28 of 30: When I Held Out For My Hero

It was 9:45am and I was standing outside Capitol Radio in Leicester Square, drinking my coffee nervously. In about 15 minutes, Danny Wallace’s radio show ends, and by the hammer of Thor and the graces of Grayskull, I should be able to spring on him like nobody’s business.

“Relax, Earth…” my friend, L, kept saying.

How could I? I was about to meet (or was hoping to, anyway) my favorite author! My idol in every sense of the word. Danny Wallace was – and still is – my hero.

I first learned about him through my British friends, A & K (aka Mom and Dad), in 2008 when I visited them for the first time in the UK. Dad had just finished reading “Yes Man,” and swore it was the funniest book he’s ever read! Mom assured me I was going to love it. I really didn’t need that much convincing, so I bought the book at the airport for me to read on the plane back to LA. Needless to say, I laughed the whole flight back, and I bought all his books after that.

After reading everything he’s written, I realized I wasn’t just a fan of him as a writer, I was a fan of him as a PERSON. I admired his awkward and humorous take on his own life… putting himself through these random projects that inadvertently teaches him universal life lessons that are both poignant and funny at the same time. In his own little amusing and innocent approach on dealing with life, he’s found a way to make a difference in the world… and I really REALLY admire that about him… and I aspire to be LIKE him! As a matter of fact, this 30 by 30 project is my own homage to his “Yes Man” experiment.


And so when I knew I was going to be in London again for my 30^th birthday, I knew I wouldn’t let the opportunity to meet him pass. 

It really wasn’t that difficult to plan the whole thing. I knew he had a breakfast show on XFM. I asked L to find out where the XFM headquarters was… and when she found out it was in Leicester Square, stalking him wasn’t even a question. It was purely simple; His show ends at 10am, so the plan was to wait for him outside his building and pounce on him when he comes out! EASY!

A few minutes before game time.

What I didn’t anticipate was how NERVOUS I was going to be. Too nervous that in the back of my head, I was secretly wishing it wouldn’t happen. It was awful! I’m usually pretty confident about these things… and most of you know he isn’t the first “celebrity” I was about to encounter. So the nerves really came as a bit of a shock. But then again, he wasn't just some random celebrity... He was someone that actually meant something to me... Someone I really admired... And I suppose that's worth a few butterflies...


Cut to L and I outside the radio station at 10:15. Still no sign of Danny. 
L took my camera and said she needed to start practicing taking photos. But when she took the camera from my neck --- the unthinkable, yet predictable thing happened: I spilled coffee on myself.

“Of course! Of course…” I said, shaking my head.
“Earrrrrth!” L said, wiping my sweater with some tissue.

“Ugghhh. I know. This is so typical of me. You just watch. He’s gonna come out right now,” I said, half jokingly as L was dabbing my chest.

And whattayaknow. He did.

Danny Wallace came out of the door, took one glance at me and L with our hands frozen right above my coffee drenched boob, and walked away.

“Shit, L. It’s him. It’s HIM!” I whispered, teeth clenched.

“GO, Earth. Just GO!”

This was it. Moment of truth. I tossed my coffee cup, and sprinted on after him!

“Uh… Mister Wallace??” I squeaked.

I was painfully aware of how much like a stalker I was at that very moment… Following a man, a few steps behind him, on tippy toes trying not to make too much noise because he was on the phone.

Shit – he was on the phone.

“L!” I whispered. “He’s on the phone! I don’t wanna be rude!”

“Just GO!” she shooed me away. “GO! Do it!! GO!!”

Oh L... Bless you for being an enabler.

I took a deep breath, and sprinted after him once more.

“Excuse me, Mister Wallace?” I said, louder this time. “Mister Wallace??”

He turned around, and almost instantly said – “Oh helloooo!!! Hi!”

I was momentarily confused. He said “hello” as if he already knew me.

“Oh! Hi… ?” I said, clearly surprised at his very cordial greeting.
“I saw your Facebook post!” he quipped brightly!

Ah. My Facebook post. Or should I say – Facebook POSTSSsss.

I posted that on XFM’s wall, on his wall, on XFM’s twitter page, and on HIS twitter page. I realize it might have been a bit much… but I needed to get his attention. And apparently --- I DID!

“Did you?” I asked nervously.
“Yes I saw it this morning!” He smiled. “How are you?” he added.

“I’m good! Oh my God, I’m so sorry about those posts… I didn’t want you to think I was some weird stalker…” – which admittedly, I kind of am.

“But… Blah, I’m freaking out!” I continued, fanning my face with my hands… “Okay.” I said as I gathered my composure.
“Hi, Mister Wallace! My name is Eartha, and I’m from Los Angeles, and I came to London to meet you, and tell you that you and your work have been such a great inspiration to me… and I just wanted to be able to tell you, IN PERSON, that you’re my hero.”

Bleugh! There! I spit it all out like word vomit!

I know it looks like I'm pulling him to me,
but he really did pull me in for a hug!

Mr Wallace, touched by my graceless honestly, leaned in and gave me a hug.

“Aww… Bless you… You're so sweet” he said. When he pulled away, he asked – “So what are you doing in London?”

“I came here to meet YOU!” I said happily!

“Aha-Ha!” he laughed. But it was an anxious, nervous laugh. I think I was doing a little too good a job of confirming the fact that I was, indeed, a stalker.

“No, no…” I added quickly before I could do more damage. “I came here to celebrate my birthday. I toured Europe for a couple weeks, then back here for my birthday where my friends threw me a little party… I mean it’s my 30^th birthday, you know? It’s a milestone… I had to go all out.”

