Prague Arrival: 24

Yosef and I ended up dividing our responsibilities as follows: he was in charge of getting us transit from city to city, and I was in charge of getting us lodging. He got us bus tickets from Dresden to Prague, which was originally a tentative point on our trip. We never had a formal discussion adding it to our itinerary, it just happened on its own. 

Before leaving Dresden, I met up with Marija, whom I had met at the wedding, and who teaches political science in London. We talked about forks in the path of the heart, and experiences with roommates. I finally figured out what was wrong with my frothy milk order. She reminded me of my friend Hannah, the general academic nature with an apparent care for her friends, or maybe just the similarity in coloration. 

And then a chunk of the day was spent on the bus. I wrote a few postcards to friends and napped. Finally we arrived in Prague and lugged our bags up. 

At that point my impression of Prague is that it is all uphill, all windy cobblestone which gets in the way of carrying a suitcase. We were too early to check in to the airbnb, and hungry as well, so we found a Greek called Olympos and celebrated our arrival. I finally got a very little cup of dark bitter liquid and tiny carafe of milk. We were both so tired at this point though, so when we made it back to the airbnb (which required some thinking because the keys were locked in a lock-box on the bars of a convenience store a block away and around the corner) we took a nap. 

Actually let's circle back to the convenience store: it was one of many bodega-like markets sprinkled throughout the city. After dinner we stopped in and picked up some more kefir and fruit, as well as some laundry detergent. They are open late, and as far as I could tell, primarily run by Vietnamese people. There's a kind of charm to these smaller shops: the neighborhood corner store that's open late and were you can buy a pack any number of things: cigarettes, liquor, peaches, or shampoo. These peaches were squatter than the ones I'm used to. There's a family-run feel to them: the one next to me in the Ukrainian village I know the owner, and I think his teen son or nephew works there too. There, sometimes fresh tamales are on sale, but there is also whole-bean coffee and a porter I like. Compared to the ones in Washington Heights in NY, the ones in Prague had more fresh produce and fewer dried and canned goods, and there were no cats. I think with these kinds of places it is easy to start fantasizing about what it would look like to live in a place: strolling the streets, nipping into the corner shop for some milk and dish soap. I saw the guy who manned the cashier a day later in the street, and we recognized each other. If I lived there, maybe we would know each others names, I would learn which fruit are in season when, and develop a sense for the local currency. 

After the nap we got dinner. My friend Mark recommended a Czech place called U Sadu, which he had described as "simply a pubby bar, with simple but carefully (would one say lovingly?) prepared food." The waitress was patient with us, and there were fewer tourists there. Afterwards we went for a walk - we saw some great views of the sun setting over a castle, and the Jewish cemetery, which was closed.  

And that was a full day of Dresden, transit, and Prague. 

Lisbeth & Dresden: 22 & 23

The wedding took place in a rural town outside of Dresden called Lisbeth. The weather smiled on us, and I grabbed some sad bitter water at the train station, on the way to the old-timey bus. A green and white bus that had a massive stick-shift system specially chartered for the occasion. Cows passed us as we rode into the countryside 

The wedding was sweet. I am finding it a bit hard to write about it though: I think weddings are so thoroughly planned, both meticulously orchestrated and intimate affairs, that it's hard to know what to write. There were multiple parts. First we mingled. Instead of alcohol to smooth over the fact that most of us are strangers, were given bingo cards with facts like "has hiked a glacier" (my brother) or "has run a marathon" as a kind of get-to-know each other icebreaker. Then the ceremony itself, 49 people in attendance including the bride and groom, all of us sitting near a grove of birches. Bianca's sister officiated the wedding, and the groom's vows were blown away by the wind so we couldn't hear them. Afterward, he said it's because he spoke from the heart rather than doing a performance. More mingling, this time with sushi, and photos with the hired photographer. Then cakes! About 9 cakes. Yosef and I took half slices and then split those to maximize the experience. 

I slipped away at some point and Bianca's aunt made me a cup of tea while we chatted. She is a live wire that left an impression on a lot of the younger crowd, thinking about what it means to keep up that kind of vitality into later years. This was the first moment I went off script: unplanned tea with the aunt, with allusions to history and politics. Then we funneled back to the dinner buffet (honestly maybe the best meal we had while traveling?) - food, wine, more chatter, a photobooth and dancing. When we rode back on the train back to Dresden, very tired, and me and two other women discussed predicaments of the heart. The second off-script conversation, after all the planned events, and a more intimate moment there too. 

The next day Yosef and I, again, struggled to wake up. We had our breakfast at home, got Vietnamese food at Codo - Yosef got beer, I got dark liquid poured over ice and sweetened condensed milk. Then we met the rest of the wedding attendees for a historic scavenger hunt arrange by Bianca's sister. I managed to eek in a few exchanges with Bianca - the bride and groom are always so busy on their wedding day, all of us vying for their attention.

We reconvened at Eiscafe Venezia for dessert, then some of us broke off. Beer, Little India (food was good here, the owner seemed very committed to making us happy, too) in an artsier part of Dresden. And thus concluded our final full day in Dresden. 

Sundowner 07/21

Jetlag into Europe from the US is always so much harder than on the way back. Yosef and I struggled to get up before noon, and then went to the Aldi across the street to grab yogurt, as well as the bag of muesli and box of tea mentioned in a previous post. I also accidentally bought fresh yeast thinking it was butter with honey in it. In my defense, it was yeast that was made with honey, so, I had read part of it correctly. And it was in the butter section. Misdirection via context clues.

