Bring Me That Horizon

The lightning bolts that were shooting out of my neck and keeping me from turning my head in any direction had me thinking, for a while anyways, that maybe I shouldn’t turn my head.  Maybe I should just point forward.  Straight ahead.  Now that the electricity has dissipated and I have my peripheral vision back I realize that there was no point to the pinched nerve at all.  It was just good bad luck and a little whiplash.

So flying over the Alps yesterday I was hit with a wave of sadness.  It wasn’t all sadness.  There was a lot of gratitude and excitement and anticipation mixed in but the underlying current was definitely sadness.  Every time I’m about to leave one land for another I get sad.  I don’t think I’ve ever taken my life in the Tyrolean Alps for granted but knowing that I won’t be flying in and out of them, riding up and sliding down them, seeing the sun set pink behind them or falling asleep under their big, blue shadows made me pause.

In an effort to not take anything for granted, I hopped, skipped and flew back to the USA for a whirlwind love-in with friends and family before my schlep East.  I’ve got a big job ahead of me and its a stupidly long flight so I figured I’d head back now to feel less pressure later.  I’ll let you know how that strategy works out.

I started things off in Vermont with some Burlington, some Mud City and some Isle La Mott.  Getting up there was a shit show but upon arrival I was in good hands and let the good times roll.  More rolly than rocky, it felt great to be back in the green mountains.  I caught a glimpse of my future here and there in the ponds and trees and, as is always the case, I brought some VT home with me.  Here’s a couple of my favorite pix, but click here for the whole album.

Green Garden - Mud City

Lake Champlain Sunset

Very Nice People

I headed South to New Jersey for some quality time with my Grandfather and was swept into total puppy frenzy with Annie the puggle.  As is always true, I enjoyed every moment with Popi though I dream of the day I will be able to beat him at dominos.  The time flew by too fast and it was hard to say goodbye…Here are a couple of my favorite shots from Jerz, but click here for the whole album.

Let sleeping puggles lie

annie

american dreams of a jersey girl

After Jerz I had a therapeutic and relaxing hot minute in CT with my Aunt and Uncle and then it was time to head back to the metropolis for a quick hello with Jamie, Marc & Kelly’s wedding and some Brooklyn love.  Celebrating the love of two dear friends at the juncture of the Brooklyn and Manhattan bridges is a fine way to spend a Saturday.  Here are a couple of my favs but click here for the whole album…

Marc & Kelly

yummers

There is no doubt that hopping on the F Train feels like a breath of fresh air and there is also no doubt that the throbbing metropolis still feels like home.  After the wedding and more mojitos than I remember I shimmered my way to Crown Heights for a little more merry-making with another group of lovelies…birthday cakes, microbrews, fanny packs and Michael Jackson.  Click it!

Mia - Big Buck Hunter

la-la-la-ladies

red velvet

My hangover made me late but not un-ready for a spectacular Sunday…a Sunday entailing a new BMW motorcycle, the Meadowlands, wind in my hair and some good times with yet another dear friend.  You can only get a little bit more “American” than an NFL football game in New Jersey complete with tailgate and piss-beer so it was an excellent way to see myself off the continent.  I wasn’t sure I would enjoy sitting on the back of a motorcycle on the BQE but I was pleasantly surprised…really good times!

All the fun and merry-making left me hurtin’ but I was able to squeak in a last minute lunch with another all-star, D, before a date with a chiropractor and then an epicly uncomfortable ride…but it ended with a spectacular view of my amazing backyard and then 2 very, furry kittens. The stress is real now, the job is big but the truth is that everything is good – really good – and I am an incredibly lucky woman.

“It is a profound mistake to think that everything has been discovered; as well think the horizon the boundary of the world” ~Antoine Merin Lemierre

Very Busy

What follows is an excerpt of an email i got tonight.  In context it was just as random as out of context.   It made me laugh…

Things here are good. I rescued two turtles. One was a young musk turtle on the lawn in our back yard. I’m quite sure he did not arrive there on his own. My guess is a raccoon or similar wild animal tried to eat him and gave up. The poor little guy was as tucked up in his shell as he could get. When I placed him in _____, he took off like a bandit. Who says turtles can’t move fast?!

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The other rescue was a medium size sun turtle upside down right between the two ponds. How did he wind up upside down? Maybe he was barely tapped by a car and that turned him over or maybe a wild or domestic creature tried to eat him.   Whatever the case he was also scared into his shell. As I approached him, I was worried that his shell was cracked but on close examination both the top and bottom shells were intact. Unlike the musk turtle it took him a long time to move. I waited to make sure he was alright. Eventually, he swam off. Slowed down my day but it was worth it.

