thursday in honolulu

Recently, AG Sessions declared his amazement that a judge "on an island in the Pacific" could block Trump's immigration order. He was referring to U.S. District Judge Derrick Watson, a federal judge hailing from the state of Hawai`i, who indefinitely extended the court order against that revised travel ban on Wednesday, March 29th.—the day before I flew to Honolulu for the very first time.

Being able to go to Hawai`i for work was a treat (those flights are expensive!), but I didn't expect to love the Pacific isles annexed by the U.S. in 1959. I've seen too many cheesy movies and shows; and I'm hardly the ideal candidate for personifying that "Aloha spirit".

But... then I touched down into retro-humidity and glanced out at the cloud-topped mountains and gasped in gleeful relief. The real Hawaii! I was *faraway* yet still within the bounds of my home country, and it was unlike any place I'd ever known or been.

My heart was content even after the costly stay in Waikiki. And my fascination that bilingual meant English and Japanese (versus Spanish) was exceptionally humbling. 1.5 million Japanese people vacationed in Hawaii in 2015; duh—the proximity, the history, the cultural exchange for which I am so clearly uninformed about. I learned, too, that peaceful politesse is expected and that the well-publicized pride for Hawaiian culture is beautifully sincere. When I flew from O`ahu to Kaua`i with three leis graciously bestowed upon me by my client (after we raised a great thousands for programs for girls that encourage courage, confidence, and character), I cannot even tell you how eager I was to discover more.

sunny los angeles

But nothing beats the weather, eh?

L.A., nice weather, most of the time, sure. But I am beyond tired of talking about it. Honestly, I'd prefer more rain (not just because of the drought); and, my gosh, I dream of a legitimate wintery chill. Basically, I miss the rejuvenating nature of seasons. Pun intended. What's more, I balk at the implication that clear sunshine is Los Angeles' most redeeming quality. It's dreary today, for the record.

{The Last Bookstore, for instance}

A friend of mine from the Midwest once told me he reveled in the misguided disdain that tries to characterize this city. What he meant, I think, is that it's a pretty incredible privilege to have gotten to know a place so quickly misunderstood. Los Angeles is not easily defined, neither literally nor figuratively, and it's sure as hell challenging to get a ahold of. This whole nother beast might as well be our beautiful little secret.

Before my time in New York, I saw City of Gold. It was fantastic for all the reasons above; and because, in telling Jonathan Gold's story, it celebrated the democratization of food criticism as well as the pure wealth of "culinary adventure that, he argues, are unique to the area in their proximity and commingled global influences." It reminded me of how much I appreciate L.A. for being L.A. And with that, I give you an introductory guide I created for a colleague who recently relocated to establish our DTLA office...

DINE
Best group meal: Korean BBQ (Koreatown)
Eat more ramen: Mitsuwa Marketplace (Mar Vista) or Jinya Ramen Bar (Mid-Wilshire & other locations)
Local date spots: Barbrix (Silver Lake), Cliff’s Edge (Silver Lake), Little Dom’s (Los Feliz)
My favorite “L.A. restaurant”: Eveleigh (West Hollywood)
Restaurants worth the hype: Birch Restaurant (Hollywood), Bestia (Arts District), Faith & Flower (DTLA), Pok Pok LA (Chinatown), République (Mid-City/La Brea), Sugarfish (multiple locations)
Tacos, part 1: Guisados (Echo Park); Tacos, part 2.
The best in Mexican-American burritos: Al & Bea’s (Boyle Heights)
Try the original French-dip sandwich at: Cole’s (DTLA) or Phillipe’s (Chinatown)
P.S. If you go to Cole’s, consider the speakeasy in the back with great cocktails and live jazz
For your bf: pancakes.

DRINK
Best hipster cocktails: Tenant of the Trees (Silver Lake)
Best beer & wine in the neighborhood: El Prado (Echo Park) / 1642 Beer and Wine (HiFi)
Best rooftop bar: Mama Shelter (Hollywood)
Drink beer and play board games: Sunset Beer Company (Echo Park)
Drink beer and play arcade games: Eighty Two (Arts District)
Get to know tequila & mezcal: El Carmen (Mid-City) or La Cuevita (Highland Park)
Have a martini at an “Old Hollywood” bar: Bar Marmont, Formosa Cafe, Musso & Frank Grill
Priceless DTLA views (& pricey cocktails): the Ace Hotel and Perch
Stay caffeinated.

