My favorite memory from Jazz Fest: Saturday afternoon, stretching to 90 degrees, sweat dripping out of every pore on my body. Trombone Shorty on the Gentilly Stage. “On the count of three, I want everyone to go crazy!” he yelled. No way, in this heat, is anyone going to do that, I thought to myself. One…two…three.
They come home. They fly away and then they come home.
Travel and living away from your familiar world is a good thing. Part of your life is finding that environment that feeds you. You just don’t know until you live there. It may be where you grew up. It may not. You have to find your home because of all the places you go in your life, you go home the most.
Maybe it’s because Portland/Oregon completely consumed my professional life for much of 2010, but the clips from Portlandia have me DYING. After I finished my book, I had pretty much determined that I was destined to move there. After all, it’s “where young people go to retire.”
Watch the rest of the clips. You won’t be disappointed.
Travel changes you. As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life - and travel - leaves marks on you. Most of the time, those marks - on your body or on your heart - are beautiful. Often, though, they hurt.
A last minute trip to Washington, DC was exactly what I needed to recharge the batteries. The new Capital Bikeshare program was the highlight of the weekend; five dollars gets you 24 hours bike access. It was awesome to see the city from a new perspective—so fun that Pets and I woke up early(ish) Sunday morning to take one last spin around the District before I left.