bon solstice

 

Who knew the south of France would turn around and offer me one of the best summer solstices ever?

A little superstitiously, I never let this night pass me by and it's never let me down. I have celebrated in Swedish fields, Los Angeles backyards, New York rooftops. This year, in the hills of France, like so many years before it, the plan was largely unclear.

My solstice wishes centered around being able to swim peacefully in a natural body of water, creating a seasonal feast, and lighting a fire - however small. My family was kind and spirited enough to oblige me on all of the above.

Mid afternoon, sun shining bright, I was driven to and bid adieu at one of the lovelier river access points in the area, the Saint-Martin-d'Ardèche. They dropped me off on the way to town, picking me up after I had ample time swim and float and read and bask in the day.

Before that, an early morning market excursion. Depending on where you live in France you will always have a market at least one day a week offering stall upon stall of the freshest of everything. No matter the day, early morning arrival is key. It's bustling, fascinating, tiring, and energizing. We let ourselves be inspired, our kitchen countertops soon overflowed with ingredients for the perfect solstice dinner and then some.

Back home, doors open. The strong mistral winds giving us an atypical pause from their gusty power. Cold pilsner, hot shower. I made a solstice cake in Scandinavian (and my own) tradition with a little French sentiment thrown in in honor of this year's surroundings. Bright yellow eggs added to the airiest base, two crisp meringue tops sprinkled with slivered almonds; both layers baked carefully, cooled, and assembled with freshly whipped cream, vanilla bean, and the contents of a wooden box of perfect strawberries we'd bought that morning.

Dinner was on the terrace with blackened fish from the grill, sweet green beans, fresh tomatoes, and buttered new potatoes. Following the perfect pink sunset, Jan built a fire with old juniper wood from the surrounding property. We wrapped lavender and Queen Ann's lace around tobacco and new intentions. The stars shown bright and a slight breeze blew the faintest sounds of a nearby music festival intermittently through. I sat on the ground next to the fire, watching the logs and glowing embers until it, and everything we'd burnt with it, all but disappeared. One final steam infused offering courtesy of the garden hose and it was finally time for bed. Another beautiful solstice. I felt so thankful.

I thought a lot yesterday and last night about my own good fortune as of late, as well as the admitted resistance I have felt in the in between. It's undeniable that patience has recently and repeatedly given me the sweetest of rewards when I am open enough to relax and let things reveal themselves, to trust myself, and to truly open my eyes to see what's possible. You can't wait for lighting to strike, but you can pause long enough to see it when it does.

So much uncertainty exists for me in the midst of this particular solstice, but with a night so perfect it makes me think I must be doing something right.

Happy solstice everyone.

 

"may the long time sun,

shine upon you,

all love surround you,

and the pure light within you,

guide your way on."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

float forever

Another morning in Southern France. Fresh bread from the tiniest bakery, another coffee refill.

The main draw of this particular area, especially where holiday enthusiasts are concerned, is the Gorges de l'Ardèche. Families, cyclists, kayakers, luxuriators all flock here to enjoy this roughly 30km stretch of natural splendor. Rolling hills and cave laden cliffs dropping off into the River Ardèche. It's midweek and mid-June but the beach at the noteable Pont d'Arc was crowded today. We found a spot, laid out our towels. I beelined for the river, so happy to be swimming again, so strange to suddenly be in still, fresh water versus the salty Portuguese seas.

Swim across, swim back again, float awhile, take a break. A nap in the late afternoon sun. Sit in the shade again to cool down.

It's all good, life is really good. But I have felt for days that I am floating, I need to make some decisions. At this present moment, my near future is unclear. Anxiety has crept in. Plans need to be made. Visas, timeframes, logistics, the ticking clock. Portugal, reality, the future. I woke up this morning with a renewed sense that it will all work out no matter what, but I also feel so suspended at the moment, like if I don't do something I am just going to float in the gorges and seas forever. What's next, what do you want.

And when do I decide to stop floating and get my feet back on the ground?

 

 

en français

The past two days in the Ardèche have passed slowly as though in a recuperative dream, in complete contrast to my last month and a half. Part of me feels like I am being kind to myself, part of me fears I have fully descended into the holiday-within-a-holiday spirit and might never be able to return to a day to day filled with physical labor.

So far: the best of everything. Apricots, rosé, cheese, and croissants. Sunny skies, vineyards, bike rides, and lavender fields. Yesterday I began to make an actual list of things I want to see and do while I'm here. For now, another cup of coffee on the windy terrace, another hour before I get properly dressed to greet the day.

reunion tour

I woke up this morning in another time warp of my own making.