We then made our way to the Old Masters Picture Gallery which frankly is a great museum. I noted many artists with whom I was not familiar to look up later and got postcards, which is my standard museum procedure while traveling. We then doubled back to a touristy stretch of restaurants and ate a decent meal at Wilma Wunder, though again with disappointing frothy milky drink. 

So I haven’t mentioned yet my impetus for traveling to Europe. It is this: my friend from college Bianca, with whom I have maintained a connection across the Atlantic for nine years, was getting married. Or having a ceremony: logistically they had to get married for her husband to enter Ireland where she had found a job. I actually have a post which gives me the last time I saw her before she went to get her Masters in London. Nine years! Crazy. This was later followed by a PhD in Cape Town, South Africa, where she met her now-husband. She has family in Germany ergo the German destination. I offered Yosef to make a sibling trip of it, since he was musing about travel already, and so he became my plus-one.

To start off the celebratory festivities they arranged for a Sundowner gathering by the river. Sundowner is the South African tradition of having drinks at sunset. It was also an opportunity to meet her husband for the first time before the actual wedding ceremony. I was the only person from our college to attend the wedding, and so everyone else there was a stranger to me. Yosef struck it up with an urban designer from Amsterdam, I chatted with an art teacher at a high-needs school in NYC. Then, just around the planned end time, it started to pour rain: one of the grooms’ friends from Cape Town lent me his sweater and Yosef and I trotted away to the Sbahn.

My mother told me the last post was too long but perhaps reflected the first day of long travel. Lucky for her I had already written this one out before she told me this and it turned out shorter! Hurrah! 

Friend-Sourcing Information: Croatia

Matt and I are planning a trip to Croatia. I have two friends who have been:
Bianca, a college friend who is doing her PhD at the University of Cape Town, who's parents are German so she has an EU citizenship, and who doesn't drink at all. She's been to Croatia a couple of times, the trip I am drawing from was with her brother and sister. The other is my old flatmate Paras, who is living the post-NYU MBA life in NYC, and who has very different attitudes towards substances. He went with a friend. I only highlight their habits because the responses from these two has been a case study on how my friends can be different from one another, as well as alike. They actually overlapped a lot, which is helpful! Croatia is also fairly small, from Zagreb to Dubrovnik is a six hour drive. I'm putting both of their responses side by side, in some places they agree, in others seriously diverge. We are landing in the northern city of Zagreb on July 18th in the early evening and leaving August 1st from Dubrovnik, in the south. We'll be renting a car. Here also is the initial map I had drawn before speaking to them, for a sense of geography:

so the best part about Croatia is Slovenia, the neighboring country. Haha just kidding, but visit if you can. Lake Bled in Slovenia is this fairy tale lake surrounded by forest, where you can go swimming, and a boat will take you the center where there is this little castle on an little island. The only things it's missing are lake mermaids.

Thought: North and South Croatia are quite different. The north has more of a Hapsburg Empire feel and the south is more roman. Since you will fly out of Dubrovnik, you should head south rather than linger around the north at Opatija and Pula.

Zagreb
I don’t remember much except this is a much bigger, more typical European city. There are some nice pedestrian streets that I would recommend sticking to. I only spent an afternoon here, and it was enough.

Onwards: 4 hour drive from Zagreb – you could go via Plitvicka Lakes, which are nice to walk around – you’d want to spend a full day here. The roads getting here aren’t great, so it’s a bit slow going. The park is quite full during the summer seasons so be prepared to queue and fight your way through tourist groups. Otherwise, I think you can skip this if your time is limited and visit Krka Falls near Split instead.
Plitvice Lake is a must, they are gorgeous and a nice walk for a couple hours, and it's a national heritage site but you can sneak away from the crowds and swim if you put your mind to it.

Rovinj is a beautiful, pretty posh town on the west coast. we spent a night there and I would recommend it but don't go out of your way. 
The southern half of Croatia, until recently wasn't heavily visited by Americans. Historically the north has been a vacationing spot for Europeans (e.g. Germans). My reason for not going to Pula is because it is out of the way and is a lot like italy, but less to show for it. The south is more interesting history wise. History in terms of Roman to the Tito years. Plus you can do day trips to Mostar, Bosnia and Kotor, Montenegro if you go south. The south is less... developed... than the northern parts. And clearly has had less money, but is really really interesting. And beautiful.

Zadar: I wouldn’t recommend more than a day here, if at all. It’s pretty underwhelming, though they do have a nice sea organ. The old town is pedestrians only. However, I would highly recommend a day hike in National Park Paklenica, via the big canyon (Velika Paklenica) to Manita Pec (a cave approx. 1.5 hours max one way – you can visit the cave and can buy tickets at the cave, just double check when it closes since it is only open limited hours). You could keep following the trail along the river and get to Paklenica Hut and then take a trail from there back to the parking lot via the mountians. It’s nice, not too crowded and has great views. The river has a few swimming spots as well. If you’ve seen or heard of Winnetou (a German movie about the Wild West) you’ll doubly love the park since a lot of scenes were filmed here.

Onwards: 2 hour drive from Zadar: Recommend you take a half-day stop at Krka National Park – these are some terrific waterfalls you walk around and through via a wooden walk way before getting to the bottom of the falls. At the bottom of the falls you can go swimming. The city Sibenik is nearby and worth a visit as well since the medieval city is still intact. You can get lost exploring the old city and going through narrow passageways and stairwells. The small city of Trogir is up next – it’s a lot like Zadar and Sibenik except it still has a bit of visible ancient Roman buildings.

