This is eHow you follow an agenda

I had my second day trip to Paris on Monday.  This time instead of going with a list of unmapped addresses of places I wanted to check out, I decided to make myself an agenda.  This is eHow you follow an agenda.

• Step 1.  Decide what specifically needs to be accomplished.  More sightseeing, less getting lost.
• Step 1B.   Try that again.  Okay … one museum, one neighborhood. 
• Step 2.  Consult with colleagues.  Paris Guidebook, husband, David.  Practice your I’m-not-a-stalker-banter in case you bump into David.   
• Step 3.  Distribute the agenda in preliminary form making sure to allot enough time for each item. Google calculate walking times.  Print accompanying Google Map with specific points of interest. Whip out the highlighter to do some color coding.   Do NOT send agenda to David. 
• Step 4. Stick to the agenda, follow the plan item by item, be ready to move on when necessary. Shopping streets are dangerous.  Café lingering, while on plan, can become a distraction.
• Step 5.  Table some items until next time, be flexible, know what needs to be completed.  Making train home.

So how did I do? I successfully visited everything on my agenda (though in a slightly different order) plus had time for a couple of extra stops.  The overarching goal for the day was to hit one museum (the Pompidou – the museum of modern and contemporary art) and wander one neighborhood (the Marais -- the bustling, fashionable district on the Right Bank home to small cafes, chic boutiques, art galleries with an ethnic mix of Jews, Alergians, Asians, and the gay community.)  Here then is the detailed agenda, revised for actual events.

8:50 – Train arrives in Gare de l’Est. Take Metro M5 towards Place d’Italie and get off at Bastille (6th stop).  Use leftover metro tickets.  Push your way onto the subway train and make like a sardine.   Count stops. 

9:20 - Arrive Bastille Metro.  Exit nearest exit, correct when above ground.  Pull out map and walk 1 KM towards Soluna Café (52, rue de l’Hôtel de Ville, 4th), otherwise known as the Caféothèque .   Walk fast because Guatemalan coffee is waiting.  Notice Seine to your left, but don’t be distracted.  You’ll see the river again.

9:30 – Caféothèque.  Here, they know that Parisian coffee blows and they want to make it up to you.  Delicious, full of cozy nooks and crannies to sit, and quirky in that “plants coming out of wall” kind of way.  Text photo to husband to let him know you’re safe and caffeinated.  Take home some Guatemalan bean$.  Gulp quietly when they tell you your total.

Paris meets Seattle. 

10:00 – Be flexible, part 1.  Caféothèque is right next door to the Memorial de la Shoah, a memorial that honors the 76,000 Jews who were deported from France to Nazi death camps.   Stop here. 

10:30 – Walk the quarter of Le Marais.  Try to not be in the grip of the map.  Let it flow, but make sure to hit Rue de Turenne, Rue des Francs-Bourgeois, and Rue des Rosiers.  If you miss them, you’re walking another quarter and best to consult the map again. You'll want to come back here on every trip to Paris.

11:30 - Bernard Garbo (41, rue de Turenne) and Palenzo Chemise a couple of doors down.  Stylish shirts at unlikely good prices.   Buy your husband some shirts. He will love you.  Remember the “shopping streets are dangerous” caution and refocus on your husband’s shirts.  Table trendy she shops for next time.

This shirt made it home.

12:00 – Place des Vosges.  Take in the square that is considered among the most beautiful in the world by Parisians.  Give it a few minutes.  Notice the impressive symmetry – 36 houses with 9 on each side.  Try not to notice the construction equipment.  Time’s up.   Don’t beat yourself up if it looks just like an ordinary square with trees and park benches. Take a picture anyway.

As you can see, my heart wasn't in the square or taking the picture. 

12:07 – Be flexible, part 2. Thou shalt not be in the grip of the map, but best to hold on to it.  Search purse/shirt bag/coffee bag.  Again.  Search in tiny places too small for a map – your back pocket, your wallet, your bra.  Retrace steps.  OK to beat yourself up on this one, particularly if it’s a special map.  Be glad that today you weren’t responsible for things you cannot lose like children and car keys.

12:30 – L’As du Fallafel (34, rue des Rosiers) for to-go lunch.  Follow the bouncing blue ball on your iPhone and don’t think about the international data usage charges.  Join the cultish crowd salivating at the window and be ready to order.  Crispy on the outside/soft on the inside fallafel, slightly pickled cabbage, cucumbers, perfectly grilled eggplant, tahini sauce, hot sauce, all packed into a heavenly pita. Order a water and be ready for the harassment.  Don’t forget a fork and lots of napkins.

