A farewell to our beloved Alicia Brown. Venice will miss you!

I’m not a highly emotional person, but when I stopped by my friend Alicia’s going-away party tonight, I got to talking about how I came to know Alicia and what our relationship was.  In my mind, she and I were kind of sort of social friends who never hung out but when I reflected on how we met and how much my life has changed since meeting her I was completely and emotionally touched.  Carrie and Alicia moving out of the Abbot Kinney Apartment pulls at my heartstrings in a way that came as a shock to me.  I met Alicia through our mutual friend but I didn’t really connect with her until several months later.

    

I was looking for a place to live, having just returned from 7 months on the road with a makeup company and Alicia had just decided to pack up her things and backpack through South America. 

A picture I took of Alicia, in "our apartment" the day she left on her journey in 2010.

Alicia introduced me to amazing west side people and opened up her home to me.  Now, I believe you can meet people and have spiritual connections to them but I also believe you can have spiritual connections to places and this is how I felt about the Abbot Kinney apartment.  It was my first time being in the west side culture, with the beach cruisers and the little shops and BBQs on the weekends and sunset rendezvous with everyone stopping what they’re doing to observe the end of the day together.  It was my first taste of neighborhood parties and making new friends, having a “raw, vegan” Thanksgiving, Tom Petty, The Doors, The Canals, the crack heads and the bourgeois hippies. 

The Venice sign, hanging over the street in Winward Circle.

If I was ever lonely or bored I could just hop on my bicycle, ride down to the beach and watch the skaters at the skate park.  I had an amazing roommate whom I called “the mayor of Venice” because she knew everyone or introduced everyone and she brought everyone together.  We went to The Other Room on a constant basis and I even met my “one that got away” one fateful night in that dark dark bar. 

We had LA Story (starring Steve Martin) on a constant loop playing in the house.  I loved that place, it feels like home to me.  I know the smells of the house, its stairs, the broken knob on the dryer.  I am absolutely happy and at home in that apartment.  It was so much of a connection for me that I actually thought Carrie and Alicia would never leave.  I thought things would always stay the same.  After all, this house was the place I ran to for shelter from the storm after Zach broke up with me in the restaurant the night in November 2011.  I cried to the girls and they picked me up and dusted me off and gave me a place to feel safe in total chaos.  I heard Alicia’s stories of heartbreak and frustration and bad timing and I heard Carrie Turner’s beautiful music for the first time at this house.   I learned from Alicia that you can let it all go and it will all be waiting for you when you get back – which was so helpful when it was time for me to go on my own adventure. 

It wasn't even 3 years ago that I was first introduced to this world.  Back then Alicia was probably pining over some guy who made her feel like dirt and now she is rightfully and healthily in love.  Time flies, and it reminds me to take full advantage of every single day because the next thing you know, you're in love an moving to the opposite side of the world.  

Because of Alicia I found Venice and I fell in love with Venice.  When I went to her going-away party today I brought my old roommate Missy with me and it was such a full circle ending to the story.  

With Missy in our kitchen at the Venice Apartment.

The girl who brought us all together is closing the chapter on her days in Venice.  She has found love and she is moving to Australia and I couldn’t be more happy for her.  Thank you for all of your gifts Alicia Brown and thank you for making Venice my home.  You will be missed.

The Pursuit of Happiness

Coming back from my trip I’ve spent time with several people who were to my surprise, very interested in how my trip was and where I am now.  Most of them have wanted to know the same things: what did I learn?  Did I meet anyone special?  Did I fall in love? And where am I now?

Even though I was gone for only two months, I learned a LOT.  I believe I’m closing in on the last chapters of my personal quest to familiarize myself with the art of patience (my least virtuous trait).  I can’t say I’ve “mastered” patience because that would make me some sort of reincarnated Monk on my way to Enlightenment.  Not there yet.

In Chiang Mai, Thailand, singing "Earl" with Lara and Candida.

New Year in Bali

Reviewing my posted blogs I realize I’ve forgotten to post about one of the most interesting cultural experiences I was lucky enough to encounter while in Bali: NYEPI!!!  Also known as the Balinese New Year.  While most travelers got the hell out of Bali, Hannah, Candida and I decided to stay in Ubud.  I had already been to Ubud and wasn’t keen on going back, but it was better than staying in Kuta.  And those girls could create a good time with nothing but a piece of paper and some dental floss, or more accurately, Deet and a plastic bottle.  

My crew.

God Bless America. And Los Angeles.