Split: I would recommend at 2-3 days here since it’s a good place to visit other places from. You could easily see historic Split in a morning, go to the beach in the afternoon, and do an excursion the second day. The city itself is really beautiful. I recommend staying near the historic centre, but make sure you double check your accommodation has parking – the streets are very narrow and tight and often can’t fit cars. Park Suma Marjan is a hill worth walking up to Vrh Marjana – Telegrin. If you want to go for a swim, head out to Beach Bene. It’s a rocky beach surrounded by pines, but much quieter than the other beaches near the harbour. Plus the walk there is really beautiful. I would recommend staying in Varos, or immediately to the west or east of the historic center. That way you can access everything by foot and the areas are nice to walk through. There’s a fresh food market at Zelena tržnica, near the waterfront at the east side of the old city – great if you like fruits, veggies and figs. If you want ice cream (or cake), I highly recommend Luka Ice Cream & Cakes. Walk through the city streets as much as you can –there are new places you’ll keep discovering –medieval, Roman, and modern. You should go up the Saint Domnius Bell Tower, if you aren’t afraid of heights. Be warned – it’s got a hollowed out middle and you ascend wooden steps that circle around a steep drop. 

From Split you can easily visit the islands – if you do want to go, I would spend a night on one of the islands because the ferry schedules are infrequent. I’ve heard good things about Vis and Hvar, but never been personally. Otherwise, if you really want to go to an island a very nice once seems to be Mljet, which you get to via ferry from Ston (on your way to Dubrovnik). Overall though, my reason for not visiting the islands was time and the fact that the islands were quite similar to mainland.
Hvar is another must, super sunny and active beach/party town, actually a large island off the coast. I remember great seafood restaurants, and also it's an over the top party town place, which you may not value but it's at least worth the spectacle. For one it draws absurdly rich travellers, like yachts everywhere, it was just a competition in over-compensation, like one yacht rolled up with a another yacht inside of it, and everyone was like woah, and then another yacht showed up ten times bigger which had like a yacht inside it and then also a helicopter parked on top. I remember my friend in a borat voice was like - small penis, but BIG boat!! nice! ok and then the coolest thing was club Carpe Diem. So at night there are two parts, they also have a little island called 'carpe diem beach' which they ferry you out too all night on a little speed boat, and it's like this magical music video, seems like there is very little staff and just like a DJ and dance floor but also adjoined to the ocean with I think a diving area, and good looking people are just getting naked and going swimming. I know you hate clubs, but if i were you I would just go anyway.

Onwards: 3 hour drive from Split if using the Toll road, otherwise 4 hours along the Route 8, coastal road (the old highway). There are several neat abandoned sites from Soviet days here, some hotels and a children’s hospital. I managed to get into Krvavica, a 1963 children's health resort. If you want to go, drive to Krvavica, park near the boat area and walk South along the beach a little bit. You won’t miss it. Dubrovnik + Trsteno: I recommend at least 3-4 days here – one day to tour the city and a couple of days to enjoy the surrounds. I highly recommend staying in Trsteno. It’s a short drive from Dubrovnik.

Dubrovnik which you can easily visit in a day – just head there early to find free or cheap parking on the city outskirts (around Lapad there is some) and walk into the city. (Parking in the city even if you find an airbnb there is annoying – almost everything is zoned for residents…). It’s gimmicky, but I really to recommend doing the city walls walk (approx 1 hr) – it gives you an amazing view of the city. The city itself you can easily explore by foot within a few hours. It’s also worth viewing the city from Fort Lovrijenac, nearby. (You don’t need to go in).
Dubrovnik. It's rampant now I hear because they filmed game of thrones there, but for good reason. Ancient sea side castle town, now an incredibly charming town with clubs and shopping etc. My friend and I were in different moods and split up that night, I went to some dance club, got smashed alone and danced all night, then walked around around sunrise and ran into some kids smoking a joint, and they invited me to join and hang out at some empty seaside restaurant. Very cool place, people there and especially in Slovenia were super nice and easy to hang out with.

Now onto the real gem – Trsteno. This is an oasis of calm and absolute beauty. I cannot recommend any place more highly. It’s simply amazing. Near the water there’s a really cool abandoned villa you can explore – if you decide to go upstairs, be careful not to walk in the middle of the rooms where the floors are caving in. Otherwise it is quite safe to go all the way up into the tower. There was a creepy rabid black cat the last time I was there, so if you see him walk away – he’s vicious. There’s an Arboretum in Trsteno you can get into for free if you stay in the town (since to access the village you would walk through it). This is really nice and you can walk through and find all the cool nooks and crannies. (Hot tip: Was a Game of Thrones film location, no one knows about).

one microspike

I said I would come back to the ridge between 2018 and 2019, so here is the end of 2018:

the last Friday of 2018 I left work and went to South Station with my weighty backpack and a tube with a painting in it. Did you know that Portland, ME is only two hours away? I didn't, until Sorrel and Hannah started telling me I should meet them there. There's a bus that goes once an hour, which surprised me; 40$ for a round trip ticket, which is valid for a year. Of course I got there five minutes after the bus had left so I had to wait for the next one, but in due time, after watching a very strange animation about a speed-crazy snail, I found myself in Maine - which I insist is supposed to be no fewer than six hours away but somehow I got there in two.

Sorrel and Hannah met me there, bringing with them a much welcome dinner and hugs. We drove about an hour before getting to Sorrel's parents house: they have an interesting home, with a compost toilet and solar power and a wood-stove which heats the house. They were off the grid for years but recently hooked up to it and give their electricity into the system.

