monday memories / RTW trip: the end of the end

sadly there are no more photos from our RTW trip, even though we visited three more countries (there were supposed to be five). here's the story of the early end of our trip:

after the last post about israel ... 

we headed north to greece where we had both previously travelled. i had spent my sophomore college year in greece. curt had travelled with a friend to visit someone in my group. amazingly we had both been at the same new year’s eve party in athens 12 years prior but had not met! 

this time, we wanted to stay at the same hotel for old time's sake ... but there was no room. was this a sign of things to come? 

so we island hopped to skyros to stay with the cutest aussie couple we had met just for an evening in egypt ... that’s travellers for you. so open! stayed with them for a week of eating (olives, feta, dolmades, calamari), gabbing and laughing (into the wee hours), motorbike touring (including a flat tire, which we fixed with more ouzo) and beach time. heaven. 

pulled ourselves away from this little piece of paradise and headed to italy to send most of our stuff home, buy bicycles and panniers and start our cycling portion – the last portion – of our trip: cycling and camping from italy to portugal. 

i had been lobbying curt for a bike trip through europe since the beginning of our RTW trip. thinking europe is so expensive compared to southeast asia, let's just ride bikes and camp, keeping our costs down. it'll be fun! we'll wine taste in france. you'll see!

turned out this was the HOTTEST summer on record in southern europe. we started in june in italy. we hadn't yet headed southward (HOTward) to spain or portugal in even HOTTER july. to beat the heat, we rose each day before dawn to eat a hearty breakfast and break camp. had some dazzlingly stunningly beautiful dawn rides down country lanes in italy. but as the mornings progressed into noontime (HOTtime), we melted each and every day. we pedaled between 54 and 108 kilometers daily, then would roll into a campsite and soak in the swimming pool all afternoon. ate pasta every night for dinner and crashed to sleep, waking again pre-dawn for another day of the same. it was europe, it was beautiful, but it was just too darn HOT. 

crossing into france was exciting, except that we somehow lost each other in the hilliest place of all: monaco. we each ended up riding up and down that huge hill in monaco a few times until we found each other, relieved to find each other and furious that we'd become separated and had to ride up and down that @#!&* hill so many times. our bikes were pretty heavy, and even heavier with full panniers.

in nice, we wanted to go to the matisse museum. having left our rear panniers in the tent in the campground, we locked our bikes in front of the museum. i left the handlebar bag on my bike. curt thought i should carry it into the museum, but i didn't want to lug it. no one will steal anything, i argued to curt. (i can be pretty darn persuasive. it'll be fine, you'll see!) both of us forgetting he had put his travellers checks in the my bike bag that morning, which also contained all my exposed film from italy, greece and israel. THIS WAS ABOUT THE DUMBEST MOVE I MADE ON THE ENTIRE TRIP! 

went to the window just 15 meters from our bikes to buy our museum entrance tickets. when we turned around to look at the bikes before entering the museum, my bike bag had already been stolen. 

after a few low days sorting out travellers checks, we steered our bikes into the countryside of france, pointed toward portugal. looking forward to shifting gears back into happiness, we wanted to make our french cycling dreams come true, lavender and sunflowers and wine tasting, all that! still, it was HOT. 

another dawn start and we were in a wine region early in the morning. the first winery sign we saw, curt wanted to stop for a taste. the sign pointed toward a little dirt lane with a bend so we couldn't see how far it was to the winery. the lane was a downhill (which means i have to ride back uphill with heavy bike and panniers). it was 9am. we started down the lane and then i said STOP! 

i wasn't about to go knocking on a winery door at 9am. and it might not have even been a proper tasting room, could have been just some winemaker's home. no way. and especially since i didn't know how far off the main road it was. downhill. i wasn't having any of it! 

