Sometimes you wanna go, where everybody knows your name...
And yes, I officially have that in my "neighborhood". I say neighborhood in quotes, because I rather broadly intend to reflect the rather restricted confines of destinations in which I circulate.
So I couldn't resist sharing that my "neighborhood" noticed that I had, indeed, flown away for more than a week or six. My regular coffee shop--they noticed. My cig kofteci *definitely* noticed. I'm about to hear from my hairdresser how he noticed my hair was under the sun/sand/not-washing-my-hair-for-a-week-straight plan. My DVD-seller guy wondered why I hadn't come back for a film I'd asked him to order. But cutest of cutest, the cafe I most adore had the most welcomest welcomes. The server, when I sat down for the first time after two months, said, like the genius he is, "You've been on holiday." (Like I said, nothing gets past these guys.) "And you got a nice tan." (Yes, I probably upped my skin cancer factor by about 500 this summer--but damn, I look "healthy"). He promptly brings me my coffee (he remembered how I drink it even after all 60 days), as well as a small plate of cookies. "Look, he went on vacation, too," he says about the sole chocolate cookie amongst the vanillas.