The terrible thought occurs to you: you don’t belong here. And on some level, you deeply realize this. But then, you remember. Paris.
Not traveling? Do this.
I subscribe to the belief that "To travel is to live." My spirit requires adventure! Or at least knowing that something exciting is on the horizon. And so, this weekend, I think I need to find ways to compensate for having no travel plans.
Girl Alone Walks the Camino (Part 7) Arzúa
I made it to the fancy Boutique Hotel 1930 in Arzúa. It took me only about 9.5 miles of walking here from Melide. But I ended up wandering through the town for a while, which gave me a final mileage count of 12 miles. Yes, after a grueling day of walking, I decided to go... Continue Reading →
Girl Alone Walks the Camino (Part 5) Palas de Rei
As for the few things I did bring, I question why I even bothered. Q-tips? A pocket mirror? A Swiss Army knife? Oh, naive girl.
Girl Alone Walks the Camino Santiago (Part 3) Sarria to Morgade
There’s something mysterious about an empty, well-worn path. I actually kept looking over my shoulder thinking someone was there. Nope. Just the ghosts of hundreds of thousands who came before me.
Girl Alone Walks the Camino De Santiago (Part 2)
At this time in my life, when there was less technology and wisdom to rely on, I believed in god. And so I begged him, with tears in my eyes and the very real fear of being lost past dark, which road do I take…
I went to Sedona on a vision quest many months ago. I sat in a prayer room filled with the smoke of tobacco, juniper and sweet grass. A man moved the smoke around us with an eagle feather and I saw spring.
A savage green spring so far in the future it felt like a date I will never live to see.
Out of place
We are in the middle of a warm spell. A few days out of place. Winter breaking the rules. The lakes have melted. The snow is gone. I took baby for a walk yesterday and he saw birds, maybe for the first time in his little life. Geese flew in a crooked V above us,... Continue Reading →
I read a lot of Henry Miller, got laid, dropped out of my French classes at the Alliance Francaise and existed in such a state of poverty that my friend Karen and I would steal food from her stepdad's house during the day, and then at night, we'd flirt with rich exchange students at the Violon Dingue trying to get them to buy us free drinks.
Philadelphia is for food & love
It's been a while since I've written, with all the changes that have occurred recently and all, I simply haven't had the time or the inclination to sit down and write. I have also been putting a lot more focus on my other blogs, and so this one has somewhat fallen by the wayside. But... Continue Reading →