Monaco

There are those who come to the south of France to take in the Provencal air, relax into the daily rhythms of the gentle country and sip wine at the cafe from early in the afternoon to late into the balmy night. And then there's me and Elly. We are more apt to see the south of France as ideally situated for seeing a new country every day of the week. Case in point: we decided to go to Monaco last week. It is, after all, only a two hour car ride from Aix-en-Provence, and that Grace Kelly mystique was wafting its siren call to us. So we suited up in our finest (nothing says class and elegance like a faux-tuxedo dress and a silver lame skirt) and took off to the nearest foreign country.

Here's some fun facts about Monaco:

1. The entire country is 3/4 of a square mile
2. One of Europe's most eligible bachelors is the Prince of Monaco, Prince Albert II. He is 52, unmarried and openly speaks about his two illegitimate children (which kind of makes them legitimate, huh?).
3. One of Monaco's greatest legacies is marine conservation advocacy; the country houses the famous Jacques Cousteau Oceanographical Museum

Elly and I played a little game on the drive of holding our breath and making wishes through the tunnels. At first the wishes were kind of modest ("I wish that we win $200 at the casino"), but after the 5th or 6th tunnel we started to get more ambitious. It also could be attributed to the dire lack of oxygen to our brains. Elly's final wish was that we be invited onto a fancy yacht for a weekend cruise to Corsica. We definitely were dressed for such an occasion.

We rolled into Monaco in the early afternoon, had a nice lunch overlooking the bay and then took a stroll around. To our delight, the Grand Prix de Monaco was beginning the next day and so we got to peek at some of the historic cars that would race the following day.

We then wandered around the harbour, looking at all the gigantic yachts and futilely looking for a friend of Elly's who happens to be first mate for a yacht docked there (no luck...apparently asking for a blonde Kiwi named Dave didn't narrow it down enough). But we did see the most darling little chain of kiddie sailing boats launching into the water for a lesson, all their perky, tiny sails bobbing along in a daisy chain. It must be idyllic to grow up in such a small and perfect country.

Eventually we found our way to the marine museum and were treated to a nice mixture of really cool skeletons, formaldehyde remains, aquariums with exotic fish and truly horrendous artwork. It was first class entertainment. The view from the top of the museum was stunning...you could supposedly see all the way to Italy, but it was a bit cloudy. Who can tell anyway without the border drawn onto the countryside?

We also stopped by the famous Monte Carlo Casino, but all the gaming tables were expensive and the slot machines just looked chinsy. We opted instead for a cocktail at the Hotel du Paris across the street. I had a lovely mixture called a snowfall martini; it was a creamy vodka blend with maple syrup and vanilla. Elly had a champagne cocktail and we partook of some first class people-watching while having a really enjoyable conversation about plastic surgery and Botox, inspired by our fellow diners.

I'm really hoping that we'll be able to hit at least a few more countries while we're here. Monaco just didn't feel very substantial after all that driving.

Provence

I'm in a bit of a hurry, but wanted to just post something quick about my first week. I arrived in Aix-en-Provence on Monday (my new home base for the next couple of months. It is lovely and picturesque and charming. There are perfect markets every other day in the squares with delicious cheese and bread and charcuterie of every type imaginable. There are cafes full of beautiful people and shops of elegant European clothes everywhere. Exactly what you'd expect from the elegant south of France.

Elly and I are of course running around like frantic Americannes wanting to see and do everything in the area. My second day here we went to Marseilles to see the Notre Dame cathedral. It sits on the tallest cliff in the town of Marseilles, guarding the harbor and residents. It is beautifully restored and maintained. We lit candles and I prayed for just one moment of perfect clarity during my time here.

More adventures to follow soon!

The Volcano Period

I went to Exploratorium in San Francisco last week and they had this amazing demonstration.  It was a plate of sand and when you turned a nozzle at the bottom, a stream of air started to flow into the plate.  For a while, the pressure just built at the bottom, making a little air bubble.  But then it built up so much that it broke through and the air started to come up through the sand.  It looked like a volcano, and it was amazing.  Under pressure.

Just wanted to point out a strange theme: the last year of my life has been characterized mainly by volcanos: emotional poo-canos, six months living on an active volcano in Hawaii and now my newest adventure being shut down by an Icelandic volcano.  Maybe Freud would say that I need to come to terms with own inner explosiveness or something.  Or maybe I was a volcano goddess in a past life.

This is one of my favorite photos from the batch I got developed this week.  The arrows and the colors and everything just make me happy.  When I look at it, it reminds me of some x-rays that I used to have up on the wall.  I like to image that is it an x-ray of my feelings: red and volatile and moving forward.

Travel Update

I have spent a huge amount of time waiting to speak to someone this week.  Because of these volcanic interruptions, I have had to hunt down my airlines to find out what the hell is going on with my flights.  But let's start at the beginning.

