ChocolateGeisha Spills the Sake!™

Before I grew to be a “recovering Anglophile”, the inner-gypsy in me had whispered that it was time to quench the thirst of my wanderlust by fulfilling a life-long goal of “becoming one” with James Bond and the Beatles– the result would be my moving to the United Kingdom in an effort to have that mission accomplished (Imagine my thrill the day I heard Paul McCartney and Wings sing the theme  song, “Live and Let Die“, eponymously-titled after the movie that featured my suave agent.) I had never been to Great Britain, but knew that England, in particular, was calling and I had to answer.

This wasn’t a new conversation occurring amongst “me, myself and I”, but an ongoing discussion that slowly developed to unveil how strong my desire had grown since previous inner-dialogues… something far beyond musings of needing to be in the UK out of the belief that I may have existed during Medieval times in a world, immersed in Arthurian legend with Merlin, Guinevere and Excalibur or maybe, the Elizabethan era, where I could be found hanging with the Queen’s gang.

It was 2003, and at that point in my life, I had consumed my fill of broadcast media; I was ready to be the artsy, flower-child, living abroad that I was always meant to be. Mind you, having such an urge erupt usually came in four-year-intervals (a recurring theme in my life since childhood, as my mother tended to advance in her career {leading her to the title of “Senior Registered Nursing of Psychiatry”, before retirement}, and uproot our family to new locations around the same periods of time). The last occasion of my feeling a burst of inspiration to break away and start anew, prior to this, was in 1999 while living in South Florida. I was in the same field of work in Miami, and similarly, felt smothered in my environment. That’s when an unexpected muse showed up to murmur… or rather, “surf-rock-rap” its message into my ear, by way of music, wrapped in a bowling shirt… otherwise known as, Smash Mouth’s “All Star” (Yes, that description made my head spin, too, but I liked it.) No, really, I’m serious… I heard that song in my tiny, studio apartment in Hollywood, Florida and it triggered me to pack my bags, break-up with my first love of ten years, and GO!

COME ON… how could I ignore the lyrics^[¹]? Check them out:

Whenever I heard that bouncy tune, I felt powerful and knew that I could do anything. Just like labor and childbirth though (from what I hear), where no two events are the same,  my second experience with musical epiphanies didn’t give me the same visceral emotion or geographical yearning as the first; This time, a deep, rich, raspy… dynamic composition would awaken and lure me to another continent.

It happened one, early morning, towards the end of my overnight shift for NBC’s local news, Today in New York (“TINY” as we referred to it in the newsroom). Our network counterpart, The “Today” Show, that followed us in programming was hosting one of their regular “Concert Series” in Rockefeller Plaza. Instead of looking out of the seventh-floor window to see who was performing, below, I began to watch the show’s musical guest through the TV monitor in the playback area, where I sat to coordinate and roll videotapes during newscasts, when I wasn’t editing.

Then–there he was, my new crush– Seal Henry Samuel, performing the anthem that would change my direction in life, “Waiting for You“.

I had often listened to the tune on my CD player and felt the explosion of chords go through my finger tips. So, it was no, complete, surprise that such an arrangement would be a catalyst for my surge of urgency to take action. It was, however, unexpected that Seal would speak to me through the television screen… not once, but twice as he’d later appear in a second interview on a different day.

The deliciously dark, desirable and dapper dreamboat (“Yaaay” for alliteration!) was equally well-polished amongst his many wonderful traits as he serenaded the audience with his vocals and conversation (I’ve always been a sucker for a British accent. The fact that he was an “English chocolate” and Nigerian swirl of nationalities just made him even more exotic and sexy.)

He was a young, elegant Sidney Poitier (sssiiiggghh… be still, my heart.)

Listening to Seal and reading Paulo Coelho’s book,  “The Alchemist“, that spoke of finding one’s “personal legend” – the soul’s true desire – changed my outlook and solidified that I wasn’t wrong for wanting to satisfy my yearning.

This was perfect timing as I would come full circle by hitting the six-figure-mark in my yearly earnings, for the first time in my career, to poetically leave it all behind, and start anew as a poor immigrant in unchartered territory… such freedom.

I knew what needed to be done and took action to begin my new journey. To get the ball rolling, I:

• put my condo up for sale (but later, rented it out instead)
• withdrew my 401(k)
• searched online for London flats 

(and most importantly…)

• went on internet dating websites to find a playmate for worldwide adventures

(Hey, gypsy girls need love, too!)

In my next installment I, ChocolateGeisha, shall spill the sake about my quest for online romance with a Brit, also known as:  “Project: Get a Date, Mate!” and what lead up to my London encounter with “Dudley Do-Wrong” (The name seriously fits.)

Ta!

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© 2010-2011 Heidi Rodney-Nakanishi and ChocolateGeisha Spills the Sake!       All images are copyrighted by their respective authors.