SXSW and Food for Lovers

Sometimes life is awesome and gives you a tax refund, then an opportunity to go to a gigantic music festival for a week.

Oh yeah, South By South West baby.

hashtag-me-happy^because all the coolest still have bloody flip phones.

I took my tax refund and hopped in a van with two friends of a friend, and the three of us peaced out of Phoenix for Austin, Texas the Sunday before last.  The whole thing was one random hilarity after another, with little nuggets of soul-searching beauty and small revelations.  For instance, you know what I would rather be than funny?  Authentic.  I realized on this trip that while I used to take pride in the shit I could talk, lately I’m more into truth than sarcasm.  I’d rather be an instrument of love and peace, as cheesy as that sounds, than someone known for their sense of humor.

…speaking of cheesy, at SXSW I actually met the creators of the World’s first Vegan Queso.  You know me; I love decadent vegan food, and I love people who make a living doing something they believe in, so I totally ditched a concert to hear their story.

Meet Crystal and Chris Tate, the most adorable little vegan couple to ever take the country’s Mexican food-lovers by storm.

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I seriously just wanted to be their friend, they were that cool.  I talked with Crystal the most (over nachos, of course) about how this Austin-based queso found its way all over the country’s stores, as well as numerous restaurants.

A little background; When Crystal and Chris met, he was already vegan and she was already Hispanic, so their friendship formed over a love of tamales, burritos and the like.  Then it became more than friendship and she became vegan, and voila, the two were hanging out in Texas trying to live on a budget and eat delicious food reminiscent of Crystal’s background.

“We were so poor,” Crystal laughs.  “We used to walk to Taco Bell and split a bean burrito; that was our ‘going out’”.

Crystal, since feeling so much better on a plant-based diet, started a food blog where she shared tips and recipes.  One recipe in particular (this is where it gets good!) started getting an absurd number of hits a day.

Queso!

Chris got all entrepreneur-esque and suggested they take the recipe offline and start selling it.  Eventually the owner of Bouldin Creek Café, in Austin, had a taste and went absolutely nuts for it.  The three worked out a plan, and Bouldin started selling Crystal and Chris’s queso.    Within the first year they café sold over 300 gallons of the off-menu queso, just from mentioning it to customers.  Word spread, and in December of 2010 Whole Foods realized they needed to capitalize on this as well.  They called up our favorite couple and the rest is history.

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Today?  You can find this stuff anywhere.  Its sold all over the country, in tiny health-conscious restaurants (like Green!) and in huge health food superstores like Sprouts and Whole Foods.  Crystal and Chris come off like two kids who just won a prize at the state fair; they’re all wide-eyed about their success, totally humble and overflowing with gratitude for the supportive “love letters” their fans keep sending.

“Ten years ago we had, like, soy milk, and that was it for vegans,” Chris said.  “It’s just so cool to see this movement toward a more conscious way of eating, and people are realizing it doesn’t have to be plain and boring.”

And its queso that is a soy-free, twenty calories per serving (two tablespoons) and is naturally cholesterol-free.  AND your purchase supports individuals, not just some huge corporation.

The only sad thing about it is the gluten-free version hasn’t hit the shelves yet, but it will this summer.  You’re going to hear a shout for joy across so many GFV tables.

I asked the Tates what they would say to the general public about this whole thing, and both were in agreement; if their story is any testimony to the rest of us, its that you certainly can be the change you want to see in the world, and be successful doing so.

She says the most rewarding part of this entire whirlwind experience has been when they’re giving samples away in grocery stores.

“People will hand us their regular queso and buy ours instead.  They think it tastes better and they’d rather eat something healthier than not.”

That’s pretty awesome.  The more people find out about the food choices we have, the more they’re likely to chose a more sustainable and cruelty-free option.  Its all about exposing people to what’s out there.  This was honestly one of the highlights of South By; I certainly don’t want to punch numbers all day for the rest of my life; I want to work at something independent, geographically un-tethered, and consistent with my beliefs.  If these two can do it, why can’t any of us?

“Its not just huge companies that can do things like this,” Crystal insists.  “We were just making this out of our kitchen, and now look at it.  It’s in restaurants I didn’t even know existed.”

Find these loves on Facebook and go check out their website, http://foodforlovers.com/.  And let’s support people who are doing things.

