Ingrid Michaelson Likes Utah

This post is supposed to be about my recent trip to Sundance, but really it's going to be all about Ingrid Michaelson. Those two subjects go together naturally, don't they?

Before I go off on my tangent, I'll briefly get the film festival out of the way. Cory has gone to Sundance for many years now, and this was the third time I accompanied him. We saw some great (and some awful) movies and generally took in the loveliness that is Park City. Really, I like the town for how picturesque and quaint it is. It's quite a trial to Cory that the film and skiing capital he loves so much holds my esteem because of the pretty trees and icicles.

While at Sundance, we met up with some friends from New York. Kelly is a freelance reporter and was all over the place conducting interviews and receiving great swag. In between that, she was able to get us into some awesome events. Here we are below at a Paul Simon party. That's a weird sentence.


And I think that's enough about the film festival, don't you? Because everyone knows the real reason people go to Sundance is to see famous people. We saw a number of celebs (a highlight was when Lindsey, Cory and I stood next to Danny Glover and did that "Angels in the Outfield" arm wave thing at him), but it was all eclipsed for me when we went to the Music Cafe.

The Music Cafe is a small venue that Sundance hosts each year. Every day of the festival, a line up of artists plays for free. Those lucky enough to get in are treated to a very private, intimate concert, as the cafe only holds a small group.

It was with much giddiness that I learned Ingrid Michaelson would be performing. I'm a big fan. Yes, I know that's not unique. I've adored her for the past six years, ever since Rebecca played me "Corner of Your Heart" on her iPod. This was back when I thought an mP3 player was some sort of tape recording device, so you can imagine my surprise when I heard such beautiful music coming out of the earbuds. I love, love, love her. Have I said this enough?

I staked out my spot and held my breath. When she came onstage, I yelled like a crazy person. In fact, I couldn't seem to stop yelling the entire set. At one point I was shouting out song requests. She had to shush me. It was a very nice moment for us. In short, she sounded amazing and was also very, very funny. If possible, I love her even more now.

She ended the set with an REM cover I had never heard before. It was, without question, one of the most special songs I've ever heard live. She used these pedals at her feet to start recording her own voice, playing it back to create a chain. I've posted the video below and anyone who even remotely likes music should listen to it (this means you Rebecca).

I'll reiterate here, she is singing completely acapella, with no one doing back up. Also for disclosure purposes, this isn't my video. Cory's sister Lindsey took a vid but the file wouldn't send to me, so I've taken this from YouTube. It's the same performance though, I promise.

Afterward, I was elated. If this had been the end of it, it would have been enough. As we say at Pesach, dayenu. (Anyone?)

Two days later, Cory and I were at the Salt Lake City Airport getting ready for a long flight back to DC. We were already at our gate when Cory decided he needed coffee. I didn't want to go. It was a trek back to the Starbucks we'd seen all the way over at security.

Fine, we went. I waited in line at the quiet Starbucks, impatiently tapping my foot as a few other patrons milled about, when Cory spoke.

"Erica," he said slowly. "It's Ingrid Michaelson."

I looked up quickly. Me heart leaped. It was Ingrid Michaelson. She stood next to me, studying the coffee menu in a graceful manner. I found myself short of breath.

"Excuse me," Cory said bravely, tapping Ingrid on the shoulder. "We were at your performance Thursday and my girlfriend here is a big fan of yours."

She turned her attention to me. My eyes got big.

"Would you mind taking a picture with her?"

Ingrid said "Sure" and got in close. I began babbling idiotically: professions of love; lists of my favorite songs; confessions that I had been the one shouting at her days before, demanding tunes like she was a trained monkey there to perform for my pleasure.

"That's sweet," she said with a smile. This relieved me. Ingrid Michaelson thought I was sweet, not some maniacal stalker.

As she left, I got so flustered that I may or may not have caused Cory to spill an entire hot latte down his pants. Whatever. I was on a high for the rest of the day. In fact, I think I'm still there.

As I've mentioned in posts like this, Cory often spends Sundance weeks tracking down and taking photos with his favorite celebrities. I've always shied away from this, as if waiting for the perfect person to take my celeb-stalking virginity. Ingrid was well worth the wait.

PS: How awesome is it that Ingrid Michaelson walks around airports by herself, sans entourage, carrying her own instrument on her back?

Brussels Rhymes With Mussles...

...but you shouldn't order mussels gratin. Despite learning this, I liked Brussels a lot. Mainly because the whole city looks like this:

And this:

Also, they have a royal family that lives here:

More fantastically, Anne of Cleeves, Henry VIII's fourth wife, was born in this building (it's a favorite spot for most people, isn't it?):


The city also has tiny, secret breweries all over the place, with specialty beers you can only find at that spot:


Brussels does have a head-scratcher of a monument; a little boy statue called Manneken Pis, which is the official mascot of the city. It's exactly what it sounds like.

The little guy is so famous, he pops up in plastic form throughout the city. Check him hiding out behind Cory as we enjoy some Belgian waffles:

This lady below is a bit more modest that our Manneken friend. Plus, if you rub her elbow, you're supposed to have good luck. Poor girl's whole arm has just about been rubbed clean off, and I added to the problem.

French Fried

Je ne parle pas francais. I think I just said I don't speak French. Nevertheless, I love the French. J'adore le francais! I think I just said I like rubber boots.

This was the extent of mine and Cory's language skills during our recent trip to Paris. We were in the land of berets for a week-long trip, with some other fun stops I'll write about soon. During our time in gay old Pa-ree, we took in many sights and did much strolling along the Seine. Like here:

And here:

And once more with feeling:

Of course, we did plenty of eating: steak frites, pan au chocolate, lots of cafe au lait and vin rouge. Here's Cory enjoying some macarons from Lauderee, a French cookie store that was a favorite of Marie Antoinette.

