German Christmas Market

A Handmade Life

Sometimes, life just shines. For me, it always seems to happen when I feel at my lowest point. It's like the universe finds a really dramatic way of reminding me just how silly I am for ever thinking the world is a bad place.

I decided to enter a scholarship contest for a journalism conference I've been wanting to attend for years. Maybe this year will be different. After all, I got a scholarship to London so perhaps the scholarship gods are still up there, waiting to gift me with something else. The only problem is, I've been way too busy to get my materials together. So, of course, I did it at the absolute last minute. That resulted, as it always does, in tons of stress and way too much effort.

The path actually started in Germany, where my friends Sonja and Dominic helped me by rushing to the store to buy me a new color ink cartridge and waiting with me for two hours while the printer slooooooooowly coughed out each sheet. Dominic was in charge of the computer and Sonja was the organizer of each particular story. I needed five copies of each and there were two stories per entry and four entries in total. I didn't have enough of what they printed, so when I went to my friend Uschi's, she and her husband printed me out another 7 copies. Then I called T in London and asked if he could print me another 30 pages at work.

Still, it wasn't enough. So I got up early this morning and rushed to a color copy shop then on to a computer/print shop, where I found a few stories online and put them into a word document, then my friend at the print shop printed them out for me. He was apparently reading my stories and commenting on them as they came out. "I like how you described that restaurant owner," he laughed. "If you get the scholarship, you should take me to dinner as a thanks for helping you make your deadline."

He was really quite funny. He was also correcting the prices of the meals in my stories by showing me where I indicated prices in dollars rather than pounds. Perhaps I should hire him as my editor!

I was running down the street to get to the Post Office, knowing already I was late for my lunch date with my friend Erica. Still, I had to wait in the enormously long queue because the Office was closing soon. While there, I ended up talking to a darling woman about the size of a baby kangaroo (or joey, for those of you who learned the proper name in elementary school), who was from the West Indies. She'd come to London 30 years ago to work on the railway. She told me how she only made 5 pounds a week and had to use a public bath that was only available to women on Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays and men on Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays. That meant she only bathed three times a week.

She told me how she worked so hard, from 5 a.m. to 2 a.m. each day and now, people come here from all over the world and get free health care and free lodging. She didn't seem bitter, though. She traveled the world and has been to every country in the UK except Ireland. Suddenly, I didn't want the line to be shorter.

Even the guy at the Post Office who helped me mail off my package was grinning from ear to ear. He was a far cry from all the grumpy folks I normally encounter behind the glass.

My phone ran out of credit so I couldn't let Erica know I was running late. Thankfully, when I got to Notting Hill, she was munching on a croissant and smiling. We found a darling little Italian deli with an orange VW bug in the window, displaying some freshly made pizza in its window. We shared some delicious mushroom pizza and another with ham, then we walked down Portobello Road and perused all the market stalls.

When she left, I stopped in a few of the boutiques and found an incredible designer whose clothing was very Betsey Johnson-ish. I was captivated by her designs and felt like Cinderella on the night of the ball. I tried on the most beautiful things. There was a skirt made of fabric so light and delicate it was as if I was wearing skin. It was compltely see-through, but I didn't really feel all that self-conscious, standing in the open doorway as half of London walked by, looking in. I felt so lovely in it, I wanted to glue it to my body. She said she'd put in a black underskirt for me and gave me a discount. Then, I tried on a dress made entirely of scarves. It was a patchwork of color and has an open back and a halter top. She took in the chest (no big surprise) for me and will hand tailor it for me by Wednesday. She gave me a 30 pound discount on that one. I felt very exclusive.

The guitar music is still floating through the air and my dinner guests and I have been laughing, talking and remembering just how lovely the world can be, thanks to all the wonderful examples from my day. Kind of makes you excited to wake up each morning. You honestly never know what's going to happen!

A Private Concert

A man is playing guitar in my living room right now. It's like I've got my own private concert. He's actually very good. And he sings a bit. I just made a fabulous dinner of kamut pasta with sauteed zucchini and red peppers, roasted cherry tomatoes and chicken. I put a fantastic Italian artichoke and garlic cream over it and it was simply marvelous. I ate it with K's girlfriend W and her friend J. J is a delightful gentleman who unfortunately lost his sense of smell 30 years ago. Still, he enjoys the texture of food, as it's all he has to go on. Amazing what some people have to live with.

