The end of blogging as I know it

Well friends, if any of you are still reading this.... I clearly suck at blogging. This just isn't a website I visit regularly. In fact, I usually forget it exists. So I'm just going to end the pain for you and for me, and finish this with one last fell swoop. Here's what happened at the end of my trip in Prague, Vienna and Budapest:

In Prague, I walked across the Charles Bridge, watched the Astronomical clock go off (really not all it's cracked up to be in my opinion- it koo koos a couple of times and the death dude raises and lowers his scythe, and then everyone claps....i.e. it's lame and touristy), and drank absinthe for the first time in my life. Which led to a very strange ghost tour where I was very drunk and the tour guide Ty McGhee grabbed my ass. So Prague was cool, but not my absolute favorite.

I wasn't expecting to like Vienna, but I was pleasantly surprised by this cosmopolitan city of culture and class. We saw the ballet at the opera house with a 4 euro standing room ticket, which was magnificent. I went to Yom Kippur services at the oldest synagogue in the city, but left after about 15 minutes because you can't see or hear anything from the women's gallery. I don't understand segregated synagogues- that is not something I'm used to.

The cool thing about Vienna is that we actually did do something that would make my trip tax deductible! Michael had a friend who had a friend that ran an acting studio in Vienna, so we sat in on some of their classes. The classes were teaching a unique emotional response physically-based method. Basically, they believe that different emotions are centered in different areas of the body, and if you learn to trigger those areas you can reach a true emotional response every time. Even though Michael and I didn't necessarily agree with the method, it was interesting. And finally my trip was truly tax deductible!!

Also in Vienna, I rode bikes around the city with Rob and Kristen. Here's an artistic picture of my foot on the bike:















On the train, Michael handed me his ipod and told me to listen to a song. It was Vienna, by Billy Joel, and it changed my world. I'll share the lyrics here:

Slow down you crazy child
You're so ambitious for a juvenile
But then if you're so smart tell me why
Are you still so afraid?
Where's the fire, what's the hurry about?
You better cool it off before you burn it out
You got so much to do and only
So many hours in a day

But you know that when the truth is told
That you can get what you want
Or you can just get old
You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through
When will you realize...Vienna waits for you

Slow down you're doing fine
You can't be everything you want to be
Before your time
Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight (tonight)
Too bad but it's the life you lead
You're so ahead of yourself
That you forgot what you need
Though you can see when you're wrong
You know you can't always see when you're right(you're right)

You got your passion you got your pride
But don't you know that only fools are satisfied?
Dream on but don't imagine they'll all come true
When will you realize
Vienna waits for you

Slow down you crazy child
Take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while
It's alright you can afford to lose a day or two
When will you realize...
Vienna waits for you.

And you know that when the truth is told
That you can get what you want
Or you can just get old
You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through

Why don't you realize...Vienna waits for you
When will you realize...Vienna waits for you

That pretty much sums me up right now.

We were only in Budapest for a short time, but I visited the second largest synagogue in the world, the Dohany synagogue. It was an incredible place and a very spiritual experience. I also loved the baths. A perfect way to begin and end the trip, with a bath. And Hungary is a wonderful country.

So that was Europe. Summed up for you over a month after my return. In current affairs, I arrived in New York City last Friday, and started rehearsals for my fellowship for Minsky's yesterday. I am so excited and thrilled to be working on this show! I'll be here in New York until January, and then back in LA for the rest of the rehearsals and previews. All those of you in LA, please come see it in February!

So this is the end of this blog, as you or I know it. I hope you've enjoyed, I'm sorry I slacked off, and in the future, call or email me if you want an update! I'm always happy to talk.

Much love and signing off,
Elissa

Salzburg, the home of the Mozart chocolate

I loved the Yoho hostel in Salzburg. Because they let me throw toilet paper in the toilet.


Before I get to Salzburg, here's the current life update on me: I am currently at home in Northern California for a day before I hop on my plane to New York City. I had to come home to leave my car with my parents, and leave all the stuff that's been in the trunk of my car for the last two weeks since I moved out of my old apartment in LA. I am finding myself gloriously productive this evening, in terms of accomplishing the two things that have been on my to-do list for weeks....adding to this blog (I'm what, a month and a half behind?) and putting pictures on facebook. For whatever reason those two things are not things that I am ever interested in doing, even though I've had tons of free time in the past few weeks. But maybe now with the threat of no internet in my NY apartment looming, I'm feeling that things must get accomplished. In New York, I am going to be staying in the Astoria condo of a wonderfully generous friend, but since she doesn't actually live there, there's no wireless. I am praying they'll be an unlocked network nearby...we'll see. I am incredibly nervous and excited about being in New York until the end of the year, living by myself for the first time ever, and working on Minsky's. It's almost time to take the plunge...


----

So, on October 4, Michael, Kristen and I spent about 24 hours in Salzburg. There were two amazing things about Salzburg. The first amazing thing was meeting our friend Rob, who was our roommate the first night in the Yoho hostel. Rob is in the Navy, and was traveling by himself in Eastern Europe for about 10 days. He was one of the first Americans we'd met, originally from Fresno, and we all immediately hit it off. So Rob stuck with us on and off throughout the rest of the trip. Aside from Rob being the coolest dude ever, he's also a fantastic photographer, and I really appreciate all of the pictures he took, since as you know I'm not the best with photography. Oh, and Rob is also a constant supply of Mozart chocolates, which are hazelnutty goodness. So Rob is awesome.

The second amazing thing about Salzburg was the group we assembled in the Mirabell gardens to reenact the Do Re Mi scene from the Sound of Music. Really, my whole reason for wanting to visit Salzburg in the first place was to go on the Sound of Music tour. And it was amazing, especially our fantastically flamboyant tour guide, Peter. But it was a really rainy day, and so the beauty of Salzburg didn't have its full impact I think. What was amazing was what happened after the tour. We were in the Mirabell gardens, which is where Do Re Mi was filmed, and Michael decided it would be a great idea to reenvision the scene. We elected him as Maria, but realized that we would need a larger entourage if we were truly to embody the energy of the scene. So we asked two girls who had been taking our pictures if they wanted to join us in creating a video. They agreed to run and skip with us, even though they had their huge backpacks on their backs. Then, we cornered a Malaysian couple and asked them to join in the fun. I love how people are more willing to do something completely bizarre when they're in a foreign country. So Rob took the camera and we all lined up in the archway of greenery, prepared to skip our way towards the fountain. Michael was the designated leader.

Well, things went somewhat awry when Michael decided that Maria should suffer from back pain in the middle of our presentation. I tried to take over as Maria...

Anyway, to witness the glory, you can see our video here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NaRnITDhGjs

Enjoy.

Oktoberfestastic!

