Why I Came Home

Why I Came Home

I am sitting in my temporary home in Ursus district of Warsaw Poland, having just spent 2.5 months back home in Warren, Ohio after leaving Bali, Indonesia in mid-November.  Why?  Simple…my brother, Mark and my sister-in-law, Lori.  Did I come home to see them for the holidays?  Not really, as I hadn’t spent the holidays in the USA in 7 years.  I came because they had turned a dream into a reality.  The historic Robins Theatre in our hometown…opened in 1923…..closed in 1974….sat vacant for 45 years….was re-opening January 9, 2020.  It was re-opening because Mark, Lori and a crew of dedicated workers spent 2 years restoring it to its original glory.  Although he had developed other areas of our downtown, the Robins Theatre was the crown jewel of his vision.  Mark and I had always been close growing up.  He will always be my best friend.  Lori and I worked together for years at the local YMCA and that’s how she met Mark.  There was no way I was going to miss sharing this evening with them.

How do you begin to describe the most amazing evening of your life? I keep an album of quotes. One I look at frequently is “What a wonderful thought it is that some of the best days of our lives haven’t happened yet!” I’ve had some pretty amazing moments/days/nights. I have sipped champagne at the top of the Eiffel Tower at midnight with who I thought was the love of my life, my bff and her hubby.  I have overnighted on Mount Everest Base Camp where I witnessed the most glorious sunset. I’ve dined at the Captain’s Table on a cruise ship somewhere in the Mediterranean.  I’ve walked the same path the Dalai Lama walked in the Potala Palace in Tibet. I’ve climbed the Great Wall of China and visited the DMZ between North and South Korea.  I’ve stood at the Gate to Heaven at Pura Lempuyang, Bali and have seen the 2200-year-old Terracotta Army of Emperor Qin in Xi’an, China.  In 2002, I watched the funeral procession of the Queen Mum in London.  I’ve ridden a camel in the Gobi Desert, had an “elephant massage” in Thailand, visited Angkor Wat and exhumed, cleaned and prepared a body for cremation.  The list could go on, but right now nothing can top January 9, 2020.

Mark is a structural engineer by trade.  A little over 2 years ago he purchased the Robins Theatre in our hometown, Warren, Ohio.  Prior to that, he had developed several other properties in the downtown area, including 10 condos and some restaurants.  But the Robins Theatre would be the star, the House That Mark (and Lori) Built.  Living in China for those 2 years, I was always excited when he sent me updates, photos and news articles about the Robins.  It seemed all of Trumbull County was getting excited.  I was too.  It was also bittersweet, as the 2 people, our mom and dad, who would be most proud, where no longer with us.

I arrived on November 15, 2019, and my life was a whirlwind of activity.  With a 13-hour time difference from Bali to Ohio, I only slept about 2 hours that first night/morning.  I know Mark is an early riser and would be at the theatre as time was getting close to the “soft opening”


Sure enough, I found him in coveralls and a bandana at 6:30 am working on last-minute details for the December 7th trial run.  I was “blown away” is an understatement.  From a paint peeling, broken down, dilapidated building, to the hidden gem it was…..it was breathtaking!.  The “soft opening” took place with a few minor glitches, but it had NE Ohio buzzing about January 9, 2020.  The theatre also held 2 Christmas Eve Services which were attended by nearly 2000 people.  The city couldn’t wait for the Grand Re-Opening.

The big night is getting close, the grand piano has been delivered and is centre stage.  Much to everyone’s surprise, Mark sits at the piano and begins to play.  A talent no one knew he had.  He had studied with a woman who had trained students for the Metropolitan Opera, Audrey Benedict.  I wouldn’t write this here except a video of Mark playing got out to the news.  He studied under her for 11 years.  At the age of 12, she enrolled him in a 4-year course from the Sherwood School of Music in Chicago.  Between the ages of 10 and 16, he won four local, three district, three state and 2 national piano titles.  He also won a Beethoven, Bach and Sonatina national piano guild title in each category.  But the stage January 9th was not about him.

January 9, 2020, finally arrives with headliner Big Bad Voodoo Daddy and 3 local musicians with National Fame, Dana Morgan, Cheryl Warfield and Dennis Drummond.  But they would have to wait…wait until the true stars were introduced.  First, I need to backtrack.  The night was like the Oscars.  The marquee was lit and flanked by spotlights seen for miles.  The red carpet was laid because all of Warren, Trumbull County and NE Ohio were the stars. Swag bags were passed out by the high school football players.  It was a black-tie night and I was in my gown.  I live just around the corner from the theatre, a one-minute walk at most.  At about 6 pm, a white stretch limo pulls up and Mark, in his tuxedo, gets out of the car and walks to me.  He puts his arms around me, and I immediately start to cry.  This is the night he has been waiting for.  He escorts me to the limo and once inside, pours me a glass of champagne and says, “here’s to mom and dad”.  The limo pulls away and drives around the block and Mark, Lori and I, along with our family and friends walk the red carpet to the most amazing night of my life.

The theatre is buzzing, people are oohing and ahhing and I know my brother is behind the curtain.  He told me as he stood back there, the pride he felt was unparalleled in his time on this earth.  He walked out to a standing ovation.

The theatre was at capacity (1350) and they all stood for him, but as he soon told them, not for him but for every single person who had a hand in the restoration.  He then, one by one introduced his tuxedo-clad crew.  They walked head held high and proud across the stage as he introduced each one and told what their part in the restoration was.  Then, he asked if everyone liked the chandelier and all the bling in the theatre.  Hands clapped and patrons yelled yes as he introduced the person responsible, the “person near and dear to his heart”, his wife, Lori.  It truly was a night to remember and the best night of my life, so far!




Goodbye, 2019! Hello, 2020! My Year in Review!

Goodbye, 2019!  Hello, 2020! My Year in Review!

It’s twelve o’clock noon, December 31, 2019. I don’t make resolutions for the new year. I try every day to live my best life. I do, however, like to take time to reflect on the past year and how blessed I have been, to focus on the beautiful people who have crossed my path, the adventures I have had, the places I have visited and really be thankful for all of these things.

Surin Beach, Phuket, Thailand ~ VW Bar

2019 was a great year for me! In January, I travelled to Surin Beach, Phuket Thailand. I was fortunate to find a wonderful family to stay with at Muchshima House. They welcomed me to their homestay and in the short time, I was there, became part of the family. They drove me to the beach in the morning, taught me to make traditional Thai dishes, my favorite being green Thai curry. They took me to the local night market to sample more traditional foods. It was the perfect start to 2019 and to leave my broken back of 2018 behind me.

February I celebrated my last Chinese New Year in the country I had called home for 4 years. Celebrating CNY in China is an experience I won’t soon forget. I loved the 4 years I lived in China. I am fortunate to have travelled more of the country than most people who live there. Although, I never really mastered the language. A language based on tones I couldn’t hear. I learned to speak the basics, numbers, directions and food but found learning to read the 汉字 (han zi) or Chinese characters a bit easier. I knew this would be my last Chinese New Year in the Middle Kingdom as I had begun the process of obtaining a work visa for Poland. Yes, I am going back to Europe to live for a while. I had always planned to stay somewhere in SE Asia, most likely Vietnam, when I left China, but Poland just fell into my lap and I decided why not?!

Not many people who say they will come visit you in a foreign land actually do. Well, in March and for the second time, my friend Debbie, who in 2017 came to meet me and we travelled to Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam, came to see me in China. We hung out in Beijing and where believe it or not practically had the Mutianyu section of the Great Wall of China all to ourselves. After a couple of days in Beijing, we flew to Seoul, South Korea for a whirlwind tour including the DMZ. Back in China, we headed to Xi’an and the Terracotta Warriors before returning to Dong’e, the town in which I was living.

April was a quiet month and life in Dong’e consisted of tutoring my kids in English, eating noodles, aka Lanzhou LaMian and getting my $5 per hour massages. I needed some downtime because after a broken back caused me to cancel a trip to Paris in September of 2018, May was the month I would meet my cousins and my friend Teri in Paris. We did most of the typical Paris tourist stuff since it was Bob and Sally’s first time, but then we took a couple days for some mad fun in Amsterdam, a first for the cousins and also Teri. Then it was back to Paris for a few more days. This trip also let me add country number 37 to my list as I scheduled my flight for a long layover in Qatar so I could take some time in the capital city of Doha. My second time in the Middle East and for the second time I arrived during Ramadan. It was still a most amazing experience as a friend from the states had a friend who’s daughter was living in Doha, so she was my tour guide.

June…time to wrap up life in China. It was a bittersweet month filled with dinner invites and farewell parties. I had spent two and a half years living in Dong’e whereas I only spent 6 months in the other cities I had lived in. My China life had been good to me, but it was time to move on. You don’t realize how much you accumulate in that amount of time. Decisions, decisions, decisions…what to keep, what to leave behind. My plan was to spend 3 weeks in Vietnam on my way to 4 months in Bali. I can only travel with what I can carry so that meant I shipped 6 boxes of “stuff” including all my “winter” clothes back to the USA and 1 box of school supplies, books, etc. to Bali. Microwave, toaster oven, air fryer, more clothes and shoes, all had to stay behind in China. Luckily for me, when Chinese people get together for a meal/party, it is always a feast, so I didn’t have to worry about making sure I got to eat all my favorite foods before I left. Saying goodbye to my students and their families was difficult and lots of tears were shed. They had become my family. After all the goodbyes had been said and the tears wiped dry, it was time to move full steam ahead to Vietnam.