“Of course… of course.” He nodded. I knew he understood… he once did something a little out of the ordinary too before he turned 30. :)

This whole time, L was snapping away, documenting this monumental event for me! Danny looked over at her and introduced himself like a proper gentleman. I had to apologize to both of them for forgetting to introduce them to one another, claiming my nerves got the better of me. I was honestly just so flustered, I had forgotten L was even there! (Sorry, L!)


We did some small talk for a couple minutes, then he snapped his fingers and said – “You know what, I actually might have something for you! Give me one second…” and he pulled out his phone and dialed. “I have these things I can give you… and we can say that it is for an XFM listener!”

Oh my God.

“NO! No no no!!” I protested. “Please don’t give me anything! I didn’t come here to win anything! I really honestly just wanted to meet you!”

“Yes, yes, but this is good! Just one second… Hello? Dave?”

He was on the phone with his producer, who I assume is called Dave, and started asking him about these tickets that supposedly some listener have already won. He asked if they have actually released the tickets to the winner already… and that if he could please just have them instead.
During his conversation, I kept trying to wave at his face to get his attention, muttering words like – “please!” or “no need!” or “I don’t want…” or “It’s really okay!” and “stop stop!”

He kept shaking his head at me, and then finally said – “Hang on. Would you excuse me for a moment, please?” and he smiled and walked away to finish his conversation with Dave, privately.

My hero the fashionista! A gilete, a body bag, and funky boots!

“Oh my GOD, L! Oh my God! I’m so embarrassed!! I feel like an blubbering idiot!”
“No, no you’re doing fine!” she assured me. “Earth… when you were telling him he was your hero… Oh my God…” she paused, and then fanned her eyes dramatically. “Tears… I swear!”

“Me too!!! Waaah! I can’t believe this is happenning!!!”

“Okay, okay he’s coming back! He’s coming back!” L put the camera back on her neck and braced herself for more action!

“Right.” Danny said when he got back. “So are you two doing anything tonight?” He asked.

We were. But we weren’t about to turn down Danny Wallace! So L and I looked at each other and said, “Uh… not really. Just walking around?”

“Just walking around? Okay, well, I’ve got you these tickets. Really good seats at the Royal Albert Hall to see…”

Here it comes.

“… Paul McCartney?”

Holy Fuck.

“WHAT???” L and I both said in unison.

“Oh my GOD! Are you craaazy??? Jeeezas!” I yelled to no one in particular. I was completely freaked out that my hero was giving me and my friend free tickets to see a fucking BEATLE. At the ROYAL freaking ALBERT HALL.


Danny, looking really pleased at our genuine fan reactions, said, “Yeah! Great seats. Row 1. My producer, Dave, is coming down right now to give you the tickets!”

“Oh wow, seriously??? Seriously, Thank you, Mr. Wallace. But I honestly did NOT come here to win anything from you. I really truly just wanted to meet you, and that totally would have been enough!”

“Aww, I know…” he said, sincerely. “But this is my birthday present! For you! Happy Birthday!”

Damn it. He was amazing. I could have died, right then and there. My hero, ladies and gentlemen. 

Dave, the (really cute) producer, appeared soon enough with the tickets on hand!
Introductions were made, then small talk, then they handed me the tickets, and finally, sadly, the goodbyes.

I thanked Danny again for being so nice, and for the present, and told him how much a pleasure it was to finally meet him!
He gave me another hug and wished me well. He even said he was going to use this “hero” stuff as material for his radio show the next morning! How. Cool. Is. That?

We parted ways… Danny and Dave walked back to their building, and L and I walked to our tube stop. I waited for them to be out of sight before I allowed myself to completely lose it.

When I was sure they were gone… Yep. I completely lost it.

The words (or jibberish) that were coming out of my mouth, in full decibel levels, and on repeat and shuffle, were the following:
“Aaah”, “Oh my God”, “L”, “Eeeee” “I can’t believe this” “I’m dying” “Danny” “Wallace” “My heart” “I can’t breathe” and “Beatle.”

I was on the phone to anyone I knew who knew about the “Danny Wallace Interception” plan… Mom (A), Dad (K), Hunky C, Ginger T, my travel partner K...
I was BURSTING with LOVE and HAPPINESS!

I was suspended in disbelief. It started out as a silly plan. I literally just said – “I’m going to London. Ooooh I’m going to meet Danny Wallace!”

Never in my wildest dreams did I think it was actually going to happen… and it was sooo much better than I could have ever imagined. 
THAT… my friends… Is the power of thought… and the law of attraction! ☺

Meeting Danny was, quite literally, one of the big moments of my life. I know it sounds silly. Most people look up to Princess Diana, or Mother Theresa, The Dalai Lama, or Nelson Mandela. And rightfully so!
But Danny Wallace’s influence on me is just as significant and impactful as the great heroes of our time’s influence on society.

I think what I love most about him is that he’s just a guy. Not a royal, not a politician, nor a nun. He’s an awkward man, living his life in the most entertaining and humane way that he could. People (like me) are able to relate to him through his writing. His stories and adventures make such a big and positive effect on his readers, even if the main point he is trying to make is just to reconnect with old friends, or to say ‘yes’ more. Simple, innocent, and funny. He just makes me feel like, even if I’m just me… clumsy and quirky and all … that I count. And that I, too, can make a difference.

That day, ouside Capitol Radio in Leicester Square… was one of the best days of my life.

