Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment.

[jaynesromanholiday]

Age 25

I’m a little late in writing my annual birthday post this year, but better late than never, right?

So often I don’t take the time to think about the experiences I’ve had, and what they meant and what I learned. I think the theme of this year has been adaptation. It’s something I’ve always considered myself good at, but until everything that happened this year I didn’t realize exactly how confusing, and lonely, that new situations can be.

Yikes. I feel like my birthday posts get more melancholy each year. Maybe it’s getting older. Maybe it’s the state of the world. Maybe it’s just me.

First, a quick recap on my career (Career? Huh. That feels weird.). I took a three hour test and added ,CMP to the end of my name. I worked on some fun events and got a new job title. I took an online course and earned a certificate in hospitality and tourism. Most importantly, we assembled a group of fun, badass work friends, and we happy hour’d, Murder Mystery partied, and clerb’d together this year.

I also got ~sporty~. I upped my golf game and finally got my own (new to me) golf clubs (I’m still mostly in it for the golf cart White Claws). I joined the sand volleyball team with the most heart. I bicycled around with my buddies.

I saw Heart, Mean Girls, Jesus Christ Superstar, Colter Wall, Amigo the Devil, Murder by Death, and an (honestly pretty decent) Sublime cover band live.

I traveled to Lake Ossawinnamakee for the 4th Annual Berg’s Bin Bash, Minneapolis and La Crosse a few times, Amherst to spend Thanksgiving with Sungha, and Puerto Rico where my dad saw the ocean for the first time. I went to Colorado, came home for a week, and went to Colorado again.

I brought home two beautiful, spunky, cuddly, soft porch cats.

I made some weird decisions when it came to boys.

In January, our office caught on fire. Which doesn’t seem like a huge deal in the grand scheme of life, but it totally threw me for a loop. I had to learn to work from home, work from conference rooms, work from supply rooms during events, work from coffee shops. It was very uncomfortable.

Then, when things were just starting to feel somewhat normal again, the stupid, fucking c word came into all of our lives. I don’t have to tell you about that one. My world became a lot smaller. And lonelier. It didn’t even help to hang out with my small group of ten or less…the whole time we were together I’d just dread when they’d inevitably have to leave. Two days in a row I worked from my bed because I was too sad to even sit up. That’s never happened to me before, and it put a lot of things (and people) into perspective.

So, what big life lessons did I learn in this weird, stilted little year?

People make me happy, and I need them around. Whether it’s romantic relationships, friendships, or interacting with strangers.

You can feel lonely even when you’re spending time with someone you love.

Saying goodbye isn’t as painful as I imagined it would be.

We’re powerful when we’re unified.

Don’t invest all of your time into one person.

Sometimes the night can take the most unexpected turn. Be there for it.

Invest in your surroundings. Make your living space a place where you actually want to spend time.

It’s okay to do what feels good, but you should be able to recognize when it stops feeling good, and stop doing it.

[jaynesromanholiday]

24

Huh. What to say about this year.

I want to say that the universe really decided to pile it on this year. But that’s total bullshit. People act shitty, feelings change, and mistakes are made. Those things happen to everyone.

Honestly I changed a lot this year. I mean, I change every day, but I had some drastic changes within the last twelve months specifically. And sure, change can be super great. But sometimes it’s not very super at all.

Which brings me to a little piece of 24-year-old wisdom--is happy always a good thing and is sad always a bad thing? I’ve discovered so much of myself and others in the middle of the sad parts. Sadness provokes truth and purpose and understanding.

Not that I turned into a token sad girl you guys...please don’t be alarmed. I’m still as cute, vivacious, and charming as ever. But for the first time in my life I wasn’t just happy, unaffected, and agreeable all the time. This year I learned that being outwardly emotional isn’t inherently bad. I let myself be more opinionated, confrontational, and expressive. I consciously resolved to be more of an asshole and less of a pushover. 

A few notable things happened this year. I’m writing these as I think of them, and mixing in the bad with the hella tight. And honestly most of these things are so much of both that it’s actually really comical. 

I had the opportunity to travel to Sweden, Greece, Hungary, and Germany. Holy shit. Was that seriously this year? Most famously on this trip I rode the train in Berlin without a ticket and was in trouble with the German government for a few months (maybe still am, who knows). All I know is I stopped receiving angry letters in German once I wired them a lot of money. One thing I know about myself is that I don’t particularly like to travel alone--I like to have someone with me to share experiences with. This trip wasn’t all that bad though, and I ended up meeting so many beautiful people from all over the world.

I worked a lot. But I also accomplished a lot.

I met a lot of wonderful people and gained an entirely new perspective on just about everything thanks to one very interesting new friendship.

I developed eye shimmers (NOT FLOATERS, eye shimmers, as I told the eye doctor emphatically for three straight months). No one can really explain why, but the vision in my right eye starts to shimmer when I’m really tired or stressed. Lol.

My parked car got hit by another car...and then got hit again by a snowplow. I also got the worst speeding ticket of my life.

This one is a little embarrassing...I was too confident on an icy night and completely biffed it down my aunt’s front stairs and hurt my back. And it REALLY hurt and it REALLY sucked. And I now I realize how lucky I am that I don’t suffer from physical pain, like, ever. I was straight up depressed after day one of back pain.

