Roquebrunne-Cap-Martin, France

 

Rolling right on down the Mediterranean coast, the French Riviera was to be my next adventure.

 

It called to me.

 

Like an ancient transmission from the depths of eternity, a faint but distinct voice whispering, ‘Tayyylorrrrr, we haveee cheeseeeeee’.

 

And so they did.  And so I went.  And so it was.

 

 

 

my view

 

 

Nestled between Menton and Monaco, in the Côte d’Azur hills overlooking Roquebrunne-Cap-Martin, I lived in the chateau of a former actress (Brigitte) and I worked in her 12-tiered garden.

 

Well, technically, I slept in ‘the temple’ (a rustic cornflower-blue cabin at the top of the property line complete with a nightly moth/mosquito convention and a chandelier) and I worked……… wherever Brigitte needed me.

 

Sometimes that meant moving furniture or sanding door frames or pulling weeds or sawing wood or searching for snails for hours on end only to watch Brigitte drown them in hot water like a coldblooded gangster.  Other times, Brigitte would farm me out to her daughter Ann (who lived an hour away in Grasse- known for the International Perfume Museum where you could sniff exotic scents like caramel and cocaine) to help trim hedges, fix fences, carry big ass buckets ‘a dirt, and hang barnyard doors & shutters around her husband Jerome’s outdoor brewing area.

 

(Backstory: Brigitte’s daughter’s husband Jerome is a legit home brewer turned craft brewer who sells his organic brews all over town right from his backyard.  Sitting and sampling BadaB Brewing Co’s amber and blonde and funky IPA…… belly laughing with Ann & Jerome about God knows what after a long day’s work of de-palletizing beer bottles and repacking them in cardboard boxes miiiiiight be my favorite brewery experience of all time.  Out of 144 breweries to date.  Which makes me sound like an alcoholic, but whatever.  Craft beer is delicious and I will not apologize for consuming it.)

 

 

BadaB is pronounced ba-daub, not BADA-BEE as originally assumed

 

left: the temple (my cabin).  right: the super cute doors/shutters we hung around jerome’s beer tanks.

 

weeding hair is a thing.  i’m rolling with it.

 

i’m this close to being in a boy band.

 

not to depress you but brigitte’s coming with the hot water and she takes no prisoners

 

 

For two weeks, we functioned as a little family.  Brigitte (the strong female lead whose background in classical plays prepared her for the range of emotions needed to manage an artistic hippie commune with free spirits flowing in & out like the wind), the other volunteers (Nicola from Argentina- my garden crush, Mike from Canada, Layla from Germany, and Chris & Oliver from Colorado), and of course, the free spirits scattered about the property at any given moment.

 

Let’s see, you had…… Kevin (a classically handsome Frenchman who would kindly serve you gourmet cheese plates before bed), Baptiste (a professional pianist who owned a sailboat and never buttoned up his shirt), Eddie (a father of one and strong supporter of the ‘party in the back’), Val-en-tonne (whom I called Jon-a-tonne for two weeks minus one day), and Stefan, Nadia, Esteban, Esteban’s parents from Toulouse, Brigitte’s granddaughter from Berlin, that professional surfer guy, and whoever else floated in and out of view.

 

 

 

welcome.  dinner’s at 830.

 

 

The days started promptly at 8.  Oliver made the eggs; Nico toasted the bread; I made the coffee; and Chris set the table.  After breakfast, five straight hours of work, and a family lunch cooked by the one and only Brigitte (usually a quiche, a potato-ham-olive salad, boiled veggies or baked spaghettis with 3 kinds of brie for dessert), the rest of the day was a free-for-all until family dinner at 830.

 

We went swimming in the emerald-tinted terrace pool; we napped in our respective cabins; we listened to Baptiste play classical ballets on the piano; we walked to town for lemon tarts (in an area known for lemons); and we set up impromptu garden jam sessions with Mike on guitar, Chris on base, Ollie on the melodica- that blow piano thing that sounds like an accordion, and Nico and I on the whiskey…… not related but still very important.