Beautiful things happening inside this pita. 

1:00 -  Pompidou (can’t miss it in the Beaubourg area of the 4th arrondissement of Paris).  Focus 90 minutes on the permanent collection on level 4 (contemporary art from 1960 onward) and level 5 (works from 1905-1960.)  Enjoy the glass enclosed escalator that overlooks the piazza filled with street performers and smokers.

2:30 – Look for Pompidou checked bag ticket in same place you put map.  OMG, how old are you? Locate passport and move it to a zipped pocket.  Describe bag to French attendant and pray for mercy.

Stop looking at me like that  We all lose things. 

2:35 - Be flexible, part 3.  Find your way past the Forum des Halles complex – an unsightly 17 acre fortress that is also a mall.   Don’t curse the remodeling project that has trapped you on the wrong side.  Be glad that there is a plan to overhaul these retail ruins.

2:45 – Be flexible, part 4.  Stop in a bookstore, buy a new map.  Know that it will not live up to your old map.  Tell the blue bouncing ball you no longer need him.

2:55 – E. Dehillerin (51, rue Jean- Jacques Rousseau).  Not on the agenda, and you have paid tickets for something starting in 5 minutes.  Still you must walk in to this amazing professional french stainless steel cookware shop.  Touch the copper and table for next time - preferably when you have an able bodied sherpa with you.

The best photo I could muster in 60 seconds. 

3:00 - O Chateau (68, rue Jean- Jacques Rousseau) for the Beginner French Wine Tasting booking.  Stop judging that all 30 people there are tourists from the US or Canada – you signed up for the English class, you expat snob.  Taste a Sauvignon Blanc from Loire, a Cabernet Sauvignon Rose, and a Malbec from Cahors.  Get tips for reading French wine labels.  Buy a couple bottles of the Rose – who knew all French Rose was dry and unlike the sweet passable stuff back home.

Pierre and the Americans. 

4:45 - Candaleria (52, rue de Saintonge) taqueria for dinner.  A choice only a Mexican food-deprived American would make.  Open every day, Sunday- Wednesday 12:30pm-11pm and Thursday-Saturday 12:30pm-midnight.   Be flexible, part 5.  Candaleria’s kitchen may be closed from 4:45-5:30.  Do not mention hours listed on door.

Please let me come in. 

4:50 – Café Charlot (39, rue de Bretagne) aka David’s favorite place to write and people watch.  Sit outside, order an overpriced espresso, and eavesdrop on a beautiful, 20 something US Rhodes Scholar interviewing a Parisian women about energy policy for an article she’s writing.  Best not to get out your Moleskine.  Just listen and remember back when the whole world was still in front of you.

5:29 – Candaleria, second attempt.   Order chips and black beans, roasted squash and Queso fresca tacos on real corn tortillas.   Belly up to the one communal table.  Apply hot sauce liberally, savor every perfectly (it’s been so long, the threshold for perfect is low) fried chip, use the electrical outlet to charge your phone.  Order another roasted squash taco and celebrate the vegetarian day you weren’t planning on having.

Perfect-enough chips and hot sauce.

6ish – Remember your power cord, skip the metro and leisurely walk in the direction of the Gare d’Est.

6:30 – Triple check that you are only 5 minutes away from Gare d’Est.  Stop into an outdoor café that’s not on your agenda.  Who cares which one.  Order a glass of wine. Confirm that no interesting conversations are going on around you.  Bring out your agenda to take notes on the day.  Linger.

7:15 -  Arrive Gare d’Est.  Stop for 4 small chocolates and a bottle of water.  Wait to board train to savor the chocolates … or not.  Stay vigilant on watching boards for when track number appears.

7:40 – Train departs Gare d'Est for Lux.  Be on it!

---

Wandering Thoughts

I wish I was smarter

There’s so much to know.

And so much in need of understanding.

I wish I wanted for wisdom as much as knowledge

One can be accumulated,

The other earned through trial and failure.

I wish my idling thoughts were deeper

Full of wondering questions.

Full of more than myself.

I wish my memory bank was more organized

That it sprung fewer leaks.

Captured only the important stuff.

I wish I had curiosity to send me further afield

Back to the history books

To more than what’s in easy reach.

But my mind is tied down

I’m carrying around all those packages of worry

And other icky stuff.

