Free Robin Fly

Today I woke up at 5:30 AM, threw on a bikini after getting some morning doggie-love and walked out the door. Working my way to OB (Ocean Beach), I got stuck behind a man being pulled on a skateboard by his dog. Traffic these days.
A few hours later, work lead me to a spot where I could walk barefoot in the grass and then an hour after that, to spend some time at the beach in Coronado for some fun reading and writing. Continuing on, I got to to meet cool people through driving for rideshare (so fun but pay is shit) and hit a lot of my beloved spots in San Diego. I also worked out, met half of my minimum earnings goal for the day and handled all my other business, all before noon. Not every day is as on point (not even close) but this particular day is an example of how much closer my life has come to hitting it’s stride.

Yeah, things are going good. More than good and boy did I luck out with the roomie/pal for this stint in the country who you were introduced to in my last post, Jewels. Also with her lovely pups and awesome pad. Perfect location, style and in the rare moments I’m not working, we have a blast. Not too surprising considering how much we already knew to be in common. It’s also a relief to finally have my whole family together and heart-warming to think about how we’ve never been closer. Yes, my super sweet mom still drives me bananas. Last but not least, I’m also seeing my honorary sisters-pals more. Score.

Until really thinking about the details, I thought that all of this meant that I was at the beginning of year three. In reality it’s only been two years, four months and eleven days since I lost my pup. In other words, the moment that changed everything. What’s really going on is that I’ve entered the third stage, not year, of this Digital Nomad lifestyle. Wow. Third stage. I’m really in now.

The first was when I broke down my old life and got rid of not only my belongings but also my ego. Remember that? Ouch. I said no to a couple good job offers even though broke and most of the people in my life, not to mention the universe, seemed to be against what I was doing. Thank God for discovering the healing and support of Burning Man. Now a main focus in my life. Just got back from my third burn, BTW. Expect those posts next. Oh yeah, baby. Oh yeah.

Stage two: finally starting to travel. That happened when finally jetting off overseas to Thailand the first time and locking the train onto it’s track in terms of career, travel and The Burn. Graduating to that step meant that it was time to dive into the world and accept all the hot-mess that came with it. It’s a good thing that I was that so gung-ho when leaving for Phuket the first time or I never would have had the tenacity to keep going once I got there and reality kicked in. Originally adamant that I was going to move there, it only took me a couple days to realize (more like finally to stop being stubborn and admit) that I had no idea what I was doing. Also that I’m not the type to travel the world without money or without needing a few days here and there in nicer places in order to stay rested, balanced and sane. Also that I should probably get around the entire world before committing to one place (duh) and that my lifestyle will likely continue be too fluid to commit to anything for quite some time. The most unexpected lesson I have learned is that I will probably experience more cultural immersion through other travelers and expats than locals. Makes sense now, don’t it.

That brings me to where I am today. The people in my life believe in me now. They help, love and support me. That’s how I got to this burn. My burner bud, Brigit, refused to allow me to accept defeat and helped me figure it out. Even my much more mainstream sis stepped up to help make it happen with comments about how proud she is of me. *tear*

The new roomie, Jewels, being both fun-loving and nurturing, has been the newest and strongest constant source of great support. Not to forget the folks and my pals Juliette, Wren (RIP), Bonnie, Chris and, once again, Brigit and Aaron, who helped me figure everything out when I was stranded in Thailand. SHOUT OUT!

It’s hard, if not impossible, to do it all without the help of others. That being said, it’s my time to graduate up. Pay off old debts and make sure I have a better pad before leaving again. Also enough income coming in when I’m overseas. Fingers crossed that an online ESL teaching gig I just landed works out. I’ll keep you posted.

Moving forward, travel plans have changed from visiting friends in France and Barcelona for a few weeks this summer to a few months in Central and South America starting in February. Who really knows, though. Fluid, baby. See? I’m learning!

Jewels and I had known each other for a couple years via Facebook when realizing that we were both a part of the same San Diego beach community, Ocean Beach, and had graduated on the same day from the same school. Her with her masters and me with my BA. Finally. Without ever having met, she had offered me a place to stay if/when ever needed during the time that I was stranded during the ‘ol pickpocket incident in Ko Phi Phi. After that, when I started thinking about my plan for where I was going to crash back at home for the summer, I thought it good karma to give her first shot at some extra cash. Something that, having lived on her own in her (I was soon to find out) amazing pad for years, she was a little nervous about but still gave an excited yes! On a weekly trial period, of course. Perfect for the life of a digital nomad.

Back in the Bay a week or two later I was getting excited for departure finally closing in but also a bit bummed about doing another trip alone. On a whim, it dawned on me that she just may want to join. Something that proved to be true when I asked as a similar trip she had been planning fell through. As it turned out, we also had both being going through hell with things that had recently happened to loved ones. We were in the right zone to feed our souls and recover while sprinkling in some fun. It was certainly feeling like one of those serendipitous moments where people are brought into each other’s lives for a reason.

When pulling up to the Oakland airport, I instantly knew it was the right decision when spotting her at the curb in her floppy hat, cutoff shorts and shirt that read “Fuck it ⚓️ Let’s Drink”. Driving up, my expectations had already surpassed as I jumped out of the car for a big hug before hitting the road with instant laughter as she told the story of her rad flight with drinks, a cute dog and a handsome man. Oh yeah. We were on our way.

Hitting the road directly to Napa Valley, it was time for wine. And a lot of pictures with dogs everywhere we went. Crazy dog-ladies unite!

After conspiring to turn Jewels into my freelance assistant in order to work the perks angle of my writing for a luxury lifestyle magazine at home in San Diego, we made a quick stop at Robert Mondavi Winery (nice venue though too commercial for our taste) before making it to a spot that was expecting us down the street by the name of Peju Province Winery. Proving to be much more in line with what we were looking for, both the grounds and interior offered a unique and creative atmosphere with a Pinocchioesque style building (as the friend who had taken me the month before described) with a beauty and uniqueness that radiated through design and art both inside and on the grounds. All details that make it one of the wineries I eagerly recommend in the region.

With tastings by invitation only, we should have known better, but were quickly misbehaving by jumping into the property’s focal point, a fountain, behind a sign expressly asking not to do so with a fun group from Texas who were regulars. Love me a bad influence.

After tasting some good wine there, Jewels, in honor of being an interested horticulturist, got the lowdown from a long-time older gentleman filling her in on the detailed history of the beautiful and unique plant life at the end, of which, we enjoyed a greatly entertaining “drop the mic” moment when he turned abruptly once done and unexpectedly walked away. Adding even more to that moment of entertainment, his turning around to repeat after our giggled comments that, yes, he had indeed dropped the mic.

Moving on to V. Sattui Winery, (another nod to the same friend, Renee, for the intro) not far down the road, we tasted wine and shopped in their gourmet marketplace full of fancy cheeses (a weakness for us both) and other deliciously fancy options that can easily add up to a worthy picnic to be enjoyed on their ample grassy grounds. Something we took full advantage of until the day started to slip away. Looking for a place to witness one of her beloved sunsets, something I’m sad to say we didn’t end up finding, we did find an amusingly awkward happy hour at a lovely restaurant that looked like an old and large white-washed barn turned restaurant with live music. Excited at first, until scoping the crowd of which appeared to be a little too uptight and awkward, even amongst their own. Something that gave us a *scratch our heads* moment considering we were from from the super friendly and social beaches of San Diego.

Moving onto a large local dive bar with a lonely older gentleman stuck in his glory days in tow (we were taking pity on him because he had a cute dog), I promptly mistook the grandson of a winery owner as an employee by the way he was leaning with arms back on the side of the bar with a bored expression on his face. Something we thought he had blown off with a laugh until a woman came up to us with a “do you know who he is” kind of comment. Cutting her off with a stern “OK, BYE”, sure it was annoying, but it also came with it’s own level of entertainment.

Taking our leave somewhere around the 10 – 11 PM hour (driving meant no more drinks for me) and stopping to charge my fully-electric car, we made it to our hotel around midnight and even managed to get up in decent shape for the next day’s escapades.

Hitting the main strip of downtown Monterey first, a street named Cannery Row, we got right back to tasting at a wine room by the name of Carmel Ridge Winery of which I had already given a mention in that month’s magazine issue. Afterward we made our way to an Airbnb I had insisted on staying at, as it had both a Robin and a Wren Room. The name of a friend who had recently been lost to heartbreaking circumstances. Having an emotional moment with the older woman who owned the house and her husband, she had added to the symbolic nature of that brief (and expensive) stay by showing us some bird eggs that were due to hatch any moment. Even more, Jewels spotted a Blue Heron. Also symbolic in a way that heightened the depth of our trip, whether in our head or not.

Stopping at the Big Sur River Inn for a bite before heading to our shuttle pickup in Andrew Molara State Park, we lucked out in that we made it there on the first weekend of the Sur Transportation shuttle service. Something now offered for folks to once again have a way to get around Big Sur until the Pfeiffer Canyon Bridge rebuild is complete. Well, “up” may be a better way to phrase the service than “around” as participants are taken to the bottom of a mountain where a steep and notably challenging, though not too terribly long, trail by the name of Pfeiffer Canyon foot trail had been forged by locals and those working on restoration for a beautiful option that allowed us to make it to Nepenthe Restaurant. A place with views of the ocean, forrest and even horseback riders that falls pretty high up in the “wow” moments of my travels.

Continuing on our trip as traveling road warriors, we made it to Paso Robles later that night and had an amazing time at Tobin James. A winery Jewels was eager to go to as she was already a fan of their wine. After that, LXV Winery. A tasting room that pairs sensual and exotic wines with spices that I had also previously written about. Happy campers with the new friends we made and stream of pups coming in with them, we were even lucky enough to be given an impromptu performance from one of the women working there.

It was all fantastic. It was also time to go home.

Home….San Diego… It had been too long and my world had changed. Evolved. What did “home” mean any more? I can only imagine how much more I’ll continue to feel like that as I get further in.

What I can’t imagine is San Diego ever not being my life’s location foundation. I was absolutely homesick for it and, with a couple more coastal stops to charge the car, was super excited to get back. Even so, I was already thinking about buying my next ticket.

When Emma woke up the next afternoon after all of our adventures (woman can sleep), we decided to stay cuddled up with takeout, a marathon of watching Grace and Frankie and a constant flow of tea (naturally). I couldn’t have been more relieved for the down time and both of us were totally

content. Me especially because of the pleasingly productive routine I had inadvertently started that morning of toast and coffee while getting some writing done. Centering back in with that much needed “me time” not only gave me a chance to process and chill, something especially important when rocking out with much younger pals, but also kept me tolerable for everyone else.

Balancing out our shenanigans with the day of chilling required nothing beyond laughing, shooting the shit and cuddling Trevor. It was just what I needed and a fur-baby requirement by Bernard and Emma, or “Burma” if we’re using a rediculous-but-fun combined couple name. It was also twice as entertaining because of the eyebrows we had drawn onto that four-legged bundle of excitement and love. The scene over all made me nostalgic for the hangover days of my teens in which my sister, our friends and I would lay around in front of the TV all day on the mattresses I would drag down from the beds on the second floor. I’m not sure if we ever actually watched any of the movies playing on the TV back then, the old days of VCRs, but it sure was the best bonding time I can remember.

Fully rested and ready for a little Sunday Funday after that, Lucille had found a reggae event in the once ghetto but now up-and-coming hipsteresque neighborhood of Brixton. Popping bottles of Prosecco in the tube and almost giving another passenger a corresponding heart attack, we were once again up to no good of the best kind.

Giggling while observing the honorary sister badge these two had so obviously earned over the years, they bickered about which way to get to the bar as we sauntered around enjoying the sunshine until finally finding that elusive reggae event. Making it too late for the happy hour and the corresponding free entry, the music was also a bust, but it was still entertaining in that it further added to the comical scene of the three of us just wandering around London slightly perplexed until meeting back up with Bernard and getting more PROSECCOOOO! After that was another awesome night of partying until dawn. It was just as much fun as the first night (from what I remember) if not more. I’m tempted to tell you, my dear readers, but some things are better left censored *giggle*. I will give you a hint by saying that there were naked massages and I’m still being teased about accidentally going way too hard.