In the serviced apartment of one of my oldest friends, my handsome and brilliant dance partner in crime from yesteryear, the one and only Joao. We have known each other for something like 15 years; through jobs, relationships, haircuts, and moves. Ritualistically spending countless late New York nights at restaurants and bars, talking about who knows what, more often than not seeing the sunrise. We did this for years and have since always been able to pick up where we left off, no matter how much time has passed. Incredibly and unbelievably we found ourselves now, beyond coincidence, in the city of Porto. He for work, me for whatever this is. He now holds an impressive director position at a museum, I've just been happy to be along for the ride these past days. Espressos, eclairs, tostas, cervejas. Museums, galleries, slick bars, dance clubs, taxied, VIP. Out like the old days, now in our older days; dancing and drinking, not young but newly carefree. We greeted the dawn again together both nights, once more forever talking and walking and doing what we do.

Before that: back in Lisbon, waking up in Teresa's blue room. My former airbnb host turned friend, now reunited. We beached the day away before she and her friends took me into the belly of the celebratory beast for one the craziest nights in Lisbon and of my life. The Santo Antonino Festival, Lisbon's annual city celebration, happened to be this week. The streets are festooned with lights and colorful garlands. We ate and we drank and my mind was blown. Pork, sardines, sausages, snails. Grilled on the streets, piled on our plates. Endless mini Sagres beers, endless streams of people walking by. Circa 2am: delirious, walking upstream in the direction of the old town, the streets were packed such that you could barely move. I'm laughing and clutching my new friend Luis's arm to stay afloat, upright, together. The music is coming from a parade of drums marching in the opposite direction, it feels like it's inside all of us, there's literally no space, you can barely see beyond what's right in front of you. Everyone is laughing, everyone is smiling, everyone is out. Four in the morning still sitting on steps. They're trying to teach me Portuguese, we're still laughing, we're still on the street. No more drinks, just happy to enjoy the night. And everyone seemed to have the same idea.

Before that: waking up in the Alentejo hills, my farm and my family having received me for a brief but beautiful hello. Full circle with Juliana and Filipa picking me up at the bus stop. My poetic solo walk from the top of the road, arriving to David's open arms. Soon Clara and the carpenter will appear and its like no time has passed at all. The Saloon is still being called a saloon, impressively far along in a short but busy week and a half I've been gone. We crammed in the updates over dinner, I slept in my bottom bunk. I woke up as early as I could to enjoy as much as possible before my next bus. Another solar shower, another cup of tea with Clara, another new view from the new terrace. My ongoing dreamy state in that beyond beautiful place.

And before that: the briefest, perfectly timed stopover to tiny Aljezur. Back to Señor Service with Laurie. Eating lightly fried and perfectly prepared sardinhas, drinking midday red wine, espresso, with some overly sweet Portuguese dessert. Ronan stops by to say hello. They drive me the walkable block to the bus.

Now I'm packed again. Joao is still sleeping. He'll head to Vienna tomorrow and I'll make a trip today to the south of France. My mother, aunt, and uncle happen to be living at the moment; a pause within a pause for me. I'm looking forward to seeing more familiar faces within a new place and I'm looking forward to unpacking for more than a day. But after all these crazy days and the months preceding, it's hard to imagine this prescheduled break from Portugal. But I'll be back to this beautiful country soon enough. They know it and I do too.

For now: The Reunion Tour must go on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and stranger landscapes still

I have spent these past two days somewhat indescribably. I'm still on the southern coast of the Algarve, currently in Lagos. Admittedly I have little reason to be here. Modern conveniences, sleep deprivation, mixed up plans, and time to kill became the main draw ....but being in a touristy town like this is a bit of a culture shock. Suddenly I am surrounded by English speakers and everything I could ever need or want to buy is at my fingertips. But it all feels slightly exhausting, even finding food is little more than a task.

Today, after excessive hours spent with this hotel's complimentary breakfast, I finally ventured out. Sagres became my eventual destination, however half heartedly as we are apparently in the midst of a regional holiday and therefore the bus schedule is reduced to a fraction of its normal service. In spite of these limitations, I made it and the sunny seaside did me well. If one has a car or has rented a bike, there is plenty to see and do there. Awe inspiring coastal scenery, the most southwestern point of mainland Europe. For my part I continued to do only what I do best, which is to wander around for hours. A high point of the day for me would be the Fortaleza and Ponta de Sagres. I wouldn't want to oversell these particular landmarks but something about this place surprised me: it was both soothing and uplifting, hard to describe now and eventually hard at the time for me to rip myself away from. An old chapel, a lighthouse, its own grotto. A wind compass and curtain walls. Documented flora and fauna including names like sea fennel, ice plants, and spicy thrift. The birds called kittiwake, alcatraz, and stonechat. Old men fished off the cliffs, couples on holiday strolled in slow motion, bracing themselves against the strong winds so loud it almost felt like silence. It was an unusual place to discover here, I started to think of it as its own mini Marfa, but without the sense of irony.

