The gift I look forward to most will come in the form of the second COVID vaccine a few days following my birthday.
I’m relieved and anxious about reentering society. I’ve always been a homebody, but the switch to remote work made clear to me the full extent of my homebody-ness. During the course of the pandemic, a single day out has been all I need to offset any slight twinge of cabin fever. After a few hours, I’d happily retreat from the world again until the next week rolled around, even as the county cautiously reopens. Slow living out in the woods just suits me.
I won’t be diving into summer gatherings or indoor activities. I prefer to dip my toes in instead.
And that’s okay. The truth is, there’s a number of pre-pandemic activities that I look forward to catching up on in my own company.
Nothing says Summer to me like a farmer’s market.
From May through August, neighboring mountain towns have a busy line up; Felton on Tuesday’s, Santa Cruz on Wednesday’s & Saturday’s and Scotts Valley on Sunday’s. The energy of locals supporting locals is something I love to bear witness to and be an active part of. I most enjoy browsing farmer’s market’s slowly. I’ll make two or three rounds at the booths as though I’m at a buffet with one plate to fill. I notice going alone makes me more susceptible to chatting with vendors, staying long enough to enjoy the live music and it tends to increase my sample consumption (when that was still a thing). Shopping is so much more intentional when you can meet the folks who’s heart and hands went into their goods.
Coffee shop visits are another intentional activity I miss.
I would go more to unwind than for a buzz. I’m in the “caffeine gives me jitters” camp. To reconcile our fragile relationship, I don’t dare drink it on an empty stomach or after 2pm. Caffeine acts as more of a special treat or early travel companion whereas tea is what I normally reach for. I appreciate how it’s meant to be nursed over a long period. Coffee shops to me are completely experiential. Just the thought of sinking into a corner armchair with a chai latte and a book releases dopamine to my system. It’s a safe space, like an extension of the cabin. My senses are alert to decadent aromas and the cacophony of espresso machines whirring, milk steaming, mugs clinking, and indistinct chatter to eavesdrops to. What was once familiar now seems like such a novelty. I admit to Youtubing “coffee shop ambiance” on numerous occasions to help fill a void.
After moving to a new town amidst a long distance relationship years ago, I became good friends with my own company.
It was my peak of dining out alone. I admit I still cherish taking myself on a date from time to time. I have some catching up to do.
The Delmarette is a tiny local cafe beside an old timey theatre with more tables outside than in. In the heart of downtown, it’s perfectly set up for people-watching. I’d imagine being in the streets of Paris in a decade I didn’t belong in but wanted to. With nowhere to be and no distractions besides the people and dogs casually strolling by, time slows down. Eating out alone is like being on vacation without the rush or the itinerary. It’s where I become a very present version of myself. Followed up with a thrifting session, it’s one of my favorite ways to spend “me time.”
My first and only time in New York was on a work trip. For whatever reason it wasn’t high on my travel list. All it took was the initial drive in from the airport that made me feel immediately silly for not having gone sooner.
One night I opted out of pizza with colleagues to try the infamous Momofoku Noodle Bar. Yes, New York pizza is as good as they say it is but in my defense, I enjoyed it on three separate occasions prior. NYC is the ultimate foodie city and I would be dammed if I didn’t take advantage. David Chang is the renowned owner and food/travel personality of Momofoku. It came as no surprise to overhear the hostess mention a three hour wait to the group ahead of me.
A major perk of being a party of one: snagging a coveted seat up at the bar with ease.
She didn’t even need to put my name down. I had front row to chefs plating up heaping bowl of noodles with artful garnishes. It was mesmerizing. There I was, buzzing from the energy of being somewhere I saw on tv when all of a sudden I heard a friendly voice over my shoulder. The middle aged solo patron asked if it was my first time. My wide eyed expression must have given it away. As someone who lived and breathed the city, he wasn’t short of local recommendations. Restaurants and museums were added to my growing list filled with insider information far more valuable than an internet search could provide. In that moment it was as though the city wrapped me up in a big hug. I took up his suggestion of their green tea and honey ice cream for dessert which was one the best decisions I made on that trip. The last bit of local wisdom he gifted me with were directions back to the subway. With happy stomachs we wished each other well before disappearing in opposite directions into the crowd.
A party of one is a title I hold proudly.
It means I can move at my own pace and often times notice things I wouldn’t have otherwise. There’s independence to watching a movie alone at a theatre or going to an art exhibit on a whim. With age I gained the confidence to not wait around to do things I wanted even if it meant doing them alone. My mom is that way. I always loved that about her.
There’s no doubt being alone in a crowd can feel, well, lonely. But it doesn’t discount the times when being alone in a crowd can feel like community. As the saying goes, “we’re all just walking each other home.”
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