infuriated, curt rode back uphill toward the main road. when i got to the main road, he was nowhere in sight. i waited. we had ONE RULE for cycling together: wait at all intersections for the other. i waited and waited. finally i started riding in the direction of our destination. didn't see curt for an hour. stopped at the first sign of civilization, a cafe along the road. excusez-moi, have you seen a cyclist? they had not seen him. i was very worried. where was curt? had he fallen into a ditch? someone offered to drive me back to the country lane with the winery sign. he wasn't there. i looked in the ditches and bushes along the way. back at the cafe, i waited some more. they suggested we call the gendarmes (police). so the gendarmes arrived, i told them my story, and we went out looking for curt. 

we found him riding further along on the main road. loaded him and his bike in the cop car and brought him back to the cafe. i was crying. he was seething. while the gendarmes read curt the riot act in french. 

this bike trip was not turning out to be the fairy tale cycling escapade i had imagined. 

we were arguing. a lot. it was HOT. maybe riding all the way to portugal was not the best idea under the circumstances. we made it all the way to aix en provence. still HOT. still bickering. we looked at one another and agreed. it was time. time to go home. as soon as we even mentioned the idea out loud, a wave of relief came over both of us.

10 months. 13 countries. a lifetime of memories. 

~~~~~

lessons learned: travel. go! go NOW! you never know when or if you will have the opportunity again. oh, and never ever EVER leave important things in a bike bag. 

+++++

before the trip, i had recently graduated grad school in journalism and was freelancing as a photojournalist at the oregonian. curt and i had seen "jean de florette," a movie about a parisian couple who moved to a village to live a simpler life. we thought it would be fun to rent a house in the french countryside for awhile. then we thought, why not travel? which mushroomed into why not travel around the world? i was 30 years old. i would have a full-time job someday and wouldn't be able to just up and leave for 10 months. curt had just been accepted to art school after working at the same job for many years, and was ready for a change. so we travelled!

a month after our return to portland, i was offered my first full-time job as a photojournalist at the long beach press-telegram. and moved to socal. curt and i went our separate ways. 

we are still very close and he has helped me remember our travels, so i could share them here. and i'm going to portland for christmas to see curt and other friends from college. this is the last installment of monday memories until the new year, when i will continue to remember and share. 

2011 monday memories will include stories of athletics, school, family, friends, spirituality, and of course, lots more travel! 

thank you for coming along on these journeys, which i hope inspire you to remember your lives, your special moments, and your lessons learned while living.

peace.

xh

grounded. and lifted.

as you know, daisey and i were off to utah for thanksgiving. that is, until we weren't. 

all packed up and bundled up (daisey with her new pink sweater and down coat to brave the utah piddle breaks), we settled into one of those fancy black cars to the airport (since daisey isn't allowed on the airporter shuttle bus), well early to accommodate the tuesday-before-thanksgiving holiday crush. gliding up the swooping offramp to SFO, i reached in my wallet to pay the guy, and realized, "i don't have my driver's license!" 

now we all know we need a government-issued photo ID to fly. (i had lost my wallet, and had applied for a new license, but only had the temporary photo-less paper from the DMV). so i made a quick decision ... instead of going into the airport and spending my precious time finding out if they'd let me through security, i asked the driver if he would take us back to my house to get my passport and back again to the airport ... maybe i could still make my flight. he turned the car around and we raced home. i must've told him at least three times, "i know exactly where my passport is." his driving pleased me. he drove as i would have driven. he executed smart lane changes to make the best time possible, and we would still -- maybe -- make the flight.

this kind of thing used to send my adrenaline soaring. and i loved it. adrenaline was my fuel. happened often as a photojournalist. insanely desperately racing to get to an assignment, to a news scene, to a last minute flight ... this time, i was relatively calm, with floods of adrenaline rising through my body, followed by ebbs of the attitude: i'll make it if i make it. 

