A love letter to one of my favorite cities…

Dear San Francisco,

I think you’re swell.

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You may not be the biggest, brightest, or most diverse city in the world, but I like you just the same. When I was younger it was my dream to get to know you better, and I have. Even after all these years, there’s still so much to learn about you. There’s always new sights to see, neighborhoods to discover, and delicious things to eat.

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(A beautiful view of Downtown from Potrero Hill)

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(Infamous Mission Dolores Park)

I like that I can take my parents to meet you, and that you almost always make a good impression on my friends. We do need to talk about how grossly expensive your rent is and how smelly you get sometimes. Your hygiene could be improved, and some of those tech guys you hang out with can be a real pain-in-the-ass.

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But I really do love your cooking. You make the best coffee and donuts around. I’m glad I don’t live with you, or else I would weigh 500 pounds.

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(Dynamo Donuts! Chocolate Rose, Caramel de Sel, and Strawberries and Cream)

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(Bombolinis with cream filling at the Ferry Building)

You have some of the best people watching around, and I enjoy how accepting you are of everyone from all walks of life. You can be a little rough around the edges, but you’re full of hidden gems. I love all your different neighborhoods- it’s like twenty little cities in one. If I feel like shopping all day, I can meet you downtown. In the Mission, I can find the best food: Cuban, Italian, Mexican, French, fusion. The people watching and the coffee is always fantastic there. I go the Marina when I want to surround myself with young people, beautiful neighborhoods, or maybe some of the finer things in life. The Haight is colorful and entertaining to explore, and I can find my favorite hot toddy in the Castro, along with the most beautiful views of the city.

So maybe you could call me sometime? Or I could call you? There are other cities for me to explore, and so many things for me to see. I would hate for you to miss out.

Love,

EVA♥

First Fridays.

Hey everybody! It’s the first Friday of the month!

Usually, this is the time for great goings-on in the East Bay (Drake’s Brewing Company, Oakland Art Murmur), but a lot of these events have unfortunately been canceled due to the rain. As many of you know, California is in the midst of  a drought, so the rain is quite a welcome sight today. And, with the rest of the country dodging the Polar Vortex, us Californians have it pretty good. I admit that we’re grossly spoiled. Another thing that I will gladly admit is that, for some unknown reason, rain seems to send us into a tailspin. People forget how to drive and frantically veer around the highway. Walking to school or work suddenly becomes a game of Frogger (remember that one 80’s babies?). Actually, forget going anywhere altogether. We pretty much barricade ourselves inside. Because you never know when that acid-rain thing is going  to happen, right?

I’ve never been one of those people that inherently loves the rain, but I certainly can appreciate it. I appreciate it’s ability to slow me down a bit, and it always provides an excuse to wear that new coat/pair of boots/chunky knit you’ve been guarding in the back of your closet. I also appreciate the free car wash.

Sometimes the rain is the only thing that cures my restlessness. This weekend, I’m planning on doing some vintage-dress hunting, some cooking/fridge cleaning, writing, movie-watching, and cocktail sipping. Ok, maybe throw in some dancing around in my socks à la”Risky Business.” Why else do you live alone?!

IMG_0811(I spy with my little eye, a little Hyperbole and a Half)

IMG_0802( I Are Writing. See!)

What are you all up to?

Happy weekend!

EVA♥

The Sad Jeans.

Hey y’all. (Am Southern today)

I’m sure you have all heard the expression ‘skinny jeans.’

Now, I don’t mean skinny jeans as in the kind you have to peel off your body like a banana; the popular leggings-masquerading-as-denim kind. I’m talking about the skinny jeans that you save in the back of your closet, your “goal weight” jeans, as it were. The jeans that you fit in in high school and will shove yourself back into one day. Well, I don’t have a pair of skinny jeans. I have something I like to call “sad jeans.”

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Sad jeans are the jeans I fit into on those days I’ve decided that eating is for wussies. Days when I’m too sad about life to function, and my best friends become frosting with a spoon sticking out of it and bottle of champagne.

