The street that hugs the lake.
A weekend away. ( Ayub Ogada accompanies my spill)
The last several months have been very interesting ones. I’ve been spending more time with new people, considering new relationships and old ones, going though that constant exercise of thinking about my present and future, opening up, getting nuts, and exploring the vast stock of emotional glub crowding my guts. As soon as I think my senses are keen, I undergo yet another magical transition, and my world shifts just like opening one eye while closing the other. In this case, I have 88 eyeballs that flick open and shut revealing another little piece of the puzzle over and over again.
Two weeks ago I asked a new friend if I could come to visit him in Hangzhou. I met him in Shanghaiabout a month earlier. He hooked me up with the body man who helped me with my back, and recently I’ve been lucky enough to get to know John, a good friend of his. My request was greeted with open arms, and Friday night, Alex and I hopped aboard a time machine to visit the much-hyped beauty ofHangzhou. Described time and time again as a beautiful, relaxing city, I was curious to discover the peace and splendor of a city whose name is always received with enthusiasm, sparkling eyes, and ‘ahhhs’. I had been there a few times over the last year but had yet to be convinced ofHangzhou’s appeal. At first glance, this American, could only see a tourist destination packed with decorative bits of nature, designated pathways, starbucks, and dairy queen. This time, theWestLake, whose perimeter is surrounded by mountains, temples and trees, finally revealed herself to me.
Arriving Friday night, later then expected, Sean met us outside his castle, welcoming us into his life for a few days of subtlety. We eased out of our Shanghaiskin, jabbered about politics while sucking down our Banana Splits and Oreo Cheesecake Blizzard’s, and finally let the overwhelming humidity and heat in a quietly beautiful city calm our minds, and exhaust our bodies. Blabbing til three, I was still up the next morning before 8 for a stroll around the lake, breathing in the peace and quiet. With the weight of a million kilos of overpriced fruit, I headed back to my weekend lake house to enjoy a couple more hours of stillness while the other two relished in their extra Saturday slumber. Heading to a rooftop pool, we three, had our very first taste of swimming this summer before the storm clouds soaked the sky in grey. We lunched, potentially tri-hallucinated two skipping bunny rabbits in the yard nearby, shared some yoga together, chatted, and prepared a vegetarian feast, before making it to the “middle of nowhere” where streams of taxicabs lined up to give and receive all of us nobodies getting down where all the “trendiest and most beautiful” girls play. Alex got down with a gentleman whose groove kept nearly everyone on the dancefloor at bay, and not to long afterward, we went home to jabber some more quiet jibbery until our eyelids gently closed, and we blasted into our dreamy repose. Happy to be occupied, or unoccupied, I was grateful for a weekend away from some thoughts while embracing others. The time slipped by too quickly, and I look forward to finding the opportunity to return; explore, skip some more rocks, and spend some more time quietly contemplating everything from the when and where of my life, to the octo-lake-monster, and even how to one day slip more then just my giant big toes into the silky smooth water of the haunted Xi Hu. Thank you for a wonderful time spent.
Just off that main street, this entrance protected the refuge of quiet houses where I lived for the weekend.
In the morning, I had a walk around, smiled at the grandmas and grandpas waltzing in the park, and moon bounced around while looking for fruit to cure my craving.
There's something so special about being in someone else's kitchen.
Rooftop dipping.
Since we had the whole deck to ourselves, we marco polo-ed, saw who could hold their breath the longest, and most definitely had a photo shoot.
Doom encroaches.
Doom.
Hi, this is my boyfriend Sven. Come on Sven, I'm going to lay here, while you dive over me.
Goodness, I can't believe how immature these people are. I think the girl was born in the 80's.
Once you start lunging, if there happens to be a well traveled Canadian with the imagination of
Shel Silverstein nearby, the possibilties are endless. 
Moutain top hangout, blanketed in Mosquoto piercings, and sweating profusely, I absorbed every moment of tree hugging delight.
Notice my pockets are filled with rocks. We went to a 5 star restaurant for dinner, all the while I sat there with pockets full of stones which I borrowed from some potted plants to skip later on. " Lets move to Hangzhou"- "This place is so mellow."