conversation. Even though I spent time enjoying the city's beaches, canyons, museums, and amazing food, the thing that will stick with me were all the words spoken. I am so grateful to have connected with so many old friends, one who I have not seen in twelve years, with whom time and distance did not diminish a thing. 

  It's difficult to find words for this blog to express something that took place in my soul, so I won't say much. But what I can say is that in this "departure" I was overwhelmed with a sense of returning. I think I had forgotten myself for a very long time, which was the true departure. And it took a bunch of people from my past to remind me that once I used to live like a dreamer....and I had really big dreams! This was the surprise. That maybe Runaway Marie is actually about coming home.

LACMA

  Special thanks to Brooke, Marion, Eric, Jonathan, Ryan, Deanna, and Jamal. Much food and many words were shared!

  

Identity Crisis on the MTA

    Riding the train from Queens to Manhattan is comparable to a time machine. Except maybe it's a context machine. I think I experienced a minor identity crisis as I shuttled from one stop to the next, the population shifting with each MTA station. Psychologists say that humans have a need to belong; it's why we join clubs, churches, and gangs. For better or for worse, I exhibit that need to "fit in". So when the train kept chugging along it didn't leave time to make a costume change. In Queens I was the overdressed, trendy girl in a sea of blue collar laborers. In Williamsburg I was the conservative girl next to the overdressed, trendy hipsters. And in Manhattan I was the blue collar girl in car full of conservative businessmen.
    Maybe it was a crisis, or maybe a simple lesson in self confidence. Regardless of the context, we are who we are. Our uniqueness as individuals is what makes us all the same.

Prelude: One day in Boston

 With another trip planned for this weekend, I figured today is the day to start blogging about the five cities I've been in the past three months! When I dreamt up this crazy adventure I knew it would rearrange my life to a certain extent, but I never could have guessed that in only a matter of weeks a new rhythm has taken over. For starters, in order to fund this year I made a few conscious changes to daily living, the most substantial being moving in with two roommates and opting for homemade coffee over the latte at the shop. In regards to running away, I assumed that spending so much time away from home would make me less present, but in fact, traveling so frequently has had quite the opposite effect! The curiosity I embrace on the road has melted into my everyday living, from the opportunities I say "yes" to, to the conversations I strike up with strangers. It's a wonderful report card to bring back after such a small amount of time! But before I get ahead of myself, let me rewind back to November.....
  An opportunity came up to spend Thanksgiving in Boston, and even though my original plan was to officially start my blog in the new year, I decided to make this trip as a trial run. And after my friend Anne gave me a heads up about the $15 Fung Wa bus to New York City, I added the Big Apple to my agenda.
  On Thanksgiving day I landed in Boston and immediately hopped on the train to my friend Mary's in order to start cooking for dinner. Having not lived in a city where the majority of people take public transportation, the subway system is something that never ceases to amaze me. And this day in particular the trains were full of people holding casserole dishes! I saw the same thing a few weeks later in Washington DC on Super Bowl Sunday. Such a little thing but it stands out in my mind and makes me giggle every time.

The plan was to celebrate with a few of Mary's neighbors and I was to bake the pumpkin bread. This turned out to be quite a situation as there was no pumpkin, only squash, and no proper bread pan. Yanina, Mary's friend from school, and I put our brains together and managed to pull it off with quite a few laughs. Michael, the neighbor, loaned us a pan he kept ice in from his freezer, and we found a muffin tin. What resulted was some sort of coriander, anise, and random spices from the cupboard squash bread that I will never be able to reproduce, but was exceptionally good.                                       

  We made our way over to Michael's condo,  which was freshly renovated after the place had been destroyed by a fish tank that caught fire. He cooked the most incredible turkey and his mother's          

apple pie recipe. I have to say, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, and this one took the cake. I can't put words to it, but there was something unique about gathering with a group of people I'd never met to share a meal and say thanks, like communion in the truest sense of the word. 

   The next morning was an early rise to commute to South Station to catch the Fung Wa bus to Chinatown in New York City. While waiting for a my train to the bus station, a local on the way to work shared his umbrella as it had started to rain, and spoke to me about a recent trip up to ski in Vermont. This gave rise to two thoughts. One, in the future it would behoove me to carry better gear for the elements. Two, is there an intentional act I
do that will increase the chance of me interacting
with the neighborhood while on the road?  Like something as simple as bright red nail polish which has frequently engaged me in conversation with women everywhere? It was food for thought.        

    This trip taught me to ease up on my overzealous

need to hear everyone's story. When I boarded the 

bus I mistakenly assumed that I would be surrounded by Chinese Americans, which was how it was ten years ago when my friend rode. Instead the bus was filled with hipsters and the man who sat next to me spoke on his phone the entire four hour drive.....in Spanish. So I took the opportunity to rest, enjoy my one holiday tradition of listening to Handel's Messiah in it's entirety, and wait for the Manhattan skyline to rise in front of me.