Now, being as my usual body type is close to stick figure with absurd boobs comically stuck on the front, if I have too many of these days, I will comically deflate, and the only pants that will fit me are my sad jeans. Don’t get me wrong, just because I call them my sad jeans doesn’t mean that they look sad. There are no suspicious stains or holes. They are not over-sized and don’t drag on the ground behind me. They are the darkest, tightest, spanx-looking jeans I could find, so low rise that the fly measures under two inches. (Note that if I am having a regular day and wear sad jeans, things get really uncomfortable fast). Sad jeans are so tight they are like a big hug. They say to me “It’s okay if you’re lonely, because I’m here, and I make your flat butt look good.” Throw on your favorite lipstick and you’re ready to go. Never mind that I can only wear sad jeans when all of my other jeans need to be scrunched up around my hips with a belt in order to stay up.

The good thing is is that sad jeans have not made an appearance in my life for quite a while, although they do make an occasional show on laundry day. As Stephen Chbosky put it: “So this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I’m still trying to figure out how that could be.”

There are some days when it’s easy to be carefree, days where you can buy flowers, and bake a cake for yourself. Visit a new city and see all the different faces and places. And some days where it’s not so easy. But, for me, that’s what altogether too much eyeliner and a sharp outfit is for. When in doubt, bust out the sad jeans and start being a little kinder to yourself.

Love,

EVA♥

Five Things

Hey everybody!

It’s Five Things Wednesday already! This week has been particularly exciting for me, not really because of any epic goings-on, but simply because I’ve been reading/writing my pants off. Oh, and you know that little button on my side-bar over there? The one that says follow? If you click it, amazing things will happen. Puppies will fall from the sky and I will bake you a cake and personally deliver it to your house.*

*I unfortunately can’t guarantee that this exact thing will happen, but I can say that you will be my favorite. : )

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(Nutella Banana bread, courtesy of the fantastic Joanna Goddard and her blog, A Cup of Jo. And Zoë Bakes)
Speaking of cake, it’s World Nutella Day! What better way to celebrate than to put your nutella in. a. cake? My mind is blown.
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(“Shrimp Dumpling in Rabbit Shape” from Hang Ah Tea Room in SF. Look at the little ears!)
I don’t know what it is about this colder (I use this term loosely) weather that has me obsessively thinking about dim sum. Admittedly, I was at first totally put off by the idea of having such savory food for breakfast, but add some green tea, and it just feels right. It’s quite the opposite of my usual morning routine (carbs + coffee) so it feels like a refreshing reset.
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(My favorite drink, at one of my favorite local cafés)
I had a meet-up this week that has me quite excited about life, in general. I’m working towards filling my life with the people and the work I love. It’s too precious to waste doing things you don’t want to do.
(Ellie Goulding “Tessellate”)
Recent song discovery. Love the video as well; Paris in black and white is a classic.
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(Best quote. That is all.)
No mud. No lotus.
EVA♥

Horrifying Moments in My Life as a Dancer

Hi All!

Remember when I used to be a ballerina? The title of this post is entirely self-explanatory.

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Now that I think about it, I review most of these moments quite frequently, usually as cautionary or self-esteem building tales for my students. And I mean building their self-esteem. They did quite the opposite for me, but I lived through them, so it’s really not so bad.

The Time I Fell. Really Hard.

I was a freshman in college, recently accepted to the dance program with zero idea as to what I was doing with myself. It was during the 8am ballet class- I had new block-like pointe shoes strapped to my feet and was already exhausted. We were doing some sort of waltzing thing that I loved, but the moment I took my first step, I hit a slick spot in the floor and my standing leg flew out from under me with enough force to send me completely horizontal before hitting the ground. Winded, I looked up at everyone’s ankles around me, and when the pianist didn’t stop playing, I dragged myself out of the incoming dancers’ way. Not only could I not breathe and was mortified, I was now crawling across the floor like Herbert the Pervert’s dog from Family Guy. I was more embarrassed than anything that day, but when I woke up the next morning feeling like someone was standing on my chest, I ended up at the student health clinic having x-rays done to ensure that I had not cracked any ribs. Turns out, I had bruised them significantly enough for me to not be able to move my torso for a week or two (or breathe without huffing), but was essentially fine.

The Time I Forgot Everything.