I became a crier. I cried more this year than I have in the past ten years combined--seriously, I NEVER cried before now. I feel like maybe I knocked something loose in my brain when I fell down the stairs. Idk, I’m just saying the timeline adds up. In fact, if you see me with sunglasses on, there’s a 40% chance that I’m currently crying, or have cried recently and am covering it up. (P.S. I walked outside after writing this and cried because all that nature smelled so good. Wtf.)

I spent time in beautiful Colorado--I rode electric scooters all over Denver, white water tube’d in Golden, hiked the Rockys, and saw a moose family.

For the first time of any real significance, I disappointed my friends and family...like multiple times. And vice versa.

I went to Vancouver for the forth year in a row this spring, and found it just as beautiful. I also got to visit Hawaii again on this trip and I fell in love. I went to the beach every day and got a magnificent sunburn. I got hand tats. I forgot about all of the crazy things going on at home if only for a week. Most memorably, I tried surfing for the first time and actually caught a wave. (No, I didn’t stand up on the board. It’s hard, okay??) I don’t remember the last time I was so exhilarated and proud of myself. 

I went from spending all of my time with another person to moving into a new apartment and living on my own for the first time ever. No one likes my new apartment, but it’s coming together nicely thank you very much. And I still don’t like being alone, but that part is also coming along.

I spent a week in Spain and learned new things about passports, drinking wine, and architecture. We saw some surreal art, aided and abetted in sneaking several Iowa State study abroad students onto the metro in Barcelona, and did not get pick pocketed! There’s also nothing wrong with spending a little extra time in the greatest city in the world (that’s NYC, for you dummies out there).

Don’t worry everyone, I continue to become cockier with every passing year. For real, though, I’ve gained more confidence in my personality and in making choices--specifically in the last few months. And sort of related--I freaking finally lost the Freshman 30 that I gained in college.

I learned that there’s value in slowing down. Spending more time at home. Not overbooking myself. Not taking off from a stop light at 67 mph. Even if I haven’t actually put this into practice yet...I’m working on it.

I know what some of you are thinking, and yes, I intentionally left out the juiciest, most personal bits. Lucky for you, I also started writing down all my best stories this year, so you can read all about it in my memoirs someday.

Cheers to 25!

[jaynesromanholiday]

[jaynesromanholiday]

pt. one: Stockholm, Sweden

I began my journey on August 21 as one does—waking up at 7am to make a Walmart/Target/Marshall’s run so I could finish packing for my two-week long international trip.

While I’m pretty sure I severely underpacked (I’m talking I might have to buy some weird European underwear at some point) I don’t think I forgot anything super crucial. Who could forget the time I spent spring break at my aunts house and forgot to bring any type of pants...

Anyways, my first leg of travel was from Des Moines to Chicago. Once I was in Chicago, I had about a five hour layover. One of the worst things about traveling alone is the actual traveling part. You don’t have anyone to talk to, you have to bring all your luggage with you if you have to go to the bathroom, and everyone knows you’re alone so they feel bad for you (I’m pretty sure).

After talking to Beth on the phone (for the third time that day—we are our mothers), eating some bad airport food, and watching several episodes of New Girl, we finally boarded. I ended up sitting next to this adorable kid named Rob. I’d like to take a paragraph to talk about Rob:

Rob was in the United States working at a YMCA camp in Evansville, Indiana all summer. He’s 21, and he missed home in southern Holland, but he’s also gonna miss camp a lot because now that’s home, too (that last statement was adapted from his most recent Facebook status, which he read to me). At first glance you, like me, would not realize that Rob was a Dutch kid. He was wearing a Superman shirt and a trucker hat, both of which were from Walmart (he bought so much stuff from the Evansville Walmart that he had to check a second bag). The thing Rob says he’s going to miss the most about the United States when I asked him? You guessed it—that sweet boy is going to miss the free refills at restaurants.

After we ate supper, I took two Advil PMs (godsend), and for the first time in my life slept on a flight. I woke up once and looked over to find Rob staring and me and telling me that I really should recline my seat because the person behind me was already sleeping and they were reclined, too. While I was trying to get comfortable, the nine girl old girl in front of me turned around and asked me in a little adult voice to please stop kicking. Well, Hannah, maybe you could stop talking so loudly with your headphones in. That’s how I knew her name is Hannah, she’s going to Lithuania, and her parents were sitting in row 34 (who lets their kid sit all alone on a eight hour flight while the parents sit together??).

Rob woke me up again for breakfast (bless him—those Advils fricked me up) and then we were in Sweden. I said goodbye to Rob and he wished me good luck, and I boarded the train to go into Stockholm. From Central Station I walked to my apartment in Gamla Stan, which is the old town, and showered and started exploring.

The cobbled streets and winding alleys of Gamla Stan reminded me of Florence. I spent the evening walking around the old town and wandering in and out of shops and squares. I tried several times to pysch myself up to go to the Nobel Museum (I’m pretty sure it’s about Nobel Prize winners), but I just couldn’t find the motivation. Eventually, I got too sleepy and went back to my apartment and slept for 13 hours.

The next day I hopped out of bed and found a walking tour of the city. I saw the palace, city hall, church where the royal family has their ceremonies, and several other points of interest. After we wrapped up, I walked to the museum district of Stockholm, which is on a different island. You already know where I was going fam: the ABBA museum.