HIKE
Elysian Park: West Loop, Angels Point
Griffith Park: Ferndell Trail, Mount Lee Trail, etc.
Malibu: Tuna Canyon,Corral Canyon, etc.

DO
Add to your library with gems from our neighborhood bookshop: Stories & Books Café (and Skylight!)
Best view of L.A. on the East Side: The Griffith Observatory
Best view of L.A. on the West Side: The Getty Center
Bike in Santa Monica; and in Long Beach
Check out local live music: The Echo and Echoplex
Go to a cheap comedy show: Upright Citizens Brigade
Museums worth the drive: The Autry (Griffith Park), LACMA (Mid-City/Miracle Mile), Natural History Museum (South L.A.), Petersen Automotive Museum (Mid-City/Miracle Mile), The Getty Villa (Malibu)
Pick your beach. My favorites: Cabrillo Beach (San Pedro), El Matador (Malibu), Manhattan Beach
Rent a boat or go paddleboarding: Marina Del Rey
Reserve free tickets: The Broad (DTLA)
Shop at the best farmers markets:

Monday-Thursday: The Original Farmers Market

Friday: Echo Park Farmers Market

Sunday: Atwater Village Farmers Market

Stroll the Venice Beach Boardwalk (because, weird) and dine at Gjusta ($) and/or Gjelina ($$)
Spend an afternoon in Pasadena: Huntington Library & Gardens, Norton Simon Museum, Magnolia House
Walk/shop on the East Side: Los Feliz, Silver Lake, Highland Park
SaveSave

la pause new-yorkaise

Can I complain for just a minute, please? Because all the "...before you leave again"s are becoming unbearable. C'est trop.

If only they knew how much I wish I'd been able to settle; to have stayed with comfort and ease in a familiar setting, enjoying the countless benefits of having family and friends consistently close by; to have appreciated New York for everything it is and isn't, and to not have longed for something different. I have no desire to be a nomad nor gypsy, despite how far my "globetrotting tendencies" have taken me. I'm simply working towards a destination that includes roots and routine alongside great love and adventure. Or at least trying to. And so few parts of the journey have been simple at all, and more often than not, the experience is isolating, but I do think I'm getting closer to contentment. I truly want that. And I hope with all my heart that the life I've created is leading me there.

So, please, don't playfully criticize the many mailing addresses. It's because I've tired of missing you that I need your support more than ever. You'll always have mine, you know. Besides, if it matters, I've never not wished you could've been there, too.

nos étoiles contraires

"I have a 30," my mom replied, "and a 45, and a 10. The first two are creams, the 10 is an oil, if you want it." "And I have a 30 spray" added Diane. We'd gotten to the beach early, and there was still a chill in the air; endless options for sun protection, too.

{Lake Tahoe, California}

That was this past Saturday, less than two days after I "officially" moved back to the United States.

Among other things, I'm going to have to get re-used to the plethora of choices in this country of mine. There are just so many--sunscreens, coffee orders, high fructose corn syrups, guns. We so closely align personal freedoms with the ability to independently choose what we take care of, and how we harm. It's quite different from particular French ideologies. This is not to say, of course, that the French don't fight their own battles with obesity, legislation, and the market economy... but differently, nonetheless.

Then there are other choices, at least for those of us who enjoy access to them. By mere chance, I've been lucky in that I was born in a country built on egalitarian ideals to a family that provided me with opportunities to develop my ideas about its imperfect realities. I've been lucky, too, to have had experiences to refine such criticisms abroad. They've made me want to come back, to do something about it, however small my individual prowess; and I can because forward-thinking ingenuity and innovation is rewarded here; encouraged even, with the support of those who I'm fortunate to have love me. That said, it makes reintegrating myself into Amurica all the more challenging. Reverse culture shock is such a thing. So this is where choosing how we perceive and react to that which we cannot control comes in, I suppose? I do hope I'm able to choose as wisely and softly as humanly possible.

The decisions that we so often define our lives by can be overwhelming. In my case, they've also been stressful as I'm almost always concerning myself with the right and wrong, better and best. Even still, I'm finding that these concerns were never meant to be part of the equation. Maybe what matters most is that we choose at all, to keep cultivating our selves and potential. Albeit thoughtfully.

By the way, I read a book on the beach: The [much acclaimed] Fault in Our Stars. It was kind of perfect reading; John Green's easy writing style with heavy subject matter that allowed me to make the most of my transition-amplified emotional tendencies. Not to mention it spoke to certain choices that are and have been close to my heart. "You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you." (Side note: I recently shared my thoughts on marriage on my friend's rooftop, how the trick is to keep choosing the one you love. I simultaneously realized how good of a friend he is to entertain my unmarried opinions). And thus, ideas were further sparked about what else we have the privilege in choosing. I ended up with SPF 30.

c'est normal

This time next week, I'll waking up in Paris. I can hardly believe it. These past two months have both dragged on and flown by. I've gotten used to "American" things that had startled me at first--the noise level, breadth of options, friendly customer service, and all-around enthusiasm. So soon I'm meant to settle back into my Franglish life while working on my nouvelle Americain thesis.

When we speak about culture, we usually refer to it as if it is inherent to both a people and a place. It's not. To put it simply: the cultures we know today have been created (imagined even) by repeated habits sprung from circumstances and resources; they've influenced norms we accept as Truth. Throughout my studies, while adapting to more than one set, I've questioned them as well.

I'm excited to critically dissect American identity from abroad. It might even be the most efficient way to do so--from the outside looking in, with an otherwise innate understanding. I hope to uncover something of value that lends itself to the complexities of how we define ourselves in a swiftly globalizing world. (Such a nerd). Only then will I graduate, move, and settle into stability.

Sometime this year, life will become significantly more normal. And yet, I know the very concept of "normality" is manufactured, too. My least favorite French phrase is: c'est normal. I've heard it said sarcastically, thereby eliciting a condescending judgement. But normal as defined by Ellen Goodman, for instance: "getting dressed in clothes that you buy for work and driving through traffic in a car that you are still paying for - in order to get to the job you need to pay for the clothes and the car, and the house you leave vacant all day so you can afford to live in it," isn't all that appealing. So I'll create my normal; one of adventure, comfort, frugality, and satisfaction. For the first time in a long time, whether by naivety or maturity, I believe it's not only possible, but necessary.

what paris taught me

I'm watching the most beautiful snow fall outside my window right now. Most of my family is still sleeping. I am happy to be home. And before I thought I would be, Paris and I spent a really nice week enjoying each other. I finally had the time to do so.

And reflect, too, on all the ways I've grown. I don't doubt that some of it has to do with unavoidable maturity, but other aspects feel as if they've resulted from my circumstances--an unattached American graduate student living in the City of Lights. In particular...

It's not all about me. I didn't consider myself self-centered before, but my gosh, how leaving the land of convenience is humbling. Most processes, critical and not, require ample paperwork and wait time. Very few to-dos are simple and quick, and almost none can be taken care of on a Sunday. Customer service is rarely of utmost important, at varying degrees. The city just does not function in every which way to make life easier for its residents or visitors. But, maybe that's okay. It keeps me on my toes, "suffering" through it like everyone else. I'm reminded how much of a privilege it is to do life there for a while. And it truly is.

Rest is a given, pleasure is a necessity. My modest self is letting go of indulgence-guilt. (1) Dessert is a staple. It might be as simple as fruit at home, but when eating out, it's silly not to partake in something sweet and special when it's already incorporated into the menu (2/3-course, prix-fixe). (2) Strolling is not a crime. The New Yorker in me may get frustrated with a slow pace, but walking without worry about time or destination is such a luxury. (3) Though I haven't experienced them myself, those generous vacation times really do exist. The French use them, too, and without any remorse. I wish the U.S. would follow suit.

I don't know it all. As much as I dislike the "what don't you like about the French?" question, my go-to answer is related to how often I've been lectured by strangers. It's one of the most frustrating frequencies. Should've, could've, would've is hardly productive to begin with. When paired with needless advice from adults I'll never see again, patience as a virtue reaches a whole new level.

Less is usually more. Already an observer, living abroad has encouraged me to be more so as I take note of foreign norms. One of which I've embraced gladly? The au natural look. I've been out and about virtually makeup-free countless times in the past year and a half; infinitely more often than I ever before. It's felt good to have developed more self-assured confidence in my appearance. Not to mention... a quicker morning routine! This is also true in shopping. For example, I've come to love how a tiny fridge calls for daily trips to the grocery store. It's encouraged mindfulness and creativity with meals and all around better budgeting.

