tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52187180244746919182024-03-13T04:33:24.763-07:00notes from somewhere elseLITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comBlogger210125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-30667468565849546822014-11-30T16:35:00.001-08:002015-03-18T15:49:29.408-07:00thanksgiving <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I woke up this morning to heavy rain outside my window but it actually felt incredibly positive. I continue to feel so grateful for so many things in these moments; my room here, feeling so warm and cozy under these blankets on a bed that not too long ago got lifted off the floor to a proper frame. The precipitation we so desperately need, full freedom granted to be lazy deep into the morning.<br />
For all the obvious reasons I have been giving a lot of recent thought to all I have to be thankful for. The obvious, often taken for granted, things like health, family, so forth. And, perhaps equally obvious, the fact that I've somehow managed to completely uproot myself and move across the country with relative ease. I have friendship, job stability, natural splendor, and constant activity largely to thank. And I am still marveling at it every single day. <br />
With that said, it's all finally beginning to feel something like real life and the nagging feelings of truly missing people and being just a little less than grounded at this point in my life are also starting to feel more real. Nothing is perfect. I am still feeling a bit like I'm blowing in the breeze. I know it will all take time and in a way it feels good to finally feel something like this so strongly. Sort of like the rain this morning; relief in the necessary release. <br />
And so many familiar faces passing through over his recent holiday drove it home just a little more. But this is all part of it, and has been for awhile. Good with the bad. And the temperature stays moderate, the beach forever beautiful. Some things are constant. I'm settling in to the routines and the rhythms of life out here and the new photography scene. The fog comes and goes, both literally and in my mind. But I still know I'm happy to be here. I still feel like all these decisions have been the right ones. One day at a time, as it has been for awhile. We know how to do this. <br />
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LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-62296542370306746472014-10-21T21:07:00.001-07:002014-10-21T21:07:49.941-07:00new and true<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-qMr-GLHWAqU/VEcqY9Dr7dI/AAAAAAAAD34/YGIZC-E8HrA/s1024/2014_10_21_20_54.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-qMr-GLHWAqU/VEcqY9Dr7dI/AAAAAAAAD34/YGIZC-E8HrA/s500/2014_10_21_20_54.jpg" id="blogsy-1413950748582.6584" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p>Today marks two weeks.</p><p>New life.</p><p>New neighborhood.</p><p>New apartment. </p><p>New views.</p><p>New coast.</p><p>New commute.</p><p>New job.</p><p>New food.</p><p>New friends.</p><p>New adventures.</p><p>New me?</p><p>And these weeks have been the total whirlwind we could have expected them to be. My mattress is still on the floor and I have not a single piece of furniture. I have yet to buy groceries, to cook, to properly settle in. But the sunrise pours through my windows each morning, and I can see Golden Gate Park when I walk out the door. My morning routine has consistently included a walk to the beach, so often just me and the end of the earth; a few stray dog walkers, joggers, fishermen. </p><p>And there is, of course, another new chapter worth mentioning. After six months hiatus I am fully back in the mix of proper working life. So far, so good, so surprising. Different in ways I didn't expect and in all the ways I thus far needed it to be. And structure, and schedules, and inspiration. I felt good about it leading up to this, but even better now that I'm here. </p><p>Two weeks and hard to tell. But if I've ever felt good about a life change, this could really be it. </p><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O5kk315obxk/VEcsn83z7SI/AAAAAAAAD5k/iaLqVmzU51M/s1024/2014_10_21_21_%2525203.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-O5kk315obxk/VEcsn83z7SI/AAAAAAAAD5k/iaLqVmzU51M/s500/2014_10_21_21_%2525203.jpg" id="blogsy-1413950748579.5156" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-YISJvREP3uA/VEcqepolGPI/AAAAAAAAD4w/3amFa6EUd8Y/s1024/2014_10_21_20_54.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-YISJvREP3uA/VEcqepolGPI/AAAAAAAAD4w/3amFa6EUd8Y/s500/2014_10_21_20_54.jpg" id="blogsy-1413950748553.0115" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-FBDDXkjX-nE/VEcqdkqX0bI/AAAAAAAAD4o/LtHCbVqlzV4/s1024/2014_10_21_20_54.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-FBDDXkjX-nE/VEcqdkqX0bI/AAAAAAAAD4o/LtHCbVqlzV4/s500/2014_10_21_20_54.jpg" id="blogsy-1413950748563.8042" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-PimD7b06rM8/VEcqcKib8wI/AAAAAAAAD4Y/1Uej-cfvyZo/s1024/2014_10_21_20_54.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-PimD7b06rM8/VEcqcKib8wI/AAAAAAAAD4Y/1Uej-cfvyZo/s500/2014_10_21_20_54.jpg" id="blogsy-1413950748515.8105" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-OjG5qeH9KJk/VEcqZlpSI0I/AAAAAAAAD4A/w3bllaB_J3M/s1024/2014_10_21_20_54.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-OjG5qeH9KJk/VEcqZlpSI0I/AAAAAAAAD4A/w3bllaB_J3M/s500/2014_10_21_20_54.jpg" id="blogsy-1413950748546.3208" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-GKqhL5VtVFE/VEcqbdiJfPI/AAAAAAAAD4Q/5Cancsu_9ag/s1024/2014_10_21_20_54.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-GKqhL5VtVFE/VEcqbdiJfPI/AAAAAAAAD4Q/5Cancsu_9ag/s500/2014_10_21_20_54.jpg" id="blogsy-1413950748572.2566" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3ZPu2zAbNdQ/VEcqalVNFZI/AAAAAAAAD4I/A42t3Ul-Or8/s1024/2014_10_21_20_54.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3ZPu2zAbNdQ/VEcqalVNFZI/AAAAAAAAD4I/A42t3Ul-Or8/s500/2014_10_21_20_54.jpg" id="blogsy-1413950748589.2468" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Vu3gmIECrtg/VEcq6NmNJ1I/AAAAAAAAD5Y/v3Aozfy1eNY/s853/2014_10_21_20_56.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Vu3gmIECrtg/VEcq6NmNJ1I/AAAAAAAAD5Y/v3Aozfy1eNY/s500/2014_10_21_20_56.jpg" id="blogsy-1413950748569.385" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="666"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LrcTu7wwmYM/VEcqYD9rd2I/AAAAAAAAD3w/dQ4vY9Co_ug/s1024/2014_10_21_20_54.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LrcTu7wwmYM/VEcqYD9rd2I/AAAAAAAAD3w/dQ4vY9Co_ug/s500/2014_10_21_20_54.jpg" id="blogsy-1413950748524.6072" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-kOCmgzLc2pE/VEcqXPS32xI/AAAAAAAAD3o/-bMMN9vIrFQ/s1024/2014_10_21_20_54.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-kOCmgzLc2pE/VEcqXPS32xI/AAAAAAAAD3o/-bMMN9vIrFQ/s500/2014_10_21_20_54.jpg" id="blogsy-1413950748596.0361" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><p> </p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-82684588778134476622014-09-30T16:51:00.001-07:002014-10-01T09:15:45.341-07:00keeps on turning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-7avdjN4GL3s/VCwocGlD9lI/AAAAAAAAD2o/pavxrteTD1U/s1024/2014_10_%2525201_12_14.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-7avdjN4GL3s/VCwocGlD9lI/AAAAAAAAD2o/pavxrteTD1U/s500/2014_10_%2525201_12_14.jpg" id="blogsy-1412180109643.839" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p>You didn't know this but I actually returned "home" to Brooklyn just a couple of short weeks ago. My silence may have been an indication; the unexpected, churning, at times soul sucking, crushing whirlpool of New York existence ultimately to blame. High, low, up, down, around, upside, downside, inside, out, around again. I have to say: the usual.</p><p>The best parts have been reuniting with friends I truly missed and am so grateful just to know and have the support of and have in my life to relax with for a little longer at a bar, beach, park, or otherwise. Two of which have more than generously housed hobo me these recent weeks; the rest reminding me why I even bothered with this city in the first place.</p><p>And making it that much harder to leave.</p><p> But leave I shall. One week from today, the adventure continues.</p><p>In the meantime, I have retreated twice, a weekend upstate very the next out East. Mountaintime and her company just as epic and wonderful as ever; now currently cozy, holed up in this beloved house in Quogue. I've been sitting here for hours enjoying the purest solitude I have known in months or even years. The skies here are staying gray, offering the perfect light and backdrop to my current calm, quiet mood and mindset. What a gift to hear myself think again, to be able to tackle small life tasks leading up to my upcoming departure, to listen to my usual not-so-secret Spotify reggae radio (oops ub40?!), to drink endless coffee, to stare out the window, to not get properly dressed if I don't want to. To text all day, to read, to write. To be.</p><p>All the while I am so nervous. I am freaking out. I am overwhelmed. But I am also optimistic. I am looking forward, onward, upward, all the things. </p><p>And so here it is. My final days and minutes in this life as I have known it. </p><p>West coast: you await. </p><p>As always, to be continued... </p><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-HgMxeqtQYz4/VCs_RwRvkcI/AAAAAAAAD1g/ZJlClLipMRw/s1024/2014_%2525209_30_19_39.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-HgMxeqtQYz4/VCs_RwRvkcI/AAAAAAAAD1g/ZJlClLipMRw/s500/2014_%2525209_30_19_39.jpg" id="blogsy-1412180109616.238" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-8-1CmBiqWnk/VCs_Vs_bpTI/AAAAAAAAD2I/e3jsu8vUd4M/s1024/2014_%2525209_30_19_40.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-8-1CmBiqWnk/VCs_Vs_bpTI/AAAAAAAAD2I/e3jsu8vUd4M/s500/2014_%2525209_30_19_40.jpg" id="blogsy-1412180109619.7778" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-ZnVPJaxf6Cs/VCs_TJuNl1I/AAAAAAAAD1w/YtObugq5w7E/s1024/2014_%2525209_30_19_39.