The World (and what I've been up to)

I always thought that, arriving on another continent, I would feel more of a shift. A definite, tangible feeling of there we were, and here we are now. A difference; an enlightenment. In my twenty-two years I’ve seen a fair bit of the western hemisphere, crossing cultural borders and speaking a different language. But never more than two time zones away from home, the transition has always been fairly simple to manage. Three hours ahead or three hours behind, I always felt grounded, and knew where and when I was in relation to where I came from. 

Landing on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean for the first time was strange… Very strange. Stepping off the plane in Rome, if you’d told me we were still in California I think I’d have believed you. I felt weirdly at ease; but at the very same time, for the first time ever in my travels, I felt as if the rug had been pulled out from underneath me and I couldn’t feel the ground. Totto, it may feel like it, but we're definitely not in Kansas anymore. For my entire first day in Italy I searched for something to hold onto, some footing to grasp and anchor myself down in a different time and place. I had absolutely no idea where and when I was. There was the shift I had expected – and oh, was it so much more dramatic than I could have anticipated. 

But all it took was a visit to one of the oldest cafes in Europe itself, Caffe Greco. After dropping bags in the room upstairs, I made my way into the 250-year-old cafe, then stopped. There was a different process to coffee drinking here, and I took a minute to observe other patrons. It went a little something like this: Browse the pristine pastry case on the left; order an espresso and pay; take your receipt over to the bar on the right; watch the cute tuxedo-clad barista make you the most perfect shot; eat your prosciutto and mozzarella sandwich standing up, chase it with your espresso, leave a nice tip, and be on your way. 

Okay, I’ve got this.

I did exactly as others had done before me, savoring every last bite of my delicious sandwich and teeny sip of the perfect espresso. I couldn’t help but beam with excitement, happiness, and pride. My dad and brother walked in and I explained the process to them, and from that moment on I had my footing. I was there. Italy was my oyster.

This might sound silly to those of you who are experienced jet-setters. But for me, Italy was a serious enlightenment. Before this trip, traveling to Europe seemed so daunting; long plane rides, different currency, language barriers, culture shock. There were plenty of reasons to keep putting it off. And yet, every time I did put it off, I felt an aching sense of nostalgia for a place I’d never seen. I didn’t know how that was possible until I finally found myself walking the cobblestone streets of Rome, tasting wine in Tuscany, sitting on the beach in Amalfi. Some innate, gut-wrenching heartstring had been pulling me to Italy for as long as I can remember. Chalk it up to my Italian heritage, my love for food and wine, the scenery, the history, whatever – I recently learned that when you follow your heart, you’re never far from home. 

Delicious dirt

I spent my first day of summer vacation with my beautiful friend Jenny, volunteering at the Hidden Villa CSA. From 9:30 a.m. until 12:30 p.m., our time was spent weeding beets, getting to know the farmers, listening to the chatter of other volunteers from a local high school, and soaking in the deep, rich fragrance of earth and life. 

The intricacies of life fascinate me. I remember, during lazy summer days as a kid, how I would sprawl on my stomach in the back yard and watch the millions of bugs going about their day in between the blades of grass. I wanted to imagine what life was like for them; I wanted to know where they were going, what they were doing, and which microscopic hole in the ground they called their own. I could sit there for hours watching the bugs. 

And then we (my sister and brother and I) would catch butterflies and create little habitats in mason jars. Construct fairy houses (fairies live in the garden, didn't you know?) with twigs and leaves. I once even dug them a pool, complete with a snipped piece of a ziploc bag so the water wouldn't drain from the bottom. I thought of all this whimsy while weeding the beets, as my arms became a jungle gym for ladybugs and spiders. 

Possibly the best part of our day, though, was the potluck lunch that followed. With vegetables straight from the garden, everyone pitched in with a dish of their own. We had pasta with chard, quinoa and kale salad, black bean tortillas, apple crisp, romaine with a green onion vinaigrette, and fresh strawberries. Quite literally, the fruits of our labor. Straight from the earth, where the fairies and bugs and worms and butterflies each perform their daily tasks to nourish the soil and the plant life beneath it. Delicious dirt, indeed.

