Job/Housing Search: What A Hoot ....that's sarcasm

I'm not sure if anyone has told you this before, but moving to a new city--finding a place to live, and then finding work to fund that living...takes time. Before I left for Portland, I knew getting myself out there and getting established would take effort. But I was fairly lax in my attitude. It'll work out. And it is working out, but maybe not as quickly as I thought it would.

I have a place to live! It's in a neighborhood called Sellwood, and it's with a family: journalist, professor, thirteen-year-old daughter, dog named Olga, and cat (name to be learned). Their house is full of books. Done deal, really.

On the work front, so far I have a part-time nannying position. I'm also tutoring two international students--one needs help with his composition class, and the other needs conversation practice. Powell's, the bookstore, isn't hiring at the moment, but I'm keeping an eye out (read: refreshing the application page several times a day).

Meanwhile, I've been exploring the city. Emma and Aaron are going through the same thing as me, so when we're not all worrying and stressing and scouring Craig's List, we hang out. Tyler and Laura have been most welcoming--they've showed us some of their best beer haunts, including the splendid Mississippi Pizza, which has pub quiz on Wednesdays. And Emily has just been the best, opening her home to us.

Outside Mississippi Pizza

Kate, Laura, Emma, Aaron at Green Dragon Pub

Sunset from Mt. Tabor Park

The next step is mostly to keep doing this step: find reliable work. Keep exploring this new city. Additionally, I'd like to make friends with some Portlanders. "Find my people," more or less. You know.

Wish me luck!

I Like Portland

This city is totally Angelica-friendly. There is excellent coffee everywhere. As a standard. It's amazing. The city welcomes bikers! Bike lanes abound and there's even a bike/pedestrian specific bridge. The whole food truck thing is ridiculous. I can't get over how much good food this city has. And the craft beer. Jesus, the craft beer! I don't know if I'm just with friends who have good taste, or if every bottle/tap in Portland is genuinely delicious. It certainly seems that way.

And the books. Thanks to Powell's, bookstore Mecca, this city really likes to read. Yesterday, I went to a literature festival for crying out loud. The art museum seems cool, too. And there are so many used bookstores scattered throughout the city. Bookstores I want to explore--I'm glad Powell's is here, but also that it can co-exist with so many unique, smaller shops. Record stores! Thrift stores!

People recycle here. The environment is respected and appreciated. People want to go skiing and hiking and general adventuring.

Everyone is young and smart and interested in stuff. At least, from what I can see. It's pretty cool.

These are my first impressions.

Buzzfeed's personality quiz wasn't wrong when it said I'd fit in here. Buzzfeed knew.

 First view of bookstore Mecca

 Polish food truck food

 The Willamette river

 Turkish coffee

Tart Berry toppings

So, I'm Moving To Portland...

On Tuesday, November 3, I'm spreading my wings (last minutes packing) and flying (taking a plane) to a city I've never been before, but according to Buzzfeed, I'm quite compatible with. I don't have a job, or a clue, really. Luckily, I have generous friends who have offered to keep a roof over my head until I find one of my own. I plan to drink amazing coffee. That's my primary goal. Then, go to the bookstore Mecca, Powell's.

Over the past months, when I've told people where I'm going, the most common reaction question is: "Why?" Which makes sense. I haven't mentioned Portland before. I don't have any particular connection to it. There's no professional reason to go out there. On a basic level, I'm going because I can. I'm a leaf in the wind! Not all those who wander are lost and all that.

There are dissenters. Some have told me about all the people with MA's who are making tacos. In a city full of educated young people, good jobs are hard to come by. Housing is pricey and the cost of living is just going to keep getting higher and higher. I'm sure all this is true, and yet I don't know how acutely the statistics will affect me. Will I become a statistic?

If it doesn't work out, I can always go someplace else.