I started off in Saigon, which it is still called by the locals, although its official name is Ho Chi Minh City. I stayed in the guesthouse I have stayed several times. It is right around the corner from my favorite pho shop. Yes, I ate pho, every.single.day! It is my crack. Then, I wanted to travel to HoiAn. I’m not sure why I thought taking a 24 hour bus would be fun, but I bought my tickets and off I went. The bus had sleeper seats, but being old, chubby and having had a broken back it wasn’t the most comfortable ride. Not to mention the only restroom breaks were whenever the bus decided to stop. No matter, I arrived in HoiAn around 6 am. I messaged my host at my homestay who met me at the bus stop. Since my room wouldn’t be available until around noon, he took me to his sister’s home so I could shower and rest until my room was ready. I loved HoiAn and decided to cancel my return bus ticket, stay a few more days and then fly back to Saigon. I planned to visit a friend I had met in 2016 but she had moved to Singapore. My time in Vietnam was winding down…next stop Bali, Indonesia.

There is nothing like stepping off the plane in Denpasar, Bali. I’ve always described it as a feast for the senses. My driver met me at the airport and off we went to Kenari House and my Balinese Family. Remember my friend Debbie who came to visit me in China in March? Well, she and her husband and another couple travelled to Bali in mid-August to spend 10 days with me at Kenari House. It was an amazing time.

Come September, it was time for me to move to another homestay as I was going to spend 6 weeks volunteering at a school for special needs children. I worked with so many amazing people and met the beautiful children and their families at Yayasan Widya Guna School in Bedulu, Bali, an experience that touched my heart and soul.

Yayasan Widya Guna School for Special Needs

I also took a long weekend mid-September and flew to Singapore I was happy I was able to visit my friend from Vietnam. After 6 weeks at the school, I returned to my Balinese family at Kenari House. Bali has stolen my soul and my Kenari House family is my family. I will return as soon as I can. Loving my Bali life, I still hadn’t purchased a ticket back to the USA. Finally, at the beginning of November, I made a plan…..

After 53 hours, missed flights, Visa problems, cancelled flights and long layovers, my Peliatan, Bali, Indonesia home 9964.3 miles behind me, I arrived home in Warren, Ohio, USA. For the first time in 7 years, I would be returning to my hometown for the holidays and more importantly for the Grand Re-Opening of my brother’s historical theatre. I have gotten comfortable spending Christmas abroad including 4 years in a communist country, predominantly Buddhist and therefore does not celebrate Christmas….China. My first Christmas abroad, I spent in Paris, France. The next year I was also in Paris, but on Christmas Eve I decided to catch a train and spend it in Amsterdam. My Christmas’ in China brought me some of my most memorable experiences, but there is something about coming home and spending time with family and friends. Not that I didn’t have friends abroad, but those are friends for a season and most I will probably never see again. When you come back to your roots, the ties that bind are tight. The most beautiful thing is being able to pick up right where you left off as if not a day has passed.

So what’s it really like coming home for the holidays? It’s complicated, it’s hard, it’s chaotic and it’s wonderful!

Goodbye, 2019, you have been good to me! Hello, 2020! I can’t wait to experience whatever you have in store for me! From a flag, I saw in Bali and my mantra for 2020, “Free your spirit and dance with life!”


My Bali Life

My Bali Life

Bali…Island of the Gods…Island of a Thousand Temples…The Last Paradise…whatever name you choose to call it, Bali is a feast for the senses. Stepping off a plane in Denpasar, day or night, the first thing you notice is the warm, humid air almost immediately turning to moisture on your skin. Yes, it is the same in all tropical destinations but in Bali, it is just the beginning. Since I am talking about “feeling” Bali on your skin, I do highly recommend Balinese massage. Balinese massage is a full body holistic treatment. It uses a combination of gentle stretches, acupressure, reflexology and aromatherapy to stimulate the flow of blood, oxygen and “qi” or energy to bring a sense of well-being, calm and relaxation. It is also a bargain at anywhere between 70,000 and 120,000 rupiahs or $5 to $10 per hour.

After clearing customs and grabbing your luggage, you are met by your local driver. Wow, men in skirts… correctly called a kamen and on their heads an udeng (symbolizing a clear mind). You soon notice men and women all around you in colorful, traditional Balinese dress. Along with a kamen, women will be wearing a kebaya (lace jacket) and an anteng or sash around the waist. So, off you go with your driver and the next thing you notice is the sight and sound of motorbikes aka scooters everywhere. With close to 3 million registered scooters on an island 90 miles long and 50 miles wide (2176 sq. mi) they are hard to miss. If you plan on renting a scooter while in Bali, be sure to get your international driver’s license before arrival, it’s mandatory along with wearing a helmet. Fines can be steep and it’s not unusual for foreigners to be pulled over for seemingly no reason.

So, you have left the busy, capital city of Denpasar and arrive at your destination, most likely Ubud or a beach town such as Canggu, Kuta or Seminyak. Although 88% of Indonesia is Muslim, Bali is 85% Hindu and you will see symbols of the religion and culture everywhere you look. You will probably notice statues wearing a black and white checked cloth called a saput poleng which symbolizes the coexistence of opposites and the ultimate goal of harmony. The Balinese people believe that joy will always be balanced by sorrow, that good and evil exists in the world and everyone. They embrace the differences because they create balance and harmony.


You will see many split gates or Candi Bentar which are an important feature in Balinese temple architecture. They mark the entrances of the temples or puras in Balinese, drawing a line between holy grounds and the outside world. Legend tells us that Lord Shiva split the mythical Indonesian Mt. Meru (home of the gods) into 2 halves which became Gunung Agung and Gunung Batur, Bali’s 2 primary volcanoes. It is believed that the candi bentar represents the 2 halves of mythical Mt. Meru. Sadly, in my humble opinion, because of Instagram, the most famous candi bentar is at one of Bali’s oldest and most sacred temples ~ Pura Lempuyang and is nicknamed “Gate to Heaven”. If you have any interest in Bali, I’m sure you have seen photos of the now-famous Gate to Heaven that frames the peak of Gunung Agung. I say sadly, because when I first visited Pura Lempuyang almost 2 years ago, I was one of maybe 6 people at the temple. This year, August and October 2019, there was a 2 hour and an over 3-hour wait respectively to take a photo between the now Instagram famous “Gate”. Many are also surprised/disappointed to discover there is no lake or water at the gates but merely a camera trick of placing a mirror beneath the camera lens so that the picture appears to be reflected on non-existent water. Not only that, but you must hand your phone over to a “local” photographer with a donation so he will snap your photo and you get 3 poses. I personally find the Gate to Heaven stunning without the Instagram sham of water. I also feel that most people are there to get that all-important Instagram shot and forget or maybe don’t even know that Pura Lempuyang is one of Bali’s six major temples known as Sad (six) Kahyangan (place of Gods) or that it is only one of seven temples in the complex. Whether you choose to take a number and wait for the “shot” or not, the temple is well worth a visit just for the view of Gunung Agung, but please respect the fact that it is a sacred place to the Balinese.

With over 25,000 species of plants in this tropical climate, you may next notice the flora. The vivid colors of bougainvillaea and lotus flower then the sweet scent of my favorite the frangipani are everywhere you turn. Flowers are an important piece of Balinese culture. As part of their everyday life, they are used in the offerings or Canang Sari. Canang is a small woven basket from palm leaves and sari means essence. Broken down further can = beauty (like you feel the view) nang = purpose and sari = source. Typically, a family places about 15 offerings per day, more on special ceremony days. The canang sari is handmade daily and it is considered self-sacrifice with the time it takes to make the offerings. The offering must have certain elements representing the Trimurti or 3 major Hindu gods; white lime for Shiva, red betel nut for Vishnu and green gambier plant for Brahma. On top of these are placed petals. White petals facing East for Iswara, red petals facing South for Brahma, yellow petals facing West for Mahadeva and blue or green facing North for Vishnu. The offerings also can contain food items, rice, crackers small cakes, etc. Along with an incense stick, these offerings are placed with a prayer ritual to deliver the sari (essence) of the canang to heaven. A flower dipped in holy water is sprinkled over the canang along with a spoken prayer as in a symbolic merging of earth, fire, wind, and water. The smoke from the incense carries the essence of the offering to the gods. These offerings are to maintain balance and peace on earth amidst good and evil and between heaven and hell. Within this ritual is an understanding that both positive and negative energies exist in the world. It is up to us to seek balance and harmony in our personal lives, in our community, and in the world. What appears to be a simple basket of flowers is really an important part of Balinese life.

Outside of the roar of motorbikes, you will also hear the entrancing sound of gamelan music. The gamelan is the traditional ensemble music of Javanese, Sudanese and Balinese in Indonesia, made up of mostly percussive instruments. The predominant instrument is the metallophone which is played using a mallet. I have been fortunate to attend gamelan lessons with the children from my homestay.

Gamelan is played on formal occasions, during many traditional ceremonies and as an accompaniment to Balinese dance. For most, gamelan is an integral part of Balinese culture. Certain pieces are believed to have magic powers and can be used to ward off evil spirits. Interestingly, gamelan is also used in the Catholic Church of Indonesia. Another sound that I relate to Bali is the sound of the tokay gecko. Nocturnal, you will hear them “barking” at night. You will also need to get used to seeing them wandering across your walls and ceiling.


I said earlier, Bali is a feast for the senses. I have covered sight, smell, hearing, and touch. That leaves taste, the taste of Bali. Ketut, from my homestay family was a chef before they opened their homestay. That means I learned a lot about Balinese foods and traditional spices during my stay. I love the spiciness of the food in Bali and that sambal comes as a condiment with most dishes. Sambal is a blend of chilis and spices. There is no one recipe and it can be prepared a hundred different ways. It is definitely a food staple in Bali. A few of my favorite foods are nasi and mi goreng (nasi meaning rice, mi meaning noodles and goreng meaning fried), pisang (banana) goreng and the easy to grab street food nasi jinggo which is rice, meat, vegetables and condiment, usually a type of sambal all wrapped up in a banana leaf. I can’t forget about the sate ayam (chicken), babi (pork) and kambing (goat) all topped with peanut sauce. Of course, no trip to Bali is complete unless you try the babi guling or suckling pig.

Oh, and I must mention the avocados (sometimes as big as my head, well, almost). You haven’t tasted avocado until you eat one plucked right off the tree. The same holds true to eating the fruits….mango, papaya, dragon, guava….there is nothing like it! Another personal favorite, right up there with pho and Lanzhou LaMian, is mi ayam which is actually an Indonesian dish versus Balinese, but an almost daily menu item for me.

Bali, you feed my senses and you have stolen my soul. Until next time. I’ll leave you with the traditional Balinese greeting… spoken with hands clasped in front of the chest in a relaxed prayer position …. “Om Swasti Astu” or “peace and greetings from God” and the traditional goodbye… “Om Santih Santih Santih Om” or to wish you “peace in body, speech and mind”.

Do You Hate Being Back?

Do You Hate Being Back?

I left Bali just over a week ago. I left 90 degrees and wall to wall sunshine to spend 53 hours in planes, trains and automobiles to arrive in grey, chilly NE Ohio.  The temperature was hovering around the freezing point, my plane touched down around midnight in Cleveland, the gate wasn’t ready, and we had to wait about 20 minutes on the plane. Welcome to Ohio.  I finally got off the plane and got my plastic-wrapped broken bag (one wheel and the handle had come off) and was greeted by my friend Cathy with a pizza from our local pizza joint, Sunrise Inn.


Boy did that taste good as I settled in for the approximately 70-minute drive home.  Home ~ a condo I had not yet lived in, that was stacked with boxes of “stuff” I hadn’t seen in several years. My sofa and bed freshly steam cleaned were also waiting for my arrival.  My condo is in a building in the downtown area of the city where I grew up.  I knew we wouldn’t have any trouble finding a parking spot at 2 am.  The problem being, my suitcase weighed in at 27 kilos or nearly 60 lbs and my condo is on the 3rd floor of an old, but newly remodelled building with no elevator (it does have a chair lift) and it is 42 steep stairs to my front door.  Lucky for me, the bar in the basement of the hotel a few doors down was still open.  Nick the bartender gladly and with ease, I might add, carried it up the 42.  You would think after over 2 days of travel I would be ready to crawl into that bed.  Wrong!  It was sometime between 4 and 4:30 am that I finally dozed off only to awaken again at 6:30 am.  And so it begins…….#mywarrenlife!

Not able to go back to sleep, I got up, ate some Sunrise pizza, found my electric kettle, the coffee I brought back from Bali, put some shoes on, headed down the 42, out the door and down the street to the Best Western to get some condiments for my coffee. Thanks, Pia!  Back up the 42, coffee made may as well start opening boxes, etc.

My brother was in town as he has taken on a huge renovation project of a local theatre which has been closed since 1974.  I knew he would be up and working so I shot him a text and he was indeed at the theatre.  He told me I should head down to the Sunrise (the restaurant of my prior night’s pizza) for breakfast.  One nice thing about downtown living is the ability to walk to many places.  It was a sunny morning and I took a 10-minute stroll down to the Sunrise.  It was great seeing my brother and sister-in-law after over a year and a half.  Next, it was off to the theatre for a peek at the renovations, a visit to FattyCakes Soap Company (owned by a friend) and then into Nova Coffee Company (next to my building) for more caffeine.  Little did I know what the day had in store for me.  My friend Teri then picked me up and off we went to start some day drinking at the Buena Vista Café, known locally as the BV.

From there I met my brother and sister-in-law for dinner at a new wine bar in town called CharBenays Wine on the River (proprietors being Char and Ben).  Then I made my way to the restaurant that I live above, Jacked and finally ended the evening with cocktails at Speakeasy in the basement of the Best Western with Nick the bartender that hauled my luggage up the 42.  All I know is I was a bit tipsy and exhausted when I climbed back up the 42 and into bed.  All this and I had only been back in town for less than 24 hours.

At some point over the course of the next few days, I was asked, “Do you hate being back?”  I actually had to stop and think for a few seconds before answering.  First, hate is a strong word, so no, I don’t hate being back, but yes, there are things I don’t like about being back.  Most people complain about Ohio weather this time of year, but I have been lucky, and it has been rather mild so far, so no complaints on that.  I love my condo; I love downtown living and I love what is happening in downtown Warren. What do I not like about being back?  First let me say that Warren, Ohio is probably one of the cheapest places in the country to live.  That being said, I was quickly reminded that I don’t like the cost of goods.  A trip to the Dollar Store cost me over $50 for what would have most likely been less than $10 in China.

I got very used to fresh fruits right off the tree in Bali that were bursting with flavor.  By the time a mango arrives in Warren, Ohio, it has probably artificially ripened on a slow boat from somewhere and lacks that juicy deliciousness.  Can you even get a bowl of soup for $3 or under?  I have gotten very used to paying about 45 cents for a big bowl of noodle soup.  Food, in general, wasn’t what I had hoped for.  The places I have lived don’t sell things in cans or boxes and they don’t have preservatives.  My stomach has not liked eating since I have returned.  Of course, coming back around the holidays and after nearly 2 years of being gone, everyone wants to meet for food and drink, so I’m sure overindulgence is a big part of the problem.  Driving…..I DON’T LIKE DRIVING.  Of course, I didn’t like driving before I left either so maybe that doesn’t really count.  I had gotten used to walking 5 to 10 km (3 to 6 miles) a day in Bali.  At least living downtown, I do walk a few blocks to local establishments, but here, driving is a necessity that I don’t like.

The thing that I really don’t like about being back is I miss the simplicity of life.  Life here just seems more complicated.  Life is a big timetable of schedules and deadlines.  Even when I was working in other countries, I didn’t feel like I was a slave to the clock.  People just seemed more casual about time, whereas here, everyone seems to always be rushing around. Unpacking my boxes and looking at my stuff still in storage, I ask myself, why do you have all this stuff?  I’m not talking about things I have brought back from my journeys, but do I really need 50 wine glasses? Or more clothes than all the students at my school combined?  Really, 12 pairs of jeans?  I have 4 fancy espresso machines, a French press, a portable espresso maker, an electric kettle and 4 Vietnamese phins, when in Bali I was used to ground coffee put in a cup with hot water, just don’t drink to the bottom.  I did also have my French press, but that was all I needed.

I learned to get by with less, to live simply.  I wore only what I could carry with me, I ate what the locals ate.  I thought I missed the food I couldn’t get where I was living.  Now I find myself missing foods from China, Vietnam and Bali.  I felt healthier.  I miss the nights of sitting on the porch playing Uno or other games with my homestay family or just sitting around chatting.  There was no TV and no one had their faces glued to their phones.  It was simple.

Don’t get me wrong, as I sit here on Thanksgiving morning I have much to be thankful for, I love my condo with my Toto toilet, I love my stuff (I just have too much), I love my family and friends and I love America!  There is something about coming through customs and the border patrol stamps your passport and says, “Welcome Home”!

Do I hate being back?  No, but I’m just not ready to settle back into life in the USA quite yet.  I’m sure the time will come, just like when I knew it was time to leave China.  I loved my life in China, but one day I woke up and knew I was ready to move on.  I loved my life in Bali, but I knew I wanted to be home for the holidays this year.  I’ve committed to a job in Poland, so that is next for me.  It will be different from life in SE Asia and different than life in America. How long will I be gone?  I have no idea.  I don’t see myself returning for at least a year.  I also plan to return to Bali as it has taken my soul.  As for the simple life……I will sort through my stuff and downsize.  If you plan to come to visit me, I can make all kinds of coffee and I have plenty of wine glasses, but don’t expect to watch TV…..I have no plans to get a television…it’s simple!

Do I hate being back? It’s good to be home….for now!


Going Home

Going Home

I’m sitting on my bed at Kenari House in Peliatan, Bali, Indonesia. Kenari House has been my home for the better part of 3.5 months in Bali and Ketut, Koming, Kirana and Kiara have been my family. If you ever make it to Bali and want to stay in the Ubud area, be sure and look up Kenari Guesthouse. You won’t regret it, especially if you are looking for a true Balinese experience. This is my third trip to the “Island of the Gods”. I have spent each visit at Kenari House and truly consider it “home” when I am here. I arrived at the end of July and at the end of August was fortunate to have 4 friends visit from the USA. I know they will agree that Kenari House is home and I was thrilled to be able to share my Bali life with them. Shortly after they left, I moved to a new homestay so I could volunteer at a school for children with special needs, Yayasan Widya Guna, but more on that in a future post. I spent 6 weeks at the school before moving back home to Kenari House. My life in Bali is coming to an end (for now) and I am “going home” for the holidays.

Koming, Ketut, Kirana and Kiara. My home and family in Bali

So, where is home? I was born in Kimbrough Army Hospital in Fort Meade, Maryland. I grew up in small-town Warren, Ohio. I had a home for over 6 months in Paris, France in 2014/15. I lived in China for 4 years beginning in 2015 and now I have just called Kenari House in Bali home. Life abroad changes your thoughts about “home”, but for this post “home” is my hometown, where I grew up, went to school, where I still have friends and family, and from where I first moved abroad. I first wrote about going home a little over 2 years ago after a brief visit back to Warren, Ohio, my roots. It was then I discovered that my own country can indeed feel like a foreign land and give you a sense of reverse culture shock. My latest post about home was last year before the holidays as I was about to spend my sixth holiday season away.

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Now, as I’m preparing to leave Bali and return to Warren for what will be the longest period in several years, many thoughts, memories and emotions are bombarding me. Christmas 2013 in Paris…. alone after my breakup and something I needed to do to get back to me. 2014 in Amsterdam……on a whim, I boarded a train on Christmas Eve morning from Paris, spent the night on a boat on a canal with a dozen strangers and shared Christmas breakfast before heading to the zoo. Then it was back to Paris to meet friends from the states joining me for the New Year. 2015, 16, 17 and 18 in China…. a communist country that doesn’t celebrate Christmas yet gave me some of my fondest memories celebrating with people I will most likely never see again. Thanksgiving 2018 in Incheon, South Korea when the chef at the Hyatt prepared a turkey dinner just for me.

2019…. for the first time in a while I am a bit excited to be going home. I have travelled all over the world, mostly Asia, for the better part of the last five years. During these travels, I have met amazing people from all walks of life. I survived being hit by a car and suffering a broken back in China. I have a new condo in Warren, Ohio I have never lived in waiting to be filled with memories of my life abroad. My hometown is amid a resurgence with many new places to explore. My brother is re-opening a vintage theatre with ties to Hollywood that he has restored to original. Most importantly, I have family and friends that I haven’t seen in over a year and a half waiting for me to come home.


Although I say I am excited, that also comes with a plethora of other emotions, thoughts and words. Sad for one…. how can I be sad about going home for the holidays? I’m not sad about going home, but sad about what I am leaving behind. I have spent the last 4+ years on the Asian continent and travelled not only all over China, including Hong Kong and Tibet but also to Indonesia, Japan, Vietnam, Thailand, South Korea, Malaysia, Nepal, Cambodia, Singapore, Qatar, and the United Arab Emirates. I love this part of the world. My plan is to move to Poland at the end of January beginning of February 2020. Which I am also very excited about, but that also means that most likely I won’t be returning to Asia anytime soon. Hence, the sad part. As the saying goes, “don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened”. So, I guess my next word should be happy. Yes, I am happy. Happy for the experiences I have had and happy to be going home…. for a while…wink, wink!


Apprehension…..going home after a one or two week vacation is one thing, but going home for an extended period after 5 years on the road is another. Everyone back home has been going about their everyday lives in small hometown America while it appears you have been living life in exotic, far away places. It’s true! You have been far away and sometimes visiting exotic locales, but for the most part, you too have gone about day to day life, most often routine. Can you fall back into that small-town life? Other than what you know about their lives on social media, you really don’t understand or know their daily struggles and triumphs. So how do you ease back into their lives? Do people really care about what you have been doing? It’s okay if they don’t because you made your choice for you, not for anyone else. I think if everyone who has been gone long term is honest, they must be a bit apprehensive about going home! I am.

Hopeful……. I wish my family and friends could meet every one of the amazing people I have met on my journey. They are the reason I chose the word hopeful. These are the people who give me hope…. hope for humanity. Last night, 8° south of the equator beneath a star-filled sky, I was sitting outside on the porch with my Balinese family playing Uno. The kids weren’t watching TV, mom and dad weren’t looking at their phones and I wasn’t trying to unblock my Facebook account. We were laughing, talking (they sometimes in Balinese), eating chips and sometimes there was a little cheating (all in good fun) going on. These are the moments that truly give me hope. I have experienced moments like this in every country I have visited. There really are more good, kind people in the world than not.

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Fortunate…. I don’t want to use the word lucky here. Luck didn’t bring me to the other side of the world. It was a conscious choice. A decision initially made because I wanted to run away, but eventually turned into a lifestyle path on which I choose to remain. Although I do often feel blessed, I’m not sure that is the proper word, so I am going with fortunate. I have been fortunate to have good health (a broken back was just a minor setback) to travel, the courage to continue as a solo female, the desire to meet new people and experience other cultures and the means to accomplish these things. I have also been fortunate to have the support of family and friends throughout my sometimes-crazy journey.

Hungry…… YES, I am hungry!!! Hungry for pizza from my local hometown joint, Sunrise. Hungry for a bloody, rare sirloin and a blue cheese olive stuffed beefeater martini from the Buena Vista. Hungry for all the hometown favorites. I have loved the food all over the world and I will miss “real” Chinese food. I will miss eating pho at a corner street stall in Saigon. I will miss the 7000 rupiah (50 cents) mie ayam at the local warung and all of Ketut’s Balinese food. But, I’m hungry for food I can only get “at home”. Thanksgiving dinner here I come.

Hungry ……. Besides the food I’ve missed, I am still hungry for new adventures, new locales, new experiences.

So, I’m going home. I’ve touched on a few of the “feels” I’m experiencing, but more than anything, I am thankful. When I think back over the past 5+ years, I could fill a book on things I am thankful for. To each and every one of you who have touched my life and had a part in my journey, thank you. Thank you for opening your hearts and homes to me. I know I have left pieces of my heart in so many places around the world. I’ve often said, Paris is my heart… now Bali is my soul ….. and finally Warren, Ohio you are my home and I’m coming. See you soon, its only for a couple short months, but I’ve missed you.

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Bali ~ Island of the Gods ~ Bhinneka Tunggal Ika ~ Out of Many, One ~ Unity in Diversity

Bali ~ Island of the Gods ~ Bhinneka Tunggal Ika ~ Out of Many, One ~ Unity in Diversity

I grew up in a “Christian” household, Presbyterian to be exact.  Mom and grandma taught Sunday School, sang in the church choir, were elders, deacons, etc.  You get the picture. I was young when my mom’s father died, so although I know he was active in the church, I don’t have strong memories.  My dad, he knew the bible inside and out. He read me bible stories as bedtime stories and I remember “Old Rugged Cross” and his favorite, “In the Garden” being played as part of the Sunday morning repertoire on the antique green stereo console in our living room.  But, dad only attended church on Easter and Christmas or a special event in which we (me or my brother, Mark) might be participating.  He said he didn’t need to sit with hypocrites to justify his faith.

With a monk in Lhasa, Tibet

I have been blessed to live and travel to many places around the globe that don’t practice Christianity.  I’ve been to mosques and listened to the prayers of those of Islamic faith.  I have sat with monks in Buddhist temples. I have attended a service of Caodaism (cultivating self and finding god in self) in Tay Ninh, Vietnam. I have sat in monasteries in Tibet and read the teachings of the Dalai Lama. I have been to a Hindu cremation ceremony in Kathmandu, Nepal which follows closely to the Hinduism of India.

Cao Dai Service in Vietnam

Currently, I am in Bali, Indonesia and have attended many Balinese Hindu ceremonies which differ from those of India.  I have witnessed the exhumation of a human body for cremation (Ngaben). I’ve been to a Nelubulanin/Nyambutin ceremony which is like our baptism and is performed for a baby when they reach 3 months (105 days) by the Balinese calendar.  I’ve been to the temple ceremony of Odalan which is the anniversary of the Temple.  Most recently, I have had the opportunity to pray at Pura Besakih or the Mother Temple.

Cremation Ceremony Kathmandu, Nepal







Bali, Island of the Gods, is one of 17,000 islands in the Indonesian archipelago.  A small island 95 miles east to west and 70 miles north to south, it is located 8°south of the equator and is inhabited by approximately 4 million people. Unlike the majority of Indonesian Islands which are Muslim, Bali is 85% Hindu.  There are over 20,000 temples on Bali.

Island of the Gods









Growing up Christian, we heard stories of missionaries in far off lands converting these “pagans”, “non-believers” and even those of other faiths to Christianity.  Through my travels, I have come to question this practice and ask, “Why”?  Why do we in the west think that our religion is the one true and right religion that everyone else should follow?  I decided to write this post, first, after a discussion on my cousin Bobby’s Facebook page turned slightly aggressive by some of the Christian faith.   Secondly, a recent visit and conversations with friends who came to visit me in Bali and had the opportunity to witness Balinese Hinduism firsthand and which they seemed to embrace.


I’m not denouncing my Christianity, but I find myself being open to accepting the beliefs of other religions.  I believe in God. I believe in the power of prayer. I have also become more spiritual since opening myself to these cultures and their beliefs. Being in Bali, Balinese Hinduism is seen every part of everyday.  Yes, as Christians, we are taught to be Godly in our everyday life, say our prayers before bed, etc. but, if truth be told it is “seen” mostly on Sundays.  In Bali, every household or family compound has a family temple.  Each morning offerings or canang sari are placed around the compound, in the streets, on statues, etc.  Walk down any street in Bali you will see small woven baskets made from coconut leaves and filled with flowers, rice, a banana slice and topped with a smoldering incense stick.  Daily offerings and a morsel of food are left on the ground to appease the lower spirits. By honoring both the higher and lower spirits of a household negativity is balanced with positivity thus ensuring family harmony.  When placing the offering, a flower is dipped into a bowl of tirta (water taken from the holy spring) and delicately sprinkled over the canang sari.  This completes the fusion of earth, fire, wind and water.  After 3 waves of the palm facing downward accompanied by a prayer, the smoke carries the essence of the offerings up to God.


The offerings aren’t made for you, or me or the people that create them.  They are made, given and left for the unseen, a selfless act in a self-filled world.

So, Balinese Hinduism has prayers, a belief in heaven and a God, just like Christianity, monotheistic.  They worship one God called Sang Hyang Widi.  Balinese Hinduism is a very personal spiritual experience of an individual’s journey so they can find meaning in their life and to appreciate the people around them and see God in all.   It has 3 basic principles or Tri Hita Karena;

To honor the connection between:

  1.   Humans and God (Parahyangan)
  2.   Humans and Humans (Pawongan)
  3.   Humans and Nature (Palemahan)

The above is a very brief and simple explanation of a much more complex religion, but one that I have come to embrace and strive to learn more about.  Traveling solo and living different cultures has afforded me the opportunity to look deeper into myself and my personal journey of spirituality.  The first place I really felt a pull of spirituality was Tibet.  I had such a peaceful feeling there that I struggle to find the words to describe it. There was something magical about Tibet.  I am still drawn to that culture, but the connection I feel to Bali is overwhelming.  I have never experienced a culture that is more welcoming or a people that always seem happy and peaceful.