100_1834^cheesy as peace and love on the way home

Health benefits of coffee

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I’m on a new health kick.  I get these, goddamnit-I’m-restarting-my-life-tomorrow epiphanies some nights, usually after a binge-like indulgence, (“pumpkin spice late cupcakes anyone?!?”) and decide that’s it, that’s the last time and tomorrow I will be perfect and eat my weight in kale and have a hot body for the rest of my life.

And then I gaze at my french press and I grieve, because all those hoyty toyty health nuts wag their fingers at me and tell me to nix the caffeine.  They tell me all my energy and pooping should come naturally, by the power of the sun god, positive earth vibes and kale, or something.

I’ve given up coffee off and on for the past six years and you know what?  My re-begun life tomorrow involves java.  I have bigger fish to fry than my soft-core caffeine addiction.  Plus, there are some schools of thought that tote coffee as a health elixir (ish) and I’m choosing to side with them.  They’re probably more fun anyway.

In case you were curious, here’s my favorite health benefits of coffee;

1. It may protect against Parkinson’s, liver cancer and Type 2 diabetes.

(These actually aren’t my favorite benefits, they’re just the most serious.  In reality they’re a bit abstract, as I’m this normal, healthy, 21-year old.)

2. It may lower your risk of depression, if you’re a woman.  And if you’re me.  Kid you not, the day I went back to drinking coffee I was struck by periodic urges to dance around my house and found Kira’s weird behavior hilarious, as opposed to mildly annoying.  Coffee, friends, coffee makes you happy. 100_1180

3. This drink boosts brainpower.  Dear college students, stop freaking out about “needing” a cup of coffee before working on homework or during an exam.  If you’re me, that cup of coffee calms you down a bit and happens to sharpen your memory and keep you alert.  Shots shots shots!!!

4. Coffee shops are great places to meet up and chat.  I just met up and chatted with someone at a coffee shop last weekend, actually.  We’ve talked about this; forming close, personal and authentic relationships with people is one of the healthiest things a person can be intentional about.  Life is hard, remember, and we need each other. Loneliness is actually the worst; it can shorten your life by weakening your immune system and making you less motivated to seek help when you’re feeling ill.  Depression and hopelessness are side affects of being lonely, which is a byproduct of not putting yourself out there and into deeper friendships.  So quit being wussy and love people, and be loved by them.

coffeeNot quite a health benefit, but you can put french vanilla and caramel flavors in your coffee!!!! Until it becomes a french vanilla drink with a splash of coffee.  Like Cheetah used to do.  Crazy kid.

5. It makes you poop! Who doesn’t love pooping?!?

6. When you wake up and smell coffee, it reminds you of your childhood, of growing up with an early-rising, coffee-loving daddy who thought you were amazing, and who’s love you were never insecure about or shy around.  This smell reminds you of being small, of being beautiful, of a life’s potential and, mostly, of peace.

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7. And finally, dude, if it makes you stressed and self-critical to try and quit drinking coffee, lighten up and stop trying to quit.  Stress is worse than the potential high blood pressure and jittery nerves.   It makes you stupid happy to drink coffee, so stop worrying about it.  We’ve got other things to worry about.

Feel free to add more in the comments!  I’ll probably post-edit later.

Gluten-free vegan hangover food

flowers We held our housewarming party last night.  Old friends, new friends, work friends, church friends, and two neighbors.  And alcohol.  Holy frick ,so much alcohol. This will not be an artfully done expose on the science behind these hangover foods.  This is simply my hung-over attempt at providing you, dear Gluten-free Vegan, a concise list of what I was scouring google for all morning.

For starters…B12 and water before sleep.  I don’t care how late it is or how drunk you are, you have got to remember this one.  Or make sure you designated friend-not-having-fun knows what you need.  This is the Holy Grail of all miracle hangover preventatives.  My worst debauchery has nothing on B12 and water.

Water! Water water water.  Does this need explaining?  Ok good.

Raw honey* –You need to get a good quality honey, something raw and not messed with too much.  Honey is packed with antioxidants and concentrated fructose, which you need to flush those toxins out of your system. The fructose will help your blood sugar stabilize; alcohol is mainly sugar, which causes your pancreas to produce an excessive amount of insulin to try and bring the sugar level down.  It produces too much, which brings it down too far, which causes this terrible headache and makes you ravenous.  Low blood sugar will make the nausea worse as the day drudges on, so you need to get this stabilized, pronto.  I like honey on almonds; its messy, but packed with much needed nutrients.

