Happy first day of spring! I counted up today, and I'm almost 8 months into my 13-month year of living abroad. I spent today packing for a couple of weeks at home and, of course, thinking about all the things I'm looking forward to over the break. And that got me thinking about what I actually miss when I miss home. This year, when I've felt homesick, it's actually usually been a good feeling, because it reminds me of all the things and people I love back home. I'm hoping that when I get back there next year, I'll be able to appreciate those things even more than I did before I left. Of course, things always look rosy from afar, though, so I'm afraid that as soon as I get home, I'll come up with all sorts of stuff that was better over in England! So, I'm making a list here of a few things that I really want to appreciate fully when I get them back in my life.
1. Community.
Family of course is the thing I miss most. I'm very close to my family, and last year (my senior year of college), I was very close to my friends, too (when you live with people for four years, you share a lot!). But this year, I've found myself doing a lot of things alone. I eat my meals alone most of the time, do my work alone, walk to and from school alone, go grocery shopping alone, travel on trains alone. This of course makes it really sweet when I happen to have someone around to do stuff with - when one of my housemates is in the kitchen cooking dinner at the same time as me, or when I run into one of my new friends on campus and sit down to do some studying at the same table. But it's rare, and I not only miss the company I've had from my friends over the past four years and my family for my whole life. I also miss those specific people. Thank god for skype.
It's funny, because I've always thought of myself as an introvert, and I do need plenty of time alone to focus on my work or daydream or just be quiet. Too much time with too many people drains my energy and I have to recharge. But I've discovered this year that too much time without people also drains my energy. I guess the middle path is best.
2. Food.
Not just dishes at my favorite restaurants or special family recipes. No, I miss the food of all the Bay Area, because I'm beginning to realize it's pretty unique. I've complained on here before about much trouble I have finding good veggies around here, and I cannot wait to get back to my local farmer's market. I also just find that people here are less into fresh and healthy eating than me.
Back home last year, a lot of my friends were going vegetarian and even vegan. I'm still an omnivore and probably always will be, but I eat meat maybe once or twice a week, tops, because I love cooking with vegetables. Here, though, people eat so much meat, so many frozen vegetables, so many cans of beans, so much cheap take-out Chinese food. It's not that I abstain from any of those completely (except the beans, gross), but it's weird to be around people who don't know any other kind of food. I was told the other day that I was 'adventurous' for ordering dishes with eggplant and spinach at a restaurant. What?
What I feel is more than just food snobbism. It's profound gratitude that I was raised on truly fresh, local, and delicious food that's good for me and good for the planet. I feel lucky to be able to taste so many amazing things that farmer's have coaxed out of the ground, rather than eating stuff that comes out of some commercial processing plant. Finally, I'm so happy that when I'm at home, I get to buy most of my food from the people who grow it or people who are just passionate about food, to talk with them about it and maybe get a recipe tip or something, instead of grabbing my food off a supermarket shelf.
3. Weather.
Well, obviously. I've talked about this plenty on this blog. But how lucky am I to come from a place without sub-zero temperatures? Not to mention the beautiful ocean that makes the climate so temperate around San Francisco. I will be taking every opportunity to get outside and enjoy that sun when I'm back home.
Showing posts with label Wishes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wishes. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Thoughts on the perfect party
At the perfect party...
...everyone dresses up, whether in a silly costume, their softest pyjamas, or their best evening attire.
...there are enough seats for everyone, but no one stays sitting in the same seat the whole time.
...you meet new people and catch up with old friends.
...everyone is free to enjoy a drink or two, but no one feels pressured to get drunk.
...the guests compliment the hostess/host not only by saying the the food, but also by taking second helpings.
...one or two couples or groups arrive on time, and a few more later in the evening to add new energy to the group, and everyone leaves by midnight.
...there aren't too many dishes to do, and you can chill out after everyone leaves by standing at the sink letting the warm water run over your hands and carefully stacking clean dishes in the dish drain.
...no one talks about religion or politics.
...there are multiple spaces in which people can wander and plenty of nooks, balconies, gardens, sofas, kitchen counters that people can group easily around.
...one of the guests is a great photographer and snaps pictures of the evening for future nostalgia.
