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Now that I have moved to Nashville, my 823 sq foot condo is for rent.  $1550/month.  First, last and security deposit will move you in.  Cat okay with deposit.  Fridge included.  Laundry on site.  Two tandem parking spots.  Located near both the 101 and 405 interstates.  Secure entry and garage.

New Carpets.  Earth toned walls.

Master bedroom with custom organized closet.(king size bed can stay if you like)

Second bedroom can be used as an office.  (desk can stay if you'd like)

One full bath, one 3/4 bath. 

Renovated kitchen will include fridge.

Located on a quiet residential street, the nine unit building is all owner occupied.  Condo avail is 2nd floor in the back corner with views of the mountains and trees.  Very peaceful.

The movie that brought me to Nashville, to my new home, is finally over.  "Love Don't Let Me Down" is officially over and I can't help but wonder if it will be my last movie.  Will there be others?  What will I do next?  Where is my life heading?  I'm taking a deep breath and seeing what will happen next, with my eyes wide open.

Remember that fantastic vacation that I had at the fancy French Chateau, a birthday celebration for Palin Paris' and his beautiful wife Carmen Thomas?  

Well Palin had a wonderful write-up in the LA Times over the weekend.  You will recognize his children, Sabine and Georges with a few years added and see a sample of his murals and art work.

Paulin Paris LA Times Article

It seems to be the question on everybody's mind. My friends, my co-workers, my new neighbors.

There are the obvious reasons: I am closer to family  (especially my parents), an affordable house, and a better quality of life.

These reasons hint at the true nature of such a move.  The bottom line is that I am no longer happy in Los Angeles and am very lonely there.  My dear California friends, please don't take offense to this, it does not reflect on the depth of our friendships or how important you are to me.  My soul is lonely and craving something that I couldn't find in sunny Southern California.  I am not talking of such things tangible but those things that affect my core being.  A sense of community, a connection to the lives around me, to the world that surrrounds me, space to embrace the creative energy that bounces around inside. I have been craving a change for a long time but have to admit that I was quite comfortable where I was, with work, my condo, my life in general.  But as a very wise friend once said to me, "do you want to be comfortable or happy?"

Sometimes happiness is found by stepping out of your comfort zone, embracing the uneasiness of uncertainty, reaching out and touching something new, opening yourself back up to the possibilities. 

Nashville was never on my radar but when Screen Gems decided to film "Love Don't Let Me Down" here I decided it was a place I really wanted to explore.  I knew almost immediately that I needed to move here.  It holds for me the familiarity of my hometown of Memphis, the loving nature of the Southern people, a strong entertainment community and an openness of acceptance that accommodates creative types and a sprinkling of family and friends already living here.  Once the decision was made, everything else fell into place very quickly and easily which confirms that it is the right choice, maybe even the only choice I had.

So a new chapter in my life begins. 

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Trona Pinnacles

Four hours from Los Angeles, the barren landscape of tall prehistoric volcanoes, is punctured by the Trona Pinnacles.  Located between Ridgecrest, CA and Trona, the small brown National Park sign indicates a dirt road leading towards the rocks.  Formed underwater along a fault line that is connected to Searles Dry Lake Bed, these calcium carbonate juts of rock dominate the flat surface. 

The film crew perches atop one of the pinnacles to capture the actors and the amazing vista beyond them. 

Trona Salt Flats

The Mojave Desert is only fifty miles away but the heat has found the crew.  The sun bakes us, is soaked up by the salt infested ground and bounces up.  We are surrounded by it.  The crew moves slowly through the day and Production Assistants walk around offering water and shade.  Their job is to watch everybody to make sure no heat exhaustion or heat stroke hits us.

This parched landscape is perfect for the setting of "Outpost 10".  A small house set on war radiated land, the owners scratching a living and waiting for the soil to return to usefulness after years of war between humans and vampires.  This is the beginning and ending of our film. 

Every day it reaches 120 degrees.

Fishhead Rocks

Our final location in the Trona/Ridgecrest area. 

Also known as Poison Canyon for a stream that contains naturally occurring lethal amounts of arsenic and other chemicals.  The canyon was originally used as the route the mule teams used from the Borax Plant in Trona to San Pedro, California.

