You know that you've got Boston blood when you walk past the former site of Filene's Basement for the first time and literally feel the knife going through your heart. Ughhh. I know they're not taking any more residents, but I think F.B. should get its own gravestone in the nearby old-as-dirt Granary Cemetary with the beautiful crooked headstones from the 1600's. Here lies the final shopping bag of Filene's Basement (sniffle) (sob).

You also know you've done time in Boston when you have trouble to adjusting to friendliness. Last month when my mom was here, she practically took a picture of it when someone "waved her in" during high traffic. She could _not_ get over it. "People now wave here?? That doesn't seem right."

I took a long walk along the downtown parts of Boston yesterday and couldn't get over the changes that resulted from the Big Dig's decades-long work. I always thought it was mainly designed to dig a tunnel and get people to the airport, but in fact, the waterfront/ seaport/ wharf areas of Boston which used to be under the highway are now on the same level with one road, and the highway is acutally under that.

The buildings didn't move, obviously. The highway did. But it's surreal to see it for the first time, when your brain has a different memory of the same things in another context. Especially because for so many years it was partially done with temporary roads and sidewalks with orange cones and scaffolding; you couldn't quite imagine the end result.

Now they've added a gorgeous string of parks through on the road divider named The Rose Kennedy Greenway (above left). Kind of like the Fenway, but pretty and safe. The area around South Station especially is almost unrecognizable. I had to rub my eyes when I saw that there was a small little Farmers Market at the top of the South Station T entrance. And with fresher looking vegetables than I've seen at any Colorado Farmers Market.

In many ways, it's just exquisite and the perfect combination of parks and city -- but the inner stubborn Bostonian in me has to hesitate for a second. Wait, is that really a freggin' merry-go-round between lanes of rush hour traffic?

'sall Good

Last weekend I went to a super duper fun kids & adults rock fest outside Boston that was put together by the Life is good (® !) folks who, besides making cute t-shirts that hippies of all ages love (you know the Life is good stick figure guy... Jake...he's even in airports now), also raise a lot of money for children recovering from trauma, and specialize in programs teaching these kids how to play 'cause they figure play is a fundamental part of life and good health.

So needless to say, they know how to throw a fun festival. They Might Be Giants brought the house down in the kids' tent while 6 year-olds rocked out on giant beanbags and rubber rocking horses while waving gigantic TMBG foam fingers (for which I was jealous).

The festival was also really well-thought-out as far as practical things, like there was a Tag-Your-Tot booth at check-in for putting a wristband on your kids with your cell phone number, there was a Musical Instrument Petting Zoo, there was a zillion complimentary Wet Wipes at the information booth (duh!) and the food and beverages were affordable ($2 tacos), often organic, mostly local, plus most of the booths were donating 100% of the food proceeds to the cause.

The highlight for me, besides meeting Finn, the Goldfish cracker, was a fairly new artist named Eli "Paperboy" Reed who's from Boston, and if you didn't know better, you'd swear this guy's record came out back in the heyday of James Brown. He is phenomenal -- and I'm still confused about the fact that he's white, but I'm trying to get over it. I hope he'll be at Jazz Fest in the future.

And yet, during Eli's performance, I have to give credit... the entire audience was completely mesmorized by the hearing impaired interpreter who had serious moves. I'm not sure I've ever seen anything like it.

Then and Now

This is an amusing "then and now" of Chris and I at his parents' house on the Cape, both times taken with the camera on auto-timer propped up on the car because there was no one around to take a picture. Top photo is Winter 1998, bottom is Summer 2010... I think the house probably changed the most.

Shipping Up to Boston

Just came from a fabulous couple of weeks visiting Massachusetts, seeing extended family I haven't seen since college or longer, and meeting some of my cousins' kids for the first time. The trip was organized around an informal memorial service for my wonderful Grandma Stefie who was always our favorite relative. In life, she insisted that we had better not have any kind of a grand production or spend money on a service after her death, so we simply gathered at the site where her ashes were to be buried, shared some memories, said her favorite prayer, then went out for a delicious brunch in small cafe with a couple of her friends in Pittsfield.My sister and I drove aimlessly without schedule around the cute summer towns of Berkshire County, stopping for ice cream at Friendly's and flea markets and shops. We spent one day visiting our hometown of Lexington, our old house and our backyard, all of which was remarkably the same despite almost 30 years gone by. My dad and I visited the beautiful Clark Art Museum in Williamstown, my parents went to their 50th high school reunion, and our entire family gathered one Saturday at Tanglewood -- theoretically for a symphony concert, but Kristen and I mostly played with our cousins' adorable kids on the lawn. Pictured left is me meeting my little cousin, also named Lara! My grandma would have just adored this.
The second week of the trip was me, on my own, getting re-acquainted with Boston since I never drove a car there before and since the main roads have changed quite a bit in 11 years. I had a couple of meetings with friends who are well connected in the non-profit industry, and several friends of the family suggested that next time I visit, to come and stay with them a week, which was very comforting and generous. The roads were definitely a challenge to learn, especially during an unexpected downpour the last two days. I've learned that street signs are often not posted, mis-posted, or not called what they are listed as on a map, and you need to rely on a combination of instincts ("Hmm, this looks like a big, main road"), landmark directions instead of streets ("Take a right after the brown church"), and a good sense of direction ("If the highway's to the right of me, I must be heading South now"). It really helps to have a resilient car that can change lanes quickly, flip a u-turn in three seconds, and honk or flash brights as needed. Enterprise Rent-a-Car must have sensed this and kindly assigned us a VW beetle, which was the perfect fit, though it didn't exactly camouflage me as a local.

