Life of MALA: October 2013

MUNICH

After two vodka tonics, a few cardboard airplane meals, and a days worth of flying I arrived in Munich, Germany for the start of my European adventure with my father. We began the trip with an extremely exciting adventure to the nearest hotel where we checked in and promptly passed out for four hours. Once rejuvenated, we headed downstairs to the hotel's restaurant where I put back a soda and a schnitzel and then my father and I, along with my father's very close friend and his family all headed to Oktoberfest. I had no idea what Oktoberfest was but knew it had a lot to do with guzzling beer, an idea I was totally fine with now that I had gotten in a whopping four hours of sleep. For those who have been to Oktoberfest, or Germany in general, you already know that they don't generally serve beer in a bottle or cup intended for humans like America. Beer there is served usually in more of a pitcher, or bucket, or wheel barrow sized instrument. Enjoying a few beers was quickly, and brilliantly, followed by a trip over to the nearest roller coaster. Shockingly, the beers stayed put during the experience. It was actually a fantastic ride. When you were on the top you could see over the entire festival and it was an amazing view. Unfortunately I could not bring a camera to catch the view, because it would have flown right out of my hand once we started downhill.

The second day of the trip we journeyed over to The Nymphenburg Palace where I fell in love. The entire building was dressed in gold and adorned with beautiful paintings. Each room was more beautiful than the next and the lighting was so gorgeous. After exploring the inside of the palace we walked around the grounds strolling between little ponds, pools, and gardens. Naturally all of this walking led us straight to lunch where sandwiches, chocolate croissants, and cappuccinos were all devoured (how Un-European of us) within minutes before a much-needed nap.

You will pick up soon that most of the trip revolved around eating, napping, and cocktails in between some sight-seeing.

Here I am at my happiest in the Nymphenburg Palace:

Monday was my first official day as a free person. Free from the cubicle confinement of a 9-5 life. I slept about one hour and three minutes during Sunday night, but I woke up Monday morning feeling fantastic. Fantastic and free. Although these emotions were hidden under a thick layer of stress and exhaustion, the excitement did happen to make a debut around 10:30am at my local Starbucks on York Avenue. I walked down from my apartment on 82nd street and ordered my usual iced soy caramel macchiato and a Greek yogurt. (I'm one of those people who is lactose intolerant only when it comes to milk and cheese. Luckily I can still eat yogurt...thank goodness. Without 16 Handles I'm not sure I would have made it through the last few months. I'm not saying frozen yogurt really makes the grieving process any easier, but it definitely makes you feel less guilty and bloated when you are an emotional eater. This is, of course, when you do not count the three rainbow cookies you eat from the toppings bin while waiting to pay every time you go.)

Regardless, this post is not about 16 Handles. It is about the customer service at Starbucks. I must say that I have never experienced terrible service at a Starbucks in my life. Trust me, I have plenty of negative things to say about their prices, or, at times, the lack of satisfaction from a watery latte. However, the attitude of the employees has always been more than adequate. In fact, around the holidays I specifically go to certain Starbucks locations just for the staff experience. One of my personal favorites is the one on 54th and Broadway. One of the men who works there is always singing Christmas songs when I visit. It just makes me so happy every time I hear him. I could probably pack an entire week's lunch with the money I spend on one visit to my singing barista, but it's the holidays...and he's singing. I mean, how can you resist?

Back to my point, I was at Starbucks that Monday morning and was waiting for my latte when suddenly the barista asked me how my day was going. I quickly replied, "Good, yours?" I then realized I wasn't just answering with the standard reply, it WAS going good. I wasn't at work sitting in a cubicle. I added to her question, "You know, it's actually going really good. I quit my job on Friday so today is my first day as a free woman! I have a photography business on the side and am hoping to make it full time and be my own boss from now on." She stared at me for a second and then replied, "That is amazing, girl! Wow. You're crazy but that is really great; just amazing." We talked a little bit more and then I waved goodbye and headed out the door with my latte and a massive dorky grin on my face that I always get when talking to strangers who make me happy. It's amazing how one woman's quick genuine question about how my day was in fact made my day and left me smiling like a five year old. It is those times I feel like I look like my mother the most - when I have this massive grin plastered on my face. She always wore that grin.

After enjoying my latte, I headed home to pack up as much as I could of my life at 1558 York Ave and then snuggled into bed with my two roommates around 6:30pm once they were all home from work. We popped some champagne, talked about our days, and then headed to our final roommate dinner. After three years of apartment life together, and 20 years of friendship, it was no easy goodbye. We returned from our dinner and crawled into one bed where we watched our last few episodes of our favorite show Friends and sipped some more champagne, and spent the night cuddled all cuddled together...Monday was my last night as a NYC resident.

On Tuesday morning I packed my life up into a truck and took off for Long Island. It was about two minutes down the road before I realized that a parking ticket was under the right side windshield wiper. It had not been there five minutes prior to departure so was most likely placed when I ran inside for a few minutes to say goodbye to my roommates. My initial instinct was...well, I won't write that here. But it wasn't happy. However, I realized shortly after being furious for a few minutes that maybe it was meant to happen. I was furious and angry and happy to be leaving NYC and here was its ridiculous final effort to empty my wallet one last time. The rent, the laundry, the cost of living - I was finally fleeing it all. That ticket was exactly what I needed to remember why I shouldn't be too sad to go. Or at least this is how I decided to look at it, because it really did work. I was so worried that I would be crying my whole way home until that ticket happened. There was no crying after that.

In the last few days since I arrived home it has been a blur of unpacking, repacking (for Europe tomorrow morning), editing, running errands, and early bird special dinners at my grandparent's house. I have been done with dinner and dessert by 6:30pm the past few nights. I have managed to go from an employed NYC girl to a senior citizen in the country over night. But I'm excited. Nervous, stressed, overwhelmed? Sure. But mostly excited. I board a plane to Europe tomorrow afternoon and arrive back on the 22nd of October. A few more months on Long Island and then I head to St. John, VI and I can't wait to be able to share via photos and posts every step of the way.

It's a new chapter. I am hitting the restart button. I'm taking a chance. I'm pursuing my dream.

Or maybe like the Starbucks woman on Monday told me, I'm just crazy.

First shot walking out the door of my corporate life. 810 Seventh Avenue: