Thank you so much for your kind and thoughtful comments, here and on Instagram. I’ve answered as best I could, and I trust you’ll understand why I haven’t answered every comment individually.
I also received thoughtful emails from a few of you who are finding it difficult/impossible to comment on Blogger. I’m so sorry this continues to be a problem — I have no idea how to address it, except to say that some readers have found that switching from mobile to PC makes a difference.
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| Wall mural, Le Jeune Albert, by Yves Chaland — if we’d had longer in Brussels, I would have followed the Bandes Dessinées mural tour. Next time. . . |
After a week in our borrowed flat here in Bordeaux, we’re settling into a comfortable domestic rhythm and I’m gradually finding room to sort out why I wanted this long break from our regular pattern — and as I sort out my expectations, I find a cascading effect of satisfaction and disappointment and adjustment — even the odd “a-ha!” Not quite epiphany, but nigh on. . .
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| Bruxelles’ Grand Place is Grand indeed, all gilt-glinting in the sunshine, but a bit too busy for us, even this early in the season. Everywhere, cameras clicking, so many selfie posers. A group of four young men (two Americans, one Indian, and one Thai, if I remember correctly) asked me to take their photo a few feet from where I took this one . . . |
Would you be interested (or surprised?) to know that this sorting follows a a number of wee-hours mild-panic-or-dread sessions? Of the what-was-I-thinking? and However-will-we-get-through-two-months-away-together? variety. . . .
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| A view onto the Grand Place from a quieter corner. . . . |
And that those sessions were matched by some daytime anxieties as afternoons turned into evenings and I hadn’t done x number of things I thought I’d wanted to do that day. . .
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| Similar view, different focus. . . .I love all the textures. . . |
Much of this nonsense, of course, emanates from my thinks-a-lot personality (I’m resisting that cliché “overthinking” because, hey, this is the amount of thinking I do, and at almost 66, I don’t see why I need to apply such a dismissive, judgmental adjective to myself). But I’m speculating that some of it might also have to do with good old “Ages and Stages” — as one of my mom friends from way back used to say of our kids’ behaviour (and Gail Sheehy spoke of as Passages). Into my fourth year of retirement now, a major move accomplished, grandkids trickling their way toward adolescence, and the bottom half of my personal egg-timer rapidly filling with sand. . . .
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| So often, I’m more interested in the small details than the big picture. . . especially when the small details show a beard-pulling! |
Idiosyncratic musings of an admittedly fortunate retiree, playing House for a few weeks in a charming French city. I appreciate your indulgence, your patience. In return, please accept this offering of a few images? I took so many photographs. . . .
As well, I’m trying to catch up my journalling of our travels — and somehow I’ve tangled myself up with a written journal, a sketch-collage-text scrapbook/journal, my mini sketchbook — which I’m pleased to say is filling up quickly, and my watercolour sketchbook, to which I haven’t yet added a single sketch.
I’m not sure how much I like this new approach I’m fiddling with, but I’m going to see it through, let myself make some messy mistakes, and perhaps I’ll discover a few tricks I like along the way. So far, I’ve been playing with glue and scissors, sticking down all that paper ephemera that usually languishes in a box long after a trip — receipts for meals, business cards for restaurants and favourite shops, hotel card envelopes (the Made in Louise one — top left, below — folds out to reveal a city map plus pictures and text describing the hotel amenities) — and an envelope made from the box of the first Marvis toothpaste I’ve ever bought.
I’ve been hearing about Marvis toothpaste for years and when we popped into a pharmacy in Brussels to re-up our “dentifrice,” the first thing that caught my eye was this brand’s distinctive packaging — in seven different colours/flavours. I’ve added text to the right of the toothpaste-box envelope with a little story about the sweet conversation I had “en français” with some charming and helpful locals when I commented on the difficulty of making a choice. . . .
I started these two pages by gluing down the paper ephemera, and then I added some descriptive text, but I wasn’t happy with it until I added that little sketch. . . which led to slapping some more colour onto the page, since I had the paintbox open anyway. . . .
Here’s a closer look at that wee sketch. . . .
And at its inspiration. . .
And it’s almost time for Bed-and-a-Book here now — right after I add today’s #coupleselfie to my Instagram feed.
