La Hippy Playa

La Hippy Playa

Adjustment period is now commencing. I arrive on a Saturday morning at day break weary eyed, ready and excited. As I’m stumbling into the baggage claim a bright smiling handsome beautiful man in waiting. Tony is there sun kissed and dressed in customary green. We unboxed my bike, partially assemble and throw it into the back of cab and haul ass to the beach.  It’s my first taste of India air; a noxious ensemble of raw sewage, the sweet smell of burning garbage, biddy cigarettes, cloves, curry spices, cooking fires and dry dusty dirt.  We make our way dipping and diving through hills and valleys at lightning speed. Upon closer arrival, the cabbie pulls off the side of the road to urinate. Tony joins and I’m compelled as well. We are still standing on the side of the road, no rest stop, and so no cover. Just open air. But what a view it is. I can almost smell the pungent saltwater, and my skin yearns for the warmth of the sunshine.

We arrive along a dusty road into arable goa. The beach is chill. Very chill, scattered with hippies far and wide and hailing from all nations. It’s a costal paradise. This is going to be a great transition from NYC to India. It so far part India, part beach holiday. Café and bakeries are scattered far and wide, menus boasting of American, English or Israeli breakfast specials, including coffee and fresh fruit juice. 100 rupees. Yes rupee the official Indian currency and from now I will gaze at a glorious Mahatma Handy before making any purchase during my time here.

We make it back to our room which is actually a hut, a quaint hut close to the beach with flowing pink curtains tacked over the window cutout and its perfect. There is running water, a shower, and most importantly a mosquito net. I take a quick refresher and we walk along the beach to a hilltop café and I indulge in the most decadent fruit and yogurt salad I can remember. It is fresh and juicy; this is what fruit is supposed to taste like, unlike the magnitude of perfectly unblemished waxed tasteless fruit we are accustomed to. My taste buds are jumping for joy, my sight senses are lazily floating upon the sea and I learn to swat the insistent swarm of flies with the greatest of elegance and nonchalance. Ah India. We walk back to the hut retracing our footprints in the sand. It’s still early and the beaches are quiet. I can smell a bakery in full operation with baguettes, pastries, and cakes already in production, awaiting the early afternoon rush. This is a haven for hippies therefore very late to rise, except for few yogis and early birds the place is a ghost town.  But like the sleeping dragon I imagine it to be, the few, the strong begin to wander about. I notice heaps of shops, markets and stalls erecting along the dirt paths and soon and wondrous community erupts.  I can t help but grin the whole way back to the hut.

We find Jamey and promptly, yet regretfully boot him out; luckily into the adjacent hut. I feel guilty immediately, but it’s been a long time coming and the honeymoon suite is ready for action. So long Jamey, hello honey. We engage in a little afternoon delight and after a strenuous workout I want to hit the ocean. We had some time to make up for and let’s not forget I’m a Scorpio woman full of vengeance and sexuality. I can tell it us already gonna be a hot one as the sun begins to soar overhead. The beach is unbearably hot to walk on, and it’s swarming with merchants, backpackers, sunbathers, and locals. The ocean is crisp clean and cool and refreshing splash is all I need to rejuvenate.  I think I’m going to like it here.

Its in arambol that we meet some fellow travelers; Juan and Julia- a married couple from Canada, Estr- a grad student from Germany, Sol- an Indian American from Gainesville Fl, etcS

After a few days of lounging around on the beach and eating great food, we decide to take a ride out into the countryside. For starters I’m ready for a taste of real India, and I want to get out of my safety zone of foot transport and into my soon to be world of cycling. The journey is arduous and it’s already pushing my limits. I forget to eat a hearty breakfast in my excitement and within 2o minutes I’m exhausted. These are the hills and valleys we swarmed through earlier in the week and are severely more elaborate to traverse on a cycle in blistering heat, than in the comfort of a speeding taxi. We stop over at a small roadside eatery to grab some meager food and water.  I somehow manifest the courage and energy to continue and we are off another 5ks. We slip down to the waterside and wait for a ferry. India is so beautiful and impoverished; they are two words I begin to link synonymously with mother India. We stop again for samosas and coffee without direction and feeling the burn. We take a small dirt path down a slight decline and already I’m concerned with the struggle of making in back up, when the road turns sharply and we arrive at a stunning beach paradise, however just out of reach. We are in the backwaters and see a bright white crystal beach in the distance. We convince or bribe some locals to haul us over in their boat lets be serious it was a win/win situation.  It’s a private beach with clear blue seas, white sand and empty, a welcome change to the beehive of arambol. The time to make a move is upon us.

