Taking a break in my home country. Coming from Los Angeles to Zumarraga is like jumping from Start Trek's Enterprise to a Berlanga's bus, to use a transportation metaphor. And not negatively at all. The Enterprise might be all cosmopolitan and high tech versus the homespun consistency and deep ethnicity of my home town but it's all good. Or even better. I love the green fields and meandering sheep across the roads, the crisp, quiet Spring afternoons and the small coffees in Santa Barbara, one of our two resident restaurant-adjunct, top-of-the-hill hermits.
It's a bit odd to the mind to be driving down I-405 one day in California and a tree-lined backroad in the Basque Country the next. Or having carne asada tacos one Tuesday and cod pil-pil style for dinner on Wednesday. I guess I am well trained and the culture shock has been subdued this time. I am always looking for a home but it feels pretty good right now to think that I have not one, but two homes.
Now I only need a house. Ha.
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