I made rice pudding with basmati rice, coconut milk and loads of frozen berries. We had tea and J played a million soothing songs on his guitar. Heaven!

Beware of the Belly!

I was just pummeled by a belly. Seriously. I was standing on the airplane, waiting for my turn to get to my seat, when a man with a shiny bald head and rather enormous stomach decided to put something in the overhead compartment behind me. He was a bit hasty in doing so, however, and knocked me into the woman behind me with his stomach as he attempted to get by. This was not a tiny nudge. This was a surprising, rather forceful, jolt. I believe I said “Ay!” and then “Oh!” or something like that. I made a really loud sound. It just came out. And the woman behind me grabbed onto me, but fell back also. It was a bit scary.

I have nothing against bellies, of course. I just don’t like it when they’re used as weapons.

Taking a Deep Breath

As the plane was taking off, I got the strangest feeling inside. It was a voice. Not mine and not an actual human voice. It was like a whisper of thought. It said: “The fear is gone. There is nothing to be afraid of.”

Just like that, I was pierced by the awareness that it’s all going to be okay. No matter what. In whatever time it takes, life itself will work out. I will work out. If I lose my fear, I gain anything that was getting in the way before. That just might be everything.

What Are You Carrying With You?

I saw a man silently hand his wife a very heavy backpack on the bus. She already had a bag on her lap, but he just sort of shoved it at her, forcing her to move her bag and readjust to the new weight he’d placed upon her body. It made me wonder, what sorts of things do we carry with us? How much baggage do we take with us everywhere we go? Even more, how much do we accept from someone else that we didn’t have before?

Wilkommen in Deutschland

My most treasured saying in life is this: the journey is the reward. I wholeheartedly agree. But I agree, even more, that just because you are on a journey does not mean it will be an easy one. There are times in all of our lives, when we are called to experience something painful. In many ways, my trip to Europe has fulfilled this description. I’ve been forced to confront myself here. There are absolutely no walls anymore. I have so much time to think and I find that this alone makes me vulnerable. It is like the very thin veil of skin that has covered my soul has been torn away. And it’s never going to grow back.

This trip has been a rite of passage for me. I have been forced to think about things I wouldn’t have thought about back home when I was mired in deadlines, oil changes and traffic jams. Here there is nothing but me.

Things I’m Thinking Right Now (at the Nurnberg Airport):

That middle-aged woman should not be wearing leather pants.

The bathrooms here are really clean.

Why didn’t that girl wash her hands? So few people wash their hands. I thought women were better about that, but I’m sadly mistaken. I want to vomit when I’m in women’s restrooms. From what I’ve observed only 3 out of every 10 women wash their hands.

Can everyone see the giant hole in the back of my skirt I’ve fastened with a safety pin? If so, I’m really glad my underwear matches my turtleneck.

I’m really glad everyone is speaking German to me. Even as a blonde, I must look German!

Belly Laughs

Right now, a man is stretching like a corpulent cat, in front of me. He seems completely nonplussed by the fact that he’s in a very public place, exposing more skin than should be legal, for anyone who accidentally looks his way (God help them). His face is peach-colored, and his belly is taut and bloated the way a boa constrictor might look if it were to eat a goat. When he stretched, his shirt clearly wanted to run away and got as far as his chest, leaving that bauble of flesh exposed for all the world to see. I was just trying to take in more of Switzerland’s beauty. Clearly, my translation needs work.

A Moment in Zurich

The flight from London to Zurich was uncomfortable for me. I sat next to an Indian couple and even though the woman smiled warmly when I sat down, I had the strangest awareness that she was talking about me nearly the entire flight. I’m not a paranoid person, but I think you can tell when someone is talking about you. Language, I now realize, isn’t a requirement. I could feel her staring at me quite a bit. She was watching everything I did. She watched me stir my tea, read my book, write in my journal and take out a bag of brownies. At times, she started laughing. Not a cute, shy sort of laugh, but a clear mark of someone poking fun at another person. I have no clue what she was saying or why she would even concern herself, but she did. And to make matters worse, she kissed and cuddled her husband nonstop and it made me want to barf. I did have a good cup of tea, though. It was already made. I’m telling you, Europeans know tea!