This museum almost exactly reminded me of the Country Music Hall of Fame museum in Nashville. Tons of interactive stuff, and even a booth where you could record yourself singing (who could forget my breathtaking rendition on “We Are Never Getting Back Together” at the CMHOF). It was great, but I think it would have helped had I been a big ABBA fan...for example, I had no idea that they were two married couples!!!! But I definitely still enjoyed it.

After the museum, I headed back to my apartment to chill for a little bit, then headed to Södermalm. I just walked around and ducked in and out of thrift shops and then chilled in a square. It reminded me a little bit of Greenwich Village in New York. Except full of hills. That’s why Swedes have great legs—they’re always biking up crazy steep hills!

So, I realized when I got to Sweden that my adapter wouldn’t work for the shape of the outlets here, and by my last night in Stockholm, my portable power bank (thanks Parker!!) was out of battery. Of course this was also the night that my jet lag set in and I couldn’t sleep. So I watched shitty American TV (think Real Housewives and makeover shows) until like 1am when it was clear I wasn’t anywhere close to sleeping. Don’t judge me, but I took another dose of Advil PM and ptfo’d and it was great.

I’m finishing up this post from my hotel room in Greece. I’ll begin my official Greece post tomorrow, but I will talk about my travels to Thessaloniki.

Firstly, I did the doucheiest thing that I’ve done thus far on this trip. On my way to the airport on Friday, I walked through a movie set in Stockholm. They had a street blocked off, and I thought it was for a street cleaning, but nothing was happening so I ducked under the caution tape and walked right down the street like the pushy American tourist that I am. I was halfway down the street before I noticed all of the period clothing and the horse drawn carriage. At that point I picked up my luggage (it was super noisy on the cobblestones) and ran down the rest of the street like the dumb American tourist that I am. I have no idea what they were filming, but no one said one word to me the whole time this was happening, so I’m sure they assumed I was a movie star arriving late on set.

I didn’t realize when I flew in, but Stockholm’s airport is so heckin nice. Very comfy and welcoming and quiet. On my flight to Thessaloniki, I sat next to this lady and her husband. By the end of the flight she had drank two mini bottles of red wine and was getting slightly hysterical during our decent. I think she was maybe the silliest lady I’ve ever met in my life. She talked to her husband in this horrible Swedish baby voice and bought a stuffed animal on the flight for who knows what reason. But by the end of the trip, we were holding hands and she wished me good luck and said how brave I was for traveling on my own. She was okay after all...but also probably sloshed.

When I landed in Thessaloniki, I basically just walked off the plane and into my taxi...that’s how lax it was. My taxi driver didn’t talk to me at all, and I was kinda bummed, until I realized that he was taking me on a roundabout route and then I was mad at him. But I still tipped him very well because I panicked. So there.

But now I’m chilling in my cool hotel room in Thessaloniki waiting for room service, so all’s well that ends well. Tomorrow’s for adventuring!

[jaynesromanholiday]

Zach

I remember the last time I saw you about a month ago at HyVee, because you always said hi and stopped to talk even though we were never super close. I wish I had gotten to know you better.

I had so much fun cheering you on at wrestling tournaments in middle school and screaming from the stands for you at high school football games. You were always friendly and familiar--even after we both went off to college, and whenever I would see you you were always having a good time.

When I think of you, I think of your family. Where ever I saw you, your family was usually there, too. I didn’t know your family at all, but I think the fact that I knew exactly who they were and saw them often is a sign of how much love and support you all shared. 

I’m sad for all of your friends, who are my friends, too. My heart aches for your family, because their lives won’t be complete without you. My heart is broken to think of what you must have been going through. 

You will always be a part of home for me, and I’ll be missing your fun-loving, smiling self.

[jaynesromanholiday]

Smells, specifically my favorite ones

My favorite memory trigger is smell. And here’s a running list of my favorite smells:

The kitchen cabinets at my dad’s house (formerly my Grampa Bud and Gramma Mary’s cabinets--I’ve loved the smell of them since I was super small)

Pine trees

People who have been outside recently (this is like a sweat mixed with wind smell...if wind were a smell)

My friend’s houses growing up

My blanket (which is just a little scrap of fleece cut from a bolt and given to me by my Gramma Betty)

Volleyballs

Garages

Lilac bushes

Clean babies (like babies that are my family...not babies I don’t know)

The smell of liquor on people’s breath (I know this one is weird)

Mountain air

Farms/barns

A sack of fresh hay

Old books

New houses

Outdoor pools

Food (bread, garlic, peaches, peanut butter cookies)

Scented markers

Crayons

Bath and Body Works Pink Grapefruit body spray (this is the scent of middle school cheerleading camp)

Leather

Matches/fireworks/sparklers

[jaynesromanholiday]

CherFitness: A New Attitude

There is a definite culture around working out in our family, and when I was growing up, it was all about at-home aerobics tapes. 

My mom was (and still is) super religious about working out on every free morning. It’s one of the multiple reasons that we were late everywhere we went when I was little--mass, family get-togethers, appointments, etc. And she still brags about the fact that she does not need to waste money on a gym membership when she can just work out in her house.

I remember waking up many mornings to the sound of my mom marching on her homemade aerobics step, which was home-made out of 2x4s with a piece of carpet glued to the top. I would walk into the room all bleary eyed and curl up on the couch and watch my mom do aerobics. She would always get mad at me for watching her which I guess is understandable because who wants to be watched while they’re working out??

