A suitcase and some grapes

In the past, I've typically spent New Year's Eve partying like a rock star.
This year, I spent it eating a bowl of sugar covered grapes, with a lot of children, and an empty suitcase.

For those who may not be familiar with this tradition, allow me to explain.
In many parts of Mexico, there are certain traditions which are carried forward from generation to generation every Christmas, New Years and Day of the Kings, on January 6th. Since I was staying at home with the family, who all prefer to keep the tradition alive, we all got dressed up to stay inside! It didn't make sense until later in the evening when crowds of neighbors, family and friends would wonder in and out of the house as they party hopped around town from house to house.

After eating several servings of a scrumptiously prepared meal of Caldo de Camarón (shrimp soup) with tenderly cooked pork roast, vegetables, mole (chilli sauce with- yes, chocolate) and tortillas of course; I struggled to move my inflated belly away from the table. Instead of being grabbed by my date for a midnight kiss, this year I was embraced by several children and each member of the Garcia family for a hug and a toast only after we ate our twelve sugar covered grapes at the stroke of midnight. Each grape is supposed to signify luck for each month of the new year. However, I didn't get to finish all twelve grapes (nervously biting my nails), because I had no more room in my belly after having already overeaten. I also had to run outside of the house after the family, who grabbed suitcases to run around the block in honor of another tradition. While they ran outside, I - belly filled with shrimp,
pork, tortillas and more, waddled behind them like a duck; or more like a woman pregnant with sextuplets!

As we strolled around the dark streets illuminated with Christmas lights and elaborate Nativity scenes in front of each home, we passed countless people in their finest clothing doing the same.
I had to duck out of the way a few times as everyone seemed to be shooting fireworks and guns in the street. Running and ducking behind corners in my blue, satin, above the knee strapless dress, faux fur coat and wedge heels was both exciting and frightening at the same time. When I arrived back to the house I was stunned to see that there were at least forty people who had just suddenly dropped by. Before I went outside only the immediate family (just twelve of us) were there for dinner, but the front door was open so random friends and neighbors on late night walks suddenly kept dropping by. The house party continued until the next afternoon while I went on a hunt to find the six un-eaten grapes I didn't get to finish!

It's salsa time... and I don't mean the food!

Finalmente, fui a bailar salsa!

Although I realize that banda, rock, tejano and norteño are traditionally more popular genres of music in Mexico, I know so many amazing salsa dancers who are from various parts of the country. So naturally I expected that there would be more than just one official salon for dancing salsa. To my dismay, this was not the case.

So after waiting days for the club to re-open on Thursday, I was so excited when Ivan and Nancy took me to MamaRumba to get my salsa fix. My heart filled with anticipation as we pulled up to the club around midnight. There were countless people waiting in line and a small crowd gathered around a man cooking Chicharrón (fried pork rinds) out front. Despite the seductive smell of fresh baked pastries and deep fried food, I practically ran inside and immediately stripped off my many layers of heavy clothing as a death row inmate might consume his last meal.

I have to admit that I was quite pleased with the spacious two-story building, walls adorned modern with Mexican and Caribbean works of art. Both floors were packed wall to wall with people dancing
as if a large cash prize were being awarded to the victors.
The stirring sounds of the clave, timbales and congas roused a carnal appetite deep within me. I felt the hairs on my arm rise when the shrill sound of the trumpets made their debut, as if to command the attention of all who were present. The smooth vocal styling of singers in the ten piece orchestra set my soul at ease. Just as I took a step closer to the stage, I felt a tug at my hand then turned around to find a suavely dressed young man pleading for me to dance with him. Just as I prepared my self to do so, he asked me to wait then disappeared into the crowd. I being my antsy self, turned away on a mission to find someone else to dance with. But before I could, the dapperly dressed mystery man had returned, this time he offered me a white rose, grabbed my free hand to kiss it then said some line I was sure I had previously heard in some romantic comedy from the nineties.
I danced with him once before being whisked away by some other guy.

