1 year ago 5 notes
I left the U.S. on a red-eye from IAD to CDG on September 25, 2011.
I have been thinking a lot about that first week recently. Part of it is the seasons changing from summer to fall. Part of it is remembering how a year has passed. Part of it is coincidental, like NPR broadcasting a story on le Pont des Arts yesterday morning. (It was particularly funny hearing a French woman exclaim how only tourists, not the French, put locks on the bridge.) Part of it is my picking up of James Baldwin’s Giovanni’s Room to read on the train last week and how his descriptions of New York and Paris remind me of the two cities I’ve spent the most time in this past year for weekend escapes.
It isn’t that I have any grand musings on my time spent as a careless post-grad, rambling around Europe. But sometimes I can’t stop the waves of nostalgia. It wasn’t that long ago that I was there and I didn’t adore every moment I spent in France, yet I still get those wistful feelings.
Zoë agrees that I need to slap myself.