The holy grail of our collection of aerobics tapes was CherFitness: A New Attitude. This beautiful videocassette was released in 1991, and obviously it stars (god among men) Cher. Here’s what the video looks like (in case you’re wondering if your mom had it, too):

I used to request Cher when my mom was deciding which workout to do. She would start the tape, and then go get her step in place, lace up her white New Balances, and sometimes finish up a phone conversation all while the opening credits/health warnings played. I thought it was so innovative, because that way she didn’t waste her time watching the beginning of the video, and she didn’t even need to fast forward!!

Before I get I into the nitty gritty, I should mention that Cher is one of my favorite people in the world, probably thanks to this tape. She has the most amazing talking voice and BEST hair of anyone in history. Every movie she’s in has been a mega-hit (The Witches of Eastwick, Mermaids, etc.). Her musical career has literally spanned a half a century, and she’s funny on Twitter.

Okay, so Cher would start playing, and if you’ve ever seen or done this aerobics tape, you would understand how I could actually lay on the couch for an hour and watch in a trance-like state. Cher is literally hypnotizing. First, she wears the most fabulous outfits:

Who else could ever pull off fishnet tights while working out besides Cher????

Also, I had the whole tape memorized. I could sing along to every song, and my favorites were:

Born to Be Wild by Steppenwolf

Get Ready by The Temptations

All Right Now by Free

And of course, Love and Understanding (which Cher can actually sing while doing aerobics) by Cher herself

Imagine my extreme delight when my sister, Molly, who I assumed slept through aerobics every morning, revealed that she also has extreme nostalgia for this VHS. AND she actually went so far as to try to by it on DVD!!! We couldn’t find a copy (Cher, if you’re reading this, please consider re-releasing on DVD), but to make up for it, Molly made a Spotify playlist of the soundtrack. You can listen to the playlist here!!!!!: https://open.spotify.com/user/mollymoe86/playlist/5mX5HRH2DpJl4NymviNXl9

(Molly, the people of the world are surely thanking you for inspiring me to write this post!!!)

Also, I knew Cher’s every little comment and aside, and would share in the leader’s loving look of exasperation whenever Cher would get distracted from the task at hand. I would also secretly make fun of the girl in the back who would show modifications to the workouts. I assumed she was actually out of shape in real life and couldn’t keep up with Cher the Magnificent. And incidentally, I always insisted that the girl looked like my sister Molly!

Sometimes I would stand behind Mom and try to do the video, but I usually got too winded, because as I’ve told my mom a million times, I am not one to work out in the mornings. Also, she would get mad at me for getting in her way.

At the end of the workout, Cher would cool down with a stretching session, and I can vividly remember my mom’s joints popping and cracking, which is creepily one of my favorite human noises (obviously Cher’s voice is my all-time favorite human noise). While the tape was rewinding (one of my favorite machine noises), I would run to the shower so I could get in before Mom and she would get mad again because I literally had a whole hour to shower and now she’d have to wait for me. And then we’d be late to mass.

No workout tape has ever come close to Cher’s in my heart. Gilad is a close second, though, and his was my Aunt Jeanne’s aerobics tape of choice. Gilad had a whole series of aerobics tapes called Bodies in Motion, and they took place on a beach in Hawaii. He is Israeli, so he also has an amazing, inspiring voice. Which, as we’re probably all just now coming to the realization of, is a very important trait in an aerobics trainer. 

Here’s Gilad:

Lastly, the least exciting one of them all, but with arguably my favorite studio/set design, was Keli Roberts:

This lady cut the crap and got shit done. Her approach was a little too practical, so unfortunately, she was never known on a first-name-only basis like my other two aerobics heroes. Also, I distinctly remember her flexing her abs for the ENTIRE video--even when she was trying to catch her breath. (Please note the weakling in the back right doing the modifications on a shorter step. Pathetic.).

[jaynesromanholiday]

23: A year in review

A few days ago I turned 24 and got to spend my day with my best friend, her family, and thousands of Kenny Chesney fans. I had an amazing birthday, and it got me thinking about the rest of the year, which was also pretty great. 

I don’t actually remember what I did on my 23rd birthday. I had golf lessons the night before, and I hung out with my precious nephew Artie that weekend. The next weekend I saw my beloved Paul McCartney perform and cried when he paid tribute to George Harrison and sang “Something.” I also saw the Foo Fighters, Lorde, Willie Nelson, and Kenny Chesney this year.

I was a Girl Scout leader during the school year and realized that maybe I wasn’t patient enough or ready for the responsibility of teaching little girls life lessons or getting through GS cookie season.

After being blind as a bat for the past 16 years I spent a gross amount of money on laser eye surgery and now I see 20/20. 

My peach of a gramma passed away.

I’ve celebrated two Friday the 13ths and saw My Favorite Murder live (and met Karen and Georgia). I also started working part-time at Scratch and Table 128.

I went skiing for the first time and went on my first ghost hunt in an abandoned community home. I witnessed the miracle of puppy birth. I met a boy I really liked and had to say goodbye too soon.

I went on trips to San Francisco, Washington State, Vancouver, New York, Colorado, and Kansas City. I went to LaCrosse several times, made a few trips to Minneapolis and Omaha, and visited home a ton. 

