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San Diego Bay

I have been to San Diego before, but only to visit specific destinations in the city. I drove there from Los Angeles a few years ago to visit a friend who took me to the San Diego Zoo and Coronado Island, and I went again about a week later to see a Padres game at PETCO Park. I loved San Diego, but it was during this trip that I fell in love with San Diego.

After our visit to Los Angeles and Santa Barbara, my family and I hopped back in that rented SUV and creeped south down Interstate 5. Just prior to reaching San Diego’s city limits we made a stop in La Jolla, one of my favorite small towns in the United States. A rather affluent community, La Jolla is a hilly resort town that occupies 7 miles of coastline along the Pacific Ocean. We ate lunch on the rooftop terrace of George’s At The Cove, a restaurant overlooking the town’s sandy beaches and rocky shoreline. Then, we made our way to the coast, where wild seals swim and sunbathe among the town’s friendly beach-goers.

La Jolla Coastline (Notice seals on rock to far left)

When we arrived in San Diego, I realized the downtown has a similar feel to that of Denver, Colorado, where I lived for three years. Young people swarm the streets of both cities while locals enjoy beers on sidewalk patios. San Diego’s 16.5-block Gaslamp Quarter is listed on the National Register of Historic Places and fills streets with shopping, restaurants, bars and festivals. San Diego is the eighth largest city in the United States, but the constant sunshine and laid-back attitudes make it a manageable city to visit.

San Diego offers a gorgeous oceanfront walk with an adorable Seaport Village, an opportunity to visit the famous USS Midway ship and easy access to Coronado Island either by car or boat. The progressive San Diego Zoo rests on 100 acres of parkland and holds 4,000 animals, 800 species and is one of the few zoos in the world to house the giant panda. Even the airport is downtown, which makes it exceptionally easy for travel to and from the city.

Hotel del Coronado

Those visiting Coronado may enjoy an afternoon of shopping, walking and eating ice cream along the 7.7 square-mile island. Just do not leave the island without visiting the Hotel del Coronado, a beachfront luxury hotel built in 1888 and considered one of the few surviving examples of a wooden Victorian beach resort. It has even been listed in USA Today as one of the “Top 10 Resorts in the World.”

It is not easy to say goodbye to a city like San Diego, but then, what constantly sunny, relaxed beach town isn’t? I hope to see you again sometime, Southern California.

Santa Barbara's oceanfront from Stearn's Wharf pier

Just a hop, skip and a 100-mile car ride northwest of Los Angeles, California is a city many refer to as the “American Riviera”. Most dictionaries describe a Riviera as a coastal region with a subtropical climate and vegetation, and this is exactly what one would find upon arriving in the sunny city of Santa Barbara.

A popular resort and tourist destination, Santa Barbara sits colorfully along California’s coast between the San Ynez Mountains and the Pacific Ocean. On Friday morning, my family hopped in our rented SUV and made the two-hour trek along the Pacific Coast Highway to this vibrant city on the water. This would be my second trip to Santa Barbara, and both times I found myself content to aimlessly wander the palm tree-lined streets and leisurely take in the sights. There is much to see, but not much to rush to, and this combination only adds to the city’s charm.

We enjoyed an outdoor lunch at a restaurant along the historic Stearn’s Wharf, the center of activity along Santa Barbara’s waterfront. The city’s harbor accommodates more than 1,000 boats, so after lunch we made our way back up the pier and walked among the massive yachts lined perfectly along their wooden landings. The people of Santa Barbara appear both laid back about life and energetic about living in it. Some sip their afternoon cocktails, and others eagerly walk their dogs and boat shoes down the gated docks for a weekend at sea.

Away from the boats and beautiful beaches, one might meander down State Street, a road that runs from the ocean into Santa Barbara’s radiant downtown. Spanish Colonial Revival-style buildings fill the city’s blocks and house an array of different shops, restaurants and galleries. The mostly white buildings with red tile roofs create a stunning backdrop behind the tall green palm trees and against the bright blue sky.

Santa Barbara Harbor

Whether one has time for fine dining and a taste of the nightlife or a quick drive along Santa Barbara’s cultural town center, the city is well worth a visit. While an afternoon is all we had time for this trip, the city is one I would eagerly return to – even if just for a day of shopping, ice cream cones and walks along the harbor. Besides, I have not yet seen Santa Barbara’s wine country yet, and I can already hear it calling my name for some tastings in the future.

