My Book Café (From Flower Blog Two: Stories From Down Under)

I think, perhaps, I know why I’m in Melbourne. It has nothing to do with finding myself, love, or any other great cosmic purpose; oh no, it’s about the coffee. This city is renowned for producing a good cup of joe and she hasn’t disappointed me. Every latte I’ve had has been blissful; each one made with espresso that has been roasted, ground, and prepared with care and accuracy and milk that has been frothed to perfection. The best of the best, I’m told, can be found at Seven Seeds and while the coffee I had there was quite possibly one of the best I’ve ever had, it’s a different café I’ve decided to frequent for the duration of my stay.

Books? Good. Coffee? Good. I think I'm in love.

I walked past it the first day I was here and I immediately knew it was something special. It’s on Swan Street, just a short walk from my house, and called Book Talk Café. The storefront windows are filled with examples of the “new and pre-loved books” advertised on the sign and the BLT sandwich and two lattes I enjoyed at the café inside didn’t disappoint. Plus coming from a world where most local bookstores have been replaced with big shiny chain stores and the local Starbucks is usually a safer bet for a good latte than the independent place on the corner, it’s just so darn cool (yup there’s that word again) to find a place like this.

The inside of the shop is cozy and welcoming. Tables and shelves of books occupy the front of the store, with a café table or two in between. A sign explains how the store works; i.e. you can buy books, trade books, or sell books. The books are organized by section and, while the space isn’t large enough to house a selection equivalent to that of Barnes and Noble, there seems to be a little of everything. There’s even a good selection of coffee table and other good gift-giving books as well as a new release section. I’m so impressed and excited to find a real live bookstore in my neighborhood, in fact, that I’ve decided to swear off Amazon (do they even have Amazon in Australia?) for the duration of my stay and only shop for books at my little book café.

The café area is in the back half of the store and has a decent amount of seating. There’s even a cozy little area in the very back with a couch, armchairs, and a coffee table. The latte I had there the other day was so delicious I had to have two and, with a café menu that includes both hot and cold options for breakfast or lunch, I can’t think of a reason to go anywhere else. I feel comfortable in that store, I feel at home there drinking lattes among all those books, all those thoughts and words and stories. So even if the coffee was crap (which is most certainly isn’t), I’d return because after a week that felt like a month, in a city where I feel awkward and not at all like myself, a city that is so very far away from home, it’s nice to have a place to go to that feels so comfortable.

Why Melbourne? Why Now? (From Flower Blog Two: Stories From Down Under)

Total time it took to get from South Haven, Michigan to Melbourne, Australia (including time spent in airports): approximately 33 hours.

Total extra money spent to get me and my very heavy bags from South Haven, Michigan to Melbourne, Australia (including fees for changing my original flight, booking a flight from Sydney to Melbourne, and excess baggage fees): approximately 600 dollars. (Apparently you can bring your baggage with you to Australia but it will cost you).

Seeing the Sydney Opera House and Harbor Bridge at dawn from the plane: well, not quite priceless, given the hours, dollars, and heartache it took to get me here, but pretty spectacular nonetheless.

Sydney Opera House and Harbor Bridge

It was that moment, in fact, when it first hit me where I was and what I was doing. It was that moment, when the plane turned a little to the left and I strained to see the view out of the tiny airplane window, that this adventure I’m living became real and was no longer just a foggy dream. It was after hours and hours of sitting on a plane in the very back row; after hours of fitful sleep spent still wrestling with the decision I’d made to come to Australia despite my change in plans, I realized I had arrived and, even if it was a decision I was still unsure about, I had no choice but to go through with it. As I followed the masses through customs and the baggage claim, though, the only thought my sleep-deprived brain could manage was, what the hell am I doing here?

I have been here a little over three days now. I’m settled into a cute townhouse in a really cool neighborhood called Richmond. And, yes, I realize describing it as “really cool” sounds a little lame but when I was walking around the other day trying to get a feel for the place, all I could think is how cool it is. There are shops and trains and cafes all within a short walking distance from my house, and for a gal who grew up in a small resort town, went to college in a corn field, and then moved to another small resort town, this kind of neighborhood is, well, just plain cool. I’m excited to be here, I’m excited to be somewhere so new, so cool. Still, though, that thought keeps surfacing, keeps plaguing me; what the hell am I doing here?

I can never decide if I believe in the concepts of fate or destiny. Sometimes I think they’re just ideas dreamed up by the romantics out there and they’re happy little thoughts but not totally realistic. But there are some times, like right now, when I find myself clinging to the hope that they must exist. I still feel like my life isn’t my own at the moment, like the real me is floating over this strange life and the only place I can find footing is in the idea that there must be some reason why I have found myself in this place at this time.

