For me, the ideal type of travel is that of a pilgrimage. And by pilgrimage I don't mean simply something like walking the Camino de Santiago de Compostela, although that was a great pilgrimage/experience for me. A pilgrimage can be something much simpler and it does not have to have religious overtones, although, for me, there is something sacred about travel.
And then, if not a pilgrimage, then at least a time away that gives me a sense of what life is like in the place where I am visiting. This is why I like to go and stay in one place for as long a time as possible, and why I like to travel alone. Travelling alone allows me to come and go as I please and it makes me more accessible to others and more likely to interact with others than if I was traveling with a companion.
Usually when I travel I am thrilled and excited, from the planning stages, through the travel experience itself, and then recalling the adventure when I return home. But this trip is different. Although I have dreamed of coming to France for a long visit for many, many years, there was a part of me that simply did not want to come because of an emotional attachment I've had for some time, but from which I have needed to detach myself.
It has become very apparent to me that getting on a plane and putting distance between oneself and one's concerns does not provide an escape. Time, not distance, is the answer; although I do pray that I will return home with a new perspective. Travel certainly does broaden one's mind, and with that must certainly come a new perspective. I don't think I will return home as the same person, but trying to foresee that is impossible. This is part of the adventure, isn't it? To go and to explore and then to return and then reflect. All of this is part of a pilgrimage — exploring one's environment, both exterior and interior and finding something new. Seeing new sights is wonderful, but finding something new within one's self is the ultimate travel experience.
While sitting in the bibliotheque today and doing my homework I felt such a low point emotionally. For a few moments I felt what could almost be described as revulsion at my surroundings. I felt as if there was no refuge anywhere, that there was no place familiar or comfortable or any place where I felt I really belonged. I felt homeless and root-less and as if there was nothing in my environment that held any emotional attachment or importance to me. Mind you, this was just a fleeting few moments, but this was quite a new and different sensation. I've never really felt this way while travelling before. But I did not rush to conclusions or judgement of this experience. I simply had it and let it pass. And now that I'm writing about the experience, I'm actually kind of glad that I had it. Does that make any sense? Isn't this — the novelty and the unexpected — part of the adventure? I think so.
Well, I've been trying to explain part of why travel appeals to me, although some of you who are reading this may think what the hell is she doing this for? This doesn't sound like much fun! I'm not quite sure I've captured just what it is that I want to say, but I'll keep trying.
On a more practical note, we have a new student in our class — Ananda, a beautiful young woman (about 30) who was born and lived in Venezuela for 15 years, and has lived in Florida for the last 15. She has her own software development company, and makes apps for phones. She is travelling the world for six months and managing her company via long distance. She and I went to lunch at a Japanese restaurant and, boy, that was a challenge — trying to understand a Japanese menu in French! We had the most interesting conversation and decided that we were very much alike in our outlook on life. During lunch, I was reminded that this experience too is why I travel — meeting someone who turns out to be a kindred spirit, and having a common basis of understanding with each other from the get-go.
Ananda went with me to the bibliotheque, so I could show her a good place where there are (free) toilettes, a coffee shop and some nice places to study. She ended up falling asleep (and, unlike home, no librarians came along to wake her up). I nudged her awake to tell her I was leaving. After my little "episode" I decided that I would return to Le Bookshop and find another book to read. I ended up with an Alexander McCall Smith novel (something cozy and light) and then I took myself to an outdoor table at a bistro and had a glass of red wine, while I sat and read.
Also, I'm happy to report that things are a little more settled on the home front. I slept the sleep of the dead last night and Jacqueline tried three times to awaken me this morning, knocking on my door, calling me, and raising the large blinds in my room. I did not hear a thing for 45 minutes!!! I have not slept like that since I was a kid. Jacqueline said something about her thinking I was a little bit dead. Tonight, as I was returning home I had decided to put my best foot forward with Jacqueline and she also seemed in a better mood. She made une omelette de Mont St. Michel for dinner, served with noodles. The omelet was so light and fluffy. It was like eating meringue.
So, now I'm going to snuggle up with an English novel and then to sleep. Good night all.
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