Follow your heart

My roommate, Paul Russell, who is staying with the same host family as me is a pretty cool cat. (he's single ladies...but he's not on facebook.com, but I might know someone who knows his e-mail address, if you're interested...)

Anyway, sometimes when we are trying to decide what to do or if I am thinking out loud--which is a really unfortunate habit of mine--Paul will frequently tell me, "Follow your heart."

I don't always know what my heart is telling me. It gets confused at times. The little neurons in my brain also tend to mix up the signals from the little-red-pumping-thing

Last weekend, I was in Paris. I was alone. I know, I know. Alone.In.Paris. Epic fail! What was I thinking!? At first I thought it was kind of a bummer, but I realized that it gave me much needed time to think some things through which had been weighing on my mind the last little while.

As a side note there were two Dutch girls who asked me to take their picture near Notre Dame, which I did. Afterwards they asked if I was in Paris alone to which I replied, "sort of." I had a co-worker who was in Paris with her Parisian boyfriend and we had planned to potentially hang out. The Dutch girls asked if I wanted to "make party with them." I ran away. Suave.

Anyway- back to the story- as I was walking around, different songs were running through my head as odd as that might sound. I like to think that I have a sound track to my life and maybe this is my unconscious way of having it play. All the songs going through my head had to do with "home".

Without going into the nitty gritty details, at the time I was in Paris, I was potentially going to stay in Brussels for a pretty exciting opportunity and I was seriously considering it. Yet, as I walked past the Arc de Triomphe and the Eiffel Tower I had a feeling that my time in Brussels was coming to an end, not just beginning. It was surreal. So I followed my heart like Paul is always telling me to do and before I got back to Brussels, I had decided to not accept the opportunity in Brussels.

I've posted a few of the songs below to give you kind of an idea of what I was feeling. Sorry that some of them aren't necessarily the "original" or actual videos of the songs...some of them are blocked because I am in Belgium, but you'll get the idea.

I know it's not September...not even really close. But this song was in my head.

"Of all the things I still remember, summers never look the same, years go by and time just seems to fly, but the memories remain...reflecting now on how things could have been, it was worth it in the end."

This journey into the land of Belgium has definitely been worth it and time really has just seemed to fly.

"When every boat has sailed away, and every path is marked and paved; when every road has had its say, then I'll be bringing you back home to stay...look how far your dreaming's gone."

"When every town, looks just the same; when every choice gets hard to make; when every road has had its say, then I'll be bringing you back home to stay."

I feel like I am being brought back home to stay. For how long, I don't know, but for now, that's where I am supposed to be. As I'm graduating in May, I am, perhaps, a bit reflective on my "college-days" and the line "look how far your dreaming's gone" really struck a chord with me. Entering into school, all of the adventures I've been on- interning on The Hill in DC, working for a Senator, living abroad- all seemed like pipe dreams and now I look back and I did it. I hope that doesn't sound prideful or boastful, but sometimes dreaming isn't just having your head in the clouds, its envisioning a future that can really happen if you work towards it. How fortunate am I that it actually happened.

"Another airplane, another sunny place...I'm lucky I know, but I wanna go home."

"Another winter day has come and gone away and even in Paris and Rome and I wanna go home."

I've been extremely fortunate to visit even Paris and Rome and so many other amazing places the last three months I've been here, but again, there was this nagging feeling that it's time to leave all these amazing places for now. Some people might say it's homesickness, but I can tell you it's not. After spending two years in Ukraine, I know what homesickness is and it's not that. It's different even though I can't really explain it.

"Get caught in the race of this crazy life. Trying to be everything can make you lose your mind."

Sometimes I try to be everything to everyone and forget me in the process. I forget to ask, what do I want? What is my heart telling me? It's a good reminder.

"When adventure's lost its meaning, I'll be homeward bound in time...set me free to find my calling, and I'll return to you somehow."

"Then the wind will set me racing as my journey nears its end and the path I'll be retracing when I'm homeward bound again."

I find this song hauntingly beautiful. When I was on my mission, I would sometimes imagine that these were the words I was telling my parents. They have always "set me free to find my calling", always encouraging and never getting in my way or setting up obstacles and in return I always want to say, "I'll return to you somehow." I want to say that I understand it's hard to let me go off on my own, without knowing when or how long I'll be away, but wherever and for however long, I will always return home somehow.

