Vacations are always good for renewal of perspective, but Paris (and France in general,) for me, is a walk in a whole new paradigm. Theres more to this perception than a simple physical transfer to another continent; there is separate, more natural nutrition. There is human-designed space, architectural and landscaping, to suit design principles and the running away of the imagination. There is a long, well-documented history and elements from various times co-existing like a poorly organized museum. There are differences in weather, water, shelter, rhythm, and other very basic influential elements.
We stayed with my Aunt Susan who lives in the French Alps in a little town called La Roche sur Foron (meaning, the rock on the Foron river.) The town has existed since the medieval era and left to illustrate this are a sizeable tower (on a rock, possibly "La Roche") and a surrounding walled-in village complete with narrow roads and an old market area where grain basins in stone still exist. Here, Travis got his first taste of real French pastry, and our experience of France as a couple began at the Marché Thursday Morning. Having not spoken French in 10 years, I still managed to buy some Beaufort cheese before I felt the lead begin to melt off of my memories of the French language.
In the region where Susan lives (the Haute Savoie,) there is a sense of age and indigenous life that permeates the landscape. Only, this isn't indigenous life as we think of it in America - it's actually white indigenous life. Barring modern conveniences such as cars and electricity, it's still going pretty much the way it always has: bakeries make the bread, villages go to church on Sunday, and old ladies still make cheese from their own cows and sell it out of their farms. Restaurants often do the same. Here, the sense for me is that the daily grind, the struggle to do enough, the strife among drivers and other rivals, and other petty daily stresses completely give way to a timeless rhythm of life that is in and of itself, a force of real good. There is more good just in the air in this region than there might be in the hearts of adult people in entire neighborhoods in big cities worldwide.
While it was vacation, and technically I was supposed to relax and enjoy the time there in this way, my lasting sense of its gravity was that I became temporarily smarter because I was there. I am at a loss for how to explain the perceptive shift other than to say that my creativity, thoughts, luck, and communication become receptive, inventive, and more perceptive during the length of my stay. The next best thing to staying in this region forever is to return to normal life feeling completely refreshed, reassured, and having stowed away a bit of all of that greatness in memory as a souvenir to which I no longer have access. With any luck, though, I'll be back next summer in August to watch the house that my Aunt lives in, while she goes on vacation.
Anyway, just a quick note to let you know that I am back from vacation and hitting the ground running.
Vacations are always good for renewal of perspective, but Paris (and France in general,) for me, is a walk in a whole new paradigm. Theres more to this perception than a simple physical transfer to another continent; there is separate, more natural nutrition. There is human-designed space, architectural and landscaping, to suit design principles and the running away of the imagination. There is a long, well-documented history and elements from various times co-existing like a poorly organized museum. There are differences in weather, water, shelter, rhythm, and other very basic influential elements.
We stayed with my Aunt Susan who lives in the French Alps in a little town called La Roche sur Foron (meaning, the rock on the Foron river.) The town has existed since the medieval era and left to illustrate this are a sizeable tower (on a rock, possibly "La Roche") and a surrounding walled-in village complete with narrow roads and an old market area where grain basins in stone still exist. Here, Travis got his first taste of real French pastry, and our experience of France as a couple began at the Marché Thursday Morning. Having not spoken French in 10 years, I still managed to buy some Beaufort cheese before I felt the lead begin to melt off of my memories of the French language.
In the region where Susan lives (the Haute Savoie,) there is a sense of age and indigenous life that permeates the landscape. Only, this isn't indigenous life as we think of it in America - it's actually white indigenous life. Barring modern conveniences such as cars and electricity, it's still going pretty much the way it always has: bakeries make the bread, villages go to church on Sunday, and old ladies still make cheese from their own cows and sell it out of their farms. Restaurants often do the same. Here, the sense for me is that the daily grind, the struggle to do enough, the strife among drivers and other rivals, and other petty daily stresses completely give way to a timeless rhythm of life that is in and of itself, a force of real good. There is more good just in the air in this region than there might be in the hearts of adult people in entire neighborhoods in big cities worldwide.
While it was vacation, and technically I was supposed to relax and enjoy the time there in this way, my lasting sense of its gravity was that I became temporarily smarter because I was there. I am at a loss for how to explain the perceptive shift other than to say that my creativity, thoughts, luck, and communication become receptive, inventive, and more perceptive during the length of my stay. The next best thing to staying in this region forever is to return to normal life feeling completely refreshed, reassured, and having stowed away a bit of all of that greatness in memory as a souvenir to which I no longer have access. With any luck, though, I'll be back next summer in August to watch the house that my Aunt lives in, while she goes on vacation.
Anyway, just a quick note to let you know that I am back from vacation and hitting the ground running.