We're about to depart from the Buchholtz residence toward my bus connection to the 11:09 Amtrak Zephyr train, bound for Salt Lake City!
I might stick around the city for a day before catching the shuttle up to Jackson Hole, maybe there's something to do?
There'll be more to come on my time in California, but for now it's just the latest travel movement update from me.
-lab
Friday, April 24, 2015
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
Just because I'm on a roll today, I thought I would post a few more pictures of the silliness happening in Chico. This is just what happens when my friend Clara and I spend time together and we add coffee and snacks.
-lab
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| This is the first of four patio bars I would visit in Chico. A serious part of my introductions to life in this town. |
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| I was so happy I was outraged at how amazing the olives on our cheese plate were. |
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| Clara stole my phone and took selfies while hiking to a water hole that she couldn't actually end up finding. This is payback. |
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| We're showing off our BSO tattoos that I brought from the Open House. Things got weird. |
an itinerary, as of April 22
I just realized that the most frequently asked question of them all has been of the "so where are you going to be....and when?" nature. I will, from time to time, post a new itinerary. This is the first, as of today, April 22, 2015 at 2:34 PM.
April 12: Fly BOS>SFO.
Arrive at 11:30 AM Pacific time. Take the BART to downtown, lunch with Kimee, wandering time around the city, meet Aisling for yoga around 6 at Grace Cathedral. Stay with Kimee.
April 13: After a relaxed morning, take public transit from SFO>Chico, CA, by way of every Northern Californian city and pit-stop imaginable. Arrive at 6:15 PM in Chico. Erupt into giggles and hugs and coffee drinking immediately upon sight of Clara.
April 13 - April 23 (tentative departure date): Chico, CA. Stay with dear Clara and go to see all of the things!
April 23 - May 5: Some combination of Jackson Hole, and Colorado (Salida, Leadville, Denver in that order). Exact dates still to be determined (in the next 12 hours, actually). Rental cars are a bust, so the new idea is to fly to Salt Lake City (supa cheap from Northern Cali) and snag the $60 shuttle to Aunt Alice in Alpine. The Utah river trip fell through because of weather and they're still doing something 4 hours east of Jackson Hole in a town called Thermopolis, but my prerogative at this point is just to make it to Jackson sometime this weekend an figure everything else out when I get there.
Update:
May 1-3: Confirmed that I'll be in Salida, CO with my uncle and aunt
May 3-5: I'll be in Denver, CO with friend-of-friend Sara (thanks for putting us in touch, Anya!)
May 5: Fly DEN>SFO (tentative)
May 5 - May 12: Hangout in San Francisco, have definite plans in the city May 5 and May 7, could take a weekend trip somewhere nearby. Looking to do some sailing if anyone has sailing connections in the Bay area. I definitely want to ride a bike across the Golden Gate bridge, see the Painted Ladies, drink more coffee in North Beach, and spend a ton of time reading and yoga-ing in public parks.
May 12: Fly SFO>BOS
Arrive just in the nick of time to take a birthday shot, cuz I'll be turning 25 on the 13th.
**If you, dear reader, have suggestions of things to do in any of the aforementioned locations, please message/text/email/send a postcard to let me know! I do love getting recommendations.**
-lab
April 12: Fly BOS>SFO.
Arrive at 11:30 AM Pacific time. Take the BART to downtown, lunch with Kimee, wandering time around the city, meet Aisling for yoga around 6 at Grace Cathedral. Stay with Kimee.
April 13: After a relaxed morning, take public transit from SFO>Chico, CA, by way of every Northern Californian city and pit-stop imaginable. Arrive at 6:15 PM in Chico. Erupt into giggles and hugs and coffee drinking immediately upon sight of Clara.
April 13 - April 23 (tentative departure date): Chico, CA. Stay with dear Clara and go to see all of the things!
April 23 - May 5: Some combination of Jackson Hole, and Colorado (Salida, Leadville, Denver in that order). Exact dates still to be determined (in the next 12 hours, actually). Rental cars are a bust, so the new idea is to fly to Salt Lake City (supa cheap from Northern Cali) and snag the $60 shuttle to Aunt Alice in Alpine. The Utah river trip fell through because of weather and they're still doing something 4 hours east of Jackson Hole in a town called Thermopolis, but my prerogative at this point is just to make it to Jackson sometime this weekend an figure everything else out when I get there.