Naked juice, or blend your own (INCLUDE A BANANA!!). No orange or grapefruit, because these can irritate you’re your stomach.  This is good for, again, getting your blood sugar raised and stabilized and is easy on queasy tummies.  Banana, coconut water, some easily digestible berries, greens, honey, and this smoothie has the potential to change your life (er, day).  0822121310

Banana – We’ll delve into this more (see quinoa), but your muscles are seriously depleted of amino acids after a night of excessive drinking, hence the shakes and weakness.  A nice ripe banana will restore your body’s potassium levels.  Coconut water is a beast at potassium restoration as well.

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Qiunoa – since alcohol sneaks in and robs your body of its amino acids, you’ll need to replenish these protein building blocks with the perfectly balanced amino acid profile of Quinoa.  Quinoa is the gluten-free vegan’s best friend.  Make it like oatmeal the morning after, stir in some berries (sugar) and almonds (fat) and you’re good to go.

Peppermint tea will help settle the stomach, as will chamomileGreen tea, though caffeinated, is great at detoxing the liver and super high in antioxidants.  Go easy until you’re feeling more hydrated, but you should be drinking green tea everyday anyway.

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Speaking of caffeine…good God, all I want hungover is a mocha.  Coffee is going to dehydrate you further, so take. it. easy.  However, lets be serious; a day without coffee is a day that sucks, I always say.  I dosed my (small[ish]) cup of coffee today with a teaspoon of raw cocoa powder and honey.  Then I started googling hangover remedies and you know what?  My drink rocked.  We already know about honey, but chocolate, too, is excellent for hangovers.  It’s packed with antioxidants, helps raise your low blood sugar, and stimulates the pleasure center of the brain by releasing serotonin and dopamine.  And who doesn’t want their brain’s pleasure centers stimulated whilst fighting a hangover?

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Also, chips and salsa.  I don’t know why but this is all I want to eat post alcoholic frenzy.

Luckily for me, miso soup is free at my workplace, so when I drag my sorry ass in there this evening I’ll will be helping myself to more than a few servings.  Bring on the beneficial bacteria!

Bonus tip; take your dog for a walk.  She’s bored to death, your party stressed her out, and the fresh air and exercise will do you good.

*There are so many ways to get your blood sugar stabilized; you need not feel like you’re missing out if you’re a honeybee empathizing vegan.  I almost excluded it from the list, but because I eat honey (for now) I figured I’d be truthful and include it.

I own a broom.

I’ve been in my new home for a week.  One week and one day.
We have bought pots and pans, a broom, toilet paper.  We have turned on internet, water and utilities.  I rode my bike to work today for the first time.  (5.2-mile round trip.)   Tonight I am using our utensils and stove for the first time, cooking* lentils, quinoa and random veggies.  I am also drinking wine my roommate brought home from her trip back home to Portugal.  My dog is lying at my feet, the Civil Wars are streaming from my laptop, and I am genuinely content

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I had a few days with the house to myself.  My roommates were either in Portugal or else working too much to be able to move in.  I had days to walk around my empty home with Kira, nights to get to sleep silently and in the dark.  I read.  I walked to Starbucks. I got acquainted with my home and my intentions here.  I found myself comforted by Kira, and comforted by my reassuring her; ‘this is our home for the next twelve months.  This is where we live, this is where we’ll be at the end of the day.  You can relax now.  You don’t have to think about it for the next year.  And a year is eternity, haven’t you noticed?’.

Rest.  Security.  Stability.  I never thought I wanted it until I really didn’t have it.  And even though this is temporary stability, it is a weight off my shoulders nonetheless.  I am so content; school, the ultimate stability, begins next Monday (Intro to Nutrition, Food and Culture, and Math) and my job is actually fun.  We’re allowed and encouraged to get along and communicate with our co workers, even the cooks.  We can eat between tables, so we don’t, I dunno, have dangerously low blood sugar, contract a complex migraine headache, have it mistaken for a stroke, and go into hospital debt.

I already love my roommates, and I love this location.  It’s technically Tempe, but north of the lake, which provides a comforting separation from ASU and the Mill Ave lifestyle.

Home.  Its such a complicated idea.  Because what is home on earth, when you know this isn’t your final resting place?  How can you feel at home when you know you were intended for something more and something other?  I used to full-out reject the idea of “settling down”; I was attracted to transience, other-worldliness, and the rejection of physical possessions.

