Here

we are here and off to a mosdue this morning! long journey, but a good one!

k

"They're Taking Me to Marrakech"

So today's the day. We depart in the early evening from SF, so we'll head off in about an hour here. I was able to get out of work relatively early yesterday (which was actually later than usual, but I had an event downtown to go to and bunch of work to wrap up), so I was able to get a lot of stuff together last night. This morning was a hussle to get all the final things together, weigh my bag (31.2 pounds, fyi) and do a last minute Target run (I love you, Target!). So here I am, with a bit of extra time on my hands, which is kind of scary - it's like Project Runway, the one guy who finishes early and is sitting around eating bon bons always ends up getting his ass handed to him on a plate. I don't want to be that guy. But, truth be told, I think I've got what I need. And I'm not leaving civilization am I? am I?

Whenever I tell a non-family member (or anyone else who hasn't known me or the family all that long) about our Morocco trip, I am inevitably faced with the question, "why are you going there?" Which is a fair enough question. Most people with limited amounts of vacation time generally utilize it lounging on a beach with a cocktail and a masseuse named Juan, not in a third world country, being harassed by men who've never heard the term "womens lib." That being said, there is actually a reason that we're going and, of course, it's really all about my dad.

In the 1970s, when my dad finished school, he went to Europe (a much dodgier place than it is today), bought a VW bus and drove around for nine months, traveling and being a vagrant who lived in a bus (but a well-educated one). He and some people he was traveling with took the ferry to Morocco and went a-touring. It was dangerous and scary by all accounts, and after a while, they decided to leave. They made it to Fez and a number of other places, but never actually made it to Marrakech.

Which would be fine, except, if anyone has ever met my parents and discussed music of the 1970s, you would have undoubtedly gotten to the subject of Crosby, Stills and Nash, whose self-titles album is "so great" that mom actually owned two copies of the album because she wore out the first one listening to it. Suffice it to say, dad equally loves the album, particularly the song, "Marrakech Express." Ever since hearing that song, dad has regretted that he has never been to Marrakech. It's been in his mind for thirty years. So when he retired, you better believe it was on the top of his list off places to see. So here we are, fulfilling dad's lifelong desire to go to Marakech. Will we ride the Marrakech Express? Seeing as how we don't even know if the Marrakech Express actually exists, it's hard to say. But we will definitely be on our way to Marrakech.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E4r_HWWQyCs

High Maintenance

I understand that on a day-to-day basis I could be called a relatively high-mainentance kind of gal. I mean, I'm into wearing cute clothes, doing my makeup every day and having my hair done as regularly as my pocketbook allows. But I also tend to pride myself in being one of those people who doesn't have to be fancy to exist happily in the world. In India I went for an entire month without a stitch of makeup and questionable levels of cleanliness (let's just say in India, after you shower in that water, you don't feel clean for very long). As such, I don't generally have that difficult of a time with the notion of packing light (22 pounds is the suggested weight) for the third world country scenario. But this time is proving exceedingly difficult because I'm going to Ireland at the end of trip. Not only would I like to look cute (and generally not like a dirty hippy), but it's going to be winter. That means sweaters. And toiletries. Have you ever gathered all of your toileteries and general mainenance products in one pile together? If you have, you may know what I'm talking about. I'm finding it exceedingly disturbing at the level of my current personal maintenance requirements. Who knew it takes that many products to beautify one person? But my main concern is that everything is NOT going to fit in my bag. Eek, whatever shall I do? No matter what, I'm getting on the plane, so I'll have to figure it out. Wish me luck!

Morocco

Now that we're barreling towards October, it's easy to say that it's about time for summer vacation. In fact, there may be a generall consensus amongst various Rose family members that the best iem for summer vacation is, in fact, during the summer. I mean, they don't call them the dog days of summer for nothing. But I digress...

Morocco is the main destination this time 'round and while I can't say that it was at the top of my list (though certainly on my list), I can say that I'm pretty darn excited to visit. This will be my first time spending a significant period of time in an Islamic country. So I think it's a good time to play a rousing round of "Name that Preconceived Notion!" *cue cheesy music*

Here's what I'm expected from Morocco:
Lots of headscarves and covered women.
Heavy, spicey, cinnamony (but delicious) food
Getting woken up by morning call to prayer
lots of colorful fabrics
cool street markets
being harassed/stared at a lot
general dirtiness
People speaking French

All in all I think it's going to be pretty darn cool. It will be nice to be traveling again and back in the groove. There must be some deeply-rooted psychology reason for my love of the road and my distaste for a life with anything too "normal" happening for too long. Alls I know is that if there's a 6 am flight to somewhere new, I'd have a hard time saying no to a ticket with my name on it. There's nothing quite like a long flight to make an excessively early morning worth it. Maybe it's a survival instinct kicking in.

I guess we'll see how my preconceived notions hold up against the reality. Should be interesting to see. Anywho, keep checking back for some posts in Morocco, any. time. soon. :)

Eat. Pray. Love. Denied?

I have a rule about books. If I don't like the book, I do not force myself to read it. I never get why people make themselves hunker down to finish a book that doesn't inspire them to read the next page. Why? There are only so many free hours in our days, particularly as we get older and become bogged down my more and more commitments and obligations that steal away our time. The only time I may force myself into a book is if it's a book for a class (erhm, college) or I'm absolutely certain it's going to get better because SO many peopel have told me it's good (I'm thinking Angela's Ashes which, quite frankly, is a masterpiece and if you haven't you must go and read it RIGHT NOW).

So when I started reading Eat. Pray. Love. I was utterly disappointed at my complete disinterest in the novel. Let me also say that my favorite book to read is one of the travel autobiography genre and I have read a LOT of them. More often than not they are mediocre but still readable. This book, however didn't do it for me. I didn't get very far into it because I simply couldn't relate to the character - there was something about her sense of entitlement that irritated and alienated me to her. She's selfish in a way I could not relate to. Her narcissism made my skin crawl and, being an avid reader of various blogs, I'm pretty used to narcisissm in writtten form. I couldn't get the character, which was completely disappointing because 1) I'm a woman, like her 2) I like to read and write about traveling and most importantly 3) I'm a traveler. The fact that I was unable to connect with this woman on that, the deepest level of my existence as the Traveler I see myself as - that I could not relate to her as a traveler, bothered me the most.

So I stopped reading it. Just like that. And now, several years later, the movie is coming out and I think I might. just. see. it.

Maybe I've changed, maybe the movie will be different or maybe it'll all just be crap anyway, but I'm drawn to the trailer and I think I might give it a shot. So here it is:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iZzmqHJ0gPU

"I used to have this appetite for my life and it is just gone. I want to go someplace where I can just marvel at something."

Ithaca

This poem was in the first few pages of a novel by Paulo Coelho called The Zahir. While I felt that the novel was just OK (I much prefer The Alchemist, a truly exquisite novel) I love this poem and its message.

Ithaca

When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,

pray that the road is long,

full of adventure, full of knowledge.

The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,

the angry Poseidon—do not fear them:

You will never find such as these on your path

if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine

emotion touches your spirit and your body.

The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,

the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,

if you do not carry them within your soul,

if your heart does not set them up before you.

Pray that the road is long.

That the summer mornings are many, when,

with such pleasure, with such joy

you will enter ports seen for the first time;

stop at Phoenician markets,

and purchase fine merchandise,

mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,

and sensual perfumes of all kinds,

as many sensual perfumes as you can;

visit many Egyptian cities,

to learn and learn from scholars.

Always keep Ithaca in your mind.

To arrive there is your ultimate goal.

But do not hurry the voyage at all.

It is better to let it last for many years;

and to anchor at the island when you are old,

rich with all you have gained on the way,

not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.

Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.

Without her you would never have set out on the road.

She has nothing more to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you. Wise as you have become, with so much experience, you must already have understood what Ithacas mean.

Constantine Cavafy (1863–1933)

translated by Rae Dalven

Football...

You know, the kind you actually play with your feet?

It never ceases to amaze me at the sheer number of people in the world who love soccer. Being of the American variety, I've never much been one for it and never seem to get how engrossed my darling Europeans, particularly the Scottish One, can be in a game where they almost never score. That being said, I'm a particular fan of basketball, which, one might argue is the most ADD mainstream sport imaginable. I've never much gotten into baseball either, but it is fun to chat and have a beer at the ball park.

The reason I bring this up should be obvious. It's the World Cup and everyone, it seems, has their eyes set on the games in South Africa. I'll be tuning in tomorrow to watch the England v. USA match, because that's just great, isn't it? I've sat in enough pubs in my day to learn how to appreciate the game and the significance of being able to keep up with my pals abroad about who's ranking where in each group.

So here are the questions:

Who are you rooting for?

Who do you think will win?

Update Trifecta

In continuing with my apparent modus operundi for this blog, it's been about a month+ since I've last written. Fair enough. There are plenty of developments, therefore, that I have yet to mention. The pertinent one as it relates to this blog is that I have another trip planned and on the calendar. This fall, I will be going to Morocco for two weeks, followed by a few days in England to visit my cousin who is moving there in August to live at her Grandma's house and then a week on the Emerald Isle where I will get a long overdue visit with the Irish One. I don't think I have to mentioned that I'm thrilled to be going. I managed to get the entire four weeks off, which leads me to my my next development: I got a job. I don't recall to what extent I've mentioned it, but I had been unemployed (first by choice, then by bad timing in a crappy economy) for over two years. Because of this development, two things have occured: 1) I have more money and can acutally afford more trips and 2) I have less time to go on trips because I'm commited to work all the time. Oh, the painful irony of it all. Finally, 3) I've crawled out of my hole. Meaning, I have been playing volleyball on a sports league and making friends who like to do activities that do not include sitting around watching TV. The latter two developments have sucked up most of my free time, turning me into an exhausted sleep-deprived zombie in the evenings. This makes it hard to get up the energy to write about the places I'm going and my thoughts about them. So... there. That's my update and semi-excuse. For anyone who's listening.

