Books Roundup 2018

This year I have torn through the books (in paper, not digital, I just can't with the e-readers). Reading brought relief when grieving the loss of my pregnancy with Baby AB, relaxation while on the beach in Hawaii, and welcome entertainment while in Peci where there is no internet or even a good phone signal. Here is the list of the 16 books I've read so far in 2018:

The Lost City of the Monkey God by Douglas Preston

This was my first book of the year. Fresh with grief and having taken a physical pummeling from the loss of the baby and resulting hormonal swings, I desperately needed a book I could lose myself in. My mom gifted me this book at just the right time. A mix of anthropology, adventure travel, and radar technology, this true story tells of a lost city being found in the Honduran jungle. Incredible to think that entire empires lie buried under vegetation. The title annoyed me (smacks of white male expedition marketed with exotic language to the people back home - which is exactly what it is on some level) but still I really enjoyed the story.

Song of the Lion and Spider Woman's Daughter by Anne Hillerman

I grew up reading Tony Hillerman's mysteries and remember staying up late, flipping the pages until my hands ached, unable to pull myself away from the stories of Leaphorn and Chee and the Dinè (Navajo) way of life. As a New Mexican, I appreciated the sense of place and often took Hillerman books with me while living abroad to soothe my saudades (or perhaps just make them worse). When I found out that Tony's daughter Anne had continued the mystery series, emphasizing the perspective of Bernadette Manuelito, a female detective, I was excited to return to the characters and scenery I so enjoyed years ago. Unfortunately it was a letdown. Perhaps I'd excessively built up my expectations, or maybe it was the difference of reading as an adult vs. a teenager, but I found the storylines to be predictable and lacking that urgent page-turning quality I remembered in the original series. I read these on while on our honeymoon in Hawaii in February, and they were definitely good enough for a beach read or to pass the time on the plane. I don't plan on reading more in the series, though... 

Love Africa by Jeffrey Gettleman

This one hit me hard. Part travel narrative, part political essay, part memoir. Intelligent yet humble writing, and deep honesty from the author about his past mistakes. I loved the stories, felt compassion for the characters, and appreciated the complexity of the situations in which the author found himself. It also stirred up nostalgia for East Africa, and a desire to keep traveling and keep writing no matter what. Fantastic book, I can't wait to read more from him.

Shark Drunk by Morten Stroksnes

The story of trying to catch a Greenland shark, a poorly-understood cold water giant that I'd first heard about while watching the tv show River Monsters and found fascinating. I was expecting a mix of science, adventure, and Nordic culture - and I suppose it was all of those things - but somehow the book dragged on and felt bland. Maybe it was because of translating nuances (it was originally written in Norwegian), or maybe it was just an accurate portrayal of the slow pace of time while fishing. Whatever the reason, I found it very difficult to get through and nearly abandoned ship several times before finally, stubbornly, turning the last page.

The Monk of Mokha by Dave Eggers

This was perhaps my favorite of all 2018. A true story, set in San Francisco and Yemen, about a young man who successfully revitalizes the Yemeni coffee industry despite widespread skepticism, production challenges, and war. A story of entrepreneurship, agriculture, development, politics, immigration, cultural ambassadorship, and global commerce. And, of course, coffee. I learned so much and can't wait to try a cup of specialty Yemeni brew one day here in San Francisco, even though it is hard to find and costs $16/cup, and as a pedestrian coffee drinker I am unlikely to appreciate its subtle aroma and palate qualities. Still, because of this story, I want to try it.