Santa Monica Pier

There is no better way to take the edge off a chilly Midwest spring than to hop a plane out west for a long weekend in the California sunshine. Though the palm trees and warm breeze give off a calming vibe when walking out of LAX, a visit to Los Angeles is not a trip everyone would describe as relaxing. Even at 10:00pm on a Wednesday, my brother, Dan, weaved his car through the crowded freeway traffic, passionately flipping the bird to overeager L.A. drivers as they sped past us. This is, of course, quite an average ride to a local like my brother, so I just sat back and laughed my way to his studio apartment in the neighborhood of Los Feliz.

In the one hour it took us to drive 30 miles to Santa Monica Thursday morning, I learned that Los Feliz is pronounced like “Los fee-liss” instead of how one might sing “Feliz Navidad” and that “Wilshire Drive” is actually “Will-sure” instead of “Will-Shire”. Now educated and prepared to attack the day, Dan dropped me off along the Third Street Promenade where I found a breakfast sandwich and café street patio with my name on it. Those who live in Santa Monica make it quite clear that they do indeed live in Santa Monica and not in L.A., as this west side of town is much different than a visit to Hollywood. While downtown Santa Monica is still crowded, the people are generally more laid-back and the energy is calmer than the glitz, glamor, hustle and bustle of L.A.’s entertainment district. This is the life, I thought as I soaked my face in the morning sun while slurping up the final drops of my freshly squeezed orange-pineapple juice.

Palm trees along the oceanfront

The Promenade encompasses several blocks of downtown Santa Monica and is lined with shops, restaurants and movie theaters. It is considered a premier shopping and dining district on the Westside of Los Angeles and makes for a popular tourist destination due to its close proximity to the Pacific Ocean. Performers fill the streets while families enjoy lunch, and friends laugh loudly over margaritas at an outdoor cantina.

As in most cities, one might even find an unexpected show like the one I witnessed on my afternoon stroll. I rounded a street corner just in time to see two grown men yelling and chasing each other in the street. As I tried to make sense of the situation, one of the men came barreling past me holding a Victoria’s Secret shopping bag while the other flagged down a policewoman passing on her bicycle. After the second man passionately argued that his Victoria’s Secret bag had been stolen, the officer hit the petals and chased down the thief. She even kept her bike helmet on during the embezzlement to be safe. In the end, she did find the thief and returned the bag and its contents to its rightful owner.

Not far from the Promenade, pigeons fill the lawns around Santa Monica’s oceanfront while homeless men and women curl up next to them in the grass or on park benches. Tourists walk this same oceanfront and along Santa Monica Pier while eating churros, snapping photos and breathing in the Pacific Ocean air. Dogs walk in and out of shops with their owners while rollerbladers skate their way through the paved beachfront paths.

Third Street Promenade, before the people showed up

The sun shines, people are somewhere between down-to-earth and crazy and, in my opinion, that is just the right place to be. I take in this West Coast way of life, but cannot help but think about the homeless lying by the beach. If I end up without a roof over my head someday, I thought, I may stay away from the Victoria’s Secret fighters along the Third Street Promenade, but Santa Monica’s oceanfront will definitely be on my list of places to sleep.

I consider myself one of the lucky ones. I managed to find and keep eight best girlfriends from college, pick up a few more in the time I lived in Florida and Denver, and have enjoyed near-weekly ladies nights with an amazing group of girls in Chicago. The quest for any woman to find another female she “clicks” with is not an easy venture, but those fortunate enough to find these true, deep friendships should do everything in their power to hold them close.

Few men can understand the bond women share, but nearly every woman would agree it exists. Females have an instinctive code of loyalty that aims to defend, fight for and protect those they love. Many call this “girl code,” and I have become an increased believer that the female species comes into the world genetically encrypted with it. We empower our fellow women to be happy, respected and to never settle. And we will defend against any man, boss or sour enemy that gets in the way of this.

Girlfriends have a way of enhancing the already good times in life and saving one another from the bad. Whether it means pulling out the high heels for a fancy night on the town or drowning away sorrows with Sex & the City marathons, frozen pizzas and a few bottles of wine, true girlfriends support it all with a solid shoulder to lean on and a round of shots waiting as backup. Women stand by one another, sob together and always find a way to justify why a day of eating too much chocolate and not exercising is actually healthy. Somehow, there is always a reason to deserve the indulgence.