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While gardening, I decided to empty some extra leaves caught in the window well. As I did so I discovered a toad. He kept jumping up on the glass of the window as if trapped so I picked him up and place him under the hydrangea bush. The next day he was back in the window well. I thought “What a stupid toad” and moved him back under the bush. On the next day, same thing back in the well. This time he was sleeping under a little piece of leaf I hadn’t picked up. Apparently, I was not rescuing the toad but annoying him. I guess I should return the leaves.

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As you can see I’m very busy.

Endless Horizons: Part III – South Gobi, Mongolia

Ok.  I’ve put this off long enough.  It’s time to share some thoughts about my days in Mongolia before the memories fade and those days dissolve into the tapestry of stories and experience that lies half in the world we are all living in and half in my imagination (a world I rarely leave).

Gift for Buddah

I had no expectations for this leg of the journey except for distance.  I wanted to feel far, far away.  I wanted to be so far away, in fact, that from that distance I could see my own trajectory into the future…I wanted to see where my path is leading, my personal horizon and glean a clue about what’s next for Beana.  Mongolia can definitely deliver on ‘the middle of nowhere’ vibe that I am describing.  Tucked between Russia, China and Kazakhstan I was as remote as I have ever been.  It was perfect.  In a land with endless horizon I got a glimpse of my own.

Arriving by train gave me some time to prepare but, if I’m honest, it would be hard for anybody to be prepared for Ulaanbaatar.  A huge pothole trimmed with ger camp suburbs and a less-than-graceful attempt at civil engineering, you can almost feel the city growing as you stand in it.  The traffic is perpetually at ‘Midtown Manhattan rush hour’ levels with less grid and more chaos.  I had 3 nights in UB all together and, though I saw many parts of the city, I didn’t have time to do the solo wandering that always connects me to my destination.  The Soviet influence is clear and that stark, boxy aesthetic creates an odd texture when paired with the organic looking gers scattered throughout the city.

Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia

None of the ’sights’ in UB feel even remotely touristy.  Everything is so chill and relaxed that you can stumble into an amazing Temple Museum and not even realize it.  In China every facade was restored to a Disney-like-perfection where it was sometimes hard to imagine the monument or place being lived in.  In Mongolia it was far different.  Lived in is how the whole country felt…you can feel the life happening there, the pulse.  An absolute favorite day for me in UB was visiting the Ghandan Khiid Monastery.  This place is a living, breathing Buddhist temple where tourists are allowed entry to every single building there.  Monks out number visitors significantly so this is not a bad arrangement.  It was absolutely transcendental…one of the most beautiful and amazing things I have ever seen.  Drums and chanting and bells and prayer wheels with the smell of milktea hanging in the air, it was like time traveling.  Photos weren’t welcome here but I was allowed to make a couple…

Young Monks - Ghaandin Khiid Monastery

Aside from some sightseeing in UB, my only agenda was to score some boots that would let me ride like the wind when it came time for some horse trekking.  I got an A+ on this assignment and wait for Fall now so I can wear them every day.  A domestic flight carried me from Ulaanbaatar south to a ‘city’ called Dalanzgdad, or DZ.  I remember thinking that the runway at Ghengis Khaan Airport is the only stretch of pavement anywhere in UB without potholes.  Flying over the Gobi was as surreal as training through it but stepping outside the airport and seeing a battalion of 4 wheel drive vehicles brought me back to reality right quick.  Tuya and Nassa were my guides there, a young married couple, and it was clear I was in the right hands when the first words out of Tuya’s mouth after ‘welcome’ were, “welcome to south gobi, one of the most beautiful places in the world.  i love my country.’  After a short stop for gas we drove out into the steppe.  The sensation of leaving pavement and driving through wide open spaces is hard to describe.  Total freedom.  Unplugged.

