what doesn't kill you...

what doesn't kill you makes you stronger...we've all heard and/or said this saying dozens of times. it's usually heard in the midst of trials and adversity. it's meant to make you feel better...like if you survive this struggle that you're dealing with, you'll make it to the other side stronger. i actually believe this to be true...if it doesn't kill you, it will make you stronger. you will learn from the experience, you will grow, mature and be a more developed person. plus, it generally makes for a pretty good story.

do you remember the snow suit you had as a kid? you know...the one that covered you completely and made you feel like the kid from "a christmas story?" i remember every year trying mine on to see if it still fit. the snow suit was essential to having fun during the winter months. as an adult...i don't keep a snow suit in storage. but, a couple of weeks ago i found myself wishing i did.

the experience that didn't kill me and the moment that had me wishing for a snow suit were one in the same...learning how to snow ski. while my friends assured me that i wouldn't be going fast enough to get injured let alone die, there was still fear. fear of the ski lift, the fear of looking stupid, the fear of trying and failing, fear of the unknown. fear...lots and lots of fear.

i'm the type of person who generally runs from the fear. i weigh all the possible outcomes and usually end up taking the path with the fewest risks. unfortunately, i think this cautious behavior can sometimes be irrational and keeps me from some really truly great experiences. so, with borrowed clothes, gloves, goggles, etc (and partly due to my friend who said, "Beckie's going to find a way to back out")...I "learned" how to ski. well, i fell down a lot anyway.

what i learned from this exhausting and humbling experience is...1.) The people with you can make it or break it. i was lucky to have some great friends who were extremely patient with me. one of my favorite memories from the day is just sitting with them on the side of a snowy mountain. 2.) allowing the fear to hold me back will only end in regret. if i had backed out, if i hadn't done it, i would have always wished i had.

shortly after returning from my trip i heard the song "what doesn't kill you" by Kelly Clarkson. i love these lyrics..."what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stand a little taller. what doesn't kill you makes a fighter, footsteps even lighter." i do stand a little taller (that is, after my sore muscles allowed me to) and i feel like my steps are a little lighter. because, i'm extremely proud of myself for trying something new and for not letting the fear rob me of a fantastic experience.

dude, your perspective on life sucks...

yesterday was my birthday. i never wanted to become one of those people who despise their birthday, but somewhere along the way i became just that. i guess despise is a strong word. i don't really despise them. however, over the years somehow july 6th has become less about celebrating life. instead it's become the mark of another year passing with things left unaccomplished and undone. truthfully...

my perspective on life sucks.

the day before my birthday i was completely dreading it, trying to figure out how i could avoid it, somehow sleep through it. but, yesterday morning i opened a gift that had travelled thousands of miles from nepal, to get to me on my day. my cousin jessica had made me an amazing mixed cd (go here to see my feelings on mixed tapes). she put a particular song on there that might have seemed a random choice. but, she said that it should give me a "perspective about age and life." she was...completley. right.

seasons of love from the musical rent...
five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
five hundred twenty five thousand moments so dear
five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
how do you measure, measure a year?
in daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee
in inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife
five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
how do you measure a year in the life?

how about love?

how DO you measure a year in the life? i had been measuring my life all wrong. i had been focusing on the "woe is me's" and the "if only's." i had completely lost sight of the fact that i have a pretty good life. i have friends and family who love and care about me (my facebook wall is a good indicator). i have a good job. i've done some AMAZING things. and, most days, i'm really happy. so, with this new perspective in mind i went about my day. and, it turned out to be really really good! i felt loved and treasured. i felt cared for by the people who went out of their way to make it special by taking me to lunch, making me dinner, getting me a cake, and making me one fantastic birthday mix.

the moral of this story...
measure your life, measure you life in love

men are from mars...

you know how after you've read, or heard, or seen something impactful, then that's all you read, or hear, or see? recently, i've been reading the book "wild at heart: discovering the secret of a man's soul" by john eldridge. i know there are some who would argue that as a woman i shouldn't read this book...it's only for men. and, for a long time i believed this argument. but, i'm glad that i changed my mind. this book has not only been enlightening, but it has taught me a lot about myself, the men around me, and the world. while i've been reading, things have been popping up all over the place...reminders, applications, "ahaha" moments.

a couple of years ago i had the following conversation with my nephew...
nephew: i want an uncle
me: why do you want an uncle?
nephew: because i want someone around who understands me.

my nephew is one of few males in a pretty female saturated family. he has three aunts, none of them married. he is often the only male in a room full of women. i never really thought he noticed or that it bothered him. i never thought it was odd that i was the one he wrestled with and played video games with. i didn't really think it mattered. and then, the other day i read this...

"a boy learns who he is and what he's got from a man, or the company of men. he cannot learn it any other place. he cannot learn it from other boys, and he cannot learn it from the world of women."

i'm not saying that i'm concerned about my nephew's masculinity, he has some amazing men in his life...his father, my father, grandfather's. but, this was a lesson for me. i somehow thought that by filling the role of both the aunt and the uncle, i was meeting a need. but, as much as i would like to believe that i "understand" boys...it's impossible.

the other night i was watching one of my new favorite shows, traffic light, and this happened...



in a follow up scene, the wife becomes upset when the husband allows the little boy to be photographed in a cowboy costume with guns, she calls him a "baby ted nugent." this instigates an argument weighing whether or not guns are inherently bad. finally the husband brings up hunting and reminds the wife that she's okay with him hunting. the wife responds, "you haven't done that since we got together...i tamed you."

i honestly don't know if i would have given this episode a second thought if i hadn't been reading this book. but, with john eldridge's words in my head, all i could think was..."no, you're emasculating your husband and you're getting ready to do the same thing to your son."

"society at large can't make up its mind about men. having spent the last thirty years redefining masculinity into something more sensitive, safe, manageable and, well, feminine, it now berates men for not being men."

i was listening to ryan seacrest's radio show the other day and he asked..."do you think it's weird when a guy orders something that is typically ordered by women?" he then proceeded to tell what he had ordered, and i have no clue what it was. but, i think ryan is a perfect example of this point, because he is the epitome of "metrosexual." i would be surprised if i found out that he went hunting on the weekends with his buddies. he is an example of this redefined masculinity...sensitive, safe, manageable. and, we all secretly question his sexuality.

we are bi-polar. we want men to be strong, secure, safe, with an emphasis on safe. we don't want them to play with guns, sky dive, or anything too dangerous. we want to change them, to tame them. but, we still want them to be men, masculine. i don't think we can have it both ways.

cooler than me...addendum

last night i was sitting in my living room with some teenage girls when one of them asked what i did for a living. as usual my response..."i'm a graphic designer." then she said, "i could tell you must be an artist. well, assuming that you painted, drew or created all of this." (with a flourish of her arm that took in the whole room).

moral of this story...maybe the only person i'm fooling is me.

cooler than me...

i have a hard time thinking of myself as an artist. in fact, when asked what i do for a living i almost always use the terminology...graphic designer, instead of graphic artist. i don't know why this is. i think i have the idea that artists are much cooler than me. they live in a fantastic loft somewhere, wear paint splattered overalls and starve for the love of their art. they paint and sculpt and display their creations in a gallery somewhere for everyone to see. this is not me.

i remember when i was maybe 11 or 12 i decided that i wanted to be a painter. i'm not sure where this inspiration came from, but i was determined. so, i gathered my supplies...whatever paint and brushes i could find in the house, water, paper towels and a piece of cardboard (to stand in for the canvas that i didn't have). i think i even made some kind of easel. then i decided on my subject...a bowl of fruit seemed like the natural choice. i wish i still had that painting. i remember it not meeting my expectations, but i would like to know if it was as bad as i remember it being. after that, i never painted again...until a few years ago when i began taking classes.

that desire i had at 11 or 12, to paint, never left it just didn't get fed. i either didn't have an outlet for learning or a means, but most likely i didn't have the motivation. or maybe there was some kind of resistance telling me i couldn't do it, couldn't be an artist, who knows. that has changed. the classes i've taken have somehow inspired confidence. now, i have ideas in my head. i have a little knowledge. i have a desire to be an artist. but, would i be able to do it on my own, without the instructor leaning over my shoulder? this i didn't know, but just like all those years ago...i was determined. so, once again, i gathered my supplies. this time i was a little more prepared with the proper tools, including a canvas, and the subject was a little different...
my idea was to combine these two pictures that i took. i love sunsets and this tree (from my parent's neighbor's yard) never takes a bad photo.

i thought it would look pretty cool in watercolor. my mistake...i don't know anything about watercolor painting. needless to say, this attempt did not meet my expectations. but, i decided to try again, this time using a medium i know a little about...oils. and, i would consider this second attempt to be a success.
it's by no means perfect. it hangs on the wall in my living room and every time i look at it i find something i would have done differently. but, for my first attempt at painting on my own i have to say...not bad. and maybe, just maybe, i'm a little closer to being able to call myself an artist.

they say it's your birthday...

today, i want to celebrate this guy...this is my dad's senior picture and it has always held a special place in my heart. today is his 60th birthday. so, in honor of this day i want to share why i believe that my dad is the greatest man in the whole world. he is the perfect mix of manly and tough with just enough sensitivity and compassion. my dad can seriously do ANYTHING. he refers to himself as a "jack of all trades, master of none." but, my sisters and i like to call him the "renaissance man" (a person whose expertise spans a significant number of different subject areas). here are some examples of why he's the greatest and how he passed that expertise on to me over the years...

1. when i learned how to drive he taught me how to check the essential fluids in my car, change a tire, the windshield wipers and headlights. all skills that have been extremely useful. he also taught me how to change a spark plug, a skill that i haven't needed yet, but if the time ever comes i will be ready.

2. he taught me how to play the piano. he stuck little pieces of masking tape on the keys and lettered them so i knew what notes they were and then showed me how to read music.

3. when i was about 15 he told me that when a boy comes to pick me up for a date he WILL come to the door. if he sits in the driveway and honks he WON'T be taking me out that night. he not only told me how i should expect men to treat me, but set an example for me in the way he cares for the women in his life.

4. when i was learning to play the guitar i asked him how i get to the point where i can strum while changing chords. his answer..."you just do it." i found this extremely frustrating until about a week later when i miraculously was able to "just do it" and realized that he was absolutely correct. i shouldn't have doubted.

5. over the years he made me weed the garden, mow the lawn, pick fruit, chop wood and countless other chores. at the time i was pretty sure he was torturing me, but looking back i realize he was teaching me not to be afraid of hard work.

6. when i was growing up sometimes on the weekends he would go and rent a nintendo from the video store and we would play mario brothers and duck hunt. pretty sure this is why to this day I LOVE VIDEO GAMES.

7. he taught me not only how to say words like distributor cap, exhaust manifold and catalytic converter, but also taught me what they mean. a knowledge that comes in handy when i need to fool a mechanic into believing that i'm not a helpless girl and i actually do know what i'm talking about.

8. when i was really young i remember finding out that the embroidery picture hanging on the wall was done by him. pretty sure this is the day i learned that my dad can do ANYTHING.

9. a couple of years ago he moved all my earthly belongings about four times in the span of 9 months. after time number four he said, "i don't want to have to do this again for a long time." i think we made it two years, but when the time came he was there ready and willing to help.

10. the other day he told me how he bought a bible for his co-worker, wrote an inscription in it and then set it on a shelf at work waiting for the time to be right to give it to him. only to find out that the co-worker started reading the bible on his own, found the inscription and came to him. i'm pretty sure this is what Jesus would have done.

he's the reason i give whenever someone is surprised i have the ability to do something like...help re-roof a house, use power tools, efficiently pack a trunk and/or u-haul truck, or jump start a car. he's proud to have raised three independent and self-sufficient daughters. he is one of the most responsible and hardest working people i've ever met and would give you the shirt off his back if he thought you needed it. there is nothing more important to him than family.dad, i know that today when people wish you a happy birthday and ask how your day is going you will say, "it's just another day." but, today we are celebrating you because you deserve it. you do so much for the people around you with no request for recognition. you are the epitome of servant hearted. thank you for always being there to help me, to give me advice, to just be a sounding board. i love you! happy 60th birthday!