What up homies. So at this point, I'm trying to just convince myself that I don't have a blog. Or that I finished it. I guess this just isn't my thing. But do you know what is MORE not my thing? Quitting. I am not a quitter. Which is why I will never stop using lip gloss 18 times a day. I'd be quitting. And with that intro, we flash back to Octoberfest:

Oktoberfest, we decided, is Disneyland for drunk people. Which is not actually what I anticipated. I envisioned a large green field with huge white tents sprawled across it. And there definitely were HUGE tents. What I did not envision was a massive fairground complete with roller coasters, tons of food booths and joyously wonderful drunk Bavarians dressed in lederhosen and drindl. I cannot even tell you the joy of Oktoberfest. If I had the money, I would go back every year. Here are some pictures to explain:















This is Kristen and I with our first beer.



















And here's Christiane and I, she was our amazingly amazing host in Munchen.



















And here's Kristen and I trying on drindls.

All in all, I found the people in Munchen incredible. And there is so much to do. We went to Fussen castle, the castle upon which the Disneyland one is based. We learned all about King Ludwig (Ludy) and his preference for men (ok, maybe we decided that had been the case). We went to Dachau which was sobering, but of course necessary. And Kristen and I added to our bunch like crazy: this was the point when our friend Michael joined us, Christiane and her boyfriend Flo hosted us, we met their friend Blade, and we met up with Michael's friend Kelly. Such a joyous time, and I would go back to Munich in a hot second.

Finally! My pictures!

These are only the pictures I took with my camera, which means there are some serious gaps since I relied on Kristen and Michael a lot. But here you go! You can click on the slideshow if you'd rather just look at them online yourself too.

Yay Europe!

Croatia and Italy with an unexpected delay in Zagreb

So, we made it to Dubrovnik quite easily, as it's only a 2 hour bus ride from Kotor. As we crossed into Bosnia-Herzegovina, and then again into Croatia, it occurred to me that we might have had a bit of trouble getting across two borders in our rental car. Perhaps we made the right decision about that Madonna concert after all.

When we stepped off the bus at the station in Dubrovnik, we were as usual greeted by a throng of people renting sobe in their homes. This was probably my favorite sobe-renting experience. We had been through the ropes by now, so we knew which questions to ask: Is it in the old city? Is there a kitchen? Do we have to share a bathroom? We got to talking with this old stout woman who spoke some English, and assured us that her place was the best. Then there was the question of price. As it was now halfway through the trip, I was starting to become a little alarmed by the fact that we had already spent more than half my money. Especially considering we were now entering more expensive territory. So we were on the prowl for cheap- like, 10 euros a night. But we quickly realized Dubrovnik was just too touristy, and that wasn't going to happen in the center. So we thought, ok, 15 euro each, which would translate to a 200 kuna room. We could do that. So we went back and forth and back and forth with this squat little woman, who unfortunately remained nameless, and finally the young girl turned to us and said, "Ok, 200 kuna." So we were off.

Getting to this woman's house was an ordeal, and wasn't made any easier by the fact that we had our enormous backpacks (which of course had only become more enormous over the course of the past weeks). We had to take the tram, then walk into the old city and weave through alleys and finally up about 200 stairs. The woman was huffing and puffing like crazy, and clinging to the walls as she went. And I thought to myself, how the hell does she do this every day? She looks like she's about to die! Finally we arrived at her home, shimmied our way up a narrow staircase, and threw our bags down in a tiny but pleasant double room. She showed us a map, and the bathroom, and let us get settled for a few minutes. And then I said, "We should pay you now?" And she said yes. And I said, "200 kuna?" And her face went blank.

See this is my favorite part about Croatians. And it happened everywhere we went in Croatia. When you ask a question that people either don't care to answer or deem too dumb to answer, they'll stare at you as if all of their skills in the English language have suddenly been zapped away. Or as if you're speaking Martian. So I tried, Lord knows I tried. But that bitch would not budge until she had 300 kuna in her hand. And at one point I thought about getting up and going back down all those god-awful stairs. But Kristen looked at me and said, "It's going to be 300 anywhere we go." And I knew she was right. I'm still pissed she got that extra hundred kuna though.

Anyway, Dubrovnik is a beautiful city. Very touristy though, more touristy than anywhere else we had been. It's funny because Dubrovnik was one of the destinations that I was most excited about when we left for the trip. And it was great, but it was other unexpected things in Croatia that really caught my eye. For instance, the islands on the horizon that looked like they had been dolloped onto he water by a spoon from above. It was rainy and we had run out of time to go to the Islands, but oh what a sight. And the drive from Dubrovnik to Split that we made the next day was one of the more stunning things I've ever seen. The Dalmatian coastline really is, as Lord Byron said, "the pearl of the Adriatic."

So the plan was to catch an overnight train from Split to Zagreb, and then a morning train from Zagreb to Venice. Our overnight leg was REALLY uncomfortable. The sleeper cars were sold out, or maybe I just didn't want to pay, but we wound up sharing a six person compartment with one older Croatian couple who felt they were entitled to take up four seats. And even after the woman snapped at me for putting my shoes up on the seat, she and her husband took off their shoes and put their smelly feet in our faces. Awesome. Needless to say, we didn't arrive refreshed in Zagreb.

So we wandered into the train station and up to the international ticket booth, and waited our turn. When we got to the front, we asked the woman for two reservations on the 7 am train to Venice. She looked up sharply and said, "No morning train. Only 23:35." And we said, "What?? Our Eurail timetable tells us there's a train at 7:20 am?" And she got that blank look that the Croatians get when they don't want to deal with you, and said, "Only 23:35."

Dammit. So for the second time in as many days, Kristen and I sat down and had to rethink our plan. Should we walk all the way to the bus station to see if we could get to Italy that way? Should we skip Italy altogether since the train was rerouted to Munich anyway, and Munich was our next destination? (That was not actually an option, as my original excuse for coming to Europe was to visit my brother in Padua.) Ultimately, we had no choice but to wait in Zagreb until the 11:35 pm train. And even though we were trying to save money, we figured there was no way we could do back to back overnight trains without getting some sleep during the day. So we walked to the tourist center and booked a room with this cute little French-speaking woman. (It was exciting to get to speak French with someone, since it's the only European language I actually speak and we weren't going to France.) So here is what our day in Zagreb consisted of:

-walking around the city and the main square- much of Zagreb is seeable in a day
-buying sweaters and boots since it was cheap and we were cold
-sleeping and taking showers at the French woman's house
-eating amazing Croatian sandwiches at this little stand called Pingvin
-seeing a play! We happened to land in Zagreb on a Friday during the Zagreb International Theatre Festival. I know, pretty cool. And even though this Flemish production of Antigone was not exactly my bag, how awesome to be able to say that I saw theatre with all the culture snobs of Zagreb.

All in all, not too bad for an unexpected day.