For how many of us could say we’ve met our heroes after all?

The King and I

Watch out for Part 2 of this post -- Read all about My adventures with L at the Royal Albert Hall with Sir Paul McCartney :)

27 of 30: (Mis)Adventures in Babysitting

So the decision to babysit did not necessarily come from the desire to be – as our little friend from Jerry Maguire calls it – a child technician, but rather – from an innate curiosity.

I always see 12 or 13 year old babysitters in movies and I could hardly believe it. Babies are so fragile! They need feeding, changing, entertaining and attention constantly! I guess I thought – if a 12 year old could do it, then dude. It should be a freaking piece of cake for me! I have a degree!

So while I was visiting with my friends A (Mom) and K (Dad) in Cardiff during my birthday trip, I took the initiative to kick them out of the house so they could go on a proper date. I would then be in charge of their 2 kids, Tristan (7 months) and Trinity (11 years).
I had a few days to observe Mom’s ‘system’ with Tristan. Feed him when he’s hungry (which is literally, ALL THE TIME), change him when he poops, and put him to bed when he’s sleepy. I’ve also picked up some really cute tell tales… like, when he gets sleepy, he makes “A-a-ahhhh… A-a-aahhhh…” noises that sound exactly like The Little Mermaid when the sea witch tries to take her voice from her. :) 

This was going to be Ace of Cakes!

Mom prepared a sumptuous dinner for all three of us that were going to be left behind. And when everything was in order, I kicked them out of the house, and ordered them to have a great time!

Finally, it was just me and the kiddies.
In the first hour, we were all just chilling. Hanging out. At one point, Trinity yelled something like – “Yay! No parents!”

Yay indeed.

Then it was time to eat! I had to feed Tristan while Trinity and I were eating… which, when you think about it, doesn’t really sound that bad.

But you haven’t seen the anomaly that is a hungry Tristan.

That boy is the most DEMANDING eater I have ever encountered. He starts banging his fists and makes loud growls right after the spoon leaves his mouth. I swear – his internal monologue probably sounded like a Scottish Viking, saying – “FEED me, ya big lass! Get in ma belly!!!”
He may be the cutest baby in the world, but that kid petrifies me when he’s hungry.

So you can imagine how I had to stuff my food in my mouth faster than you can say “Fat Bastard” just to appease Tristan’s growing boy demands. Nevertheless, a hungry baby is always better than a baby you have to force-feed. As far as I could tell, everything was still going smoothly… up until I realized I had no idea what to do with him after. I turned to my trusty partner and said – “Uh… so what should we do now, Trin?”

“We need to give him a bath.” – she said, matter-of-factly, with an air of authority.

“Great!” I said with equal confidence, ignoring the fact that I was taking babysitting cues from an 11 year old girl.

A bath! That was a good plan.

My poise was quickly deflated though upon the realization that Mom never taught me how to give Tristan a bath. What should the temperature be? Which one is his soap? His shampoo? How long should he splash about? Does he have a basin?

Slight panic.

“So… you’ve given him baths before, right Trin?”

“Yah.” – and there again, with authority. Clearly, Trinity was going to take the lead on this one. Thank God.
Bathing him only took a few minutes. The difficulties he gave me while feeding him, he made up for when he bathed. He LOVES water! No fuss, no crying, just happily splashed about! I felt really silly for panicking. This was easy!

Happy Baby in the Bath

I took him out of the bath, rubbed him dry, and plopped him down on his changing table to clothe him. I put his nappy on, turned around to get his onesie, and then...
I froze.

In the 2 seconds it took for me to get his clothes, Tristan managed to grab the hand sanitizer and put it in his mouth. It was one of those bottles that had a pump. And the pump was far down his tonsil.

This is what goes down in the next few minutes…

I SCREAM.
I Yank the sanitizer out of his mouth.
TRISTAN CRIES.
I put my finger in his mouth to check if he had pumped anything.
TRISTAN CRIES EVEN MORE.
I pull my finger out. It was wet. I could not determine whether the liquid was sanitizer or just Tristan’s saliva.
I check the sanitizer and pump it to see if it was easily pumpable.

It was easily pumpable.

Trinity comes in and asks calmly, in a British accent – “Izzee gonna get poisoned?”
My eyes grow wide. “SHUSH TRIN!”
My heart beats even faster.
One teardrop falls.
I pick Tristan up, wipe his mouth, and give him water.
I grab my phone and Google the following: “are hand sanitizers organic?” “can babies eat hand sanitizers?” “hand sanitizer poisoning” “my baby ate hand sanitizer” “how to replace a friend’s baby”

I think Googling those things were my lowest point that evening.

I don’t know why I did it, but I checked Tristan’s eyes to check if they were dilated. It seemed like the most medical thing to do! I see people do it on TV all the time! I just didn't really know what a dilated pupil looked like, or what it meant! But as far as I could tell, they were fine. He stopped crying when I picked him up, and he wasn’t showing any signs of hand sanitizer poisoning.

Phew.

After I’d had a moment to breathe, I realized he probably just cried from the initial shock of me grabbing the sanitizer from his mouth, and he probably didn’t even have the mouth strength to pump that bottle.
But Jeez that was one of the biggest scares of my life. So much could have gone wrong in 2 seconds! And in my deranged state, thoughts of making myself pregnant to replace Mom’s baby ACTUALLY crossed my mind.

Like I said – lowest point.

Anyway… a few minutes later, I hear it. Ariel’s song.

“A-a-ahhhh… A-a-aahhhh…”

“Keeep singing!!!” I said, silently giggling to myself.