A couple days later was Camden. Oh Camden, how I love thee.
Walking up to the colorful, edgy and ultra-eclectic neighborhood of the Stables Market (as in used to be horse stables), the cobblestoned neighborhood’s array of personality quickly made it clear that my eclectic-arse had found the spot in that city that I was most likely to feel at home. Located along the Regent’s Canal, the district’s touch of hippiness, pubs, street vendors and a trace of the seedy side of it’s history combined with upper-scale options like the Indian-chic/Pan-Asian fusion restaurant, Gilgamesh, and festival-futuristic store, Cyberdog, to produce what could be the most diverse array in one place that I have ever experienced. Add to that one of the best grilled cheeses I have ever had from The Cheese Bar (CHEESE IS LIFE), the personal history Emma shared and the streets she pointed out that best represented what it used to be before gentrification and I was beyond enamoured. Even the creepy Amy Winehouse statue added to it’s strange and awesome magic.

It was such a lovely day. They all were. For the Grand-London-Finale in the next post get ready, ladies and gentlemen. It’s time to laugh your tails off.

I left Thailand and was on my way to London. Determined to figure out how to take long flights without getting sick, and also enjoying any excuse I could find to give myself Burning Man flashbacks, I covered my face most of the time with the pashmina scarf I had bought to share with my mom in the hopes that it’s magic would keep the germs out. I was also amused by how wearing it seemed somewhat in theme given which country my flights connected in.

The English teachers from the UK who I had met on a long-tail boat in Pai, along with others who have lived in or visited Abu Dhabi, had opened my mind and interest the the country over the few years before that. An interest that had quickly faded during the short amount of time spent there while waiting for my flight on Etihad Airways. Not the worst, by the way, but also nowhere near the best airline experience I’ve had. As someone who is normally enchanted by other cultures and curious to learn about them, including adornments such as the hijab and burqa, I find exception to that interest when encountering such details as people being excessively rude or taking over the space with intense B.O. A part of certain cultures I could use help understanding better. It’s important to be reminded of how stereotypes can be a great misrepresentation to the individual and that traveling tends to bring out the worst in some. Still, it sent me moving as fast as the crowds and constant security checkpoints would let me.

Once finally touching down in London, I instantly felt like I was on holiday for the first time since leaving America. Excited to see my friend, Emma, I was close to being the last one to get off the plane due to our eager texting back and forth before the doors had even opened. Em and I knew each other from living together for a month at Shanti Lodge in Phuket the year before. We had instantly become close with a friendship that had immediately fell in line with the kind of connection that usually takes much more time to establish. One of the great things I see a lot more of amongst the world of digital nomads and expats as opposed to those who stayed put back in the ‘ol U.S. of A.

Emma didn’t want to wait for me to take public transportation so she sent an UBER to pick me up. A great treat considering I was still hustling from the aftermath of the pickpocket and worn out after all that travel. Especially given that I was lugging the world’s largest and heaviest suitcase. Finally getting to her place and already having discussed how excited she was for me to meet her man along with how they already had a little celebration ready to go as soon as I arrived, I wasn’t too terribly surprised when being greeted at the door of their lovely Cricklewood flat with a big kiss from that fun-loving, outgoing and nurturing South African stud I had heard so much about.

Not even being able to get my bag open before their fur-baby, Trevor, started to climb in, that sweet boy gave me one more reason to be in a great mood. After a quick tour, Emma and I got comfy for a long night of yapping away with a constant flow of prosecco. Or should I say “PROSECCOOOOOO!!!” Something that was to continue through the night and into the wee hours of the morning, not to mention pretty much becoming our theme song and drink of choice while I was there. Bernard was a natural at jumping right in and I instantly loved him. Especially after one of his first excited comments being that he had heard me to be a nudist and that he was was, too. While I self-identify more of an advocate for body positive activist than a nudist, I wasn’t about to argue at that particular moment. Needless to say, we were naked quite a bit of the time from thereon out.