Sister Davis, my mission president's wife, had a little cross stitch in the mission home that said, "There are two bequests you can give your children. The first is roots, the second is wings." My parents have done this for me as sappy as that sounds.

So there you have it. An overly long and overly personal blog post about following your heart when you are at a fork in the road.

Two Roads...

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

--Robert Frost

Do you ever wish you had a crystal ball that would tell you the outcomes of the two (or three or four...) roads that lie ahead in your path? I mean, something that would show you what your life would be like if you went left and what your life would be like if you went right and then, upon seeing this, you could make your decision about which one you wanted to take?

There are some interesting...well...developments in my life right now and I'm trying to get a grip on them. I'm trying to make decisions and I suck at making decisions. (sorry for the s word for all your tender eyes out there.) I think that the decade between age 21 and 31 should be called the decade of decisions. That's not to say that you don't make important decisions after you turn 32 but, it seems to me, that most of the fundamental decisions in life--the ones that formulate the general trajectory of the rest of your life-- are made in that time.

I'm not trying to wax philosophical or anything. I'm really just trying to make decisions and for some reason I have the feeling that those decisions may change me--not necessarily change for the bad or good, but just change. I am at the fork of those two roads and deciding which one to travel...wish me luck.

Chrony Piece

So I wrote an article for the Chrony. That's the Daily Utah Chronicle for those of you who aren't in the know. And for those of you who are so out of the know that you don't even know it, The Daily Utah Chronicle is the student newspaper at the University of Utah. You can read the article here if you so wish...

Filet Américain

So there are a few things that are quintessentially Belgian...chocolate, waffles, mussles and French fries (actually they were started in Belgium so they should be called Belgian fries)...and Filet Américain.

Up until tonight, I had tried all of these wonderful, culinary masterpieces. The waffles- so good they make your teeth hurt, the chocolate- mouth-wateringly rich, mussles and french fries- actually quite good for someone, like me, who doesn't typically like seafood, the Filet Américain...well I was holding off on that.

Why, you might ask, would I not try this when everything else I have eaten is so good? Well, because it's essentially raw beef. I think they call it Filet Américain to fool American travelers into thinking they are getting some steak or something and instead they get this raw beef Pâté-like dish when they order it. If you want to read more about, look here.

My host family said that they always feed it to the people staying with them and none of the students have liked it. I was game. I mean, I ate some pretty crazy stuff in Ukraine so it couldn't be that bad. I made a video of my first taste:

In all actuality, once you got past the "icky-factor" of eating raw meat, it really wasn't that bad and I daresay good. Especially on the Belgian fries!

Rickshaws and Rome...and Hostile and Hostels

So a little over a week ago, I went to the Imperial City. Not Oz, that's the Emerald City and for the record I have nothing against that place (I've never actually been), but I went to Rome.

It was as beautiful as I had been told by my parents and my little brother who served his mission there. You would think that having a little brother who had lived in and around Rome for two years would have its advantages, like a place to stay, but alas, little brother didn't pull through and my friends (Matt and Paul) and I ended up staying in a hostel.

It was my first experience in a hostel and I'm not going to say it will be my last, but let's just say that I don't think I'd stay in that particular hostel again. It was clean and there weren't any cockroaches or bugs. That is, of course, if you don't consider the manager Mike as a cockroach.

Mike was from Bangladesh and Mike was a little bit creepy- and if you were a girl, Mike was a lot a bit creepy. I arrived the day after Matt and Paul I was traveling with so they had already been working the Mike schmooze which worked out well for us because he upgraded our rooms for free for the first two nights. (I never said I was above schmoozing creeps for my advantage).

So this guy gave us upgrades and I'm calling him a creep? Yes, I know you may be calling foul, but let me explain. I got to the hostel around midnight on Thursday night. I met up with Matt and Paul and first met Mike. There were some girls waiting to check-in and Mike immediately said to us, "These are my girls. Don't talk to them or I will get jealous." Dude, I just want to go to sleep.

I was too tired to care, so I got my key and was soon in bed. Well the upgrade meant that Matt and Paul had a room to themselves and I was put in a room with one other guy. Our beds were literally six inches apart so I was kind of wondering if this was really an upgrade for me or not because without the upgrade Matt, Paul, and I would have all been in the same room with just one other guy. (Seems like Matt and Paul got upgraded and I got...well, a night with a stranger sleeping inches away!)