 

Then, after a multilingual family dinner (65% French, 25% English, 10% Spanish), we’d assemble in the living room for a rousing game of Cabot (my new favorite card game) while taking turns washing our clothes with no soap (as Brigitte didn’t believe in soap for dishes or clothes- only hot water).

 

 

 

 

 

On the weekends, the coast was clear to go wherever our hearts desired: Menton, Monaco, Nice, Cannes, and Antibes were all a stone’s throw away and easily accessible by bus or train or boat if we wanted to hop aboard Baptiste’s boat and cruise the Med in style……… paddleboarding through the deep rich blue water no doubt manufactured by toilet water cleaner tablets and backflipping off the boat, remembering mid-flip that we’d never flipped before.

 

After forgetting to rotate my body even one single degree on that curiously-ambitious backflip……… the good news is that I now know I’m EXCELLENT at reverse belly flopping.  Maximum surface area contact.  Maximum pain.  10/10.  Would try again.

 

 

left to right: chris, oliver, nicola, me, kevin

 

not sure this’ll work cuz i’ve never posted a video before…..

 

if not, here’s a screen shot.  🙂

 

 

 

Sometimes I felt like a nut I felt like having fun with other nuts, in which case our family pack of nuts would sightsee or barhop or scout out live music around Nice……… which wasn’t hard considering June 21^st was Fête de la Musique (World Music Day) with live music celebrations on every corner in France.  Corrine (my Bakersfield roomie from the Italian vineyard) even met up with us that night and let me crash in her nice Nice hotel room after twelve back-to-back concerts, two bottles of wine, and a failed attempt to find early-morning gelato.  Thanks Corrine!  You’re the best!  You’ve got my vote for mayor!  xoxo

 

Sometimes I felt like being the only nut, in which case I’d spontaneously weed other peoples’ gardens (habit) or take the train all the way to Cannes for a burger……… only to team up with a theoretical molecular chemist named Dennis to find our ways home after the train operators went on strike.

 

THANK you for the solidarity, Dennis the Chemist, and thanks for playing along that I understood what you did for a living.  Did you notice that all my ‘tiny particles’ and ‘infinite possibilities’ and ‘transcending space and time’ conversation points were direct quotes from I Heart Huckabees?  I assume so since you thrice let me hold your top-secret dossier of molecular theories.  (FYI: after 2 trams, 1 bus, 90 minutes, and a shared love of Gray’s Papaya, I instinctively hugged Dennis at my bus stop – to thank him for le transportation teamwork – only to MISS my stop, adding 20 more minutes to my 1.5-mile midnight walk straight uphill.  Totally worth it.)

 

 

there is no remainder in the mathematics of infinity

 

 

Speaking of science & technology nuts, MY GOOD FRIEND PRIA FLEW ALL THE WAY TO THE SOUTH OF FRANCE TO DRINK WINE WITH MEEEEEEEE.  What an extra special treat!

 

We spent a day in Antibes, walking the gorgeous coastline……… admiring the beach bars & hidden coves……… legit peeing ourselves when that old woman got onto the bus at the ‘Crouton’ stop.

 

 

why was this the funniest thing we’d ever seen?

 

 

We spent a day in Cannes, eating artichoke parmesan tartines, drinking aperol spritzes, and window shopping gourmet cheeses up and down Rue Meynadier, Le Suquet and the Boulevard de la Croisette.

 

We laughed when the waitress at brunch couldn’t understand why I wanted TWO breakfasts (an almond croissant AND a pane suisse chocolate vanilla cream croissant) and we laughed again when I accidentally CATAPULTED my body into that jewelry shop, all the way to the back register, and WIPED OUT on that metal ramp to the beach.