I feel like something big has changed in Boston, though it could just be my now-outsider's perspective. There's a tremendous pride in the city, not just in the Red Sox, but in the buildings and neighborhoods and shops and streets. People really love their city. And there was a friendliness to strangers which almost startled me at times. I was actually approached through the car window a handful of times by strangers who must have seen my puzzled scowling at the map, and shouted from outside "You lost?" then offering to help with a shortcut (of course). This even happened when I wasn't lost but just trying to roam around and... OK, let's be honest, I was always lost.

When we were out in Pittsfield, earlier in the week, my mom mentioned offhandedly that her own mother, who died when I was just three years old, had never wanted any of us to leave New England. She would never have approved of our family moving to California, but we happened to move about a year after she died when my dad got a job there. I never knew that before. It really struck me, because I've been wondering all summer why it is that I'm feeling a strong pull towards Boston again. Probably both of my grandmothers in heaven are working their superpowers on me.

Sitting in Limbo

A lot of folks have commented I've been "quiet" since the last post in April. I've been compelled to write many times, but don't know exactly how to write what's going on at this juncture in life because it feels just like that cheezy-but-true song, unwritten.

Since last year when I found myself laid off for the first time, I've been unexpectedly more fulfilled than ever before... volunteering, developing my resume further and further, having oodles of time to meet friends and take the dog to the park, make proper breakfast and coffee in the morning, read books... and meanwhile I've gotten better and better at saving what I have in the bank, and shopping around for better prices on things that I used to just buy aimlessly. In so many ways, the extra time has been a blessing and an opportunity to reflect on what it is that I enjoy and want in life, and all the things and people that I'm so grateful to have. The experience has really been the perfect lesson in silver linings.

All that said, I'm getting eager to start work and find a company where I can stay a long time! The past year was a mix of not-quite-right job offers, short-term positions, and a little freelance work thrown in, just to keep me on my toes. The last few months I've found myself at a loss for inspiration to stay in Colorado, so I've started to look for work elsewhere and hope I'll have news to share on that by year's end.

At this moment I'm very actively sending out resumes, but starting to feel a gloomy hovering question of whether my life will continue to be patchwork of different jobs - five years here, two years there, three months in Europe here and there. : ) I've always liked patchwork, but I'm also a tremendously loyal person and I miss having a company where everyone knows your name (♫). That, and I'm longing to have what some of my friends have -- five or six weeks of vacation saved up, "perks" like dental insurance and a matched 401K.

Everything's a big balance, so I probably won't have a chunk of time off like this again for many years, but I hope the memory will last, and that it's taught me not to take for granted the dog, the coffee, the understanding boyfriend, the cheap rent, the occasional four-day weekend with friends and family, the sleeping in. Meanwhile -- if any of you have job leads, send 'em along! Online resume: www.linkedin.com/in/laratherrien email: larasueg @ gmail . com

Thanks for all the positive thoughts and stay tuned!

I soooooo like New Orleans

Let's start with the obvious. I've always liked Harry Connick, Jr. (before he was a movie star!) and really, love anything swingin', especially old hot jazz. "With Imagination" has been on my good mood mix since my mixes were true mix tapes.

For as long as I can remember, people have told me I would love New Orleans and I've always been dying to go. I didn't even know exactly why, other than the city has a personality and flavor that I knew you had to experience in person. I finally went this year for Jazz and Heritage Fest and already can not wait to go back. I'd love to go every year.
People who know me were right: I just love it there. The color, the character, the buildings, the friendliness of everyone, the sweet iced drinks, the catchy swangy music everywhere you go... it's all so loveable and charming. I think if I had gone there for college, I would have stayed. My nickname is "LA", is it not?Chris isn't too mad about blues, jazz, funk or cajun so I went to New Orleans with my dad who had never really experienced the city either. For us, Jazz Fest was an absolute ball and staying in a bright pink guest house just a block off the French Quarter (in the now HBO-publicized "treme" neighborhood) allowed us to walk around beautiful, historic areas and take in live music and creole food in the evenings without needing a car.