The next morning we arrived in Venice surprisingly quite refreshed. We had actually had a comfortable sleeper car from Zagreb to Venice! My bro, David, came to meet us in Venice and help us get back to Padua, but we figured since we were in Venice, we might as well walk through San Marco Piazza. BIG mistake. Can I say something actually? I kinda hate Venice. It's nothing but huge crowds of tourists, pigeons that shit everywhere, and convoluted streets to get claustrophobic and lost in. And honestly, I usually like getting lost. But not in Venice. I mean, for the love of God, it took us THREE HOURS to make a simple loop through the city. And yes, it's beautiful, and yes we got some nice pictures. But having been there twice now, I don't mind if I never go back to Venice. Seriously.

Padua, or Padova as the locals call it, is only 30 minutes from Venice, but a whole different place. I loved walking around the calm city with Dav, and meeting his study abroad friends. There's really nothing to do but eat there, so on our first day, we had lunch, had dinner, got gelato, and sat in the square to drink a Spritz. Not a bad day.

My second evening in Padua though, was my favorite, because David's host family invited me to have dinner with them. It was a group of 11: David, me, David's host parents, brother and grandmother, and then David's friend Elise, and her host parents and siblings (Dav's host father and Elise's host father are twins, hence the connection). I mean, how cool to sit around a table eating home cooked food while Italians gesture emphatically. Everyone engaged me a bit with English, but even when they slipped back into Italian, I swear I understood at least 50% of what they were saying. Italians are inherently theatrical, which is something I understand, and the commonality of Italian and French made it easy to follow. I don't even really remember what we talked about that night, but oh was it good conversation and good food! I'm so happy that David is so well taken care of there.

But alas, every good thing must come to an end. And we had to get to Munich. Michael Schwartz was arriving on a plane at 8:10 am Monday morning. And Oktoberfest 2008 was calling our name. So we we boarded our last overnight train of the trip (THANK GOD) and tried to sleep as we raced over the countryside into Germany.

NOW, and then Montenegro and our failed attempt to see Madonna

So I've created this weird split-world thing now, where I'm sitting here today, on Oct. 23 in my Los Angeles apartment, and pretending to be in Montenegro, where I was over a month ago. I guess that's what I get for giving up on my blog and then deciding to pick back up where I left off. The result is sufficiently confusing, both for you and for me. But I'm sorry, because before we get back to Europe, I have to report some amazing news that I received yesterday.

I have been awarded this year's Mike Ockrent Fellowship through the SSDC (Society of Stage Directors and Choreographers). The fellowship is giving me the opportunity to assist and observe director/choreographer Casey Nicholaw on a new Broadway musical called Minsky's. Casey is someone I really admire- he choreographed Spamalot and directed/choreographed The Drowsy Chaperone. I am REALLY excited about this. The whole application process for the job went on while I was traveling through Europe, and by the time I had returned home and not heard anything, I assumed that I hadn't gotten the job. But then two days ago, I got a call about an interview. And yesterday, after about ten minutes of chatting on the phone with Casey, he said "Well, alright Elissa, let's consider it done." I said, "Wait, what?" And he said, "Yup, consider it done."

So excited. And even better: now that I've gotten the job, I know what I'm doing for the next few months. Which was a big fat question mark until 4:30 pm yesterday. Here's my plan: I'll be in LA until mid-November. I'll probably stay through the Ovation Awards on the 17th, and then leave town on the 18th to drive up to my parents house and drop off my car. Then I'll fly to New York City, and from Nov. 24 through the holidays we'll be rehearsing in NY. BUT, the show is doing its pre-Broadway run here in Los Angeles. So on Jan. 4, we'll transfer the whole company out here to LA, and I'll be back here working on the show in January and February. And then I'll have to figure out what I'm doing after that. (Get a job and make some money....???) But hey, I'm 23. Please don't force me to live more than a couple months ahead at a time, ok? And please- let me stay broke if I want to. I like being a poor starving artist. Living the dream.

SO that's that. And now onto...or rather, back to the Balkans (doo-doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo):

Montenegro

So, after a lovely one-day stay in Ohrid, Kristen and I climbed onto our overnight bus that was going to take us through Albania and up to Montenegro. Now, of all the journeys that we were going to undertake during our vacation, this was that one that we had been most cautioned about. Online message boards, travel agents, and the Greek guys had all told us to beware of traveling through Albania. So we expected the worst. We walked up onto the bus with our money belts strapped around our waists, our ipods and cameras buried deep in our backpacks, and our bladders drained of all fluid (these overnight buses don't have bathrooms, and you never know when they're going to stop). But I am sad to report, that aside from the smelly men sitting behind me, and the anticipatory mild panic attack that I suffered during the first half hour on the bus (I quickly squelched it with a Dramamine), the bus ride was entirely without event. And in the morning, we wound down off the steep cliffs of Montenegro and were greeted with the most spectacular view of the Bay of Kotor.

We had no hostel reservations, because we figured that we would be greeted by people offering sobe, rooms in their home. But, when we stepped off the bus, there were no such people around. So Kristen and I decided to walk towards the city in search of accomodations. We had gone about 10 feet when a man stepped out from behind a taxi and said with a very thick accent, "You need a room?" We replied yes, and within a minute we were in his car and he was telling us that his daughter Mirella was a travel agent. He said something about "Free" and kept repeating the phrase "Excellent tourist destination." Over and over and over. Kristen and I weren't exactly at our sprightliest, having just stepped off an overnight bus, so this man was a little much to handle. But if we thought he was intense....

Well, Mirella took the cake. This was the loudest, brashest woman I've ever met. No American could possibly be like her. As her father stood at the stove making us coffee, she was thrusting shiny brochures into our faces, and making a list of all the things we needed to do during our ONE DAY in Kotor. She asked me my name and proceeded to address a whole speech to me, completely ignoring the fact that Kristen was sitting right next to me. "Well, Ah-lee-sah, there are many beautiful things to see in Montenegro, and Ah-lee-sah, we are in Prcanj, and you need to see these islands Ah-lee-sah...." Ah! It was just too much to handle, especially when she plopped her guest book onto the table and started telling us all the wonderful things people had said about staying in the apartment next to her house. She also wrote out directions for us to everywhere we needed to go, and told us that we should take the 8:30 am bus to Dubrovnik the next morning..."There is an 8:30 am bus and a 2:45 pm bus, but Ah-lee-sah, you should take the 8:30 bus, because if you stay longer here you must pay more." Speaking of which....not free. Of course not free, I figured that much. But she wanted to charge us 15 euros each for the room, and when she realized we were about to stand up and leave she said "Ok, ok. 10 euro each. Very good price." And her father added "Excellent tourist destination."