 

We talked about everything (including Danielle Steele’s marketing tactics and why there were cherrios in my Michelin star dessert)……… we facilitated our own slaphappy version of Bad Lip Reading……… made friends with two Dutch artists convinced that WWII Nazi doctors (now living in the US) have been successfully cloning humans since the ‘50s……… and drank the last of my label-less wine (fresh from the Righetti family basement) on our 5^th floor balcony……… waving to our elderly scrabble-playing neighbors……… praying they had cataracts so they couldn’t see we were pantless.

 

Two friends.  Two bottles.  No pants.  No problem.

 

 

 

i know shirtless bartending is a thing (bachelorette parties, etc) but is there a market for pantless bartenders?  is that MY new thing?

 

antibes was VERY pretty

 

drinking buddies (in cannes)

 

when you’re drunk and the food comes…

 

the creepiest picture i’ve ever taken

 

 

In Monaco, Pria and I checked out the free part of the Casino de Monte-Carlo (cuz you gotta be KIDDIN’ me with that 17 Euro entrance fee); we people watched the wealthy elite at Casino Square’s Café de Paris (drinking the second most expensive cocktail we’ve ever had and laughing at the Fiats and minivans mixed in with the Porsches and Rolls-Royces- was it an off night?); we had the BEST CROISSANT OF BOTH OUR LIVES (at Pasqualini il Caffe); and we tried to figure out where the heck all the people were.

 

It was a Friday night in Monaco.  11p.  Ghost town.  All through the city streets, the designer shops, in front of the casino, behind the casino facing the sea……… where WAS everyone!?  Were they all on the same luxury yacht and forgot to invite us?  Did they all cough up 17 Euro to protect their fancy clothes and makeup-ed faces and $600 pumps from the rain?  I mean, sure, yeah, I guess it was drizzling but Pria had her captain’s hat and I had……… uhhhh, the inability to care.

 

 

were we drunk or just having fun?  i can’t remember.

 

 

Love you, girl.  I’m so OVER the moon that you came.  Thank you, love you, that captain’s hat looks great on you.

 

 

bonus shots

 

what is happening

 

vive la france

 

 

 

And now, switching gears, I’d like to step back and wrap up with general thoughts, insights, and learnings from the first six months (of a twelve-month journey).  A halftime health check since I’m OFFICIALLY over the halfway mark.  (Cue brain explosion.)

 

I’ll try my best to address frequent questions asked by family and friends (‘Are you exhausted?’ ‘Are you still liking it?’ ‘Are you ever nervous?’ ‘Are you going through a travel agent?’ ‘Are you ever coming home?’) and give you a glimpse behind the mystery curtain.  1-2-3 transparency starting with the number one question on everyone’s mind:

 

 

 

Are you Still Liking It?

 

• Short answer: YES
• On a base level, it’s hard to complain when my entire itinerary was handpicked for me, by me……… but even still, it seems crazy to feel so at HOME everywhere I go.  To instantly feel settled and comfortable.
• My ‘home’ has lit’trally become wherever I am.  And wherever I am is exactly where I want to be.  Which is a revolutionary concept: to be exactly where you want to be 100% of the time.  Usually you’re AT work, wishing you were home.  AT home, wishing you were on vacation.  Always focused on the future or stuck in the past.
• Long-term international travel has felt so glaringly right.  Like I was born for it.  Like the act of traveling is in itself a homecoming.
• IF I went the traditional backpacking route (shady hostels, late nights, local party scenes, constant churns of new cities, sights, bars and beaches), I assume that I’d be burnt out by now.  But me?  This trip?  Quite the contrary.  I feel rooted in communities without stress, rush, or travel headaches.  Staying in each place long enough to fall into the rhythms of local life, make deep connections, and settle into a routine……… and short enough that the work stays new and fun and fresh.  (It honestly FEELS like I’m in each place for three months when in actuality, it’s only 2-5 weeks.)
• Plus……… I’m assuming that with traditional backpacking, you probably wouldn’t have a host mother (dressed in a pheNOMenal white pant suit) running up to you with arms outstretched when you first get off the train in a new country.