look at this photograph...part deux

what happens when something you love affects the people around you? over christmas i was talking to my niece and nephew about the fact that i'm constantly taking their pictures. since they were born they have been two of my favorite subjects, so if it's going to affect anyone it's them. i have several albums of our little "photo shoots" where i will make them stand on this ladder, pose by this tree, sit on this hay bail. i don't know how many times they've heard me say, "wait, don't move, let me get my camera." so, i asked them....does it ever bother you? my fourteen year old niece just shrugged her shoulders and said, "it's just who you are."

one of the reasons i love pictures so much is that they tell a story and that story can be different for every person that looks at it...it's subjective. but, to the photographer it's something very different, because they know everything that went on in the creation of that photograph. there is a picture i took of my niece years ago that demonstrates this completely. she was about four, in the backyard picking flowers. i crouched down to take her picture, trying to be really quiet so i wouldn't disturb her, trying to be sneaky. without even looking at me she said..."i know you're taking a picture of me Beckie."i love this picture, with the flowers in her hand, the band aid on her knee, her little hand brushing her hair back. but, that one sentence from her makes it perfect.

my nephew's response to my question was pretty similar, just in boy lingo..."naw". but, one of my favorite pictures of my nephew was at a time when it did in fact bother him. he was around two or three and i think it was one of those times when he was doing something cute and i wanted to capture it. but, he was having none of it. i don't remember why, but he did not want me taking his picture. so, i did what any good aunt would do...i took it anyway. totally. worth. it.
the story behind this one is that he wore that little blue tank top for years. it quickly became a little half shirt on him, but he wore it anyway because it was his favorite....so cute.

if cassadie and jarod had answered my question differently, if it did bother them, then i don't know what i would do. but, i'm glad that they're ok with it, because when they're on board i get pictures like this...

look at this photograph...

i love pictures. there is something about a great picture that makes me enormously happy. when people ask the question...if your house were on fire, what would you grab while running out the door? my answer would be...my photo albums.

i took a photography class in school and this only perpetuated my love for a well taken picture. it is also where i fell in love with the dark room and development process. in fact, i resisted the digital era for a long time, i was loyal to film. until i realized that digital allows you to do all of your editing right there, in an instant. because, you can take hundreds of pictures, instead of 32.

over the years i have had the opportunity to work for two different professional photographer's. from the first i learned that Cannon is the best "point and shoot" camera around. from the second i learned that no picture should leave your hands without some kind of digital retouching. and, i adhere to both of these philosophies. i will only buy a camera if it's a cannon and i don't post, print or share a picture if it hasn't been touched by photoshop first.

a couple of weeks ago i stumbled upon some "actions" in photoshop that were shared here. i've been messing with some of my pictures and i absolutely love the outcome.

the original (taken in rhodes, greece)

with just a little boost of color.

simple black & white.


using the "colorized" action in photoshop.

it also works great with people. this is a picture of me and my friend Andrea.

the same picture using the "colorized" action.


but, this might be my favorite....

the original, taken in lindos greece, is a pretty spectacular picture on it's own.

but, with the "colorized" action, it looks like it's from another time period. like it's taken from an old movie. i love it!

it's not a fairy tale...

in the spring i was watching an episode of ugly betty (don't judge) and i can't even remember what the episode was about, but there was a scene that has stuck with me. in the scene, betty and her sister, hilda, were sitting on the couch in their living room. betty was telling hilda that she felt like her life was taking one step forward and two steps back and everywhere she turned it felt like she was reminded that she was just a dork. i loved hilda's response..."somehow you've got it in your head...that this is your story. but, you gotta let that go. it's time for you to come up with a whole new story for yourself."

