It’s no secret that I love to travel. I love exploring new places, absorbing the culture through its foods and music, hanging out in sidewalk cafes and watching the people go by.
But I also love that I live in a place that makes me feel like I’m on vacation every day. This weekend, I threw my to-do list and errands to the wind, and lounged on my deck watching the sailboats on Lake Union. When I felt the need for more people around me, I walked a couple blocks to my local Starbucks to sip a frappucino and indulge in reading a book.
It was just a short hop (mentally) to France as I sampled pastries and sipped coffee with friends in a tiny urban bakery courtyard, where we poked our heads into the doorway of a children’s cooking class in progress next door. Then I journeyed on to Greece via a shrimp/feta/ouzo/garlic/tomato dish I made with a recipe from my favorite Greek chef.
An impromptu Sunday trip to the local farmers market in search of rhubarb (me) and radishes (my friend), ended with a bag full of goodies and exploring the outdoor deck of a new brunch place.
All vacations (and weekends) have to end. And tomorrow I’ll be back to commuting and emails and juggling work projects. But for now, I think I’ll wrap up my weekend nibbling raspberries and Gouda in my own little oasis in Seattle’s Fremont neighborhood.