Finally calling it a night (or early morning) and after getting a few hours shut-eye, Emma was so excited to take me sightseeing, I thought she was going to erupt into human fireworks. With her little-girl enthusiasm and my crowd-induced anxiety, we pushed our way through droves of Spanish tourists to explore along the River Thames while checking out such tourist attractions as the Palace of Westminster and Big Ben. Definitely grand and impressive. Continuing on, we happily spent a few moments here and there watching amazing street performers such as talented musicians and an impressive group of African dancers interlaced with moments of her pointing out sentimental spots like where a romantic French-style book fair was held along the South Bank (*swoon*) and a beautifully graffiti-covered skatepark she hung out at as a teenager.

Making note of the Tate Modern and grabbing a bite at the darling but very crowded Borough Market, we then stopped at Las Iguanas in the South Bank Centre for some caipirinhas. Em loves to eat and is a pro at the food scene in London. Heading over the beautiful Tower Bridge from there, we also managed to take a peek at the London Bridge and Tower of London before our last stop. For the grand finale of this personal sightseeing tour, she brought me to a darling little tucked away marina by the name of St. Katherine’s Dock. My favorite spot of the day, it reminded me of a place that was meant for a relaxed day of brunching in the brisk sun before wandering around a farmer’s market.

Heading back to the flat and meeting up with Bernard and his big smile, even after our signals had got crossed and he had already been waiting for us at a pub in the neighborhood of Waterloo (gotta love that name), we headed to another one of their awesome local pubs, North London Tavern, with one of Emma’s besties from the time of being naughty teens. Soon to be my pal as well, Lucille had managed to drag herself over regardless of not feeling well. Something you’d never imagine to be the case after the way the rest of the night went.

One of the bitter/sweet things about hanging with B, it’s impossible to stay sober around him. A truth, at least, if you’re starved for a little spoiling and being taken care of. That guy was fun and a gentleman. Who wants to say no to that? Not me! Even if I had wanted to, Emma wouldn’t have let me anyway.

With the party moving back to their pad after the pub and with the prosecco continuing to flow, us ladies eventually headed to a charmingly cheesy bar theme-night, another spot of their old stomping ground called The Goodship, where we danced and had fun regardless of the creepers who we had to fight to keep off of us. One of which being a super wasted young Italian man I ended up socking in the cockadoodledoo after he had been way too touchy for way too long. I’ll tell you, it felt good to be able to defend myself after being in a country in which I didn’t feel as safe to do so prior. A definite to take into account when traveling. Especially alone, double when a woman and triple when an amazon.

Hearing way too many times from sauced locals about how surprised they were to like me since they typically didn’t like Americans (most of whom admitted to never actually having met any of us), it was that amusing time of the night when these new friends also seemed to think me and the only other woman from the U.S. should be bonding. Thoroughly entertained but ready to move on, Lucille, Emma and I headed back to the flat and kept the party going until long after dawn was upon us. Our little crew had been formed and I already loved it.

*Editorial shoutout to Emma Victoria Tooki Laird. Never would have gotten the details even half way straight without her!

I was down to my last two nights in Thailand.

Up at 6 AM, I was at the bus station by 7:20 AM and, after realizing that my ride was leaving at 9 AM instead of 8 AM like I had originally thought, it didn’t take me long to become more relieved than frustrated to have both gotten away from our horrible Airbnb hosts and also to have inadvertantly eliminated the stress of being rushed. Though still tired, I was had slept 11 hours on and off the night before, so I reminded myself that I had no right to wine about it. Especially considering that I was about to successfully sleep nine of the upcoming eleven hour drive. Thank goodness for the motion pills I still had knocking me out. Also for the bus smelling like air freshener instead of the nasty raw sewage and rotting garbage smells that are all too prevalent in Thailand. What wasn’t easy to deal with was that I was sat next to another lovely lady of ample curves. Though trying to not make each other uncomfortable, we were practically on top of each other. Looking back, I should have made pals and asked her to cuddle. Something I would normally do if feeling well but I was suffering from a case of the travel-exhausted leave-me-alones.