Road Less Traveled - South Gobi

Thinking about 21st century nomads is something different than spending time with them.  Where there is water, there is life so the movement and routine of the herds people is far from random.  There is logic to the movement and safety in the routine and after water, shelter, community and food are the only other necessities.  And vodka, I suppose.  I can tell you that all the static electricity that is our Western social construct fades away when you see how life on Earth – one of the harshest places on Earth – is lived day to day.  Its humbling to see their strength and generosity and humor and it reinforces a notion that I think often – less is more.  Ankle bone horse racing, singing to one another, watching baby animals clumsily get acquainted with the world and taking joy in tending the herd and making the dairy is a rich and beautiful existence.  Many younger generations are tempted to leave these old ways and make a modern life in the city which is very sad to see…an entire culture going extinct.  What gives me hope is that even those trying for a new life in UB bring their children to their parents and aunts and uncles in the ‘countryside’ so most children there learn the ways of their families and honor their roots, if only for summers.

21st Centruy Nomads

Help for the Summer

I could write a book about how South Gobi impacted me but I am going to try to focus here.  There were 3 major sites that I visited:  Khongoryn Els or ‘the singing dunes,’ Yolyn Alm or ‘Eagle Gorge,’ and Banyzang or ‘the Flaming Cliffs.’  The dunes spoke to me on a personal level and therefore that is the story I will share now but I believe that it was seeing all three of them, the diversity of the Gobi, that made the experience so fantastic.  A little like in Las Vegas, the scale of everything in Gobi is a bit disorienting.  Things appear to be nearby that are actually 50km away so it is no surprise that I underestimated my ability to quickly summit the highest point for sunset.  The sand is so soft so for every 2 steps you take forward you slide back 3.  Imagine climbing a tidal wave and you can begin to fathom this experience.  With each handful of sand you push down in your effort to go up, you can feel – literally tons! – of sand moving beneath you.  As the sand slides over itself it makes a low, groaning and sweeping sound that is the song referred to when talking about the ’singing dunes.’  It’s impossible not to look down as you claw your way up so in addition to being physically grueling, it is also vertigo-inducing.  Not everybody could make it even halfway up and, with about 18 kilos of camera on my back, I was determined not to be among that group.  After 1 1/2 hour of OCD, Rainman-like counting….25 steps up, breath for 50…25 steps up, breath for 50…I made it to the top of the Gobi. 

Top of the Gobi

It was just Tuya, Nassa and I and they left me after an hour or so to have the sunset to myself.  I had the sublime pleasure of standing alone on a windless night, the faint sound of the dunes and some baby camels calling for mama in my ears, watching a pink and orange fireball light the desert up before sinking below the horizon and washing everything in lilac.  I can think of a handful of moments in my life when I have been in *exactly* the right place at the right time and this was one of them.  The same way the sun lit up the steppes and mountains and dunes, it lit me up to.  Life-altering and life-affirming travel, indeed.  The light that shone on me that night remains glowing and the clarity and vision that it revealed are making wheels turn as we speak.  The middle of nowhere was the center of me.

Singing Dunes

Khongryn Els

It is poetic and perfectly perfect that after this sublime moment alone with God that I hopped on a sled and let my adrenalin pump as I sped down the way I climbed up.  Its like enlightenment and rock and roll all at the same time…the kind of life I like living.   4 more days of traversing the desert allowed me to experience life in a ger, sample the vast and interesting assortment of dairy products made by the herds people, gallop across dunes on a camel named Huchbar, slide across a Gobi glacier and score a fossilized dinosaur egg at the Flaming Cliffs.  I was sad to say goodbye to Tuya and Nassa and their epic and awesome land but I feel like a piece of it came home with me.

Camel Herder & Baby Duck

Click here for a slideshow of my days in South Gobi.

The Real World

I’ve been back from holiday for a week now and more than 8 people have said to me, “welcome back to the real world!”  I know that the intention is good and this is a an acknowledgement that I was in another kind of reality for the last month but these words have been echoing in my head since thier first utterance.  The real world?  Is that where my life is located?  What does that say for the billions – yes, billions – of people located all over the Earth that have a reality different than mine?  A world where water is still the primary concern followed shortly by shelter, food and community?  Is that not the real world?  I would make the argument that this holiday I had, this vacation, was into the real world and not the opposite.

Getting Water

Only 5 days into my normal routine and I can’t shake the fact that everything I’m doing is somehow floating above the surface, mired in an ocean of static and electricity, the tasks are like turning the gears of a clock in a world with no time.  I am making and writing and shifting and doing all with the purpose of being able to do the same thing tomorrow.  Like the Doozer’s living in Fraggle Rock, I am building things simply for the sake of building them.  Need is irrelevant.  Good design is optional.  Cooperation is a luxury.  The Western way, the capitalist way, isn’t as concerned with the output as the money made from the output and I can’t understand why I have always been okay with this relationship.  I haven’t just been okay with it but have educated myself to maximize it and, with it, my own personal benefits.   

Skin - All They Have To Sell

I refer to myself as Sisyphus all the time, the 21st century variety, and that is true but if I recall the story correctly Sisyphus was in hell.  I am not.  Or at least, I would like to choose an alternative.  It took a journey to the East to gain some perspective on the West and now I am grappling with that new view.  Don’t get me wrong, I like comfort and am deeply grateful for the gifts and luck I have had that allows me to live the life I am living but I am seeing something else now…life with purpose, concern for the output rather than the money made from it and comfort are not mutually exclusive.  It is possible to take the same skills and same passions I use for perpetuating the daily grind to turn the gears of a different machine…one that impacts the ‘real world’ in a ‘real way.’

Sisters - UB Girls in the Country

Since my return I have been combing through my images, watching zillions of TED presentations, looking in the mirror and asking myself some very clear questions.  I am full to the brim, overflowing in fact, with inspiration and I am considering carefully where to direct this new passion and energy so as to help reconnect me with the ‘real world’ and also maintain the flexible freedom that I have worked hard to achieve.  A garden would be a simple beginning – reconnecting literally with where my food comes from – while the opposite end of the specturm would be dropping everything and heading to Africa to dig wells.  As you can see, it is a big arc that I am mentally traversing and I am curious to see where on it I will land.

The honest truth is that I don’t know yet how, and how much, I want to change or how radical that change should be but I can say that the thought is pumping through me like my blood.   

3rd Day Horse Trek - Beana in Central Mongolia

Mutha

“Every man, for the sake of the great blessed Mother in Heaven, and for the love of his own little mother on earth, should handle all womankind gently, and hold them in all Honor.”

~Alfred Lord Tennyson

Happy Mothers Day

Roads We Abandon, Roads We Take

Pacing along the banks of Lake Zurich last Thursday night I found my mind skipping like a stone across placid water; ripples bumping into ripples, circles breaking surface tension, the stone eventually dipping below the surface and sinking out of sight.  Anticipation, I think, is the fine line between anxiety and positive expectations and when traversed like a tight rope  it can be an exciting ride.  I awoke on Friday to a stillness that seldom visits me and headed to Zurich to open a door I had closed more than 2 years ago.  A delay proved to not ripple those still waters and, as though no time had passed, we said ‘hello’ and headed south to the Italian Riveria.

Anticipation - Zurichsee

If I could drink the air in Cinque Terre like a cocktail I would do so happily with some muddled sunshine and a dash of sea salt.  This delicious concoction couldn’t be enjoyed in a dainty, fragile martini glass but should be served instead in a big, wide wooden bowl so the sweetness and salt drips down your cheeks as you drink it in.  Cresting the first cliff on our way into Riomaggiore, the Mediterranean spread out bright blue beneath us, it was clear this was not going to be an average weekend  road trip.  The phrase ‘be careful what you wish for’ has surprised me with its truthiness more times than I can count so I’m not sure why I find/found myself suddenly so surprised.

Dont Look Back - Cinque Terre

The villages of Cinque Terre look like precariously stacked building blocks, colorful and Seuss-like, all ready to topple and tumble into the sea at any moment.  Tucked into terraces of grape vines and lemon trees, its no surprise that the entire place smells as sweet as honey.  Blue skies, deep turquoise water and a little gravity pulled us down the hill into town and, after a cafe latte, a rush of walking stick-carrying toursist swept us up onto the Via dell Amore (Walk of Love).  Even with what felt like a swarm of people around me, the serenity of Cinque Terre still managed to envelope me.  I abandoned any conflicts I had with sharing the Via dell Amore with both Uncertainty and Strangers and coasted the 5-6 kilomenteres from Riomaggiore, through Manarola to Corneglia.

Riomaggiore, Italy - Cinque Terre

Hot in the sun and cool in the shade, the deep deeeep deeeeeep emerald blue of the Mediterrenean called to me like the sirens song and in Corneglia I made a B-Line to the ‘marina’ to get my feet wet.  He observed right around then that when I want something there is often no stoppping me and I had to (and still have to) agree.  Some frozen lemonade, sweet truths and an uncomfortably packed train ride later we arrived in Monterossa where I let myself get swallowed up by the Big Blue.  Seeing my reflection, hair salty and wet, in his sunglasses after my swim I saw myself clearly, the lines and definition made sharper with the yellow light.  With the sun behind us we rode the ferry back the way we had come with our first glimpse of Vernazza and a sunset landing back home in Riomaggiore.  From some stairs by our rented room we watched the sun go down and I considered how I might go about botteling the sky so as to let it free in my apartment when I returned home.