It is not enough to have friends who are girls. No matter the age, every woman needs a girlfriend, a confidant she can call during a 2:00am panic attack, last-minute closet raid or emergency vent session. I am not new to understanding the importance of these friendships, but the older I get and the more I travel, the more I appreciate the role they play in life. True girlfriends not only provide happiness and love, but also bring forth a sense of peace and balance to this ever-spinning world. I would be a different person if I did not have friends like this, and I am a better person today because I do.

Chicago's Lakefront

It should only involve someone taking a walk along Chicago’s lakefront on a warm summer day to understand why people fall in love with the city. Chicago is the third largest city in the United States and, while overwhelming to some, there are places one might escape to feel comfortable and at peace. The Lakefront Trail is one of them.

After work today, I grabbed my iPod and walked out my back door into the flourishing green of Lincoln Park. Those who know me well will testify to my near-hatred of running, but today I wanted nothing more than to be among the sunshine and energy of Chicago’s emerging summer. I made my way down the paths of the city’s largest public park, running among the seasonal flag football and softball leagues, under bridges and toward the beaches of Lake Michigan.

Across Lakeshore Drive, I picked up Chicago’s Lakefront Trail, a 12-mile treasure for runners, bikers and rollerbladers. The trail was crowded today, as it is most other pleasant Chicago days, but somehow the elderly joggers, strolling walkers and overly competitive skaters fall into a successful rhythm of openly sharing the path – and the experience – together.

Engraved checkerboards top cement barriers along one side of the trail, while cuddling couples watch the crashing waves of Lake Michigan along the other. Just off the path, children take in the final afternoon minutes by throwing rocks in the water and begging parents for more time to build sand castles. Bar and grills sit among the sand offering beachside burgers and ice-cold drinks to enjoy on either a sunny rooftop or at a walk-up refreshment stand.

It seems there is no stronger reminder of Chicago’s magnificence than feeling the light breeze off the water, while standing small against the towering buildings that line this Great Lake. Chicago’s skyline engulfs its beaches in a way that seems to hug the lakefront. When standing just far enough from the city to see the skyline and close enough to the lake to realize the water’s strength, the vastness of the world becomes clearer.

I paused my run in an area where the land juts out in a such a way to see this entire picture and take in this exact vastness. With a good tune on my iPod, the sun still strong and my heavy breaths slowing to a more steady rhythm it all became clear. This is why I live here, I thought. This is why we all live here…for moments just like this.

To experience instances of absolute peace in life is, in my opinion, nothing short of a true blessing. I wanted to somehow freeze this moment on the lakefront – the musty springtime lake smell and the light breeze that rolled off the water, the sun still peeking bright through the high rises of the Gold Coast and the stillness I felt among all the activity around me. But instead I stood, watched, breathed and embraced how small I am in this big world we call life.

Lakefront Trail & Beach

It is amazing how in sync the movements of the world become once our own wheels stop turning so quickly. When I finally made my way home, my music seemed to beat perfectly to the bouncing volleyballs and steps of the free-running dogs chasing balls through the park. Four geese watched me circle a pond, standing at a focused attention as I passed. It seemed everyone remembered Chicago’s greatness this day…even the singing birds who had returned home after a long winter away.

Sneakers, June 2007

I was in first grade when I experienced the death of my first pet. Runt was a golden retriever/german shepherd mix who my mother saved from euthanasia as a puppy. My mom refused to let someone kill an animal simply for being the runt of a litter, so she snuck Runt back to her apartment in a beer box and gave him a good home for 14 healthy years. The morning my parents had Runt put down, they told my younger siblings and I he died of old age in the vet’s office waiting room. It seemed a more peaceful and understandable story to tell children.

Five years later, we finally convinced my dad (we had my mom sold right away) to get us another dog, and in July of 1996 eight-week-old Sneakers joined our family. We decided Sneakers’ name after watching her form a playful attraction to my sister’s converse high-tops on our first family meet-and-greet. Nothing seemed a more appropriate title for the big-eared beagle pup.

Sneakers became an integral part of our family from the beginning. She was a lovable puppy who tripped constantly over her ears and enjoyed cuddling under our blankets after her morning walks around the neighborhood. One of her most characteristic traits was the excited sideways run that she developed as a puppy. She loved people, and whenever anyone came to see her, Sneakers wagged her tail so uncontrollably fast that her entire backside wiggled back and forth, therefore causing her to run sideways toward her greeter. “Hello little sideways puppy!” we would say.