The Sober Diaries by Claire Pooley

I LOVED THIS BOOK. My interest in sober living started about three years ago as I contemplated the role alcohol played in my previous marriage/life chapter. My ex was a happy and frequent drinker, as was his family, as were our friends. Our respective cultures reinforced this norm, as did our lifestyle (expat development workers and frequent travelers tend to be a heavy-drinking lot). Without really noticing, I'd become a habitual drinker. Bored? How about a drink. In an airport? Obviously time for a beer. Celebrating? Drink. Bad news? Drink. School sucks? Have a glass of wine with that essay. Work challenging? Drink to decompress. Gallery slow? How about some bubbly to pass the time. Weekend? Day drink. Weekday? Vino with dinner. Anything, anything at all? Drink. Of course we were both very responsible people, kept up our obligations, never had "consequences," and in his eyes never had a problem...but for me there was a quiet and increasingly desperate feeling that something was very, very wrong. I started to cut back on my own consumption, and then after our divorce I had the opportunity to further examine my own habits and behavior and make some big changes. I still have an occasional drink, but my relationship with alcohol has changed completely. It is now the exception rather than the rule. I don't get drinks on auto pilot, and I certainly don't buy into the idea that you need alcohol to have fun, or cope, or be accepted. My current husband has a very similar approach, and our life is sober most of the time, often for long stretches. THIS BOOK WAS SO AFFIRMING OF THESE DECISIONS. Claire Pooley is a hilarious writer, and hearing how she became sober and then how she beat breast cancer while maintaining sobriety was inspiring. I highly recommend it, especially if you are reexamining your relationship with alcohol.

Alburquerque by Rudolfo Anaya

It's always fun to read a book set in your hometown, and this was no exception. Magical, mystical, poignant, and engaging. I hadn't read Rudolfo Anaya since high school, and it was like visiting an old friend. The storyline was compelling, felt ancient and modern all at once, and I loved the characters. Anyone with a connection to New Mexico will particularly enjoy reading this book.

Dear Sugar by Cheryl Strayed

What a punch to the gut and embrace to the heart. I bawled and cringed and laughed while reading Cheryl Strayed's no-bullshit advice to others, punctuated with devastating and uplifting stories from her own life. My friend Heather had recommended this to me shortly after we lost Baby AB, and I was happy to find this in my mom's bookshelf. Definitely helped me find perspective and strength.

Deep South by Paul Theroux

This road trip narrative tells devastating and hopeful stories from America's southern states. I appreciated the author's attempt to present many perspectives, cultures, and ways of life. From gun shows to shacks in the Delta, economic ghost towns to sites where black youth were murdered, churches to restaurants, and the long stretches of highway in-between, the reader comes away with a real sense of the history and struggle and complexity of the region. I found the more academic interludes a little hard to get through, but the actual stories from the road were captivating. Highly recommend.

Robicheaux by James Lee Burke

I enjoyed reading all of the previous Dave Robicheaux detective novels, and this was no exception. Gritty, well-written, and full of Louisiana culture. The storyline was unpredictable and made for a real page-turner, although not ideal for bedtime reading because of the often gory situations.  

Red Sparrow and Palace of Treason by Jason Matthews

More not-ideal-before-bedtime reading, but oh so good. These spy novels are intelligent, complex, and compelling tales of politics, love, loyalty and betrayal. The main characters are very well developed. I enjoyed all the Russian language and culture, and the recipes at the end of each chapter are an unexpected bonus. I can't wait to read the final book from this trilogy.

The Pregnancy Instruction Manual by Sarah Jordan and David Ufberg

The Baby Owner's Manual by Louis Borgenicht and Joe Borgenicht

Now that I'm pregnant again (baby Anastasia is due in February 2019) my friend Marjana gave me these books that she'd enjoyed reading before her first child was born a several years ago. They are practical, easy to understand, and comprehensive. That said, both books are oriented to heterosexual couples and pander to antiquated gender roles. Mom gets tips for how to dress during pregnancy (avoid stripes that make you look larger that you already are!) and Dad is reminded to switch off Sports Center and make himself useful around the house. I get that it's an attempt at humor, but ugh. Otherwise useful books, and I'm sure I'll be consulting them in the future.

Ina May's Guide to Childbirth by Ina May Gaskin

This book is my Bible right now. I want to have an unmedicated vaginal birth in a hospital, so I'm trying to read everything I can about how birth is a natural and empowering process that women are entitled to experience free from a culture of fear. I love reading all of the birth stories from the Farm. These women and midwives are incredibly inspiring. I'll likely reread this about 10 times between now and February!

That's it! I'm proud to have read so much and look forward to squeezing in maybe one or two more books before the end of the year. What have you read lately that you really enjoyed? 

Shyness

My first time in Grand Central Station. Looking down while Roberto looks up through the lens.

Several weeks ago Roberto and I went to New York to visit my cousin Anders. While there we went to this shop called, well, SHOP, a hyper-colorful, heavily curated concept store that changes its theme every season. Full of clever gift items, there was also the occasional show stopper, like the giant unicorn pool floatie that was in the middle of the space when we visited (the theme was Out of Office, an ode to endless lazy vacation days).

Anyhow, while at SHOP Anders bought a pack of cards that is supposed to generate ideas for small talk, improving your conversational skills, or simply getting to know people better. Later that evening we pulled random cards from the deck over a midnight snack of leftover donuts. Some of the prompts were pretty predictable (What did you want to be when you were a kid?) some were amusing (What's a guilty pleasure?) others were deep (Do you value mercy or justice more?) and a couple were downright cringe-worthy (What relative do you like the least?).

One of the cards I found strangely difficult to answer was "What circumstances make you shy?"

My initial reaction was silence, because I'm not at all a shy person and it took me multiple minutes of thinking to even come up with some candidate scenarios...and even then, not really! Like I am reluctant to ask strangers for directions when I'm lost because I don't want people to know that I'm disoriented or not "from" a particular place. I'm reluctant to interact because the information I'd share makes me feel vulnerable, not because I'm timid about the approach. The other scenarios I came up with were also one-off from shyness, like not wanting to talk about certain accomplishments (modesty), occasionally being quiet at dinner parties (paranoid about being a motor mouth), or back in the day deciding not to get gelato because I didn't know the words in Italian for 'scoop' and 'cone' and the embarrassment I was sure to suffer because of that was greater than my desire for ice cream (stupidity - now I get gelato despite any linguistic limitations).

My friend Hilary is perhaps the most shy person I know. We were in jewelry school together and bonded over a mutual love of running. We've been meeting for weekly runs for over 6 years now, and the funny thing is that while we run we talk nonstop - both of us! There's nothing like chatting to make the time and the miles fly by, especially when training for long distances. I believe that being side-by-side while we run (as opposed to face-to-face) takes the pressure off and makes it easier for a shy person to chat. In my case it makes me talk less because Hilary is in better shape than I am and so I reach a point of huffing and puffing and not being able to hold a conversation much faster than she does, so it's a good balance!

What made me think of shyness was the realization that the place I quiet my voice the most these days is here, on my blog. Sometimes I long to write and will spend hours composing in my head and feeling the itch to get my fingers on the keyboard, and yet I hold back. It's not writer's block - the instant I sit down the words pour out. Rather it's censorship, fear of oversharing, a questioning whether my current stories truly belong in this place so rooted in the past or whether I need to find a new home. I miss writing, be it about unremarkable daily routines or major stuff like marriage, miscarriage, and how to crack the code of living 6 months in California and 6 months in Italy (current conundrum). I know the way forward is to keep writing, be it here, in a private diary, on scraps of paper, whatever. Doubts about where to write shouldn't be an impediment to writing. So here I am, despite my shyness, showing up to say hello.

More Endings and More Beginnings

It's been a year since I last wrote here. Often I've had the urge to come back and chronicle what's been going on in my life, but while this is my favorite space for writing, it also felt strange. Outdated. Too connected with people and places who are no longer in my life and, honestly, a reflection of a self that I no longer am. I suppose that's inevitable when you blog for over a decade, but my goodness the changes have been massive. New continent, new school, new profession, divorce, passing of loved ones, new relationships, new homes, new beginnings. It's been so much.

For a while I was decided that I would start a new blog for this new chapter, but I never found a format or space or whatever that seemed right. I like writing here, and I like all of you who follow(ed) me here, and so I've come to peace with the idea that yes, my past is present, but my present can be as well. 

So where to start? This time last year I'd just come back from a month of traveling. Geographic distance from Casa Cali, as well as the constant stimulus of new landscapes and languages and people, allowed me to feel like my old self again. The traveler, nomad, extrovert, adventurer. It also helped me begin to glimpse my new self, who I would become after all the transitioning, questioning, grief and growth.

