Friday, October 1, 2010

No Place Like Home

Dear No One in Particular,

Well, hello there. Fancy meeting you here.

I bet you thought I had forgotten about this little space. Not a chance.


I'm back from Australia, although I was sorely tempted to become a permanent ex-pat. Seriously: I LOVED it. It was so much more than I had hoped it would be, and nothing like I had dreamed. Something had pushed me to Oz, told me something incredible awaited me there. Not to sound too San Francisco-hippie, but I left the States knowing that the universe had great plans for me.

It's hard for me to recount, what exactly, was so amazing about being there. I wasn't given anything tangible -- not a souvenir, a job offer, or even a picture of a single piece of magnificence -- to hold up and say "THIS. This is why I had to go." But the fact remains that I'm a different person now. Visiting Australia, even for that short period of time, changed me. I can't wait to go back and see what else will happen.

I do, however, have a highlight reel and tons of photos:

If you're planning your Mighty Life List and thinking Australia should be on it, let me be the first to stand up and shout a resounding yes! It's an incredible place and there is so much to see, that I recommend making multiple trips if you can swing it. Or, if you have more stamina than I, take a long, long vacation and travel the entire country. I only made it to the big cities, and my only regret is that I didn't allot time to visit the Great Barrier Reef while I was there.

This is technically a wallaby, but my point still stands.

One thing that every visitor to Australia must do is feed a kangaroo. Honestly, I almost edited my Life List to include this, because I wish I had thought of it sooner. I'd only seen kangaroos in zoos, behind plexiglass walls, so when my cousins told me that I would get the chance to feed them -- feed them with my own hands -- I just about peed myself with excitement. It was hilarious and amazing and kind of cheesy in a really great way.


In fact, all of the Australian wildlife is pretty great:

Case in point.

My favourite vacation fun fact: all of the koalas in Australia have chlamydia.

This is the face of chlamydia.

Speaking of wildlife, the fairy penguins? SO PRECIOUS. I was a bit hesitant to actually drive all the way out to Phillip Island, since I had heard that there were more tourists than penguins these days. I was even more hesitant when they told us to dress extra-warm, since we would be sitting on concrete bleachers at dusk on the beach. But! All of that changed when we saw the first bitty penguin waddle up out of the surf and scurry across the sand toward safety. The Centre is built right on top of the penguins' natural migration path, so you can walk up the hill alongside the tiny tuxedo-ed birds. No joke, it was the cutest damn thing I'd ever seen.
Unfortunately, there are no pictures of this event, since camera flashes scare the penguins. I snapped one photo inside the Visitor's Centre, which conveniently has little peek-a-boo windows into the fairy penguin's burrows.

Real live fairy penguins, in a real live fairy penguin burrow,
having a real live fairy penguin cuddle.


Another "must-do", specifically if you're in Melbourne, is see an Aussie Rules Football game. Don't worry about trying to make sense of the game; the rules are ridiculous and obviously made up by a bunch of drunk criminals who were bored with cricket. It's obscenely violent, but the fans are incredible (they put soccer hooligans to shame) and the players are gorgeous, in a very beefcakey, missing-multiple-teeth sort of way.


Remember how I said that Melbourne was the place I most wanted to see? Yeah, I take that back. Don't get me wrong -- Melbourne is marvelous! The Queen Victoria Market is heaven on Earth and I would kick a puppy to have even the palest imitation of it here in San Francisco. But I wasn't totally in love, ready to drop everything and set up home in Fitzroy -- not for Melbourne, that is.


I loved Sydney. LOVED IT, you guys; loved it like ... I can't even think of a proper analogy, I loved it that much. We had flown out of Sydney to spend a week in Melbourne, and on our flight back in, I remember the plane's wheels hitting the tarmac and sighing internally, thinking "Ahhh ... we're home." 5 all too short days in this glorious city, and it had imprinted itself on my mind as home. Every so often I wake up with my heart strings tugging me back to Sydney, and I want to cry.
I'm not so sure why I loved Sydney more when all signs pointed in the other direction. The food was better in Melbourne (marginally, because I must say the food in Australia is altogether tremendous; it's a country full of foodies), it's much less of a metropolis and more of a cultural hub, etc.

But Sydney, with it's gorgeous weather, delightful people, and cinematic familiarity just felt right. It felt as if the whole sun-soaked city reached out, hugged me close, and whispered "Welcome. We've been expecting you."