A Whirlwind Tour

With my current job at the Guggenheim slowly drawing to an end, my boyfriend across the Atlantic, i start to wonder exactly where my life is taking me. I have another gig set up with Jesse, my on again off again employer but its short term and not in my top pay bracket. He booked me for a set assistant this time, which doesn't necessarily bring home the bacos but it will pay some of the bills, eventually. the wonderful thing about freelancing in new york is sending out invoices and waiting for the checks in the mail. they are ALWAYS in the mail. its a standard procedure

With my new found employment vacancy, my missing lover, and the coldest month of winter approaching, I'm persuaded to join tony and his crew in India for a short holiday. Did i mention he and his companions are traveling around India via bicycle.  now i am no stranger to the cruiser. i have a vintage 52 Schwinn that gets me around town, complete with a metal basket on front that perfectly stores a 6 pack of Brooklyn lager or Magic Hat. yum. but it broke its front rim last fall and has been sitting in its own misery in the corner ever since. not to mention its made out of steel. its heavy. really heavy. so, i have had no proper training let alone any experience on a mountain bike or road bike in almost a decade. crash course in bicycle safely here i come. 

I keep assuring tony that my type of holiday includes a backpack. a map, a good book, and a few hundred bucks. lots of hiking, beaches, exploring, trains, planes, and automobiles if you will. but come on. wheres your will to be weird, to try something new. to reach out beyond your horizons and taste life. A self sustainable life. traveling soley on human power. the wind in your hair. life in the palms of your hands. tony researches some bike online and we (he) decided on a  folding mountain bike hybrid from dahon, the matrix.. tony offers to split the cost as a token of our love and his desire to spend this wonderful experience together. I begin immediately searching for a sublet, cat and turtle care taker, flights to India, visa, passport, shopping for gear, panniers, shorts, gloves, and the necessary bullshit that is going to make my life easier for the next few months. a few days later i head to union square to the bike shop to check it out. take if for a test spin and im fully confident I CAN DO THIS. 

Mean Green Norma Jean

i begin by heading down first ave towards east village and make my to the lower east side. the Manhattan bridge is looming in the distance. i have walked this bridge before, once with my flatmate Brett on a lovely autumn afternoon. we strolled from the Staten island ferry back to our apt in bushwick because the weather was nice. and another time with tony after an evening out having drinks with friends it was warm and drizzling and couldn't be fucked to wait for a cab or make a few subway transfers. but this was a whole new world. i was part of something great, something epic. all the scensters on their fixed wheels, cuffed jeans, hip sneakers, and tight leather jackets were waiting at the light right next to me. ok, just follow there lead and you wont end up in the middle of rush hour traffic. or on the evening news. waiting, waiting and green light go.

i start grinding the gears because i haven't figured out which way is up or down or what gear i should be taking off in anyway and start pumping. piece of cake. until i hit the incline, my heart is racing, my sides are stitching I'm sweating my ass off because duh it was freezing when i  left my house so of course i wore my down jacket. my face is throbbing, and I'm sucking in ice air like im inhaling a freezer pop. i cant take it anymore and I'm only 100 feet into the uphill battle. when i hop off and push the god damned thing to the top. amongst all the bell ringing,"right behind you"  and "outta the way" shouts from the few the proud the hipsters. even grandpa passed me on the oldest ten speed i have ever seen. i was mortified. well get used to it lady, this is how your going to spend your vacation. To see more on fixies read this

i finally made it back to brooklyn in one piece and immediately skped tony to brag about my new ride and gain some sympathy for the effort. ive ordered my gear, ive found a last minute sublet, sailed through the replacement passport and 1 day visa application. lastly i need to book the flight. tony hooks me up with his travel agent who promptly gets me on a flight in 3 days and a return ticket reservation. I will admit at this point i dont actually have a  return ticket and this little trick proves to be essential to my existence.

