Quatre Septembre | Day father James Marcus Keiter died 2012 | Listen to Intuition

Today is the 4th of September. It is the day my father died, in 2012. I paid attention to this date when I saw a street with its name in Aix-en-Provence, France. When i googled in English, i found no reference, until I wrote quatre septembre and then it appeared. http://parisisinvisible.blogspot.com/2011/09/what-happened-on-quatre-septembre.html

“This particular September 4th was in 1870, and it marked the moment that a group of individuals in Paris proclaimed the beginning of a new Republic (the third) following the capture of Napoleon III by the Prussians in Sedan.”

My father was a musician, as was his mother. I played piano again at this building with a piano within their antique store, where the woman has gifted me with flowers and then local corn on the cob for my playing. This last Sunday I played really well, sensitively, fluidly. I was only under the influence of a full stomach and espresso. It’s the second Sunday in a row I’ve created the time to go there with my Classical piano music book. I remembered that when I was a kid, my father’s mother would join the family for a Sunday dinner and always play piano during her visit. I am carrying on her tradition, i thought to myself. 

My father also loved paint, dance and was a history enthusiast. I carry on these traditions. Thank you Daddy.

My father was dutiful and pragmatic. He relinquished the life of a clarinet musician to instead become a doctor to provide for his family. He warned me of not relying on art, or music and warned me of the last boyfriend with whom I was still in a codependent relationship, long after he ditched me. My father was an empath.

This article title popped up on my screen when I plugged into the WiFi network after bicycling to the closed library to sit outside of it. I ride miles and miles to different locations where I can plug in: to WiFi and electricity. I plugged the title words into google and it appeared. https://highlysensitiverefuge.com/9-secret-powers-of-highly-sensitive-people/

Frankly, I thought I would identify with it, and in many cases do ‘as far as aiming to save the natural world from humans’ and then in other respects I  don’t. I looked up ‘the opposite of empath’. Oh shit, it’s a narcissist. I guess I am a bit of both.

Last night on my way riding bicycle back from the next town, Hershey, with a palatable bar, I came upon a deer, a fawn, in the middle of the road, struggling to move. It was able to move three legs, struggling to get up. Horrified, I put down my bike off the road and tried to move it. Cars came. I swung my arms. Girls got out of their vehicle, one helped me to carry the deer off the road. They then left. I stayed with the deer. Didn’t know who to call. A man along the road said to call 911. I am upset by how the Policeman who arrived, responded. I was stroking the deer, holding her neck in my arms, trying to soothe her. The Policeman, without getting close enough to even check out the deer’s condition, announced for me to “get away lady, you are prolonging he deer’s misery.” The deer was only slightly wounded, the leg. He said that there is no place to take it. It will be shot. I was yelling as I was leaving, venting my anger about people driving so fast, hit and run. Police offering no other option without having even investigated, close-minded, thug mentality.

My plan had been to eject myself from the United States of Apathy (an example of why I am not exactly an ‘empath’). I don’t flow in and redistribute the energy to a harmonious new direction. I express my annoyance and all of my feelings, when I find people doing things that I think are irresponsible to others and unconscionable to the rest of the living world. 

I guess I can waver from feeling socially awkward and lacking in confidence, to feeling proud and annoyed with human behavior that I feel derives from not considering the larger picture.

So, just as I was sitting in Palmyra ‘pondering’ the upcoming UN Climate talks COP21 in Paris and then in a series of days I learned that an ex lover was involved in this, and within 2 weeks, I made the decision and went to Paris. Staying in a hotel reserved for the group of activists coming from all over the world and sharing their stories at the ‘placetobe’, was one of the more enriching and nourishing experiences I’ve ever had. I was and am passionately focused on  extending my knowledge and understanding. One of these people I met there and with whom  I’m connected on FB, had this message about the ‘pilgrimage to the upcoming COP26 in Glasgow, Scotland in November. I had this on my radar, as a deadline. 

I was planning to move back to Europe soon, and thinking Portugal this time, because once again, I cower to the living expenses and overhead. Lessons not learned from my father.

The plan Portugal, with the knowledge in the back of my head of COP26 in Glasgow. Then two separate event celebrations popped up in September in the USA, separate sides of the country, but doable. I contacted several different factions of the people who I befriended 22 years ago in San Francisco when I lived there. I have an odd human habit of not staying in touch when I’m not in the same physical space, despite things like internet, telephones and facebook. I think we are all a bit tribal, yet, most have more responsibilities and families to hone into. 

I said yes to the wedding invitation in Providence, Rhode Island and began investigating rail travel. Pretty expensive for me, didn’t book it. I announced and tagged several people including the organizer of the street faire that I wanted to attend on the west coast in San Francisco, CA. Last time I hitched to San Francisco from Tucson, Arizona to attend this event The Howweird Street Faire (6 years ago or so), and never found any of the people whom I had known. The event had grown enormously. That was weird. I hitched back not having seen any of my former housemates and people i danced with. 

On the way to SF, which it now looked like I was going to hitch, I was thinking of doing a detour to help indigenous ‘water protectors’ in opposition to Pipeline 3 in Minnesota, yet having contacted them, the timing is off, I have to be willing to get arrested and frankly, the point was to get to SF, CA. 

So I decided this time to in advance, contact some people announcing I was going to be in their area. Here’s where the empath comes in. It occurred to me, that just like my former frisbee friend, when I wrote a long letter through LinkedIn, and never heard back from him, I thought to myself, maybe NONE of these people are going to respond, AT ALL, in which case, why go to San Francisco at all. Montreal, never been there, francophone, it’s only 7 rather than a 44 hour hitch, and it’s in the neighborhood of Providence. I’ve been thanks to Covid, keeping up with my french conversation group through 2020, on zoom. All the people whom I sat around a table with weekly at the Alliance Française, in Providence, Rhode Island, speaking French with one another. 

Okay, So I will travel with wedding attire and sleeping bag. The indigenous person answered my email inquiry, Let’s see if SustainaClaus, the Canadian man whom I met in Paris at the COP21 ‘placetobe’ who has been living in China, will have responded to me. He is a busy man, yet somehow I think he may have found the time.

Things emerge and guide, as one listens. 

