Tday part deuce

The Catalans already have Bon Nadal, Christmas decorations up by mid-november but I am still thinking about Thanksgiving.

In my high school French class I used to make a calendar at the beginning of every school year to mark down the days to thanksgiving and each day in french class I would tick away a day. Fat kid at heart much?

Anyway, holiday joy brings holiday stress, especially in los angeles. I'm not talking about family, my family rocks, I love holidays with them, I'm talking about gluttony. So every year on thanksgiving I go on a run or a swim in the morning. As if an hour work out makes up for eating a weeks worth of food in one night,

or does it?

So I went on my run this morning, but it's very different running around Barcelona. Living in Europe is such a stereotype of living in Europe sometimes. I just you know, pass by Sagrada Familia, the most famous Gaudi church on my way down the street, see little kids dressed up (no idea why, but I was loving it and in total approval) as a princess and Peter Pan playing over a steam drain in the street (no idea what those are actually called, the ones that you walk over and they blow up warm air) and they were loving the Marylin Monroe dress flying up effect, there are a bazillion old people, cute couples and best friends dressed to the 9s for Saturday stroll, bright red lipstick on, pearls, or with their farmers market rolly carts. There are stores that sell only candles or only light bulbs or only statuettes or only pajamas... see everything is specialty, the super market concept that one place has everything is not nearly as appetizing to them.

Like who really makes a living off a light bulbs only store? (This was a recent topic of conversation... stimulating really)

I live for all this, the super European, life on the street strolling, passing monuments, living in history kind of life. So Although I miss my American Thanksgiving tradition of Aunt Maita's stuffing and my deal with my sister not to eat pumpkin pie for the two months before Thanksgiving, what this holiday has come to mean (obviously its origins are not so beautiful or glorious... rather hideously hateful, and bloody... and stemming from the Spanish monarchy)... so what this holiday now has come to mean is being thankful. Taking time to celebrate with loved ones.

So cheers and happy Thanksgiving from Barcelona, Spain to my friends and family who are all over the world right now. I love you all.

Thanksgiving in Barcelona

I spend all year trying not to hang out with too many Americans, not that I don't love my people, but it makes it hard to speak Spanish if I am with English speakers all the time.

And then comes Thanksgiving. My all time favorite holiday. (Maybe a tie with Halloween and 4th of July) but, there is nothing like the family getting together and scarfing down as fast as possible so you can eat the maximum possible stuffing, yams, turkey cranberry sauce, mashed pototoes, maybe some salad so my mom is happy... all before the 20 minutes it takes for your stomach to tell your mouth to STOP cause your beyond full and about to explode and might have to wait a while before you can eat seconds.

That's when I say, "thank god for the dessert stomach"

My family, my older sister actually, made an interesting discovery as a child. We, humans, actually are more similar to cows than we thought. We too have two stomachs... the regular one, that we spend our whole loves hearing about, and the Dessert Stomach. This is a smaller, yet separate vacuous space that is reserved for sweets and desserts after a large meal when you feel there may be no hope left to eat more.

There we have reserved space. It somehow never gets filled from a regular meal. As my sister always says,

"There is always room for dessert"

And now you know. The Thanksgiving secret has been passed.

What if you're not in love yet?

I was told by my friend's mom that if you're not in love with your boyfriend, he's not your boyfriend, he's your friend.

I disagree, you have to start somewhere, right?

(This is going to be a lot of questions, they are not rhetorical, anyone feel free to comment and answer them.)

Is it worth being in a relationship you see as dead end for one reason or another if in the moment it fulfills something in your life?

What happened to my personal favorite metaphor as dating being like wine tasting in Napa or Santa Barbara.... you can't know if it's your favorite, even if you like it, if you haven't tried the other options. But at what point do you decide you don't need to try more options that there might always be someone else, or another flavor you come across, that you like, but right now, you have one in your hand for sure that works, that you like.

Were relationships this complicated in the 50s, when Ricky and Lucy slept in separate twin beds as tv husband and wife?

So is he a boyfriend or a friend...

Dear Henri... with an "i", I now realize I am not a blogger unless I blog

I got called out so hard tonight.

My path is a little unclear at the moment, I have my hands in a lot of different projects and ideas, one of which is getting a legit blog going, that I am proud of, to say the least.

It is hard to blog. It seemed so easy at first, just write anything.
But blogs are no longer just online journals. They have purpose and meaning, bring awareness. They motivate and inspire, they tell stories with pictures and words.

For any fashion blog followers, I went to The Sartorialist's book signing tonight right outside Barcelona. Scott has turned his blog, which is a street style photo blog, into a book, into a following,... basically living my dream he just did it first. (kudos)

Everyone was dressed straight out of Ugly Betty, more the Marc or Amanda than Hilda styles, ready to be photographed, wishing Scott would be taking photos of them, and excited to meet the man behind the camera. It is nights like tonight when I remember why I started taking film photography classes when I was in 9th grade.


This was also a networking event, these are people in and around fashion. I knew I should be working the floor, but with an amateur blog, no business cards and an unclear path to the future, how can I approach selling myself...