On my way from Thailand via China I had a 12 hour countdown to my beloved country.  When we crossed the International Date Line I looked out the window into the middle of the night and saw a billion familiar stars that I hadn’t seen in months. 

The International Date Line.

A few hours later we were approaching the USA and I had the joy of watching the sun rise for the second time in a day – the first being in China.  I noticed I was the only one with my window shade up, the entire left side of my face pressed against the freezing cold Plexiglas, my left eyelid precariously close to being flipped inside out by my sheer will to see the sun shining on my hometown.  Gawd I love LA and America.  Here’s why:

I can let my guard down.  I don’t feel like I have to constantly watch my back or hold onto my purse with a Vulcan Death Grip.  I can breathe and relax because the odds of someone ripping my purse off of my shoulder while walking down Abbot Kinney are slim.  I feel like my entire body has exhaled.  According to my friend Christy Moulin, it’s my Circadian Clock readjusting to my familiar rhythm.  I won’t go into super specifics but being in a different hemisphere with different people, food, time zones and just traveling in general can mess with all SORTS of body functions and schedules. 

I can go where I want when I want, because I have a car.  I no longer have to rely on a taxi, tuk-tuk, scooter, motorcycle, bus, plane or boat to take me anywhere.  I can hop in my very own Mini Cooper, open the moon roof, roll down the windows, crank up the radio and go wherever I want.  I no longer have to worry about getting on a guy’s scooter and wondering how much he has drank, if he’s a good driver or not, holding my breath praying we don’t wreck.  What a relief. 

We have the BEST music in LA.  I’ve heard Oz has a great music scene as well, but my gawd I LOVE our music!  We have The Silversun Pickups, Of Monsters and Men, Awolnation, The Neighbourhood, Mumford & Sons, Lord Huron, Youngblood Hawke, Imagine Dragons and soo so so many more.  Just the music and the tacos alone will make you want to the star-studded sidewalks in this town. 

Being in houses.  For the past two months I’ve bounced around from hut to bungalow to homestay to hotel to hostel and it’s nice to spend time in my friends’ homes, where they live and cook and sleep every day.  It’s nice to know that everything in the house is there’s and it has only been used by people they know.  Just that fact gives the places I’ve been staying a completely different energy than the places I stayed in Asia (even if they were cool huts and bungalows).  Being away for two months makes me feel at home everywhere I go!

Freaking fast internet.  I can get through an episode of The  Vampire Diaries in the actual 40 minutes it should take, instead of 3 hours of load time. 

Hot guys riding their skateboards down the street in their Dodgers hats, Ray Bans, plaid shirts, designer jeans and some variation of Chucks, Vans, or boots.  Or maybe no shirt, like below.

Typical dude in Venice.

Big Trouble, Little China

Or, a blonde American’s survival guide to accidentally booking an overnight stay in China. 

Yes that’s right, as I type this I’m in China.  In typical Nat fashion, I booked a flight and thinking that I had all my ducks in a row, managed to miss a couple of important details.  Like the fact that my next flight out of Kunming Airport was 13 hours after my arrival.  I don’t know how I didn't see a red flag when booking this but I think I was juggling a flight to Thailand at the same time.  Regardless, here I am in China in a very rural town, I think – I can’t Google it because the internet is controlled by the government and I’m not allowed access to Google, Facebook, twitter…not even my own blog.  Crazy!! 

I did start to freak out a little bit while at the airport; I mean what the hell am I going to do for 13 hours in China? 

The immigration people at the airport took me into the back area of the airport (not typical procedure here) where I could pull up my itinerary and prove to them that I in fact had a continuing flight from here to Shanghai.  I was under intense supervision the entire time using the internet in China is a very big privilege which they do not take lightly.  I mean, that immigration woman was standing thisclose to me.  Pulling up the ticket I wanted to be all “See??  Right there it says my connecting flight is in an hour!  Can I go now?” but when we opened the email she didn't even notice the problem, I had to point it out and explain to her what had happened.  My mouth literally popped open in shock, I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it before, and I had just looked at the itinerary the day before.  Crap.  The head of immigration was nice enough to give me a 24 hour visa with the adamant demand that I was to be out of the country the next morning.  He was so the picture of Chinese Communism, on his high tower above all the immigration stamp workers, it was almost ironic. 

He gave my passport back to me and without a trace of sarcasm or warmth he said “you make sure you know what time your flight is tomorrow and be here for your flight.  Do not stay in China longer than 24 hours.” 