It’s kind of funny, if you know me, you know my favorite place in the world is Paris.  I’ve just spent 4 years living in China before moving to Bali.  The Chinese word for Paris is 巴黎 or Bālí.  The Chinese word for Bali is 巴厘岛 or Bālí dǎo.  Okay, so that really doesn’t have a whole lot to do with this post except it is kind of unusual that I am drawn to 2 places that seem to have little in common except for their Chinese names.


So, back to my spirituality.  I have such a sense of peace since I have been here.  I have been moved to tears for no reason at Temple or the sight of a simple flower or a child in full Temple dress. Bali is an assault on the senses; the colors, the scents, the sounds. When my friends, Henry, Debbie, Larry and Amy were here, we had the opportunity to go to Pura Besakih or the Mother Temple.  When we arrived, I immediately thought of Angkor Wat, another place I have been blessed to visit.  Our guide began telling us the history and facts of Besakih.  We had purchased offerings before entering the Temple. This allowed to go to the top and pray and receive a blessing and holy water.  Just arriving at that part of the Temple, I was overcome with an energy and couldn’t hold back the tears.  As the five of us sat in a drizzle of cleansing rain, our guide talked us through the prayer ceremony.  He lit our incense (the smoke takes our prayers to heaven) and explained what to do with the flowers in our offering.  After we finished the prayer service the Priest came and blessed us with holy water and gave us holy water to drink.  Our guide then one by one took 9 strings of color and wound them into bracelets one at a time.  Peace, energy, harmony, balance, gratitude and spirituality are just a few of the emotions I felt.  I still wear the bracelet and it reminds me daily to be thankful for the blessings I have received in life.

Pura Besakih




Our bracelets from Besakih






I don’t want to start an argument about religion, but I can’t help but wish more people could experience just a small portion of what Balinese Hinduism is all about. There is a Balinese quote from Swami Vivekananda that has makes me think of my brother, “The great success of true happiness is this: the man or woman who asks for no return, the perfectly unselfish person, is the most successful”. Balinese Hinduism is all about selflessness.

The National Motto of Indonesia is “Bhinneka Tunggal Ika” or Out of Many, One or Unity in Diversity.  The full motto states, “It is said that the well known Buddha and Shiva are two different substances; they are indeed different, yet how is it possible to recognize their difference in a glance, since the truth of Buddha, and the truth of Shiva are one?  They may be different, but they are of the same kind, as there is no duality in truth.”

How much better the world would be if we could put aside our differences.  I am currently at a school for special needs children.  On the main building, it reads, “Allow differences, respect differences until differences are no longer different.”

If Paris is my heart, Bali has become my soul!


When Your Ordinary is Someone’s Extraordinary.

When Your Ordinary is Someone’s Extraordinary.

The dictionary tells us that ordinary means with no special or distinctive features; normal. A few synonyms are usual, common, standard and routine. It also tells us that extraordinary means very unusual, remarkable, amazing, spectacular and sensational.

My Ordinary Morning

I’m sitting here on a Saturday morning, going through my ordinary daily routine. I’m at the part where I drink coffee. But what makes today different, is that this time next week, my daily routine won’t include sitting at my desk sipping coffee in my apartment in Dong’e, Shandong, China. My life here, and in China is coming to an end. Sure, the plan to leave China was set in motion several months ago and as each day gets ticked off that calendar in your head the thought becomes more real. Actually, it becomes most real when I look into the spare room at the explosion of “stuff” that either fits into my suitcase or my backpack or it stays. Today, it hit me in a surreal way. I was in a dreamlike state, probably brought on by the quantity of the consumption of alcoholic beverages consumed last night at the Dong’e Beer Festival. I was startled back to reality by a series of firecrackers going off. This is an ordinary occurrence in China, but it made me think, “wow, what I now consider ordinary, used to be what I considered extraordinary”.


I often hear from folks on the other side of the world that I live an amazing life. I will admit, that, yes, I do, but living abroad for the better part of 5 years, every day isn’t a “WOW”. Some days are even humdrum. Of course, it wasn’t always this way. My first stint at life abroad was living 6 months in Paris.  It’s true when you first arrive all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, you have an overwhelming urge to be a tourist. Running out every morning to see what you can see and collapsing into bed every night exhausted. Until that day you tell yourself, stop, this is my life right now. It’s okay to, God forbid, stay home one day and not see if you can catch a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower. Soon, you fall into a routine and living in Paris is really not that much different than living in Warren, Ohio…..haha, okay, that’s a lie.

Living in Paris is awesome, but what I’m trying to say is you begin to fall into a routine, your ordinary day to day life. When I say it’s not much different than living in Warren, Ohio, what I mean is, Paris becomes your ordinary. Get up, make coffee, piddle around, go to the market, stop for a coffee or a glass of rose (because drinking rose in the middle of the day is ordinary), read, blog, answer emails while you sit, go home, make dinner, do whatever, go to bed and start over again. Very soon, catching the metro, catching a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower, going to the Louvre on a Sunday (it’s free 1 Sunday a month in the winter) just to wander, taking a spin on one of the 50+ carousels, going to a Sunday service at Notre Dame and so on, has become your ordinary. Until someone comes to visit, suddenly, you want to share all the extraordinary things you have started to take for granted.

Welcome to China, home to 1.4 billion people

Landing in China in 2015 opened a whole new world of extraordinary. I started out in Beijing, oh my, people everywhere. Seriously, I have been to NYC, LA, Miami and lived in Paris, but Beijing has 22 million people. That is double the population of the entire state of Ohio, 2.5 times NYC, 5 times LA, 10 times that of Paris and Miami is a mere half-million in comparison. That’s an extraordinary amount of people, people who have no concept of personal space. Get on the metro in Beijing, just when you think not one more person can get in the car, 7 more get on at the next stop. Extraordinary! Soon, large numbers of people who get in your personal space and talk loudly as if arguing, spit in public and have no concept of queues become part of your normal.

Mutianyu Section of the Great Wall of China

I was blown away by the Great Wall of China, its age, the length, the whole concept was extraordinary.  Yet, many, maybe even most, Chinese people I met have never been to see the Great Wall.  I guess that’s like Americans never visiting the Grand Canyon or seeing the Statue of Liberty….it’s ordinary.  Order chicken in America.  What do you get?  Breasts, thighs, legs and wings or if you get a whole roasted chicken it comes sans head and feet.  Order chicken in China, you get a platter with pieces and parts, nothing that resembles a breast or thigh and plan on getting the head and 2 chicken feet.  Duck heads….a delicacy.  A bowl of bugs instead of peanuts, ordinary.



Use a restroom in China, bring your own toilet paper or tissues and plan to squat. Cars, motorbikes, electric scooters, small 3 wheeled cars and 2- and 3-wheel bicycles clog the streets and often traffic rules seem non-existent. Fruit salads come with tomatoes and slathered in mayonnaise. Buddhist monks with cell phones are an ordinary sight in many cities. Another extraordinary experience is going to the supermarket. In China, every part of the animal is eaten so don’t be surprised by heart, kidneys, ears, eyes, brains, intestines, you name it, in the meat cooler. Don’t be surprised by animals being slaughtered on the street in a local street market. It’s just ordinary day to day life. I’ve experienced families that have no running water in their home. We had to wash our hair in a basin. Clothes are often hand washed in basins and hung to dry. I had a washer that was semi-automatic and no dryer, but that was my ordinary. You realize your initial extraordinary has become your ordinary when you have a first-time visitor and they point out and ask questions about things that you don’t even bat an eye over.

I’m finishing this blog post as I sit in Peliatan, Bali, Indonesia, my home for the next 3.5 months where I will be learning a whole new ordinary. On my way here I spent 2 weeks in Vietnam. 1 week in Saigon and 1 in Hoi An. 2 different worlds, one big city and one smaller seaside community. The biggest extraordinary for me in both places was crossing the street. Often there are few traffic signals, you wait for the slightest break in traffic and begin to slowly cross. The extraordinary thing is traffic will adjust to avoid you and other vehicles. It never really stops, but zigs and zags and life continues. I’m not sure this could ever become my ordinary. I must admit; I was slightly stressed every time I had to cross a busy street.

Now here in Bali, the daily ritual of offerings or canang sari along with other Balinese Hindu traditions and ceremonies will become my ordinary. Sometimes eating with my hands instead of utensils, ordinary, just don’t use your left hand.

I’m not sure I really had a point when I started this over 3 weeks ago, but one thing I do want to say is to take time to smell the roses.  We rush through daily life doing our ordinary things and falling into our routines. When you are sitting, sipping that cup of coffee, enjoy it. Take time to think about the things you are grateful for. When you eat your next meal, take time to really taste it. When you ask someone, “how are you?”, really mean it and listen to what they say. Look at things you pass every day on your way to work. Our Courthouse, for instance, on the square in Warren, it’s really a beautiful work of architecture.  I’m blessed that my ordinary life is often quite extraordinary.  Peace Out!

Beautiful Trumbull County Courthouse  Warren, Ohio USA









No Cheese in China! Things I Will and Won’t Miss in the Middle Kingdom

No Cheese in China!                                Things I Will and Won’t Miss in the Middle Kingdom

The communist party took over mainland China in 1949.  February 1972, I was 9 years old and President Nixon became the first president to visit the PRC, People’s Republic of China, ending 25 years of no communication or diplomatic ties between the two countries.  His visit also allowed the American public to view images of China for the first time in over two decades.  Other than whatever knowledge a 9-year-old would get in school, Nixon’s visit sparked my interest in the “Middle Kingdom”.  It was finally in 1978, under Deng Xiaoping, that China opened its borders to foreign visitors.  I remember thinking it would be cool to see/walk the Great Wall of China.  The next time I remember hearing/seeing big news from China was June 1989 and the Tank Man in Tiananmen Square.






