today is all i have to give

Namaste and hello, again!

Surely the lazy will drown, and surely I have guzzled a few gallons.

Apologies...but a rediscovery and recreation of this blog site must become a priority.

My elaborate Manhattan entrance has now ushered me home, to the north side of Chicago,

but I managed to transport myself to Lima, Peru for a plethora of occasions.

*My cousin, Cristi Ros was marrying Florent on August 7th!

*All the French familila was in attendance in Peru (even those traveling from New Caledonia, off the coast of Australia)!

*Mi familia Peruano. My family. My lovely family. 4 years is a long time between visits.

*Machu Picchu was waiting!

*The FOOD! The FOOD, accompanied by exquisitely tuned French senses of aroma and flavor.

The FOOD, in the presence of Florent, a professional Parisian chef, skilled and studied, who knows food from FOOD.

*The awaited introduction of the representative of the German family to the Peruvian family.

One engagement ring to unite them all!

*Pisco Sours. Maracuya Sours. Pisco Sours!!

Chicago is glazed and beckoning. Juicy sunrise Farmer's Markets. Routine Bucks runs. Lincoln Square-ers bustle within German delicatessens. Children begin the essence of walking.

The crunchy bite of wind weaves the sandy leaves into my hair, and I am a memory in full stride on my Vondelstraat path from crumbling alleys of the Red Light District.

In full stride to the Musee D'Orsay, display macaroons on metal cooling racks in the corner cafe.

Full stride up the the heavens of the Alhambra; stride underneath the mammoth spider installations at the Gugg in Bilbao.

TODAY, I stride, and only scour the path at my toenails. Today, is all I have to give.

In my tomorrows, I ache to make this path all that the clouds are consumed by...

namaste, m*tha f*ckas. . . let us stride on.

it begins with a bite

eat it.

my next post, lovely m*tha f*ckas, is about food.

and with new york and chicago combined, we gotta good thing goin'.

namaste, foodies. i have missed you.

MERCURIAL

of mercury

of chemistry

of myth

of orbital rotation

of la luna

of cascades of heat

of rebirth

of elements

of laid pavement

of mown grass

of honey in the tree bark

of pollutants on my contacts

this heaving life is gasping for a cleanse

for a swab of ointment

for an herbal balm

for mommy's hands

for a nip of Bailey's.

it's f*ckin' hectic on 9th

and i jog my way past the blowouts

the only way i know

head down

tunneling over the grates and bowels of the city

passages under kitchens

under wine hustlers

under pasty puff-ers

new yorker puertoricans workin' the Amish Market

and the flavor of this melted pot is thick

it's complex

it carries history

and grit

and i dig it

when i see a family in saris

kickin' around an inflatable globe.

what seaport do i go to to watch the sunrise?

with LSD not so close...

all things are too fresh

i still remain a tourist

despite the temporary address

the light peeled back and frisked me over

i am saturated in city

saturated in humans

saturated in media

saturated in the heat that confusion spreads thick.

*Gina Cornejo written 4/2/10

namaste, to the winds of change...just don't blow me the h*ll over.

a missed may

i did. i missed may. totally. fully. complete fly by.

apologies, alongside a hearty namaste to you all!

my may daytime musings were complex and stressed and unfocused.

may teased me with dreams of spain, nepal, paris, australia, chicago...

i currently have no footing. i currently have no dirt in which to bloom forth.

i can feasibly pack my things and go. go!

just go...but to do what...to accomplish what...to flourish into what...

i was up very early in the city this month. early enough that Times Square

held an eerie resemblance to the movie "I AM LEGEND."

able to witness the bold yawn of the city,

swept up in street-meat onions and cart-coffee,

the routine of a couples parting on their separate paths to work

was a gem of genuine behavior.

and for new york, that's impressive.

the AM kisses were not thrust and rushed.

an extension of the night prior, a last taste, a small snuggle,

a new york nuzzle in the skin you surrendered in.

these couples genuinely displayed "love" and i saw it.

("love" love, because who knows if these people have been married for 7 years

or met at an 80's theme party last Wednesday. logistics on the side, they began

a day - this day - together.)

what they ate for breakfast or who cooked it, in whose shirt...

did they pack n' carry a handy travel toothbrush...

the nanny, was she on time today...

their laptop, did they plug it in overnight, or will they charge it at the office...

still wearing the purple leopard heels,

but accompanying a more casual newly-purchased Gap pencil skirt and cotton blouse...

i deeply "love" these couples.

i wish them all well.

i urge more slowness in life - my own included.

i urge more deliberate, thought out behavior.

i urge more tenderness with time and execution.

no one knows what is good for you, except you.

except, really, only you.

totally. fully. complete.

since i can't seem to make up my damn mind, as of late, i need to take it slow.

i need to yawn. i need to settle in. i need to focus. focus on, really, only me.

then, i can extend out...genuinely extend to others...deliberately give to them.

namaste. keep it slow.

pearls

I had written this in October of 2009, when my mom was admitted into the hospital.

MRSA had caught her, and she was then onto the ICU...

from bad to worse...days to weeks...

months of healing...

it is/was a frightening, humbling ordeal.

My mom is superhuman, a Light Bright vision, a person like no one else I have yet to meet.

She is patience, humility, underestimated strength.

