Best Stuff of Life - By Guest Blogger EO

It was a year and some months ago that the Camino Gypsy herself/housemate at the time, Tess thought that I might be a guest writer on this very blog. I was getting ready for a month long Sabbatical and had planned a road trip through the American Southwest and some travel through Italy. Since my professional background was in hotels I thought it would be a great opportunity to write about different places I stayed and perhaps even throw in a few personal antidote's like, "How to make the most our of your time in a Phoenix active adult community." 
The year + some months that Tess and I lived together was a great time for us to be housemates. While she was going through the long and arduous process of waiting for Hannes to get his green card, I was trying to occupy her time well enough with bourbon, English television and of course my tales of single life and dating in San Francisco. I remember Tess asking me about a date one night and me shrugging and saying it was just ok. It was then that she said one day I'll go on a date and come home and be blown away. That's what she was waiting for, she said. That is essentially what happened to her when she met Hannes.
April 29th, 2012 was a beautiful, warm day. I had recently returned from the last leg of my Sabbatical travels which included a lovely stay with my Mom at the Wawona Hotel. I was also getting ready another first date which would entail riding bikes through Golden Gate Park with a certain furniture maker named Jared. The park was only a few blocks away from my place but a few miles away from his. The good news was that it was not too hard to avoid all hills getting to my neighborhood, the bad news was that poor Jared took some real wrong turns and ended up riding his bike up all possible hills so arrived to our date a half hour late and super sweaty! But, hills happen in this city so I wasn't too worried and didn't blame him at all for the delay. Concern however, did begin to grow when he started talking about all his food allergies, including avocado! I was wondering if this date was over before it began. I can't exactly remember when, but it was somewhere between him breaking out two airplane bottles of whiskey and us talking about our lofty Summer plans that something began to happen. I started to feel some sense of euphoria that had never really occurred before. We had our first kiss mid-date which isn't something I was used to...I had been pushing for him to try this apple juice I brought along which he refused to try (citing more food allergy concerns, of course). Finally I told him that it was the secret to life! and took a big sip for myself. It was only then that he conceded to try it by tasting the juice that was still on my lips. I thought that was a pretty good move.
As the cool wind picked up late in the afternoon it was time for us to head back to our own homes. We rode slowly back towards my place, we gave each other the second kiss of the date and went our separate ways. I carried my bike up four flights of stairs to the apartment where Tess was waiting for me. She asked how the date went and I told her...I was blown away. I spent the rest of afternoon in complete shock, lying in my bed, retelling the details of the date. Tess of course, was happy to say she told me so.
Skip to April 29th, 2013 and I'm still being blown away by this amazing guy. A few highlights of this past year have been quitting my job, getting an awesome new job, moving into Jared's place, traveling a bit and finally getting ready for another Summer to begin with the man I love.
It seems that both Tess and I used this blog as a way to chronicle a certain life journey. For me, this blog was a way for me to be held accountable by putting into words the ways in which that time in my life was rather transformative. For a while, this blog helped me to be content to simply be on my own. I think that was a lesson I needed to learn before I could be ready to be with someone else. That first date with Jared occurred a few days after my very last post. I was able to summarize my journey as well as end it on a positive note because I knew the best stuff of life had just begun. Because of this, I thought it only fair to update this blog, to say thanks to Tess for the guest writer idea and also to say Happy Anniversary to Jared...I've never been so happy and so in love. Also, if anyone is single and interested in meeting an awesome guy, I would highly recommend guest writing on this blog too.

At the Wawona Hotel, this time with Mom and Jared

At the premiere of the Disposable Film Fest, where I'm now Head of Marketing and Events

City Snuggling

Camino Training Revisited

Training for the Camino was a huge commitment. I had to explain to my agent why I needed to set aside five hours for a workout. I had to wake up before the sun rose, so the Sacramento heat wouldn't fry my mom and I like Tortilla Espanola. I had to walk the same trails ad nauseum to log the amount of miles we needed. And I had to explain to my feet and quads and ankles and back why I was torturing them when the Camino was still a year away. While some don't feel training is necessary (I have one super hero friend who decided to scale Mt. Whitney a week beforehand, while I'd been training for six months), it was an essential part of my Camino journey.