I've been mulling this over for months now, wondering why I felt so strongly about Australia in general, and Sydney (Sydney!) specifically. Before I left, I spent months dreaming about Oz and the wonders it held for me. Those dreams still continue, urging me to go back, to return home.

Australia isn't done with me yet, not by a long shot. But for now, I have photos to remember and a special place in my heart carved out for the land down under.

--amanda


Oh! Before I forget: remember, how, like 2 years ago, I asked Santa to bring me a pygmy hippo for Christmas? I SAW HER. No joke, she now lives at the Melbourne Zoo and I thought I had managed to stop screaming long enough to take a couple of photos of her walking around underwater, but apparently they were so blurry and out-of-focus that the Boy deleted them. But trust me: Monifa (hilarious name) is adorable and wee and just so precious.

Friday, April 9, 2010

Off To See the Wizard

Dear No One in Particular,

I know this blog has been long neglected. I'm afraid that it's going to be neglected a bit longer, since I am indulging my wanderlust again and fleeing the country.

I'm crossing off the #1 item on my Mighty Life List: Go to Australia.
In t-minus 9 days, there will be a check next to that sentence, and I can't be more excited.

Obviously the "stay as long as necessary" bit isn't applicable; I am, however, going to be in Oz for 2 glorious weeks. There's so much to do and see in Down Under, so I'm severely limiting the number of places the Boy and I are visiting. That way, I can cap my spending and really get the feel of a city AND I've given myself an excuse to return.

The Boy and I are only hitting up the major cities, Sydney and Melbourne. I can't tell you how excited I am to visit Melbourne. I've already made birthday dinner reservations -- that's amped I am to be exploring the city.

So far the itinerary includes: Bondi Beach, Queen Victoria Market, a football game at MCG, a looong drive down Great Ocean Road, and cooing over fairy penguins on Phillip Island. I am really looking forward to spending a couple of afternoons picnicking in Melbourne, just people-watching, and soaking up the sun on Bondi and Manly beaches.

Anything we're missing? My cousin (who will serve as tour guide) has also mentioned taking us on wine tastings in Yarra Valley, and I have no doubt she has a ton of fun stuff planned. We have a guidebook, but if you've been and know of something I absolutely MUST SEE, please let me know!

Au revoire!

--amanda

P.S. I have a 14 hour flight ahead of me, so if you have book recommendations, send them my way! Something light and fun, but not totally brainless would be lovely. Thanks!

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

C'mon Vogue

Dear No One in Particular,

I was going to write a post about food, and scratching a goal off my Life List, because hello -- are you new here? I'm Amanda and I live to eat. I also write to eat and slang strollers so that I can afford to eat at delicious restaurants.

But.

Gorgeous Vanessa from Chicken Soup for the Dorky Soul (which is how she should introduce herself from now on) posted about something that irritated me to the point that I can no longer ignore my blog and lie on my sofa watching re-runs of 'The Office'.

Apparently blinding, psychotic rage is my muse.

I've written about fashion and public perceptions of beauty quite a bit, because I believe that the notion that fashion is frivolity and therefore below examination is really very dangerous. I would argue that the fashion and beauty industries control quite a bit of the average Western woman's life; to ignore that, or to dismiss it as fluff belies how incredibly menacing they can be.
How many stories have you heard of aspiring models being hospitalized due to eating disorders? How many skin bleaching products line the shelves of pharmacies around the world? Waving these questions off as unimportant is tantamount to waving off all the women who slave under the misapprehension that if only they were skinnier, whiter, younger -- if they simply fit the ideal -- they would be set for life.

At the centre of this maelstrom of self-hatred and misogyny is Vogue. Not just American Vogue, which, let's face it: is almost a parody of its former self, but the whole Vogue family.

Vogue Italia (which I used to hate marginally less than most Vogues) recently added a couple of subsections to their main website: Vogue Curvy and Vogue Black.

I have to admit: I kind of love both of these websites. They're well-laid out, the articles are really good, and most surprising of all: they feature what they advertise. The curvy ladies splashed about are actually curvy; no Lara "boobs = curves LOL" Stone here. 'Vogue Black', hilariously enough, opens with a giant shot of Michael Jackson, but also features Grace Jones.

Sure, I should be glad that a captain of industry such as Vogue would dare acknowledge such outliers as women with curves and black people, but I'm not -- at least, not really.
In fact, my initial reaction was: Fuck me, Vogue is obnoxious.