When not snacking, Cory and I tracked down famous literary haunts. The Shakespeare and Company bookstore was a frequent haunt of Ernest Hemingway's, as well as Ezra Pound, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Gertrude Stein.

Here's where I have to admit that Cory and I spent a whole day of our trip at Disneyland Paris. Yes, I know this is an unconventional choice. Still, we loved it. Well, I loved it. Cory went along with it.

We learned a lot at French Disney. For example, Mickey Mouse can speak excellent French; Donald Duck cannot. And, for those of you wondering what Disney characters look like in French-i-color, check this out:

Morris Market

You may recall from this post that I once had a lovely experience with England's morris dancers. For those of you who don't know, Morris is my surname, and so I felt a special kinship with these lively dancers. Today at our local market, we saw a troupe of men dressed in suspenders with bells on their heels. Cory thought they were fancy skydivers, but I knew immediately what they were. Huzzah! It was a bit of old blighty here on our colonial shores.

In other news, it's chilly in DC. Here are some lovely additions courtesy of the Dupont market:

The Winner's Circle

Does everybody know what the above photo means? It is official: Erica from America (the horse) is a winner. Yes, my equine counterpart has finally won a race. It was all very exciting. Her odds were six to one when she came in first yesterday at Calder. I'm not sure what that means, but I'm happy she's doing her namesake proud. Also, how fun is it that her jockey wears a pink satin jersey?

Anyone who's met my step-grandfather (that means Lauren and Cory) will recognize him in the winner's circle photo at the bottom. Huzzah! For those of you confused by this post, read here to learn more about who Erica from America (the horse) is and how she came to be such an incredibly famous racing horse. No sarcasm, I assure you.

Ou est Eze?

Cory and I are gearing up for a European adventure next week, of which I will write all about. In preparation, I'll be doing a few posts about our European trek from this time last year. These adventures were not previously written about, as at that point I was still wrapping up my posts about the List of 52. I'm making up for the oversight now!
In 2007, I watched an episode of "Passport to Europe" on the Travel Channel. For those who haven't seen it, it's hosted by a lady called Samantha Brown, a lady I am often very jealous of. She was in Nice for that episode, but half the program was dedicated to a little village just outside Nice, somewhere called Eze.

The place looked magnificent. It was a tiny medieval village on top of a mountain, a place that had remained unchanged for approximately 800 years. I was in love with it. I didn't know how or when, but I promised myself I would one day find myself in that charming little haven.

It was serendipity that finally brought me there four years later. Cory and I were on a Mediterranean cruise that would be making a one day stop at a port called Ville Franche sur Mer. Whatever that meant. I did a bit of research pre-cruise to see if there was anything interesting nearby that we could visit, and was delighted to discover there was. Eze!

For anyone who's seen "An Affair to Remember," you'll recall Eze as the beautiful spot where Debra Kerr goes with Cary Grant to visit his grandma.



Getting up to that mountain wasn't the easiest of tasks. We took an incredibly perilous cab ride around the mountain. Once up there, though, I forgot all about our cab driver nearly careening off a cliff. It was blissful. Check out the photos below, in which I do my best Debra Kerr impression. Cory looks pretty un-Cary Grant in the last photo, however. I snapped his picture once we reached the bottom of the mountain, and I think he was done with my photo-taking by that point.






Here's a video we took of a pretty little spot. It looks like we're in someone's private back yard, but we're not. This is what the whole village looks like. Also, strain your ears to hear Cory warn me about not falling off the mountain. We have a lot of conversations like that.

Accio Orlando!

Does everyone know the theme music to the Harry Potter movies? Bah bum bah bum bum, bah bum bum, bum bah bum bum bah bum...Please think of that music as you read this. Also, I apologize to those of you who haven't read the books or seen the films. It's going to sound like I'm speaking a foreign language from here on out.

Lauren and I are crazy people. To prove this to ourselves, we decided to turn the premiere of the eighth and final HP movie into a holiday extravaganza. In the past, Lauren and I have shared many a Harry Potter memory together. It's been a while since we've lived in the same city, however, and it has reduced the number of times we can dress up as wizards and frighten our friends. So, last fall we made a vow to each other that whatever else was going on at the time, we would find a way to be together for the last film. And together we were.

We spent the weekend of July 15th in Orlando, deciding that visiting Universal Studios' Wizarding World of Harry Potter was the perfect way to spend our downtime in between frequent viewings of the film. We were those crazies who camped out for the midnight viewing, and we aren't at all ashamed about it. Cory joined us a day into the trip and we got to experience the 3D version, which, unsurprisingly, was a lot like the 2D version.

When we weren't sitting in a movie theater, we were giddily skipping up and down the streets of Hogsmeade. I should note that Lauren and I made a trip to the place last year for the grand opening, so we were seeing it with experienced eyes. It hadn't lost its luster.


Here's a photo of us in the Hog's Head Pub. The Hog's Head Pub! Notice Lauren is drinking a Butterbeer while I'm enjoying a Hog's Head Brew. We have different taste buds.



The theme park has a neat little store based off Ollivander's wand shop from the books. You have to wait quite a while to get in, but it's worth it. Once inside, one person per show gets picked to go through a custom wand buying experience. Lauren and I almost died with excitement when we realized Mr. Ollivander was eyeing her up. Here's a video of Lauren getting fitted for her wand, as all students getting ready for their first term at Hogwarts must. I didn't capture our squeals of joy as we exited the shop, but I'm sure you can imagine for yourselves.

Now, here are some random pics of the trip. Cory weathered a quintessentially-Florida downpour by playing Ms. Packman. Also, enjoy a photo of what I would look like as a Nascar driver. It's in my future, I'm sure.