Love and Extra Passport Pages

Where I've Been

2011-07-13T22:03:00.001-07:00

visited 33 states (14.6%)
Create your own visited map of The World

Back.

2010-12-03T13:39:00.000-08:00

"Reader, it is time for your tempest-tossed vessel to come to port. What harbor can receive you more securely than a great library? Certainly there is one in the city from which you set out and to which you have returned after circling the world from book to book..."
Italo Calvino, If on a winter's night a traveler

Don't you just love those moments when the book you hold in your hands is speaking directly to you? This tempest-tossed Julia has come to port in none other than New York, New York. I was born here, and, after 9 months of traveling, it feels as if I've had somewhat of a rebirth of self...a self that is, in the end, a New Yorker. So here I am.

But not before a fabulous final few weeks in Buenos Aires, where it's getting warmer (that's the thing about the southern hemisphere...) and living in the moment sometimes means jumping in the pool:

Then a twelve-hour farewell party which included everything I love most about Argentina: empanadas, Quilmes/Brahma, bolicheando, mate, boludeando, Fernet, dulce de leche, Drexler, picada, salsa golf (gracias, Nachitoo!), 3 a.m. truco, and most of all the incredible (really, super impresionante) friends that I made:

Next off to Las Vegas for Maddy's 21st birthday!

Then to the nearby Hoover Dam to check out some vacuums...just kidding...actually, it's a remarkable architehtural and engineering feat. To commemorate my visit, I (what else?) jumped:

And then off to Washington, D.C. with Erica for a surprise visit to Ms. Theo! We had a wonderful reunion, and Erica and Cam churned out latkes like pros. And I must say, there was something special to returning to the U.S. of A. and seeing those emblems special to our nation's capital:

Can't figure out how to rotate the Washington Monument

But there's the Capitol Building, correctly oriented

And while, as the song says, America is the "land that I love," seeing the people I love has brought me the most joy. So that is what I'll be up to in the coming weeks. Do drop a line and say hello!

And hey, one more thing. Thanks for reading. All of your comments and support have made me feel connected in a way I don't know how to describe. In my journey around the world, I took comfort in knowing that my dear ones (and the occasional casual reader) were just a "Free WiFi!" sign away.

The trip is over. The adventure continues.

The good old days

2010-10-27T11:09:00.001-07:00

Waves of talk from which surface the vocabularies of the most specialized and most exclusive diciplines and schools are poured over this eldery editor, whom at first glance you defined as ''a little man, shrunken and bent,'' not because he is more of a little man, more shrunken, more bent than so many others, or because the words ''little man, shrunken and bent'' are part of his way of expressing himself, but because he seems to have come from a world where they still - no: he seems to have emerged from a book where you still encounter - you've got it: he seems to have come from a world in which they still read books where you encounter ''little men, shrunken and bent.''

From Italo Calvino's If on a winter's night a traveler

A new blog!

2010-10-08T09:36:00.000-07:00

You've probably heard me proclaim more than once, ¨I'm really good at the internet.¨ And if you've known me long enough, I've probably proven it. I subscribe to Blake's philosophy that if you can imagine something, it already exists on Google, and I believe that the global worldwide interwebs, with all its/their woes, also has a lot to offer us. So last week I started a new blog: imreallygoodattheinternet.blogspot.com.

Follow if you like...more relevant, my latest post there is also a post that belongs here. Enjoy!

Stuff Worth Sharing. Or Not.: Lunfardo:

"The translation of lunfardo is slang, but it is so, so much more. It's part of what makes Argentine spanish so appealing, and so confusing..." [read more here]

Sheep hugger

2010-09-24T09:28:00.000-07:00

Amid the whirlwind of goings on, I found a moment of peace last weekend. Romi, a friend who radiates all kinds of beauty, decided to celebrate her birthday in Baradero. Why Baradero, you ask? And what is Baradero, anyway? Well, it's a city where you'll find Comunidad German Frers, a center for at-risk and impoverished children situated on a piece of land that is farmed sustainably to help support the kids and their families. Truly an amazing undertaking...and one in dire need of volunteers. Entonces. Romi invited one and all to volunteer there. Read more about CGF on their facebook page (website in progress)...and by all means go and volunteer there!

How very satisfying to start the weekend looking at a piece of untilled earth covered in grass and weeds, and to finish it looking at neat rows of tomillo (thyme) and habichuela (kidney beans, I think?).

In progress

Planting

One huertita down...

After breaking for lunch, I went to visit the animals. And that's when I sat on the grass and hugged a sheep. And that's when I exhaled.

The Blogger's Dilemma + Two Blochs to Buenos Aires

2010-08-26T15:19:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking about this post since I popped an Ambien on my flight from DC to Buenos Aires last Tuesday. I started writing this post on Friday. I intended to post on Saturday. On Sunday I realized the blogger’s dilemma. And now, a week has past and FINALLY I am ready.

I like blogging. However, since I started Blocho’s Tacos almost 13 months ago I have realized that “to blog” is very different from “blogging”. For me, it is a hobby. Something I do on occasion and by no means regularly. And there are times when I just don’t want to blog. For example, the night before I left for Buenos Aires I had a delicious lobster taco at Toloache in NYC. It was an appetizer to my meal and although I took a picture and noted the layering of flavors, I didn’t blog about it. Sometimes to blog takes away from the pure enjoyment.

So here I am, in Argentina, enjoying life. Although I want to share the experience (and I know that many www.JuliaBloch.com followers want to know more about what we’re doing and why Argentina is so awesome), part of me wants to just enjoy and not think about how to put it into words. Hence the blogger’s dilemma. Maybe I’m not cut out for blogging because I’d rather spend the time living than recalling what I have lived. Yet there comes a point when we all need to share. So here it is.

I’ll start with what I wrote on Friday and continue from there. Enjoy!

Two Blochs to Buenos Aires

It has yet to be 72 hours and I have already been in New York, Washington D.C., Buenos Aires, and San Martin de los Andes. With a combined travel time of approximately 36 hours. Wow! It’s hard to believe that so much has already happened in this short amount of time. After a warm welcome at EZE (the Buenos Aires airport) by Julia and Nati, we jumped right into the porteno lifestyle. I was introduced to and quickly became fond of the 3 cats – Ralphy, La Negrita, and Ralphy’s lookalike; got a warm and hardy welcome from the dog, Arturo; tasted real Dulce de Leche; drank real mate, had an all-you-can-eat experience at a Parilla, visited Jumbo, the Argentinian version of Marshall’s or Costco, but better, and slept at a 180 degree angle on a bus.

We have just arrived at our CouchSurfing house in San Martin de los Andes where Manchi, the adorable terrier that lives here, reminds us a lot of Lucky and how much love a little animal can give.

It’s raining, which is not good news for the ski slopes, but we’ll make do.

Now it is Tuesday and we have put in 3 full days of skiing, one relaxing day in the city of San Martin de los Andes and tomorrow we will tour 5 of the 7 “Siete Lagos” before heading back to Buenos Aires.

Patagonian skiing is different than my experiences in Vermont, Colorado, and Utah. The day begins with a 40 minute bus ride to the mountain and a look at the trail map. The mountain has 21 trails more or less. Muy chiquitito. After one day we’ve been all over, but still find each run fun and completely satisfying. Patagonian skiing is relaxed. We stop mid-morning for a cup of coffee and enjoy the gorgeous views. Lunch lasts 1 hour, minimum, and if we want to stop for a hot chocolate after lunch it’s totally acceptable. Sometimes it seems like there are more people hanging out in the lodges than on the slopes. Perhaps that’s the Argentinian ski philosophy or perhaps it’s because the snow has been good, not great – a little icy in the morning and by the time we finish at 4:30 the bottom of the mountain has turned to slush. Whatever it is, it’s a nice change.

Our CouchSurfing family has been a pleasure! We cooked dinner for 10 on Saturday and have enjoyed their regional dishes – pastel de papas y guillon. The food is truly amazing and I am far from hungry.

When Julia left for her trip I told her to take lots of pictures, more pictures than she thought she would ever want to have. There is always so much a person can say but as we all know “a picture is worth 1,000 words”. So for now I’ll blog the way I can blog best….through pictures.

Minutes after my arrival

Arturo! (Nati's Dog)

Upon arriving home from skiing we found that Arturo had opened a drawer of food, consumed two chocolate alfajores, and ate most of a packet of powdered mash potatoes. Bad Arturo.

Yum! My experience at a traditional parilla

Our first dinner in SMA -- provoleta de ciervo

And our first dessert!

Lago Lacar next to San Martin de los Andes

One of the many spectacular views atop Chapelco

Alamos trees. Can you find Julia in this picture?

SNOW!

Manchi! My new best friend.

Dinner in SMA with our CouchSurfing family. Joaquin, the adorable 5-year old, is in the corner.

Back in Buenos Aires and looking forward to exploring the city more!

Un Besito Enorme,

Maddy (and Julia)

Yo no se manana

2010-08-22T17:01:00.000-07:00

but TODAY, we skied the beautiful slopes of Chapelco here in San Martin de los Andes, Argentina.

Photos for now.

More to come later. That we promise.