pulled up and dashed into the house to my trusty filing cabinet to the file marked: BIRTH CERTIFICATE /PASSPORT ... but no current passport (only expired ones). whaaaaat? where IS it? i looked high and low, upstairs downstairs, in all the other files, in my other filing cabinets, the clock ticking. i looked and looked, and 20 minutes into the search, i knew. i wasn't going to make this flight. i was grounded.

for a moment, that other flood rose upward in my system, the surge that brings on tears. i could feel it coming, to right up behind my eyes. i wasn't going to get to go to utah to be with my brother and my sister-in-law and my nephews for thanksgiving. my parents aren't here anymore. i was going to be ALONE for the most important holiday of the year. ALL ALONE. 

and then, as suddenly as the surge started, it diminished, ebbed. no flood here. no tears. ok. i'm not going to utah. i'm staying right here. 

told the driver what happened, paid him for all his good driving and kindness, dragged my bags back into the house, made calls cancelling catsitters, and called my brother. grounded.

the reality set in that i was home -- not in utah -- for this four-day holiday. nothing but time and space. got invited to several thanksgiving dinners. made plans to see friends. all was well.

i had heard for so long from all the great spiritual teachers of our time -- eckhart tolle, byron katie, and my teacher adyashanti -- (and jesus and buddha probably said it, too) that whenever you argue with reality, when you want something other that what is actually happening ... you create your own suffering. if i wanted to be in utah but wasn't in utah, then i would suffer, i would be sad and mad and frustrated. this time, i didn't even have to try to tame my mind. none of those thoughts came, thoughts of being a victim of the circumstances, nor did the self-critical thoughts that usually come, like "how could you be so stupid to let this happen?" i was miraculously ok with being grounded. weird. 

this whole thing is very weird, i thought. i'm usually so organized. i'm not at all flakey. there must be a reason why this is happening ... so i headed up to my meditation room and sat, asking "why am i not going to utah for thanksgiving? what is this all about?" and clearly *got* that it was about aloneness. 

this aloneness thing has been a real bugaboo for me. makes me incredibly sad and makes me anxious. and at times, i'll do anything to not feel that aloneness. eat too much. go to the movies in a tizzy. work till all hours of the night. just to not feel alone and lonely. my therapist says that everyone feels alone, even people in happy, stable relationships for 50 years. so it's not just about being single and living alone. huh?

wednesday i got up and went to meditate straight away. this is the best way for me to start the day, to meditate before my mind gets distracted by everything else. but i admit it happens rarely. i often get distracted the moment i open my eyes.

so. i meditated. and asked the Universe (or God, Spirit, Truth, Life, Higher Power, Christ, Buddha, Allah, Whatever-you-want-to-call-it) two things. the first thing i can't remember. the second thing i asked was: "please show me what it is i need to learn or see about aloneness." i have learned to just put the question out there, and wait for a response. so finished up. then yoga. then hopped in the car and pulled out heading to a nearby trailhead for a run. but i wasn't paying attention and hit the car parked across the street from my driveway. 

now one might think i'd really lose it here. i thought i'd lose it. this is the kind of thing that usually really spins me out, and makes that critical voice inside my head into a monster. the flood of adrenaline/crying/criticism started to rise, then just stopped, ebbed back to calm. go inside, write a note, leave it on the dashboard, and drive to the trailhead. which is exactly what i did. no drama. i hit a car. all is well. all will be repaired. that's what insurance is for. calm. 

whaaaaaat? no drama? NO CREATING MY OWN SUFFERING? ... no. i didn't even have to try. didn't have to wrangle my monkey mind. peace just came. 

the day started out perfectly with meditation/yoga/run and just sailed on all day. the car owner came to the door later, we exchanged information, she was completely chill. no drama. the whole thing was kind of surreal. 

i was a little concerned about the wednesday evening before the thanksgiving holiday. it's like a friday night on steroids. A VERY IMPORTANT EVE. and i'm often a mess on friday nights. everyone racing home to their loved ones to go have a super duper duper fun weekend. and i'm often alone. so i was trying to be careful about how i was going to spend my thanksgiving eve. 