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emergence

I do have the discipline of my father, however, I am definitely following a very different path. I  remember my father calling me ‘hyper’ one time. I actually was convinced that I could apply for a medical marijuana license as a classic ADHD. I have very high energy, and was never diagnosed with Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. A chronic condition including attention difficulty, hyperactivity, and impulsiveness…failed relationships. I have self-medicated all my life doing sports> running 3-5 miles, ultimate frisbee, swimming (when i can), bicycling, skiing, tinkering with technical projects, doing art, practicing music, painting, traveling, moving. 

the long of it:

After I was rejected from this last group house community where I didn’t quite fit in, that I’d circle back to the northeast and Pennsylvania, to my storage locker. I was now carrying skis and two pairs of ski boots and more boxes after passing by Taos, New Mexico where I had been storing this stuff in my friend’s house. I also thought, enough already. Since my affordable housing got covided out in Providence, Rhode Island, and I proceeded to investigate and chase ‘house exchange’ programs and then move back to where I had a lot of work several years ago in Santa Fe, New Mexico (substitute teaching during the weeks and a 1st year adult ski instructor on the weekends and holidays. It fit together perfectly. However, when I inquired to the ski school, covid now reduced the staff to last years’ return instructors. So, I continued searching for ‘affordable housing’, in Statesboro and Savannah Georgia in Asheville, North Carolina. But it doesn’t exist, at least, tougher when you are single. Ironically, after 11 days of sleeping outside with my linens and sleeping bag, I have found an affordable place, and swiftly found items to furnish the room … there are some undesirable characters there….yet I feel safe.

I’ve come to Hotel Hershey to plug in and then will go to dance to cap off the night. I took my bass guitar to my storage unit today, Sept. 4th and grabbed a bungee chord, some magic markers to make hitchhiking signs, and have been preparing. Montreal borders are open. Have my Passport and CDC Covid Vaccination card. Not quite sure where I will go. Will see what emerges.

—,-,-,,-,

quatre sept 

This proclamation brought to an end France’s second empire, but as it also coincided with the invasion of France by the Prussians, its constitutional laws weren’t actually voted until 1875. The September 4th date is therefore a purely symbolic one.”

Progression of a Room – hot plate √ tables, chairs & bed √ ceramic ware and green tutu √ cows to visit bicycling between towns for WiFi √

Landed! in a good way. Absolutely love various features of ‘my’ new small room that I moved into today; the lack of a hint of a smoke smell, the lack of an air conditioner perched in the window blocking opening it for fresh air, the style of the second door with nice character and the fact that the glass lets in more light and is an entrance to sort of my own porch (presently cluttered). It only took half a day to clean and prepare for myself to move into, after cleaning the larger room for the last week while I couchsurfed (work-traded). 

Things are swinging into a good way. I may not be in a hip metropolitan area, but there is a lot of natural beauty in this state and the towns flanking this one of Annville and Hershey are perks. A big key is that I’m now paying $150/mo less in rent, which is what all of this zigzagging around the country was in search of. The town of Palmyra has streets that are super wide, I mean like, 4 military tanks side to side would fit on almost every street. Huh? This was a town built post car era. Yes, bicycles are stolen (when left unlocked) but the town feels really quite safe. No bicycle infrastructure. No public transportation (yes, buses exist). And last evening when I was checking out this one property’s gardens, I saw two deer scampering away from the grassy area I entered next to a wall of a corn. 

I’m de lighted that someone suggested on this ‘local’ FB group a place they knew of that offered ‘extended housing’, and that my sister Joan Keiter suggested posting there that I’m looking for a room. My place is $10 more a week, than one hotel I checked out is day, the cheaper one. Like I said, the over-all manager whom I met third time I went by there (both times one of the residents was there to point out who was the live-in manager and then again when I came back to talk to him, then fill out an application form. As I was leaving him, the off-site manager was driving up. Because I offered off the top of my head to assist in preparing the room becoming available – with boots, strength, detailed skills in cleaning etc, they took me up on it – right away. She called and said I could go there that evening in the room that needs to be cleaned. I laid my sleeping bag on plastic in the closit and for a week, stood on a ladder cleaning ceilings (of smoke residue), walls, cleaning overall. This unit had its own bathroom. …………………Now today I moved out of that room, first helping the man Puerto Rican guy to move his stuff out of the smaller ground-floor room (great, i have a bicycle that I no longer have to carry up a flight of stairs) and have sink in the room with much more character and functionality…and ironically found day after day, pieces of furniture and ‘what not’ placed saying FREE, less than a city block away. Now I have a couple wood and whicker chairs, a mirror, a low wood and whicker table, and the guy gave me the curtain rods stands on wheels. I purchased one pot (every morning boil water to put lemon in a glass and also for oatmeal), a few cups, a small plate, one set of silver ware, and just found two nice glasses also at the TAKE AWAY FOR FREE BICYCLE SHOP TURNED GUN SHOP. huh? I’m sitting at the public library, limited hours, and have to bike two several different towns to get WiFi. cool. I get my exercise for free. Just found a local Glacier vending machine (filtered water through several processes) outside a grocery store. I make stops at these places on the periphery of town and next to another one: library, storage unit, grocery store…and have to choose the routes and times of day to stay alive in a place with barely any bicycle infrastructure. Stoked to have found just exactly what I need and a place right in town with an accessible and efficient manager and a ridiculously low price. Now I can begin to work on my book again on a daily basis, now that the housing is stabilized. In this new place I share a bathroom with a claw foot bathtub / shower. I shared a bathroom in the previous ‘community house’ where I lived in Asheville, North Carolina. Here there are signs and strict rules about common sense cleanliness in a shared bathroom, so I’m stoked about that. 

It just so happens that a store within a city block that had been a bicycle shop, went out of business, to become a gun shop. Way to go Amerika. Anyway, there were a few pieces of furniture with a sign FREE. Because I bicycle to get around, and literally went by these on the sidewalk to grab shade, I saw the progression of items put out. I first grabbed and walked with a chair, cracked at its shoulder. Having just bought wood glue to repair my bass guitar where the ‘strap lock’ port is loose and the Guitar Witch of Asheville explained to me what tools I need and how to do it. So I can repair this simple crack in the handsome chair…..Well, once the initial stuff was removed, more items appeared on the sidewalk. The other matching chair that was not damaged (just worn) appeared. I walked with that. Then two coffee tables appeared that sort of matched the chairs, walked with that. When i was almost at my door a man pulled up across the street asking if I needed help. I said, not with this, but there’s another piece that is too heavy for me to carry. He he grabbed the car, I bicycled to the shop, helped him put it in his hatchback and bicycled home to help get it out of the car. It turned out that the boots sitting on one of the tables were size 7.5. I slipped my foot in, they fit. I had no ‘rain/snow’ boots but a pair of antiques. It occurred to me today to put this super heavy mirror on the table between the rolling garment racks. I already had the string of Christmas lights and plants. I had washed the mirror and chairs and table thoroughly. So now I have a kitchen, living room, dining room, bedroom and closet > all in one.

Re-use, recycle, reduce, right on!

