Today we hoped on our bikes and rode along the beach.
I’ve found that I’ve almost exclusively chosen the wrong times to bring my bulky camera along. I chose not to bring it along today and was faced with beautiful scenery and the excruciating problem of my generation…if I didn’t photograph it, did it really happen?
It was a beautiful but very cold day; hundreds of shades of blue covered the shore and sky and we got lots of fresh air while mud spattered our tires and shoes. We rode past a collection of oddly designed houses (“Is it just me or is every beach front covered with the ugliest apartment buildings?”) until we found a little coffee shop called Le Kaff and sat down to write and drink Americanos.
My trip so far has been incredibly relaxed. Days have quickly fallen into a familiar pattern: I wake up, pass my roommate Sofia in the hall as I get ready to head out. I ride my bike or walk to the metro then ride out to one of the areas of town I’m familiar with. I read (I’ve already gone through three of my books, currently rereading another), write, edit photos and journal. Henry and I meet somewhere and try to prepare a meal together a day (my Pinterest board of recipes is finally being put to good use).
Days feel easy, slow and…unfamiliar. My high stress personality hasn’t had much of a chance to breath since I was, oh—let’s say 15? Knowing that we’re about to head out has prevented me from looking for a job, and while I’ve been working on writing some scripts for my friend back home, days are almost entirely mine. What a strange concept. Is this what relaxing feels like?
Next Monday Henry and I are headed to London and then to the countryside to spend Christmas with his cousins. My mom had told me she is sending pie fixings so we can make something for our hosts and I’m looking forward to having some familiar groceries in front of me.
I don’t have any photos from today, so those embedded in the post are from our journey to the Mermaid yesterday.