I grew wisdom teeth and cracked my windshield and lost my car keys. I started writing again and rediscovered how hilarious it is to give people wet willies. 

[jaynesromanholiday]

A post I wrote in 2015, on the verge of graduating college, presented today with no comment:

What do you want to be when you grow up?

It’s a question I’ve been asked a billion times, and in turn I’ve asked this question a billion times.

No one has ever given me a concrete answer though, which is amazing, because I have asked billions of people. 

I used to only ask kids my age, but in recent years, I’ve posed this question to people of all ages. The thing is, everyone always has something else in mind for their future career, even if they’ve been at the same job for 30 years. But starting a new career path is admittedly a very scary thing, and no one takes that change in identity very lightly.

I’ve been thinking about jobs and careers and life a lot lately, because I’m graduating from college this winter, and right now the idea of doing any one job for the rest of my life terrifies me. I can’t even think of any one hobby I’d like to do for the rest of my life. I guess I have commitment issues, or need more hobbies.

I applied for (and did not get, which was kind of a relief) a full time job at the office I currently work for. On the night my mom convinced me to apply, I worried that I wouldn’t like working in an office all day. Then my she dropped this bomb on me: No one absolutely loves their job.

Obviously, I know that isn’t true. There are some wackos out there who are lucky enough to have found a job they are good at, and love every second of it. But as far as I know, those people only exist on the pages of National Geographic and exaggerated HR literature. I’ve never met anyone, no matter what their age, who absolutely, with no reservations, loves their job. Prove me wrong.

But really, how horrible is that?

The idea that I might never find my true calling scares the bejeezus out of me. And why shouldn’t it? Spending 40 hours a week doing something that you don’t enjoy? Absurd.

However, I still believe that the perfect job is out there, and I just haven’t heard about it yet. Of course, I’ve thought I found that perfect job countless times: foreign service officer, judge, marketing executive, journalist, environmental scientist, politician, person who promotes alternative energy, high school social studies teacher, crop duster pilot, country music singer, and the list goes on. But I can never stick to one plan for very long.

So now when someone asks me what I wanna do when I grow up, I go with the boring, yet honest reply of, “I don’t know.”

So, here’s the plan: never stop searching, never settle.

Take the mediocre job just for now, but keep your eyes and ears open. Use that hard earned cash to get yourself some voice lessons and pay for flight school! This is real character-building stuff right here, and it’s all preparing you for that one magical, perfect job.

[jaynesromanholiday]

I used to sleep on the wrong end of the bed. When I couldn’t fall asleep, I would put my head at the other end of the bed. It usually worked. A change of pace.

I’ve been at the same pace for a while now. I used to do things and then write about it. Savor it. Now I just do things and hurry back to real life. Do adults have time to savor anything?

I also used to wake in the middle of the night as a little kid and go to my mom’s room. I’d curl up by her feet and play with our cat, Socks, until she made me go back to bed. I can’t remember the last time I woke up in the middle of the night and intentionally stayed awake. I barely know what my house is like at night these days.

Sometimes when my friends had to go home for curfew, I’d go to the park after parties and swing. Think and swing. Think about pumping my legs and going higher and jumping off. Also thinking about my friends and high school and boys. Usually thinking about how interesting it would be if I got kidnapped and taken on an adventure.

I haven’t taken a walk in a cemetery in a long time. Or travelled anywhere on my own for a few years. I can’t remember the last time I pulled off the highway to explore the backroads. Or discovered a new place just to share with my favorite people.

I stopped knowing how to have fun on my own. And I haven’t changed my pace in too long.

[jaynesromanholiday]

Vancouver things!

This is a concrete factory...Vancouver even manages to make their industry look  cool.

What up my guy.

Beautiful Bowen Island.

Going to conference sessions is pretty easy when this is your view.

The view on Capilano Bridge.

[jaynesromanholiday]

Vancouver...the one in Canada

I’m gonna sound really stupid for a minute, but I forget about Canada a lot. It’s like Canada is my really well-mannered neighbor that mostly keeps to himself, so I don’t pay him much attention (my bad for assuming Canada is male). That was a horrible analogy, but it does sum up my indifference pretty well. 

Canada really didn’t come onto my radar until last year when I began watching South Park with my roommates. I realize how stupid that sounds (see disclaimer above), but it’s the absolute truth. Since then, I just assumed Canada, while still irrelevant, was just super easy to make fun of (like Mormons and politicians).

Now that I’m done offending everyone, let me explain why I’m writing a post about Canada. So as all of you should know by now, I began a new job in February. On my very first day, my supervisor asked me if I was okay with going to a conference in Vancouver in a few months. And I said hell yes. 

As soon as I found out I was going to Canada, I worked hard at expanding my Canadian knowledge. I began watching Trailer Park Boys with enthusiasm. That did wonders for my perception of Canadians. Then my cousin lent me the John Candy movie Canadian Bacon. That spoke more to the political corruption of the US, but I did learn that since Canada has two official languages, all Canadian slander has to be written in English and French.

