Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Betwixt and Between
We're being asked daily "So how does it feel to be back?" And our response has been some variation of "We don't feel like we're back."
The other day I caught myself saying "When we go home..." and meaning Paris.
We're seeing friends and family we miss a lot and that's wonderful, but Gene and I look at each other and say "It's not Paris." It's like being in love with someone who's not around. You may be having a great time, but something's missing.
What is this infatuation? We miss the architecture, the street life, the cafés, the style, the sense of timelessness, the turning the corner to see something we haven't noticed before, the plaque testifying to the fact that in 1672 some person we've never heard of had lived in the building we're passing. It may wear off.
We might feel differently if we were living in our own house, following our usual paths, driving our familiar streets, but in fact we're living in San Francisco, a place we've never lived in before, in a city we've only visited for a few hours at a time, even if on a daily basis. It's great, but it's not being at home. Oddly enough though, right now we don't miss the Berkeley street where we do our marketing and the canyon across from our living room window.
Right now we're ready to go home.