Update:
May 1-3: Confirmed that I'll be in Salida, CO with my uncle and aunt
May 3-5: I'll be in Denver, CO with friend-of-friend Sara (thanks for putting us in touch, Anya!)
May 5: Fly DEN>SFO (tentative)
May 5 - May 12: Hangout in San Francisco, have definite plans in the city May 5 and May 7, could take a weekend trip somewhere nearby. Looking to do some sailing if anyone has sailing connections in the Bay area. I definitely want to ride a bike across the Golden Gate bridge, see the Painted Ladies, drink more coffee in North Beach, and spend a ton of time reading and yoga-ing in public parks.
May 12: Fly SFO>BOS
Arrive just in the nick of time to take a birthday shot, cuz I'll be turning 25 on the 13th.
**If you, dear reader, have suggestions of things to do in any of the aforementioned locations, please message/text/email/send a postcard to let me know! I do love getting recommendations.**
-lab
Finally....some pictures
Okay we all deserve some photography breaks now that I've gotten a lot of threads out of my brain and onto the blog.
The first thing I noticed when I touched down in San Francisco International Airport was the marvelous SUNSHINE.
Can't wait to get back to San Francisco at the end of the trip for more yoga, a literary event based on Little Women, and more time with some incredible Wellesley ladies.
-lab
The first thing I noticed when I touched down in San Francisco International Airport was the marvelous SUNSHINE.
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| Late afternoon wandering on the San Francisco historical wharf |
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| Stopped for a pick-me-up double espresso in a cafe in North Beach, the Italian district |
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| Poetry reading in the upper reading room at the City Lights Bookstore |
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| Mary Oliver, doing it again |
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| ...again, she speaks the words I wish I could find. |
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| Yoga at Grace Cathedral with Wellesley friends, more on this experience to come! |
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| Aisling and I in front of Grace Cathedral, after an amazing yoga session with live music |
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| Wednesday morning coffee in a place around the corner from my friend Kimee's apartment |
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| Very happy me, on the streetcar with a cappuccino in hand and everything bagel in my purse for later, en route to Clara in Chico |
-lab
an explanation
I typically do this when I create a new blog...explain the title, briefly.
One time I changed the name of a blog two or three times before feeling satisfied with the outcome.
This blog is different, this one I sort of knew all along I would name after my sort-of adopted Latin motto.
Solvitur ambulando became the thing I started to think and say to myself my first summer living in Boston and working at the Symphony. It was a lonely and confusing time, those first couple of post-collegiate years where everyone is suddenly off doing their own thing and your millennial-generation friends are just as hard to pin down as you are. Throw in a difficult new job, a relationship break-up, and the news that old school mates had met untimely ends, and well, you get a pretty hard couple of months.
All of the anxiety and reckoning, for me, translated into a restlessness. I felt a constant need to be doing something other than the task at hand, that everything I was in process of working on was pointless, and that no one could understand. Even when I spent time talking to family, friends, and clergy, I had this deep pit of despair feeling that they didn't really know it was all going to be okay, and that I had to simply keep searching for a way to find that it would be okay for myself.
One Saturday morning I got invited to brunch in Cambridge by an old friend I hadn't seen in a while. By that point, it was getting difficult for me to get out of the house for anything other than work and rehearsals, I was just too sad and overwhelmed by all of the options in life to really plan anything. Brunch got me fired up, and I took off to meet a group. After brunch, sadly, everyone split off in different directions to study (med students, the worst), and I just couldn't go home. I was out, I was in the world, and my restlessness finally extended from my heart (and probably high-blood pressure system) into my feet.
Though I've lived in the Boston area for almost the entirety of my life, I've never truly explored it by foot. That day, I walked from Mass Ave in Central Square across the river, down along the Esplanade, over the park, and all the way to the Wharf and the North End. I ended up calling a friend who lived over there and stopping by to say hello and take a little break before walking back across the city. Her parents came by soon thereafter, for they had big family plans of an early dinner and dessert.
My friend told me later that her father, who has known me since I was 13 and who has worked in the field of psychology for many years, was worried about me. He felt that I was going through so much pain, and was unable to feel it or see it head-on, and that instead my endless walking through the city was my way of expressing the pain and in a way, choosing to feel physical exhaustion as a more tangible kind of "pain".
Yeah, so he was totally right.
What he didn't call that day was that this need to walk would stay with me, and would turn into something where I find solace and fuel. Inspiration, sorting of confusion, and formulation of thoughts and ideas. This walking has turned into my way of solving things, thus the eventual settling of the motto upon my heart, for that is the literal translation of solvitur ambulando, to solve by walking.
