drewd The Adventures of Carlos d'Avis

I have no photograph to accompany this story. And that is right. And I am not certain that I should even write the story but then I might lose the memory, flown away like every day and every sunset.

The sun had disappeared and still I sat on my board, floating happily out near the mouth of the estuary. There were few clouds, all strewn and stretched across the horizon, from the point to the north to the sinking sun in the west. Above was clear but punctuated by Venus winking in the west. There were barely perceptible rays stretching out from the departed sun, still bright and powerful below the water.

Big, curling, barreling waves were breaking and the line-up was thinning with the darkness. Neither Bailey nor I had yet ripped one of these gorgeous waves—the more skilled surfers took long fast shots off to the right but we were not so competent. We waited and shifted our gaze in each moment from the wave sets to the darkening shore and to the far-off mess of clouds silhouetted in orange. Charlie waded in-shore from us, checking out the waves and body-surfing as able.

And then we felt them coming and we saw the thick flock of birds zooming towards us from the shore. There were dozen of them, or there were hundreds, or or... I will never be certain. The small birds—terns? I have no idea—flipped and turned over each other as they flew past us and out to open water. None dove for the water. Were they looking for fish or just celebrating their freedom in the gorgeous light?

And then I remembered where I was and I turned towards the still radiant horizon and saw all the birds cut black out of the orange to blue sky. And they were swooping and magic and I was awed and, in that tiny moment, I was not thinking of anyone or anything else anywhere. I just was, and it was good.

Go to the Auto Mercado with Arnie. Buy all of their tilapia as well as many other delicious ingredients.

Return home in a taxi. Turn on Paul Simon's "Graceland." Drink some mango juice.

Chop up a whole load of garlic and ginger. Mix in a bowl with a half a cup or so each of lime juice, soy sauce, and rice wine vinegar. Chop up and add four or five canned chipotle peppers in adobo sauce. Lick delicious looking adobo sauce off finger only to recall that it's super spicy. Drink more mango juice.

Rub marinade, by hand, all over three bigass flank steaks. Wash hands. Cover steaks and refrigerate.

Convince Bailey that he should use the quickly over-ripening banana to make a smoothie. Success!

Chop two pounds of tilapia into bite-sized pieces appropriate for ceviche.

Chop eight cloves of garlic, one half cup of red onion, one cup of seeded tomato, and just a smidgen of super hot serrano pepper. Add all above to the fish along with two teaspoons of salt, a bit over one cup of lime juice and two teaspoons of white vinegar. Mix well. Refrigerate.

Success, again!

This evening, we will be grilling the flank steaks along with a few other tilapia filets. Accompanying steak, tilapia and ceviche will be rice, tortillas, cabbage and cucumber salad and red wine (from South America, claro). If I don't die from being too awesome in the kitchen, I'll report back on all the deliciousness.

I tend to anthropomorphize those objects of particular joy to me. Some of them receive names; my 2006 Honda Civic goes by SparkleMotion and my new laptop is NightMoose. And, so, I am happy to announce a new addition to my material family and a very welcome traveling companion (though one that will remain unnamed): the Nikkor 18-200mm f/3.5-5.6G ED VRII.

I was happy to purchase the lens used from Emlyn Stokes, reunited with him briefly in Massachusetts between Christmas and New Years. This lens provides a bit more versatility than the single lens I owned previously,  a 50mm f/1.8 prime. To be fair, I freakin' love my 50mm prime, and I used to have a 28-200mm lens that got kicked a few years ago in Italy. Anyway, the lens will be my go-to while traveling and the 50mm stayed at home.

I was quite pleased to shoot a few lovely photographs from seat 10a on my flight from Miami to Liberia.*

My first few photographs from Costa Rica are on their way—I am quite pleased with how the new lens is performing. Here, let me offer you a preview. Pictured throwing is Arnie Larson.

* I am not in Africa, people. Liberia is a city in the Guanacaste region of Costa Rica. Come on, people, learn some geography (that is specifically relevant to me).