They are so backward in their thinking -- and so self-righteous in their ignorance that it's maddening. I thought it was just Wintour that acted like a pompous ostrich with her head in the sand, but it appears that the whole Vogue family is infected. And I LIKED Vogue Italia for a minute there, specifically when they published that fabulous Black Issue.
Vogue suffers from delusions of grandeur: they think that if they release an issue with a handful of pages featuring women who fall marginally outside of their norm they should be lauded as heroes. What's even more maddening is the way they treat such features: the copy is heavy, weighted down with style-jargon trying to explain how they dare let such freaks associate with their shining white name; the photos are airbrushed to the point of amusement; and the features only exist to highlight the "otherness" of the subject.

Vogue (and publications like it) takes gorgeous women like the ones featured on the new websites and makes them into a sideshow of freaks. They are not normal -- they're barely even human -- because they fall outside the "obscenely skeletal white teenage girl" norm that dominates Western fashion.

I refuse to believe that I'm simply bitter because I fall outside the norm. I continue to hope against hope that the fashion industry will start to look more like a rainbow rather than a gathering of emaciated Hitler Youth.

We need to stop segregating minorities from the rest of the fashion world and start not just including them, but welcoming them into fashion proper.
Fuck the fashion magazines that publish spreads with Crystal Renn and Chanel Iman and then demand praise as if they did something extraordinary. I want to open a magazine and see women that look like me: women with boobs and hips, with wild curls, and darker skin. That is a magazine I would praise with my hard-earned cash. I know that this magazine is out there, waiting to be willed into existence.

C'mon, Vogue.

--amanda

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Happy Valentine's Day, Cupcake!

Dear No One in Particular,

Red(dish) Velvet Heart Cakes with Cream Cheese Frosting

Happy Valentine's Day!


I love each and every one of you. Your comments, your emails, your tweets have touched me deeply. You're fantastic; you're fabulous; and most of all:

You're beautiful, cupcake.

Inside and out.

Love,
amanda

Monday, February 1, 2010

My Mighty Life List

Dear No One in Particular,

If you've spent any time on the interwebs at all, you've no doubt come across bloggers' life lists. Alternatively, you might remember a quirky, more-than-slightly-morbid film about two geriatrics on a road trip crossing items of a wish list.
I blame this trend on blogger extraordinaire Maggie Mason of Mighty Girl fame.

I'm a sucker for projects like these, especially since I've finally accepted the fact that I'm a Grownup and it's up to me to make my life as mighty wicked as I wish it to be.

I've been working on this list on-and-off for months now, and it's in no way a final draft. Part of constructing these lists is giving up a bit of control, shifting priorities, and learning to love whatever life throws at you.
The list is dominated by travel and food goals, which makes sense. My life comes down to two questions: where did you go and what did you eat? Other goals are long-term -- I won't know I've attained them until I'm old and grey. And a lot -- I mean a lot -- of these goals have a story behind them: wine and cheese parties, Bernadette Peters, the Showgirls deluxe DVD set. I can't wait to tell their stories and tell the story of how I made that dream come true.

The world is a treasure chest, my darlings. What gems do you seek before your time comes?

Amanda's Mighty Life List:
  • Go to Australia. Stay for as long as necessary.
  • Visit Olduvai Gorge and root around in the dirt
  • Visit Patagonia; see penguins up close and personal
  • Climb the Great Wall of China
  • Eat offal
  • Kiss the Boy under Juliet’s balcony in Verona, Italy
  • Explore every Smithsonian Museum in DC
  • Visit Dollywood; stalk/meet Dolly Parton
  • Swim with bioluminescent plankton in Isla de Vieques, Puerto Rico
  • Partake of entirely legal recreational drugs in Amsterdam
  • See a shadow play in Thailand
  • Eat stinky tofu in Taiwan
  • Go dog sledding in Alaska
  • Drive across the United States
  • Become entirely fluent in Spanish
  • Make wine and cheese parties a weekly tradition
  • Eliminate financial worries
  • Live a life with no regrets
  • Dance underneath the Golden Gate Bridge
  • Dinner at the French Laundry
  • See Bernadette Peters in concert
  • Rescue all future pets
  • Create the perfect lemon square recipe
  • Open The Nifty Bakeshop (aka: open my very own bakery)
  • Pick berries and apples and make pies with the harvested goods (related: get over fear of making pie crust)
  • Visit the catacombs of Europe
  • Celebrate El Dia de los Muertos in Oaxaca, Mexico
  • Visit Gobekli Tepe, Turkey (http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-1157784/Do-mysterious-stones-mark-site-Garden-Eden.html)
  • Sit in a cafĂ© in Prague; ponder deep, existential, pretentious thoughts
  • Give the Showgirls Special Edition DVD set to a girlfriend as a baby shower present
  • Do a NYT crossword in pen
  • Write a story worthy of This American Life
  • Get Carl Kasell to do the recording on my voicemail
  • Read more
  • Have a greener lifestyle
  • Wear matching undergarments every day
  • Shop the Witches’ Market in La Paz, Bolivia
  • Live in a foreign country
  • Eat durian in Indonesia
  • Pull an all-nighter in Ibiza
  • Always have fresh flowers in my home
  • Learn to drive a stick shift
  • Can my own jam
  • Pick up the bridge toll for the car behind me
  • Go vegan for a week
  • Eat dulce de leche and steak (not together) in Argentina
  • Exercise regularly
  • Grow my own fruit trees
  • Ride a donkey in the Grand Canyon
  • Make my own salted caramel chocolate truffles
  • Bowl a 300 game
  • Win a National Geographic photography contest
  • Ride a bike through a vineyard
  • Make pistachio macarons that rival -- nay, surpass -- Miette’s
  • Give $100 to a talented street musician
  • Hug a baby bonobo
  • Visit the Valley of the Kings
  • Give thanks for all I have and all I have done every day