They’re so heavy, you know?

Maybe I could leave them here.

You could too.

We can see more of the world if we do.

It won’t make us smarter.

Or plug all our leaks.

But our journey will be lighter.

A wise man once said:

Bring all that you have

And that will be enough.

Drawing from Life by Andrew Wicklund

Sometimes you stumble on a blog that blows your mind.  That happened to me yesterday.  Stumble isn’t exactly the right word.  Brett sent me the link to it.  Several days ago.  It’s actually the travel/art blog of a friend from Seattle.  Brett rarely sees art that moves him towards his wallet, but he’s been saying for years now that he’s wanted to buy a piece of Andrew’s art.  I should have paid attention when we had the chance.

Andrew Wicklund, who formerly worked for a design firm in Seattle, has been traveling the world for the last couple of years and drawing what he sees.  His work is UNBELIEVABLE.  Some people just get an extra measure of talent and Andrew is one of them.   Admittedly I know little about art.  However, I’ve been exposing myself to lots of art living here in Europe and I like Andrew’s art.   It compels me, makes me smile, and captures the world in a unique way.  I must have spent an hour on Andrew’s blog yesterday, but then decided to shut it down so I can “save” some viewing for later. 

Okay this is the point where I should give you the link and stop talking.  So here it is:

Drawing from Life 

A tip on viewing the blog  (because this took me a minute to figure out):  Every thumbnail where there is text at the bottom is the start of a new blog entry.  I particularly liked the blog entry near the top called “Drawing a Crowd” (but remember I'm pacing myself) where Andrew describes an experience he had drawing in Durbar Square in Kathmandu, Nepal.

“In going through my travel photos, I was reminded of the truly special moments that happen when people stop and interact with me while I'm drawing. Specifically, it's the interactions that happen with locals. Sadly, I'm terrible at picking up new languages, but fortunately—the drawing has become a vehicle for more genuine connections. Rather than seeing me as a passing tourist with a camera or worse yet, a walking cash machine—they stop to watch, inquire, chat or inform me about the subject matter of my drawing.”

Now that's the kind of artist I want to follow.  Andrew’s first work in progress book is called “I Drew” which will be a mix of his artwork and photos.  He has three books planned and this first one will introduce him, the intent of his travel journey and focus on content from Europe and Africa.  I cannot wait to get my hands on it.    Until then, I signed up to subscribe to his blog and will s-l-o-w-l-y be making my way through what's already on the page.  I don't want to miss a thing.  You shouldn't either.

15 kinds of Facebook Super-Heroes

I love Facebook and I'm not shy about it.

I read the “14 kinds of Facebook people you want to block, but you can’t because they’re sort of your friends” article.  It made me laugh, so I shared it on Facebook, and added some of my own.

•  The non-discriminating photographer who shares all 40 of their photos, one post at a time.
• The monthly Facebooker who posts that viral video two weeks after everyone has already seen it.
• That guy who’s keeps taking a selfie photo with his shirt off.
• The sports fan (and anyone out past 1am) who posts play by play action.
• The person who doesn’t believe that you will click to read the article and so posts an overly large chunk of it in their status.
• The MORE THAN THIS MANY ########## PEOPLE!!!!!
• Another George Takei fan.
• That person living abroad who’s posted one too many “Look where I am!” status updates (with photos included.)  That's me!

It also inspired me to write this list.  My list is 14 + 1 though, because there are way more awesome than annoying people on Facebook. #icanproveit #noicantreally #lifeisgood

1. The women who look amazing not just in their own photos, but also the ones they’ve been tagged in and the women who are confident enough to keep all their tags on, no matter how unflattering.
2. The guy who can’t help but tell the world how much he loves his spouse and children.
3. The teenager who friends you.
4. That person who has achieved just the right balance of posting/liking/sharing – who in conversation, you know or imagine would be a great listener.
5. Those people who don’t mean to make us feel bad, they just have their sh** together – even at the end of the school year.
6. The Goodreaders who finish and review books.
7. The amazing photo caption writer followed by the person who knows how to make those nine image photo collages.
8. That fascinating person who compelled you to click a link you’d normally not be interested in.
9. That thoughtful soul who doesn’t miss a Facebook birthday, who in a previous FB life may have been a poker, but who now drives by you Wall to give you smooches just because.
10. That courageous person who follows the narrow path, but who does it graciously enough that you’d take a step off the super highway to have a look.
11. The artists who share their work with us.
12. The routinely grateful person who causes us to pause when we feel a rant coming on.
13. The funnyman and especially funnywomen who makes us belly laugh.
14. The real people who tell enough of their small moments - and disclose a few of the messy ones - to make us cheer loudly when a big one comes along. 
15. The people who are quietly doing important work at home, in the workplace, and in the world – who may not get as many likes or comments as their work deserves – or who are more likely too busy to tell us about it … to you: “WELL DONE REAL WORLD SUPERHERO!”

