Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow...now that I am inside

I had a hard final today and I’m behind in studying for my next two exams, but none of that matters because is it snowing. And that is a VERY big deal. Mainly because I’ve never lived in a place where it snows. And even though I’ve skied several times and traveled to snowy areas, I have very rarely spent a day in a place where it snows a lot. All day long. Until perfect puffy white piles lay nestled onto trees, ledges, and rooftops everywhere.

I always heard—from the people that know—that it doesn’t snow much in B’more. And when it does, it’s not for long, it doesn’t stick, and it doesn’t happen until Jan/Feb. So you can imagine my surprise when I noticed some flaky white things in the air as I drove to school today. And then my surprise when I got out of my final to see the world swept under a blanket of white. This, by the way, makes any city look beautiful. Between each class I ran up to the closest window (along with the other Cali kids) to see if the snow was still there. And each time, I could not help but point out to anyone who was near me that "It was snowing!" The kids from New England really loved that.

During the last few weeks I have been on a bit of a learning curve in terms of cold weather. I’ve learned that my warm jackets from California aren’t warm. And after realizing that the hard way, I’ve acquired a few real jackets and discovered things like “puffers” (wearable down comforters). So now I “know” how to do cold and I’ve got the right materials. When the weather station said there would be snow today, I thought to myself, “That’s probably not going to happen.” And then I smugly put on my leather riding boots and big puffer jacket knowing that snow or not, I’m totally down with the cold weather and can survive anything now that I am a seasoned resident of a wintry city. “Bring it on” I thought, as I left my apartment (where the thermostat is pretty much always above 75).

So I expected cold, but I did not expect to climb another steep section of my “Life in B’more” learning curve. When I walked back to my car after school I noticed that the pretty puffy white blanket I admired all day long also covered my car. Six hours of puffy white blanket, in fact. I almost passed my car ‘cause I did not recognize the shapeless white monstrosity it had become.

I saw other people wiping their cars off before driving with scraping thingies. So I thought maybe I should do the same. I put my stuff inside the car and discovered how heavy a trunk lid full of snow can be. When I finally propped it open, a bunch of snow fell in. Joy. Then, the only tool I could find to scrap my windows off with was a water bottle. The snow had not become icy so it actually worked quite well, but I didn’t have any gloves on. That was fine for a bit, but after five minutes outside shuffling snow off my car with a water bottle, I sorta lost feeling in my fingers.

More things I realized from the day’s adventures: windshield wipers aren’t just for rain; snow melts into water and then you become wet; wear gloves when handling large amounts of icy material outside; and, appreciate parking in an indoor garage.

After warming up and changing into better snow clothes, I went out to photograph the experience.

These are the rain boots the General got me for my b-day. They came in handy during my photo break!

These are snowflakes on my glove.

Where has the Evening Gone?

Sometimes when I feel overwhelmed to a medium degree (like 5 or 6 on a scale of 10), I respond by doing something completely unnecessary. Something that is not even on my radar of what needs to be done. Tonight I had two exams to study for and two papers to write, so what I ended up doing was this:

I've been wanting to make a picture wall for a long, long time. During the past few months I've slowly been collecting the frames and prints I wanted to display (thanks, in part, to some nice birthday gift cards). So this project has been in the works for a long, slow while, but tonight was the night that the magic happened!

Ta da!

Now...back to pathophys.

(P.S. I know the pictures aren't lined up symetrically. That is on purpose. It's to add whimsy and artistic flare. And I know not all of the frames are exactly straight yet. That is not on purpose. I need to buy a little leveler thingy from Home Depot--a project for another semi-busy evening.)

Spain Photos: Part 2

Here are a few more pictures from Spain (my April trip...I know, I know. This is very late. I blame life).

In case you are interested, Part 1 photos were posted here. I'll post some Maine ones when I'm done with Spain and the cross country trip.

A village in the Picos de Europa where we stopped for lunch.

Just something pretty we saw on the side of the road.


A village in the Picos de Europa



At/around our parador in Congas de Onis (the next three pictures).



A local cat chilling in the Northern Spain sunshine.

Like a Blister in the Sun

I went to a free Violent Femme concert last Friday night. As someone who desperately wanted to see them live during her 16-year-old punk/alternative concert-going days, I was thrilled to get to see them now (finally) and for free! I was also surprised that half the girls in my program didn't know who they were. More proof that I am old.

I told my mom that I was at a Violent Femme concert via text message. When I got home I saw this email:

"Why were you at a violent concert? I hope you are okay. Be careful."

