You’d think I’d be used to it…by now…so many behind me, but somehow sleeping in an unfamiliar place is always difficult for me. New “homes” homes more than hotels or hostels. I don’t know if my mind registers that the others are temporary filling stations for sleep and that is why I have less issue or if I have selective memory, but last night in a crappy overpriced hotel, with most of New Orleans honking their horns and shooting into the air to celebrate the winning saints game and I managed sleep before tonight. Not much earlier mind you – but earlier still.
Now I find myself sitting in my new queen sized bed with my back (knotted and cramping) to the wall my laptop to my knees, composing essays (poorly) and blogs like I haven’t in a few weeks. And there is so much to do…tomorrow…and the next. My life falling into place at a greater pace than I realized before I got here.
And at once it is wonderful and horrible. Wonderfully horrible. My life plotting itself together even as life after may is unknown to me.
All this aside. I have a home. A bed to sleep on. Tomorrow the search for food will begin (and a fridge)…and life here…and life here…if I can just get some sleep.
Tags: me-ness, transition
It can be difficult even for eyes adjusted to the sometimes squalor of pre-katrina New Orleans. Difficult to discern the difference between what wind, water, and the stranded wrought and what has been brought on by years of sinking swamplands, humidity and poverty.
My new neighborhood offers up the challenge of guessing which tragedy has befallen some of it’s houses…my next door neighbor with a pile of debris sitting in the street in front of the house – around the corner where the bricks from a sizable set of front porch stairs are stacked neatly beside an even larger pile of old wood scattered with flattened bottles and random garbage discarded or haphazardly caught by the wind.
That same strip of street has the smell of cats or dogs – the smell, far too pungent for household pets my mind searches now to remember if that is the house with “aspca rescue / 2 dogs” written across the front or if that is the house I attach it to because it smells like too many animals left too long there…a year and a half later.
And this is uptown, where few houses were truly affected by much of anything.
My old neighborhood is different. Driving in Saturday night with little light to illuminate the magnitude of it all, it was still enough for me to see the fema trailers parked in front of houses that still bear the scars of an old storm. One had a crack running horizontally through it. Many still flashed the rescue/recovery tag that told how many people found – dead and alive – and other information. The only true documentation.
And when daylight hit and I found myself wandering aimlessly through the city I ended up parked in front of my old building. It isn’t boarded like many of the buildings on canal blvd, but panes of glass are still broken and missing – the front door was dilapidated. I couldn’t tell if anyone was living there…the waterline still prominent at the first floor. I can’t imagine people would but…knowing the price of rent here I guess I can.
The one bright note in its own twisted way, the homeless woman who usually held down the intersection a few blocks from my house – the one who is ALWAYS in multiple layers like it is freezing, even in the broiling new Orleans heat – the one who never returned greetings before the storm, who reluctantly accepted food from me and a friend after the storm – the icon of my mid-city world is still holding down canal. She’s moved downtown it seems. But I caught sight of her this morning and had to smile. Despite all her changes, new Orleans is still new Orleans.
Tags: katrina, neworleans
i moaned and complained about not having my girlfriends while i was in zed. i had my man, school, a job and such…overwhelmingly life was good. i had friends that were girls…good friends…but i missed my crew of women that have known me anywhere from 7 to 15 years.
my recent time in new york has given me that. mopey me who has been listening to music and finding melancholy in it even if it isn’t there.
but this weekend…with both high school and peace corps folks…i’ve been dancing twice…shopping…eating…laying in bed til the wee hours cuz were were up and out til the wee hours.
i love my girls…that they let me whine about my heart and the piece of it that i left in zed, that they let me cry a little, that they make me laugh and remember that life isn’t all bad.
so here is to everyone that has good friends…and to any woman who knows the beauty of good girlfriends…God bless them every one!
it is amazing how much stuff you can accumulate over time.
for my own part i am amazed. i have perfected the art of packing light and i joke that everything i own can fit in the closet of my old bedroom in my parents’ house (and it can) but boy was that closet full when we began pulling stuff out to be sorted.
my grandfather is moving in with my parents and while i have a bunch of stuff – he has 90 years worth so…space must be made.
even so…with 60 years between us…the amount of stuff i have thrown away is mind boggling. old poems and short stories. assignments both journalistic and academic. clothes and souvenirs from travel.
it is a little like “this was your life”. only it isn’t’ anymore. its been rewritten rerouted reworded…and i can’t say i’m displeased with the results (with the exception of S being there and me being here).
at any rate i hope i’m inspired…to pull myself together and accumulate less stuff…to appreciate what i have without feeling the need to add to it. we’ll see how long this lasts before i’m puring out another closet and pondering where it all came from.