Living with Less is Living with More: Co-creating a New Story – Our Relationships

I was going to tack this video within the post c-change conversations with respect to the spiritual relationship we need to co-create, with ourselves, between one another and with the water, the sky, soil, a spider, a bird or rhinoceros. Yet his words and viewpoint needs to stand on its own.

Leo Murray, new story, TEDx beautiful world, climate change, global warming, corruption, relationship, co-creating, stories of the world, environment, the living world, nature

Living with Less is LIving with More Co-Creating a New Story A New Relationship with Earth and her Creatures

 

Living with Less is Living with More: Co-Creating a New Story A New Relationship with Earth and her Creatures
Our hearts and intuition contain the answer to co-creating this new story. A story in which we are not clumsily or hurriedly passing through, busying ourselves and not-wasting-any-time in our stress-filled harried lives.

“Can you imagine a more beautiful world your hearts knows is possible?

We have inherited a culture without any critical inquiry.”

 

Leo Murray talks of the need to decouple the relationship between standards of living and quality of life.

Authors, visionaries and thought leaders who are inspiration to less is more: Charles Eisenstein, Daniel Pinchbeck, Niki Harré, Yuval Noah Harari, David Holmgren, Masanobu Fukuoka, Bill Mollison.

 

Charles Eisenstein, Daniel Pinchbeck, Niki Harré, Yuval Noah Harari, David Holmgren, Masanobu Fukuoka, Bill Mollison, authors visionaries and thought leaders inspiration less is more

authors visionaries and thought leaders inspiration less is more

Here is information some of these visionaries have communicated.

Masanobu Fukuoka states that man does best by doing as little as possible. He unlearned culture and science and realizes that nature does everything.

Masanobu Fukuoka unlearned, and realizes that nature does everything. Man does best by doing as little as possible.

Masanobu Fukuoka Talks About the One Straw Revolution

Charles Eisenstein's speech New Zealand

Charles Eisenstein’s speech New Zealand

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Niki Harré talks about her book “Psychology for a Better World

Niki Harré talk about her book "Psychology for a Better World"

Niki Harré talk about her book “Psychology for a Better World”

 

 

 

Niki Harré talks in this video about the Psychology and the Infinite Game In it she describes the distinction between the Finite and Infinite Games.

 

The purpose of the infinite game is to continue the game.

The purpose of the finite game is to win.

The infinite game invites others in and is full of creativity, the rules continually change and all are flexible in their interactions.

The finite game includes only select people, it is all about replication and does not bend. In life, the finite game winnings are such as getting a trophy, owning property, getting a degree, a promotion, publishing an article, get funded for a program.

She talks of the amazing power of symbol and metaphor. And that in order to keep the infinite game in play, we need to trust people and promote creativity. It’s up to all of us to bring this awareness into our workplace, schools and communities.

Yuval Harari, Sapiens, History of Humankind

Yuval Harari Sapiens A Brief History of Humankind – 5 year anniversary

A Brief History of Humankind, Yuval Noah Harari

A Brief History of Humankind Yuval Noah Harari

 

Carol Keiter aka nomadbeatz welcomes donations for her writing, photography, illustrations, eBook & music composition

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Carol Keiter the blogger and Greg Altman in New York City after the Global Climate Strike Sept. 20, 2019

carol_keiter_greg_altman copy

 

Ventabren, France in Provence | workaway Jan. ’18 | idyllic town, castle ruins | architectural & textile beauty

A number of weeks after my trip to the New Delhhi airport and back to Frankfurt, during a number of days in limbo in a vacant office building over Christmas in a town not far from Frankfurt, I made a plan. I had warmth, electricity and internet access.  I arranged to go to a workaway in Heuchlingen, German, a work exchange in a village not too far from Stuttgart where I did some outdoor work as well as cooking. I realized my ex beau lived not far from there and visited him in Germany as well.  I documented the trip with lots of photos https://digesthis.wordpress.com/2019/02/02/new-beginnings-germany-a-workaway-in-heuchlingen-december-2017/

I had already begun arranging the  workaway in Ventabren, France in Provence to follow the one in Germany. It was January 2018. Ventabren is a village not far from Aix-en-Provence, which is a gorgeous city. That’s where I met my host and her son, A Russian woman Vicka and her son Maxim.

I visited Aix-en-Provence and took pictures in an earlier hitch to Nice from Montpellier, France to visit my sister. https://carolkeiter.wordpress.com/2017/10/12/hitchabout-nice-antibes-aix-en-provence-arles-and-back-to-a-redefined-montpellier-home/

Aix-en-Provence France Sept. 2017

After having visited Aix-en-Provence and taken the pictures in Sept. 23, 2017, I was now back there in Jan. 2018 about to meet my hosts of the workaway. I happened upon Rue du 4 Septembre in Aix-en-Provence where I took lots of pictures. This was the nearest city to the village where I would do my workaway in Ventabren.

In Aix-en-Provence, I was particularly drawn to the rue du quatre de septembre, because that’s the anniversary of my father’s death in 2012. That’s why I made an album specifically of these signs of rue du 4 Septembre. I had to look up the significance of this date in France. The significance of the date in France is that on the 4th of September, 1870 a new republic was declared.

4th of September France

The 4th of September has personal significance. My father died on the 4th of September, 2012.

On the road leaving Aix-en-Provence en route to the hilled town of Ventabren, this aqueduct was pointed out. Are you kidding me?

Roquefavour Aqueduct, Ventabren, France, Provence, travel, beauty, craftsmanship

Roquefavour Aqueduct near Ventabren France in Provence

Ventabren is a fairy tale, idyllic hilled, once-fortressed town with the ruins of a castle – Château of Queen Jeanne – at the town’s peak.

Ventabren, France, Provence, travel,

Ventabren in Provence, France

Here are the numerous pictures that I took during my stay in Ventabren, France. I was absolutely delighted with the fairy tale landscape and history and the craftsmanship of stone walls, streets, stairs and architecture. The home I resided in is particularly elegant, a breathtakingly gorgeous home with a tailored choice of fine materials; tiles, slate, ceramic, wood. It has beautifully crafted tiles, colors and fabrics and a gorgeous layout of space. Windows look over narrow streets and copper tiled roofs. One doesn’t need to occupy a huge square footage to demonstrate taste and elegance.