As I figure out a new academic routine in an all too familiar home, there's no avoiding contemplation on these internal changes that don't quite fit into my native structure. And yet, I'm optimistic I'll be okay. It's not like c'est pas possible is an American phrase :).

essentiality

Hello from my parents' couch! Once again, "everyone" wants to know "how I feel" being home. Please note: I've been Stateside for 24 hours. I'd say not weird at all, but I have noticed abundance. And by abundance, I mean stuff, lots of it. It feels so different from my Parisian reality in which I reside in a tiny tv-less apartment and hardly ever buy anything I can't eat don't need. Of course, as much as I appreciate such a "simpler" life, I did take last week to indulge... in art. Lorelei and I spent an evening at Musée Rodin:

P.S. The photo above is actually from outside a gallery in Brussels, but I thought the French quote appropriate for this post, and the hustle and bustle of gift-giving season. Jet-lagged depth, I suppose ;) "Only unnecessary things are essential." -Francis Picabia

expat reflections

When I picked him up from LaGuardia Airport on the morning of June 21st, I was excited. It would be his first time in New York, and I got to be the one to show him around! I love forcing inspiring people to fall in love with places I live or have lived. It's a gift. He was over the moon, too. "NYPD!" he exclaimed as we entered the Van Wyck Expressway. I couldn't help but laugh.

I only realized how cool it was to grow up thirty minutes from Manhattan when I went away to college and met other Americans who couldn't go to the city whenever they wanted and didn't go at least a dozen times a year. Then I was exposed to what "being from New York" meant on the global scale, and let me tell you, the cool factor reaches a whole 'nother level. I don't mind it.

For instance, while interviewing at PageYourself, I briefed them on what brought me to Paris in the first place: I wanted to study global communications and I wanted to get out of New York, preferably by way of an ocean. My now-boss chuckled in response. "Parisians are dying to be in New York." And it's true. This is one of countless examples.

So, I obviously brought my German to the quintessential New York sights he's seen photos of his entire life. But I also wanted him to see my city, the people I spent my time with, the spots I frequented; and beyond that, to get to know my "thirty minutes from Manhattan" home. We climbed the stairs to the Kensico Dam, went to lunch at Playland, spent an afternoon in the Westchester Mall, and when we got home, my mom had made us a classic family dinner: spaghetti and meatballs, steamed broccoli, garlic bread.

In between getting all sentimental about how much I love where I come from and how much I love that he loved it, too, it was fun to ask him what stood out to him as being different, American, or New York:

1. Tattoos. I hadn't noticed it, but yeah, I guess biker dudes and wanna-be rock stars are less prevalent in Europe.
2. Great service. Waiters who take our order upon seating? Free coffee refills? Quickly cleared and cleaned tables? "Yes, sweetheart, we aren't in France anymore. Don't forget the tip."
3. Ice water. According to him, water is simply too cold to drink when you fill it to the brim with ice. Plus, more ice means less water. My mother's opposing argument: lukewarm is not refreshing and water glasses get refilled. (See above).
4. Obesity. He didn't outrightly tell me this one, I had to ask. And I did. Because even I was taken aback. It makes me sad to think of what a mess our food system is and the detrimental effects its having on not just small town USA but the world. 
5. Yoga pants. Though he goes to the gym, he'd never consider his workout clothes everyday-appropriate. Welcome to 'merica? We have to counteract the previous observation somehow. (Whereas in Paris, I was painfully aware of Sunday's outfit).
6. Friendliness. My German boyfriend was born and raised in Berlin, so he's a city kid. Strangers generally keep to themselves in cities--no passing "howdy" or "good mornings"--but somehow, we managed to encounter the exceptions. We had random conversations each time we road the elevator in Syracuse. And in Manhattan, on our way to my aunt's apartment, we were stopped by a woman who's question about where we'd gotten such a beautiful bouquet ("thanks for having us for dinner" flowers) led to a casual invite to her 60th birthday party. She was mostly kidding, but it was sweet.
7. Exposed fire escapes. He didn't mention them as "so American" until our Lower East Side afternoon. Safety looks good.
8. Air conditioning, everywhere. An idea worth spreading, that's all I have to say! The canicule may have gotten to me...

By the way, if you're wondering what inspired this post: this article + Parisian tour plans for my boyfriend's best friend from home.

the observer

During the academic parts of my time in London, we spoke a lot about branding. I'd never been interested in advertising, public relations, or marketing in the traditional sense, and to be honest, I'd only chosen to go on the study trip so the meetings with professionals could confirm my assumption that I didn't want to work in the private, commercial sector anymore. My trip didn't go as planned though. The challenge of branding an international corporation thrilled me. Cultural values and local customs were not only considered but valued as the intention of their concepts is to appeal to "everyone" without offending anyone. How interesting, and fun.

It makes complete sense that I think so. I promise I don't speak in third person often but there's a reason I am known as "danielle abroad." When I first started blogging, my unique angle was that I would be studying abroad for a year, yet danielle abroad came to define so much more than my online presence... it completely transformed how I identified myself. Having less than stellar speaking Spanish and French skills in addition to nearly fluent comprehension throughout my study abroad experience, I became a cultural observer—e.g. noticing the extent to which particular words are representative of the places and people they were born from. 

'

Recently, I learned that what I'd thought was just an insightful version of people-watching actually has a name: ethnography. So apparently I'm a huge fan of anthropologic research. As such, nerdy ol' me has opted to perform my first ethnographic study (and write the accompanying research paper) instead of taking the Global Communications final. The plan is to examine Verjus as an American wine bar in a city of bars à vins. Field work is necessary. Hey, I told you this is fun! ;)

P.S. I submitted one (of three) 8-page midterm papers yesterday and thereby also deserve wine. Wishing you a happy weekend wherever you may be.

solitude vs. loneliness

I live in a house with 43 girls and still manage to feel lonely. How can that be? Sometimes I simply need time to myself, to unwind, to regroup, a characteristic of people who are naturally introverted, and yet, others, I'm all by myself, wishing I had someone for company.

Besides the boy and my freshman year roommate, everyone is still here, but it's almost as if they're used to me not being here. They go through their daily lives without me, and much easier than I do without them. Does that makes sense? I'm not saying, of course, that they've all forgotten about me and now suck at being friends :) because that's so not true. It's just... different, a little more challenging, and I have yet to get used to it. Being pro-actively social, I mean. Finding my place again.

To pick myself up a little bit I'd like to reflect back to one day, about a year and a half ago, when I spent 8 hours wandering through the Parisian streets alone. It took place my second "Marie" visit over the week of my sophomore year spring break.

She had studying to do, French universities were holding exams the following week, and I was feeling confident, a surprise to both of us since my French was beginner-intermediate at best, so she helped me buy tickets and sent me off as I took the 40-minute train ride into Paris.

Exiting the Gare de Lyon, I should have been intimidated, nervous even, though I don't recall any of it. Without a map or any sort of itinerary, only with a French cell phone that was most certainly on it's last leg... I must have been feeling especially optimistic that day.

Through the unfamiliar neighborhoods I made my way over to the peaceful Île-St. Louis. Although mostly residential, I found myself drifting through cute boutiques and shops.

I actually ended up purchasing this bottle of Parisian Olive Oil that I keep preserved at home.

But let's not head back to reality just yet! Walking around the rim of the island I also got a gorgeous view of the Île de la Cité and the flying buttresses of the Notre Dame.

Then it was into a small café where I ordered a café and crêpe au chocolat in the best pseudo-French I could muster. It was such a decadent afternoon treat and I didn't mind dining solo one bit.

(And if you'd like to make a sweet French treat of your own, be my guest, I have the recette for you!)

Afterwards I crossed the bridge back to the left bank at St-Germain. How lovely it is to people watch and explore without any restriction of time or constraint of responsibility.

But alas, even the best of things must sometimes come to an end. I wanted to make sure I made it back to Melun, and Marie, before sunset. I did it too, found my way back to the original station, located my departing gate, and boarded the train as I left my Parisian paradise in blissful solitude.

What a wonderful day that was and certainly always will be. "Our language has widely sensed the two sides of being alone. It is created the word 'loneliness' to express the pain of being alone, and it has created the word 'solitude' to express the glory of being alone." But now that I'm home, now that I don't have to be either, I'd prefer to be neither for a change.