a weekend in sf

Upon discovering Anna and Leslie would be hiking Yosemite and then San Francisco in May, I decided to hijack their trip.

Last Thursday, I drove straight from the office to the airport and joined my two friends at a table at 1760. A painless 50-minute flight took place in between. And because the journey had been so easy, and because I've been working so hard and non-stop, I was hyper-excited about it. "I can't believe you're in San Fran! And I'm here, too!" Yes, dear self, this is what we call taking a long weekend...

{Oscar de la Renta: The Retrospective}

{Aperitifs at Rye}

{Breakfast by the beach (Outer Sunset)}

{A belated Cinco de Mayo party}

{Burning Man remains in Hayes Valley}

{Mission donuts and murals}

For someone who's stumbled into rooted contentment, it was so very refreshing to luxuriate in a different yet conveniently-close-by city—especially in the company of some of the world's best. I doubt I'll let another 5 years pass before my next weekend visit.

then paris, of course

The ride from Amsterdam to Paris was a long one; exceptionally unpleasant, too. The train's air conditioner stopped working halfway through; the conductor stopped the train in an attempt to restore it; he was unsuccessful, four times over; our arrival time was delayed by one hour and countless beads of sweat; fin. I hadn't thought I could be any more eager to be in Paris again. I was.

Then, once we'd settled into our 10e airbnb and freshened up, the euphoria set in. Rachael, Lorelei, and I were reunited in/with Paris.

After much deliberation, we decided to start with an apéritif at Rosa Bonheur sur Seine. For the record, I hadn't known this place existed--it was one of many bars/restaurants that had come to be after my move back to the United States. Also worth mentioning: my first visit to the original Rosa Bonheur marked my first night out as a Paris resident. Our chosen happy hour spot was, thus, perfectly "full circle". And as we discussed how wonderfully ordinary it felt to be in the City of Lights again, over a casual spread of charcuterie, cheese, and rosé, Rachael and I felt a push. A man sitting on our bench but with the group at the table behind us was making room for himself with complete disregard for our presence and entitlement. We laughed. Yes, sir, we were back.

Being there, for me, was like one deep and restorative sigh. There was an innate sense of comfort and belonging; an "of course I'm here in this city with these two". That first night, we went from Rosa Bonheur sur Seine, to Mary Celeste, to Glass, to Le Grand Pigalle. We reveled in the relief of the familiar. We clinked glasses to Paris, and to us.

happy hours in amsterdam-oost

I stood at the door. The host had given me clear directions to the flat and promised me his friend would meet me at 3 o'clock with the keys. It was 4:18pm (or, 16h18). I called the friend. "Oh, your friend should be inside. She was on time." Which friend, I wondered. Following his instruction, I buzzed up to the flat. It wasn't long before I heard feet running down the stairs. Marie's cousin greeted me. Though I'd never met her in person, I was relieved to immediately recognize Charlotte. She felt the same; little introduction meant she could rest her lost voice. She turned to lead me up three steep and narrow flights. I practically held my suitcase above my head.

Fortunately, the airbnb was as cute and airy as expected. Worth the hike, in other words. My brother rang up a few minutes after I'd caught my breath. Soon after, Marie followed. Properly reunited and introduced, we set out on a leisurely walk to the De Gooyer Windmill. We had made plans to meet Lorelei for happy hour al fresco at Brouwerij 't IJ, Amsterdam's leading organic microbrewery.

The evening advanced organically (pun intended) from there. Thanks to Lorelei's local scoop and Dutch data, we tipsily strolled over to Roest. The laid-back industrial setting was perfect. We enjoyed a couple more beers with a casual spread of picnic food. We also boldly participated in the inflatable backyard fun--a bungee run and a two-man joust--until we discovered it'd been rented for a private event...

Eventually, the night winded down with gin cocktails, whiskey, and wine at Walter's, the Walter Woodbury Bar. It was a classier yet just-as-local haunt with a beautiful interior that was clearly influenced by its namesake--the 19th century English photographer who was one of the first to capture the "exoticism" of the Dutch East Indies. Given the atmosphere and plethora of libations, our conversation became a debate on culture and identity. My brother was absolutely enthralled. "The wonder of grad school abroad," I told him with a smile as we walked back to the airbnb. What a special understanding Jorgie and I now share.

hier

I've always been a fan of birthdays. What a wonderful occasion it is to celebrate someone you love on an otherwise ordinary day. What a wonderful occasion, too, to reflect on another year well-lived. Yesterday, I reveled in my own in Paris for the second time: a healthful lunch at Préface, cookie and coffee at Loustic, souvenir-shopping at Merci, and finally, drinks (and frites) at Le Perchoir. It was a calm city day with confidents I adore; so unlike previous ones at vineyards/beaches/my parent's backyard, but just as sweet.

Last year, I all but freaked out about turning 25--the same age my mom was when she had me. I was stressed about finishing grad school courses, starting an internship abroad, and figuring out the formula to successfully putting down roots, embarking on a satisfying career, and falling in love forever (with eventual little loves in tow). Silly, silly girl, I am. Not one of those concerns occurred to me yesterday... and not just because I've already graduated. In the time and space between 25 and 26, I've gained a whole new perspective. As Jamie Varon wrote, "what’s most important is who we are, not what we are; how we lived, not what we did." And it's simply unbelievable how enough we are. Now, as each day brings me closer the big 2-7, I resolve to continue to work hard and be kind, celebrate often and appreciate always. I'll probably never stop being sentimental nor nostalgic, but gosh, how happy I am to have the chance to nurture relationships with friends and family I endlessly love and admire from near and far. Fin. My next few days will be spent putting finishing touches on this glorious Parisian chapter before "danielle abroad" moves home. Not for long though. Little by little, things do fall into place, and soon after arriving in New York, I'm relocating, again. Please stay tuned :).