Portland’s gotten extremely crisp, and the sun goes down too early.  I hope you all have a great ending to your week. xo

Pssst: I’ve been updating this like crazy!

Our stop in Chişinău was brief, but beautiful. We stayed in an 8th floor soviet flat with hot running water, a deep tub, and ancient ornamental plumbing that bordered the walls. Our stay was punctuated by gorgeous centuries-old monasteries and a giant underground wine cellar of massive proportions. And then, after what seemed like no time at all, we were on a bus to Romania.

Jeff’s blog is frequently updated with stunning photos, and I highly recommend checking it out.

xo

Riss worked on photos in the airport while I checked in. We hugged and laughed and I could hear her working the shutter on her old Mamiya as I turned around and shuffled into security with everyone else.

The next twenty-four hours were long and largely unremarkable: Portland to Chicago. Hot water for my tea. Chicago to Frankfurt. Left my jacket on the plane. Frankfurt to Vienna. Too tired to care. Vienna to Odessa. And everyone’s pushing to get their bags, and we’re shuffling like livestock through two tiny doors and I don’t really know where I am, and I haven’t heard english since two flights ago, and then there’s Jeff on the other side of the doors. And he’s grinning and holding three gorgeous roses. And I’m in Ukraine.

We walk outside, and even though the air is crisp and smells like exhaust it’s remarkably refreshing. As we walk to the bus, Jeff deflects cab driver’s advances and it’s the first time I hear him speak Russian and it sounds amazing.

We spend a couple of days in Odessa checking out the markets, walking out near the water, and catching up. It had been seven months since we’d last seen each other.  I recover from my jet lag in Odessa, then we take a mid morning bus to Vilkovo, where he’s been living for the majority of that time and working as a teacher at a small sea-foam-green painted school.

According to locals (and later confirmed by a mysterious guidebook we found in an apartment in Chisinau) Vilkovo is known as the “Ukrainian Venice” which, actually, is a hell of a stretch. But still, it’s charming, with tiny streets that are largely unpaved, a couple of blocks worth of markets, a small church with a tall white steeple and the school, nestled inside a delicate white fence.

I felt exceptionally shy, especially during the first few days, and was reluctant and timid to take photos while we were out.

Jeff lives in a small cottage behind his landlord Nadia’s house. There’s a small gas stove, electric heater and a futon bed. His place is closest to the garden, which borders a small stream with thin wood planks along the banks, an alternate route to get into town.

Nadia has us over for dinner, and the majority of the items on the table are vegetables that she’s pickled and canned from her garden earlier in the season. We drink homemade wine and ask questions back and forth. She raises up toast after toast, and Jeff translates for me.

Nadia explains that earlier in the day, she’d gone out and lit the fire in the shower, so we’d have hot water, and after dinner we run out into the cold and quickly close the heavy metal door to the shower room which also doubles as a sauna, so as not to let out any of the built up heat. The shower is amazing and I can’t tell if it’s because it follows a long day of traveling on a cold and bumpy bus, or because I know someone took time out of their day, to build a fire, to ensure that I’d enjoy it.

Jeff takes me to school and I meet his director and some of the teachers he’s working with.  His students all seem extremely excited and run around crazy in the hallways, the girls whisper and giggle as we walk by and the boys come up and shake his hand, even the little ones. Jeff leads an english class with some of the older students and we enact a sort of press-conference where the they take turns asking me questions in english. They ask me about my favorite food, music I like, places I’ve been and how many tattoos I have.  One of the girls asks how Jeff and I met, and he explains that we were in school and he thought I was cute, and we all laugh.

Eventually it was time to leave Vilkovo. We walked into town before the sun was up, with our backpacks, a couple of cups of black tea, and a group of small dogs nipping at our heels. We took our seats on a compact bus overwhelmed by the smell of cigarettes, and soon we were heading north, to Chisinau.

Spent most of today recovering from two evening’s worth of late night adventures, which were mostly alleviated by: sleeping in till 11 am, stomping around the house in my undies making tea and checking for ripe tomatoes in the garden, doing laundry, working a bit from home, running errands all over the place, catching up on all of last months juicy details w/ O. And then a super yummy dinner + wine date with one of my roommies.

Oh, and by the way:

Check out these Gorgeous illustrations.

I’m not ready for this.

I’m in love with this cider packaging.

This plant painting is pretty incredible.

Finding the contents of this blog highly hilarious.

Come to mama…nomnomnom

Settling in. For real this time.

Had the sweetest surprise birthday party ever- full of all the best things that made me grin all evening.

So many of the places I’ve experienced have always been dreamily temporary.

So inspired by this organic tribal aesthetic both rough and polished. Would love to be on an island right now, but anywhere near a warm sunny beach would do. Daydreaming in my little corner of Portland, and outside, it’s raining.

Been spending all of my time in my bed healing a wounded ankle, wrapped in ice and propped on pillows. Hope all of you lovelies are well. xo

some serious green smoothie activity with miss r.

as well as some late night nail painting

+ r. turned me on to this song, which has quickly become my favorite of the moment.

And I’m pretty much missing my cast irons. This photo isn’t helping.

And I decided I need a bike like this, minus the basket.

My hand is sticky with honey from my last cup of tea. There is a neighbor running a loud piece of machinery. I did laundry for the first time since I moved, and hung it to dry by an empty and chilly wood-stove, for aesthetics sake only.

View from the bed in the room where I’m staying.

(Poem borrowed from the Lost Mitten Registry.)

(images via stockholm street style and 5 inch & up)
Some fashion inspiration that’s just lovely.

Starting to get settled, slightly.

May you all have a gorgeous week. xo

Sitting in a coffee shop on Hawthorne called Bare Bones, drinking myself into a caffeine induced anxiety & lurking around craigslist for a place to live. Landed in Portland Sunday night and it’s been long scooter commutes and/or beds that aren’t mine since. Using all of the powers vested in me to find a tiny and tidy spot with hardwood floors & a clawfoot tub at a very affordable price. Any of the above places would be fine as well…

xo

I’m in that place between where you’ve been and where you’re going next: right now, in a house that’s not mine. And, in an effort to further minimize, I burnt papers and files from my past- the ones I could let go of and the ones I no longer needed.

I’ve pretty much been obsessed with purchasing film & southern Oregon is so beautiful, it’s worth it. I’m really looking forward though, to the inspiration and changes in aesthetic that Portland has to offer. Been taking baths like crazy in my clawfoot, not sure when I’ll have one again. And though all of my stuff is slowly being stockpiled in boxes and the future seems shrouded in wonder, I’m well acquainted with that feeling of unfamiliarity and it’s comforting and reassures me in its mysterious and rousing way, always moving me forward with its remarkable balance and poise. Excited to seek out the next adventure.