So we went to our room, took a nap, and then spent the afternoon climbing the ancient city of Kotor. Now, why Kotor, you ask? How did you even hear of it? Well the answer to that is, I read about Kotor a couple of months before we left on the trip in Conde Nast magazine. Yup. There was a Conde Nast sitting on top of my roommate's toilet, and as I settled in I said to myself, I wonder if there's anything good in here? And that's when I read that the ancient city of Kotor is topped by a fortress, and the whole thing is built on a steep hill. The pictures were stunning so I decided we should make a stop in Kotor. I swear, some of the best discoveries in life are made on the toilet.

So, I digress. The hike was stunning. I can't really describe the Balkan coastline. It would take at least a thousand words. So here's a photo to do the job:



Kotor rocks. It's amazing. You can see that. What doesn't rock is Mirella, and I'll tell you why. The next morning, when we woke up to catch our bus, her father offered to give us a ride around the bay back to the bus station. But as we were pulling out of his driveway, the man in the little shop next door stopped him and pointed to his tire. It turns out we had a flat tire. However, rather than going back up the driveway to get one of his three other cars, Mirella's father tried to keep driving. "Five minutes, it will be ok." But about 100 yards later, he pulled off the road to fix the tire. Not ok I guess. So this man is running around the car grabbing the jack and then wrenching the spare out from the bottom of his trunk, and rushing to get all of this done because our bus is leaving in 15 minutes. It was ridiculous. And when he finally got it done, we still had to stop on the way because he owed us change from our 50 euro bill for paying for the room. So he pulls over next to a little hut, goes running out, comes back and hands Kristen 25 euros. She looked down and then up again and said "But, you owe us 30." And he replied "Taxi ride. 5 euro. Very good price."

A 5 euro taxi ride so we could watch his ass bob up and down as he changed his tire? I'm sorry, WTF?? But we looked at each other and thought fuck it, we need to catch this bus. So a minute later he drops us at the bus station, and we run inside to buy our tickets.

"Hello, we'd like two tickets for the 8:30 am bus to Dubrovnik."

"No bus at 8:30. Only at 2:45."

"Wait, what? Our host told us 8:30."

No response. And then the chick looks down, writes something on a piece of paper, and holds it up in our face. It said:

"2:45."

Thanks.

MIRELLA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Agh!!!!!!!!!!! We hate you!!!!!!

Now see, this created a problem. In a fit of madness the night before, Kristen and I had purchased standing room tickets to the Madonna concert in Budva, a Montenegrin town about 20 minutes away. Ever since we had gotten into the vicinity, locals kept asking us if we were here to see Madonna. We kept saying no. I can see her anytime at the Kabbalah Center on Robertson anyway. But finally one tzochke seller in Kotor told us that tickets were only 35 euro, and they weren't sold out. And we decided it would be AMAZING to see a Madonna concert in Montenegro. But now we had a problem. Today was Wednesday, and we needed to be in Italy no later than Saturday morning to see my brother. But we also wanted-needed-had come all this way to go to Croatia. So our plan was that we would go up to Dubrovnik Wednesday morning, spend all day, rent a car and drive back down to Budva on Thursday, see the Madonna concert, and then drive up to Split, Croatia on Friday in time to catch an afternoon train to Zagreb which would connect with an overnight train to Venice. Complicated?

Yes. So much so that this little adjustment threw a big wrench into our plans. We sat in the car rental place trying to figure out other options. I even have a page in my journal entitled "The Madonna Question" with four different possible scenarios. But when it came down to it, it was just too expensive to make it both to Croatia and back down to the concert. And there wasn't enough time.

I went back to the bank where we bought our tickets, and tried to sell them back. I was able to sell mine, but Kristen's was ripped so she was out of luck, they wouldn't take it. Who could we sell this ticket to? We hoisted our heavy backpacks up and walked across the square to an internet cafe.

It was our luck that we happened to sit down next to a Serbian high stakes poker player. Milos, as he is called, was playing online Hold Em, but was nonchalant enough that he could engage us in a chat. When we asked him if he wanted our ticket, to our delight and surprise he said yes! Subsequently, we had an awkward drink with Milos and his thug Serbian friends out in the square.

But then, luckily, it was time to go. So we said goodbye. Goodbye to Milos, goodbye to Kotor, goodbye to fucking Mirella and her father, and goodbye to the Madonna concert. We boarded our bus to Dubrovnik and were on our way.

Aren't I terrible at this?

This is Arjeta and I being hippie tree huggers in the Old City of Ohrid in Macedonia (FYROM).












FRIENDS!!!
I'm back in California. Yes, finally. Or maybe, yes, already. As you may have been able to tell, I totally gave up on my blog. This is a thing I feared might happen. Actually hoped might happen. And thus, it did. You see, I do all of my own journaling, which are my personal reflections on my experiences, and which I find very therapeutic. But no, you can't read those, they're mine. Anyway, I was finding it incredibly draining to write about my experiences not once, but twice, and also tiring to cram tons of information into a carefully thought out blog post when I had about 10 minutes of internet time every two days. But perhaps that was self mandated....because I was in EUROPE! I didn't want to be spending my time in an internet cafe. So I said to myself, "It's fine, Elissa, no one reads blogs anyway."

WELL. I have been astonished to have about five of you say to me in the few days since I've been home that you were actually reading my blog, and that you were disappointed when it just stopped. Well now I feel guilty. You see, I have a highly developed sense of Jewish guilt, especially about things that I start and don't finish. Uch. I had contemplated going online this weekend and saying,

Alright guys, these are the lessons I learned: _________________ and I'm sorry, but the blog is over. I hope you enjoyed the little you read!

But oh you loyal, lovely friends. I can't do that to you! You care about my stories and you want to hear them. (If you don't it's ok to stop reading now). So here's the plan: I'm going to pick up where I left off, do a new post every few days, and when I get to the end, this will be over. So, (insert flashback underscore here),

it's Sept. 20, and Kristen and I have just arrived in Ohrid, Macedonia:

But the backstory first: So back in 2005, when I studied abroad at the British American Drama Academy, I spent my week long break in Italy with my friends Tim and Zoe. We began the week in Positano, Italy, a stunning town on the Amalfi coast. We had decided to go to Positano because Zoe had spent two weeks there in a piano conservatory program when she was 16. It also so happens, that when cute little 16-year-old Zoe had stayed in Positano for two weeks, she had fallen in love and had a torrid affair with an Italian 3 years her elder named Alberto. Our mission, upon our return to Positano, was to find Alberto.

When the three of us arrived after the long trek from Naples, through Sorrento, and on a winding bus ride that finally brought us into town, we deposited our bags at our hostel and quickly made our way down the steep stairs towards the beach (Italians pronounce this word "bitch" and I love that). We stopped into a little cafe to get a bottle of water and got to talking with one of the Italians next to us, who could clearly tell we were tourists. He seemed very friendly and curious about us, so we decided it might be alright to ask this man if he knew of a young man named Alberto who might still live in town.

