No Where to Go, No Place to Be.

It's funny how I think of a $50 a night hotel room as a splurge, but in my new reality that's just what it is. 2 nights ago I decided to spend my last night in Italy in the city of Rome, I could hear church bells outside of my private room and a feeling of contentment washed over me.

I have spent the past month of my trip in shared rooms and dorms at hostels and I have to admit, after a while it gets to be too much. It's nice to be completely alone without the fear of someone walking in on me. I am already making lasting memories on my travels and really needed the chance to reflect on them without constant stimulation around me.

I have to admit, Italy was tough at times, mostly because of the language barrier I experienced. It's the first time I have been around people that speak little or no English. More English was spoken in India then in Italy. I had a minor breakdown on the train and had to choke back tears. It is an incredibly solitary feeling to be surrounded by people having everyday normal conversations and not be able to understand a single word of it. I have met a ton of people, first in Sora and later in Praia De Mare that spoke English, but they were mainly tourists and it's just not the same feeling as everyday life would be. Praia De Mare is a tiny beach town on the Mediterranean coast. I spent 5 days there, on the beach, on a boat, and in the water. With the highlight being cliff jumping into the bluest water you can imagine. It was one of the most beautiful places I have ever been too. In the evening, I walked to the village and got dinner with the people from my hostel and had some good bonding times. Days were spent lounging on the beach and getting browner by the day. And then...I knew it would come. That feeling that I needed to move on. It hit me as I was lying on the beach and all I could think of was getting out of Italy as soon as possible. I walked to the internet cafe and searched for flights. Edinburgh, Scotland fit for price and time of departure and that's where I am right now. It's amazing here.

It seems that the longer I am away from home and the more miles I accumulate on this voyage of mine, the more I lose all of the parts of my identity that weren't entirely mine. Most of my pretenses about who and what I am have fallen away and it's just purely me. The conversations I have had with fellow travelers start off with the basics: Who are you? How long have you been traveling? How long have you been in Italy, India, or whevever we may be? Where are you going next? And then the advice follows or the exclamations about how terrific a place is. The backpacker trail is a beautiful thing. Filled with wanderers, explorers and free spirits. Out here, I am nothing special and not so unusual. Its beautiful, how strangers can come together, meetm and become a little bit closer to being a family than most of us solo-wanderers have felt in a very long time.

I will be in gorgeous Scotland for another week or so and then may go to Portugal to meet some poker friends. It will be good to see them, but I am afraid it will be incredibly hard to say goodbye again. After that, I may come back up to Ireland and volunteer at an eco-village with PR work. They are fighting the big oil companies on there coast and I want to do something to help. It will be good to have something to fight for again, even if it's for a short amount of time. I will be making my way down to SE Asia in late September, meeting up with fellow travelers I met in India and volunteering. I plan to spend the next year down there, with a break in Australia thrown in there. My plans keep changing though and its a great thing that they do. I don't want to be locked into a specific date or place and so I am spontaneously wandering. It's the way I love it. Still restless to the core, searching for those special places that will remain in my heart for a very long time.

Peace,love, and joy from Edinburgh Scotland.

Lara

Finding Missing Pieces in Sora

After spending a couple of idylic, yet hedonistic days in Bologna, I decided to head to Sora, Italy to volunteer at a farm-stay. My little brother dropped me off at my train and I was, once again, tranporting myself alone.

My train from Bologna arrived in Rome and I stepped into language hell. I missed the second train of the day and therefore missed my connecting train. The tickets are only in Italian, the signs are only in Italian, and English is not spoken in a widespread manner. All of which combined sent me spinning in circles of confusion. I ended up spending 2 ½ hours in the Rome train center, waiting for the 3nd and last train of the day that would take me to the bus that would take me to Sora. Italians make for some fantastic people watching. Rampant displays of PDA certainly perpetuated stereotypes about Italian men being extremely amourous. I my opinion, it's a fantastic stereotype to have so I whole heartedly approve. I do feel slighly stupid for not knowing Italian, and I am almost apologetic when I tell people I don't understand and ask for English. I am in their country and I shouldn't expect them to speak English to me. I had to ask several people on the train if I was in fact on the right train, kind of a disconcerting feeling to know you may have made a train mistake, and that you might have to just go with it and end up where you end up.