i had planned on taking take daisey to sausalito in the late afternoon. but i waffled, didn't seem like the right place to go. couldn't make up my mind. what about muir beach? what about tiburon? what about the dog park? i actually sat down on my bathroom floor and shut my eyes, trying to get where it was we were to go, where was the right place to go? (i've been trying to live more by intuition lately, and it works when i can hear it). finally i got we were going to tiburon, and off we went. 

the waterfront in tiburon is daisey's favorite. she can romp off-leash on the lush grass with all the other little doggies. and it's beautiful for me, too, looking out over the bay towards angel island, the golden gate bridge and san francisco beyond. and it's oh so familiar, having grown up in belvedere-tiburon. 

but i had some trepidation. worried i'd be upset seeing all the families together.

it was a magnificent afternoon, clear and crisp. daisey romped. shortly along the path, i saw up ahead a big family coming toward me. multiple generations, all strolling together in a pack. a small flood rose in me, then ebbed. i saw an older gentleman in a wheelchair being pushed by his strapping grandson. more women, men and children, chitterchattering away. but when i looked in the eyes of that older gentleman, who didn't look particularly lonely, something in his eyes told me he felt alone. 

a flash of insight struck me: we are all alone. each and every one of us. no matter what our outer circumstances. no matter if we have people all around us or not. we are born alone and we die alone. and that being alone is painful and that we all carry that pain. it is part of the human condition, and thus connects us all, making us all the same. all-one. alone. and yet truly connected. 

this realization gave me deep compassion and LOVE for that gentleman. and for myself, and for that whole chitterchattering family. and for everyone who came along my path that afternoon. and for my family in utah. and for everyone i know all over the world. and for everyone, for all people, everywhere. PURE LOVE.

i walked, daisey trotted and sniffed, we chatted with folks, got a latté. all was well. 

i spent my weekend among friends ... eating, celebrating, hiking, drinking, sharing. made plans to see my brother and family here after christmas. and just relaxed.

grounded. and lifted. beyond my wildest dreams. so so thankful.

i was also reminded that i am not alone at all. if the Universe answers me that quickly and clearly, then i am never alone, because the Universe is so magically and mysteriously there, always.

PS - i still can't remember the first question i asked the Universe, but i know the answer was my hitting that car. i guess i have to ask the question again. i just hope i'm paying more attention next time! 

help girls. it matters.

you know how some movies can really get under your skin? four years ago i saw the movie blood diamond. i vowed never again to buy diamonds. and i started sponsoring a girl in a village in zambia. 

jane is now 12 

i knew my monthly help is life-changing for Jane. and i knew how imperative it is to educate girls and keep girls safe. but i had a real aha! moment when i saw this video, below, and grokked that I AM REALLY HELPING A GIRL, AND IT MATTERS. 

the girl effect ripples outward. every girl we help makes a huge difference ... 

girleffect.org is here to help you help girls.

see the original girl effect video (don't let the beginning deter you ... )

the international community understands the power of the girl effect ... 

and see this powerful girl in ethiopia.

i urge you to do whatever you can to help girls. you could save a life. and save the world. because the most powerful force of change on the planet is A GIRL.

what YOU CAN DO right now: 

1. donate (you can even help buy film for kenyan girls photography lessons)

2. be informed

3. share the reports

4. download the fact sheet

5. raise awareness by joining the girl effect blogging campaign

6. spread the word! 

7. oh, and read half the sky

monday memories / RTW trip: ancient egypt ambiance

while i have my around-the-world photos out from their usual home in the garage, i think i’ll continue telling some more stories from that adventure. after the last post about kenya ... 

 

arriving in cairo after two months in kenya was like landing back in civilization ... albeit a muslim civilization (our first experience of muslim culture except for a few days on java and yogyakarta at the beginning of our trip.). in a great city ... great coffee. great food. movie theaters. museums. history. peace. safety. we were psyched!

people were quite friendly, wanting to have a coffee and practice their english. different from kenya where we felt we couldn’t trust people, they wanted to rip us off.

