Cooking a turkey and getting your hands dirty...

Yesterday, I completed another one of my 101 things to do in life, cooking a turkey alone. It turned out gorgeous.. I was compulsively nervous that it would take hours more to cook then anticipated or that it was not defrosted enough.

Preparing it was more fun than I would have imagined. I made a melted herb butter and got my hands right into the turkey by rubbing it under the skin and ontop. Before the wonders of Williams and Sonoma, where cooks were raw and real, we got our hands dirty. In fact, this is a metaphor for my current dilemma with life right now, that I am not getting my hands dirty enough.

As someone who trained as an artist for 4 years in university and spent 4-8 hours a day living in a studio, basking in the stiff clay chafing off my jeans or finding serenity in the darkness of the dark room, working with my hands is something that is an essential part of me. Perhaps, this is where my adoration for cooking comes for, much like the groove I would get into throwing pots for 6 hours listening to Bob Dylan or sculpting away to Macy Gray on my giant tables, making clay over a 6 pack of beer and Taj Mahal tapes.. Perhaps, this is why painting my apartment last week was therapeutic. Music and moments that went with them that made college and art combine together in a delicious combination. Having a physical product to enjoy, whether to eat or sit still and remind you of the process and the time in your life that helped/ caused you to generate such art.

It all goes back to balance and making sure that you are supporting those realms; the artistic, the monetary; the physical; the friends; the wanderer; the lover; the sister/ daughter; I guess ideally your work should really be about all those things. Finding that perfect balance is difficult and of course takes time, and just because you are good at something doesn't necessarily mean you should be doing it forever..

Mas, mas tarde... Buenas noches..

Wandering, wondering and wanting a home.

I just finished reading one of my favorite blogs "www.farbeyondthestars.com." This man writes about maintaining a minimal lifestyle, one that after the shipping debaucle, many hours and $1000 of taxes later, I began seeing his side and theory. Yet, today on Thanksgiving, he wrote about how the minimalist lifestyle somehow does not give one the sense of having a home. How right he his, particularly, when I can tell you that painting my apartment the last week was one of the things that has made my apartment appealing and enjoyable, livable since I have been here. That and finally, somewhat embracing my life here. Those things that we might not consider necessary, like sparkly golden candles or a duvet, are things that make us feel warm and cozy and remind us of the simple things that we grew up with all around us.

The green and gold walls that were quite the task with a primary paintbrush and without a ladder give my apartment a warmth that I have missed since being here. When I moved into my second apartment in Dubai, I felt as if I would have stayed, simply because the entire place matched my personality's needs. Having my computer, so that I can keep in contact with those I love around the world is an essential tool, especially when you are in a new place and can't help but feel left out of it all.

So the blogger's argument of how being a minimalist and moving around the world can't really go together if you are looking to create a sense of comfort, home, etc. in the places you go is quite on the ball. Unfortunately, right now, especially after the shipping drama, I am pretty sure I can happily and gratefully declare that my friends are my most favorite possession and they are inevitably what help me to love a place and bring out the best in me. Too bad, I can't ship them everywhere with me. Something to consider on a future move. I am definitely coming back as a physicist in my next life to work on the whole teleporting thing. I smell international celebrityhood and nobel prize for shizzle.

Nonetheless, on this Thanksgiving, when it is time to say thank you for everything. I'd like to thank god for my ableness, my long legs to run, my health. I'd like to thank my family for being there, for supporting me through good times and bad. I'd like to thank my friends for listening. I'd like to thank my colleagues for being patient and bold and fighting for what they believe in, no matter how hard it is. And, I'd like to thank the earth for enveloping me in these green, lush hills and foggy clouds...

30 is the New 13

A few days ago on the salon chair impatiently tapping my foot, trying to meditate and reflect on something to find inner peace or the meaning of my existence. And in this reflection, I looked at myself and was reminded of a mere 17 years back, sitting on the salon chair, having a blow out, trying to make sense of my adolescence, my acne, my friends getting boobs before me or being over it because they had them at the ripe old age of 9, the point of my education, me being a baby awkward giraffe, having horribly anxious and annoyed feeling about boys. The moment of reflection I was having on reflecting I realized was not far from my current reality.

While, I have aged 17 years, not much has changed. I still have the occasional acne flare up that stresses me out. My friends are getting married or having children nowadays instead of getting larger boobs. Then again, I am sure there are some getting boobs too for the second time, especially in Venezuela. There are others like myself, who've been there done that with the wedding and divorce and wonder what's next? Can we be reborn in such a short time? Do you get to be the bridegroom married to amazement more than once in your life? God, I hope so. In addition, it's no longer education but trying to figure out exactly how to use all my education. In doing so, I am trying to determine the best and appropriate and inspiring direction of my professional career.

I still often feel anxious and horribly annoyed by boys actions. Perhaps now more than ever because I didn't really have any expectations of them back then. Well, I am sure I did but I wasn't nearly as self aware of them all. Still, this is a tricky area where rebirth is needed. Sometimes, I feel like the walls of toughness I build around me are too complex and difficult for me to understand how they got built and why?