Ventabren, workaway, Provence, France

Ventabren in Provence, France 2018

workaway in Ventabren, France, Provence, art, architecture

Ventabren town and interiors in Provence, France 2018

Ultimately, this workaway, in this idyllic town was where circumstances lead me to decide not to continue on the path that I had intended, to organize one after another workaway on a farm or whatever kind of property in France. My VISA had expired. I didn’t want to be informed that i could not return to the country that I love. I also realized that although most of these properties are quite gorgeous and interesting, and i particularly would seek out places with animals, I decided that most are by their nature, remote. It was after that first ‘weekend’ in this idyllic town of Ventabren, that I realized, there wasn’t really any communal place to go to, no night life. I didn’t know anyone other than this family. This would be the same case in most of the other workaways. I had spent the 6 months in Montpellier, a town with multiple universities and tourist town. I could promenade along a street with hundreds of people passing by, go to one among a hundreds of bars and cafés, and found places to dance. I bicycled everywhere in that hilly town, Mont means mountain, so a mt. bike was necessary to adequately peruse the streets.

As you see in Ventabren, my room was adopted by the house cat Croquette. I was very happy about that.

house cat Croquette

house cat Croquette

my room

Ventabren

my room in Ventabren

hanging clothes to get the hitchhiking travel wrinkles out

Carol Keiter aka nomadbeatz welcomes donations for her writing, photography, illustrations, eBook & music composition

 

 

 

 

 

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eVISA rejection of US citizen at Delhi-deported upon arrival

This post was removed from Trip Advisor.

Had filled everything out properly, with the exception of the pdf file pic of my passport being too fuzzy. After correcting the problem by going back to re-scan it with the proper proportions, my 3rd attempt to upload the correct size was met with an auto-response “already uploaded”. Would not let me upload again. Contacted the email link to the Indian gov to explain the complication, sending all documentation and the attached ‘correct’ pdf file size. Was rejected. Sensed that this was a small technical functionality error of the online form and assumed that I would be able to resolve it upon arrival. I was wrong.

Either over a bad mood or a sense of duty, this 2nd person called to my attention was discontent with my error in judgement. When yet a higher boss arrived, the rigid man explained the situation in an accusatory tone, inciting his boss with his tone of condemnation. The boss gave me 15 min. to decide where to go and book the flight. No WiFi, only a laptop, he sent a guy with his phone to relay the wifi. Having taken time to deliberate what should be my next move, I hadn’t yet booked a flight to Nepal, which according to them accepts ‘visa upon arrival’; figured it was the closest place where I intended to go anyway. When I hadn’t yet booked this flight within the 15 minutes (literally), I was told I was being sent back to my departure point, Frankfurt, Germany. The particular person who was assigned to accompany me to the gate, holding my passport, was a young friendly guy, who asked if I was on FB and I’d given him my card to check out my blogs. In other words, it can be a matter of who is working that day or night, and this was a late arrival, maybe these guys were getting tired and cranky, annoyed that they work on the night shift and perhaps get points for doing their duty to the T. Was treated kindly by the crew of Kuwait Airways, and basically upon being deported, was told I wouldn’t have to pay for the flight. The 2nd leg of the flight- a 777- the jet was a quarter empty. I was pretty surprised that this occurred but wasn’t putting up any argument. I assumed that a single, white, kind female from the States with no record, would have no problem negotiating. Wow, not so.

There wasn’t a great deal of diplomacy among the Indian staff, felt like I was being scolded. So much for attempting a bold adventure as a budget traveler who already had lined up my first stopping point and investigated train travel, street smart travel information about what to avoid, had investigated what electronics I would need; adapter, that the French power surge protector would work with 240 V. and that I would get a voltage regulator in addition. Excited for my first exploration of Asia, east of Eastern Europe. Had lined up my first workaway host and worked out the transport from the Delhi airport to the necessary train connections, timetables to Rajasthan. Had even found a pretty cool map that alerts one to pollution levels real-time, internationally. Intention was to be in nature, learn their culture, intent to volunteer at an elephant sanctuary or elephant village. Love nature and life, don’t love the way humans alienate one another. I’ll be commenting about my immigration problems in Frankfurt Germany shortly, which felt an awful lot like extortion-using intimidation, power and the perfect circumstances to leverage authority and extract large sums of money. 🙂

US citizen departing Frankfurt airport, forced by immigration to pay €1,000 cash, for a fine that accrued interest over 5 years, for not paying a €2.50 U-Bahn public transport ticket

I originally posted this last night on Trip Advisor, however it was deemed not appropriate, and removed.

US citizen departing Frankfurt airport forced by immigration to pay €1,000 cash, for a fine that accrued interest over 5 years, for not paying a €2.50 U-Bahn public transport ticket

Arriving at the Frankfurt airport in time to investigate duty free electronic stores for an electrical adapter and voltage swing protector, I was halted by a 25 year old officer who, observing his computer screen unsmilingly, asked in German something a train in Berlin. I lived there years earlier, and I figured that he was alluding to a time I was caught on the U-Bahn without a ticket, 3, 5 or 7 years ago. Having left the country abruptly right before Christmas 2012, I wasn’t aware that this was accruing interest. I guess in our electronic world in which these records endure, they weren’t able to contact me by email to inform me, that would have been to, uh, sophisticated.

I explained in my best German that I hadn’t been living in the country, and in fact can prove with residence and employment records where I’ve been living the last few years. This information was disregarded. He would not listen to any explanation. I was treated with hostility, almost aggression. I guess that being a frugal artist/writer and enjoying pouring time into creativity is not permissible, in a world that is looking one-dimensionally in terms of the GDP instead of quality. The officer walked into a room among 6 or so other colleagues and to my astonishment, through the glass wall I saw him laughing and smirking. Towards me he was cold and threatening, using intimidation. He told me I either must hand him €1,000 in cash from the ATM, conveniently located several yards away, or go to jail for 15 days. So the fine for riding without a €2.50 train ticket, rose with interest through the years to an easy, rounded number of €1,000. Since then I discovered that with the exchange rate to USD and $66 transaction fee at that ATM and additional $39 foreign transaction fee at this same ATM, added up to costing 1,431.19 USD. As I watched them laughing with one another,  I took a photograph. Another young officer dashed out of the office at first demanding my phone, and receded when I deleted it before him. Considering the fact that the other option was jail (which I would have done as the frugal artist that I am), it isn’t really an option. It’s like complete coercion. The traveler has no choice. When one has planned, prepared and paid for an anticipated travel, it’s sort of the perfect situation to extract this money with ease. Extortion was the word that came to mind; using intimidation and authority in circumstances that almost 99.99% of the time passengers would prefer to hand over the requested exorbitant amount of cash. Little alternative, in addition to paying for an eTicket and Indian eVISA. I was ultimately deported, for a pdf file of my passport being fuzzy, due to the fact that it was initially scanned improperly at the copy shop, and I hadn’t stated the 1st time what dimensions it needed to be, another language barrier and naiveté on my part. I was making this trip to ultimately follow my passion, complete a book I’m writing and to continue to write blogs, compose music…Poverty is punished in the modern world of globalization and finance. So the budget traveler with 2 small backpacks, sleeping bag and intention to volunteer with elephants and do work/living exchanges with people through workaway, now is $2,000 dollars in debt. And absolutely delighted with the experience I had with charming and bright people who enriched my world through our conversations and realizing that resilience and value of experience over material acquisition, is of great value. Appreciation of all of the nuances that life offers and value of the natural wonders of the world, made for a delightful trip of 7 days of travel for a 1.5 hour visit to India. 🙂 Delhi was intoxicatingly polluted, with 12 foot visibility. So nice that our world opts for measuring worth with the GDP, as we ruin the planet, are filled with fear and fueled with a desire to extract and consume, rather than to protect and strive for a harmonious relationship with the earth and all life. Just sayin’.

