July 31, 2013 - Posted by Erin in Books, Expat, Travel

Allow me to interrupt our regularly scheduled (albeit sporadic) programming to bring you an especially pride-filled post about my “soul friend,” Candace.

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You remember her: We bonded on the chilly streets of Copenhagen, we ran in the rain through the hills on the Camino, and we walked the final precious steps to the foot of the Taj Mahal. She’s the kind of friend that I’ve not managed to spend that much physical time with, and yet feel like I’ve known for a lifetime.

But today I want to talk about her passion for sketching, which began long ago, slowly becoming a bigger part of her life, and somehow mine too. Indeed, as I recently immersed myself in a late spring-cleaning of my house, I realized that her sketches – and really adventures, even our adventures – stared back at me from my office bulletin board: an ethereal gaze at the Santiago Cathedral; a thank you note after we both played and worked in San Francisco; a welcome sign for my arrival to New Delhi. Like memories, her art captures these journeys like distant cozy dreams.
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Of course she hasn’t just been capturing our journeys (only a mere twinkle in her universe of travel stars), but also her other nonstop adventures, from the Valley of Roses in Morocco to the shores of Fewa Lake in Nepal. And she recently took her passion one step further, too, with a mission to sketch her way across Southeast Asia and Japan. In doing so, she recorded her experiences with a pen and paintbrush, bringing them to life in both words and drawings, and ultimately publishing them in her new book Beneath the Lantern’s Glow. I’ve read every word of it and day dreamed over each of the images, and hope you will too by grabbing your own copy here.
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As I write this, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by the funny ways the world works: At this moment, she sits across from me as we both work and watch the gentle tide roll in at my favorite place on earth, Vashon Island. Yep, our paths have magically crossed again. From around the world and back, we now celebrate another adventure, the ones to come, and surely the images that her paintbrush will conjure up along the way.

More to come on all of that soon, though. Until then, I return you to my unpredictable schedule of posts about Spain and beyond.

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July 11, 2013 - Posted by Erin in Spain, Travel, Travels in Europe, Travels in Spain

I can’t stop staring at my cell phone with its wallpaper taunting me to go back. A lighthouse stretches out into the sea, waves crash into craggy rocks, and sunrays bathe a sloping cliff of green, with promise of warmth despite the chilly waters.

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Sigh, Cudillero. Even more “sigh” right now as the mercury in Madrid has danced around 100ºF for more days than I can remember, and will continue to for as long as my iPhone weather forecast wishes to reveal. I positively long for that chilly marine breeze and the sound of seagulls.

And I’m embarrassed, because I realize that I haven’t really even told you about this northern paradise, this pueblo of perfection, this new favorite Spanish place of mine (and that’s not hyperbole; I mean it, I really do).

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Imagine a fishermen’s village, idyllic, with a jagged colorful skyline of buildings that brushes up against the sea just as the waves do against the shore. The whole village funnels and weaves toward the water like a giant luge, as if everything that matters must lead to the sea.
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It probably used to, and still very much does, but in this northern Asturian town of some 6,000 people the industry these days has become more about tourism and agriculture than it is about the sea. That said, during my visit, I saw few tourists – just a pilgrim here and there, slogging the ups and downs of the Camino de la Costa.
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But what really makes little Cudillero so special is that, apart from its obvious charm, there’s just something magnetic about the way the town cradles and almost cuddles the sea, like an auditorium to eternity. It’s the kind of place that begs for you to stop and dream, and mostly to come back.
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Fortunately, while Cudillero might not be in my future again any time soon, that doesn’t mean that an ocean escape isn’t. Next week I head to San Francisco then north to Seattle and Vashon Island, where I’ll be free of these Spanish temperatures and get a healthy dose of home — marine air, seagulls and all.

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