In saying all this, the rebirth question resurfaces, and with all the comments of 30s is the new 20s, and 40s the new 30s, those cliche statements that make us hopeful about our next decade of life.. Truth is, one has to be hopeful and believe that if you're still here it can only get better in one realm or more. And 13 being the next 30, I really could run with this, I mean my 20s were pretty fun, if somehow I can inspire myself and my body to live through this "take 2" who knows what adventures lie down the road.

Smiles abound. X

Just a spoonful of peanut butter and a glass of vino blanco make the medecine go down..

What? You are probably wondering what on earth is this chick on about? I mean, how do those things go together in any way, shape or form?

It's been a good 3 months since I have had raw, straight from the jar, protein pumped spoons of peanut butter. It used to be a popular hunger stopper in Dubai, so you can only imagine when my generally smoke free self and all of the sudden having a few more food craving self, felt when it was impossible to get.

So after a New York Times "Eat your heart out in Trinidad and Tobago in 36 hours" stop, I picked up some necessities that are of course easier to get on a small island in the middle of the Caribbean than in a socialist country in the middle of South America.

To spice up my life, I got about 10 packets of spices from Masala, to Saffron, to Celery Salt and more fun.. For the slight health nut within, some Chocolate Soy Milk and Peanut Butter. For the Thai cook in me, some lime tortilla chips and finally, for the must eat breakfast since it's approximately 6 hours between meals on work days, some gourmet granola bars. It's been nearly 6 years since I felt the restraints of culinary pleasures. After being able to eat essentially whatever I wanted throughout college and then, head off to South Korea where a small block of cheddar hit you $7 usd, I learned quickly, everything you need is often not right here in your hands. Nevertheless, after a myriad of moves getting progressively easier and easier and adoring the fruits and vegetables of tropical Thailand, my hopes for Venezuela's culinary delights have been flushed down the toilet.

I suppose I never realized the importance of cooking in keeping me sane. The things that balance us our inevitably our passions and so, for me, that equals: Running, yoga, some kind of artistic expression (writing, throwing pots, painting or whatever) travel, food and the art of making it, tasting it, buying it and more, and diving into new lessons and researching them and making them absolutely wonderful..

So, tonight, as I sit down at the computer to get it all out, the writing, the frustration, the torment over the lack of quality produce, my simple pleasures seem extravagant requests in the country to which I have returned. So, of course, it's completely rational to have a glass of wine and 2 spoonfuls of peanut butter and consider that an acceptable dinner.

There is some reason I am here. There always is, in the meantime, laugh, pray, smile and explore cause the three you thrived for this year have dwindled to one over the last few months. Maintain what you can and set new goals. Be realistic.

Hearts...

Some things I realized

As I finish off a book entitled the "Happiness project," I feel the need to write down some thoughts. It's taken me 6 months to get through this somewhat uplifting, somewhat preachy, somewhat annoying text. I don't know if I like that the author is constantly compromising herself for other people. I mean life is obviously a series of compromises, but should we not win some as well. Maybe the small wins are the ones we take for granted, who knows.

Things I realized in the past 6 months.

-Sticking my head under hot water or the back of my neck, is pretty much as exhilarating as going out into a field and screaming loudly. It seems to release almost everything.

-This has been a roller-coaster of a year. Relationships, moves, health issues, etc.

-Having said that, my family still is around to support me. My heart is still beating strongly. My eyes are generally clear. My friends surround me with warm wishes. Someone is looking out for me.

-Venezuela has probably been the toughest country I have ever moved to and stayed.

-Music can parallel my moods, can help them shift into positive or sad ones, but mostly is something that is extremely medicinal to me.

-Interval running isn't as bad as everyone thinks.

-I love my job and learn more every week but I still am not sure it's what I am supposed to do forever.

-My current before I die I want to status still stands at flash mob dancing.

-If something is easy or somewhat easy, let it be, develop comfort to a certain level before you rush out to change anything drastic.

-I miss my wine buddies, my runs to yoga, my dancing Champagne nights with Egyptian women, inspiring chats with bald men, getting 3 new outfits each month at H and M, morning cappucinos and the shagging wagon more than I ever thought I would.

-The shipping debaucle is making me absolutely neurotic and is trickling down into family, work, friends. When do you let go and admit defeat?

-Blogging is my new form of journalling, sadly, after tons and tons of journals before I was married to now. The words on a computer screen just can't emit as much emotion; no matter how powerful they are.

A Walk on the Wild Side

When we rocked up to the domestic airport last Saturday morning, Kathy, Sergio, Christa and I couldn't have imagined the week we had ahead of us filled with monkeys tied to trees, mice (mini, jumping and creepy), Indigenous stories reminiscent of ghost stories from girl scout campfires and much more.

A week in the wild was liberating, it was good to be completely immersed in green, savannahs and water. But more, it was good to get out of Caracas. I am still trying to figure out what exactly I did to Caraquenos in one of my past lives to be spoon fed the crap I am getting here.

