London Fog

This past weekend I was here.

In Carry le Rouet, a little village on the sea just south of Aix en Provence. Enjoying the warmth of the setting sun before sitting down to a dinner of fresh fish and a mediterranean salad.

Monday I was here

Downtown London, bundled up in a sweater and scarf, after eating a real breakfast of eggs and bacon. And bending my head against the seemingly ever-present London rain.

I have landed in 5 countries in 4 months and each time I arrive in a new place, I'm amazed. Yep, still impressed by it all. That one can change places, languages, cultures, scenery....so quickly and easily.  It always feels a little surreal but it always makes me giggle with pleasure at the miracle of it.  I often wonder if and when I'll get over the awe and become a jaded traveler.

I was feeling a bit world-weary before I headed out on this trip to London. I was just so tired. I hadn't been able to sleep for seemingly weeks and the fatigue, added to the continuous travel left me really out of sorts. It's amazing how fatigue like this can affect a person. It affects me physically so that I want to do nothing and everything hurts. It affects me mentally. There were days during these last few weeks that I really detested all French people. There were moments that this verged on HATE.  Simply because they spoke French! And I was unable to follow or contribute. My brain was all mucked up. And the crankiness went deeper. I was mad at my cat....for being cuddly and loving and always trying to break through my bad-humored barricade. I was mad at myself for whatever my transgression was that day and couldn't pass myself in the mirror without talking nasty to the poor, haggard looking woman reflecting back at me who really only needed a little sleep. And on and on and on....

The debilitating affects of exhaustion make me wonder how I ever got through college. Truly, if had spent more time sleeping and less time partying, there's a strong possibility that you'd be addressing me as Dr. Nelsen right now. And how in the world did I raise 2 little babies without causing them serious mental or bodily harm?

I still haven't fallen back into the rhythm of really sound sleep yet, but I'm feeling better. It might have something to do with the fact that I'm back in London after 32 years away. I'm here with my friend Jeanmarie, who I met here when we were students living in the Maria Assumpta Convent in Kensington. Thirty-two years of friendship that began during those seriously sleep-deprived times (for us AND the nuns) when we lived in London, supposedly to study and when we did everything but!

Yesterday we visited our old stomping grounds. The convent is now a college, but the nuns, still dressed in purple, continue to scurry around the place. As do the hazy but cherished memories of my time in London. The days that sprouted my infatuation with travel that has obviously never died. But I really am looking forward to at least a month of rest (as in...rest in one place) before the insanity recommences in May. 

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