Back in the Bay Area, life delivered up one of those sublime coincidences (that aren't coincidences at all, really) and I met a very lovely person who has become my partner in life and in love. I certainly wasn't "looking," but when you find treasure you most absolutely open your heart and say yes. I would like to write volumes about this person, about our adventures and insights together, but I must say that I have come to value privacy immensely and so choose not to. But know that I'm happy and, true to my Libra nature, am in a pair and feel at balance.

Over the past year I have really reconnected with my roots on my mom's side, and spent a lot of time along the Italy-Slovenia border where my family has had a home for centuries. I recovered my ability to speak Italian (it's full of mistakes but I don't really care, I'm just happy that it's present and functional!). I made many local friends and danced salsa and kizomba till the wee hours (funny how there's such a passion for Latin/African dances in that part of the world). Together with friends and family, we did a bunch of work on the house my grandmother used to live in, trying to get it fixed up and ready for who-knows-what next incarnation. Retreats, a place for wellness and healing, wine tourism...there are so many attributes and possibilities. But for now, as they say in Italian, piano, piano. Take it slow. For a while there many people were asking if I'd moved to Italy. It was/is definitely in my mind, but I'm letting life lead me there at its own pace. Although I am applying for Italian citizenship - it will take two years, and just getting together the necessary documents has been a fascinating process. Stories for another day, however...

Last month I was back in Italy and we had a memorial ceremony for my grandmother, who passed away last year in California. It was quite the event. My family was there from the US, the whole village turned up, we had two choirs sing, and everyone came to the house afterwards for prosciutto and pastries and wine. Truly the closing of one gigantic chapter and the opening of the next. I want to write about the whole funeral organizing experience, as it was priceless. Talking in limited Italian about opening graves and preparing floral wreaths, and trying to figure out catering, and getting the priest booked, etc. etc. etc. Truly memorable, I swear many of the people and situations seemed straight out of a film. Too good (and sometimes too bad!) to be true.

Now back in California I continue to make jewelry, my focus these days is on heirloom redesign and memory projects. I've also been working as a medical interpreter (Portuguese and Spanish), which is interesting and a good counterpart to my studio practice. Always the Jill of a thousand trades it seems. :)

I suppose what really moved me to write here again is the sad news that Pria passed away three days ago (the cats are still at Casa Cali with Ricardo and his new wife). I got the call that Pria had collapsed and was at the emergency vet, and that it didn't look good. Apparently he had cancer all throughout his body. I'm grateful that he didn't suffer long, and I know he was in good care. Still it is so incredibly sad. I feel lucky that my last memories of Pria are of days when he was happy and heathy and purring in my lap. I miss him. I'd been missing him all year. Losing our animal companions is terrible, but boy did he give us years of funny stories and fond memories. I hope he's living it up on the other side of the rainbow bridge with his brother, Parceiro.

The Quiet Moments

I a home in California after nearly a month traveling. My itinerary included New Mexico (Valencia County and Albuquerque), Texas (Houston and Austin), and Mexico (Playa del Carmen and Tulum). The trip was filled with moments of excitement and energy, but also lots of quiet time. I so appreciate my solo reflective time while on the road. It's what gives me perspective on my life "at home" and allows me to reconnect with my internal North. Here are some visual captures of some of those contemplative moments:

While on the road I turned 35. This blazing sunset was taken on the eve of my last day being 34. I was in the parking lot of Bodyshock Fitness, a gym in Los Lunas I discovered on this trip that was my salvation while in New Mexico. After a particularly hard workout, I was rewarded with this fiery sky. I thought about the past year and all the change it has brought for me, the wild ride my heart and body have endured, and what I want from the next cycle - be it a day, a year, or a decade.

This snapshot was taken at sunrise on my 35th birthday, taken from the ditch road that runs behind my dad's house. I was feeling very proud of myself, as I'd managed to go to a 5:30am body combat class to start my day off right, an intense bout of movement before getting on a plane and heading to Houston later that day. I could hear the soft sound of water flowing through the irrigation ditch some doves cooing in the distance. I kept my ears and eyes alert for signs of sandhill cranes (they migrate to New Mexico every fall, often arriving on the day of my birthday) but didn't hear/see any although I knew they were out there somewhere.