Sunday - Monterossa, Italy

Leaving the Coast the following morning I drank in my last breaths of salty sea air and Ligurian romance, rubbed my belly where the mounds of fresh seafood were still being digested and smiled at my travel companion who was shuttling us north to Tuscany.  For the last months I have been counting down the days to my trip to the Far East and somehow, magically I was not wandering alone in the Gobi but first skipping over the hills of Tuscany like a stone on water…that cliche about finding things when you stop looking is a cliche for a reason.  Secret vacations and lost weekends could very well be the fuel that propels any woman out of bed in the morning and smiling through her days.

Cinque Terre

This trip went further inward than the mere 1000 kilometers we did on land and the cyprus trees and rolling hills were more of a backdrop than the focus.  Something about travel and the world speeding outside the window frees me and this trip, though not a solo sojourn, was no different.  As I grow (um…older) it gets easier and easier to be the same person regardless of company and geography and I am always surprised at the weight that that honesty can lift.  That statement makes me think of an image of Atlas carrying the world on his back but I think that Hercules was the stronger of the two…

A Bean Divided - Tuscany

Riding bikes around the walls of lovely Lucca, crawling over the hills and fields of Tuscany and the Apanine Alps the day passed slowly before we landed like a glider on the banks of Lake Garda.  Hotel Lido was aptly tucked into a small town called Val di Sogno, Valley of Dreams, and from our balcony we watched the twilight sky go from blue to purple to black.  ‘House red’ is always a good call in Italy and a large carafe liberated some of the harder truths and realities that this trip brought to the surface.  The whole journey, the whole week actually, were something of a crescendo.  More information, more intensity each day.  It built like a wave in the ocean and Lago di Garda was the point when the first bits of white froth curled over and fell back to the sea.  Truths, even when they are dark and prickely, are better than the alternative and with the sunrise on Monday came a renewed sense of understanding and desire to enjoy the day.

Speeding Through Garda

Breakfast crepes, 2 caffe lattes and a castle on a lake are a perfect day by themselves so the laughter and conversation and photos and the rest were all gravy.  We landed back in Innsbruck in time to see the sun set on my Alps, the Tirolean Alps, and relaxed in the furry paws of my best boys.  Though the trip was over for me, the crescendo continued to build and rise, revealing more information and asking more questions up until yesterday when a train and then some planes carried my friend away.  The crescendo crashed like they are wont to do, a wave on the sand sliding slowly and surely back to the sea.  The melody changed now softer, clearer and speaking plainly.

My suitcase remains out.  My passport returns home from the Russian and Chinese consulates next week and in 2 weeks time I will fly away.  Again.  This time alone.  The juxtaposition of a trip spent so clearly together to a trip so clearly alone should provide some contrast and context to consider both where I stand and where I’m going.  I have plenty of food for thought.

Local Ligurian Lemons

If you’d like to enjoy some more photos of 72 hours in Italy, click here for the whole album.

Have Lense Will Travel

I mentioned some time back when I uploaded these photos that they were for an ‘interview.’  Less interview and more ’sweet feature,’ this is a little article about yours truly and my life outside Swarovski.  As a reader of 2Bean, you know all about this life of mine, too much sometimes, but my friends at work see another facet.  Different name (Kristina Bern Notch), different business…Appropriate that I would land in the Rhythm issue.

(make it b i g g e r)

By the way, if anybody can tell me what “spur of the moment attention grabbers” are, I’m curious.

I Am the Light

Nothing says morning like good coffee and good music.  In an effort to inspire the kung fu clean up of Cherry Valley and put Humpty Dumpty back together again I decided to find some tunes.  Of course, finding tunes usually is a wormhole of sorts sucking me into my online forest where I can linger for a while.

While there is still coffee to be consumed there is no rush so I decided to bring you a little light in the form of a song…

(Don’t see the player?  Click here and sing along)

The last weeks have been a tornado of sorts so it is only fitting that, of course, that I would end my week with ruby slippers and a confirmation that there really is no place like home.  Im not sure if I look for metaphors or if they find me but it is uncanny how often my world synchronizes into living poetry.

