Countdown: Tomorrow

So here it is, the last day before my trip, and all I can think about is how glad I am that midterms are over. When I was in art school, we’d have a midterm critique, and that was harder—getting the projects all ready, and then sitting there while they’re verbally dissected right in front of your eyes. But essay exams aren’t exactly a piece of cake, though fortunately I find the subjects interesting. In Modern Britain 1870-Present, we’ve just got done with the Great War; in Victorian British Literature, we’ve just finished studying the Aesthetic movement and the Decadents.

So I find it rather cool to be going over to Europe right now. I plan on hunting out Oscar Wilde’s grave in Cimitiere Pere Lachaise in Paris, giving it a big ol’ lipstick kiss. Also, I’d like to revisit the Musee d’Orsay, sit in the Art Nouveau rooms for a little while and try to imagine what life was like in the 1880′s and 1890′s. To me, that’s one of the most interesting times and places ever, and one of the ones I’d most like to go back to if I had the chance.

In London, I plan on finally seeing the Imperial War Museum. I didn’t have the heart to go last time, being so sick and tired; but so much of what we’ve studied in the Modern Britain class would be on display there. It’s good to see exhibits of something you’ve studied in class, especially something as huge, complicated, and foreign as WWI. It drives the point home in a way that reading about it just can’t. Someday I’d like to go see a few of the battlefields. Maybe I could talk my father into enduring the 11 hours on a plane, and we’ll go see Normandy and Flanders. For now, I think one museum will be enough. It’s a heavy thing to consider.

But hopefully I’ll also have fun. I’d like to see a theater production, but I don’t know which one yet. Depends on what I can afford tickets for! Probably go out dancing in London, too—I never did get over missing John Digweed by one night last spring. Oh well!

Anyways, off to finish one more paper…

Countdown: Packing

I had a dream last weekend that I had two hours left before I had to be at the airport, and I hadn’t even made a packing list yet, let alone gathered my crap. You know how, in dreams like that, the more you rush to cram things in your bags, the more the stuff multiplies, as time runs out? I woke up exasperated and amused. For me, dumb anxiety dreams appear to be as much a part of preparing for travel as watering the plants and locking the doors. I’m getting used to it.

Actually packing helped too. I had a big list for just ten days, but most things are pretty small, as you can see. I still had to work at getting them all into the High Sierra backpack I bought for this trip. But I am the Queen of Cram, and I prevailed.

This will be my third trip abroad, but only the first in which I am not bringing a suitcase (or two).  On my first trip, with my mother, we both brought suitcases. It was a month-long trip, and my suitcase was sturdy and not too heavy, with strong wheels…but we ended up moving around a lot, and it became a pain. On my second trip, I planned on living in the same town for eight months, and brought two suitcases. Meh. I actually moved five times, to three countries, and having that much stuff became an enormous pain in the ass. I used almost everything I brought; but dragging it around, on planes and trains, was such a nightmare that I vowed never to go overseas again with anything more than a backpack. If I couldn’t fit it on my back, I’d buy it there.

Since money will be tight this trip, I hope I don’t have to buy much. I’m mainly there to wander around, and see a bunch of things that I didn’t have the chance (or the energy) to see the last time. Just being there is all I want right now!

Countdown: Travel Journal

I’ve kept a diary since I was ten years old, but I’m sad to say I’ve never been much of a travel journal person. I had a notebook on my first trip to Europe, the month with my mom; but having company prevented me from writing in it as much as I wish I had. Mostly I just noted what we did that day, where we ate and slept, and shared my thoughts directly with my mother. I’m glad I have that notebook, with its stains, lists and sketches; but I wish I’d recorded more of my first trip out of the country.

During my year abroad, I didn’t keep a specific travel journal. Most of what I had to say went right into my diary, or into emails, or this blog. I was more or less stationary, living overseas, so it worked to have different outlets for different facets of the trip. But I know this time I’ll be on the run, and traveling light. So it makes sense to have one place to put all my thoughts, feelings, and impressions.

I bought this travel journal, pictured, from Chronicle Books’ website in ’04, before a trip overseas that didn’t end up happening. I love it. It has all different kinds of paper, many with photographic images from the author’s trips around the world. I don’t know why I hadn’t done anything with it before. I guess I was just waiting for the right trip. This is it.

I’ve made a vow to write in it every day, even just notes or scratchings or incoherence. Sometimes the stupidest rambling or complaining, as you sip your expensive java in a foreign cafe and pretend to be intellectual, ends up being the most hilarious thing to reread at home. The things that piss you off the worst while overseas are the funniest stories, later on. I’m going to record them, in all their bitchy glory, right in between the swooning Paris ecstasy and the glowing praise of St. Peter’s dome. Ups and downs. Maybe I’ll share a few pages on here when I get back.