When finally pulling into the station in Bangkok, I instantly exhaled at the more familiarly built up and somewhat Westernized city. Quick to notice a few high-level Mercedes driving by, it was the fuchsia taxis that really got me excited. Within the first hour I had already grown to like this city more than I thought I would and when finally getting to that Shanti location, I was unsurprised to love it just as much as I did expect. Well, the restaurant and staff at least. The rooms were small and minimal (as I had heard) but still cute and came with a lovely shower/bathroom combo with shells and other great adornments. Fine for me as I don’t require much though my 75 lb suitcase was singing a different tune. Happy to have my stuff back, I also couldn’t wait to get rid of that thing.

After a friend from GLT reached out about her twenty year old honorary niece who was alone in a hospital in Bangkok with Dengue Fever, I quickly changed my plans for the next day in order to go check on her. Grabbing snacks from 7-Eleven, a fresh watermelon drink made by a street vendor and the stuffed elephant originally bought in Chiang Mai for my five year old niece, I stumbled upon a temple (hard not to do in T-Land) looking for one of those fuchsia taxis I got such a kick out of until finally making my way to the hospital. Meeting and sitting with this tenacious twenty year old, I remembered the strength and adventure of being so young as she told me about studying abroad and then parting from her friends in order to travel Thailand alone. Had I not known, I never would have guessed she had been so sick, though the relieved-excitement of finally getting better is pretty great. Something I regrettably hadn’t slowed down enough to enjoy after food poisoning. All the same, it was fun to see her relieved excitement when given the drink and cookies that resembled Oreos. Familiar in a land of strange is everything.

Satisfied that my niece’s elephant had been gifted for a good cause and also feeling a little re-inspired, though at the same time reminded of the sadness of not being able to do these adventures at her age when stronger in spirit and body, I left thankful for what was to become one of the more meaningful experiences during this visit to the country.

Still daydreaming about the future of my nieces traveling, adventuring and how I may be able to be a part of that, I was only half paying attention on the ride back in yet another fuchsia cab as I PMed back and forth on Tinder with a sexy businessman from the Middle East until agreeing to let him meet me in the restaurant of Shanti for a quick date. A few hours away and getting back before his arrival, I finally had a chance to sit with Kim, the owner of Shanti. Down to earth and friendly, she distractedly told me about a lowlife who had been trying to twist her daughter in Portland’s generosity as a landlord after she had done so many kindnesses by this man. I’ve only heard one side of the story and haven’t seen proof of any kind, but based on what I do know of Kim, I have reason to believe this to be a case of a lowlife and predator targeting her. On the off chance that any of you out there can help, throw me a shout and I’ll get you in touch. Sounds like this lovely South African woman doesn’t have too much of a support network over there. Sure would be nice if I could be a part of introducing her to one or two Portlandians who could help her build her one.

With Kim departing thanks to the stress making her feel ill, I hung out working on my book until the date I had been waiting for finally got off work and arrived about an hour before I said I wanted to go to bed. Quite surprised as I expected to be more annoyed than anything else, I was thrown off by how attracted I was to him as he walked up. Young, intelligent and exuding powerful energy, it was no surprise that he ran his own IT company and flew around the world for it. Thank you Tinder.

As we talked, he told me about a fun street not far away, Si Lom, and about enough fun stuff in the city to make me wish I was staying longer. Not to mention the Unicorn Cafe I completely forgot about until shortly after leaving. I had already been thinking about how I wanted to hit Thailand at least one more time so I could put all I have learned into play. Kind of a symbolic thing. Now I had an extra reason to not only come back but to celebrate Songkran one more time and to do it in Bangkok.

After all my talk about wanting to get to bed at a decent hour, I ended up being the one who wanted to throw it all out the window and stay with him. Regardless of the way my tune was changing, he was a perfect gentleman in advising that I should get up at 5:30 AM, not 6:30 AM, and made sure I know that he wanted to be with me longer but respected that I needed to get some rest. An idea that I had completely thrown out the window once he had kissed me. Needless to say, I was one smitten kitten and now have something fun to look forward to.

With my cab being MIA the next morning thanks to a staff member writing the time down wrong, something that would be hypocritical for me to get too upset about given that I was the one speaking the foreign language, I managed to get to the airport on time and even get my gigantic suitcase on without the hassle than expected. My time in Thailand was over. I was officially on my way to London.