The Tiananmen Square incident recently marked its 30th anniversary.  It was all over Facebook, but I never saw or heard about it on any Chinese social media.  Why? I’m not going to get into politics here, but one reason is Social Media in China is government controlled…..no Facebook, no Instagram, no Google, not even Pinterest UNLESS you access the internet using a VPN (a virtual private network).  Known as the Great Firewall of China, the PRC has even been known to block VPN’s when they feel it necessary.  One thing I won’t miss when I leave China is having to log onto a VPN!

I’m starting off with a negative because as I am writing this, I am multi-tasking.  I’m blogging while attempting to use the internet.  I say attempting because my VPN continues to drop, my Wi-Fi is almost nonexistent, and it’s frustrating………

Garlic and Rice Vinegar for Dumplings


Ah, China, 中国, Zhōngguó, the Middle Kingdom, land of 1.4 billion, the place you hate to love and love to hate, the place I have called home for 4 years.  Before arriving, my thoughts/images of China were The Great Wall, a funny language made up of stick pictures instead of letters, dumplings, eating with chopsticks, cheap merchandise, technology, General Tso’s chicken, rice, kung fu, tai chi, and pandas, to name a few.  I knew its history/culture was deep in tradition.  What I didn’t realize was just how deep and important these cultural traditions were in everyday life.  After arriving, I quickly learned I wasn’t in Kansas anymore and there’s no cheese in China.  What I mean is, China is very “Eastern”, unless you are in one of the bigger/popular cities, you will be hard pressed to find “Western” products/amenities or English language.   What you will discover is an amazing culture, kind people and a beautiful country.

A Small Round Table Dinner

One thing I will miss are the “round table” dinners.  When a group goes out to eat, they are seated around a large or ginormous, depending on the number, round table with a rotating top.  When everyone is seated, dishes of amazing food start appearing.  A little side note on tradition, no one sits until the host has arrived.  Often, being a foreigner, I was the “guest of honor” and there was a certain position at the table where I had to sit.  This position would be the center of the table facing east or facing the entrance to the room.  Also, it is considered unlucky to start eating until there are a certain number of dishes on the table.  These feasts are amazing and will be missed.  One thing I won’t miss at these dinners are the chicken feet, various innards of animals, dishes of grubs/bugs eaten like peanuts and tofu. I’ve also discovered, I really like to eat with 筷子 kuàizi or chopsticks.

Chicken Feet

I’m not sure I will be able to eat Chinese food in America when I return.  Chinese food in China is nothing like what we know.  They have an amazing way with seasonings and sauces that I only hope to be able to duplicate in a few dishes.  Other than missing the food in general, I am going to miss 面条 miàntiáo or noodles, but more specifically 兰州拉面 Lánzhōu lāmiàn.  I love almost all the noodle dishes in China, but I will miss the Lanzhou hand-pulled noodles the most.  I’m not sure I will be able to master hand pulling, but I do have a pretty good idea how to reproduce the broth. Which reminds me, Chinese soup spoons are the best.  With the little hooked end, they don’t slip into the soup bowl.  I need to bring some back with me.

My Noodle Guy


My Favorite Noodles










Speaking of food, which by the way is incredibly cheap and delicious…..Chinese home delivery.  There really is no reason to cook if you don’t want to. Simply pull up one of these apps you have installed on your phone;  美团外买 měi tuán wài mǎi or beautiful food buy outside and éle me饿了么 or are you hungry?.  Then choose from hundreds (seriously even in my small town) of restaurants, pick your dish(es) and in 30 minutes your food arrives and remember “no tipping”.  I will miss that too.  I did feel bad that one time I didn’t realize the elevators in my building weren’t working and I live on the 24th floor.  I ordered a 肉夹馍 ròu jiā mó or a Chinese hamburger, which really translates to meat folder.  It is shredded meat, often mutton or pork stuffed in a pita-like bread with hot peppers.  This I will miss but think I can make it at home.  I often order 2, because at a buck each they make a nice breakfast sandwich when you add an egg.  So, back to the day, my elevators were not working and I ordered $3.00 worth of food (2 Chinese hamburgers and a water).  The delivery guy knocked on my door, out of breath and in a complete sweat.  He had come up 24 floors or 48 flights to bring me my food.  I felt bad and he refused a tip.  I am going to miss the convenience and low cost of Chinese home delivery.

肉夹馍 ròu jiā mó

One of the first things I recommend someone coming to China do is download 微信 Wēixìn (pronounced like we-she) or WeChat.  China’s answer to Facebook, Messenger, Instagram and Paypal (but better) social media app rolled into one.  Named by Forbes as one of the most powerful apps in the world.  Post pictures, links, message or call your friends and so much more.  What I love best, is it is linked to your bank account and is used to pay for everything everywhere.  Just scan a QR code at the supermarket, restaurant, taxicab, massage shop, noodle shop, post office, Taobao, wài mǎi, even the little old lady on the street selling mandarins from a wagon can be paid by WeChat.  Most everyone in China pays for goods and services with WeChat.  I rarely see cash or credit cards being used, although I always carry both.  I just haven’t quite got comfortable with carrying no cash.  Funny story….I was at China Post shipping one of many boxes back to the states.  There are a few things at the post office for which you must use cash.  The Chinese gentleman in front of me needed 20-yuan cash or a little less than $3.  He spoke to my friend Alice who I took along as my translator.  He asked her if I had 20 yuan (I did) because foreigners always carry cash.  He would pay me back by WeChat.  I handed over a 20 and he scanned my QR code and 20 yuan appeared in my WeChat wallet.  China, I will miss the convenience of WeChat.



My WeChat QR Code

Ok, we have Amazon and a few others in the states, but nothing can compare to Taobao, China’s online shopping website.  From crazy to quirky and everything in between, if it exists in the world you can buy it on Taobao and usually pretty cheap…….“made in China” after all.  You’re a farmer and need a castrating tool….Taobao!  Enjoy eating goat brains…Taobao!  Need a live peacock…Taobao!  Missing cheese, because there’s no cheese in China?  Taobao!  Although I have learned not to purchase cheese on Taobao in warm weather, it comes packed in dry ice and styrofoam, but by the time it arrives in my rural village, it’s a melted lump.  Other than food and a few necessities, I buy/have bought most everything on Taobao, including toilet paper, mustard (no mustard in China either), coffee, small appliances, sheets, Beefeaters gin, my cell phone, etc. You get the picture.  Taobao you will be missed.

Castrating Tool
Goat Brains





Since I mentioned toilet paper, no matter how healthy or so-called natural it is to poop while squatting, I don’t think I will miss the beloved “squatty potty”.  That and the fact that you almost always need to have your own TP or tissue.  Picture this…..there you are in a squat, reaching for TP, none is provided and you forgot to get yours out. Bad knees, balancing a squat, trying to keep your pant legs and crotch out of the way while you look in your purse for tissue…..NOT FUN!   I understand why so many people wear pants cropped at or above the ankles and they are tight to their legs. Unless you have been squatting your entire life, when you’re 50 something with bad knees and then a broken back, squatting isn’t the easiest way to go, haha.  I can and I have for 5 months when I lived in Hunan Province, but if I’m honest I really won’t miss it.

Squatty Potty,  I chose one of the worst ones I had.  This on an overnight train.  Imagine using this on a moving rickety train.

Most everyone has heard stories of pollution in China.  Until you have experienced an AQI (air quality index) of over 400 and can’t see the building behind you, you have no idea what air pollution is.  In northern China, pollution is usually the worst during the winter months.  This is because in some areas, mainly rural/countryside, coal is still burned for heating purposes. That along with multitudes of factories, car emissions and even the occasional sandstorm blowing through from the Gobi Desert contribute to the pollution problem.  I usually wear a mask if the AQI goes above 150, which is often in the winter.  China is doing a lot to “fix” their pollution problem, but I’m afraid clean air in China is a way off.  I won’t be missing the pollution.

A Bad AQI Day

I seem to be getting a bit long winded here so just a few more things I will miss:

High-speed trains, but not the crowds, especially during a Chinese holiday

My once or twice a week $5 per hour massages

Chinglish/lost in translation

Street Food

The variety of unique fruits and vegetables some I never saw until I came to China/SE Asia

The low cost of most goods and services (I’m sure I will have sticker shock back in the USA)

Cushy work schedule

Baijiu, although a few mornings after a night of baijiu, I’m pretty sure I said I never wanted to see it again.

Hot Pot

The beauty of the country….I have been blessed to have travelled a good deal in my 4 years.  There is a beauty in the culture and the land that will always stay with you.

There are a few more things I won’t miss but aren’t worth mentioning unless you have experienced them and China is way more than those things.

My Massage Shop
Less than $1 for these mandarins

Here’s where I could get weepy.  More than anything, Chinese hospitality is beyond amazing.  Yes, I know Chinese people get a bad wrap in many foreign countries as being rude, loud and pushing their way to the front, etc.  I too have witnessed this, but since living in a country of 1.4 billion people, I have a better understanding of why this is.  I’m not going to defend it, just that I understand.  For the most part, you will find that the Chinese people welcome you with open arms.  Once they get over their initial curiosity you will soon be part of the family.  More than anything, it’s the people I have met along my journey that I will miss the most.  Those crazy kids I spent 2 weeks with in Beijing, Alina, my go-to person in Xiashan, James Allen from Xiashan who took his English name because of LeBron, Summer, my guide in Harbin, Yulia my roommate, Rabbin and his family in Changning, Paul, Skenny, Erwin, Erin, Jon, Sallen, Hety, Doris, CiCi and all the other staff at Champa Flower Kindergarten in Qingdao, my sweet Marlon and his mom in Qingdao, Amy and Harrison in Weifang who shared Christmas with me, Peter, Peter’s cousin and his wife, Phoenix, Alice and too many to name from my life in Dong’e.  I can’t begin to explain how each has made a mark on my heart and soul or begin to mention all the heart hits China will leave me with.  And what about all my students, the 1000’s of kids I have taught.  Those smiling faces will be missed, oh so much!

“Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends.”  Maya Angelou

There may not be any cheese in China, but I discovered more than enough wonderful people and things in this country to make up for it.  Thank you, and much love to everyone who has shared my journey.

My Cheese download (1)

Some Chinglish aka Lost in Translation

Oh China, I Will Miss You, But It’s Time to Move On!

Oh China, I Will Miss You, But It’s Time to Move On!

How do you know when it’s time to move to the next phase in your life?  Sometimes you don’t have a choice.  You are forced to make a change, which is how I first ended up moving abroad, living in Paris. Explanation here. Then you return to remnants of your old life and discover you kind of liked that phase you just left.  You find a way to return to life abroad, which is how I ended up living in China. Next thing you know, 5 months has turned into 4 years.  WOW! It’s true, months turn into years and friends turn into family.


My first 5 months started with 2 weeks in Beijing and a “Dorothy, you’re not in Kansas anymore” moment.  China really is “different” from the rest of the world.  How different is China? You can check out my blog post.  After 2 weeks in Beijing, I was into the next phase in Xiashan.  Xiashan is a small rural village considered part of Weifang in Shandong Province.  So small, it isn’t named on a map.  I was in love with my small country community, but being on a student Visa, I was only able to stay 6 months. I would have to return to the states and apply for a new Visa if I wanted to return to life in China.  Although Xiashan had very little in the way of Western amenities and it was an hour and 15-minute bus ride to get to a train station to get to an airport, I really did love living there and would have stayed on.  But, once again the decision to move to the next phase of my life was out of my control.  I did, however, return to the USA and applied for a new Visa and returned to China.  Unfortunately, I could not return to Xiashan because they had to replace me before I was able to return.

My co-workers at Weifang Xiashan Bilingual School

On to phase two of life in China.  I returned briefly to Xiashan as they had kindly let me leave my things in the apartment.  I stayed for a couple weeks and got to meet my replacement which happened to be from a city next to my hometown of Warren, Ohio.  Halfway around the world and my replacement is from Cortland, Ohio.  I packed up, said my tearful goodbyes to my co-workers and boarded a train 9.5 hours south to Changning in Hunan Provence.  Life in Changning……my roommate Yulia was from Moscow and we got along famously.  The biggest change here is I went from teaching grades 1 and 2 to teaching grades 5, 6 and 7.  A slight adjustment in lessons plans and I survived.  I also survived rainy season in Hunan.  From the time I arrived at the end of February until leaving mid-June, I think we were lucky if we had 3 straight days without rain.  I did love the spicy food in Hunan Province, but at the end of the school term, we had both had our fill of Changning and I was ready to move on to a new part of China and hopefully back to primary students.

My Changning Family and Roommate Yulia

August 3, 2016, phase three of my China life found me back in Shandong Province in a large by American standards, not so large by Chinese standards, city of 9 million on the Yellow Sea called Qingdao.  Woohooo, I would be at a kindergarten located right at the seaside.  I was very excited to be moving on to life in Qingdao, China.  Teaching kindergarten, the principal was from the states, the kindergarten was right on the sea, the city had many Western restaurants and supermarkets, life would be good.  I arrived in Qingdao and the school put me up at a hotel until they found accommodations for me. It actually took 6 weeks and I ended up living with the principal and his wife which was awesome.  I started at the school the day after I arrived as the other foreign teacher had gone on holiday.  They had brought in a second teacher (me) because enrollment at the school had increased.  Imagine my surprise when I was informed after 2 weeks that the other teacher had decided not to return.  Hmmmmm, why?  Thank goodness for the helpfulness of the principal and the Chinese teachers. They finally did bring in first Erwin in October and then Erin late November.  Without turning this into a bitch session, the owner of the kindergarten made many promises that were not kept and expected more and more unreasonable duties from the staff.  I didn’t want to hate my job and I was starting to.   Although I would miss my co-workers and the principal, I decided I would not return after Spring Festival.  That is how I ended up in Dong’e.

My Kindergarten in Qingdao Sat Here on the Yellow Sea

Dong’e County, Shandong Province a countywide population of about 400,000 and located on the left or northern bank of the Yellow River.  The county is regionally and nationally renowned for Ejiao, donkey-hide gelatin used in traditional Chinese medicine.  The city of Dong’e is surrounded by many small villages and farmland.  The closest train station is about an hour away in Liaocheng but doesn’t have the high speed or bullet trains.  For high-speed trains and an airport, I travel 2 to 2.5 hours to Jinan, the capital of the Province.

I arrived in Dong’e in February 2017.  Again, I stayed in a hotel while Peter (the person who brought me to Dong’e) and I looked for an apartment.  After about a week or 10 days, I had a room with a view. I was on the 24th floor overlooking a river, which I later found out was actually a lake.  Economic development in the area had cut off a branch of the river and turned it into a lake.  I don’t think Peter expected to have a teacher come to this small community so quickly.  The first month to 6 weeks, I didn’t have a job.  Thankfully, I was still paid.  The time was spent having dinners to meet local community leaders and school administrators, giving demo classes at Training Centers and in the schools.  My first regularly scheduled teaching job was private lessons/tutoring to two 5-year-old girls.  Gradually more students were added to my tutoring and I was teaching 2 days per week in a local kindergarten and 1 afternoon at a primary school.  This still gave me about 2.5 days of free time which I enjoyed.

Beautiful Sunset from My Dong’e Apartment


Lovely Lake Bridge








Then I had my accident on September 7, 2018.  I ended up in the hospital with a broken back that required surgery.  My story is here  This put me out of commission for about 2 months.  When I was well enough to continue teaching, it was only lessons in my home as I was not well enough to spend days at the kindergarten or primary school.  Since November 2018 I have been giving lessons in my home on Saturdays and Sundays.

2 months of which 2 weeks were spent in a hospital bed and then 6 more weeks of minimal “up” time at home, you have a lot of time to think.  I have been in Dong’e for nearly 2.5 years.  Yes, I love my life here.  I have made many friends who treat me like family. But, that simple 3 letter word b.u.t., but I wanted more.  Due to the nature of my injury, I thought about how lucky I was….. I wasn’t paralyzed….or worse.  I thought about the trip to Paris, I had to cancel. Luckily, I was able to reschedule and just went in May.  I thought about my bucket list. I thought about my condo in Warren, Ohio that I haven’t even moved in to.  You get the idea.  Anyway, I asked myself, “Do you want to be in Dong’e this time next year?”.   That answer came fairly easy, as much as I like my life here, no, this time next year I couldn’t picture myself in Dong’e.  Next question, “Do you want to be in China?”.  That was a little more difficult to answer, I didn’t know.

A Few of My Students

For the next several weeks I thought about that question.  I decided that I would leave Dong’e at the end of the school year which is July 2019.  This worked out well. I needed to re-up my Visa by July 20th, which also means I have to leave mainland China to do it.  I want to spend the holidays in Warren.  I haven’t been in the states for the holidays since 2012.


Okay, I have the start of a plan.  Now what to do between leaving Dong’e and being in the states for the holidays?  Holidays meaning Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years and the grand re-opening of the Robins Theatre.  After the Robins opening, I would be free to make a long-term commitment to teaching somewhere.   Last time I was in Saigon, I met a young University student.  She has often asked me to come to Vietnam and teach English.  So, upon leaving China, I decided my first stop would be Vietnam and investigate job opportunities.  From Vietnam, Bali is just a hop, skip and a jump.  I had friends in the states who had mentioned joining me in Bali in August.  So, I then decided to head to Bali after Vietnam.  Also, having friends in Bali, I decided to look into an extended stay, meaning teaching/volunteer opportunities.  I will spend one month of R&R after which I found a School for Special Needs students where I will work for 8 weeks.  A few more weeks of doing nothing and I will head back to Vietnam before returning to the states.

Great, but what about next year? I use a website, https://en.islcollective.com/ as a teaching resource.  Sometime last year they added a resource for teaching jobs.  I decided to browse the listings.  Thinking I would return to SE Asia, I mainly browsed those opportunities.  While researching my upcoming trip to Paris, I realized I missed Europe and decided along with SE Asia, to look at opportunities in Europe. After putting in my criteria, a company called English Wizards based in Warsaw kept popping up.  It looked interesting, a young company with hopes to expand outside of Poland, so I contacted them.  Long story short, I have committed to relocating to Poland end of January 2020.

It will be difficult to leave Dong’e, but the answer to the question, “is this where you want to be this time next year?” was easy.  I will miss the friends I have made and my students, but I know it is time to move on.  The decision to leave China not so easy and then the decision to leave Asia/SE Asia a little more difficult. Asking myself many questions, forcing myself to answer truthfully and planning to enjoy time in SE Asia before saying goodbye has made the realization a bit easier.

My “Littles”


It’s Not Easy to Say Goodbye

“It’s a difficult thing, but there are times when moving on with your life starts with a goodbye.” unknown

I am excited to move on to the next phase of my journey.


My Love Affair with Paris! What Are the French Really Like?

My Love Affair with Paris!  What Are the French Really Like?

