Back from the World

(Title courtesy of Josh Rosenfeld)

When I was a young lass, I would sit on the shore of Bellingham Bay and stare at the slate blue horizon line. I yearned to know about the mysterious places out there with exotic names like Fiji, Bali, Laos, Kashmir, Istanbul and Kathmandu.

I've been to all of those places now and it turns out that quitting my job and flying 28,000 miles in six and a half months was the very best way to regain the joie de vivre that's been notably absent for the past several years.

The trip made me hard in some ways and soft in others. I emerged from the Vipassana meditation retreat secure in the knowledge that I could take on just about anything but I almost cried when my beloved This Busy Monster t-shirt that I'd been wearing every night finally disintegrated.

As a wise subway-ticket case once said:

Thanks for tuning in to this little blog o' mine. I hope it inspired some of you to start planning a grand adventure of your own.

Here is a slideshow of my favorite photos from the trip.

Posh Lollies

When I learn to play the electric guitar, this will be the name of my band.

An anglophile's round the world trip wouldn't really be complete without a stop in the land of digestive bisquits, Mike Leigh films, pissing rain, and the best place names ever (the next stop is...Cockfosters).

My two weeks in England were spent largely on trains traveling between places that start with the letter "B". I was doing my best to avoid spending money on lodging so I camped out with a variety of generous hosts.

My friend Anne is living in a burb north of London called Bedford. I believe she refers to it as the Renton of England. I think that's a bit harsh - it was actually very pleasant. We took a day trip together to Cambridge and I was extremely dismayed to learn that not a single frame of my favorite film, Chariots of Fire, was actually filmed there. It's a beautiful town but the weather was crappy and many of the colleges were closed to visitors. Anne and her husband Den have been expats since September and they had some hilarious stories about the tribulations of getting a UK driving license. Speaking of which, I saw the amazing film Happy-Go-Lucky at the Odeon off of Picadilly Circus. Eddie Marsan does a powerhouse turn as a "few-twisties-short-of-a-full-packet" driving instructor. The theatre was virtually empty and when I asked my English friends about it, they told me that Mike Leigh movies just don't offer enough of an escape for them. Fair enough.

Sean was in town for a few days and we mainly sat around in his fancy hotel room watching Coronation Street or Wimbledon and eating Hobnobs. We also checked out the National Gallery (hello, Van Gogh) which was packed with adorable schoolchildren. The museum faces Nelson's Column and we had a bit of a chuckle about it. Later in the week we went to see a play called Harper Regan featuring Lesley Sharp from my other favorite film, Naked. She was great but the rest of it was pretty shoddy.

The lead singer/choreographer for my rock band will have to be Rebecca Smedley. She is a drop-dead gorgeous fellow Bellingham native who has the glorious blessing of dual citizenship (born in England, the brat). She was having a birthday while I was there so I zipped out to her flat in Buckinghamshire to celebrate. Good times at the Old Bell karaoke night. We also wandered around Camden Market together where I encouraged her to buy a smashing leather jacket. Favorite new British-ism: "Fannying about" = goofing off, wasting time.

I spent my last days in England with an old flame from my days at prestigious Hull University. He lives in Brighton now and drives an adorable red Fiat 500. I was pleased to learn that he still loves Roy Orbison, red sneakers, and cowboy culture. And also that he seems to have forgiven me, which I don't really deserve. We took a long walk by a windswept turquoise sea splashing against chalky white cliffs. I'm afraid I was terrible company because I could practically feel the cubicle walls closing in around me.

48 hours later, I was boarding the plane at Heathrow. And that was that.

More Photos

La Vacance

After months of traveling, I finally got to have a vacation. I knew from the first bite of foie gras that I was in for some serious hedonism. The noodles of Indonesia and the lentils of Nepal were just starter dishes - I was ready for the main course.

My dear friend Rachel greeted me warmly at the train station in Bordeaux and I was startled to discover that her baby boy now comes up to my elbows and speaks fluent French. Rachel and her husband Tim moved to France about five years ago and they were kind enough to let me take over the top floor of their amazingly huge and beautiful maison.

Bordeaux is a delightful smallish city where locals lounge in parks and smoke in outdoor cafes. The Bordelaise are consistently tardy yet quite stylish, sporting white linen, gold jewelry, and ballet flats. I felt terribly underdressed most of the time in my flip flops and curry-stained tunics. Every time I go to France, I indulge in one pair of new shoes and this time around I picked up a fabulous pair of dark grey 1950's-esque wedge sandals with little bows on the toes. Terribly cute and a much needed remedy to my frumpitude.

The transition from backpacker life to ordinary family life was surprisingly simple. I attended school functions and dinner parties, read the New Yorker on the couch, washed dishes, went grocery shopping, and played football in the backyard. Despite expectations to the contrary, I did not find this to be any sort of letdown after trekking in Kashmir and riding elephants in Laos. It's possible that I was influenced by the fantastic wine I was drinking but I think most of the credit goes to my hosts. They were incredibly generous and reminded me how important it is to nurture those rare friendships that predate Seinfeld and Doc Martens.

More Bordeaux photos