In the morning, we went to Portland and met Hannah's brother and poked around the little shops. Hannah left too soon with her brother to Belfast ME. Sorrel and I headed to a used bookshop (which is were I got the previously mentioned White Tiger).

We got home and made dinner and the next morning we got up and went for a walk up a little hill. Maine has snow, which I haven't seen much of this year. There was a dusting in Massachusetts this morning, but even when Papa and I climbed Mt. Monadnock the weekend before there wasn't much snow. Sorrel and I only had one set of microspikes between the two of us, so we each bore weight on one leg as we made our way up the icy slope. At the top, there was a view of some frozen lakes and mountains further out.

At the end of the day the four of us (Sorrel and I, and her parents) watched Dinner with Andre, which makes it the last movie I saw in 2018. The next morning Sorrels father showed me the starts of permaculture plots they had planned out around their land. Being there reminded me that I wanted a goat to get milk from. I imagine being a therapist with a goat and a vegetable patch. I guess I don't have a very good imagination, because mostly I imagine the goat and the vegetable plot in my parent's backyard. Mama had a boy goat named Pashka when she was little, and he's in some of the family photos.

Eventually it was time to go back home and Sorrel drove me back to the Portland station. On the bus I read I Talk Pretty One Day (which I finished later without feeling any accomplishment, and feeling confused as to why Sidaris is so well known). At some point on the bus I got a text form Veta with my Secret Santa; Eloosha, and I started to think of what to give him that I could assemble in the few hours I'd be home, which now leads us to the part of 2018 which is practically 2019 - for next time.

life as film

Yesterday I got a text from Max, who travels a lot for his new job.
it said:
I am officially a regular at JFK Laguardia airport, gate official recognized me and said, "Hello again Mr Mendelssohn" before he even saw my ticket.

and I thought: this is so great! It's like a scene from a movie. Those small-town feel in a large city scenes the establish a character at the start of a film. It also reminded me of a long conversation Leonid and I had (via letters) about being a 'regular' somewhere; how so many shows are set up around this idea that people meet up at a bar or a coffee shop or comic book store a lot and there's this community there. How little either of us know of establishments that have that. I was edging on that at some point at the 1369 cafe in Central Sq: the people who work there seem cool and there's a lot less turnover than at most places (I even named the blond girl with the dreads in my head, don't know when that happened) . And they recognized me and one even came over to chat one time. I would come three days a week in the morning before work and get the same thing almost every time. And then I moved. But that experience felt like I was filming in a movie, in a really artsy movie that I would maybe like to watch. What other good moments are there like that, where life imitates fiction?

---

The long weekend was taken at it's fullest: on Saturday Matt and I went to Walden pond. He read Walden at Walden Pond. I finished Be Here Now by Ram Dass. We walked around and took a dip in the lake. We talked a bit about Skinner's Walden Two and the like. The kind of day I like. He's spent the whole summer pretending shorts are swim-trunks. I've spent the whole summer without any shorts. Somehow we got by; it is now September.

On Monday Sima and I finished a project we had started the weekend before; that is, we finished bleaching his hair. He just got braces and glasses (Harry Potter style, his choice) and wanted to complete a trio of changes by doing his hair as well. Mama tried at first with a pharmacy kit, but those never work well so I took over after purchasing some more heavy-duty materials at a beauty supply store. He was so excited throughout the process, even biked over to the train station to meet me.

It was also Yosef's birthday, the day before he left to go back to his second year at university. I made him coconut cupcakes; he made everyone Uzbek plov.  I told him "We are both in our 20's!" and he said "you are closer to being 80 that I am!" -- how dastardly! I miss him already.

ny winter

Another one that got lost in the anneals of the draft box, regarding the end of 2017

I am starting to think that lyricism is a frame of mind, a lens to look through at the world. It is something I have been struggling with lately. To lose the ability to look at the world cinematically is also the loss of ability to take photographs and write; and it is daunting to try and find that lens, misplaced somewhere in the attic of the mind.

After lengthy and long overdue conversation on the phone with Esther, during which she mentioned that she was going to NYC and said that I should come, I made some arrangements to take the trip. Canada, where she lives, is far away; NYC less so. The practice where I work had no patients that week anyway, so on Wednesday morning I took the subway over to south station and started my long bus ride over. I got off by FIT and entered the first place that served food. I scarfed down what amounted to two lunches; a large soup with bread, and a large piece of greasy spinach cake which was more delicious when I started it than when I took the last bite. Having completed this meal, I headed towards Wall Street. 

Leonid had warned me, somewhat embarrassed, "it's very posh". I entered the building from the wrong side, and a hotel-visitor pointed me towards the check-in desk for the apartments. Everything is gilded gold, with sweeping stone floors and an enormous Christmas tree lit up in the hall. The concierge rung up to the apartment, got Leonid's ok to let me in and buzzed the turnstiles. To my right, a couple rooms were sectioned off with slow arches, separating the postal boxes from everything else to hogwartsian effect. Finally, I made my way up in the pho-Greek style elevators to the sleek apartment with impressively large windows reaching all the way up to the tall ceilings. I claimed one of the couches to sleep on and met a flat mate that had not yet left for winter holidays. Leonid made us some drinks - a skill he's been honing recently. Eloosha swung by and it was funny to think; how different and how the same we all are, that we have known each other for more than half our lives. Once Eloosha had left Leonid and I went to get dinner; poke bowls close by, a fad that is not quite caught on in Boston. Then drinks. Then sleep.

