windy city bound

Tomorrow morning Ryan and I head out towards Chicago for a much needed vacation, and then it's on to Indiana to attend the wedding of two of our all-time favorite people: Martin & Mollie. We haven't taken a whole week off since our honeymoon 2 years ago! Wowza. I'm so looking forward to this time together, and to finish it off with a wedding so full of love and hopefulness only makes it better. I originally planned on scheduling out posts for the week, but to be honest I just never got around to. So this little old blog is going to be on vacation too, from now until October 7th.

I'll be back to share our adventures of course, don't you worry, but in the meantime I just want to be totally present with my love. We celebrate two years on 10/1 so you can always look through our wedding madness if you miss us. big kiss, bekuh


photo above by MKM Photography

slow going

I've been taking it really slow since getting back from our Labor Day adventures in Ohio. Ryan and I made the executive decision not to bring our computers with us over the long weekend and I had no idea just how much I needed that break. With a job in social media, and a blog for a hobby, to say I'm connected all of the time would be an understatement. I did instagram over the break if you're curious about what we got into, this pic from Ryan's instagram is my favorite though. Visiting my family and giving them my undivided attention was amazing. I should do that more often. big kiss, bekuh

the history of a traveller: part six

I can't believe I'm finishing up my history of a traveler series today, though the bright side to all of this means all new adventures await me and I'll be sharing them in real time instead. My last trip abroad before starting this blog involved my sister, snow on palm trees, and a trek through Spain in January. On a wild hair we decided to take a trip together right after the holidays my senior year of college. I'm not sure what possessed us, neither of us had the money, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Looking back now, I know it was the best idea.

We started our journey a day late thanks to a Delta gaffe, and landed in Barcelona after the longest flight and a half of my life. We were tired, luggage-less and ready for a hot shower and something yummy to eat. Turns out we arrived on the wrong day because everything was shut down due to 

El Día de Reyes. The Day of the Kings is as big as Christmas Day for Spaniards and everything is shut down. We surrendered ourselves to the situation and enjoyed a day of wandering the abandoned streets, and eating in one of the only restaurants we could find still open. A lesson for those with wunderlust, check for local holidays/traditions before you book your flight. It could save you a headache or two.

Barcelona was pleasantly warm and inviting for January and we discovered the great art of Gaudi, and visited his almost finished Sagrada Familia, and delighted in his Park Guell. His life's work has since impacted me more than a can say and it all stems from this trip. I could devote an enter post to him and might in the future but I haven't shared the part about snow and palm trees yet. We departed Barcelona for Toledo and Madrid having long forgotten our rough beginning.

The entire trip my sister was completely smitten with palm trees, obsessively so. Any time she saw one she wanted to take a picture, or have her picture taken in front of one. It was really cute. While visiting Toledo it began snowing and the snow stuck to the sparse palm trees in little courtyards around the city and Sarah kept squealing as we passed them. We still joke about it to this day, even as she now lives in a state where palm trees aren't all that rare. It's my favorite memory of all, and to be honest I don't remember much else about our time in Toledo.

In Madrid we enjoyed amazing tapas, flamenco dancing, and more sangria than I care to admit but it was the squid sandwiches or "Bocadillo de Calamares" that stole the show. If you ever visit you have to go to the historic Plaza Mayor and eat one of these amazing sandwiches at Casa Rua, they're cheap and they're the best. Madrid was a winter wonderland while we visited and we met the nicest bartender from Australia who practically paid for our meal one night. He asked nothing in return, just our company at his stools for the night. It's moments like those that make traveling the most magnificent of all.

It's funny but I can't help but think of Ryan when I think back on this trip, we weren't even dating but our friendship had just rekindled (after two months of not speaking) right before departure. Something had changed but I wasn't sure just what yet. Taking this trip gave me the time I needed to think and dream as it turns out. The spanish siestas do wonders for the mind, and sisters know way more than they let on. More on that another time though. big kiss, bekuh

the history of a traveler: part five

I love traveling alone. There's something really exhilarating to me about being left to my own devices in a country where I barely speak the language. You have to learn to be flexible, make mistakes, and learn as you go. The ultimate character building experience. It was a goal of mine while living in London to take some time to travel to countries/places by myself. As my time overseas neared to a close, I finally decided to take two weeks to explore Southern Italy. Why south and not north? The plane tickets were cheaper.

My trip consisted of stops in Naples, the island of Ischia, Capri, Sorrento, and Positano. I practiced my Italian every single day and immediately forget it all once I landed. I had some of the best food of my life in Naples; eating a knock-you-on-your-feet octopus stew, fresh antipasto from olive barrels (including the salty delights called anchovies), and an authentic Margarita pizza. So authentic in fact that the people who owned the hostel I stayed at were eating there when I walked into the restaurant! I also got my first taste of Italian sexual harassment on the oldest street in Naples, Via dei Tribunali. To this day I hate the term "ciao bella."

On Ischia, an island with hidden hot springs all over its cliffy coast, I stayed at a hostel where my room opened directly on to a roof deck that overlooked the entire island. At this same hostel I was asked to paint a mural of the sun instead of paying for my room, and I gladly stayed an extra few days to accommodate their request. I met two Americans, sat in the hot springs on a chilly morning, and explored a lighthouse or two along the way. Ischia would be my dream vacation destination if it weren't for the potter who tried to trap me in the back room of his studio because I wouldn't kiss him. Strike two for the blonde foreigner.

Capri was overrated so I won't waste my time talking about it here, but Sorrento blew me away completely and unexpectedly. If the orange trees growing in the streets, the ornate ironwork on every balcony, and the cliffside dock you anchor in to get up to the city aren't enough for you, then the darling old people will steal your heart anyway. I listened to a seniors choir recital in a church courtyard, ate gelato twice a day, and spent evenings people watching while dining al fresco. It was bliss, and picturesque bliss at that.

My final stop in Positano required a bus ride along the narrowest, and windiest road I've ever been on. I'm not one for motion sickness, but this trip almost got me. The precarious travel was worth it though, because as you make your way down the cliff edge to the beach you realize there is no other place on earth quite like Positano. I bought jewelry from a smooth talking salesman (still own it!), sun bathed on the beach for he day, and made my way into the carved out mountain side that Positano was built in. It was almost the perfect ending to an unforgettable trip. If only a teenage boy hadn't touched my inner thigh on the bus back to Sorrento; of course that meant I had to slap him, and watch an old Italian woman yell at him with the most ferocious eyes I've ever seen. No wait...that only made the end of the trip even better.

So what's my take away from my trip to Italy, as my others stories all had their own? Well, I'd say listen to your friends when they tell you to be careful, but don' let it keep you from going anyway. The hassle was worth it for the memories I'll always keep. Only one more travel story before you're all caught up on the history of this traveler. I hope you've liked the journeys so far. big kiss, bekuh

from LAX to beverly hills

The first thing I noticed about LA was how expansive a city it is, the urban sprawl is unlike anything I've seen. Low lying buildings stretch into the horizon, as far as the eye can see, with only the Hollywood hills to interrupt the line. Then I noticed the architecture, and immediately became enamored with the vintage typography, and pastel colors that coat many of this illustrious city's buildings. The vegetation was a close third for me, with neon hued blooms covering every tree, and palms stretching into the heavens. It was only then that I noticed the smog inducing traffic, and the congested highways we hear so much about.

It was in these first impressions that a new love affair began. I didn't plan to fall so hard for this city, but she opened herself up to me so sweetly that I couldn't help but love her. I found myself nestled away in Beverly Hills dreaming of ways to visit Los Angeles again soon. To spend more time in her neighborhoods, from Silver Lake and Echo Park, to Venice and Malibu. To eat in her delicious kitchens once again, and play in her busy streets. The Hollywood of the movies doesn't even touch on the hidden gems that lay within. 