Anyways. Last Sunday I embarked on my journey into the great Canadian unknown. I touched down into Canuck territory at 8pm and Maddy and Clarissa, my roomies from Rome, made the trip up from Bellingham, Washington to meet my plane. We drove into Vancouver and had dinner at a brewery. I had my first Canadian brew--I already knew that they are very proud of their beer up north, and that if you insult Canadian beer it is one of the only things that will cause a Canadian to become violent. Thanks Canadian Bacon. This was also my first brush with just how friendly Canadians really are. Our server gave us a quarter for our parking meter when we didn’t have any Canadian money. After that, the three of us went to my hotel and curled up on my King sized bed chatting and making plans for our big reunion (Jazmine, Maddie, Lauren...this means you!!).

I meant to sleep in on my first day and treat my work trip like a somewhat vacation, but like a true Central Standard Time-er, I woke up at a chipper 6:30am in Vancouver. I packed my backpack with my trusty tour guide (thanks Chris and Leah!!), and ventured into the city in search of adventure of Granville Island. I took a water taxi to the island (second brush with the famed Canadian kindness, the boat captain let me ride back for free), and spent Monday morning wandering around the picturesque streets filled with art galleries, pottery shops, breweries, and the public market. 

My hotel was conveniently (and dangerously) located in the big downtown shopping area, which is centered around Robson Street. I spent the rest of the afternoon window shopping and actual shopping.

That evening, the Unconvention began. The Unconvention, also known as my reason for leaving the country for a week, is a conference put on by Meetingmax, the system I use at work to organize event housing. The Unconvention strives to be a fun and unique gathering rather than a dry, boring conference...hence the name.

That first night, we all met at the Meetingmax office and then took a bus to the Vancouver Aquarium, where we had the whole place to ourselves for a reception. Super cool. Over the course of the conference, the Meetingmax team did such a great job showing us the city. They ferried us from Horseshoe Bay to Bowen Island, which was very peaceful and beautiful. We also went back to Granville Island for dinner at a nice restaurant and drinks at a jazz bar. The last day we stayed in the city, but were still able to walk around and see the sights. After the Unconvention concluded on Wednesday, a few of us went and got sushi (SO GOOD...plus our hotel concierge sent us complimentary glasses of sake--so nice), and then went to a few bars with some of the group.

The next morning, I woke up early and wandered around the Capilano Suspension Bridge, which like everything else in Vancouver, was ridiculously nice. I was a little bummed to find out that there were no actual hiking trails in the park, but I had fun exploring all of the other enticing features it offered (picture Treetop Adventures and Cliff Walks) early in the morning before most of the other tourists arrived. On the way to the airport that afternoon, my taxi driver and l chatted the whole way there...he was super friendly, imagine that. 

Overall, it was an amazing trip, and I met a lot of great people and learned a lot from my counterparts at other CVBs. I got back to the office and I think everyone was a little suspicious when I kept saying how much fun I had. I’m crossing my fingers that I get to back back next year to visit the city and my new friends again!

[jaynesromanholiday]

This is a story about a girl named Lucky

Do you believe in luck? Maybe not, but how else do you explain such good fortune? My life isn’t perfect, but it’s pretty freaking good right now.

On February 22, I started working for the Greater Des Moines Convention and Visitor’s Bureau. After two months of being a working stiff, I have to say I’m pretty happy with the gig I’ve landed. I’ve caught on to things pretty quickly, and my work week flies by. I joined the YMCA, and every lunch hour I go to a yoga or barre class depending on the day--I’m even known for it in the office now, weirdly enough. My commute is not so awesome, but I’m lucky to still have my college friends in Ames with me for now (please don’t move away).

On my first day of work, I was asked to go on a business trip to Vancouver, BC for a conference. I politely declined because I hate traveling...JUST KIDDING I said hell yes. So, I’m currently waiting out a layover at the Dallas airport.

When I got back from Rome last December, I never in a million years thought I’d be traveling internationally again within the year. Yet here I am, on my way to Canada for the first time, with my guidebook and my trusty blog standing by. I know opportunities like this are precious, and I am so insanely grateful for them. I hope my readers are ready to hear all about my five days (!!) in Vancouver. 

And I’m ecstatic to say that it doesn’t end there--and that going to Canada isn’t even my biggest trip this month. 

SOUTH KOREA. In 25 days I’m flying halfway around the world to visit my best friend in her family in freaking Seoul, South Korea! I can’t imagine ever being brave enough to travel to an eastern country on my own, so I’m so excited to have a friend kind enough to invite me there and show me around for a week and a half. I’m also super excited to visit my cousin, who lives near Seoul, as well!

Although I’m bummed to have had to sacrifice two other trips to be able to swing this one, it’s truly too unbelievable to pass up. That being said, I’m looking forward to flying home on Memorial Day and spending the rest of the summer chilling with my family and saving up money for the nest big adventure. 

So what’s up next for me? I’ll give you a hint: the sky’s the limit...right?

Sometimes cruddy things happen and people disappoint you, but this blog post serves the dual purpose of updating you good folks on my life and times, and also to remind myself how great I really have it.

[jaynesromanholiday]

The farm

Loving a place really doesn’t make much sense. It’s hopeless, actually, because loving something that can’t love you back can only end in heartbreak.

My grandparent’s farm is breaking my heart. What can you do when you have an empty, old farmhouse that is falling apart? I know the answer to that question, but I don’t want to face the reality.

My mom and dad both moved around when I was growing up. Not so much that I never had a real childhood home, but just enough that we always ended up moving out of them. For me, it was my grandparent’s homes that never changed.