When I got up in the morning I had the place to myself. I made myself some coffee and fell asleep again. There was something very nice about this; I often wake up tired but I am never able to do anything about it - waking up a second time well rested was lovely. I lounged around the apartment for the entire morning, reading Jean Gadget's Prisoners of Love and arranging my thoughts. For lunch, I met Leonid and Kostya by Union Sq., Dorado's and I can only remember that we ended the conversation discussing spelling. Writing now, I remember that my New Year's resolution a few years ago was to improve my spelling, the results of this resolution, like of many New Year’s resolutions, are very limited. On top of that, difficult for me to evaluate: even if my spelling has improved, my ability to catch misspellings has not so I can't do a comparison and see how far along I am.

Leonid and I then headed towards the winter market and went hunting for a supplementary Christmas gift for his girlfriend. We both bought some tights from an energetic group of Israeli women doing convincing demonstrations. More coffee and then to a party somewhere in midtown, with his law-student friends. I was immediately served an old-fashioned - his friend also honing his cocktail-making skills. A log burning in a fireplace filled the room up with smoke. Chips and another drink and talking; stories about a terrible house guest, discussions about identity. It got late and then later and then we departed. 

Leonid left early the next morning and I waved him a sleepy goodbye from the couch. Another lounging morning and then headed towards Union Sq. to drop off my backpack with Kostya who had kindly agreed to hold onto it. Then I walked 25 blocks to meet Esther and Niko. A tight warm hug! Lots of bread for lunch. A face sorely missed. And then, after a few hours, I walked back to Kostya and to my backpack, talking to Matt on the phone - it was already snowing in Boston.

Kostya continued to work and I went back to the winter market to pick out a couple of gifts and track down the artist name for a ring that was beautiful but much too expensive to buy. Twinkling lights and postcards and sweaters, mulled cider and felted ornaments. For my mother: Brooklyn truffle oil, for Matt: NY made ghost pepper hot sauce. Once Kostya was done we got pizza and headed towards the main event - Eloosha's birthday party at Olivia's place in Brooklyn. Immaculately decorated and hosted, rooms filled with people and mulled wine. Here too: it got late and then it got later, and Kostya Rebecca and I got a ride back to Kostya's place where I now again claimed a couch as my bed.

I had slept in later than usual: the living in which I slept had no windows, so no light woke me. Soon we had gathered ourselves for brunch; hipstery eggs Benedict. Then we went to get Eloosha and Olivia and some bags and back to wintry Massachusetts (though I had bought a bus ticket, but a car ride with friends won out).

Now I’m home.

autumn in vermont

On a Saturday over a month ago, I got on a bus to visit a few Bardians in Burlington, VT. Hannah picked me up from the station and we headed towards her and Will's apartment. It is; Mustard yellow walls in the hallways and a vegetable plot a couple blocks away. 

In the evening, the three of us went out to eat at American Flatbread: line stretched out and we stood with our beers at the bar, hungrily picking out the pizzas. We didn't hit the town after that: instead we came back to their apartment, and fixed our gazes on the shenanigans of Wallace and Gormit before settling into sleep.

The next morning we rummaged for wakefulness and the deep pockets of our consciousness and, still looking for it, walked over to Nunyans for breakfast. It was chillier in Vermont: that was one of the very nice things about the visit. After having spent the rest of the unusually warm autumn in Massachusetts, it was as if I had gone forward a bit in time to real autumn. Autumn with cool air and pretty rustling leaves. It was as if I had been watching a movie with the audio delayed and it finally lined up: day of the year and temperature of the air. 

Later in the day I met with Elyse, who had driven down from home for a while to see me, and I was so glad she had. We spent time by the lake, sitting in the grass as a girl played guitar and boys rolled by on long-boards. After a bit we were joined by Hannah and Will and then Adrienne as well at Muddy Water, a cafe I had gone to during my last visit as well, which meant that we had five of us from the same year in a mini college reunion. Sipping coffee and cocoa and mulled cider, surrounded by plants mounted on the walls. Elyse had to leave after that, and Adrienne Hannah and I went off to do some thrift shopping. Halloween was around the corner so the shops had brought out all the costume-wear, and students milled around looking for wigs and foam swords. In one shop I reaped a winsome silk skirt from the 80's.

We headed back towards the apartment, ordered some food from Tiny Thai, and the four of us scooted together on the bed and a bottle of wine, watching Monty Python skits and Black Adder. 

I don't remember exactly what was said but it was very funny

at the Ethan Allan homestead

The next morning Hannah ate rustic bread and drank tea. They we drove out a few miles for a walk on the lovely grounds of the Ethan Allan homestead. They house a program there which is very Vermont: giving little plots of land to recent immigrants to farm. We saw a few people leaving, on top of one girls a head an impressive bundle of harvested vegetables, on her feet only flipflops even as the temperature promised to dip below freezing that night. A sizable portion of the immigrant community there came from a farming background I guess: the fields are doing well, and some of the plants I did not recognize. After walking around the field we followed a path down to the water, where we looked for signs of beaver activity walked through a small parcel of preserved swamp with a wood plank bridge floating on it We picked up leaves from the ground, looking for the ones to encapsulate October in Vermont. The weather promised first frost that night, so we went to the vegetable plot and harvested everything that was left:  salad  greens, unripe tomatoes, hot peppers and a few small radishes. 

After the harvest, Hannah and I met Adrienne at some fancy tea place, sitting on an elevated platform with a low table surrounded by meditation pillows. Small nibbles and a shared pot kept warm over a candle flame. Eventually Hannah had to go so Adrienne and I meandered through shops and alley ways. We walked past a an art studio and some more familiar places from my last visit, into her large house with many any people and porch that looks over the neighbors chicken coop. 