I wont Kiss and Tell

I imagine and fantasize an evening filled with a candle lit dinner, a bottle (or two) of red, some blues and jazz, an all night passionate love making sessions and multiple orgasms . after all, your leaving the country. Instead its frantic last minute errands, emails, skype phone calls, confirmations,  and the packing and repacking of a custom built road master neon green bicycle. complete with luggage and gear and multiple cups of joe. Sigh. The taxi arrives sometime around 4am and im exhausted and stressed, but confident that tony's anxiety will subside when he arrives at the airport. This is his first big trip. No, no i understand. its ok. we'll see each other sometime soon. have fun in nepal

this is my first night alone in this huge apt and its awkward and lonely. just me the cat and the turtle. none of which are offering any moral support. as the days press on, the memory of our nights together, and mornings of homemade soy lattes and breakfast seem like a distant past. i remain connected by remembering all of our moments together and how summer faded to fall and into winter, like a passing cloud. silent and reverent. our friendship blossomed into a wholesome romantic relationship full of respect and admiration. something that i can assure you i had not known before, yet was strangely comfortable with. had we hopped in the sack at my first attempt to throw myself at him, well i can ascertain it would have been different. our first moment huddled together in a tent at burning man, laughing playfully and friendly, was of sincere and mutual acknowledgement that we were taking our relationship to another level. a deeper and more intimate level that i was very much in need of. and wow. was it worth the wait. hallelujah hallelujah halleee luAH...

our initial infatuation with exploring each others bodies kept on going all the way through the burn into reno, san fran and back to nyc. i suppose we all need a break sometime so i finally went home. but i was a new woman. ready to take on the world and everything in it. this also encouraged a less aloofness from tony and more attention for me. its was great to be desired again, like the sexual goddess i am, and about damned time my hot bod was worshiped too. but like any other inferno it eventually fades to embers and that's ok by me. it was feeling more comfortable and i hate to say it routine. dinners at home, breakfasts and coffee, work, late nights, early mornings. my place or yours. ships passing in the night; im early to rise, hes a night owl, we often passed each other on the switch. the real world part of the relationship that i  have difficulty getting used to. but oh how to spice it up you ask, sublet your boyfriends apartment, two weeks before he leaves town. yes brilliant idea.

now with the new york grey settling in and my memories keeping me alive i decide to pass some of the time by redecorating. i mean who wants this silly old table tennis monstrosity taking up all this lovely morning sunlight anyway. my last apt  was in desperate need of sunshine and i refuse to be denied any longer. my flatmate poonam agrees that a comfy chair in front of the window is just what we need to cure to our winter blues. not to mention a fresh coat of orange paint and a new shelf to hang our plants on. ha, i said our. after all i am sort of house sitting and taking care of the greenery. im also debating a surprise renovation of the famous turtle tank into an indoor pond. of course her majesty ezmy would also enjoy a fountain to splash around in. who the fuck am i turning into the diy martha stewart. my mother would call this nesting. i don't like this idea at all. or do i? i am pushing 30 with no history of a long term relationship under my belt, he could be the one, and its my time to shine. all the decisions i make from here on out will determine the outcome of my new life cycle. or so the story goes.  anyway,  i must say i love what ive done to the place, and enjoy nothing more than sipping a cup a tea curled up in that chair with a good book. enter universal trump card

i am a freelance artist/designer/scenic painter/prop stylist/carpenter/p.a/art director/special fx artist/what ever will pay my rent this month kinda girl. and at times i feel like a tigress out hunting my prey when it comes to work. its cold. damp. and im lonely when i realize a few museum flies at the guggenheim are talking about a new gig next door at the cooper hewitt. well i havent been called yet, and imagine it was probably a slight oversight so i march right over. budget cuts? are you serious? and you chose me? i am totally counting on this gig to get me through the winter. anyone else who freelances in new york knows what a dreadful pain in the ass it is to find work in janurary. fuuuck.

In the Begining, god made Cupid

Holed up in my Brooklyn Apt I'm searching for answers and the meaning of life. The itunes are blasting as they always are and Brett and Hilary are busying themselves with their artistic endeavors, smiles all around. Our railroad apt seems exceptionally small and cozy in winter months. lucky for us we sit on top of the boiler and have adapted our frozen peas of hospitality. Our neighbors, upon feeling the chill; give us a ring, and we place a bag of frozen peas on the thermostat in order to kick on the furnace. as the warm air rises we strip down to our undies and settle in for the night.  the sounds of synchronized typing can be heard throughout the tiny space. for those non new yorkers a rail road apt consists of multiple bedrooms with a hallway running the length of the rooms. on the interior. therefore you must pass through each room into the next into the next to make your way to the common area. its not for everyone, but during my time, it was certainly comfortable. 