"Alberto?" He replied. "He's my cousin!"

Yup. He sent us to the police station where Alberto's brother worked, but the little shack that served for a police headquarters was closed- I guess they were out for a smoke. We figured we'd try again later, and headed to the bitch.

At the beach, we plopped down on the pebbles and spun our heads full circle gawking at the view. The crystal blue of the waves, the sun setting on the horizon and reflecting off of the pale yellow stacked houses, the man pulling his small boat into shore. And suddenly Zoe got this crazy look on her face, stood up, and started running toward this man with the boat..

It was Alberto.

I kid you not. And as the two of them reapproached Tim and I, arm in arm, Alberto said "It is destiny. I knew I would see you again." Such an Italian thing to say.

Anyway, we spent the next day with Alberto until we made our way to Rome. But I just thought it was truly magical how a girl could show up in a small Italian town and, by word of mouth and sheer luck, find the man she had made out with in a rocky crevice 5 years ago. I have a picture of Zoe reenacting that too....priceless.

So-

FLASH FORWARD three years to Kristen's and my arrival in Macedonia. (Ok, George, I know it's called FYROM. Federal Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia. Don't argue with a Greek about this. Macedonia is part of Greece, the Macedonians stole the name).

Anyway, 30 years ago Kristen's mother had stayed with a Muslim Albanian family in Ohrid while she was backpacking through Europe. This family was called the Zhutas. Over the years, Kristen's mum had lost touch with them. But she did hear from them once in the early 90's when all of the Yugoslavian unrest began...the family asked her to sponsor them for visas to Canada. Kristen's mum tried to help them, but never heard back. Kinda scary. So, before we arrived in Ohrid, Kristen showed me these papers that she had- a copy of the Zhuta's address from 1978, and photocopies of pictures that they had all taken together. It was really not much to go on, but I was ready for the mission- operation find the Zhutas and hope they were still alive!

We arrived in Ohrid late in the day, and settled into our hostel with a cup of hot apple tea- yum. As we were chatting with the proprietors, we mentioned that we were going to try to find an Albanian family who Kristen's mum had stayed with 30 years before. Our dude took a skeptical look at the papers she had, then pulled out the phonebook and looked up the name Zhuta. There was one entry. So he called, and Ekuran Zhuta, the father of the family, picked up the phone. The dude nodded at us, and then spoke in hurried Macedonian into the receiver. Kristen and I just gaped at each other.

So yeah, within 30 minutes of our arrival, we found the Zhutas. Yup.

And they were wonderful! Ekuran and his son Ilber took us to drinks, Ilber's wife Arjeta showed us around the whole next day and treated us to a lovely meal in her home, and the Zhutas had us over for coffee and snacks. It was freaking amazing. There is nothing like stepping into someone's home and taking off your shoes when you've been traveling for three weeks. They were a dream.

So yes, it's true my friends. The world is a small place. Smaller maybe when you go to a place where the pace of life is calm enough that people get to know one another, and take time to chat over tea and crackers. Good things happen when we believe they can. It was pretty awesome finding the Zhutas.

AND, since I know what's coming, on the next chapter of Elissa's belated European adventures: A hike up the steepest city I've ever seen, and a failed attempt to attend the Madonna concert in Montenegro.

Stay tuned.

MIA

My dear blogging friends. I'm sorry I've been MIA. I have been working vigorously on an application for a fellowship, and it's all I've done every time I've seen a computer. But here I am! I'm alive and well and drank lots of beer at Oktoberfest!!! (the most amazing festival in the world) Since I have not been the best blogger, I would like to invite you to catch up on all of my adventures at my friend Kristen's blog: http://kristen-lostinwanderlust.blogspot.com. She is an amazing blogger, much better than me, and there are many pictures to boot.

I'll be back!

"You don't go that way"

This is me, Constantinos, Sing Yi, Kristen and George eating our AMAZING chocolate souffles on Mykonos.  We worked very hard to get these souffles- the place was closed so Constantinos called the owner's mother to have him come open it for us.  Yup.  These Greek men get shit done.

Ok, so as I alluded to before, Mykonos was crazy. We were planning to stay for a day or two, and wound up staying for five. And if Kristen and I hadn't been so gung-ho about getting to Croatia, we would have probably never left. In fact, as far as I know, Sing Yi and Janell are still there!

On the first night when we arrived, we did the normal touristy stuff- we ate along the water, drank ouzo, and went out the the Scandinavian bar (a place for smelly, sweaty Aussies and Albanians). Janell had had quite a crush on our waiter at the restaurant, and later on in the evening, he came to meet us. Janell was clearly going to get home in her own way, and Kristen had already headed back, so Sing Yi and I had to find our way. Thankfully, two guys from Florida who were staying in the same place as us were at the bar and heading back too. The only catch: they had only brought one scooter. But Christos insisted there would be no problem. So the four of us walked to the scooter, and hopped on. Here's how we managed: Christos drove, Sing Yi and I squeezed onto the seat behind him, and the other guy Paul propped himself on the metal thingy on the back. I have never ridden a scooter before (Chris, you owe me a trip on your Vespa!!), and this was a crazy way to begin. Of course Christos had to be macho and take the turns at breakneck speed, and I kept freaking out about the fact that my bare feet were dangling three inches above the ground as we traveled 40 or 50 miles per hour. It must have been the worst for Paul though, without any padding back there... Anyway, we made it back each in one piece, after walking the last steep incline - that poor scooter just couldn't make it. And Sing Yi and I promptly passed out.

Which brings us to.... The day we lost Janell

In the morning, Janell hadn't returned. In a normal circumstance, this wouldn't have really been a problem... but Janell is a free spirit who had decided to travel without her cell phone. Sing Yi did have her 'special friend's' phone number, but none of us had a phone that was charged with minutes on it, and our phone was not accepting a recharge. So we borrowed our Floridian friends' phone to call, but only got a message, and didn't know what number to tell him to call back, since the Florida boys were leaving. I then put the piece of paper with his number on it in a place for safe keeping, and proceeded to lose it. (I found it in my wallet five days later...of course, Elissa).

At this point, the problem was that we had to check out of our room by noon so we could move to the Paraga beach campground where we wanted to stay for the next few nights. So we just packed up our things and all of Janell's and began our trek over to the campground on the other side of the island. It also would have been smart to leave Janell a note telling her where we were going, but by this time none of us was thinking clearly, and we were subconsciously trying to make it as hard as possible for Janell to find us.

By the time we got to Paraga beach, it was late in the afternoon and we still had no idea what to do. But you can't spend all your time worrying right? So Kristen, Sing Yi, and I went to go lie on the beach. Janell's a big girl...she'd find us.