That night dinner was three of us: Hannah and Will and I, surrounded by those yellow walls, a feast which included their home-grown salad. Then I set off into the night to meet with Luisa, whom I hadn't seen in so long but time collapsed and we were soon back were we had been, drinking a gin-drink out of a tea cup at the bar where her boyfriend works - our time in NYC didn't seem so far away. 

Tuesday was my last day. I partially woke up with Hannah and Will, to say a sleepy goodbye before clumsily collapsing back into a slumber. When I did wake up, I took my time: I drank some black tea and ate the fantastic plum cake Hannah had whipped up the day before. 

After her shift had ended, Adrienne met me at a very small coffee shop aptly called The Tight Squeeze, where we chatted with the barista and shop co-owner for a bit about the monster that lives in lake Champlain. 

Adrienne walked me to the bus stop, and back I came.

Geysir, Gullfoss and a Hydroelectric Dam

I was genuinely hoping that WOW air would refund us some of the money we lost getting a last minute room in Reykjavik and getting toiletries. Our plan was to start driving the first day and camp out but since our tent was still in US along with our toothbrushes and most everything else, we had to find a place to sleep. Unfortunately, as of now, nothing. We e-mailed them multiple times to get only initial responses, and called only to be told to wait even longer than we already have. *UGH*

also the second Yucca plant is now also gone for the worse. Help?

We slept that night at Captain Reykjavik, took sulfer-scented showers and headed over to the Sandholt bakery. The museum ticket we had bought yesterday lasted for 24hrs and allowed entry to 3 museums, so we headed to the sculpture museum. It's in an artists house and though it was at that time simply filled with his work, there where three small things I liked about it.
1) the dome upstairs had the strangest acoustics. It felt like I was walking ahead of myself, the way of the echo of Matt's shoes lined up exactly with when I was about to step. Like the opposite of a thunderclap being delayed after lightening strikes, or an auditory version of the rubber hand illusion. 

2) The artist had created the building, it's white and stark . He said he wanted to make it like the stark land around him, that Icelandic architecture is often made of wood even though there are no trees, and that this is not the way it is supposed to be; that architecture is supposed to expand off of the landscape. It made me pay more attention to the buildings for the rest of the trip. 

3) There was a sculpture garden outside with little windy paths and thickets of trees, and I always find those types of nooks warm and inviting. Not very expansive, but still nice. 

We walked around a golf course before heading to get groceries (always great in a new place: the aisles are wider, and the carts are four-wheel drive), sushi for lunch, propane and our luggage.


From Reykjavik we started on the Golden Circle and the Southwest of Iceland. First stop was Þingvellir. Two things attract people to it. Firstly it's a rift between tectonic plates, though that comes across more clearly in ariel shots. Secondly it is by Alþing, the location of the first parliament in the world, which isn't really much to look at. We walked to Öxarárfoss (foss is always waterfall) in the area. Iceland has so many gorgeous waterfalls, and we started ranking them as we carved our way around the coast: this one consistently stayed in last place. In sum, mostly a tourist destination with a pool in which a bunch of women where drowned. 

After that we tried to find our first natural-hot-water. Our guide book had mentioned a municipal geothermal pool. We came to the Laugarvatn, consisting of two residential streets intercepting. The village pool was closed: we wandered around the building and saw the pool, which looked like a standard swimming pool but did not smell of chlorine. All the lights were off in the building and a family was just leaving. It felt like we were snooping around a YMCA. There was a place we could have paid 40$ but that seemed a bit much so after finding the YMCA bathroom, we moved on. 

Next stop was Geysir: the gyser after which all other geysers are named. It was freezing outside but we did not have to wait long for it to spout. The water is blue in the pit, and before it gets ready to spray it gets sucked in a bit. Ten minutes in between expulsions builds up appropriate suspense. The one that was spouting was actually not THE Great Geysir but Strokkur, which is younger and erupts more frequently but with less intensity. The pictures I took turned out fairly terribly, so here's one of me with the snarky entrance sign too. 

And then we went to Gullfoss. Foss is waterfall, remember? Gull is gold - gold waterfall. As, again, with the wind so cold we were spared the thicket of tourists that should have followed us everywhere on this trip, but also we did not have the light that perhaps contributed to the waterfall's name. Gullfoss is really large, and I while I did take pictures they don't capture how small we felt standing next to it. We spent some time in existential trepidation staring at the water crashing down.

One of the places my father had really talked up in Iceland was this meeting of two rivers in the Fjallbank Nature Reserve, specifically the Landmannalauger area. Even the handy guidebook highlighted the hot streams in the area, along with some hiking through gorgeous rhyolite peaks. The specific area my parents had enjoyed there was a cold river that met a hot river, and a lot of cool people where hanging out there: bikers, hikers and such, and the water was perfect for relaxing in. So we headed towards there, into the highlands where civilization became even sparser.

We drove for a while. At some point late we stopped at an old stone Skaftholtsréttir (sheep fold) no longer in use. It used to sort the sheep in the south but now they use a more modern one closer to the capital. It was 11pm. I was too tired to even get out of the car but Matt was intrigued by the random-maze we found and stopped to explore and figure out what it is. There was nobody else there. Even though there was an official plaque it isn't marked on any maps. Long-day induced magic. We kept driving.

We came up on a hydroelectric dam. It was menacing but the road forward was roped off. We set up our tent for the first time, the wind blowing, no trees to protect us. I had been thinking this whole time that park meant trees but it was now that it dawned on me that this word mapping did not apply in this strange land. We set up our tent; it was cold and the sun had set but it was still light out even at 1am. Just as we entered the tent for the night, it began to snow.

Yucca Cane

At the Kjarvalsstaðir art museum, we stumble for a second time on the work of Ragnar Kjartansson. The entire museum was a retrospective on him, the big one being an almost endless opera piece with multiple pianos and singers set up surround-sound in a large hall. Walking around the hall allowed for interaction of music/space and the social aspect that comes with knowing that the performers are there for the whole day and so walk in and out to supply themselves with more water and switch pairings and stop playing for a little bit; the dance of life happening during a concert you could walk through.  

This was exciting because on our first trip together, Matt and I had seen the same artists work in Montreal. And though I'm still more excited about the piece we saw in Canada, it was pleasantly serendipitous. (and, still without a tent, we used the museum's wifi to book a room for the night.) Now - another hall had photographs hung on the walls, and yucca cane plants and boom boxes on the floor. I don't remember if there was any sound but I'm going to take a step back to the Yucca cane.

The only reason I know what that is is because Matt and I had recently acquired one for our apartment. This happened maybe three weeks before we left for the trip. I love plants. I have a few and I like that they add life the the kitchen, but also decided not to get too many more because Matt likes space to look neat, and visually plants are more chaotic than neat. But one day Matt was looking around and decided that we need a plant, urgently, because there was what felt like a hole in the room. Since I had felt that hole for a while (and in many other places; I like spaces to be crammed) we soon found ourselves at Ricky's Flower Shop a few minutes drive away. The place is like Mary Poppin's handbag: bigger on the inside than it is on the outside, filled with all sorts of leafy-friends to take home. We looked at three different pots filled with three yucca canes each and finally picked one out and took it home with us. A plant is like a pet that you don't need clearance for from your landlord. I was quite happy with our exotic new addition.

I don't know when it happened, but it was sad: perhaps the middle cane came to us ill, or it simply because ill soon upon entering our abode. In either case, it started to wilt and droop and ooz terribly stinky black goop. Trying the clean it up my hands got covered in the stench with the slightest dab of sap. I read up on the internet on how to help the infirm plant, and bought insecticide. And I sprayed it daily with the smelly all-natural insecticide. And when we left for Iceland we had a weak hope that it would make it. The plant only needs to be watered about once every two weeks, so this trip was perfect in terms of watering.When we returned it had clearly made a turn for the worse. It reeked, and as I tried to pull it out of the ground the bark pealed off into my hands. And since the other two were perfectly happy as they were, we went for the kill. It looks like a murder-crime scene, ft yucca plant The other two are still healthy: may they not grow too quickly.

Sleep Deprived in Reykjavik

We landed in Keflavik International Airport at 4:35 am. I had not slept on the plane. Dragging through a bog of exhaustion, we found our way to Joe and the Juice. We drank our shake/juice, and then we made our way down to the baggage claim.

A note on Joe and The Juice: it is a chain, there are two spots at the airport and at least two in Reykjavik. The name, it isn't a good one, refers to the fact that they have both a juicing machine and a coffee machine. The name, and the exact type of terrible that it is, is a good representation of the names of shops we found in Reykjavik. Names are: idontspeakicelandic (tourist shop) bad taste (music shop) farmers and friends (like words with friends! but not a cross-word puzzle game, an expensive clothing store!)

Many tourists are from the US, UK or Canada, insuring a lot of English is spoken around you - and leading to most signs and all tourism workers speaking at least some English. We were lucky: we were earlier in the season and the weather wasn't always great, so we managed to avoid some of the tourist hoards. But they certainly exist, and I think the weirdly English-named shops are a good indication of that. From the USA, more tourists come than there are native Icelanders; and we are hardly the only ones. 

Matt sarcastically approved me putting up this photo if I labeled it as sarcasm. Joe as famous sculpture.

We walked down and looked and looked and did not find our baggage. We filled out forms and found out that the next incoming flight from Boston is not for another 24hrs. So we walked out of the airport with only our backpacks and picked up the 4wd rental (a silver Suzuki Vitara) and drove towards Bergsson Mathús to get breakfast. After this my mind started drifting off to sleep: we managed to climb to the top of Hallgrímskirkja (a contemporary-looking church) but after that I dozed off in the car. 

view from Hallgrímskirkja 

Once I woke up, we headed to the Kjarvalsstaðir art museum. Then we walked along the river, entered the Harpa music building and finally collapsed in our hotel room bed at Captainn Reykjavik (which considering we had found only a few hours previously, was quite nice) 

from inside Harpa music hall

We slept for three hours and went to Matwork for food.  We kept looking around and almost choosing places to eat because they were called Matthis and thisMat(t). Turns out Matur means food, not a shortened Matthew. I fell asleep, after a very long day, at 11:30 pm. Matt fell asleep at 1am, and it was still light out.

Packing for Iceland

Dear Reader:

I know I have long been absent. If you have been here in the past I am surprised by you; that my distance has not created an un-passable abyss. I apologize. I thank you. I will try to be better, as many of us try.

Today I woke up in the US again, back in Somerville.
On Sunday, The 4th of this month, I was here as well, packing.
Things I forgot to pack: cold medication, camera battery charger, a warm hat, gloves.
Things I did not forget: all the camping gear, sweaters and warm socks, a camera with low battery.

And so, Matt and I caught a ride to the airport, checked our bags (19.5kg for the heavier one, perfect) and got in line.  Matt's carry-on getting slowly examined on the side for unknown reasons and we sprinted through Logan and were the last ones onto the flight.