Hitchabout Nice – Antibes – Aix-en-Provence – Arles | back to Montpellier

I think it was the fastest I’ve ever gotten rides in my entire hitchhiking experience. Residing in Montpellier, France, I had decided to hitch to Nice, the day before. I had anticipated it, knowing that my sister and her British husband go there regularly to escape the York, England chill. It was these two who had visited Montpellier several years earlier on a regular basis. That put this town on the map for me. I liked the sound of it. When I’d googled the town back when I suddenly had the proposition to go to the East coast from Taos, New Mexico, I learned that it’s the fastest growing city in France, of which 25% are students that emerge during the academic year. I sort of made the decision to go there in particular, and base myself . I was actually still deliberating on whether Portugal might be a less expensive and lively place to live while I was purchasing the bus ticket from Paris for Montpellier. At some point I decided I wanted to be closer to other countries in Europe and also where I have a semblance of knowledge of the language.

Mont_Saint-Victoire Paul Cézanne

Mont Saint-Victoire notoriously painted by Paul Cézanne among others

Nice, didn’t appear to have any available couches to surf on. The weather which has been continually warm and sunny, dropped about 10 degrees with predicted rain. I decided to go anyway. My bicycle had just been stolen 4 days earlier in the middle of the day around the corner from the cafe I was working in. After the initial discovery, I decided it was a gift for whoever took it. They not only got bad karma, but also a bike that didn’t work. It was hurting my knees because the gears basically didn’t move and I had to get off frequently, to walk up hills. Montpellier is full of them. Many at gradients of 55ª angles.

When I’d arrived in Montpellier the first day I asked a woman sitting on the tram near me “where is the mont”? She discussed it with her friend and decided that she didn’t know. My guess is that the whole town is so hilly that they decided to call it Montpellier, which means mountain. So, the missing bike precluded transport into town outside of the tram TAM, so it was as good a time as any to check out some other places along the Mediterranean. Nice, France is really close to Italy and Switzerland. By the time I finally left the house after consulting google maps to know what destinations to write on a sign, it was going on 2pm. The drive is a little over 3 and a half hours.

I strolled to the end of these outdoor tables with people seated there where I spotted a large white clean piece of cardboard tossed on the ground beyond the tables. I was already steering myself towards this cafe to ask for cardboard. Nice start, I had markers. The entrance to the highway was basically right there. This area was a short walk from where I’d currently been living, conveniently on the edge of town. I noticed several cheap bus lines departing from there, Sabine. I incidentally had been told two days previously that I needed to move out by the end of the month, a day after the bike theft. I had two weeks to decide my next moves. That was another reason to make this trip, a few pairs of ears to discuss my options. I was now less convinced that I wanted to stay in Montpellier. The housing situations had been a challenge.

I watched traffic stopping and starting at a traffic light, and was standing right before an indentation in the road for busses, perfect for cars to pull over. I had written Nice on one side of the sign and was starting to write Aix-en Provence on the other, flipping it up for cars to read both sides, when the first small truck pulled over after only a few lights. I hadn’t been there more than 10 minutes. He’d been working in Montpellier for the day and was on his way to Aix. He’s an Albanian man from Kosovo, his name packed with consonants, Xhemil Iveseldaj.  He’s been living in Aix-en Provence among other members of his family, for 40 years. He was returning from his work week in Montpellier where he stays in a hotel. His boss pays for that, along with his tolls and I guess all travel expenses. He works in such a specialized field, that he’s been accustomed to these long commutes for years, sometimes sweeping countrywide. He’d previously commuted to Paris from Aix, and before that by plane to another town. I learned a fair amount about his life and his two sons. He is one of 7 siblings, five brothers and two sisters. He said in Albania the families tend to be even larger. He said he doesn’t believe in a ‘God’ but in nature. We agreed about that, ‘Nature’ is our ‘god’. I asked if he believes in climate change. We discussed it for quite a while along with other topics.

He had missed his turnoff and I was wondering if I was going to be dropped off in the middle of the highway at an inconvenient place, but he then went back through toll booths, and tracked back to the highway where we were now still heading towards Aix-en-Provence en route to Nice. He’d seen the Aix on my sign. Works every time to have a sign. Xhemil always seemed a bit impatient when coming to any toll, as if seconds shaved off his time were going to critically screw up his day. I guess he was simply in a big hurry to get back home at the end of his workweek. He brought me to a good place where all traffic was heading in the direction of Nice.

I was happy to find a bathroom next to an odd parking garage area where on one side there were buses, ironically, one on its way to Nice. I had covered half the distance already and didn’t bother to approach the bus to ask the driver, preferring to hitch. Someone saw my signs and was yelling out to me from the top story of this large round parking garage building. I ignored him/them. It took about 6 minutes, maybe less, for a car to stop. I heard the responses from above as I was getting into the vehicle. The driver was Olivier, a local who lived in a little town with a great view of this mountain outcropping Saint Vincent from one side. He was on his way to Cannes for the evening. Olivier is an engineer, specifically works on plane engines. He lived in Paris for a stint, said he learned a lot working for Air Bus. He still works for them, and was relieved to move back to his home ground.

Mont Saint-Victoire, Paul Cézanne

Olivier says this landmark outcropping of rock Mont Sainte-Victoire, changes color frequently and has been a feature of many painters.

He and I had a nice rapport. We talked the entire time and really had a lot of similar points of view about the quality of simple things in life that give it value. He dropped me off at a very convenient location at the entrance to highways from Cannes. I was sorry to see him go.

My next ride was with a professional chauffeur, John Christopher. He had made sort of a precarious stop to pick me up. I guess as a local he knows what he can get away with. He was going to pick up his clients on this late afternoon to take them to a fundraiser gala event, hosted for wealthy families who were donating money to hurricane victims in Saint Martin, a French island in the Caribbean. He has worked for this same family exclusively for 15 years. He said that this event was perhaps at a hidden location. He knew that football stars, actors and actresses were going to be there among the very wealthy patrons. He described what these evenings could be like, and how he had to always be available for and and all things that might occur. He might have to make the commute over the bridge to pick up one item left behind, or drop off kids at different places. I enjoyed this little scope into the lives of the upper crust there, from the chauffeur’s point of view. A very gentle guy, he left me off before taking his route to the home of his employer. We left with smiles lingering.

Nice, France first shots - pastry and me

A bridge separated me between where I stood where everyone seemed to be racing to their next destination. I’m guessing I was at St.-Laurent du Var by this bridge. I wondered how long this ride would take, since now I was extraordinarily ‘out of place’. A hitchhiker with a backpack among demonstratively expensive cars and high income drivers. Surprisingly, a car stopped. It was Raphael a medical student in Nice, where he also was raised. He looked distinctively Spanish or Italian. He did me the courtesy of using his phone to dial my contact number and drop me off after crossing into Nice to a very familiar cement way lined with Palm trees before the beach. The Promenade des Anglais is where a demented man drove a truck moving down pedestrians on Bastille Day on the evening of 14 July 2016. The Nice attack killed 86 people and injured 458. Sound familiar? The whole area has since been reinforced to block vehicular traffic, involving bringing in full-grown palm trees with cranes.

historical Nice, France and cemetary

I wound up spending several days in Nice, endowed with lovely weather. Took various local rides ferried to different parts on cool excursions with family into the hills looking back down over the city. I had particularly wanted to see Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat.

Nice page 1 of second group inlaid stones

Nice, France inlaid stones

When it came time to leave, I finally noticed a text message on my cheap French phone, an invitation from a friend I’d met years earlier, who had actually invited me to stay at her and her boyfriend’s place. I texted her back explaining I’d missed seeing her text. In a little while I made my way to make a start, found some cardboard and what appeared to be the entrance to highways. I stood there a short time up in the hills. I saw a dread-headed girl across the street who when she crossed, approached to tell me she’s hitched a lot, and if I’m going to Aix-en-Provence, I’d have better luck down standing down by the water – once again before the Promenade des Anglais. I thanked her and walked down the hill. When I turned the corner I saw a group of people waiting for a bus a hundred yards away. I thought to myself, they’re probably wondering about what I was doing. Within several minutes, my first ride stopped. A smartly dressed man in a nice car on his way to Aix-en-Provence. I laughed to myself at how easy I made it look for the people standing there waiting for a bus. He made a phone call to his wife indicating he was on his way. I mentioned that I’d come from Montpellier to Nice and still was trying to figure out where to land. He mentioned that for using English, Aix-en-Provence would have better opportunities than Montpellier due to its larger influx of British because of the nearby seaport. He convinced me in fact. He said forget Montpellier, it’s mostly a college town, whereas Aix has an English speaking presence and a sophisticated flair.

mazza

mazza

 

Manu

Manu

The text was from a woman whom I’d met with her boyfriend 5 years earlier in Krakow, Poland. I was now getting out of the car upon receiving the text, only half an hour or so from Nice and 100’s of km before where I thought I was going. That was a great timed text, minutes before the Antibes exit. I had a splendid visit with these friends and their wonderful feline creatures. It was the therapy I needed, the playful cats along with friendly and inspiring conversation and inclusion.

Edwige and Bernards in Antibes

Edwige and Bernards in Antibes

 

Edwige, Antibes

Edwige in Antibes

Edwige and Carol Antibes

Edwige and Carol Antibe

I departed from my friends and the kitties in Antibes who I was already missing. Once again I got fantastic rides, two rides from Antibes. A young baker, boulanger, who told me stories of his life and his wife and 2 kids. At the moment that I noticed a sign for a rest stop I asked him whether there was another like it prior to where he was going. He wound up immediately pulling over, because he in fact was getting off soon, where the town was so small he explained I’d probably have very fewer ride possibilities than here at this highway stop. I parted farewell from this sweet guy and was walking into the rest-stop restaurant and showed my signs to the people as I was walking by them. They were a couple, and happened to be driving to Montpellier. I said that that’s where I live, but am going to Aix-en-Provence. They said they could take me there, it’s on the way. I hung with them a bit at the outdoor tables after I returned. We had a few interesting exchanges before getting in the car. A huge lovely white dog accompanied by a man entered the picture. I said, ‘elle est belle’, and the girl laughed, saying she has exactly the same type of dog, whose name is Belle. It’s unusual for a couple to offer a ride, very rare. They have to be really confident with one another, and these two were. Thomas and Gwendoline were very animated. At one point I mentioned out of the blue that I’d like to go to Istanbul, and they laughed, saying they’re going there next Thursday. They each engaged in conversation the entire time. We really connected. He owns 2 businesses in (IT), one which he originally started doing web design and the other advising companies on how to work more efficiently. She isn’t currently working. We talked the whole time, They were on their way to Montpellier to visit his father, and in fact he drove me into the center of Aix-en-Provence which he loves, and Gwendoline had never been.

Eight weeks earlier I wouldn’t have been able to understand but a quarter of what they were saying, now 8/10th percent. She spoke some English cuz she lived a year in New Zealand doing a WWOOF with baby sheep! She visited Australia too. She joked that she’s probably more conservative politically than he. He described that he believed the French president Macron would have more possibility to take a center stage in the global political arena. As we were driving into Aix from the highway, I commented that I believe trees may be more conscious than we are. To my surprise, Thomas the computer guy, heartily agreed, saying that he despises that people believe that they’re at the top of the pyramid of life, when in fact all life forms have intelligence. Thomas so much admires the town, that I decided after walking around a bit that for my saturday night, I’ll stay in Aix-en-Provence, regardless of where I may or may not sleep.

Aix-en-Provence, France

On this late summer Saturday afternoon in the street of Aix-en-Provence  I came upon a group of woman doing a spontaneous dance exercise; an an all female dance troupe. They were doing an improvisation exercise in their practice. I sort of guessed that this is what they were doing. Later when they were less involved in any presentations, I asked a few. One woman with eye that met mine with a sparkle in her eyes and large smile approached me and handed me a flyer.

She was in fact the director who organized this theatrical dance art group. http://cie-mariehelenedesmaris.com

I had decided to stay there regardless of not having looked for couchsurfers. It was a Saturday evening, it’ll be fun. I asked the right couple on my walk, who described several different options, pointing to areas on a map I had of specific areas to find things going on.

I went to a cafe to catch up on writing and organizing my pictures, and wound up hanging there into the late hours, with co-workers and guests. As the evening progressed, I was invited not only to stay that evening, but for an extended length of time, if I was demonstrating that I was doing the work I needed to do. I could now stay at this apartment there in Aix-en-Provence with these two brothers. However that vanquished at the point that the one breached my trust, and caused me to launch myself out back into the streets of Aix with the approaching dawn. It seemed like it might have been the semblance of a good thing, if not for the immediate security violation. One of the brothers was already in bed, it appeared. I was ushered into a room, fine, ah, but wait, no lock on the door. I waited before getting into bed with my pully and pack on by the door. listening for a few moments, when suddenly the door swung open, with me standing right there. I’m sure it surprised him as much as it did me; bursting into the room allegedly having misplaced his cell phone. Not only did this maneuver make me feel quite uncomfortable with the thought of sleeping there, but it also immediately dissolved that opportunity. So, I was heading out from Aix that morning, and still not sure what would define my future. This town hadn’t particularly welcomed me; no couch surfers, no housing possibilities and no tolerance for an opening in a bachelor den that was the epitome of neglect.

 

Arles, France, Nice, hitchabout

I hitched to Arles from Aix-en-Provence that morning. Maybe I’d go to Nimes (Roman ruins in both towns) on the same day.  The two cities located in the Occitanie region of southern France, were an important outpost of the Roman Empire. Nimes is known for its well-preserved monuments such as the Arena of Nîmes, a double-tiered circa-70 A.D. amphitheater still in use for concerts and bullfights. Its Maison Carrée white limestone Roman temple and Pont du Gard tri-level aqueduct are around 2,000 years old. I wound up staying in Arles instead.

Shortly after arriving at a good departure point in Aix, a woman stopped in her sleek car. I assumed the boy of about 11 sitting in the passenger seat was her son. She was an attractive, well dressed, middle aged woman who appeared professional, everything intact.  She was on her way to Nimes. The song that was playing on the alternative rock station was fairly pop, and each of the songs became progressively more hard-edged. The music didn’t seem to go with her appearance at all. The volume was so high that it impeded the ability to talk. When I asked, she staccato answered that she lives in Aix. That was my first and last question in an attempt to engage them in conversation. Her son and she didn’t say a word to one another the entire time.  She drove very fast and agilely on the highway on her way to Nimes, maneuvering efficiently. I was surprised she picked me up at all.  I pictured that she was dropping her son off at a midway point in an agreement with her ex, as they trade time with the child since divorcing. I decided that she was annoyed to have to drive him there, the hour and a half, now wait, 3 hour journey altogether to drop him off in Nimes and return; an invasion on any other activities she might have wanted to do on that Sunday. I didn’t ask. I let them ‘not talk’ to one another or me. I felt sorry for the kid. The music was quite loud. The silence was fierce.

Michael Jackson T-shirt, Always Be Yourself

Michael Jackson T-shirt
Always Be Yourself

I’m sitting in a cafe putting these pages together, sitting near the bathroom entrance. Many people flow by. One guy was waiting in line, a tall Arab guy, I saw in between the edges of his jacket a skeleton, and I said pointing, “is that Michael Jackson”? He said, yes and opened his jacket. I said, trying as I could in French, after multiple plastic surgeries that destroyed his cartilage, he’s now a skeleton. He said, exactly. He and I were both laughing pretty hard at this point as he was now walking into the bathroom, since it wasn’t supposed to be that obvious. I asked him when he came out to get a shot of the shirt, which is even more hilarious, saying below the image ‘Always Be Yourself‘.

In Arles I met a man whose eyes met mine from where he was perched on a balcony of this cloister.  I was like, what, are you WORKing there or what? Later we met on the stairs where he offered me an extra ticket to the last day of the photo exhibit there. He’s local. So, he’d waited until the last day of the exhibit to finally go see it. I had the impression that in this town that flowed regularly for most months of the year with tourists, that it was well stocked with woman accessories.  I wondered whether he took advantage of this, and lead a sort of double life. I was sort of expecting that we’d hang out together more, but he had other plans, probably a dinner gathering, or going home to dinner with his family. He bade his farewell and disappeared into the dusk, cutting through this building. Perhaps I seemed too risky, an American woman who happened into the town and didn’t know where she was going to sleep that night.  It was a nice exhibit. I wound up wandering away from the middle aged man who vanished to walk up a hill to find myself watching bats fluttering about and looking out over the valley, and instead talking to some young North African teenagers.

I had wandered around the periphery of the olympic Roman stadium and along streets in the town looking at the sites. I had gone into a lovely church where I learned some history. It was later, much later that my bed found me.  I was walking around a building and saw this little sort of fenced in courtyard that was merely following the contours of the rounded building. There was a low decorative iron fence around a small curved plot of soil, encasing a few bushes and a tree or two. I spotted large pieces of cardboard neatly wrapped up and tied together stacked vertically on the outside of this area. I learned years ago from a French (North African) truck driver that cardboard can be used to insulate from the cold. (Who I wound up driving with through Italy to Germany where during Ramadan, he’d chain smoke and start drinking his coffee before the sun came up or went down, and had packed a delightful gourmet assortment of foods home-made by his wife who packed them for his holiday fasting). I picked up the cardboard, pulled the pieces out, saw that they weren’t soiled and laid them out to form a platform to lay on. I had no sleeping bag. It wasn’t cold. I felt quite safe there and happy to not have to carry my backpack any more.  A pretty ‘sleepy’ town, I didn’t sense that anyone was going to look for me there. I didn’t sleep, but was comfortable. The night before in Aix-en-Provence I hadn’t slept at all.

I had already decided to stay in Arles that night. It was still pretty warm, September 25th, 2017. Later that evening, my resting place found me.

Arles rockin an auberge cardboard style at the hidden concave of a building

It was the last ride, Phillippe Lu, (great grandparents or grandmother came from China to Cambodia, where his parents were from. It was the intelligent conversation I had with him and his power of persuasion, which now convinced me after all that I should in fact plant myself in Montpellier; offering English courses with all the university separate buildings spreading over the north of town. He said I could make €15 to 20 per lesson. He texted his son to get the coordinates of an umbrella organization for all the universities called CROUS. He helped to give me some wording for a sign to put up. I since had looked up C.R.O.U.S. and gone there several times to get as much information as I could from what I’d written down while riding with him. They had info about housing, the university of lettres (languages) and basically I followed through and later wandered the labyrinthe of different buildings that a part of the university, that spreads across the north part of town that had been 50 years ago, fields. When I’d returned to Montpellier I was now homeless and searching through many different sources, mostly online, for housing. It was on the eve of the beginning of the month that one friend pointed out a site I’d already disregarded, judging that it was too expensive. I told him I’d already looked at that one, and it tends towards more expensive listings. I noticed that my friend had fr.fr in the beginning of the web address and mine us.fr, because I had first viewed it from the United States (I started viewing housing listings from the moment I booked an inexpensive flight). Turns out the subtle difference in the website made a huge difference in what was offered. The local listings offered a category unto themselves, anglophone families looking for English native speakers to live with them for reduced rent in exchange for some prerequisite time and activities. I’ve since found the most remarkably perfect situation, a win-win.

my signs for the return trip

my signs for the return trip

Montpellier Zoo, Jardin des Plantes

Montpellier Zoo Jardin des Plantes and street pics

It started, or rather was continuing a year ago in another desert, in the high desert of New Mexico, bordering Colorado. Luna was Bill Light’s dog, who built his home in the canyon 5,000 feet above Santa Fe, New Mexico en route to the ski area. His wife had died a few years earlier. I stayed for several months in a cabin adjacent to his home which he built for his daughter. I lived there in the autumn of 2016.