The baby was ready for bed.

I don’t know if it was from the excitement of the hand-sanitizer-almost-mishap, or that I was just really really lucky that night, but Tristan fell asleep in my arms pretty quickly.
I placed him on Mom and Dad’s bed, using Ros Gellar’s “Hug and Roll” trick from Friends (“… just as she’s about to drift off, you HUG her, and roll her back on to her side of the bed.") Worked like a charm!

With the baby out of the way, I had time to do everything else, like clean up, do the dishes, put "Hugo" on for Trinity to watch, finish Trinity’s Easter Hat project which was due the next day, and send Trinity off to take a shower so that I could braid her hair to make it curly in the morning.

In the middle of all of this, I kept checking up on Tristan every 5 minutes to make sure he was breathing.

And finally, after what seemed like hours of “Cinderella” time, the dishes were washed, the dining table cleaned, Trinity’s hat Easterized, Trinity’s hair braided like Alicia Keys, and the baby – still asleep like a… well, like a baby.

I sat down to finish the remainder of Hugo. I had a good cry… which could possibly have come from exhaustion, not the movie. Trinity wanted to return the favor by braiding my hair, and so I let her… And that’s what Mom and Dad came to find when they returned.

When they walked in, I gave them the “shush” sign, signalling that Tristan was upstairs and sound asleep. I’m sure I looked quite impressive, sitting calmly on the couch as their daughter braided my hair, shushing them in the middle of their sparkling clean house, with their baby sound asleep in their room… But inside, I was soooo glad they were home.

How could 12 year olds handle babysitting jobs??? It takes SO MUCH responsibiltiy! That hand sanitizer incident was enough to teach me that ANYTHING could happen, even if you’re the most responsible ADULT in the world! How could kids handle that kind of pressure?

Oh I dunno. I may be overreacting. In hindsight, I did everything I was supposed to. I didn’t burn anything or break anything (or anyone!)
Although, I couldn’t have done it without Trinity’s help, that’s for sure. And did I mention she’s 11?

Mom and Dad seemed pretty happy to have had their little time off. It’s tough, being parents. It's literally a 24 hour job!

I had about 3.5 hours with the kids, and I was ready to throw the towel in. It’s nuts!

I think I was pretty good about keeping my composure though. As far as they could tell, I was as cool as a cucumber.
But at the end of the night, when the movie was done and Trinity was off to bed, Mom asked – “Hey Earth do you want some alcoho—“

“YES!”

I don’t know why, but my body gave an involuntary jerk when I said that.

Mom smiled, and she poured me a glass of my favorite hard pear cider.

“You deserve it.”

☺

Tristan and Trinity ♥

26 of 30: In Which I Attempt To Master The Ukulele

I received a ukulele as a birthday present from my sisters. Probably one of – if not the best present I’ve ever received from them!
I discovered I could play it when my cousin brought hers to one of our family Christmas gatherings. I play the guitar so learning to play the uke came pretty naturally to me. I had never even held a ukulele, nor heard someone play it live before that Christmas… but I loved it! It was love at first…hear. Coming from something so tiny, the sound is so crisp – so whole! It’s so cute, it literally makes you feel like you’re in a beach somewhere exotic when you hear someone play.

So yeah. I love my ukulele. :)

I didn’t get serious about playing it till recently though. When I first got it, I only knew a few beginner chords and played typical popular songs from Jason Mraz or Train or Ingrid Michaelson... You know, the really easy ones!  Here's one of the first songs I learned how to play, and I sang it with my sister. It only had 4 chords! :)

"Pack Up" by Eliza Doolittle
My sister is so cute!

Now, well, inspired by this little project I'm in, I’ve taught myself (with the help of Youtube) how to play riffs and transitions and chords that make my left hand look like an old lady tangled up in a vine. Pretty cool hardcore stuff! I wanted to try and pick one instrument I could master, instead of just knowing how to play a whole bunch of them. I was getting tired of being mediocre.
But I think the Ukulele is it! It's the one! <3

When K and I went to Salzburg, we hung out with her friend Hannah and husband, Szaby. Szaby is a classical guitarist, and he happened to own a concert ukulele from Cebu! All four of us were musically inclined, so naturally, what was supposed to be just a simple dinner get-together turned out to be a rockin’ jam session! I grabbed their uke and played around with it, strumming one of the new songs I was working on. Szaby, almost on cue got his guitar and - thanks to his magic ears - played along without a hitch. K googled the lyrics and warmed up her vocal chords, and Hannah made up some harmonies as she set up the video camera!

In that household... That windy night... In Salzburg... Music was serious bizness.

After one practice round – this is what we came up with.

"Dream A Little Dream Of Me" Mama Cass Elliot

K on Vocals, Me on the Uke, Szaby on Lead Guitar
Notice my hands getting all fancy? :)

Not too shabby, eh? In our whole trip, this was one of my favorite nights. It was totally unexpected... but music brought us together! La Musique est tres gentil! :)

My experiences with the ukulele didn’t stop at learning it… in fact, one of my greatest accomplishments is TEACHING someone how to play it! Particularly an 11 year old girl!

Just about a week after Salzburg, I was to attend a Naming Ceremony for my godson, Tristan, in the UK. A few months before, I was tasked, along with Trinity (my goddaughter and Tristan’s sister) to perform a song during the ceremony; Trinity on the uke, and myself on vocals. There were a couple challenges we had to overcome. First was that Trinity didn’t know how to play the uke, so I had to teach her. Second was that they live in the UK, and I live in LA. So the lessons had to be conducted online... through Skype.

