a lady of leisure in amsterdam

There's a particular relief in (and pride to) the ease I feel in a city like Amsterdam. "Oh, how cosmopolitan you are," I tease myself.

Yet the pride is sincere. I spent so much of my early twenties searching for a sense of belonging to a place after having lost that in a person. I struggled to define myself while blending in, to simultaneously indulge my intellectual as well as my immature cravings.

And in doing so, I learned how to be comfortable be in unfamiliar settings. What made Paris special had little to do with the fact that Paris is Paris but that I chose it and made it home (as opposed to having accepted convenient opportunities). I imagine Amsterdam holds a similar significance for my brother—who's now taking a Spanish course in Spain and will have to repatriate soon enough.

Los Angeles and I, on the other hand, have a slightly different relationship. I came back to the U.S. because I could as much I felt I should—how irresponsible it'd be not to accept a serendipitous job offer. I chose a career, perhaps, but I did not choose this city.

Has it grown on me? Most definitely, though I continue to say I won't stay. I'll admit (as I roll my eyes at myself) that this fact pioneers my insistence of returning to Europe at least once a year. I need the reminder of that aforementioned feeling; to hold onto it.

My days in Amsterdam last fall were spent as a "a lady of leisure".  I walked miles through its narrow streets and ruffled through more shops than I had in all 10 months prior and stopped into museums deemed as having the most intriguing exhibitions. It was so wildly unlike my reality. And each evening, I met up with a beloved "local" at a traditional beer bar or modern food hall. Too good, almost.

The fall before then, I'd chosen to make as many active life choices as possible—I moved across L.A. to a walkable neighborhood feel; I took the time to enjoy the friendships I'd found; I stringently applied for new jobs, a.k.a. only those that 100% excited me. Although I was barely getting by financially, I became happier, firmly self-assured, and eventually, I joined a company that fit the bill.

It was hard to wrap my head around how fortunate I'd gotten—and yet it shouldn't have been. I've worked hard to earn my life here. I have all I need inside me to move forward. And however prideful, I will never once worry I won't be able to relocate when needed.

a weekend in sf

Upon discovering Anna and Leslie would be hiking Yosemite and then San Francisco in May, I decided to hijack their trip.

Last Thursday, I drove straight from the office to the airport and joined my two friends at a table at 1760. A painless 50-minute flight took place in between. And because the journey had been so easy, and because I've been working so hard and non-stop, I was hyper-excited about it. "I can't believe you're in San Fran! And I'm here, too!" Yes, dear self, this is what we call taking a long weekend...

{Oscar de la Renta: The Retrospective}

{Aperitifs at Rye}

{Breakfast by the beach (Outer Sunset)}

{A belated Cinco de Mayo party}

{Burning Man remains in Hayes Valley}

{Mission donuts and murals}

For someone who's stumbled into rooted contentment, it was so very refreshing to luxuriate in a different yet conveniently-close-by city—especially in the company of some of the world's best. I doubt I'll let another 5 years pass before my next weekend visit.

unseasonal

But maybe I just want too much, I told her. I've been seeking to live like a balloon that's tied to the ground but on a really long string. She commended me for the simile and visual.

A couple of days ago, I woke up to my brother's voice in my parents' hotel room. He'd called from Copenhagen to to FaceTime with my Mom. And as much as it truly was nice to hear his voice, the conversation stirred up an uncomfortable restlessness inside me.

I'd worked with a Scottish girl a few days prior at event in San Jose. We commiserated on what a special and unique and gratifying experience it is to spend more than a few weeks outside of one's home country. She loved California. I understood, and yet...

This lull after hosting shouldn't surprise me—I felt it after Marie, and Leslie, and Deanna, and every-single-other-friend/relative-who-has-visited-me-thus-far left. But still, I'm more rooted in Los Angeles than ever. I love my job, my house, and such ordinary comfort is so gosh darn unsettling. Oh, and it should be noted this is not the first time I'm reacting this way, nor the second, and no, not even the third. At this rate, I may very well struggle with a frustrating itch that causes me to seek out exceptional experiences for the rest of my freaking life. (Yes, I'm partially mocking myself.) Please tell me I'm not the only one?

P.S. To-do list as of late: a book club, gym membership, int'l Meetup group, Habitat for Humanity project, and senior volunteer opp.

a new year

We're twelve days into 2016... and I could not be more thrilled about the fresh start and clean slate. Sure, I've often been wary of NYE pressures and those gosh darn resolutions, but as the clock struck twelve on January 1st, I only felt joy and relief. I hugged Lorelei. She, AJ, and I toasted to "another chance to get it right". And the goodness that has followed has me laughably hopeful for what's to come. And yet, at this moment in time, in honor of my recent return to Los Angeles and Marie's upcoming visit, I'm inclined to look back to the beginning of the school year (which I will never ever stop recognizing as such) when Leslie was in town,

{Brunch at République}

{Visit to the Getty Center}

{Hike to the Griffith Observatory, and this view of DTLA that followed}

{Tacos at Guisados}

{Thrift & vintage shopping in Mar Vista & Los Feliz}

{Wining & dining at Eveleigh}

{Drinks at Far Bar--for Kerri's birthday!}

As jet-lagged and out of sorts as I was then, I reveled in the opportunity to introduce my New York-friend to the "pockets of magic" I've found in L.A. The forecast is looking very bright for more hosting and discovering in 2016, too--that's your cue to come visit :)

saturday in atwater village

{Fried farro, longanisa sausage, pea tendrils, fried egg, "holy water" at Canelé}

sunday in highland park

{The Bearded Beagle}

{Kitchen Mouse}