Almighty Mothers

When your move to another country, your main concerns center on your children and their adjustment, followed closely by trying to make everything as seamless as possible in the household so that your children continue to think you are the Almighty Mother.  The second thing can be harder than expected when they need a swimming cap by tomorrow or when the movie you promised to let them watch is being blocked with the “this content in only available in the US” message.  You will gladly spend the day driving around in search of a swimming cap, and saying yes to other (perhaps inappropriate or completely inane) movies that the firewall could care less about.

With those concerns at the forefront, one of the unexpected gems of living in Luxembourg has been my Thursday morning running group.  One: because it doesn’t involve my children.  Two: because it doesn’t involve my household (or require my household to be tidy.)  And three:  because I’m in the company of other Almighty Mothers who are doing the exact same work I am.  And we get to talk about it while running up an Almighty Hill that kicks our cute Lulelemon butts. 

There have been few things that I consistently do week to week when I’m in town, but this running group is one of them.  It’s something I look forward to every week and miss when I’m gone.  It didn’t start as an organized group; it just kind of morphed into this regular routine.  There are five of us regulars.  We all have children at the International School, all but one of our husbands work for Amazon and all of us have willingly chosen to leave something behind to have this adventure.  None of us came here kicking and screaming.   In fact, more than that, we all came here ready to endure a few headaches for the sake of something new.  That’s perhaps why the group has “stuck.”  Though we have different interests, kids of different ages, we have a shared attitude that says: “I’m ok with finding the swimming cap, and can I pick one up for you too?”

Angela and Alessandra are the Lux veterans.  Angela was my lifeline as I was moving here.  She also has two high school boys and has been a source of great encouragement as we navigate the challenges of moving a teenager.  Angela is an artist, fluent in French (a nice friend to have here!), and finding all sorts of treasures here in Europe to reinvigorate her Seattle-based Window Darlings business.  She’s also usually the first one up the hill.  Alessandra is a professional photographer, originally from Peru and one of those people whose company you seek out in all situations because they are such a pleasure to be around.  Most days she’s got a toddler on her hip, and she always has a kind word and easy laugh.  Ale sees the good in everyone, which must have something to do with her being an amazing photographer.

Jessica and Heidi are the newbies like me.  They both moved here from Russia, so nothing here is hard by comparison. In addition to being genuinely optimistic people, they are also wickedly smart and fun.  Heidi has her Ph.D. in Social/Personality Psychology and left behind a college professor’s job to follow her husband to Moscow and now Lux as he sells John Deere tractors. (Tip: he's the non Amazon husband.  I don't *think* Amazon is selling tractors yet.)  Bubbly Heidi has already hosted a Friday Happy Hour involving a prize for best set of heels.  I wore sensible flats due to long walk and being from Seattle.  (There was no judgment.)  Heidi was also some crazy competitive triathlete,  but she has a broken toe right now which allows us to keep up.  Jessica left behind a job in Tax, and if she was secretly a Rhodes Scholar or discovered something really important – I wouldn’t be surprised.  She’s one of those smart AND humble ones.  Holly, the recently sabbatical-ed Marine Biologist from Seattle, will be joining us in July …

It wasn’t a topic of conversation today, but I know that today two of our husbands were in Moscow, one was in NYC, and one was in Oslo.  That might be a big deal back home, but here for this crew of Almighty Mothers – it’s just another day.

Beautiful Spain

Almost everything in Europe is accessible by plane in less than 3 hours.   With a Monday holiday and a missed holiday day from the previous week, we jumped on the chance to spend a long weekend in Southern Spain.  We flew into Malaga direct from Luxembourg, rented a car, and drove 45 minutes to the small town of Guaro.  Wanting a driving not beach vacation, we decided to stay inland and explore Southern Spain in a number of day trips.  Situated in the province of Malaga just a short 30 minutes from the coastal resort town of Marbella, Guaro is a small (2,500 people) “white village" in the Sierra Nieves Mountains.  There are orange, almond, and olive trees everywhere the eye can see in the part lush/part arid landscape of tightly compacted hills. The landscape mixed with the abundance of delicious (and cheap) food is my idea of heaven.

