Vagabonding: Toronto

Toronto is a seriously lovely city.  It was the 3rd stop on my epic road trip of 2008.  There was a great deal of walking, and shivering- Canada is still so cold in April- burr!  

2 hostels, one brewery tour, a hockey game, wandering around Chinatown in the rain, Tim Horton's, and meeting a Frenchman from Paris who was planning to couch surf and bus tour around Mexico.  I have often wondered how that Mexico trip worked out for him...

The brewery tour was a highlight.  If you've never toured a brewery, you should.  They basically keep the free beer flowing from the time you enter to the time you leave.  Can't beat that.

The first night we stayed in this very cool hostel that was packed with travelers, so full that I ended up having to room with all dudes.  My roomies seemed to be European backpackers.  One guy was in grandpa pajamas in bed, all day and all night, a Frommer's North America guidebook by his bedside.  I assumed he was either sick or exhausted.

When we finally turned in for the night I attempted to warm up with the provided blanket but it absolutely reeked of body odor.  I ended up using my coat as a cover.  Just when I thought I might get some sleep, a very loud and clearly drunk German guy came storming in and proceeded to snore all. night. long.  This prompted a very hasty booking of a different hostel with a private room for the next few nights.  I also very immediately regretted this decision once I started reading online reviews- bedbugs! BEDBUGS! AHH!!

*Note to self- read reviews first

Thankfully though, we made it through unscathed, no bed bug bites to speak of.  But that "hostel" was still incredibly weird.  One online reviewer described it as something out of a horror movie, can't say I totally disagree with that.  The common areas were gross and so, completely avoided.  There was a white powder sprinkled along the baseboards of the room which is clear evidence of an attempt to combat bed bugs.  In the end, it was just a place to sleep.  The bathrooms were so bad that I didn't even shower.  This came to be the norm on the road though, I showered when I could.

Despite these things, Toronto was sort of a turning point for me.  I came to embrace the lack of home comforts in exchange for the excitement and thrill of the unknown.  It was in Toronto that I realized I was living a dream.  I'll never forget having my morning coffee in some random coffee shop and thinking, this is it- this is what I've been missing.  My time was my own, I was wherever I wanted to be.  The freedom was incredible.

The fashion district through a windshield.


Chinatown blur.


That's me.


Me again.


Canadiana Backpacker's


Bridge to somewhere.


Setting sun.


Steam Whistle brewery.


Beer bottle cap couture.


Hey, let's go to a hockey game.


CN tower.

“To awaken quite alone in a strange town is one of the pleasantest sensations in the world.” – Freya Stark  

Me, a Mom

I was looking through photos the other night, photos that should hopefully one day make it into Francie's baby book (if I ever get my act together with that).  So there I am, going through memories of Francie's birth, her first month, and she was beside me and oh so curious as to what I was so interested in.  So I showed her and I asked her, "Francie, who's this?"

"Momma, Momomomma!"  

And looking at those pictures of us, hearing my baby calling me Momma, it just seemed unreal for a minute.  Because whoa- I am someones Mom.  I am a Mom.  It's so heavy, it's so much.

One day you go from just being you, to being everything to this little person.  You are needed like you've never been needed before.  You have to step up in a way that you never have before.

To be a Mom is to be everything- a nurse, a cook, a housekeeper, a chauffeur, a hairdresser, an atm, an occasional embarrassment, a story teller, a hugger, a shoulder to cry on, a shelter from the storm, a teacher,  a friend, a constant.  The list goes on and on.

And in that minute, it just hit me.  I am not just me anymore; for the past 9+ months I have been more than just me.  I am me, a Mom.  For the rest of our lives, I am Francie's Momma.

Things to do during a snowstorm

Stay warm with vegetable soup. 

 Ooo and Ahh out the windows while taking pictures.

Snack. 

 Papercrafts.

Start walking.

Not pictured- drink lots of hot tea and coffee, stay in pajamas all day, watch episodes of Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares, snuggle a sweet baby.

Happy Camper

I'm dreaming of a weekend in the woods...

Flannel, Jeans, Hat- Forever 21
Socks, Gloves- H&M
Boots- Steve Madden


Okay, I'm not really a big camper but this outfit just makes me want to sit around a campfire with a cup of Irish coffee.  This shirt is my favorite, I've had it for going on 4 years!  And I just love my mitten/fingerless gloves.  These are the only kind of gloves I'll wear anymore.

This looks lovely, no?

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Ah well, a girl can dream...