À la prochaine. . .
xo,
f
I love these two pages and the use of paper ephemera. I may have to try this myself on the next trip. I usually wind up with folders of loose ephemera which are never looked at again. Thanks for sharing with us. Enjoy your stay.
slf
Thanks! Some wonderfully creative people are doing brilliant things with paper ephemera and sharing them on IG with the hashtag #junkjournal — mine are not in that league at all, but I find those so inspiring — and like you, I've inevitably got all sorts of paper mementos after a trip, so . . .
Thanks. I went and took a look at #junkjournal – what fun! And to think that I once took a bookbinding workshop and even wove my own cover from "hala" leaves in Hawaii. I've no idea what happened to those projects.
slf
Aaahhh … the old 'are we good enough travelers?' rumination. How well do we measure up to Marco Polo, Mark Twain, Gertrude Bell? And the toughest comparison of all: An I as present for this trip's beauty and exotica as my own goggle-eyed, 20-something, first-time-abroad self would have been?
I think those compulsive comparisons are part of the luggage we tote around at this age when we still want to see and feel everything we haven't met yet, while glimpsing ever more clearly the end of ourselves. Of course, while planning a trip we never remember the numbing effects of travel stress and fatigue.
Looking back on all my travels, I don't think any single day was perfect. My best memories, the ones that always send me back on the road, are a tapestry of vistas, twilights, faces, kindnesses, and soul-deep gratitude that I still have the courage to leave home's safety and comfort to discover unimagined truths.
Ann in Missouri
Yes, this is a possible comparison to make when we travel, and it's so true that comparison has its inevitable dangers.
What I'm fussing about here, though (although I wasn't terribly clear) is not what I'm not doing travel-wise, but what I'm not doing with the time away from other obligations at home. I'm not sure if it can work to combine Travel with Creative Retreat. . . . we'll see. . . It might be that I need to consider Retreating from Lists Completely 😉
Dear Frances – I love your writing, your sketching and your view of the world. I find it comforting to sense a kindred spirit whether that be your fretting over not doing enough ( when you have no destine btw ! ), or your eye that captures a quirky detail.
Am sorry that I am somewhat intermittent in reading your blog – but it’s a treasure to look forward to. A bientot !
Margaret, these are such kind and encouraging words in response to an admittedly idiosyncratic, somewhat unfocused post. And never a need to apologise re reading. Glad to know when you stop by 😉
It's a lovely, lovely sketch. I suppose your thoughts circle around learning to put aside that drive to become accomplished at something? Travel is such an open book and also so constrained by time and newness etc. I think it can lend itself to anxiety and to-do but is maybe also be one of the good ways to purge that anxiety, to exercise and if we're lucky to exorcise it. In any case, most of all I hope you are having a nice time, getting some sunshine, experiencing freedom and serendipity even. I so appreciate your willingness to talk about that which is not per se perfect here.
Yep. You got it. That drive has helped me accomplish many things in my life, but so far I haven't done very well at Days Without Checkmarks, if you know what I mean (and oh, I think you do! 😉 And it seems important to note that surrendering my own lists poses a clear and present risk of being commandeered to make checkmarks on others'. . . .
Your photos actually make me nostalgic for Brussels. When I lived there, I wasn't crazy about it and left nearly every weekend–something that helped me see a good bit of Europe, so all was not lost. I much enjoyed examining your "junkjournal." There used to be a wonderful restaurant at rue Veydt 13, l'Amadeus, in the former studio of Rodin. Seems to have closed.
The tiny car is a Fiat 500.
I don't know the story of the man pulling the other's beard, but "faire la barbe" (do the beard!) to someone is to take advantage of them.
Brussels would have been such a good base for visiting the rest of Europe.
Ah, that's a good idiom to know, and perhaps that's the signification of that carving. I could have spent days studying the façade of that building.
Yes, that's a Fiat 500 — so much smaller than today's iteration!
Dear Frances, apparently, for some the tendency to worry about how we are spending our limited amount of time does not end with retirement and the accompanying freedom. In your case, your recent loss and your approaching birthday may also play a role, and sleepless nights certainly don’t help. I very much hope you are feeling (and sleeping) better by now.
