I feel like I have learned more in this 6-month period than any other period of my life… no exaggeration. Whether we are doing something new or the same ol’ thing in a new place, we are confronted by differences. As you can imagine, it is impossible to live with all this newness and not be touched by it.
Let’s face it, we’ve all either lived in or visited cities with problems. And Memphis is no different as it struggles with many challenges, but what is different is the city’s internal drive to be more. It’s in the Memphians’ DNA! In fact, while staying there, Claudio and I repeatedly said to one another, “This city just doesn’t quit trying to improve.”
Somehow, with all of the exhilaration swirling around our new adventure as travel bloggers / vloggers and the laser focus on our speedy entry into social media, I never really stopped to consider what it would actually mean to share myself publicly. My face. My body. Me. See, I would never described myself as beautiful. I would never referred to myself as cute. Truth be told, in my self-comparisons, I almost always come out wanting.
I was very very curious about West Virginia. To be honest, I didn’t know a thing about the state’s touristic sites. And to be even honest-er, my desire to visit the land where Montani Semper Liberi (Mountaineers Are Always Free) was merely out of curiosity: to validate an impression I had of West Virginia, based on absolutely nothing other than inferences I had gathered from my fellow New Englanders.
…a testimony to the good times that were. But overtime, these witnesses to history deteriorate: they rust and crumble with the passing years. To have the privilege of experiencing these spots, in their current condition, brings feelings of sadness for what is no longer…This post is all about those forgotten things.
The International Sand Sculpting Championship was in town. so how could we not attend?!? Excitedly, Claudio, I and our daughter Rachel (who was visiting) set off to see the sand castles. And were we wrong! These were not sand castles at all, or at least not like any that we had made as we were growing up. They were sculptures just as you would see in the finest museums of Europe, except they were not made of marble; they were, seemingly impossibly, carved out of sand.
As we progressed, or perhaps regressed, in time; we became increasingly aware that the USA we know, was a thing of the past, or perhaps is to be a thing of the future. (Time travel always confuses the heck out of me!) We were clearly being prepped to enter a different era-- and Colonial Williamsburg did not disappoint.
The white hair, bearded man who popped out began to fill the gas cans in the back of his truck while chatting animatedly with the convenience store attendant. We watched these friends conversing with an ease that only comes with repetition. Then, we noticed that there was the non-business end of a rifle sticking up in the back corner of the pick-up truck bed, as if it were there for easy access or to be used as a pole onto which various items could be tied. So, as non-threateningly as possible
And so it begins the adventure...and the mistakes . The next few months were a study in the difference between dreams and reality. Everything took longer than expected, but eventually, we were able to put the home that we had renovated with love, sweat and a bit of blood, on the market. Within 2 weeks we accepted an offer and set the closing date. Mistake 1: We gave ourselves only 3 weeks to vacate. We quickly learned that packing and moving is completely different than trying to sell 95% of your possessions while keep