Andalucía was everything we hoped it would be -  except warm.    I will refrain from complaining, but suffice it to say that the boys went to a water park one of the days where the max capacity reached twelve.  Upside: no line for the Labyrinth of Slides.  Downside: unheated pools of water to greet you on a mid 50s kind of day.  Teeth chattering aside, the boys loved it.

That was the day I stayed back at the villa.  This villa.  Now you can see why I opted out of the Kamikaze Slide.  I re-read “Driving over Lemons” by Chris Stewart, went for a walk, and picked up a two liter bottle of olive oil from the Guaro village co-op.  If ever you are thinking of a trip to Southern Spain and want a village experience, I would highly recommend staying here.   It's perfectly located, wonderfully comfortable and the owner Andrew is a well-published travel writer and writes a blog about Andalucia.  It’s an AMAZING blog and full of great information about the area.  Read with caution as you will be dying to come for a visit -- we only scratched the surface.

Thinking back on our wonderful five days, three special images come to mind:

1) Being in GAURO on a Saturday morning for a May festival that involved carrying a statue of Jesus (or a patron saint?) through the village streets and to the river.  Andrew told us about it, and it was one of the trip's highlights.  We were the only people in the whole village who didn't understand what was happening, but we gladly joined in the celebratory walk through town.  There's something about witnessing a tradition that goes back generations and seeing an entire village coming together that makes you wish you lived in a town where everybody knows your name.

2) Having lunch in the hilltop town of CASARABONELA (thanks to Andrew's recommendation) -- devouring some nearby chicken, iberico pork chop, and lamb cooked in a simple wood oven and watching your children do a dance with the local kids.  A game of tag which leads to a game of soccer which leads to a conversation of hand gestures and lots of smiles.   

3.  Stopping in EL BURGO on the way to RONDA in search of a special wood bowl and meeting Vincenzo -- a man who shares the same name and hometown of Sicily as my maternal grandfather!  Vincenzo walked me all over town in search of Jose -- the town's finest bowl maker. First to Jose's sister in law's shop, who sent us on foot to Jose's brothers house, who then escorted us to Jose's house where Jose wasn't home but his wife was. Still in her robe. No mind, after a quick change , she took me down to Jose's shop where where I found a beautiful bowl still fresh with oil. The kind of hand made bowl and the walk to find it that money simply can't buy.  Vincenzo gave me his number in hopes that I'll come back for a visit.

And we will.  I already have booked tickets back to Guaro for a week in July.  This time just me and the three boys while Brett says home to work.  I know Quinn is going to love this place as much as we all did.​

Here are all the photos of the trip.​

A Foodie Day in Paris

Paris, May 16 2013

I’m sitting in the Parisian café, Les Deux Magots, where Ernest Hemingway and other notable writers and philosophers famously wrote.  It’s 8:45am.  The time stamp is meaningful in that I woke this morning in my own bed in Luxembourg.   Negotiating the smooth two hour fifteen minute fast train from Lux to Paris and then the jammed packed subway from Gare de Est to here, I feel a rush of early riser triumph that dwarfs my need for caffeine.  I also feel the need to text my husband with my subway success story.  While I am looking forward to this day by myself,  I also want to share in the miracle that is European public transportation.

The café, located in the bustling neighborhood of St Germain de Pres and whose present clientele are the city’s literary and publishing elite, is comfortably full with people reading the newspaper, working on laptops, and carrying on in hushed conversations.   Adorned with red leather couches, red velvet curtains, shellacked wood tables, gilded candelabras, and waiters in black jackets, bow ties, and long white aprons, it feels like a place of long ago. The median age looks to be 55, and naturally there is a 75 year old impeccably dressed woman with a small dog in her purse.   It is however eerily quiet.  Must be some serious philosophizing going on in here, me thinks. 

I pull out my notebook to wait for inspiration to hit in this writer’s paradise (I am dressed for it in a black turtleneck, boots, and bracelets), but then am distracted as I realize it is quiet because they are filming a movie in the far corner of the café.   The possibility for inspiration has decreased to nil because I’m now obsessed on who the movie star is and if the older woman with the petit dog is a paid extra.  At this point, I just focus my efforts on getting a self-portrait of me with the Magot statues on the wall. 