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-ZnVPJaxf6Cs/VCs_TJuNl1I/AAAAAAAAD1w/YtObugq5w7E/s500/2014_%2525209_30_19_39.jpg" id="blogsy-1412180109582.4014" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1Dzm2ClXRvQ/VCs_UKg_mzI/AAAAAAAAD14/TFGoXVJkFXY/s1024/2014_%2525209_30_19_40.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1Dzm2ClXRvQ/VCs_UKg_mzI/AAAAAAAAD14/TFGoXVJkFXY/s500/2014_%2525209_30_19_40.jpg" id="blogsy-1412180109646.213" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8fYy0nd4PAY/VCs_UyqsnHI/AAAAAAAAD2A/Dk1iDowAhGQ/s1024/2014_%2525209_30_19_40.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8fYy0nd4PAY/VCs_UyqsnHI/AAAAAAAAD2A/Dk1iDowAhGQ/s500/2014_%2525209_30_19_40.jpg" id="blogsy-1412180109589.3325" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2PullwKu3OE/VCs_PWn6DNI/AAAAAAAAD1Q/Bgss0xn6Wpw/s1024/2014_%2525209_30_19_39.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2PullwKu3OE/VCs_PWn6DNI/AAAAAAAAD1Q/Bgss0xn6Wpw/s500/2014_%2525209_30_19_39.jpg" id="blogsy-1412180109651.662" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-4E0O3AEP3EA/VCs_SjQkkEI/AAAAAAAAD1o/5W5eNJL13rs/s1024/2014_%2525209_30_19_39.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-4E0O3AEP3EA/VCs_SjQkkEI/AAAAAAAAD1o/5W5eNJL13rs/s500/2014_%2525209_30_19_39.jpg" id="blogsy-1412180109610.6306" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><p> </p><p> </p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-70862207131595517502014-09-07T12:05:00.000-07:002014-09-10T12:05:49.494-07:00diggin deep
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-iHnVy3dTkxo/VBCgExRD7dI/AAAAAAAAD0Q/nE2K-mRtvkA/s2048/2014_%2525209_10_16_%2525200.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-iHnVy3dTkxo/VBCgExRD7dI/AAAAAAAAD0Q/nE2K-mRtvkA/s500/2014_%2525209_10_16_%2525200.jpg" id="blogsy-1410375855646.7078" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div>
<p style="text-align: center;"> We started off the morning a little scattered.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">The night before had been my unofficial birthday celebration, a lobster feast fortuitously timed to ring in another year of my short life but really the result of Eric the Fisherman's availability in schedule to provide. I swam both before and after dinner. Perfectly calm salty Northumberland strait providing for me as it so often does. This along with the beach fire that Rita arranged and I wanted for nothing.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">The next morning we woke early and sure enough, Ernie was up for the clam adventure discussed at dinner. We ate toast and drank coffee, plus blueberries and one half of a banana covered in cream. We packed buckets, shovels, small umbrellas just in case. Ernie arrived and we were off. I was admittedly tired but the drive seemed to take awhile. We knew we needed to go past Kouchibouguac but after that, where? Rita boldly tracked down a fisherman's number at he marina, our soon to be good friend Nyo who Rita may or may not have bought lobster from the year before. We had missed low tide but a woman assumed to be his wife advised he was still out digging and we might be able to catch him if we tried. She provided his number and the name of the street on which to turn right on two orange sticky post its, with a little patience we finally found out way. The water was hip deep by the time we arrived but we trolled nonetheless, shovels in hand. There were a few clam diggers still out and by now Rita had tracked down Nyo who showed us the ropes, or at least told us about them. Were the water not obscuring our view we would have looked for the telltale holes, stuck a shovel in, shaken the sand off, moved to the next. When the water settles, you rapidly collect. Our method was more along the lines of digging blindly and still, ridiculously, managing to procure ample clam families. His setup and efficiency humbled ours. But he was friendly enough to scatter his own haul and let us scramble for it, feeling like we'd done a lot in a very short time. His and his buddy's proper floating wood framed baskets were filled to the brim with a bounty we'd soon purchase two bonus pecks from. All told, two overflowing buckets, one surreal morning activity in Canada, bags and bags of frozen clams, and one steaming plateful shared with friends old and new. This really is the life. </p>
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<p> </p>
LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-22206643458009717142014-09-02T13:25:00.001-07:002014-09-02T13:25:45.757-07:00sight seers rewards<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-P6JND5hvj08/VAYlcRcNN1I/AAAAAAAADxw/0Tst7vebLqw/s640/NB%2525202014%252520-%252520PC2%252520-%2525204.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-P6JND5hvj08/VAYlcRcNN1I/AAAAAAAADxw/0Tst7vebLqw/s500/NB%2525202014%252520-%252520PC2%252520-%2525204.jpg" id="blogsy-1409689400978.9617" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="480" height="640"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p> Oh, how I love a scenic day trip!</p><p>This one was initially born from necessity; my for-the-week partner in crime Josh needed a ride to Halifax and Rita was happy to accommodate and let yours truly tag along. We set out early Sunday morning following all but sleepless nonstop days. A classic Canada pit stop to Tim Hortons for coffee, a leisurely and scenic drive to the wilds of Nova Scotia. We said goodbye to Josh at a McDonald's and continued to Halifax where we lunched at the wharf, embracing all touristic delights. From there, we continued through barrens, bogs, ponds, and rocky coastline. At times it reminded me of coastal Maine, others the glacial remains of Iceland. The skies were overcast and gloomy but cast an ultimately appropriate hue and mood over our eventual destination of <a href="http://www.novascotia.com/see-do/attractions/peggys-cove-village-and-lighthouse/1468" target="_blank" title="">Peggy's Cove</a>. Depending on who you ask, legend has it that many years ago a ship wrecked and all but a tiny child named Peggy perished. Her fate was to wash up on he rocks and eventually be adopted by a local family, this cove bearing her namesake forever more. How lil Peggy survived at all is beyond me and likely all who visit on a day as blustery as this one. The waves crashed high and powerfully, as Rita said, "it would be goodbye Charlie Brown" were you to venture to close and by chance get swept up in them. </p><p>In any case, it was a spectacle for which I am grateful to have seen. Being Labor Day weekend, it was overflowing with tourists but I didn't mind a bit. In certain areas it felt like we were collectively walking on another planet, their silhouettes on the rock faces actually added to the perception of scale in this impressive cove and the wind and waves made it so you could still only hear little more than yourself think. The surrounding fishing village maintains its perfectly rustic and undeveloped charm. Multicolored houses, local artisans, tiny boats, buoys, and bric a brac.</p><p>Our adventure ended with homemade icecream before a drive that admittedly felt twice as long as the first time around. Rita, forever the master storyteller, kept me entertained and laughing but, after days and days of nonstop activity, arriving back to my pink bedroom never felt so deservedly sweet. </p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Qjihc81qPwU/VAYX_Ga0Y4I/AAAAAAAADxI/aoahGjHilNE/s640/NB2014-Peggy%252527s%252520Cove%252520-%2525202.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Qjihc81qPwU/VAYX_Ga0Y4I/AAAAAAAADxI/aoahGjHilNE/s500/NB2014-Peggy%252527s%252520Cove%252520-%2525202.jpg" id="blogsy-1409689401054.7393" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="480" height="640"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Wa0lbAgWs-o/VAYX_OsPRQI/AAAAAAAADxI/aB4I3ZT0oJY/s640/NB2014-Peggy%252527s%252520Cove%252520-%2525201.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Wa0lbAgWs-o/VAYX_OsPRQI/AAAAAAAADxI/aB4I3ZT0oJY/s500/NB2014-Peggy%252527s%252520Cove%252520-%2525201.jpg" id="blogsy-1409689400994.1885" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="480" height="640"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-CUncJ4gX0VI/VAYlcUOe03I/AAAAAAAADxw/k7-ixAYE4AA/s640/NB%2525202014%252520-%252520PC2%252520-%2525203.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-CUncJ4gX0VI/VAYlcUOe03I/AAAAAAAADxw/k7-ixAYE4AA/s500/NB%2525202014%252520-%252520PC2%252520-%2525203.jpg" id="blogsy-1409689401030.818" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="480" height="640"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-jqxnAsfr1jI/VAYX_FElgoI/AAAAAAAADxI/OOK_j2NtB2A/s640/NB2014-Peggy%252527s%252520Cove%252520-%2525203.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-jqxnAsfr1jI/VAYX_FElgoI/AAAAAAAADxI/OOK_j2NtB2A/s500/NB2014-Peggy%252527s%252520Cove%252520-%2525203.jpg" id="blogsy-1409689401011.8357" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="480" height="640"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-GMNbpVydqR8/VAYlcdiflOI/AAAAAAAADxw/dCACS3T-oIo/s640/NB%2525202014%252520-%252520PC2%252520-%2525201.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-GMNbpVydqR8/VAYlcdiflOI/AAAAAAAADxw/dCACS3T-oIo/s500/NB%2525202014%252520-%252520PC2%252520-%2525201.jpg" id="blogsy-1409689401073.316" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="480" height="640"></a></div><p> </p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-6495181236474415952014-09-02T11:56:00.001-07:002014-09-02T11:56:57.478-07:00glass half full<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-z6Ja59M7WzE/VAYRKji5-yI/AAAAAAAADuw/u7hCjGm75wc/s2048/NB2014%252520-%25252010.