Enter Sara and Henri. Two people I met tonight, very kind, I would say interesting... but I now realize, I was the one talking the whole time and I barely took the time to ask them more about themselves. Is it not me looking for advice and direction with my career? They both were well into their careers.

They did everything right. Asked questions, follow ups, related to me, to where I am from, and I answered and talked (cause I do that when I am out of my element or nervous). I now realize

Shut up
listen
ask questions

talking about me taught me nothing tonight. I missed a great opportunity to find out more about people who are pursuing careers I am interested in. (If you are reading this, please get in touch with me before you go to NYC. And good luck with everything there)

LISTEN

ASK QUESTIONS

Quarter Life Crisis... the post-college years

The theme of my life, besides the eternal search for happiness, has been what am I going to do with my life now that I am the proud recipient of a University diploma.

Stress stress STRESS stre-esssss.... I have been living in Spain for over a year now and it has become very obvious over the year how ingrained I am with the American ideas of success career money happiness future career path the right choice the responsible choice self motivation relationships. always moving. forward.

Ask anyone who knows me, I am a pro at vacation and living a stress free life, but the idea of heading back to Los Angeles, just the mere idea of leaving behind the life I have made in Barcelona, is constantly leaving me dragging my feet.

I have this conversation with all of my friends. We all feel like we are the only ones who feel this way, but obviously its pretty wide spread.... my sister calls it.... MY EARLY TWENTIES.

Straight A student, UC Berkeley graduate... top of my class in fact, passion for Capoeira, photography, writing, reading, learning.... I was a professional student my entire life and I learned how to do my job well.

And then,
I graduated.

Where is my big fancy job? And perfect partner? Weekly lunch with my girlfriends?

University life did such great job of getting me interested and involved in so many new topics, people, activities, within my community, yet never quite taught me how to take all this raw talent and interest and refine it. How to get a job after college 101. That should be a general requirement instead of Oceans, that physical science class I needed to graduate.

I moved to San Francisco directly after college and found a job with a company that took itself way too seriously and was all about developing raw talent.....I cried from 7am to 720am Mon-Fri to my mother on the phone in LA for almost 6 months on the trolley car ride to work... Never take a job that even has the words COLD CALLING in the description.

Needless to say I peaced out for Spain.
I've been told many times that it was brave of me to move here, with no job, no ... anything.

It was probably the easiest decision of my life.

and it was time... to FIND MYSELF

My very own Eat Pray Love, less yoga, more tapas and beer.

I went from sports and academics to being a cliche English teacher (with the best students ever who I am actually obsessed with and their amazingly kind parents who semi take me in as their daughter) and international party girl working in Club party promotions with international DJs and music groups. Seeing more night than daylight gets old. Waking up at 3pm gets old.

The worst part is, people here think of me as a party girl and nothing more. And I'm afraid that is what I am becoming. Learning Spanish, reading books in Spanish, ... doing everything in another language, is a dream come true. It's an extra tinge of flare that makes every day here more exciting then in America.

But I still haven't "found myself"... who even came up with that idea? It was definitely a creation of a marketing director who was selling travels to far off places, and a book deal.

So the crisis is how to motivate when there is no external motivation here, when I have no friend to go on a run with me or go to a cafe and blog or journal or paint with me. But do I go home if I am not finished here?

How do I know when I'm finished? Everyday I choose to stay, I open the door to possibilities here, and close doors to all the possibilities in every other city in the world. To a different boyfriend, a new job, one that might even forward my "career", to meeting new friends in my home town, to learning a different language or culture or person....

After I talk to every one of my friends, and sisters, and parents, I then like to think to myself, what would some of those old men who play cricket on the grass by Arc de Triomf or on Passeig de Sant Joan... what would they tell me to do, after having seen it all. And I always come up with"

I have my whole life ahead of me to find a long term career, the perfect job (if it even exists), time to find the perfect man, time for a doctorate, for a family... stop wasting time worrying when ....

it is being YOUNG that is the only thing I can't get back later.

Post-college is not so much a crisis, it's realizing we are finally free to make our own decisions, sometimes big ones, ones that effect other people, some times small ones that just leave a momentary sweetness on your lips.

Turning 25 is a gift. My cousin died when he was 24, I could live a complete life without ever having a "serious job" but I could never live a complete life without taking the time out for me to travel, to love, to explore, to be selfish at times, to be independent of my family, to be connected with my family, to create relationships, and so

I redeclare these years, the best of my life, and I live them now, no regrets.

Cheers.

Mating and Dating, US Spain Relations

I think he thinks he's my Novio (boyfriend)..... He definitely brought up the N word last time I was with him.

The eternal single girl, pride in independence and individual decision making, may quite possibly have broken down, and started dating a guy for more than two weeks.

I've noticed that when it's a friend of a friend, someone coming with some sort of trusted recommendation, the success rate when meeting new friends or potential lovers is about 97%. Our friends know us best don't they? This isn't Mom or Bubby trying to introduce me to a nice, Jewish boy from the NY burrows.

