Hotel, 20 minutes by cat

I am in Portugal, in my mind at least. I have 2 hours left at home before I fly to Lisbon for the last tour of the year. As usual I'll see some pals, and hopefully make it back to California before the onset of truly terrible weather in Europe. It has been a fond farewell, which seems to be one of the nicer things about living a rather manic lifestyle, there's a celebration to be had every few weeks. Yesterday I exchanged some money for weird little coins, and traded those for the most delicious Thai food ever. Thai brunch in Berkeley is one of my favs, and I was glad to see it was still raging well into the fall season. It's mostly outdoors at this small temple, and people, twenty somethings mostly, spill onto the lawn to eat mangos with sticky rice. It was a great day for it.
















This was followed by a flurry of packing, some frustration over how to pack for Lisbon, Barcelona and Madrid as well as Glasgow, Berlin and Newcastle. I think a tear-away, burlap utility suit may be in order. When I had emotionally centered myself again, it seemed as good a time as any to make margaritas...















And down them on the roof as the sun set.
















And then, before a ten-hour flight, followed by a three hour flight, you just want to have a giant cheeseburger and pint of beer in you because, why not?

I am already plotting my escape when I get back. It will be magic to be home...then I'm away to find some sunshine. If anyone who knows anyone who lives in Cozumel or Baja I would very much like to sleep on your couch.