The hammock.

I really should not torture myself with these images of summer, but I miss this hammock. It sits beside the Colorado mountain house, amongst tall trees and brush.  Last summer, during our wedding, the meadow around the house was covered in vivid purple lupine wildflowers.  We'd walk down into the meadow, stomping our feet as we trudged through the tall brush, and then stare at the Continental Divide ahead.

Autumn colors and 38 hours in Wisconsin!

We came back from our weekend trip to Wisconsin to visit Ethan's family.  It felt so good to get out of the city, if only for 38 hours!  It was a weekend of several firsts: my first time in Wisconsin, my first view of the mighty Mississippi River, my first time dipping into Minnesota (just across the river from town), my first time seeing an Amish buggy, and my first taste of a pumpkin shake at Michael's Frozen Custard, in Madison.  And one other first: meeting the community with whom Ethan grew up.  His mom - who helped plan so much of our wedding - held a little "meet the bride" dinner, and I was all smiles and red lips.

In any case, it's back to work.  This week, I feel like I'm herding cats - and not in a good way.

Paperbag memories

via

Bemoaning the fact that, for the past year, I've been sticking to the practically the same silhouette for dresses (i.e., iterations of this current favorite), I was determined to break the pattern. I revisited this 3.1 Lim paperbag skirt, one of the few skirts I brought with me from California, which thankfully was not in my stolen suitcase.  

I dug my hands in the pockets.  Inside one of the pockets I found a card from Bleuet, a yoghurt shop in Portland, Oregon, prompting a stream of thoughts.

The last time I wore this skirt was in 2006, maybe early 2007.  Given the card in the pocket, that day, I went to NW 23rd Street in Portland.  This was a time before Cambodia, before Thailand, before Ethan, a time when I still lived in Portland, Oregon and when I subscribed to the idea that I'd continue to work in a firm, in the United States.  I remember, that day, ordering yoghurt topped with blueberries, granola, and honey--funny, the same flavors I've been craving this past week--and I remember the taste of tart and sweet.

My, how time flies.  Could the twenty-something me have imagined all the twists and turns life has brought since that day?  

At our wedding, my friend Dom, with whom I worked in Cambodia, said to me, "It seems like you've lived two lives, the one before and the one after Cambodia."

Some days, it really feels like that.

Married - and in Turkey.

We sadly said goodbye to family and friends in Colorado, said goodbye to the mountain house, which over the summer months has been surrounded by green grass and purple wildflowers, said goodbye to the prolonged wedding celebrations, and boarded a plane to Istanbul.  We arrived on day two of Ramadan.

The clock on my computer says it's 10:00pm EST, but my body knows that it's early morning in Istanbul. Sleep will not come. The morning call to prayers from the Blue Mosque--loud, reverberating in our hotel room--woke me up.  In the distance, I hear a cat meowing, the sounds of a car motor, and seagulls.

I woke up to my mind racing - to thoughts of our small ceremony, where Ethan's father played the bagpipes and, like the Pied Piper, led our guests down to the meadows behind the/(my new) family's mountain home, through sage brush and wildflowers.  Then, I thought of the beautiful words spoken by Jerry, Ethan's friend from grad school and our officiant; the readings by Cherlou, Eric and Nicole; the speeches by Latham and my sisters ... 

Looking back, a few days after, it wasn't a polished affair; rather very casual and free. And yes, I wasn't over the moon about my dress, but it did the job.  All of it felt so very intimate, with family and friends contributing in various ways: the bagpipes, our officiant, the readings, the awesome pies baked by my sister-in-law (we did not do wedding cake), the wildflowers arranged by the women in my family (though admittedly bought from a florist); my makeup done by my sister, Jack; the photography by Rhys and Ingrid; offers from CK to pick up my dress when it wasn't delivered on time; and, through it all, coordination of all the moving pieces by Ethan's mom.  Because of these contributions, the day turned out to be much more meaningful.  

Anyway, I'm sure I'll write more about the whole thing later.

But my main point this early morning: I woke up in Istanbul and suddenly became aware that I was utterly happy.  And if I've learned anything over the years, it's to savor times like this, to really grab hold of them, and maybe even to document them.

Packing

via

Ever since I landed Stateside and my luggage was stolen, I've been trying to find some of my old Mayle pieces and other pieces that got away.  In three months, I've done a pretty good job, though I know it will take time to replace my Federicka in the Amalfi print, which I wore all the time in Southeast Asia. I will forever associate that dress with long days at the Phnom Penh markets, small dinner parties at Gayla's house, chatting on a rooftop in Kuala Lumpur's Chinatown, and walking Silom in Bangkok.  Sigh.

One piece I recently found was this green dress.  I've wanted it for years.  I may wear it to my rehearsal dinner this week.

I've finally chosen a dress for the wedding, but I'm tempted to throw on my Mayle Pina instead.  It is a small wedding in the meadows after all.  Wildflower bouquets.  The Rocky Mountains in the background.  Call it my Plan B.

These days, you'll probably see me talking to myself, saying, "This is a small, simple wedding."  Then, I end up fielding questions about last-minute guests, last-minute catering changes, about things to do in Colorado, etc.