Anyone who knows me, knows I have somewhat of a love, no, obsession with Paris.  Evidently, as my brother has reminded me, this stems back to when I was a child wearing a beret and probably trying to speak with a French accent.  I somehow always knew I would visit Paris one day and I even dreamed of living there.  It’s true, you never forget your first trip to Paris.

It started young….
Not sorry!











“It was our first evening in Paris.  The night was falling as we entered the metro.  Rain was in the forecast, so I had our umbrella.  We were on our way to a wine taste. A light drizzle met us as we exited the metro station. The sounds of the city and the glow of the streetlamps surrounded us.  As we tried to get our bearings, he spotted a street vendor selling crepes.  Huddled under our umbrella….sharing a warm crepe….Paris in the rain….I was in love.”



10 years later, numerous visits and a brief 6 months living in Paris, I am still in love.

Naturally, when you love something or someone, you tend to defend it/them at all cost.  Before that first trip, I heard, “The Parisians are rude!”, “No one speaks English.”, “The city is filthy, they pee in the street.”, and so on.  I always asked, “How do you know? Have you been?”  To which I often heard, “Well, everyone says so.” My response, “Who is everyone?”  So, it began, always defending my beloved Paris.

Having several years of high school and college French I figured, no problem.  My first trip to Paris was before translation apps were popular so I had to depend on my minimal, poorly spoken French and an English/French dictionary.  While it was true, that few people seemed to speak English, we managed.  Were the people rude?  Was it filthy?  I honestly couldn’t tell you.  It was my first visit, passing through for a few short days on our way to Venice.  I didn’t care, I was in Paris, the city of my dreams and I was in love.

3 more trips after this one, including one to celebrate my 50th birthday with my girlfriend, Teri, and our significant others and one for a job interview, again with Teri.  I knew the next time I packed my bags to come to Paris, it would be long term.  Now, the others on the 25th anniversary of my 25th year, felt that some of these stereotypes were true, the Parisians were rude, no one speaks English and the city was dirty.  True or not, I didn’t care, it was Paris in autumn.   My most recent visit to Paris (spring 2019), had Teri beginning to change her view and my cousins, their first time, understanding my love affair with La Ville Lumiere, the City of Light.  Named, both, because of its leading role during the Age of Enlightenment and more literally, being one of the first big European cities to use gas street lighting on a large scale.

La Ville Lumiere….The City of Light

So, why do many Americans assume the French are rude?

Finally fulfilling my dream, I moved to Paris in August of 2014.  It’s very different when you live in a city versus being a tourist.  Let me add that I had come to live in Paris for a job teaching English and I had enrolled at the University to study French.  Long story short, my student visa was denied (no reason given), so, therefore, I couldn’t study or have a job.  I made the choice to move to Paris and just live the café life.  For the next 6 months, I wandered Paris, travelled to the countryside, went to Germany, Switzerland,  the Netherlands, Poland and Ireland. 6 months to wander, I was deeper in love.

Daily life in Paris was quite different from life in Warren, Ohio.  I had no car to jump into and take off on a whim.  I had my cozy little flat, the first in the 19th with a view of the Eiffel Tower from one window and Sacre Coeur from another and my second in the 18th, the heart of Montmartre.  Without a job, it was life on a budget, which basically meant I wasn’t taking taxis to get around. I was depending on my 2 feet or the metro. I really felt like a Parisian when I got my Navigo card complete with photo.  This was a card I renewed monthly for unlimited travel on public transportation.  I wasn’t dining daily at fabulous restaurants but cooking in my home.  This meant daily trips to the local market, the boucherie, the boulangerie or the patisserie and only purchasing what I could carry.  I rarely went to a “supermarket” as a large fresh market for fruits and veggies was one metro stop away.  I eventually bought a little trolley that enabled me to pick up a few more items in one trip.  Other than my landlord (in the 19th) whose window I could look into from mine and who on occasion invited me over for a glass of champagne to enjoy the sunset, I knew no one.

So, are the Parisians rude?  One thing I learned (even before living in Paris), a simple bonjour madame/monsieur, when entering a café, a shop, a boucherie, etc., is necessary and will make life a bit easier.  Don’t forget a merci, au revoir (thank you, goodbye) or the less formal and if you are familiar with the person a merci, a bientot (thank you, see you soon) when leaving.  I began to find my favorite shops and before long, even though as soon as I spoke everyone knew I was American, I was greeted with a warm smile. The meat cutter at my boucherie even became familiar with my favorite cuts of meat and was soon making recommendations.  Other than the faces at my local shops, I still didn’t really know anyone, but not because people were unfriendly.  This was because I spent my first months wandering all over the city, taking it all in.  On weekends, I could travel outside of Paris, but still within Ile de France, with my Navigo card and visited small towns and villages.  I was a kid in a candy store and I had to taste it all.  Soon my time in the 19th was coming to an end.  My landlord had told me he needed the flat for family that was coming.

I found a flat in the 18th, in the heart of Montmartre, which was my real love.  Also, by this time, I had accumulated some “stuff”; a French press, herbs I was growing in my kitchen, a pasta maker, etc.  “Stuff” (too much) I didn’t want to leave behind that had to accompany me on my move.  How to move?  I didn’t know anyone well enough to ask for help, so I moved over the course of a couple days by metro and finally taking the last load by taxi.  Settled, in my favorite area of the city, I began a day to day life that was more routine.  Many days I never left Montmartre.  I again found all my favorite shops in the neighborhood and was soon being greeted as if they knew me.  I was also stopping in the mornings at the same café for coffee and in the evenings for a glass of wine and an occasional meal.

With Julie in Bali. After a bottle of wine, we took a dip in the decorative pool…clothes and all.

I became friends with Julie, one of the servers and would hang out chatting with her.  I met Samy, who worked at La Cigale and Freddy, who took me on outings to visit his friends in the countryside.  Several others, I would meet for coffee, wine, a meal or just café hopping and strolling around Montmartre.  Some spoke good English, some, not so much. My French was improving. I even had a companion I would meet at a café for French lessons, in exchange for English lessons.   Some, I lost contact after I returned to the states.




Freddy at Au Vieux Paris d’Arcole.

Some, like Freddy, from Au Vieux Paris d’Arcole (a great restaurant near Notre Dame), I still visit when in Paris.  My dear friend Julie moved to Bali and is the reason I first went there.  She said I must come to visit her, so I did.  Soon, I will be moving to Bali for a 3.5-month stay and teaching experience.


But it was during these outings I learned a thing or two that fed into the “Parisians are rude” attitude.  First, I‘ve already addressed that a simple bonjour madame/monsieur is an ice breaker.  It helped me then and after my most recent trip, I can honestly say, and I think Teri and my cousins would agree after the initial bonjour, many people switched to English.  Many more than in past visits.  Next, French waiters probably have the worst reputation for being rude.  French waiters are considered professionals and don’t work for tips. That being said, they don’t buy into the American thought of the customer is always right. They don’t have a need to cater to your every whim because they aren’t working for tips.  On the flip side of that coin, they aren’t working for tips so there isn’t the need to quickly turn over tables.  You can sit for 30 minutes or 3 hours.  They get paid the same wage no matter.  Do also greet them with a smile and bonjour.  Trust me, hearing you speak that one simple word, they will know you speak little or no French.  Nearly every waiter we encountered on my most recent trip, when treated with respect (that initial bonjour) switched over to English and was quite charming.  If it appears, I am speaking of French servers in the male gender, it is because most servers in Paris are men. I can only recall one female server at Le Relais de la Butte in Montmartre (conveniently located across from our hotel) being female and she was equally friendly.

The waiter at La Mere Catherine, he kept bringing me little dishes of olives because he knew I liked them.


A rose’ and the olives

The menu….as Americans, we often want to switch up the menu…exchange this for that, steamed not fried, Italian or ranch, dressing on the side….not only in Paris but all over Europe, this is a no-no and causes the rest of the world to view Americans as “difficult”.  The dish comes as it is.  Which reminds me of a second female server who thought Teri was asking to substitute an item for another when in fact she was asking for an additional item as a side.  This did give the server a little attitude. However, by the end of the meal, she was smiling and all was right with the world.

You may think your waiter is ignoring you, when in fact he is respecting your privacy.  He won’t constantly be over your shoulder asking if you need anything or is everything alright.  Once he delivers your food, he will leave you alone to enjoy your company and your dining experience.  They expect you to leisurely linger over your meal.  Enjoy each bite and each sip….relaxing with your family and friends.  If you need something, make eye contact and politely signal them over to your table.  When you are finished with your meal, put your knife and fork together across your plate.  This tells your waiter he can clear the table.  Now, he will ask if you would like dessert or coffee. If you decline, this doesn’t mean he is going to bring your bill. They will leave you to relax and socialize, even if the restaurant is full.  Teri even commented about feeling guilty taking so much time.  We as Americans aren’t programmed to linger and enjoy our meals and time with others.  It is one of the things I love about the European lifestyle.   When you are ready to leave, make eye contact, make the scribble motion or say l’addition s’il vous plait (the bill please).

I hope this explains the misconception of rude waiters, although, as in every culture I’m sure there are some who are rude.

Street Art








Although I never thought Paris was filthy, it is cleaner than I have ever seen it.  Street art/graffiti is everywhere, but it is an accepted practice.  I’ve only once witnessed anyone peeing in the streets.  Although I will tell you, in some of the older buildings, there are still squatty potties, albeit few, they do exist.  I’m not sure how, but I fall more in love with Paris every time I visit, and my heart is definitely in Montmartre.  Next year, I will be moving to Poland. I am looking forward to once again embracing the European way of life and continuing the adventures of “Down the Rabbit Hole”.



“If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.”  Ernest Hemingway, “A Moveable Feast”

With Teri on the steps of Sacre Coeur from our most recent of many trips to Paris.