When they said "behind the Tate Modern," they really meant BEHIND THE TATE MODERN.

So, I moved into my residence yesterday. I really love the area, and even more, I love my view. The Tate is one of the most debated pieces of London architecture - people love it or they hate it. I've always loved it, but now I've got a full year to ponder it from my bed.

Flats, Friends & Football

After viewing several disappointing flats that left me somewhat disenchanted with the idea of London life, I went out for dinner with a new friend Christian, from Boston. Afterwards I crashed into bed, and awoke to an email from the LSE accommodation board saying I had been accepted into the Bankside House residence off the waiting list. I was ecstatic! Bankside House is right behind the Tate Modern on the south bank - about a 20 min walk to LSE and central London. Hurray!!!

Saturday was spent in Regent's Park with people from my program at LSE. We had a picnic and then played football in the grass in bare feet for almost three hours. It was intense, but great group bonding. They seem to be some really quality people!

I’ve left behind the country that gave us the neck tie and the dalmatian, and have returned home (?) to London to start up a life for myself. I had an amazing time in the Balkans, and the last few days in Zagreb were fantastic. Hanging out with Veronika’s cousins and their friends has given me special and highly personal insights into the country. I couldn’t have asked for more.

On my last night in Zagreb we went to a graveyard outside the city centre designed by the architect responsible for some of Zagreb’s greatest buildings. It was stunning and eerie, and the evening light, fall leaves and quiet breeze made it seem... otherworldly. Veronika bought flowers to place on the graves of her Grandparents. It was strange, nice.

As we left the cemetery I finally found the Zagreb feet shot I had been waiting for. It seemed apt, given my departure.

I’m excited. I’m stressed. I’m nervous. I’m optimistic. I really hate my hostel - from hearing drunk Aussies moan and groan in dorm-room sex acts, to being woken up every two hours during the night (by Drunk Aussies). Seriously... why has the lowest common denominator of Australian backpacker chosen my hostel?

I need a home. Some viewings tonight, and every finger and toe on my body is crossed.

Postcards from Zagreb

Last night we had a bit of a party at Veronika’s cousin Tamara’s flat, and I got my mind blown by philosophical debates under a heavy cloud of cigarette smoke (and lots of wine) with Tamara’s intelligent, cultured Croatian friends. The chain smoking and drinking somehow made it seem much more... academic? But seriously... I can’t believe how much they smoke here!

Tonight Veronika’s other cousin and his girlfriend took us to a town outside Zagreb called Samobor for hand-made Croatian pastries and strong coffees. Both of them are incredibly well-educated (he has two Phds and she is a doctor) and it was very interesting getting their perspectives on all things Croatian.

On the drive home he played a cover of “Romeo & Juliet” by Dire Straights and it brought me back to a time in the past when I was so carefree and optimistic about the future. For the first time in a long time, though, I think I’ve started to regain that optimism. I feel like London could work out to be something really good for me. 

There’s also someone I think I could love in London, which is likely a foolish thing to even consider at this point, but I’m usually the biggest fool when it comes to these things.  And somehow, I'm kind of starting to like that about myself. 

I forgot to take a picture of my feet in Zagreb, and alas, have broken the theme I was going with.  :-(  But maybe it was getting old, anyway.

Bosnia and Herzegovina = Bosna i Hercegovina

Back in Zagreb after my whirlwind trip through Bosnia.

Mostar was beautiful. It was the most heavily hit city during the war, and the scars are still visible everywhere. I discovered this to be true all over Bosnia and Herzegovina: bombed out buildings and gunshot holes everywhere. The money just isn’t there to restore everything, but in all other regards it seems life has returned to normal.  

Sarajevo was fascinating: eclectic, pulsing, diverse. Jelena, a girl who is starting the same program as me at LSE, met me at the bus station and graciously showed me around. She’s a Canadian who returned to Sarajevo four years ago.  

I took the bus from Sarajevo to Zagreb yesterday, a trip winding through green, fog-shrouded hills and tunnel after tunnel. I listened to music for 9 hours on my iPod. I had so much thinking time it was pure luxury.

