Music or Lyrics

How long are you willing to wait?

For me? June 14th marked 10 years.

Postal Service on tour for the first time since 2003, when their one and only album, Give Up was released. I still remember where I was 10 years ago when I first discovered them; on the corner of Newbury Street and Mass. Ave, sporting a pair of  vinyl headphones that blocked out a modicum of retail chatter as I stood transfixed at a listening station in the belly of Boston’s Virgin Megastore. It was there I heard Ben Gibbard’s soft, pleading voice loud and clear:

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Taking a Technological Trip

Today’s 30 Days of Indie Travel Project has me scratching my head a little bit.

Travel and technology. Two words that go together thanks to portal technological advances and an abundance of free wi-fi popping up around the globe. But in thinking about my approach to travel, technology really hasn’t factored in, like the iPhone 3GS travel commercial would suggest.

Sure, I’ve traveled with my iPhone and cell phone, using its built-in GPS to confirm I’m going the right way, but I guess I’m just a little more old school (call me a Luddite if you must). Give me a Lonely Planet and a Moleskine, and I’m good to go. Well that, and tuneage.

Day 23: Technology

Where would today’s travelers be without smartphones, GPS, iPods, iPads, or even the internet? Share one item of tech you can’t live without or tell us how technology has changed the way you travel.

Music is my radar. And when traveling, to be able to carry my favorite music with me is crucial. Over the years, it hasn’t always been the easiest.

The Sony Walkman

This wasn’t my first Walkman per se, but it is the one I took with me on our Graves family trip to Europe. Being able to sit in the back of the rental car, listening to UB40 and Bob Marley, along with the Rogers & Hammerstein “Sound of Music” soundtrack, made me realize how music is the ultimate travel companion.

Want to add a soundtrack to the landscape flying past your window? Walkman.

Need to find a better way to ignore your obnoxious little brother? Walkman.

Tossing and turning because your dad is snoring? You guessed it! Walkman.

The Sony Discman 

So the technology got better, when compact discs replaced cassette tapes. The quality was better and you could listen to the same CD over and over without worrying that the tape will break. The only problem? Discman’s weren’t so great from a space standpoint, you had the awkward jewel cases (before CaseLogic entered the picture) and heaven forbid you didn’t hold that sucker on a flat surface.


Steve Jobs. He understood the importance of being able to bring the music you love with you, without the antiquated technology, but preserving the all important power of the “mixed tape” playlist. My iPod is the ultimate travel companion. I can take my entire music collection with me, create playlists on the go, pick-up a new album or song based upon what I hear in a new city or town. It’s a reformed music junkie’s dream come true.

So no matter where I travel to or what landscape whizzes past my window, I know I’ll be able to find the perfect song to complete my travel soundtrack.

You’re Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go

Throughout the course of this 30 Days of Indie Travel Project, I’ve exposed my thoughts and musings on travel, outlook on life and writing in a way that’s been one-third confessional, one-third personal growth and one-third disciplinary (in the writing sense). With each post, it’s as though I’m peeling back the layers of an onion, exposing new parts of my traveler’s life. And now this…love affairs.


Day 21: Love Affair

When we travel, our senses are heightened. We feel more alive and we’re more free to do things we might not at home. We can be who we want. There’s an air of urgency to everything we do – we know our time here, in this place, and with these people, is limited. If we want to do something, we have to do it now. It’s no wonder then that many travelers have relationships on the road. Tell us about a “special someone” you met while traveling. 

I have to confess. I’m not really the kiss ‘n tell type of girl. Although, I get the allure of the topic. Travel allows us to be the best versions of ourselves. We’re unencumbered by the daily grind, in a state of pure exploration and inquisitiveness that alights our souls and makes our eyes shine with an unending desire to connect, learn and quite simply, really live.

If you’ve been following my 30 Day Project, you may remember my “music” selection about a lovely Irish lad named Sam. If I think about the one “special someone” I met on the road, it would have to be him. Maybe it was the long conversations about music and literature, regaling each other with funny stories from our childhoods. There was something freeing about confessing our deepest held dreams and aspirations. After all, I was a backpacker spending a few days in London and would soon be traveling back home. At the time I thought, “what the hell. I’ll never see him again.” I brought down my deeply guarded wall and let him in — I had no idea he would find his way into my heart long after we parted ways.

Fast forward a few months later and I’m living back at my parents house in the cookie-cutter enclave of suburban Orange County. One day, out of the blue, a letter arrives with its distinct Royal Mail “par avion” sticker. Sam.

And so started a lengthy pen pal relationship – us trading fatly stuffed envelopes with letters that more closely resembled journal entries, complete with photos and the true sign of devotion…a mixed tape. Bands and songs we waxed lyrical about were prominently featured along with a Bob Dylan song. It seemed an odd choice, but once I heard it, I got it.

I’ve seen love go by my door

It’s never been this close before

Never been so easy or so slow

Been shooting in the dark too long

When somethin’s not right it’s wrong

Yer gonna make me lonesome when you go

It was so beautiful, so poignant. What I didn’t realize at the time was that the song foretold the demise of our correspondence-based relationship. And while it wasn’t meant to be, that moment in time holds a special place in my heart and I know it does for Sam as well. How can I be sure? From time to time, we’ll drop each other an email and catch up – something will spark a memory, more often than not, it’s that same Bob Dylan song.