I think this is the moment that is most relieved as a teaching tool. I frequently ask my student’s “Ok…what’s going to happen to you if you forget your choreography? Yeah, nothing.” Every dancer I have ever spoken with has had this moment at some point in their life. Mine came right after a barrage of academic college finals, when it was finally time to present my solo that I had been working on for the last month in choreography class. I had spent hours staring at scantrons, and somehow, when I got onstage my brain was not able to transition from global economics back to dance quick enough. With my peers and the entire dance faculty watching, I got through the first 16 counts of my solo and stopped. I came to a grinding halt and stood staring at everyone. The music was kindly restarted for me, and I was prompted to take a few deep breaths and begin again. I did. Around the same time, I stopped again. My piece was bumped to the bottom of the program and I walked stoically into the hall to force myself to regurgitate what I had spent weeks working on. I had the option of improvising my entire solo, but I was so furious at myself at this point that I had to preserve my pride and remember everything. And I did, with a few extra embellishments. I could almost laugh about it afterwards, as my classmates came up to me one-by-one and regaled me with their own stories. It did make it a bit easier, especially knowing that my forgetfulness was not out of my being a “bad dancer,” but simply being mentally overwhelmed with projects at the time. Anyway, dancers are way tougher than they look.

The Worst Audition. Ever. 

I auditioned for a local ballet company back in the summer of 2010. I saw a few familiar faces, which was nice, but right as I walked in with an index card pinned to my chest (“Number 6, Thank you very much.”), I saw a face that I recognized all too well. At my studio, we once referred to her as “The Evil.” I’m not even joking. My ballet teacher from childhood, known for her freezing, bony hands and looks of deep disgust/disapproval, was sitting at the side of the room along with other members of a panel. I thought that maybe if I didn’t make eye contact with her, she would go away. She did not, and my avoidance was futile and made me look like a crazy person. Not only did I have to feel her eyes boring holes into my back as I danced, but the studio used for the audition was intended for modern, slick enough that you couldn’t find purchase in your satin shoes if you coated the bottoms in chewing gum.  I watched dancers drift and slip, and decided for the first time in my life that I was deliberately going to dance half-assed so I could get the hell out of there faster. When my number was not called to stay, I grabbed my things and all but ran to the parking lot in my tights and leotard. I remember having to consciously walk slowly and look disappointed as I left so as not to arouse suspicion. As I jogged to my car, I couldn’t help to feel like I was being followed, but my fear had manifested itself in some sort of bizarre, giddy adrenaline. I realized that, as much as I loved ballet, there are some things I just won’t put up with.

Love,

EVA♥

I Woke Up Like This

To echo Beyonce: I woke up like this. That’s my story and I’m sticking with it.

I know, I know, we’ve all had those mornings where one look in the mirror is enough to horrify you back in to bed. The static bed head, the puffy eyes, the pillow creases, topped off with a vacant expression that says: “YES! I can’t wait to go to work today.” The last year or so, I’ve become all too familiar with this. Let me preface this that I somehow had to make myself look alert and put together at 6:00am. In order to survive the endless early mornings, I slapped together a little morning routine that I did not, and have not, strayed from since. This is the once place in my life that I am admittedly a bit OCD about. I need my morning routine, things don’t feel the same without it. (And everything has to go in a specific order. Strange, I know, but when you’re sleep-walking through the morning, it comes in handy.)

Step 1: Basic Hygiene. Fun things like brushing one’s teeth, washing one’s face, applying deodorant and sunscreen. These are mandatory, I don’t care how early it is.

Step 2:  I turn to my fabulous makeshift vanity. You are correct, it happens to be on top of my toilet tank.

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Products employed in Step 1: Sunscreen and lip balm. Also pictured is one of my favorite scents: Philosophy’s Unconditional Love.

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Please disregard the hole in the wall- I have no idea why it’s there. It’s typically covered by the empty Baijiu bottle that I now employ, rather futilely, as a brush holder. 

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As you can tell, I am a rather fanatic collector of lip products and also enjoy more than my fair share of Lush. More on that later.

Here’s where you can get really creative! If you’re awake enough, that is. For Step 2, I typically use the below pictured products:

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To cut some corners, I enjoy using a BB cream. I can haphazardly apply this and not worry about looking unnatural. I am also unusually attached to my Mac Select Cover Up (I wear the shade NW20). If I had to pick only one product to apply, this would be it. I like to follow this up with NYC Sunny Bronzer, Tarte Amazonian Clay blush in “Exposed,” (for the most natural flush), and Mac’s In for a Treat PearlMatte face powder. I had no intention of buying this, but I stumbled upon one of the last few at the Berkeley Mac and couldn’t leave it. Who can resist those pressed flowers, especially when they give you a lovely glow?