Even with my attentions divided between work and adventure, I could sense a kindred-ness with tinsel town. The same passionate fire burning in our bellies. I know we'll see each other soon. big kiss, bekuh

history of a traveler: part iv

I'm so excited to continue with my History of a Traveler series today, though maybe an unexpected topic with a major US holiday being tomorrow. Last time I left off at meeting Avril, the fabulous shop owner, slash queen of of Highgate who so lovingly took me under her wing while homesick in London. After meeting the Castellazzos things changed entirely. I fell into a pattern and found myself getting comfortable in a life abroad. Suddenly I could take ownership of my actions, and walking the streets I felt more grounded in my position, and less like an impostor. 

Right after Christmas I met a group of wild and crazy kids through my visa organization and they will forever be the BUNAC Babes in my heart. We did everything together, but we mostly ate and danced together. Every weekend we'd get the group together and pick the most absurd dance clubs to go to. We'd dance with Australian tourists in the down-under themed club Roundabout, or go roller dancing in a warehouse converted for the night into a club. It wasn't about hooking up, it was about fun and being silly as single girls away from home. We were like Sex in the City, except without all the sex and three times the number of friends. silly-heads.

It was on these adventures that I'd find myself walking the streets in the wee hours of the morning, or riding the only late bus that went north. There was a toothless bus driver I made friends with, and a few bums whose accents were so thick I couldn't understand them, but I knew they were looking out for me. I loved seeing the characters that came out late at night and formed a certain kinship with them as I frequented their favorite haunts.

When I wasn't dancing to cheesy 80s tunes, or eating in themed restaurants with friends (I had an awkward conversation about sex in an erotic themed bathroom once), I was going to galleries, museums, and walking the Queen's Wood. My experiences with the museums and galleries are what you would expect, but my experiences in the Queen's Wood are a bit more magical and transformative. Queen's Wood was often my escape in London, it felt wild and untamed, and it's where I'd go to when I felt lonely or out of sorts. Something about this thick of woods felt like home. 

On a rare snowy morning I somehow managed to leave my apartment an hour early for work, instead of turning around to head home I decided to take the time to walk through the Queen's Wood and enjoy everything snow covered. I was getting to the thicker bits, when out of nowhere, I here bagpipes playing a short distance away. I followed the sound to a clearing where a man in black stood, with snow and mist falling down around him, playing the bagpipes as beautifully as I've ever heard. I stood listening to him until he caught eye of me and stopped. I asked him why he had decided to come out on this chilly morning to play, and he told me because he just felt like he needed to. In my heart I knew that the reason was me. After we talked for a moment he picked up his things, and left with no other explanation.

Things like that were always happening to me in the Queen's Wood, and really London in general. I have a million more stories I could tell about my time there, but I think that last one pretty much sums it up. When you listen to your heart, and follow where it leads you, the unimaginable sometimes becomes real. big kiss, bekuh

on the boardwalk

While Nellie napped with the windows down, Ryan and I took advantage of a dog-less moment and headed to the Atlantic City boardwalk to take in the sights of this great American landmark. I've long had a thing for the Atlantic City of yore (Boardwalk Empire hasn't hurt this obsession), and though I've known for awhile it's nothing like my gangster dreams I still had to see it for myself. It was nothing and everything I'd dreamed of. 

The boardwalk was built upon the request (read: demand) of a train conductor and hotel owner who didn't like that sand was getting into the train cars and resorts popping up along the shore. So, they built the first boardwalk, and over the years it's gotten higher and broader and more grand than the original. Casinos didn't line the boards until much later, but they're now the main attraction of this tarnished gem along the Atlantic Coast.

I prefer the tiny shops, and local color to the dark gambling halls, but to each his own. We headed every which way, peeking into shops, and stands, and desperately seeking out ice cream. A girl has to have ice cream sometimes guys. A giant cone covered in sprinkles later, I was a happy camper. Atlantic City we'll be back. big kiss, bekuh

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