#Marceen A. Burgher

[passportrequired]

Gesundheit! Fitness, Weightloss, Wine, Dessert and Clarity in Europe

While we borrowed “gesundheit” to mean good health when someone sneezes, it translates into health and fitness. Speaking of foreign countries and trasnlation, visit this article if you need to Professionally translate a document.

Why am I worried about gesundheit? Well because I barely made it to London, England on April 17th, before I had to jump on a plane to Vienna, Austria. Day one in Vienna I found myself in the gym at the Le Meridien dancing with my eyes closed to Tony Braxton and Loon’s “Hit the Freeway”. I had just finished weights and a bunch of other exercises and dancing was my reward to self for working out while on vacation in Europe. What was I thinking? I should be drunk off cheap wine or gin spritzers and stuffing my face with schnitzel!

Instead… Ich habe mich auf Reisen der Gesundheit verschrieben. (I was committed to health while traveling.)

When I missed my flight to London, I thought for sure my vacation started and stopped in that one moment. It was 4,000USD to change my premium economy ticket! That didn’t even include the change fee, smh.

I had carefully planned everything. I knew exactly what snacks I was bringing for Curry puppy and I packed all his food and snacks two days in advance and placed in the back of the X5. I checked with my nephew to see if the Trader Joe’s is still in West Hartford, Connecticut so I could buy his extras and I crossed him off my list. I was headed to CT so I can leave Curry while I chased clarity in Europe.

I woke up super early and packed my suitcase, Curry’s toys and bed in the car. As soon as I was about to leave, I let him outside to pee and he ran off to Charles’ house. Okay, I can dig. At 4am I didn’t want him running over to Trenton Place to Higgins’s house (his bestie), so him running next door was cool. Curry puppy was always trying to run off somewhere, it’s his little game he likes to play with mommy. A dangerous one at 4am. I got him back. Packed him in the car and I checked off him, my luggage, water, healthy bars for me to eat on the ride so I wouldn’t stop on the New Jersey Turnpike and buy junk. Check! Check! Check! It was the perfect pack.

I drove 6 hours to my sister’s house. I gallivant for a few days. Played electronic UNO with the kids ‘til late at night. Even decided since I had time on my hands I might as well get my hair done. Check!

Now, it’s super hard not to eat unhealthy at my sister’s house. Real Jamaican food being cooked here. Curry chicken. Rice and peas. Oxtail. Jeez. I feel like I’m in Jamaica for the first leg of my trip. Just pure yummy Michelle food. Resistance is low in Bloomfield, Connecticut. I went to Trader Joe’s and bought 4 cases of water to counteract any craziness. Check! It’s important to know I don’t practice deprivation. I eat. Weight loss happens regardless. Mainly because when I’m home I’m strict. I’m on vacation. Live a little. Check!

I was so relaxed. Then comes departure day. Or night. It was dark out. I woke up at 2am. Exhausted I just went to bed at 1am. Why won’t I sleep? Ugh. I woke my nephew up. We had to drive to JFK for my 7:55am flight. But as soon as I got up to leave, I knew. I knew I had forgotten my passport at my home in the safe, 6 hours away in DC. I looked at the time and I looked at my nephew and I wanted to cry. I had the whole weekend. I could have driven to DC and back, or even had my passport FedExed. Man, oh man. Alright. No point fussing. Let’s figure this out. How? Passport is required. I was screwed.

British airways didn’t open until 7am!!! Wtf. I’m definitely panicking now. Okay. Okay. Doesn’t matter. Life goes on. Two days of stress eating crap, I was sure I put back the 10lbs I had lost at my weigh-in at the weight loss center. All day and I barely drank any of the water I bought. I finally sorted it out and I got on a plane two days later and made a commitment to get my shit together. My weight loss shit together that is.

The point of the back story is nothing ever goes as planned. Life happens. You have to be prepared. I actually thought that in October when I jumped on this weight loss journey that being conscious of my emotional eating and my triggers would always make me prepared. Stress eating? No problem. I had it under control is what I thought to myself. I keep watching the weight drop because I was focused. First it was only diet and mind games for 3 months with light walking. Me and my trainer agreed to delay starting so I could ease my body of some of the weight so I am not discouraged by the workouts. I already hate the gym.