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-z6Ja59M7WzE/VAYRKji5-yI/AAAAAAAADuw/u7hCjGm75wc/s500/NB2014%252520-%25252010.jpg" id="blogsy-1409684069958.5625" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p>It wasn't my intention to abandon the internet for all of these days that I just did. The sun came out, the would-be last glimpses of summer took over, I found myself enjoying the splendor of actual and undocumented life as it unfolded, one day at a time. </p><p>Simple pleasures: a concept I am no stranger to. Seaside ice cream, swimming four times a day, my father turning 67. Kayaking, biking, beach fires, backyard fires. Freezie pops, french fries, fried green tomatoes, homemade almond butter. Local blueberries, local beers, family gatherings, potlucks, and squeaky cheese. </p><p>This entire summer has been filled with moments like this. This past week I really let myself submit. But...now what? </p><p>Drifting through these days, I have been thinking a lot about what led me here and obviously where this vision quest of mine is ultimately going to take me. Is a work/life balance truly possible? Looking back I can reflect on the ways that the implied futility of New York can feel so heavy; defeat so often the given, not the exception to the rule. Even when you are, by all accounts, "successful", it can drain you completely. These past days in semi-rural Canada, surrounded by family and new friends, have, among other things, reminded me that one can simply DO and BE and it can often work out just fine. What if it were all just...possible? Just because stress is ingrained in me it doesn't mean that it's actually really real or necessary. Just because I have previously, for at least fourteen years, associated work and much of what I have done professionally with anxiety and inadequacy, it doesn't mean it's always going to be this way. This feeling of overachieving coming at the consequence of selling your soul and killing yourself in the process could have been just a product of my surrounding and imagination, not the definitive result for whatever I choose to do or be.</p><p>So, now what? All I can say right now is that I'm working on it. And gratefully taking it one day at a time. </p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-PwxnxJ_DBiI/VAYRKm5EwhI/AAAAAAAADuU/MsbTYbKOsU0/s640/NB2014%252520-%25252012.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-PwxnxJ_DBiI/VAYRKm5EwhI/AAAAAAAADuU/MsbTYbKOsU0/s500/NB2014%252520-%25252012.jpg" id="blogsy-1409684069955.354" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="480" height="640"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-wpr7bb9_uDs/VAYRKkd9CoI/AAAAAAAADuU/sZROVYxMzHY/s640/NB2014%252520-%2525209.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-wpr7bb9_uDs/VAYRKkd9CoI/AAAAAAAADuU/sZROVYxMzHY/s500/NB2014%252520-%2525209.jpg" id="blogsy-1409684069939.9485" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="480" height="640"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5pd_61GhqzA/VAYRKhnqvpI/AAAAAAAADuU/cZnVaOXSR88/s2048/NB2014%252520-%2525208.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5pd_61GhqzA/VAYRKhnqvpI/AAAAAAAADuU/cZnVaOXSR88/s500/NB2014%252520-%2525208.jpg" id="blogsy-1409684069959.5005" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-HP34PiKZ-eg/VAYPWP39UTI/AAAAAAAADtc/kz1XVmS4tDw/s1024/NB2014%252520-%2525202.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-HP34PiKZ-eg/VAYPWP39UTI/AAAAAAAADtc/kz1XVmS4tDw/s500/NB2014%252520-%2525202.jpg" id="blogsy-1409684070002.0107" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gOOmP8JXmm4/VAYPWAokvhI/AAAAAAAADug/_u-Y3iAeEuw/s2048/NB2014%252520-%2525204.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-gOOmP8JXmm4/VAYPWAokvhI/AAAAAAAADug/_u-Y3iAeEuw/s500/NB2014%252520-%2525204.jpg" id="blogsy-1409684070038.998" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-qm2IVvGDek4/VAYRKm5bEmI/AAAAAAAADuU/BWCKIVMBmxU/s2048/NB2014%252520-%25252011.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-qm2IVvGDek4/VAYRKm5bEmI/AAAAAAAADuU/BWCKIVMBmxU/s500/NB2014%252520-%25252011.jpg" id="blogsy-1409684070008.9077" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><p> </p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-45477637236566516482014-08-22T06:17:00.002-07:002014-09-02T13:28:30.711-07:00waking up
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-oTWJATwqVPk/U_dBUWF6znI/AAAAAAAADNo/5EbuACLEbRE/s2048/2014_%2525208_22_10_%2525209.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-oTWJATwqVPk/U_dBUWF6znI/AAAAAAAADNo/5EbuACLEbRE/s500/2014_%2525208_22_10_%2525209.jpg" id="blogsy-1409689700099.5972" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div>
<p style="text-align: center;"> I woke up in Canada for the third time since landing here days ago.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">After London, after the ultimate friend reunite, after celebrating a wedding, after wondering if London was more charming than I ever gave it credit for, after drinking cider, after dropping my iPhone into a toilet I didn't even use, after taking a deep breath and feeling like my vision quest was over, after the confusion of saying goodbye to people I had only just said hello to, after getting on a plane and embarking on a semi circuitous route as part of a ultimately fourteen hour plus travel day, after finally landing somewhere ....familiar. </p>
<p style="text-align: center;">Enter the deep, dark jet lag. Or is it more <a href="http://www.notesfromsomewhereelse.com/2014/05/life-lagged.html" target="_blank" title="">life lag</a> all over again? I realized I haven't really stopped with a forever go go go since that final beautiful <a href="http://www.notesfromsomewhereelse.com/2014/07/better-at-beach.html" target="_self" title="">beach day</a> weeks and weeks ago. Time change, life change, exhaustion. </p>
<p style="text-align: center;">This morning I am waking up again, but just barely. Another nine plus hour sleep after a day that included a two hour nap. Still feeling wonky eyed; nearing full energy but not even close. This is the third day of gloomy skies, a reality I have never known here in this maritime utopia. There's a certain relief in the weather dictating a lack of pressure to get outside and be productive or, at the very least, leisurely. Laziest me is just waiting for the sunshine to give me the jolt I think I need in order to reacclimate to this time zone, to routines, to inch closer to real life. Wondering all the while if this is another cosmic life lesson forcing me to overcome the would-be givens in order to arrive stronger on the other side. </p>
<p style="text-align: center;">In the meantime, patience. And another cup of coffee.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"> </p>
<p> </p>
LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-40414765991130155862014-08-13T08:37:00.000-07:002014-08-22T06:18:52.548-07:00peace out <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-vGVRSRtXjEQ/U_IaB_PhjmI/AAAAAAAADNM/vV_V4pyPwvg/s640/2014_%2525208_18_16_36.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-vGVRSRtXjEQ/U_IaB_PhjmI/AAAAAAAADNM/vV_V4pyPwvg/s500/2014_%2525208_18_16_36.jpg" id="blogsy-1408713506875.2888" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="500" alt=""></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> Adios e muita obrigada Portugal. </p><p style="text-align: center;">It's been really really real and surreal.....</p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p> </p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-52336905148889250112014-08-12T05:22:00.001-07:002014-08-22T05:37:56.040-07:00we are love.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Pl0DOiPhYkQ/U-oFiWjunbI/AAAAAAAADLo/kq02yMmVQ3k/s2048/2014_%2525208_12_13_30.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Pl0DOiPhYkQ/U-oFiWjunbI/AAAAAAAADLo/kq02yMmVQ3k/s500/2014_%2525208_12_13_30.jpg" id="blogsy-1408711014424.0393" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">If I could ever boast a descent into the belly if the beast, this would be the moment.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">What was that? Where was that? Where was I? Who was I? What?</p><p style="text-align: center;">The Boom Festival.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Conjure up a notion of things I am least likely to attend and this would rank high on the list. But here I am in Portugal and everyone, including people I really respect, started asking me if I was going. A week long festival that happens every other year in the middle of nowhere near a beautiful lake. Thousands of people, an international gathering. Camp for a week, attend lectures, watch documentaries, go to yoga classes. Music, art. Raw food, permaculture, sustainability, optimism, community, oneness. We are one, we are love. And as we now know so well, the answer for me is always yes in this country. So I went with these dear friends of mine, to this last hurrah in the desert... and wow. What a week it was.</p><p style="text-align: center;">The truth is that it was one of the craziest things I have ever seen or experienced in my life. And I am EXHAUSTED. And prior to the shower I took last night circa 2am when we finally returned to civilization, I am sure I was definitely dirtier that I have ever been too. But it was, as they say, really something. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Watch a discussion panel, sleep in the shade. Dance in the daytime, then swim in the lake. Walk through the gardens, drink a fresh juice. What time is it? Was that today or yesterday? Are we here? Where is there?</p><p style="text-align: center;">The Liminal Village, the Sacred Fire, the Chill Out Gardens, Alchemy Circle, Dance Temple, Healing Area.</p><p style="text-align: center;">There were of course the requisite moments when I felt too old, too tired, too not on drugs in the middle of the day. But then there was this entire other side of it where I looked around and felt like it was one of the most incredible things I have ever witnessed or been a part of. <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Completely environmentally conscious, actually "clean". Temporary structures made entirely of reclaimed materials. Compost toilets, solar and gravity fed water taps, recyclable everything, respect for the land. The things I learned, the good energy, the social responsibility, the unfailing friendliness of the community as a whole, the lake, the lectures, the inspiration, the togetherness. There were forty thousand people from every corner of the world. Old, young, weird, beautiful. I believe I actually witnessed something happening and lives being changed. The love, the acceptance, the encouragement. My own views on the world and of myself influenced, and so often in the least expected of ways.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">And with that said I am so grateful to be back in this reality. Waking up to the quiet sunshine pouring through my sweet friend Rénata's loft as opposed to the endless bass of psytrance music thumping through my own body whose temperature was steadily rising critically higher in my tent. There's no Boom Breakfast smoothie here, no spicy chai, no overpriced (but so worth it) oranges. We might swim in the ocean later but we'll have to drive to get there. But we have landed again, we are here. Looking back I cannot even imagine how that week just passed or if I could ever do such a thing ever again. But my only actual regrets center around my lack of photography to attempt to document the amazingness of it all, maybe a few lectures I missed out of absentmindedness and dwindling sense of time, perhaps my eventual laziness to rally for the bizarre array of morning yoga and otherwise. But all in all, the most fitting send off imaginable. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Because today also happens to be my last full day in Portugal within this crazy vision quest I have been on. And that actually feels ok to me, it actually feels like it's time. </p><p style="text-align: center;">One more day, one more adventure. And as always: here we go.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Ccy6kO8iRY0/U-n_GQeeOEI/AAAAAAAADJw/TWPN09oN1LA/s2048/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525202.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Ccy6kO8iRY0/U-n_GQeeOEI/AAAAAAAADJw/TWPN09oN1LA/s500/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525202.jpg" id="blogsy-1408711014393.9702" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="text-align: center; clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-9c1zOQ8dcOw/U-n_ThxyC-I/AAAAAAAADKo/5FIgH-oos-A/s2048/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525203.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-9c1zOQ8dcOw/U-n_ThxyC-I/AAAAAAAADKo/5FIgH-oos-A/s500/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525203.jpg" id="blogsy-1408711014395.8235" class="alignnone" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LViznVCNvuU/U-n_hNGd3fI/AAAAAAAADLY/1j0KfXLiCSE/s2048/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525204.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-LViznVCNvuU/U-n_hNGd3fI/AAAAAAAADLY/1j0KfXLiCSE/s500/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525204.jpg" id="blogsy-1408711014408.0173" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-WHmUCUMeI-s/U-n_X4MvD6I/AAAAAAAADLA/kHlYAwRxX-4/s2048/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525203.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-WHmUCUMeI-s/U-n_X4MvD6I/AAAAAAAADLA/kHlYAwRxX-4/s500/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525203.jpg" id="blogsy-1408711014452.698" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-GXoSeGAbqR8/U-n_aSjRYuI/AAAAAAAADLI/HKPJOvxuoT8/s2048/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525204.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-GXoSeGAbqR8/U-n_aSjRYuI/AAAAAAAADLI/HKPJOvxuoT8/s500/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525204.jpg" id="blogsy-1408711014455.0632" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-l24-4SnyJ60/U-n_NIF3jxI/AAAAAAAADKQ/zob8OACuS98/s2048/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525203.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-l24-4SnyJ60/U-n_NIF3jxI/AAAAAAAADKQ/zob8OACuS98/s500/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525203.jpg" id="blogsy-1408711014411.9463" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="750" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-1rW_VqAfzUs/U-n_LklKOxI/AAAAAAAADKI/dpvUblFEraE/s2048/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525203.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-1rW_VqAfzUs/U-n_LklKOxI/AAAAAAAADKI/dpvUblFEraE/s500/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525203.jpg" id="blogsy-1408711014455.216" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="750" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="text-align: center; clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-_GCARYS5Bvs/U-n_CXLqglI/AAAAAAAADJg/p6jed9Dgi_4/s2048/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525202.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-_GCARYS5Bvs/U-n_CXLqglI/AAAAAAAADJg/p6jed9Dgi_4/s500/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525202.jpg" id="blogsy-1408711014396.5986" class="alignnone" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="text-align: center; clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-vhhAf9_Bge4/U-n_dnfybTI/AAAAAAAADLQ/uT01kT153XY/s2048/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525204.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-vhhAf9_Bge4/U-n_dnfybTI/AAAAAAAADLQ/uT01kT153XY/s500/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525204.jpg" id="blogsy-1408711014427.914" class="alignnone" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-pjTrvW_nFXE/U-n_WdgZTxI/AAAAAAAADK4/CeY0S0QcwhI/s2048/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525203.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title=""><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-pjTrvW_nFXE/U-n_WdgZTxI/AAAAAAAADK4/CeY0S0QcwhI/s500/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525203.jpg" id="blogsy-1408711014397.3777" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="750" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="text-align: center; clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-zFY_TYlm7iI/U-n_Iak9wkI/AAAAAAAADJ4/zXe_fOntRtE/s2048/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525202.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-zFY_TYlm7iI/U-n_Iak9wkI/AAAAAAAADJ4/zXe_fOntRtE/s500/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525202.jpg" id="blogsy-1408711014445.7874" class="alignnone" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="text-align: center; clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-e1GO979xCQ8/U-n_OeAFH4I/AAAAAAAADKY/2DWBJsKmxSE/s2048/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525203.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-e1GO979xCQ8/U-n_OeAFH4I/AAAAAAAADKY/2DWBJsKmxSE/s500/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525203.jpg" id="blogsy-1408711014409.7864" class="alignnone" width="500" height="750" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="text-align: center; clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WfGbONiaJ9Y/U-n_Q3nWxNI/AAAAAAAADKg/7SK-77cBJ6U/s2048/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525203.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WfGbONiaJ9Y/U-n_Q3nWxNI/AAAAAAAADKg/7SK-77cBJ6U/s500/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525203.jpg" id="blogsy-1408711014411.9412" class="alignnone" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="text-align: center; clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Pm81eMm8Xbk/U-n_VcFRc9I/AAAAAAAADKw/-ZcIMXVDIl8/s2048/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525203.jpg" target="_blank" style=""><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Pm81eMm8Xbk/U-n_VcFRc9I/AAAAAAAADKw/-ZcIMXVDIl8/s500/2014_%2525208_12_13_%2525203.jpg" id="blogsy-1408711014413.2095" class="alignnone" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="text-align: center; clear: both;">(For the record, I will never ever go to Burning Man.)</div><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p> </p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-91635535131031832342014-08-03T16:05:00.001-07:002014-08-03T16:05:01.403-07:00goodbye to all this. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-c2Quuqw9-1E/U962dY5BERI/AAAAAAAADIc/rmiuAWJfkBk/s2048/2014_%2525208_%2525203_23_37.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-c2Quuqw9-1E/U962dY5BERI/AAAAAAAADIc/rmiuAWJfkBk/s500/2014_%2525208_%2525203_23_37.jpg" id="blogsy-1407107886030.827" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Here it really is. Goodbye.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">I've collectively spent over two months at this mysterious, magical homestead in the hills. </p><p style="text-align: center;">In an adobe school, a room of bunk beds, an attic space. Weeding walking wood saloons. Documentaries, swimming, shaman ceremonies, peanuts, a pizza party. I lost myself, I found myself, with still so much searching left to do.</p><p style="text-align: center;">This time, unlike the last, I feel very at peace with my departure. I'm genuinely excited and curious for all that will come next, stronger for all I have learned here, for all the peace I was able to internalize and for the openness and optimism I currently feel. Of course it's in many ways just too difficult to imagine that I won't be here any longer, that David and I won't have our endless prattle, that I won't eat when the bell rings, that Ishtar and I won't be spending hours of our day walking through the forest. The mandala, the terrace, the yoga studio, the temple. It all feels so deeply ingrained in my day to day and my soul now, it will take some time to fully let it settle and become part of the past. </p><p style="text-align: center;">I've been thinking a lot about when arrived here back in May in the pitch black, waking up to a tiny window overlooking the amphitheater, not having a clue what I'd gotten myself into, too burnt out to give it a deeper thought, only capable of just saying yes to all and doing my best. And here I was. Soon learning routines, learning about myself. Who I was then, who I am now. Who I can or will be wherever I land next. </p><p style="text-align: center;">It's actually still way too fresh and too present to go too deep into the gratitude I feel for all that this place brought me. And that of course generally goes for Portugal too. I still have another week plus to enjoy this fine country, starting tomorrow a little further north again for what will be a week of I don't even know what centering around a festival that could, as I have been told, possibly change my life. No matter what I have reason to believe I will be fully off grid again so we will just have to see what I saw when I get back. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Until then, wish me luck as another chapter closes and another one begins.</p><p style="text-align: center;">For now: grateful, happy, at peace, and excited. What more could I possibly ask for? </p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-70712176468929962382014-08-03T15:38:00.001-07:002014-08-03T15:38:20.999-07:00second to last, revisited<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-9zRzQ82qWiQ/U962ktTN48I/AAAAAAAADI0/4Pma8iSZd7Q/s2048/2014_%2525208_%2525203_23_38.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-9zRzQ82qWiQ/U962ktTN48I/AAAAAAAADI0/4Pma8iSZd7Q/s500/2014_%2525208_%2525203_23_38.jpg" id="blogsy-1407106222309.7227" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Today I am laying around like I am finally on vacation. I'm not sure I am actually entitled to such a luxury just yet but I am currently taking it without the faintest hint of guilt. It's not as though I did all that much yesterday either but, what can I say, things are winding down here.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">Last night I arrived back to the top of the hill from my nightly before-dinner swim in the biopool and Adrien informed me that there would be a change of plans for the evening. This shaped up to be a surprise PIZZA PARTY (!) for my second to last night, using the old bread oven, plus a huge campfire, and the truly beautiful Dutch family playing music for everyone. David and Ju bought assorted toppings, assorted pizza sizes. At one point David hands me a glass of vino verde and a huge bowl of delicious Portuguese olives just for me, and trust me when I say that no greater gift has ever been given. Over the course of the evening we talked and talked and sang and sat around and made our way through the entirety of a box of white wine and at least half of the red. There were songs in every language, the brothers played guitar and drums, I stayed up later than I have since the <a href="http://www.notesfromsomewhereelse.com/2014/06/reunion-tour.html" target="_blank" title="">Santo Antonio Festival</a>, and I had the presence of mind to look around in the moment thinking how I couldn't have dreamt a better closure to this time I have spent here. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Today: massive reorganization. Just when I have the art of whatever I packed for this journey down to a horribly boring science of bare essentials, I must reconfigure all in preparation for the week long festival Ju and I are headed to in the morning. Basically the last thing I want to be doing today. But it will get done, like it always does. And there are still a few hours left for my usual routines and likely one last trip into town for our traditional circuit of old man bars, peanuts, and mini beers. For now the warm fuzziness of last night it still lingering into the late afternoon and between now and then: a nap.</p><p> </p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-20854948276831768812014-07-30T14:11:00.000-07:002014-07-30T14:11:00.593-07:00forest fresh <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-wCYAZCg5Ass/U9lUjVhME5I/AAAAAAAADHo/uZVaPvzvhoE/s2048/2014_%2525207_30_21_38.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-wCYAZCg5Ass/U9lUjVhME5I/AAAAAAAADHo/uZVaPvzvhoE/s500/2014_%2525207_30_21_38.jpg" id="blogsy-1406754729375.915" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">These days I am picking my breakfast.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">It seems like this happened overnight, and maybe in nature these things really do. It was just last week that I was with Joao picking what we hoped were ripe wild blackberries, wincing at their tartness. Now I stroll down and find sweet satisfaction at every bush, sometimes between morning and evening the quantities will have seemingly doubled. If I stop and get carried away on a particularly bountiful branch I'll often look down the path and see that the dog is doing the very same thing, like me she zeroes in right for the plumpest darkest berries leaving the still red ones to ripen. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.notesfromsomewhereelse.com/2011/08/tis-season.html" target="_blank" title="">Back in Finland I spent many a pleasant afternoon foraging raspberries</a>, freezing them for the winter, making jams, cakes, and tarts. These days it's a more selfish affair, but as far as I can tell we are not yet at peak harvest time in Portugal. Maybe by then someone will feel more generous, I will likely be gone already.</p><p style="text-align: center;">With the raspberries it was always the <a href="http://www.notesfromsomewhereelse.com/2011/08/feeling-burn.html" target="_blank" title="">nettles</a> acting as nature's deterrent for foraging, growing right along with them, almost indecipherably so. Here it's the blackberries' own silva, the forever expanding and menacing thorns on endlessly extending branches from cartoon nightmares snagging your clothes or worse yet your skin. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Yesterday afternoon I took on the cathartic task of clearing by hand a set of hidden stairs leading from the main house to the solar panels on top of the tool shed. Armed with proper gloves and hedge clippers, I took immense satisfaction in for once having the upper hand with these bastards of the plant world. What do you know, as I cleared it slowly, branch by branch, I discovered one of the sweetest, ripest bunches yet of wild blackberries hiding underneath. Just rewards, if you ask me. And of course I shared them with Ishtar. </p><p> </p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-22142064470633181852014-07-29T15:36:00.000-07:002014-07-30T13:53:38.240-07:00when in portugal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-iTZr0d9okIU/U9lUoeUuB7I/AAAAAAAADHw/ayhd-T_Fo4s/s2048/2014_%2525207_30_21_38.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-iTZr0d9okIU/U9lUoeUuB7I/AAAAAAAADHw/ayhd-T_Fo4s/s500/2014_%2525207_30_21_38.jpg" id="blogsy-1406754397165.6077" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">If you turn left at the bottom of the hill you walk just a short ways before hitting a patch of dirt road completely submerged in brown, opaque water that smells like a cow pasture. Beyond that: paradise. One of the few truly shaded extended pathways; wild, jungly, running along the river stream, and under the aqueduct. It's often my after lunch walk of choice with the dog on a hot day, if I can manage to stomach that murk. The cork trucks passing by have made it even more difficult but after two scorchingly hot days in a row I decided again to give it a go in hopes it had dried a bit. Not two steps in I sank one foot in almost to my knees, sandal ripped off, literally submerged in the warmest and worst feeling. The next step I took was with the other foot with the same results. Ishtar has meanwhile bounded effortlessly past, I stuck my hands in, retrieved my shoes, proceeded barefoot, squishing and reeking. My plan was to find a nearby path into the fresh stream water, rinse off and regroup. Not five minutes later, Ishtar hears something. She begins growling and barking, hair on her back standing on end. Alas, one of men of the cork, a taker, is walking along the path alone, axe and ladder in hand, very obviously afraid of dogs, even more obviously stunned by the appearance of yours truly. We exchanged something only equivalent to grunts and sounds, I manage to re-leash the dog, the taker has backed himself halfway up the hill adjacent to the path, we manage a polite "<em>boa tarde</em>!" as I am dragging this ferocious seeming pitbull out of harm's way, barefoot over sharp rocks and thorny silva. We walked a short bit but eventually turned back, I realized the obviousness of still having to traverse this cesspool again even if I managed to clean myself off, so I just went for round two into that abyss, no better than the first. We continued along further, me still sans shoes, finally reaching what I now call The Boar Stream, I cleaned my feet, legs, and arms, dislodged the thorns, and leaned back on the rocks while Ishtar continued her now three days long attempt to conquest a submerged tree limb. Soon enough we'd be interrupted again, a different Taker, no less surprised, slightly more amused. We re-leashed again, another "<em>boa tarde</em>!", and wandered back to the house to clean myself off with the garden hose. Another afternoon in Portugal.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p> </p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-5206729821077101902014-07-29T13:27:00.000-07:002014-07-30T13:52:30.656-07:00the takers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-HkQQr0znvMg/U9lUd1_j-RI/AAAAAAAADHY/qMUCq32zFyw/s2048/2014_%2525207_30_21_38.