And by WE I mean MADDY and Nati and I, MADDY in all caps because HELLO, MADDY IS HERE!!!

B es para...

2010-08-11T11:03:00.000-07:00

La Boca...
El boxeo...
El baile...

Jules left yesterday after a 6-day Buenos Aires intensive which included (in no particular order): a tango lesson; a "cantina klezmer" show (check out La Gypsy); lying in the grass near the river on a perfect near-spring day after a lunch of fried calamari and cold beer; dancing, dancing, dancing in "the bolich" (English for boliche...); devouring with Jake (prounounced "shake") and Nati what can only be described as a meat pile in the historic center of La Boca barrio; sampling the various and sundry alfajores on offer at Havanna; watching a puppet show, 6 years in the making, entirely in Spanish; and Jules' moment of Argentine fame, when a closeup of her face appeared on live television as she watched, from the first row, Diego "La Joya" Chaves defend his Latin American boxing title.

The Summoned Self

2010-08-03T11:32:00.000-07:00

Ali shared a link to this article today. It came at the perfect moment.

Op-Ed Columnist - The Summoned Self - NYTimes.com

I especially like this part:

The person leading the Summoned Life starts with a very concrete situation: I’m living in a specific year in a specific place facing specific problems and needs. At this moment in my life, I am confronted with specific job opportunities and specific options. The important questions are: What are these circumstances summoning me to do? What is needed in this place? What is the most useful social role before me?

Thanks for sharing, Ali!

Another Theo inspired post

2010-07-26T16:13:00.000-07:00

Those of you who have been diligently following this blog from the beginning (and, thank you!) may remember a poem sent to me by my dear friend Theo that I posted way back in March. Once again, Theo has inspired me to post, with the following words from a wonderful email I received from her just this morning:

i need more - i want to know about food and your friends and what you're reading and seeing. are you going through south america? are you drinking mate? what what what... basically i just want more nuggets from your life. not big huge this is how it's going statements - just little bits.

So here's a little bit.

I'm sitting in Nati's house, listening to Jorge Drexler, whom I newly love. Nati has 3 cats and 1 dog, plus 3 more cats and 7 (yes, 7) more dogs who live downstairs and frequently come to visit. They're here, they say what's up.

That's Arturo

Yes, I bonded with a cat. This is Ralphie. She's a girl.

Last week I was adopted by a group of Nati's friends for Dia del Amigo. That's right, a special holiday for friends. How lovely and wonderful! As per time-tested Argentine tradition, we went to a boliche and danced for 5 hours straight.

Really cool photog of me and Nati jumping around. Credit: Jess!

Today I spent a solid couple hours in the Centro Postal Internacional visiting various windows and waiting for various numbers to be called so that I could pick up a package of ropa abrigada (warm clothes!) sent to me by mom. THANK YOU MOM!

I went to class and wrestled with the subjunctive some more.

Argentine movies I can recommend:
- El Secreto de Sus Ojos
- Valentin
- Plan B

Today is the anniversary of the death of Eva Peron. RIP.

That's my nugget for today.

With love and mate.
Julia

Snapshot

2010-07-06T21:17:00.000-07:00

Last night I played one of my favorite games ever: Taboo. The rules are simple. Get your team to guess a "secret word" that's written on the game's deck of cards, without using any of the other five "taboo" words that are printed on the card. I'm a bit of a Taboo fanatic, and have played (and...ahem...won) many a game, including the epic game of Jews vs. Gentiles cerca January 1, 2010.

But this time, I played Taboo in Spanish. At a Buenos Aires bar that serves up juegos de mesa - board games - alongside the Buenos Aires standard, liters of cold beer to share with friends. I'm proud, and somewhat amazed, to say that I was able to play and actually score some points for my team! And to top it all off, they spell it Tabú here, which just makes me smile.

Today I had my first Spanish class. Three hours a day, Monday through Friday, for one month, at La Universidad de Buenos Aires. Sounds official, no? I'm looking forward to being able to communicate more fluidly, and to curing my severe case of subjunctivitis, along with my related grammatical ailments.

Since I've been here, I have: witnessed a devastating loss the morning after having a devastatingly delicious asado at Nati's sister's place in Pilar; danced, as one does in Buenos Aires, until dawn; and I am ongoingly drinking mate, eating empanadas, and hoarding the much-coveted monedas needed to take local buses. Yes, I'm back in Buenos Aires.

Ragazzi Report: a guest post from Mom

2010-07-01T15:20:00.000-07:00

Beyond the impossible and astonishing beauty of the places Julia and I visited, what made our trip all and more than I had hoped for was the people, or as Julia and I came to call them, “the ragazzi”.

In Rome we sat among the hoards of Italians who, shaking two open hands at the giant screen in the Borghese Gardens (set up by the FIFA Fan Fest for viewing the World Cup) lamented a missed shot on goal.

Or the two-dozen tango dancers we happened upon late at night - seamlessly changing partners and performing the intricate and exquisite choreography of tango - in a breezeway on a quiet street.

Entering a tailor‘s shop in Naples to look at the beautiful bolts of wool suiting, Julia tried to explain that I too was a “tailor” from NY and could we take a picture? Nodding, the gentleman asked me to write down my phone number, which seemed weird, but assuming the odds of him calling were pretty slim, I complied thinking it must be his way of assuring that our intentions were honorable. After further attempts at communication, we realized why he wanted my number. He thought I was looking for a job!

Oh so many people in Amalfi: our Australian fellow travelers who invited us for a drink on their palatial terrace cantilevered over the Mediterranean, and whose 10 year old daughter Maisie was enchanted by Julia (but who isn’t?); Marco, the host/waiter/owner/ of our favorite Amalfi café. He’s a phys-ed teacher who owns the adjacent bed and breakfast (rated the number 1 B&B by Trip Advisor!) He explained to us that he is “the mind” and his wife is “the muscle” in their business- this as she was in perpetual motion, serving, clearing, cleaning while he sat with us, watching the American soccer team (in less than top form that day), endlessly ribbing us with the comment “they play well, these Americans, eh?”; and, our guide to historical Amalfi, Michelangelo. A hydrant of a man who explained that what we commonly identify as a Maltese cross originated in Amalfi and beseeched us to henceforth use it’s correct name, the Amalfi cross. Oh, and did you know that the medical school in ancient Amalfi was the first place to accept women? And not just as students, but also as professors! And that Flavio Gioja, a man from Amalfi, is the real inventor of the compass, because only after he made a sea compass in the 14^th century was the 2^nd century Chinese invention of the regular-old compass made useful. He also told us the pier in the pivotal ancient port of Amalfi was 12 km wide and extended 3 km into the sea… Here we invoke Gertrude Stein’s famous comment… “Interesting if true”.

Maisie shared her favorite kind of candy with Julia

Michelangelo

And then there was Rina of Villa Rina Country House – she’s an adorable, compact bundle of energy, enthusiasm and culinary wizardry. She welcomed us like family and treated us to the tastes of the sea, her garden and… her freezer where she kept her stash of homemade limoncello and blackberry liqueurs. And I must mention Macho, her cautious cat, and Bonney, her German shepherd whose major pastimes are terrorizing Macho and playing with one of the huge lemons from Rina’s grove of lemon trees. All of this, hundreds, yes, hundreds of steps above the Mediterranean Sea (where Rina swims daily). For us it was simply the stairway to heaven. The view was breathtaking - houses, gardens and hotels defying gravity in their perches on the cliffs, the shocking pink of lush bougainvillea spilling over walls and rocks, and the blue, blue sea.

The view from Rina's terrace

On to the town of Lecce, in the Puglia region. By day, Lecce is a sleepy ancient town filled with magnificently carved marble buildings and churches. By night it turns into Times Square on New Years Eve! Masses of people, crowding every piazza, street and alley, every restaurant and café.

Lecce ragazzi

A short drive outside of Lecce is Squinzano where we had the unique good fortune to take a cooking class with sisters Cinzia and Marika at their culinary school Stile Mediterraneo. Cinzia a Harvard MBA who lived in New York and worked at Goldman Sachs! She now runs the the cooking school and is a professional olive oil taster (She taught us how to do it!). Marika is an MD, and when she is not working at the hospital, she assists Cinzia. Beautiful, eloquent, cultured and sooo smart, these remarkably warm and hospitable women shared their passion for local foods and slow cooking, as well as their time honored family recipes. We were also treated to lemon granita made from the fruit of their grandmother’s lemon trees and pear jam made from yup, grandma’s pears.

Cinzia and Marika, our fearless leaders!

more photos from the cooking class here

Arriving in Greece we received a five minute language tutorial from the man in the tourism office, getting the basics of “good morning” (kalimera) “thank you” (efkharisto) and a swear word we had to promise we’d never utter. Then, we met our bored (?) tired (?) receptionist in Athens. When I called from the room to ask him for the Wi-Fi password, told me to come down and get it. And our Athenian fave, Stella. She works in her sister Ionna’s shop selling fabulously versatile clothing designed by Ioanna. She took us under her wing and spent a long while showing us how each garment can be worn in a variety of ways (so one garment serves many purposes) and shared her “I only tell friends about this place” favorite Athens restaurant.

In Santorini we were greeted by Vassily, the crazy Bulgarian who roots for the Argentina soccer team and whose wife cleans rooms while he lunches with a strikingly beautiful young woman. But the star of Santorini was Dmitri, the manager of Alta Mare. First because he rescued us from having to stay in a hellhole, but mostly because his love for and knowledge of the island were exceeded only by his charming demeanor and personalized advice on where to go and what to do.

It was difficult to leave these enchanted places and I hope I can make good on my vow to return to each of our destinations (except Naples - ugh). But hardest of all to leave… was Julia. A wise and intrepid traveler, a superb photographer, a hilarious, supportive and agreeable companion, we journeyed together seamlessly. I love her beyond the ends of the earth and my fondest wish is to return, with both Maddy and Julia to all of these places, and all of these people, and to love it all over again.

Last night in Santorini

2010-06-25T14:05:00.000-07:00

Mom and I spent the better part of the day on the black sand beach of Perivolos. Now back to Oia, a place from which, once again, the very stereotype of the Greek Islands may have been derived. It looks like this:

That's a photo I took, not one from the global worldwide interwebs. Mom and I spent a long time marveling over the fact that these places actually exist, in reality, not just in postcards. I have not altered that photo AT ALL. I mean, seriously!!!

We arrived here via Athens, where we had a lovely 24-hour stopover made all the sweeter by Argentina and team U.S.A. World Cup wins! Slightly awkward: loudly cheering in a taverna as Argentina scores against the helpless Greek goalkeeper.

Visited in Athens the incredibly well designed new Acropolis Museum before heading to the Acropolis itself. I have a hard time capturing in words what it's like to stand in a place that you've read about in history books, and that you know represents the beginning of so much of Western culture. Understandably, they are incredibly strict about acropolis-related activity, so, sadly, I have no jumping picture there. But I did fall in love with the caryatids, both in and outside the museum. They're the ladies, that are columns, that are ladies. You know, these gals! :

After doing the historical stuff we did some shopping stuff, happening upon Kourbela Ioanna, the shop of the eponymous designer whose clothes-who-do-tricks are exactly my favorite kind of thing. Also bought myself some komboloi beads to swing around and make noise with. At lunch, the table next to ours, occupied by 6 men drinking ouzo or raki or something (very obviously) alcoholic, was clickety-clacking with the sound of komboloi beads. So I got a tutorial from Alexander (he doesn't have email, so I promised I'd mail him the following photo) and went on my merry way swinging my komboli beads and feeling quite the local.

Had an excellent dinner at Psaras Taverna in Plakas, upon the recommendation of Stella (sister of designer Ioanna) and made our way to the port for our ferry to Santorini.

Well. Our taxi driver, Jorogos, have an entirely different komboli strategy! So I've been practicing both ways and will be developing my own method soon. Got to the port, only to find out our ferry was "at least" 2 hours delayed. The whole ferry experience was an unbelievable adventure, worthy of its own blog post. Met a lovely couple from Canada to pass the time with as we waited...and waited...and waited...finally boarding the ship well after 2am and making our way to our adorable/terrifying little berth. Anyway, we awoke in Santorini and that's a good thing. Car rental. Finding hotel. Hating hotel. Switching hotel. Loving new hotel. Loving new hotel manager, who suggested some great activities including a walk down to the port at Ammoudi to watch the sunset and enjoy delicious fresh fish.

Whew! That's a lot of blogging. Gotta save some for later.

I've been regaling mom with stories of my travels and realizing how few of them I've shared here on the blog (tsk, tsk)...I think because I'm reluctant to post about things that happened weeks and weeks ago. Hey, all you commenters our there: still interested in events from the (not terribly) distant past?

Until soon then.
Julia

I'm all for Amalfi

2010-06-18T13:43:00.000-07:00

If it feels like I've had a stream of nonstop visitors...I have. And it's wonderful! Mom arrived this week and we've made it from Rome to Amalfi in the course of a 2-week trip together. A bit longer in Rome and then off to Greece where, rumor has it, we can ride donkeys.

I don't want to forget my incredible-beyond-words several days in Tuscany...watching Italy play Paraguay at Fifa Fan Village in Villa Borghese...Naples (well, maybe I could forget Naples)...and our firecracker of a hostess Rina at Villa Rina here in Amalfi. I will write more about them later.

Meanwhile, I must say that Amalfi itself strikes me as highly improbable. It is a place out of a zany storybook - pebble beaches, near-misses on drives along perilous cliffs, and buildings that stack up like staircases glued onto the cliffside.

Today we spent the morning in Ravello, looking at beautiful (albeit a bit British) gardens...and the afternoon in Amalfi, watching "Mundial" (the World Cup!).

Tomorrow, off to Lecce!

Siena

2010-06-14T06:28:00.000-07:00

Dogs of the world

2010-06-14T01:35:00.001-07:00

Happy International CouchSurfing Day!

2010-06-12T00:12:00.000-07:00

June 12, 2010 is the second annual International CouchSurfing Day...and while I am not officially CouchSurfing right now, I am thankful today and every day for the incredible people who I've met and the incredible people I haven't met who make CS such a warm and vibrant community.

To you skeptics out there, I was one of you...and then I had one really really positive experience...then another...and then another...so far, so GREAT. I could go on for hours. If you want to know more, ask me!

Off to finish weeding the garden...then to learn a secret family recipe for insalata ai frutti di mare...
Con amore e pagine del passaporto extra,
Giulia

Tutto bene

2010-06-10T04:36:00.000-07:00

I’ve been promising a newsy blog post for a while now, and what better time to write one than in the breezy pre-breakfast hours of a Tuscan morning. I sit on the steps of the home of Diane, a childhood friend of my dad's; she lives and farms here with her partner Dieter and their adorable Gordon Setter, Gordon (!), who lies patiently at my feet waiting, just waiting for me to throw a stick.

A few days ago I posted about my departure from Rome for this place with some ambivalence; now I’m sure it was exactly the right thing to do.

“How,” one Miss Ali Schechter beseeches, Facebookishly, “did you get to Italy already?” My response: “Very easy. One 11 hour Aeroflot flight to Moscow, seated next to a Vietnamese septuagenarian who's never been on an airplane before and needs help with his seatbelt (I helped him!), with cranky flight attendants wearing orange lipstick. Then a 2 hour layover in Moscow airport where the only restaurant open is a TGIFridays. Then a delightfully short 4-hour flight from Moscow to Rome! Easy peasey.” After spending just under a month in Southeast Asia, I found myself longing for many things: not being stared at as I walked down the street (gasp) alone…paying the same price as the locals, and not a “special” astronomically higher tourist price, for anything and everything…weather that allowed me to walk at a normal pace without literally dripping sweat unto the sidewalk below…pasta…

All attempts at clever writing aside, I am learning as I go what this trip is about, and that means learning the difference between challenging myself to be in/stay in/seek out uncomfortable situations and challenging myself to change: “Self, you are gong to do something different now.” (To any PACIE reading this, I can’t help but imagine Martie, calling upon Monty Python, saying, “and now for something completely different!”)
So without much fanfare my plane landed in Rome, and I boarded the train for Ostiense Station (Termini is sooooo for tourists), and I met my fantastic CS host and his friends and we – yep, you guessed it, stayed out til 4am local time, dancing. That’s 10am Vietnam time, which would mean that I should’ve been exhausted, except I don’t believe in jet lag.

The next few days I spent wandering the streets and laughing, out loud, at the sheer Italian-ness of Italy. In front of thousand-years-old buildings, the buildings’ architects’' great-great-great-great-etc. grandchildren, gesticulate wildly, their towering mound of gelato in one hand coming perilously close to toppling from its dubious perch atop a tiny cone. A Vespa roars down an alley, slows, and stops next to a Franciscan friar who gives the driver directions. The Coliseum…is.

I had time to spare while waiting for mom who is meeting me in Rome on the 14th, so when Diane wrote that I could hop on the train to her Tuscan villa/working farm…I did! Correction: I know I said the train cost 10.55 Euros, but actually…it was 9.40! (Thank you again, Ostiense Station.)

So I show up Diane and Dieter and Gordon the dog greet me, welcome me to their should-be-in-a-magazine-perfect home, give me a towel and a bicycle and point me in the direction of the beach. I meditate under the slanting rays of Italian sunshine that are unlike any rays of sunshine anywhere. We have dinner and drive into Marina di Grosseto for the best gelato I’ve ever tasted. I sleep like a baby.

Day 2 in paradise: “Do you want to go to Siena or Florence?” Well! I’d never been to Siena. The Duomo there is huge and gorgeous, and I was literally moved to tears by the beauty of the Biblioteca di Piccolomini. Wandering out the back door of the Cathedral Museum, a display of tiny, 2-inch-square watercolors caught my eye. The little, brightly-lit cave of a shop was filled with the original artwork of, according to the business card, Silvia Tanganelli. “Are you the artist?” I asked the woman sitting behind the desk. She was. I told her how much I loved the little paintings. And the big ones. And asked her to translate a few of the ellipses-enclosed one-liners that she’d scribed in pencil below the images. “Perhaps you can help me translate? I want to do also in English some paintings.” So we sat, for hours, discussing the most appropriate poetic version of things that sound much better in Italian than they would translated literally into English. “Anche noi” – literally, “also us” – became, after much debate, “We are with you.” Silvia bought me lunch and wrapped up a few of her paintings and we said our farewells.