Fueled by an espresso I had hoped was a drip coffee, I headed next door to the St Germain de Pres cathedral.  I walked all the stations of the twenty some odd chapels of the cathedral, stopping longest at an open armed statue of Jesus.   For me, there’s something about setting foot in a church that has been there for centuries thinking about all the cumulative prayers that have risen from those pews.

After my stop with Jesus (who I’ve invited on the journey with me for safety, navigation help, and patience – always patience), I pull out my piece of paper with six food related destinations.  The food stops have come courtesy of David Lebovitz, the food blogger and author of “My Sweet Life in Paris.”  All the stops are in the St Germain de Pres neighborhood – the neighborhood I’ve chosen to “get to know” on this visit.  The visit I’ve declared “My Foodie Trip to Paris.” (Minus the Bistro dinner due to time constraints as my return train is at 7:40pm.)

The first stop is for some specialist nut oils.  I clumsily but successfully make it to the address, only to discover that the shop is no longer there.  Remembering the prayer for patience, I am not discouraged (though confused) and head to the second destination for some special Italian olive oil.  This shop is there (and my route to it circuitous), but they don’t carry that particular olive oil any more.  Okay.  At this point, I need to pray for David because he is lying to me and the rest of the world.  Perhaps he doesn’t even live in Paris. 

David however redeems himself with the next several stops, and my bag grows heavy with beautiful jams, mustards, chocolates and breads.  I even find the special nut oils at one of the other stops.  I mistakenly jettison myself clear out to the edge of the Luxembourg Quarter in search of the last stop (some infused butter), proving that my goal of “getting to know” the St Germain des Pres has not exactly come to fruition.  Once I’m back in the right geography, I duck into a sunglasses shop.  Though it’s raining, there’s been eighteen minutes of sunshine and I’ve forgotten my sunglasses.   I’ve come prepared with an umbrella and a sharpened lip pencil but not the possibility of sun.  Darling Benjamin helps me find the perfect inexpensive pair of shades.

Hoping to stop for lunch (a seeming requirement for “My Foodie Day in Paris”), but noticing the time suck that my navigational hiccups have caused – I instead pick up a panini and make my way towards the Musee d’Orsay.   With my pre-purchased ticket from Quinn’s previous visit in hand (turns out Quinn didn’t need a paid ticket so we had an extra), I buzz past the long line and check my food bag.   Because this is my second visit, I give myself permission to not crisscross the entire museum but to relax in the company of great artists.  I decide to head straight for the 5th floor to the Impressionism Gallery.  I linger over Renoir’s plump nudes, Matisse’s landscapes and especially Cezanne’s still lifes that remind me of my own Nanna’s painting.   In the sea of tourists with sensible shoes and loud voices, my heart warms seeing the local elderly being pushed in wheelchairs by young museum staff and groups of local school children listening with rapt attention to the dossiers. 

From there, the day unravels a bit as I search for a restaurant and then wine bar I can’t find.  I get off at an unsavory subway stop and finally settle on a delicious but undercooked Turkish chicken pita wrap at a hole in the wall restaurant.  Slightly irked by my lack of direction, I decide to play it (really) safe and head towards the train station two hours before my departure.  I soon find a cafe near the train station – no longer looking for charm but facilities.  It’s your basic tourist trap with salted peanuts, mini pretzels, and alcohol prices that increase after 10pm.  Of course there are also pictures of the food on the menu which even my children understand means “quietly head for the door.”  But in my state, I’m just looking for toilet paper.  I’m greeted by an eager French-speaking Asian waiter who quickly takes my order for a glass of white wine (any will do), and who’s thankfully at the ready with a token for the facilities.   Once I settle in, he sweetly helps me charge my phone and moves me to a window seat so I can watch the world go by.

As I sit and watch the stream of people go by (because I have some time), I realize that the find of the day was not my bag of goodies (which look amazing.)  Clearly the day was an overall gastronomical bust in terms of eating experiences.  The find of the day was the 11 hours of solitude to go at my own pace with no one to disappoint but myself.  And the thing is -- I wasn’t disappointed.  I had fun – with me.   We need solitude to remind us that we can be our own best company.  It helps the process when you can sit in front of a beautiful piece of art or in a café that Hemingway once graced, but maybe it’s even more effective when you can do it sitting on your own front porch with a stolen ten minutes or in a Double Tree Hotel café with self-service coffee.   All I know is that salted peanuts never tasted so good.