3 girls, 14 hours, 1 car, and South Dakota

Thursday, August 15th:
We rode into Minneapolis a little late yesterday night since we got a late start. But luckily we made it to have dinner with Emily and Kelsey, two girls who Jacki, Shannon, and I skated with at Michigan. We walked into downtown and had dinner on a rooftop bar called Brit's Pub that had lawn bowling. Shannon ordered a giant Crispin Honey Crisp complete with Honey comb at the bottom, a cider from Minnesota, while I, true to character, had a Fulton IPA from Minnesota. The others passed on the alcohol, but Shannon's cider was large enough for all to try. It was wonderful to catch up, and afterwards we got to stroll through a sculpture garden that included the Minneapolis spoon and cherry (I think this is a symbol of Minnesota - help me friends!). Kelsey's boyfriend Andy joined us at this point in the night, and he got the pleasure of being our camera man :) thanks Andy!! Afterwards we went back to Kelsey's apartment which is actually in a building that was the first hotel in Minneapolis - Oak Street Hotel. Here we literally stayed up (Shannon, Jacki, Kelsey, Andy, and I) for hours telling jokes and stories about college while laughing like hyenas. Poor Andy probably thought we were insane - but he was definitely a trooper. Five stars for Andy!

I think the best part of our trip to Minneapolis was the fact that it was a reunion. Some of us haven't seen each other in over two years. Regardless, it felt like yesterday. Emily still used her twenty question interview style to catch up on our lives, and Kelsey still pranced from place to place full of excitement, always ready with a hand motion or voice to satisfy the scene. I feel like this is the true meaning of friendship - being able to come and go, to be entirely yourself, and still have the time of your life together. We had the time of our lives just sitting at dinner in downtown Minneapolis, and then joking around at Kelsey's apartment. I feel so blessed to have created such strong friendships at Michigan, and it's not a surprise that those friendships were cultivated through early morning and late night synchronized skating practices. Would we have found our way to each otherwise? I'd like to think so, but thank god we don't ever have to find out. Anyway, where our friendships started isn't as important as knowing that they are still as strong, if not stronger than they were when they began. Thank you Minneapolis for giving us the chance to reunite, and for reminding us that space and time are minor obstacles for true friends like us. Love ya lots K-Traul, E-ham, and A-dawg (hope you like your new nickname Andy), and Miss you lots fellow UMSST Alumni.




Friday, August 15th
Somehow, we made it to South Dakota. We had to brave several Pro-Life signs, about a million signs for the Wall Drug, a gigantic department store that came with a map (no joke - there was actually a fold up map), a convoy of hay trucks, and a moving house. To endure these obstacles, we did mad libs, sang songs, listened to a terrible 12 dollar South Dakota info CD, failed at trivia, slept, and of course filmed ourselves. Our first major stop in South Dakota was the amazing Corn Palace - a gymnasium basically built out of corn. Inside there were drawings of Indian tribes and cowboys made out of dark and light corn. We thought it was a joke when we saw a sign for it, but when the sign said it was the world's only corn place, we obviously knew we would regret not stopping. The corn palace was everything we expected and more - it basically looked like Jasmine's castle in Aladdin. Finding this corn palace was like finding hidden treasure on a deserted island. It was 100% worth the detour:




After our corn palace detour, it was my turn to drive. I think Shannon and Jacki nearly flew out of their seats the first time I stepped on the gas since I pushed down way too hard. Don't worry parents who are reading this, I soon got used to Beatrice (yes that's the official name of Jacki's beloved yellow bug) and we got along much better. Our next stop was the long-awaited Badlands. And let me tell you - if you've never been, Go! Go right now. Or at least make plans to go ASAP. The only place I've ever been that was as breathtaking or godlike was India. But I guess that may be a little harder to get too. The trail we took through the badlands was a loop on exit 131 off I-90 west that took you on highwy 247. It wound up and into the highest heights of the badlands so you could look out over the summits. You could even climb up some of the rock structures at places where you could pull your car over and get out. I've never enjoyed driving so much in my life, and I felt amazed, awestruck, fascinated, and inspired all at the same time. There aren't really enough words in the English language to successfully capture the beauty of these structures. I guess you will just have to follow my advice and go see them for yourself, so that you can attempt to find the words. Because they left me speechless:








Eventually I got over my lack of words, since everyone knows that I can't really keep my mouth shut for more than 5 minutes (if that). After the Badlands we got ice cream at Wall Drug, basically South Dakota's version of Target, and drove the last hour to our hotel in the mountains. We were starving so we got out of our car and had some delicious buffalo at the restaurant next to our hotel. It is quite possible we made a scene at this restaurant since we were laughing so hard from our complete and utter exhaustion. However, thankfully, we were not removed from the establishment. Afterwards, Shannon used her outstanding skills of engineering to make our shower work so that I would no longer smell. Just kidding - I didn't smell, but a shower was welcome for all parties. Anyway, check back in a couple days for more on South Dakota (cough Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse cough)!




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Gordon St,Custer,United States

Snug in a Bug

And we're off! Our road trip started in West Bloomfield, MI with Jacki giving me the surprise of a lifetime. The last two weeks my friend Shannon has been telling me it will be a game time decision if she decides to come with us on the trip. At this point, sitting at Jacki's eating breakfast, and getting ready to leave, I expected it to just be us two. But suddenly, the doorbell rang, and in walks Shannon!! At first I thought she was just saying goodbye, but then she said she was coming. AND that she had been planning to come since July. Talk about the surprise of a life time - I was so happy! The three of is packed up Jackie's bug and we headed north.
First (unexpected) stop: Ann Arbor. We hadn't originally planned to stop there, but we were driving by it anyway and we just couldn't pass it up. As soon as we entered our beloved city, I felt an immediate sense of home. My heart filled with joy and I just felt like I still belonged there. When we walked through the diag, I remembered my days as a student and for a second wished I could be walking to History 260 one last time. It's never easy to create home, and it's hard to find a place where you feel completely 100% at home. But Ann Arbor became my beautiful home for four perfect years, and to this day I still feel like I belong there. Obviously we visited 715 Oakland Avenue, my physical home for 3 of those 4 years. It looked exactly the same, the porch swing still in excellent condition. I remember so many days sitting outside on that swing sipping on something waiting for our friends to arrive. Being back was a gift, but it made me think of my roommates who weren't there with me and Shannon. And as anyone who hung out with us knows, that house housed many a soul throughout the years, whether they stayed for a week or two, subletted, or permanently lived there. Each one of you made that house, 715, the black hole, whatever you want to call it, perfect. You made it my home, and you helped me grow. I thank you from the bottom of my heart.




Second stop: Chicago. After we proceeded to buy enough Michigan souvenirs to last us another year, we hit the road to head to Chi-town. Jacki assured me that I would love Chicago in the summer, since she knew I wasn't entirely in love with it. As a New Yorker, it is hard to fall in love with other cities. But this time, in summertime Chicago, I would open my heart to another city. Once we get into Chi-town, we hop on the bus and head to Oak Street Beach, a small beach surrounded by several tall buildings including the John Hancock building. It was gorgeous! There is no greater feeling than having your feet in sand with an entire city in front of you. While at the beach we each had a 312 Goose island beer, which I believe is brewed in Chicago. As always we created a scene with our Michigan pride. Afterwards we walked down Michigan Ave, stopping at Garrett's for popcorn along the way. Probably the best popcorn I have ever tasted. Our destination was the bean, since Jacki had never taken a picture with it. Once we took photos with the bean, Shannon had this brilliant idea that we should all have a Chicago style hotdog. Jacki and I were thinking "uhhh we like NOTHING on that hotdog." But Shannon wouldn't take no for an answer - and so the three of us shared this absolutely disgusting (sorry Chicago) Chicago Style hotdog. To say it was a once in a lifetime experience would be exactly correct, since I never plan to have one again. For reference:




After that catastrophe, we all went to walk down Navy Pier and have a drink. It was a lovely, LONG walk to the beer garden. Once we sat down and had drinks and water that clearly came from the gods (since it was $3.25), Jacki's friend Mindy joined us. After drinks, the three of us went on the Ferris wheel as per Jacki's wishes. Shannon and I were both reluctant, but saying no to Jacki is a pretty difficult task. Thank god we finally decided to listen to her, because it was wonderful! You could see the entire city from high above the water. The view was breathtaking. The only frightening moment was when Mindy almost dropped her phone off the Ferris wheel, seconds after someone said I wonder how many people drop their phones off this thing. After the Ferris wheel ride we all went to dinner at Bridge House Tavern, a restaurant with half price wine bottles on Wednesdays, and a riverside view. Who can beat that? Go Mindy!! Thanks for making our Chicago trip perfect :)

Only regret: forgetting to wear our YOLO hats.




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Chicago

What is Love?

At the tender age of 23 years old (almost 24), it is hard to really know what it means to truly love something or someone. I've always questioned the idea of being in love, of falling for another, and I have always wondered how you know. When do you know that you love him, her, or it? What does it feel like? How often does it come along? I feel like I ask myself these questions often, but until today I don't think I really knew the answers. I've always heard that true love is hard to find, and the luckiest of us experience it once in awhile. Today was the 25th Anniversary of my second synchronized figure skating team, Team Image. At this celebration, I felt love all around me. I may not have even known every person in that room, but we were bonded by a sport that we all fell in love with at one point in our lives. For each person in that room I believe I can say we found true love in the people we skated with, and in the sport we struggled to master. 

My love affair with figure skating began with Amy Mancini (originally Amy Pellicio), a woman I would grow to love and admire forever. She taught me how to skate, granting me one of the greatest gifts she could have ever given me. She was my role model, and I could never thank her enough for putting up with me and my temper tantrums. She actually introduced me to the world of synchronized skating, a world in which I would (eventually) flourish. When I started synchronized skating (then called Precision) at 8 years old, I did not enjoy it. I was too selfish, too young, and too immature to appreciate the blessing of having 15 other skaters on the ice with me sharing the spotlight. It would take several years, a lot of attitude adjustments from an entourage of coaches, and another remarkable woman to bring me to love synchronized skating. 

Sylvia Muccio returned me to the world of synchronized skating when I was 14 years old. When I first met Sylvia I was scared of her. I could hear her yelling on the ice and I thought I was done for. But I would eventually learn that her bark was much worse than her bite. Her constructive criticism and instructions came not from a place of malice, but a place of passion and true love. I would eventually ask Sylvia to choreograph my show programs for the Murray's Ice show because she challenged me to push the envelope. I never would have expected myself to wear pant suits or halter tops on the ice, but Sylvia was full of visions that truly brought out the best in all her skaters, including me. Sylvia challenged me to be a better skater every single day, and I thank her for that. Most importantly though, she taught me that there is no better gift in life than to be part of a team - a group of girls who love each other through all sorts of trials and tribulations. 

I went onto synchronized skate in college at the University of Michigan, and I believe I loved almost every second of it. My heart fills with the most overwhelming sense of joy every time I think of my days holding onto my teammates' shoulders. It brings tears to my eyes when I think of the happiness that I have been brought because of synchronized skating. It is my true love. When I step on the ice, or think of my days on my synchro teams, my heart feels like it is about to burst. It feels so full that I can't think of any way to describe it other than to characterize that feeling as love. To me, love is that overwhelming sensation of not being able to breathe that pushes you to challenge yourself and always, always reach for more. It can bring peels of joy, or bring you to tears, but regardless, it is love. It comes without warning, and when you finally realize you're in its clutches, there is absolutely no way to escape it. This is how I feel about synchronized skating - it challenged me, it pushed me, it left me utterly exhausted, it stressed me out, it disappointed me, it forced me to make difficult choices, and at some points caused me actual physical pain. But throughout all of this, synchronized skating has given me some of the greatest moments and greatest people of my life, starting with one remarkable, passionate, beautiful, forgiving, and loving woman. To Sylvia. 

Reaching for More

Meghan, Sandra and I crying in 2006 when Meghan went back to school

Anyone who has ever known me well knows that I cry. You know how some people are criers, and some people just aren't? I am a crier. The definition of a crier. I cry in movies, I cry when I see old people, I cry when I'm sad, I cry when I'm mad, I cry when it is entirely inappropriate to cry, I cry when someone yells at me, I cry when I hear a song with meaningful lyrics, I cry when I'm happy, I cry when someone dies, and I cry when I peel an onion. The worst for me is the TV shows, the movies, the strangers, that make me cry. I've always tried to figure out why I am this way and what about those scenes bring tears to my eyes.

Today I was watching an episode of Grey's Anatomy, and a girl name Jillian was brought in who had Stage 4 Cancer. She had left home with her best friend Rachel several years ago because she didn't want to grow up in an Amish community. She and Rachel could not return to the Amish community together because Rachel had already been baptized, meaning that she would have to be shunned. However, Jillian could return - and medically it was her best option. Rachel after much convincing let her go - and Jillian happily was able to see her parents again. Her parents earlier in the episode did not speak to Rachel because they were not allowed since she was shunned. However, after Rachel told Jillian to go home, Jillian's parents hugged Rachel and told her that they would communicate to her parents that she was well, and that she had grown into a fine young woman.

Now I know this doesn't sound like an exciting episode, or like there was very much sacrifice here. However think about how deep those parents had to dig to speak to, let alone hug Rachel, especially since their religion dictated to them that they had to shun her. These parents recognized the sacrifice Rachel was making and reached within themselves for more in order to face Rachel and give her the recognition she deserved. Again, if any of you know me you know I am not very big on religion. And yes I think it is insane that this person could have been shunned for leaving home. However, I do know the feeling of having to really dig deep to forgive someone, or to look beyond what someone has done to see the person they really are. I know how it feels to have to reach for that extra strength to either forgive, help someone out, or to merely just do the right thing. I think the moments that bring me the most tears are moments where I see people reach for more, see people dig deep and be bigger than they are. It is rare that we see moments of such beauty, and sometimes movies and TV shows have to remind us of them. But these moments are there! I strive to witness them every day because reaching for more is what we should do as people every single day. We should always give the very best we can and live the very best we can.

This year was a hard year for me, and I found myself in tears probably more than I would have liked to. I think it was hardest for me to witness people choose not to give that extra effort, when it was entirely within there power to do so. I cried when they didn't reach for more because I saw how it affected others. I live in New York City, a city that has a reputation for being unforgiving, rude, dirty, and busy. But today as I was riding the subway back from lunch with my mom, I saw beauty. I saw a clearly busy young woman give up her seat to a man who was blind in one eye and walked with a walker. I saw a man make sure to hold the subway doors open so that a young father could hold it open for his wife and 3 year old daughter who were still on their way down the stairs. I saw several people, of all different races, look at that man's joyful 3 year old daughter and smile. To me, this is beauty - witnessing a handful of people who chose to reach for more, and do more than that was required of them.

Every day I hope to reach for more. To give more than I take. I think that is all we can do.

Two years later: Forever, go blue!

I reopened this blog today to start a a new journey, one to go along with the cross country road trip I will be taking in a few days. Instead of finding a blank canvas, I found the two paragraphs below - written two weeks after I graduated from Michigan, but never published. It made me think back to how scared I was when I graduated, and how unsure I was about the future. Although I am still unsure, I am not as scared. Of course I worry about the decisions I make everyday, but where I am now has proven to me that its okay to say goodbyes, and its okay to move on. When I graduated from Michigan I feared I would never find the same happiness or the same niche again. However two years later and I am still best friends with the people whom I spent my last night at the beloved Ricks. I've also been back to Ricks, a few times actually. I am about to take the road trip of a life time with one, hopefully two of my best friends in the world - two best friends who I met at Michigan. I'm going with Jacki to Seattle to help her start her new life, and I couldn't be more proud of her. I remember two years ago thinking as I wrote the words below that I wouldn't see my friends as often. I remember equating my graduation with loss, and I remember choosing not to publish them because I was so afraid that the feelings I felt while writing would be true. I can publish them now because I know that my graduation was a new beginning, and that it opened up a world of opportunities for a lifetime of change. When I wrote the words below I imagined two of my best friends getting married one day, and hoped I would be in attendance. Now, two years later, I know those two best friends are getting married, and I know I will travel through any kind of weather to be there to witness it. And I know I will be sitting there in that church two years from now with tears streaming down my face. If I could go back now to my 21 year old just graduated self, I would tell her that it will be okay. That change isn't always bad, that she will meet tons of new people that will make her happy every day, and that her best friends will still be by her side - whether in body or spirit.  I would tell her that NYC is full of Michigan fans that love and breathe blue just as she did. And finally I would tell her to skip the fear. She's way too awesome to be scared.

The following was written 5/11/11, never published, and rediscovered today 8/6/13.....

Yesterday I graduated from the University of Michigan, and today I am unemployed and living with my parents in White Plains, New York. As I turned off the light to my room on the first floor of 715 Oakland Avenue, I couldn't help but let a few tears slip down my cheeks. Memories flashed in front of my eyes - pictures of people, places, and events that helped shape who I am today. Although I am no longer a student at U of M, or a resident at 715 Oakland Avenue, or an avid patron of Rick's American Cafe, these places have shaped me in so many ways. I have grown to love the sweaty, stale beer smell of Ricks, the black hole that is 715, and the unpredictable weather that defines the state of Michigan. Sadly, usually when you realize how much you love something, someone, or somewhere, it is time to say goodbye.

Last night as the last few chords of Kenny Roger's the Gambler resonated, I took a look around at my fellow classmates jumping up and down screaming the lyrics that will always remind me of my days as a student at U of M. I saw faces full of hope, love, fear, and happiness. I saw faces of people who are unsure of their futures, but who will tear ahead with courage. Each person in attendance at Ricks on graduation night was well aware they would be leaving something behind in Ann Arbor, and I am sure that each person fought hard to find a way to make time slow down. As the clock struck 2 Am, our hearts filled with happiness for the moments we did have the opportunity to share, and they filled with remorse for the moments we would never get back.

Goodbye, Hello

Goodbyes are never easy, especially when I am involved. I have never experienced a goodbye that did not involve at least a couple tears. Leaving India was no exception. I cried when a group of people left at 4 AM, I cried the day before everyone left when we were driving to the temples with Ramesh and Baldev, and I cried the entire ride to the airport, and most of the first plane ride to Mumbai. The people around me most of thought I was psychotic. I am so bad at goodbyes because I get attached to places, memories, and friends really easily - which is pretty ironic considering I can never hold onto a romantic relationship for more than a month or two without getting bored. Go figure.

But leaving India was one of the hardest things I have ever experienced. Leaving Ann Arbor or White Plains is sad, but I always know they will be there when I get back. I also have email addresses and phone numbers of all my college and high school friends. The people I met in India do not have Internet, and they live nearly 7,000 miles from me. I may never see them again (even though my horoscope did say I would return to India in 1.5 years). Although I have phone numbers for a bunch of my Indian friends, that does not mean there are not astronomical international phone charges. I guess what makes it even harder is that if I do keep in phone contact with a couple of them (cough Naresh cough), still who knows if I will see him again? And isn't it worse to keep up contact without the possibility of meeting again? Or is that the point - to hope to meet again without any expectations? I don't know.

My month-long excursion in India was a learning process, and I would never give a second of it back. I loved nearly everyone I met there, and I believe almost everyone I met had something to offer or to teach me. Don't get me wrong, not every minute was perfect or wonderful. There were situations that were frustrating, and times where I wanted nothing more than to turn on some music, be by myself and eat a burger. But those times were few and far between. I know I will miss the nights I spent staring at the stars while listening to the chords of Louis' guitar, with everyone talking and laughing about whatever was on our minds. I made some best friends by the end of the month, and luckily some of them I will get the opportunity to see again. But there will never be a night-sky or a palace balcony like there was in Dhrangadhra. The nights we drove into town in Naresh's rickshaw to get ice cream, and the detours we took to his family's house or to walk in the gardens and smoke a cigarette are also some of my favorite memories. I hope to be able to remember the smell of smoke and cow shit mixed with frying panchea that surrounded the rickshaw as we would drive down the streets - but I can't know I will.

I wish you could just slow down time - video tape sound, smell, feelings, and thoughts - so that you could just go back in time and stay there for a while. The best part about that would be that you could come and go as you please. But everyone knows that life is not like that. Life would not be life without goodbyes, hellos, endings, or beginnings. And if things never ended, would anything be worthwhile? If I never had to leave Dhrangadhra, would I have been able to savour the experience as much as I did? Probably not. As much as I wish it didn't end, I would never know how much I loved India or the people I met within it if I hadn't been forced to leave. You never know how much you love something until it is gone. But thankfully, now I have a family in India and a family in Pennsylvania to add to my repertoire. And if I start missing my friends in Dhrangadhra, I just have to close my eyes and think back to that last day with the staff going from temple to temple - being tired, but never wanting it to end for fear that when it did end it would mean it was really time to go home. And I know I never wanted to go home.

Monkeying Around

You know how I always said I wanted to tryout for the real world? Turns out I don't need to anymore because I am currently in Real World: Dhrangadra, but instead of having 7 strangers I have 13. Being stuck in a palace during siesta hours (the hottest part of the day) really causes peoples' true thoughts/feelings/actions to come out. It is actually kind of amusing.

Yesterday we found two monkeys on the top of our palace. For an hour at least we watched tried to get them to come down by throwing rocks at them. They eventually came swinging down and we scattered every time for fear that they would start chasing us. Not going to lie, it was pretty exhilarating. At the same time the sky got very dark, and it looked like rain clouds were coming in. But of course we are in the middle of a heat wave, so none of us expected the rain that appeared within the next half hour. Apparently it was the first time it had rained in 6 months. It was incredible - the sky was gorgeous because as the sun set it was still dark with the hint of rain clouds. People who were in town when the rains started said that the kids all ran into the middle of the street jumping up and down and screaming with joy. I kind of wish I had gotten to see that. I thought the rain was fantastic, and secretly I hope we have a small scale monsoon so that I can call Camp Hillard and say I can't come into work because I am stuck in India in a monsoon. That is an excuse if I have ever heard one!

Funny story: If any of you know me, a lot of people at school make fun of me for being able to walk anywhere and run into at least five people I know on the way, and actually stop and have a conversation with each of them. Well, last week (at least I think it was last week but who knows since sense of time is pretty much out the window right now) I was riding in a rickshaw with Diana and Kelly, and walking down the street I see the wife of Mehule (the music instructor). I waved to her and she waved back! I ran into someone I knew on a random street in Gujarat, India. Freaking great. Also, every time we go to Vadilal for ice cream (a place similar to a soda pop shop) we see Naresh (whose other name is Manu) - the coolest rickshaw driver. He just is able to find us nearly every time we go somewhere. Its pretty awesome.

Last week I got henna on my left arm and both my ankles/feet, but it is starting to fade. I may decide to get my hand done again before I go back home but I am not sure. I think we are all pretty henna-ed out right now. I believe I have also hit around the 1000 picture mark, or at least that is what my Iphoto tells me. Get ready for some epic facebook picture albums when I get back. It is hard to believe we only have a week and a half left here. I feel like we just got here! I already know that it will be terribly difficult to leave this place and the people I have met here behind. I mean where else will I get to fall asleep outside on the balcony of a palace on a cot under the stars listening to the lone chords of a guitar?