Wednesday morning, I’m sitting in a hotel room in Nice. Checkout’s at 11; my train leaves at 12:15 from the station 12 minutes away; and I’ve already had my breakfast after a quick walk to the beach (I’ll post some photos and video of that on Instagram a bit later). Just enough time to get this post finished and send it out to you. . . Here goes:
Yesterday (Monday; I’m writing this on the train, on Tuesday), with my guy back in Vancouver (he’d used more Schengen days than I, so changed his flight to go back a week earlier), I worked to fit everything back into my wheeled carry-on and my Longchamp Le Pliage weekender. I’d sent a few things back with Paul; filled a bag with some others and took those down to the Used Clothes deposit. But I’ve filled a few sketch journals, bought a few items against the cooler days, added to my art supplies kit, and picked up a couple of children’s books. Luggage Tetris occupied an hour or so, and gradually it looked as if it might all fit, even the clothes I’d forgotten, left drying on the clothes rack….
Wednesday (marked by italics): I’d uploaded these photos earlier on the day with the idea that I’d add words and be able to click Publish on the post before bedtime. They’re all photos from the August weeks I was in Rome on my own, reconnoitring, loitering, out before the sun got too hot and the sidewalks too busy.
As I waited for my landlady/friend to arrive for a final inspection and arrangement to leave the keys, I took breaks from the packing to scoot back to photos from the beginning of this long trip. I have quite a few more of windows I’ve peered in throughout these past weeks, but these ones reminded me of the freshness of that curiosity, admiration, and, yes, longing for new things that such displays so often elicit.
In these photos of an atelier that beautifully crafts men’s shoes, it’s the tradition of the métier that impresses me. Custom-built shoes from this shop will surely cost a pretty Euro cent, but presumably they will be built to last (there’s surely a pun there!), and they will be loved enough to be worn, mended, and worn again for many years.
I’m not sure that’s true for all the commodified goods that we were invited — nay, exhorted! — to buy extra luggage space for by the low-cost air carriers we flew with from Edinburgh, to and from Serbia, then to and from Marrakech. Each of those sent emails that insisted we wouldn’t want to miss the opportunity to bring home purchased items simply because we didn’t have enough luggage space.
Hmmmm, we would actually. Not that it hasn’t been tiresome some days to adapt my very limited wardrobe to yet another day of heat (or to stretch its possibilities, as now, for late November days in France). And trying to squeeze everything back into the confines of my cases.
Obviously, I could have fit any of these baubles in my suitcase, and I did pick up two pair of earrings along the way (Cornwall and Marrakech) and a couple of pendants (Belgrade) for gifts.
But if I remember correcntly back to that August morning, I was already picking up a habit of consumption by photograph, if that makes sense. Assuaging that “desire to acquire” with a micro-second of digital magic. Click. and Click again. . . while my brain thinks ahead, moves on. . .
And then the window-shopping becomes something like a visit to a museum or an art gallery, and I simply enjoy the visual stimulation, the information gathered, the witty marketing. . . As in the name of this store for everything kids (toys, clothes, equipment), called Mettimi Giù or Put Me Down! which all parents will recognize, in any language, I’m sure. . . .
I really must have been out early that morning, because there’s no one impeding my view, and that marciapede (sidewalk) is normally crowded with tourists.
This kind of window had an even stronger pull for me when the grandkids were younger. Even then, I limited myself to one little dress or romper from Le Petit Bateau. . . until they were 6 or so, with quite decided sense of their own style. The last few trips I’ve been randomly choosing picture books to add to my collection — no matter their age, kids (and adults!) happily page through these regardless of language). I’ve knit a few little creatures as I travel, and I’ve sent postcards with cool “foreign” stamps. But otherwise, I’m not adding anything to those very full shelves in their rooms 😉
That goes for my kitchen shelves as well, and I wrote these next few paragraphs on the train yesterday: The beautiful China patterns, colours, textures, shapes and sizes. Since that August morning I’ve also ogled almost irresistible choices in the windows of the Bialetti shop just a five-minute walk from our rental apartment. In fact, I was still actively resisting Sunday morning when I finally convinced myself that our condo really has little space for more “things,” and that we rarely have coffee at home….
and then I confused the argument by reminding myself that I was bringing home a very special souvenir of Marrakech: the recipe for Moroccan Coffee, handwritten by a cafe-owner who had learned it from her mother who watched, beaming, as her daughter shared it with me. Three of her five daughters, it turned out, owned and operated the cafe, and the other sisters helped coax that recipe from memory onto the back of our cash register receipt. I’ve taped it into my sketch journal, and honestly, I’m not sure I have a better souvenir of our time away. . .
Toughened my resistance by reminding myself that Café Marocain did not depend for its good taste on fancy branded cups….and, especially, by remembering the five or six train stations I have to navigate with my already-heavy-enough valigia. That argument was the clincher and when I barely managed to heft my Carry-On safely into the rack above my seat on the train to Milan today, I was glad I took it to heart.
But here I am now, Wednesday morning, and after managing to fit everything into my cases (strapped the Pliage onto my wheeled carry-on, and my daypack onto my back) and walking to Termini, hefting the cases into place on train to Milan, then to Ventimiglia, then to Nice, I know that once I get to Paris (my next destination) I have a bit more room in the Pliage. Since I’m taking a taxi to the airport when I leave, I have some wiggle room for a few possible wardrobe purchases. I’ve completely worn out a pair of sneakers here, so only one pair left, and I also have a few wardrobe gaps to fill. We’ll see. . . There’s something almost as satisfying in resisting as there is in acquiring, but on the other hand. . . 😉
Okay, 10:40, and I’d better check out now, get myself to the train station. Please excuse any typos — really no time to proof-read if I’m going to post it today.
xo,
f
p.s. One of the items I might pick up in Paris is a new sketchbook. Can you believe I’ve filled the ones I bought, plus four more I bought or was gifted here? (and paper’s heavy! They account for a pound or two, I’m sure, of my case’s weight!). I wanted to do a quick sketch of the church just outside my hotel room window, and only had a lined Moleskine notebook . . .
I think the recipe sounds like a perfect souvenir!
Wishing you all the best for a smooth and hassle-free trip home. What an adventure you’ve had!
I’m sure you’re really looking forward to getting back home and, once you’re over that discombobulated feeling, you’ll really start that retrospective process. Thanks so much for sharing your journey. Xx