Just like that. The sun rises once again beneath the grey clouds that have been masking the country of Armenia since the day I arrived. The sun is still not visible, but it is light out. I have not slept that well, but only because my mind has been racing with excitement of experiences had… Continue reading Just like that! GoodBye Rafael, GoodBye Irina, GoodBye Adría: Armenia Part I
When we decided to take the hike to beautiful Preikestolen, my friends and I knew that the well placed signage and semi challenging but not impossible trail would get us up to a magical and serene vantage point. Enough research had been done. What we didn’t know was the emotions that would be stirred… Continue reading Unfearful of Death; Unfearful of Living.
Now there are hundreds of yoga retreats to choose from, but one that is on an isolated island in Ireland led by a seasoned practitioner and teacher of yoga, who is trained in Los Angeles by names such as Ana Forrest, Maty Ezraty, amongst many others, offers up her diverse training and personality to her students… Continue reading How to get to Heir Island, Ireland for a Yoga Retreat?
My head was tilted at a 45 degree angle towards the rear of the barber’s chair, while the freshly placed razor was all ready to do its deed. The Algerian man slightly brought my head closer to the headrest, feeling the tension in my body as he slid the razor in a northerly fashion from the bottom of… Continue reading Trusting the Sharp Razor and the Barber Who Held It
I know I wasn’t on the west coast anymore when I woke up to children playing in the plaza, while their parents were nursing their Sunday morning hangovers with cafe con leche and or cerveza. The vendors were slowly setting up the not so comfortable metallic chairs and tables for a sunny day of drinking… Continue reading Palo Alto Market: Not in California Anymore
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Door.” The opportunities of travel I had while living in Europe were plentiful and inexpensive. On one of two trips to Magical Morocco, I had the opportunity to go to northern town in Chefchaouen, a city covered in blue. It was almost impossible to put my… Continue reading One Door Closes, Many Open
The trail of tears began as my ex accompanied me to the airport. I was unable to stop crying as I entered the international departures. The police officers asked that I take my sunglasses off, only to discover that a grown man with a beard is sobbing (and nothing wrong with that). The flight attendants treaded lightly around me as they noticed that with each serving of wine, the saga continued.