I remain now in Baltimore, sitting and waiting and yawning in the airport, with a barely deiced plane on its way from Boston to discharge passengers and, thereby emptied, consume us for a return again. I slept four hours last night between the first-ever fully completed crossword charades and the morning's downstairs arrival of recently awoken and much better rested Jolie and Kaia. I never have much luck staying asleep when I know the two little adorable Ganzell girls are up and about and there is coffee to drink.

And I was leaving—why sleep when such so deprives me of the beautiful faces of my friends and of their laughter and of their embraces? Especially in parting, I never have much luck staying away from overwhelming emotion and bittersweet embraces. My recent days have just so many goodbyes. I never have much luck speaking and believing and feeling "see you later." No matter faith, I say "goodbye."

Today was a slow day of eating and packing and coffee and couch moving and goodbye and goodbye and goodbye. Steve, Lucy and I were the final guests to remain, escaping eventually the Boeke-Ganzell Blackhole of Love and Mirth and up the road to Baltimore.

I remain now in Baltimore, waiting and wishing I were not waiting when so much is about to begin but instead nestled happily in some familiar and warm bed. I have packing to do (tomorrow) and I should be sleeping now so that I can pack (tomorrow). And I need a pair of sunglasses and maybe some chinos and certainly a decision concerning the fate, packed or left, of my hiking boots. I never have much luck staying on top of all my little tasks and lists and feeling prepared for the changes in my life. And we all know that luck has nothing whatsoever to do with anything.

I am home or, that is to say, I am in Hamilton. My physical home in Seattle exists no longer in our leasing, the keys having been returned and the floors having been swept (probably), but I still hear about me the echoes, and feel the tugs, of that emotional space. My heart... my heart is a bit lost but I suppose such is a theme of my upcoming adventure.

I would not, by any stretch of a cheese string, claim that I am through and done processing my time in Seattle and my departure from its rainy but dear embrace. And I do not hope to here and now offer some curt summary of that time and departure. Instead, and without significant fuss, I will collect the vague details of a few memorable meals I have shared in this super crazy month.

Breakfast with Trina Stout at Silence Heart Nest on December 5, 2009
I cannot remember if I discovered this delicious breakfast spot with Claire Fisher Scott (in Seattle for a business trip) or if I found it with Trina and took Claire there later. Regardless, back when I first lived in Wallingford, I loved Silence Heart Nest, no matter its confusing spiritual ground, and frequented the spot with Trina and sometimes Amber and AC as well. Trina and I went together for one last breakfast there, splitting two old favorite dishes—Southern Swing and Western Roundup—and discussing respective plans for South American travel.

Dinner with Charlie Ellis on December 7, 2009

I shopped, at the Capitol Hill Farmers Market on the Sunday prior, for local ingredients for a simple meal to cook with Charlie. I was excited to share a bottle of Cabernet I had "cellared" for over two years.

• Pan-fried Rib Eye Steak from Olsen Farms
• Boiled Potatoes from Olsen Farms
• Mixed Braised Greens
• Compound Butter with Parsley and Thyme
• Duck Horn 2004 Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon

The steaks were delicious, and a strong recommendation for continuing to purchase local, sustainably raised beef. The meal delivered, for sure, but the wine came up just a bit short. The Duck Horn was eminently smooth, balanced, drinkable—and I suppose it stood up to the steak—but did not have much spice or spark to elevate it (at least as far as my taste for wine goes). Thank you, Charlie.

The Best Americano Ever on December 8, 2009
My car, SparkleMotion was hit-and-run the night before while parked near Charlie's condominium. The next morning, after delivering the Sparkley to the body shop, I arrived to work at Victrola Coffee and requested of Steve, as a means of coping, The Best Americano Ever. This cheery, bearded barista delivered, crafting it carefully and with only single origin espresso from Ethopia. I will miss my coffee shop, and I will be back.