For now, I'm busying myself with work, packing, and goodbyes. Cooperstown has been a lovely home, The Farmers' Museum has been a unique and fun place to work, and my hiatus in upstate New York before embarking on this next adventure has afforded me the time and space to reflect on what I want, where I want to go, and who I'd like to become. I don't have any definitive answers. But that's okay. I have an idea, and from ideas great things spring forth.

I'll keep you all posted.

The Farmers' Museum

It's October and I've Been Doing Stuff

Time is passing at a weird rate. I'm super aware of the weather--it is autumn. The leaves are changing. It is getting colder. This, in addition to the fact that I finally bought a ticket for my flight, has made me hyper aware of the time I have left before I leave for Portland.

I have several books I want to read before departure (so I can leave them behind...I really can't carry everything with me) and I don't spend enough time reading. I've started re-watching The Office. It is the single most comforting thing in my life right now, especially when so much is uncertain. I know that Michael Scott will always be inappropriate. I know that Jim will always gaze lovingly at Pam. And I know Creed will always be inexplicably weird in an old guy with one hell of a back story kind of way. Crawling into my collapsed futon bed with my laptop and, frankly, too many snacks, is, at the moment, my definition of solace. I'm gearing up for the changes ahead.

Other things I've been up to:

-Reapplying for my student loan payment plan
-"Saving" money to move
-Developing my interpreting style at work
-Thinking about writing poetry
-Freezing my hands while walking to work
-Getting tickets for Glastonbury Festival
-Falling in love
-Learning how to work the wood stove in the print shop
-Doing the dishes
-Cuddling hardcore with Kristofferson the cat
-Dancing at Sam & Kyle's wedding
-Chatting with a co-worker about whether or not women should be in the military
-Listening to "Dolphin's Cry" by Live
-Respecting Miles Davis

If you want to hang out before I leave the east coast, tell me so we can figure something out. However, I might say no, as The Office is perpetually calling my name. Just kidding. Sort of.

Life is good.

I work at The Farmer's Museum. I interpret rural life of upstate NY circa 1845. This is how I dress most days:

I like my job! I work in the print shop and I've made some cool things, including a copy of this Emily Dickinson poem:

I like living with Robby and Andréa. They take really good care of me. We have good chats all the time. Andréa and I have started watching Chopped on Netflix after work. I've also fallen in love with their cat, Kristofferson. It's not entirely mutual...yet.

On Monday nights I play D&D. We've come so far in the campaign! One more level, and my character will finally get to turn into a giant eagle.

Sometimes we go to dances, or play games, or get drinks at the fire bar. One time we rode on the Blues/"Booze" train.

Life is good.

Transitions

Purgatory is a good word for it--how one feels moving between one adventure and the next. The waiting, the wondering, the stress. A harsh light is shed on the temporality of situation, and relationships. Everything moves too fast and so, agonizingly slow. Decisions must be made. Adulthood must happen. Money is probably a good call.

It's good to be back. To see faces I haven't seen in seven months. To listen to friends' stories and life updates. To compare goals and ask big questions together. It's also been really great having access to my favorite Thai food.

But now is the time to make important choices I've been putting off since April. It's all fun and games to decide to move across the country, but then the reality of actually doing it hits you in the face. Is this what I really want? There are two sides to a coin: on one side, one wings it. On the other, one carefully researches and plans. Maybe these sides are on the same coin for a reason. I've got the winging down. The planning I'm working on.

I have no idea what I'm doing. It is terrifying. Luckily, I have amazing friends who feed me and let me pet their cat. Amazingly, I've found some work to occupy my time (and fund my craft beer tastings) until I get on the road. Hopefully, I can keep my shit together until that time, if not for longer.

There are some things that are keeping me sane. The first sip of coffee in the morning. The sunrise over Otsego county's breath-taking hills, knolls, and farmland. Loving Kristofferson, Andréa and Robby's cat. Music. And walking. Frothing the perfect foam for a latte. And writing, when I do it.

I'm going to leave you with a poem, because poetry is great and everybody should appreciate it on a more regular basis.

