I’m finding pieces of what I was looking for in France—people and lively streets, a certain resilience and hedonism I admire, loved ones and a familiar feel, a sense of safety and normalcy, relief and the ability to disconnect from reality even now and then.
But I still don’t have answers and some days, I feel as confused as I was throughout spring and earlier this summer in Canada.
Where are we going with this?
Today, I suddenly realized this sense of uncertainty shows in my travel articles. I like to tell stories with a beginning and an end, or at least, some kind of momentary conclusion. Even though like every person with an Internet connection and a social media presence I make my life looks amazingly spontaneous, I kind of have a plan or at least a rough outline—no, seriously, I never actually show up at the airport and just “jump on a plane.” In fact, most of the time, I’m boringly predictable. Ask any of my friends. I work, parent, exercise, read, write, sleep and repeat. And even when I travel, I do all of the above except I’m on the road.
But it’s hard to find a narrative this year. I sure hope the climax was “pandemic coming!” but I have no idea how the story ends.
Basically, we do whatever we can whenever we can.
I can’t take anything for granted anymore—school, work, the ability to move freely from place to place or to see loved ones whenever I want. Everyone around me feels the same. Anything can change anytime and for once, this is not a motivational poster but reality.
It sucks.
So, what’s left?
Moments of happiness and normalcy as if it was any other year.
Still, the ending had better be good, Hollywood style.
From your pictures, the weather looks SO nice and breezy!
It’s very, very hot this summer and strangely dry (for Nantes, at least). I’m not complaining, my kind of weather.