Brooklyn is extremely large, and I live in a tiny part of it. In a place as large as Brooklyn, it is actually possible to be a tourist in your OWN HOME, complete with straw hat, guide book and enthusiasm.


So: we today we explored more of it, venturing to a neighborhood which boasts the largest collection of Victorian houses in the country. Kensington, I think? A hike from the last stop on the G. Some cared for, some a bit run-down, but all beautiful.  It’s completely unreal, and doesn’t feel like Brooklyn at all! (Where are the feral cats? Where are the projects?? The dilapidated bogeda’s??? The bike shops?? WHERE. AM. I.)




Our hike was rewarded with DiFara’s pizza in Midwood, which Steve insisted was worth the hour wait. I was a bit skeptical. Personally, I can’t imagine any edible being worth all the standing around. But I stand corrected.


Our magic pie featured olives, mushrooms and fresh basil: and was lovingly prepared by an old guy who makes each pie, one by one, 7 hours a day, six days a week, as he’s been doing for 40 years. What’s his secret? I think it’s either the anticipation of watching and waiting for your own as the line grows, as you fight for a table; or it might be the buckets of olive oil he italian-ly drizzles on the pie, with Love.

I can’t wait to see where we staycay next!

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