Tucked in a back corner, we wedged a reduced film crew in to film our actors walking along a narrow path, surrounded by wrinkled walls.  Filmed at dusk, in the fading light, it was easy to feel transformed to a different time and place here.

(That is me, 2nd from the left)

Ridgecrest

The closest major town to our location, Ridgecrest's (formerly known as Crumville) existence is purely to sustain the China Lake Navel Weapons Base.  The base dominates the surrounding terrain, rolling along for acres.  Driving along the highway towards our location, I catch glimpses of imagined steel bunker doors embedded in the distant mountainsides and wonder what arsenal is held there.

Our hotel, The Carriage Inn, is charming.  The majority of the crew stayed here and gather by the pool at night to cool off and share a beer or two.  The rooms are small but the air conditioners work and that
is the most important thing this close to the desert.  The rest of the crew stayed in the new Springhill by Marriott .  They didn't have ambiance we did but they did have big flat screen tvs!

Things have been quiet on the blog because my current film, PRIEST, is taking up all my time. 

Check out this article to discover what I have been up to…..

http://www.vvdailypress.com/news/valley-14829-lucerne-filmed.html

I promise more soon.

I have started my next writing class and it is “Focus on the Novel”.

In next fourteen weeks I will learn the secrets to novel writing, complete an outline and write my first three chapters.

Many of you joined this blog when it was purely a travel writing blog.  It has slowly morphed into something more.  I hope to chronicle my journey with writing a novel, the hardships and the triumphs.

I hope that you will join me!

P.S.  I will still write about trips, travel and misc. life adventures!

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Fifteen First Ladies of Africa came to visit out set last week.  

They have converged here in Los Angeles to discuss the health issues and child
welfare that effects all their nations.

Their visit to our set was quiet, respectful and cordial until Danny Glove and Chris Rock came to meet them.  The women were dignified in their excitement but couldn't help pulling out their cell phones to snap photos.

It was awe inspiring to be among this group of ladies who have bonded together to address the issues that threaten all of them.  We should look to them to inspire us with our own world views. 

We are all one.

Tonight I leave for Belize.  I am excited and nervous and a little anxious.  I can't wait to get on the plane.  To begin the next adventure.  I also don't want to leave.  I don't want to leave my cats in the hands of a stranger.  I want to wake up in my own bed.  I want the comfort and familiarity of home at the same time I crave the excitement of new places and experiences. 

I feel this way every time I leave home.  Travel opens up in me the desires to see the world and meet its people.  Travel also solidifies my love for my home.  Certainly my house, my life, my friends but also my country. 

Here is a preview of my trip to Belize:

Dec. 30-Jan 2  Seaside Cabanas, Caye Cauker
Jan 2-Jan 7  Jungle Dome, Belmopan
Jan 7-10  Jaguar Reef Resort and Spa, Marina

I will be posting soon.  Happy New Year.

P.S.  Yes, I know I still owe you blogs about New York City!

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(part two:  the people)

New Yorkers have a repetition for being loud, bossy, short-tempered and all around unpleasant.  I found nothing could be further from the truth during my recent visit. Whether it was asking a stranger for directions or striking up a conversation on a bus or subway platform, New Yorkers were friendly and went out of the way to help.

Newark Airport
Arriving at the Newark Airport, I had to call my car service for pickup.  I had unfortunately left my cell phone in Los Angeles so I was desperately trying to call from a payphone.  Remember the day when you plopped your money in and dialed the number.   Its much more complicated now with credit card swipes and dialing multiple numbers just to get the dial tone for your phone number.  After many failed attempts I was becoming dismayed.  Nearby I had noticed a slim older man, reading a newspaper– a sign for an incoming passenger propped up on two luggage carts.  

“Having trouble making a call”, he asked.

“Yes.  Can I give you a dollar to let me use your cell phone?  I just need to call the car service.”

“No dollar necessary.” He said, having already pulled his cell phone out before I asked.
“What’s the number?” 

He connected me swiftly to the car company.    Since I didn’t have a cell phone number to give them I gave them a brief description of myself.  Blonde lady in a green jacket.  “Pleasantly plumb”, I add.

“Thank you so much.” I said to my guardian angel. 

“I just want to tell you, “ he responded.  “I am a happily married man but I think that you are a delightful young woman.  And you smell good.”   He was not trying to pick me up. He was just paying me a compliment, plain and simple.

What a wonderful way to start a vacation!

The Cabbie
No trip to New York could be called authentic unless there is at least one true New York moment.

Catching a cab across town to join my dad and Stan at an off Broadway play, I settled in for my ride.  My cab driver, in a hurray (as they all are), cuts off a metro bus at a light.  I notice the bus driver leaning out his window and throwing something at the cab, bouncing it off the front passenger’s window.   My cabbie heard the noise but didn’t realize it was from the bus. 

As he begin to pull away I say, “You know that bus driver totally threw something at the cab, right?”

“WHAT?” he asks incredulously

“Yeah.  I saw him.”

“That bus driver?” pointing behind us.

“Yeah.”

With that, he throws the taxi in park, tossed open the door and charges back toward the bus, yelling at the top of his lungs.  I turn, looking through the cab’s rear window and see the bus driver leaning halfway out his window, gesturing wildly.  The cabbie is directly below him, arms spread and waving.  Each man trying to make his point.

I can’t help but giggle.

Battery Park

Vendors line the walkways of this famous park, selling nuts, framed NY photos, hats, scarves, and gloves.  

I set my sights on a four photo collection of NY in the snow and buy it for $15, framed.
The woman who sells it to me is dark skinned, short and has a sweetness about her that flows like a river. 

“Can I take your picture?” I ask.

“Its okay.” She said, patting her scarf and hat, looking down at the ground.

“You are beautiful.” I tell her, meaning inside and out.  I snap the photo.

“Where are you from?”  She asks us.  “I am from Tibet.”  She tells me, glancing over at a tall man behind their stall.  I assume it is her husband.  “We have been here three years.”

We chat for a few moments before moving on.   She is one more layer of what makes New York such a fascinating place.

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(Part one—the Apartment)

On my recent trip to New York City, I choose to steer clear of the crowded Times Square area of town (where my dad’s hotel was located) and instead rented a studio apt from a friend, sight unseen, on the East side.   Did I mention that it’s a five-story walk-up?  That means no elevator.   

I have to admit that I had a lot of pre-conceived notions of what this apt would be like…visions of loud neighbors, loud traffic, banging doors, honking, shouting,all the things I have seen on TV.  

 Imagine my surprise, after laboriously dragging my suitcases (yes, plural) up the five flights of stairs, when I found a colorfully painted sanctuary.   Each room is painted a different color, rich pink in the studio portion, pale yellow for the kitchen, the corner bathroom is a deep blue and the entry hall is majestic purple.   

There are not multiple locks on the door just one deadbolt and a chain that has long lost its connector piece on the door.  The loudest noise I hear is the steam heat coming out of the radiator and the only neighbors are the pigeons cooing on the windowsills. 

Porcelain Chinese men watch over me from vantage points throughout the studio.  Perched on golden corbels, they feel as if they are my guardian angles, keeping me safe.

The wood floors are worn but smooth and comforting and the toilet doesn’t flush unless you hold down the handle until the count of ten. 

If I lean into the kitchen window I can see the roof of the building across the way and the skyline of the buildings beyond.  They catch the light of the sun as it makes its way across the sky and from the quiet of my room it seems as if New York City is still across the country.  Yet, as soon as I circle down five flights of stairs and open the door, the city greets me with its hustle, bustle and energy.

This is the perfect place for me to get to know New York City.  I find, as I close the door behind me at the end of my stay, I already miss the apartment.  And am counting the days until I can return.

Airlines in America have been losing consumer confidence every since they started shouting bankruptcy and began charging us for mundane things like blankets and baggage. Not to mention the lack of meals.  In the old days they courted us, made us feel special, valued us.  And as if to punish us for their lack of business savvy, we now are shuttled like cattle, stacked into rows, and thrown a bag of peanuts (if we are lucky).

The last time I flew Continental it was a non-descript flight.  The time before that, many years ago, it was on an almost empty flight across the country on, what I can only hope, was the plane’s last flight before retirement.  It left a bad taste in my mouth, and I’m not just talking about the bland food offering.

This trip was different.  (With the exception of a packed tight flight, but it was the busiest travel day of the year, the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.)   Continental boasts of having the newest fleet in the in business—a rumor I cannot confirm or deny—but the plane we were on, a 757 felt new, sleek, modern. 

On demand entertainment is available in each seatback.    Movies old and new:  Spiderman, Wall-E, Bullitt, are just a few of the 19 choices.    Short Programs that include 18 choices of TV shows such as CSI, Without A Trace, Friends and Everybody Loves Raymond.   Fifty music choices and multiple games round out the menu. 

And breakfast.  Yes.  You heard me right.   More importantly, edible breakfast.  An egg and cheese Omelet in a Pita from Pita Naturals, a fresh but benign muffin and a small bowl of fruit, consisting of grapes, cantaloupe and honeydew.  On top of that they left a whole a 16 oz drink (I had cran-apple) and then came through again 30 minutes later asking if you wanted more.

I know, I know, I should wait until they get me happily and safely back home but I have to admit that I as of right now, I have a serious crush on Continental.

P.S.  They are also a partner airline with Northwest Airlines and honor my silver elite status.

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The Buda Castle Museum Café beckons me with its shaded tables, tucked next to the cool stone walls of the former palace.  I stumble across the courtyard, feeling the baked heat of the midday sun beating down on my bare head and seeping upward into my shoes.   This must be what it feels like to be roasted and broiled at the same time.    Sweat beads, then drips down my forehead, stinging my eyes.   My thighs are raw, a heat rash setting up residence in places I’d rather not mention.   The heat wave that has struck Hungary, and will kill 100 people during its weeklong assault, has reaches a crescendo as I finally reach the sanctity of the restaurant’s shelter. 

I settle into my chair, thankful to be next to a tall, cool pillar.   Resisting the urge to give a full body hug to the pillar and to my waiter, heck to anything that is less than 110 degrees Fahrenheit, I order a tall glass of water.  I use all my napkins to sop up the ends of my sweat-drenched hair and look over the menu.  A heat migraine is threatening, like storm clouds on a sunny day.  Oh, that would have been nice right about then, a big ole thunderstorm.   More than slightly nauseous from the heat, I know that I must eat something soon or I am a goner. 

I can’t bear the thought of the normal Hungarian fare, galuska, a type of potato dumpling or a meat stew called Porkolt.   All too heavy for a tourist on the verge of heat stroke.  Then I see it.  My salvation, hideg  meggyleves.  Chilled Sour Cherry Soup.

A Hungarian delicacy, rarely seen in the United States, made of poached sour cherries, sugar, cream and a touch of cinnamon, nutmeg or allspice, it is popular during the summer months when the temperatures climb and the sour cherry trees ripen.   

I had tasted chilled fruit soup only once before, strawberry soup, at a sorority convention in Ft. Lauderdale.  To try something new, like chilled fruit soup, at that point in my life, was an event in itself.  Being rewarded with the smooth texture and light strawberry flavor, helped set the stage for trying new foods as I grew older. 

Now I find myself in Hungary, looking forward to trying Sour Cherry Soup. The waiter, having forgiven my attempt to pronounce hedge meggyleves, refills my water glass and brings the Coca Cola I have ordered.  He registers the disappointment on my face when I see only two pieces of ice in my glass and he nods knowingly at me.  He comes back through the crowd of tables with an ice bucket, carefully dropping several cubes in each of his patron’s glasses.  He passes me by, saying, “I’ll be back for you”. After his rounds, he casually walks by my table, dropping off the bucket.  He smiles at me over his shoulder as he walks away and I blush, tickled that he has done this for me.

The Sour Cherry soup arrives and it is better than I imagined.  The rich, creamy texture sooths my mouth, cooling as it goes down.  It is a perfect combination of sweetness from the cream and sugar and tartness from the cherries, which I find congregating at the bottom of the bowl.  I suck one slowly off my spoon and it is so tender it melts in my mouth, oozing with brandied goodness.  Surprisingly the cherries are not pitted but my tongue makes fast work of disengaging the pit.  I eat slowly, treasuring this feeling of decadency.  Surely this was a dish favored by the monarchs of Hungary.   Refreshed by the shade and nourished by my soup, I am soon ready to finish exploring the Castle district of Budapest, open to new adventures.

