I took a long journey to get here. Kind of like acclimatizing to get to the top of Everest.
Base Camp: London, England. Oh, how I love that town. It's in constant motion, yet is constantly still, like a little star that manages to shimmer in the same place while zipping by at hundreds of thousands of miles per hour. "Mind the gap," but "keep calm and carry on." Though the sky is covered in clouds, all the Londoners sit in the sun.
A bit higher up the mountain: Brussels, Belgium. A bit protective; it's in motion behind closed doors, like a clock pendulum behind glass. But find the sweet spot, and you'll hear the most joyous singing and boisterous laughter, even at the most absurd things. It's no wonder the national symbol is a statue of a little boy peeing. It's overflowing with the old, traditional things, so it strives to be brand-new, but so far, the old is what's staying, with both beautiful results and difficult ones.
Which brings me to my new home for the next couple of months: Paris, France.
A city throbbing to the beat of the new and now, it's a perfect picture of the 21st century. But the monuments of the past still loom large, bringing color to every part of the city. It's a hundred-year-old teenager, with a half-forgotten scapular around its neck and an iPhone pressed to its ear. When I'm here, I'm a time-traveler from the Middle Ages: culturally inept and awkward, half-speaking the same language, full of an instinct to explore, quite young yet positively ancient.
"AND... loving it." =)