In Swarovski’s infinite inspired wisdom they (we, I should say) comissioned a remake of the Ruby Slipper to commemorate the original and, now, remake of The Wizard of Oz.  It can not be overstated that, as a girl who grew up in Kansas, Dorothy’s journey and her return to her humble surroundings in the middle of the breadbasket were often a topic of conversation.  “Have you ever seen a tornado?”  Yes.  “Does Kansas really look like that?”  Parts do, yes.  This collaboration is one of many that makes me proud and excited to work where I work and yesterday the entire magic collection was in our Showroom.

It shocked me, and saddened me in a way, that almost 100% of my colleagues here had NO IDEA what the Wizard of Oz is beyond ’some musical.’  I tried to explain the iconic nature of this film and ended up comparing the meaning of the ruby slipper to Cinderella’s glass variety.    The very act of conveying the bigness of the Wizard of Oz brought me all the way back around to the beginning of my own arc in this world….my roots.  I was a little girl growing up in the middle of America dreaming of all the places I would go, hoping that my own life would take me to Oz and then back again.  It then occured to me that it has.

there’s no place like home…

…and now it’s time to clean it.

Invest in the Fantastic

I haven’t gotten up from my computer since my last post.  I am the moth…Ive been sifting through a pile of *amazing* design sites and artists work doing another screenprint round-up and looking for inspiration, distraction, ideas or whatever fantasticness I can find…stumbling across this quote tonight was clearly no accident…

Murphy’s Half-Cousin Nelson’s Motto

I have been so far out of my routine for so long now that Im surprised to find that the scope of my creativity and new idea generation is actually seeming to have diminished and not expanded with the mental space.  Isn’t it always the case?  When you have money you have no time to spend it.  When you have time you have no idea what to do with it.  Not really Murphy’s Law but maybe his half-cousins motto or something…Murphy’s Half-Cousin Nelson’s Motto we’ll call it.  “Whenever you have the time to create, the mind atrophies and one watches gobs of tv.”  In all fairness Doctor’s orders were to rest and let my immune system recover (they also actually advised me to eat an apple every day, for real) so it’s not like this is ‘free’ time.

I just watched High Fiedlity for the gazillionth time and paused for a moment to put away some laundry while considering my “top 5 breakups of all time.”  I think I got to 3 before my mind trailed off and I found myself back on the couch under a blanket and 2 cats.  For the few moments I was making my list I was considering, as I do *every day*, about the prospect of writing a book.  I probably dont have too many more stories than any of you reading this blog but I do have some good ones and I think that if I don’t write them down soon I might start forgetting some of the best nuggets.  I imagine that lots of people dream of writing books but not that many actually do it.  I would like to blindly ask the oblivion a question…what is the difference between those people that write their stories down and those that don’t?  Talent? Laziness? Modesty? Time?  Is the answer really that straight-forward?

Just the top 3 break-ups on my list would each make a complete novel in their own rights, or at least a novella.  Cram the other 2 in there and all the life glue that sticks them together and I feel like I’m looking at something like an Encyclopedia Britannica.  Remember when we had encyclopedia’s?  I remember the set that my folks bought for my sister and I…off white with blue lettering and gold-foiled trees on the spine.  Some of the pages were thick and glossy with photos of neutrons or the Grand Canyon or Saturn’s rings or whatever and the rest were like tissue paper…so fragile and full.  All 25 pounds of those books are, most likely, obselete now.  I find that amazing.  I veered away…the point I was thinking about was editing.  I posess the skill as a photographer (barely) but I think it’s an entirely different part of the brain that’s responsible for editing stories.  Knowing what to leave in and what to take out so there is room for discovery while also a clear path to the moral or the point or, in my case, the punch line.

Perhaps that’s why I haven’t made so much progress…maybe there doesn’t have to be a point or a moral.  Maybe it can just be a story.  It’s embarrassing that after years of writing a blog, journal and many random thoughts on many scraps of paper – not to mention hundreds of viewings of The Big Lebowski – that this notion of not needing a moral would just be occurring to me.  Maybe I’ll just jot down how it turned out that the entire Italian mafia attended my sweet 16 at Tony’s Villa Capri in Overland Park.  Maybe I’ll relive the mutiny that occurred at my first and only camp experience in the Adirondacks and how it was there I fell in love for the first time.  Maybe I’ll throw my hat in the ring and talk about the time I found somebody dead or how (I believe) I came to be called Beana instead of Kristina…all potentially enticing and juicy stories.