Then I went and lay under an olive tree and watched the clouds pass for an hour.

And now I will go and find Ticciano (sp?), the manager of this magical place, and, if I understood correctly, learn to make mozzarella. If this is a dream, let me sleep just a little longer…

With love and cheese.
Julia

Saying yes

2010-06-08T02:16:00.000-07:00

Or perhaps I am saying si...

Today I will board a train for Grosseto, to work at a villa where no one speaks English (I bought an 'I Speak Italian' phrasebook yesterday). The ticket is 10.55 Euros, so why not.

I will try to collect and organize my thoughts on the train and post them later. This blog has been great, because it kickstarts the motivation to process and share, and that in turn helps me understand what the heck I'm doing!

All in due time.
Julia

YMCA in the EU

2010-06-05T03:35:00.000-07:00

Late last night I arrived in Rome...met my CouchSurfing host...dropped my bags...and accompanied him and a group of friends to a decidedly non-tourist disco in Transancho. Good music, good people. The evening turned into early morning, ending with everyone singing and dancing the YMCA. I laughed a lot.

A longer post is brewing in me, telling you all about leaving Asia...why Rome...etc. etc. For now, a Roman barbeque calls.

With love and my first stamp on this trip from a country I've already been to,
Julia

Guest blogger: Dad

2010-05-31T17:19:00.000-07:00

Thanks, Julia, for giving me the chance to 'guest blog' on JuliaBloch.com. I write (although the posting will occur later) aboard the Halong Jasmine, a luxury junk boat now setting sail again after an overnight mooring in Halong Bay, Vietnam. The setting is peaceful and beautiful.

I write with a mixture of emotion--tremendous happiness and gratitude for having spent a wonderful nine days in Vietnam with Julia and sadness that tonight I'm back on a NY-bound flight to return to the 'real world.'

Vietnam itself, as Julia has already written, is a fascinating place. I joked before my departure that 40 years ago I did all I could to avoid coming here. Who would have though that now it's one of the "in" destinations of choice. Needless to say, my visit was informed by my vivid memories (albeit from afar) of what they call here "The American War." Julia enjoyed observing the way I reacted to the country, the people and its history in this context. Similarly, watching Julia take it all in without preconceived notions of the history was fascinating for me.

As much as the visit to this country has been a memorable experience, more lasting will be the time Jules and I were able to spend together. For you JuliaBloch.com followers, let me report first-hand that the protagonist is in top form and is experiencing this around-the-world odyssey in full measure. By the time I arrived, she was already a bit of a connoisseur of Vietnam street food and she was an adventurous eater (although we both, wisely, avoided partaking of dog).

Julia, with her excellent ear for languages, is picking up on a small bit of Vietnamese and the two of us regularly enjoy Hanoi-brewed 333 beer with the Vietnamese toast: "Mot, Hai, Ba, Yo!" And, of course, she is the consummate jumper, her latest feat of some 8 meters or so from the prow of the Jasmine.

What's most meaningful for me is how, in the nine days we had together, Julia made me a better, more patient, more open-minded traveler. She is awesome travel companion and I will miss her more now that I have had the full flavor of her company for this extended time.

Thanks, Jules, for this incredible gift and an toan hanh trinh, Vietnamese for safe journeys!!

Lots of love from Dad

Number Crunch

2010-05-31T03:25:00.000-07:00

Dad's leaving today. In our discussion of how we would share all the photos we took...all 1,352 of them...we brainstormed. Perhaps Picasa Web Albums? But that doesn't provide high enough resolution for prints. How about a flash drive? Dad would have to buy one. Eureka! Let's use dad's shiny new iPod. I was worried that maybe it wouldn't have enough space, until I flipped it over to see its capacity printed on the back: 64 GB. GIGABYTES! The measly 3.2 gigs that the photos take up are a drop in the pond of the iPod's storage potential. Gone are the days of the floppy disk...

And almost as if the devices were communicating amongst themselves and commenting on our tech-talk, dad's BlackBerry flashed its red notification light, as he received an article by Marc Wollin: "This One Goes Past A Trillion," from his weekly column Glancing Askance. Wollin's a New Yorker with a clever take on how we humans are "measuring up" these days. Here's an excerpt from the short piece, which is well worth a read:

Think of your music, video and pictures. We used to talk about data in terms of kilobytes, or 1000 bytes. Then megabytes, or 1000 kilobytes became the norm. Now we routinely transfer and walk around with memory sticks than hold gigabytes, or 1000 megabytes. And it's not uncommon to find home computers these days with drives that handle terabytes, or 1000 gigabytes, which, coincidentally, is the same as a trillion. In taxes, huge number: in footage of your vacation, not so much.

[FULL ARTICLE HERE]

All this to say: stay tuned for photos. A helluva lot of them.

'Nam highlights

2010-05-29T08:14:00.000-07:00

Vietnam baffles me.

A "communist" country, it's also a place where locals will gladly alleviate you of your dong (the local currency)...or dollars, or euros, or anything else, in exchange for whatever they have on offer (which is everything). It's not uncommon to be initially quoted a price 5 or 6 times the appropriate amount, only to bargain a little, walk away, and finally get a fair deal.

The traffic is the craziest I've seen since my trip to India, except unlike in Delhi, here the steady stream of motorbikes (with a few bicycles and a few cars mixed in) flows like a choreographed dance full of near-misses and complicated groupwork in close quarters at breakneck speeds. I'm astonished to only have seen one minor accident, from which the two involved parties walked away unscathed.

And here's a visual contradiction:

Yes, that is exactly what it looks like. A farmer, with his water buffalo, plowing the rice fields...talking on his cell phone.

Vietnam. Go figure.

Dad and I have had a fantastic trip so far. Highlights have included:

- Visiting the Cu Chi tunnels outside Saigon. The Viet Cong built an extensive network of tunnels connecting their underground bunkers outside of Saigon. With the weapons flooding in from the Ho Chi Minh Trail and Viet Cong embedded all over South Vietnam, it's hard to imagine how the U.S. ever felt that this was a war they could "win." That's another story.

- Riding on the back of xe om - motorbike taxis - everywhere! Motorbikes abound in Vietnam, and in the cities you'll see more of them whizzing by than all other forms of transport combined. Legally, drivers and "passengers" have to wear helmets here, so when you see a guy smoking a cigarette, sitting on his motorbike by the side of the road, with two helmets slung over the handlebars, you start bargaining.

- Joining locals in prayer/listening to a teaching of a Buddhist monk on the occasion of the full moon ceremony. Beautiful music emerged from a combination of nonstop chanting, bell ringing, hollow-gourd playing and other percussive sounds, all changing time signature and wafting over me with the smell incense...

Can you spot the sweaty foreigner?

- Dinner with a lively and lovely group of expats in Hanoi...was introduced by the illustrious Felicia to her high school friend Jimmy, who kindly invited me and dad to tag along for the evening's activities! Enjoyed delicious food and delicious conversation.

- Visiting "Uncle Ho," better known as Ho Chi Minh, in his embalmed state in his mausoleum. What a trip! Literally thousands of visitors, the vast majority of whom were Vietnamese, lined up and waited for hours only to be ushered through the viewing room in a matter of moments. Our guide said there were more visitors today than he had ever seen in his life (the combined effect of it being a weekend, and the kickoff of summer holidays for Vietnamese schoolkids). Official rules inside the mausoleum: No cameras. No hats. Long pants. No sunglasses. No hands in pockets. No hands behind back. No talking. Unofficial rules while waiting in line for the mausoleum: Do not keep your place in line. Cut ahead of the people in front of you at every opportunity. Push/prod/graze the person in front of you until they look around giving you the opportunity to overtake them.

Requisite jumping photo outside HCM's mausoleum

Tomorrow we had to Halong Bay for what promises to be a scenic farewell before dad heads back to New York.

Thanks everyone for your comments! It makes me feel so great to know that there's actually someone out there reading this thing. And to that end, I am going to try to make my posts more frequent (though perhaps a little shorter to facilitate said frequency).

Until then, sending love from Vietnam.

Julia

Dad's here!

2010-05-26T09:42:00.000-07:00

And we're eating pho!

More adventures to come...

Might as well jump

2010-05-24T06:40:00.000-07:00

Leaping in front of the Town Hall building in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

I chose today's photo because I loved this quote, which comes from this New York Times review of "Philippe Halsman: Jump" (a photography exhibition at the Laurence Miller Gallery back home):

When the photographer Philippe Halsman said, “Jump,” no one asked how high. People simply pushed off or leapt up to the extent that physical ability and personal decorum allowed. In that airborne instant Mr. Halsman clicked the shutter. He called his method jumpology.

The idea of having people jump for the camera can seem like a gimmick, but it is telling that jumpology shares a few syllables with psychology. As Halsman, who died in 1979, said, “When you ask a person to jump, his attention is mostly directed toward the act of jumping, and the mask falls, so that the real person appears.”