These days?  The attraction is still there, but it is mellowed by my longing to fit into my own space.  To love my location, to let the world slip off my shoulders at the end of the day, to know where I’ll be sleeping for the foreseeable future.  I am craving stability in my friendships and the place I end up at night.  I am aching for community and for normalcy.  I want something that’s mine.

I am tired of so violently rejecting commitment.  I’ve got, for the first time in years, ⅖ of my family living within twenty miles of me.  I own a broom.

I want to experience holding my lifestyle (even with its legally binding commitments) with an open hand. I want to be neither attached, nor angrily rejecting, the Stuff of Earth. I want to be here, now, present and aware, and I want to be excited for the plans and unknowns of the future.

*I am a broke gluten-free vegan with pet deposits and school payments, and I thought I could go raw at the height of all this spending.  C’mon Self, give me a break; we’re already eating things like sprouted quinoa, for God’s sake.

Rawgust

I once was in a heated debate over the band Kings of Leon.  My friend who we’ll call Jason (because that is his name) claimed KOL sucked, and I counter-claimed they were fantastic.  He bashed their repetitive drumming and I tried not to confess my crush on Caleb, the lead singer.  Eventually I gave up on proving their musical prowess and said something to the affect of, “they’re just, very simply, a refreshingly raw -sounding rock and roll band.”

I know, its only rock and roll…but we like it.

I like the word raw.  I like the feelings it conjures.  (See; raw emotion.)  It seems like such a genuine word, uncorrupted by pretense or fancy drumming.  Or heat.

This month I crave renewal and healing.  Healing spiritually, from the selfish panic at watching the South America fund become the Moran Kid Preservation fund.  Healing physically, from the self-destructive stress binge that has been my diet.

And healing from feeling helpless and apathetic.  I want a kick-start.  I want a challenge.

I want something pure and genuine, and I want to get back to basics.

And rawgust has such a fun ring to it, don’t you think?

My newest roommate and I are already gluten-free vegans (ish…I’ll explain later), and we figured, why not go the full caveman monty for a bit?  The mental and physical health benefits are littered all over the internet, complete with images of gorgeous old women holding raw “cook”books.

Its August first now, but because my food processor is in storage and I’m living out of a backpack, we’re starting Rawgust officially on the fifth when we get the keys to our new home.  I’m excited to let you know how this goes, and I’ll be honest with you about what it costs and if its difficult.  (I keep finding these sites where people are like, ohemgee, its so cheap and easy being raw, and I’m like

You and I both know that’s not the case.

I think they’re full of it, but we’ll see.  I can already tell that one of my stay-sane tips is going to be celebrating at least bi-weekly with raw vegan cupcakes from Tsom.

I did make some raw vegan ice cream (thankyouthankyouthankyou Pinterest, you addictive substitute social life, you) the other day for a barbeque, and it was actually very well received by my carnivorous friends.  Here’s how it happened;

Cut up bananas and freeze;

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Handy-dandy Craigslist-bought food processor.  Cross them fingers.

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Rejoice when it works!!!

Gooey!

Its good with just bananas, but I love peanut butter.  You can use raw peanut butter for Rawgust, obvs.

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And cocoa;

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Then get fancy and put ‘em in mason jars until you’re ready for the barbeque.

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Viola!

Probs I will live off this “ice cream”, as it truly is cheap and easy. (Oh man…I’m going to become one of them!!!!)

 

Anyone ever gone raw before? And if so…please help.  We’re new and need recipes over here.

What I’m eating these days

After paying rent and getting my Savings account in check, I went out and invested in twenty-four pint-sized mason jars, some sprouted quinoa, various veggies, bulk legumes,  and the “supplies” necessary to brew my own kombucha.

The kombucha is the big splurge; a bottle at the store runs form $2.99 (at Safeway) to $3.99 (at AJs), and the stuff is addicting. If you’ve never tried the effervescent nectar of the gods, you must.  I recommend you try GT Dave’s “Trilogy”, as its juicier than, say, the Original.  Kombucha is a fermented tea with millions of probiotic microorganism awesomes hanging out inside.  People swear by kombucha’s “healing” properties.  I won’t go so far, however, when I’m drinking kombucha consistently I do fancy myself feeling better.

Drinking kombucha consistently means spending three to four dollars every other day or so, and that, friends, is not feasible for me.  I want to spend my money wisely, and while I’m into investing in oneself, I’m not into waste.  Especially if there’s a better way.

The better way here is brewing my own kombucha, so with this woman’s step-by-step plan, I’ve begun the SCOBY-growing process!

When I imagine what being “home” is like, I imagine my dog lounging somewhere, chickens strutting around outside, a veggie garden, and kombucha fermenting in my pantry.

Two down, right?

So that’s that.

The food I invested in is just that; an investment.  Your diet affects the way you feel and think, which affects he way you interact with and experience the world. The way you treat the machine, my old man was fond of saying, is the way the machine will treat you.  I soaked black beans last night, froze half the soaked beans, and simmered the other half for two hours this arvo.  I sauteed onions, mushrooms, and bell peppers with garlic in coconut oil and steamed some broccoli.  And that Tru Roots Sprouted Quinoa Trio I splurged on? I made that, and threw everything together in a huge pot.  That’s what I’m eating these days.

And I’m storing the remainder in portion-perfect mason jars, along with the cut veggies I didn’t use tonight.  This way my lazy ass can just plop everything together in a pot without even thinking, and ten minutes later I’ll have a meal!  And look how prettay this all looks!

I wanna hash-tag this as gettingstokedabouthealthfulliving.

Bon appetit!

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A cynic hops on the bandwagon.

Or, why I am an (almost) official Arbonne consultant.

For those of you who don’t know, I’m a gluten-intolerant vegan with budget and time constraints, and I intend to travel a good many places and help people along the way.  I’m a huge believer in Chris Guillebeau’s main blog premise;

You don’t have to live your life the way other people expect you to. You can do good things for yourself and for other people at the same time.

I want a vibrant life and believe vibrancy and service are not mutually exclusive.  We can be happy and helpful.

I also believe in not ravaging the world He so lovingly created. I don’t believe the command to “subdue” the Earth meant abuse, genetically modify, and disregard the animals here.  Or the environment at large.  I believe everything ought to be treated according to its kind, and I’m learning how to live consistently with these truths.

This matters for are cosmetic products, for the food we eat, for the way we commute to work, etc.  It matters whether or not are eye-shadow was poured into animals eyes before being put onto the shelves, and it matters where the packaging for our protein shakes wind up when we’re through.

My friend Lisa is an Arbonne consultant, meaning she joined Arbonne and now goes around coaching people on the toxins in our everyday products and how to live healthfully.  She’s been my supplier of free Arbonne awesomeness for almost a year, be it the gluten-free, vegan protein shakes or the miracle night cream I use that makes it look like I’m well-rested at work.

Arbonne products are 100% vegan, gluten-free, plant-based, and actually have a neutral carbon footprint.

Lisa has been trying to convince me I could make a living doing what she does, but I am a cynic and I am lazy, and kept telling her no and waiting until she offered more samples.  I love this stuff; the idea of selling it though seemed like a scam.  Or kind’ve a sell-out.

Long story short, I came home from Australia with a new-found appreciation of quality products.  I don’t want to hurt anything, not in the makeup I wear or the food I eat.  I found my mom’s old stock of Arbonne energy fizzy tabs, pocketed them, and brought them to Arizona and live off of them at work. (Sorz mom.)  Lisa is an amazing person and, upon hearing of my destitute self sleeping on my new roommate’s couch and wearing the same rotation of clothes every other day, pooled her resources and got her friends to donate clothes, bedsheets, a lamp, kitchen supplies, etc.  She brought everything over, along with (bless her heart) Arbonne samples, and it got me thinking.

It got me thinking that, hey, Arbonne is a legitimate company.  All organic and certified vegan, PH-correct and delicious.  And like I said, I’ve been a closet-user for a year.

All this to say…hey friends, I’m starting a business!  I’m going to be coaching whomever in the health and wellness department (Nutrition Communications is a degree at ASU!!!) and incorporating Arbonne products in my quest to better the world.

And, lets face it, making money on the side is not a negative thing. Especially since I would continue making money even whilst traveling abroad.

Friends, this is a company I genuinely believe in and am excited to share with you.  I’ll post links so that you, dear reader, may shop Arbonne online and see what I mean.  Also, contact me if you’re curious about a product and I’ll send you a sample.   And if you want to make some money on the side (because like, who doesn’t?) don’t hesitate to contact me. Arbonne has something for everyone; men, women and children, and its all the best quality possible.

I’m just getting started, so bear with me. I haven’t officially signed up yet (because you make more money signing up with a few friends!) but when I do, I’ll share more info about it all.  Also, if you have any advice, I’d love to hear it.

