little sarah Big World

Tag: dancing with myself

Overhang

~OR~

“You have 15 to 20 minutes before you are bombarded with friendship. Be prepared.”

Last night. I was cleaning house, listening to the Broadway Showstoppers station on Pandora, wearing striped underwear and mom’s embroidered halter top from the 70s, and baking banana bourbon chocolate chip bread.

I turned down plans with a friend, a “friend date,” to do this. “I’ve got a date with myself,” I told her.

But…turns out you can’t just text your Stephanies a picture of you in your underwear and halter top and expect them not to show up at your house. I was making guacamole, anyways.

Told them I was in the middle of cleaning/dancing/baking, that I couldn’t be a great hostess for very long…but in the end it turned out not to matter. Because I don’t need to host them. There is no courting here, just epic hanging out and talking, laughing, complete honesty…

And whiskey gingers. Lots and lots of whiskey gingers.

(I call them that even when I use bourbon. True story).

Incidentally, I started the day off with sauteed chard.

We call that detox, friends. But it was totally worth it.

Advertisements

Creature Comforts

~OR~

A Room of One’s Own…in Peru

Early on in the trip I decided that I would like to finish things in comfort, or at least relative comfort–in a private hostel room. I just figured that after all the buses and taxis and jam-packed dorms and ever-changing couch surfs–not to mention constant “companionship” from B & J–I’d want some privacy and relaxation for my brief stay (1 night only) in Lima. So I booked it, weeks out.

Then I second-guessed myself, as I’ve been known to do. “I’ve spent so much money already, and why wouldn’t I want to couch surf and meet someone who could show me the best of Lima since I’m only there one night, and I am so anti-social and lame, blerg!”

So I found a couch surf (with a girl, which is rare), cancelled my reservation, and felt I’d done the right thing.

Guess what, though? My original, non-exhausted, non-panicking self was right. The couch surf turned out to be a bust. The girl wasn’t even home, and I was supposed to stay in the care of her little sister, but then lil sis had to go to class with her house keys, which meant I needed to stay in their filthy, piss-smelling apartment in a shady part of town until the older sister (my couch surfing contact) came home. Six hours.

PANIC.

You don’t need to hear about The Panic, though. Let me just say that after several frantic phone calls, emails, and a quick escape via taxi, I was able to reclaim my previously-reserved room 1900 Backpacker’s Hostel, where I spread out and relaxed to my heart’s content.

(Big sigh of relief)

Seriously, though, I was so giddy at having my own space for the first time in nearly a month that I lied down on the floor and made something like snow angels. Then I went for a long run while listening to Adele. Then I danced around my room in joy. Then I had food from a vegan restaurant (!!!) that was just down the street.

Then I watched bootlegged American movies on the hostel’s big TV, drank beer, ate snacks, and went to bed. Happy as a clam

Moral of this story? Trust yourself. Trust that you know yourself, and do as you please.