Grandpa Bud and Grandma Mary moved into their home in the 1950′s, and lived there until they passed away. I remember the chairs they each occupied in the living room, the peanut butter cookies that were always in a Tubberware in the kitchen, and most vividly the smell of the kitchen cupboards, which is still one of my favorite smells to this day. Basically, my memories of my grandparent’s house are one of two ways: peaceful when just a few of us grandkids were being babysat, or absolute chaos with my cousins and aunts and uncles all crammed in. But always warm and familiar and full of love.

When my grandparents died, my dad ended up buying the house from his brother and sisters. Even though he made the house his own, the kitchen cupboards still have the same delicious smell they had when they were my grandparent’s. It’ll be a bummer if he decides to sell it someday, but it’ll be okay because every time I visit home, Eleanor Drive will still be there, and so will 1119.

The Warren Farm on the outskirts of Iowa Falls, Iowa, on the other hand, may not always be there. However impersonal and ugly the numerical country address may be, it leads to my favorite place in the world.

Oddly enough, there’s nothing really overwhelmingly beautiful or charming about Grampa and Gramma Warren’s farm. There is a ritual you have to go through to really understand how special that acreage is.

If you’re lucky to wake up early enough in the morning, it starts with seeing Grampa before he leaves to do his chores and work in the fields. We’d listen to the grainy kitchen radio play old time country music and wait for the other cousins to wake up so Gramma could start making her famous pancakes.

After breakfast, you have to check out the farm. First stop is the milk house, where the milk separator used to be, but is now where Pepper and the cats sleep. The farm has seen many loyal farm dogs come and go, and it was the era of Pepper when I was growing up. One of the first memories I have is of making my dad put me down so I could pet Pepper when I was a toddler. The cats are special because as soon as they had kittens, each of us grandkids got to “have” one that we would pay special attention to when we were at the farm.

Next is the machine shed, where there are thousands of tools and machines. You aren’t a farm kid until you’ve been baptized in the wagon full of feed corn. You’re not tough until you’ve been pushed of a stack of hay bails that I swear was at least a story high (Beth). Here’s where the famous red tractor is stored that Grampa lets us steer.

After that you have to go invade the sheep barn. They only trust Grampa and run away from everyone else, but it’s customary to “bah” at them from a distance.

Before heading back to the house, the ritual concludes with checking the chicken coop for eggs. The chickens don't want you to take them, so they hide them (but they’re usually pretty predictable).

Back in the house is where we’d watch movies with Gramma--usually either Sound of Music (which we’d sing along with every song to) or Parent Trap (which we’d quote word for word)--while Grampa fell asleep in his chair. We would also play with bouncy balls, put on talent shows, practice cross stitching, or play games.

We would fall asleep on the floor of the piano room while Gramma stayed up working on a quilt with the TV and lights blaring in the living room across from us. I have lived that day what feels like hundreds of times.

Spending weekends at the farm eventually turned into spending days at the farm celebrating birthdays and holidays. As my grandparents got older, I grew used to stopping by the farm with my mom whenever we were in the area and staying until ten at night just visiting. When my grampa got sick, my aunts and uncles began staying with him at the farm, and we became his at home nurses and groundskeepers. When he died in the farmhouse that he lived in his whole life, we were all at his side.

A few years before he passed, my grampa had the incredible insight to sell his farmland to the neighbors that he had been renting it to for years. Gramma moved to Friendship Village just across town from my mom and aunt. The farmhouse that had been occupied by generations of Warren’s for a hundred years was suddenly empty and lonely.

We may have closed up shop for the harsh winter months, but last summer, the farm experienced it’s own renaissance. As my aunt considered the possibility of making the farm her home again, the rest of the family rushed to her aid. My uncle drove up once a week to mow the entire acreage with extreme precision. My mom defended her long-held title of family clean-freak and led the charge in making the dusty farmhouse meet her (sometimes unreasonable) standards. My brother and cousin made a million big and small repairs and improvements to the house and land. I assisted in any way I could, and tried to fully appreciate the time and effort my family was putting into working together to make the farm a home again.

But at the end of our second winter-long hiatus this past year, we are forced to think about what is now recognized as the inevitable outcome: selling the farm. Try as they might to make it work, my aunt and brother came to the conclusion that relocating to a farm in rural Iowa isn’t in the cards for either them right now. Although I feel as though we could keep up the pattern of vacationing at the farm in the summers, my more practical aunts and uncles are feeling the pressure of being responsible for a handful of unused, falling-down buildings.

Although no one cares about the money, we are all being selfish in another way. The one thing that everyone agrees on is that the the acreage should be lived on, and not completely demolished and converted into farmland. Everyone in my family grew up on that land, and it’s my biggest wish that it’ll still be recognizable when I drive my children on “Gramma’s Gravel Road” someday.

[jaynesromanholiday]

Closing time

Today, rather unceremoniously, my life as a study abroad student officially came to a close. The last thing on my to-do list (pick up my transcripts from the study abroad office) has been checked off. I’m now a normal person who has a job and lives in a city that was established only 150 years ago.

Ever since I survived a full day of travel from Rome to Waterloo two months ago, my life didn’t quite go back to normal, but it did go back to comfortable. Sure I graduated, lived out of a suitcase for a while, and started a new job, but I did it all wrapped in my familiar Iowa comfort blanket. Not once in the last few months have I thought about exchange rates, getting my hands on a proper map, or getting to the train station in time for the airport shuttle bus. In short, I went from being a savvy, world-traveling Roman to a recent graduate with a comfortable apartment, whose major source of entertainment is going out on the weekends. My jet lag didn’t even last longer than a day.

