exploration...

Today I got my first nosebleed of the week. Heck yes, I'm in the desert.

Yesterday was a day of exploration in more than one sense. I began the day by going on a beautiful hike with my new friend Liz. We took the Atalaya Trail. It begins here at St. John's College and ascends about 3 miles into the desert mountains. I cannot describe how incredibly beautiful the landscape is here. What struck me the most was the amount of life that thrives in this environment. We saw lizards and birds and rabbits all along the trail. If you look closely in the picture above you can see a lizard that blends in with the tree.

After returning from the hike, I decided it would be a good idea to drive up to Chimayo, an old New Mexico village about 30 miles north of Santa Fe. Everyone has been talking about how beautiful it is and how I must go see the church there while I am here. So, I punched in the address in my trusty GPS (which I borrowed from my sister for the week) and set off on my journey. At some point I made a wrong turn and the GPS began to "recalculate." Before I knew it I was twisting down red dirt roads around the edge of red rock mesa cliffs. There was no sign of civilisation in sight. Just when I decided to abandon my fruitless search for Chimayo the GPS battery died. So I was lost in the middle of the desert (literally) with no cell phone signal, no directions, and no clue how to get home. I finally found a paved road again, called home and got some spontaneous "map quest" directions to point me towards Santa Fe. It was frustrating at the time, but in hindsight, I probably got to see some of the most beautiful part of New Mexico completely by accident.

(This is a picture of the desert I got lost in. This photo doesn't do it justice.)

I had lunch at the Blue Corn Cafe (recommended by Joy) and visited the Georgia O'Keeffe Museum in the afternoon. Last night I continued my exploration by delving into the wells of songwriting that have yet to be tapped. Eva, Ben and I finished our song and really had fun jamming. We perform tomorrow morning for the class. I'm a little nervous, but I am really proud of our song. I'll post the lyrics tomorrow.

Its hard to believe the week is almost over. I've really made some great friends here. Its cool when you can admit that you read Shakespeare plays aloud for fun in your spare time, and nobody looks at you like you're a freak. In fact, they all nod and say, "Yeah, I love doing that." We're all such nerds, but I like being in the company of like minds.

Absence Makes the Blog Grow Fonder...

Well party people, after a bit of a hiatus from blogging, I'm finally back. I found it ironically fitting that I should re-christen my blog by posting on the eve of my departure to Santa Fe, New Mexico for a week of creative muscle flexing. For those of you who do not already know about my adventure, get ready to be jealous. I'm attending the Glen Workshop where I get to learn about writing and music with Over the Rhine, as well as mingle with other writers, artists and musicians for 7 solid days.

Nelly and Brittany have insisted that I LIVE-BLOG this week, so I will do my best to keep up a daily report (with pictures) of all my goings-on and whether or not Linford, Karin and I are BFF yet. :)

In all seriousness though, I am thoroughly looking forward to this vacation. I've been so overwhelmed with work and life the last few months that I've run myself into the ground. I'm praying that this week will be a time to recharge my batteries -- physically, spiritually, emotionally and creatively. I'd covet your prayers as well for these things. Perhaps when I return I won't neglect my blog or my writing as much. Maybe I will follow Nelly's example and get my blog a new dress when I get back. Maybe she'd like a sassy southwestern outfit from Santa Fe.

Now, I really must be going. My ride for the airport leaves at 5 A.M. tomorrow morning and I haven't started packing yet. :)

(Photo by Rainer Ebert)

Video Blog: Autumn Walk in New England

Here is my first attempt at video blogging. It has been an experiment of sorts, but I am very happy with the results. This is a two and a half minute version of the walk I took every morning during my visit in New England. :)

Many thanks to Nelly for her tips and inspiriation.

Muchas Gracias to Brittany for so graciously providing me with her Monday night, her mad computer skills, and her Macbook. (note to Santa: I would really like one of these one day!)

Welcome to New England

[POST SCRIPT: For some reason the formatting on the shape of my poem is all messed up and I can't get it fixed. So, it doesn't exactly read the same as it does on paper. Just a heads up. ]

I am waiting in the Atlanta airport for my flight back to Greenville after an amazing weekend in New Haven, CT. I thought about writing a narrative blog about it, but I wrote a poem on the plane instead. I think (and hope) it communicates my weekend well.

I call it, "Welcome to New England."

Where d’ya go to school? Looks like
YALE.
Nope. Just visiting. It’s beautiful this time
of year.

First,

North Haven,

then

New Haven.
So many towns;

they all run together.

Piles of leaves in the most vibrant

COLORS:

burning red

golden yellow
always moving
by foot, wheel, or wind.
Orange and brown

even some green;
Let’s go jump in them.

That looks like

fun.

No, let’s keep walking. It’s only a mile.
Up the hill, then down. Over the bridge,
then left. There’s Old Campus, over there’s
Central. The bells are ringing at
Christ Church Episcopal.

Down on Grove Street
we cast our shadows on
broken tombstones.
This is a good place to sit
and read.

“Here lies Nathan Beers
who was born at Stratford. His life was
RESPECTABLE. He received
a mortal wound
from a party of British troops
in his own home in 1779
when he
departed this life.”

Countless courtyards made of old stone,
some were made with
very old stone. Gothic arches with
iron gates;

The essentials here: books and coffee,
don’t forget about Dunkin Donuts
and subsidized beer.

I like Atticus. Serving millions
of scones since 1981.

It’s the Ivy League rivalry.
“Are you all set?”
I got a new scarf.
White and navy stripes
and a blue foam finger;

Sing “Boolah-Boo! BOO! BOO!
Harvard sucks and
Princeton doesn’t matter!”