It is hard to believe 15 years have gone by since that floppy little pup came into our lives. My siblings and I have gone through high school and college, traveled across the world and back, and Sneakers never failed to give us an excited and welcoming greeting each time we returned home. Even this past Christmas, when her hearing was poor and her eyesight even poorer, her increased energy and brightened face showed us that she understood the whole family was together again.

Sneakers’ vet said it is time for a dog to move on when he or she stops acting like a dog. This week, we made the decision to give Sneakers back the peace she brought my family over the years. As hard as it was, we let her go in hopes that she could be somewhere better than here…where she could act like a dog again. Although part of me wished someone told me a story that Sneakers died peacefully of old age on the vet’s waiting room floor, I know she did die with people she loved, and she died in peace. It is said that multiplying a dog’s age by seven will calculate his or her age in people years. Sneakers would have been 105 years old if she were human, and I think that is a pretty good run.

Though she was weak during our visit this Christmas, Sneakers made every lasting effort to be around us as much as possible. Perhaps, she also knew it might be the last time we would all be together as a family. One night, she even attempted to climb the stairs to our bedrooms, though my brother found her halfway through the mission and carried her back to her first-floor basket. Her tired, brittle legs were in no condition for a 12-step climb.

Where do dogs go after they die? I wonder if there is a separate animal heaven where Sneakers and Runt are chasing butterflies together near a pond where my countless childhood goldfish are swimming free. Or, maybe there is one place every living creature ends up after they leave this world. Will I get to see Sneakers again someday if I make it to this place called heaven too? Today I described to my friend Megan the place I hoped Sneakers is now. “She is there,” Megan said. “Their souls are too divine not to be.” In the two days Sneakers has been gone, three beagles have crossed my path in the strangest and unexpected of places. Perhaps this is Sneakers’ way of letting us know that she is okay and not to worry about her anymore.

Sneakers, Christmas 2010

Not everyone understands the heartache that comes with losing a pet, but maybe we should find strength in knowing that our animals trust us – perhaps more than we trust ourselves sometimes – to do what is right for them. Dogs are among the most loyal of creatures. They will stand by their loved ones until the end, never questioning their place in a family. Sneakers knew we loved her, and not because we gave her treats and toys. She knew because we treated her as well as any other member of our family, and perhaps even better sometimes. So, with tears in my eyes I send a heavyhearted goodbye to my baby, our forever chunk-a-bunk, Sneakers. Keep running, little girl. Your feeble legs cannot stop you anymore.

Millennium Park, Chicago

Last year, while catching up on my DVRed Oprah episodes one Saturday, I watched an interview with Oprah and Queen Rania of Jordan. I do not remember exactly what the interview was about, but I do remember hitting pause after the Queen said something that really hit home for me. I immediately wrote it down: ”We’re programmed to believe that time is the enemy, that it takes away from us or that it diminishes us…Life is in perfect balance. It’s just that our perception of it isn’t.”

I have always been a believer that everything happens for a reason, even if we do not immediately understand what those reasons are. I believe that when timing seems to be off, it is actually quite on – but in a way that is not always clear to us. Still, I am an analyzer of life. I like to make sense of things – of people, the world and yes, timing.

I am at a place in life where my timing seems to be so perfectly on, yet also terribly off. I give myself daily pep talk reminders about my faith in life’s mysterious secrets, and I revisit Queen Rania’s quote when my mind starts to get the better of me. Yet, I struggle to make sense of my direction in the world lately. I have taken on a new form of love for Chicago. I have fallen head over heels for the city and formed a connection to it that I had longed to find since I moved here. I have established a home that I built for myself and am growing the kinds of lasting friendships that seem to take forever to find after moving to a new city.

I have another pull, though, to a master’s program at Tulane in New Orleans – a university I wanted so badly to gain acceptance to, but am now having trouble brewing excitement about due to my recent lifestyle changes in Chicago. I struggle to think about starting over again – to think that my life for the next two years will consist of more moving, instability and upheaval. Yet, I think about my future and my passion to work in a field that Tulane and New Orleans could best help lead me toward.

My confusion tumbles inside me. Why, after living in Chicago for a year and a half, are the things I have searched so desperately for seeming to just fall at my doorstep? It is as if God took my deepest wishes, dreams and desires for Chicago, stored them all in a box and delivered the package to me when I needed it most. This is the theory of ladybugs, my friend Rachel would tell me. Ladybugs start crawling on you once you finally stop searching for them.