The idea was, if I felt too much pain then I would associate it with the gym and get discouraged, or plain whole STOP. Like I had done in the past. I was playing so much psychological mind games with myself. Shit I didn’t even need to do that when I was eating the food that put the weight on in the first place. Crazy, right? But clearly forgetting my passport and dealing with that stress and being in a trigger environment in Connecticut was too much to handle and I realized we are never fully prepared. It’s what we do next that matters. I was stressed because I needed this vacation – this thought trip. My soul yearned for it. And I had carefully and thoughtfully planned it. I had to go.

It was a photo from my family reunion that encouraged me to get moving. I’ve never battled too much with self-esteem so I never once looked in the mirror and saw an ugly face, but I definitely wrestled with what fat I would cut off and, where, if I could just take a knife and do it. I took one look at me in that pink dress in that photo and I realized that night I had to put on flip flops because my ankles were swollen from the 6-hour drive to Connecticut from DC. I also looked at the dress and my belly filled out so much of it I couldn’t wait around to have that heart attack most black people have in their 50s. While my face looked super young and people think I’m anywhere between 28 and 35, I was turning 43 that coming January and I needed to finally make a change.

In October 2018, I became super focused and I went to a weight loss center and lost 30lbs quickly. My joints felt good. I went to the trainer and we decided on one day a week. It seems like nothing but it has been so effective. I started to build a relationship with fitness that I hadn’t have in a long time. We are now at two to three days a week.

Bill Walker at Balance Gym in DC and I do weight training with kettle bells and resistance weights. He is the best trainer I’ve ever had. And I’ve had several. Sometimes I get through the time and I’m like that’s it? And he’s like well done. Now don’t get me wrong, Bill makes me feel like I’m going to die with every workout lol. But I say “that’s it” because for the first time I’m actually enjoying my workouts. I want to show up. I can only attribute that to Bill and his style of training. Never the seller, more focused on my care and my outcome. I have a left knee injury, a back injury and carpal tunnel in my left hand along with a strained right ankle from surgery. But Bill is so knowledgeable in joint and muscle pain that we would shift the workouts depending on what ailment I was having. It was a no brainer when I decided to sign up for a full 6 months of training.

I found my way out of Connecticut on an American Airlines flight and my first stop was London. I got to Heathrow late. I ate something light when I got to Misha’s. I slept the next day. Sleep is so important when you’re trying to lose weight and I don’t get enough of it so when I can, I do. I am naturally an insomniac. My thoughts and ideas flow better at night. This is either true or we insomniacs think so and have fully convinced ourselves of it :-).

I ate one boiled egg and a toast and salami for breakfast. The salami wasn’t the best option but I drank lots of water. Have to keep my ankles skinny especially after flying. My ankles always swell. Ugh. I watched a movie. Lounged and took another nap. Apparently, I was exhausted. So much drama with the airline and flight. I finally got up put on my gym clothes and decided to walk the streets of London and people watch. This is how I get my exercise when there is no gym. Getting my steps in. I actually love that about UK and Europe. Walking is so easy. And people are funny to watch. The pubs were already packed. It was a holiday weekend and they started early on that pint of Guinness.

The thing is, vacations and weight loss are not synonymous because we want to cheat. We have garnered this idea that being on vacation means we have to binge eat and stuff our faces with the worse foods. My goal was to taste everything. But I wasn’t planning on being stuffed. If I was stuffed, I couldn’t walk and I couldn’t people watch. What’s the point of being on vacation in a food coma? I actually like to see and explore the places I visit.

I made soup and festival for dinner and had a beer. I drank more water. The next day I was on a plane to Vienna. After getting sick on schnitzel I knew I had to be careful with foods in Vienna. Everything seems fried or processed into sausages. So, I made sure there was a salad or something light at every restaurant we dined, so I can have a healthy option. I drank plenty of water. I never shy away from desserts or alcohol but I’m not naturally a dessert eater so I don’t always indulge. But alcohol – definitely. Wine was cheap in Vienna and though not as cheap, gin spritzers were a “thing” and very delicious.