 

 

 

Speaking of Brigitte, What Else Did You Learn in France?

 

• Brigitte taught me never to apologize for the food you prepare.  Even if it doesn’t turn out.
• She showed me that opening your home to volunteers from all around the world (including some live-in guests that camp out for years) breathes life and energy back into the house.  She explained that if the choice is between locking your doors and shutting people out for fear that they’ll steal something……… versus introducing new people and new perspectives and possibly interesting conversations……… she’s ‘ok with a few spoons going missing along the way’.  I’d like to open the doors to my (future) home more freely and let go of this idea that a house has to be an immaculate, chaos-free temple of cleanliness.
• Working in the French garden solidified what I’d learned on both vineyards: that I like working with my hands.  I’ve never been the type of person to get her hands dirty.  (Figuratively, yes, of course.  I’ll ‘roll up my sleeves’ and get the job done, in an office environment, any day of the week.  But actual dirt?  No, thank you.  Especially if I’ve already showered that day because one shower a day is more than enough.)  Now, the dirtier the better.

 

 

 

How Are You Liking the Work Overall?

 

• Short answer: love it.
• I’ve fallen in love with the barter system.  Working in exchange for food and accommodation.  Fulfilling my end of a bargain to repay hosts for taking such great care of me.
• Each working session then transforms into a practice of karma yoga.  Centering myself through service to others……… working with intention……… consciously pouring love into whatever I’m doing……… and using the work itself as a form of meditation.  My work ethic is better than ever cuz it’s been reframed as my contribution to the beauty and betterment of the world.
• It’s all about perspective.  I mean some people think Channing Tatum’s head looks like a potato……… I happen to think potatoes are sexy.  Potatum potahtoe.

 

 

 

How Do You Find These Opportunities?

 

• Short answer: they are surprisingly easy to find; the hard part is choosing which one.
• All the opportunities I’ve booked thus far are from a small handful of websites, but the two websites I use the most are Workaway and HelpX.  These websites facilitate thousands of volunteering and cultural exchange opportunities all over the world.  I simply pop onto one of the websites, cruise through the listing by country, and filter out anything that doesn’t have a 90% host rating or better.  I also read the reviews for phrases like ‘best experience of my life’, ‘they treated me like family’ and ‘I didn’t want to leave’, to ensure that the pool of opportunities (and host families) that I’m choosing from is already the cream of the crop.  The hard part is combing through the endlesssss offerings and choosing what’s right for you.
• I’ve also used the companies Plan My Gap Year (in India) and All Hands & Hearts (in Nepal).  Both positive experiences and highly recommended.
• Other misc. travel logistics:
  • LODGING: booked through Agoda/Airbnb/Couchsurfing (when not staying with families/volunteer orgs)
  • FLIGHTS: researched on Google flights/Kayak/Kiwi but booked through Kiwi most of the time
  • TRANSPORTATION: train/bus schedules researched on Rome2Rio
  • DEBIT CARD: my Charles Schwab debit card account reimburses me all ATM transaction fees worldwide
  • CREDIT CARD: Chase Sapphire Reserve is the way to go for all travelers.  The high yearly fee is almost fully reimbursed if you spend a certain amount of money on travel purchases PLUS you get free access to fancy airport lounges worldwide PLUS you get free TSA global entry and great customer service.

 

 

 

Why Have the Posts Become So Sporadic?

 

• Short answer: time management.
• I promised myself from day one that between HAVING new experiences and WRITING about past experiences, I would always choose the former.  Which gets tricky when every day offers something new.
• And extra tricky as the fruits of my one-month, pre-trip, planning period (Dec 2017) have dried up completely.  As of June 1^st, I’ve been WINGING IT – booking planes, trains, automobiles, hostels, homestays, workaways and weekend vacays ON THE FLY in little bits of free time when I have internet (and when I’m not catching snails, sailing the Med, suntanning on the terrace, facetiming family, or trying to find the best aperitivo buffet or hiking spot).