Saturday: I get a call from my father to wish me happy birthday and check in before my flight.  He tells me there is a volcano in Iceland that is keeping all the flights in Europe on the ground.  I think "WTF?" and call my airline, Jet Airways (not to be confused with Jet Blue), an Indian company and the cheapest way to get into Europe these days.  I speak to someone who tells me that, yes, some flights are grounded, but mine is not until Monday evening and this definitely should all be cleared up by then.  So I get on my flight to New York on Sunday morning, confident that I will be arriving in Marseilles Tuesday morning.

Sunday:  I fly from San Francisco to NYC to see my sister and take a connecting flight to France the next day.  We eat amazing food at Dinosaur BBQ in Harlem, have a lovely chat during dinner and I go to bed happy and assured that tomorrow my next adventure begins.

Monday: I wake up and book my shuttle to the New Jersey airport (it's a really long way from Harlem and my suitcase is disgustingly heavy).  I decide to call Jet Airways again, just to check and make sure everything is running smooth before I get there for my flight.  I wait on hold for an hour and a half.  Finally someone picks up the phone, but the connection is horrible and all I can hear is something about how flights are now being re-routed through Athens.  Then the line cuts out.  I think, "Well at least I can get over there," and try the number again.  FOUR HOURS LATER, I still have not had an intelligible conversation with a human being.  

During this purgatory of waiting I also get an email from my shuttle company saying that I cancelled my reservation and would I mind filling out a customer satisfaction survey? So I call the shuttle company and say, "What the hell?"  They tell me that the price quoted on the website was wrong so the computer automatically cancelled my reservation.  At this point, the company was fully booked.  They gave me the number for another shuttle service.  Great.  I book the other, more expensive shuttle service.  

As far as my flight is concerned, I decide to that all I can do at this point is go down to the airport and see what's what.  (I still have not talked to a human being.)  So my shuttle arrives, I lug my huge suitcase into the back of the van and settle in for the long ride to Jersey.  I travel exactly one block and my phone rings.  It's Jet Airways calling to tell me that my flight has been cancelled.  I wonder at the huge irony of this.  I have just spent $28 to go exactly one block on the shuttle, spent 5 1/2 hours on hold with this airline and two minutes before locked my sister's keys in her apartment.  Now I am stuck on a sidewalk in Harlem with a ginormous suitcase, no flight and a shuttle that is of absolutely zero use to me.  And, Marilyn from Jet Airways informs me, they have no idea when the flight will be rescheduled.  Maybe Thursday. 

Today: Jet Airways is now more than willing to fly me to Brussels.  Alas, dear Jenny, this is but one leg of your flight to cheese heaven.  Air Brussels (which is supposed to take me from Brussels to Marseilles) is being a real snatch-ho about getting me to France.  I called their customer service line about my great news ("Hey guys, I can be in Brussels tomorrow morning!") and those damn Belgians gave me the slap down; "Miss, this is a volcano.  We have no control over it and cannot tell you when we will be operating the flight into Marseilles (insert grating, condescending Belgian accent here)."  Me: "Can you guess?"  Snatch-ho: "We do not try to guess when it concerns the whims of nature."  Me: "So are you gonna call me when I can fly out?"  Snatch-ho: "No, there are too many passengers for us to call each one.  Check the website each day.  Pray that the Icelandic volcano god relents."

I'm thinking about sacrificing a seal.

Starting Again

I finally got around to having some film developed.   My sister gave me a Diana F--the type of camera that actually takes film...that you actually have to get developed.  Unlike most things these days, it's a process where there's a gap between the exposure and seeing the image you've created.  Isn't that a tempting metaphor?

I took all of my film in to be developed at once and it certainly had been accumulating.  There were five rolls of film, some of which I honestly could not remember taking.  So I get this grip of images and all I know for sure is that they were taken some time in the last year, they must have been of something I thought was important, and obviously I was present at that particular moment of light.

I just turned 29 this week.  My 28th year didn't treat me so kind, so I'm getting a little philosophical this birthday.  I'm starting to comb through the strands of my thoughts and trying to find some wisps of insight, some clues to keep 29 from repeating the mistakes of 28.  But I'm finding it just as difficult as putting a place and time to these rather abstract images.

I keep looking at these pictures and wondering where I was when I took them and what I was thinking and who I was with.  And, more importantly, what can I learn from them so that 29 is a happy year for me?

All these question seem particularly important since I am starting this year much like the last one.  Last year I began a year of journeying by coming to New York, doing a visiting tour of my family and friends, and then taking off for an indeterminate amount of time on an agricultural adventure.  So it was for year number 28 and so it shall be for number 29.  I really do not want to be just a skipping record.

