…Back there it is so difficult and desperately important to find a reason for staying alive. How else should a person go on living? Sheer misery makes one profound. But here there are no problems, mere thinking becomes a game, existence needs no justification. A person discovers: the world is beautiful, and life is brief. -Herman Hesse
Continue reading “Janglin’”
Develop an interest in life as you see it; the people, things, literature, music- the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls, and interesting people. Forget yourself. -Henry Miller
Continue reading “Thin Line”
Yosemite is such a flirt! Views for days, meadows that glow gold, plunging waterfalls. It had been awhile since my last visit to the park, yet I still had that fluttery feeling in my stomach while driving in, proving once again just how easy it is to fall in love with places, and that true love can last a lifetime.
Continue reading “La Belle Fleur Sauvage”
To make living itself an art, that is the goal. – Henry Miller
Now I know why many men have stopped and wept/ Halfway between the loves they leave and seek/ And wondered if travel leads them anywhere… -Leonard Cohen, Stranger Music
Welcome to Iceland, There is no sunlight, You are on fire, A demon takes your face… Come to Iceland, And give us your eyes.
I sang that song a lot during my week in Iceland, much to the bemusement of my two road trip companions. Iceland was everything I had hoped and dreamed it would be- which is to say slightly strange and strikingly beautiful. I had extended my layover in Iceland months before, but aside from Google-imaging ‘Iceland’ and ‘northern lights’, had done very little actual travel planning up until a few days before I was set to leave. Luckily through Couchsurfing I connected with a Norwegian gal who was about my age and a travel baby from France, and we decided to split the cost of a rental car to road trip north along the Ring Road for a week. I will try my best throughout the rest of this post to remember/ not butcher the names of places we visited, but a few months have already passed and one of the hostels we stayed at was called Grund í Grundarfirdi,Grundarfjordur, so no promises.
In keeping with tradition, I instantly had it bad for Portugal. After only a few hours of aimlessly exploring Lisbon’s narrow, hilly streets, I was head over heels. I had no real agenda during my three days in Lisbon, and so spent the first following my whims, which largely amounted to chasing whatever music I heard. This led me to dim cafes where acoustic guitars strummed soulful fado, and the sounds of a clarinet performing a bluesy version of “Mr Sandman” led me to the top of a hill with a huge castle and a view of the entire city. Around every corner I found something new to charm or surprise me, and there was a timeless quality to the city, as if nothing had changed in 500 years except for the street art, serving to bring the buildings reluctantly into the present.
I was told early on that the Camino de Santiago has three stages: physical, mental and spiritual. When I last wrote I was squarely in the middle of the mental- no longer under bodily duress but tired of the routine, of Spanish food, of the nightly snoring and farting keeping me awake every night. I began walking the Primitivo route from Oviedo on the first day back to school, a chill of autumn in the morning air, and it was from there on that strange things began happening. I would cruise for hours in a state of euphoria, totally blissed out. Changing the lyrics from Enrique Iglesias’ summer jam ‘Bailando’ to ‘Santiago,’ I convinced anyone I could to sing with me, and when alone serenaded the birds at full volume. I found myself crying at the sunrises, overwhelmed by the beauty found in every direction. Sometimes the wind would blow through the eucalyptus or pines just so, making them appear to bow as I was passing by… and I would bow back.
Oh, well hello! I really did have grand plans to write about all of the wonderful things that happened in August: my friend´s magical wedding in a little town straight out of Beauty and the Beast, wine tasting in Bordeaux, climbing the Dune du Pilat in Arcachon, revisiting my old study abroad haunts in Paris, and discovering that bohemia still exists in Berlin. Hopefully at some point I still will. However, even with ample time to relax in Toulouse, the hours somehow slipped away and I now have been walking as a pilgrim on the Camino de Santiago for 21 days.
Long layover in my favorite place in the world.
Berlin! Berlinberlinberlin. While waxing poetic about my visit to my mom, she pointed out just how easily I seem to fall in love with cities or places. I can’t deny that she has a point, but guys, Berlin really is the bees knees. Instantly the hippest spot I’d ever been, I was thrilled to find a modern day bohemia still in existence, and I will try to do it justice despite writing about it so belatedly.
Taking the Long Way 