le marche st. george

You've probably seen one or more of these photos scattered throughout my work in the last few months, but today I'm compelled to publish them all in one place. Together they show the collective magic that is Le Marche St. George, a cafe and small market located in Vancouver, Canada. It's the kind of place we all romanticize about owning one day. A cafe where the guests come for the people just as much as they do the coffee. A place where the owners travel and hand-select luxury goods to sell in small quantities. Where the texture on the walls authentically screams of weathered age, and where the marble top tables transport you to 1920's Paris. The ceiling-to-floor shelves stocked with local staples -- coffee, jam, pickles, and crackers.

I sat here for hours my first time in Vancouver. I sipped on a cappuccino. I split my flaky croissant piece by piece to nibble on its airy richness. Beside me sat a foursome of middle-aged women. They talked about using their bikes to get around and someone they knew who developed diabetes. Mothers with strollers made their way up to the door. I watched it all through speckled light cast through the trees. Little shadows danced on their children's faces as they waited patiently in their strollers. The table in front of me was a beautiful still life all its own. 

This experience welcomed me to Vancouver. It gave me pause -- moments to gather my thoughts, realize where I was, and get ready for something new. Who I was, there at that cafe, preparing for it all, is not who I turned into after the experience. That trip, those adventures, the way they changed me was like being branded on the brain with a scolding hot iron. My eyes will never see the same. Everything holds a different hue than ever before. I hold that moment at Le Marche St. George in my heart as a glimpse of who I was, a person on the brink of something new.

weekly scenes: here, there, and everywhere

Here, there, and a little bit of everywhere. The ease with which we skip around the world today is a miracle. Just in the last month, I feel so lucky to have gone the places I've gone and to have met the people I've met. Fifty to one-hundred years ago, it would have been unfathomable. The fact that I can be in Philadelphia during the week and head up to New York state for a weekend - how I can fly to Vancouver and make my way up the coast within a week - it's not something to take with a grain of salt.

The ubiquity of travel makes the world accessible, and our generation is lucky to experience it. We can meet people on every continent, in every city, with more ease than ever before. This new age of travel is breaking down walls, and the planet is becoming a global society. 

It makes me feel like a part of something bigger; a huge community that inhabits the world. The experience of traveling across the continent and to a different country all by myself, tapped me into it and opened my eyes.  It's stunning and comforting to know that there are so many people we can get along with, connect with, enjoy, and learn from. Many a time we focus on the differences, but when you let your guard down, you begin to find the similarities. We all have more in common than you think.

Everywhere we go, there are amazing people. Interesting, creative, intelligent. We can share things with a complete stranger, and we can connect with someone who, appearance-wise, is an entirely different kind of person. When moments like that happen, life realizes meaning. Your heart grows just a little bit bigger with each interaction. It opens up a world in which we can go anywhere without really being alone.

This global community has not always existed. It's a phenomenon of our time, and something I, myself, am excited to live through. We should not let it go unnoticed how special this moment in time really is.

Here's to all the amazing people I've met, shared a moment, and spent time with on my recent travels.  You all put a smile on my face.