I have to give a nod to Urban Decay’s Naked 2 Pallet; I was wary of purchasing this at first, but it has proven itself well worth the price. I use it every day, sometimes twice a day, and it is very well-loved. I usually top everything off with a bit of Mac’s “Jest” eyeshadow in the inner corner of my eyes to brighten everything up, as well as some of Clinque’s Lash Doubling Mascara.

If I’m feeling fancy, I’ll throw on some of my favorite liner from Mac (in “Prunella,” a dark eggplant shade), along with a quick swipe of a lip product. My current favorite happens to be one of the Maybelline Baby Lips in Pink Glow that I purchased while in Auckland. Apparently this is not yet available outside of NZ/Australia, but it’s one of those self-adjusting shades that looks incredibly natural on.

Step 2 typically takes me a little over 5 minutes to complete. I tend to lean toward the more natural end of the spectrum when it comes to beauty/makeup application. Growing up I was never allowed to wear makeup, so when I did, it had to be as indiscernible as possible. The strict upbringing didn’t allow for a ton of fun, but at least it saved me from looking back on year book photos of myself covered in mismatched foundation and raccoon eyes. I guess everything has a silver lining, even with less than glamorous beginnings.

EVA ♥

Valentine’s Day: An Excuse to Eat More Chocolate

Ah, Valentine’s Day. No matter what we call you (Single’s Awareness Day, S.A.D, just-another-Friday) you’re a day of high expectation. If you’re happily coupled your partner better put on a good show: thoughtful gifts, reservations at your favorite restaurant, etc.

A quick tip:

Gentlemen: avoid the joke card. Avoid it like the plague, it never goes over well and is confusing, at best.

Ladies: buy yourself that thing you really wanted. Jewelry, flowers, whatever! Don’t wait for someone to come along and give it to you. It’s how I ended up with these lovely things. And, if you’re me, find someone who appreciates you enough to deserve this gem. Thank you, Allie Brosh.

Back to the subject at hand: disregarding my relationship status, I’ve made it a Valentine’s tradition over the last few years to look fantastic, get together with some friends and do something indulgent. Now, I’ve noticed there are plenty of sites out there suggesting date night ideas, typical pink-and-red events crawling with besotted couples. But, fear not, dear reader. I have put together my list of things to do on Valentine’s day. For those of you looking for something a bit…different.

19722_207959772682904_1773427100_n(A Pixie and A Drunken Ballerina)

One of my favorite choices for the evening has to be American Cupcake in SF. This place is all kinds of wonderful/ridiculous. And, yes, if you were wondering, the caption above denotes the drinks pictured. The Pixie involves champagne, violet liqueur, and pixie stix. The Drunken Ballerina is simply champagne, jazzed up with some massive sprinkles, with a ballerina on top. These are flanked by a cotton candy and bubblegum cupcake. For those of you with less of a sweet tooth, they also serve dinner, and have whimsical “flights” of either beer or wine accompanied by mini cupcakes.

Should technicolor sweets and drinks not be your thing, never fear. Here’s a list of foolproof combos to make any Valentine’s day special:

Your favorite Hole-in-the-Wall + Latest horror movie

The local pub + Board games (in my case: The Hob Nob and Cards Against Humanity make for a fun night!)

The Trashy-on-Purpose Bar + … (Let the games begin!)

If you’re in the SF Bay Area, I highly recommend Butter. This place has everything: drinks served in paper bags, fried food, and 90’s television.

A Microbrewery + Burgers & Fries

An All-American choice. Lucky 13 in Alameda has a big place in my heart, and with a quality burger from Scolari’s next-door, you can’t go wrong. For a slightly healthier option, venture to Beer Revolution in Oakland and grab a Southern fried tofu sandwich at Souley Vegan.

…and 

If all else fails, crack open a bottle of champagne, bake some cookies, and play hostess. Nothing like a good group of friends to make an evening special.

Ladies: Be sure to wear those crazy, man-repelling things you own as well. All of them. At the same time. I won’t judge you.