In other news, Happy Halloween! Hope you all get to attend or throw perfect parties today.
...everyone dresses up, whether in a silly costume, their softest pyjamas, or their best evening attire.
...there are enough seats for everyone, but no one stays sitting in the same seat the whole time.
...you meet new people and catch up with old friends.
...everyone is free to enjoy a drink or two, but no one feels pressured to get drunk.
...the guests compliment the hostess/host not only by saying the the food, but also by taking second helpings.
...one or two couples or groups arrive on time, and a few more later in the evening to add new energy to the group, and everyone leaves by midnight.
...there aren't too many dishes to do, and you can chill out after everyone leaves by standing at the sink letting the warm water run over your hands and carefully stacking clean dishes in the dish drain.
...no one talks about religion or politics.
...there are multiple spaces in which people can wander and plenty of nooks, balconies, gardens, sofas, kitchen counters that people can group easily around.
...one of the guests is a great photographer and snaps pictures of the evening for future nostalgia.
In other news, Happy Halloween! Hope you all get to attend or throw perfect parties today.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
A sunny day in Oxford and reflections of the country and the city
Hello again. It is now my 5th day in the UK, and today I come to you bearing pictures. The weather since I arrived has been absolutely glorious (although too hot if you go out past noon), but knowing it won't last, I decided to take my camera out with me today and capture the sunshine.
Most of the ducks are either adults or gangly adolescents at this stage, but these ones are still quite cute, I think.
Once you get down to the Isis, the larger river, there are swans, too.
A book and a pastry by a beautiful river - I couldn't ask for more. I took refuge from the sun on a shady bench and read for an hour or so, until I got the urge to start walking again.
The more I travel, the more I think I'm a strange kind of country girl. I love so dearly some of the trappings of the city - theater and opera, nice clothes, gourmet food, good public transportation, beautiful architecture - and I'm very much a fan of creature comforts like running water and a comfy bed. I hate bugs and creepy-crawlies, and if I'm out in the sun too long my skin burns and my feet swell.
And yet, the contrast in my feelings between the moment I was hustling along the busy street on my way to Christ Church this morning and the moment I stepped off that street, through the college gates, and onto the path leading into the meadow was very strong and in favor of the meadow, not the street. There's a whole other side of the city that I dislike - the throngs of people, the constant humming and rumbling noises and the sharp sounds of cars backfiring or people yelling that always startle me out of my skin, the fumes and stinks, the never-ending barrage of obstacles, from street crossings to people begging you for money. The city, to me, is like an endless series of difficult choices: where should I step? With whom should I make eye-contact? On which side of the street should I walk? At which café should I buy my lunch? What should I buy for lunch? Is this a good neighborhood to be walking in? Is that car going to stop for me or not?
What I prefer is to be walking along a single dirt path, preferably even along a natural path, like the bank of a river, with my picnic already packed and only one book in my bag to read, with no need to talk to any one I meet unless I feel like bidding them good morning, and no buildings or traffic hemming me in and forcing me into somebody else's path. My mind roams so much more freely when my feet walk freely.
I'm not saying the country is a place of perfect peace. Actually, I found it harder to sit and read my book on my little shady bench today than I did a few days ago in the café at Blackwell's bookstore. There were little flies and bugs to be flicked off my arm or my foot and pigeons taking off suddenly, making the branches rattle overhead, and even the occasional walker going by. But the bugs were small and not very gross, the pigeons were pretty to see flying, and the walkers went calmly on their way without either of us disturbing the other.
The thing is that more and more, it seems, the things I like about the city - the food, the arts - are moving out to the country. In the UK, there's a whole slew of 'gastro-pubs,' where they serve haute cuisine in tiny little country towns. And traveling theater companies sometimes land in the darnedest of places. And the fact is that I don't take advantage of half the cultural offerings a given city has to offer, because more often than not the energy it would take to go out and take the harrowing journey to get where I'm going, outweighs the pleasure of the event itself.
When I was in Paris, I spent entire days cooped up in my tiny room because the thought of striking out on the streets was far too tiring. But of course I don't want to spend my life staying in. More and more, recently, I've been feeling a little stifled indoors. Maybe the last few years of small dorm rooms are finally catching up to me. Or maybe this summer, during which I got to visit Yosemite and camp along the north coast and hike in the local hills a fair amount, has rekindled an outdoorsy feeling in me.