I was at a birthday party with a bunch of Finnish, British, and Spanish folks... and for the first time probably in my life, I started talking to the shy guy.

Really any excuse to practice my Spanish skills.

Without the pillow-talk details I will say this. Over the last few weeks we have been going back and forth between Barcelona and his town about an hour south of the city. One night laying on the beach at sunset, yes I respond to cheese filled romance, I mentioned how I told a girlfriend of mine we like to make-out for a few hours at a time.... without stopping to breathe. His response:

Hasn't she ever had a boyfriend before?..... Nunca ha tenido un novio?

Excuse me ... a what....?

What does that mean?
1. Literally has she never liked a guy enough to do that?
or
2. He is my boyfriend and that's why we do that and why can't she relate?

ummm.....

I thought American guys moved quick, but they move quick in another way, very hit it and quit it. Spanish guys, let you know that they are your boyfriend, your novio, and then walk around holding your hand so everyone else knows and make it hard to date a few people at once.

What happened to dating being like the sampler platter. Just trying to figure out what we are looking for.

Us Spain relations... we may just need a little more Clinton.

4th of July in Spain

The idea of not doing the Palisades 5k in at 8am meeting outside the local library this year to start my 4th of July was almost depressing, minus the fact I didn't have to wake up at 6:30am on the 4th of July to run, which I hate doing. But there is nothing like meeting your perky friends, seeing your 3rd grade teachers, and Ben Afflect running with a stroller while touring my hometown.

This year, no Palisades, just Barcelona. It is hard to celebrate blatantly American holidays in foreign countries. But I definitely made the best of it.

I started the night before and made it home at about 6:30am when I passed by favorite bakery and the French baker was outside and asked if I wanted a fresh croissant. I dropped my bike and cried out...SIIIIII! (of course the day we celebrate independence from Britain a French guy would be my ally) We sat and had breakfast til about 7 when I went home to get a few hours of sleep in prep for what would be another 24 hours of 4th of July celebrating.

I woke up craving a greasy hamburger.

Barcelona is not known for its hamburgers so i spent a good amount of time online researching...seriously....the best burgers in the city. This is the 4th, it's no joke to me. I came up with Betty Fords al final, based on a surprisingly large supply of American bloggers who are the only legit source for this project obvi. I never made it there as my boy Suji has a roof with views of Montjuic, Tibidabo and the rest of the city...and a BBQ. We hit the boqueria for fresh patties to grill up and invited a few friends. There are so many Sweedish people in Barcelona, it is incredible how much they travel by the way... two of them graced us at our little rooftop shindig.

The perfect relaxing day, way too hot, resident dj put on tunes, we had water falls and cootercoolers, and burgers! The sun is out til 10 here so i had to force myself to leave at 830pm because Mataro is havina a music festival this week and I went to see Manu Chao with my friend Jace.

When in a foreign country put on your red white and blue and go to a show or do something to celebrate that is different. Manu Chao puts on a show! His guitarist is a straight up genuine musician. He played punk guitar, rock n roll, classic spanish guitar on an acoustic, rumba... it was non stop.

I obviously pushed my way up to the front of the crowd, which always means ditching friends and making a meeting place for after because there was a good 10,000 people there. A big outdoor space, I had actually randomly been there before not realizing when I rode my bike with Jace from Barcelona to Costa Brava and we stopped there to check out the fresh graffiti art. Comparable to that of Granada, which for anyone who has been knows that is saying a lot. Pushing to the front, my second favorite thing to do after pretending I am Spanish when I go out and meet people at night, worked out about as well as I can hear today... not well. I landed in the mosh pit, never a good idea without closed toed shoes and being so drunk you can feel yourself being trampled Pamplona style...so I gave in and took it a few feet back.

It must be amazing to look out and see and hear thousands of people singing your lyrics with you, jumping, smiling, waving their hands, dancing and enjoying your art, your creations. The moon was gorgeous, it was already after midnight when he even went on and he went til 3am. That is how they roll here....concerts at the Staples center in LA end by midnight. Here, there was another act starting at 3am after Manu chao.

The best part is when this guy gets on stage and starts "grooving" with him. I am calling it that cause he had some old school dance moves. Anyway, the cops let him dance a little then come on stage to kick the guy off and Manu Chao straight up puts his guitar in the way of the cop and tells the cop to get of the stage and let the guy to do his thing.

Look who is in charge tonight. FOURTH OF JUUUU --- LY

Baller night. Too bad the bus, that arrived at 4am to take us back to BCN got over taken by the people, someone pryed open the back door and about 75 people packed in and only one person had paid and and entire bus was full. Bus driver panic. uh uh...you have to pay. You can not do that. Yeah try getting a bunch of Catalans to get off the bus when you are but one small man.

Duh call the cops. It took an hour to get everyone off the bus, three cops, the front door was jammed.... drama drama we left an hour later for what should have been a 20 minute ride to Barcelona. The reality is.... I pushed my way to the front and got on as one of the first and never left the bus... and made friends with all the crazies squeezed in.

Great, Epic 4th