brussels with my brother

For the first time since 2011, I'll be home for Thanksgiving. Dare I say I'm nervous? I'd considered a staycation in L.A., serving turkey to the homeless... but then my grandmother was diagnosed. And so I decided to be in New York with her (though, uncomfortably, I keep forgetting my grandpa won't be there, too). We'll drive down to my aunt's apartment on the Upper West Side and enjoy that grand home-cooked meal I've missed. We'll be all together again, maybe. I'm really hoping my brother will be able to make it as well.

You may recall that he and I spent the holiday together last year. He was finishing up his master's at University of Amsterdam and wouldn't be able to make it home; I had far too many vacation days to use before I lost them. It was quite the adventure. I flew into Paris (where I crossed paths with my sister), then Amsterdam, and then, Brussels. I wanted to go somewhere he hadn't yet been.

We explored some, he caught up on sleep, and I indulged in more contemporary art. Brussels is delightfully walkable and was dressed up in all its spirited glory. As for Thanksgiving, we were lucky to have found a traditional feast hosted by The American Club of Brussels. I can't express how stimulating it was to be surrounded by such diversity of people, experiences, and ideas, again.

My heart was so full of gratitude as my favorite American fête came to a close then. And really, despite my stress and anxiety, that feeling is not far out of reach now: in early December, I'll move to San Francisco (!) and join the team at the International Institute of the Bay Area, backed by the support of more L.A.-based friends I ever imagined possible and that of my quirky family; what's more: I'm financially-able to spend time with both before and after the transition (Christmas). Wishing the same good fortune to you and yours ♥

happy hours in amsterdam-oost

I stood at the door. The host had given me clear directions to the flat and promised me his friend would meet me at 3 o'clock with the keys. It was 4:18pm (or, 16h18). I called the friend. "Oh, your friend should be inside. She was on time." Which friend, I wondered. Following his instruction, I buzzed up to the flat. It wasn't long before I heard feet running down the stairs. Marie's cousin greeted me. Though I'd never met her in person, I was relieved to immediately recognize Charlotte. She felt the same; little introduction meant she could rest her lost voice. She turned to lead me up three steep and narrow flights. I practically held my suitcase above my head.

Fortunately, the airbnb was as cute and airy as expected. Worth the hike, in other words. My brother rang up a few minutes after I'd caught my breath. Soon after, Marie followed. Properly reunited and introduced, we set out on a leisurely walk to the De Gooyer Windmill. We had made plans to meet Lorelei for happy hour al fresco at Brouwerij 't IJ, Amsterdam's leading organic microbrewery.

The evening advanced organically (pun intended) from there. Thanks to Lorelei's local scoop and Dutch data, we tipsily strolled over to Roest. The laid-back industrial setting was perfect. We enjoyed a couple more beers with a casual spread of picnic food. We also boldly participated in the inflatable backyard fun--a bungee run and a two-man joust--until we discovered it'd been rented for a private event...

Eventually, the night winded down with gin cocktails, whiskey, and wine at Walter's, the Walter Woodbury Bar. It was a classier yet just-as-local haunt with a beautiful interior that was clearly influenced by its namesake--the 19th century English photographer who was one of the first to capture the "exoticism" of the Dutch East Indies. Given the atmosphere and plethora of libations, our conversation became a debate on culture and identity. My brother was absolutely enthralled. "The wonder of grad school abroad," I told him with a smile as we walked back to the airbnb. What a special understanding Jorgie and I now share.

a day in east london

The following morning, I awoke bright and early to brief blue skies. (England is such a tease). I was feeling great, well-rested and sprightly, with a false sense of not-jet lag. Rachael and I decided on a very loose East London-themed itinerary for the day. I texted my sister to invite her and however many of her roommates to join us. They promised to meet us at the Bethnal Green tube stop.

But first, coffee. Rachael and I strolled over to Quarantacinque to pass the time as Deanna and friend made their way east. This tiny Italian gem served some serious caffé as well as sweet and savory bites. We stood at the counter (as Italians would) to wait for our caffeinated drinks and one delectable ham and cheese croissant; and to gawk at pretty much the most amazing wallpaper:

The barista told us the graphic coffee leaf wallpaper was bespoke for the space. What a gorgeous backdrop.

Later, while meandering back towards the tube stop, I had to remark how "normal" everything felt. I hadn't and I still don't really know London, and yet it, made sense for me to be there. There was an of course-ness to my mild ignorance. I felt at ease in my role as an outsider, and stimulated in my ability to observe, learn, and blend in. I was so distinctly aware of it all.

Months before, when Deanna was with me in L.A. (which I must also eventually reminisce with you about!), I admitted to her how much I missed being special (read: an expat). I missed the challenges and gratifications. There's a very particular satisfaction that comes with making a new normal work for you; living it sharpens your appreciation for where you are, and where you came from.

Anyway :) with all that in mind, I gleefully set out with Rachael, Deanna, and Jamie to "do" Hackney. First up: Hackney City Farm.

After vegetable gardens, sheep, chickens, and donkeys, we walked up to the site of Broadway Market. Though it wasn't a weekend day, and thus market-less, the street itself had quite a few shops and cafés. I nearly bought a vintage book. I still think I should have.

An hour or so later, it really started to rain. We hustled through London Fields and into Sutton House--a worthwhile stop.

And from there, Well Street Kitchen. Brew for Two would've been more convenient given the pouring skies, but they were closed due to flooding. (Point taken). We didn't care once lunch was served anyway. My leek & celeriac soup with pancetta was beyond.

When the rain finally did let up, we left our empty bowls, plates, and tea cups (so British) to mosey over to Hackney Wick. There was some killer street art as we got deeper into the industrial area; an awesome recycled clothing store, too, and the cozy Crate Brewery.

Inside, we enjoyed late afternoon brownies and beer--it's just what one does in the company of four when she realizes she wouldn't rather be anywhere else but in this gorgeously dreary city with her sister, so young, open, and brave, and her tenacious friend, tirelessly carving out a life of passions with such grace in yet another foreign city. There were big thoughts on that first full day.

As the sun set, Rachael and I parted ways with Deanna and Jamie. (Note to self: live closer to your sister, soon). We returned to Rachael's flat briefly before heading out to Paradise Garage for a late dinner. She'd heard great things.

Feeling especially indecisive and slurge-y, we opted for the tasting menu a.k.a. the best produce, meat, fish, and cheese (un-pictured). Then we had a palate cleanser, shared our dessert choices, and finished off with homemade blackberry marshmallows. We decided it was one of the best meals we'd had all year. Special occasions like that one (spending an entire Wednesday together again) have become fewer and farther between as we've moved to new places with demanding full-time jobs, less friends, and more debt. She most definitely deserved it. I'm hoping I did, too. We had one last digestif with the devil before calling it a night.