a taste of home

I have never eaten in a McDonald's, Burger King, or the like while visiting another country. Not even Canada. I simply refuse. As a former chef, it feels like my sworn duty to scoff at those 'other' travelers I see sitting at the familiar fast-food joints, eating burgers and fries mindlessly when they could be experiencing the very lifeblood of a culture and its history: the food. I have cursed the forces of greed that manifested a McDonald's directly across from the Pantheon in Rome, as well as everyone in it. I call the Puerta del Sol in Madrid "McDonalds-ville" because it is always swarmed with tourists and 95% of them are munching or sipping something with an "M" on it. I regard these people with an obsessive curiosity, wondering what brought them to this country in the first place. If you want to eat fast food you certainly don't have to fly across an ocean to do it.

It's not always easy for me to choose where to eat in a foreign city. I have been known to do a few subtle walk-bys to see how many people are inside, or to see if there is a place to sit, or to get a glimpse of the dishes to see if I recognize them. I practice my other-language greetings under my breath. I get ready for the stares of the locals as a 6-foot blonde of indeterminate ethnicity walks in the door. But I suck it up and get out there. I'm not just here for the museums.

My last trip was to Spain and Morocco with my cousin. We started in Madrid and after five straight days of walking, drinking, and eating pork, we were ready to move on to Seville. We were both still wrestling with jet lag, and we woke every night between 4 and 5 am to people singing at the tops of their lungs as they walked home from the bars. On our last night, we were tired and got into bed early with our books. Almost two hours later, at 12:30, I put down my book and said, "I am not even close to sleeping." My cousin said, "Neither am I."

"I think it's beer time," I said. "The supermarket's closed," she said. I paused only a moment. Then I gathered some coins, went to the lobby, and got two beers from the vending machine. The only beer they had was Heineken. In a can. Wow. We wouldn't be caught dead drinking this in our hometowns of Minneapolis and Los Angeles. But it was beer time. Once it's declared, it's not like you can not drink beer.

We played double solitaire for an hour before realizing that one of the decks had 51 cards in it. I went back to the lobby for round two. We played 'speed' and tried to remember other card games from childhood so we wouldn't have to resort to 'fish' or 'war.' We laughed and drank and snacked. At 2:09 we turned on the TV and found a show in English for the first time, which seemed like a huge victory for some reason. "We should just stay up all night!" I said defiantly. After ten minutes of 'war,' we were asleep.

The next day we were up earlier than usual, packing and getting ready to go to the train station. We had been buying food from the grocery store all week so we wouldn't have to eat every meal in a restaurant or bar. I looked at the dregs of our pantry, sitting in sad little plastic bags on the floor. There was a small container of yogurt that hadn't seen a refrigerator in three days. Whole cooked vacuum-packed beets that we had planned to make into a salad but never did. Half of a baguette that we bought two days ago. A little cheese. Some fruit. We were on the move, so the rule was: eat it, toss it, or carry it. I tore at the dry bread, but the only thing I could think about was a giant bowl of Cinnamon Life drowning in ice-cold milk. I looked at the clock to see if I had time to get to the market. Who was I kidding. We didn't even have a bowl. I had a beet and a piece of cheese on a crust of bread. My cousin had a beet and a kiwi. We tossed the rest.

In the train station we went to the coffee shop, naturally. The coffee in Madrid can cure all that ails. It is a potent and magical mix of dark, rich espresso, served with hot foamy milk on the side. No crappy lattes that taste like milk. No wet or dry. No nonfat milk. Just good, thick espresso with hot milk to your liking. We needed it. I saw a waxy chocolate donut in the case and I ordered that too.

We sat down and they brought the coffee and donut. The donut was served on a plate with a knife and fork. So I used them, what the hell. As I cut into it I could see the Easter egg-yellow cake that had never seen a stick of butter. Mass-produced. Probably frozen. Bottom-of-the-barrel in the bountiful world of European pastries.

"This looks exactly like a Hostess chocolate donut and I'm sure it will taste like one," I said, disdainfully. My cousin nodded, joining me in my food-snobbery. I lifted the fork to my mouth and found that it did, in fact, taste exactly like a packaged donut from 7-11. But in that moment, all judgment fell away. I felt soothed and delighted. This freaking thing was delicious. The familiar taste and texture was a comforting point of reference for my weary soul, temporarily lost in a land of nocturnal pork worshippers. I was going to be okay.

We spent four nights in Seville, and then made our way to Marrakech by bus, boat, train, taxi, and foot. We had a few mishaps and miscalculations on the road in Morocco but eventually got back to Madrid to catch our flight home. We walked through McDonalds-ville one last time on the way to our favorite bar, and I noticed that I now looked at the crowds without my usual contempt. I saw them as people…travelers who probably felt a bit overwhelmed, a bit homesick, a little tired of trying so hard. Maybe they had beets for breakfast. I realized I can cut them some slack. Especially because the McDonald's in Madrid serve "Helado y Café"…a cup of vanilla soft-serve filled to the brim with coffee. No one could look down on the simple genius of that. In fact I thought I might just walk in and get one…or even some fries…and walk out with my head held high.