Upon my return to Lagos, I continued to stroll its now familiar historic streets. I was too uninspired and tired to go inside anywhere, but happy enough to enjoy the evening. The night eventually wound down peacefully and outside, sitting for a couple of hours on one of the many beautiful, nearby beaches. It's not as though I should ask for more.

But it can feel strange to observe just how strange it feels to all of the sudden have nothing in particular to do. My plans continue to shift and I'm suddenly not due to see anyone for yet another additional day. Chores, errands, tasks; all the little things I've let slip with limited time and internet to devote to them, Maybe they'll get done tomorrow, but then again maybe not. In the meantime, more aimlessness, more hours on shady benches, sunny beaches; more café wifi, early to bed, and all the good things.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the tipi times

And she's back!

I won't get into the specifics of exactly how Tipi Valley came into my life or how I was able to be there for a week in higher middle of this vision quest but, in one overly simple word: INCREDIBLE.

Six beautiful strangers, seven glorious, sunny, sandy, beachy, calming, action packed, hilarious, blissful, exhausting, empowering days. Yoga every morning and evening with surf instruction in between. Coffees and pasteis de nati daily, cold Sagres, beach side cafés. Breath taking sea views, undeveloped landscapes, fresh caught fish on the grill, crisp local vino verde. Tan lines, outdoor showers, sand and salt in our hair. Shelled peanuts, mosquitos, meditation, more bruises, more arm muscle, and laughing more than I can ever remember laughing. Off grid and so happy. Strong women, true inspiration, endless conversation... incredible.

The days passed slow and fast. And today.... sad to leave, sad to say goodbyes. This is always the way because it's the way it goes. We had an amazing week, so many of us at pivotal points in our lives, we hope it's just the beginning of these friendships, at the very least he next chapter of our lives.

Now, back in civilization, I'm admittedly breathing a sigh of calm relief to be solitary for the first time in over a month. No set schedule, catching up on connectedness, taking my first truly hot shower in so long I can't even remember. But I'm also missing Becky's quick laugh, hilarious stories, our inside jokes, our late night chats in the moonlight. Babs's easy nature, dry humor, perfect tan, and general fearlessness. Leela's sensitive and thoughtful wisdom, her yoga expertise, our forever orienteer and timekeeper. Lou for just about everything; a gentle and kind inspiration and badass, perhaps my future global partner in travel or seaside living, role model for girls and women everywhere. Owner Laurie for his squinty good nature, brilliant storytelling, prowess on the "barbie", and our final double-down dinners at "Señor Service" and an Italian restaurant seemingly dropped out of the sky from the Hamptons and the weary from sun-and-surf heavens. There's Ricardo and his tireless positivity towards our spastic surf attempts and eventual and meaningful praise for doing things my way. Roger for being the most soulful surprise surf instructor on our final day and for those magical and equally surprising espressos we shared just before I left town.

Life. Sometimes it really does feel like a movie or play that you have conjured in your mind as though it were a dream.

Who knows. Some of these characters that dot the camp and the town I just might see again. I'm flinging myself around in the coming days but I have it in my heart to return down yonder when the time is right, either to help out in the valley or to live the dream seaside however possible. You never know.

However I get there, however I got here, it will be the right thing to do. Life, Portugal, tipis, and espressos. Keep em coming. I'm going to continue to be so grateful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

goodbye but not goodbye

Today it's goodbye.

Goodbye to a place that started to feel like home. To a family that came to feel like my family.

This morning I woke up early with a feeling of quiet in my heart. Yesterday was very much the opposite. Overwhelming sadness at the countdown upon me, the ticking clock that will rip me away from a place that has begun to feel so safe to me. Me, after all my talk of change. It's still so hard.

The fact is we have recently made a plan here such that I will very likely be back in a month or so. So we are saying today that it's goodbye but it's not really goodbye. But why does it still feel so much like it is?

Once again, the unknown awaits me. This afternoon I'm traveling a bit further south to see another long ago made plan through. Of course it might be really good, a holiday within a holiday, near the beach, described as all the things I love to be around and do. New people, new experiences. How bad could it be even if it was?

But. I know I will miss it here and it's admittedly hard to feel like I will be missing out on things. All the projects I have my hand in, the meals, the conversations, the rhythm and routine. As always, all will go on without me. I am, in so many ways, so used to this.

Right now, as the early morning sun slowly consumes my bedroom inch by inch, I want every minute to pass slowly. I will be fine, change can be good, this is goodbye but it's not goodbye. Breathe. I will tell myself all these things. And soon enough, I hope, immerse myself in whatever is next.

I am in fact going to be going off grid so I won't be online for a week. The blog will be slightly more quiet for some days with a plan to update as extensively as possible upon my return to the modern age. Stay turned.

Until then: goodbye?

(above: the most beautiful yoga studio I have ever known, will ever know, or ever will be. originally posted on Instagram)