So, when I went to see my study abroad advisor today, I knew I was going to have to recall my experience to him, even if I really didn’t want to. I’ve been getting by for two months by replying to “How was studying abroad?!” with “great” and “amazing.” It was as if my semester abroad was a magical, secret experience that would turn into a distant memory as soon as I stopped to actually think it. Besides, it takes a very special person in one’s life to truly listen and take interest in the adventures that one has a world away, and I was afraid of indifference.

The thing is, I don’t really want to think about how at this time three months ago I was looking forward to upcoming trips to Paris and Marrakech as I walked past the Colosseum on my way home from class. Because I miss that lifestyle, but also because I’m not completed satisfied. I sometimes think of how I could have enjoyed the nightlife more, made more of an effort to make friends, visited more countries, or seen more of Rome. Because who knows when I will ever get another opportunity like that--that’s why they call it an “opportunity of a lifetime.”  But here’s where I have to give myself more credit because I made it happen once, so obviously I can (and I will) make it happen again.

So, at my advisor, Trevor’s, urging I am officially reflecting. These are the ways I’ve changed since studying abroad:

I am braver. Even though I don’t have to be on a daily basis anymore, I am a brave person because of my experience. I managed to design my dream study abroad program months past the deadline and roll with the punches until I bought my plane ticket three weeks before I left. I travelled internationally on my own five times, despite being a born worrywart. I arrived in London for the first time in my life alone at 3am and found my hostel on foot using only a paper map. I met forty new people in one day and became friends with them.

I am more confident. I learned the twists and turns of Florence’s alleyways and passages in two weeks, and then did it all again in Rome. I spoke (bad) Italian automatically at gelaterias, shops, and school. I jumped off a cliff into freezing cold water in Morocco. I learned how to haggle.

I am more present. I can initiate conversations with strangers easier now. After months of using my phone only to check the time, I am less dependent on the internet and social media. I’m perceptive of body language because I am used to not understanding spoken language. I notice things like architecture, trees, and sounds now.

I am more interesting. I experienced more of the world and am therefore more relatable. I made friends and learned all about people who aren’t from the midwest. I found out that I’m a natural at rolling cigarettes (still not a natural at smoking cigarettes). I went to the club at 1am in Barcelona and danced until 6 am.

My time abroad was not necessarily about all of the places I visited, as I once thought it would be. It was about the mistakes I made, each new thing I experienced, the things I learned about myself and the world around me, and how to take the path less traveled. But mostly, it was about the people. My study abroad friends. My advisors at Iowa State, in London, and in Rome. Our teachers and tour guides. The Romans themselves. To think that I once thought of this trip as something that I was doing on my own is so ridiculous. Every step of the way I had the support of countless people, and most of them I had just met. Especially my classmates: put 40 people in a new and unfamiliar situation, and you’re gonna have each other’s backs pretty fast.

So, I don’t know what’s next for me. I can already feel myself itching to go somewhere new again; although now I dream of places in the Southern Hemisphere--the South Pacific and South America. But for now I’ll keep searching for a job. For now I’ll keep spending as much time with my family and friends as I possibly can. For now I’ll thoroughly enjoy going out on the weekends in my college town. Because now I know that nothing is out of my reach, and all I have to do is go for it.

[jaynesromanholiday]

PSA about EEA

Many of you saw my post about my weekend itinerary and may be wondering: where are all of the pics from my Eastern European Adventure?! Well, the EEA has officially been cancelled. 

Wednesday night, at literally the last minute, I gave in to my stress and doubts and gut-instincts and called it off. As much as I hate being a quitter, and as badly as I want to see Hungary, Turkey, and Germany, in the end it turns out I was too scared to go, and I’m alright with that. 

I spent a very unhealthy amount of time this week worrying about the four flights I would have to take this weekend. Ever since I read Judy Blume’s In the Unlikely Event this summer (about three plane crashes in one town and based on true events--TERRIBLE IDEA TO READ BEFORE A TRIP TO EUROPE), I’ve been pretty jumpy about flying. I kept thinking about how pissed I would be if I got into a plane crash the weekend before I was coming home. Plus, I can’t even begin to describe how sick I am of airports, airport security, and waking up early for cheap flights.

Of course there’s also the blanket travel warning for US citizens in Europe, and I didn’t want to push my luck after I somehow ended up in Paris the weekend of the worst terrorist attack in the city’s recent history. I felt guilty going against my parent’s wishes that I not travel to Turkey, and I was honestly pretty nervous myself. I just had an overall bad feeling, and I’m not one to ignore a bad feeling.

So, I can truthfully say that I have no regrets about spending my last weekend abroad in Rome, my trusty home base for an incredible semester. I’m over the moon about being able to see my family and friends and eat Mexican food again one week from today, but I know I’m gonna miss this city, and this country, to death. 

I tossed my coin into the Trevi fountain, so I know I’ll be back someday, but heres to seven more beautiful days in Rome <3.

[wayner]

I never wanna go this long without seeing each other ever again, but at least our best friend telepathy still works!! See you in ten days, coolio <3