I told myself I had to work out at least once in every city I traveled to. With Misha, I was going to walk more than the average person anyway. We did over 12,000 steps a day. But I craved my Bill exercises. I went into the basement of the Le Meridien and was elated when I saw kettle bells. Great gym. I had my Bose headphones and I blasted some hip hop and rap and got to it. After my Bill reps I stretched. I was amped. Feeling good about myself I put on some hip hop and danced my ass off. I danced for another 20 minutes. I drank more and more water. In case you haven’t noticed, besides alcohol, I only drink water.

Misha and I walked so much I could hear the weight say, “I give up” and got off the next train stop before I could. We rode the train and walked everywhere. We went to Schöenbrunn Palace and got lost in the maze and even took unforbidden photos inside the palace. We visited the Jewish Museum and saw some amazing exhibits including that of Arik Brauer. We saw a horse show at the Spanische Hofreitschule Riding School and watched an opera, which left me singing “Nichola” the whole night. It was the only word I could remember since the language eludes me. We ate Art on a plate at the Pramerl and the Wolf in Roseau, Vienna. We took photos by the Hofberg Imperial Palace and we ate dinner at one of Vienna’s oldest restaurants. We had wine and downed calamari and mussels at Naschmarkt. We ate street food in Vienna City Centre. We did so much I can barely remember most of it. Like I said, I was with Misha and we did 12000 steps or more a day.

Misha went back to London and I went off to St. Julian, Malta. The first day was chill. Lazy and lounge. Malta was a breath of fresh air. Beautiful. View outside my balcony was to die for. I could retire here. The Mediterranean Sea looked amazing. Day two was sightseeing and walking. I ate whatever I wanted. No gym. And water was scarce. The water was not drinkable so restaurants don’t offer it up unless you buy. And I hadn’t noticed they didn’t bring any cause me and Kerina were drinking wine and beer. Malta was scenic. I ate rabbit (tastes like chicken), and we sat at the top overlook at City Lounge in Valetta and ate and drank and laughed.

Amsterdam was my reboot. First day we found a treasure right next to the hotel called Dragons Delight. Oat milk latte and avocado toast with scrambled eggs. This is too easy, I thought. Kerina worked out with me first day in the hotel gym, and we walked around Rembrandt Square that night checking out food, nightlife and coffee shops.

My fake henna tattoo from Malta got five Moroccan boys’ attention and I stopped so they could read the Arik Brauer quote I picked up at the Jewish Museum in Vienna. “There was never a manifesto, it simply” just “happened”. I added just to put my own spin on it. We chatted them up for a little bit. I exchanged numbers with one of them and carried on. He thought I was 24. The next day we did 17700 steps walking from our hotel in the Pijp to Museum quarter and Vondelpark. Once Kerina left I made sure I ate well and kept moving.

While I explored Amsterdam some more, I couldn’t give up my oat milk latte. I went to dragons delight daily. Partly because they serve breakfast all day. Yum! Jade, Luca and Jasom are super sweet. Jasom was always checking what else I needed. Jade and I chatted about her bulldog pups back in England, while I went on about missing Curry puppy. But Luca told me they made sure the freshest ingredients were on hand and had monthly specials. This month, I was lucky it was the smashed spicy avocado toast with scrambled eggs. Good healthy food, good hot drinks with non-lactose options like oat milk and good people. I couldn’t have asked for nothing more in the Pijp. Except on King’s day, I watched the orange clothes roll by on boats. I didn’t get caught up in the crowd, but I enjoyed the scenery.

Malaga, Spain was the final leg of my trip and I got there late. This city was mine to enjoy alone. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. The next morning, I hit the streets and committed to a Misha day filled with at least 12000 steps and more if I could. I was going to forego public transportation and use my Chevy two (feet). It was the home of Pablo Picasso. The history of the Moors. Food and wine were cheap. Museums were free. I was determined to see it all. My clothes felt looser and I knew my weight shifted for the better.

Weight loss is at the forefront, but it wasn’t going to trap me either. Not every person over weight eats unhealthily. My cholesterol levels are great. I started clean eating after doing an amazing program with Emmanuel Galland in NYC. Clean eating means my meals are generally wholesome. Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s have been my rock! My problem was always over indulging and emotionally eating, never eating crappy foods like fast foods or greasy foods.