A couple hours later, Kristen had gone up to the pool, Sing Yi was sleeping, and I decided to start doing some yoga on the beach, as I am apt to do. I was in the camel pose when I heard some laughter and heard Sing Yi say "It's yoga." Apparently, a group of guys on the beach were making fun of me. The interesting thing about this was that Sing Yi had pointed over to the group before and singled out one of the guys as good looking. I'd said "I'll give you that, but he's not my type." Now this guy, Constantinos, and a few of his friends came over to the two of us. In about two minutes Sing Yi was in love with Constantinos, and in about three, I was in love with his friend George. I guess that's how it happens on the Islands. Anyway, by the time Kristen came back to the beach about a half hour later, Constantinos and George had agreed to take us all to dinner, and then to help us find Janell.

We kept trying to describe to the two of them who Janell was with. "We think his name was Constantinos too....or Costastinos...Costas???" The boys seemed like they would know everyone on the island, but they had no idea who we were talking about. Still, no rush to find out if Janell was lying passed out naked on a beach somewhere.... So, we went to a beautiful tavern called Petran, and the boys ordered us all kinds of fish we'd never heard of. And a beautiful white table wine, according to Sing Yi, who also just happens to be a sommelier.

Around 10 pm- fully 18 hours after we'd last seen Janell, we went back to the restaurant where Janell's special friend worked. As we approached and pointed to him, Constantinos was like "Oh, Gus?? He's my friend!" He went up to Gus and it turned out Janell was with his roommate at a nearby internet cafe, and had had a fantastic day. When I went into the internet cafe to get her, she was in the middle of her US unemployment interview. Amazing. But she hadn't been worried and told us she'd meet us at the campground later. I was slightly reluctant to leave her again, but we headed out. And when she walked into our tent an hour later, she was like "Oh, you guys were worried? It's a small island....I figured I'd find you."

This is why we love Janell.

Getting adopted

The boys, Constantinos and George, essentially adopted all of us for the rest of the week. They took us to amazing hidden beaches, and out to some really great dinners. And I seriously fell for George. So much so, that he almost convinced me that we shouldn't go through the Balkans, as Kristen and I originally planned.

We were looking at a map of Eastern Europe. Kristen and I showed George how we were planning to take a bus from Athens to Florina (in the very north of Greece) and then travel by bus up through Macedonia, Albania, Montengro, and Croatia. George said "No baby, you don't go that way. That's dangerous. It's bad, it's dangerous." When we pressed him why, all he could really say was that Albanians were not nice, and neither were Macedonians. He pointed to the ferry route from Patras, Greece, to Venice and said "That's why this route exists. You don't go that way." It seems Grecians do not get along with their neighbors very well.

Anyway, between the sun and the beaches, we were almost talked into staying on the islands for an extra week and going directly to Italy. But ultimately, Kristen and I were way too excited to go where few have gone before, and on Sunday morning we left Athens on a bus for Lake Ohrid, Macedonia. And all is not lost...I may just go back to Athens at the end of my trip to see George. If I can't get him out of my head.

Or....I may never come home.

On the next episode of Elissa's Currently-Not-So-Tax-Deductible European Vacation:

-Sam and Sasha, the friendly taxi drivers of Macedonia.
-Kristen and I find the family that her mother stayed with 30 years ago in Ohrid, Macedonia, and get chaffeured around the city for a day.
-Hiking to the top of the old city in Kotor, easily the steepest city I've ever seen.
-We rock the Madonna concert in Budva, Montenegro!!!!

AND I'll be adding pictures!

Greece

Sing Yi, Kristen, and I holding the flowers some French Moroccan boys bought us on Bar St. in Kusadasi, Turkey.

So, by the time we left Turkey, we were happy to go. Yes, it's a beautiful country, but Kristen and I had gotten a little tired of the men in carpet stores calling to us "Hello! I am here! You are looking for me?" and "You are my sunshine....my only sunshine..." Last Friday night we hopped on a bus from Istanbul to Kusadasi, the Turkish port town from which we could make our way to the Greek Islands. Kristen and I brought along two of our girlfriends we had met in the hostel in Istanbul who were also eager to go to the Islands and get out of Turkey. One of the girls, Sing Yi, is an Aussie with a Malaysian passport, and has been traveling in the Shengan countries for almost 6 months. (I didn't know what Shengan was either- it's the European continent, and apparently if you don't have a visa, you're not allowed to travel for more than 3 consecutive months. ) Anyway, Sing Yi was worried that they wouldn't let her on the boat to Samos, the closest Greek Island.

Sure enough, when we arrived at the port on Sunday morning, this awful Turkish woman in the passport control started barking at the top of her lungs at Sing Yi like she was a terrorist. While she was barking, this Turkish man in plain clothes stepped in and started barking back, and then stepped outside to make a phone call on Sing Yi's behalf, probably to the Greek mafia or something. Our boat was supposed to leave in five minutes, and the woman would still not let her through. So Kristen, Janell (the other girl, from LA- actually she lives at Sunset and Detroit, how weird huh?), and I made our way onto the boat without Sing Yi. We sat dejected on the deck of the ferry, which strangely wasn't leaving, but still no Sing Yi in sight.

AND THEN, in a blaze of glory, Sing Yi emerged around the corner of the dock with the Turkish mafia man by her side, and strutted towards us with the sun glistening behind her. I was so excited to see her that I ran down onto the dock and started jumping up and down and leaping all around. Everyone on the boat thought I was crazy, but I have to say it was a glorious moment.

On Samos, where we only stayed for a couple of hours until our ferry to Mykonos came, we met a Kiwi named Dan who took us to a delicious place for lunch (the best food we had had on the trip yet) and sat on a beautiful beach. Dan was a trip, and told Kristen and I that he's going to America in November. So he has invited himself to stay with me for a night on November 2 in LA, which is funny considering that I might not even have a home in LA by then. Hmmm....we shall see. We travel by the seat of our pants.

By Sunday night we were on Mykonos, in a room on the north side of the Island. Kristen and I were only planning to stay on Mykonos for a few days and then island hop and wind up in Athens on Wednesday, but we wound up staying on Mykonos until Friday morning. The stories for why this occurred are very good....and I'm gonna leave you in suspense for now, dear readers.

But suffice it to say that we came to Athens last night, it looks like we're going to spend a rainy day walking around the city here, and then we'll be making our way up into the Balkans.

Tell me how much you want to hear about Mykonos, and maybe I'll tell you :)

Istanbul and the story of Çetin, my new best friend

Cetin's restaurant.  The picture with him is on Kristen's camera.

Hello Friends! I write from Istanbul again! Well, Kristen and I have officially had our first serious adventure with the locals. It all happened just this afternoon, and boy was it awesome. Before I launch into the story that we co-authored, let me just say a few words about the Turkish bath that Kristen and I went to on Tuesday night.

