(I believe that was the name of the German piece we read in highschool).
I've been traveling. At first, after circling the Arc de Triomphe a few times before admitting defeat and phoning the hotel for directions, I entered efficient-travel-mode and happy-to-see-you - I hadn't seen my travel partner for three years. The second day, it hit me how long since I'd had a real holiday. Going somewhere else, external input from being in a foreign country, not just visiting parents and friends in well-known places. The third day I went to bed with a full stomach, and a smile on my face. It must have been the foie gras. Or the mood. Or the company. Possibly the temperature. I had landed, so to speak, and had left behind me all the worry of work and home life.
One of the many things I've pondered on this trip is how knowledge is a foundation for assembling new impressions, new knowledge. My fellow traveler, an American my own age, was an excellent sparring partner. Our different backgrounds added texture to the sights, - D-day landing beaches, war museums. Following in pilgrims' footsteps to Mont St Michel, my music background turned out to be a source of knowledge of medieval life. At Pompidou, a previous love for Leger was rewarded by the joy over the juxtaposition of three quite similar paintings in the Braque style - by Braque, Picasso and Leger. I find myself (as always) interested mostly in the things I already know, and the things I know give me a framework to fit new information to the puzzle.
Back to the history museums. Astonishing, really, how little we know, remember or were taught about the last 50 years of history. What really went on in Prague 1968, or in Hungary in 1955 - and wasn't it quite interesting that the resistance to the iron curtain was so large in Hungary and that it was they who opened it up?
Food for thought.
I have also bonded with hotel receptionists (over cycling), seen Lance Armstrong and the other bikers, eaten Camembert in Camembert and survived Charles de Gaulle.
I miss my friend, warm croissants and French coffee, cheap cheese, and - to be honest - that holiday feeling.
But home is good too.
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