Ahh. The wonder of technology.

Their mother, A, who happens to be one of my best friends, at least gave us ample time to get it together. The lessons started a couple months before the ceremony, and I have to say --- they actually went better than I had expected. Trinity is a freaking musical genius. Kids… they absorb everything so quickly! It only took us a few lessons for her to be able to play the song, and she bloody ROCKED it! Admittedly, I was pretty nervous at the whole concept of teaching someone how to play an instrument – let alone, ONLINE. I had my apprehensions, and I had mentally prepared a speech on backing off the whole performance if the lessons didn’t go well – but they did! I’d like to think that I’m just THAT good a teacher, but I have to give all the credit to Trinity. She’s a fast learner and musically gifted. She just understands music!
Ahh… reminds me of an 11 year old me… :)

By the time the Naming Ceremony rolled in, Trinity and I were golden. And I’m sure everyone in the audience would agree that we gave a ROCKING performance! Drove the ladies to tears! Unfortunately, no one had half a mind to record our brilliance… Ayayay. It was one of those times where everyone assumed that someone MUST have been recording it. But no one did.

It’s sad. Really. :(

But due to insistent public demand, Trinity and I did a repeat performance. It’s not as fancy as it would have been in the ceremony, but we did pretty well all the same. Here it is…

"Never Alone" by Lady Antebellum

Trinity on the Uke, Me on Vocals
Our friend, C, on Cinematography :)

Tadaa! A rockstar, right? I'm so proud of my pupil!!! :)

I loooove this instrument! It’s handy, it’s cute, you can bring it anywhere, and it sounds amaaazing! I have a long way to go, but I will continue to master the uke. The goal is to play better than Zooey Deschanel, and maybe one day play a duet with JGL. Or Jack Johnson.


Wish me luck! :)

25 of 30: The Sound of Music Tour - Channeling our Inner Lonely Goatherds

Conversation between K and I on Facebook on January 23, 2012:

And that's how it all started.

Actually, it started way before that... probably about 25 years ago when I first saw The Sound of Music on BETA. (Yes, we owned a betamax player.)

I come from a very musical family, so naturally, this movie was a big hit for all of us. My sister and I used to perform the Austrian Folk Dance (from the movie) on any open space big enough to accommodate the "step-hop, step hop" movement!
In our school play, I played the role of Kurt. I think it was because I was the only one in my class who could hit his high note in "So Long, Farewell," ---- Remember his part? "Goodbyyyyyyyyye!!"

I knew all the songs, recite the lines from the movie, dance all the steps to "Sixteen going on Seventeen" --- I was borderline obsessed!

And so was K!

So when I plotted my Eurotrip, I wasn't going to let the opportunity to go to Salzburg pass. The Sound Of Music Tour must be done. It is law.

I downloaded the movie on to my Ipad, and K and I watched the whole thing on the train from Zurich to Salzburg. We had to! It was like a review... just in case they had pop quizzes  on the bus. You never know... Plus it couldn't hurt getting ourselves properly 'conditioned' for the experience. K and I were completely SERIOUS about this tour... In fact, I even booked us at this place called Villa Trapp. It's the ACTUAL house of the REAL Von Trapp family that got turned into a little hotel/bed and breakfast!

Family portrait of the real Von Trapp Family!

The Villa Trapp's sitting room!

I don't think a lot of people know that The Sound of Music is based on the lives of real people. Well, we stayed in their house, specifically in one of the daughter's room - Joanna (who is technically Liesl in the film). It was such a lovely little place, very homey and personal... It had a lot of photos of the real Maria and The Captain and the children which was pretty awesome.

I guess this is how they marched down the stairs...

Staying there made the whole Sound of Music experience seem more complete.

Now the tour...

Just --- wow.

I have to say that it was the perfect opportunity to see Salzburg, Austria.

This was our bus.

If you look closely, you will see K and I in front of the bus.

How cheesy and perfect, right??

He was our tour guide.

He reminded me of that guy from Bridget Jones Diary... You know how Bridget's mom started dating the dude who was selling stuff on infomercials? Seems kinda gay-ish, but fabulous? That's him. :)

Our seats on the bus? Front row, of course. :)

Let me take you on a quick rundown of the tour...

Our first stop was the Mansion.

This is the exterior of the Mansion that they used in the movie. They only used the outside, and inside was just a studio in Hollywood. If I remember correctly, this place is currently one of the very prestigious music schools in Salzburg at the moment.


The Gazebo

Of course we were twirling. 

Weeeeeeee! The gazebo was locked though. Apparently because once again, some stupid American girl once tried to do the "Sixteen going on Seventeen" choreography and she fell and broke her ankle. UGH. Ruined it for all of us! Admittedly though - I would have done the whole skipping from one bench to the other too... Only I wouldn't have fallen.



The Abbey/Church 

This is where Maria and the Captain got married! It's a lot smaller in real life, but just as magnificent.


The Trees

This is the same set of trees that the kids climbed in the movie!

And for the rest of the photos that are too many to share one by one, I have created something very special for your viewing pleasure!

Tadaaaa! What an amazing trip! I'm sure I can speak for K when I say, The Sound Of Music Tour was perfect... Not just for SOM fans, but for anyone who wants to see Salzburg in all its glory! It gave us the best opportunity to experience what it would have been like being a Von Trapp -- most especially, being Maria. 