When I write a blog or a commercial treatment or an article, I always write a rough draft and then two editorial drafts before sending it out. Camino training is a similar concept - a time to work out the kinks, to tweak things, to reevaluate, to surrender. It's a period to get acquainted with your body and let it know what it's in for. It's the time when you assess your shortcomings and how to overcome them. A time when aches and pains morph into an impressive set of muscles. And when you come to realize that walking is more than exercise - it's a way of life.

I was brought back to this Camino prologue when walking the 10.5 mile loop around Lake Natoma with my husband (and former pilgrim) yesterday. While urban hikes were my favorite training grounds, Lake Natoma was where my mom and I first wore our backpacks for a proper trial run. Where we spent the night in a hotel to test out our gear, sleep accoutrements and sink washing abilities. And where I finally admitted to myself that I was really about to do this crazy 1000 mile journey.

Now let me be frank, NOTHING will prepare you fully for the ultimate Bildungroman that is the Camino. But with a little training, a little trail and error, a little throwing down of the gauntlet, the abstract notion of walking so many miles for so many days begins to take proper shape. It may scare you, it may intimidate you, it may leave you with ample blisters, but at least you realize you can do it.

And it's that attitude that means everything when for the 49th day in a row you must wake up at 5am, slip on your dusty, sheep shit crusted boots, drink a cup of coffee out of a vending machine, chew down a stale baguette (that wasn't very good to begin with) and march out into a cold Spanish cobblestone street with hiking poles in callous-laden hand.

Above, a video my husband made of a tree swing waiting for its summertime occupants on Lake Natoma. For more moments of peace check out his Zen Capture blog!

La Fine

Italian 'Welcome' mat.

'Parting is such sweet sorrow'...  I never understood that phrase.  Where does the 'sweet' part come in?  Every time Hannes and I wrap our arms around each other in front of sour faced Customs officials at SFO or BRU and leave tear tracks on each other's shoulders, all I feel is the 'sorrow.'  If there is any sweet to be had, it was not in our farewell, but in the final days of our Italian Honeyloon as we tried to milk every last drop of our time together amongst the olive trees. 

You know you want this to be you.

Leaving the beautiful chaos that is Rome, Hannes, Emily and I headed North to Orvieto through some of the most beautiful countryside I've ever laid my well-traveled eyes on.  As the van whipped around the corners of twisting roads and the smell of our La Renella focaccia bread wafted from its alluring cardboard box, we breathed a sigh of contentment... and hunger.  A sigh which turned to glee as we found our way to Azienda Agricola Cioccoleta - a magical agriturismo B&B nestled in acres of luminous green vineyards and orchards.  We sipped a free bottle of their Orvieto Classico while chatting with the husband and wife who ran this oasis and watching the sun slip behind the hills for its own siesta.  That night I practiced my Italian in the streets of Orvieto to snag us a reservation at the most popular restaurant in town, Trattoria La Palomba.  As the words flew gracefully out of my mouth, I looked back at a stunned Hannes and Emily who smiled and patted me on the back for a translation well done.  So far I had come!  From blubbering idiot to semi-intelligible.  Not bad for a month's work. 

At the time we thought this adorable.

The following day we ate a leisurely breakfast of homemade cakes and then wandered through Orvieto in search of picnic delights and limoncello.  The three of us indulged in our last gelatos together and then said our goodbyes.  Even though I knew I'd see my roommate back in SF, leaving Emily was a symbol that the fun was almost over, so it was with a heavy heart that Hannes and I got back into the van without our pint-sized backseat passenger.  The Saturnia hot springs, however, lifted our spirits - along with turning Hannes' wedding ring from gold to blue to purple to green (nothing a little silver polish couldn't fix back on mom's farm.)  Although it's merely a chemical sulfur reaction, we took it as a symbol of love's constant evolution and the unexpected twists and turns of travel. 