But with any weight loss program, you have to be ready, and it has to be internal. It’s a quest that must be accomplished by you, and you alone can make it happen. What I’ve learned so far and still learning is that consistency is key. Staying on course no matter how discouraged and feeling defeated or giving up is not an option. Those feelings are crap. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Stay on course. Nothing is easy. Keep at it and DO NOT look purely to others for support. While there are resources out there, they are not for everyone; therefore, encouragement has to come from within. Be your own cheerleader. And celebrate every win. Even if it’s small. I celebrated a big (30lb loss) with a trip to London.

I drank plenty of water in Malaga. The perks of being a Marriott Elite member, whatever you ask for you get. They were nice enough to give me more than the 2 bottles per day and so I told them to keep it coming.

I flew from Malaga back to Gatwick and then head to Heathrow where I would stay one night at the Marriott Moxy. Small, efficient and totally eclectic this hotel was noisy. I actually booked it to relax from my trip. However, I walked past a food truck and into the hotel, which had a red carpet laid out and girls dressed skimpily, handing me champagne. Where was I? After checking in at the bar (yes, the bar), I went upstairs, showered, changed and came back down to party. Who needs rest? I danced and chatted all night with a lady from Holland. We listened to a live band with steel drums, watched calypso dancers gyrate hips with practically no clothes on, took photos with a snake, drank free alcohol and ate free food. I was exhausted and hoped I wouldn’t miss my flight back to New York, but getting my exercise through dancing was fun.

When I got back from Europe, I had lost more weight. I had found my clarity while drinking wine and eating dessert, yet still managed to work out and lose weight. I call that success! I’m not encouraging anyone who is trying to lose weight to eat dessert because if it is a trigger then you have to be careful. However, I encourage consciousness, plenty of water, sleep when you can or just rest, walking everywhere, stop often if that’s what you have to do to reboot and hit the gym if your hotel has one, and if you can. Even if it’s just 15-20 minutes of weight training or on the treadmill or bike. Bike if you’re in Amsterdam. And it is a vacation, so enjoy it. I never forego any alcohol. I had wine, whiskey and beer. Food sizes are naturally smaller in Europe anyway so for an American traveler, I was already eating less.

I’ll let you in on a little secret, Vienna was the first time I worked out alone in a gym without Bill. It was quite an accomplishment. It’s definitely a “win” to celebrate and I am very proud of the relationship I have been building with fitness. I celebrated this big win by dancing for 20 minutes (big smiles). I start yoga again very soon. Who knows, my next PR article might be a yoga retreat in Bali.

Whether you’re touring Europe or staying at home and trying to lose weight. Don’t let it define you. Carve out how you plan to do it. Take charge and go for it. Don’t be discouraged by any setbacks. Life isn’t perfect. No such thing. Don’t forget to live your best life. Always. And if you’re an insomniac like me – drink lots of water. Oh, by the way, if in one night you down a whole bottle of wine in Malaga, Spain because you thought it was so cheap, drink more water. And make sure your next trip requires passport. I always do. It’s how I get my clarity. Besides, it’s less fun if you go domestic 😊.

Travel often. Travel well. Until next time – Gesundheit!

Gesundheit! Fitness, Weightloss, Wine, Dessert and Clarity in Europe was originally published on Passport Required

[dearnoonepodcast]

Dear No One Podcast Episode 5 features Host, Marceen Burgher opening dialogue with her guests on Indignation, Necropolitics and The Racial State. With special guest, Dr. Noel Cazenave, author of Killing African Americans: Police and Vigilante Violence as a Racial Control Mechanism and Professor at University of Connecticut. He discusses his book and the current racial climate surrounding deaths of George Floyd and others. Also on the Podcast is guest Adam Kaplan, Licensed Clinical Psychologist briefly discussing his thoughts on how to communicate race relations with our children and when.

[versestheauthorproject]

I would write down secrets through poetry and prose; hiding them in-between pentameters and verses.

Heaven Knows novel by Marceen Antinette Burgher

[passportrequired]

South Africa: Home, Where I Belong.