Birthday Breakfast at Café Presse with Sarah on December 9, 2009
Coffee; Oeufs plat, jambon, fromage for me; Chocolate croissant for Sarah

Birthday Lunch with Eric Mattson and Afternoon Snacks at Oddfellows at December 9, 2009
Coca-Cola and pork sandwich for Eric; Hot cider and market salad for me
Molasses cookie and Buffalo Trace hot toddy while I worked there for the afternoon

28th Birthday Dinner on December 9, 2009

• Homemade flatbread, boursin and marmalade (Ross-Viles)
• Mixed greens salad with apple, avocado, chevre, nuts, etc. (Coleman)
• Shepherd's Pie (Ross-Viles)
• Bourbon Cake with Lemon Frosting (Zucker & Ross-Viles)
• Casa Lapostolle 2006 Cabernet Sauvignon
• Tamarack Cellars 2005 Cabernet Sauvignon
• Clos de los Siete 2006

I fear that I am forgetting a bottle of wine from this meal. Hrmph. Regardless, I had a lovely and relaxed evening with these dear friends. They toasted and feasted me perfectly, and all I had to do was be born and then put on a totally gorgeous tie. Oh, and I brought down my stuffed animals for Micah and Eli: I recommend highly saying "llama llama llama" while rubbing Eli's head with a stuffed version of the aforementioned camelid.

Breakfast with Charlie Matlack at Volunteer Park Cafe on December 15, 2009
We discussed life and love and the week he will come to Costa Rica. Additionally, Charlie delighted me with news that he hoped to join me in hiking Machu Picchu sometime this spring. Volunteer Park Cafe disappointed me with an overly salty quiche. I will see you soon, Charlie, and twice!

Lunch with Brooke and Jack at Java Love on December 15, 2009
This Tuesday was my final Tuesday of its sort, working and laughing and eating burritos with Brooke and Jack down on Beacon Hill. As a weekly occurrence, such has been a bright spot, something to which to look forward and certainly something to energize me. We did not take a working lunch as we usually do, bringing burritos back to Rao & Pierce, but sat at Java Love and just ate and laughed. I will miss you, buddies, and I will miss our working time together.

Neva Cherniavsky Sushi Dinner at Chez Korb on December 15, 2009
Neva visited Seattle for a few nights in the midst of her whirlwind reunion tour of the States. Liz Korb hosted a homemade sushi party for a good group of us to see and celebrate our friend. The responsibility (and prize) of finishing the final few rolls fell to my insatiable sushi appetite. I did not disappoint.

Sandwiches at Meza with Alex Wells on December 16, 2009
I have been lucky enough to share many a sandwich with Alex, who considers that food somewhat of a focus and ongoing mission in his life. Meza is a new Venezuelan restaurant on Capitol Hill, and one recommended for its pork sandwich. The Havana was excellent and definitely their flagship sandwich: braised pork, ham, caramelized onions, cheese, banana peppers and fresh aioli. I was so happy to share one last sandwich (and some sangria, and some appetizers) with this dear Claremont, Seattle and DarkHorse compatriot. And Sam and Ashley joined us later for a spot of talk and munch.

Final Cooked Dinner at 1710 #9 on December 17, 2009

I love my wine, or rather I loved it, and I love my lasagna recipe, adapted and perfected long ago in my first Seattle apartment. Living with Sarah, I was not generally the cook for dinner parties but I managed to take the reins for this, our final cooked dinner at 1710 #9. Dave and Natalie joined us, and I pulled out a favorite wine and an even more favorite wine. We started, while cooking, with the Abbot's Table: the closet-aged 2007 was far better than the 2008 bottle I drank at Thanksgiving. Well kept, well savored.

We drank the Duckhorn Merlot with dinner. Wow. I drank a bottle of this back when I was buying them (read: back when I had a full-time salary) in October 2007. I was impressed then and I was impressed again. The Merlot was velvety and rich with good fruit and spice but no strong acidity to finish. My friends may have claimed that the lasagna was even better than the wine. I'm not so sure but I do appreciate the compliment. And, yes, my lasagna is friggin' fantastic.

Of note, I used our final (and finest) serving of homemade tomato sauce from the great tomato bounty of October 2008. Sarah and Dave posited that this use of the sauce elevated the lasagna to a new level and I could not disagree.