Never compromise your work and
don’t walk alone
on the green in the dark. You could
get SHOT.
There’s a bitter chill while
waiting for the bus.

School on Monday;
“Are you all set?”
Welcome to New England.
You can see everything from here.

Coming Soon: Video blog of this weekend as soon as I can find a Macintosh.
(Photos of New Haven red maple tree and our shadows in the Grove Street Cemetery)

renaissance carnies

(photo from www.craigsminstrel.com)

I went to North Carolina this weekend to visit my friend Mary. We were debating on what to do on Saturday, and since the local Renaissance Festival was going on we decided to go check it out. A renaissance festival is a good choice for a saturday if you want to do some seriously hilarious and sometimes frightening people watching. :)

I've been to carnivals and fairs before and I've seen some weird looking people. But the carnies at this place really added a whole new spin on kooky. The picture above is very tame, because I wanted to keep this blog G rated. I saw more exposed body parts, tight pants, open shirts, and just plain freaky looking people than I've seen in one place in a long time! It was really funny to think that there are some people who dress up like this voluntarily. (And then create websites to advertise themselves. Hence, the picture above) There was one man wearing skin tight crushed velvet pants, an open ruffly shirt and a robin-hoodish-like hat with feathers in it twirling ribbons and juggling. I wandered around thinking, how do you end up doing this job? I mean, I wonder are there really kids in the world who think, "When I grow up I want to be a professional ribbon twirler/juggler at the renaissance festival." I don't get it. What's worse though are the so called "normal" people who do not work at the festival, but actually buy these costumes and wear them around as if its the latest fashion! To each his own I guess...

I also had one of those love/hate experiences with a giant turkey leg at the renaissance festival. Yes, they were selling giant turkey legs, and corn on the cob and sausage on a stick. Although I am on a diet, they smelled really good so we thought, "when in Rome..."

Yeah, that great tasting turkey leg took about 15 minutes to start assaulting my innards. I felt uncomfortably full all day and probably should have taken some pepto-bismal. To my dismay, at 2am Sunday morning my stomach decided it was ready to kick some turkey leg out of my body. And, yes, I was painfully ill in the night. It wasn't until Sunday at church when I took communion that my insides starting feeling better.

Perhaps this physical affliction was God's way of reminding me that feasting on the world is sickening whereas feasting on Him is healing.

The Itch

Sometimes I wonder when the itch began. It might have begun the first time my Uncle sent me a chocolate egg from a faraway place for my birthday. I can still remember how exciting it was each year to get another package from across the sea. I would curiously open the tiny treasures wrapped up inside a brown cardboard box, hoping that it would be a chocolate Kinder-egg from Germany! The outside of the egg was made of milk chocolate and the inside of the egg was made of white chocolate. And if you opened it just right it would split down the middle in a perfect line to reveal the secret prize hidden inside the hollow center of the egg. Sometimes it would be an action figure of one sort or another, other times it would be a car or a train. But my favorites were the puzzles. A puzzle prize meant that you didn’t just get one thing out of your egg, but many! The fun never seemed to end as I would meticulously attempt to assemble all the tiny pieces into some new unique gadget. I suppose my little collection of Kinder-egg toys began to form a connection to the outside world in my mind; the world of the unknown, the adventurous, and exciting.

It is possible though, that the itch began much earlier. I can remember flipping through the dusty pages of old National Geographic magazines in our garage as a child. I used to tear out the fold-up posters of jungles, or cities, or wild animals and pin them on the walls in my room. By the time I was in 6th grade there was hardly any space to fit the new posters of Luke Perry or Jonathan Brandis on my wall!

But if that didn’t start the itch, it certainly set in when my Mom and Dad flew away on a trip to Europe to visit my Uncle. I still remember that day at the airport. I was eleven years old and I was being sent to spend 3 weeks of my summer in Aiken with my grandparents, and heaven forbid, with my little sister! Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely loved those summer weeks when I got to be at Grandmamma and Granddaddy’s house. Those weeks would be full of digging in the garden with Granddaddy, catching lightning bugs in a jar at night, making my Grandmother’s coffee in the morning, watching nickelodeon in the afternoon while snapping a big pan of green beans on the couch, or picking purple Four O’clock’s and stringing them on a piece of straw from the broomstick to make a necklace. Those hot summer days at Grandmama’s house will always have a special and sacred place in my memory. But I can still remember that day in the airport, watching my parents’ plane speed down the runway, lift into the air and grow smaller and smaller as it flew further and further away. I can still remember the overwhelming agony of knowing that I was going to be missing the summer of a lifetime; a summer of travel and adventure.

Perhaps moments like these were the small stepping stones that led me here. Some days I still wake up and pinch myself because it seems so unreal that I live in Europe. No adventure is too outlandish for my thinking anymore it seems. Want to drive to Italy? No problem! How about a week in Portugal? Stop over in Spain? I’ve now got friends in India, Australia, South Africa and Brazil, just to name a few. It’s incredible really, when you think about it. Who would have thought that a simple girl from a small town in South Carolina would end up where I am?

And yet, there are days, like today, when I can’t help but wonder why I find myself longing for a place that I spent so many years yearning to leave. Not too long ago I felt as though I had found a new home here in Europe; a community, a family, a new way of life. I felt as though it really fit. Now, I’ve come to another crossroad in my life, a crossroad where I have to decide which direction to go next. I suppose it is this very thing that has caused me to reflect on the life journey that has brought me here thus far. So I bought a ticket. A ticket that will fly me far, far away to a place my heart knows as home. I can already smell the thick fragrance of Tea Olive flowers wafting through the hot sticky air of South Carolina…and I’m itching for a new adventure! Sometimes I think I was born with the itch.