I'v noticed in the last few months that on days where I could walk down Mass Ave to the office, I would arrive fully focused and ready to be efficient and tackle any issue without hesitation. During my walk one morning, I made three phone calls and had setup the entire memorial service for my friend, after hearing the news that it wouldn't be possible to revive her in the aftermath of a serious snowboarding accident. During a walk later that week, I drafted a travel grant research proposal in my mind for a Wellesley alumnae grant that I can apply for next year (still yet to be fully written down).
Some days I would arrive at work and get a few mornings tasks out of the way, and then explode a poem onto a word document in a matter of minutes. I actually like some of the things I've written.
Other mornings I would wake up with leftover anxiety and hurt. It would be claustrophobic to ride the 1 bus, and I would get off at MIT in order to walk across the bridge and give myself the few quiet moments I needed. I don't go searching for ideas or thoughts. It's maybe the closest thing I do to meditation --- focus on the walking, on the footfalls, on the being here in the now, and sometimes other ideas pop up. Conflicts sorted themselves out. Long, would-be emotional explanations or conversations I imagine with people where there are things left still unresolved are simplified. The options are handed to me with simple yes and no questions, the kind I like best. Especially in the morning.
So, I'm sticking with solvitur ambulando for this blog, which will probably see me through not just this month of travel, but all the way through the summer months depending on how things unfold. The nice thing is, I'm not entirely sure what I am looking to solve with my wandering, but somehow, my feet always seem to lead me exactly where I need to be.
-lab
One time I changed the name of a blog two or three times before feeling satisfied with the outcome.
This blog is different, this one I sort of knew all along I would name after my sort-of adopted Latin motto.
Solvitur ambulando became the thing I started to think and say to myself my first summer living in Boston and working at the Symphony. It was a lonely and confusing time, those first couple of post-collegiate years where everyone is suddenly off doing their own thing and your millennial-generation friends are just as hard to pin down as you are. Throw in a difficult new job, a relationship break-up, and the news that old school mates had met untimely ends, and well, you get a pretty hard couple of months.
All of the anxiety and reckoning, for me, translated into a restlessness. I felt a constant need to be doing something other than the task at hand, that everything I was in process of working on was pointless, and that no one could understand. Even when I spent time talking to family, friends, and clergy, I had this deep pit of despair feeling that they didn't really know it was all going to be okay, and that I had to simply keep searching for a way to find that it would be okay for myself.
One Saturday morning I got invited to brunch in Cambridge by an old friend I hadn't seen in a while. By that point, it was getting difficult for me to get out of the house for anything other than work and rehearsals, I was just too sad and overwhelmed by all of the options in life to really plan anything. Brunch got me fired up, and I took off to meet a group. After brunch, sadly, everyone split off in different directions to study (med students, the worst), and I just couldn't go home. I was out, I was in the world, and my restlessness finally extended from my heart (and probably high-blood pressure system) into my feet.
Though I've lived in the Boston area for almost the entirety of my life, I've never truly explored it by foot. That day, I walked from Mass Ave in Central Square across the river, down along the Esplanade, over the park, and all the way to the Wharf and the North End. I ended up calling a friend who lived over there and stopping by to say hello and take a little break before walking back across the city. Her parents came by soon thereafter, for they had big family plans of an early dinner and dessert.
My friend told me later that her father, who has known me since I was 13 and who has worked in the field of psychology for many years, was worried about me. He felt that I was going through so much pain, and was unable to feel it or see it head-on, and that instead my endless walking through the city was my way of expressing the pain and in a way, choosing to feel physical exhaustion as a more tangible kind of "pain".
Yeah, so he was totally right.
What he didn't call that day was that this need to walk would stay with me, and would turn into something where I find solace and fuel. Inspiration, sorting of confusion, and formulation of thoughts and ideas. This walking has turned into my way of solving things, thus the eventual settling of the motto upon my heart, for that is the literal translation of solvitur ambulando, to solve by walking.
I'v noticed in the last few months that on days where I could walk down Mass Ave to the office, I would arrive fully focused and ready to be efficient and tackle any issue without hesitation. During my walk one morning, I made three phone calls and had setup the entire memorial service for my friend, after hearing the news that it wouldn't be possible to revive her in the aftermath of a serious snowboarding accident. During a walk later that week, I drafted a travel grant research proposal in my mind for a Wellesley alumnae grant that I can apply for next year (still yet to be fully written down).
