Postcard from Europe

European Musings

Hello friends,

I recently went on a trip to Europe. It was a mixture of tagging along on a friend’s work trip and using the geographical proximity to explore other countries and visit another friend (send a South African travelling and they will do as much as they can because flying to and from the tip of the African continent anywhere is never easy or cheap).

Paris

On my first day in Paris I tumbled off an overnight flight at 5 am, sleep-deprived and terribly afraid (I can travel alone as much as I want these days but I’m still always afraid) and wandered around one of the most chic cities in the world without any make-up, hair tousled from the plane and since, it was colder than I expected, wrapped in a big coat and mom jeans which grazed my ankles, high black socks and white sneakers. I felt completely unglamorous and a bit ridiculous but I wanted to see as much of the city as I could, no matter how tired I was. However, strangely, it was the only day there that I was often mistaken for French. I had people speaking to me in French, tourists awkwardly trying out their French skills on me (and then exclaiming in surprise when I informed them, I was in fact, not French and had just landed there that very day). It happened so often, I asked a shop-keeper if I indeed did look French and she said, ‘Oui, oui, very much so’. So what I came to learn on that first day in Paris is that being French, or looking French is really just a way of being. And that being is being yourself. However shoddy it may seem. If this idea sounds too corny, I will add, that I think it’s that, PLUS having one piece of quality item of clothing or accessory (be it a bag, a nice shirt or pants. In my case I think it was the black Woolworths coat). I did not ever see the Emily in Paris kind of dressing I was expecting and maybe that’s the show’s play on the whole American idea of what Paris is like. I learnt that there was a fake Paris look; what we think Parisians wear and the real Paris look which involves casual-chic, that one quality item and a certain confidence in the stride.

Friendships

I mostly did this trip to spend time with two friends. As I get older I realise that friendships need investing in as much as romantic relationships. I don’t always feel like I’m someone who can make a lot of friends, although I love the close few that I have. And while I love these friends, distance and family and work obligations have kept us apart and it was starting to feel like the gap was growing wider and that if we didn’t do something important about it, the gap would grow too wide to close properly. The stories that held us together would pass and we wouldn’t be able to catch up, in quite the right way anymore. Also, time passes so quickly, opportunities have to be taken before their moment passes. I’d been promising a close friend for the last 8 years that I would visit her in Germany and you can only keep making a promise before even to you, it starts to feel false. And I’m in a stage in my life now where I know I can make things come true, that I can make things happen. So I made it happen. I applied for the visa, booked the tickets, planned the routes and trains and I got on the plane and met my one best friend in Paris and then later, met my other best friend in Bonn. It was wonderful; I ate good food, laughed, cried a little and opened my heart a bit more. I spoke about something that only these friends know about, something that was weighing me heavily and I felt a lighter, in only the way you can when you share something hard with someone else.

Loneliness

In the times when I was alone, as I wandered some street in some strange city by myself, I still had those feeling of wondering how it would be to be with someone else. Holding a hand. Pointing out something. I’m more used to being by myself now, I don’t yearn so much when I see couples ahead of me, but I am more fascinated by it. I’m interested in knowing what they’re saying to each other or what they hold dear about one another. I have so many thoughts when I walk. I hold them in me and collect them like bags with swimming fishes inside and when I go home, I tell my mama all these stories, all the things collecting in me. I lay them out for her like junk from the beach and sift through them. She listens quietly as I tell her about how the American family mistook me from French, about the cake with apricot jam in Vienna, about how my train was delayed for repairs in Germany, how the cold in Europe is different from ours, how it feels colder, deeper, speaks of more ominous things. I know enough to know that the real joy of a relationship is having someone listen to the happenings of your day. I am grateful for my mother. I also know she won’t always be around to hear my stories. I wake up some mornings and think who will listen to my stories when she’s gone? Who will listen to the day-to-day things? Perhaps, I am thinking, this may be the place to put the day-to-day stories.

Reading

I finished Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow on this trip. It’s a story about friendship and video games but I was most fascinated by the way it explored relationships. What do you call a friendship that is not romantic but is more than a friendship? Probably even more than a romantic relationship. Something that fulfils you in ways you didn’t know and helps you exist. I’ve had that about twice in my life. There’s no definition for it, it’s so rarely spoken about - an instant connection with someone and you don’t know what it is but you both get on wildly and support one another and may not speak for years but you only want the best for that person, including the best partner. It’s so rarely spoken about or investigated and I loved the way this book probed so many questions about emotions, pain, joy and love. It reminded me that everything said is in the unsaid. Anyway, I thought the book was stunning.

That’s all for now.

x

Shubnum