The next day we got up and while Paul and Matt went off to do t

hings, I did what they had already done- Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps, Pantheon, Colosseum, Piazza de Navona, the Forums, and pretty much all the old stuff in Rome. We met up that afternoon at the Spanish Steps. After which we rode some rickshaws in a park that overlooks the city. I made a video of us racing the two-man rickshaws and against my better judgement because I sound like a complete hick, I am uploading it here for your enjoyment:

(Matt and I won the race- naturally, I am an excellent rickshaw driver/pedaler. The girl with us is EJ and we met her at the hostel.)

So we get back after a long day and I go to get the key to my room and there are some girls asking Mike where some good bars are. He won't tell them, but instead offers to buy them wine and tells them to come back so that they can drink it together. After they leave, he tells me that I have to tell them how cool he is and proceeds to tell me how much he "wants that girl" (his words, not mine- creeper).

The next day (Saturday), we wandered around the city some more and ate plenty of gelato. I think gelato was seeping out of my pores when I got back because I ate so much. As a side note, the gelato in this picture cost 7 euro because we wanted to sit down...it was worth it if you were wondering.

Paul flew back on Saturday night, but he had assured us that not only was the Vatican open on Sunday, but it was also free. Paul lied to us. Well, maybe not lied, but he was misinformed because while St. Peter's Basilica was open the Sistine Chapel and the Vatican Museum were not. I guess that just gives me a reason to go back to Rome now!

Saturday night at the hostel, Mike had to move us into a 4-person dorm room (out of our 2 person rooms) because they were booked. We were getting up early to get to the Vatican...so we went to bed early. At about 1:00 AM, a kid came bounding into the room making a ruckus. He was seriously so LOUD. Then he decided to turn on the lights and to top it off started to talk to us. He said (with a slight accent I didn't want to place at that time), "Do you know where is the power plug?" Matt wouldn't answer so I just growled, "No!" He didn't try to talk to us again.

He finally went to bed, but conveniently left the door to our room open and the light from the hall was shining right on my face. Maybe he needed a night light, but I needed a night's rest, so I had to get up and shut the door.

The next morning, we got up at around 7:00 and plug boy got up with us. We soon found out that he was from India and he proceeded to ask us more questions like, "Do you know of a better, cheaper hostel" to which Matt responded, "You can't get much cheaper than this." (we were paying 15 euro a night...)

Then, we started brushing our teeth and so I guess he thought he ought to as well. He went up to Matt and asked, "May I borrow some paste?" Matt was confused, until he pulled out the "filthiest toothbrush I have ever seen" (Matt's words, not mine). Matt didn't want his toothpaste to touch the toothbrush so he just kind of dangled it out onto the brush and shook the tube until the paste separated. It was hilarious! Sorry, no video of this :(

After we were ready, we went to the little cafe next to the hostel were we got free breakfast but it didn't open for another 5 minutes. As we were waiting, young paste-borrowing guy comes out, map in hand, and asks, pointing at a building, "Do you know the building where is?" He was pointing at the train station which was literally 25 feet away from where we where standing and in full sight. I seriously could have thrown something and hit it. We pointed to the building and said, "Right there."

He responded, "You go through that building," and we said, "No, that building IS the train station." Oh man, that was the last I saw of the young kid. I hope he survived. I did and, like I said before, I have an excuse to go back...the gelato...oh and the Sistine Chapel.

(This is what happens when you are alone and have to take pictures of yourself! Not too bad if I say so myself.)

Big Cheeks and Binche

On Sunday, I went to a little city called Binche for their Carnivale celebration. Well, it actually wasn't the real deal because that happens this Sunday, but because I am going to Rome I went a week early. I heard they have "rehearsals" for the "real-thing" on the Sundays leading up to it.

So after church, a few friends and I hopped on a train and headed to the city. It was a really quaint, European city and the celebration was a lot of fun. There were families, old and young,

and all sorts throughout the streets. I doubt anything like this would ever happen in the good ole U S of A just because I don't see grown men wearing pink nun's costumes (okay, maybe we do this, it's just called Halloween). Regardless it was fun and I especially enjoyed this:

1. There was a guy blowing a trumpet with one hand and holding a cigarette in the other. (Somehow I did not get a picture of this- I know, epic fail!)

2. Little kids were all part of the act as well.

3. Older guy with the biggest cheeks in the world

4. Drunk Men in panda costumes...need I say more?

5. Unesco World Heritage Celebration- yep, this celebration is legit! (so you can't tell, but we are standing in front of a sign that says that it's a Unesco World Heritage...)