Bandwagon…sheesh.  I’ll be driving this wagon in no time. ;)

On another note, CST published part one of my Australia/wwoof memoir!  Woohoo!!!  Page 38.

http://news.citysuntimes.com/

 

Post-edit

*I’m not 100% sold. I’m reading other consultant’s experiences and trying to make an informed decision. Just…fyi. I haven’t downed the cool-ade quite yet.

Cooking > snacking

Ok, that loving of the food thing? Like any relationship thats meant to be, it’s getting stronger. I absolutely love food. I love cooking.

Just now I was getting hungry and thinking of grabbing a snack. If you’re me though, a snack becomes an hour or two of mindless munching, after which the I’ve consumed nothing nutritious and am still unsatisfied. I’m on a recent kick to just start cooking instead of snacking and see where that takes me.

Thus far, I’ve created these cheap, nutritious, animal-friendly meals that are filling and delicious. I usually don’t even know what I’m doing until halfway through the thing.

For instance, today I started steaming broccoli, then decided what the heck, let’s steam some ‘shrooms too. Onions are for frying, and ooh, look at these chick peas! They’re good for protein. I like color, so some red peppers found their way into the pan as well. The fact that I didn’t have any rice on hand didn’t dismay me; I sprinkled this goodness with oats. Curry powder for some culture and viola! I am a deliciously cheap vegan.

I mean…

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The spice of life

Well everyone, I’m in Denmark.

It is my dream town.

Here’s some shots of my wait at the bus stop, where I fell about the place laughing alone with my iPad. The dog is the resident Labrador at Blue Wren Travelers’ Rest, who contributes to this hostel’s homey atmosphere.

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He is so lovely, plopping down at my feet and snuggling any time I want. Makes me miss my own pup back home. Which makes me feel guilty for leaving her for three months, and even guiltier for wanting to keep traveling. (Asia! South America! The other side of Australia!)
But that’s a different topic.

Ok, moving on. I had such a restful and contemplative time at the berry/veggie farm. We cooked the most amazing food for dinner, always vegan, always gluten-free. Honestly, my week with Roy and Diana felt a very healing week.

I don’t mean to oversimplify, but friends, I am a twenty-one-year old white American female. I haven’t eaten a single morsel of food without judging it and myself since I was fifteen. They made me see a psychologist, a nutritionist, and they let me have a pet rat, to try and get me healed, but disordered eating isn’t that simple. That’s what we’re calling it; disordered eating. Because I don’t fit the anorexic’s or the binger’s exact criteria anymore, but my thinking has been tainted. Food is comforting and terrifying and has been for years.

So eating every meal with health-conscious vegetarians who LOVE food…I almost didn’t know what to do with myself. No meal was scary. No meal was dangerous.

And everything was delicious, colorful, fun to cook (Diana let me help! Even though I’m such a newb) and my hosts clearly enjoyed their food. I don’t know how to explain it other than that; we enjoyed our food.

We made cookies with buckwheat, coconut, and millet flour, with chia seeds, soy milk, maca and cacao powder. And we enjoyed those cookies.

I’ll elaborate fuller, elsewhere, on the problems of living post-anorexia, but most important right now is I can honestly say I am learning to love food. It’s fun to cook! It’s interesting, what veggies go with what, which flours make better cookies, what coffee is really doing to your body, etc.

I think I’m drawn to veganism, not only because I love animals and think I’ll be held accountable for my treatment of them (they are the Lord’s. We were meant to do better by, and with, them.) but because it is so simple and so outwardly focused. Meaning, nothing I eat these days stresses me out, because so long as no animal was harmed in the making of it, I feel peace about eating it.

That’s a big deal for me. If you haven’t known self-loathing in lieu of food choices, not feeling in control, or your body’s shape, I’m sure it’s hard to understand. But please try. It’s a big deal to me to eat without anxiety (because ohmygod I can’t get fat, I can’t get fat, I can’t get fat) anger (at the world for ruining me),and hopelessness (because it’s been years and I’m sick of struggling with the same demon).

It’s a big deal to me.

Tonight at Blue Wren we cooked a makeshift vegan meal. (Um, I am a control freak. Now that I know a little something about cooking, like how to cut veggies, I am a tyrant in the kitchen.) It was nice to leave the safety of my veggie hosts and find it still so easy to eat something delicious, healthy, vegan, and gluten free. And cheap! I enjoyed my food; no guilt, no pride (as that’s even worse) just enjoyment.

Here’s some shots of food we made, and the group shot we tried to take. (Roy says my iPad camera is too sensitive. I say, “where did my front TOOTH go?!?” We rush to the bus I am late for) (the bus was late too) and of the novice hostel attempt.

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Hey, this post is already too long. The next one will be about the Pentland disaster, Love Walks, and adventures to date.
Mwah

Disaster!!

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From reading my blog (which…you are doing) one may conclude this trip o’ mine has been one happy-go-lucky, adventurous fairy tale, complete with instant best friends, quokka-kissing, and free farm-stays. I’ve even bottle-fed wallabies and walked dingos on a leash. And while I’ve certainly been too preoccupied to chronicle my day to day details (and my god, would you read that? I’d be bored to tears reading that.) it hasn’t been all fun and games.

At Uralla, I met an Italian girl named Marty who had two contradictory words you could count on her saying, depending on the situation. The first was “beautiful”, like, the salad is beautiful, the French boys in the vineyard were beautiful, your feelings for the kangaroos were beautiful. There we’re also “disasters”, which were situations ranging from the bumps in the road while we braced ourselves in the back of Ian’s truck, to the visa complications (eh, fraud) Marty was having with the Australian government.

Anyway, I’ve left Uralla but can’t stop declaring everything to be either beautiful or disastrous. (I do so with with Italian flare; don’t you doubt it.)

I’ve told you a lot about the beautiful here, but now that I’m over the halfway mark of my Australia trip, I’d like to take a break from all that oohing and ahhing. I want to tell you about the disasters.
I’d rather read somebody’s goofs than their vacation play by play, and I assume you’ve got at least similar sadistic tendencies as well.

So here goes. This is by no means conclusive, and if the rest of this trip resembles the first half, this will be frequently updated. Hope you enjoy my disasters as much as I hated them.

January 16th
Was awesome and got to the airport two hours early. Kissed my teary-eyed father goodbye and made friends with a photographer from New York.
And my flight was cancelled.
Disaster!
There were airplane complications, so they rebooked me for a flight the following night. I used my new friend’s phone to call the only people i knew in California, and couldn’t at first get a hold of my dad, my mom, my anyone, except my friend Ryan. He was planning on picking me up, and then my dad called back. He was going to send my poor Nona to pick me up. MUCH complication here’ trying to coordinate my pickup with both Ryan, my Nona and my father, when all the sudden they were calling my name in the airport speaker. There was a spot open on the next flight, and if I got p there now they would get me to San Francisco in time to catch another flight to Sydney.
I told my new buddy to tell my dad, and then I raced through Security and onto the plane. I didn’t find out until later the panic I caused everyone.i think they thought my photographer friend had ‘napped me.
Oy

January 18th
In the chaos of the aforementioned airport disaster, I’d had just enough time to post a cursed status on facebook that I’d be in Perth a day late. I was literally running through the airport in San Fran, and then customs in Sydney, and never really had time to contact people and tell them otherwise. There was a quick blurb I was able to post while I stood in the boarding line at one airport, but it only seemed to confuse my Australian friends more. Poor Brooke; she couldn’t tell if I would be there Wednesday or Thursday, and I was helpless on an airplane for fourteen hours, unable to put her mind at ease. I was able to get online in Perth and contact her, but it was hot mess. She and her two friends were amazing about it though.

January 19-21ish
Um, guess who’s debit card wasn’t working anywhere? Yes. Mine. I had to borrow money from my new best friend to get through a few days of trial and error. Some ATMs work, most do not, with Wells Fargo visa cards. This is one of those you need to discover before being alone on another continent. Foresight, Jess Moran, foresight. Also, I did in fact need a phone out here and had to buy a cheapo little thing in town. I spent more money that first few days than I did in the following two weeks. Not exaggerating.

January 20
Definitely thought I was a badass and decided to ride a rented bike from Perth city centre to Fremantle, where I was to meet friends for a concert. Definitely can’t read a map (I am American). What could have been an hour and a half cruise along the coast turned into an almost three hour, panicky, dehydrating excursion by bike through neighborhoods, yacht clubs, dirt paths, up stairs, to a pub…where I was not a badass and I asked for directions please fortheloveofgod. Oh, it was noon when I left Perth. Oh, it’s summer out here.

It gets better. Wait for it.