I felt the kind of connection to South Africa no one should feel when they are away from home. But home is where the heart is. And now my heart belongs to South Africa. My hair was blowing in the wind as I said out loud, “I could live here.” I was on a cliff staring at the waves crashing on rocks at The Cape of Good Hope. It was shortly after I watched baboons jumped on tables. Waiters and waitresses working hard to keep them off the roof and off our tables. We had an ocean view. I stared at the horizon and I wondered if somewhere out there the ocean did touch the sky. I barely noticed the birds on our table as I daydreamed about the horizon and my place in this massive ultra-verse.

I was literally on the same height as clouds on top of Table Mountain. I was scared of the height while riding in the turntable lift to the top, but my fears drifted as I saw the clouds gathered around me. It felt like I had gone home to heaven. And a sense of divinity flushed my fears away.

But how could this place feel like home. I have never been here before. Leaving Jamaica and moving to America had left me nostalgic; however, 24 years later even I knew that my nostalgia was misguided. Longing for a Jamaica I no longer knew. Unintentionally unrecognizable, the life I knew was over. But America always felt weird. Like I didn’t belong. Not quite black, definitely not white. In between, feeling lonely and homeless. I had already moved 10 times in 11 years. Not finding peace in any dwelling. I almost felt like a drifter until my feet touched South Africa.

It was inexplicable. The last leg of my tour was spent sitting with my knees clutched against my chest staring at the Indian Ocean on a tiny resort in Thonga. The transport literally went down a hill so my head was tilted and looking directly at my feet. I had never seen anyone used the AWD feature before and my stomach felt tight as I almost begged to jump out of the Jeep and do a butt slide down the vertical road. As I sat on that beach and stared at the Dolphins playing in the Indian Ocean, I wondered about the life I had already lived. It was living, or so I had thought. But seeing this and seeing a whole new world made me realized that traveling and exploring the rest of the world is God’s gift to mankind and anyone who doesn’t take advantage of this gift is literally committing blasphemy. A bit extreme? Maybe.

Eight days earlier, I arrived in Camps Bay after flying from Johannesburg into Cape Town. The only thing that saddened me as we transported to our hotel was the effects of apartheid. The discrepancy was real and I had to remind myself I was vacationing. No more crying.

I said I wouldn’t cry at Robben Island, but was lying to myself. The water transport left Cape Town smaller and smaller as we head there. And as the tour guide told the disturbing tale of Mandela’s imprisonment, tears flowed down my face in a way I had never cried before. To see the prison, he was held in and shook the hand of the tour guide who was there the same time as he was, felt moving. But I wanted to leave as soon as I arrived. While the stories made me cringe. It was the stench of injustice that made me sick. The place smelled old and of death and inequality. I was not prepared emotionally. I jumped back in line as soon as we got back to the edge of the island for the boat ride back into Cape Town.

The next day I saw penguins. I didn’t even know there were penguins in South Africa. Sea lions stink. But the view from the boat was desirable. We shopped at Louis Vuitton and drank Champaign until we spent more and more money because the Rand was 13-1 USD. We ate delectable steak at the Pot Luck Club and Gallery in Woodstock as we stared at the night view of Cape Town’s bright city lights. We ate art on a plate and in a can at La Colombe on the top of a mountain. And we toured a diamond factory and watched the tedious process of making a diamond jewel. We ate lunch at Chefs Warehouse & Canteen and had delicious veal, pork belly and pea risotto tapas!

Desserts were delectable! Excellent service. Warm owners and I fell in love with Bailey, the chocolate lab who sat in the shop portion of the restaurant. I had fresh fish from Codfather. It didn’t help that our server was a looker. Later, he asked if we could hike Table Mountain together. I couldn’t believe the taste of that fish dish. It was amazing. Perhaps this is why it felt like home. South Africa had inklings of Jamaica.

We went to an ostrich farm and fed the ostrich and I bought an overpriced ostrich leather clutch. I ate Kudu, springbok, ostrich and langoustine in South Africa. I could live here.

Stellenbosch was beautiful. An Eden so breathtaking I remember walking through feeling I had come home. But wine tastings and food in Franshoek came over me with a new peace. We arrived late afternoon at our bed and breakfast. I hugged our driver Nazir goodbye. Best personal tour guide ever. I stayed in one day and did work. I thought to myself, what if I could live here and work from home. I would be content as long as I can travel and explore and still feel the peace I felt in those moments. Not vacation peace, but living there peace.