So, why Tulane? Why move again? Why is the place I feel such a draw to also going to take me away from this life I also want to stay planted to here in Chicago? I am sure we all have crossroads like this in our lives – moments when we look down two completely opposite paths, but truly cannot figure out which is the right one for us. I know the answers will come. They always come, and we always become better people for practicing patience while waiting.

Buildings in the French Quarter, New Orleans

I do not always understand the timing of the world, but I trust the confusion to be only a side effect of the good things I do not yet see. Perhaps, after I graduate in two years, I will write a follow-up to this blog post that describes my peace with these intersecting life paths. Maybe it will not even take me that long to make sense of it all. For now, though, I know Chicago is taking care of me. And whether I decide to start making a home here or uproot myself for one last youthful hoorah in New Orleans, I will know that my life is, in fact, in perfect balance. It’s just my current perception of it that isn’t.

Nutella and I have not spent much time together in the past few years. This is mostly due to the fact that when I returned to the states from Italy, I could not bear to be apart from Nutella. Each day, Nutella would welcome me home from class, and we would often stay up late studying together during the week. Sometimes, just to make sure Nutella did not leave me, I would opt to buy its extra-large jar instead of the regular size on my Tops supermarket runs. Eventually, though, I told Nutella we needed some time apart. At the rate we were going, I was at risk of losing my dignity and somewhat fit physique to Nutella’s many sweet temptations.

Today, however, I spotted Nutella in the grocery store after circling the aisles at least four times for a jar of minced garlic. I had intended to only buy three things on this particular shopping trip – the other two being mushrooms and one red pepper. However, after parading around for nearly 10 minutes and only finding one jar of minced garlic the size of a jar of apple sauce, I found Nutella to be a justified alternative. After all, we had not seen each other in a while, and I did not like the thought of returning home again without Nutella by my side.

Within minutes of walking into my apartment, all those old feelings rushed through me again. As I set Nutella’s cap on the counter and dipped into the taste of chocolate and hazelnut, my mind went back to the days when our young relationship knew nothing but pure happiness. Now Nutella is back in my life, and its luring sweetness is as irresistible as when we first met. This thing we have going – it may just be a fling, but it does not matter. Right now, Nutella and I are just having a little fun.

Good morning, Chicago - Sunrise over Lake Michigan, taken from my bed

Life has a funny way of throwing curves, forcing change and presenting new opportunities. In the past month, I have gone through a series of unexpected changes and battled a handful of tough decisions that would directly impact my next stage of life. While emotional and confusing, I have somehow landed myself in the perfect place to begin my new journey – my new Chicago apartment; my diamond in the rough.

Each morning, I watch the glowing sun peek above the horizon line of Lake Michigan, inviting me to get out of bed for another new day. Since spring is approaching, I get home just in time to see the sun set behind a beautiful church steeple a few blocks from my apartment building. The apartment entrance opens into a back wall full of six jutting window panels, which offer views to the west, south and east of my building.

Some days, I find myself in front of the windows, staring for long, unconscious moments at the gorgeous Chicago skyline. To look out on the vast, radiating beauty of the city lights gives the same sense of stillness one might feel while staring for hours at a fire, mountains or ocean. From within the walls of this cozy, sixth floor studio, the bustling city seems quiet, majestic and beautiful.

I have a sense of pride with my new apartment that is different from any other place I have lived. I feel safe here, with doormen to censor my visitors and neighbors who immediately welcomed me when they noticed my unfamiliar face. I feel strangely comforted by all these people. I live in an animal-friendly community where residents hold elevators, strike up conversations in hallways and ask how one another’s days were while holding open a door for someone.

Chicago Skyline from my apartment window

I am sad to know I may not be here long, as the upcoming year will bring me more change and more moves. For now though, I am taking full advantage of the ability to blog from my bed while watching locals stroll through Lincoln Park below. I feel lucky to be where I am, as these walls and windows provide me comfort and time to reflect on where I have been and where I am going.

I live in the third largest city in America with an apartment overlooking one of the country’s largest lakes. I have a pool on the roof and nearby access to Chicago’s most popular bus and train lines. I feel like a true city girl and plan to take as much from this lifestyle as I can with the time I have left here. After that, I am just going to pray for a pause button.