Nonetheless, back to Salto Angel and more. It all started with a white pinto, ala 1964, driven by Tomas, a kind of older looking Venezuelan porn star, who drove us to a posada in the middle of nowhere, think deliverance meets white trash backyard with anorexic horses lurking in the nearby pasture. We swam in lukewarm water, took cat naps in hammocks, drank very sour but tasty cuba libres and began our week long meal plan consisting of bread, rice, potatoes and any other carbohydrate you could imagine. Thank goodness for the green engulfing me physically because I was not ingesting anything that color.

After a night in a cave like room, we returned to Ciudad Bolivar to get on our Transmandu airline flight to Uruyen.

Some background info: I am not a good flyer. I admit to it, I get the wobbles, I say "Hail Marys." I often pray to Buddha, Allah, Mohammad, Jesus and whoever else is listening when there is a shake, rattle or roll in the plane. I've had two emergency ascensions in the last 3 years. I take at least 25 flights a year, I think I have a reason but still.

Anywho, this plane was small, 6 seats including the pilots. The pilot was a Venezuelan version of Richard Gere which was comforting. I mean, it's always nice to have something to look at that's handsome if you are on the verge of hitting the ground. We got up and it was remarkably smooth, and took an absolutely brilliant 2 hour plane ride to a little eco village with adobe huts with straw roofs.

Here we met our guide for the next two days, Clemente, a member of the Canamokota tribe, who led us up waterfalls fearlessly and told us stories of dumb rivers and rocks that kills people ala black magic.

The first night in a hut, we found a friendly visitor frolicking between both Sergio and Kathy's room and Christa and I's room. There was a creepy little mouse who shit all over the room and scaled the walls like an old pro. We insisted on moving huts and ended up four in a room with a safety in numbers theory. However, it didn't matter because karmic retribution prevailed and Kathy and I ended up with legs that look a bit like we have contracted leprosy between the mosquitoes, puri puri and perhaps, (but hopefully not) bed bugs.

The next day after more waterfalls, pasta, bread, a small canoe ride, etc. I was sitting on the toilet trying to go, but the carbs were not having it. All of the sudden another little friendly mouse, runs out from a small hole in the bathroom wall and runs all over the room. Still, because Clemente thought we were big wimps, we decided that we would live with the little bugger that evening.

The next day we hopped aboard the plane to head to Canaima to gear up for our trek to Angel Falls. After a meal of very chewy grizzle and rice, we saw 6 of the most picturesque waterfalls I have ever seen, pretty much look like they came off a screen saver or maybe they were the inspiration for one. Still, chilling out behind waterfalls was pretty surreal, a combination of being in a giant rainstorm, dream, and then the 3 palm trees in the middle of the lagoon felt very Salvador Dali-esque....

Finally, on Wednesday, we set out to Angel Falls, 3 hours in a boat and 1.5 hour hike later, we saw it, the one, the only tallest waterfall in the world. It was pretty amazing but the whole thing was definitely like last fall break, about the journey and not the destination.

Christa and I had a momentary scare when we decided to trek down the path by ourselves. It pissed rain and we sat for an hour at dusk on some hot rocks along the river for awhile, thinking about what we would do if they left us... Dizzy Darwinistic ramblings at dusk.. Eventually, our guide and the others returned and we walked through the rainforest with heaving rain to our camp, slept in hammocks (not recommended for longer than cat naps) and got up the next morning to deep fried arepas and perico.. Mmmm, culinary delights...

Yesterday, was one of the longest travel days I have ever had, a 3 hour boat ride, 1 hour trek, bus, 6-seater plane, pinto, corolla, and finally, a DC-9...

But now, I am home... If you can call where I live home, but I am going to leave that drama for another entry cause this is getting pretty lengthy.

Ciao!

Heather

Over the top October

I hate the cliche phrase when it rains it pours but I think that it might be an appropriate term for life pounding down on me like when it rains cats and dogs during monsoon season. The $400 gone, the shippers, the Angel Falls trip to happen or not, Amputee pool sharks, Surprises you never saw coming from left field, emergency ascensions in MD-80s (Ugh oh!) and we're halfway there... God help me I hope I am living on more than 1 prayer.

Nonetheless, I am still trying to wear a smile on my face and believe I'm possible, not impossible...

If Karma is real, then, I must have not been a nice person to Venezuelans in a past life, as a few things have happened recently that make me wonder who or what naturistic thing I upset in the cosmic scheme of things back once upon a time... Then again, a friend said last night, the best way to explain this is chaos, but I love my chaos... I think the sooner I take that mentality, the better off I am going to be.

Still or Todavia (great Spanish word), I just read an article that working when we are stressed (provided it's not related to work) which it really isn't can make our work more productive and inventive and ideas might volcano out in huge spontaneous spurts of wisdom, chaos and energy.

Soul searching for what's next but I think once everything calms down, I am just going to want and see those Sri Lankan paintings and Korean lamps in one place for 2-3 years and so Venezuela, watch out, I think I am here to stay. Still, if any higher being was to drop a sign down temporarily that had neon arrows guiding me towards one of the thought bubbles coming out of my head, I would be pretty stoked. That would be pretty magical.

So firey October leading into Neurotic November (sun in Scorpio), I have no idea what you have in store for me, but I'll continue to laugh, talk shit, dive in, embrace and let go and find wonderful stories to tell as long as you let me live...