St. Patrick

Hills of rolling, endless green. A whisper of an ancient celtic song as the wind whips around your hair. If you're lucky, the sunshine will appear for a brief moment to caress your face as you stare into the long and endless countryside. Ancient stone houses dot the scene and you can't help but be drawn to Emerald Isle in some mystical way, as though the wicked Irish woman from whom you descended has lived in you all along, tucked away, suddenly appearing hundreds of years later, ready to take you home.

I learned recently that there are more Irish-Americans than people who live in Ireland. I am one of them, and although I wish that my bloodline ran more green it does, I can't help but feeling that somewhere in the mix-up, I came out a little more Irish than the rest of us. Even if I could meet my Irish ancestors and found we were nothing alike, I'd like to think that the Irish spirit - a joyous, wild way born of devastation, poverty and racism - lives on through us. We're a family of storytellers and I'd like to think that it's the Irish in us.

This year St. Patrick's Day falls dead-center in the middle of the week. Apparently the infamous Chicago festivities are happening this weekend so as not to inhibit those who love a good romp. It's fair enough, who doesn't want to have a good reason to party with strangers every once in a while? As to what I'll be doing? Well, let's just say there's corned beef and cabbage in the fridge with my name on it and bottle of Irish whiskey on the shelf that may get cracked open, too.

Even though the sun is shining only as it can on a California day, I can't help but wish I could be in Ireland today. There may be a rain storm that blows in and the good weather I hear they've been blessed with this week may subside, but at least I know there would be a pub down the road with a perfectly poured pint, smiling faces and maybe a little music to greet me.

"May the Irish hills caress you. May her lakes and rivers bless you. May the luck of the Irish enfold you. May the blessings of St. Patrick behold you" - Irish Blessing

Did You Know...

I originally thought of naming this blog "A Tramp Abroad." But I wasn't sure if people would get it.

Images of a Shanghai Market

A bustling market:

All kinds of different crazy meats. Chicken feet and heads are common all throughout China

Cured meats hanging all over this alcove:

More of the dried meats:

And finally, the piece de resistance, the pig face in a bag:

Shanghai

I started writing about Shanghai right after I put up my last entry vowing to get my thoughts down about the China trip. Unfortunately life has a way of taking control of your plans sometimes and I found myself attending to more important things. Our family friend who has been battling lymphoma took a turn for the worst over the past few weeks and eventually died a couple of days ago. Lucky for me the universe aligned and sent me my best friend up for an unexpected visit right when it happened, which gave us a lot of strength and something to keep our minds off of this terrrble loss. Today I finally got a chance to take a look at the little bit I had written about Shanghai and decided to post it. I'll do my best to get some more up soon.

When I used to imagine what Shanghai was like, I always had this 1920s image in my mind. I imagined art deco façades with an Asian flair; wealthy colonizing elites having their Asian adventure in posh clubs. I’d always imagined it as one of those world cities – a crossroads where cultures came together.

In many ways, the place I had imagined was there. During our trip, we found that Shanghai was in fact the most Western of the cities we visited and home to a plethora of global corporations and businesses. In its recent history, Shanghai had been broken apart into districts by its colonizers – the French, the British and the Americans. The most famous of these is the former French Concession, an area that still causes the Chinese to lose ‘face’ when discussed. It was an area the French had controlled and is characterized by the strong French architectural influence but, like everything in China, is slowly being overtaken by time, development and change – that ubiquitous lady busy defining modern China.

The thing that seems to stay the same in this city - and define it, really - is that indescribable global flavor of a big city. It’s that posh thing about Shanghai that you can’t quite put your finger on, the thing that makes you know you’re somewhere special. No surprise here, I liked it. It was the kind of place I could wrap my head around. But I guess that's to be expected from a city girl at heart.

Where Have All the Blogs Gone!?

So in case you haven't noticed, I never got the opportunity to update my blog in China. Unfortuntely the Chinese government blocks a number of website including blogs and Facebook. It's a glaring fact of a country in which personal freedom is tightly controlled in order to maintain governmental power. Very sad. I'd like to say that I was an excellent little blogger and maintained a journal despite the lack of internet access, but I've never proved to be that diligent in the past, so why start? ;) Now that I've been able to get some perspective on the trip, I'm going to start jotting down the experiences to share. So keep and eye out for it, ok? Oh, and here I am on the Great Wall of China (in a snow storm!)