Indeed!

Jumping has been a bit of a theme. Talia, my South America travel buddy from Canada, and I took dozens of pictures leaping, jumping, and generally attempting flight in front of various and sundry landmarks in Argentina and Uruguay. I have continued Talia's tradition, and myself have been getting a bit of air across Australia, Singapore, Indonesia, Cambodia and Vietnam (!). To that end, I'm building a Picasa web album called "Jumping around the world". Check it out here.

Photo of the day, 21 May 2010

2010-05-21T23:03:00.000-07:00

O.K., so maybe a photo every day was a little ambitious...
This one's from the floating village in Tonle Sap:

Before I visited one, the words "floating village" conjured, for me, an enchanted hamlet, magically adrift on a glittering river. In reality, the community living outside Siem Reap on Tonle Sap, while visually striking, was very sad. The very act of visiting felt strange. Ben and I left the comforts of the River Village Manor, our lovely guest house, with our guide, Kerri. Thirty minutes in the tuk tuk later, we had passed progressively less and less elaborate homes lining the road. Just before we reached the dock where tours leave for the floating village, we saw a huge tract of land that had been cleared...Kerri informed us that there are plans to build a 5-star hotel there. Well! That would certainly change the "vibe."

We paid a man in a hut and then walked down to a small fishing boat and began our journey out to the center of the lake. The river is extremely shallow in parts, so our boat driver would climb on the bow and push us along with a long stick that he wedged into the mud, gondolier style. I thought our boat was rustic enough, until some actual fishing boats zoomed by (often sending the muddy low-river-tide water sputtering into our boat)...then I saw some additional tourist boats returning to the dock - just like ours, fitted with plastic chairs and a roof and thin plastic sheeting that could be lowered to protect tourists and their expensive cameras from the muddy sprays of the 'real' boats.

Stuck in the mud

All of a sudden, there was a child at Ben's shoulder, standing on the edge of the boat with an ice bucket full of drinks: "Cocacolasodacoldwater?" he asked. After the initial shock Ben declined, and looking down over the side of the boat saw that several small boats (essentially canoes with motors) had sidled up to ours to offer us, the tourists, cold drinks. Children would jump on and off the tourist boats as their drivers (could it be a parent?) maneuvered around the widening section of the lake.

And then the mouth of the lake opened up and deepened and we were in the "village."

I'm not sure what to say of the village. I didn't get a chance to talk with the people who lived there...and part of me thinks, that's a good thing. To have their day to day lives be a tourist attraction is enough of a disturbance without having curious outsiders like me come knocking and saying, "so what's life really like here?"

There's a central dock where tourists are let off, given the opportunity to spend more money (drinks, souvenirs), and where more teams of child and parent zero in on tourists in their boats. The girl in the first photo is one of these kids. They jump onto the dock with snakes around their neck and adorable smiles, stare right up at you and open their hand while repeating, seemingly, the only English they know: "One dollar." Ben had brought his guitar, so instead he sat down and played a song for them. The children seemed to like this - they communicated that they were listening with smiles and furtive glances at each other, before resuming the "one dollar" chorus. And then we just sat there, for half an hour. Ben playing songs, and letting the kids (there were 6 or 7 of them now) strum while he held down chords. I realized that taking a photo would prompt more requests - "one DOLLLLLaarrrrr!" - so I snapped a few without anyone noticing and then sat back and enjoyed the music. The kids seemed to, too, though their mothers looked a bit wistful, a bit disappointed that we were not obliging with our dollars. It's much easier to look at ruins - buildings - places that have been long abandoned by humans - that to look at people - and sadly, "looking at" was the encouraged verb.

I'm glad we went. I think it was a treat for those kids to be allowed to stop saying "one dollar" for a few minutes, and watch, with what was once described to me as awestruck wonder, a white dude in a hat sit down, hang out, and made beautiful sounds. If that's not the very essence of music, I don't know what is.

A post from Benjamin, May 18th 2010

2010-05-18T19:28:00.000-07:00

Benjamin here, guest-posting after having the pleasure of traveling with the illustrious Julia for the last three weeks. The two of us ate our way across Sydney, Bali, Singapore and Cambodia. Here's the dish on some of my favorites.

Sydney

Those of you who like a little extra CO2 in your H20 have no doubt heard of Pellegrino, which is Italian for “that’ll be seven dollars, please.” Pellegrino puts out a yearly ranking of the world’s 50 best restaurants. And Quay, which is pronounced “key,” was ranked 27^th on Pellegrino’s list this year, having earned said ranking the very day that Julia and I ate there. The food was gorgeous. My starter was a tomato salad that looked like a garden. And no kidding, the best tomatoes I’ve ever eaten. Sweet, firm, juicy, perfect. Julia had crab congee, a superdelicous soup-y thing. Then I had insanely good pork belly with a sweet crispy crunchy caramelized crust. The restaurant has floor to ceiling windows that wind round the whole restaurant, and look over the harbor to the Sydney Opera House. Julia dug the 90’s fancy-New York-esque décor.

I thought that Quay would be our top eating in Sydney, but then, at surf-side café on a beach called Manly (named for the manly physique of the aborigines there. Seriously.) I ate kangaroo and Julia ate crocodile. Kazzam.

On to Bali, Indonesia.

In the town of Ubud, we stayed at a guest-house run by a little Indonesian lady named Oka Wati.

We ate the most fantastic breakfast on our room’s little veranda, which looked past orchids and palms, and over a swimming pool, to rice fields.

Sculptural fruit-salad decorated with spices, rice and chicken, noodles, eggs, yogurt, and coffee. And water. Lots of water. Julia and I’d each drink a liter and a half at every meal. (Yes, we’ve gone metric.)

My favorite Indonesian meal? Nomad Café, on Monkey Forest Road in Ubud. Nothing like a 12-course Balinese tapas tasting menu in 100 degree weather eaten while sitting on my heels yogi-like (my feet went numb 20 minutes into it), watching motor-bikes wiz by. We ate chicken on sugarcane drumsticks, spring-rolls with spicy sauce, stewed pork-belly, hot saffron chicken and cold chicken salad, fried-tofu, shredded spiced beef, spinach and sesame salad, I can’t remember everything else… we drank watermelon juice and fresh lemon juice.

At the one of the seafood warung in Jimbaran, Julia and I sat at a table on the beach and watched the sun set, then went inside and chose the then-swimming-around-in-a-tank fish that we wanted for dinner. We also had a few shrimp, and some beach-grilled corn that I bought from a beach-vendor. It was a beautiful evening.

Singapore Where All Cab-drivers Are Called “Uncle.”

Our dear friend Joe Kardon hosted us, and took us to so many brilliant places to eat. We knew we were in for a treat when, immediately following directions from the airport to his apartment, Joe's email read thus:
"I don't know what you have in mind for Singapore, but I can tell you the best thing to do is eat and eat."

A few highlights:

> Black Pepper Crab and Chili Crab at Long Beach Seafood. Huge spicy crabs. Outside seating, over-looking the massive anchored ships on the water.

> Indian food at Ghandi. A banana-leaf-placemat was set in front of each of us, onto which was heaped rice, chutneys and sauces of different flavors and colors, and bowls of chicken. Then, following Mr. Kardon’s lead, we mixed everything up with our right hand, and then went to work.

> Singapore is famous for its hawker centers, street-level malls of different food-stalls all serving super-cheap, super-good eats. So important to the local culture are these Hawker centers, that the National Museum in Singapore has an exhibit dedicated to them. We ate at one before heading to the Drama Centre Theatre, to watch a production of Animal Farm. We ordered chicken rice, a pork-rib soup called Ba Kut Teh, noodles, and skewers, and two huge beers. When we were brought four instead, Julia remarked, “Four beers good, two beers bad.”

Cambodia Where You Clearly Need A Tuk-Tuk

Julia and I arrived in Siem Reap, Cambodia, the day before my birthday, and we went to restaurant called Touich, owned by a charming, young couple. Julia had a banana-flower salad, with crispy dried fish, and I had a Korean spicy-beef salad. Then I skeletonized a porkchop. Julia had squid, pan-grilled with fresh Kampot peppercorns, a local specialty.

The newlywed owners of Touich, at their wedding, were given the traditional length of red string by a Buddist monk, to share with the wedding guests as good luck bracelets; they gave both me and Julia a strand to wear for good luck. And if that weren’t enough, the whole staff then put on hats, and brought me dessert with a candle. Boy was I happy. What a celebration.

A Cambodian leader, whose name escapes me, said something along the lines of “Being colonized isn’t great, but if you’re going to get colonized, at least get colonized by gourmets.” Under this “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” umbrella is the Blue Pumpkin, a bakery/restaurant with flakey buttery airy croissants, real baguettes, and lots of white people on laptops. I sat at a table outside and had coffee and pastries for breakfast; then for lunch, I sat on big white sofas upstairs, on which are little tables, and ate a spicy chicken wrap. I suppose I did feel a bit like a colonialist.

Now I’m back in New York, but my heart, (and, perhaps more importantly, my stomach…) continues to be with Julia, wherever her travels, culinary or otherwise, take her.