Love,

EVA♥

Phenomenal: A 2014 SFB Gala Review

sfbgala2014Photo courtesy of Sfballetblog; Talk to Her (Hable con Ella)

Hi everyone! I spent a cozy night in this Friday, because this last Wednesday was eventful enough. That’s right, gala season has begun. I attended this years’ San Francisco Ballet Opening Night Gala (appropriately entitled Phenomenal), which has to be one of my favorite events of the year. When else is it entirely appropriate to wear an evening gown on a weekday? Being a self-proclaimed ballet nerd, I, of course was altogether too excited to attend. I love the sense of tradition of it, from the prosecco promenade (aka drink as much free prosecco as you can in 10 minutes!) to the march to the city hall afterparty following the show. It also has some of  the best people-watching around, especially if you appreciate over-the-top fashion. It’s most definitely a see and be seen event.  Here’s a quick picture of myself and the lovely ladies I was with that night:

2gala14(Why am I so tan?! Oh, that’s right, I had a spontaneous week of summer recently…)

They were fantastic company, and both had never been to the ballet at the Opera House before! The grandeur of it is really something else, and I think it made ballet fans of them both. The program for the night was the typical mixed bill, featuring previews of programs for the season, as well as some gala exclusives. The gala performance began with a pas de cinq from Giselle, lovely “happy yellow dance.” Bear in mind that when I use this term, I don’t actually mean the dance involved an abundance of yellow, but use this generalization to indicate the the piece was cheerful, non-offensive and non-divisive; a lovely classic way to begin any performance. Following this was a pas de deux, “Talk to Her,” which initially premiered at the 78th Gala- one that I had also previously attended. With live accompaniment, this piece was exquisite and sensual. Lorena Feijoo and Vitor Luiz’s spiraling movements added to the drama, a beautiful game of tug of war if there ever was one. Frances Chung followed with the only female solo from “Lambarena.” Sufficiently lightening the mood, this quirky African-inspired piece along with it’s predecessor, provided some diversity in the evening’s relatively classical line-up. Simone Messner and Ruben Martin Cintas presented an excerpt from “Who Cares?” You really can’t go wrong with good old George, in this case, both Gershwin and Balanchine. Hans van Manen’s Variations for Two Couples was quite modern and abstract. A thin rope draped across the upstage portion of the theater, dividing the space above and below the dancers. Both the movement and music reminded me quite strongly of John Neumeier’s “The Little Mermaid,” yet the high-gloss unitards the dancers wore were dated and somewhat unflattering. Contrasting the modern with the classic, “Diana and Acteon” followed, a premiere for SF Ballet danced by Vanessa Zahorian and Taras Domitro. They danced spectacularly, despite the obviously slick floor. What perplexed me the most about the piece was, oddly enough, the audiences reaction. Yes, dancers are human, they are allowed to slip and do. When the woman in front of me exclaimed out loud “Oh my god! What happened?!” I started to think that there might be something wrong with the general public’s view of the performing arts. Ballet places an almost reckless amount of emphasis on the ethereal- athleticism to an inhuman extent. The dancers that you so often see on stage have been forcing their bodies in to entirely unnatural positions since they could walk. Does your leg go upside of your head of it’s own volition? Imagine attempting this and then having to make it look easy. The unfortunate thing is, ballet teaches you to be self-scrutinizing to a fault. From my experience, almost no one is as hard on themselves as a dancer is. So, dear audience, lighten up. Did you not just see someone fall, and then get up and continue to deliver a beautiful performance with ridiculous vigor? Please stand and clap for the artistry.

 Act II featured some of my favorite pieces: “Les Lutins,” a whimsical and engaging piece that integrated movement and music in more ways that one. With a pianist and a violinist onstage, the dancers, similarly clothed, engaged in some good-natured competition and flirtation. The audiences’s ensuing laughter was refreshing- it was a dance you couldn’t help but smiling through. The pas de deux from “Concerto” intrigued me. Set to the 2nd movement of  Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto No. 2, it’s impressive and thematic moments of stillness were complemented by three pairs of dancers hidden in the shadows upstage. Their movements echoing the featured couple, I found myself wanting them to engage more, but they were whisked offstage altogether too soon.”Grande pas Classique” showcased former Paris Opera soloist Mathilde Froustey (now SFB principal) and Davit Karapetyan with it’s quintessentially classic choreography. I believe my favorite piece was “Finding Light,” a San Francisco premier choreographed by Edwaard Liang, danced by Yuan Yuan Tan and Damian Smith. It began and ended with a rectangle of light onstage, framing the dancers in their simple grey costumes. It’s movement was spiraling and quite modern, with dancers coiling around each other and sliding along the stage.