Monday, January 11, 2010

Passing Moment Gone

Dear No One in Particular,

First of all, I know I've neglected this space. I don't have a good reason. Honestly, I'm a little disappointed; if I had a legitimate reason drenched in awesomesauce for failing to write on a regular basis, I would totally feel like less of a loser. So while, no, I haven't been climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro, and no, I didn't punch a shark in the nose while collecting coral samples, I have been busy trying to figure out this "grown-up" nonsense. And let me tell you, it's been no picnic.

The start of a new year often necessitates a lot of selfish introspection; the start of a new decade, doubly so. Forgive me while I introspect selfishly? This is a blog, after all.

2009 was a beast of a year, for a lot of people. Almost everyone I know rang in the new year with a resounding "Thank God that's over with".
It wasn't that the year was particularly unkind -- at least, not to me -- it's that it was so fraught with drama, a hurdle to surmount every 5 paces, that it often felt that the end would never come. While it didn't come peacefully, the end is here. Thank God it's over with.

And now, a quick trip down memory lane. Visual aids when applicable, because words often fall short:

I graduated from 8th grade in 2000. There was so much pride and hope instilled in that fact: to be embarking on something so momentous and new on the cusp of a new millennium! It was almost poetic; in fact, I'm sure I have some rather awful poetry on this topic, just waiting to embarrass me.*
Equally poetic was my graduation in 2009. Two graduations bookended the decade; so much promise, so much uncertainty.

Fuck. Yes.

I can not begin to explain how freaking stressful it is to graduate from university. And yet, that last year, filled to the brim with tears and screams and hair torn from the roots, was easily the best in my academic career. I've never been so challenged by professors, nor had so much fun. I learned how to identify the gender and age of human skeletons, wrote an epic paper on the mind-boggling fluctuations of women's rights in Iran, decomposed logical arguments, and learned how to play the to'ere.

Mid-2009, following my graduation (insert fist-pump here), I moved from an isolated, technicolour island in the middle of the Pacific to a chilly city on the edge of California known for its bridges and foggy summer days.

While I consider both Honolulu and San Francisco home, I do not recommend this move. To anyone. Ever.

In 2009 I watched as my family shattered apart and came together again, drawing on a deep collective strength to create a new, fragile formation.
I also re-kindled a pathetically dormant relationship with my heart-sister. Moving back home after a long absence will do that to you.

The most fabulous redemptor and herald you'll ever see.

If 2009 was a year of difficulties, then let 2010 be the year of relieved sighs.

It was a long, difficult slog through the mud, all the while hoping that the pinpoint of light dancing ever so unattainably on the horizon would bring good tidings and most importantly, a sense of release.

It's a new year, a new decade; it's a new start.

A toast to you, my lovely darlings: thank you for stopping by, commenting, for sending gorgeous gifts, for reaching out through the series of pipes and connecting with me. Here's to you, doll; I hope this year shines as brightly as you.

Kiss kiss

Now bring me that horizon.

--amanda




___________________
*There are no photographs documenting my elementary school graduation because there's only so much humiliation I can endure.

Monday, December 21, 2009

Happy Holidays



May your holiday season be filled with happiness, light, and -- of course -- lots and lots of love!

--amanda