I think what I'd really like is to have a grand country house with plenty of space indoors and outdoors and a driver to take me to the station when I wanted to go into town and enough room to host friends and invite musicians and writers and other interesting people to stay and a stage on the grounds where traveling theater companies could put on plays and a beautiful kitchen where I could cook up my own delicious dinners and a great big workshop space to accomplish all the creative projects that my daily walks around the countryside would inspire.
Alas, it's not that simple, is it?
Part of my admiration of nature today included this tree, which is in the part of the Christ Church gardens that's off limits to visitors, but which you can see through a little side gate. I'm not sure I've managed to convey it in this photo, but it's the most magnificent tree. It grows up as tall as the main building, which is pretty tall and impressive itself, and I wish I could have gone and stood under it to look up at its branches from below - I think it would have been beautiful.
I also noted this tree, which peeks over the wall of some college I don't know the name of, right near the Radcliffe Camera. I took a picture of it when I was last in Oxford, two years ago, which is below.
As you can see, it was a little less bright and sunny that day. I was there in October, so that's understandable. But I just love the gold-green tint of its leaves and the way it reaches up over the roof. Either it's planted on a raised terrace, or it's very very tall.
So, this has been quite a rambling post.
I did promise yesterday a bit about the play I saw last night, which was the Globe's touring production of Hamlet. To be brief, it was an excellent production, very clean and clear and engrossing. The group was small, and most actors played a few parts and did so very well. The Hamlet was actually a foreigner, possibly a true Dane, which added to his seeming an outsider and a loner. All the actors either played instruments or sang, and the show began and ended with rousing, period music which gave it all a very old-theater, carnavalesque feeling that I liked a lot. The play within a play was particularly well done, with some clever curtain movements and a really fantastic rendition of the prologue/dumb show. Here's a quick picture of the stage that I snapped today on my way past - can't see it very well, but my camera battery was dying and that's the best I could do.
I spent most of the morning at Christ Church Meadows, which is a beautiful expanse of lawns and meadows threaded through by the rivers Charwell and Isis (Charwell is pronounced Cherwell, unless it's actually called Cherwell and pronounced Charwell....I can't remember). I've gone walking there several mornings this week, and it's certainly one of my favorite bits of Oxford so far. There aren't too many people, especially if you go early. The tourists are all too busy lining up to take a tour of Christ Church college, so that leaves you with a few joggers, absorbed in their own exercise, the one homeless guy who stands at the same point of the river bank every morning with his radio and bids you a very polite "Good morning, miss," and a handful of fellow contemplators of nature. Oh, and the cows and the ducks. I ran across this little family sunning themselves on the bank this morning.
Most of the ducks are either adults or gangly adolescents at this stage, but these ones are still quite cute, I think.
Once you get down to the Isis, the larger river, there are swans, too.
This is how I spent my morning, then:
A book and a pastry by a beautiful river - I couldn't ask for more. I took refuge from the sun on a shady bench and read for an hour or so, until I got the urge to start walking again.
The more I travel, the more I think I'm a strange kind of country girl. I love so dearly some of the trappings of the city - theater and opera, nice clothes, gourmet food, good public transportation, beautiful architecture - and I'm very much a fan of creature comforts like running water and a comfy bed. I hate bugs and creepy-crawlies, and if I'm out in the sun too long my skin burns and my feet swell.
And yet, the contrast in my feelings between the moment I was hustling along the busy street on my way to Christ Church this morning and the moment I stepped off that street, through the college gates, and onto the path leading into the meadow was very strong and in favor of the meadow, not the street. There's a whole other side of the city that I dislike - the throngs of people, the constant humming and rumbling noises and the sharp sounds of cars backfiring or people yelling that always startle me out of my skin, the fumes and stinks, the never-ending barrage of obstacles, from street crossings to people begging you for money. The city, to me, is like an endless series of difficult choices: where should I step? With whom should I make eye-contact? On which side of the street should I walk? At which café should I buy my lunch? What should I buy for lunch? Is this a good neighborhood to be walking in? Is that car going to stop for me or not?
What I prefer is to be walking along a single dirt path, preferably even along a natural path, like the bank of a river, with my picnic already packed and only one book in my bag to read, with no need to talk to any one I meet unless I feel like bidding them good morning, and no buildings or traffic hemming me in and forcing me into somebody else's path. My mind roams so much more freely when my feet walk freely.
I'm not saying the country is a place of perfect peace. Actually, I found it harder to sit and read my book on my little shady bench today than I did a few days ago in the café at Blackwell's bookstore. There were little flies and bugs to be flicked off my arm or my foot and pigeons taking off suddenly, making the branches rattle overhead, and even the occasional walker going by. But the bugs were small and not very gross, the pigeons were pretty to see flying, and the walkers went calmly on their way without either of us disturbing the other.
The thing is that more and more, it seems, the things I like about the city - the food, the arts - are moving out to the country. In the UK, there's a whole slew of 'gastro-pubs,' where they serve haute cuisine in tiny little country towns. And traveling theater companies sometimes land in the darnedest of places. And the fact is that I don't take advantage of half the cultural offerings a given city has to offer, because more often than not the energy it would take to go out and take the harrowing journey to get where I'm going, outweighs the pleasure of the event itself.
When I was in Paris, I spent entire days cooped up in my tiny room because the thought of striking out on the streets was far too tiring. But of course I don't want to spend my life staying in. More and more, recently, I've been feeling a little stifled indoors. Maybe the last few years of small dorm rooms are finally catching up to me. Or maybe this summer, during which I got to visit Yosemite and camp along the north coast and hike in the local hills a fair amount, has rekindled an outdoorsy feeling in me.
I think what I'd really like is to have a grand country house with plenty of space indoors and outdoors and a driver to take me to the station when I wanted to go into town and enough room to host friends and invite musicians and writers and other interesting people to stay and a stage on the grounds where traveling theater companies could put on plays and a beautiful kitchen where I could cook up my own delicious dinners and a great big workshop space to accomplish all the creative projects that my daily walks around the countryside would inspire.
Alas, it's not that simple, is it?
Part of my admiration of nature today included this tree, which is in the part of the Christ Church gardens that's off limits to visitors, but which you can see through a little side gate. I'm not sure I've managed to convey it in this photo, but it's the most magnificent tree. It grows up as tall as the main building, which is pretty tall and impressive itself, and I wish I could have gone and stood under it to look up at its branches from below - I think it would have been beautiful.
I also noted this tree, which peeks over the wall of some college I don't know the name of, right near the Radcliffe Camera. I took a picture of it when I was last in Oxford, two years ago, which is below.
As you can see, it was a little less bright and sunny that day. I was there in October, so that's understandable. But I just love the gold-green tint of its leaves and the way it reaches up over the roof. Either it's planted on a raised terrace, or it's very very tall.
So, this has been quite a rambling post.
I did promise yesterday a bit about the play I saw last night, which was the Globe's touring production of Hamlet. To be brief, it was an excellent production, very clean and clear and engrossing. The group was small, and most actors played a few parts and did so very well. The Hamlet was actually a foreigner, possibly a true Dane, which added to his seeming an outsider and a loner. All the actors either played instruments or sang, and the show began and ended with rousing, period music which gave it all a very old-theater, carnavalesque feeling that I liked a lot. The play within a play was particularly well done, with some clever curtain movements and a really fantastic rendition of the prologue/dumb show. Here's a quick picture of the stage that I snapped today on my way past - can't see it very well, but my camera battery was dying and that's the best I could do.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Pre-departure thoughts
Oops. I was doing really well there for a while, blogging a couple of days in a row. Then I got busy. Sorry about that.
I leave for England in 8 days. How is that possible? Half of my desk is covered with things-I'm-bringing-to-England. I've made a preliminary packing list. It's kind of starting to feel a little bit real. But only a little, because even up until the moment I step onto the plane, it will still be unreal to me that I'll be thousands of miles away in another country, on another continent, starting the new phase of my life, which I've been planning for SO long.
It's odd, though, how as I begin this year, I'm already thinking of next year. I spent the last month-and-a-half sorting through all my belongings, from childhood toys to college notebooks, and in addition to making me feel hopelessly materialist and sentimental, that process also gave me a very strong desire to start establishing a space where I can live with all my objects, where I can hang the pictures I never hung up or admire the books that are currently packed carefully into cardboard boxes.
So I thought I'd do a little 5-year plan here, before I set off, a list of things I want to achieve in the next few years. In no particular order, I'd like to:
Move into a house with friends.
Own a cat.
Earn a master's degree.
Start earning my keep.
Get something published (could be a story, a few articles, a book).
Write something (could be a novel, a series of short stories....This should probably come before getting something published).
Travel to New Zealand and/or Scandinavia
Start playing around with my video camera again.
Start playing music again.
Become a more accomplished seamstress and sew more of my own clothes.
Become more fit.
I guess that's it for now. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is literally all I know about what I want to do after this year. Who needs plans, anyway?
Right now, I'm focusing on this year, about which I'm both very excited and pretty nervous. I'm starting to get intermittent bouts of butterflies in my stomach. I'm an odd combination of ambitious and not adventurous. I'm both curious and timid. Which is why I'm going to England, not, say, India.
So even though I have a very strong nesting instinct, which is making me dream of a nice big house with a nice big kitchen and a library and a workshop...I'm going to indulge my wanderlust a little before I give into my nestlust.
My next post may be coming to you from England. Maybe I'll even start posting some pictures of my travels here. Who knows? I'm practicing exploring and not knowing.
I leave for England in 8 days. How is that possible? Half of my desk is covered with things-I'm-bringing-to-England. I've made a preliminary packing list. It's kind of starting to feel a little bit real. But only a little, because even up until the moment I step onto the plane, it will still be unreal to me that I'll be thousands of miles away in another country, on another continent, starting the new phase of my life, which I've been planning for SO long.
It's odd, though, how as I begin this year, I'm already thinking of next year. I spent the last month-and-a-half sorting through all my belongings, from childhood toys to college notebooks, and in addition to making me feel hopelessly materialist and sentimental, that process also gave me a very strong desire to start establishing a space where I can live with all my objects, where I can hang the pictures I never hung up or admire the books that are currently packed carefully into cardboard boxes.
So I thought I'd do a little 5-year plan here, before I set off, a list of things I want to achieve in the next few years. In no particular order, I'd like to:
Move into a house with friends.
Own a cat.
Earn a master's degree.
Start earning my keep.
Get something published (could be a story, a few articles, a book).
Write something (could be a novel, a series of short stories....This should probably come before getting something published).
Travel to New Zealand and/or Scandinavia
Start playing around with my video camera again.
Start playing music again.
Become a more accomplished seamstress and sew more of my own clothes.
Become more fit.
I guess that's it for now. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is literally all I know about what I want to do after this year. Who needs plans, anyway?
Right now, I'm focusing on this year, about which I'm both very excited and pretty nervous. I'm starting to get intermittent bouts of butterflies in my stomach. I'm an odd combination of ambitious and not adventurous. I'm both curious and timid. Which is why I'm going to England, not, say, India.
So even though I have a very strong nesting instinct, which is making me dream of a nice big house with a nice big kitchen and a library and a workshop...I'm going to indulge my wanderlust a little before I give into my nestlust.
My next post may be coming to you from England. Maybe I'll even start posting some pictures of my travels here. Who knows? I'm practicing exploring and not knowing.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
An early morning wish
If I could pop over to Hogwarts to learn just one spell, it would definitely be the summoning charm, because then I could just yell "Accio book" or "Accio cup of tea" or "Accio dinner" when I'm sunk in thesis writing sessions and don't want to move.
Oh, and a time turner would also be useful.
Oh, and a time turner would also be useful.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Spring Things
Rainy days
a pre-Valentine's sense of romance
bright nail polish,
adorable dresses,
sumptuous cakes,
long conversations
Jane Austen,
bright green pastures,
cuddles.
(Not a poem, just a list)
a pre-Valentine's sense of romance
bright nail polish,
adorable dresses,
sumptuous cakes,
long conversations
Jane Austen,
bright green pastures,
cuddles.
(Not a poem, just a list)
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