We flew to Durban so we could head to the safari at Thanda in Kwazu Natal. As we drove through there were sugar cane farms that brought back memories of my dad’s farm in Jamaica. We stopped and I gave a school boy 10 Rands for FREE sugar cane. One of the safari workers peeled and sectioned the cane and I ate sweet sugar cane as I reminisced about life in Jamaica with my best friend.

Our first safari tour showed me a pack of lions. Too close for comfort in a topless Land Rover.

I watched as lion cubs ate a fresh kill. The lioness in the pack had killed a Kudu. Ripped its neck apart. I listened to their strong teeth crunch into the antelope’s bones and I cringed at the lifeless body.

I named several giraffes. They were easy to spot with height within the tallest of trees. They often grazed near zebras.Seeing these animals up close was amazing. I saw a rhino protect its young and a baby elephant ran to the land rover to check it out. He poked his head in and looked me in the eyes not long before running back to the herd. The next day I fed a male elephant. I paused to take a photo and he slapped my back with its trunk. Feed me I think it was trying to say. I chuckled and continued its feeding after my body had rocked forward with the shove.

I watched as cheetahs start their 18-hour nap after a feeding. Not sure what they ate but I’m sure it had parents.

Later at the club house I got asked “how are you able to afford this?” A white guy was there on a company event. It was a premium safari. Glamping instead of camping.

“Why, because I’m black,”

“No because you look so young. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Then don’t say offensive shit.”

“Could I still have your number.”

“No. Not if that’s your opener.”

I did meet another. Smooth chocolate skin, beautiful white smile and arms fit to tackle a tiger. Our last night together we drank Drambui and chatted at the club house near the animal lookout. We spotted a giraffe and he pulled me off the ground for a closer view. He pulled me close and stole a kiss on the lips. I pulled away and then thought WTF. Why not. I moved closer and gave him a proper kiss. I pulled away again. It was too intense. Unexpected and unfamiliar territory for me. Now what? “Would you give up everything and move to America?”

“I don’t know, I would have to think about it. Would you prefer to be number one? 2nd wives can be bumped to number one you know. Would that make you stay?”

“No. I would prefer to be the only one.”

“I understand. It’s your culture.”

He could have had as many wives as he could afford cows. 11 cows to be exact. It’s what you would have to give the woman’s family. With me he didn’t need cows. But it didn’t matter. It was just a stolen and forbidden kiss.

My final night in South Africa, I was torn apart because I was leaving. I missed good WIFI, but this journey was incredible. I cannot explain how amazing it was. I have no words. Even the lizards couldn’t ruin it. I’m sure I will be back before I know it. This is one country I cannot remove from the bucket list. I gotta keep coming back. Parts of South Africa seemed like something from my dreams or someplace that I had seen before. Only I had never been to South Africa. So why would a stranger, in a strange place, think it feels familiar?

I remember while in SAM (South African Market), I noticed a piece of art that I believe to be a sign, it had writings that said “It’s not the home I love but the life that is lived there.”

South Africa felt like home. Perhaps this is where I belong. Maybe I was living in the wrong space. It is possible to wake up in your own country, your own city and your own home – with all the things that seemed familiar and the only thing you know – yet you feel a missing piece, or a hole that is inexplicable until you go somewhere else and realize, “this is where I belong. This is the filler for my hole.” South Africa made me feel full. My emptiness disappeared. And I knew that it was the home where I belonged. The home I just never knew.

South Africa: Home, Where I Belong. was originally published on Passport Required

[dearnoonepodcast]

Dear No One Podcast Episode 4 features Host Marceen Burgher dishing on gratitude, aunt's death, racism, family, Jamaican dead yaad and features Ladders Memorial Day message from founder Marc Cenedella opening with Joni Mitchell's "Big Yellow Taxi" chorus. Listen @ Apple, Spotify, Google Play, Podbean and Castbox. Join us on Facebook group and follow us on IG @dearnoonepodcast

[versestheauthorproject]

“Free as a bird,” by Nicole Bus is one of my new fave songs. When she cries out that chorus and towards the end sings, “...I...