we spent a few days in cairo getting acclimated and doing some business and banking. stayed at the nicest place on our whole trip (except, of course, the uber fancy hotel in bombay, which is in a whole tier to itself) ... the very friendly, clean and well-run pension roma ... in an old building with tons of character, huge rooms with ultra high ceilings and antique armoires and furniture, private bath, and complimentary breakfast. curt bought roses for me several times, just like in portland where he bought me a beautiful bouquet every friday. a far cry from our stay in kenya! and all for 30 egyptian pounds or $10/night! so good that i even noted it in my diary: 

the fruit juice was cheap, too! 30 cents for a big glass of fresh squeezed anything. our favorites: orange and strawberry/banana.

you have to understand ... this was straight off the heels of two months in kenya, preceeded by a month in india, and a month in nepal. all fascinating places in which we, as budget travellers, had stayed in some mighty grotty places. thailand and bali were really quite clean in comparison ... high standards of cleanliness. nepal, india and kenya ... not so much.  

then we headed to luxor. and stayed at possibly the very worst place of our entire trip. ah well, this is budget travelling. sometimes the little budget finds something great, sometimes not so great. i was pretty much the master at finding good places. i have a need for “ambiance.” (my college pals will laugh at this word, but it was true even then, a nascent sensibility and vocabulary word for me!) but it took some looking. curt got used to it, and we developed a system. we would arrive in a new place. he would sit with the luggage while i ran around looking at all the accommodation in our budget. and i'd always find the best! except in luxor :-(

and since we were travellers -- distinct from tourists -- we decided to rent bicycles and tour the valley of the kings on two wheels. hah! we dumbly handed over curt’s passport as collateral for the one-speed bicycles (we'd been travelling for six months by then and we KNEW BETTER!). but off we went sans passport. saw tut’s tomb, hatshupset’s magnificent tomb, and more. and it was the hottest, sweatiest, dustiest day of my life. and perhaps the most dangerous with all those monster wide tour buses racing past us, with their fancy schmancy air conditioning. i was jealous, but it was too late to turn back.

eventually curt’s bike failed ... we can’t remember exactly what ... flat tire? sticking brake? if i recall correctly, curt and i both got on my bike, he pedalled and i sat on the seat holding the broken bicycle to the side. it wasn’t pretty. when we got back to the bike rental place, they wanted us to pay for the repair. we said no, we didn’t do anything wrong, the bike just broke. they were holding curt’s passport until we forked out. i’m sure it wasn’t much, but we were on a budget and didn’t have extra funds. we argued for 20 minutes, loudly, before getting the passport back, without paying for the repairs. not exactly my proudest moment. and limped back to our crappy hotel. NOT the best day of the trip.

back to cairo and pension roma. we toured the fabulous egyptian museum. shopped in khan el khahlili souk. bought perfume. needed a usa fix so went to see “born on the 4^th of july” in a movie theater which was an experience in and of itself. you had to sit in your assigned seat and the vendors came to you. weird. no popcorn. not the greatest fix ...  i much prefer the movie-going experience at home!

the absolute best part of our egypt time was wandering around the back alleys of cairo. i admit i'm not the usual tourist or traveller. even now when i'm on a short trip. i don't love going around to tourist sites, just because the place is significant historically. just because the guidebook says you have to see it. i don't usually care to go SEE things. ruins. churches. museums. you know. it all becomes a blur after the first two or three. unless it is significant and meaningful to ME for whatever reason ... to me, this sightseeing is of the head.

i want to have an EXPERIENCE. of the heart. my heart. i much prefer to wander around and meet people, see what their daily lives entail. soak up the ambiance of the place. experience it. 

while meandering the little dirt lanes in the ancient coptic christian area of cairo, we found ben ezra synagogue. having been raised jewish, i was interested in this place. what? jews in egypt? i thought they all left with moses! crossed the red sea and all. the passover story. the man at the door said he had been offering tours of this tiny temple for 40 years. 

this man took us around the old synagogue where he said moses and jesus, mary and joseph spent time. moses was found as a baby in the reeds of the nile near here. this man showed us stones and stairs and all kinds of unphotogenic sites, always asking "photo? photo?" charming.

this man was my favorite part of egypt. just. look. in. his. eyes. now THAT is an experience. i'll take that over any ruin, no matter how historically significant, any day, any time, anywhere.

