Calla Lilies

Marketman did a beautiful arrangement of calla lilies, which made me want to go through my wedding photos again. :-) Happy day.

MM, I don't know if you can tell from this photo but I had a carpet of white rose petals all the way down the aisle. I was initially told no one was going to give me all-white petals. Hah!

Please take note that the room you see the lilies in is not part of my house. That's the guest cottage of Sta. Elena. My husband and my sister the art dealer will shoot me if I ever put up a painting of tigers in any part of the house. End of disclaimer.

Get Thee Behind Me, Procrastination!

When am I ever going to write about China? I will try right now. I don't know where to begin so I'll start with something that happened at the end of our trip.

We had just taken the Li River Cruise from Guilin. We got off at West Street in Yangshuo (a place I would like to visit again, I won't bother with Guilin, but more on that next time) and R and our two other friends walked ahead while I meandered through the charming little shops. I understood why a lot of foreigners decided to settle there, it was so charming. Anyway.

There was a bit of sadness knowing our trip was almost over, and as I walked I was thinking of all the places we had visited that week and how I was (I still am) overwhelmed at the beauty and greatness of this country called China. I was nearing the end of West Street when the faint strains of a melon flute began dancing its way to me.

That's the thing I noticed about China. You visit a pagoda, there's Chinese music. You visit a palace, there's Chinese music. I found myself truly enjoying the soothing, melodic strains that completed the experience of learning about another country's culture.

So as I was walking by myself there was a vaguely familiar tune, the type that you don't really notice but you know it's there. As I walked closer to where it was coming from that's when it hit me. The flutist was playing Auld Lang Syne. Call me OA, but I really got emotional. I cannot tell you just how enriching and enchanting this trip was. I continued walking a little slower, taking in as much as I could, both as slowly and as fast as I could.

And at the end of West Street, I found my flutist.

(If you look very closely, you'll see he's looking straight at the camera.)

I call him my flutist because I could swear he was playing for me. It was a lovely, bittersweet way to end my trip.

I am going back there again.

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Sorry if I rambled on this post. I really do believe I can write better than this. It's just that Ree pressured me into writing, just like she always does.

Things That Go Jerk In The Night

You know how when you're asleep and sometimes you dream that you tripped over a step and your whole body jerks so you wake up?

I don't know what happens to R, but I could swear he dreams that he's rolling down a mountain and trying to cling on to dear life. It's not just one jerk, it's a series of jerks that are guaranteed to wake me up (hmm...could that be why I've been having trouble sleeping through the night ever since I got married?), but not him. It's not so bad, except when his arms and legs are wrapped around me it's like I get a minor beating. I kid you not. Whining or hitting him back will not wake him up. I know this because I've tried.

What is happening to my husband?!?

Happy Birthday

Te amo, mi vida. Ahora y para siempre.

I am so thankful that the road I have taken has led me to you.

I will walk with you always.



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I love how this effect is so 80s. Doesn't it remind you of A-Ha?

Privacy Issues

It's been days since I started this blog and still I find it strange, baring your thoughts to the world just like this. I should get rid of this hang-up. Hundreds of thousands of people have.

On Foot Or By Heart

In the past two months I've taken twenty plane trips and visited about twice as many cities, thanks to the nature of my husband's work. I thought it would be a waste not to talk about the places we've been, the little quirks of the towns, or the places we've stayed in, which were either heavenly or horrid, never something in between.

So I thought I might as well start a blog. I've been meaning to keep a regular diary, but having started and stopped for over more than half my life I've come to realize I don't enjoy doing my writing longhand. So a blog it is.

Then I asked myself why I should limit my posts to places I've been? Every day is a journey, and every memory a visit to a special time. I guess I want this blog to be about anything and everything I'd like to remember, to remind me that with every step, taken on foot or by heart, I learn, love, and live.