That night my Camino Love and I spent cuddled up in the van, drinking Rosolio and champagne, eating porcini pasta and listening to the rain on the roof as wind shook us gently back and forth (add to that, pretending that we didn't wreak of sulfur.)  The last two days of driving were rough - thunderstorms coupled with a tunnel closure in Switzerland and a night spent at a truck stop hoping we weren't mugged.  But we had each other, if only for a few more days - basking in the sweetness of our Honeyloon and wishing that the sorrow would never come.

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Orvieto's colorful church.

A curio shop in Orvieto.

Unknown cliff town we passed on our last day in Italy that made us want to never leave.

The only bright spot of my layover.

RxSw: Part Five...the last part - By Guest Blogger EO

Grandma's house-60 years ago

"Hi Grandma," Alex and I yelled into his phone as we were sitting in a cactus garden in Tucson, AZ. We had decided to give her a call to be good grand-kids and also to get the address of where she used to live while attending beauty school in Tucson 60 years ago. She gave us the address but told us not to go by because she had heard her old house was now terribly run down and in a bad neighborhood. So of course, after breakfast we decided to head straight there thinking it would be cool to see where she lived and it would also be a fun adventure to check out an "off the beaten path" area of the city. We snapped a few photos of the house which seemed to be in good condition in a fine neighborhood and went on with the rest of the day; not thinking too much about it.

Shadow of a Sequoia at the Wawona Hotel 

A few weeks ago my Mom and I paid a visit to my Grandma on our way to Yosemite. Over lunch, I showed her the photo of her Tucson home half afraid that she would be upset with me for going by the house even when she had asked me to not. Instead, tears began to well up in her eyes and she thanked me for taking the photo... She said that during her time in Tucson she didn't have much money, she was all on her own for the most part, but it was the happiest she had ever been in her life.
After lunch, my Mom and I said good-bye to my Grandma and made our way from the Central valley to the Yosemite valley where we would spend the day and night at the Wawona Hotel. The reason I chose this hotel and destination is because of a faint memory I've held onto since childhood of this exact spot. I remembered wrap-around porches and Adirondack chairs casually splayed on a roughly-cut lawn. I remembered the warmth of a summer day and the smell of redwood tress and sugar pines. I remembered how proud I was to know that this kind of beauty exists in my region of California. As soon as we pulled into the Wawona, these memories were actualized once more.

Look at this hipster Mom

After a short hike (first to the gift shop, Mom's request) we made it back to our room for a quick rest (aka, a bottle of wine). Then, we retired to the hotel parlor where we played a game of Scrabble and listened to an incredibly talented and kind pianist play a few requests as well as a song all about the beauty of Yosemite that had been passed down for generations by Yosemite Park Rangers to the tune of "Danny Boy." After a final drink, Mom and I walked back to our room with only the moonlight and a few lights on the wooden porch to guide us. We slept with the windows open that night to breathe in the fresh mountain air.
The next day after breakfast I dropped Mom off at her house and headed back to San Francisco, my home.  This last weekend in the city just happened to be one of the nicest I can remember. It ended up being a weekend filled with bike rides, laughing with friends on the back porch and even going outside at night without wearing a sweater! It was the kind of weekend that doesn't come around that often in this city. It's the kind of weekend that makes me happy beyond measure.
When I first returned to San Francisco from my road-trip I must admit I was not too happy to be back. All the bad things I left and the sad thoughts I felt came rushing back and I just felt the need to get away once more. I just couldn't think of a reason to stay. But now, as I'm watching the sunset from one window in my room and the city skyline from another I have a feeling that 60 years from now I'll look back on this time of my life with tears of happiness in my eyes too.

Me, last day of vacation.

Daydreams Of Civita

Civita di Bagnoregio is actually two villages connected by a long and steep pedestrian bridge battered by the wind.  On a sunny afternoon, after escaping Rome for the Umbrian countryside, Emily, Hannes and I traversed this bridge in search of history, bruschetta and breathtaking vistas.  Both medieval Civita and the bridge - the town's one and only link to the outside world - can be seen in this picture.  No cars drive here.  No roads lead in.  It's a pedestrian's paradise.  In fact, so few people actually live here that it's known commonly as "The Dead City." 

