a moveable feast
Everyday is a feast of familiar flavours and a taste of the past.
I love Vancouver. I love my bohemian home, the vastness of the Pacific ocean, the dramatic mountains, the endless greenery, and the relaxed attitude of everyone living on the West Coast.
Paris is romantic and sexy, but Vancouver is fresh and familiar. My eyes dart back and forth over the landscape, trying to hold on to the image, while my arms wrap themselves around friends and family, trying to hold on to the feeling.
On Friday night I gathered friends at my house for a big barbeque. I made various salads and set my dad up to make turkey burgers, veggie burgers, hot Italian sausage and grilled vegetables on the barbeque outside. Wine and vodka were poured freely and everyone seemed to have a permanent smile on their face. It was an excuse to see all my friends in one go, to eat, dance, and celebrate. The ambiance was so warm they could've all been family. Everyone was enamored with my mother and father, who I asked to be present at my party. On various occasions I stepped out onto the balcony to find friends deep in conversation with my mother while sneaking out for a smoke.
The next feast was Easter Sunday, where I spent the day preparing food with my gorgeous friend who loves cooking as much as I do. We planned the feast for months over email, and then drunkenly prepared a new menu a couple of nights before. It was perfect. With the turkey in the oven we prepared big pots of roasted vegetables, a green bean salad, roasted tomatoes, bruschetta, couscous, a tossed salad with feta and a large tiramasu covered in easter eggs for dessert.
I've been busy. I've been running around with my mother, tasting Vancouver's club scene, and trying to see all my friends as much as possible. My mother and I even managed to sneak in a trip to Whistler, a ski town a couple of hours away, where we unwinded in my aunt's cabin and took in some fresh mountain air.
My head is everywhere. I don't know when I last stopped to think. All I know is that I need to drink, dance, feast and love as much as possible while I'm here. And so I'm letting go, shaking my limbs on the dance floor, and clinking glasses with old friends.
I'll miss everyone. I'll miss the hip hop music, the boys in baggy pants, the health fanatic joggers and the rows and rows of coffee shops. I'll miss stopping in to see my friend at work, in a hippy coffee shop, where I end up hugging her for twenty minutes while people try to squeeze past us.
Another feast awaits me in Paris, with a completely different flavour, but I'm glad I've been given the chance to taste Vancouver again.