2013 was tanned to a buttery kind of caramel-kissed skin, took on some great and some dirty hair, was situated under the fluffiest and most nearly-in-your-reach clouds, was all about Niall Horn, smelled like pineapple and salt water, was filled with the tastiest ish (but every year is about good food in my life), considered IHOP mornings/struggles to get up, felt like beach hair and sandy toes, introduced me to Sewing 101 where I failed miserably, had copious amounts of iced coffee, paved the way for Loofah Adventures, contained $3 wine, promoted bike lane usage, involved alcohol abuse, watched the sky move in the back of a pick-up truck, required doublé espresso shots, saw people come and saw people go, was dusted off with gold glitter and silver strings, floated on a several bodies of water, did not result in getting mugged in Stanley Park at night–although we did some things that might’ve triggered it, sipped on san gri gri with our heads tilted back, set one timid foot into the wilderness, fell in love with people in the nonromantic kind of way, had painted skies glowing above our heads, spoiled us with the most breathtaking of sights, offered lots of [undercover] marzipan, and was actually just chillin’ in a onesie this entire time…
2014 is hopefully going to be Belgium chocolate-dipped, doused clumsily in a cup of café au lait, hit with a paddle in a German beer hall, will stumble over ancient cobblestone in very cute shoes, will contain more One Direction (I am banking on the fantasy of running into Niall Horan hard–it’ll be in a pub in Ireland before he embarks on another great North American tour), is drenched in chili-infused extra virgin olive oil, and tastes the way only pizza tastes after every other establishment on the street is closed.
The best has yet to come! I am stoked for more beautiful things to come within the next year. If 2013 has taught me anything, is that I am incredibly lucky and incredibly annoying. I am lucky to have really amazing and beautiful friends–and it’s an honour to have been able to celebrate several milestones with all of them this year.
In love with Hawaii. In love with the beaches, the people, the food, the weather, the music, and even the drivers (forreal though–you can cut someone off and they’d just let you without honking. I think Hawaii driving life is my kinda life..) Not to perpetuate any stereotypes, but island life is just incredibly chill. Even though Jason threw up on the flight there (complimentary mai tai’s on the plane, who knew?), everything was amaze.
The people we stayed with were locals and unbelievably at ease in every situation. There could’ve been an earthquake, and they would’ve been like, “Oh, okay. Sure. It happens.” They even left us for a couple of days with the house to ourselves.
At the beginning of our visit, they told us there was no need to lock the front door, but when they went away, Jason and I thought it was probably a good idea to do so. Et quelle surprise, the door isn’t even capable of locking! I don’t know about y’all, but I grew up East Van, and there is no way in hell we would ever leave our front door unlocked. Pretty sure I’ve gotten yelled at a few times for accidentally leaving the door unlocked while rushing out of the house..
One day our host told us the boogie boards were in the garage, so Jason and I were looking for them. When we couldn’t find them, our host came down himself, and when he couldn’t find them, he just said, “Oh. Somebody must’ve Hawaiian borrowed them.”
Oh. Somebody must’ve Hawaiian borrowed them.
Our hosts’ house was dope. On a plantation, complete with a mango tree, four hens that laid eggs every morning, an outdoor hot tub and shower, twinkly lights at night, and the lovely sound of water coursing down rocks.
Literally the prettiest thing at night, combined with an epic view. There were lizards, giant cockroaches, and other giant bugs but it all added to the island life, in some way or another..
And obvs, Jason and I made it a priority to eat everything on the island.
I actually hate papayas because they have that unnatural orange shade to them (blegh), and the seeds look like caviar.. but the papayas in Hawaii are bomb. Carmen’s boyfriend pulled one out of his bag when we went to Lanikai beach. An extremely resourceful man, he is..
Like true Canadians, we thought malasadas would be timbit-sized because our hosts described them as “hole-less donuts,” but no. Really no–they were the size of my hand and we ordered four after having a Hawaiian-sized (somewhat synonymous with American-sized) dinner at Rainbow Drive Inn. The poke pictured next to the malasadas was only FIVE DOLLARS. I’ll never forget that poke sauce they use to marinate the sashimi..
There’s definitely so much more to write! But more later 🙂