I’m not ready to commit to writing a story for you yet but I’m close. The lyrics of a Nick Drake tune keep circling in my head with all these thoughts of my life gone by…

Life is but a memory
Happened long ago.
Theatre full of sadness
For a long forgotten show.
Seems so easy
Just to let it go on by
Till you stop and wonder
Why you never wondered why.

…

Fruit tree, fruit tree
Open your eyes to another year.
They’ll all know
That you were here when you’re gone.

Listening to Nick Drake now I’m thinking back to being 15 and sitting in a coffee shop on the outskirts of Kansas City, Missouri called JavaGaia where I would drink Vanilla Italian sodas, write morbid and delerious poetry and talk every day with my much older crush, Mike Check (no shit, his name was actually Mike Check…his father was jazz musician and thought it was a funny name.  it was).  That’d be a good story right there, dammit!

This post was all over the map, I admit, but I’m not planning to edit or change anything.  Instead, I’ll just let you follow my odd thoughts as they actually are at the moment and let you find your own meaning.  My tree is blooming with existential fruit with lots and lots of seeds…maybe a few of them will sprout…

Balkan Holiday

A little time off to consider my holiday and all the other nuggets of news that have ripened while I was away morphed into a very lazy weekend.  I forgot the value of laying on the couch for a whole saturday and I thank the heavens for the rain…it really adds to the cozy atmosphere.  It would appear as though Autumn has nestled into the Inn Valley so it is extra lucky that I squeezed in a summer holiday in the Balkans before the first snow.  So I haven’t quite finished my re-cap of the trip since I’ve been busy with the lazy and all but I’m gonna try my best to offer up a little taste.

Grace arrived and with one night in Innsbruck we took in the night to catch up a little and conjure up an itinerary for the next day.  It wasn’t easy for me to roll with no plan but not knowing what she had in mind, I figured I needed to stay flexible.  As it turned out, she didn’t really have anything specific in mind either (aside from a definite stop in Venice) so there were lots of possibilities.  4-5 hours in any direction from my apartment offers up some pretty spectacular options.  We decided to head south east on the first leg and landed in Ljubljana, Slovenia.

Before we reached our destination for the night we decided to have a pit stop in the Slovenian town of Bled.  This little place is nestled in the Julian Alps near Austria’s border and, though pretty sleepy, it was a lovely pit stop.  A beautiful green lake, church on an island and castle clinging to a craggy cliff overhead make this town popular with the tourists and we decided to get an ice cream and partake.  I hadn’t quite gotten into the swing of things with the picture-taking so there are only a couple shots, but if you’re inclined you can check them out here.

After Bled we had another 45 minutes to roll before arriving at our first stop, Ljubljana.  I know this doesn’t make the list of most people’s “must see” Europe itinerary but it really surprised us both.  It took about 4 hours to get there by way of Salzburg and Bled, and we found the hostel with a few hours to kill before sundown.  The thing that was most spectacular about Ljubljana to me is the EXTENSIVE cafe culture.  I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say that there were enough outdoor tables to host the entire population of Slovenia.  Seriously, sitting at a cafe seems to be the city’s past time.  I had no expectation of the capital at all and, as a result, was surprised at how lovely it was.  The approach to the old town felt a little Jersey-like so, Im sure, you can imagine our surprise when we found our way to the sweet and charming old center.  After a walk up to the castle, a cruise around town and an epicly terrible first meal we were officially on vacation…It takes a while to sync with another persons rhythm and schedule and this was a good first day.  The street art in Ljubljana was really something else but, I’m afraid, I did it no justice with the 5D and will have to return to shoot it properly.  Here are a couple shots from our night and day there, but feel free to click here to see the whole album.

We both had the serious need for some salt water and, though we both realized there was more to see in Ljubljana, we decided to head further south to the Istrian Peninsula of Croatia to find a beach and some fresh sea food.  We opted for a little town called Rovjin just north of Pula and were there in about 2 1/2 hours time.  The drive along Slovenia’s coast was lovely and the landscape of that part of Croatia is amazing.  It’s called the “new Tuscany” and it’s clear why.  Vineyards, olives and cypress tress abound.

We opted for a private room in a house over a hotel and LOVED the rate of 35 euros per night.  It felt like a throwback to the 70’s though, sadly, we didn’t find the remote control for the AC until our second night in the place.

