Dreamscape, somewhere in Suffolk. Fields of green, flowers on the beach.
A long countryside walk to the sea. Follow the footpath a few miles east until the heath fades into the beach.
That’s the only way I know how to go back.
Category: Places
-
Suffolk
–––––––
-
Summer broke early in Cambridge this year. Real summer. The summer that beckons you to the park. Picnic blanket, book, boat summer. Sun shining summer.
Grantchester Meadows is like the “beach” of Cambridge to me; a destination of sunbathers and swimmers. The place to which everyone escapes to a thousand shades of green.
Grantchester
–––––––
-
May Day, 2018. Two hours from Piran to Bled for this breathtaking view. Worth the drive.
I was enroute to the airport, so I didn’t have much time. But, if anything, you must know that the pictures could never do this place justice.
I don’t have a word to describe the blue. Or the way I felt watching the teeny tiny boats glide back and forth, seamlessly, seemingly, across glass.
Bled
–––––––
-
Endless day, endless sun. Time stood still. magic happened. The world was on my side.
Morning run along the coast, through a quiet, sleepy city. Past the resorts and then the fishermen.
Dining alone on the waterfront, a local breeze, a local white wine, and a fishplatter for one.
Wander for photos, wander accidentally, find myself overlooking it all from the hillside.
To the town walls for an even better view. Breathtaking. Then, open exploring. The fabled Fiesa path is real, and I’m on it. A serendipituous seaside stroll. Seaglass. Shoes-off. Seawall.
Pants rolled up, walking through the water back home.
And then it ends. With an icecream sundae and an aperol spritz, a table on the pier directly in line with the setting sun.
.
I survived another day, just me in Slovenia.
Piran
–––––––
-
Sečovlje – salt, sun, space. Early morning, before the crowds, not before the birds. Bright.
The entire place reminded me of Cape Cod in a way, the Cape Cod of wild Eastham and Orleans and Chatam; maybe it was the marsh or the wooden boardwalk or the color palette.
But this is Slovenia. The Adriatic Sea. A salt marsh that has produced salt since the thirteenth century.
Far away from home, but I don’t feel it.
Sečovlje
–––––––
-
What I want to remember most about that first night in Piran is how the fresh, sweet, floral-sea smell hit me when I exited the car and made me instantly forget the knots in my stomach that had hurt me all week leading up to that moment, far from home, alone on the Adriatic. And I want to remember that first bite of strawberry icecream on the pier and how extra creamy and delicious it was.
Fresh. How it was all so fresh, so natural, so vibrant. So colorful. Lively, not crowded.
On this evening, I have hardly been in this country for any time at all, and I already know it is one of the prettiest places that I’ll ever visit.
Piran
–––––––
exploring & escapades 