There's a story I love of a local Civita townswoman who used to walk her donkey across this bridge forty times a day to sell her fruit and vegetables in the Bagnoregio market.  Home now from my Italian journey with my Camino Love, I am wistful for a life I never lived.  Waking up every morning, tending my garden, bringing out milk for the local cats (which outnumber the human residents of Civita by about 10 to 1), making my husband breakfast bruschetta with sausage and tomatoes grilled over an open flame, sipping espresso in the sun as I gossiped with the lady next door, wrapping up a slice of ciambella for later, before loading up my donkey, walking under the 2,500 year old Estruscan stone arc and making the first of many of the day's treks across the great bridge. 

Now, I know this is a foreigner's romantic vision of truly hard, grueling work.  This in reality is a city slowly crumbling away to the valley floor below, and to walk forty times down the same path is tedious, I'm sure, not to mention dangerous in harsh winter storms.  Yet, to a screenwriter who sees a movie down every alleyway and wine cellar step, the Civita life seems intoxicating and rich.  It's a life I'll never lead but in my daydreams (I did a donkey ride once down the Grand Canyon, and hell will freeze over before I get on one of those cliff-hugging daredevils again), but I can at least sip an espresso in my sunny San Franciscan apartment, pour some milk into a saucer for my cat Jade, walk back and forth to the record player forty times to flip the vinyl, and text my roommate a bruschetta grocery list for tonight's dinner. 

Emily endures the long bruschetta wait. Looking the essence of Italian cool, I might add.

The view from my imaginary Civita home.

A door and window that lead to nowhere - the rest of the palace now a part of the valley floor.

City Mouse, Country Mouse

"Buon giorno!" I yelled up to your guest gypsy writer Emily and our Camino friend Juliano, after Hannes and I finessed his Campervan into our reserved parking space in front of our bohemian Trastevere apartment. Hannes, to my amazement, had remained calm driving into the one city Rick Steve's pleads you to "please not drive in" literally for fear of your life. As motorcyclist cut us off and lane demarcations disappeared entirely, I thought he would lose his cool, but he remained smiling and resolute to get us safely to our new urban dwelling where we immediately opened a bottle of Montalcino wine and ate almond macaroons to our hearts content.

What I will say of Rome is this: it is the best and worst of Italy. With every footstep there is an opportunity to marvel - at the history, the architecture, the quirks, the people, the food, the energy, the mysterious lanes dripping with wisteria, the art and craftsmanship that has played muse to many a writer like myself. But then, there's the dirt, the crowds... no, throngs of tourists, the impossibly long lines to see anything, the tired feet from traversing the ancient broken cobblestone, the noise, the swarming pigeons, the lack of public bathrooms. Having been a city mouse most of my life, I can find the beauty of both sides of the Trevi Fountain coin. You must accept one to fully appreciate and enjoy the other. As the wise Rick Steves (I swear I'm not working for him) says about Italy, you must chalk it all up to a "cultural experience." My San Franciscan roommate and I thrived in this environment, savoring a sunny rest on the Spanish steps, digging through racks of vintage Italian labels, deciphering the underground as if it were a life-sized game of Candyland (Sorry might be a more fitting game actually), and snacking our way through every Roman neighborhood... pistachio cannolli, cappuccinos with cream flourishes, egg-y Easter fruit cake, hazelnut gelato, crispy potato focaccia bread.

My husband, however, is more of a country mouse. Big cities interest him, but perhaps for not more than a day. He had trouble adjusting to it all, and try as I might, I couldn't convince him that the Borghese Gardens were as inspiring as the great outdoors. Our night of live swanky Italian music, as Emily described in her post, perked him up, which led me to ask Hannes why of all that we'd seen in the ancient city of Rome did that lift his spirit, to which he answered thoughtfully, "I like cities at night. It's more... magical." In some ways I agree. Like the noir films my mom eats up, under the cloak of night the scars of a city hide from view. Much of the tourists go to bed, the dirt blends in with the darkness, the moonlight draws out the angles of the Pantheon's granite Corinthian columns, the faint drone of an accordion woos, rather than irks you. There's a romance in the air, a sense of mystery and tenderness. My husband, folks, is a romantic. A man with a lyrical soul and wistful spirit. A lover of nature and make-up free beauty and kissing on a bridge under the big pizza pie of a Roman moon. His heart perhaps is too pure for the exciting fusion of creativity, craziness and crassness that is Rome. And this is one of the many things I love about him... and us.

