I have absolutely no idea where the time goes. It feels like a blink and an entire week goes by. It’s probably because it’s sunny and I play volleyball every single day- so I have no time reference point. To be honest, I never really know what day it is.
Last Sunday I went on a non-volleyball related adventure. I went to my first Swat Meet. I was really excited. In England during Summer, my Mum and I scour car boot sales each weekend- looking for pretty house stuff, fabric or rich peoples old clothes (that aren’t really old and have been worn like once, maybe twice at most) I thought a Swat Meet would make a good no junk post about buying old, pretty things instead of new disposable things. Unfortunately, it sucked. It was basically poor Mexicans trying to sell junk or stolen things from the back of trucks. It was all packaged in plastic and it made me sad.
It wasn’t a wasted trip though. The Swat Meet was next to an ‘Alpine Village’. It was like a tiny Swiss village had been taken off a mountain and randomly plonked just east of the 105 freeway. Everybody spoke German. There was a little German bakery that sold pastries and cakes in paper bags. There was a cafe that sold goulash and beef bourguignon in large bowls with homemade strudel. They served European beer. They had a European pub- complete with blonde German bar maid with pig tails. It was surreal and magical. It also had a book shop.
The blinds were pulled down on the windows; from the outside you couldn’t see in. When you walked in, the first thing you saw was a little man with a pointy, wizard beard sat behind a desk that had been eaten by books. There were piles of books in front of the desk at least as tall as 5″10 me.
The whole shop smelt of old books and it was so hot your could barely breathe but I was happier than a pig in shit. I dragged poor Jaren around that shop for at least an hour. The bookseller had first edition books dating as far back as 1700- the USA isn’t even that old!
The whole, unexpected experience was like taking a trip back across the Atlantic- even if it was for just a few hours.
Unfortunately I had to be dragged away to go and work out but it’s nice to know that there is a little piece of Europe just east of the 105.
This is me stretching on the power plate, probably thinking about my magical trip across the pond.