Tags: transition
family gatherings are always interesting – especially when i’ve been away. it is so easy to forget the quirks and nuances of family. the things that bring us together – wedge us to opposing sides – and love each other in spite of and because of it all.
this holiday season is not different. at the annual gumbo my aunt throws everyone that knows me started conversations the same way…”linnea, welcome home. where and when are you going next?”
i could pretend not to understand why they would ask…and i do…but mostly it is just a reminder of how much time i spend away and how unsure i am of next steps.
Tags: future
i got in last night.
my flight left more than an hour late because of a light bulb…yeah you read that right.
as a result i missed my connecting flight, got yelled at by an incredibly rude LAX employee and left my family waiting for several hours in dallas.
all said and done though i’m here…cried like a baby in auckland’s airport but i’ve stopped…for now. if you see me red eyed you’ll know why though.
on a good note, my rather sensitive youngest niece – notorious for liking no one – actually lets me hold her and such…life has its little joys.
my heart is breaking…profoundly…
i’ll be home soon…be patient with me as i cope with saying goodbye.
Tags: newzealand
i admit i paid for it, though out of my head it is definitely a silly concept. i took a mudbath today. not just any gathered in my shoe or under your tires mud, straight from the mudholes…or so they say.
either way, strange though it is, it felt nice. the thermal mineral rich waters mixing with the silt and sticking to my skin. and when it was all over with i had an hour long massage.
it seems almost a waste given that in 9 days i’ll be on a plane for 16 hours and messing it all up again…but stress pervails and it is reverting anyway.
of course my day started and ended with an amazing meal. which leaves me here now…the only thing missing a good book (as i finished the kite runner this morning – after starting it yesterday morning – and this being a small town the stores were all closed by 5). so i’ll go stare at the idiot box a little longer so that by 9 – when it is finally dark – i can consider going to sleep.
Tags: newzealand, travel
it is the smell of the devil and giardia, eggs left forgotten in the sun and of a struck match…and rotura smells of it as well. the scent of sulfer is in the air, an inconsistent companion depending on the wind’s direction.
but then, the acrid smell is part of the reason so many people flock to the little hamlet of 70,000 (when you count surrounding farmlands). people come for the geothermal activity. and so i came, ready to look zed’s waiting disaster in its many faces. so this morning i trailed off to see what the earth’s heat can do.
first stop was a boiling mud lake. not just a small patch of gunk…something substantial. and it popped and pulsated and bubbled over onto itself. smooth and soft, it creates little mud hills and terraces, and when the rains come or the weight becomes unbearable it all disinegrates and begins the process again.
from there was the geyser…helped along by 300grams of soap in her top to put it on a schedule…we watched her bubble over and then shoot straight in the air.
but the main event is the park itself…with hissing caves and gurgling cracks and water the color of some cosmic disco. greens and oranges and blues. the champagne pool – when you could see it through the steam – was an amazing contrast of a burnt orange crust and a carribean blue/green middle.
of course there was more mud…and sulpher caves…and as much as my eyes and nose was assaulted my ears got their fare share. standing beside a lake of neon green water and i could hear very faintly the sound of bubbling and hissing…almost inaudibly. so i knelt closer to the ground and sure enough…little tiny holes were releasing air and creating their own music.
Tags: newzealand, travel
i don’t have pictures cuz i’m by myself and they were gonna charge me $25. and while they were cute photos and would remind me of a grand time…the money i spent zorbing was enough of an investment.
but let me tell you…if you EVER get the chance to jump in an oversized beach ball with a little warm water and hurtle yourself down a zig-zagged hill…go for it!
i was skeptical at first. my plan had been to get strapped into one dry (after all this is zed and even though it is “technically” summer it is also “technically” cold!). when it said it was unavailable i was really bummed. and the lady behind the counter told me that even it if was up she would have urged me to get wet.
i assume she is trying to make a sale but since i’m there and this is one of the things i’ve wanted to do since i came down under i figured what the hell…
and so i changed into some zorbonaut clothes (ie. t-shirt and shorts with zorb logo branded across me) and took a bumpy (i actually spent quite a bit of air time from bouncing up and down) ride up the hill and watched as other dove head first into the ball and the got hurled down the course.
first of all…it is more than a ball…it is a ball within a ball…kind of. so you don’t feel the bumps directly and what you do is kind of like a wash cylce…or maybe a dryer…but wet…and so much fun. you just slide and slip and laugh and it was an all around great time.
so yeah…this advertisemnt for them…but they gave me a big cheesy smile (twice) so what the heck!
Tags: crazystuff, newzealand, travel
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