We had such a great time, and now I miss it! I miss everything and I feel sad...
But it's okay. Because... (you know it's coming...)
I'll simply remember my favorite things... and then I don't feeeeel sooooo baaaaaaaaaaad!!!!

:)

24 of 30: Parler Francais en France!

So. In preparation for my big trip to France, I brushed up on my French… took a few classes, and downloaded Pimsleur’s Conversational French on to my Ipod.
Basically, about 3 months before the trip, I was rocking out to Parlez-vous Anglais’ and Est-ce que vous voudrais boire quelque chose’s…

I had taken up the language on and off for years. The first time was in high school as an elective subject. The next few times was in Alliance Francais in Manila… then at the Beverly Hills Language Institute. It sounds pretty impressive but it’s not. My vocabulary is bad, and my tenses are really off. I never took it long enough at one go for it to really stick…

HOWEVER… I was determined to at least be able to get by while I was in France. After all, the French are a lot nicer to you if you show an effort to speak their language.

Before we knew it, my travel partner, K and I were in a train from London to Paris, sooo excited about the adventures we were about to embark.

I had the opportunity to practice while in the Eurostar when I bought us Paris subway tickets.

“Bonjour! Je voudrais deux billets s’il vous plait!”

The vendor said something back in French, and waved his hands at me in an animated way. He was smiling at me, so I could only assume that he was complimenting my brilliant French speaking!
I smiled back and said, “Oui, oui!!”

He gave me two tickets and some pringles.

I guess he was upselling.

Still, I chose to see that as a successful conversation, and I was raring for more!

When K and I got off the train station and were walking to our Hostel, another opportunity presented itself. We needed to ask for directions! There was a dude that looked like a policeman walking a few feet in front of us. Perfect.

“Pardon, monsieur! Ou est la St Christopher’s Hostel s’il vous plait?”

“Hola!” he said.

… Hola?

“You go strait, and zen on ze second street, you turn left. Juz walk and zen you will see a breedge. Afterwards you will see St Christopherrs on your left.”

“Oh, oui. Merci monsieur! Merci beaucoup!”

“Wherr you from? Portugezz?”

Ahh… that explains the “hola”.

“No, monsieur. From the Philippines…”

He just smiled, nodded, and we bid him au revoir. He gave us excellent directions though, and just as he said, after the bridge, we found our hostel on the left!

(I would later on realize that everyone in France thinks I am Latina. This would not be my first "hola" incident. I would also like to point out that the number of times that people called me "hola" is the same number of times my friend, K, got called - "Konichiwa" and "Ni hao ma!" But that's another story all together :) )

“Hello!” the receptionist said.

“Bonjour! Ca va??” I said enthusiastically.

“Ca va! How can I help you?”

“Je m’appelle Eartha, et j’ai une reservation pour deux?”

“Okay. What is your last name please?”

“Ah… mon nom de famille est…”

“Excuse me Miss, would you like for me to speak to you in English or in French? Because I’m feeling a little stoopeed at the moment talking to you in English and you answering me in French…”

And then we burst out laughing!

I apologized profusely for my rude behavior, and explained to him that I was merely practicing, and got a little too excited.
Why wouldn’t I be? I was in ze cityy of lovvve! And I sort of spoke their language… “sort of” being the operative words.

All was forgiven, and he turned out to be such a nice guy! But I made sure to speak to him in English from then on… I saved my French for the other receptionists.

I was actually pleasantly surprised at how much I could remember. K and I got lost and needed directions a few times, and the people we’ve asked were more than happy to help. I realized I was really good at asking the right questions, but I was bad at understanding their answers… so I relied heavily on contextual clues and sign language! For example, I would ask – “Ou sont les toilettes?” and they would answer ‘blah blah reezhhoon ze bleu ho ho ho bladi blah!” --- and their hand would be pointing to the left. That’s all I’d need, really. Then I’d go – “Ah! Merci!” And voila!!! Ze toilets!!

If we needed help with directions, or getting to a certain place from the train station, there was always an information attendant willing and able to help. For example, I would say something like – “Je voudrais aller a Versailles…” the attendant would nod, type something into the computer, and then say something like – “Rue de Crimee blah blah blah Gare de l’Est, blah zhoovoirrre Montparnasse slkfjjvvoooshwa Versailles.” Which meant take the line from Rue de Crimee to Gare de L’Est, get off at Montparnasse and take the train to Versailles from there.
(If you are travelling from Paris to Versailles, don’t quote me on that. I was making it up… But you know what I mean.)

Ordering at restaurants was easier. Apart from saying “deux cafés sil vous plait,” we could just point to what we wanted in the menu, smile and say ‘merci’, and we were golden!

I have to say, that my favorite experience was when K and I were eating at this family owned restaurant called “Brenners” in Colmar.

Colmar is a tiny city in the Alsace region of France (far East), and hardly anybody spoke English. At least in Paris, if you ask – “Parlez-vous Anglais,” – they often reply with, “Juzz a leetol beet”
In Colmar, straight out they would say – “No!” almost with a petrified look.

I wasn’t too worried though. We were greeted with nothing but kindness the whole time we were in Paris, and my broken French got us by the whole time… I was sure it wasn’t going to be a problem in Colmar.

Anyway, at Brenner’s, the lady who was serving us was lovely… ABSOLUTELY lovely. We had both established at the beginning that my French and her English were ‘tres mal’ – but agreed that we would both try our best. She was everything-ing the restaurant… She was the server, the greeter, the busgirl, and I bet you she had a hand in all the cooking as well. We ended up having the best meal we’ve ever had (not to mention our first time trying escargots! Yummmm)! 