I too felt the pangs of temporarily leaving behind our Campervan gypsy life. As I laid in bed listening to Romans howl at the moon, I thought of the owls singing us to sleep in our Umbrian campground. Was I becoming a country mouse myself? I think part of me always has been. The part that walked across England in gaiters, the part that trekked into the solitary heart of Maui's Haleakala volcano, the part that swatted mosquitoes for a penny a piece as my parents and I canoed through Canada, the part that loved sitting on her Nashville porch watching fireflies light up the tall evening grass, the part that met Hannes in hiking boots in the Spanish Meseta, the part that dreamed out loud over espresso of owning a small seaside B&B with Emily and Hannes far from the rush of traffic and city life.

So while my husband and I might be mice might from different lands, there's no one I'd rather hold hands with, whether under the shade of the mighty Colosseum or that of a lone oak on the Tuscan countryside.


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 Some Roman delights...

Hannes captures the essence of the city.

My favorite Italian masterpiece.

Film book finds at a cozy Trastevere bookshop.

Juliano, Emily and Hannes - the essence of Italian cool.

The Pantheon by daylight. Hannes is right; could use a wash.

Candied fruits at the market. Tip: Avoid the mandarins. Enjoy the kiwi.

Espresso stop with a side of daydreaming.

What a mall ceiling should look like.

Wisteria lane.

Cosmo's moon/My husband's Rome.

City mouse and country mouse together at last.

RxSw-Part Four - By Guest Blogger E.O.

Heading North

It all went down in a McDonald's parking lot somewhere a bit past Flagstaff, AZ. I was at a cross-roads; literally with one freeway sign pointing south towards Los Angeles and another pointing north towards Albequerque and my eventual final destination of East Zion. I had left the Extended Stay America in Phoenix in good spirits wearing a t-shirt and sandals thinking that the days predicted snowstorm would be highly unlikely. I mean, I wouldn't have minded a few flakes here and there. A nice dusting of clean white snow can be charming to see on the tops of tress and mountains as you pass them by in your fancy road-trip car with the heated seat on full blast. What I really hadn't expected was the actual snowstorm that came upon me. The kind of storm that has everyone driving 15 miles per hour on the freeway with almost zero visibility ahead of you. The kind of storm that had Tess' poor car swerving on the black ice. The kind of snowstorm that this California girl was not prepared for nor accustomed to.
I had actually pulled into this parking lot to use their bathroom and also try to recalculate my route into the GPS. Unfortunately, it wasn't recognizing my final destination and I had a feeling my cell phone would not be able to get service where I was headed. Also, anyone that knows me knows that I am the worst at directions and the best at getting lost. I began to have visions of myself stranded and freezing in some remote area of Utah. I began to think of the book, "Into the Wild" wondering what, if anything I needed to prove at this point. I began to think about how I was tired of staying in hotels (I never thought this day would come!) and how what I mostly wanted was a bit of sun, a comfortable bed and some familiarity.

Heading home

It's now about 6:30 in the morning (I'm still on Euro-time) and I'm writing this from bed at my Mom's house in Manteca, CA so I guess you know what decision I made. I drove 13 hours straight from that McDonald's to be here. Although I can't even begin to say how sad I am to have missed out on seeing the natural beauty of Utah's National Parks; I will say that I don't regret the decision I made. I feel that what I hoped to occur on this trip happened in Italy as was noted in my last blog. My faith in humanity was revitalized and amazing memories were gained. I've also traveled by myself on multiple occasions and what I've realized from these experiences is that it doesn't matter where you are but who you're with that makes your time in life memorable. I'm lying here with my favorite dog, Napper by my side. I'm planning to take my Mom out for a birthday breakfast as soon as she wakes up as I was in Italy when it occurred. Then, I'm headed back to San Francisco to see my favorite house-mate Tess and all my friends. No, I can't say I regret my decision at all to come out of the cold. Plus, I still have a whole week of vacation. So, if any of you readers out there have any ideas for me in terms of day-trips or local adventures please let me know!