Welcome to the Best Day of My Life

I knew there was something special about today when I woke up at 7:30 and did not want to waste any more time sleeping. I don't think this had happened since Christmas Day before I learned about Santa Claus. Today was my first day back in my own country, and like Christmas, I knew it would be full of little pleasures, like being able to walk inconspicuously down a street; to transact business without any comment on my language ability or lack thereof; to purchase everything I need at a CVS, and not have to calculate the value in dollars. But the biggest pleasure was simply having a day completely to myself, with nowhere to be at any specific time, and only one agenda item: to buy shoes for the wedding, and since I am in New York City, this seemed like one of the most delightful agenda items ever to be set. I realized that having a day like this is a "skill" that I picked up in Morocco. I have learned to allow myself to do virtually nothing, and be totally satisfied with it. This is probably the main reason I decided to return next year, because I love having the time, not often afforded in the American lifestyle, to indulge in doing whatever I want. Today was a harmonious marriage of my new skill in my old world.

As it turns out, I was not successful in my shoe quest. I walked from Times Square at 42nd Street down to 14th Street, covering the length of Fashion Avenue, and still did not find a shoe that met my specifications. But I really couldn't care less. It was a warm summer day that started in a cute Brooklyn apartment where I am couchsurfing with Daniel, one of Jill's friends from Yale. After waking at the aforementioned ungodly hour, I did some internet stuff related to jobs in California, since I just learned yesterday that the teaching job I thought I had lined up fell through. Now I'm considering a stint as the first white woman taxi driver. Anyway, after that, I got a bagel (duh) and walked a mile through this charming Brooklyn neighborhood to the nearest Payless Shoes, and onto the CVS. I got back and did some more internet stuff, mainly chatting with my Romanian friend Dani (from couchsurfing.com, yes that's one more plug for the site) who has graciously volunteered to tour me around southern France in September. Then I walked down the street to lovely Prospect Park, where I laid on the grass and wondered if this was all a dream.

It was in this blissful frame of mind that I began the Manhattan portion of the shoe odyssey. I later joined Daniel and his friend for dinner on the patio of a restaurant where I consumed a beer in the open air. It was BYOB, so I had purchased the beer at a corner market where I had stood for a few minutes in awe of the vast variety of beers available to me. (I went with an old favorite, Molsen Ice.) Now, at the end of this momentous day (maybe not the best in my life, but it's up there), I am too exhausted to write any more about my recent adventures in Essaouira and Madrid, but you can see the photos here.