Photo of the day, 17 May 2010

2010-05-17T07:39:00.000-07:00

Six Steps to Stellar Spring Rolls

Today I took a Cambodian cooking class at the aptly named Cambodia Cooking Class school. They can accommodate up to 10 students, but today I was the only one. Lucky! My "photo" of the day is actually six photos that I've collaged together. Six steps to delicious, crispy spring rolls. I'm eager to show off my new skills when I get home, so look out for your invitation to hors d'oeuvre, Cambodian style!

Step 1: Visit the Central Market in Phnom Penh. (Note: this is NOT WholeFoods)

Step 2: Grate, salt, drain, rinse, drain the taro root. Grate the carrot.

Step 3: Rollup the spring rolls using rice flour wrappers. Use egg as "glue" to seal the rolls.

Step 4: Fry in (plenty of) oil. (Also make the sauce - peanuts, bird's eye hot peppers, a bit of sweet pepper, fish sauce, peanuts, sugar, salt.)

Step 5: Serve.

Step 6: Enjoy.

Yum!

How about...

2010-05-16T03:19:00.000-07:00

a photo a day?

This one's from Byron Bay, Australia. Evan, Andy, Eli, and me (behind the camera), back where we started: on the swingset. Still playing, 11 years after Chatsworth.

Oh! And what do you think of the new header? And check out the bottom of the blog for some customized "Older posts/Home/Newer posts" buttons (thanks, Pocket!)

Ups and downs

2010-05-15T07:27:00.000-07:00

The past few days have been a roller coaster of emotions and reactions to all that is going on around me. After the incredible high of traveling with Ben for three weeks (details coming soon), he left, and I found myself alone in Phnom Penh, a place where it feels like the locals are about as interested in getting to know me as they are in obeying traffic laws, which is to say, not at all.

I met a very cool expat through CouchSurfing, and saw a concert sponsored by the U.S. Embassy of a band called Dengue Fever, L.A. natives who play 1960s and 1970s Cambodian pop. The energy in the crowd was joyful and excellent, and I met a bunch of expats, and played chess (we ended in a draw) with one in a local bar/guesthouse restaurant.

The next day, I realized that I'd left my travel journal on the table in the bar, after showing one English-speaking local a hand-drawn map of New York City, to explain where he was when he visited (Midtown, of course) in relation to where I lived ("very close to Liberty Statue!"). Realizing the next day that my notebook wasn't in my bag, I called the bar: no answer. I returned to the bar: nothing. Can I speak to the owner? He's sleeping. What time will he wake up? After 2pm. O.K. I called again and spoke to the owner, who promised he and his staff would have a look 'round and call me back either way. He called back: no notebook. I returned again today to ask if anything had turned up: nothing. I went to the closest guesthouse to see if someone had turned it in there: nothing. Then! Joy and jubilation! I got a CouchSurfing message from my new friend, saying that one of his friends had found the notebook! So this is a rather long paragraph just to say: I'm thrilled and thankful to soon be reunited with my trusty travel journal. Big "up" moment.

This morning I met Michael, another estadounidense also staying at the Fancy Guest House and decided to tag along on his walkabout plans for today. Turns out he also went to Columbia (!) and is taking a 2-month journey around Asia before returning to New York for business school. Talk about small world!

We visited the Choeung Ek Killing Fields, the site of the Khmer Rouge's executions of thousands of Cambodian intellectuals, those with ties to the former/foreign government(s), rebel Khmer soldiers, and the wives and children of all of these (to prevent them from one day seeking revenge). The tour guide's explanations of the various stops along the tour were chilling in their frankness: "this is the mass grave of 400 people" - "this skull shows marks from being chopped with an axe" - "this is the tree against which children were beaten before they were killed." It's quite a harrowing history. I couldn't bring myself to take photos. If I can find some online, I'll post them here.

Later we returned to central Phnom Penh to see the Royal Palace and the Silver Pagoda, a set of tourist attractions that stand in stark contrast to the political history of the Khmer Rouge. Beautiful. opulent pagodas in a lush, manicured garden, and plenty of tourists holding up peace signs in front of buildings.

Dinner at Friends Restaurant, a place that employs and trains children and young adults who would otherwise be begging or living on the street. Dining for a good cause, and the food and atmosphere were also excellent!

So, all in all, it's been more up than down...I'm embracing the challenge of being in a place where I don't speak the language...where "no thank you" rolls off the tongue with ease as I'm offered tuk tuk rides as I walk to or from any and all of the tourist attractions...and where many of those tourist attractions are chilling reminders of evils of the not-so-distant past. I am learning a lot.

With love and lots of sweat (97 degrees indoors).
Julia

Happy Mothers' Day!

2010-05-09T15:01:00.000-07:00

To all the Mothers out there, Happy Mothers' Day, and thanks for bein' moms.
(Shout out to Mom! And Grandma and Wendy and Patti)

Photo essay: Bali

2010-05-03T22:46:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Bali late Saturday night, purchased our visas-on-arrival and waited in a long, long line to have them checked (but! it's a full page sticker in the passport!). Took an hour taxi ride to our guest house in Ubud. The hot, muggy air smelled of smoke - the burning of incense and of garbage. Pairs of helmeted locals whizzed by on their scooters by the dozens. "Like mosquitoes," our cab driver said.

In the morning, our host and owner of the eponymous hotel, Oka Wati, asked us what we'd like for breakfast. We ordered banana pancakes and an omelet and the "Indonesian Specialty" nasi goreng, a delicious fried rice dish. "Also you will have fruit," Oka Wati told us. O.K.! The papaya, pineapple and banana came in a lovely little tower topped with shredded coconut and a sprinkling of nutmeg. Yum! It was all pretty heavenly.

We spent the day walking around Ubud, getting a lay of the land. Well. I have never been in a place more expressly designed for tourists. Every (I am not exaggerating) yard, a man asks you, "taxi? You need transport?" Your "no, thank you" elicits a "maybe tomorrow?" Without fail. Every 3 or 4 yards, a woman asks you "massage please?" Your "no, thank you" elicits a flyer in your face. Every storefront has a shopkeeper smiling and waving you inside, "come in, just looking!" Nonstop.

We did check out the main temple, with its incredible display of orchids:

We wandered off the main roads and into a path in the rice paddies. What a stark difference. Nothing but green, green, green everywhere:

A long, lazy and excellent lunch at Nomad Cafe - we had an Indonesian sharing menu for two - was the perfect way to cool off.

Later we decided if massage was the thing, we'd better try it out. Walked into a place without the flyer brigade outside and had an excellent 1-hour Balinese Traditional massage in a beautiful setting, then an outdoor shower, and tea and fruit afterwards. Grand total: US$14. So yeah, I highly recommend the Wibawa Spa. It looks like this:

To round out the evening we saw some traditional Legong dance at the Ubud Palace. The performance mixed narrative dance with theatrical play-acting. Perhaps most striking was the dancers' incredible use of their eyes while they danced. This was the opposite of "modern dance face." Costumes also dazzled - colorful, layered, sparkling with gold...then there was the 2-person dragon...

I've created an album of these photos here: Legong Dance, Ubud, Bali - 30 April 2010

The next day we strolled to the Monkey Forest. I thought, cool, a shaded area, maybe we'll see some monkeys. LITERALLY upon entering there were monkeys everywhere. We're talking 1 yard in from the entrance, and Ben and I just sat down to watch the monkeys cavorting around. I felt something on my leg, and looked down to see a small macaque monkey draping its hand over my leg. "Ben! Ben! Get a picture!" The little guy then climbed into my lap, posed for a few snapshots, then dashed off. This made me immensely happy. Further into the Monkey Forest, I realized, wherever you sit down, most likely a monkey will come over and check you out. None like that first guy, though. I did have a monkey jump on my head and start social grooming me. One jumped on Ben's head and stole the flower out of his hatband. Another ran off with my sunglasses (a park employee retrieved the glasses). Monkey photos here: Monkey Forest, Ubud, Bali - 1 May 2010.

For all of Ubud's delights, we still found it quite touristy. It didn't seem at all like the place where Balinese people might actually live. Tourism ruled the town, so we opted to leave after our short stay for the shores of Nusa Dua. Turns out, Nusa Dua is quite touristy as well! The (according to Lonely Planet) "best Balinese food in Bali" is found there, at a restaurant run by a Swiss guy. Go figure. We did go to the famed Bumbu Bali, though - along with the other tourists who were cheerfully greeted by the entire staff of the open kitchen with a resounding "Selamat malam" (good evening) upon entering. Ben and I had a special dinner in celebration of six years (!) together, feasting on some extremely delicious local fare and sipping Balinese beer. Lovely.

We thought we'd get away from all the hawkers on the beautiful Geger Beach. And for a while, we did, until the place started filling up with other tourists, followed of course by opportunistic locals selling sarongs, strings of beads, and massages right in your rented lounge chair. (Note to self: start a beach massage company offering SUNSCREEN massages. Brilliant, no?)

