The Sky is Still Blue

I recently was able to get away for a long weekend to Sacramento?  Feeling particularly joyous about leaving the the Northwest and the June-uary conditions and the prospect of hiking around South Tahoe (a place I had only seen in pictures) only improved things.

When I left it was raining (no surprise) marching to the bus in shorts with a rolling suitcase I felt a little out of place, but at the airport everyone was wearing shorts too.  Nothing could upset my mood. I was a happiness sandwich between a seat-kicker behind me and a VERY upset infant a few rows in front of me.  As a nearby 6 year old reminded his mother (repeatedly)  it’s only an hour, has it been an hour, it’s only an hour, has it been an hour, YAY we are in California, are we in California?  You get the picture.

Upon arrival the weather was a lovely 75-80 degrees.  Apparently it was in the 90’s and above the weekend before and the weekend following.

The first serious consideration to be made was about dinner.  What to eat? Something seasonal, something local.  Grilled peaches seemed to be a menu favorite, grilled peaches with salad, with pork-belly, and with goat cheese.

Continuing the pursuit of local food we went to the farmers market  the next day where there was an abundance of peaches, nectarines, apricots, plums and even some plucots (otherwise called Dinosaur Eggs). Meanwhile, the sky was still blue.

We headed out to the South Tahoe area for what turned out to be a short hike with our farmer’s market finds in hand.  It was a wonderful mix of warm sun, cool breezes and unmelted snow. I think I used the word delightful fifteen times over a period of 2 hours and I meant it.  In all my joy of blue sky, blue waters and stone fruit I happily agreed to begin training to run a half marathon next summer.  Yikes!

I slept and woke up, and slept and woke up, and the sky was still blue.  At one point I commented the weather is the same out all the windows, which got a laugh (but is frequently not the case at home).  It’s amazing what blue sky and grilled peaches can do for a girl.

Travel Envy

I was eating breakfast with some friends recently listening to a recount of a trip to Mexico, rice, beans and learning Spanish.  Not paying close enough attention to directions given in a foreign language.  Nodding yes in understanding when you really don’t.  Chatting with well traveled strangers while waiting for the customs line to move even an inch. Then it hits… travel envy.  Something about the stamps, stickers and language barriers of foreign travel gets me every time.

You know you have it bad when listening to a friend’s airport woes and you’re kinda envious.  No I don’t want to be trapped in a security line, only to hear my name over the loud speaker for final boarding call, and have to run to the last gate to barely catch my plane where the air conditioning is promptly shut off and everyone starts coughing.  That sounds terrible, but in some part of my mind still desirable, as far as travel sicknesses go travel envy can range from pretty benign to debilitating.  As far as mine goes it somewhere between a lingering ache and a painful jab.

This fire was fueled even further by a singular moment this week in the office where a client was perusing my travel photo album and asked to purchase one of the photos.  The photo album is more of a conversation piece, but who am I to refuse such a request.  Especially the request of someone who wants to travel vicariously via a photo I took.

At which point I go home to flip through the photo albums on the Lonely Planet or  National Geographic and sigh…