When I got off the plane and walked toward my connecting flight, I caught a glimpse of rolling hills, green, green trees and the most darling gingerbread cottages tucked into the hillside. I had what can only be described as a visual orgasm. It was like accidentally stumbling upon God’s garden. At first I was walking rather hastily in the direction of my plane, but I found that I could no longer control my feet from stopping dead in their tracks. I just stood and stared out at the vast and beautiful Swiss landscape. I feel a bit sad for all those years I lost doing silly things like eating chocolate bars and looking for toy stores. I have traveled for 30 years and for the first 25 or so, was never truly able to internalize my experiences. As a child I had opportunities most people could only dream of, but I was too young to understand. Now things are so different. I find that it’s nearly impossible for me not to absorb absolutely everything around me. Sometimes, it’s to the point of being overwhelming. There is so much beauty in this world. I never knew beauty could hurt, but if you take it all in, really feel it, it aches with a tenderness too delicate for words.

Addendum: Switzerland from the air is 11 million times more breathtaking. Note to self: buy wings.

A Few Amusing Things at the Heathrow Airport:

Apparently, you can get bubblegum vodka shots in the café upstairs.

CDs are cheaper by 2 pounds than anywhere else in the city.

They now sell novels in vending machines. It’s called “Novel Idea.”

The security guards in training are lovely. Three of them stopped me on the way to my departing flight and it seemed that their only goal was to make me laugh. As is customary when I travel, I am always unable to find my tickets or passport, I drop my coat and generally, I’m the equivalent of someone on percoset. Upon seeing this, the gentlemen helped me unzip my bag, offered to carry it for me, walked me to the escalator and wished me a Merry Christmas. I was laughing all the way to the gate. What is it with me and positive experiences with the normally grumpy and unresponsive security personnel at airports?

I had to buy contact solution AGAIN at the airport drugstore. This time it was my fault. I ran out of solution.

A Day and Night on the Town

Last Friday, T and I went all over London. Back to Wagamama, then to St. James Park, to the Institute of Contemporary Art, to see the Christmas tree in Trafalgar Square and down a host of darling streets, including New Bond Street, Haymarket and the male-centered Jermyns, street, which is known for their suit shops, pipe and tobacco shops, tie shops and of all things, a shop that sells only high end razors and shaving brushes. There was actually a brush for $200 usd. Why a man would need that, I’ll never know, but I suppose the rich need a playground too. We passed a cheese shop that smelled very cheesy, called Paxton and Whitfield’s. Across the street, two men were playing “Jingle Bells” on the steel drums. The streets in London are alive with lights. Even on the windy, cold and rainy days, you just can’t help but smile. And even if you no longer like Christmas, you can’t help but be pulled in by its festive beauty.

We then went to the Tate Modern, to see the famous crack in the floor, and then to Fish!, a lovely, but very overpriced fresh fish restaurant. I enjoyed my side order of celery, fennel and carrots sautéed in olive oil, and the sea bass was cooked perfectly. T’s dish of sea scallops wrapped in bacon was delicious, but there were only four very tiny scallops and a portabella mushroom, priced at around $40 usd. Ridiculous! We shared a bowl of chips (French fries) with mayonnaise and a basket of bread from the Borough Market. I came home, made sugar free brownies and packed for my trip.

The Votes Are In...

It's official...I'm 1/3 of a pastry chef now! I just finished (and passed) the first part of the pastry program at the Cordon Bleu in London. The program is broken up into Basic, Intermediate and Superior and I will receive my Basic Patisserie Certificate. This is a photo of my final cake. It got smooshed in my bag on the way home. My professor said the ganache was nice and the glacage was nice. Nice is good!

Deciding Your Own Fate?

“It’s a rare thing to get one a ‘ese,” said a portly man on the tube, as he wedged himself rather artfully into one of the seats.

“I always have to stand, sometimes an hour,” he said to his mate while eating half a chocolate bar.

His face was a bit flushed and he had several gold rings on his stubby fingers. I secretly wondered if perhaps it was because he was unable to remove them.