Our souls and stomachs fed, we left feeling lighthearted and deeply satisfied. My only hope for summer is that it continues with this theme of spirit-nourishing, carefree and whimsical goodness. If you're in the area and happen to find yourself bored on a Wednesday, or just need something to do, I highly suggest you wander over to this gem of a place and lend a helping hand. 

Recipe for a Nourished Life

I didn’t do a Valentine’s post. I don’t have any fun, pink-colored recipes to share with you, and I’m embarrassed to say that most of the treats I brought to Elliott and his family were purchased. Shameful!

But I’ve forgiven myself, because Valentine’s day is about more than chocolate and flowers. For those of you who pretend to hate this designated day of love, stop it this instant, and listen up! You don’t need a sweetheart to practice the art of affection. In fact, you don’t even need a designated day. Today is the day. Tomorrow is the day. It’s always a good time to tell yourself how great you are. 

My recipe for a nourished life has to do with more than just what I feed myself. It can help us make our meals healthier, but we also have ingredients for a balanced existence. Wellness and health are states of being, and we don’t become healthy just by eating a certain way or dragging ourselves through gruesome workouts. We’ve got to show ourselves some love.

That said, I’m going to share with you my own recipe for balance: A series of questions that I ask myself periodically, to check in and see how things are going with the girl in my head. This blog is an exploration for the balance between health and indulgence, which for me is a daily preoccupation. It’s always changing, so what’s written here could be different a month from now. As I try and discover new things, my recipe evolves. That, if you ask me, is the best part about cooking.

Sarah’s Ingredients :: Serves 1

1. How many servings of veggies have I had today?
This number never, ever dips below 6 or 7. My favorite breakfast of late is a nice green smoothie, with plenty of spinach or kale, half an avocado, and some berries or other fruit. If I start the day this way, my veggie count is higher. If I have at least two servings at every meal, I’m feeling pretty darn great. 

2. Have I moved my body today? 
Lately, I haven’t been running. My favorite time to run is in the wee hours of the morning, around 6:30 am, and the winter has been way too dark and cold. My level of motivation reads zero. But, I love swimming, walking and hiking, yoga, strength training, taking classes, chasing my dog... anything. I do something every day, and even on designated days off I stretch for at least 15 minutes in the morning to help circulation.

3. How much have I listened today? 
No, sitting in class does not count. This one I’m always working on... I’m not very good at it. Really hearing what people say and acknowledging their point of view is not only enlightening, but at the other end, being heard makes people feel pretty good. I make more friends when I listen.

4. How many deep, full breaths have I taken? 
My New Year’s resolution this year was to breathe more. Often on my commute, I catch myself holding my breath and tensing up, especially at the end of the day. Breathing helps (obviously), since every cell in our bodies needs ample oxygen to thrive. I’ve also been making sure that my iPod is charged and loaded with upbeat tunes, so I can let out the day’s stresses vocally. And probably to the amusement of other drivers.

5. How much water have I consumed? 
An important one that’s been beaten into us with the clubs of every health-focused article there ever was, but still, it’s worth repeating. I have a huge stainless-steel canteen that I try to refill at least twice. Yes, it doesn’t stay in the body for long, but no, that’s not reason enough to quit.

6. Did I make my bed this morning? 
Allow me to explain. I once saw a quote in Real Simple magazine that said, “The state of your bed is the state of your head.” It stuck with me because I used to always make my bed, and it left me feeling strangely organized and prepared. At the time I read the quote, though, I wasn’t feeling well and had been battling some weird anxiety. And this morning ritual had been neglected. So I started making an effort again to make my bed every day, and guess what? It helped. Perhaps this is my obsessive Type-A-ness flaunting itself, but what can I say? There’s just something about climbing under a taught, fresh, and soft layer of covers every night. Call me crazy.

7. How do I feel? 
This is something deeply personal, subjective, and not easily explainable to people other than myself. But I know how I feel when I’m feeling great, and I know what happens to me when something’s off. It’s just that– a feeling. Plain and simple. If I’ve got it, I’m good. If not, something needs to change. Your feeling will be different from mine, in every way.

{Like a best friend, ask that little voice in your head how she’s doing from time to time. I bet she’ll appreciate it. And then tell me: What’s your recipe?}