The performance itself was entertaining, but then again, so were some of the colorful characters in the audience. Apparently some people do not realize that attending a ballet involves sitting. Ladies, please be thoughtful in your dress choices. That skin-tight, elaborate red dress with the giant crumb catcher may seem like a good idea, but when you can’t sit down properly and consequently block everyone’s view, we have a problem. On another note, if you’re bringing your straight male partner/significant other/spouse, make sure he is filled with coffee. No one wants to hear him snore during the whole second act of the ballet. And lastly, do not, I repeat do not get up out of your seat during the final curtain call when everyone is clapping. It is beyond rude and disrespectful to the dancers, as well as your fellow patrons at the ballet. You are not deplaning an airplane or at the movies while the credits are running. The artists deserve to be acknowledged for all their hard work.

I’m so glad San Francisco Ballet raised a record $2.4 million dollars with this year’s gala. It’s so heartening to see so many people give so generously to the arts, because it’s such a rare thing nowadays. As a classic art form, ballet wouldn’t be around to appreciate without public support. When I entered the opera house on Wednesday evening, there was barely enough elbow room to make it through the crowd comfortably- it was a completely sold out show. Good job, everyone. And thank you San Francisco, for another amazing and memorable night out. I’ll see you again soon.

EVA ♥

A few thoughts…

Hello lovlies!

After a weekend of watching many fabulous reruns (I love “The Help”!) and taking it easy, I realized there were a few things in the back of my mind that were bothering me, and, inevitably, need to come to fruition on my blog. In the aforementioned movie, the advice given to a young writer is to write about topics that disturb her, particularly if they seem to disturb no one else.

So…

During my travel adventures, I purchased a copy of one of my favorite magazines: Marie Claire. I have a US subscription, but hoped that for almost 10 New Zealand dollars, the Australian version would have great content warranting the high price. I was not disappointed.

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The magazine itself contained a fantastic mix of fluff (beauty, wardrobe advice, summer hair) but also contained some of the most controversial and informative articles I have ever seen in a woman’s magazine. Relationship advice making a case for couples having separate bedrooms was one of the more lighthearted topics. Also discussed were child organ donation between war-torn countries, the survivors of the 2008 Mumbai terrorist attacks, and surgical innovations reversing the damage of female genital mutilation. Instead of redundant “What I like about Me” articles, there was a seemingly uncensored survey on how the world views Australians. Don’t get me wrong, I love the lighthearted, self-esteem building articles featured in the American magazines, but reading something that combined both lifestyle pieces and current events on a equal level was refreshing. I wasn’t frustrated with this disparity until I received the latest issue of American Marie Claire in the mail. About half-way through the magazine, I noticed a number of articles specifically targeting young, single women. Most of them were written in a tone of encouragement, empowerment, even. “Choose Your Own Adventure!” some of them said, “Meet the New Single Girl.” And then, at the far back, was a piece thrown in that looked liked this:

20 – the best biological age for getting pregnant

27- the average age of first marriage in the US. When female fertility starts to decline.

 31- the best age to have your first baby

35- the best age to be done having babies

34- the age at which women are happiest with their bodies

74- when women are happiest

Please note that these selections are entirely verbatim from Marie Claire, February 2014

The title for this listing was “Sorry, Wrong Number” and cited differing sources following each number listed. I love that you encourage female empowerment and slap these arbitrary numbers on the back of your magazine. I guess my fertility is declining right now and my “new” single self  has some thinking to do. I understand that this information was included within the magazine to provoke discussion, but I can’t help but be disturbed by their cavalier attitude, carrying on about how being single is no longer “a layover on the way to (…)partnered bliss”  right next to big, bold red numbers of what the average female life is decidedly like. Please also note that these numbers were printed next to advice from “The Text Whisperer,” explaining convoluted texts from the opposite sex. Because how else will I know that the guy I’m speaking to is a total jerk who objectifies me?  I call your bluff, Marie Claire. You highlight beautiful, strong, intelligent women in your magazine, and I think you did them a disservice by publishing this. It was inappropriate, especially after all your articles praising real women and their bravery and intelligence. If you thought more highly of your readers, you would have realized that we appreciate being viewed as more than just a statistic. We already know these numbers, and we’re discerning enough to know better.

