When I look at these rows and rows of barrels of rum, all I can think of are those cartoons where dudes lose all their clothes and have to wear a barrel over their nudie-tudiness and that barrel is held up by suspenders.
I mean, really, that’s just preposterous.
Two measly suspenders will NOT hold up a barrel. You’d need at least seven.
So, my sweet friend Annliese has a theory that a person’s aura/persona can be summed up metaphorically in some form of produce. I have yet to discern what my personal produce is, but Annliese has determined that hers is a papaya. I have no idea how she came to this conclusion, but either way, every time I see papaya I think of my friend.
When we were in St. Croix there were multiple papaya trees outside our cabin, and I blew up Annliese’s phone, of course, to tell her so.
I named this one Annliese.
Today’s theme: MIDDLE
Through the center window. Not such a bad view for lunch.
Today’s theme: MATERIAL
A capture of Point Udall, the eastern most point of the United States’ territory. If you get up early enough and head out there, you can be one of the first people in the country to see the sunrise. But that, as I mentioned, would mean getting up early, and I don’t think that’s what you’re supposed to do on vacation.
I’m not exactly sure why, but this is my friend Piglet’s favorite photo from all 17 million photos I took while I was in Morocco last January. Piglet says that she sees it as being the cover of my first book.
If I squint closely, maybe I can, too.
Though that means I’d have to…you know…come up with a story to read once one opens that door.
Don’t worry, Interwebers.
I’m working on it.
Swede and I were in Harper’s Ferry for part of this past weekend, doing our best to not labor…at all. Between ziplining, draft beers, late-night pizza runs and waltzing back and forth over the area where the Shenandoah and Potomac rivers meet (also now known as the Potomadoah for all you cool kids out there), I think we did pretty well in our efforts.
The most laborious part of this overnight jaunt was walking around Harper’s Ferry, which, if you’ve never been there, is apparently entirely uphill. Both ways. Though it thankfully wasn’t two miles, and it was not in the snow.
On one of the last nights I was in Anchorage, Captain Deb and I drove out to Alyeska to have dinner on top of a mountain in celebration of both of us living through another year. You take a tram to get to the restaurant going up, up, up through the trees and through the clouds until you come through on the other side.
Our reservation happened to be right around sunset, and this was the view from the overlook we happened upon, right before we got seated. Had it not been so Dear Sweet Mary Mother of Jesus cold outside, I probably would have requested that they bring my plate of lamb chops outside, but as it was I settled for a gimlet and a window seat and ate my lamb chops like a civilized person, sans down jacket.
Find out what other people are feeling sunny about on Calliope’s blog for this week’s Photo Friday.
Eventually, I will again have a place of my own in which to live and for which to write rent checks, instead of living out of a suitcase and on the kindness of family couches. And eventually said place of my own (again) will have to be decorated.
Too bad I didn’t know I’d be moving when I went to Morocco. I probably could have done some damage at the house-o-rugs shop we visited.
The day before I left Morocco, Turner and I hopped in the car and headed to Assilah, a small beach town known for its plethora of artists living there. We had some stormy weather on our drive, but by the time we got there it was blue skies and sunshine.
Being the middle of January the town was sleepy, with a few patrons dotting the cafes and looking curiously at the two very, very white girls who were wandering the streets. We stopped and had a lunch of pizzas and diet cokes at a café the size of a roller skate and talked and talked and talked for the longest time about everything under the sun.
If there is one thing Turner and I know how to do—and if there is one thing I miss so very much about my friend living halfway across the world—it is talking about our lives and solving all problems. I can’t stress enough how imperative it is to have a person (or persons) in your life you can tell things to, no matter how crazy it may sound, because you know she has probably felt the same way, experienced the same thing, or in general sure as shit isn’t going to judge you for whatever comes out of your mouth.
Those kinds of friends are hard to come by.
There’s a flair of Spanish and Greek influence to Assilah, and I imagine in the summertime its sleepiness is wide awake and dancing, and the beaches and the boats are crowded with tourists and locals and it’s all full of merriment. Or at least fragrant tagines of lamb.
It was a peaceful way to spend my last day of visiting, even if we did have to use Turkish toilets on the way home. It was the just-right way to end the trip before I had to leave, head back to real life, head back to a six-hour layover in Paris that resulted in several semi-unnecessary duty-free purchases.
Every vacationer should be so lucky.
One of the best things about traveling to foreign countries is partaking of the local cuisine.
What?
I’ve never seen this flavor in the U.S.
Ergo, local.
And yes, if you must know, I do consider potato chips to be cuisine.
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