At the end of our meal, I complimented the lady, in my broken French, saying her restaurant was lovely and her food was so good.

She was very appreciative of the compliment, and said with a gesture we won’t ever forget – “C’est tout de mon coeur.” And both her hands sort of opened wide, gesturing the whole restaurant, and then clasped them firmly over her heart. “Voila,” she said afterwards, with the warmest smile ever.

K and I didn’t understand what she had said word for word… but we knew that ‘coeur’ was ‘heart’… and combining that with her gesture and her smile, we knew exactly what she meant.
I swear… tears.

It’s experiences like these that inspire me to learn more of the language. France is such a beautiful country, and despite the stereotype, we actually found the French to be really friendly and kind. Les Francais sont tres gentils! Not once did we encounter rudeness the whole time we were there. We enjoyed every bit of our stay, and I had such a great time immersing myself with the language.

I’m back in LA, but I swear… when I go back to France, I will be able to do more than ask where the toilets are or order 2 coffee’s. It’s such a beautiful language, and I intend to do it justice.

J’aime parler Francais, et J’adore la France!

23 of 30: Modeling - My Failed Attempt to be ANTM

Let me just say off the bat that I have a new found respect for models.
I used to think they all had it easy, posing and being pretty all the time and getting paid loads of money for it. But man, because of my little stint – I realized there’s a lot more to it than that.

But then again, I don’t have a model’s face or figure… So those skinny mini’s still have that advantage.

OK. Let’s backtrack a little.

I asked a friend of mine, B, who is starting out as a photographer if she could take some nice professional photos of me. I get em cheap, and she gets to build her portfolio. Win-win.

I’ve always wanted my photo taken, basically topless with my hair covering my breasts. I dunno… it’s my long hair. I always thought it would be kinda cute and fun to do something like that… Kind of a tease? Sexy – but tasteful?
But the problem is that I can’t do serious sexy. I can do funny sexy, and maybe even cute sexy… but not serious sultry sexy. Does that make sense?

Anyway, the plan and logistics all worked out. I had my make up done at the MAC cosmetics counter (if you purchase 50 dollars worth of make up, you get the makeover for free) and did my hair myself. I curled it for more volume, and, er, “coverage”.

B doesn’t have a studio of her own yet so we had to improvise. My old neighbor’s apartment is still vacant (he just moved out) and I have his spare key (I’m not a stalker. We’re actually friends). The size is perfect, it’s empty, and when I asked my landlord’s permission to use it, he gave me his blessing. PERFECT!

I have to admit, I was a little nervous about it at first. I wanted the photos to turn out well, but like I said – I don’t have a model’s chiseled features, nor do I have a slim hard rock body.  I can be photogenic, but only in the right angles. My profile is horrible, and I cannot – by the hammer of Thor – smile properly without showing my teeth… all of them! Oh – and did I mention this was a topless shoot? Gaaaah!

I had one of those skintone nipple cover things that made it look like I didn’t have an arreola, so THAT took the edge off at least. And B is a friend and I was comfortable around her--- which was good too!

I gotta hand it to her… she was really good at making me feel at ease. We had some music, she showed no amount of bashfulness when I emerged from the bathroom topless and hairy, and she occasionally yelled out encouraging words like – “That’s nice!” or “Hahaha!”

After the first 20 minutes, the nerves have subsided and I was fine. But as I had predicted, I had SUCH a difficult time doing a sexy smile. I just couldn’t do it. WHY would anyone want to smile without showing teeth anyway???
I think out of 20 shots, I’d managed ONE smile that didn’t look constipated. And I DON’T even want to discuss the difficulties in angling myself, arching my body so as not to show any belly, rib or back fat in the photos. It was a lost cause. I had to rely heavily on B’s photoshopping skills.

We shot for about 2 hours, and all in all, I have to say I had a fantastic time! Don’t mind the bitching and moaning above… That’s just me being a girl. We’ve all got our insecurities, right?
B made it fun… we were basically cracking up the whole time. My face is really elastic and I unknowingly make really weird (and apparently funny) expressions on my face, and I think it had B in stitches.
All the LOL’s eased my tension and we just ended up having a blast! It was so much fun! Difficult, exhausting, but fun! :)

After we finished packing up, she said she’d like to do it again with me for free. She knew I had a trip coming up, and she said if I wanted to, we could shoot again no charge. I didn’t even think twice – heck yeah I’ll do it again! Why not? I was actually touched, even flattered! Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought! Maybe she had so much fun with me, she just wanted to put more photos of me in her portfolio!

I couldn’t be more wrong.

Last night, she sent me some sample photos from the shoot.

OH. EM. Gee.

I was mortified!

I thought I looked HORRIBLE!

And this isn’t a criticism to B’s photography skills --- it’s my FACE! Just as I had suspected! It’s the smiling without teeth thing! Or even the funny faces I made. I thought they’d come out cute – but they literally did come out FUNNY! As in pointing straight at you, laughing my ass off FUNNY! AND – I looked like a freaking AMAZON! I had no idea I was (or am) that HUGE! Seriously! I look in the mirror and I think – yeah, I’m buff… But not AMAZONIAN!

And then it all made sense! This is why she wanted a re-shoot! She was doing it for my benefit! She didn’t want me to come out of the whole experience empty handed… Aww, B, Bless your heart!

Oh well… It wasn’t all bad though. I DID manage to pull off a few nice shots. And those are the only ones I’m sharing here. These, are pretty decent… Cute even! At least I think so!! :)

YES. Pulled a no-teeth smile one off!