~~~~~ 

lessons learned: never turn over your passport, for anything! ever! and especially not for a broken bicycle! and don't think for a minute that being a traveller is any better than being a tourist. it's the same! that was just my egotistical youth talking.

five things: atkins (including, they might just come to your house!)

WANT TO MEET A FUN ENGLISH FAMILY LIVING IN THE FRENCH COUNTRYSIDE?

1. my friends the atkins family are coming to the usa next summer (!!!), and touring with their film. you know, the one they made with their uber-talented family and friends last summer in france and spain ... you know, the one i worked on, too. 

2. they are calling this the "throw me a rope" US road trip, a kind of extension of their "welcome to the world" tour in europe, only this time they have a film to show!

3. they'll be entering film festivals and doing Q and As in as many cities as possible.

4. they want to show their film to YOU! they'd like to do in-home screenings or "film parties" in people's homes all over the country. and they are looking for drama/music groups, summer schools and colleges, fundraising groups, any group or organization which might want to screen 'if you ever get to heaven' for any reason. who knows, they might do some concerts, too!

5. so, if you would like to meet this warm, friendly, open, generous, interesting, and fun family ... WHY DON'T YOU CONSIDER HOSTING A SCREENING? whether you are a family or single, all you need is a tv screen and some friends. just contact manny atkins and set a date sometime next july or august and invite your friends over for a "film party"! watch the film with the atkins family, ask questions of the parents (director & producer & actor) and the children (actors & crew), have a gathering, have fun, meet new people, open your world, open your home ... to this delightful english family living in france. 

contact manny atkins at amanda@43pictures.com.

and follow them on facebook and twitter.

ps - i met this family online, after reading and commenting on their blog. we became online friends, and i ended up working on their film! and we'll be friends forever. you just never know where these connections might lead. and at the very least, you can have new friends in another part of the world! and ... i'll most definitely be hosting a screening party at my house next summer!

the power of one

i'll let mr. courtenay into my bed any night of the week. his stories grab me and take me away, straight into another place and time, and straight into another person's heart and mind. 

while living in australia many years ago, i discovered australian author bryce courtenay. back then, i was reading "april fool's day," a gripping true story about the author's son, a hemophiliac, who died young from medically acquired AIDS. heartbreaking and truly uplifting. 

now i'm reading "the power of one" ... 1940s south africa. a wise boy who knows racism isn't right. who thinks grown ups can be stupid and silly. who has one name, and one focus, one life purpose.

i'm about 3/4 of the way through. this little boy has seen so much, endured so much, and is so lovable. he attracts other lovable characters. and knows firsthand about the horrific ways human beings can be toward one another. and the power one small person can render. riveting.

just now i'm researching bryce courtenay. amazing. i didn't know until just this minute:

courtenay's very first book, "the power of one," became the largest-selling book by a living australian author within australia! and he wrote it in 1996 at age 55! (it was made into a movie, as well.)

and apparently, much of "the power of one" is based on his own life story. what a life!

he's written a slew of other books, and i know i'll be reading on ... and inviting mr. courtenay back to my bed anytime he wants.

photoflow: fresh perspective

when in need of a fresh perspective ...

give a kid your camera!

on a film production last summer in france and spain, i worked alongside 6 kids ranging from 9-19 (yes, i’m old enough to consider 19-year-olds “kids”). three actors, a set designer, a sound recordist, and a musical director/camera assistant -- these are some talented kids! sometimes they almost outnumbered the adults (we were 6 – 14 adults, depending on the day) on this heavenly film shoot. 

one long day shooting in the middle of a vast hay field in northern spain -- during a lull in the work -- i let 11-year-old beth borrow my camera. didn't pay any attention to what she was shooting. only to find this when i got my camera back:

i love this shot, such a quiet moment captured. and the tilt just adds to the interest, bringing the moment inward, toward nicoletta who usually had to act tough (she played the beautiful villain in the film). beth reminded me that WE CAN TILT HORIZONS with fabulous results!

i was schooled for so long -- both in school and working as a photojournalist -- to get my horizons absolutely straight, perfectly horizontal. in fact, i recently posted a tilted horizon photo on facebook, and one of my former colleagues messaged back to straighten that horizon! but i'm all about breaking the (silly, constricting) rules these days. 