Wedding dress ennui

via ?

This isn't my wedding dress, but, when I still lived in Asia, when I decided that my favorite Cambodian dressmaker, Monika, would be creating my dress, this was my inspiration.  I cannot remember now who makes this dress, so if someone knows, do tell.

During my last trip to Phnom Penh in December, I spoke to Monika about how much silk and lace I needed.  I even searched for materials in Bangkok, but did not find anything I really liked.  I thought I had several months to complete this task.

But a job came up in Washington DC, and I jumped.  And then, somehow I got the job, and I moved. 

I'm not very excited by the wedding dresses I've seen.  Actually, I am so disinterested in the choices.  It may just be because I've procrastinated and I'm running out of time.  Am I suppose to be in love with my wedding dress?  Isn't the more important thing that I'm excited about everything else, the man I'm marrying and our new life together?  (Being excited about both would be great.)

Thoughts today: Cappadocia and cave hotels.

via 4feet2mouths

Last minute, and right before we purchased tickets to La Paz, Bolivia, my obsession with a Turkey honeymoon returned--in full force.  Thoughts of strolling through Istanbul, of wasting hours at a cafe, of rummaging through bazaars began to crowd out thoughts of the Uyuni Desert and Bolivian mountains.  It took some convincing, but Ethan agreed.  We booked tickets for July.

For once, we are going to take it slow on this trip.  And despite our tendencies, what we are not going to do are crazy marathon train rides, rushed itineraries, and border crossings (which unfortunately crosses out a trip to Sofia, Bulgaria or, for that matter, my daydreams about finally visiting Georgia).  Instead, we'll visit only two places on this trip: Istanbul and another yet-to-be-determined locale.

Cappadocia, in Central Turkey, is a contender.  It looks incredible.  We would stay in a cave hotel!

via Elkep Evi; and Esbelli Evi

Another contender is the Black Sea region, in northeastern Turkey, close to Georgia and Armenia. 

via the Guardian

Debbie Downer

A market in Kashgar, China

To be honest, I've been in a little funk since I moved Stateside.  Why?  I mean, everyone keeps talking about how great life is - wedding, new job, new city.  Shouldn't I be beyond thrilled?

I'm grateful for so many things.  I feel lucky to have found a partner in life, who shares many of my dreams and who happens to be one of the most loving, patient, ego-free people I know.  I've also managed to find a more sustainable, not dysfunctional way to practice human rights law, with a group of supportive, fairly laidback lawyers. (Who knew such people/lawyers existed?)  While many young lawyers are burning out from law, I feel as if I've found my niche.  And, though I continue to learn the contours of this work, as I did in Cambodia and in Thailand, I do enjoy this type of practice, this weird mix of international policy and human rights law, which will require international travel  - some complain it can require too much international travel. 

Still, I just miss living abroad. And more specifically, I miss Asia. 

I'm looking forward to our honeymoon in Turkey.

The weekend.

It was one of those lazy weekends.  Now that the sun is out, Ethan and I have made a weekend habit of walking through our neighborhood, past the row of embassies, down to Dupont Circle.  (We're not yet sure if we'll stay in this neighborhood. While the architecture is charming and there are numerous shops/cafes and an awesome public library within short walking distance, the lack of diversity is startling.   But, for now, it is home.)

This Saturday, the EU embassies opened their doors to the public. Crowds lined up. We did too. We scored chocolates, waffles, Framboise and other beer at the Embassy of Belgium.  That embassy was even raffling off tickets to Belgium. Well done, Belgium.

We visited a few other embassies, seeking cover from the spotty afternoon showers in ornately decorated dining rooms and eventually made it to Kramerbooks, where I thumbed through a few guides to Istanbul and stumbled upon a Xinjiang province (China) guidebook, which brought back all sorts of memories of crossing the Kazakhstan-China border by bus.

It's funny how my memory glosses over certain things, like that bus ride. But that memory came in  so clearly yesterday, leaving me with images of the desert.  There was the bus emptied of seats, brightly-colored tapestries covering the back wall and floor. The group - there were maybe 12, all, but us, local--sat on the floor as the bus bumped along the desert highway.  A young Kazakh woman with jet black hair and a slender face asked where we were from. We shared a sequence of broken phrases and, from what I gathered between her laughter, she advised me to have children.  Later, as we crossed out of Kazakhstan and then into Xinjiang province in China, I would catch her checking in on us, buzzing around the lines, making sure we made it through.

That was nearly two summers ago.

I continued to thumb through the book and its stunning views of Xinjiang, the images leaving me a little melancholy.  

Eloping

via Duncan Wolfe

I'm not going to elope. It would break Ethan's heart a little if we didn't share the day with our family and closest friends- and over the months since our engagement, he has convinced me and I'm looking forward to our simple ceremony. Plus, his dad has been practicing his bagpipes since I asked him to play a tune during/after the ceremony.  And his mom has been so sweet to coordinate so much of the day. And his sister-in-law is baking all sorts of summer pies...

And when was the last time I saw several of my close friends in one venue?  Ages ago.

It is decided.

But, this elopement-- a couple ran off to Paris to elope--tugs at my heartstrings in a different way.