So I’m wondering what do you, my lovely readers, think about the concepts of fate or destiny? Do things really happen for a reason? When your life is turned upside down and sideways and spits you out in a direction you had no intention of going in, is there a reason for it? Or is that just something we tell ourselves to cope with change?

When Plans Change (From Flower Blog Two: Stories From Down Under)

I’m a planner. I’m obsessive about organization and insist on writing everything down. I panic a little when I don’t have a plan. One of the hardest things about being this way is realizing, over and over again, that sometimes the powers that be have no regard for my plans. Really lousy things can happen; you lose your job, someone close to you dies, you love someone and he confesses he no longer loves you. It’s life and it’s not fair and there’s really no way to plan for these things. To do so would be very strange.

My Australia plans have changed before the trip even began. I was supposed to be in Sydney right now, I was supposed to leave early this week and I didn’t. I’m now leaving early next week for Melbourne. If you’re close to me or know someone close to me you know how and why this change happened. Perhaps I’ll share the very personal details of this moment with a wider audience one day. If I did that now the result would be a ranting hurtful tell-all of the very painful events that led me to this point and I don’t want to do that. So if you’re not someone close to me or someone close to someone close to me then, at the moment, these events are none of your business. I will, however, share with you the thoughts I’ve been left with in the wake of everything.

There are certain truths we accept as fact in our lives. Things we plan, things that just are. Then seemingly overnight, sometimes in an instant, they’re gone. We wake up one morning and find the truths we accepted yesterday have vanished and have been replaced with a whole new set. Suddenly life feels strange, not like your own and you don’t really know how to handle it.

I think that’s one of the most difficult aspects of grief. Of course the loss itself hurts. The spot in you that was filled by someone or something is now empty and that is a hollow aching feeling. And even if you find things to temporarily fill that hole, even if you find little ways to cope with that pain through the day, the fact remains that your life is now changed and will never be the same as it was before. Realizing this feels like the wind being knocked out of you and it makes you feel dizzy and wonder if you will ever recognize this strange new life as your own.

I don’t know yet if or when this life I’m suddenly living will feel like my own. All that is pushing me forward at the moment, all that I know to be true about my life right now is that I am, in fact, still alive. I have no choice but to keep moving forward so I don’t miss out on a single moment of this precious, often fleeting, life. I know I must wake up every morning and continue to invest myself into getting to know these new truths so I can eventually make my peace with them.


NOTE: For more of my thoughts on dealing with heartache, read One Sunset at a Time.

Home is Where the Moon Sets (From Flower Blog Two: Stories From Down Under)

Had someone told me five years ago that after living in Vail for awhile I would think the best way to celebrate the end of a winter season is to spend a few days camping and playing in Moab, Utah, I would have been skeptical. When I moved to Vail sleeping in a tent and not showering for a few days did not excite me (click here to read about my first camping trip in Colorado on Flower Blog). Five years later and I found myself squeezing in a 4-day trip to Moab between finishing work, packing my life into a very small storage unit, and tying knots in all the ends that needed to be tied before I leave Vail for Australia. And it was worth it.

The view from my tent in Moab, Utah

There’s something exhilarating and cleansing about that annual pilgrimage of Vail residents to the high desert. It’s the moment when everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief that the chaos of winter has ended. People let their hair down. They whoop and laugh loudly on the river and continue to eat, drink, and be merry into the night while gathered around big campfires. It’s a big familial celebration and always a good time.

I was sitting around the campfire on the last night of the trip this year watching my friends, many of whom have become family to me over the years, laugh and talk and I realized that I was home. Not home in Moab but home with these people and home in moments like that. This epiphany shocked me at first. I’ve called Vail home over the years but I’ve also called Michigan home, although somewhere during the past year or so I believe I stopped calling Michigan home. I never expected Vail to become home, never knew when I moved there that it would become home. But that’s what it is, and not just because all of my stuff’s there or because I have a 970 area code or a Colorado driver’s license; because those aren’t really the things that make a place home. It’s the people you love and the experiences you share with them that make a place home, that shape who you are and tie your heart to a place.

Vail has a very transient population and I realized early in my time there that as long as I live there I would always be saying good-bye to people. I hate that. Good-byes are exhausting. I learned quickly that these farewells had to be quick and, sometimes, even a little impersonal. A hug and a “see you later” and that’s all that’s needed, especially because I’ve also realized that many of the people who leave come back. Vail has that kind of pull on folks.

With the end of this year’s Moab trip came my turn to say good-bye. This time I was on the opposite end of quick hugs and “see you laters.” It was harder for me than I thought it would be to be the one leaving and I almost wanted everyone to be sadder to see me go.

