Notes from a year ago

New York, September 2011
I am here in New York, in Roosevelt Island, and outside the window I can see the yellow light glowing from the top of Chrysler Building. New York at night is filled with light. Tiny boxes with light. This city is grand and I am filled with its ambition. But this city also makes me feel small--I am a tiny box filled with light.
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Here at JFK on my way to Reykjavík and inside my bag is a happy harvest--oranges, dried apricots, almonds, cashew, sunflower seeds, raisins, cranberries, banana and apple fruit crush, etc.This is what I'm going to be eating in Iceland.
I am going to Iceland not really knowing where I'm going first. It excites me more than it terrifies me. There is a certain safety in Iceland. Its smallness calm any anxiety I have.



Vík, September 2011
The dirt under my fingernails remind me of how close I am to earth.



Kirkjubæjarklaustur, September 2011
Billie Holiday's A Fine Romance is playing while he cooks rice porridge. We are the only ones in the hostel; not even the owners/caretakers are here. We can hear the waterfalls from where we are. What if I stay?
1. I am changing just like the landscape. So quiet, so small. But there are fiery volcanoes inside me.
2. A stranger shared his food with me when I was hungry. After the meal, it was my heart that was full.
3. "It's here, but not here," a 13-year old Polish girl said when I asked her for directions.
4. He did not help me when we were climbing to the top of the waterfalls. He wanted to show me how strong I am. He had only known me for three days.
5. "Sometimes nature also needs to be alone," he said.



Train ride from Florence to Rome, September 2011
Somehow, signs of poverty bring me a certain happiness--worn-out boots, dirt and holes on clothes, unruly hair, the constant feeling of hunger. I am poor and rich at the same time. The kindness of strangers, the stillness of ever-changing landscapes, and the brilliant energy of cities fill my sense of self. And I feel wealthier than ever.
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This is constant--the feeling that I am changing. Being so close to nature makes you aware of the smallest transformations that happen within yourself.
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Every city is the same (arguable).
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At this moment, I want you to kiss me. Because the landscape is urging you to do so.



Sofia, October 2011
Elsewhere
We talk of places
of dreams of comings and goings
of flight
of being light
the desire to be quiet and
small like a point on a map
that tells of an unheard place.
This is the great discovery--
a self found
in the here and now
a strong sense of self against
the ever-changing landscape.



Smilyan, October 2011
I miss my family. This is an alien feeling. Most of the time I want to be away from them, to be on my own. But this night, deep in the mountains of Bulgaria, I long for them.



Train ride from Plovdiv to Istanbul, October 2011
1. I am rich because of friends who remind me that I always have a home, and because of strangers who showed me so much kindness and generosity when I am homeless.
2. Traveling alone--I am not lonely. It is not sadness that I feel. It is more of an awareness of my existence, of my being, so singular this force of knowing one's self.



Istanbul, October 2011
At the bus station in Istanbul, waiting for the night bus that will take me to Konya. This is a pilgrimage.
Where do I begin with Istanbul?
The sound of this city is intoxicating--the Islamic prayers, pleas of Roma women, songs of the Black Sea, young men cheering on the streets, whispers of lovers . . .



Berlin, November 2011
That was the first sign--the lion statue in Tiergarten. Hic Svnt Leones. To be fearless while exploring unknown places. This is my life now. Yes and no.