I had no idea what to expect when we arrived, but we were ushered into a locker room, told to take off our clothes and wrap a towel around ourselves, and sent down to the bath. I had been wearing my glasses since we had been on the plane, but since they were going to fog up, I had to take them off. So I was pretty much blind as Kristen lead me across the perilously slippery floor to the marble slab in the middle. This is how a Turkish bath works: you lie naked on the slab and sweat. Then, eventually, a bunch of naked Turkish women with saggy boobs come in and you lie along the edge of the slab while they scrub your skin raw. And they scrub everywhere. There is no shame here in Turkey. I actually kind of don't get that since the women have to walk around outside with their heads covered. Seems like a strange contradiction to me- naked in the baths and completely covered in the world. Anyway, the baths were a rough and tumble introduction to Turkey, and a great activity after having been on a plane all night.

Lots has happened in Turkey over the last four days, and Kristen and I have made some great friends, two of which are traveling with us to the Greek Islands next. But without further ado, I give you, the story of Çetin, told from Kristen's point of view:

We may have accidentally adopted a Turkish child...

*Thıs story was a joint endeavor by Kristen and Elissa
Elissa and I have a new best friend. He is Turkish, he's about 60 years old, and his name is Çetin.
Let's start at the very beginning. After visiting the Topkapi Palace this morning, Elissa and I hit the streets in search of food. Since it's Ramadan, food can be a little difficult to find since not all of the restaurants are open. We looked around for a little while and wound up in front of a restaurant called The Grand Vezir. While we were deciding whether or not to go in, our soon to be best friend, Çetin, introduced himself and asked where we were from. When we told him we were from California his eyes just lit up. He was even more excited to find out that Elissa lives near La Brea, the same area that he had lived in for seven years. Çetin hugged us and invited us into his rug shop for tea, an activity we had been told to avoid, and had so far succeeded at doing.
Once inside, Çetin served us apple tea and we started to chat. As it turns out, not only is Çetin a very friendly Turkish rug store proprieter, he is also a legendary Turkish director in the making. In fact, he has just submitted his first film to Sundance. The title has escaped us (probably because it is very long and complete engrish) but, the hook is something to the effect of: "Be very carefull with your children on vacation. It can be very dangerous."

When Çetin found out that Elissa is a theatre director he was eager to show us his masterpiece, confident that he had just found his ticket to Hollywood. While we waited, Çetin ran to get his laptop and Elissa and I turned to each other, slightly terrified.

Let us describe this movie. First off, it is in English. Very broken English. First shot: the words Hollywood, California flash in bright yellow across the screen. (It was obviously NOT Hollywood. In fact, it is Anatolia, Turkey, which is pretty clear from the Turkish flag awning later in the film.) It begins at the front desk of a five star hotel. A mother and her daughter are checking in. Dun dun dun. Both of these girls have clearly been given some A1 acting instruction. Such as: say "Mommy!" louder, and "look sad". The mother grabs her one laptop bag and makes her way across the lobby, where she is greeted by a suspiciously familiar security guard. Could it be? Çetin? Is that you? The writer, director, AND the star??? AMAZING! For some reason, Çetın the security guard gives the women an entire tour of the hotel and their room, even going so far as to tell them where their towels are in the bathroom.

Note: The sound is terrible in this film. As is the picture. They clearly used the sound on whatever crappy camera they had. So from now on, imagine this as a silent film, with the soundtrack from Jaws, gone wrong.

Anyway, as the story goes, the girls go out to the pool, and the woman leaves her daughter while she goes to get food. When she returns, AAAHHHH!, her daughter, who is suddenly named Judy, is gone!! "No! JUDDDDYYYYY!!!" A huge chase ensues, with the help of Çetin, action hero/security guard. While the mother races through the hallways, stopping at every rug shop in sight to search for Judy, Çetin is in hot pursuit outdoors. This whole suspenseful search goes on for far too long, as far as movies are concerned. Then, in a flash of genius, Çetin knows what has happened to poor little Judy! She is drowning in the sea! Obviously, this calls for a jetski action scene, in which Cetin rides onto the scene, dramatically belly flops into the water, and does the most clumsy free style to get to Judy. In the end, all is well, Judy is saved, and we've learned our lesson.

That was the movie. It was amazing. Such character development.

Çetın had been in and out while we were watching, and every once in a while we would turn to each other with looks of absolute bewilderment on our faces. When Çetin joined us again at the end of the film, we really didn't know what to do. "You like?" he said. "It was beautiful", Elissa said with great sincerity. She didn't know what else to say. Çetın told us that he had shot the movie in only two days in Anatolia. And there had been no screenplay. It has all come from his head. But he wondered, could this film win Sundance? He informed us it had already been accepted, but there were a hundred films, and he knew the competition would be stiff.
Since the film was such a treat, we were delighted when Çetin offered to introduce us to a very famous Turkish actress who had starred in many films. He ran outside and returned with his nine-year-old niece who then performed a scene in the middle of the carpet shop. "Get ready for school", Çetin yelled at her. "Noooo", she said sleepily from the floor, rolling over dramatically onto her other side and curling up into a little ball. The rest of the scene continued in mix of English and Turkish, but one thing was for certian, she did not want to go to school.

"Bravo!" we cried when they were done.

"Come! Eat", Çetin offered, leading over to the restaurant next door.

Over soup, bread, dolma and dessert, Çetin told us that, believe it or not, he had never attended film school and was entirely self-taught. In fact, he was also a self-taught actor who had honed his craft by watching "A Streetcar Named Desire" 650 times. He's counted. (Clearly, the "Juddyyyyy" was a tribute to "Stellllaaa").

After we had assured Çetin that his film would have a solid chance at Sundance he invited us to live with his sister for three months in her mansion on the Bosphorous. But wait, there's just one catch. You see, since Çetin had decided that Elissa was a world renowned acting coach with deep connections to the Hollywood scene, she would be the perfect teacher for his little niece. In fact, he would send his niece to live with Elissa in New York or Los Angeles, or wherever she may be. Elissa would of course feed her and raise her as her own. And one day, she would be a star.
As we left, Çetin kissed us on both cheeks and made us swear that we would help to bring he and his family great fortune and fame in America. He promised to visit and we are now both anticipating the arrival of a small Turkish child on our doorsteps...

The most amazing city ever

All of my friends from the Bahaus hostel in Istanbul.

Ok, I know that it is early in my trip to start making these kind of judgments. And I know that I have been using superlatives a little too much lately. But seriously, Istanbul is the coolest city in the world. Nothing else is going to compare. I should just stop traveling now. But seriously, it is really not what I expected. You may ask, well Elissa, what did you expect? And I will probably sound like a completely narrow-minded Westerner when I tell you that I guess I thought it would be stuffy and dark and crowded and full of orange stucco buildings. And I'd walk through the streets singing "Gotta keep...one jump ahead of the riff raff..." Isn't it sad how all of our misconceptions come from movies? Anyway, there is some orange stucco, it's true. But this city is airy and bright and BEAUTIFUL.

