Heaven for the weekend, thoughts en route

Written 13 July 2012

I love the moments I spend traveling alone. I don’t think there’s any better place to reflect upon the world, people, countries, LIFE, than when passing between places, seeing so much in a small unit of time. It’s possible I’m only saying this because I’m presently on the TGV from Grenoble to Paris, blazing by everything from lush parcels of farmland – complete with grazing cows and snowy-white lambs – to ancestral farmhouses proudly dominating the landscape, nestled near brooks that the Romans probably drank from. It’s hard not to feel like Charlotte Grey returning to Lézignac right now. 

While Grenoble has been fine, I’m aching to get back to Paris for the weekend, where I’m celebrating Bastille Day (simply known as le Quatorze juillet or la Fête nationale) and seeing my friends before I leave in – sniff – three weeks. Interestingly, the capital was not where “it” all started in 1789…I actually just left the birthplace of the Revolution. The ancient province of Dauphiné, where Grenoble and the Isère department are located, claims to have seen the first demonstrations for liberty in the nation. Yesterday, I visited Château de Vizille – about 30 minutes by bus from the city – home of the Musée de la Révolution française, a store of famous art and media from the first rebellions to 19^th century interpretations of the major events. The château was built by François de Bonne, duc de Lesdiguières, and exemplifies both the glory and rusticity of provincial nobility with its cracked stucco and locally quarried stone, worn and rounded by centuries of baking in dauphinois sunshine.   

I have only two remaining weekends before I leave, so I won’t have any more time to play with William and friends in Paris before I head to Charles de Gaulle on August 3. The thought kind of makes me want to cry. Before I left the U.S., I knew I’d love France even more than I did my first two stays here, but I’m still quite surprised at how incredibly comfortable I feel in this country. (I know there's still much I haven't seen and still don't know.) As I’ve said before, I’ve been welcomed and befriended so fast and with such sincerity that I’ve become accustomed to it, something that – honestly – doesn’t happen so often in the U.S. I’ve never before been away from my country for more than 10 days, and here I am – a month and half later – feeling, frankly, unprepared to let this life go for the one I know best. That says something.

I’m planning my return as soon as possible.