Wandering down Clark St. in my city of new, I pass a small café en route
to New Lyfe. It is called Havana. I step inside and the smell brings me to that little
sandwich place right outside of Breaking Pointe in the Dominican Republic. I am
instantly transported to the open air space in Malaga where authentic paella
takes over my taste buds and the colors remind me of Mexico City. I am in 3
places instantly without even dragging my britches down the road, so I sit down
and have lunch.
It gives me home, and I’m at home. I still take the non-dairy, health conscious route new lyfe
would have offered, but I am grateful for the additional flavor and the reminiscence
of cultures. This place and the sun and the open air bring me back to island
life. To a place I have never been. Unknown but missed. And I think of love.
And of course, plane tickets to Havana.
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| Picture courtesy of http://allworldtowns.com/cities/havana.html |
At the L.A. on Randolph 45 minutes later, I wonder if the walk up the 3
flights of stairs to the main floor is workout enough. Oh well, the meal was
light and the plantain chips/ceviche was worth every bite.
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