We're on the tail end of the rainy season here, though no complaints; while everyone rushed inside for the 20-minute sunshower, Ben and I took a swim in the (super warm - mom, you would go in without breaking stride) ocean. Perhaps this is when I got sunburned, or perhaps while seated IN THE SHADE! under an umbrella, the sun snuck around the edge or just shined right through that thing, but I got Sun Burned. I wore sunscreen! I sat in the shade! The rule is: reapply, reapply, reapply. Even Ben, who rarely burns, turned a lovely shade of bright pink.

So that evening, looking like lobsters, we went in search of the famed shellfish and other fruits of the sea of the Jimbaran seafood warung. We taxied (really the best way to get around, unless you want to brave a motorbike) to the beach and chose our meal with a net instead of a menu. The front of the "restaurant" = a grill and a bunch of fish tanks. The "waiters" point to the tanks and tell you about their contents. We had the fish in the photo, and prawns and rice and vegetables and wow, yum. This was good. By this point you've probably guessed that the entire clientèle was...yup, tourists. Still, there was beauty in listening to 6 or 7 different languages floating above the sound of the waves, eyes in soft focus on the cloudy and exquisite sunset...which gave way to a skyful of stars mirroring the twinkling lights of the surrounding cities. Simple, beautiful.

The next day was a day of travel organization. I spent a LONG time in the internet cafe, and a LONG time on the phone with JetStar trying to change my flights I spoke to four people there: person number one and I got disconnected. Person number two changed my flights, but to the wrong date. So I spoke to person number three, who changed them to the right date in the wrong city. Person number four sorted me out and apologized profusely. I tried to smile through the whole thing; Ben says I sounded very friendly. Still, I was pretty worn out by the whole thing. This photo captures it pretty well:

So! The next leg is as follows:

Tonight, fly from Bali to Singapore. Land early tomorrow morning (12:45am).
Four days in Singapore with Joe!
Sunday fly to Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

Can't complain.
Takin' the passport out for another whirl tonight! Until soon...
Julia

Latest and greatest

2010-05-02T22:34:00.000-07:00

Leaving Bali tomorrow.
Flying to Singapore.
Hanging there for a few days.
Then to Cambodia.
Then, more "I don't know."

I promise to post photos and substantive updates soon.

Come fly with me...

2010-04-28T22:15:00.000-07:00

...to Bali, Indonesia! Benjamin and I are at the Sydney airport, about to fly to Bali, do some traveling around Indonesia, and then who knows? We had to buy airline tickets out of Indonesia in order to be eligible for the upon-arrival visas, so we booked some fully refundable flights to Singapore (where I may meet Amanda for a quick hello before continuing traveling. Exciting!).

Looking forward to getting some WiFi so that I can post new photos and reflections upon the last several weeks, stored on my newly charged up netbook.

A new passport stamp is only hours away...
Julia

There's no place like Oz

2010-04-18T18:26:00.000-07:00

G'day, mates...and all those other Australian cliches...from Byron Bay, Australia! I'm not sure how far geographically north Byron Bay is from Sydney; I can tell you that it is precisely three nights in a camper van north. What a ride!

I arrived in Sydney last Sunday and showed up on the doorstep of Evan and Andy, two of my oldest friends from my elementary school days who moved out to Australia five months back - lived in Sydney - lived in Melbourne - and are now traveling up the east coast of Australia, where I've joined them for a bit. While awaiting the arrival of Eli, another old old old friend, we explored Sydney anew (Andy and Evan hadn't been back since their two months of living in Melbourne). Highlights included a 6am (my jetlag; Andy's inability to sleep) walk through the Botanical Gardens, a ferry trip to Darling Harbour, and dancing the night away in Pott's Point.

Four days in a camper van = lots of crackers; driving on the left (an adventure in itself); trailer parks; 5:30am wake-up calls from policemen telling us to get off the road and INTO a trailer park; and lots of pulling off the road to the paradises that are so common we've begun (jokingly) to number them, as in "gotta head out and find paradise #13."

I am still without a netbook charger, and it looks like it will be a while longer as Ben is currently stuck under a cloud of ash in London, charger in tow. So posts will be sporadic. I promise to write more when I can!

Photos and stories to come - I'm off now to enjoy Byron's beaches.
Always love.
Julia

In transit(ion)

2010-04-09T16:45:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning I awoke in Buenos Aires. This morning I was in Atlanta. Currently, I am in Los Angeles. Right now, it is "tomorrow" in Australia. I will land in Auckland, New Zealand - and then fly to Sydney, Australia - on Sunday, April 11, having departed on Friday, April 9. What will happen on Saturday, April 10? You'll have to fill me in. That pesky international dateline!

Please pardon my blog silence. I left the charger for my netbook in Mendoza, Argentina. I've ordered a new one and hopefully it will arrive in Brooklyn on time for Benjamin to bring it to Australia. All in, this is a small price to pay to the travel gods, who blessed me with an absolutely incredible ("alucinante," in Spanish) first leg of my trip. I'm not quite sure how to put it all into words. There will be lots to tell when I juice up the ole netbook...until then, know that on my 30+ hours of flying today and yesterday and (I guess) on April 10, I will probably have thought of YOU!

With love and a new passport stamp from your antipodean friend,
Julia

Baires for nine days

2010-03-31T07:33:00.000-07:00

So far, I've spent nine days in Buenos Aires. It's the first city I've spent any real time in on this round-the-world trip (also did 3 days in Montevideo), and already I want to live here. Allow me to explain. This may take a while. In fact, grab a cup of coffee. Here goes.

Last Saturday Talia arrived; we had one night of overlapping surfing, and my host suggested that I make the reservation at Casa SaltShaker for the 3 of us. In walks Talia, a bundle of joy and enthusiasm, traveling alone around South America as she tries to decide whether to enroll in medical school in her native Canada. Within moments of meeting her I said (and I remember my words exactly), "Hey, if you like me, we should travel together!" Those of you who know me (I assume if you're reading this you know me; actually, I assume that if you're reading this we share DNA) probably don't find that so strange - but you may imagine that this was a bit odd for a perfect stranger. Talia took it in stride, and I guess she likes me, because we've been to Montevideo and tonight we leave on a trip to Cordoba and Mendoza! But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Before dinner, I met up with Ezequiel, a friend of Erin's who I'd been e-introduced to. He lives in a beautiful apartment in Palermo with an incredible terraza which turned out to be the perfect place to watch the Buenos Aires sunset melt into an inky night sky. Wine, speaking only (well, mostly only) Spanish, sitting outdoors - twas a dream. I'm so glad I met Ezequiel and his friends; they really made Buenos Aires feel friendly and welcoming and young and yummy.

Dinner at Casa SaltShaker was delicious and hilarious. Our fellow diners (all English speaking!) were mostly retirees, and I loved hearing about their exotic travels. The food was truly amazing - based, as all of Dan's meals are, on a theme: this time it was the 195th anniversary of the start of Napoleon's 100 days rule (what, you weren't celebrating?), so all the food was French-inspired. Actually, Dan writes about it beautifully, with pictures, on his blog. At AR$150 with wine pairings (that's US$38.72), this is a 5-course meal not to miss if you're in Buenos Aires!

Afterwards our CS hosts, Talia and I went to La Viruta, a classic milonga (tango dance hall) with a large dance floor surrounded by tables. I sat watching for a while, amazed by this thing called tango. I can't think of any equivalent social phenomenon in the States. People, young and old, navigating a huge dance floor that's filled with moving bodies, in a highly specialized, totally improvisatory dance. At first, I thought all of the dancing pairs were also romantic couples - the intensity of their posture and gaze made me think, wow, everyone here is really in love with his/her girlfriend/boyfriend. Then after four songs, they switched partners, and everyone appeared to be in love with someone new! That's tango.

I (rather clumsily) tried my hand (feet?) on the dance floor, first with my CS host, who hails from the States and came to Buenos Aires for two reasons: to learn Spanish, and to learn tango. Dancing with him was a great primer, because he was able to explain to me in English what I was doing wrong. Then I danced with Oskar. Oskar is probably about 65 years old, I would guess 5'8" or 5'9", and a solid 230 pounds. He was a great dancer, and very patient with me, explaining essentially what my host had explained in English with the following Spanish phrase, repeated several dozen times over the course of our 4-song encounter: "Yo te llevo" (it really means "I'm leading," but translates more literally into, "I drive/steer you"). The lesson for all you ladies out there is: wait. Don't try to anticipate the steps, or your partners next move...just wait, and he'll do the work and it will all fall into place. It's kind of like meditation in that way: when it's actually happening, it's the easiest, most natural thing in the world. Unlike meditation, tango requires a lot of sweating and embarrassing toe-stomping to get to that easy place. I see how people get addicted to tango! We stayed out dancing until 4am - another "early night!"

Sunday it rained all day, and so we stayed in and I made lemon ricotta pancakes before bidding my first BA CouchSurfing hosts adios and heading to my next host's couch in Palermo. I'm not sure what the etiquette is on including names of your CS hosts in your blog, so I'll hold off until I've cleared it with them, but I was staying with two Argentine brothers and their adorable schnauzer, Baco (the dog has signed a release saying I could use his name). Brother #1 was the official host, having just returned from a year of travel during which he was a ski instructor in Colorado and then CouchSurfed through Europe. These CouchSurfing folk are really up to amazing things!