My BFF. Who I want to be when I grow up. That's for damn sure!

i form warm rose pearls from my sweat.

there is god in me, that's for damn sure.

no one harms me.

no one claims me.

i am salt diamond St. Petersburg sand.

i am Wisconsin Friday Night Fish Fry, red-checkered buffet tray in hand.

i am bootleg Christmas trees and Sears blenders scuttled through South American borders.

i am light bulb pollen and pumpkin marigolds.

i am the IV hanging.

i am the medicated halo that creates an imbalance to your white blood cells

counted and calculated and charted so tenderly.

an unconscious medical wonder VIP.

i am the fierce antidote.

i am the medicinal cocktail logging laps in your veins from brains to foot,

there is nowhere for you to root, to plant,

to anchor your vessel.

i know. its such a hassle.

the tip-toeing, the unknowing, the blood bags, the thick liquid bubbles,

the moist heat, the clot by your feet, the dose of chalk to choke in -

to eventually infect your mouth as a baby's yawn .

and breath never became so slow before and

life never became so death before and

nine doctors in white cloaks spoke

your full name

in a huddled ring outside your room of hushed infection.

no one can harm you.

no one can claim you.

the tension that tightens you now beings to froth and drown.

your vessel can anchor.

let the Earth-Shaker scour all.

the god in you, you passed to me -

since in your sweat pearls warm were made.

my mother,

of spring skin and gems,

allow Saint Poseidon to anoint your breath again.

then, ease her anchor into deep bamboo coral

and wade to witness the reborn vessel.

namaste, mom. te quiero mucho!

Examiner.com

Submission for Examiner.com.

I didn't get the job, but I tried.

So, for now, in my mild sorrow,

bite me, Examiner.com.

I left my 10 year hometown of Chicago, Illinois, in chilly, late December (2009), for Otura, a town just outside of Granada, Spain. My return to Europe was to make my way north...to the north of Spain, to the north to visit never before visited German relatives of my then boyfriend, now fiancé, to the north to quench my tulip and old world obsession in Amsterdam, and to Paris to reunite with my Peruvian cousin and her French chef fiance.

The family friends (a husband and wife team) who housed me in Otura, are both travelers, adventure travelers, at that! They own and run Venture Forth Iberia, specializing in bike tours, art and religion tours, complete with hiking the Camino de Santiago in the north of Spain, and posses the amazing knowledge of Spanish food, culture, landscape and history - while raising their little boy, who mingles between English and Spanish fluently.

Upon my return home, New York called out to me as my next city to conquer! Welcoming a new city, such as New York, onto my list of "Cities to Live in Before Death," only creates the momentum to thrive and explore! to digest the culture! to continue traveling! to continue to learn my way around this planet one Arrondissement at a time.

I am currently 'living abroad' in New York. I arrived March 31, 2010.

My past travels have lead me to Costa Rica, Spain, and Peru, and Peru once again in August 2010, for the wedding of my cousin to her Parisian chef. My father's side of the family all still live in Peru, in Lima and Miraflores. My travels 'home' to Lima allow me to develop my full character as living as Peruvian-American. My mother has gorgeous Swedish and German roots, but hails from Morton Grove, Illinois. My desire for travel/living abroad will always root inside the bulb of discovery. The discovery of oneself, a personal or cultural historical discovery, the discovery of freedom, humility, humanity.

It's obvious I posses a passionate vim about travel, about serious connection, about the blossoming that only travel can ignite!

*** *** ***

Within the "Living Abroad" topic, it raises my interest in the tourist. The tourist, the native. In New York City, New York, in Vanves, France. The new working-tourist fascination and how adaption, and adoption, of a city is a worthy cause for character and career development.

The concept of 'home' is always a curious beast. One that snarls as it hunts, a constant reminder of where you 'should' be as opposed to where you 'choose' to be and vice versa. The topic of home is rich and deep, universal and superbly individual. I am enamored by the sweet tug of home, as well as the vicious roots that drag you back over the welcome mat and through the screen door when you least expect it.

*** *** ***

Infected by wanderlust, Gina Cornejo, has made 'home' her own moveable feast. Hailing from Chicago, and claiming New York City's, Hell's Kitchen, as her own, she begins again to audition, perform, write/blog, navigate, participate in event marketing and promotions via LeadDog Marketing Group, Inc., and continue on her quest for the best slice of pie. Newly engaged, a destination wedding is highly likely.

(mini sample bio they asked for)

*** *** ***

namaste, Examiner.com...maybe next time.

official arrival, folks!

between 8th and 9th

between deli and thai

an official arrival of spring has sprouted.

it's no matter that i can't pinpoint hyacinths in Central Park,

since i sweat wet lavender and pollen birth.

between fine French and New Jersey foul

between language leftovers on 10 for 1 postcards

between the fruit vendor, carb vendor, pashmina, nuts and keychains;

the official arrival of spring is salivating.

it's no matter i'm saturated, since i live in the Kitchen of the Melting Pot.

so, between the airport and an off-broadway rehearsal

between ORD and my entrance down into the wedding rabbit hole,

the official arrival of a proposal has occurred!

between the transition and upheaval

between our luscious parisian lifestyle lilt and

dutch -gracht and -stradt wonderings of tulips tip-toed up narrow staircases...

between this hustled choice of life and travel,

we paused.

he kneeled.

i gaped.

there was a ring.

we popped a cork.

he swig. i swig.

i made phone calls.

he went back to work.

i said a holy YES within the hustle!

and, the official arrival of an engagement has me sweating flora

as my foul mouth trumpets elation, f*ck! yeah!

(now, if i can only manage the b**chin' subway!)

namaste, to my fiance!

3-31-10