Jules Goes West

 

Venice Beach

 

Vegas

 

 

This post is coming after quite a hiatus, I realize, but I am back, this time with photos as evidence!  Since my last post about le cirque, I  took my first American road trip. Yes it’s true, I’ve been to more countries than I can count, but I had hardly seen any of my own. Albeit brief, my road trip with Carly and her parents,  from Boulder through Vegas and Yosemite, to Los Angeles ( with a lovely interlude in Ojai at Geneveive’s) was, to say the least, quite a ride. In only a week I saw mountains, canyons, casino’s, a valley, and the ocean. Highlights include Yosemite National Park, The Getty Museum, and Venice Beach- where photo opps abound. Thanks to Carly, Tracy and Howard Blitz for inviting me, and For Genevieve Waltcher and Paddy for hosting me in Ojai. My domestic dip into the states has given me quite a thirst for more. Surprise surprise!

Homeland

                                                                                         

After my ten hour journey home from Germany, I was practically running for the door of the plane. I AM HOMMMME! It was a great six months away, but I got butterflies as we flew over the GW bridge headed for Newark Airport and I was anxious to just BE THERE ALREADY. I guess I looked a little too anxious… because as soon as I had approached the customs officer, I was being escorted at the pride and joy of America, Homeland Security, where I was detained for two hours and then questioned. It might have had to do with the fact that I was traveling with my reportedly “lost” passport, which my parents found and mistook for my current valid passport that I accidentally sent home a few weeks ago. Yes, that must be it. Germany apparently didn’t care that much about the status of my passport and when I inquired about whether or not I could fly, the Federal Police told me “we do not care, it is the problem of the United States.” How correct they were. Once seated in the Homeland Security detention area (all too reminiscent of the DMV) I fidgeted as I sat among the other ethnic looking “guests”, feeling guilty about my American status while the officers made all the Arab men fill out piles of paper work, and spoke gruffly to the Spanish speaking detainees. I was able to help some French girls communicate by translating for them, and chatted up a mother of four. Not a traumatizing experience all in all, but it was the last place I wanted to be after my journey. Two hours later I was in the bosom of my homeland. Secure.