I called her later and, apparently, after sending the email, my dad explained that the Violent Femmes are a band. We all laughed about it.

Speaking of generations and age....

One of my patients today thought I was 23. Great, right? Well it turns out she was blind. Apparently my voice sounded young.

Some random pictures:

A B'more sunset from my apartment the other night.














Lanterns over the concert venue.


















Note: For those from other generations, this title comes from one of the most well-known Violent Femme songs. Even the young people know it. Not by title though. You have to sing it.

Believing in the Underdog

I survived the cross-country trip and am now settled in Baltimore. So far I really love the city! It’s got so much history and fun little neighborhoods to explore. Prior to coming here I got lots of comments along the lines of, “Despite what you hear about it, Baltimore is great!” and “I was surprised how much I really liked it.” All the comments were full of affection but qualified as though they expected their opinions to be challenged. Or as though one might not believe how great the city is. I think I’m going to love this place in the same way that I loved Long Beach. It’s sort of like the underdog. It’s got some rough patches, but the rough paired with the good makes it all the more lovable.

Plus, I’ve only seen good things so far. The weather has been nice. I’m in love with my neighborhood and apartment (my actual space and the building). There are cute boys who invite me to parties in the elevator. The Inner Harbor is stunning in the way that only big cities on water can be (a cross between Sydney and San Francisco, in my opinion). There are lots of Indian places that deliver. Nothing is far away. I already have friends within a two block radius of my place (thanks to Laura!). The pool is on the 20th floor and is open for use starting this weekend. There’s a big mall about a mile away with all the important stores in it. There’s lots of coastline and water front areas to explore. What more could a girl want?

Baltimore is sometimes shortened to B’more. “Be More.” I like that philosophy. There seems to be some sort of campaign going on around the city with signs that say “Believe” everywhere. Kind of like this:
















Be More. Believe. This is my kind of place.

My parents left yesterday and I was really sad. I’d gotten used to being with them 24-7 and while that did drive me crazy at times, I felt sad without them initially. I think the problem with driving cross-country is that the distance is really felt. Flying for 6 hours from coast to coast is obviously the same distance, and sure, it’s a long day in the air. But when you travel all those miles by road…well….it just makes you feel that much further. You really get that you’re on one side of this great big country while everyone you love is way across on the other. I didn’t feel lonely, but I felt far, far away.

Last night I had dinner with my friend SC (from the year I lived in England) in Washington DC. It was great catching up with her but wow was it hard to drive out of that city! I got lost. It was dark. I was tired. I ended up taking the long way around only to stumble across a major traffic jam at 11:30 PM.

Today I went to the Baltimore Farmer’s Market with my new friend LK. I bought strawberries, asparagus and a rosemary plant. I avoided looking at the crepes, sausage sandwiches, and various pastries. But I knew they were there. Lurking in my periphery and calling me to feast.

After that, I went to a “Wine in the Woods” festival where they provided “ample tasting” for a small price. It was all green grass and big trees, sunshine and jazz, laughter and fair food, and lots and lots of Maryland vino. Did you know Maryland has many wineries? I did not. Some of it is really good. Although, after some ample tasting, what isn’t?

More Pictures from Spain

Some of my favorite pictures from Spain are now posted here.

I've only gone through about 1/3 of the photos so I'm sure more favorites will come.

When everything is done, I'll upload all of them to a Kodak Gallery to share.

Sand and Snow

Spain, the Miniseries part 9

During one of our days on the trip, we spent the morning exploring sunny beaches. We were dressed in tank tops, skirts, and sandals. After exploring the coast we headed inland to drive through a long, steep and winding gorge in the Picos de Europa National park. We planned to take a gondola ride up 6000’ to the top. What we didn’t plan on was snow. We were shocked to see snow at the base and even more surprised to see that the top was covered in thick white powder! We had jackets, but our bare feet were not prepared. It was funny...until my big toes started to lose feeling.

The Western Edge

Spain, the Miniseries part 6

For most of my life I’ve lived on the west coast of the US. The year I lived in England, I was in the North West, about a half hour from the coast. My favorite place in Ireland is the coast around Galway, near the Cliffs of Moher. It happens to be on the western edge of the island. I adore Baja California (on the west) and loved exploring the Italian Rivera (also on the west). Prior to coming to Spain, I knew I had a weakness for the western edges of things. Our visit to Spain, and specifically Galicia, was another example of this. There’s something about the western edge of things that I like. It could be because of the whole “frontier” philosophy associated with this direction. Maybe some of the ideology that paired exploration and adventure with all things “west” is passed along in genetic memory, and exists somewhere in my psyche. But I don’t think that’s why. I think it has to do more with the sun. When I am on on east coasts, it seems wrong that the sky over the water is dark as the day ends. It feels better to bid the day adieu as bright orangey light sinks into water.

