TRAVEL NOTES FROM NEW YORK CHRISTINA (Not really, I'm from Colorado): Part 1
About the header photo:
Photo of a cow Christina saw in England (once she finally made it). The cow is trying to eat the ivy on the other side of the fence and making it harder then necessary. Which is an allegory for most of Christina's summer.
Hi there!
I wanted to check in and say heyyyy!
Summer is chugging along. Spain has won the World Cup. And I am hiding in my cloffice (closet+office) while I write new words.
In June, I got a scholarship to a writer's retreat in England from Craig Martelle and an anonymous donor. My mom was not about to let me go on a European adventure without her, so she signed up to come, too. Then my sister joined in on the fun and it was a real girls' trip!
Boy oh boy, was it an adventure!
The trip to England to write mafia rom-com began with the first leg from Grand Junction to Dallas where we'd connect to Heathrow and then onto Manchester.
But traveling with me is always an adventure and you never really know what's going to happen or what people will confess along the way.
Which is why I can say that... The moment I knew my trip to England had gone off the rails was the second I realized there was blood all over my hand at the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport.
I know what you're thinking... "that's a great start to a book!"
No, my friends, that was the start to my trip to the writer's retreat across the pond.
Picture it, Dallas, Texas, July 2026 ... we're on the tram from one terminal to the next and I notice the cowboy hanging on to the same pole has very nice boots.
He's an older cowboy with his luggage tucked beside him, just like mine was beside me.
As the tram jerked to a stop, we both held on but ended up bumping shoulders. That's when I noticed he had a gash on his arm he was holding tight.
I don't know why he had a gash or where it came from. I almost offered him a BandAid, but he didn't seem to be the kind of person who really wanted to be talked to. So I let him hold his finger on it and just thought about how much those boots probably cost.
The train came to a stop and we hurried off at the next terminal. I left the bleeding cowboy behind, but as I looked down at my hand, it was totally covered in drops of his blood.
First of all... ew.
Second of all... gross.
I told my sister that I'd meet her and mom at the gate. I had to go wash the blood off my hands first.
She didn't know what to say to that.
Really, though, neither did I.
Stay tuned for more about my trip to England. This was only the beginning...
xoxo,
Christina
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