Christina Morelli

Oh London… I really like you.

Day 5 and in my third place of rest… it’s just like home!

Seriously though, I have to admit I love this city.  Aside from the drill sergeant at Customs wanting to know how much money I had in my account to stay here for two months (note to self: from here on out I’m simply an excited tourist… damn me and my honesty), everyone and everything has been wonderful so far.  

My first night I had the pleasure of meeting up with the lovely and talented Alex Berger, who introduced me to some local singer-songwriters after a heart-racing game of Frisbee in the park.  He’s actually in New York now, so if you’re in the city on October 23 you should definitely check out his show at Rockwood Music Hall.

On Saturday I ventured over to Holland Park, which quickly became one of my favorite neighborhoods here.  Rich with trees, cafes, parks, and clean and classic buildings, I felt like I was walking through a movie set as I made my way to dinner at the secret restaurant, Nomad Chef.  I cannot say enough wonderful things about Shelley Taylor, our host and chef, who put together a delicious meal (complete with tofu for the vegetarians!) and dessert in her beautiful flat.  At dinner I was able to meet and mingle with about 15 complete strangers, exchanging numbers, drinking and even a little dancing to complete the night.  The concept of this “secret restaurant” is brilliant- it’s a perfect way to meet new people and enjoy a night of socializing while maintaining the comfort and intimacy of dining at home.  Some nights she has live entertainment featuring local singer-songwriters, and other nights she’s busy being booked for private parties and events.  We’re working on getting Shelley and her magnificent hosting skills to NY and NJ in a few weeks… you don’t know how lucky you are!

Sunday was recovery and work mode… aside from wandering and meeting up with some great people and business contacts here I’ve spent a great deal of time in cafes mapping, planning, e-mailing and writing in prep for the upcoming weeks of travel.  Wednesday I head out to Frankfurt, Germany, making my way through Stuttgart, Zurich, Munich, Amsterdam, Haarlem, and Paris before coming home to England and getting settled.  

Another note: the Tube system here is great. Easy to navigate, not overly crowded and extremely clean.  Not one person gave me a dirty look as I made my way on and off with my 90 pounds of luggage…  Not even when I rolled over their feet.  London definitely wins in the public transportation department!

Today is a warm and windy fall day, and I’m taking some time to explore the West End before heading back to Flat #3 in Camden.  Missing you all in New York, but excited to share everything I’m experiencing along the way.

Love. XOXO

10 Things To Do Before Next Wednesday.

1. Go to Red Mango and get Pumpkin Spice yogurt with dark chocolate chips and graham crackers. Yum.

2. Eat pizza. More yum.

3. Learn German, French, and Dutch. Not so much yum.

4. Buy back ups for back ups of back ups of all my electronic equipment.

5. Buy extra fast sneakers to run after any potential thieves who may try to steal from me (they will NOT get away with it this time).

6. Say goodbye to my fall wardrobe, and hug each pair of boots, one at a time.

7. Eat more pizza and Red Mango. (aka feed my inner fat girl)

8. Learn how to drive on the wrong side of the road (I am kind of an expert at that already).

9. Find a coat that can be worn in three of the four seasons, since I was just informed the weather is summer-like in London, with snow in the near forecast.

10. And the thing I’m least looking forward to doing… Pack. 

One week!

NYC Art Scene »

Saying Goodbye.

I’ve never been really good at goodbyes.  I suppose no one is, really, but there are those that manage to put up their walls in those instances and for that I am somewhat jealous.  When I’m leaving, all my walls come crashing down.

This week has been an emotional one, with scrambling to finish up writing projects, packing, going back and forth to NYC every night to see friends, and making my lists to ensure I have everything I need.  Last night was my final night out in the city, tonight I’ll say goodbye to family, and tomorrow night I anxiously await that 3 am car ride to JFK to board JetBlue bright and early Sunday morning.

I can’t believe it’s finally here.

For the first time since I booked the trip, I’ve started to feel nervous.  Butterflies float in and out of my stomach a few times a day as I try to process exactly where I’m going, what I’m doing, and what I hope to take away from it.  Saying goodbye to friends was especially hard, because the reality is I don’t know where I will end up when I return.  I haven’t simply taken a fork in the road, I pretty much found a random path in the woods and just took off running.  It’s a pattern I’ve grown familiar with, but never have I ventured so far as a new country to explore on my own.

Nonetheless, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.  The most important things I’m taking with me are my journal and my camera, both which I plan to use daily.  The main things I’m leaving behind are my computer, Facebook and Twitter.  It’s time for a little technology and social networking detox in my life.  I’m experiencing a strange mixture of feeling separation anxiety while looking forward to spending my time writing, reading, exploring my surroundings, and being a little MIA for a bit.

The next time I write I’ll be sharing my stories from an internet cafe in San Ramon.  I hope you’ll join me there.  

Until then, peace and love.

Adios, NYC.  You will be missed.

Bye Bye Chelsea.

It’s hard to believe that just a year ago I moved into my first studio apartment in Manhattan.  For those that know me, the first two months of living and adjusting to the poorly kept and slightly chaotic space led to quite an accumulation of stories and tales, ones that will live on long after I continue my travels beyond the Hudson River.  In honor of one era ending and the beginning of yet another brand new adventure, I’ve compiled a list of my infamous love/hate relationship with D3.

Here’s to the memories… at least some of my favorites.

1.  Discovering a dead mouse, amongst other things, the day I moved in.  Discovering a live one in the months that followed.  I will never forget the night I woke up to him crawling up my window, right next to my bed.  Way to invade my personal space Mickey.

2.  Building, painting, and decorating a 13’ x 8’ space and making it feel like home.  I particularly loved painting the vines that surrounded my archway, and finding ways to make storage items look pretty.  Thank God for Pier One, the Container Store, Target, Home Depot and Bed, Bath and Beyond.  It truly takes a village.

3.  Waking up every morning to the big tree outside my window.  Especially when I woke up early enough to catch the morning light… a golden glow that illuminated the fire escape as the sun came up.  It was a rare moment of peace.

4.  Living in a fourth floor walk-up.  Great for the ass, a nightmare when moving. Or when you would get to the bottom of the steps and realize you forgot something upstairs.

5.  Grey Dog. And Grey Dog chocolate chips cookies.  Right. Next. Door.

6.  Daily walks to Hudson River Park, laying out and lunching in the circle park, and regular trips to Red Mango.

7.  My writing desk.  A place where I sat staring blankly at times… and typing madly and furiously at other times.  It was my jumping off point to many ideas, pieces, and aspirations… I hope the next time I come back to it, I will be sitting down to write from an even more inspired and successful place.

8.  The kitchen.  I must address the kitchen, with it’s gaping hole in the ceiling and 50 year old confectioners oven (which I insisted be removed for health reasons- I’m pretty sure it had a gas leak). My kitchen window faced my chain-smoking neighbors apartment, and each puff she took would blow directly into the 2x4’ space, filling my nose with the stale scent each time I went to get a glass of water.  It had two little white doors that opened to about 4 tiles, a sink, a mini-fridge (that broke the last month I lived there) and a stove top.  I made many delicious egg white omelettes in that little cell.  It was the most “New York” thing about that place… hands down.

9.  The musical serenade from my next door neighbor.  I always knew what kind of mood he was in… For example, in the first few months he was going through a break up.  I deducted this (the slick detective that I am) because his daily playlist consisted of three Justin Timberlake songs: “What Goes Around Comes Around,” “Cry Me a River,” and “Another Song All Over Again.”  After about a month of this, he moved on to Judy Garland.  Just one particular song.  Also on repeat.  Then came the rebound phase.  The soundtrack to that? Lady Gaga. Obviously.  Last I heard he was blasted techno dance music at 8am.  Glad to see he’s moved on.