Whatever the reason, western edges are my favorite. Maybe that is why I loved the Galicia region of Spain best.

Maybe my opinion on East Coasts will change when I move to the MD at the end of the week!

Boo!

Spain, the Miniseries part 5

I don’t know how I feel about ghosts, but we were in two distinct places on this trip that felt haunted. One night we stayed in a Medieval castle in a town that was still walled-in and cobblestone. The town was in the middle of the country and no cars could drive through the center (to protect the cobblestones). The whole thing felt like a flashback to middle age living. Our castle/hotel had thick stone walls, high open-beamed ceilings, large windows with big swinging wooden shutters, and creaky wooden floors. Our room was on the top floor at the end of a long hallway. The castle/hotel was quiet and the town was completely silent at night. Everything felt really empty. I couldn’t help but think about all the people, lives and events that had passed through those walls prior to us being there. I don’t know if ghosts were there per se, but the place felt haunted by history. And with the quiet isolation and the creaky wood, both KA and I were too afraid to get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. It didn’t help that I was reading a book about vmpires in Europe at the time. I went to sleep after KA, and I was too afraid to turn off the TV. I watched the Spanish version of what I think was Dancing with the Stars until I felt distanced enough from any lingering haunting feelings.

A couple of days later, we took a steep, desolate, pin-turn winding drive up over a mountain to visit a small village. Santo Andres de Teixido is nestled into rugged, green cliffs on the north-west corner of the European continent. There was a church there that had been involved in pilgrimages for many years. Prior to that, it had been a Celtic village and our guide book told of some interesting traditions involving potions, an annual orgy and beliefs about reincarnation into reptiles. The place felt desolate, old and steeped in history. The old people who lived there gave us dirty looks as we drove in. The church was dark and empty, and it felt scary. So much that KA and I didn’t even want to walk in. We didn’t feel comfortable in the village in general, and we left as soon as we snapped a couple of pictures and figured out how to get out there (there was a little issue with the map...)

(This picture doesn't necessarily have to do with either of the haunted places, but it is a scary gargoyle.)

Pilgrims, Pilgrims

This is the next installment of Spain, the Miniseries.

I haven’t thought much about Pilgrims since I read Canterbury Tales in college. And just to clarify, I’m not talking about the kind that came to Plymouth and began the gluttony-filled Thanksgiving tradition we all know and love here in the US. I’m talking about those pilgrims driven out of religious fervor to walk hundreds and hundreds of miles to a specific holy location to worship, pray for forgiveness/healing, or the like. Well Northern Spain, apparently, has a famous and well-traveled pilgrim route that goes all the way from the Pyrenees in France to the most western region, Galicia. It ends at the great cathedral in Santiago de Compostela. The trail is marked with scallop shells and when people successfully arrive in Santiago, they celebrate by buying and eating a scallop. Then they would hang the shell from them or their stuff to show that they’ve completed the pilgrimage.

Well this route has been popular dating back all the way to…well, a long time ago. I don’t have the guide book in front of me but suffice it to say it was probably during those ages where pilgrimages were very fashionable. Back in the Middle Ages I think. Apparently, in the 1970’s this particular pilgrimage route become popular once again, especially within more Bohemian circles.

KA and I decided to stop in to see Santiago. It has a great story and I’m always a fan of seeing beautiful old things. The city was set up on an acropolis of sorts and old stone buildings with intricate carvings were everywhere. The cathedral was certainly grand. And the fact that it was a sunshiny day with deep blue skies and big puffy white clouds only made the scene more striking. What was most striking to me about the city was that there really were pilgrims everywhere! They were sprawled out in the big square in front of the cathedral. They were laughing and talking in groups, no doubt swapping stories from their adventures. Many sat with their legs (probably swollen) propped out in front of them looking up at the spires with that silly, gleeful look I’ve often seen on the faces of people at the end of marathons and other endurance tests.

KA and I are not religious and we did not in any means walk the route to Santiago (which apparently takes 5-6 weeks). We took more modern means of transportation and drove. But since our visit was at the end of the trip, and since we’d encountered and survived many adventures prior to standing underneath those imposing towers, we felt we deserved a scallop shell too.

Here are a few pictures of the cathedral and the pilgrims visiting it.