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-HkQQr0znvMg/U9lUd1_j-RI/AAAAAAAADHY/qMUCq32zFyw/s500/2014_%2525207_30_21_38.jpg" id="blogsy-1406754368445.2278" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">It's time to harvest the cork around here, a fascinating process of which I am admittedly no expert. The basic facts I understand center around the incredible regenerative abilities of these noble trees. You will drive anywhere here and see one after another stripped on the bottom, seemingly de-pantsed, but ready to grow again. There will usually be a number spray painted, in our case a 2, indicating the harvest year. Twelve years after that, these men will be back. And men they are. Axe slung over one arm, small ladder in the other hand, their notable dress seemingly from olden times, in the context of modern Portugal their reclined lunches in the shade looking like something rustled up by the local theater troupe for the benefit of tourists. They, known as "the takers" in Portuguese, are in fact a dying breed. Their trade, however needed, is now antiquated, more often than not will not be passed down to the generation to follow. </p><p style="text-align: center;">From tree to tree, by foot or by truck, a test whack with the axe before perfectly and precisely making a line around its circumference, no interior flesh nicked or marred. Done all by hand. Remove it like a jacket, ideally in one piece, sometimes two. Pile it in the truck, cart it off, dry it out, cash it in. The land owners profit and they get a cut. Year after year, so on and so forth, one of Portugal's remaining unique agricultural products since joining the EU. As truly beautiful as it is potentially obsolete. </p><p> </p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-25804328512897632352014-07-28T14:05:00.000-07:002014-07-30T13:51:33.451-07:00better at the beach <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mSVYFp6pG2E/U9lUhGsX0GI/AAAAAAAADHg/6QU3wv-LAYg/s2048/2014_%2525207_30_21_38.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mSVYFp6pG2E/U9lUhGsX0GI/AAAAAAAADHg/6QU3wv-LAYg/s500/2014_%2525207_30_21_38.jpg" id="blogsy-1406754052222.673" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Two weeks passed before we thought about taking a day off. Actually, we thought about it a lot, but plans were consistently thwarted. This, as we have all learned, is par for the course in a semi-democratic household of many. Nevertheless Monday rolled around, we did yoga, confirmed we could steal away, packed a picnic basket, and headed for the beach. I didn't know until just before we'd arrived that Odeceixe was the planned destination and I could not have been happier. Site of so many sunny afternoons with the beautiful ladies I now call friends from my week in <a href="http://www.notesfromsomewhereelse.com/2014/06/the-tipi-times.html" target="_self" title="">Tipi Valley</a>. As seems to always be the case in this country, serendipity led me to run into my surf instructors just moments after I got out of the car. From there, pure bliss. The tide was high and we set up our towels and blankets as close to the waves as I have ever thought to. I was both energized and relaxed in a state of pure happiness; it really is that easy. Now the real question: how can I build my real life next to the sea?</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"> <br></p><p> </p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-7412244720058558182014-07-26T11:41:00.001-07:002014-07-26T11:41:46.231-07:00desperate times<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-N10b4VO_-os/U9P1uXPLBuI/AAAAAAAADG8/uIe76upx4I0/s2048/2014_%2525207_26_19_52.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-N10b4VO_-os/U9P1uXPLBuI/AAAAAAAADG8/uIe76upx4I0/s500/2014_%2525207_26_19_52.jpg" id="blogsy-1406400777005.845" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> If n<span style="line-height: 1.3em;">ecessity is the mother of invention, in this case it was a hot day in the country with nary a ride to the beach. After lunch I let Ishtar frolic for a good while in the nearby stream before heading up to the main house and announcing to the Brazilians that it was time to get weird. It was time, once and for all, to jump into the canal. The canal is basically this part of the Alentejo's water source, originating at a dam and going on for kilometers and kilometers past this property, through tunnels, over aqueducts, and along the hillsides. I'd scoped this adventure out to some extent, I at least knew where the final exit ladder was located before the point if no return. We walked along the usual path I take the dog on before deciding to just jump in from the top of the tunnel Tiê deemed "too dark and too long" to climb in prior to. Yet again, what would otherwise be a bad idea elsewhere seems like a good one in Portugal - the answer is always yes! We all jumped in, first Tiê, then Gabi and I. And risk paid off. Perfectly cool water on a sweltering Saturday, floating along with the current, laughing and watching the countryside go by. It seemed to go on forever. We got out at the ladder and walked all the way back barefoot across rocks and thorns for our clothing. Tomorrow's strategy: two pairs of shoes, one at each end, and to bravely tackle the dark, long tunnel.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"> <br></p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-90481045662964966192014-07-26T06:43:00.001-07:002014-07-30T14:12:42.080-07:00the deep end club<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-XTceYau3VU8/U9Kmq7jAk-I/AAAAAAAADEw/o80ZuicLsaY/s2048/2014_%2525207_25_20_%2525202.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-XTceYau3VU8/U9Kmq7jAk-I/AAAAAAAADEw/o80ZuicLsaY/s500/2014_%2525207_25_20_%2525202.jpg" id="blogsy-1406755580070.8464" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">I feel so overwhelmed with gratitude when a day comes along to remind me that it really is the simplest of things that bring me the greatest of joys. In this case, great company, an outdoor adventure, a swim in a natural body of water, delicious and fresh local food, the sun shining bright. What more do I ever need?</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">Two dear friends who I have mentioned before, the Other David and his wife Filipa, had a farm property purchase go through back when I was here in May. It's been described to me and I have seen pictures, but a trip there was still on our to-do list. On a day that began with its usual chores, the stars finally aligned in the afternoon such that we three plus Joao and his dog all piled in the jeep and were able at last to steal away. </p><p style="text-align: center;">The house itself is the stuff of dreams. A truly unusual hippy enclave; nestled in the hillside, surrounded by cacti and trees. Its design inspired by a boat, built in traditional Portuguese style, plucked straight from my fantasies of southern Californian living. It's currently in the rawest of states, abandoned and scrapped, bats its only tenants. But the possibility and the potential are obvious. When David initially went to look at the property he and the realtor both discovered an entire camping setup at the base of the property. We all walked down the path, with a machete and a sense of adventure and commitment to make It through. Our legs and feet and elbows scraped by the thorns of the silva and otherwise, but it was so worth it. Past a wooden platform for dining al fresco, a swimming hole with its own dock and wooden stairs, eating wild blackberries along the way. We crawled through a passageway and a stone bridge, over a fence and then back over again, climbing up up up until we reached a truly beautiful outdoor kitchen carved into a ruin and a set of outdoor showers and toilets, all created to accommodate campers past and future. It's obvious that love and design sense were poured into these structures; nature has taken over but they remain confidently intact. </p><p style="text-align: center;">We scrabbled back, down and up again to the house, locking up, dreaming of herb gardens and loft beds and fires in chilly evenings. <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">From there, a drive to Pego das Pias, a beautiful tributary entrance point off the Mira river. The hot and sticky day plus our miniature expedition made this all the sweeter as the golden hour settled in. Joao in his birthday suit running up the rocks and David eventually following, both of them jumping off, showing off. Filipa and I eventually persuaded, taking longer at the top, the highest point I've ever jumped from but ultimately the answer will always be YES in Portugal it seems. And I felt so happy. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;">Joao knows this area so well, he grew up near here and has an obvious connection and inclination towards all things having to do with nature. He took us further down by memory, weaving through rocks and waterways, all of us climbing and laughing in bare feet and bathing suits, sometimes singing songs we all now know from the shaman, more often than not blown away by the beauty of our surroundings, of the complex simplicity of nature. </p><p style="text-align: center;">It was within that fairy forest that our next plan was hatched: head to a tiny fishing village that Joao likes to have delicious and cheap local seafood. It required some doing, I'd already missed dinner back at the house, I returned, walked the dog, they picked up their son, Joao dropped off his dog. I continued to make myself scarce until I was whisked off again. Back in the jeep we drove some kilometers reaching Azenha do Mar. A beach view and an otherwise nondescript establishment where I ended up having one of the best meals of my entire life. Arroz de mariscos, garlicky steamed clams, huge crabs, buttered Portuguese bread, olives, red wine. During dinner they asked me if I was moving to Portugal and at that moment I was seriously considering it. </p><p style="text-align: center;">We ended the evening by candle light at David and Filipa's, the four of us still telling stories, listening to music, making the perfect day last. I finally fell asleep happily on their couch, a deep sleep I desperately needed. I woke up to their tiny son's footsteps and his breakfast spoon, we all drove together the short distance back here in time for me to stroll in, unleash the dog, resume my routine. In the end, <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">my overnight absence was completely undetected by my farm family. A secret best day just for me.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-9hRzvsKUVH0/U9KmuENNXAI/AAAAAAAADE4/ryQBwMuHUbg/s2048/2014_%2525207_25_20_%2525202.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-9hRzvsKUVH0/U9KmuENNXAI/AAAAAAAADE4/ryQBwMuHUbg/s500/2014_%2525207_25_20_%2525202.jpg" id="blogsy-1406755580042.9287" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Ha5iDsJwS98/U9Km7CmA_AI/AAAAAAAADFY/0-QvO8SqARk/s2048/2014_%2525207_25_20_%2525203.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Ha5iDsJwS98/U9Km7CmA_AI/AAAAAAAADFY/0-QvO8SqARk/s500/2014_%2525207_25_20_%2525203.jpg" id="blogsy-1406755580025.0784" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ZMi-96LAueU/U9OE48GjS6I/AAAAAAAADF8/_xzFnZQ8p4A/s2048/2014_%2525207_26_11_50.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ZMi-96LAueU/U9OE48GjS6I/AAAAAAAADF8/_xzFnZQ8p4A/s500/2014_%2525207_26_11_50.jpg" id="blogsy-1406755580119.4543" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-_IVCILidOqs/U9KmYCqeIVI/AAAAAAAADEQ/JQb33Msa6wQ/s2048/2014_%2525207_25_20_%2525201.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-_IVCILidOqs/U9KmYCqeIVI/AAAAAAAADEQ/JQb33Msa6wQ/s500/2014_%2525207_25_20_%2525201.jpg" id="blogsy-1406755580110.5732" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-deT_-mvYyHI/U9Km4WMLpdI/AAAAAAAADFQ/CuN45x_mQZQ/s2048/2014_%2525207_25_20_%2525203.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-deT_-mvYyHI/U9Km4WMLpdI/AAAAAAAADFQ/CuN45x_mQZQ/s500/2014_%2525207_25_20_%2525203.jpg" id="blogsy-1406755580094.6987" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-kBCSfniDNis/U9KmxSR_JFI/AAAAAAAADFA/6xwqtZ5uAc0/s2048/2014_%2525207_25_20_%2525203.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-kBCSfniDNis/U9KmxSR_JFI/AAAAAAAADFA/6xwqtZ5uAc0/s500/2014_%2525207_25_20_%2525203.jpg" id="blogsy-1406755580050.244" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-cHs9kfZyMuw/U9KmegAcF8I/AAAAAAAADEg/FapTViUzLVM/s2048/2014_%2525207_25_20_%2525201.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-cHs9kfZyMuw/U9KmegAcF8I/AAAAAAAADEg/FapTViUzLVM/s500/2014_%2525207_25_20_%2525201.jpg" id="blogsy-1406755580039.1885" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-peibNWh5VS8/U9KmntYdpBI/AAAAAAAADEo/rY-QXZacuRw/s2048/2014_%2525207_25_20_%2525202.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-peibNWh5VS8/U9KmntYdpBI/AAAAAAAADEo/rY-QXZacuRw/s500/2014_%2525207_25_20_%2525202.jpg" id="blogsy-1406755580050.1992" class="aligncenter" width="500" height="667" alt=""></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p> </p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-30083788435573147492014-07-25T06:29:00.000-07:002014-07-26T06:16:24.850-07:00wind down<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ASAVqMb6RgE/U9OE0W3VvxI/AAAAAAAADF0/ncciloe2_vM/s2048/2014_%2525207_26_11_50.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-ASAVqMb6RgE/U9OE0W3VvxI/AAAAAAAADF0/ncciloe2_vM/s500/2014_%2525207_26_11_50.jpg" id="blogsy-1406381170242.6223" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">If you follow along here with any regularity you will have noticed once again that I have fallen a bit silent. Head in the clouds, that's my biggest excuse. I'd like to tell myself it's as strategic as trying to soak up every last second of my time here in Portugal but in reality it was not so calculated. Just less of an inclination than ever to turn on my wifi; days pass as they do and here we are. For the record my iPhone also came into contact with some salt water, momentarily (or so I hope) compromising its charging abilities and therefore further limiting my access to the outside world. Then there were also the mornings and nights without internet here at the main house. So be it. I went on a walk with Ishtar instead.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">And the days have been productive in the meantime. The usual weeding watering walking tiny repair routine. Also cleaning out a previously unrecognizable tool shed such that we actually have a work space and are suddenly spending much more time there. Jigsaws, electric sanders, wood burners all revealing themselves to me, literally, and in the sense they finally have space to be used. Small projects, signage, key holders, and the what not....little pieces of me left behind. The Lost American. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Ten more days. </p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-56335011425165407682014-07-19T13:13:00.001-07:002014-07-19T13:13:53.252-07:00blue heaven <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-n_PKIErqgAA/U8gxCsKrYFI/AAAAAAAADDc/H-LJPgFBO6k/s2048/2014_%2525207_17_21_38.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-n_PKIErqgAA/U8gxCsKrYFI/AAAAAAAADDc/H-LJPgFBO6k/s500/2014_%2525207_17_21_38.jpg" id="blogsy-1405801562482.2253" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">I have been holding onto a deep desire to complete the blue refresh around the windows of the temple for months now, the same treatment I gave the windows of the big house prior to the shaman's visit in May. It takes some doing: newly cooked whitewash, new pigment, the perfect blend, the surfaces shaded. If any of the above go wrong, it's going to look terrible. And terrible is not an option.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">Finally, FINALLY, it all came together yesterday. David and I mixed it all slowly and then did a tiny patch test just before Clara rang the bell for lunch. I returned to the bucket roughly an hour later, ladder in hand, about to give it a stir but first went to extract what I think is a leaf blown in by the wind. Nope. It's a lizard. A suicidal lizard. I can only imagine he must have felt as dazzled as I do by this perfect shade of blue. Curiosity drew him close only to overtake and without warning.... a beautiful blue death. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Our friend Joao happened to arrive right around then, looking happier than hell I might add. He's been particularly inspired since the shaman came, he said, he was in fact bringing a trash bin he'd fashioned out of cork the night before as a gift to David and Ju. I thought he might appreciate this poor blue soul I'd just discovered. He sure did, and among other things he said it might be my spirit animal. "But it's dead?!" I said and he very calmly replies "...but death is positive, ok?" as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. </p><p style="text-align: center;">I have to admit there is something so heartbreakingly beautiful about this creature, not only just his death, but now the aftermath. I laid him on a piece of cardboard where he currently lies, in one of the tiny, freshly painted blue windows. No one seems to mind, and no one seems to know what else to do with him. So for now: may he rest in eternal blue peace. </p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-23059240609911328822014-07-18T11:49:00.000-07:002014-07-19T11:36:03.774-07:00brave heart <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-DejU7SsKoq8/U8gxFty9U8I/AAAAAAAADDk/soF6e_GXq9g/s2048/2014_%2525207_17_21_38.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-DejU7SsKoq8/U8gxFty9U8I/AAAAAAAADDk/soF6e_GXq9g/s500/2014_%2525207_17_21_38.jpg" id="blogsy-1405795519480.7441" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Within hours if posting the previous Ode to Ishtar one of the crazier things in my thirtysome years of life happened to occur with her.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">There we were, taking our usual after-dinner forest stroll, turning right at the bottom of the hill, walking through the eucalyptus, Ishtar running ahead, me meandering behind. A left at the first stream, passing by the old abandoned farmhouse, through the clearing, back into the trees. Then comes another crossroads, one of many, this time a muddier, deeper stream to the left or an uphill diversion on the right. My inclination is the latter but she clearly smells something and starts running in the opposite direction. She plows into the water, I call her name. She turns towards me before we both hear the distinct sound of movement through the rocks and water. My first thought is human (the creepiest scenario to be sure), I froze before taking a few steps forward to peek around the silva bushes, and there before me, in the middle of the stream, stands the biggest wild boar ever to walk the earth (or so it seemed). Nary a second could have passed before Ishtar lept neck deep into the water and the most surreal and elongated battle of beast vs. beast I could ever imagining witnessing began. They fought, they plowed, they butted, they bit. One would retreat the other would chase and attack again. All the while I am screaming for this dog, imagining myself carrying her bloodied 26 kilos home in my arms and/or my own bloody mass laid to rest in the wild thistle. My mind boggled at the duration of this territorial affront. I was yelling but I was surprisingly calm, partially out of bewilderment of the situation, partially out of fascination? With one final head butt from boar to pitbull, there was a squeal and she was submerged again, possibly injured, it was obvious who had won. The boar then scrambled off for good, Ishtar came back to me soaked and shaking, back hair standing on end. I leashed her and took her up the original left hand hook, not only to look her over (one neck wound, one butt scrape, otherwise fine) but to also give this demonic beast time to amble back towards whence he came. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Uhm what....?</p><p style="text-align: center;">I recounted this drama to David as soon as I got back and his mind was also blown. There has been rumor of boars but not yet a sighting. He asked "and was she ok?", meaning the boar not the dog, and I said of course and a look of obvious disappointment may or may not have washed over his face. I insisted Ishtar was brave and tough but David was not convinced. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Later, in the kitchen, I was describing this event to Clara. Our carpenter walks in, the story is translated, and almost immediately he literally runs out (?!) of the room. He returns moments later and hands me what turns out to be a carved wooden heart with an arrow going through it, the tip of which is painted a deep bloody red, still wet, or as he put it as he clutched his chest, "still fresh". He told Clara to tell me that it's a heart to remind me that I was brave with the boar too, but also that he made it that afternoon for me to look at and always remember the carpenter by. At that moment I had a hard time deciding which of the evening's events I found crazier. </p><p style="text-align: center;">I since remain without words, Ishtar remains on edge, and the brave heart now remains on my windowsill.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Another evening in the country. </p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-40996076976577410552014-07-17T13:30:00.001-07:002014-07-17T13:30:19.953-07:00happiness could be so easy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gPp_l1Qzevg/U8gw_eTT1_I/AAAAAAAADDU/s05FazVlN7o/s1280/2014_%2525207_17_21_37.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-gPp_l1Qzevg/U8gw_eTT1_I/AAAAAAAADDU/s05FazVlN7o/s500/2014_%2525207_17_21_37.jpg" id="blogsy-1405629644295.21" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">Given that my days as of late are filled with familiar and - let's face it - boring (however enjoyable) tasks I continue to have little of novelty to report. There is also the current juggle I am in the midst of performing regarding airfares and visas and logistics and the like; all seeming to consume my brain just as much as it does the hours of my day. Zzzzz.....</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">But meanwhile: Ishtar. My recent morning noon and night. People came and people went and I have willingly adopted the task of sole caregiver. Walking routines, food routines, medicinal routines. I am both reminded of how much work it is to have a dog but also how much I miss it. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Our long walks truly give me so much space and time to consider all of the boring all of the above. Our suddenly symbiotic relationship share, our moods reflecting back to eachother, good, bad, energized, not. Deciding together which path to take, when to turn back. Her sitting her huge body in my indian-style lap in the forest, her taking a secret nap with me in my little house when I needed it and her company most. These walks can take on an almost meditative quality, so much so I am at this point almost avoiding adding other people to the equation should they happen to offer. </p><p style="text-align: center;">My first thing in the morning, my last thing at night. This crazy bruised and battered pitbull mix. What a gift. </p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-27588918377160962562014-07-14T11:48:00.001-07:002014-07-14T11:48:56.458-07:00awake from a dream<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-mgzVNR7HKPg/U8QkwCw9llI/AAAAAAAADDA/7VCSJ8FpskY/s2048/2014_%2525207_14_19_56.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-mgzVNR7HKPg/U8QkwCw9llI/AAAAAAAADDA/7VCSJ8FpskY/s500/2014_%2525207_14_19_56.jpg" id="blogsy-1405364460276.4165" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">I've said some variation of this before and now I will say it again: life really is beautiful.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">Full of light, love, happiness, and choreographed coincidence. </p><p style="text-align: center;">What a magical mystical full moon weekend we just experienced in the hills of Portugal. So much of it cannot be relayed or easily explained but here I am on the other side and I am generally just feeling part of the connectedness of life, seeing nature as its most beautiful, saying all the things that will lead you to think I have truly jumped off the deep end. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Aho. </p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-52797814152687817132014-07-09T11:46:00.001-07:002014-07-09T11:46:18.541-07:00lights out<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0jBKgCD3aZY/U72LHTIs5rI/AAAAAAAADCs/JKEbI7zXZBQ/s2048/2014_%2525207_%2525209_19_47.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0jBKgCD3aZY/U72LHTIs5rI/AAAAAAAADCs/JKEbI7zXZBQ/s500/2014_%2525207_%2525209_19_47.jpg" id="blogsy-1404931725720.6582" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">And what do you know, the electricity to Nubia's School (also known as Nadia's Tiny House) got run over by the weed wacker. David assured me it can be fixed as he literally handed me a solar powered lamp. Off grid, off the charts. There really are worse things.</span></p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-20024336514102057742014-07-08T14:06:00.001-07:002014-07-08T14:06:18.317-07:00character study<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4kqi3ieLpZQ/U7xY96QTIeI/AAAAAAAADB0/o1m9sfndGTo/s1024/2014_%2525207_%2525208_22_%2525201.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4kqi3ieLpZQ/U7xY96QTIeI/AAAAAAAADB0/o1m9sfndGTo/s500/2014_%2525207_%2525208_22_%2525201.jpg" id="blogsy-1404854291733.271" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">He came and he went.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">David told me that his father was in town and described him as his Little Sadam. The physical description was accurate. Heavy gray mustache; superior air. He probably came up just past my shoulder. I was warned he did little ore than sit quietly and smoke, my initial memories are only of him ambling back and forth from afar, either by the mandala or the bread oven where he cooked his meat. On his final day he, like the mornings before, relaxed shirtless on the patio, smoking and watching the world go by. We exchanged a too-early-to-be-awake "Bom dia....". I didn't see him again until the afternoon when I happened to pass his way. As he is known to to do, he offered me a nip of whatever he was drinking, this time with some English attached. "Very good, no?" And then a hefty refill. Later Adrian would report him offering "wine or beer" and instead of letting him decide simply mixed the two. He ate his peanuts, finished his pack. Soon he would appear behind me in the kitchen, tiny plastic bag in hand - his luggage? Suddenly a wave of English: "Goodbye! See you again! See you tomorrow! I go, I see you! Tomorrow is a better day, VERY nice day, very very good....I can feel this..." <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">He's clutching one of my hands, then another, then the classic Portuguese double kiss goodbye that in this moment I would dare describe as passionate. I barely had time to utter my reply and he was out the door.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">I relayed this all to the delight of Clara and Adrian, and eventually David, all the while snacking on his leftover peanuts. Minutes later I would glance into his vacant room and discover this man's botanical installation. Every bottle of mini Super Bock, including the one Clara and I had shared days before, had been repurposed as a vase to house a fresh cut of some herb, branch of eucalyptus, or similar. He, for whatever reason, felt compelled to offer a toilet paper holder a personal spin using an old jug and a huge sprig of Rosemary shoved in the center. And that was it. And I am now completely charmed by this man. </p><p style="text-align: center;">All the rooms needed to be cleaned so I took every last one of his bottles down to my house. I did my best to replicate his vision and, I have to say, it makes the place. Now I wake up each morning and they're the first things I see. A bit of greenery, their sweet smells. Memories of a mysterious man that I never even knew. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-cvC9uG5aKfs/U7xcixmxcrI/AAAAAAAADCI/T0l0kkXJ_2c/s2048/2014_%2525207_%2525208_22_16.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-cvC9uG5aKfs/U7xcixmxcrI/AAAAAAAADCI/T0l0kkXJ_2c/s500/2014_%2525207_%2525208_22_16.jpg" id="blogsy-1404854291716.4556" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-pXX5cDnV4cI/U7xY8RTyEEI/AAAAAAAADBs/Jby3hxDr01U/s1024/2014_%2525207_%2525208_22_%2525200.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-pXX5cDnV4cI/U7xY8RTyEEI/AAAAAAAADBs/Jby3hxDr01U/s500/2014_%2525207_%2525208_22_%2525200.jpg" id="blogsy-1404854291768.0789" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p> </p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218718024474691918.post-33884239539436346022014-07-08T13:50:00.001-07:002014-07-08T13:50:08.895-07:00adrift<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-RAMy4VuHlEM/U7xY61ylzvI/AAAAAAAADBk/kSNJHhtTrug/s2048/2014_%2525207_%2525208_22_%2525200.jpg" target="_blank" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-RAMy4VuHlEM/U7xY61ylzvI/AAAAAAAADBk/kSNJHhtTrug/s500/2014_%2525207_%2525208_22_%2525200.jpg" id="blogsy-1404853301795.1477" class="aligncenter" alt="" width="500" height="667"></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="line-height: 1.3em;">I offer you, without fanfare or surprise, another view of the beach. I have been drifting as of late, perhaps obvious in my absence of daily posts. The days are passing and I am having trouble accounting for them. Wake up, breakfast. Help the tomatoes, eat lunch. Sweep something, tidy something, weed something, paint something. Swim in the pool. Set the table, dinner, a walk. Back to my little house, back to sleep. Blurry dreams, awake again.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">This is not a complaint. I love it here. But my previously formed, complete thoughts feel as though they are shrouded in a fog. Is it my resistance to acknowledge the countdown upon me? The threat of "reality" looming so close? My total and complete familiarity and comfort level here? I cannot say. </p><p style="text-align: center;">And so we go to the beach one morning. We talk, we read, we sleep, we watch. Its peaceful with Clara and I savor these moments. I don't feel entitled to them at all, but they're there for me to take. So I take them. And I keep wondering and wandering. And then another day passes. Coming and going like the sea. </p>LITTLE LACHANCEhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09602425472084320717noreply@blogger.com