When people come to visit, I never know where to take them.
Inevitably, we find ourselves at this diner or that café or the restaurant that does the excellent veggie naan even though the server is a pill.
Almost always we walk. Through the ravine, downtown, around the ‘hood, the beach. I point out the tree with windfall apples I use to make a crumble each October. And the place where once the kids and I ate pistachios and played Daniel Boone eating pistachios. It’s not a high end tour but there are almost always stories that spring from it… mine, the visiting people’s.
We’ll go to the galleries of course. There are a lovely abundance of them here. The market. The bookstore. The emu farm.
A concert maybe. A slice of local theatre.
There’s a junk store I might think of taking them, depending on mood and whim and inclination, where you can barely move for the amount of crap and treasure and the owner’s hoarding instinct, which prevents him from ever wanting to sell anything. The only store where when you ask how much this is, you’re told it’s not for sale. You don’t go there to buy, you go there to do anthropological studies.
If it’s summer we’ll paddle a rented kayak and have fries from the best chip truck in these parts or sit on a patio in a trailer park luncheonette and drink iced tea with some not too bad grilled cheese sarnies.
If it’s winter we might stay home and light a fire. I might make a feasty meal or maybe just keep it simple, make an omelette… I’ll mention that final scene in the movie Big Night and I’ll put on the CD and we’ll talk about first times… first omelettes, whatever…
We might drive. To see the xmas lights or the country lights.
This is what I do… and sometimes I wonder: is it enough, these emus and sunsets? And then I wonder why I feel that way because when I visit someone this is exactly what I want. NOT the Eiffel Tower, not a string of organized entertainments, but the experience of actually living in a place… the small slices of everydayness.
(Although I will not decline a quick dash into the Louvre.)
So tell me… when visiting, what is it we want?
And by we I mean you.
12 thoughts on “visitors”
Sounds just like me.
Or being met at the train station with a tray of tea, coffee, conversation and photos for an hour and a half! That’s what this visitor LOVED!
I’m so glad you loved that. I loved it too. (:
Take them to your home ,it couldn’t get any better .
Thanks, D. Nothing like a chat over a mug of tea. Or merlot.
Mostly what I want when I visit is to sit across from my friend at the kitchen table and talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, or, more to the point, listen, talk, listen, listen, talk, sing, talk, maybe balter a bit, then talk, listen, talk, listen, talk.
All of this listening and talking and baltering will no doubt make us hungry, so we might head downtown to the funky little café on the town’s main street and watch all the people go by as we talk, talk, talk, talk, talk. And then of course we’ll visit the chocolate store with the best homemade ice cream ever made. And finish with a trip to the bookstore that is, as you so deliciously say, more of a place to do anthropological studies than to buy anything.
Walks on the beach are a bonus.
haha! Yes, baltering, absolutely!
I like to walk and talk. Maybe see my friend’s favourite places.
Yes, those favourite places… gold.
I don’t usually do impromptu visits, but there we were. For the door to be flung wide with a smile was the best. Small slices of everyday, yes! Talk, no end of talk…