Day 275/365 - Beach Nut

This shot wasn't taken anywhere remotely near a beach, unfortunately. It was taken alongside the Mt. Vernon Trail near Reagan National Airport across the river from Washington, DC. I've got a serious case of beach jones at the moment. I haven't been to the beach since I went to San Diego last summer, and I'm jonesing hardcore for sand, sun, and surf.

I've been browsing the web, skimming magazines, and asking friends for recommendations, but I still haven't found my sure thing yet. Key West, Sanibel Island, Bermuda, Barbados, and even possibly Cape Verde are all still on the table. The last one is a dark horse candidate at the moment, however, given that ideally I want to go somewhere within a couple hours flying time.

I don't want to go to a big city or party beach and I don't want to stay at a plush resort or trendy hotel. I just want to find myself a bungalow/cottage at a mellow, laid back beach and not do much of anything. Basically I want to spend 3-4 days living inside a Corona beer commercial. I want there to be a small, cozy town nearby so I can go get a drink or something to eat if I feel like it and some walking/biking paths to explore.

I want to lay in a hammock, sit in a beach chair, stare at the tide, soak up the sun, read, and listen to music. That's my alchemical formula. I don't figure on going until the middle of next month, so I've still got some time to figure things out. Hurricane season could certainly complicate matters, though.

Sigh...

(Taken with my Nikon Coolpix S200)

Day 263/365 - International Gentleman of Leisure

After a day spent wrangling dogs and a night in Adams Morgan I decided today called for something a little more leisurely, so I grabbed blanket, book, and iPod and headed to my secret spot. Down the street from my apartment there is a little park filled with fountains and other water features. On weekends there are always people standing in front of the fountains having wedding/prom/quinceañera photos taken. At the back of the park, a paved path winds its way up and around a grassy knoll. Few people go up that way.

I like to lay there on the hill and forget the world exists. The feel of the pages under my fingertips, the fluid poetry of Puccini on my iPod, the softness of the blanket, the smell of the grass, the coolness in the air, the sound of the water from the fountains, and the thrum and rattle of trains passing on the backside of the hill all formed a perfect equation of relaxation.

For a few hours today, this little patch of grass was my own private desert island.

(Taken with my Nikon Coolpix S200)