That time in Central Park in New York City when I stumbled upon Strawberry Fields and this John Lennon memorial … and snapped the perfect shot—dappled sunlight and fall leaves included—in between teenagers sitting on it.
I took some time off last week (in fact, a whole week) and did a little bit of traveling. I visited Seattle (as the above lovely photo shows) for a few days. I wanted to visit this city for once without a comics convention to go to … because it’s a great city, and I’m always looking to find someplace new to add to my travel portfolio.
Besides the usual touristy things (Pike Place Market, the Space Needle, the EMP Museum), I got out and saw some of the area surrounding Seattle, including Ballard, which I loved. In the city, I visited both Georgetown and Capitol Hill (home of a great bookstore, the Elliott Bay Book Company). I walked a lot and had beautiful weather.
I’ve traveled almost every year for the past decade or so, usually to New York City, San Francisco, and twice to London, but over the past 2 years, the travel bug has really bitten me. While I both love and hate the process of getting somewhere, I mainly just love being someplace else. One of my favorite things is walking through an airport with just a backpack, no laptop bag, no luggage (I always check a bag, despite it being a major pain in the ass most of the time). Somehow that feeling makes me feel totally free and unencumbered, like I’m leaving life behind. What do I hate about travel? The giving up of control, the unexpected schedule changes (I was lucky this time with both flights being exactly on time leaving and early arriving), the crush of people with kids and pets at the airport, the lousy food choices. (Seattle BTW–thankfully–has a very nice airport.)
I travel alone and there are some long stretches where the only people I talk to are those who wait on me. I prefer it that way. I don’t think a lot of people I know would put up with my vacation quirks (read: constant visits to bookstores, occasional late afternoon naps, lots of cookies), although I’m sure I could adapt (sorta, kinda) to someone being with me. (Those of you who wonder why I don’t get in touch when I visit your town: Sorry, but I’m just not that social a person these days … not that I ever was, but particularly THESE days. My apologies.)
Travel, unfortunately, takes a lot of that green thing they call money, which isn’t too difficult for me to make, but I’m getting tired of the process of making it these days. I have to find a happy medium, where I can make money and spend it and not have to work as much, because as that great Western philosopher, Chico Marx, once said: “Being of sound mind and body, I spent every damn cent while I was alive.” I’d like to travel a lot more before I can’t travel a lot more, if you know what I mean. I have no desire to see exotic, far-off lands. I just like what I like and hopefully it’s a place where they speak some form of English that I can mainly understand (re: London), and they have bookstores and cookies.
For more of my Seattle photos, please visit my Instagram account (@gg92101).
I know, I know … with a number like that, you’d expect something positively Bondian. Sorry to disappoint.
Today is Labor Day in the U.S., the traditional end of summer, even if the equinox-oriented think differently.
That time I took a quintessential end-of-summer shot on the wide, sandy beach at Coronado, where summer never really ends.
Brought to you almost live from Balboa Park in San Diego.
(PS–That is NOT me walking through, photobombing this otherwise cheery scene.)