EVA♥

Five Things (New Zealand Edition!)

Hello All!

Welcome to a special edition of ‘Five Things!’ As many of you know, I spent a bit of time browning myself and enjoying summer in the Southern Hemisphere at the beginning of this year. Armed with my journal, I had every intention of documenting the details of my trip. Instead, what I ended up with was two entries, written either on the plane or in the airport, word-vomiting all of the highlights that I could remember. Yes, you will be privy to this information as soon as I can make sense of my notes (involving many arrows) and chicken scratch. I did, however, manage to play the tourist, and get some lovely snapshots of the things I saw. I confessed to my travel buddy that one of my favorite things to do in a foreign country is to eat all of the strange foods I can find, and to peruse the supermarkets for unnecessarily long periods of time. After running up and down the aisles of Countdown (the Kiwi equivalent of Safeway) the very first time, I created an edible bucket list that I dreamed of fulfilling as quickly as possible. And I did. So, here you go!

Five Things….That I Ate in New Zealand

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(Kiwi-style Chicken Burger in Tauranga)

One of the first things I learned about cuisine in New Zealand is that they like to top their burgers with big slices of beetroot. This was a very good surprise to a girl that has loved beets since before she can remember. Another variation includes a fried egg and some bacon. Yum! Enjoyed this lovely meal at TOI, a cafe adjacent to a climbing gym by the name of “Vertical Assault.” Semi-awkward gym name, if there ever was one.

icecream!

(Tip Top Ice Cream, Boysenberry on the left, Candy Floss on the right)

To say that I liked the ice cream in New Zealand would be an understatement. Let me be frank and say that all of their ice cream tasted like butter. Yes, very distinguishable butter flavor. Who doesn’t like their butter with a little sugar? I also enjoyed the variety of  unique flavors that they had: Candy Floss (aka Cotton Candy), passion fruit, orange chocolate chip, tropical, something called “Gold Rush,” raspberry lemon fizz, lime swirl, and Hokey Pokey. “What’s hokey pokey?” You might ask. The explanation on the carton was: hokey pokey flavored ice cream, with hokey pokey pieces. Make sense? After a taste test, we found out it was just sugary sweet toffee.

IMG_0732(Lattes at One2One in Ponsonby)

This might fall in to the “Things I Drank” category, but I just had to share. After living off of instant coffee while camping, nothing is better than real espresso with nice, thick foam. We wandered in to this lovely cafe in Ponsonby while visiting Auckland. Not only was the coffee lovely, but so was the beautiful garden patio out back. Despite the fact that the garden was filled with the most massively aggressive little birds I’ve ever encountered, we enjoyed some much needed down time here. Remember, just because the birds are small, doesn’t mean they won’t pull your cookie right out of your hand as you eat it. Defend your pastries, everyone.

IMG_0741(CHEEZELS.)

Pardon the blurry car photo, but I had to share. If a cheese puff and a Cheez-it had babies, they would be Cheezels. And also amazing.  I first purchased this treat from a gas station in Matamata on our way to the Shire. Everyone was silent until we finished the bag, refusing to get out of the car until the last Cheezel was consumed. I brought two bags back with me, but alas, they are already gone.

IMG_0745

(Best. Dinner. Ever. Jammin’ Cream Donut ice cream.)

This, ladies and gentleman, is a photo of myself, in the car, eating ice cream for dinner.

As many of you know, being an independent adult, I have made it my mission in life to do and/or eat all the things my parents told me not to. That is how this photo came to be. I am clearly very excited. But, who wouldn’t be a pint of cinnamon-and-cream flavored ice cream with donut pieces and raspberry jam swirl in your hands? I dare you not to be thrilled. And, yes, Hawaiian Airlines, this is the reason why I did not want you to wake me up and serve me dinner at 1am. I was full. Thank you very much.

Love,

EVA ♥