 

 

 

You’re Not Going to Come Back This Whole Different Person, Are You?

 

• Short answer: I’m still the same old me heyyyyyyyyyyyyy!
• This year of travel is simply giving me the context and the capability to better express what I like and what I don’t like.  What I feel and how I want to feel.
• I’m still going to be amazed when someone scrape scrape scrape scrape scraaaaaapes their breakfast bowl for the last drop of yogurt because really, REALLY, is that one-tenth of a spoonful going to complete your eating experience and satisfy your cravings?  Spoiler alert: NO.  No, it isn’t.  Put the spoon down.
• But in general, this year has been one big deep breath.  A breath of fresh air.  A pause button on the frenzy of life to reexplore who I want to be, how I want to live, and how I want to interact with the world.
• I recognize that the position I’m in and the trip I’m on is one of indulgence and privilege and simply not available to most people……… and for this reason (and others), I take regular gratitude timeouts to appreciate how lucky I am that this is my life.

 

 

 

Yeah, But How is it REALLY?  You Can Tell Me.

 

• Short answer: I think this question is hilarious.
• The content of this blog has not, and will not, be censored for highlights only. I’m not leaving out the bad bits; I’m just having a great time.  A 2018 contentment pie chart would show that I’m 80% happy/at peace, 5% unable to breathe because I ate too much, 10% playfully amused because I have absolutely no idea what’s happening around me, and 5% actually confused about where I am, how I get to dinner, where my life is headed, when my money will run out, and what the fuck I’m doing.
• Part of the process is allowing myself to sink into the unknown.  To believe wholeheartedly that the future will work itself out……… that there’s no need to plan at the moment……… and that all possibilities are open.  It gets me excited just thinking about it.
• I’m on a clear path of healing (which you’ll read about in next week’s post) so most of my energy this year has been focused on staying present, staying open, and staying curious.

 

 

 

Any Final Words (on an Already Seven-Hour Post)?

 

• I’ve learned that learning never stops and I have much more learning to do.
• I’ve learned that I do not, in fact, look bald without mascara.
• I’ve learned that there’s no limit to how small the world can be and how big your heart can be.
• I’ve learned that beet carrot fritters turn your poop MAROON.  Don’t panic.
• I’ve learned that the US standard of measurements (height, weight, speed, temperature, heck even DATE format) are incredibly inconvenient to convert.
• I’ve learned that no one should be anything or should do anything or should go anywhere.  There is no should; there is only what is.
• I’ve learned that if something ain’t happening, it ain’t happening.  Don’t force it.
• I’ve learned that my limiting views on diet and exercise are plain wrong (and a vegan diet isn’t so scary).
• I’ve learned that life’s beauty can be overwhelming.
• I’ve learned that kindness from strangers can be overwhelming.
• I’ve learned that a reliable internet connection isn’t needed most of the time.
• I’ve learned that eating meals communally is my favorite way to eat.
• I’ve learned that I need to surround myself with 1. people who smile with their eyes and 2. people whose natural energy makes me calm.
• I’ve learned that the rest of the world calls eggplant ‘aubergine’.
• And I’ve learned that if the universe keeps revealing something or pointing you in a certain direction, you must go in that direction to find out why.

 

 

Which brings me to my current home in a Peace Research & Education Center in southern Portugal……… and the reason this post wasn’t funny.  hah

 

The past two weeks (starting on June 29^th) have been introspective and extremely emotional (in the best ways possible).

 

Living amongst a tight-knit community dedicated to global system change through the inner and outer healing of the world (aka world peace)……… I’m currently on an inner path of healing transformation that goes wayyyy beyond my six-month untweezed eyebrows (that have become hands-free umbrellas for my face).

 

I’m two weeks in, three weeks to go and yet again……… I’m exactly where I need to be.  xoxo