Looking at him, I suddenly wondered, do we always get exactly what we expect? He seemed to me the kind of man who’d lived a challenging life, perhaps one of great physical toil. What struck me the most was the fact that, to him, getting a seat on the train seemed to be something of a big deal. Something he wasn’t used to. So, an easy life might not be something this guy was used to. Was it because he never had an easy life as a child? Or did he just decide one day that life was hard and therefore, it was? Sometimes I think about self-fulfilling prophecies and have to wonder if they’re real. For years before I came to London, I told myself I was coming to London. I believed it. I told strangers about it. I told my family about it. I spoke as if it were already a reality, long before it was. I’ve also noticed that when I’m sad or feel any kind of doubt, it’s a feeling that can linger as long as I want it to. And it usually does. Sadness is something that can grab hold of you, strangle you, even, but what we don’t often realize is that we’re the ones with our own hands around our necks. We think it’s an outside force causing our misery, but really, it’s us. We decide that we’re going to be unhappy. Same goes for happiness, luck, good fortune, sitting down on the tube. Whatever you want is usually yours. At least, that’s what I tend to think. Am I wrong? I could be, but only if I think so…

The Most Amazing Fruit

Seriously, how can you not stop and marvel at this lovely gift of nature? I haven't ever really seen a dragon fruit before and have certainly never eaten one. Its flesh is creamy and comes out with the slightest effort from its shell. It tastes of a slightly sweet kiwi, with a dash of lychee flavor thrown in. I can't say that I love it, though, as it is a bit too saccharine for me. But its beauty, well, nothing quite compares.

God is Everywhere

I had an overwhelming urge to cry and never stop, to open my soul like a tap and let all the liquid sadness pour out. His hums echoed in my chest like a veil of warmth. It was like a magic rain, falling from heaven.

It was then I realized that God is all around me, in the walls of my apartment, in the sound of cars honking on the street, in the voice of a stranger humming on the tube.

I only noticed him because he was wearing bright red shiny sneakers. He also carried a purple umbrella. I tried craning my body towards where he stood to hear his hums above the din on the train. It was crazy loud but yet, I could hear him clearly, as if he were singing just to me. I don't know what he was humming, but it vibrated, shook the whole train. No one seemed to notice, though. Was it just me?

His humming was electric. It soothed me the same way I'd imagine sitting in a room with the Dalai Lama to feel. A peace that outweighs any pain you may have hiding inside. An understanding that feels almost instinctive. It felt like a warm pair of arms wrapping themselves around me, cradling me with love.

I ran up to him when he got off the tube. It just happened to be my stop. I gave him a note that said, "Your music moved me. Thank you." He was beaming. He asked me my name and told me his was Christopher. Turns out the song is something he's been working on for a few years now and it's called "Cradle me Now."

We talked a bit before the next train and he said, "The song is about the way we all just need to be cradled sometimes, physically and psychically." Amazing.

I told him I'd been going through a rough patch and that his song made me feel better. He seemed so genuinely empathetic. He told me he was sorry and that he was glad his song touched me. We talked of our lives and he asked of my ethnic background. Turns out he's Irish and Rwandan. Very interesting combination.

I left the train with a new sort of peace I've never had before. Maybe ever. I'm not religious, but for the first time, I saw God in a complete stranger. I know they say God works in mysterious ways. I didn't believe it until now.

Pink Macaroons

Of course, I made these. Pink macaroons filled with raspberry jam. Didn't try them, but have heard they tasted pink!

I Love YouTube!

Here are a few of my favorite videos from YouTube:

Michael Bolton singing opera
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkrCMI2fXTo

Pavarotti, Enrique Iglesias and a large children's choir
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tD3mr2d-khg&feature=related

Very Cool UK Artist
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mfxaoSczi6Y

Kate Nash
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VH2yvdGM7YA
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=orACIBjHuI4&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QsoLMXHhx2k&feature=related

Breakdancing baby
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FiNUkDnDMFA&feature=related

Michael Jackson videos
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZI9OYMRwN1Q
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aSqo17o2a1w

Justin Timberlake clearly learned everything from Michael Jackson (when he was "normal"). Man he could dance!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RQz_0Z0nE2Q&feature=related

Indian Thriller
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LbvP7dT3Dx0&feature=related

7 Things to Do When You're Sad

Buy exotic Asian fruits you've never tasted before.

Take pictures of said exotic fruits.

Look up song lyrics you've always been curious about.

Make a spicy chili stir fry.

Eat fresh blackberries with coconut cream.

Go grocery shopping. Man handle the vegetables.

Blow your nose after eating spicy chili stir fry.