Monday I had my Chilean Seafood cooking class back at Casa SaltShaker. We made: shrimp ceviche over avocado salsa (smooth guacamole, thinned with a little milk); clams with salsa verde; mussels pil pil; and mackerel in fresh tomato sauce over crispy fried polenta, topped with caramelized green peppers. YUM! The recipes used a spice called merquen, which is a Chilean smoked chili, apparently very difficult to find in Argentina and sometimes in Chile as well. Although maybe I've seen it in WholeFoods...

Monday night kind of changed my life. My host, brother #1, had told me about this drumming circle concert performance improvisatory...thing...he couldn't really explain it in English or in Spanish (both of which he speaks much better than I do). O.K., I thought, I'll check it out. Here's what came next:

For two hours. It was amazing. It was unreal. The crowd went wild. I can't really capture it in words, or in video. Just go. When Talia and I made our plans to go to Montevideo for the weekend, we made a point of being back on Monday JUST so that we could return to this drumming circle concert performance improvisatory thing, La Bomba de Tiempo ("the time bomb"). Here's what I looked like after the hours of dancing:

This is pre-Montevideo sunburn. Just sweaty and happy (oh, and that's Talia and Brother #1).

So then we, of course, stayed out until 4am, dancing more. Naturally.

Does it count as going to sleep if it's only for 3 hours? I took a 3 hour nap and got up on Tuesday morning to wander the city some more. Sat at another cafe for 3 or 4 hours - no one bugged me, I just watched the world go by. (You can see why I like it here?) I stopped at some of the more beautiful tourist attractions in Buenos Aires, including el Flor, a metal sculpture that opens and closes with the sun like a real flower:

This post is getting painfully long, and I haven't even caught up to my first week in Buenos Aires, so I am going to zip through the next couple of days and if you want the deets, email me (or comment on my blog! no comments = I'm a loser blogger) and I'll gladly oblige. Actually, yes. This is a call to action: what do you want to hear about? What's exciting? What's boring? What aspects of the trip should I blog about? You tell me.

Quickly, here's the rest of Buenos Aires round 1, and a brief Montevideo photo essay:

Tuesday night, the brothers informed me they were heading to their family home in Pilar (1 hr. north of BsAs). Did Talia and I want to come and spend a day playing tennis, ping pong, soccer, etc., and sit by the pool? Yes, yes we did. Lots of hilarity ensued, including Wednesday's epic game of foosball that ended in peace talks and a signed armistice agreement.

Thursday morning Talia and I boarded the Buquebus ferry and then bus to Montevideo, where I saw my cousin Jake, toured the highest tower in the city, got no tan whatsoever while sitting on the beach, got a terrible sunburn while walking, ate a delicious steak, and jumped off the steps of some monuments. Here are the pictures to prove it:

Returned to Buenos Aires on Sunday for round 2...so much more to say about all of it...hey, let's sit down porteno style, order a coffee, and talk about it for a few hours. Si?

Sending out only love,

Julia

MORE PHOTOS: BUENOS AIRES 17-31 MARCH 2010

Update coming soon

2010-03-27T09:04:00.000-07:00

Well hello, world!

I am currently in an internet cafe in Montevideo, Uruguay, eager to get out into that late summer sunshine taunting me from the window. (Don´t worry, I am wearing sunscreen!)

Just wanted to say that South America is awesome, everything´s going swimmingly, and I will update you all very soon with Buenos Aires highlights (there are many), my trip to Montevideo (yes, I saw cousin Jake!), and plans for the next 2 weeks on this fine continent (hint: they involve my good friend Malbec). I´ve got photos and everything. You´re gonna be thrilled.

For now, I would like to share this poem that the illustrious Theo shared with me. I have copied it into my notebook and read it often, for inspiration and strength and to be reminded of the beauty of journeying.

Please Bring Strange Things

Please bring strange things.
Please come bringing new things.
Let very old things come into your hands.
Let what you do not know come into your eyes.
Let desert sand harden your feet.
Let the arch of your feet be the mountains.
Let the paths of your fingertips be your maps
And the ways you go be the lines of your palms.
Let there be deep snow in your inbreathing
And your outbreath be the shining of ice.
May your mouth contain the shapes of strange words.
May you smell food cooking you have not eaten.
May the spring of a foreign river be your navel.
May your soul be at home where there are no houses.
Walk carefully, well-loved one,
Walk mindfully, well-loved one,
Walk fearlessly, well-loved one.
Return with us, return to us,
Be always coming home.

---Ursula K. Leguin

Hola, de Buenos Aires

2010-03-20T08:36:00.000-07:00

Sunset over the buildings of Puerto Madero, from Parque Micaela Bastidas

I made it! My first "official" stop*.

I arrived Thursday morning and took the express bus to the city center - a great deal, as the price of the express bus ticket includes a shuttle to your exact address within the city. I mention this mostly because when the shuttle driver asked me where I was from, and I told him New York, he said, "Oh, I lived in New York for a while...in New Rochelle." That is ONE TOWN OVER From where I grew up. Talk about small world. And talk we did.

My new best friend from New Rochelle, Omar, and I chatted away in Spanglish (delightful) as we drove through the streets of Buenos Aires. I arrived at my CouchSurfing spot and met my delightful hosts.

The thing that's so amazing about CouchSurfing is that you basically have instant friends. I'm staying with two roommates, one from the States and one from Germany, and they're really into the CouchSurfing scene in Buenos Aires, so I tagged along with one of them to a birthday party for another CS'er in a park in Puerto Madera. Bam. Day 1. Friends.

The birthday party turned out to be a lovely picnic in Parque Micaela Bastidas, complete with frisbee playing and face painting. One of the chicas I met - roommate of the birthday boy - has moved to BA with her boyfriend...he works in a restaurant...that turned into a dinner invitation to the restaurant that evening! I'm feeling good about my first day already. To top it all off, we went to a hilarious club. Hilarious because, apparently, Thursday night is transvestite night. The ongoing stage show was one of the best costumed pieces of theater I've seen in a long time. Add in the mystery of "is he a she or a he?" and a slamming DJ and it definitely made for an exciting evening. I stuck with my CS host and got home by 3:30am - according to her, an early night.

Yesterday I walked around Palermo Viejo (I think it was Viejo) after sitting at a cafe there and watching the world go by for a couple hours. They have THE COOLEST stores here. Clothes, shoes, bags, jewelry. I must come back when (1) I have money and (2) I have room to bring stuff home. Lots of room. Geez louise it was great! Managed not to buy anything, which is a small miracle, considering the number of incredible, relatively cheap, independent, designer-y boutiques I went into.

The mural at the beginning of the concert

Returned to my hosts' apartment to meet them for a Kevin Johansen concert at Ciudad Cultural Konex, an open-air space where they'd set up bleachers and half a dozen hammocks. We arrived early and got seats - a good move, because Kevin and his band, "the nada," played for more than 2 hours! I really enjoyed his music, especially the way he combined Spanish and English (he's half Argentine, half Alaskan!). He also had a painter onstage, who, starting with a blank sheet hanging behind the band, created a mural bit by bit, changing and adding to it to accompany each song. Kevin + the muralist had a funny rapport. Not that I could understand most of what they were saying (in fast, slangy Spanish), but everyone else was laughing, so it must have been funny. At one point, the two joined hands and took a stroll through the audience (of about 500 people)...I have a couple photos from when they came up into the bleachers...and O.K., I'll admit it, I ruffled his hair when he passed by.

By the end of the concert, the mural looked like this!

Tonight: dinner at Casa SaltShaker, a puerta cerrada (translation: closed door) restaurant that has 12 guests for a themed dinner in the chef's home! He's an expat from the states, and offers cooking classes in English, so on Monday I am taking his Chilean Seafood cooking class. Much to look forward to!

I'm off to explore the city!

Ciao ciao.

Julia

*My 2 days in L.A. were a wonderful kickoff, thanks to Matthew and Helen, Zander, Eli and Lily, and all the other folks who enjoyed Suzanne's chocolate ganache, not least of all, Suzanne! Thanks, y'all!

Dear friends,

2010-03-05T09:25:00.000-08:00

As some of you know, I am planning a trip around the globe. After finally graduating, I have decided that I am ready to take on the world. Literally.

I depart next Saturday, March 13, on a six- to nine-month jaunt around our planet. Needless to say, I am both extremely nervous and extremely excited.

In this Julia-takes-on-the-world scenario, I plan to travel alone, though I hope to meet up with friends and family (perhaps even you!?) at various ports of call. The general course - with a lot of improvisation expected along the way - is as follows:

Argentina --> Sydney (driving up the coast of Australia) --> around Southeast Asia --> overland to China --> Russia & Eastern Europe --> Turkey, Israel, Egypt --> Kenya --> India/Tibet

I will be a newcomer to just about every single place I plan to visit, so I welcome your advice/suggestions/introductions.

And while I can't believe I'm using "blog" as a verb, I will blog the trip here, at www.juliabloch.com. Should you wish to follow along, you will find me (virtually) here.

As always, I would love to hear from you about what's going on in your lives. To those of you to whom I haven't spoken to in a while, especially!

All this to say: keep in touch.

With love and extra passport pages,

Julia