The morning I left Vail was cold and clear. It was 4:30 in the morning and I went outside to take the trash out before my 5:00 am airport shuttle arrived. It was still dark, right before the first hints of daylight arrive, and the moon was incredible. It was setting in the west over the mountains and it was glowing and huge. It felt like a little “see you later” from Vail. And it struck me that there was no need for myself or anyone else to be sadder to see me go because the best thing about knowing where home is, is that you can and will always find yourself there again. And, if home really is with the people you love, and the people you love are scattered around the globe, then you’re really never that far away from home.

First Anniversary Bonus Post

I wrote the following article for Vail PM about a month ago but it hasn’t run on their site yet and I’m not sure if it ever will. I put some work into it, though, and I had fun writing it so I thought I’d share it here.


Spring Forward into Spring Fashion

Spring is here. We’ve seen plenty of sunshine in the last few weeks accompanied by temps in the 40’s and 50’s (anywhere else that’s still cold, here that’s flip flop weather). Daylight Savings made its debut last month and Easter is right around the corner. And while this winter has been a bit mild compared to the last few it has been winter nonetheless. It’s always bittersweet to bid adieu to ski season, but the pain of saying good-bye can be eased with the promise of longer days, Hot Summer Nights, and summer sports. And, of course, the thrill of shedding a layer or two or five and stepping into some spring style.

A friend of mine who used to live in Vail returned this winter for an extended holiday from her native Melbourne, Australia. Before she arrived she expressed to me her anxiety over what to pack. After two years in Melbourne, often regarded as Australia’s fashion capital, she wasn’t sure how or if her trendy wardrobe would fit in here. She packed some skinny jeans and bought a couple new hoodies and some sneakers and hoped for the best. After being in Vail for a few weeks, however, she said she was pleasantly surprised to find that folks in the Valley seemed to be dressing trendier than the last time she was here and that she felt comfortable wearing the majority of her Melbourne duds in Vail.

Yes, it’s true, fashion is alive and well in Vail. You can see it in the chic boutiques in the villages or at events such as the fashion show fundraiser for the Susan G. Komen Foundation last month at Samana. We have to be creative about the way we apply trends in fashion to life in the Rockies, though; we have to adapt them to the climate and lifestyle we enjoy in the mountains. And, while there’s something to be appreciated about living in a place where it’s perfectly appropriate to show up to happy hour in bike shoes or snow pants, it’s just as nice to peel off layer after layer (of dirt or ski gear, depending on the season) and step into something a tad nicer.

With a hint of spring in the air, this is the perfect time of year to update your wardrobe with a few new items to take your look into spring/summer 2010 (even in a place where spring is called mud season and it can snow in July). Consider the following trends when stocking up your closet this season.

The Boyfriend Blazer: Perfect for layering on cool mud season days or for a Hot Summer Nights concert this trend, featured in spring fashion issues of magazines like Lucky and Glamour, is an essential staple for the mountain girl’s wardrobe this spring/summer. The blazer should be a little too big as if you borrowed it from your boyfriend’s closet. It should fit long in the torso and should be worn with the sleeves rolled up. Try throwing one over a flirty flowy cami to make the look more feminine or layered over a cute hoodie with a scarf for brisk spring days. Shop Billabong in Vail Village, Quicksilver, or Arriesgado, both in Lionshead, for camis, hoodies, and other perfect tops to wear with your blazer.

Tights and Leggings: Are a mountain girl’s best friend, and still very much on-trend this spring. What better way to wear a sweet floral skirt this spring, before things heat up, than paired with tights, flats, and that boyfriend blazer? From standard black to a striking yellow, tights and leggings give you an opportunity to wear summer prints and cuts before it’s warm enough to do so. Also stay warm and show off your legs (c’mon you’ve been skiing all winter, you know you want to) by wearing shorts over tights. This look, seen on celebs such as Nicole Richie and Sienna Miller, and sported by my fashion-forward friend from Melbourne, is another great way to wear your warm-weather clothes now. Arriesgado Clothing Company in Lionshead has tights and leggings for sale as well as a selection of sweet and sexy summer dresses.

Sportswear as Streetwear: Hallelujah ladies, it really is trendy to après in ski gear. Well, almost. From ballerina chic to tomboy tumbled this trend is perfect for life in the valley. This look is more sophisticated than your favorite hiking clothes but just as comfortable and effortless. Fashion networking site fashionising.com breaks down the details on how to pull it off. For cute sportswear that’s also functional check out Roxy Athletix, the surf-wear brand’s latest line of ladies athletic clothing available at Quicksilver in Lionshead.

Accessories, Accessories, Accessories: Even as the economy creeps toward recovery, finding ways to spruce up your wardrobe without breaking the bank is key this season and accessories are the perfect way to do it. Accessories are also a good way to experiment with trends in pattern and color without going all-out. Hot colors this season are bright but not neon, bold but not over-powering, think turquoise or coral. Try a lightweight scarf in one of these colors paired with a more neutral top. Or, give the new warrior trend a try with a studded leather belt or a piece of jewelry inspired by ancient cultures. Knee-high socks are also big this season and another way to stay current while staying warm this spring. Knee-highs can be sporty or dressy, worn alone or layered over tights.