As part of the Texas leg of my trip, I decided to drive to Austin for a night and experience the last place I called home prior to moving to Mozambique. I haven't been back since I left in 2005. I decided to visit the Umlauf Sculpture Garden and journal for a bit amid the greenery and bronze figures. It was hot and humid, but the scenery was so perfect for reflection that I found a bench in the shade and wrote for about an hour, trying to ignore the sweat dripping down my legs. What a strange experience to revisit Austin after 11.5 years. So much has happened in that time, yet in many ways it feels I'm back in the same psychological place I was in when I left Texas and headed to Africa. The end of one major chapter and the start of another, tumultuous at times but full of promise and adventure.

In the Mexico leg of my trip, I enjoyed reflective time while swimming in cenotes (freshwater swimming holes that dot the Yucatan Peninsula and were considered sacred by the Mayans). This one pictured here is Cenote Azul. The water was clear and refreshing, and the jungle scenery all around made it feel like the garden of Eden. Swimming here felt like hitting the reset button on my life, which may be a bit dramatic but it really did seem that way in the moment.

Finally here is a moment from the women's wellness retreat that brought me to Tulum. We did a clay treatment and then went into the ocean to wash it off. I am the person on the far right. This was the start to me swimming far out into the water, what I wrote about in my previous post. I felt very calm here, at ease with myself and my surroundings.

My hope is that I can carry these feelings from my trip into my California life, especially as I gear up for the busy holiday season with my jewelry work, and continue to navigate the up's and down's of my personal life transition. Starting my day today with blogging was a good way to reconnect and reflect, for sure.

Tulum Reflections

Today I swam into the ocean, going further out than I ever have before. I used to be afraid of the water, afraid of the waves, afraid of being at the mercy of a force so much greater than my own strength. Previously I refused to get in the deep water unless I had a companion to cling to. But today I was at ease. The water was warm and clear, and I let myself drift out beyond the breakers. I made sure to periodically check if I was being dragged further out to sea or if there was a lateral riptide, using a large rock outcropping and the distant view of our beachfront hotel as landmarks. To my relief I seemed to have found a spot without a strong current and I stayed more or less stationary. I felt calm, treading water and occasionally submerging my head under the swells. With each dive I would invent a mantra: This is for letting go of the past. This is for embracing the future. This is for being in the present moment. This is for all the loss I have endured. This is for all the love that is yet to come.

I am in Tulum, Mexico right now. I came here with a group of women that I know from Hipline, the dance studio I go to in Oakland. We are on a wellness retreat that involves dancing and strength training and journaling and relaxing. I have been on the road for about three weeks already, and this comes as a welcome opportunity to slow down and reconnect with myself. I am grateful that the format of this retreat is opt-in/opt-out, that each participant is invited to do exactly that which feels right at the moment, nothing more and nothing less. Letting go of the should's of life and instead seeking out what we want, what we need. I have been opting out a lot, foregoing dance class in favor of solitary beach walks. Relaxing in the hammock. Reading Solo Africa, an account of a filmmaker's journey across the Sahara, Sahel and Congo in the late 1980's. Observing the ocean. Drinking mezcal cocktails. Reflecting on the past three weeks I have been traveling, on this year of transition, on my life of habitually moving from one place to another.

I feel compelled to travel, if for no other reason than it brings out my very best self. The person that is aware that moments are fleeting and change is the only constant. The person that is up for spontaneous adventures and road trips and solo yolo salsa dancing under the stars. The person that says yes to what feels right and is unafraid to take risks. The person that had no regrets. The person that cliff jumps and goes skinny dipping and takes long-distance buses and makes friends in an instant over a shared smile and a familiar song.

I don't want to veer away from this path. I don't want to sacrifice this feeling of freedom and endless possibility. I am aware it is a privilege to be able to travel and be self-employed. I hope to do it justice. I hope to move forward with courage. To get in the ocean and swim beyond where it seems reasonable and realize that I am safe there, that I am at ease in the world, that everything is as it is meant to be.