i've been learning a lot about stories recently, about the stories we tell with our lives. i think that sometimes, like betty, we don't realize that we can change our story, if we really want to. and, i think that sometimes it takes seeing ourselves through the eyes of somebody else for us to realize it. in donald miller's book, a million miles in a thousand years, he says that "the story you are telling yourself is typically not the same story you're telling the world." in that one statement i find utter relief and immense fear. what story am i telling the world?

i can blame this thought process on donald miller's book, but if i'm honest with myself it came up long before i read it. in my new years post in january of this year i talked about taking risks and living without fear. and, that's where it started. because i believe that fear and risk are central to living a good story. i realize in my own life that i try to avoid risk. i try to avoid fear and conflict. i go looking for an easier story. one that is safe and secure.

i look for this easier story because when i dream of the possibilities, of what could be, i am plagued with this small voice that says..."you can't do it. if you try, you will fail."

it's the voice of fear. it's a voice that encourages mediocrity and safety. it's a voice that i listen to far too easily.

donald miller says that "the great stories go to those who don't give in to fear." and, this is what i want...to live a great story.

where love and hate collide...

this year i am working at the clark county fair, selling tickets for parking. i am doing this in the evenings, directly after my "day" job. so, from aug. 6-15 i will be working about 15 hour days, which means very little sleep. sounds crazy, i know. but, if you survive the 10 days you have some extra cash, which is always welcome, not to mention some great stories.

my job is basically to stop the cars as they enter the fair grounds and charge them $6 for parking. generally speaking, they do not like this...at all. but, among the grumpy people there are also the nice, the positive and even the funny. it's an exhausting week and i have to deal with some mean people, which i don't like. but, i get to work with some fun people and have great stories and extra money at the end, which i do like.

i'm exactly half way through the ten days and to give you a little taste of what my experience has been like so far, i have written some letters. this is how i would respond to these people if i was given the time during our brief interaction.

1. dear teenage boys in the gray dodge magnum...i know you were just having a good time, but offering to kiss me in exchange for free parking was only slightly funny and mostly gross. BTW...there is a fine line between confidence and arrogance and you are tap dancing all over it.

2. dear driver of the mini van...there is a spider building a pretty righteous web in your passenger side window. in fact, the spider is so large that i can't imagine that it has escaped your notice and therefore have to assume it is some kind of pet.

3. dear sir and madame...getting out of the car to yell at me did not intimidate me. in fact, you only succeeded in making me want to charge you more than $6. P.S. if it wasn't advertised that you would need to pay for parking, than every person in the line behind you with their exact change sticking out the window just waiting for you to get back into your car and drive away clearly must be clairvoyant.

4. dear fellow ticket seller...your lesson on how to tell if someone is russian by the type of car they drive was kind of weird and slightly offensive until you explained that you were russian and fit into this stereotype as well.

5. dear guys in the giant pickup...thank you for your positive attitude about paying the $6, it was refreshing. and, telling me i had a great smile made my night. if you had started with that line i may have let you in for free.

6. dear parking attendants on break...thanks for rushing to help when the big van started going the wrong way and was heading straight toward us. your assistance was not needed, but it felt very chivalrous and i like to see the hustle.

7. dear man who gave me the nasty, sticky, slimy twenty dollar bill...i don't ever want to know what was on that twenty and sincerely hope that the hand sanitizer i used killed whatever it was until i had time to wash it off properly. if your sole purpose was to disgust me out of revenge for having to pay me, then i say "well done, sir."

8. dear little boy in the back seat...when you yelled "thank you" at the top of your lungs as your car pulled away it made me extremely happy. not only was it adorable but it was filled with such joy and excitement that i couldn't help but smile for a long time after you left.

9. dear kid driving the Bentley...you are extremely lucky that you happened to come down the lane of a car enthusiast, because i was so enamored with your car that i didn't even listen to your story about how you had already paid for parking once today and could you pretty please not have to pay for it again. i just said, "your car is fantastic" and sent you on your merry way with a goofy grin on my face. it didn't even occur to me to mind that you are about 12 years old and driving a freakin' Bentley.