One Sunset at a Time

Writing is therapeutic for me. It calms me and heals me. I’ve kept journals for as long as I can remember. The things I write in these diaries are intensely private. Sometimes these things, these rants, fears, and confessions, are hard for me to read in retrospect as the words are, many times, born from pain and reading them easily reminds me of the pain I felt when I wrote them. Other times re-reading old entries shows me how I’ve grown and I feel relieved that whatever I was going through then is over. There are often big gaps between entries in these books because I tend to write in them less when I’m happy. Writing, especially when I’m upset, helps me see things clearly; it takes a burden off me having my worries, fears, heartaches, and frustrations written down.

I went through a time early last year of intense heartache. There were not even enough pages in my journal to help ease my burden. I existed for months in a state of persistent melancholy and I cried a lot. I cried a lot because I woke up every day and my chest felt heavy and as the day went on the sadness that weighed in my heart grew more intense as it was pumped and pumped through my body. And it was just too much to keep inside me. So I cried. I cried big heavy sobs that shook my body and hurt my stomach and made my eyes swell. I cried in an attempt to dispel the sadness, to purge myself of it.

And then spring came. Spring came and I knew it was time to pick myself up, if only slowly, and find a way to keep on living. It was time to stop crying. I recently read through my journal entries from those months and found one very short entry I wrote at the start of spring. I remember the day I wrote it and I know that was the moment I realized it was time to keep on living, the moment I first knew I was going to be OK.


Journal entry written 03/06/09:
Yesterday was full of wind, like 60 mph winds, and it didn’t die down until around sunset. It was a beautiful sunset and so quiet after such a windy day; and it gave me the smallest bit of peace. I texted Dad about it and he said sometimes you just have to take life one sunset at a time.


It was around then that the idea for Flower Blog first came to mind. I decided it was time to take my life back from my grief. There were certainly more tear laden days to come in the months that followed that journal entry but starting this blog was one of the first steps in rebuilding myself. I wanted to do more with my writing than just rant in a journal, and, besides, that didn’t seem to be curing me; this was bigger pain than I’d had in the past and it required bigger writing. It was about remembering who I am and what I want for myself, something I’d forgotten to do while I was grieving, something I’d forgotten to do a long time before the relationship I was grieving had ended, something that had probably, in part, led to its demise. 

Writing for Flower Blog reminded me how much writing makes me feel alive. And, while I can’t say writing alone brought me back to life, it was the first piece of many that drew me out of my sadness. Investing time and effort into my writing reminded me how important it is to nurture all the little pieces of me I discovered that spring and in the months that followed. Before, I had invested everything into my relationship and I had let many other things, including other relationships, fall away in order to do so. When the relationship ended I invested everything into mourning it. I know I will feel heartache again one day and I know I might even completely fall apart again, but I also know I will survive again. I know the winds will calm and the sun will set and I will keep on living.

Where There are no Cornfields

There were times during my trip to Australia when I was struck by how much it felt like home, times when it felt so un-foreign, so normal; times when I felt like we could easily just be on a road trip somewhere in the States. There were subtle differences, of course, the driving on the wrong side of the road, the large stretches of undeveloped land that were just land and not cornfields, that it was November and Christmas and summer were approaching simultaneously. But often it all felt very familiar. Because of this I tried extra hard to take note of the things that were very unfamiliar.

There were things I wrote down, things I took photos of, and then there were the things that I didn’t record because there was no way to capture them, things that I could only savor in the moment and hope they would come back to me one day. I attended a liquor tasting recently and the smell of a certain rum triggered one of these memories.

Our first stop in Australia was Cairns, Queensland, from there we quickly headed north to The Daintree Rainforest. We drove north until we couldn’t go any farther and then we drove in. We drove into the thick of the Daintree with all the trees, frogs, birds, and bugs. And then it rained. It rained hard and often. It rained so much it felt like a Hemingway novel.

We eventually made our way out of the rainforest because we were sick of being damp and because it was just time to move on. And it was there, somewhere between tropical rainforest and tropical beaches, that I first smelled the scent of sugar cane mixed with the wet heavy air from the Daintree. It was there where you have to watch out for the cane trains, there where you can still see the steam rising from where the rainforest meets the ocean.

The smell of sugar cane, especially burning sugar cane, is sweet, deep, and earthy. It’s complex and layered and too much to take in at once. It hits you first as a dense wall and is a little startling especially when it’s something you’ve never smelled before. It burns a little and you can taste it in the back of your throat. But then you recover and you breathe it in deeply. It moves through you slowly, like molasses, and you hope you will never forget this smell and the feeling it brings; this smell that is so foreign, that smells like a place that is a world away from home.