Poem: “The Orange,” by Wendy Cope, from Serious Concerns (Faber & Faber).

The Orange
At lunchtime I bought a huge orange—
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave—
They got quarters and I got a half.

And that orange, it made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.
This is peace and contentment. It's new.

The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all the jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
I love you. I'm glad I exist.

No Longer Allergic!

I'm back in the United States of America. For the foreseeable future. It's very bittersweet. Like, if you looked up "bittersweet" in the dictionary, there would be a close-up picture of my face as I stepped on the plane that took me to Moscow*. And beside that photo would be a GIF (because this dictionary is interactive and on the Internet, apparently) of animated rainbows dancing. Guys, I'm so excited about the Next Step. Super pumped. Ready to roll. It's going to be amazing (and hard... adulthood is not as simple as clicking your red heels together; it's more like a long and treacherous journey down an apocalyptic alternative reality version of the yellow brick road--let's be real). Like, whoa.

But I miss Nice! Fancy that! Let's take a moment and look at what I thought of Nice before I even got there:

"So, I'm a little nervous about moving to Nice. Nice has 147 days of "strong sun" and 64 days of "weak sun" annually. That's 211 days of sun. I'm used to a 164 days of sun! I will have to deal with 47 extra days of sunshine! Oh my! What am I going to do?!"

I may have been a little too preoccupied with meteorology. I have gotten rashes from the sun before, so my worries were legitimate. Besides this, though, I had no idea what to expect from Nice. I had no sense of the place. No inkling of what I'd find when I got there. No expectations. Which is cool, I guess. I was free to experience the city without prejudice. 

Now that I've lived there for 8+ months, I definitely have a sense of the place. My sense is that Nice is always going to be something different. People come and go too quickly there. Businesses fall apart and go up in days. The turnover of tourists is remarkable. These are integral parts of Nice's identity. In some ways, it's good that I'm leaving Nice when I am. The delightful pocket of Nice I experienced last year no longer exists, which is very sad, but is also the nature of the universe. Change. C'est la vie and all that.

I want to take a moment, though, to appreciate my Nice. The Nice in my head--the Nice I'll always remember. Here's a poem:

Allergic to the Sun

When you move to a place without 

expectations, and with an apprehension 

for the sun, you will fall into friendship

with the bars and the people--with the 

people, for a night and with 

the bars, for a lifetime. 

This is the inevitability of the Côte d'Azur.

Do not be alarmed. The sea will sooth

your browning skin. The rocks that

make up the plage will leave gray 

dust on your clothes--reminders of good 

times gone by. Ghosts of smiles.

The street names will remind you of

dreary Paris, but the light and the 

colors--weapons Matisse harnessed to 

revolutionize his craft--will awaken 

in you a fidelity to a place you never

thought you'd call home. Here, you

work, and you play more than you work,

and that is the nature of your stay, and

you don't mind. The government does

its best to dishearten you, and you

laugh at it, because that is all you can

do. You laugh and file the paperwork, joke

and then pray. You go to the beach with friends

who laugh and pray with you. You sit beneath a

brilliant sky and wonder at how this 

became your life. And as you sit you realize 

you are no longer allergic to the sun.

Whoop, whoop! There it is. Nice won me over, guys. 

Anyway, I want to give a huge shout out to all the lovely people I met who made my Nice experience what it was. You guys basically won me over, so there you go. I can't wait to see some of you again--either at a Nice reunion, or a chance encounter, or during a trip to a new corner of the world. You're also welcome to come find me in the U.S. I will feed you delicious Annie's Mac n' Cheese and we will drink fantastic craft beer. Deal?

*My trip from Nice took an epic 2 days in which I traveled via overnight train to Paris; Orly airport to Moscow; Moscow to JFK; airtram to Grand Central where I had beers with Olivia and Max!!!; Metro-North train from Grand Central to Waterbury; and my dad's car from Waterbury to home.