Roadspill

This is less about creative writing and more about what I've been up to in the last 24 hours or so.

The weather has been decent -- so yesterday I did the morning coffee ritual at Turk's and then spent the day poking around stores on Commercial Drive. One food store, which I've mentioned before, serves the most eclectic selection imaginable. From curry to dolma to Croat biscuits. I asked the woman who runs the shop how they decide what to order -- and she laughed, saying the store started as a mexican foods only shop and sort of grew. That's an understatement! She's selling mango jam and Russian water and Filipino cookies. The family that runs the place is from India, so the Indian fare is quite diverse as well.

In the evening, I went to see Flamenco music at the Kino cafe with some friends. Four pints later, we were trying to hail a cab. Vancouver sucks for getting cabs. But the music and talk was great, so it was a small price to pay.

There was another price to be paid when I had to get up at 7 this morning and go fetch my car. A long walk to the bus, followed by another walk to the car later, I was headed to the west side of the city for a coffee. It was about 8:30. Then I went over to Spanish Banks and went for a long walk (and played with some dogs) as the yoga-clad runners began to appear in huffing groups. On the beach, it was quiet, save for the rare time that someone in this city will say "Good Morning." It is so rare, that it catches you off guard.

On the way home, I stopped into a cool bakery to get a loaf of the coolest nut infused bread that you can imagine. Dr. Atkin's be damned!

And now, at 10:07am on a Sunday morning, I am off to meet Steve and Heidi and Lorne and Katrina for breakfast at our favourite greasy spoon: Bert's.

Ciao!