Recipe for Chilled Sour Cherry Soup (courtesy of Saveur.com)

2  24-oz. jars of pitted sour cherries
   (preferably morellos), with their juice
   (Alternatively, you may use 1 3⁄4 lbs. fresh
   bing cherries, stemmed and pitted, or
   1 1⁄2 lbs. frozen bing cherries with 2 3⁄4
   cups sour or regular cherry juice.)
1⁄2 tsp. kosher salt
1 cinnamon stick
1  1⁄2"–thick slice of lemon
1  8–oz. container sour cream

1. Add jars of cherries, with their juice, to a 4-quart saucepan. Add salt, cinnamon stick, and lemon. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to medium-low, and simmer until cherries are soft, about 5 minutes.

2. In a small bowl, whisk together sour cream and 1⁄4 cup of hot cherry liquid from pan. Remove pan from heat; stir in sour cream mixture. Chill the soup.

This recipe was first published in Saveur in Issue #112

Where the Hell is Matt? (2008)

The reasons that we travel vary for every person, whether it be an escape from our everyday lives, to a need for adventure. One of the many reasons I travel is to connect with people that live in different cultures, to remind myself that for all our differences, we are all the same. This video is a perfect example of that,

I am happy to announce that my entry, "Heart of a Mountain", has won the first monthly Travel Writing Contest at the Costa Rica Pages.    Check out the announcement, along with my bio, on their blog.

They will award the grand prize winner ($3,000 Costa Rican Vacation) on August 4, 2008.

Thanks to everybody who has visited the site and made comments and/or rated my short story.
If you haven’t done that yet, its not to late.  Click here to visit the site.
  

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Apparently, to be considered a "true" traveler, you must own  Briggs and Riley Luggage.  Or so the salesman at Luggage 4 Less tells me.  I am still apprehensive (the luggage is NOT cheap) but there are several other customers in the store and they are purchasing Briggs and Riley.  Upon questioning, they confirm the salesman’s accolades.  Not only are the pieces sturdy but Briggs and Riley offer an unprecedented lifetime warranty that includes airline damage.  For $15 shipping, they repair or replace your bag, no questions asked, in about two to three weeks.   You don’t even have to register or have your original receipt.  Seems too good to be true.  I checked out their website  as soon as I got home and there it was in black and white:

"If your Briggs & Riley bag is ever broken or damaged, even if it was caused by an airline, we will repair it free of charge. Simple as that!"

The features that I liked, besides the unbelievable warranty, were the exterior  handle (leaving more room inside) and the magnetized luggage tag.   By now most of you know how I feel about the importance of luggage tags.

So I am now the proud owner of a new 21"carry on upright Briggs and Riley Transcend bag.  Now I just need a reason to pack it.

I went on a little hike this weekend in a jewel of a park.   Nestled between the famous Mulholland Drive and Beverly Hills, Franklin Canyon is an oasis in the midst of the second largest city in the United States.   With its criss cross of hiking trails, lakes, fountains and picnic areas it should be packed with city dwellers looking for respite  but instead is one of it’s best kept secrets.

We achieved a sweltering 89 degrees yesterday here in Los Angeles.   Too hot for an early April day and hopefully not a precursor for the long summer ahead.   Due to the heat, I wait until the sun begins its slow dip into the western horizon before heading out for my hike.

Now I know you are wondering, this is a travel blog, why are you writing about a hike?  Travel is a journey into new and exciting places.  Well,  I challenge you to change your thinking about travel.  Can’t
your voyage derive from exploring a familiar location in a new way?  Or changing  your perspective?

I find myself, with dusk fast approaching, walking down a familiar route but everything is different.  In the past I have been down this path in the morning, with friends.  Now, shadows are creeping down the mountainsides, the frogs are singing and the only thing keeping me company is the crunching of my shoes on the dirt.  And even though I know where I will end up,  I am in new territory with eyes wide open.

Take a new path down an old road.