Some days I would arrive at work and get a few mornings tasks out of the way, and then explode a poem onto a word document in a matter of minutes. I actually like some of the things I've written.
Other mornings I would wake up with leftover anxiety and hurt. It would be claustrophobic to ride the 1 bus, and I would get off at MIT in order to walk across the bridge and give myself the few quiet moments I needed. I don't go searching for ideas or thoughts. It's maybe the closest thing I do to meditation --- focus on the walking, on the footfalls, on the being here in the now, and sometimes other ideas pop up. Conflicts sorted themselves out. Long, would-be emotional explanations or conversations I imagine with people where there are things left still unresolved are simplified. The options are handed to me with simple yes and no questions, the kind I like best. Especially in the morning.
So, I'm sticking with solvitur ambulando for this blog, which will probably see me through not just this month of travel, but all the way through the summer months depending on how things unfold. The nice thing is, I'm not entirely sure what I am looking to solve with my wandering, but somehow, my feet always seem to lead me exactly where I need to be.
-lab
pilgrim tokens
Throughout the preparation process of the last few months, I've considered the many plans, ideas, and outcomes of this trip as being a trial-run for future solo pilgrimages.
This trip is designed to be a cushy hop from one friend's apartment to the next, with journeys of reasonable lengths on public transit in between. For my next trip, I would like to go to Spain and walk the Northern route of the Santiago de Compostela along the sea, and now that I've been in California for a week I'm also starting to craft ideas about walking along the Catholic missions, starting on the Southern Coast. My friend Clara, who I've been staying with this first week in Chico, CA, suggested this to me almost as soon as I breathed my first sigh of wonder at this place.
She, in her very Clara way, looked quietly over at me.
I thought of a very Lucy-trip the other day, she said.
And of course, now that my Lucy-brain has had a few days to mull it over, I'm wild about the idea. The missions were built along the coast so that you could make it to the next one by nightfall and always be sure of a place to stay and find food and shelter. There are missions in all of the cool places I'd want to see anyway, like San Diego and somewhere in Big Sur, and Carmel.
I'm so in.
But to jump back, for a moment, to a few weeks ago, when I purchased my hiking backpack for this inaugural "pilgrimage" to the west. I christened the pack "Ariadne" for her grace and pale blue and gray colors. We walked home together, with beer and indian food (she'll forever after smell of saag paneer and garlic naan), to sit amongst the clutter of the final packing zone of my bedroom in Somerville. Within moments, I knew what would go in my two favorite small pockets on the bag. They are zippered pockets located on the belt buckle of the bag, the most important feature of a pack, as it determines the wearer's ability to hold the weight of the bag properly on the hips. These two small pockets are intended for easy access to something like money, chapstick, an ID. Mine contain these things, yes, but also the following items, which are dear to my heart, and which I will carry with me throughout this journey, and those to follow.
This trip is designed to be a cushy hop from one friend's apartment to the next, with journeys of reasonable lengths on public transit in between. For my next trip, I would like to go to Spain and walk the Northern route of the Santiago de Compostela along the sea, and now that I've been in California for a week I'm also starting to craft ideas about walking along the Catholic missions, starting on the Southern Coast. My friend Clara, who I've been staying with this first week in Chico, CA, suggested this to me almost as soon as I breathed my first sigh of wonder at this place.
She, in her very Clara way, looked quietly over at me.
I thought of a very Lucy-trip the other day, she said.
And of course, now that my Lucy-brain has had a few days to mull it over, I'm wild about the idea. The missions were built along the coast so that you could make it to the next one by nightfall and always be sure of a place to stay and find food and shelter. There are missions in all of the cool places I'd want to see anyway, like San Diego and somewhere in Big Sur, and Carmel.
I'm so in.
But to jump back, for a moment, to a few weeks ago, when I purchased my hiking backpack for this inaugural "pilgrimage" to the west. I christened the pack "Ariadne" for her grace and pale blue and gray colors. We walked home together, with beer and indian food (she'll forever after smell of saag paneer and garlic naan), to sit amongst the clutter of the final packing zone of my bedroom in Somerville. Within moments, I knew what would go in my two favorite small pockets on the bag. They are zippered pockets located on the belt buckle of the bag, the most important feature of a pack, as it determines the wearer's ability to hold the weight of the bag properly on the hips. These two small pockets are intended for easy access to something like money, chapstick, an ID. Mine contain these things, yes, but also the following items, which are dear to my heart, and which I will carry with me throughout this journey, and those to follow.
The left-most item was a Christmas present from my dear friend Maria. She made each of us an ornament, hand-sewn and stuffed. She told me that she wasn't sure at first what to put on mine, but then when the idea came to her to sew a candle, she knew it was exactly the thing for me. I love this, for my name means "light" and I carry it with me everywhere I go. This year, more than ever, I've learned how to take care in tending the small flame that I have a tendency to work to the bone.
Tied around the string to hang the ornament is a yellow ribbon. At the memorial service in March for my college friend from the Computing Helpdesk, we tied these ribbons around each other's wrists as a symbol for carrying on the light and laughter the Davina gave to us. We did this in remembrance and honor to her joyful nature and spirit. Her strength and focus is a daily inspiration to me as I seek after the fulfillment of a few of my dreams,
The handkerchief was a gift, hand-embroidered by my sister, for Wellesley Commencement day in May of 2012. I knew going into this trip that there would be moments I felt uncertain or lonely, and that a hanky from my big sister might be a good thing to keep on hand. The colors of the handkerchief are the colors of Wellesley, blue and white, and the red embroidery thread used for my initial was my class color.
Hanging on the handkerchief is an old earring of my mother's, which I hung on a candle that I was lighting while waiting for updates and praying for my friend's recovery from her accident. At the time, the small action didn't seem to mean anything; it was just a tiny comfort to hang something beautiful on the edge of a shining light that filled my kitchen with a comforting smell of ginger. I have brought his small dream catcher with me for continued moments of reflection and meditation, and of course, dreams.
The last item is a rosewood rosary, given to me by the wonderful people of a small Catholic community in Sorrento, Italy, my freshman year of college. The Wellesley choir sang in their chapel, and then we were feasted and sung to by a rowdy group of women (and one lone brave man) outside on the steps of the church. One of the goals of all of my wandering is to reckon with conflicting ideas of religious belief, doctrine, and the way it is reflected or not in my life. It is not exactly an easy process....but I tend to choose the longer way to do things. For some time now, I have struggled to reckon my actions and words with my beliefs, and one of my intentions for this time of exploration is give myself ample time for sorting through these things in my heart and mind.
Though I do not practice Catholicism, as a very Protestant person with generations of European Protestant ancestry before me, I value its history and the good that is possible for its people to do in the world through acts of generosity, service, and simplicity. I am honored to have been given a beautiful rosary to use for prayer and a symbol of faith. It transports to me feelings of vigor, joy, and community, as well as the scent of sea water and delicious Southern Italian home-cooking.
I carry these small tokens to remember to create moments of peace for myself as I wander far and wide.
-lab
All my bags are packed
...I'm ready to go.
On Tuesday, April 12, at approximately 4:05 AM, a smelly taxi pulled up to my friend's front door in Cambridge and whisked me away to Boston Logan for my 6:00 AM on-time flight.
I'm...
going where the sun keeps shining, through the pouring rain
gonna see the folks I dig
batting off of the northeast wind, sailing on a summer breeze
gonna hang around just until my skin turns brown
In other words, of my own, I'm taking off, headed out west to see new places, colors, cities, friends, and family for about a month. Life-things for after the trip are already seeming to beautifully fall into place, so I've found in my first week away that I've been able to be fully here and not worrying about what comes next. And this "here" is such a wonderfully different, wild place.
Thanks for coming along for the journey. There'll be stories, pictures, and maybe even travel tips for the next westward journey, left here from time to time.
-lab
On Tuesday, April 12, at approximately 4:05 AM, a smelly taxi pulled up to my friend's front door in Cambridge and whisked me away to Boston Logan for my 6:00 AM on-time flight.
I'm...
going where the sun keeps shining, through the pouring rain
gonna see the folks I dig
batting off of the northeast wind, sailing on a summer breeze
gonna hang around just until my skin turns brown
In other words, of my own, I'm taking off, headed out west to see new places, colors, cities, friends, and family for about a month. Life-things for after the trip are already seeming to beautifully fall into place, so I've found in my first week away that I've been able to be fully here and not worrying about what comes next. And this "here" is such a wonderfully different, wild place.
Thanks for coming along for the journey. There'll be stories, pictures, and maybe even travel tips for the next westward journey, left here from time to time.
-lab
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