• Antipasti of Prosciutto, Cheese, Olives and Pickled Asparagus (Ross-Viles)
• My Perfect and Decadent Two-Hour Lasagna (d'Avis, duh)
• Owen Roe 2007 Abbot's Table, Columbia Valley
• Duckhorn Vineyards 2004 Napa Valley Merlot
• Whidbeys Vintage 2007 Washington Port

We finished the night with an emergency port run by Dave and Sarah, drinking the port and then heading out for an evening of Neva-inspired dancing on Capitol Hill. Yes, this was a Thursday, I know. Yes, I'm really super great at life, I know.

I cannot believe that my list continues unflaggingly but here I am. And on we go...

Hanukkah Latkes and Roast Chicken at Chez Zucker on December 18, 2009
Dave hosted a good little (or not so little) crew at his condo for the final night of Hanukkah. Jared and Dave are old hats at frying and these offerings stood the test of potatoes past. Sarah came in with her mother's roast chicken recipe, repeated and perfected weekly for years of Sarah's childhood. The latkes were crispy and oily and great, the chicken was succulent and flavorful, the company was warm, and the menorah candles burned. I have been so happy as an honorary Jew on the holidays, living with Sarah: the food is brilliant. And I even forgot to mention the apple cider cinnamon doughnuts Sarah made for Hanukkah the weekend previous. I just keep on winning.

Brunch with Amber, AC, Zak and Autumn at Coastal Kitchen on December 19, 2009
I was deep in packing and moving (into storage) and so these old friends (and new—hi, Autumn!) were kind enough to drive the great, great distance from Fremont to Capitol Hill. We reminisced, all the way back to 2000 when I met Zak and AC, and enjoyed delicious brunch typical of Coastal Kitchen. I was particularly pleased with my prosciutto and sun-dried tomato risotto with poached eggs and toasted focaccia. Another few wonderful friends and so another heartfelt and difficult goodbye.

GRE Celebration and Departure Mourning at Poppy on December 19, 2009

My dear friend and Triumvirate cohort Faye Ziegeweid took the GRE earlier this day—well, actually, she kicked it in the keister. And I was leaving, as previously discussed. What choice did we have but to go out for another super fancy, super delicious dinner? We were six: Faye, Nick, Natalie, Dave, Sarah and I. We were wearing ties (of course), carried with us a bag of spare Value Village ties, and managed to get one around the neck of our waiter, if only briefly. She should have kept it on: the tie totally matched her shirt.

Anyway, we ordered cocktails to start—I loved my Papi Delicious of tequila, curacao, red bell pepper, jalapeño, lime and mint. All of the cocktails were great although, from shared tastes, I would say I found The Lookout and Bourbon Sour particularly good. Now, to the food! For appetizers, we enjoyed:

• Eggplant fries with sea salt and honey
• Lightly fried mussels with dill aioli
• half-shell shigoku oysters with lemon verbena ice

We ordered two meat thali and one vegetarian thali for the six of us. The amount of food was perfect, and the actual food, in its flavor, temperature, texture, and presentation, was even more perfecter. Well, the beets may have been a bit over-bitter but whatever. Seriously, whatever! Look at this menu, which I now include via image because I am lazy:

I happily avoided ordering at all, trusting to my wise foodie friends, and they did me no wrong. The scallops and short ribs were especially excellent. However delicious all the food, and however satisfying the complex array of flavors, Faye and I were not dissuaded from dessert. GRE! Departure! Of course we needed dessert:

• Dark chocolate terrine with ginger, pistachio and sesame
• Pyrat's booty (rum) ice cream
• Selection of thali-sized dessert morsels

And so were sated, and so we were wearing ties, and so we headed to Erika, Jennifer and Peter's holiday party way way out in Ballard. We drank and laughed and dispensed ties and played foosball, and I mused from time to time on the meal recently consumed and said more goodbyes to friends in Seattle.