The journey is experiencing some delays, however.  The plan: fly to France to stay at some farms and learn how to make goat cheese.  Last year I crossed the Pacific, this year I cross the Atlantic.  There's just one little snag: a pesky volcano in Iceland is keeping me USA-bound and I'm here in limbo, with too many strange pictures and too many questions.  As my friend Lu put it, I've got a little dust in my wings and its keeping me from taking off.  So here I sit to think and wait and, after 3 long months, take up this blog to untangle my thoughts.

Growing Up

I've been on these here islands for six months now and am preparing to leave in just two short days. My time here has been exactly what I needed and nothing that I had expected. For one glorious half-year I have not needed to worry about work, bills, relationships or much of anything other than how to get my tomatoes to ripen and how many beers to drink at the beach. Talk about relaxation therapy. So now I'm headed back to the hustle and bustle of the mainland, or as I have been referring to it in my head, the real world. I will need to find gainful employment, rent a house, pay bills and enter once more into the rat-race of life. I am both ready and anxious.

To soothe my worried soul, I've been spending a little more time in the garden lately than usual and find that it calms me more than ever. I have grown things with my hands. My attention to detail and delight in small things has expanded by caring for these little seedlings and noticing their changes day by day. And as I look back, I realize that I have helped to create something beautiful and big in my time here. When I arrived at the retreat that has become my home, there was just some dirt and myself. I was the first WWOOFer here and I have helped to create both a beautiful garden and a volunteer program to sustain it. I wanted to share these pictures of my daily work area both to remind myself of how far I've come and to show all of you the beautiful place that I have spent my days these past months.

August 2009

January 2010

Saturn Says...

I opened by in-box the other day and found a custom 28 page Saturn Return chart. My brain kind of froze for a couple of days trying to process that massive download of information, thus the lag in posting. Like most astrological literature, it's open to wildly different interpretations. So, in the cavalier spirit which caused me to order a personalized star chart, I here offer my own completely biased interpretation of my Saturn Return chart, selecting only the portions I find to be entertaining and relevant:

1. The first thing listed on my chart (so I'm going out on a limb and interpreting that its the most important) is that I was born with Saturn in Libra. According to the Saturn Sisters, this means that partnership is my life's highest ambition. Since Libra is the sign of justice, and justice is about balancing things (ala Lady Justice with her golden scales), finding harmony and balance in relationships is my biggest life lesson. The chart also talks about how the partnership I'm to be seeking is not some flash-in-the-pan kind of affair, but a long, committed, life-time partnership. Oh Saturn, you know that's what I've been trying to find, but it has eluded me thus far! And as a side note, (and to my great delight) my chart includes a quote from Beyonce: "If you like it you shoulda put a ring on it." This addition really boosted my confidence in the Saturn Sisters, not because this quote's relevance to my life (putting a ring on it never worked out that well for me), but because anyone who can combine sultry hip hop stars and astrology is okay in my book. Here I remind you of how very important a liberal interpretation is when perusing astrological literature.
   
2. The second aspect of my chart shows that Saturn is in the sixth house (of what and of how many I do not know...just go with it). Apparently this means that I have a great need for solitude, perfection and order, which seems like it's directly opposed to my greatest ambition, partnership. No wonder everything is so hard! But there is some advice here. The way to overcome this dilemma is to devote myself to sincere and humble service. Not a bad way to approach lifetime partnership. The sisters also tell me that with Saturn in this house, I am prone to neurosis and stress if I don't keep my life very simple and unrestricted. (Yet another reason to travel and be unemployed...I'm so much less neurotic when my life is carefree and simple!) Not sure how to balance that with partnership, but I guess I'll figure that out before I'm 30.
   

So these are my big life lessons, what the stars have conspired to teach me in this lifetime. And Saturn is returning to my house to make sure that I learn it, or so say the Saturn Sisters. I've been thinking on that for a couple of days, these lessons that I'm to learn and, perhaps its just my own interpretation, but this really does seem to have been the major struggle in my life: balancing my need for partnership with my need for solitude. I can't say that I've found any kind of workable solution thus far. Here's the cycle I have tried: be in partnership, be driven crazy by it, retreat to my corner, get lonely, find a new partner and start all over again. Maybe everyone struggles with this duality, wanting both the activity and energy of relationship but also the cool, soothing quiet of aloneness. When I try to imagine a balance between the two, I think about those whirling dervishes I saw in Istanbul, spinning ceaselessly in a vortex of activity to generate stillness in their souls; dancing alone to find perfect union with God. This desire to experience union is really a noble goal, a deep and beautiful desire. Reminds me of my old friend Hafiz:

WITH THAT MOON LANGUAGE
Admit something:

Everyone you see, you say to them,
"Love me."

Of course you do not do this out loud;
Otherwise,
Someone would call the cops.

Still though, think about this,
This great pull in us
To connect.

Why not become the one
Who lives with a full moon in each eye
That is always saying,

With that sweet moon
Language,

What every other eye in this world
Is dying to
Hear.

HAFIZ