10.  The neighborhood.  What a wonderful spot to immerse yourself in and learn to navigate the city.  I spent many nights walking home from the LES and Greenwich Village, taking in the quiet moments on the city streets, discovering architecture, and spending quality time with my iPod.  I could be at a venue in 10 minutes, BK in 15 minutes, uptown in 20 minutes, and Jersey in a half hour.  You just can’t beat that.  

The memories. For better or worse, that apartment took me through one of the biggest transitional years of my life.  If those walls could talk, they would spill stories of love, friendship, fighting, tears, laughter, frustration, hope, sleepless nights, wonderful nights, sleepovers, music, dressing up, dressing down, and so much more.

We had a good run D3.  I’ll miss you.

Letting Go

This morning I was thinking about the past year of my life, and how much has changed, when it hit me that a year ago this week I made the most difficult speech of my life to date.  I stood before a group of students and their parents, all who were loyal followers of my dance studio business, and had to announce to them that at the end of that school year, the studio would be closing.  I explained through broken words and tear-filled eyes that after exploring many options, I was left with no choice but opt out of a lease renewal and close the doors in May.  Most of these people had been with me since my doors had opened 5 years prior.  I watched their families grow, and I watched their families break apart.  We shared stories of school, boys, family, life, love, heartache, business, birth, and death.  Most of these students and their parents knew more about my life than my own family and friends.  R.E.A.C.H. had been a second home for all of us.  In the months that followed before the closing, the reactions were mixed.  Some of the people I was closest with stopped speaking to me.  I suppose they resented me for not telling them sooner, or for abandoning them, or for failing.  A huge part of ME felt like a failure, as I packed up the 3,000 square feet I had built from scratch, giving away pictures that hung on the wall, selling equipment at a sickeningly reduced rate, closing down accounts and shutting down services.  Each time I checked one more item off the list I felt more and more like a traitor to myself.  This was supposed to be my dream… it was the only thing I knew I wanted to do with life and the only thing everyone else knew me as- Christina, the dance studio owner.  Now what?  What was I qualified for?  How could I be successful in another field with no prior experience or training?

I needed an escape from Philadelphia, because I no longer felt comfortable with my life there.  27, single, and miserable, I spent 3-4 nights a week driving or taking the train to NYC to see friends and check out live music shows. I started a blog about the arts.  I networked, I interviewed, and I wrote.  I wrote away the pain of my heartache.  I wrote away the pain of my failure.  I wrote away the pain of my loneliness.  I lost myself in the lives of others so I no longer had to focus on my life.  And that made me happy.  In this escape, this therapy, this avoidance of who I was at the time, something crazy happened….

I found myself.

I found friends who completed the missing parts of my heart.  In less than a year we’ve been through some of life’s most difficult ups and downs, and I finally understand the meaning of unconditional love in a way I had only seen with family.

I found an apartment that is the smallest place I’ve ever lived, and on the day I moved it was hands down the filthiest place I ever lived.  I made it home.  It is now more “me” than any other dwelling I’ve inhabited.

I found peace with my parents, and my guilt that I had let them down after all the opportunities and support they provided me with the past 6 years.

I found a city that accepts me for who I am.  Where it’s OK to have a different career path every week, and it’s OK to go a month (or several) without a steady job.  Where you can be accepted and loved for who you are and not who people expect you to be.  Where everyone understands what you’re going through because they’ve ALL been there… literally.

I found a life.  It’s a hard life, it’s an ungrateful life, but it’s a beautiful life.  I’d be lying if I said it was easy to let go of who I was, grab my parachute, and take that blind leap, hoping there would be ground to land on.  There are days when I feel like the parachute is definitely NOT working.

But I know that ultimately, whether I was floating gently or dropping recklessly, letting go was the only thing that saved me.