Kristen and I got in yesterday afternoon, and proceeded to take an unplanned tour of the city. We are staying in Sultanamet, the old part of town, but at the airport we accidentally got on a bus going to Taksim, the new neighborhood north across the Bosphorus river. The European part of Istanbul is basically two peninsulas: the bottom one is hamburger style and the top is hot dog (if you ever folded paper in elementary school, you know what I'm talking about). The two peninsulas are separated by the Bosphorus River, a bright and shining river that really is blue. Basically, we got on this bus and drove along the southern coast of the lower peninsula, along the Sea of Marmara, and then cut up through a neighborhood called Aksaray and took the Bosphorus bridge up into Taksim. Along the coast, it reminded me of Tel Aviv. There are amazing little neighborhoods and huge hotels, separated from a grassy beach by a wide road. Cutting up through the city, we passed turn offs into neighborhoods with streets that looked like they were out of a movie set. Everything looks so new and shiny and cosmopolitan. We crossed the Bosphorus bridge, and wound up through the newer neighborhood to Taksim Square. In Taksim, we decided to catch a taxi back down to Old Town, so we quickly hailed a cab, decided on a price, and proceeded to be taken the long way back. This time, we drove west (the wrong way) along the southern coast of the upper peninsula. We were on a big wide street that felt like the Embarcadero in San Francisco, except instead of piers there are hundred years old mosques. It is stunning. We crossed a different bridge further west and snaked our way back east past the Spice Bazaar and finally into Sultanamet. All in all, it took us about an hour to make our journey from the airport to our hostel. And it probably should have taken about twenty minutes. But what a way to begin, taking in the sights of Istanbul.

I suppose it would help all you readers if I could post some pictures to illustrate the sights I speak of. Kristen has figured out how to do this on the hostel computers, and at some point soon I will have her enlighten me. So much more to say about this city so I will write soon. There are tales of naked women with saggy boobs scrubbing me in the Turkish baths, and men who sit in front of their carpet shops all day shouting that they love us. It is also Ramadan, a really exciting time to visit, because the whole city comes out at night to eat and celebrate. What a wonderful place. I'm sure at some point I will direct a new and cutting edge musical about Istanbul, and it will have made sense that I wrote this part of the trip off.

But now I'm going to go eat some Turkish dumplings with a group of people from my hostel.

Elissa

PS- I forgot to mention in my previous post about New York why that part of the vacation should be tax deductible. But I guess it's kind of obvious. Of course I'm going to marry Lin Manuel Miranda, he's going to write a musical about a Latino and a Jew living together in New York City, I'm going to direct it, and it's going to win another Tony. And of course none of that would have been possible without this trip. Totally worth a tax deduction.

Leaving New York City!

Oh my goodness, friends, the last week has been a wild ride. It's kinda crazy that I started off my trip by coming to the city where I'll probably be living very soon. New York takes on a different quality when you start looking at it as a New Yorker (and the Zach, the conductor in the pit at In The Heights said that one is officially a New Yorker when you start giving people directions, which I've done! So I'm a New Yorker without even living here yet! Or, just a visitor with a good sense of direction...) Speaking of In The Heights, I won the lottery yesterday afternoon, and saw it with my friend Dani. We sat in the front row DEAD CENTER, which is why we became friends with Zach. THIS IS THE BEST SHOW EVER. Ok, I shouldn't say that perhaps. I haven't seen every show ever. But it is so beautiful, so moving, so genre-bending while still being structurally a musical, and so visceral. Lin Manuel Miranda, possibly the most beautiful human being ever (ok, I also haven't met every human being), was making eye contact with me and Dani the whole time. So we waited by the stage door and when he came out, we told him that we felt like the luckiest audience members ever, and he said to us:

"Aw! You guys were the cutest audience members ever!"

(I'm guessing Lin Manuel has also not met every audience member of every show ever....)

BUT STILL!!

I'm going to marry him. My life is complete. Or, maybe I'll just go on a whim and hop on a plane to Istanbul this afternoon. Whatd'ya say?

I miss all you crazy kids in LA!!

More anon,
Elissa

PS- XANADU IS ALSO THE BEST EVER. Dan Knechtges, you rock.

The plan

I'm doing the first part of the trip with my friend Kristen Scott:

September 3-8 New York City
September 9-12 Istanbul
September 13 Kusadasi, Turkey
September 13-14 Samos, Greece
September 14-17 The Greek Isles
September 17-19 Athens
September 20 Lake Ohrid, Macedonia
September 21 The Bay of Kotor, Montenegro
September 22-25 Dubrovnik, Croatia
September 25 Split, Croatia
September 26-29 Venice/Padua to visit my brother Davey

And then on the morning of Sept 29, Kristen and I meet up with Michael Schwartz in Munich and we do:

September 29-October 1 Munich (Oktoberfest!)
October 2 Salzburg- yes, we're going to do the Sound of Music Tour
October 3-8 Prague
October 8-11 Vienna (Michael has set up an appointment for us to watch an acting class in Vienna, so I've decided that's the official reason I'm writing off my plane ticket)
October 11-14 Budapest

back to SFO!

I also just signed up for couch surfing today, (www.couchsurfing.com- you should check it out!) so it looks like we may be having some fun adventures on couches throughout Eastern Europe. Can't wait!

I'm writing this whole thing off.

I call the last year of my life my year of "assisting dangerously," a phrase that I borrow lovingly from one of my mentors. You could also call it my personal grad school if you like. I've spent the year getting coffee and lunches, observing rehearsals and taking notes for a variety of different plays. In the meantime I've worked at two different restaurants and repeatedly dodged taking a full time job. And through it all, I've managed to save a small chunk of money. Thanks Mom and Dad :).

The excuse for this trip is that my brother is studying abroad in Padua, and I want to visit him. But really, this whole thing has blossomed into an opportunity to see the world, spend all of the money I have to my name, and learn more about myself as a human being (yes, this is the twenty-something "finding myself" trip- me and my travel partner Kristen both admit it!) This trip also marks the beginning of what seems like it will be a fairly prolonged nomadic stage in my life. I have lots of ideas of things I want to do with my career in the next few years, and a few leads that may or may not pan out. But either way, it looks like I'll be living in Los Angeles, New York, and elsewhere in spurts of time over the coming years. So this trip is an opportunity to learn how to live out of a backpack, how to eat and sleep for cheap, and how to go where the road takes me. All important lessons for life and for a career. And for that reason, I'm writing the whole thing off.

PS- Don't show this to the IRS.