Things we knew to expect: white nights, gravel roads, sheep, hotsprings
Things we did not know to expect: the wind, getting sick, endless volcano fields

And so starts our trip to Iceland

Montréal

I chased the cold up north to Montreal. And it bit, hard, right into my ears and numbing my forehead and placing tears in my eyes. During the coldest night, it dipped down to -28C.

There was snow there and it sounded like rubber cows mooing when stepped on. There was hot chocolate and crepes and wine. There was some street art and underground tunnels too cold to explore properly. There were very few people outside.

After watching steam coming off the water by Old Port, and people ice skate on a rink, Matt lost feeling in his left toe and I left feeling in many more toes so we made our way over to the Musée d'art contemporain de Montréal.

There was an exhibit there by Ragnar Kjartansson called The Visitors - projector screens, maybe ten of them, set up around a room, each containing a scene. One holds a man with a guitar in a bathtub. Another is a couple in stout bed. A third a pianist in a large room. The porch with people lounging. The man in the bathtub begins to sing, the woman on the harp joins him and it builds. In the end they all stumbled in front of the porch and onto an open field, frolicking as they receded towards the mountains. Viewers walked from screen to screen as focus shifted. Filmed in upstate New York it made me nostalgic for Bard and the landscape there. But Montreal is nice too, Old Montreal was charming in exactly the way it sounds it would be.

I did find some winter there.

The funniest grocery purchase of my life. The most awkward hotel tipping experience. Maybe I'll come back when it's possible to stay outside past sunset.

Burlington

This winter has been weak, so I have tried to travel to track it down.
The first trip was the first week of February; found winter curled up in Vermont.

I stayed with Hannah and Will and got to peak into Adrienne's work life at the co-op.
I walked on a frozen lake. Saw the same vast lake break against the shore and stretch into the mountains at sunset.
I slept in perfect darkness heated by a wood stove, a little cabin on a bed with Sorrel.
I drank hot cider with Luisa.

I wanted to escape the hectic expectations of my own life and stumbled into those of traveling to a place with so many familiar faces. I wish miles apart didn't foster the fear of other types of distance. I wish I could slow down a bit, and sense more of their warmth.

Instead, I kept chasing the cold biting air.

2015

2015 was holding my breath. I lived so much this year.

Time passed with a moon dipped in venom, so many friends visiting - Adrienne, Hannah, Will, Sorrel, a Bernie rally attended. I smoked my first cigar and felt sick - stuck with the habit of holding the smoke in my lungs. I got hit by a car while biking, and had too much to think anything of it. I went to a lecture on John Weiners at Harvard at Kelsey's urging, hundreds of miles away in Columbus, Ohio. I got sick. I spent a few days in NH with my coworkers and three dogs. I got told that I was looking exceedingly bird-like. My flatmates and I threw a party and named it "Crunksgiving". I climbed Mt. Lincoln and Lafayette with my father.

each of those is a story, a vignette.  maybe I'll have time to tell them this year.

I read a few books - Cat's Cradle in a burst of "oh! reading in English, I've forgotten!". On Adrian's advice (and my parents as well)  How to Win Friends and Influence People. When I felt lonely with R, I would read his favorite book; 100 Years of Solitude - it went by quick, so did he, the irony not lost on me. House of Leaves, which I had gifted myself for my birthday. Matt then lent me City of Glass. A project started by Hannah and Sorrel led me to read chunks of A Short History of Wine, I Drink Therefore I am; A Philosopher's Guide to Wine, and A History of the World in Six Glasses.

I'm ready to breath out.

kaleidoscope

I keep having words but not putting them together here, like a moving kaleidoscope and I can't quite snatch up the shapes and colors before they disappear from before me.

green glass - I went to the Somerville porch fest with Adian and Margo. We shifted from venue to venue, and with the change in location came a change in population. Old married couples with grandchildren in one place, people in their late 30's at another, those in their 20's and early 30's at a third. It's kind-of perfect though, the idea of a porch fest. People come out and share their own music with the people living around them, using the cross of urban and suburban space: tightly packed houses stacked next to each other -- creating a town-wide bbq-party. Green bottles filled with beer in hand, music dances in the air.

teal strand - I dyed my hair. People keep asking way and I say "I just felt like it" except to Paras to whom I said "whenever I change my hair it's because of a boy" and didn't repeat myself when he didn't hear.


a feather, refracted - we went camping: the boy who used to live in the room I live in now, Therese, Paras, and Amy. I had never gone camping without the supervision of those a generation above me! I had never gone camping without Russians! We snuck around trying to scare each other throughout the day, like real adults. We had about 7 different types of 'dogs' to accommodated so many different dietary restrictions. We pitched a couple tents and didn't get wet when it rained. We toasted marshmallows for breakfast and swam in a lake with ducklings.

a mirror slate - at work, I now only have 32h schedueled per week, and only work day shift, which means I no longer feel like I'm chronically jetlagged. Unless I pick up a shift, I always work on 3South, on of the acute units, like I had asked. All of this makes me much happier, I didn't even realize how much weight had been placed on my chest until it lifted. Two days ago I had a few tears escape my eyes while at the nurses station, in front of people. One of the patients had screamed and called me a bitch, and I also found out that I was almost certainly mandated. Usually I am ashamed when people see me cry, but this time I apologized and it felt okay. "Relax" Cole told me, and gave me a one-armed hug. I didn't get mandated. She apologized to me the next day "you know you are one of my favorite staff! I was waiting for you to come in after yesterday so I could apologize!" I said, yes, thank you, but wouldn't it be great if you didn't have to apologize? Think about what you think will help you to control your temper, before it boils over. "You are right!" she said. We will see.


how many times have I turned the kaleidescope?