And We're Off!

It's been a wild couple of days leading up to our departure date, what with mom, dad and Katy S's birthdays and one of the biggest Halloweens I've experienced in recent years all in one week. So I got all packed up and ready to go today. I hope I have everything I need, but I have the feeling that if there is something essential, I'll be able to find it in China (as opposed to when we were in India! - nothing was easy to find there!) I'll try to update as much as possible, but I have no idea how the internet will be and what kind of access we will have. Fingers crossed that it's easily accessible!

Until then...

Up Next

Well, I guess I'm going to China pretty soon. I've wanted to go to China for quite a while, so I'm excited to finally check it out.

Pictures from Salzburg

So now that I've had time to reaclimate and upload my photos on the computer, I thought you might like to see some of the places I've been writing about. So lets start with Salzburg.
There's something about the color of Salzburg that caught me off guard. I'd say it was the green, but that doesn't quite do it justice. It's the color of the water here: opaque, seafoam, Baroque. It penetrates everything, the whole glow of the town. You feel bright and fresh, soft and warm when you walk down the streets. Like so many places we visited, Salzburg was lovely. The kind of beautiful that you don't often see at home. The kind that represents a whole part of time where people loved light and swirls and beautful things just because they were beautiful. Maybe that was because everything else was so seemingly dark.

While we were sitting in one of the Baroque churches, Emily joked to me that it was so pink and full of swirls, that it was funny that a man would have designed it. That made me laugh. But she was right, you know?

At the fortress on top of the mountain, there was this random bull, so of course, we got on and took pictures on it, haha:

We also went into the marionette "museum" on the fortress grounds, which consisted of one room and a couple of posters you could stick your head through. I figured, 'when in Salzburg...'

I'm Lame

Ok, so I realize that I've done a terrible job of writing on this thing. I can't say I'm going to make up for it just yet. I'll be heading home tomorrow and once I get a good computer to work on, I will put up some pictures and other thoughts, so stay tuned!

Amsterdam

Emily and I spent a pretty uneventful night in Cologne. Most of the city was destroyed in the war except for the big Cathedral which, after almost 2 months in Europe wasn't much to write home about. The rest of the city is big and generic and in general, I can't see going back any time soon. So on to Amsterdam....

I've had a lot of thoughts about being in Amsterdam. Most people, when you mention that you are going to Amsterdam smile and give a knowing look, as in 'I know why you're really going to Amsterdam!' and sure, while there is the whole coffee shop culture, I feel that it is an unfair assessment of the city as a whole. Amsterdam is an incredibly beautiful city with a rich history of tolerance. After walking around much of it, it makes me think twice about the way pot is viewed. While I do agree that it is probably a better use of the government's time and money to focus on harder drugs to crack down on, I find that much of the marijuana culture sullies the rest of the city. I think this happens in part because the city has become a haven for people coming to smoke, rather than just a city in which pot is tolerated. I think about a place like San Francisco and the people there who would like to see pot legalized, but after being in Amsterdam, I think I would be opposed to it. To federally address the subject is something different, but I would hate to see San Francisco's beautiful streets and cafes fill up with people who were just interested in doing drugs.

Cologne

Emily and I are in Cologne now! woo!

Strasbourg was a lovely city. Our first day there, we got a good lay of the land and walked to the Cathedral (there's always a Cathedral, isn't there?). It is known for its original stained glass which is old school and VERY beautiful.

After, Emily and I decide we wanted to tour the Kronenbourg factory which is located in Strasbourg. For those of you who are not as well informed on the beer situation in France, Kronenbourg is sort of like the national beer of France. We had a great time learning all about the history and process of the beer making and then got to have a petit degustation at the end! Very enjoyable, indeed.

The next day, we decided to head to Colmar, a small city just outside of Strasbourg that is known for being in the Alsatian wine region. Again, we had a look around and enjoyed a tasting of the local wine from a local Alsatian producer. It was very informative and Emily and I both patted ourselves on the back for our fine upbringing in destinguishing the flavors of the wine (lol).

In the evening in Strasbourg, we happened upon the Cathedral and to our surprise, saw a great light show on the facade of the building. It was an entire light spectacular set to classical music. What a great thing to see!

We have just arrived in Cologne and it is very hot and muggy here. We will be heading for the Cathedral, which apparently was one fo the few things to survive the bombings in the 2nd world war. Only one night here and then off to Amsterdam tomorrow!

Oh, and the food is pretty good! Lets just say the budget is low for that sort of thing, but it is easy to have something good to eat when you are in France. Always good cheese and good bread!!

Strasbourg

Emily and I ahve arrived in Strasbourg and boy is it beautiful! No more time to update, although there's not a lot to say yet.