The Countdown Begins…Again

Hmm. How many times have I done this? My third trip to Europe, and it doesn’t get any easier to believe I’m going.

In May 2003, during the rushed preparations for the first trip, there was almost no time to realize what was happening–what was about to happen. We had four weeks to prepare for a four-week trip, including acquiring the passports and figuring out where we wanted to go, in all of France and England. I don’t even think I believed I was in Paris until I saw the statue in Place de la Nation, and the dark rooftops of the 12th arrondissement shimmering in the summer rain. But then it hit home, believe me.

I did a little better in 2005, flying over to study abroad. At dawn, the jet flew over the very tip of Cornwall; I had failed to sleep, but the rosy sky reflecting down on the dark water, and twinkling cliffsides, filled me with almost unbearable anticipation. I knew just enough of Europe to know what I was getting into, but not enough yet to have any nervousness at all. And I would be spending a year there.

And now? Now, I’ve lived in Europe long enough to have had some bad experiences as well as many great ones. I know what it’s like to be sick there, to be broke there, to be lonely there. I’ve met some right bastards there, too. But you know what? I’m still going. It’s just like life—you see it, you like it, you push into it. Sooner or later, after a lot of fun, you get a beatdown or two. Do you quit? Do you pull back, find a comfort zone, stay there warily for the rest of your time? You could. But that’s not my choice.

I don’t know how this trip will go. Will it be spectacular—what I’ve always wanted, what I’ve been trying all these years to experience? Will it be another disaster—rain, unfriendliness, disappointment, sickness? Of course I can’t predict, I can only hope, and prepare myself to steer through any shit as cleanly, and with as positive an attitude, as I can. Whether it sucks or rewards me is plainly up to the gods of travel. Only one choice is firmly in my hands: fill it as full of meaning as possible, and squeeze out of it every drop of juice and life that I can…or be afraid, and hold back, and scratch things off of lists, and render it meaningless.

You know, just like life.

We Live In Defiance of Empty Times

It’s my great pleasure to report that I finally managed to see MOFRO live.

I’d been meaning to check their website for any upcoming shows, and I’m damn glad that I did. Not only did they come out with a new record, Country Ghetto, Februray 20, but they were planning on being in Tallahassee for a show that same night—Mardi Gras! I bought a ticket through their website, and drew embarrassing amounts of circles and stars around the date on my calendar.

Parking Tuesday the 20th at 9 p.m., JJ Grey did an acoustic set at Vinyl Fever, a cool music store here in town. I got there at almost six, and the parking lot was full. Kids were spilling out of cars parked in nearby apartment complexes and gas stations, laughing and talking as they tried to cross the busy street to the shop. Inside, people were quiet, ranged in a large semicircle around Grey, who sat on a wooden stool. He played acoustic guitar and harmonica, interspersing the songs with friendly stories and low-key jokes.

Vinyl_fever I was able to hear three songs. The first two were off the new record: “Mississippi” and “Country Ghetto”; the last song was one of my favorites, “Lochloosa”. JJ’s voice was strong and soulful, and carried all through the large store. After he finished singing, there was intense applause. Many folks purchased cd’s right then. JJ stayed to sign cd’s and tickets for the show, to take photos with fans, and to chat. He had something to say to everyone waiting in line for him. When it was my turn to get my picture taken and my cd signed, we spoke for a few minutes about living in the U.K. (something we’ve both done) and how one of the main things we missed from home was the food. He laughed about his visiting English friends hating sweet tea, and we agreed they were so wrong.

Beta_bar_sign Later that evening, I set out for the Beta Bar, where the Mofro show would be. By the time the doors opened at nine p.m., there was a line snaking down the steps and out onto the dirt parking lot. Those who had bought their tickets online showed their I.D. and purchasing credit card to get in. At the bar, I ordered a Blue Moon beer. Why not? That drink always reminds me of summers in Florida—heat, sweetness, the smell of mimosa blooms and the taste of salt. And here I was, on Fat Tuesday, about to see the most Florida-loving band in the world.

Feet Their opening act, Virginia Coalition, went on about ten, and they really rocked. They reminded me of Dave Matthews band, except with ass. It had that same mid-Atlantic sound. Having lived in Virginia, I recognized and liked it. The singer’s voice was similar to DM, and he had that way of singing with a smile; plus there were bongos and lots of rhythm, though it was very fast-paced and energetic.  I’m not a huge fan of lite-rock, but that’s not what I’d consider this.  It was something unusual: happy rock. Nothing wrong with that! And they did rock, hard.