I admire the way you manage to juggle all those journals. Personally, I still feel very comfortable with my decision to merge all my journals and lists into one which will have to prove its worth s as travel journal next week.
Last night I slept 8 hours! Only waking up once and right back to sleep, so I'm feeling much better today.
I'm not sure about the journal-juggling, but I'm working out what I want, and I'm not willing to use the best-quality paper (that supports watercolour) for trying the sometimes copious text that doesn't require that. And I like the separate tiny sketchbook because it's so portable and discreet. I must admit that sometimes I'm tempted to go back to my previous format, and that may happen yet. I wonder what pages you'll add to yours in Puglia. . .
In some ways your post proves the one thing that is always true, we may change our locations, but it is difficult to get away from our nature. Hoping rest and relaxation help you achieve some measure of peace with whatever the outcome may be in this time away from your usual agenda. (You are relaxing some, aren't you?) All the best.
It's very true; our nature accompanies us on every trip. And yes, I am relaxing some, definitely — and today, there's a yoga class. . . Thank you!
I love your little journals. And I get the idea about letting go of checking things off your lists, and even imagining that your time away from routine would be one thing only to find it something else entirely, including your own inclinations. This seems to be one of the hardest things to adjust to, at least for me, as I slide into these more open times. But then I thought my little interlude between homes would be one thing, and it has proved to be something else altogether. Please keep sharing…it is all our little quirks that make us human, and attractive, and interesting…
Yes! I would have been very similar in working through the interlude you had between homes, the illusions I would have had in the approach. . . But let's hear it for our human quirks! 😉
And I don't know if this helps anyone else, but I've had success, at least so far, with deleting Blogger from my Google account and then reinstalling it….
Thank you! This is good to know, and I'll try to remember to share it next post.
I'm chuckling at the thought of Pater trying to fold himself into that little car. I love your collage journal. Isn't it fun to play with paper and paint and scissors. I haven't done that since I stopped teaching. It always used to make me smile that teenagers despite being very "mature" loved to "make stuff" in English class. One year we made masks for the characters in the Shakespeare play we were studying, you know depicting their inner and outer characters etc. Really deep stuff. Ha. It was one of the best activities I've ever done.
Hope the rest of your trip is good, Frances. Funny how when we leave home we take all our "baggage" with us… even if we're travelling with only carry-on. I'm the same. It's just that when we're somewhere new, I find there are many more distractions. xo
It might not be the best car for a tall man! 😉
It is so much fun, and I like that it dials down the expectations somehow (although wow! what some artists do with this format).
I did something similar in my university classes — so with young adults rather than teens — Had them cut out outfits and interiors and cars, etc., that might suit or express a character. It's as if the child-like materials allow us to bypass the judgment, or something. . .
Yep to the baggage. The distractions were more noticeable when we were moving more, and it's probably predictable that the baggage became more noticeable once we'd stay still a few days.
I love that sketch of Paul, you've really captured that moment so well! I really envy your ability to take longer trips. I'm hoping that once le Monsieur retires in a few years, we'll be able to extend our trips and make more in-depth visits. (Including renting an apartment, shopping and cooking!)
The longer trips are great, although they pose their own kind of challenges. Having done a few of these, we've mostly negotiated the couple stuff that they bring up, and we really enjoy the freedom we have now for quieter days or spontaneous short trips within the longer one. And being able to eat at home is such a plus.
Yikes, that is a lot of people in the Grand Place. Of my two visits, the first was on a November evening and it was deserted. My colleague and I, post-conference, sat upstairs in an old, wood-panelled cafe in a window seat and ate waffles and drank tea. On the second, the square was inhabited by a Scottish pipe band (!) occasionalscotland.blogspot.com/2014/05/bagpipes-in-brussels.html
You're making me wonder how husband I would fare on an extended trip. We manage 2 weeks together fine – I imagine the 3rd week might be the test!
On Ages and Stages, one thing that's confronting me with change of career, location and supposed change of approach to life is that the last is very deeply engrained. I thought that with changes to the first two I would miraculously re-invent, and have been very cross with myself for falling into old patterns of self-doubt and hesitation. Is that something of what you're encoutering?