Now, because i normally detest getting out in the cold, my social life is restricted to a few blocks consisting of Brooklyn natural-my organic grocery shop/ magic hat #9 supplier, the archive-local coffeehouse/movie rentals/ free wi fi, 3rdward-artist co-op/part time job/warehouse parties extraordinaire, life cafe-veggie friendly brunch/neighborhood bar/whiskey specials, and the all night rice&beans bodegas. there are lots of slashes because this is a small upcoming neighborhood that still a bit rough around the edges. Although, if i can make a run for it one block to the subway, hop on the L to Union square, its only another short block to the movie theater entrance. So Ive decided to join an online dating site. yes. yes i know, but its winter, and I'm not dating any more dudes i meet at the bar. well not this week.

My drug of choice is called Okcupid. This is not your average dating site. its specially formulated to accommodate all your dating preferences, cha-ching. one night stand with no attachments, lives in Brooklyn, loves to travel. looking for long term relation...blah blah blah, and here we go. to get started they ask you some questions to test your dating style. my answer:

The Playstation. Easy to turn on. Hard to beat.

You’re a nice girl, and you have lots of sex. It’s therefore highly likely that you’re attractive, and you’re certainly outgoing & friendly. Plus, this healthy physical attitude of yours indicates deeper emotional well-being and stability. Unheard of. When guys dare to dream, they dream of you.

You don’t get attached too easily, and, to wit, you’re not necessarily looking for something long-term right now. That’s a bigger asset than you know. Though, physically speaking, you’re open to anything, you’re keeping your emotional side well-protected. This means there won’t be a lot of wreckage to clean up whenever you decide to settle down.

In the meantime, the men you share yourself with actually respect you. Like them, you enjoy sex for its own sake and don’t need any other validation for pleasure than pleasure itself. Hopefully, you have the good sense to blow off anyone who thinks less of you for that. Usually, this is the part of the description where we offer some life-correcting advice, but honestly, we can’t think of anything about you we’d change. Keep on fucking, partner.

wow. i like this site already. go on check for yourself: http://www.okcupid.com/online.dating.persona.test

a few chats, im's, quivers, matches and messages and im in the money. nothing serious manifests but a few dates here and there and spring is already around the corner. With multiple options and spring fever bursting over I am ready for Love. or at least Lust. which is; contrary to popular belief, not the same thing. Enter TonyJP. a sexy Italian Leo NYU film school graduate born across the Hudson  in Jersey. red flags anyone. what, where?!??

With spring out like a lamb and summer in full lions swing we decided to have our first date at the mermaid parade held on Coney Island. It symbolizes the first day of summer,  topless tanning and drunken debauchery. again lucky for me, my dear friend Robyn is town and she just-so-happens to be a costume designer and whips up a spectacular mermaid rendition with an Asian flair.

After several hours of boobs and booze Tony arrives dressed as a neon orange starfish. what can i say he looked hot, and his color highlights my own starfish and my new tan. I keep humming the theme song from the little mermaid "under the sea" and giggling like a school girl. must have been the whiskey.

we hit it off well and decided to see each other again, dressed like homosapiens and not sea creatures. Our next date, im swept off my Reebok's by a captivating young man in a tight bright green sleeveless tee on a green scooter. wow. im in love.

its slow a steady for several weeks. casual is the name of the game here and believe me ive tried everything. Everything. he has a super cool loft overlooking downtown brooklyn with an elevator and a buzzer. " im moving on upppp, to the east side..."  after the introductory phase Ive learned this: he plans to leave the country and cycle around the world, is a recent vegetarian, has a pet turtle, a fear of  intimacy, is a mac genius, obsessed with photography, not an outdoors guy, looks great in a skirt, has better hair and more products than me, uses the word grody, and is basically your sweet quirky boy next door. oh yes, hes perfect...?

Summer closes in and burning man takes its place in the limelight. its all we can talk about, costumes, travel, art, ideas and erotica. oh wait the last one is mine. Im hanging in there. I do love a challenge. This is new terrain, uncharted territory, desolation, a human wasteland i must traverse in order to be set free into the butterfly of my own existence. oh but i have a plan. my 29th birthday roles around and its a small gathering of friends and vegetarian fare. the time comes where tony needs to find a sublet. ive practically all but moved in at this point and decide i would be the perfect candidate. lets just make sure my super egotistical cat Esmeralda and his nonchalant turtle axl rose will get along. they do, swimmingly. alright, so I fill up the backseat of my buddy Bob's 2 door civic and Im moved in. I always have and probably always will travel light, its been a staple of mine since childhood. ah sitting in the lap of luxury. Im falling in love, its central park in fall, and my now live in boyfriend is leaving tomorrow.