10. dear parking lot attendants...we sincerely apologize for passing all the crazies with their incessant questions on to you, but there's only so much one person can take and we thought we would share the love. your friends, the ticket sellers.

i remember it all very well, looking back...

it was the summer of 2008, shortly after the summer olympics. i was sitting on the deck of a pool with my sisters, watching my niece and nephew swim. we were discussing swimming, naturally as it had taken over the world thanks to michael phelps. we were also discussing the possibility of cassadie joining a swim team. my sister had been considering it, but wasn’t sure. neither of the kids had any swim lessons up till this point, other than what they’re grandma (my mom) had taught them in the local pool. but, we all saw some natural talent, at least we thought we did. it’s hard to push aside the bias when it’s someone so important to you.

shortly after that discussion, my sister did put cassadie on a swim team. and, amazingly enough, the coach saw the same talent we did. about a year later that same coach saw cassadie’s brother for the first time and began the campaign for my sister to get jarod swimming as well (he’s tall and strong…good for a swimmer).

two years after that first conversation, they are both swimming on a year round swim team and doing extremely well. they are both naturals at the breast stroke, even my untrained eye can see that it’s by far their best stroke. cassadie just took 3^rd in the 200 meter breast stroke and 4^th in the 100 at her age group championships this past weekend. she is just 7 seconds off the high school qualifying time (she’s 2 months shy of 14). i am amazed by her progression.

there is nothing i enjoy more than watching them swim. because not only do they put in the time and hard work, but they LOVE swimming. at a swim meet in january jarod had finished all his races and asked if he could get in the warm up pool and swim laps. a 10 year old who has been swimming all weekend wants to get back in the pool and swim some more…if that isn’t pure joy of the sport than i don’t know what is.

here are some pictures i captured at a swim meet in june...

cassadie has a whole warm up routine where she swings her arms and stretches. it's really cute.

(cassadie is on the right.) i remember the first time i saw her leave the blocks, it looked nothing like this. two years and hard work has definitely paid off.

(cassadie is closest in the frame) this is her breast stroke. and, this picture is of her winning her heat as you can see she is ahead of all the other girls.

jarod getting ready for one of his races.

jarod does not like the butterfly, it's awkward and really hard on the legs. i've heard him several times heading to swim a fly race saying..."i'm gonna die." he might not like swimming these races, but he has never once died, and i really like how the pictures turn out.

i would title this "lookie lou jarod". i'm sure he's just sizing up the competition, but he sure looks around a lot.

matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match...

i'm going to put the stories about my trip on pause for a minute to share something that happened at the boys and girls club a while back. i spend two hours each week at the club, usually in the art room since that's kind of my thing. i help the teacher pass out supplies and i wander around and help the kids if they need it. the first hour is usually insane. i'm not sure why, but it's loud and it's crazy and we very rarely get the project completed. the kids are all hopped up on something. the second hour is my favorite. it's the exact opposite of the first, it's calm and it's quiet. and, because it's a little more sedate i'm able to sit down at a table and hang out with the kids.

when i chat with the kids i try to ask them questions about themselves...school, friends, brothers, sisters. and most of the time they will ask me questions about my life. which generally consist of...do you have kids? are you married? do you go to school? do you have a roommate? my favorite...if you're not still in school and you're not married, then why do you have a roommate?

so, one day a little girl, in the second grade, is asking me these questions. i'm answering them and everything is normal, until...she asks my age. this is not a question the kids usually ask. here is what happened next (names are changed)...

sophie: how old are you?
me: 32
sophie: (very emphatically) 32! and you're not married? what are you waiting for? go out there and pick someone already (points outside for extra emphasis).
me: well, it's not that easy. it's hard to find a good man.
sophie: oh, you want a gooooood man? what about jason (B & G club staff)? he's a good man.
me: i'm sure he is, but i don't really know jason.
sophie: what about tim? you know him. he's standing right outside. (she gets up and runs outside).

i follow her in some kind of daze, out of morbid curiosity, surely this isn't happening. this is the conversation i overhear...

sophie: do you have a girlfriend?
tim: no
sophie: do you want to go out on a date?
tim: um, sure. i guess we could go get ice cream or something.
sophie: no, not with me, with her. (turns and points at me).

