Oh Alright...

So, a little clarification -- since my last entry was really a brief cop-out to avoid writing something legitimately blog-like...

I started my newest European adventure in Paris, where I frolicked in literary and linguistic glee for 10 days before boarding a very speedy train for Avignon in the south. For two weeks I have enjoyed excellent company in the tiny hamlet of Villars, wining and dining in delicious Provencale style whilst enjoying a book a day and plucking grapes straight off the vine. We've had reds and golds beyond belief, snow where before there has been none, sunshine that would put the tropics to shame, cold so sharp it gives you a brain freeze, bare branches like twisted limbs in the soil, and enough rain to float Noah and his ark six times over. I came in Autumn and will be leaving in the depths of Winter. I came free and will leave freer. So free that I don't care whether or not "freer" is a word.

This week we took a trip to see one of my mum's best childhood friends in the mountainous region three hours east of Villars. Rain dogged our steps, but it was still a view that took my breath away. A cluster of 3 houses halfway up one half of a sweeping valley. One side a spray of geometric convergence where four vineyards ran down to the edge of a sluggish river on the ravine floor. The opposite mountains frosted in pines and shaggy green foliage, an occasional spire of granite. Fog drifting in and out of the steep peaks, rain curtaining across the empty spaces.

I walked through streets too narrow to be called streets, down Medieval staircases and across Roman bridges straddling the wilderness, scampered up gorges running swollen with the rain, getting soaked to the bone, only to come home to a warm fire and a double loft bed full of charming feline companions. We drove back this morning, pausing to spend a riveting 10 minutes watching lorries on the highway, munching mediocre smoked salmon sandwiches, made it back in time for a torrential downpour. Now huddled in the warm and dry, I half-heartedly pack for my Saturday morning flight.

Back home they're tearing out the inner heartstrings of Theater 150, bringing good wishes over to the new space -- which frankly needs all the energy it can get to dispel those mortuary vibes. I'm filled with a petulant sort of sadness, frustrated that I can't be there for what I know will be a heartbreaking and, ultimately, very beautiful day of hard work. "Why now?" part of me wants to complain. "Why change everything the minute I'm gone?" But that's a silly position to take. I send them love and support and can rest assured that Kim will be saving a piece of the stage for me to cling to until my dying day.

Far-reaching news that has little to do with the present, but is nonetheless bloody exciting: My dates are more or less set for next summer's sailing adventure, and it looks like I'll be offshore for a good two months at least -- possibly three. And what better time to hit the ocean blue? Moving from Spring to Summer, Ed Programs giving way to Battles and Adventure Sails, the Portland Rose Festival, Victoria Tall Ships Festival in Canada, and Tall Ships Tacoma 2008 giving me time to see all my shipmates currently aboard other vessels -- not to mention shore-bound sailors in Washington and Oregon. Perhaps even a few friends from home currently in the Northern climes for collegiate reasons. I'm thrilled to finally be spending more than a few weeks on Lady at one time, and from what I've heard the paid crew already signed up are going to be fantastic. Evil Ryan and Rob will be Master and Mate respectively, Tara, Molly, Elmo, Tommy, and a host of other well-known summer faces (They hire us for our looks, you know) will be setting a high standard of working and playing hard so we can't tell the difference. I can't stand to think of it as four months away, but at the same time I know time's going to fly as I continue traveling.

Next up, a month outside Cambridge with my godmother and her charming brood, working to fund my adventures in New Year. Standing by for lots of rain and miserable weather to be tempered with lovely company and a thoroughly enjoyable Christmas. I'll be stationary for a while here, so I'd say now is the time to send any correspondence to my home address (727 s. La Luna Ave. Ojai, CA 93023) where it can make its way to my open arms. For the latest batch of postcard and letter recipients, the French postal system has just shut down entirely due to workers' strikes, which may lead to the delay or (God Forbid) loss of your airmail goodies. I can only hope they arrive safely, because I enjoy writing to you all -- but more importantly, because stamps are bloody expensive.

Stay jolly. The Christmas Season is nigh!

Lucy

P.S. A Happy Turkey-Munching Day to all readers to whom such a holiday is applicable.