The air is still crisp.  The morning quiet.

The dawn was greeted by yoga and plant-tending before you head out to an early morning meeting.  You cruise down the hushed streets--one part a half-awake bustle to get to work, another sleepy-almost-the-weekend energy.  Country music plays softly on the radio, punctuated by spurts of local news.  You cruise past the railroad tracks downtown into the oldest part of the city.  Your way is paved by adobes and the bright colors of a city not afraid of its own loudness. 

You find yourself early for a breakfast meeting--happily next to your favorite bakery.  You cross the street, already anticipating the homey comfort of this little shop almost as old as the city itself--there are others yes, but only one real panaderia.  The smell of freshly baked bread greets you as you walk through the door.  You are seduced by the rows of fresh loaves and empanadas stacked one on top of the other.

What a morning!  What a treat to have some spare moments to get fresh bread for your morning toast.  What a treat to have some time for a cappuccino.  What a treat to be out in the city before anyone but you and the bakery is entirely awake.  You order a multigrain loaf and your drink, then decide to splurge on a cherry empanada for later.

Outside, you settle into a patio chair and savor your fancy coffee, feeling almost as if you are back in Venice, savoring a morning cappuccino before the day sweeps you up in a flurry of art viewing and sightseeing.  You enjoy the caress of the cool morning air on your skin, the soft chatter of birds and one or two other customers.  As you finish your drink, you watch the city shake off the last of its sleepiness just as you shake off yours.