I’ll look for you in old Honolulu

San Francisco, Ashtabula

Yer gonna have to leave me now, I know

But I’ll see you in the sky above

In the tall grass, in the ones I love

Yer gonna make me lonesome when you go

Finding Home

Sitting down to write today’s blog post and it dawned on me that as of today, I will have written for two weeks consecutively. That’s Monday – Sunday (x2), an accomplishment in and of itself. Seeing today’s 30 Days of Indie Travel Project email, I smiled. A part of every journey is coming home. Whether it’s returning to someplace familiar or setting off in a new direction — it’s more a feeling and a sense of contentment than any physical address.

Day 13: Home

For some people, no matter how much they love traveling, there’s always no place like home. Other travelers make their homes wherever they happen to be. Tell us about your home – where is it and why do you consider it your home? 

Until I moved to New York, I never really had a settle down type of life. I always craved the next job or city — the prospect of moving to a new place, starting a new job and meeting new people held a certain allure. When the prospect of first moving to New York presented itself, I questioned it. Could I live to New York? My time in Boston for grad school had me questioning whether Nor’easters were worth the fall foliage and proximity to Fenway Park. New York was an entirely different beast.

Fast forward seven years and after six on the isle of Manhattan, I’ve moved yet again, this time across the Hudson over to New Jersey. A place I swore I would never live,* is a place I now call home. It’s here I find my respite from the daily grind, where I can hole up with a good book, write a story, spend time with friends and loved ones.

Until now, I had always eschewed a permanent residence, always treating my apartments as temporary dwellings. No need to invest in furniture or nice art, after all, it was never meant to be my actual home. Our place is an eclectic mix of our personalities and artifacts from our travels. The buddha head Marc bought in India, the cedar box with Mandarin carvings from the flea market I went to in Beijing are just two mementos that are sprinkled throughout our home that bring a smile to my face when I pass them. Marc and I sometimes wax wanderlust about places we could move to — at this stage, what the future will bring is anyone’s guess. But wherever we go, the relics from our past travels will come with us.

This post actually fits with a new favorite song, which reminds me of Marc. The aptly named, “Home” by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes is poetically beautiful, captures the feeling of love and damn, it’s catchy. The chorus is simple and I think best summarizes what domestic bliss means to me, “home is wherever I’m with you.”

*Note: my preconceived notions of New Jersey were formed by relatively few trips in/around the Newark area. I couldn’t understand why it was called “The Garden State” until friends moved to Middletown, NJ. They helped me see the light and in fact, thanks to their daughter’s first birthday, introduced me to my boyfriend and current roommate. 

Lucky #7

I know the saying is “30 days makes a habit” — but I’m feeling like seven days of consistent blogging is a habit in and of itself. Or at least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. So, without further ado…

Day 7: Celebrate

Joining in a local festival, holiday or special event is a great way to learn more about a local culture. Share the story of a celebration that meant something to you on your travels.

Being an aforementioned reformed music junkie I don’t know if it would surprise anyone to learn that a music festival is the celebratory event that meant the world to me. I was 18, living in London for the summer and working retail job. The freedom of being more than 5,000 miles away from my parents, living close to my boyfriend who lived in Oxford (my very first love) and experiencing pubs (consuming more snakebites than any girl should) made me feel like anything in this world was possible.

While my days were spent folding t-shirts at Jeffrey Rogers, my nights were spent listening to music in my flat or at my local. I would pore over Select or Mojo magazines, imagining what it would be like to attend Glastonbury. Every band I was infatuated with would be there, from Supergrass and Oasis to PJ Harvey and Pulp. The only problem was that tickets had been sold out for months, long before London was a glimmer in my eye.

Stopping by the BUNAC offices one day to deal with some paperwork I quickly scanned the corkboard on my way out when I saw a small note about Glastonbury. Her name was Tracy, a fellow American and Anglophile – she had a friend of a friend of a flatmate who was attending the concert with the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament. That’s right! For a few hours each day, our “pay” would be in the form of tickets. And where would we be working? Why, the information booth of course. Yes, an American girl who had never been to Glastonbury or the Somerset countryside would be telling local Englishmen and women where their favorite bands would be taking the stage.

So with a quick call to the London CND team, we secured our badges and within one week’s time I was on a train Somerset-bound. True I had no camping gear and was between paychecks, meaning I had about £20 to my name, but off I went with my day pack that held my toothbrush, some sunscreen and a toothbrush.

Nothing could have prepare me for the concert/stage sprawl, tent cities and caravans that bring Glasto to life. And while Tracy and I did meet prior to leaving, once onsite I didn’t know a single soul among the mass of 80,000 music lovers. This would constitute my first time traveling alone, going to a concert solo and traveling on a shoestring budget (thank goodness for the free church tents that gave you a free place to rest your head).

What made the entire festival so magical was the sheer joy and bliss of everyone there. People from all walks of life congregating in a field in the middle of England to take part of something truly spectacular. When these bands get together at this one point in time to play a song that will never be heard the same way again unless you were there.

Unless of course Pulp makes it a b-side, and every time you hear it takes you back to that moment of anticipation…