I quickly became a fan of going on walks with his dog Luna. She was a fan of walks as well, and would actually come over to the cabin and tap on the door with her foot. Wow! She absolutely loved the excursion off the property and a long a path cutting through a narrow valley to the National Forest land. In the late summer twice with Luna, I was exposed to bears. It was because Luna discovered them, and barked them into submission.

 

Luna, Bill Light's, Santa Fe New Mexico 2015

Luna my friend at Bill Light’s cabin in Santa Fe New Mexico 2015

I lived in the cabin next to Bill Light’s home in my first months above Santa Fe, New Mexico where my nice landings began. Luna and I would cut through trails up to the National Forest land and then either move further into the canyon’s or launch up to the ridge. These became my sketching/water color excursions. Luna launched and climbed the hill with ease and I followed.

Bill who had an earlier bought with cancer which had gone into recess, got it again, and died from pneumonia since I had moved out. It’s a strange thing that he was there and actively doing all sorts of things, and now gone. I don’t know what happened with Luna, certainly she was completely at home in the mountains. I hope a neighbor took her in. Besides seeing lots of deer in the late summer and the few incidences with Luna barking a bear and her cubs up a tree, I would mt. bike into town from there, regularly. I cycled 7 miles up 5,000 feet to get to the property. I never used any bike lights or reflectors, despite the fact that there were no street lamps. My eyes would adjust whether it was a new or full moon. i figured it was a good way to balance out staring into a computer screen. I find a bike wherever I go and also animals that I love. Now there are stray cats where I am, and I’ve just landed, with muscle and sweat and help with several bike mechanics, a bike that I am delighted to ride.

Now there’s no dog present like in Santa Fe and the ones I affectionately grew acquainted with and loved immediately in Taos, New Mexico the following spring. There are a bunch of stray cats however here in Montpellier. It occurred to me to look for a used bike at this place I’d become a member of months earlier. Le Vieux Biclou. After asking a guy in the street when I knew I was in the vicinity of the bike shop if he knew of where it’s located, it turned out he was on his way there. There I spotted the mt. bike I wanted, and the following day during opening hours learned of its one major obstacle; a seat post jammed all the way down that wouldn’t budge. Several technicians, pounding and myself instructed to scrape off the rust of the now ejected post, and a day later going to another bike shop to get a lock appropriate for the rampant bike thievery in this town, I purchased bolts to replace the quick release wheels and seat, and was assisted in mounting the lock to the frame. After riding it the second time i realized that this bike runs flawlessly, enabling me to climb any steep slope with ease. Stoked!

I’ve since made my signs and printed them and edited my contact cards. I wanted to get this blog out, put up the signs in various excursions, and begin today on a singular path to complete my book between my father and mother’s birthdays. That’s pretty immediate. The difference, no noose around my neck to pay a rent that squelches my time and psyche.

And as is typical, I ask for donations. Thanks! PayPal Donate Button  Carol Keiter aka nomadbeatz welcomes donations for her writing, photography, illustrations, eBook & music composition

carol keiter, blogger, Nice

blogger in Nice

East to West rideshare to San Francisco Love Fest

yeah, it started by connecting with a ride West through craigslist.com’s rideshare. I was on the right coast and wanted to head to San Francisco while the SF Love Fest was happening. A friend and former housemate was volunteering for it, and suggested that I do it too. Here I was back in the Qoöl headquarters, where I used to faithfully attend the midweek Qoöl happy hour. We were organizing our efforts for the Love Fest. In between, I had the chance to walk around taking some photos….and also caught some of the ‘critical mass‘ bike ride while I was there also (another San Francisco institution)!

Hello world!

Hi Saudia and Melissa,

I already have bookmarked the luminosity site, and googled re: learning Japanese and found this site, http://www.tofugu.com/ which then exposed me to this site http://www.livestation.com which they mentioned only with respect to learning Japanese via watching Japanese TV….but i hadn’t even been familiar with it nor aware that i could have watched various broadcasts in the States … live.

So, Saudia had a delightful show, and throughout the evening of socializing and becoming slightly intoxicated and then having lots of dreams (as i typically do anyway) ….i somehow am now pulling myself out of the literal complete expulsion of emotions and thoughts that occurred after i went home Friday night  – in which i wrote and read and edited and reread in horrifying detail all of the ways that my boyfriend flirted with this girl as i sat there limply and obediently letting him have his session with her for about 2 hours in front of my face….and then after discussing this with my sister and her husband yesterday, that last weekend, and my whole relationship … something has once again magically happened after that catharsis and purging of my own self loathing.  I’ve realized how much i have allowed myself to be diminished and criticized over the last year(s).

i now want to extricate him from my vocabulary, rather, let go of my compulsive recycling of painful thoughts, and instead start rewiring my brain!  it started this morning with a positive dream, then imagining myself taking in my power and actually having the audacity to not only hope, but believe and envision myself putting my creative talents out to the public and having success, traveling, making money, enjoying what I’m doing and people enjoying what they’re receiving…and all i want to do is to keep building these new connections: thoughts are absolutely loaded with energy and power, and i want to just keep seeing things freshly, new concepts, old ideas with a new perspective, and keep reinforcing and building upon them.

I’m about to read and study this further!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neuroplasticity

i will not recycle nor repeat with him or anyone new – the way that he has offered to show to me how many different ways in one fucking day that i could be replaced, but for myself, to reach for love, inspiration and joy in discovery; and trust in my instincts and in the way that my own cosmic psychic guide (my body, insights, even funny timing that appears to ‘get in the way’ but in fact might be the savior to be a guide in itself.

also, i was able to use ivideo, file:share and convert , to successfully compress my .mov to quicktime, in order to upload it, so “stinky” the wild boar 420 enthusiast video is on my facebook wall!