The Pleated Poppy, Transatlantic Blonde

Vagabonding: Welcome to Miami

For my 26th birthday Martin surprised me with a trip to Miami.  I had lived in Central Florida from 2005 to early '08 but had never made it down there.  I was pretty excited to get back to the sunshine state, if only for a few days.

When I think of Miami, I picture a scene straight out of The Birdcage- beautiful people crowding the streets and beaches day and night, a city full of culture, tropical drinks and delicious eats, all those fun things.  What greeted us in Miami was quite a different scene.

We stayed in a nice enough hotel in Miami beach, a little farther up from South.  Just about every other building along the street appeared empty, or in some state of disrepair.  It seemed that the economic crisis had hit hard.  Even huge resorts and hotels along the beach were abandoned, construction clearly came to a halt and the only inhabitants left were homeless cats.  Hundreds of homeless cats.

September in Miami is still the low season.  For the most part we had the beach to ourselves.  We wandered down to Ocean Drive and it was pretty quiet there too.  We were both surprised and maybe a little disappointed, although we aren't the type to go out clubbing all night.

We went downtown to explore, got rained on (par for the course in Florida), ate tacos, drank sangria, and bought silly souvenirs.  Speaking of which, we nearly had our gator snow globe confiscated by the TSA until one reasonable supervisor realized that we were just a couple a touristy kids and the palm-sized tchotchke in our backpack probably wasn't a threat to national security.  Remember folks- weapons, flammables, snow globes- not permitted!

Official

 Today we went downtown to the Ministry of Interior and picked up my lichna karta, my Bulgarian i.d.  I am now officially a resident of Bulgaria for the next year.  Looks like I'll have to start carrying my wallet around with me again.

It's been a bit of a long road to get here, a lot of documents and bureaucracy, a lot of money.  But it feels good.  I feel settled, if only for the next 11 months. 

 As if that isn't reason enough to celebrate, I'm also marking 6 months as an expat.  I've been thinking a lot about what that means to me.  And to be honest with you, I'm really not sure.  My life here in Bulgaria feels normal, in my day to day life I don't feel like an outsider.  Despite the obvious language barrier, I feel comfortable and at home for the most part.

I think living in a few different cities in other parts of the US and my previous stays in Bulgaria have helped acclimate me.  Life in central Florida was quite a change of pace from Philly and life in Alaska was worlds away from the Northeast and the South.  I don't spend much time focusing on the cultural differences like I did my first two times here.

In all honesty, my role as a stay-at-home Mom has been more of an adjustment for me.  I took on both of these new identities at the same time and "Mom" has certainly trumped "expat".  In some ways, it probably helped significantly to be focusing on my daughter instead of myself in this new experience.  My days of navel-gazing are long gone.

All of this isn't to say that my life as an expat has been a breeze.  But it hasn't been a struggle either.  We've met somewhere in the middle, my expat life and I.  I have my moments of frustration, my moments of longing for the comforts of home.  Some days all I want to do is wake up to a Dunkin Donuts coffee, wander aimlessly around Target, eat a buffalo chicken cheesesteak, and top it off with a chocolate milkshake.  (To be fair, I could have 2 out of those 4 things here, but it's just not the same!)

 It is what it is.  American life is there waiting for me, waiting with open arms and Target shopping trips and 20 ounce coffees.  But for now, Bulgaria is home.

So tonight we'll toast to the next step in the journey, to the next 11 months and my newfound status: Official resident of Bulgaria.          

Scavenger Hunt

My first scavenger hunt post in quite awhile.  Without further ado, a glimpse into my world this week(mostly)-

Sunset:

Downtown Sofia, winter 2009

Black and White:

Exterior design at Rila Monastery

A day in my life:

Four:

Colorful:

Thrift Store Score

Clothing here in Europe is, in general, more expensive than in the states.  No Forever 21 or Target here, people (insert sad face).  I really haven't bought any clothes since I've lived in Bulgaria- that's 6 months without shopping!  For reals.

  

So when the urge strikes like it did a couple days ago, I had a few options- go to the mall and browse through racks of overpriced clothes or go to the second hand store across the road.  Thrift store for the win!  I haven't always had luck in there but this time I came away with one really pretty top (for 3 bucks!).

Jeans- Forever21, Boots- das Mokassin Gefuhl

At first I thought it might be too big but once I washed it and tried it on, it's a perfect fit.  Now if Spring would just hurry up and get here...

I stopped by the drug store and picked up some fun nail polish, not paying attention to the fact that it's a top coat.  After two coats, my nails are still not looking quite how I'd imagined...