I don't think I would have ever thought of "heritage" as being something witnessable, but Jazz Fest's longer title "and Heritage" really suits it. There is so much Louisiana culture represented in this fest. It has incredibly maintained individual flavor and features tons of local acts at what could have become another overrated Bonaroo or Coachella. I definitely got the heritage as well as the jazz (and blues and gospel and funk... there's a tent for everything) and I really took in a mix of each stage along with enjoying the bigger "names" Jonny Lang, Dr. John, Blind Boys of Alabama, Black Crowes.

The sense of hospitality you get in LA can be summed up by this story: About a year ago I heard a woman on the radio named Ingrid Lucia (right) who sounds a lot like the singer from Squirrel Nut Zippers, old style jazz. I visited her web site and noticed she was raising money for a future album, so I made a $20 donation in exchange for receiving the album when it comes out. She personally sent me an email thank you note, which I was already pretty surprised by.

When we got to New Orleans, I saw in the newspaper she was playing a small club on one of the nights, so Dad and I went to go see her in a little place called d.b.a. that seems to hold maybe 100 people. During her break she mentioned her new album had just come out that week, so I went up to the stage to say Hello, and she recognized my name from our emails and gave me my copy of the CD right there and then. Ingrid also managed to "slip in" to Jazz Fest when another act was canceled (due to the volcano), so we were thrilled to see her twice. I highly recommend her albums and will be sure to include her on mixmas this year~!

Needless to say, I came back from Louisiana with a huge grin and a fistful of CD's you can't find in Denver record stores. Also the obligatory coffee and beignet mix. Below is my favorite stage at Jazz Fest, the Fais Do Do, which featured Cajun music, unintelligible lyrics and tons and tons of fiddles.

No one informed me about bringing a glittery furry umbrella (to dance with, of course) ahead of time, but next time I'll come prepared (see the umbrella procession by the stage, below).

It's not what you think

My latest work for the Cheese Society is totally making me want to adopt some kids. How freakin' cute are they?!

fotográfia

Yesterday I figured out a much more practical and cooler way to blog my photos, though youtube and picasa took forEVer to upload this right. I wish I could have edited the photo changes to the music changes, but it was a very simple slideshow template. I need to do another one of these of my Russia photos sometime (Luba, music suggestions?)

Click on the 4 arrows on the bottom right to see the video in full screen and clicking on 1080p makes it crisp: here's a 4 minute vacation to Spain.

finalmente

I don't think I'll have time to upload photos this morning because this computer has a lot of issues, but here's an update...

We loved the town of Arcos deep in the "Frontera" of Andalucia which is both the rural part of Spain and the most touristed in the summer because the towns are so tiny, charming, and gorgeous, and in another month the casas will all have flowers flowing off their black iron terraces. Early March is still Winter here and too soon for tourists so in many ways we had the place to ourselves.

Driving on the hilly roads of Arcos was to put it modestly, challenging, and to put it realistically, like being on a rollercoaster that had gone off the tracks. Chris and I both could feel our sore knuckles the rest of the evening - me from clenching the steering wheel and him from the bottom of his seat, I guess.

To give you an idea, the cobblestone roads of the town had AT BEST six inches of space on either side of my car (and I have one of the smallest cars you can rent!!) with a lot of little archways where you can't see who's on the other side, plus there's always oncoming mopeds and other cars that seem to not use any kind of signal or system to decide who's turn it is to go... you just hold your breath and pray and curse all at once. There's also pedestrians everywhere. It was hard.

Also the rules of a normal road don't apply, people park on sidewalks and squeeze by each other on what clearly is one, long, one-way street until another car comes in the opposite direction. I really wanted to see Arcos because there's no reliable way to get there on train or bus but geesh, maybe a taxi would have been sufficient.

Thank heaven we managed to land a parking space on the plaza outside our hotel at the very top of the town, and left the car for 2 days while we walked around in a little rain and ducked into pubs for wine and tapas. One tapas bar we found with only 6 tables and 2 other guests on my birthday was SO nice to us when we ordered tons of food and dipping sauces (we were starving by the time anything opened for dinner at 9:30 p.m.) that they brought us two rounds of caramel vodka from the freezer "a la casa" after dinner. I am not a vodka person but it was a really good desert! Plus when you're hotel is three blocks away on foot, it's all good.

The drive through the rest of the frontera towns was one of the prettiest places on Earth, reminded me of the drive to Big Sur, and I will post some pictures when I can. We saw lots of furry mountain goats and sheep with long un-bobbed tails on the side of the road, as well as pretty beige bulls with long horns grazing gracefully. There were few cars, so going around 30 mph tight hairpin bends wasn't so bad, and we listened to Van Morrison, Newton Faulkner, Ray LaMontagne and David Gray and chilled.

Finally our last night here was in Malaga, a big vacationer's city that looks a lot like Miami, only newer and still being developed. There's condos and villas on steep mountains overlooking the ocean and our parador here is beautiful, though less quaint than everywhere else we've been. It also was up a steep, not well marked hill -- I'm starting to realize the reason that our hotels are always up a long, winding, steep driveway, is because they ARE real castles and had to be up above so they could be fortified from attackers. The drive here was also rough at times but because it's a big city on a major highway in rush hour and the hotel had lousy directions on their web site, but we managed. We're here for the airport, so we can catch a cheap flight back to Barcelona tonight and fly back to the States tomorrow.

Hasta Luego.

feliz compleanos

Today we got to Arcos de la Frontera, deep in white wine and olive growing country, where it's gone from warm & light jacket weather to sporadically down pouring and blowing us away with high winds, but it's fine for walking around and ducking into shops and cafes as the weather turns. The roads are extremely pequeño and cobbled which feels like a car commercial, only terrifying. I can't imagine how the delivery trucks do it. I managed to just barely squeak up the hill without hitting anything or anyone. We just finished two little birthday tarts from a bakery in town. Instead of a parador, we're in one of those family pensions that Rick Steves always recommends highly called La Convento with the freshly made breakfast, and funnily enough, our room was named "The Rick Steves Room" since he visits a lot and probably has given them tons of business with his books. Chris can't stop cracking up about it.

Here´s a video of the balcony from our room... admittedly a little gray and rainy but the scenery is gorgeous and green.

in Zafra, saw Cuenca, on to Arcos mañana

Etamos bueno! All's well!

Our first day on the road was a little rocky in more ways than one: the car kept sticking in gears (probably my fault) especially when we were stuck at a stop light, on a hill, with another car breathing down my neck a few inches behind me...which it's fair to say made Chris just about ready to jump out the window and hop on the next plane home. But he handled it pretty well and I´m proud of us for getting through that, really. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Our first of the paradores (historic castles that were turned into hotels) took about 7 hours from Barcelona! It was only 5 hours based on the map but there was getting out of Barcelona that took an hour (thank God it was a quiet Sunday morning) plus we had eaten dinner around midnight the night before, so we were beat, plus the roads we took crossed SIERRAS or a 3,000 foot mountain range with little switchbacks.

So it was 7 hours in the put-put-putting car but on very well-maintained highways and the scenery looked like a combination of Tuscan vineyards, Montana or Yosemite (mountainy forests), and Wyoming (dusty one-street towns) along the way. I think in just these two days we´ve driven through 12 Spanish provinces and four major regions (La Mancha, Catalonia, Aragon, Castilla and now Extremadura) so I am so glad we rented a car. Our highest concern is that no one steals it and we generally just pay 4 euros a day for parking in a garage with a policia watching it.

Finally we arrived at the parador around 10 at night and it was was up a steep, steep hill on a cliff overlooking a gorge in Cuenca and we´re talking about a 15th century road, ain´t no guide rails. We parked and checked in, only to find out that you have to cross a little pedestrian bridge OVER the gorge on foot to get to the town and restaurants and Chris is terrified of heights. Oh Lord. So we ate in the castle (bleh) and the next morning I crossed the bridge while Chris took the long way around (down the long hill, back up a long hill). I seriously can´t believe they don´t mention that rickety bridge in any of the books or brochures or photos I had seen of that town.

Yesterday we left Cuenca for Zafra, another few hours drive, which is a tiny little hill town in Andalucia (the culturally rich region of Spain) which turns out to be a little sleepy and gray and rainy even -- we've hardly seen any tourists -- but it was just what we needed. Less sites, more putting our feet up and sleeping in.

Meat is pretty much 80% of the diet in Spain, so we tend to look or ask for well rounded restaurants that the locals like. The restaurant we found for lunch today was the most savory goat cheese salad I´ve ever had in my life and plenty of vino tinto (red wine) which is cheap and local, so very fresh.

The castle we´re at here in Zafra is from 1443 and extremely romantic and gorgeous. The room has enormous dark brown double doored windows that open to the plaza below.

Zafra:

Cuenca:

view from our hotel room:

little village of Albaraccin along the way: