to know her

Amidst what feels like an abundance of recent tragedies came the premature death of Amy Winehouse. Troubled though she might have been and--after the media blitz and countless tributes surrounding her passing--as banal as this entry might be, I must tip my hat to a singer who was a true talent, a refreshing original, and a real gift to the world of music.

I have always had a 'thing' for Amy Winehouse. Her troubled public persona, her music that recalled an era long gone, her hair that was (unbelievably) bigger than mine, and that voice...I was a huge fan. (I even dressed up as Amy when I was 17, living in Miami. I didn't need fake hair, but did need some help with the cleavage.) She was a petite soul singer with a big attitude and bigger problems, but I didn't care: her music, unlike so much of the processed junk occupying the other slots in the Top 40, had a rawness and an emotion that no one else could match. Rehab, perhaps her biggest commercial hit, was catchy and cheeky and all of that. But the rest of her wildly successful album Back to Black was, in my opinion, so much more wonderful than that first fun track; her first album was maybe less mature than her follow-up, but as an album put out by a then-19-year-old, it was truly original and still fantastic. My mother was a fan, too, one of the few musical artists we agreed on. She'd say, "That Amy Winehouse. So talented. What's that song, the sassy one...Rehab? She has problems, y'know, but she can sing. I hope she gets help." And that's what most people I knew seemed to say: she has problems, but man, that voice.

I had a chance encounter with Amy Winehouse when I was living in Miami. I know--it sounds ridiculous, and it was; it was probably also the coolest I've ever felt in my entire life. At the time, I was living in South Beach, having moved there to ballerina dance. I'd read in the papers that Ms. Winehouse and her then-fiancee, some industry hanger-on name Blake something, were in South Beach for the weekend to "get hitched quick." As a teenage music fan, I was happy enough knowing that Amy Winehouse and I were sharing the same zip code for a few days, and thought nothing more of it. I was out running errands that weekend, waiting at the crosswalk near Collins Avenue, when I saw a pin-thin woman with massive hair walking in my direction, accompanied by a classically ginormous bodyguard-looking type. I made an executive decision not to jump to conclusions and assume it was her, but instead to take a moment to retie my shoelace and in the process miss the light to cross the street, thus creating a happy coincidence which would leave me still waiting at the light by the time she came close enough to identify, assuming she maintained her current speed. As she got closer, it was unmistakably the Amy Winehouse: the tattoos, the ratty ballerina slippers, the hair, all of it. In my ogling, I noticed that she was glaring at me. My first thought, naturally, was "I'm going to die at the hands of what appears to be an angry Amy Winehouse. This is so cool!" I was frozen, both out of fear and admiration. At this point, the bodyguard was glaring too; I thought, "Maybe excessive staring by fans is forbidden. I should stop, but I can't." And then, my coolest moment on Planet Earth happened. As she and her bodyguard passed by, still glaring, Amy Winehouse gestured to me and said in her thick raspy British accent, "See, she has sharp, unique features." I let them walk a safe distance before peeing my pants and calling my mother.

Silly stories aside, I write this because whatever troubling addictions she had, whatever "27 Club" nonsense is printed in the media, whatever wild rumors fly in the press following her tragic death, no one can deny that the world has lost a true talent, a beautiful artist, and a genuine personality. I read a quote recently, "Sometimes the truly gifted are fuelled with an energy that burns twice as bright, but only half as long." Amy Winehouse's light didn't burn nearly as long as we would have wished, but man, that voice burned bright.

ευχαριστώ, Ελλάδα

After two weeks in the paradise more commonly known as Greece, I am back in Copenhagen, experiencing the highly expected traditional post-vacation-downer. It was a holiday filled with all the ingredients I love: new places and faces, indescribably delicious food (and a lot of it!), a beautiful foreign language, hours of relaxation, breathtaking landscapes and historical sights, summer heat and sunshine, and the best company possible. It was a perfect mixture of downtime and adventure, and not only was I able to escape reality for a couple of weeks, but I achieved my first veritable tan, learned a new alphabet, and managed to pick up 89 words (tallied during the return flight takeoff, to calm my flying nerves) in a stunning language. I would give anything to have stayed in that bubble of bliss for just a bit longer, but I suppose that is what makes holiday travels so special. It's like when you are younger, and all you want is Christmas every day--it sounds like a fantastic idea. But as you get older, you realize that Christmas is so wonderful because it only comes once a year, because it isn't just an every day thing. For me, Greece shall be the same; it is a Christmas-level sort of place, and I would not have it any other way. Until next time, then, a big fat Greek thank you (or "ευχαριστώ") to everybody there who made my holiday so unbelievably fantastic.


Street meat, highway-style. On the way to the house after landing in Thessaloniki, we stopped at this kiosk on the side of the highway. People pull over, hop the barrier, pick up some sodas, and keep on truckin'.


A slice of heaven.


While having a φραπές--or, a delicious Greek iced coffee--we saw this magnificent sunset over Mt. Olympus. I'd normally call it "Jesus light," but in this instance, I think "Zeus light" might be more appropriate.


Monkeying around at the Archaeological Museum in Dion.


One of my favorite villages we visited, Paleo ("Old") Panteleimonas. Like taking a step back in time, it was an escape from the escape from reality. Amazing.


1100m up Mt. Olympus. I got a bit light-headed, but a lunch of φασολάδα--fasolada, Greek's delicious national dish--and panoramic views like this one definitely helped.


At Aphrodite's Spring, down the end of this narrow tunnel was a font, out of which poured the clearest, freshest water you'll ever taste. The tight squeeze was worth the reward.


In Athens for the evening, I had to go to the Acropolis. I have no words, except: if you can, you must see this.


Athens, down the rabbit hole...


A trip to the islands, first stop: Thira, aka Santorini. This is the town of Oia by night. Fantastic!


And by morning, the view of Santorini's biggest village, Fira, from the old village of Firostefani.


No, this is not a pool. This is what the water really looks like.


The biggest--but smallest!--slice of paradise of all: Κουφονήσια.


This small island is my new favorite place on Earth. If ever I'm instructed to "go to my happy place," this is where I'll be.

This is just a small taste of my big fat Greek holiday. I cannot say enough how warm the people are, how beautiful the country is, and how delicious the food tastes. If you're ever searching for a perfect combination of relaxation and new adventures, consider Greece. You won't regret it--you'll only regret ever having to come home.

back to the basics

Tomorrow, I leave for a little two-week holiday to Greece. No wifi. No TV. No phone. Nothing but sun, and the beach, and delicious food, and free time. I am incredibly excited, as well as characteristically still not packed...but it will be fantastic to see a new place and really just be able to enjoy the most basic pleasures in life.

One such basic pleasure is, of course, good music. A prime example of this can be found in Florence + the Machine's excellent cover of Buddy Holly's "Not Fade Away." And so, on the eve of my big fat Greek adventure, I give you a little bit of audio joy...



See you in two weeks! xx

jetlag

After five weeks away, it is really nice to be home for a week before I take a little trip to another land. Having lived in Copenhagen for over two years now, I can say that while I love this city (or at the very least, really like the whole city and love Vesterbro), it can get claustrophobic at times. Copenhagen is what I call a "little big city." And that's literally what it sounds like: while technically dubbed a city, as a New Yorker I can say with confidence that it is a very small city. To be sure, this is part of its charm, but it can also make me go a bit bonkers after a while. There are only so many times you can bike around the same neighborhoods or sit in the park before it gets a bit monotonous, no matter how lovely the weather might be.

And so it is wonderful to come back to sunny skies and warm weather, and to be able to re-appreciate this little big city I have come to call home. Despite the fact that the entire city seems to be under construction at the moment (see my lovely friend Sandra's blog for more on this!), Copenhagen really is quite fantastic in the summer. Before I go on vacation in a week, I plan to take full advantage of being able to do nothing and anything--and of the summer sales going on right now. So, a little photographic ode to good ol' CPH, as I continue the battle against jetlag...



New street art on Westend, my favorite block in Copenhagen.


"Blomster om sommeren" -- flowers in summer.



I love Vesterbro...