I listened to these albums:

Alanis Morissette - Jagged Little Pill Acoustic Version
The Albertans - Sex With An Angel EP
The Arcade Fire - Funeral
Cut Copy - In Ghost Colours (twice)
Fleet Foxes - Fleet Foxes
Final Fantasy - Has A Good Home
Hot Chip - Made In The Dark
Joni Mitchell - Blue
M. Ward - Post-War
MGMT - Time To Pretend
Neutral Milk Hotel - In The Aeroplane Over The Sea
Sigur Ros - Takk
Summer Hymns - Backward Masks
Wolf Parade - Apologies To The Queen Mary

Three more nights in Zagreb with Veronika and her family before I head back to London and attempt to start a real life.

Relaxing in Dubrovnik, Looking Forward

I have had a really relaxing time in Dubrovnik.  Veronika and I licked many ice cream cones while staring out at the crystal-clear Adriatic Sea (and away form the hoards of tourists) while the sun kissed our skin and the breeze kept us cool.  

It's a charming town.  I've told Veronika a hundred different reasons why it reminds me of Malta, and a hundred different reasons why it doesn't.  I don't know why Malta comes to mind these days, and Veronika doesn't know why I keep mentioning it.

Off to Bosnia tomorrow.  Excited about it, but haven't done any research at all and am completely unprepared.  And so I will definitely enjoy getting lost and looking like an idiot.  Damn, I wish I had a guidebook or something.  Oh well, the road beckons...

On the road again...

Sitting on the train from Ljubljana to Zagreb (from where we're bussing on to Dubrovnik).  I’m listening to a band called Stribruch, whom we just bought a CD from in the main square in Ljubljana, where they were rocking out on classical instruments.  We sat there on a bench licking ice cream cones and listening eagerly. Their sound was maniacal gothic baroque rock.  Pretty.

Ljubljana was pleasant.  I’ve wanted to go there for the longest time, and was thrilled to be able to meet my dear friend Veronika there.  We are heading to Croatia for about a week before I return to London for registration at LSE.

My first weekend in London proved to be stressful.  There were some hassles with luggage and flats and all sorts of stupid things.  Thankfully I have a good friend in London that, out of the goodness of her heart, saved me from what was turning into a disaster.  I may not have a flat, but at least I have one nice friend.

It felt good to be back in London.  I don’t know if it will ever feel like home, but it felt great to be surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the city again.  I am really looking forward to making such an iconic city my own, to the opportunity of getting to know it more personally.

Mostly I’ve been fine the last little while - optimistic about the future and happy about the present.  But I’ve also been getting these waves of overwhelming dread.  I think it might have something to do with the fact that I’m homeless at the moment.  I think it might also have something to do with the fact that I have no idea who I am anymore.  And no idea where I belong in this big little world.

Oh, youth...

Montreal

So, I’ve really trimmed down...  

After losing 30 lbs (after my switch to a balanced vegetarian diet, sans sodium, caffeine, and refined sugar, and jogging 15-20 kms per week) none of my clothes fit anymore.  I dug deep into my drawers and purged nearly everything, as nothing fit any longer.

 

It was, yet again, another chance to start over.  Filling bag after bag with clothing for charity was far more therapeutic than I could have ever imagined.  It scared me to realize that I had so many clothes in my possession, I had actually lost track of what I owned.

 

After the great purge, I can now name every item of clothing I own, probably right down to my socks and underwear.  That’s an empowering feeling in an age where people are always looking for more closet space.  I can fit everything I own nicely in a suitcase and move across the world without having to pick and choose.  It all fits!  Though I must admit, I took two suitcases with me (just because I could). 

 

I spent a few days in Montreal on my way to London, England: my new home.  

In my suitcase, you will find:

8 T-shirts

5 dress shirts

3 pairs of jeans

1 pair of pants

1 pair of shorts

1 cardigan

This is still a lot, I suppose.  It’s definitely excess, but it’s an improvement.  It feels great to have such a manageable collection of possessions.  I wonder how it would feel to have only 2 changes of clothes.  I really do believe that the fewer the material possessions, the lighter the soul.  My soul needs to be lighter.  And lets be honest, so does my body.  I’ve got a long, long way to go. 

I have a dream that I will lose another 30 lbs and be emo skinny, and then will go on a trip with nothing but a change of underwear, a camera, and a toothbrush.  I have a lot of dreams though, you see. A lot.

Montreal is a city that I have long dreamed about.  I always thought it would feel just like home to me.  I expected to be blown away by it.  I expected magic and fireworks on every corner.  I didn't find it.

I think you have to be in love to really enjoy Montreal in all its glory.  In love, and fluent in French.  At the moment, neither are realities for me.  But they are both dreams.

Blurg...