I soon arrived at the final train station on my route and disembarked in Cassesca. It fit every preconception I had of a tiny village in Italy. Old men sat around a checkers table playing, apparently on some mid-afternoon siesta. They told me I was "bella" and did the fingers to the mouth kiss fling. It was absolutely charming. They asked me where I was from and I said America. "Obama!" was and has been the popular response when I tell people I am from the US. It's interesting how widespread the Obama name is around the world. From India to Qatar to Italy, I get the same excited "Obama" reaction from the local people.

I boarded the only bus to be seen in Casessca ,still not exactly sure it was the right one. Only one other person was on the hot, smokey bus with me. The driver twisted and turned the through the hills and some gorgeous landscape passed before my eyes. However, the he was chain smoking, the AC was not working and I began to get quite carsick. I feel like motion sickness is going to be a constant in my life now, yet another aspect of my life I won't be able to control. I started to get genuinely scared that I was on the wrong bus when we flew past the turn-off for Sora. It's extremely hard to convery how utterly frightening it is to be in a foreign country, to not know where you are and not be able to speak the language beyond 5 or 6 basic words. Luckily the driver seemed to understand my panicked words and gestures, saying Sora over and over again helped and he eventually turned around and dropped me at the correct bus station. I called the owner of the farm I am staying at and waited for my ride outside a pizza restraaunt, of course. After being plied with wine, pizza, and pastries by the owner of the pizzeria, my ride finally arrived.

Josephie, the patriarch of the family picked me up and we were off to the eco-farm I had agreed to volunteer at in exchange for room and board. I was supposed to be working at their rustic farm a 20 minute walk away from the main house, however, I would have been the only one there and I didn't want to camp by myself in the woods, with no running water or electricity, especially after my day of utter confusion and exhausting traversing of the Italian countryside. I am now staying in relative luxury at the main house with 2 other volunteers. We started our morning bright and early helping momma Maria prepare breakfast and the receiving our tasks for the day. I was given the chore of sweeping, dusting and organizing the outside meal area and after that was done, I weeded the artichoke beds. Our day of work finishes at 1 after lunch and we are free until dinner time to do what we please. It felt really good to be working again. Not the same kind of work I did before of course, but work nontheless. It's the kind that makes me weary, yet satisfied. I had forgotten how satisfying it is to do chores in which you can see actual results from the hours put in. There is much to be done here at the farm and I am excited for days to be spent wokring in the orchards, riding the horses, and learning to cook bread and pasta in the kitchen. Life is so much simplier here and I love it. I have to laugh sometimes, looking at my life now. I went from making 6 figures a year, to digging in the dirt in order to earn my room and board. That may seem from the outside, as a fall from grace. But, if it is a fall of any kind, then it is me falling into a better part of myself. It's Learning a simplier way of doing things and how to be happy with much less. I haved erased VIP parties, limosines, and celebrities from my life and replaced them with quiet nights reading under the stars, laughing with strangers from other countries and exploring wooded trails in search of hidden lakes. It is now solely who I am that matters, not what I am and who I know. In fact, I hadn't realized how much I missed that until I found that I have unknowingly sought out that very thing. I can walk through the days without speaking a word about my past life and people are more than happy to still lend me a hand and speak a friendly word. Perhaps in my world-wide quest for my better self, I will find a little piece of my personal puzzle buried in the Italian countryside and it will fit perfectly with all the other pieces of me that I am discovering as I go.



Peace, love, and joy from Italy

Lara

Checking Off the "I" Countries

The best part about waking up today was waking up in Italy. I left India 2 days ago to journey to Bologna Italy to see one of my brothers. India. What can I say? You kicked my ass over and over again but I did grow to enjoy and appreciate the area I spent last week in.

