Mini Post – Paris

Bonjour mes Amis! 

I will soon be off to the City of Lights, croissants, love, absinthe, art, cheese, water lilies, tombs, and a million other lovely things. As an art historian and writer, this is my pilgrimage and Paris my Mecca.

Early Morning Planning

Although you cannot come with me, I will do my best to immerse all of you into my travels and discoveries. Soon, I will post pictures and videos about my exploration into Parisian culture and the city’s rich history. Although to truly experience the inspiration this research adventure will spark, you will have to wait until the second book of The Histories of Idan.

I can promise you, that each day I will eat a buttery pastry, drink at least two Café au lait , walk until my feet fall off, write until my fingers are numb, and gaze myself into an art coma.

À bientôt!

P.S. If you have a favorite nook or site in Paris you love, please clue me in!

Story Mapping

A mash-up of art, history, and adventure…

A colleague of mine showed me the vortex that is the  Knight Lab’s Story Map creator. Although I am not particularly savvy about all things technology, my understanding is that it is a tool which allows you to map out stories using world maps or colossal images. Since I am both a writer and art historian, they had me at “story map.”  It’s also an awesome note-taking/research tool because you can add anecdotes or thoughts to landmarks, streets, or paintings.

Currently, I am using it to trace Viola’s next adventure through Paris but I could not resist returning to Florence. So, more than a few hours later, I now have a story map for Lost in the City of Flowers that gives each traveler a peek into the world of the young Leonardo da Vinci, grand cathedrals, and narrow streets of Renaissance Florence. I will let the Lost in the City of Flowers’ Story Map do the rest of the talking.

NOLA

Dreamy days sustained by salt water, samba, and soul sisters.

It’s that giddy feeling somewhere between extreme gratitude and nervous excitement.  You know the one. That’s how I felt, sitting in 34D, getting ready to take off at 6:30 am. As the months turn to years, I have less opportunities to enjoy the company of my favorite people, simultaneously, on this pale blue dot.

For one serendipitous reason after another, a few of the amazing girls I met in grad school, moved to the Big Easy.  Naturally, I am always looking for a reason to visit. Three weeks ago, when I received two unrelated phone calls, one from my younger sister, Teresa, and the second one from my friend Garima, letting me know they were going to NOLA in August, I immediately began my frantic search for a decent ticket. This collection of incredible women came together so naturally, I am not sure if we could have planned it better. Two window-seat-rides and twenty-something days later, I was loading my backpack into a veteran minivan packed with lovely lasses. Elation was the sensation that filled the car as we rolled by swampy landscapes, concrete suburbs, and risky advertisements.

Although this is my third trip to Nola, it surely won’t be the last. The city has a charm that I can only describe as Cajun. It’s an eclectic and savory medley of spices that’s difficult to separate. That said, I don’t return for the pralines, beignets, or spiked ice tea. Nor do I go for the hybrid architecture, creole dishes, or soul music. I go for Cristina, Leah, and Cari, the three magical girls that live there. They are all artists at heart but different manifestations of creativity. I met them, and Garima, in grad school. Our acquaintance has been shorter than others but it was love a first chat. There is something about a woman’s 20’s and 30’s. All that growing and changing makes for a more vulnerable person and more intimate interactions. Instead of that painful physical change of adolescence, this era is somewhat of a mental scavenger hunt for identity.

Despite being in Nola, we didn’t wander from one tipsy encounter to another. Although there was a bit of that, we spent our last steamy summer days cooking, eating, and confessing to the soundtrack of Leah’s records or banjo. We did do some more finite things too which I think is best told through a photo montage.

Balconies

Iced Bailey’s and Cathedral

Cristina Molina’s work at Contemporary Arts Center New Orleans

Cooking

Lines

Island

Mermaids

Sisters

Record Session

Kim and Banjo

Samba Bundi

Internet in South Korea

Across the seas.

When my brother moved to South Korea, I barely heard from him. I thought, “Maybe it’s hard to get internet over there,” or “Internet might be really expensive.” It turns out that his procrastination and/or laziness were to blame. Yet, I am happy to report that he finally bit the bullet and joined the cyberworld.

Internet or not internet, I wish there was a word that better describes the feeling of missing someone. We need a word for that. I usually get waves of that forlorn feeling when I think of a clever joke, want extra cheesy mac ‘n’ cheese, listen to a certain melancholic melody, or just want to talk in circles around the same idea… That’s when I miss my brother the most. I think of him across the seas, and I can’t help but smile at his bravery. So this is me tipping my hat off to John A. Trujillo for being a true explorer, and an official badass.

We moved around a lot growing up because my Dad was in the U.S Air Force. As military brats and third culture kids we packed our bags, flew off to another country, and struggled to make new lives and friends on another patch of Earth. Most of these “fresh starts” were in South or Central America, so we were never forced to move somewhere completely out of our Spanish-speaking comfort zone. When we relocated back to the U.S in 2005, culture shock set in.

Not being able to get in anywhere past 10pm or roam aimlessly through old cities was hard. Worse yet was the thought of staying in one place for the unforeseeable future. Even now, after a couple of years in one place, my soul feels restless. Occasionally, I pull up Google Maps and try to plot new adventures or concoct semi-rational plans that involve moving to another spot on the globe. I think that’s how my sisters and brother feel too. The difference is, he did it.

I’m sort of ashamed to say how I first reacted when John told me he was thinking of moving to South Korea. For serendipitous reasons, John and I hadn’t really been apart for more than a couple of months at a time. So the thought of him moving so far seemed pretty lame to me. My immediate reaction was to list all the potential obstacles and terrible scenarios. Words can barely scratch the surface of how glad I am that he totally ignored everything I said.

“We need the tonic of wildness… ” —Henry David Thoreau

Last February, he quit his job and moved to South Korea to teach English in small town to children of all ages. Not only does he have to come up with plans to engage toddlers and teenagers but he’s learning Korean, and studying to apply to architecture school. When I don’t feel much like researching or am hesitant about something, I think of him and am constantly inspired by his courage and perseverance.

Old Meets New

Although I am a self-proclaimed explorer, I don’t really deserve the title, he does. He’ll most likely be in South Korea for another year and a half. Short of hanging out with him, I couldn’t be happier that he is having such an epic adventure and doing it so well. Whether he is helping old ladies carry their groceries, teaching kids English, or dancing on stage at an MIA concert, he’s braving cultural divides. If your own journey  takes you to South Korea you should contact him, he’s one of the raddest people you will ever meet. Scout’s honor.