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Don’t Stop

May 22, 2010

I love the Mediterranean.  Greece, Capri, the Amalfi Coast, Morocco, the Balearic Islands, mmm.  The late spring/early summer season there is absolute perfection.  Hot sun, balmy nights, cool in the shade — very similar to a Manhattan spring (all five days of it).

I’m not terribly affected by weather, generally speaking.  I do fine in colder climates (I enjoy dressing the part), and in hotter climates.  I’ve had fun in the snow, and I’ve had fun in the sweaty tropics.  I love hard, summer-in-the-south rain, and I love clear (but often freezing) sunny winter skies.

But late spring in the Mediterranean makes me never want to leave.  To put things in perspective: while I’m a city girl through and through, I can admit that the weather in Manhattan sucks (I lived smack-dab in the center of Midtown for a good three years) — but springtime in Manhattan (yes, all five days) was enough to convince me that there is no where else, weather-wise, I’d rather be.  Yep, it only took five days a year of that perfect weather for me to never want to leave.

Admittedly, I’ve had a taste of said weather in San Francisco — one day in late August last year, I was walking around SOMA with my friend and ex-coworker, and there was a brief minute when the sun was hot, the shade was cool, and the breeze lifted my hair just right.  And then a gust of Bay wind came rushing down Second Street, and it was all over.  (But it was enough that I’ve been looking forward to August for the past three months.)

ATB is an old favorite of mine — the infamous 9 PM (Till I Come) reminds me of my early high school days, and of spending all night out at a club before dragging myself home to review AP US DBQ’s with my trusty wing-girl Lisa.

Good times.  The boy re-introduced me to Don’t Stop sometime last year:

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