home away from home
When the loneliness of being miles and continents away is nearly unbearable, farm markets feel like home.
Particularly when market night dinners are tasty and lovely (Excellent recipe courtesy of Stonesoup, but no need to bother with the basil oil if time is short or food processor absent: drizzling some oil from a jar of prepared pesto over the flowers right before baking does the trick nicely).
Warmth of the meal and comfort with my place were de-flowered, however, when an angry neighbor knocked on our door just before 11 pm, as I was finishing the dishes.
She hadn’t been able to sleep for a MONTH, since I arrived in Geneva, because of all the NOISE and BANGING I generated while OUTRAGEOUSLY washing dishes AFTER 10 PM.
And so it goes.
Welcome to the neighborhood.