My first of the Thanksgivings

There’s a noontime quietness that permeated the university that I could only relate to the first days of moving in. You know, those privileged days where you are guaranteed a few days of respite before the thousand other students come thundering in with their giant TV’s and reclining couches.

No one else was in the room, and I allowed the doors to be as wide open as possible, to re-arrange the couches post-Star Wars, pizza, Christmas-oreos-and-milk marathon that went on the night before. I let loose the curtains and pranced around once or twice whilst brushing my teeth. At 4pm, I’ll be heading to my Boston-family home.

To see grandpa and grandma, be greeted by the energetic soul of one Rosie, six and three quarters, beloved uncle and auntie opening up their home…it’s a treat, isn’t it? As a wandering soul, one of sixty exchange students, you don’t get to expect your share of celebrating an authentic Thanksgiving with your local family. But soon the pots were bubbling, potatoes all washed and boiling, Turkey peppered and salted and you get to sit with grandma while you prepare the green beans. You sneak in a bacon or two in-between but no worries, nobody will ever know.

Grandpa tells jokes, little Rosie is the centre of attention and we love every Irish step dance performance she makes certain we all get to savour. Pumpkin pies (better homemade), fresh rolls, brussel sprouts for the first time and it was delish, and great company with Boston accents or Albuquerque fresh.

There was no apocalyptic finish. Only a steady of hum of you go sit down there, you’ve done enough for the day, whilst the other bees buzz around cleanin’ cleanin’. And it does not just end! You get to drive to quirky little towns and be told stories of something magical and fancy, tiramisu as you walk cobbled paths admiring its old age, you get to come home and fry some leftover Turkey and rice pilaf for dinner as you read your friends’ updates about their own little ventures. Oh, and you get to watch Inside Out and laugh as holly goes jolly because you’re fond of its silliness. 

No sooner will you realise the break’s coming end, the work vying for your attention. Finals finals, one whispers, end of the semester, you hate to admit. But not right now. No, no one could think of it right now.

I am thankful, beyond grateful for what was, what could have been, for what is, the now. The family, the love, the joy, the gathering. And turkey. Definitely the turkey.

Don’t skip the cranberry sauce!

‘merican blues – the haps

I am listening to classical music and it is music to my ears. Literally.

I never thought that doing International Film would mean Food and Philosophy and learning how to be a better expository writer and well, a writer in general. And a thinker, also a thinker.

But everything papery is all so very quirky. The ‘merican ventures…it’s been a month and I will never get over how I live on the second-floor of a room so homey (thanks roomies!) that pretty much look like a hotel apartment, when you squint hard enough. There’s a small fridge where I keep a bottle of milk and maybe cold cider for when watching movies for your course because #FILMLIFE4LYF.

I have no signal in my room though, bummer, but the wi-fi is faster than Usain Bolt and America, you do yourself proud in that respect. Australia, you need more working out. Stretch those legs at the free gym that closes 12am everyday here. Seriously. (I may or may not be crying).

But there’s a sense of calm about working alone at night, just you and your computer and heimatfilme and extrapolating its core elements for a Fatih Akin film named Soul Kitchen. I mean, isn’t it appropriate since I just ate a Clif bar?

I hope to blog more!

…if I wasn’t so inundated with readings and the secret introductory Spanish classes I will be taking to surprise my Spaniard/Ecuadorian amigas —

Everything I thought it would be

It is everything I thought it would be. The music, the lights, the perspiration and slobber, food trucks lined up (don’t walk behind those things) and wasted potentials and inhibitions served free. It’s a wave upon a bigger wave, and when your house is built on sand, it will truly and awfully, fade away.

There are small carrions left-over after. Always. You find it littered on the grass: a cigarette butt, torn cupcake wrapper, the curve of a behind on a supposed to be inflated balloon screen. There was never an if, but a when, in every single generation.

I would ask myself questions about righteousness and poor choices a disregard to a higher calling; a life driven with purpose. I do not mean it in the long-term since most have put down their feet and have entered collegio to dream, but what of the now then? Isn’t the now an affectee of the future? Aren’t we ambassadors of ourselves?

But isn’t that the great non-mystery, the human soul, restless and afflicted, torn apart by ravaging wolves of the heart. Who to be, what to be, how to become like them, when to act and where do it. There is no common misconception.

It is a matter of who you are and who you stand for. Will you outflow or will they pour in?

To not tell much

Hey friends,

I think it is up to me to clarify that I won’t be regaling you all with the stories from up-above ‘murica whilst I’m on holiday because 1. It is a generic fact that one way or another – if I haven’t already – I will say, “it’s amazing” and in Jimmy Fallon’s words, “Ew.” Second, if ever I was to tell the egregious mishaps of missing flights and the dreadful thought of having to sleep at an airport because there seems to be no way out, well, it’s a terrifying thought that may just haunt you all in your sleeps. (Update: we didn’t end up sleeping in an airport, thank my American aunt!)

But to be fair, I will share the chaotic culmination of the first few weeks of my American fun-dum before I actually begin the story-telling of the whole university/exchange/independence/dorm-ing/sophomore-ing life of me that begins next month.

But today, today is NASA dayyyyyyyy. #partyplanet


It’s a tad bit hard to post photos whilst living the nomadic life, but let me beguile y’all anyway with some of the things I’ve learnt so far.

American water tastes like melted ice cubes, and I’ve had no choice but to drink it by the gallons. Their tavern pizza can feed three grown adults and it’s slightly terrifying, everyone is super nice, I’m pretty sure Bridge to Terabithia was filmed in Massachusetts because dang flippin gorgeous, and SEAFOOD. It is cheap and I like it to infinity and beyond the borders. Apparently in some seasons, you can buy lobsters for two dollars a pound. A pound. And though I’m still not familiar with their metric system (why the heck do they have 25 cents and 1 cent and they are identified by names like what are you, dogs?), that is still heavier than your average kilo.

Also, you may or may not be gaining some weight. You’ll most likely be plateauing since you eat a lot but you also walk a lot, which is nice, I guess. Note to self: arrive in America weighing your best so you don’t feel like you have to be all Bieber ft. Nicki Minaj and beauty and the beat all them fries gains.

Tomorrow we drive to the “New”‘s: Jersey and the York so this post is probably going to follow a pretentious one but whatever.

Still don’t know why everyone has Apple Sauce,