toward the end of the shoot, with so much work behind us, we were in great need of a party. fortunately cinematographer kyle's birthday came at just the right moment. beth's younger brother arty (or was it beth again?) borrowed my camera during a festive dinner at the home of the filmmakers. and this was the result:

seeing in a completely different way than i usually see. and right on ... capturing the jovial moment: playful richard, the distinctly euro-feel of the meal, breadcrumbs and all. maybe it was just that arty -- if it was arty --sat a little lower than i normally sit, so he saw THROUGH the wineglass. whatever. the result reminds me to bend my knees, get lower, or higher, or from the side, or anything other than how i usually see from my 5'9" viewpoint. 

these young people taught me so much that summer. just one of the things they taught me was how so see. with a fresh perspective.

While there is perhaps a province in which the photograph can tell us nothing more than what we see with our own eyes, there is another in which it proves to us how little our eyes permit us to see. 

~Dorothea Lange

listen up! less yang. more yin.

i cried on my yoga mat today.

first day of 30 days of yoga with marianne elliot. starting a home yoga practice. even though i signed up for a monthly membership at the local studio (they were having a deal on memberships … not much of a “deal” when you’re paying but not going). maybe this home practice will be the thing for me. i probably wouldn’t have let myself cry in a class full of people … or maybe i would have. i’m all for crying, have no problem with it. crying is just a release of energy, right?

so yeah, i cried. at the end of the almost hour-long practice. in savasana. first thing in the morning.

lying on my mat, i could hear from deep inside my body -- or my inner voice, or my soul – actually being grateful, saying: finally! you’re doing something for me! taking care of me. paying attention to me and to what I need.

sure, exercise has been spotty-at-best, of late. but it wasn’t just about moving my body. it was deeper than that. 

little tears at first, welling up. i listened to my little voice, alongside marianne’s lovely, soothing, new-zealand-accented voice.

upon marianne's suggestion and wanting to take even more care of my Self, i placed a pillow under my knees and drew my (much neglected) meditation blanket over my body. savasana. full stop. total relax. that’s when the tears spilled over my eye sockets and down the side of my face. not sobbing, just tears flowing for a bit. my trusty four-legged companion daisey came over to lick my eyes … she hasn’t learned how to bring kleenex yet.

that little voice inside is so hard for me to hear most of the time.

this time, i even talked to her. please help me to hear you better. please speak to me more loudly! please help me learn how to take better care of you. please please please.

i’m pretty rotten at relaxing. i wrote to my friend manny the other day that i’ve always wanted to be a bon vivant (bonne vivante?). good at  -- what elizabeth gilbert readily pointed out in eat pray love – that italianesque ease of “dolce far niente." the sweetness of doing nothing. but in reality, i’m no good at it. i relax the four days of thanksgiving. and when i’m sick in bed (so i don’t mind at all when i get sick, which is rarely). i have the constitution of a bull.

but this getting older thing requires gentleness. not bullishness. less yang. more yin.

i had a notecard by renée locks on my refrigerator for the longest time before the annual january fridge door cleanse. it read, “what people really need is a good listening to.” listened to. seen. heard. and i really try my best to do that for other people. have been acknowledged for being a good listener. 

may i now translate this for myself: what i really need is a good listening to. by me. 

hello hillary, can you hear me? 

expect a miracle (hill)

i'm feeling nostalgic. this week last year, i was on my way to france and spain to work on a movie. i wasn't the cinematographer, nor the director, nor the writer ... though i did have a tiny part as the lady in the tourist bureau until the actual lady got her courage up to be on camera. a star was NOT born. no, my main job as "scripty" was to sit on on a little stool in the prime real estate between the director and the cinematographer and tell the actors when they fluffed a line. (the mostly english cast and crew say "fluffed" instead of "flubbed" ... so much nicer to the ear ... and to the ego of the actor, i imagine!)



i was also the "continuity girl", making sure each actor spoke and gestured exactly the same way during each take in a scene ... a very tricky job requiring keen concentration. no being distracted by the handsome spanish farmer or the hot spanish sun. or ... the hot spanish farmer or the handsome spanish son!