All I could say was “Yes! Yes, 7:30 a.m., I’ll be here.  I’m here.  7:30 a.m. tomorrow”  Small pause… “and could you also recommend a reasonable hotel for me to stay tonight and also tell me how to get there?”  I had succeeded in turning Chinese Immigration in a travel agency.  WTH??

Ruckiry as I was leaving the airport a nice man asked me where I was going and when I told him I needed to get to Airport Hotel he turned out to be my amazing Chinese guardian Buddha.  He spoke English very well and he was very excited to tell me about the new airport I was in, take me to the ATM and then to the hotel.  In the back of my mind I was thinking “please don’t take my kidneys, please don’t take my kidneys, please don’t take my kidneys” and he didn’t!  He arranged for a wake up call for 4:30 the next morning as well as the hotel car to take me to the airport in the morning.  He also set up my wifi and let me know it was safe to walk around the area and get some food. 

I went to a little Chinese restaurant and even though I wasn't hungry but I thought I should eat some real Chinese food since I am in China (!!!).  I stuck out like a sore thumb in that one-horse town.  People actually stopped what they were doing when they saw my blonde head bobbing down the street.  Their eyes would follow me all the way past them and then I could hear them talking as if they were saying “Did you see that girl?  What is she doing here?  Is she lost?”  And then they would all laugh.  Haha, so funny guys!

After dinner at the local greasy spoon I took a scorching hot shower and I was so excited to climb into my fluffy bed and watch a movie on the flat screen in my room but my hopes were shattered when I flipped through the channels which were ALL Chinese – not even a BBC station.   Thanks Commies!  Ugh.  *rolls eyes.  No worries, I thought.  I’ll just write this little ditty on China instead.  Looking forward to my 4-Star bed I pulled the covers back and plopped onto…a wooden platform disguised as a mattress.  The bed was basically a board covered in linens.  I couldn't believe they went through all the trouble of making the bed look so lush just to sleep on a hard flat surface.  I guess it’s a cultural thing to have extremely firm beds, I’d Google it, but I’m not allowed. 

One Night in Bangkok

Skipping ahead in my chronological account of Southeast Asia, here are a few awesome things before I shut it down in Bangkok tonight.

I’m hungry.   Even after eating a pumpkin custard (I have a small addiction), a banana smoothie (no sugar, no milk) and a chicken skewer I’m still hungry.  Ugh.  I wish someone would kick down my hotel door a la Adam Driver in Girls and present me with tasty treats and then a snuggle. 

I woke up this morning from nearly no sleep in Pai (thanks to a snuggle with a walking, talking coloring book), threw all my things into a bag, hopped into a shuttle/Tuk-Tuk/airplane/taxi and then almost took a 9 hour bus followed by a 2 hour boat ride south to Koh Tao, but I decided “enough is enough” and booked a room instead.

Watching CSI: Miami reminds me of my mom and I like that.

I like Grooveshark better than Spotify and Pandora put together. 

Neither Spotify nor Pandora are available in Thailand or Indonesia.  Also, no Netflix.

I laugh a LOT more when the Sissys and I are cruising around town, wreaking havoc as a bicycle gang.

I haven’t had the thrill of hearing an iphone text alert in over a month and I don’t mind it or miss it, but I really really miss the camera.

Today I learned about the gift your enemies are actually giving you, whilst sitting on the toilet.  

Bali, Nusa Lembongan. Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda.

I continued my journey east, to Nusa Lembongan where I went to get away from the disenchanted Kuta.  I’ve found myself wishing I’d gone to these one-off places sooner; they are so lovely, calm and more like the Bali I was hoping to experience.  Taking the fast boat east from Sanur, I landed on the tiny island 30 minutes later, hopped on the back of a scooter and was whisked away to my paradise Bungalow.  Ironically, it was called Suka Beach II, although it was nothing like the Suka Beach in Kuta.

My Bungalow on the beach.

The inside of my bungalow.

Bed bugs (from Kuta) and Motley Crue.  Somewhat appropriate.

I’ve replaced taxis, spit, dirt and hagglers with rooster, crickets, trees and butterflies.  Even with all of the humidity Kuta somehow seemed dry to me, whereas Lembongan practically has a heartbeat.  The humidity comes in puffy waves as if the plants and trees are actually inhaling and exhaling.  I finally feel like I can breathe.  After a night of deep, comfortable sleep I woke up at 7 a.m. the next morning and enjoyed a perfect breakfast by the ocean.  I had a fluffy banana pancake and fruit that didn’t taste like it had been cut with a knife used for onions.  It felt like I was Ashley Judd in Ya-Ya Sisterhood when she ditches her kids and goes to a hotel near the ocean for a few days.  I watched the locals working on their seaweed farms (the main source of income for the island, the seaweed is used in numerous products all over the world, from ice cream to skin cream), pushing their long boats around the patches of seaweed in the water, or balancing the bouncy stuff in baskets on their heads.  They seem happy and resolute about their job and there is no question that they should be doing anything else.    