Then it turned into this.

No Teeth Again! YAY!

I was trying to be cheeky, not petrified. Sigh.

This one might be my fave -- but my no teeth thing needs a lotta work!

I’m looking forward to the reshoot. I’m definitely gonna bring my A game next time! Oh, and I’ll be bringing a big mirror! That way I can see my face when I do my poses, to make sure I don’t look as constipated as I did the last time. 

I don’t think I’ll ever be in the running for America’s Next Top Model, unfortunately. I’m in a weird awkward position between an average built and a plus size, and I don’t think they’re in the market for laxative ads much these days…

But the next time I come across a skinny latte model, instead of rolling my eyes out of spite, I will run up to them and give them a round of applause and say “You… It’s YOU already… Brava…”

22 of 30: Writing - My Short Stint At UCLA

I enrolled in a writing class at UCLA. I’m not really sure what the stronger motive is… To learn how to write better – or to be able to say that I actually went to UCLA.
Either way, win-win, right?

It was a beginners creative writing class and we met once a week for three hours. I really wanted to just be able to see if I had what it takes to write – not for a living, but at least on the side. Maybe have an online column, or have a popular blog like Julie from Julie and Julia that I could eventually earn money from --- OR turn into a movie!

I needed fundamentals. Or advanced fundamentals? I was expecting to learn about format, punctuations, point of view, etc. I wanted to be better as a ‘memoir’ writer… or even just a blogger. U know? Well, after the first meeting, I realized that wasn’t going to happen.

My teacher, let’s call her – Professor Trelawney, is everyone’s English teacher in high school. She has her hair up in a messy bun, wears cat-eye spectacles which she could never find, even if they’re literally being used as her headband, uses LAYERS of scarves in 80 degree weather, has post-it notes all over her books, and speaks in an airy tone… like Luna Lovegood from Harry Potter. Now, Professor Trelawney is a Novelist, and was under the impression that my classmates and I were in search of the inspiration to write our first novels. In fact, if I hadn’t said anything to her about wanting to focus on memoirs, she would have gone and taught the whole class how to be just like her. Luckily, a few other people in my class felt the same way as I did. Sooo thanks to my big mouth (this is actually one of the few instances where it came in pretty handy) the curriculum changed to suit everyone’s needs. YAY!

Nay.

Unfortunately, you can’t really teach an old dog new tricks… so even if she tried, it still felt like we were being groomed to be the next Jane Austen or Dan Brown.

Nevertheless, I did have fun, and I enjoyed the class immensely. We had exercises every week that allowed us to explore what kind of style we had as writers. We were asked to read our work out loud for everyone to critique – which would normally petrify me, especially since I never really felt like writing is my strong suit (hence the writing class) – but they turned out to be really fun AND helpful. Everyone had a tendency to be really positive in their comments, and Professor Trelawny knew how to give constructive criticism without making us feel bad, which is really good. Plus, it was really interesting to hear and distinguish the differences between me and my classmates. After about the second or third class, I was already able to identify the sci-fi dudes who wrote mostly about aliens and x-file-esque plots, the tearjerker types who wrote mostly about their mothers who had cancer or some other sad disease, and the weird, dark and twisted types who wrote about pain, anguish, anger and death (seriously, there was this girl who wrote GRAPHICALLY about her grandfather’s death through her 7 year old eyes that included words like ‘gaping mouth’ and ‘stench of the dead” – freaking insane.)

Through that class, I discovered that my style is sort of like a comedic memoir. On almost all of the exercises, instead of making up a story like most of my classmates did, I wrote about experiences I’ve had that are apparently really funny (every time I read my assignment – they all laughed out loud). It was nice! I mean I suppose I did write with that intention, and I chuckle to myself while writing… But to have others actually appreciate the humor --- that was really cool. They were particularly fond of my celebrity-stalking encounters.

Our final project was to write a five page story, and we were to read it out loud in class, printing out copies for everyone so we could all follow along and make comments on the margin. We were asked to underline passages we liked, or underline words or sentences we didn’t think belonged, or make remarks and stuff… Pretty intimidating.
And as predicted, Sci Fi Guy wrote about an alien encounter of the nth kind, Tear Jerker Lady wrote about a mother daughter relationship dealing with Alzheimers, and Dark Twisted Daria wrote a 5 page version of what she has already written about her grandfather’s death through her 7 year old eyes. It was painful.

I wrote about my encounter with Gary Oldman at the Guitar Center on Sunset Boulevard. My story is about 80% factual. Other minor details were modified to make the story more entertaining. ;)
(Read my final project HERE. But only if you want to. It’s not mandatory. )

Anyway, reading it out loud was a lot of fun because of all the giggles and the laughter coming from my audience. They seemed to have really enjoyed it, and they wrote the BEST comments. They said stuff like – “You’re really funny,” or “This cracked me up!” and “I love your style!”
Even Professor Trelawney cracked up a few times. I noticed her chuckling and covering her mouth with one of her scarves.

So yeah, I guess you could say I had a really good experience in that class. I mean experiencing it is one thing --- but being in UCLA… in that campus ---  is just – WOW.
It’s completely insane how beautiful that University is. I don’t know if those kids who go there know how lucky and privileged they really are to be going there. In my opinion, it’s prettier than Harvard.
I’d go back there just to eat a bagel under a tree. Seriously beautiful… 

But anyway… after this project is over, I fully intend to take another writing class there. This time, I’m picking a class that focuses more on memoir writing. :)
I can’t wait!