Well, can't win 'em all!

Vagabonding- In Transit

This travel story is really less about any one place and more of that time the airlines screwed me and flew me all over the US.

Ted Stevens International Airport, Anchorage

The thing about air travel these days is that you should never expect your trip to go on as scheduled.  Sure, you booked an itinerary, you bought the ticket, you will probably get from point A to point B, just don't expect it to happen the way it's supposed to.  This is the story of the time that an airline who shall remain nameless (but only because I have forgotten) took me on my own personal tour of airports throughout America, the beautiful.

June, 2009.

I'm on my way to Alaska to work a second summer in Skagway.  I want to make it easy on myself, my father recently passed away and I'm in a big hurry to run far and fast from all the heartache.

 Flying from Pennsylvania to Alaska requires several flights, a non stop from Philly to Seattle is almost unheard of at a price that a budget traveler like myself can afford.  I spend a few days on travelocity and expedia seeking the perfect scenario.  Like a gift from the travel gods, an offer comes up- one way Philly to Seattle, non-stop, then Seattle to Juneau, all for the reasonable price of about $500.  I'm sold- booked, done and done.  I'm scheduled to depart Philly in the morning, fly directly to Seattle and connect to Juneau, then take a small plane from Juneau to Skagway by 9pm.  All in one day!  It was simply too good to be true.

I arrive at the airport, get all checked in, find the gate and join a restless crowd of passengers.  The airline has been cancelling flights all morning and mine is delayed.  It is a fabulously sunny summer day, no weather troubles in sight.

I sit and wait.  Boarding time comes and goes without a word.  Sitting, waiting, trying to remain optimistic.  Then the announcement- technical difficulties with the plane.  20 minutes delay.  Sitting, waiting, 20 minutes comes and goes.  The announcement- cancelled.  I grab my stuff and book it over to the desk agents, running down the terminal and beating out the crowd of angry and frustrated people behind me.

With barely a word exchanged between us, the desk agent hands me a new boarding pass- I'm flying to Chicago, then connecting to Seattle.  But this time on a different airline, a "codeshare" partner as they call it.  Whatever.  Okay then, fine.

We arrive in O'hare, it's rainy, windy.  Literally as soon as I step off the plane I see it on the connections screen, my flight to Seattle- Cancelled.  At this point, I am cursing the travel gods and their dirty tricks.  The terminal is packed, apparently the winds and rain are causing big delays.

I find a sympathetic desk agent and beg her, I tell her I do not care how you get me there, just get me to Alaska.  She offers me to stay in Chicago but then whispers to me, "you DON'T want to be stuck here".  No, no I don't.  A glimmer of hope- she can get me out of Chicago!  Until she can't.  Because I am now on a different airline (you know, the "codeshare partner", I have to go to the original airline.

After being totally ignored and rebuffed by grouchy desk agents I am approached by one very kindly older lady.  To this day, I regret not getting her name and sending her a thank you.  She can get me to Alaska, but not to Juneau- I'm headed to Anchorage.  A little farther north, but that's okay.  Once I'm in Alaska, I'll be golden.  She arranges for me to stay in Anchorage for the night, calling hotel after hotel until she finds one that accepts airline vouchers.  She gives me meal vouchers.  She says "I worry about you, young girl traveling by herself".  I was 25 at the time.  I'm on my way to Anchorage, but not before stopping in Las Vegas, and connecting in Phoenix.

As I'm waiting to board my flight, I call my Mom to let her know what happened.  I am so exhausted at this point that when I hear the "last call" announcement over the speaker, I'm thinking to myself, wow- there's someone else with my last name!  At the last possible minute, the light bulb goes on- they're calling me.  D'oh!

We fly to Las Vegas, the couple next to me are excited for a week of gambling.  I stay on the plane during the layover and admire the strip, what I can see of it from my seat.  The Luxor, The Mandalay Bay, golden windows glowing in the desert heat.

On to Phoenix.  I book it to my connection, my laptop bag banging against my hip as I run down a terminal that never seems to end.  The flight to Anchorage was a typical flight to Alaska, 95% male passengers in their Carhartts, hunting and fishing gear undoubtedly packed in their checked luggage.  Somehow despite my exhaustion, I purchase a sandwich and eat it slowly, savoring every bite.  It's the only thing I eat all day.  I barely sleep.

I arrive in Anchorage, glorious Alaska, at last!   At this point it's after 1am Alaska time, that's 5am Philly time.  I've been awake almost 24 hours.  I get to the hotel and find my room.  It's 3 am before I finally sleep.

At 6 am my alarm goes off and I head to the airport.  I get a coffee and a stale bagel from Starbucks.  My flight to Juneau takes off on time, thank you Alaska Airlines.

Once in Juneau I get checked in for the flight to Skagway.  It's on a 10 seater, single engine plane.  If you've never flown in one, it basically feels like your floating through the sky in a tin can.  Scary stuff, my friends.

Views from the small plane

We land safely in Skagway, the city that stole that my heart.  I will never forget walking off the plane and into the warm embrace of my Bulgarian boy, his smile lighting up my weary soul.  It was worth every inconvenience I suffered.

A happy ending to one crazy trip.

Scenes from our kitchen

My Worst Habit

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I am quite possibly the world's biggest procrastinator.  At this moment, I currently have 37 posts sitting in my drafts.  37!

Some are finished, some are half finished, and some are just ideas that haven't quite been hashed out yet.  It's not bad to have posts ready to go for a rainy day, but 37 seems a bit excessive, don't you think?  

The problem is, I start a lot of things that I never seem to finish.

Random example: I had every intention of stringing up some popcorn garland on the Christmas tree this year.  When did I get out the needle and thread and pop the corn?  30 minutes before everyone was going to arrive for Christmas Eve dinner.  You can imagine how far I got (not very).  No big deal- I could finish the next day.  Christmas came and went and my 1/4 strung garland sat untouched.  I made a mental note to finish by New Year's Eve.

Big surprise, I never picked up the garland again until I tossed it in the trash on January 1st. 

And that is just one silly incidence.  There are a million times when I start things and lose motivation, or even worse, wait until the last possible minute to get moving.  Many a late night (and early morning) was spent finishing reports and papers for school.

I think procrastination may very well be my worst habit.  And like most bad habits, it's one that I'd like to break.

 Do you suffer from this productivity-stifler too?  I stumbled upon this article, "3 Proven Ways to Once & For All Beat Procrastination".  They are:

1) Decide to Change (obviously)

2) Make a List (seems like a delay tactic)

but it was the third that is the key-

3) Do it Now

It's really as simple as that, isn't it?  Whatever it is that you're putting off doing, just do it now!

So if you'll excuse me, I'm off to tackle my drafts folder. 

Mosaic in Plovdiv

Vagabonding- Destination: Montreal

Montreal was the first stop on a cross country road trip in April 2008.  The road trip- the days and weeks that awakened something inside of me, the realization of a dream.  An experience with significance that I didn't, perhaps couldn't, fully grasp while I was living it.

Canada- my first time in a foreign country.  Sure, it's still North America, but it didn't feel that way, or sound that way.  Montreal was my first taste of feeling like a total outsider.  Everyone was speaking French-Canadian (obviously).  Menus in restaurants had to be switched out- "English, s'il vous plaît?"  Pommes Frites in rest stop McDonalds.  Fuel by the liter.  Kilometers instead of mph.  Currency exchange.  

We had left Philadelphia and arrived in a different country only 8 hours later after a very scenic journey through the Catskills and Adirondacks.  The border crossing into Quebec was way less exciting than I had anticipated- no stamps in passports, very few questions, barely a glance from the agent.  Deceptively smooth and easy compared to what awaited us in Vancouver.

After driving around this new city in the dark, marveling at the mountains of snow piled along suburban streets, we found our hostel in Old Montreal.  It became clear to me the minute I stepped out of the car that I had brought way too much stuff.  My entire life and then some was packed into a Honda Civic.  "And then some" being unnecessary/ borderline ridiculous.  Lesson learned.  I have since become a minimalist traveler.  Those crystal light water flavor-ers seemed like such a good idea until they sat in the glove box for a year.

Montreal was also my first hostel experience.  Sleeping on a bunk bed in a room full of strangers really wasn't as strange as it sounds.  When you're on such an adventure, a bed simply becomes a place to rest your head. Our "roommates", so to speak, were a couple who seemed to spend most of their time in bed.  But not together, not like what you're thinking.  Still, they didn't seem too thrilled with our arrival.

  

As I've mentioned before, my idea of a perfect day is just wandering around a place and exploring.  Despite the cold, that was pretty much what went down in Montreal.  April does not exactly provide ideal weather conditions for sightseeing.  But that's ok.

  

Overall, I really enjoyed what I saw.  I definitely did not take enough pictures.  My time in Montreal was short and I hope to return again someday.

Pretending I was in France

Beautiful architecture

Colors

This was some sort of haunted dinner theater

 The dairy queen

Funkpills.