A seaweed farmer, checking his crop in the morning.

A woman carrying a basket of seaweed in it's second stage of harvest.

These little guys were playing near me while I took pics of the seaweed.

Seaweed drying in different stages of harvest.

Lembongan is such a small island that I decided to do two things I’ve never done before: run around half of the entire island and also to drive a scooter.  The scooter part didn’t last long, I ran over part of Ketut’s garden in the first 20 seconds and then I ran into a few ditches while trying to maneuver the ridiculous thing.  I came back after about 30 minutes of white-knuckle fear and gave it right back to Ketut who took pity on me and only charged me R10,000 (about $1).  Now whenever I see a child driving one of these beasts with ANOTHER child on the back and neither wearing helmets, I can’t help but gape in wonder as to how they manage it.

After the scooter I took a look at my map and decided it would be pretty easy to navigate a 60 minute run so off I went.  Two adventurous hours later I arrived back at my bungalow drenched in sweat, full of happiness and starving.  I had almost given up not because I was mentally tired, but physically tired.  I have to say there is so much elation in finally knowing where you are when you’ve been lost for almost an hour.  As I came around the bend of the hill overlooking the island I could hear the locals practicing the traditional music they would later play at the Nyepi celebration and I felt like a total warrior. 

My super sweaty self after running around the island.

View from one of the highest points of Lembongan.  Also the moment I knew where I was.

Definitely the coolest guy on the island.

That night I had dinner by the ocean and an acupressure massage by Made (sounds like Mah-Day) which I swear made me constipated.  I’m not kidding, whatever that guy did jacked me up for the next 3 weeks.  I don’t recommend getting a healing massage while in Bali, I’ll be honest.  Especially when my massage therapist is one of the best in LA (shout out Coco!!), but I suppose it was something I should experience.  That night I sat at my balcony and wrote two manifestos: one for work and one for love, as well as my goals for 2013.  I was pretty satisfied with the day and when I finally fell asleep Angus Stone’s melodic voice was singing “Just a Boy” at a bar close enough to my bungalow to lull me into sweet dreams. 

The next day I went snorkeling all over the Islands where I swam with little beautiful fishes and coral and and and…Manta Rays.  This was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done for a few reasons.  First, I thought they were the same sort of rays that killed Steve Irwin and when the boat driver told us not to panic if the ray swam towards us, I was sure it was the same.  Second, even though I am really not afraid of most things, I have grown to be afraid or respectful of the ocean.  I just understand its power and know what the water is capable of doing.  So jumping in an ocean full of Mantas is absolutely crazy for me.  But I did it.  I swear my heart was beating so loud and hard they could actually hear it and it seemed like they were FOLLOWING ME.  I tried not to panic but I think I failed a bit.  There were a few times I had to surface so I can cough up the ocean water I’d sucked in while trying to make a u-turn to avoid these things that look like underwater monsters.  Everyone was spooked, it was really funny.  I tapped on a girl’s shoulder to let her know I was behind her and swear she peed in her bathing suit.  Only later did I find out they are not the same at all.  There were also several divers with us and I swam around in the tiny bubbles put off by their oxygen tanks, it felt like little kisses all over my body.  We spent the day looking at coral that looked like giant brains and clams and flowers and an entire underwater world that would make you wonder WHAT THE HELL Ariel was thinking. 

Some caves on our way to the manta ray spot.

I wish I had stayed on the island longer, but for some reason after a few days it was time to return to the dreadful Kuta, Bali.  Alas I packed my bags to head back.

This little guy was just chillin out, watching tv.  

The "roads" in Lembongan.  There are very few cars and trucks here.  

Some of the island elders, watching a cooking show in the temple, on a pretty nice flat screen tv.

Even the boats look like paradise.

The only graveyard I saw in all of Bali.

This is not a commercial, this actually happened to me.

A Nyepi monster in progress.

The only bridge that connects Lembongan to Nusa Ceningan.

These little girls serenade you before you go down into the Underground House.

One of the 7 entrances/exits into the Underground House.

The "kitchen" in the Underground House. There are DEFINITELY Fraggles living down here.

The beginning of a beautiful sunset.  

My little friend.  We did some exploring together.