oh, and i also did the still photography for the film's advertising.

it's a herculean effort, making a movie. i worked so hard, such long hours, and yet i still feel that i didn't work hard enough. i was jetlagged, then exhausted. but i didn't work nearly as hard as the folks who made this movie happen.



these english people, the atkins family, worked their fannies off (they definitely wouldn't say "fannies") making a film, as a family! the dad joe directed. the mom manny produced and was the lead actor. the youngest children beth and arthur also acted. the older sons harry and luc did the sound and music. these are some mighty talented and hardworking folks. their actor friends came to round out the cast and two french interns filled out the crew.



the film takes place along the chemin de st jacques in france and the camino de santiago in spain. the coolest thing for me was that i walked with miss daisey along the french part of this pilgrimage trail last april ... then in july i got to actually go to the pilgrimage end point of santiago with the film! pilgrims expect miracles ...

six months earlier while surfing the internet one evening, i had bumped into the atkins blog about their travels in a bus around europe and left a comment. manny wrote me back. we became friends via email, she invited me to stay with them on the way to my pilgrimage. and i offered to help with the film, and so i did. a miracle if you ask me!



one of the biggest blessings of working on this film was to meet the atkins and their friends. who just decides to make a movie and then goes and does it? the atkins do! they reminded me that anything is possible, absolutely anything, if you put enough head, heart and will into it.

the next biggest blessing was that i reignited my love affair with photography. not in the job description, i found myself making lots of behind the scenes photographs. so many beautiful places, and beautiful people to photograph! when i returned home, i decided not to go to grad school in psychology as i had planned, but to start a greeting card company using my photos, which will branch out into photos on canvas this fall.

another miracle, really. i found myself on that pilgrimage trail. not while hiking, but while filming "heaven."

the greatest miracle of all is that the film if you ever get to heaven is complete! and will be screened in england july 20. i will be here in the usa road tripping with my aussie friend around the western states ... so i'll have to catch the next screening, perhaps at the mill valley film festival! if you're lucky, it will be coming to a theater near you, too.

memorable memorial day (hill)

[gallery columns="5"]

memorial day 2010:

old boyfriend in town ...

quaint mill valley parade

gg bridge crossing on a perrrrrrfect day in the bay, even if we did lock our bikes outside the warming hut and forgot the key!

flag on porch

city island: must see

sharing secrets

neighbors, friends, community

requisite memday bbq

ahhhhhhhh summer

Two movies (Meg)

I've recently seen two excellent movies, Red Road and Cairo Time, and although on the face of it they couldn't be more different, they actually share the same slow aesthetic, superb acting, and skillful storytelling. And they both give glimpses into fully-realized worlds.



Red Road is set in Scotland. It is dark, confusing, disturbing, and ultimately very satisfying. During most of the movie I found myself thinking, "what the hell is going on here?" That feeling added to the overall dissonance I felt while watching it, but when the end came around, it all became clear in such a skillful way that I realized the confusion I'd felt was entirely the director's intent. Without giving too much away, the story focuses on a woman who earns a living by watching CCTV (government-sponsored closed circuit security camera) screens for a living. She's the one doing the job that you've known for a while has existed, but you've tried not to notice while she's noticing you! (Warning: this film has a very explicit sex scene.)



Cairo Time, on the other hand, is romantic, clear, and familiar. I once read a commentary on Jane Austen's books that said that nothing ever happens in her books and yet you can't wait to turn the page and see what doesn't happen next--that feeling also applies to this movie. In fact, there are many parallels to Jane Austen's stories in this movie and if you like them, you will probably like this movie. It is set, however, in contemporary Cairo, and the city is like an additional character involved in the romance. This movie is so well done that after watching it I felt full, as if I'd just eaten a delicious and satisfying meal. I loved it.

Interestingly, while Red Road is a much grimmer movie, it has a happier ending than the lighter Cairo Time does. They are both available on DVD, although Cairo Time is harder to find. I highly recommend them both!