Eventually I asked an athletic Cuban guy to dance with me and boy did I get the ride of my life! He flipped, dipped and tossed me like croutons in a salad! Although I'm no amateur, it turns out he he's a current salsa dance title holder. Needless to say my muscles were cramping and my lungs thoroughly deprived of oxygen after dancing the 13 minute song with him. I felt as if I had just run a marathon after smoking a pack of cigarettes. Ay! I realized that I hadn't died of exhaustion and gone to salsa heaven when he lifted me from the ground to behold the crowd of people who now encircled us with loud applause and cheers. Suddenly men were tugging on both arms simultaneously to dance with them. I became overwhelmed and hadn't felt so out of shape in a long time. But just as athlete pushes
one self to finish an event, I danced non-stop with around thirty partners.

I was most excited to meet a group of of fellow morenitos from Cuba, who welcomed and embraced me like a family member. After being starred at, poked and prodded at like an alien life form by so many locals all week, it felt good to be accepted and made to feel normal again. The funny thing is that two of the guys insisted I was lying about my not being Cuban. All week I was advised not to advertise that I was from America, and understandably so with all of the kidnappings and bloodshed occurring all over the country. So the one night I finally admitted that I'm part American, an argument ensued over the fact that I didn't dance or speak Spanish like an American so couldn't possibly be so!

After twirling, dipping and sweating until my feet were on fire that night, I had to be pried from the dance floor by my friends who had had their fill of mojitos, crowded walkways and slippery, sweaty bodies grinding against their dry skin all night. Although it may take days for me to recover from this marathon salsa session, I met some wonderful people and got a serious work out all in one stop!

Mexico: The morning after

Absolutely nothing exciting happened today. It was simply a hardcore, shop till you drop marathon of market hopping. I realize that the cupboards were bare, but I wondered if it was really necessary to  visit that many markets for just one meal? Ijole!

Bienvenido a Mexico!

Bienvenido a Mexico! The friendly welcome from my long lost friends warmed my icy skin, which felt frozen in the chilly airport. After nearly eight years of not seeing

my close friend Nancy, I was excited to receive her warm embrace as she and her younger brother Ivan whisked me away from Mexico City’s airport. The unmarked roads flashed me back to Southern Italy’s chaotic streets. Where cars careen past each other like a scene from an action film. I could hardly enjoy the new sights we passed by after realizing that the new camera I Just bought was not working. Anyone who’s spoken to me for more than five minutes knows that my video camera is an extension of my hand. I film any and everything where ever I go. No matter how significant or small. I don’t ever leave the house without it, so I felt completely lost and flustered at the thought of not being able to document every part of my experience.

The next thing that hit me was the ice-cold chill in the air. In addition to checking the weather prior to arriving, I was also told by my local friends that although it can get chilly at night, the temperature warms to the 70’s during the day. So I was ill prepared with my mini skirts and other warm weather clothes I had packed. When I reached the point of putting on every layer that I had, including extra socks, gloves and scarf, and was still shivering – I knew that this trip would get off to a rough start.

Although I hadn’t slept more than 9 hours total over the past three days, I opted to walk with my friends to the market as the suns rays began to shine brightly through the tranquil city street. Colonia Electrisitas is a small, quiet neighborhood just 20 minutes from the city center. It’s a middle-class area with spacious multi-story homes, most adorned with religious statues, Biblical manger depictions and other seasonal decorations. My friends’ family hasn’t lived in this house for years, so they had to some dusting and buy a lot of items just to be able to use the kitchen and other areas of the spacious house. We also had to pump water back into the house to get the faucets working and use special tactics each day to get the hot water to flow. Despite the inconveniences, the Gonzales family went out of their way to make me feel at home. From getting me a portable heater, to making special trips to the market for fresh food to cook special meals every day, and even taking me around the neighborhood to introduce me to all their extended family and neighbors.

When I entered the door I was greeted by Nancy’s exuberant mother Natividad, uncle Horatio and Nancy's three children Max, Valerie and Victoria ages nine, seven and three. I was thrilled when they began dancing to a Michael Jackson song playing from an ornament on their Christmas tree! The children then proceeded to ask me countless questions about Michael and wanted to watch his movie with Ivan and I. I was so to see that they were just as enamored by him as I was when I was when I was their age. Ivan then showed me his  collection of MJ memorabilia which warmed my heart and chilly body.

I took a brief nap then awoke to the wonderful smell of home cooked food in the air. The eight of us ate together then went out to one of the main tourist areas. We ate lunch at an elaborately adorned restaurant nestled inside of a two hundred year old National monument then walked along the main tourist promenade taking photos. Ivan was kind enough lend me his camera for the week, so I took over and began a filming and photography spree - until his camera died!

We went inside a church, cruised past the Presidential palace and even saw hundreds of police officers and soldiers clustered together in large groups, most holding large rifles and adorned in vests filled with ammunition. It was a stark contrast to see so many armed officials at one point, then just a few yards ahead to be greeted by the screams of thousands of children who played on an artificial ski slope, snowmobile track and large ice-skating ring. 

I was constantly reminded of the eminent danger of violence or kidnapping by drug cartel vigilante groups. But at least I was aware of that threat upon my arrival in the country. One thing I was not prepared for however was how awestruck the locals would be of me. I had traveled to a few other cities in Mexico before and had never been stared at so much or felt like such an outcast as I did in this city. From the moment I set foot on the street, men, women and children alike all whipped their heads around to gawk at me as if I were an Avatar from another planet. I experienced extremes such as the drivers of two cars staring so long that they nearly crashed into each other, to people giving me dirty looks and not wanting to touch my hand while exchanging money, to the opposite extreme of groups of people gathering around to take photos with me, telling me how ‘hermosa’ or beautiful I am. I was so overwhelmed with the unexpected attention that I immediately withdrew and felt more nervous to explore the city alone in fear of being targeted by vigilante groups or other random individuals.

On my bus. I had never seen so many guns in my life!

Of all the countries I’ve visited in which I have physically stood out from the locals, I don’t recall ever feeling so out of place as I do here. I was surprised at the lack of diversity present in such an international city. However, when I did come across other apparent foreigners, I noticed that none of them received the same amount of attention as I did. When I asked some locals why they were looking at me that way, some said nothing, while most told me they were fascinated by my skin, hair or some other anomaly. The irony is that so many Mexicans have skin tones as dark as my own and are aware that there are Latino people of African descent from Panama, Cuba, Colombia and many other parts of the world.

So I just couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about.

After a long evening of dodging crowds of people, and taking random photos with strangers, I ended the night watching Toy Story bundled in bed with the family.

Nneka's Notes from Europe... Part Deux

In Switzerland at the French and German borders.

She's Baaaaaaaaaack....This time last year, many of you laughed along with me and at me when I sent out my blogs, "Nneka's notes from the Jungle" and "Nneka's notes from the top of the world"; Now I have a brand new, unstamped passport and I'm back at it again. I was delighted when many of you said you were looking forward to my notes. So for those of you who do not wish to receive these updates while I'm away, please let me know and I will refrain from boring you any further! Ha ha ha!

This time I began my journey in Paris, France, where I stayed in my friend Tariks' cute apartment only minutes away from all of the action in the city. Although I've been to Paris before, this was my first time official introduction to the city. As a result, my timid friend turned tour guide saw to it that I got to see everything Paris had to offer. Tarik even took time off of work to ensure that he could escort me everywhere during my brief stay. He insisted that I sample a variety of famous French cuisine, recommended various artistic and cultural events to attend and even braved ascending the Eiffel tower (for the tenth time) in a huge storm, just so that I wouldn't leave Paris again without experiencing the tower first hand. I was delighted to see this city through different eyes, as I discovered that Paris isn't just museums, fine dining and couture fashion; but also an urban melting pot abound with diverse sub-cultures that truly make this a renaissance city.

Five days later I flew to stay with my friend David in Barcelona. Upon arrival, I was again greeted by a warm, enthusiastic local who was eager to tour me around his city. The funny thing is, not only had I been here before, but I was sure that I had already seen and done everything there was to do in Barcelona. I discovered right away this wasn't the case, as I was whisked away in his two door Hyundai to visit some other historical landmarks that I somehow missed during my last visit. I arrived to the charming, Spanish style apartment, complete with a traditional terrace as well as a hammock hanging from the living room ceiling for added comfort.

And to make things more interesting, my friend and fellow Bally Trainer of many years Mayerling, spontaneously decided to join me for part of the adventure. As I was driving down a busy street, I was shocked to see her eating outdoors at a busy cafe. I had no idea she was in the country! Talk about a small world!! In the week that Mayerling and I spent in Barcelona, we were driven to view all of the architectural masterpieces created by Antoni Gaudí and other iconic Spanish artists.


David and another local named Francisco even took us along on a road trip up the coast to the white sandy beaches of Costa Brava & Girona; where a majestic castle looms over a rocky, seaside cliff. After spending the weekend at our friends' summer home where we swam in turquoise blue waters, visited historical local pueblos and forts, and ate traditional pan con tomate (bread with tomato) at a formal reunion dinner; we truly were able to experience the essence of Cataluña. David also found extra bicycles for us to ride so that we could get some sort of exercise after spending so many days eating rich foods and laying at the beach being lazy! We were even given our own set of keys and spare local cell phone because, as David said, "Mi casa es su casa"... and here in Barcelona, I've learned that this is not only a saying, but a way of life! With a failed attempt to go island hopping by ferry, Mayerling and I decided to fly to the famed hedonistic island of Ibiza. This is where our luck began to go bad. We booked a cheap flight to leave early Wednesday, but missed the flight because we mistakenly arrived at the airport just before 10 P.M. instead of 10 A.M. when our flight left!

So after having to buy new tickets (more cash - ouch!), we had to stay awake through the night in order to get back to the airport to make our 6 A.M. flight. We were crushed when we reached the check in desk and discovered that the gates had just closed before we reached the counter. Had we not already booked connecting flights from Ibiza to London, we would have given up, already having missed TWO flights in a row; but instead we were forced to bargain and beg to try to get on any available flight to Ibiza. So after waiting for hours, we bargained our way onto a flight with a different airline, and by early afternoon had arrived to the sweltering, hot island.

Barcelona Beach Bods!

The worst part is that after missing so many flights, we ended up with only ONE day on Ibiza. Somehow we managed to walk several miles uphill with our luggage to our hotel room, then squeeze in lunch, shopping, a beach workout, traditional beach gathering at sunset, as well as bar hop to more than 15 clubs until sunrise! We even got a whirlwind island tour by hunky, hard-bodied local lifeguard named Álvaro, who charmed us on the beach earlier that day! After dancing the night away, drenched in sweat, Mayerling and I watched the sunrise as we walked from the last dance club to our sky rise hotel to get our luggage, then directly back to the airport to catch a flight to England. We were disappointed that we left our plush hotel (with pool, and balcony view overlooking the ocean) virtually untouched. We hadn't spent more than the thirty minutes it took to shower and dress in our room. If it weren't for the photos and the fact that I now look like I haven't slept in two days (because I haven't), I would have sworn that I only dreamt about Ibiza. Days later, I'm still recovering from all of the wild events on the island... and I don't even drink, as most of you know!

After departing from hot sandy beaches in Spain, we were greeted by windy, rainy weather in London; Mayerling and I were rudely awakened by the cold air as well as following events. After having our flight delayed an hour, we were then stuck on a train for hours due to flash floods from a sudden storm! After being detoured away from the immobile train, then lost in the maze like subway tunnels, we finally found the right Tube connection only to be stuck again, while left cooking underground on a subway train. So more than five hours after arriving in London, Mayerling and I were awe struck when we arrived to our next stop; A six story modern English style fortress of sorts (surrounded by wrought iron gates and mote), and situated directly in front of the Thames river, in view of the dreamy London Bridge. WOW! And the best part is that it was free!! I'm house sitting for a friend of a friend in this two bedroom, 1500 square foot posh pad with the most amazing view. As I sit here typing, there is a boat filled with tourists passing by with expressions of awe and enchantment behind their zoom lens cameras.

Very Statuesque!

Although Mayerling and I hadn't slept for two nights, we braved the flooded trains and freezing temperatures once more to head to Leicester Square to meet with my international crew (who represent more than 23 countries around the world) many of whom I had met in Santa Maria during the Michael Jackson trial. We went from the pub, to a crowded nightclub where we danced the night away.

On Monday, Mayerling will head to Amsterdam and I will travel to Naples, Italy, where I will stay with my feisty "friend" Fabiano and his family. From there, I plan to head south to Salerno, then back North to Rome, to visit another local friend. And then I will meet an old flame to take a road trip through Slovenia's mysterious caves, and later drive along Croatia's crystal coast for my birthday. Because there are a few weeks in which I will have nothing planned, I hope to spontaneously travel to Greece, Istanbul or Egypt before heading "Down Under" next month to Fiji and Australia.

So until I check in again, take care, keep in touch and remember; "

Life is not a destination, but a journey"... Love La Nnekita,


 A.K.A Nneka the Trekka

Nneka's Notes from the East Side

 Taking in the enchanting scenery in Venice, Italy

Hello Again, or should I say Pronto, Bon journo, Guten Tag, or simply, my head hurts! Since my last notes I have experienced language overload, and yes, steam is pouring out from my ears! Despite my speaking Spanish and Portuguese, I found myself having to adapt to national variations of these languages; For example, Catalan spoken in Barcelona. Even now, I am struggling to type this from a keyboard in Slovenia, which has completely different symbols than I am accustomed to. So now I am pulling my braids out trying to make meaning of this!

Since splitting up with Mayerling in London, I arrived in chaotic Naples, Italy to sweltering temperatures of 38° Celsius (100º Fahrenheit). I was picked up at the airport by the fun and feisty Fabi and immediately taken on a tour of the city.

I swear, my life flashed before my eyes careening down the unmarked roads. The hectic driving and constant traffic jams make Los Angeles gridlock seem mild. I felt as if I was involved in a high-speed police car chase, as there are few traffic lights and no clearly marked lanes, so everyone just makes up their own rules. I even witnessed a car engulf in flames after careening off of the main road. I was ecstatic when we arrived at the Capurros' spacious summer home in Salerno, and embarked upon a day of romance with my Italian Stallion. We had kept in constant contact over the past year, and finally had time alone to further explore our emotions and physical connection. In the pastel colored room Fabi professed his love for me and astounded me further by saying "I want to be your Marido, and be with you forever." I thought long and hard about his proposal, knowing that although our connection was growing, I still had unfinished business to attend to with James - who I would soon be meeting. After watching Fabi cook Spaghetti with presunto and fresh mozzarella balls still drowned in water; then thoroughly clean the kitchen wearing only a towel around his waist, I was mesmerized as his bulging pectorals flexed while he worked. We spent the rest of the day and night fully consumed in the depths of each others passion.

Gotta love a man who knows his way around a 

kitchen!

The next day we finally left the house. I was charmed by the quiet, clean beaches, and especially by the old fountains along the roads where one can stop to fill a water jug with clean, cold, fresh water...for free. Although some of these fountains date back centuries, many of them actually produce the same water that is bottled and sold in stores. Later that day I was overwhelmed with emotion as I was smothered with hugs and kisses from Fabi’s family upon arrival at their winter home in Naples. I instantly felt like part of the family and was welcomed with more food than I could ever consume. We would sit at the table for hours, while waiting for the second, third and fourth courses to arrive. Fabi's mom even cooked one of my favorite dishes after taking me on a special shopping trip for all the ingredients. She prepared what turned out to be the best pasta I've ever had with frutti di mare (fresh seafood). For the second course we were served some sort of baked fish with a salad; then a bucket of fresh oysters followed by a fruit salad and finally desert. As soon as we would finish one plate, she would immediately serve the next course! I could barely squeeze into my jeans only days after my arrival! Just like in the movies, this home is filled with laughter, love and great food. Fabiano and his brother Francesco later took me on a motorcycle ride to see the rest of the city, before the whole family accompanied me to the train station with tear filled eyes.

I met a handful of friendly young travelers during a three-hour train ride to a station in Rome, where another local friend picked me up. Directly from the train station we went out for drinks and yes...salsa dancing... Yippee! I try to make it a point to check out local salsa clubs when I travel.

I was enchanted at the sight of the large ballroom floor set up in the center of a lush, green park; And even more delighted at the smell of barbeque on the grill during the late night hour. Although the heat was not as sweltering as in Naples, Rome was about 82° Fahrenheit at night. Which I learned is why much of the nightlife is held outdoors during the summer. After napping through the hour ride to my friends’ house in the mountains, far from the city, I decided to explore Rome on my own and find other accommodations. Because I had to travel so far from the mountains to the city, I managed to figure out the subway and train system within hours and felt extremely welcome and at home. Rome is probably the only European city for which I have only heard rave reviews, and now I know why. I fell in love with this beautiful, historically rich city with its charming, warm people.

After agonizing over having to leave Rome (I could easily live here), I took a horribly uncomfortable night train to the Northern city of Milan. The train ride was 8 1/2 hours (when it should have only taken five hours), and I was miserably cramped into a car with five other people. One of whom I'm sure was schizophrenic and another who passed gas the entire night! So obviously I wasn't able to get any sleep. At dawn upon arrival in Milan, I reunited with my old flame James (who had just driven four hours from Switzerland) and picked me up in a rented Volkswagen sedan. He even showed up with lunch that he prepared to suit my finicky taste buds. We drove three hours to the island of Venice, which sits only two feet above sea level. Much of the city can only be accessed via waterway in canal boats operated by the famed Gondoliers, dressed in black and white striped shirts, barefoot, with cut off pants. Everywhere there was art, music, live theater and endless views of boats navigating the torrid, green sea.

Just as torrid as the sea around us, our relationship took a turbulent turn almost from the start. When I last saw James we spent Christmas and New Years together traveling through the enchanting jungles and pristine beaches of Thailand. The two weeks we spent alone were full of emotion, romance and a mind-blowing, cosmic physical connection that I had never experienced with anyone before. I think my first mistake may have been having unrealistic expectations of reliving our euphoric experience in Thailand. James began to drive me crazy the moment he fell asleep on what should have been a romantic ride through Venice’s' canals. It wasn't long before my aggressive, confrontational nature began to irritate him and so an argument ensued. Unfortunately, our nasty fighting carried on for days, until the morning of my birthday. Because we were barely speaking, I could hardly look him in the eye, much less be physically intimate with him. After having spent more than six months apart, I never felt more distant from him than I did at this moment when we were finally in close proximity of one another. The tension grew to such heights, that he and I contemplated canceling our travel plans and parting our separate ways.

After only one day in Venice, James and I drove to Chioggia, Italy. Another island 100 kilometers south of Venice. I had never heard of this place, but was surprised to discover it is a beach town full of small resorts and mobile park campsites. People drive from all over Europe to camp out at beach side mobile parks that have family oriented amusement activities in close proximity. After arriving too late to be able to find accommodations, we had no choice but to sleep beneath the stars in a tent that James brilliantly thought might come in handy. He also intuitively thought to bring along an extra air mattress for me. Despite having the mattress, I felt as if I had slept on a bed of nails. So after a rough night of little sleep, I was awaken by a strong ocean breeze and hunger pangs. James and I picked up new kite surf equipment then hung out at the beach famed for its wind surfers. Later that afternoon, we drove another four hours to freezing Slovenia, once part of the former Yugoslavia. Upon arrival, we went trekking into the depths of the Postjona cave, where temperatures reached a low of 6° Celsius, 42º Fahrenheit. This country is full of competitive cyclists, professional rock climbers and other adventurous outdoors-men and women. 

Paddling along raging rapids inside of freezing, dark cave!

 Next we will drive to Croatia, which is known for it's waterfall-filled natural parks, and turquoise sea. Assuming that we are able to work through our differences and find a way to get along, next weeks agenda will be to drive back to Switzerland, fly to Egypt then set sail for the South Pacific Sea.