After a nightmare car ride, I finally arrived in Anjuna Beach, Goa, India. Goa is known across Europe as a beach destination, but with the monsoon season in full affect, I didn't quite know what to expect. I settled into the Silver Moon guest house last week, the house was surrounded by other guest houses filled with people on the backpacking trail. I met numerous people from all over the world and ate, drank, explored and basically "touristed" with them for a week. Some days though I sat and watched the rain,reading and reflecting on my life now. Even though I am traveling solo, I have learned that I am only as alone as I want to be, as the backpacking trail is full of people doing the same thing I am doing.

My favorites were the Rat pack. Rob, Adam, and Tom. They are 3 guys from Australia that bought bikes in India and are traveling the length of India on said bikes. They hope to make it all the way to SE Asia on their bikes. Tom has been tramping around the world for 8 years and I loved listening to his stories and perspective. I asked myself "could I do that?". I don't really know where or when I will stop traveling, but just knowing that I could do it for as long as I want really inspired me. I got into a debate with one of the girls staying at the guest house about just that. She felt that 8 years was too long, that you could get sucked into a reality that is not in fact, real, just traveling and not entirely committing to anything. I disagreed with her on that point. I think that people get sucked into life wherever they are and whatever they are doing. The bottom line is that right now, I would rather spend time exploring new cultures, volunteering, and immersing myself in the adventure life then sit in an office all day. You can get sucked into daily life in the states and make no mistake about it, it is hard, sometimes nearly impossible to get out. It's all a choice and Tom's choice is as valid as a choice to settle down is. Tom is working on his memoirs right now and they should be a fascinating read. The guys also gave me some good advice. They said "Lara, get used to doing nothing on some days and be happy with it." I am still working on that concept, as I am so used to always hurrying. I am hoping to meet up with the guys somewhere in SE Asia in September and I can't wait to see them again and hear about the rest of their trip through India.

While in Goa, I decided to journey to Italy and bought my tickets 2 days before departure while sitting on the patio of our guest house and drinking beers with the Australians. My little brother attends university in Bologna and he is moving back to the states on August 14th. I hadn't seen him in 3 years and thought I should come to say hello and goodbye. The journey from Goa to Italy ended up taking 43 hours. In that time I rode 4 different airplanes, spent time in Qatar (which I am embarrassed to say, I didn't even know existed until then) and was rerouted and then rerouted again across 1/2 the world. Luckily I had 2 travel companions that were also going to Bologna from Mumbai and they helped keep me awake on our layovers. Qatar was by far the most interesting. Sheiks in full white robes and women in Burkas were everywhere. I found out that it is the richest country in the world and riding on their national airline Qatar Air, proved it. It was pure luxury even in coach. I finally arrived here late last night and collapsed in my brothers spare bedroom. Today we spent time exploring Bologna and ate the best pizza I have ever had. I seem to have a bit of reverse culture shock after India and am still practicing some of the habits I picked up in my time there. From here I will be going to volunteer on a couple of Eco farms in Italy. I plan to spend the rest of the month on 2 farms, one is located in Tuscany and the other in Abruzzi National Park. It should be a great way to really immerse myself into Italy, making a full escape from the normal tourist haunts. I hope to have some interesting stories to share, as one of the farms is a goat farm and the other doesn't have electricity. However, don't be surprised if I change my mind at the spur of the moment and don't go to one of them. After all, this is MY journey and I am just sinking my teeth into the fact that I can go anywhere I want, do anything I want, and spend as much time as I want where I am. Freedom in the truest sense of the word, suits me well.





Peace, love, and joy

Lara

Bollywood and the Train That Couldn't

Our perceptions of ourselves seem to live in a little box during normal everyday life. They live there, ready to be called upon when we need them and we need them almost daily. To have the capacity to say, "This is who I am and this is what I am and this is how I deal with things" is a beautiful thing. What pray tell, do you do when every perception you have of yourself and the world around you is shattered? A whole new part of yourself is opened up and sometimes its not pretty. In the past few days, I have felt angry, powerless, and weak. Not feelings I am proud of, nor ones I expected to have.

I have been able to say to myself in the past this is who I am; I am strong, I am independent, I am fearless. In the past week, India has tested every perception I have every had about who I am and some parts of me have broken down. I am excited to see how they will be built back up and who I will become.

I journeyed to Bollywood 2 days ago, expecting some semblance of life I am used to. I expected a Hollywood type experience, at the very least, my expectations included clean green rooms and the absence of the mongrel dogs prevalent across India. No such luck as the "green room" was practically collapsing in on its self, the mold so pervasive. I seemed to have forgotten, that Bollywood is in Mumbai and Mumbai is an absolute shit hole. The people in Mumbai are ready and willing to rip you off the first chance they can get. I had visions of a bomb going off and destroying Mumbai. Starting over from scratch in a formerly beautiful environment absolutely destroyed by people that seemingly have no concept of how they live. I cannot stress enough how horrible the people are in Mumbai. Every Indian I met there, with the exception of the small school children is out to get something from the Westerners they see, they do so in a manner that makes me angry. Perception number 6, that I won't judge the people around me shattered into a million pieces. After several days of getting cussed at, grabbed, and forced into cabs and rickshaws with no way out unless you give them the money they want, I was ready to get the hell out of there before I became an angry American abroad. Perception number 73, that most people are good, absolutely ripped from my box. Bollywood was simply awful and I left the commercial shoot that I was supposed to be part of early. I sat in a cab for 2 hours, with a driver that spoke almost zero English, not exactly sure if he would take me where I wanted to go. I was shocked when I arrived safely at my hotel, only ripped off a little bit from the cab ride. I am not proud of the anger I felt at my environment in Mumbai, but in the interest of complete honesty, I am able to admit it, perhaps by admitting it, I can learn to accept it.

After escaping to my hotel room and sleeping for a couple of hours, I left to board a train to Goa. I was thrilled to be leaving and tried to have a measure of patience at the train station, though I did speak to a guy grabbing at me in, shall we say, a harsh manner. To his credit he recognized danger when he saw it and a look of shock came over his face, he jumped at least 3 feet back to get away from me. I felt some measure of satisfaction in that. Anger is an universal emotion, easy to spot around the world, and Mumbai had made me angry.

I settled into my compartment in the train utterly alone and rather pleased with it. I had a whole section to myself and after locking up my backpack, promptly feel asleep to the rocking of the train. The trip was to last 12 hours and take me 600km south and I couldn't wait to sleep, read, and do some writing. Sweet dreams me, lights out. After what I suppose was 1.5 hours of traveling, the train abruptly stopped and the door to my compartment was jerked open. An official looking man began yelling at me. "Train done, you go." What the what? I told him I didn't understand, what was going on. "Get off, you go". I quickly grabbed my things and exited the train, in the back of my mind worried that it was just me they were kicking off. Paranoid much? I exited the train and began searching for the French people I had met earlier in the day, relieved when I finally found them. Because of landslides further down the tracks, the train had ended in a small village and we were left on our own. All of us "white people" gathered together. 4 American guys, the French couple, and a Dutch guy with his India girlfriend. The American guys decided to wait and decide later on where to go. So the rest of us collectively decided that the 5 of us would continue on to Goa, some 500 km away, either by bus or car. Basically we all agreed that there was no way in hell we would be going back to Mumbai. We wandered into the small village and had the rickshaw drivers call a friend that had a car. He said he could take us the whole distance for 10,000 rupees. Thanks India again, for completely blowing my budget.