After dropping off our stuff we immeadiately tried to find the beach, harder than you would think, and both floated out into the Adriatic for the sunset.  The coastline here is all rocks and crags but the water was a perfect, clear blue and the right mix of cool enough to refresh but warm enough to be inviting.  I’m pretty sure we were the only tourists on this particular stretch.

Our new friend Lidja who booked our room also suggested a special spot for dinner.  The place was called Valrosa and we managed to find it in time for our 8:00 reservation.  When we follwed the sign and pulled the car down the dirt driveway, a dog was the first to greet us.  It felt like we were in the wrong place but shortly after a man named Viktor came to shake our hands and assure us he was expecting us.  Valrosa was one of many tiny vineyards dotting the countryside around Rovjin and the smell of the wood burning fire made me think that we were in for a treat. I feel like I could write a novel about this dinner and I will spare you the middle 10 chapters and bring you straight to the point.  A Tuscan garden, a 4 course meal consisting of fish that were certainly swimming hours before they landed on our plate, an army of kittens waiting for a scrap and father and daughter who went out of their way to make us feel at home.  The risotto with artichoke and fresh prawns was my favorite course but it was all unbelievable.  I will definitely find my way back to that place again…

The homemade wine, olive oil, vinegar, food and atomsphere will go down in history as one of the best meals I have ever had the privilege to enjoy…I’m pretty sure Grace felt the same way.

The next morning we both woke up before the sun because of the bugs and heat so, we took that as a sign to see the sun rise over Rovijn.  Having the old town to ourselves for the morning was wonderful….I have seen quite a few old european cities by now and this one stuck out as being particularly special.  Something about how the salt air aged the cobblestones really moved me.

After some coffee and the best croissant I’ve had in a while (filled with apricot marmalade and still hot from the oven) we decided to find a boat that would take us out to the islands for the day for some more beaching.  We settled on a converted sloop called Mare mainly because the Captain seemed like an entertainer.  After breakfast we walked the entire radius of Rovjin and found a market.  Enter my favorite ‘food porn’ of the holiday

Around 11:15 Captain Gordone (make sure to prounce the E!) brought us out to sea.  The water shifted between emerald blue and deep, deep cobalt and was so clear it was amazing.  His soundtrack for the ride had to have been called something like “The Worst Cover Songs of the 70’s” and his bongo accompaniement on the steering column added to the insanity.  He was ridiculous and hilarious and was definitely his biggest fan on the boat.

We disembarked at Red Island and beached it for the entire day.  Aside from a little sunburn it was a perfect day in the sun.  Lots of sleep and mellow and swimming and relaxation.  By the time the captain came to pick us up the sun was starting to set and we opted to end the day where we began it…at the church on top of Rovjin for an epic sunset.

After some dinner at a wonder bar called Limbo we cruised around town a little more and then wheeled our way back to the Barbarella suite and prepare to roll on to Venice the next morning.  Sleep came better thanks to my trusty German language skills and the aquisition of the remote for the AC.  All in all, Rovjin was a perfect holiday.

The drive back through Slovenia and Trieste was pretty fast and we pulled into the Tronchetto in Venice around noon.  We saw the whole tip of the Adriatic that morning…not something that happens everyday, you know.  Our hotel was near the old Jewish ghetto and we were psyched to see that it had AC.  Turns out that it was unseasonably hot everywhere we went.  I have already talked a lot about Venice here on 2bean so Im gonna cut to the chase with the new stuff…

Regatta Storica closed the Grand Canal for one afternoon we were there and it was a treat to see real Venetians enjoying their city.

Aside from this I headed out to the Cimitario and Murano for some glass and some shade and some new photo ops…  Here are some of my new favorite venice shots, but feel free to check them all out right here.  And if that isn’t enough for you, check the new street art shots here.

There are A LOT more photos of this beautiful city and some street art shots, too.  Go ahead, check them out.

That shot above is called “Mondrian Monster” and, as of this moment, it is my favorite shot of the trip.  There was more delicious food, quality time and sights to behold and after 2 nights it was time to roll our out of there.  I decided to make our way home via Cortina so Grace and I could both experience the Dolomites…Im gonna let the pictures do the talking…

Feel free to check out the rest of beautiful Cortina right here.

This re-cap was way short on the philosophy and the whole ‘inward journey’ part of this trip but believe me when I tell you there was one.  Every road trip, or any trip for that matter, has an inward and outward portion and this was ripe with both.  A great time to reflect on the year and to connect with a dear friend and to relax a little.