What Wonders Await the Homebodies

West coast of France, central coast of California, plot of land on the beach in El Salvador - these are just some of the places Jordi and I dream about living someday. Those times when our crazy neighbor is calling the cops/city/property management company about our trashcans being visible or Jordi's trailer  parked on the street for more than the lawful five hours, or when we're woken up by leaf blowers and trash trucks in the morning, or when we can't drive anywhere without being caught in hours of thick traffic, we get this claustrophobic feeling like we have to escape the crazy. But then there are times like a lazy, rainy Sunday in April when it seems like all our wildest dreams can be met in just one place - home. Home for us at the time is San Clemente, California, a little town by the beach in south Orange County.

Enjoying the day in France

On this particular lazy, rainy Sunday in April, we woke up to the light rain and complete quiet except some chipper birds. Sunday is the only day of the week we have respite from the leaf blowers and hardware store noise (we live next to a Denault's). A couple hours later, we walked downtown in the light rain for the weekly Farmer's Market. After sampling apples and candied nuts, purchasing farm eggs, fresh fish and produce we went across the street to Mimosa, one of our favorite café's, to get cappuccinos and the homemade chocolate croissants they offer on Sundays. Smattering of French spoken (it's a French restaurant, after all), a drizzly day, crowded cafe, Farmers Market outside - all set the stage for a perfect morning in France. As Monsieur with the Mustache handed us our steaming cappuccinos and croissants wrapped at the bottom in paper, we made our way back outside, the buttery warmth seeping through the paper onto our hands. It reminded me of outdoor markets, bustling cafes and the joy of eating amazing things that comes with being in France.

Love riding bikes in SLO

In the afternoon we went on a bike ride to a local brewery. While on the central coast we would probably be wine tasting instead of beer tasting, we would be riding our bikes all the same. An overcast afternoon, biking up the hills with views of the yellow wildflowers, stopping in at a local establishment that doesn't care how you're dressed or your mode of transportation, but wants you to enjoy the fruits of their labor - well, we almost could have been on the central coast!

Papusas and beer in El Salvador

Later, as we were expecting company for dinner, we decided to go to the Mexican market to get some supplies. It's a small store but with lots packed in: Fresh guacamole, pico de gallo and salsas, long rows of fresh or dried peppers, tortillas still steaming in the bags, cotija cheese cut and sold by the pound. But the best part is the house-made pork rump, fried and brewing for hours in lard and spices, only available on Saturdays and Sundays. We got the meat, perfect for carnitas, and all the other delicious makings of an authentic latin meal. As we sat on the porch drinking Tecate and eating chips, it felt like we could have been in El Salvador (if only it was a little warmer and there was surf...)
So although we don't as yet own houses in three different countries, we live in a place where we can order cappuccino's and croissants in French, buy fresh carnitas and guacamole in Spanish and bike around the hills, almost as well as in the central coast. And if we can do all that in one day, and in one town, we have it pretty good. (Sorry neighbor, you're stuck with us for awhile...)