I finally made it to the fricking city of Freo and basically passed out into my smoothie at the only cafe with Internet. They were closing in an hour (disaster) and as I struggled to my bike to leave, I discovered I had no idea where I’d placed the bike lock key. The baristas and I searched all over the sidewalk, in the bathroom, under couches, through the fruit bowl, to no avail. I my heatstroked haze I’d somehow lost the key.

Enter new best friend, Josh, who was with Brooke when she picked me up from the airport. He showed up on a white horse with a sword (ish) and lifted my bike over the sign post it was locked to, and wheelied it to the brewery, where my sweaty mess of a Self met his family and drank all their water.

The concert friends? They saved me from the brewery by taking apart the bike and depositing it at the house we were having pre-concert dinner and drinks.

The concert itself? I’ve heard it was interesting. I wouldn’t know; I passed out for real In the back bedroom of the pre-concert house.

January general
I keep losing things. Like Kristen’s cooler, my nalgene, my camera charger, Kristen’s silverware, etc etc. So embarrassing! And inconvenient for everyone. I’m not ditsy, I’m just distracted. Right?

February 1st
The bus stop I was told to get off at by my first WWOOF host did not exist. At least not the way I understood it to. (Read; I misunderstood) And the driver was frazzled, as the bus had broken down for half and hour and he had to deal with this smartass teenager in the back. He basically threw up his hands in despair and brought me to the bus station in the kalamunda hills, where I was not meant to be. I had Kristen email my host the situation. She called, fuming, and we, you know, sorted out the confusion and I got onto a new bus with a more knowledgeable bus driver. (He took my haphazard description of where I was meant to be and deducted the exact location of my pick up.) That started off my first WWOOFing on shaky grounds, wouldn’t you think?

February 17
Em, that combative nature I was talking about? It is exasperated by my tendency to be…snarky. I think snarky is the word.

Confronted with racism like I’d never experienced, (was asked, genuinely, if i had noticed an intellectual difference between my black ex and my white ex, and did I understand that there was, in fact, a great divide in evolution between we civilized whites and the aboriginals…but they may catch up one day if we help them) I not only caused GREAT awkwardness at the dinner table by arguing back, but great offense to the racist. And then instead of relenting and allowing him the last word, I went all snarky on his ass and grinned; “you’re the boss, applesauce.”*

I was declared “quite rude”.

I took him outside and apologized, trying to explain that the use of the word “nigger” got me all bristly, and then went to my room and cried and wanted to go home. He brought me a glass of wine. All was well (ish) from then on out.

February 27
Felt cool checking into My First Hostel. Tripped up the stairs.
Still a dork, even in foreign countries.

Oh, that camera charger I lost? Can’t find a replacement, save for the SIXTY dollar universal charger in Albany. Defeated, I bought the damn thing, couldn’t figure out how to work it, cried, couldn’t return it, figured it out, ate cereal and went to bed.

February 29
Was really cool with my vegan, gluten-free box of muesli on the bus en route to Northcliffe. Was much cooler than those who are Under Law, the law being “don’t eat on the bus”. Was not too cool to spill half the contents of my cereal box on the floor beneath me. (Not. Exaggerating.)

No worries; I am quick-witted and covered that mess with my bag. What my driver can’t see, isn’t
disaster.

March 3
I’m WWOOFing at a berry/vegetable farm in Northcliffe, and we are also painting my hosts’ new house. (It’s been in the works for four years, as they’re doing virtually everything themselves.) the other day we got started and needed to dump the previous days’ buckets of paint-soaked water. I picked one up, but was distracted by something floating inside. I touched it, but got weirded out. Diana, my host, said, “heh, a rag” and grabbed the dead mouse full-on. She shrieked, and I became dramatically female and flung the bucket away from us.
Blue water all over Roy’s car, their ceiling, the lawn…frick frick frick.

I spent the rest of the afternoon up on a ladder, straining my neck like a brontosaurus, wiping the absolutely baked-on paint drops off the ceiling. Such a backtrack; there was no progress from me that day.

“Fucking mouse,” I lamented. “Who thinks its ok to drink that color blue water?!?”

To be continued. Hopefully not when I climb the bicentennial tree in Pemberton tomorrow…

*I’m not very original. That line is from the movie, Factory Girl, which portrays the rise and fall of Edie Sedgewick. At one point in the film, Andy Warhol humors something Edie has said by affirming that she is the boss (applesauce). I always found the line wonderfully, playfully cynical, and have never had the right opportunity to copy it until now. I should probably learn to grit my teeth instead, but that’s a topic for another day.

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