Final Dinner in Seattle at Chez Zucker on December 22, 2009

I packed and cleaned and ran errands right up to the moment, right up to a few hours before I drove the airport. Those few final hours, that poignant smidgen of time, I spent with Dave and Sarah and Natalie over salad and chicken soup. Dave cooked down the carcasses from Hanukkah—no, not human latke-overload victims but rather chicken remains—and made a perfect, classic chicken soup. The broth was rich and flavorful but not too salty. The bread was toasty and crisp for buttering and dipping in broth.

We drank Fin du Monde beer.

Sarah and I remembered and mused a bit as to how we ended up living together for two and a half years—what fate and chance led us to this great friendship, and how such led us along to Dave as well. Natalie apparently did not have swine flu and apparently did not infect us with anything. (Yay!) We opened Patagonia bounty. I did not cry.

I said goodbye to Natalie.

Sarah, Dave, my six-months possessions and I loaded into SparkleMotion and headed down on I5. I cried. I skipped the music along from Peter, Bjorn and John to Mika and Regina Spektor as I held Sarah's hand, sitting behind me in the backseat of the car.

I hugged my two friends at the curb and set off with heart heavy and stomach full. I love you, and I'll be back for seconds: I promise.

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I have never spent a Christmas apart from my parents. If this were a competition, I would note that my sister, Nicole, once spent Christmas in México during college. (What, Nicole, what?) When will I break this pattern, and for what reason? I cannot yet imagine, or rather, the life matters I can imagine are so so far away from me.

I will revisit now my promise to Nicole that I would return to Massachusetts (if and) when she and Mark have children. This promise stands firm, with no regard for its resultant emotions, good and bad, on various coasts, east and west. Babies! Also: possibly temporary move!

On December 11th, at my going-away party, I made a promise to my closest Seattle friends that I would return to that fair city for my next birthday. I stand firm here, again, whether or not I was drinking whiskey sours when the promise was made, and whether or not Sarah makes the best damn shepherd's pie. Which she does. My friends, I made a promise but I need not have: I love you all and I will be back. Sooner, and December 9th, 2010, and later.

I gave my word once, and I broke it, and I have continued to break it over and over again. Specifically, I promised a girlfriend that I would not talk on the cell phone and drive at the same time—my adherence to such lasted through the end of our relationship. Now, well, I will not discuss my specific iPhone habits while driving but suffice it to say that they are AWESOME. Um, sorry?

The remaining promises I make, the commitments I hold dear and true, are nothing more than whispers into winter air. I am a free man, unfettered: catch me before I float away on a warm breeze. Catch me, hold me down: I promise that I'll promise you whatever you like, especially if it's bourbon.

Goodnight, and Merry Christmas.

One of my most favorite messages that I have ever received, truly, is on a Post-it note from Despair.com, and this note is full of misspellings. And I love it something fierce, enough so that I apparently still have the note five and a half years after I found it stuck to the monitor in my office of the Harvey Mudd College Engineering Department.

My dear, dear friend Brooke Riggio worked as the Engineering System Administrator for three years after he graduated from Mudd in 2001. I graduated from Mudd in 2004 and then up into the same professional position. Brooke moved to Seattle and I missed him, he who was ever-present in my Claremont life.

But before Brooke really truly left our tiny office, down in the basement off the ECF, I suppose he wanted to pass on a bit of encouragement. And so there it was, and there it stayed stuck to my monitor as a reminder over the two years I spent down there:

I did my best to follow his advice, to remember my value and purpose, and I was thankful for Brooke's direction. I did a good job as the Engineering SysAdmin, for sure, and I truly enjoyed helping people while I was there. I left Claremont for Seattle in 2006, and I left that job, and I again followed Brooke. I joined him in consulting in Seattle and he shepherded me through this transition.

I can say, with some certainty, that without Brooke I would not be so happy and independent and successful in this life as I am today. Thank you, friend. Many of you others have likewise supported me and I give my thanks to you as well. So, always remember:

• You rock
• You can totally do this job
• You're here to help
• You're loved
• You Rock!

I may not have followed Brooke once I got up to Seattle—his was the way of wife and children and mine was of crippling lack of purpose and eventual departure for southern adventures—but he will always be a hero and an inspiration. Brooke, you rock, and I love you, too.