The Truth is in the Road

Autumn is coming to California. It is not immediately noticeable, and you cannot track her down by the carelessly dropped red leaflets or crispy coolness of hazy mornings. It does not seduce you with the smells of dry burnt leaves or moist ripe apples. The only thing that makes Los Angeles autumn recognizable is  the sun.  In the summer, it always goes to sleep far behind the mountains, but now every day it puts its bed closer and closer to the ocean. September California sun is no less warm or cheerful than its August brother. Only now it gets tired a little bit quicker, so every time it cuts down its workday by a few minutes.   On autumn evenings, we try to go home as soon as possible, so that we have time to plunge in the golden mist over the Pacific Coast Highway and to see how one by one the windows of Santa Monica high-rises light up with blazing light. On autumn evenings, one can feel the value of time especially well, just as the ...

I did not have any expectations of the city. I compiled a list of twenty-something items to see and experience, and tossed away the attempts to imagine how those items might manifest itself in reality. Until the very morning of the departure, I held on to the bliss of denial, and it didn't dawn on me that I was going to a different country until I was on the way to the airport.  When you have no expectations, the reality surpasses the highest of them. When you are not looking for anyone particular, you encounter the people you’ve been awaiting for years. When you let the road guide you, it brings you to the most wonderful destinations. Our road brought us to Istanbul. Istanbul welcomed us with innumerable tulips and a gorgeous sunset. It charmed us tirelessly, and we fell in for this charm without resistance. It gave us a cozy little apartment to stay overnight and countless sights to explore during the day. It woke us up at dawn with overlapping ...

It's not even been a month since I returned from Istanbul, and I'm on the road again. This time I'm heading for Germany, to write about sustainability and football. In case you didn't know I was interested in the topics, I didn't find out myself until recently :) It feels weird to travel wearing a pair of jeans and a backpack, but no make up or nail polish. My check-in luggage has been reduced to the size of my typical carry-on suitcase. I have not packed a single pair of heels or a dress. One does not need them to walk around a small German village or tour football stadiums, but thinking of this deprivation feels like being notified of an upcoming two-week-long ban on chocolate. I'm thrilled and nervous at the same time. Traveling light, staying at hostels, sharing car rides and rooms with people I don't know. All those things I haven't done since I was a student. All those things which I once viewed as inseparable attributes of traveling happiness....

I hate packing. I spend hours trying to choose the things that will keep me warm/cool, comfortable and beautiful, all at once. I compile an excellent, all-encompassing packing list, and later discover that my suitcase can fit only two thirds of the capacity of a paper sheet. Finally, when the bag is packed and zipped up, I find out that somehow those five-dresses-three-pairs-of-shoes-and-four-scarves way good 40 pounds, and oops! – it's too late to grow my biceps.  Packing can be a nuisance – and yet, I secretly love it. I indulge into this process like one indulges into listening to a sugary song of the favorite boy band from the early teenage times. I might cry over the laws of physics when I realize I'm not able to fit in the fourth, absolutely essential pair of shoes. I can feel uncomfortable about the thought that I might not have a chance to nicely arrange everything in my closet and instead will have to memorize the exact location of every skirt in my bag. I might...