This month I'm trying to think about truth. Truth is a tricky thing, considering everyone has their own. It's hard to look at a situation and not point fingers in all directions. It's hard to think about someone in your life who is 'making you miserable' and to admit that you have a role in the dysfunction and discomfort. "ME? I'm not the one doing anything wrong...!" We are focused on the other, we are so quick to blame. We don't want to look inside. Because it's painful. All that frustration we feel with our boss, all the anger we feel with our spouse/boyfriend/girlfriend, all the unnameable fear and discomfort we feel on a regular basis...it's all just a little voice from our deepest selves, crying out for some attention. But we usually ignore it.

My shoulder has had a persistent pain in it since April. It ranges from feeling like a sore muscle knot, to a dull throb, to a searing pain that I can feel even when I lay flat on my back and do nothing. It moves from my shoulder blade to my neck and back again at random. It has caused me to 'slow down' in my yoga practice and give up some of my upper body work. As a fiery Aries, I had to be set back on my path of progress. Now when I move from downward dog, to plank, and through a vinyasa, I can feel the loss of strength in my upper body and it makes me so frustrated I often start to cry. I get angry and balled up with frustration remembering how hard and how long I had worked (years!) to build up my flow practice. During a class, an instructor noticed my struggle and started talking about the ebb and flow of yoga and of life. How we strive to reach new steps, goals, benchmarks in life and then a setback will start us again at a new point. That our progress had to flow in and out like tides, up and down like waves. He was looking at me, the Aries with the sore shoulder. I enjoyed the water imagery, but I didn't like the message.

"But I don't like that," I chimed in. "But that's the lesson!" he replied maniacally. "I know," I said, and kept moving. I hated this life lesson and his enthusiasm for it. I just wanted to practice a pose, see myself get better at it, achieve my goals, and then feel generally awesome about yoga and life. Was that too damn much to ask?

The truth is, I'm at the point in my practice where it's more than exercise, it's more like a long-term relationship. Sometimes I'm totally in love and sometimes I'm filled with anger and resentment. I feel growth one week and stagnation another. I feel strong and then weak. I experience all these things and I am challenged to feel them...really feel them...to accept them as part of life...as part of me. So the real truth is that we are all these things...not just the pretty ones. We are weak, lazy, and selfish...as well as strong, ambitious, and generous. Yoga encourages self-awareness...which believe me, is no picnic sometimes...but ultimately helps us to grow.When we feel powerless at work, or angry in our relationship, or selfish or petty, the challenge is to look at those feelings for a minute instead of denying them. They are part of us. They are often just a little red light telling saying "Look here!" Consider them, feel them, let them move through you. You might find something interesting. And then it will be over. You can move on. We are taught our whole lives that some traits are 'good' and others 'bad,' but the truth is they just are. And that is what I need to keep practicing.

"If you aren't in over your head,

how do you know how tall you are?"

- T.S. Eliot

"Everything that ever happened to you is the

best thing

that ever happened to you."

-Jenny McCarthy

"Always make new mistakes."

- bumper sticker, Clifton, NJ

The Pose You Need

Sometimes while practicing at home I suddenly find myself in what I call The Pose You Need. I start out like someone walking through familiar woods with no path, guiding myself through the poses on my mat, thinking random distracting thoughts. I move in and out of my favorite sequences, missing the encouragement of a teacher while I concentrate on my breathing...which keeps me, momentarily, from thinking about how much more I sweat in a classroom setting.

Then suddenly I am in a pose and my entire being seems to slow and then stop. It could be child's pose, or mountain pose, or a variation of a pose I have done a hundred times. This time I am in the middle of a comfortable sun salutation and the next, as I bend over into standing forward bend, I stop moving. I stop thinking about what to do next. I rest. I have suddenly stepped into The Pose I Need. I wasn't anticipating it. I wasn't forcing it. It's something I always hope to find but also know I can't look for. Like free coffee day or true love, it just happens sometimes.

I am no longer 'holding' the pose or 'in' the pose...I feel like I AM the pose. Body and mind have stopped running. I have stopped thinking thoughts. I feel relaxed yet alive. I feel deeply content. I could stay there forever.

So get on the mat at home once in a while. Or sit quietly and listen to your favorite song. Or walk the dog and look at the sky. Just be still once in a while. In all aspects of your life. don't be afraid to look for The Pose You Need. It's out there.

guilt is for suckers

Guilt is something someone once sold you. They told you it was worth something and you bought it. Because you believed you needed it. Or deserved it. Or never learned how to deal with the pain of others. Now it's nothing more than a heavy stone you carry everywhere. And by now, you're quite accustomed to its weight. Almost like it's...a part of you.

But you can look at it with new eyes. You can decide that it's not worth what you thought it was. You can see that it's not really part of you. It's luggage. You can't sell it, you can't give it away. But you can decide you don't need it. It's time to realize that no one strapped it to your back...you picked it up. Which means, of course, that you can set it down. And walk away. Lighter.

what are you holding on to today....holding on tight, with both fists....

the need to be liked?

the need for attention?

wanting to be right?

wanting to be noticed?

how about appreciation?

how many compliments do we need before we feel we've done a good job?

...before we feel that everything is going to be alright?

today...right now...just take a breath...imagine yourself holding on...see how tight you're gripping it with both hands... for dear life! you can even wad your hands into tight little fists...and then...

just open them up...imagine yourself letting those things go...and watching them float away. If only for today. If only for this moment. Just see how it feels. Just do without it for a bit, and see how it feels. You can always come back later and pick them up again. ;)