Jj_grey Mofro went on about eleven p.m. The place was absolutely packed, sweaty hot, full of every different kind of kids you could hope to see in Tallahassee: camo’d rednecks, tie-dyed hippiegirls with their dreadlocked boyfriends, fancy sorostitutes and frat rats in pink polo shirts, scruffy hipster boys with beards and blazers. Many wore shiny Mardi Gras beads. Every single one of them liked Mofro for a different reason, approached the music in a different way, got something different out of it. I think that’s one of the main strengths of the band: their undercurrent of talent and passion holds everyone captive, no matter what one might be getting from the melodies and the words. It brings people together—at least to the Beta Bar—that, normally, would absolutely not be partying together, ever. And it pays off, big time.

Seated They played for over an hour. JJ Grey dominated everyone’s attention with the power of his singing, and the new lineup of the band was great. They played songs off the new album, which sounded beautiful live. Many songs also came from older records. They played “Lochloosa” again, and the crown involvement was so strong that JJ noticed it, paused, smiled, and got everyone into it even more. They seemed to stick with the more funky and energetic songs for this set,  like “Jookhouse” and “Slow Lazy Summer”, sensing that the crowd wanted to dance. But the cut “Tragic”, though slower and moody, was fantastically intense.

After_1 This was one of the best live shows that I’ve ever seen. I can only imagine what it would be like to see them outside at a festival, under the trees.  Why they aren’t bigger is a total mystery to me. But that’s the beauty of this band—you get the impression that JJ Grey and Mofro would play with equal passion alone, for themselves…or in front of thousands of screaming kids at Bonnaroo; under and oak tree in the backyard, in an arena, or in a dark, smoky club. Doesn’t matter. They are what they are, and they give the best of themselves to the music, and to whoever is pleased to show up.

I’m mighty damn pleased I showed up. I suggest you do the same, whenever you can.

Spring Break Plans

One It was approaching a year ago that I got off the plane in Pensacola, pale and tired, so grateful for the warm air and the fresh mullet dinner that I couldn’t conceive of leaving America again—at least for a while. I’d traveled so much in Europe, and under such tough conditions, that the idea of packing a bag and leaving town gave me the shivers. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Europe and always knew I would return someday. But I was as tired of the hardships of travel—physical, mental—as a person can be tired of anything. What I wanted to do, and what I did, was to put down some roots here in Tallahassee. I’ve got a great little apartment that I love, my school is actually teaching me something useful, I’m making some sane friends and some plans for the future that don’t involve moving three times a year, thank God.

Two

It’s taken eight months to get back around to being interested in travel again, the way I used to be. Still, when I overheard one of my friends talking on the phone with her dad about a possible trip to London, I was only excited for her sake—the idea of going myself didn’t enter my head, until she suggested it. But why not? I always knew there’d be a next trip to Europe, I just figured it was safely in the future, not worth worrying about. But I might as well get right back on that horse.

Traveling is going to be a big part of my life. I can’t be left with the impression, from my last experience, that it’s a miserable, difficult slog, full of ill health and money issues. My study abroad experience was like a freak accident. I can’t let the negative aspects of it color my idea of what travel is. I need to remind myself that it’s not normally like that. What better way than by going again, right away, and having a blast?

Three

I’ll be flying into Paris, same as I always do, and spending a few days there. This time, I’m going to Chartres, dammit! The morning of the third day (and I do mean morning, I’ll be riding the night bus to Orly airport), I’m taking EasyJet to Rome. I know, two days in Rome is ridiculous, just enough to make me bawl when I leave at not having more time. But I’ve never been there, so why not go? From Rome, I’ll fly into London Stansted, and meet up with Shannon and her boyfriend for four days in my favoritest gigantic monster city. I can’t wait!

I’ll be sure to post a bit about preparations for the trip, and detail it when I get home. It’s going to be a bit of a turning-point in how I see things, I suspect. I hope it reminds me of how big the world is, and how much there is yet to do. It’s so easy, especially in the States, to get into a rut and never leave. I wanted to put down roots, but…I also want my branches to be flexible and stretch far. Travel’s the best way I know to do that.

Molly Ivins, 1944-2007

Political columnist Molly Ivins has died of breast cancer at 62.

Described by her brother Andy Ivins as “tough as a metal boot”, her straight-talking yet humorous columns were an inspiration to so many fellow writers. The passion and heart that she brought to her commentary have kept the political landscape just a little bit more human, especially in this last crazy decade.

She will be much missed.