After waiting about an hour, he pulled up in an SUV of sorts, and the 5 of us loaded in. I jammed myself into the very back, and tried to make a nest out of our bags surrounding me so I could get some sleep. Not the best idea I have had, because down the road, I got incredibly car sick and ended up throwing up on the side of the road over and over again. After stopping at a roadside restaurant, in which I suspect they have seen very few white people, I ate some rice and bread and decided to try out the back again. After 20 minutes of riding, I once again threw up on the side of the road and then moved to the very front seat. That's when the fear kicked in. We were traveling through the breathtaking Western Gnat mountains, barrelling along one lane roads at 100km an hour in torrential downpours with sharp ravines on both sides of the road. Armed with only his car horn, which the driver used every 20 seconds, he veered into the oncoming lane too often for my tastes. I buckled up, but knew that if we were to get in an accident, at the very least, my legs would be broken and at the worst, I would be dead. The scene in that movie Romancing the Stone where they careened off the road into a ravine, kept running through my head and I in fact, felt like I was in a movie. It's the first time in a very long time I have felt fear so strong it overtook me. We were stuck, we had no other option and that is a different feeling for me. Perception number 3, that I am fearless, shattered. As an American, I am learning how many options we really do have. We live in a protective bubble of our own making. If we have anything in America, we have options. I didn't have any yesterday and I had to accept that and learn to deal with it.

The Frenchies and I finally arrived at the guesthouse I had booked, at midnight last night. John and Maria, the India owners are very sweet and accommodating. It is a charming place, and Goa is nothing like Mumbai. It is fairly empty of people, and it's absolutely beautiful. I am sitting on the porch area of the house, and there are monkeys screaming at me in the rain forests surrounding me. Maria is checking out the catch of the day from the fisherman that just road up on his bicycle. I have booked a week here, at $2 USD a night, I should get my budget back on track, but I may leave earlier. The power is out from the storm last night and I am craving a hot cup of Nescafe, the Indian version of coffee. I want to go check out the surf today and try to catch some waves, but with the Monsoon season in full force, the ocean is angry.

In the past week I have felt absolutely powerless, fearful, and weak. Those parts of me, in an unknown environment are breaking down. I don't know what will take there place on this journey of mine, perhaps that is why I am doing this. I also am learning to be content with boredom. The internet is spotty all over India, there are few ways to entertain yourself when alone, and so I am learning to be content with not being constantly connected to the outside world. To sit with myself and my own thoughts and to try not to get too bored with myself. I don't know how or when I will be leaving Goa, there are very few ways out and the planes are not reliable, so I am going to try and go with it, take it day by day, and somehow in the end, land where I am supposed to be at that moment in time. Hopefully I will come away with with fairly new perceptions of myself that I can be patient, that I can adapt, and that I can remain positive in horrible circumstances.




Peace, love, and joy,

Lara

Arriving in Mumbai

It's 5 am in Mumbai, India and I seem to have succumbed to a half way case of jet lag. I say half way because I did get a full 7 hours of sleep last night-or is it day? I have been known to get up as early as 5 am in Las Vegas, so I think I will have this licked by tonight. I am almost in tears right now though, trying to find a way to let everyone know that I arrived here ok and failing miserably. The internet doesn't seem to work anywhere and phone cards won't work on the phone in my room that doesn't work.

Arriving after a 16 hour direct flight from Newark at 9 PM last night, I immediately turned on my phone, because old habits die hard and I forgot that I don't have service here. My phone tucked away in my pocket book, I deplaned and entered the 3rd world. It was obvious that I was no longer in a first world country when I was assualted by the overwhelming smell of milddew permeating the airport. I glanced at a departure terminal and it was made up solely of people in sari's and punjab pants, with no white people in sight. Making my way through immigration, I encountered my first problem of sorts. You see, I smiled in my passport picture. Apparently, it's known world-wide to everyone but me, that you aren't supposed to actually smile in your picture. The immigration officer asked me why I was smiling in broken English and I told him because I like to smile. He questioned me extensively and glanced at me and then my picture over and over again. Finally, he let me go and I walked away wondering if I will have the same problem in every country I enter. It's a smile immigration officers of the world, not anything dangerous or deceptive.

Walking out the airport doors I encountered a massive ring of people standing around in a giant circle held back by barricades. I looked for the driver that the hotel sent for me, 75% sure that he wouldn't actually be there and that I would have to figure something out for myself. Surprise! He was there with my name on a placard. Breathing a sigh of humid air relief, we began our 10.5km journey to the hotel I had booked. People have complained over the years about my driving and I now can look back at them and know they are pussies. The driving here is a blast! No lanes to speak up, but 6 rows of cars, rickshaws, and motorbikes seemingly all converging on the same spot. I am proud to say that I caused a minor feeder bender, simply by looking out my window. What I can deduce is that I am A. White B. Female and C. Solo. The men in the car next to us stared at me so hard that they ran into the car in the front of them. Of course, I defiantly and from the confines of the locked car, stared back. I guess you could say that I won the first of many staring contest I feel I will be involved. in. We drove through what I can only call slums. Places the homeless in America wouldn't even live in. Entire buildings blackened from exhaust with all of the windows missing and people moving about inside, dare I say, carrying on with life? I glanced over to the sidewalk and spotted a girl, 4 or 5 years old, naked from the waist down, popping a squat and taking a giant shit. Right there on the sidewalk. In the middle of a city of 18 million people. People weren't paying attention and continued to stream around her.

My hotel is a horrible little place. The milddew smell is the worst I have every encountered. The internet only works for 4-5 hours a day, and no one speaks English here. I think I was ripped off on my bottled water by local standards, but it was only 20 rupees, which is about .40 in USD. My bed is not really a bed, more paper towel thick mattress covering a board. But, as I mentioned before I did manage to get some sleep, so it can't be all that bad. I just washed my clothes from yesterday in the makeshift shower, which consists of 2 buckets for rinsing and a hose running right next to the toliet.

I'm not sure what I am going to do here today except get some breakfast and then wait for the internet to be turned on so I can let everyone know that I am still alive. I have never felt so weirdly alone in my life as I do right now. Not lonely, but 100% alone. I have no idea where I am in Mumbai, I haven't seen a native English speaker since I arrived, I don't speak the language and I don't know where to go. But, I know that I will figure it out and more than likely fall in love with this city and this country. I can definetly feel some infatuation coming on strong and knowing me, it will have blossomed into an all out affair within the week. I just hope he, India, treats me like a bride to be, and throws the same amount of love at me that I will throw at him. As long as I can find a way to connect to the outside world that is.

Peace, love, and joy,

The Numbers Game

I am quite angry with myself today when I look at my budget for my round the world trip. I spent far too much money on nights out with friends in the past 2 months and am going to be paying the price, literally, for the next few years. Did I really need to spend $50 on sushi with the boys? Probably not, though it's always a blast. Beer and rum/whiskey also ate up part of my savings, though I've never been the type to pass on a good drink, I probably should have said no a few more times than I actually did.

So what are the numbers exactly? I managed to save and make off my things around $17,000. I had to subtract money that a former PR client of mine owed me and apparently isn't paying, so that put a large dent in my budget. I also had to subtract money that I had estimated I would get for selling my car, but I am happy that it is going to someone that needs it, so that doesn't bother me so much. All told my budget will be around $14 a day for my entire adventure. I know it doesn't sound like much, especially to Americans. But figure in that I will be staying and eating for free at a number of places I am volunteering at and it's not too bad. I also will be flying on buddy passes whenever I can, (thanks again Sean and Tina!) As transportation typically eats up the majority of RTW budgets I have it made there. I plan to hitchhike in Europe and Southeast Asia, which will save additional moneys. Oktoberfest in September may blow a bit of my budget as the camping spot I reserved costs $10 a day and that doesn't leave much for beer, but I think I can suffer through a couple of months to experience that. I will be staying with friends throughout Australia and Norway, so I can add those days back in for saved money. I also have a friend in Cambodia and I'm hoping he can help me find a cheap place to rest my head. I may be able to find work in Southeast Asia, though truthfully, bar-tending on a beach somewhere doesn't sound like "work" to me. I also joined some affiliate programs for my blog, so if you need to book a flight or hotel click on the links I have here, the money earned will help a lot and since you have to book them anyway.....

This all makes my head spin as I am not very good with budgets. I have been making really good money the past few years and am used to spending as much money as I want. It's going to take a while to change my mindset from freely spending to frugally going without. I don't mind though. I look at it as another challenge. Staying in a $2/night hostel instead of a $40 a night hotel may not sound like much fun to most people, but I say bring it on cheap places! I have camped in conditions far worse than any hostel could present.

So there it is, the number game. Ick. I'm not enjoying thinking about it, but since I don't want to become a dumpster diver in Africa, I better start.

Since this man, I named him Windchime Bob, doesn't seem to care about budgets or even being a normal person, I figure I can pick up the slack. ">

Peace, love, and joy!

Lara

Chasing The Thrill

As my date to leave gets closer by the minute, I am reflecting on the life I created here in and the myriad of struggles, joy, heartache, and incredible amount of love I have experienced to get to this very spot in time.

I think about what I created with my company and the job I was tasked to do for the past few years and I am so very proud of it all. When I was in my early 20's, I dreamed of doing something no one had done before and creating something new in the world. That's when I found poker. My Atlanta ex-boyfriend came home one day in 2004 and said he wanted to become a professional poker player. I was shocked and couldn't help myself from thinking how shady/sketchy it was. But, like a good girlfriend, I began traveling with him to various casinos and poker tournaments. What I found blew my mind. An absolute disregard for money, a free-spirited attitude, coupled with a live in the moment mind-set. I met amazing people and was hooked immediately. Not on playing the game itself, but rather on the business of it. I was given my start by a good friend in Atlanta and went from there. Fast forward to 2006, moving to Las Vegas seemed like the best option for me and so off I went. And now, in mid 2010, I am wrapping up my PR work with my clients, so very proud of the work I have done and the business I created.

I think the secret to being successful is to keep an open mind, to recognize opportunities when they come your way, and to remember they can come your way in the most unexpected ways. It's to do what you love with making money from it almost an after thought. The thing is, if you are good to people, they will be good to you. I learned that from the people in poker, an industry most people look at from the outside and see only degenerate selfishness.

There were times that I couldn't afford food, times when I had to borrow against the next months paycheck just to get by. But, I wouldn't trade those days for anything. If you never go without, if you never struggle, you will never be able to fully appreciate what you do have. If your fortitude and strength is never tested, how do you know what you can really do. The butterflies and excitement for the work I was doing disappeared sometime late last year. I remember sitting in my adorable little house and thinking, I can't do this anymore. I don't feel alive doing it any longer. I have to get out. Not that my life was so bad, I mean I was still making heaps of money, traveling, and had enough free time to do what I wanted to do, but the thrill was gone and the thrill is everything to me. Money doesn't matter, its that intrinsic feeling deep down that lights up your days. The feeling of satisfaction and excitement. That feeling gradually disappeared for me and I knew it was time to move on.

Someone said to me the other day, "Lara, you are going from being someone to being no one." I'm not so sure that I really am someone, what I do know is that if I am someone, I would rather be no one. And so, as my new journey begins and my old life transitions into the unknown, I look at it as yet another challenge. I don't know where I am going, I don't know who I will meet, and I don't know what opportunities will come my way. What I do know is that I can get through anything and thrive in any situation that comes my way. Bring it on life, bring on being uncomfortable, being scared, being lonely. Because I know that on the other side of all of that is more love, more freedom, more butterflies, and life. Living baby, that's the thrill of it all.

My thanks go out to Erica Schoenberg, Phil Hellmuth, The Brunsons, Eric Morris, Roy Winston, Jo Priam, Chris Jodry and a myriad of others that believed in me and took a chance on me. You laughed with me (and sometimes at me), thanked me, sympathized with me when I was ranting about nonsense and listened to my ideas. You all became the very fabric that made up my life, a family of sorts. I get choked up thinking about the tremendous amount of faith and trust you all put in me. I think the tears will remain in the back of my throat for a very long time when I think about you all. I'll be chasing my own thrill, but will always know that you guys are on the other side supporting me.


Peace, love, and joy!

Lara