and, i know what my face looked like at that exact moment because it was mirrored in tim's. it was a deer in the headlights, yeah, that just happened, kind of look. what happened next? sophie yelled "you need to take beckie on a date because she's not married" and then skipped off.

well, folks, that's the story of how i got set up by an 8 year old. i'm amazed at the thought processes of children sometimes. i often find myself thinking, "wow, how did you get there from here." in this case i knew exactly how sophie got there....to an 8 year old, 32 is old. and, 32 and single is unheard of.

i've thought a lot about sophie's question...what are you waiting for? the only response i can come up with...i don't know, something amazing i guess!

my life in ruins...

when you imagine greece, what picture comes to mind? is it this?
i think for many of us it is. and, i believe that the movie "sisterhood of the travelling pants" only perpetuated this stereotype. this is what i imagined all of greece to look like...white washed walls, beautiful blue water. so, imagine my surprise when athens actually looked like this...athens is big, it's loud, it's busy and it's extremely diverse. i should not have been surprised that it looks nothing like the iconic image in my mind. after all, it's a major city, it hosted the olympics. i shouldn't have been surprised...but i was.

the day we docked in athens found us in the middle of a transportation strike. there were much larger strikes and rioting going on in the week following our departure, but for our one day it was just the transportation. if we had been on tours this wouldn't have been an issue. but, since we are cheap and relied on public transportation, this posed an interesting problem. we found ourselves running for trains and buses, miraculously making it on the last one running in the morning and the first one running in the evening. this was the only port where we very narrowly made it back to the ship on time...with about 5 minutes to spare. (FYI...the ship will leave you behind if you're not back for the "all aboard" time).

our first stop in athens...the acropolis (with about 3,000 of the other tourists from our ship). it kind of became a game of where's waldo as we tried to stay together.
second stop...gyro's for lunch!
after lunch we wandered around down town. these guys guard one of the government buildings. i don't know about you, but don't they instill fear? i mean, with their white tights and pom pom shoes? if i had a video of this moment it would show the guy on the right teetering precariously on his one leg, which gives further proof that these soldiers are not at all scary.
next stop...dessert! greek baklava...yummmm!
if there were any lingering thoughts that i might see the white washed buildings in athens, this image erased them completely. (notice the KFC)

leave the gun...take the cannoli...

one thing i learned about myself while travelling is that i’m not very good at geography or history. i’m sure the knowledge was there at some point, i just lost it somewhere along the way. i won’t bore you with stories that prove this fact like how i didn’t realize that egypt is on the continent of africa or that pineapple and coffee can come from costa rica. i fully admit that in some ways i am the typical egocentric american, not paying attention to things outside my sphere. but, i am also an american that loves learning how other cultures live. one piece of advice i would give to someone visiting another country…don’t be afraid to eat where they eat, ride public transportation and just roam the streets. i firmly believe that this is how you fully SEE the culture.

on the morning of April 25^th i woke up in naples, italy.

which is coincidentally one of my favorite things about cruise life…waking up in a completely different country. i admit that I didn’t do a lot of research before this trip. i wish i had. i left the ship knowing very few things about the city i was entering. i wish i had known more.i really only knew what my tour book and/or someone told me such as...naples (napoli to the locals) is where pizza was invented. our goal for this day was to eat pizza, a margherita pizza (sauce, cheese and a bay leaf) to be exact. and we did. and it was fantastic!

the people living in napoli are called neopolitans.i actually learned this fun fact after returning to the states. i wish i had known it while i was there, because i love it!

napoli is the home of mt. vesuvius and pompeii, the town that vesuvius buried in 79 AD. pompeii was accidentally rediscovered by a british guy in 1592.

some of my favorite memories from my time in napoli…

as we were wandering the streets we stumbled upon this mall. yes, you read that correctly, this is a mall.

in a corner of the mall we found this pastry shop, where we found cannoli's. a cannoli is a pastry filled with a mixture including ricotta cheese and they are wonderful!

i just love this picture...just a vender hangin' out with his stroller full of goodies. i think the colors are fantastic?